In the manner of Gregory Maguire, who provided us with a version of the childhood standard The Wizard of Oz through the eyes of the "wicked" witch, I have re-written my favorite BDSM story, Both Master and Slave, written by Martin Sharpe (published in 2001 by Silver Moon Books in Great Britain), from the point of view of the submissive, rather than the Master, who was Mr. Sharpe's narrator. I hope that fans of the original book will accept my version for the tribute that it is meant to be.
*
I had been with Master for eight months of my twelve-month contract when Master informed me that it was time for him to give me an inspection. Master was positively gleeful when he added that having Sally present would make the whole thing more of an occasion.
My inspection took place in the Music Room, Master explaining that the location was chosen because he could not give a slave a proper inspection without a little screaming going on. Master put a silver ice bucket on the bench by the window. Then Master drew all the curtains, quietly stating that he did not want me getting distracted by the outside world or glancing at my own reflection in one of the mirrors. Master added, "What is to follow is for me alone to enjoy; Meat's role is to suffer; the Assistant Cunt's job is to help as instructed whilst keeping her eyes down."
Soundproofed against the traffic in the street, the room was silent except for my breathing, shut away from the ordinary world, a focus of primeval sexual energy. Already the air smelled of cunt.
Sally was dressed as a candlestick: silver high-heeled sandals, glitter stockings clipped to a silver suspender belt, silver nail polish, and silver lipstick on her mouth and nipples. Silver bells on her passion flaps tinkled when she moved. She had a steel ball-gag between her teeth, held in place by a silver ribbon tied behind her head. And she was holding thick white candles in her bare hands. With her firm breasts and shapely haunches she looked like an Art Deco figurine.
Master had me posed there, standing before him completely naked for once, the expression on my face peaceful, reflecting my docility, my happiness to be used. Whenever I was in the Music Room, I knew what was expected of me, slipping into the familiar role like a comfortable gown.
"You're looking particularly good tonight, Meat," Master told me grudgingly.
"Thank you, Master," I quietly replied. Sally held the candles out for Master to light, and Master turned off the electric lights. The flames put a glow on my naked body, making huge shadows swirl across the curtained walls.
"Stand up straight, Meat," Master told me, "eyes forward; arms behind your back." I stood with each hand grasping the opposing elbow, Venus de Milo with no arms to defend herself, the pose of the true submissive. All that time Master had spent twisting my arms behind my back had not been just for fun: it had made me flexible. I shivered. From fear: the room was pleasantly warm.
Master snapped his fingers. "Assistant Cunt," Master said sharply. "Bring the flames up to Meat's face."
Even without the use of mirrors, I knew I looked like the younger sister of the woman Master had first beaten the previous November: relaxed, self-confident, blooming the way a woman in love should. The crow's feet that had been barely visible round my eyes were fading away, and the beginning of a frown-line between the eyebrows had vanished altogether. I knew that my whole face was glowing with happiness.
"Lower," Master ordered, and Sally dipped the candles to nipple height. My small flat buds had changed under Master's attentions, growing thicker as well as longer, tweaked, tugged and yanked into splendidly obscene tits that would leap into erection at the touch of Master's finger. Master took a clothes peg from his pocket and opened the little jaws, holding them on either side of the straining teat.
I gave a little gasp.
"Watch, Meat," Master crooned. "See how your nipple juts out to welcome the pain, sticking out like a chapel hat peg. Shall we hang something on it? Or shall we wait?"
Master glanced to the side, suddenly aware of Sally breathing heavily through her nose and around the metal gag. Sally moaned. Master looked down to see that Sally had dribbled hot wax down the side of one of the candles and scorched her knuckle.
"Not paying attention, Assistant Cunt!" Master snapped, "too busy looking at that delicious tit, you little pussy licker. Head clouded with dyke desire. Well, do it. Go on."
Sally looked at Master questioningly.
"Do the one thing you're desperate to do," Master instructed. "Move the flame closer to her breast." Sally tried to respond to Master around the edges of her gag, that she hadn't been thinking of that at all.
