Rachel was feeling frustrated. Ever since Master had said those magical words to her, "Then we shall begin," she had been waiting for . . . expecting . . . hot sex and passion. Instead, her new Master seemed to delight in keeping her aching with unfulfilled desire and constant arousal. He made her stay naked throughout the entire day and evening, wearing nothing but those chains that pulled and tugged against all her sensitive spots. She had become so horny that all she could think of was sex, and she knew her discomfort was obvious to her Master in the way that He grinned at her when He came home in the evenings, the way He casually . . . oh so casually . . . brushed her hard nipples when she served Him dinner, the way that He kept His heated gaze on certain parts of her that made her squirm. The first few days after she had knelt before Him on the stone altar and promised her submission, she had clumsily tried to seduce Him, but He seemed impervious to what she was offering. Finally, He had chuckled and bent to give her a swift, hard kiss.
"Patience, my pet," He had said. "That is the first lesson you must learn."
Rachel sighed as she began preparing the evening meal, and wondered just how long she was going to have to be patient. Which in itself, was an exercise in impatience. Which seemed to prove Master's point that she hadn't yet learned self-control. Rachel deboned the chicken with a little more energy than was strictly necessary and threw it into the heated skillet, along with a handful of fresh rosemary. She added a few layers of tin foil, then the heavy stones which pressed it while it was cooking. She turned her attention to the side dishes that she had planned to go along with the chicken and glanced at the clock. She'd better hurry. Master would be home soon.
She lifted her head at the sound of a knock against the front door. Still a bit too early for Master . . . and he wouldn't knock, would he? She scurried to the door and peeped through the hole. It was the oldest of Master's associates, Judah, the one who seemed to be second-in-command. Aware of her nakedness, Rachel opened the door, carefully staying hidden behind it.
"He isn't home," she told Judah, hoping that only her eyes were visible around the edge of the door.
The older man bowed his head in assent. "Yes, He asked me to wait for Him here."
"Um . .well . . . ." Rachel was at a loss. She had been told not to wear any clothing in the house while Master was gone, but would He really want her naked in front of His associates?
Judah's eyes gleamed a little, as though he knew exactly what was running through her mind. "He told me you would, of course, invite me to wait inside."
That settled it, then. Rachel opened the door, her eyes skirting away from Judah's, her cheeks flushed hot pink as she revealed her nakedness. The older man cleared his throat, then moved past her.
"May I offer you a drink? Some lemonade? Or, something stronger?"
She could feel Judah's eyes on her hips as she moved toward the kitchen. "Lemonade," he finally answered.
When Rachel returned to the living room, Judah was seated on the couch. "Thank you, my dear," he said as he took the offered lemonade. Rachel noticed, with a little amusement, that he addressed her nipples, rather than her eyes. His obvious distraction served to make her more comfortable in front of him, and she found herself just beginning to relax a bit when the sound of a key in the front door sent her scurrying to greet her Master.
Rachel knelt on the tiles of the front entrance until Master stepped through the doorway with His usual, "Greetings, my pet." Then, she rose and took His suit jacket and His tie.
"You have a guest, Master. Judah is in the living room."
Master's eyes sparkled. "Is he now? And, did my little pet offer him some refreshment?"
"Yes, Master, lemonade."
"Good girl." Her Master pulled Rachel to Him, unmindful of the suit jacket and tie she was holding, and kissed her deeply. His hands moved down her back to press her hips against His, and she felt the outline of His arousal through His pants. The chains tugged at her always sensitive nipples and rubbed against her usually swollen clit. Her heart raced and she knew her eyes were fogged with desire when He finally put her from Him.
"Sweet little petslut," He said affectionately, swatting her bottom. "Go hang up My clothes and finish dinner. Is there enough for Judah to join us?"
That was a rhetorical question, of course. Master knew it was impossible for Rachel to cook just two portions of anything.
Rachel served the two men dinner, hovering by the table and trying to anticipate their needs. Judah showed great deference to her Master, but Rachel noticed that his eyes strayed, from time to time, to her breasts and hips, and the shadowy cleft in between. She assumed her Master noticed, too, because His spirits were even higher than usual, and she noticed that the teasing glint that was generally present in His eyes when He looked at her was even more pronounced.
After dinner, Master rose and beckoned Judah to join Him again in the living room. "Bring us a couple of beers," He told Rachel. "And when you're finished with cleaning the kitchen, I would like you to join us."
She brought the men each a bottle of beer, and left a plate of cookies on the low table by the couch. Judah had pulled out several photographs and the men were frowning over them. Rachel heard snatches of muttered conversation as she went back toward the kitchen. It sounded like, "Aztecs . . . human sacrifice . . . " but she assumed that was just the by-product of her always over-active imagination.
She wiped her hands on a tea towel and tossed it into the washing machine to be laundered in the morning. The kitchen was spotless, the sink shiny, and the table set for breakfast in the morning. Rachel returned to the living room carrying two more bottles of beer. Master had placed a pillow on the floor next to His feet and as He reached out to take the beers from her, He indicated with a nod of His head that she should sit next to Him. He absently stroked her hair and her shoulders as he discussed what seemed to be a potential Latin American crisis with Judah.
"We've traced them back to this small village," Judah was saying. "Not too far from outskirts of Mexico City, but we need to know what you want us to do next."
"Revolución Azteca," Master murmured. He reached out to pick up a photograph that showed a man's head with a stake driven through it and what appeared to be his heart lying on the ground just behind it. When Rachel shuddered, her Master tangled His fingers in her hair and guided her face against His thigh so her view of the photograph was blocked. "Thank you for bringing this to My attention, Judah. You know what to do?"
