What Is a Master

Like Icarus, I flew too close to the sun. It was my downfall. And again, like Icarus, it was my own fault. I made a bad decision, and I came spinning down from the heights of passion to the depths of despair.

My story was going so well. Ursula cared deeply for me, her Roger, and I adored her with my complete soul. Who would have thought it would end this way?

Cynthia and Carl had broken up. Who was to blame for that? I hadn't a clue, really. Perhaps nobody was. Perhaps it was just life happening. Cynthia no longer allowed me into her life. She saw me only when it was unavoidable. As when she was visiting Ursula, and I happened to be there, or when Ursula wanted me to watch them make love. This was a huge turn on for Ursula. Our love-making afterwards was always surprising and fulfilling. But Cynthia rarely even spoke to me. I never understood what had really caused this change in Cynthia.

As to Carl, I avoided him like the plague. But Ursula maintained ties to both of them. She loved Cynthia, as she had never loved me. And, in another spin to our story, she now seemed to have become even more attached to Carl and his friends. The convolutions and spins were mind boggling and disorienting to me.

It began simply enough. I was training to be Ursula's Master. That is, she was teaching me. I know. When does a submissive train a Master? Obviously, never. It didn't work for us. It wouldn't work for anyone. I thought it was working. What we had going seemed to me to be magic. It was compelling and fulfilling as nothing before ever had been. We made such passionate love that I was convinced I had invented sex. Truly, it was that good.

Our training had lasted for some weeks and I thought I was progressing splendidly. Ursula never gave me any indication that I was doing anything wrong. To the contrary, I was always distinctly aware that we had an uncommon link. That we laughed at the same things. That often we were even thinking the same thoughts. We found it amusing. I found it endearing and assumed it meant we had a special bond. That we were, in fact, actual soul mates. That rare state of being that so many search for and so few find.

I should have known that it was all taking a bad spin when our roles started subtly changing. I was the Master, and she was the sub. Right? Well, actually, it had never been truly that relationship. I could never be sure that she was following my orders. I could never be sure I was giving them properly, or that she was not simply using me in her own way to achieve her own secret goals. In any case, the roles began to change. Slowly, but surely, I was assuming a more and more submissive role. For awhile I could take that, but not too long. I was not a submissive type.

I never had been.

She began slowly by asking submissively if she could use some of our toys on me. I didn't see the harm. I had spanked her often with straps and whips of various types. I could surely take it from her every so often. It was only a little pain after all. If she could take it so could I.

One evening as I whipped her luscious ass with a leather strap she had an intense orgasm with her sweet pussy fluids running down her legs as she hung from the hook in the ceiling. It was good for me too. I immediately began fucking her ass hole just the way she had always loved it before. Deep and rough. Ramming and thrusting with all my power into her abused, red ass. She kept cumming for me over and over. I filled her ass with my load of sperm and relaxed, releasing her from the bindings and placing her gently on the bed. We were in her master bedroom. How ironic that was, now that I think about it. I was supposed to be the Master and yet we were in her "master" bedroom.

"Roger, my life, we are good together, aren't we?"

"That's a gross understatement, little one."

"You know, I think it would be even better if you let me take charge once in awhile. Just a little dear one."

"How so, Ursula?"

"Oh just in little ways my love. Like tonight. I could give you a little spanking like you gave to me. That wouldn't be so bad, would it? I think I might really get off on that baby. I really do."

So we tried that. I took some spankings. I didn't enjoy them. Some do, some don't. But I allowed it, thinking I was being a decent Master by giving my sub a bit of pleasure. And she really enjoyed it. She would cum as she whipped me and, often, I would glance back and see her fucking herself with a dildo as she was spanking me. She would stop the spanking when she could not control her cumming anymore. I never got off on it. I would then order her to suck my prick and get me to cum. She loved that. She had always been a cum slut. I loved spewing spunk across her face and watching her eyes gazing up into mine with lust and pleasure.

That was the beginning of the end, when things began to spin out of my control.

After that she wanted to use her toys more often, asking me to watch as she made herself cum over and over. I was allowed to jack off and then feed her my cum. She did love sucking down cum. For her it didn't matter if it was male cum or female juices. She was bisexual of course. She always had been. Now and then I would hear her moaning Cynthia's name while she had an orgasm. Even when I was fucking her pussy with all my force and power she was still thinking of someone else.

I tried reprimanding her. She would become obedient and submissive immediately, but it wouldn't last. Finally I did what I thought I was supposed to do. I made her take a lashing with a whip until she cried out the the "safe" word. The problem was, she gave the safe word after only a couple of swipes with the lash. What was I to do? I loved her. I thought she loved me. I thought this was what she had always wanted. To be a sub to a Master. And she had virtually hand picked me, or rather Cynthia picked me. But she had lost any semblance of submission to me. I could see that.

Now the begging began. She wanted to use her strap-on to fuck me in the ass. I would say no, but she was persistent. At last I had to lay it on the line. I was either her Master or her equal, but I would never be her sub. I did not play that way. I was in power, not under the thumb or rule of anyone. I was clear about that.

Then I tried to continue with our relationship. I told her we could be just lovers if she wanted. I did not need to be a Master. I don't believe I had ever had the right temperament for it. I know she was a natural submissive, but for some reason she was attempting to be a Mistress over me. My world was spinning out of my control.

It was at this time that I discovered something that changed everything. I did not live with Ursula. I had my own apartment. She lived uptown, and I lived downtown. She had the money. She had the fine apartment. It had always been convenient and more comfortable for us both to use her place. She had never seemed to mind. One thing about Ursula was that she was never rude, and always free with what she had, for me and for her friends. But I had never actually moved in with her. I would spend most of my time at my own place.

In any case, I was staying in my own apartment and I called Ursula to tell her I would be doing some work out of town for a few days. She didn't answer her phone, so I left a text message. I knew that she would call Cynthia to come over as soon as she got my message. They were more often than not together whenever I wasn't around. I have explained before that this never bothered me. It was a given if I was to stay with Ursula. She loved Cynthia.

I had been allowed to watch them together several times. I was not being the Master then. Cynthia was being the Mistress and I was forgotten as she treated my Ursula as her own sub. Once she tied Ursula on the bed with each hand and foot strapped so that her sweet body was spread-eagled on the coverlet. Her soft raven hair was lying on the pillow and her little triangle of pussy hair was displaying her red labia with droplets of cunt juice glistening in the overhead light.

Cynthia teased her with a feather all over her body, but especially on the areas she knew Ursula found sensitive and which aroused her the most. I knew them well myself. The feather tickled her hard nipples, and her inner thighs, and the back of her knees. Every point that brought her to peak arousal. But Cynthia stayed clear of her cunt. That was for use later.

No one cared, but I was jerking myself off. My cock was rock hard. Masturbating was my only outlet if I was allowed to be there when Ursula and Cynthia played. "Allowed" is the right word, and it should have given me fair warning that my love affair with Ursula had begun to spin out of my control. I was blind and loving and hopeful. And very stupid, I would discover.

Just as Cynthia started ramming a double dildo into Ursula's pussy and ass I shot my spunk into some tissue. Ursula was moaning and whispering Cynthia's name, as she had done many times before, and her orgasm sent her spinning into the stratosphere, straining against the silk ropes that bound her. Cynthia withdrew the dildo and squirting juices escaped for Cynthia to lap up. They continued with this love-making while I left, feeling a deep regret welling up inside me.

But now, several weeks later, I was leaving town for a few days, and Ursula would be on her own.

Let me be clear. I had never thought of Ursula's time with Cynthia as somehow cheating on me. Oh no. That had always been clear from the start. Ursula loved Cynthia. I was her man friend, her male candy. I was the Master she claimed to need to fulfill her submissive nature. But I always felt that our male/female relationship was exclusive, once we had become an item. I was her man. Do you understand? Perhaps not. But I understood it.

Now something was changing, taking a new spin in our lives. I was to find out how much very soon.

I was out of town for several days. I would call and text but would get no answer. I was worried. Frightened actually. I wanted to call the police and have them check on my soul mate. But that seemed a very dumb thing to do. After all, what were we to each other? Dear friends, and lovers? Master and sub? I didn't really know anymore. I did know that I didn't feel as if I had the right to call the police every time she didn't answer a text message.

When I arrived home late on a Saturday evening I parked my Mercedes in the spot I rented and went up to my walk-up apartment on the third floor. I lived in a colorful and arty part of the city. And I loved the ambience and the people. Every language possible could be heard as one walked the streets of my neighborhood. And the foods! Such a variety. I never felt that special, all-world vibe in Ursula's part of the city.

Tossing off my clothes, I took a shower. Then I tried to reach Ursula. Her phone was going to voicemail. None of my texts had been answered. I was still worried, so I did something I know I shouldn't have. I went to her apartment. She had given me a key back in the golden days when we were flying high on our new-found passion and joy. When the relationship was blooming, and I thought our souls had become one.

I didn't drive. I would never find a parking spot in her part of the city. I took the subway. Arriving at her apartment, I then did something I would never, should never have done. I didn't knock or use the doorbell. I used my key and entered. I had a compulsion that came over me. It asserted control. It was irresistible. I wanted to know what was going on. I wanted to know what my darling, my soul mate, was doing when I was not around. This was when I made the bad decision. This was when the relationship spun out of my control. This is when the final spin occurred.

I slipped the key in the lock. I turned it smoothly and opened the door. Immediately I could smell the odor of sex permeating the apartment. Ursula's master bedroom was to the left, past the beautiful art pieces and the filled bookshelves. Sounds were coming from that direction. Sounds I had heard before. Sounds I had made or caused her to make. Very fucking disturbing sounds. You understand? Am I fucking clear?

Then I heard the voice that killed my dreams, that murdered my hopes, that destroyed my life. I heard Carl.

And he was giving orders! His voice was commanding my darling, my heart, my soul. And as I approached the open door to her bedroom I heard Ursula calling out "please Daddy, please make me cum."

I didn't want to watch. I didn't want to see. But I did. Ursula was on her hand and knees on the floor. Carl's cock was in her free hand and she was licking it and sucking it while she moaned and begged to be allowed to cum. His flail was lashing her back and her ass, and her cunt lips were rosy red from being slashed with the whip, as was her entire ass. That lovely, luscious ass I had fucked so many times before.

I felt my stomach telling me it wanted to throw up. He stopped the lashing, picked her up, and threw her on the bed. I saw his triumphant grin as he crawled between her legs and aimed his prick at her pussy. With one quick thrust he was in her and fucking her harder and deeper.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy." Over and over she said it. Over and over. I could see she was having an orgasm. I came to my fucking senses and got the hell out of there before he actually filled her cunt with sperm. I had seen too much. I didn't need to see that. I fled, hearing her sweet voice calling out to him as I left the apartment.

My story had taken an awful spin. It was my own fault.

I was not a Master. I never had been. Perhaps if we had been clear about that in the first place things would have been different. Perhaps we would have grown together as a couple. Perhaps our very real attachment to each other would have blossomed and become something beautiful to look upon. Perhaps, always perhaps.

Ursula was the one. She should have been my true soul mate. We should have been eternal lovers.

But it all took a horrible spin.