A Masters Story

Authors Note.

This is the first chapter of an almost complete, full-length novel about star-crossed lovers. There are two streams to the story, this one is aimed at male readers the other, entitled Slave, is aimed at female readers. Therefore Males should read the Master chapter #n before reading the Slave chapter #n. Males still need to read the Slave chapters as they will discover important plot clues buried therein. Female readers should read the Master chapters as well, as most of the background information is contained therein. I did not want to write two books! The story is of the interaction of the main characters as they travel the bumpy road of experience that is life.

It is intended to get readers of both sex's able to identify (get their juices flowing) with the main character (of their sex) while understanding what the other character is doing.

All characters are drawn from real life; names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Be warned the female character has a hidden agenda right to the last chapter!

Also be warned the lovers are very adventurous sexually and this story has them experiencing activities that are injurious to health if practiced in real life.

The ultimate safe sex is to read about it!

Where in your body is your most erogenous zone? Answer between your ears.

I hope you like the humor buried here, so read on and enjoy James and Jessica's story.

*

Master by Accident.

I had seen a photograph of some bondage implements and the prices people were paying for them. I needed some extra money and so with a small outlay and a little effort, I made a set of cuffs and spreaders for ankles and wrists. I ventured two advertisements in the local contact magazine. `Bondage equipment for sale reasonable prices.' and `Master into teasing not beating has room for one or two submissive slaves.' The venture was a small success. I was selling a lot of rope, with the ends properly bound, at retail prices, a mark-up of 90%, a good return. The small factory I had inherited from my uncle Josh, and its two workers was busy again.

I polished and varnished the wood and made a few adjustments to the lounge room of the small house in the city that Uncle Josh had helped me purchase after my second marriage break-up. I fitted four strong eyebolts into the ceiling above the bar through a ceiling joist and another pair six feet further into the room and another pair over the settee. I made up four pulley block sets and checked that they all ran freely.

I re-ran the advert at a discount for a further three months, and included a photo of the items I had made. Orders for rope came in at a reasonable pace that turned the business round. The accountant had showed me the books and advised me to sell, uncle Josh had been hurt badly by the economic down turn. He had not made a profit in almost four years. The working capital was at the lowest it had ever been.

I pressed ahead with the alteration to his old house beside the harbor. Finding a builder was easy, everyone wanted work. The alterations to the top floor would be ready before Christmas, I could expect the income from the two flats to double the company's meager profit. I was enjoying being my own boss.

I had not had to sell the city house. I had a heritage mansion. I had a functional business in its own factory. On paper, I was a millionaire. Returning here after my second ex got the family home down south had been a good idea. Working two jobs for four years, being a Mr. Fix-it for a large retail store, fixing all manner of white goods that had been traded in and getting them ready for re-sale had been a good move. The work had been frustrating, but the company pick-up had given me wheels and the collection and delivery had helped me learn the city streets, it had been over 25 years since I had left and the city had changed a lot.

I was especially happy about the business turn-around. Jane the company sectary a woman recently re-married, really knew the companies main business. Sheets and halyards for sail boats. She had been with Josh for 15 years. Ebenezer a man of 67 who had taught me all he knew about splicing rope to steel wire. How to run the rope making machines, was happy to have them working at least a day a week and one going all the time. Uncle Josh had taught me the maintenance of the rope making machines, they were German made in 1960 quite complicated, but good German engineering, built to last.

I was still working part time for the retailer and had the use of its pickup whenever I needed it. I had bought a second hand ford F250. All I needed was for the economy to turn round and I would be making serious money. Uncle Josh had stashed away quite a lot in the good old 80's. I could make thousands of miles of rope from his extensive raw materials stock holding. I just had to replace some when I had a positive cash flow. Trouble was the delivery quantities were huge and that took a lot of cash.

I had Jane to help me there, she knew the raw materials stock, its cost and replacement value. I think she knew the value in replacement sheets and halyards for most sailboats on the harbor. She could give the client a estimate to replace them off the top of her head.

It was November and the sailboat business was picking up. I had work for two yachts, a complete running rigging replacement, in a week. Ebenezer gave me a pass mark on the halyards I had to make up, praise indeed. The bondage rope essentially a mail order business had continued and one machine was running every day now making 10mm rope. I had moved into the big house. I had a housekeeper that came in to clean. The alterations were within budget and early. Three more weeks and I could let the flats. I placed an advert in the local newspaper. When the big house top floor flats were let, I could let the city house and cut down the hours I worked for the retail giant.

There were two letters from the contact magazine on the mat of the city house. I opened them and dashed off a standard reply from my overworked PC for the first, another order for 10mm rope in the pipeline. I made a note to myself, change the address to a box number before the next re-run. The second letter was from a young woman who said her name was Jessica, could she meet me to discus the implements and their use? A local telephone number was included. I rang and spoke to a woman with a sweet sexy voice. I arranged a meeting at the local wine bar, Friday after work. I told her I would be wearing a distinctive black sweater with white diagonal stripes across it.

The appointed day arrived and I sat and waited for Jessica. It was a long wait and I had had three glasses and was contemplating a fourth when someone touched my arm.

"Hello, I'm Jessica." She looked very nice; almost pretty enough to be a model, nice figure, nice hair, but about six feet tall. One flaw an obviously broken and badly set nose. I offered her a wine and forsook my fourth. 'I just may need my wits about me here.' I thought to myself.

Her presentation was quite severe, a formal white blouse buttoned to the neck and a pencil slim black skirt to just below the knee, dark stockings or tights and sensible mid-heel black court shoes. She wore no rings or earrings and her make-up was minimal, with the exception the lips of her small prim mouth, which were glossed in my favorite shade of red and moistly glistened in the subdued lighting of the bar.

"I saw your advertisement quite by accident." She assured me, "and I am both curious and somewhat disgusted that people make and sell such implements of torture." Jessica went straight for my jugular; once she had her glass of wine.

I relaxed and waited for her to continue, and when I had not replied she eventually did so.

"Do you use them as well as sell them?" she demanded. Her color was rising. Her glance slid away from mine as she took a sip of wine.

I smiled nicely, gave her my best charming wicked grin, but said nothing.

She continued, "What sort of disgusting things do you sell then?"

She locked eyes with me for a second then dropped her gaze to look into her glass.

"I have a range of equipment." I replied and smiled again. I sipped the last dregs of my wine.

"Yes, but what sort?" She looked up and quickly looked away again.

I smiled again. "They are all hand made. I am a skilled worker and they are of the finest quality, soft leathers, silk ropes and varnished wood."

"Yes, but what sort and do you use them yourself?" She was beginning to color up slightly and she licked her lips nervously, she still would not look me in the eye. The atmosphere was charged.

"Well there are many different sorts of bondage implements, what sort are you interested in?" I turned her question back upon her.

She had almost finished her drink and her color was a little more flushed. Her lips were still moist and she nervously flicked the end of her pink tongue over them again before replying.

"I don't really know, did you see the photographs in the paper a month or so ago?"

"Yes, I saw the paper and read of the stupid woman who went too far and killed her client."

"Yes that paper, that woman, but you are a man so you torture women."

I let her statement lay, giving no response.

"I could not work out what half the things in that picture were for, let alone imagine anybody letting someone use them on them." She gulped the last of her drink.

I smiled at her, but said nothing.

"What sort of things do you make?" her moderated tone made her question less demanding. She briefly held my gaze again.

"Would you like to see some?" I smiled innocently.

She was quick to reply. "What! Do you have some with you?"

I smiled again and turned her question back at her. "You did not answer my question?"

"Yes, I would like to see what you make." She licked her lips nervously again.

I took the simple cuff from my pocket; it was really nothing more than a leather wristband, soft, broad and had no fastener.

"How does this work?" She asked. Her eyes flashed at me and she looked down again.

"Hold out your wrist." Her wrist shot out. I wrapped the short leather strap round her wrist, fed the end through the loop, and pulled it tight.

"This is so the other things don't leave ugly red marks or chafe your skin." I explained in a soft voice.

She was stroking the smooth supple leather, lifted her wrist to her nose, and smelt the distinctive odor. "Do you have anything else to show me?" She was almost whispering now. She did not look me in the eye, keeping her gaze down.

"Do you want to see some more?" I asked with a nice smile.

She nodded her eyes continued to flash nervous glances watching my every move.

"You will have to come to my home I use my lounge as a show room; it's around the block only a few minutes walk."

I took her elbow and gently led her from the bar. She accompanied me quite freely without a word. We walked to my small city house. I unlocked the door and motioned her inside. She took the steps into my house un-aided. I indicated the doorway to the lounge and switched on the lights. The polished wooden floor, the white leather suite and lambs wool rug before an open fireplace impressed her. There was only a large mirror and one picture on the walls, which were hung with Hessian cloth. The light was quite bright. A glass topped coffee table, two bar stools and a magazine rack completed the furnishings.

"Another glass of wine?" I indicated the bar stool and poured one for myself.

She just nodded looking around the room. Her heels clacked on the polished wood as she made her way to sit on the stool, keeping the bar between us as I poured her the drink.

"What sort of things do you want to see?" I decided to pile on the pressure.

"Oh, I want to see them all." She smiled briefly at me, her first. I thought she should smile more often.

"Well I think I can do that, what would you like to see first?" I wanted her to seem to be taking the initiative.

"You said that this was to stop things chafing the wrists. What sort of things did you mean handcuffs or rope?"

"Both can damage skin and both are used, which would you like to see?"

She looked down. "Rope." was her soft reply.

I reached below the bar, removed a length of rope, and laid it across the bar. She picked it up and fingered the silk patterned outer threads it was only six feet long.

"What is this for, it hardly seems long enough to secure anyone." she looped the soft coils around her hands.

I took one end and said. "Would you like to try it round one wrist?"

The cuffed wrist shot out and the wild look she gave me told me that there was no question about it, she was going to submit. I took her slim wrist, with one end of the rope in her hand with a loop at her elbow wound the rest of the rope over itself, and neatly circled the cuff on her wrist several times. I slid the end through the loop and pulled the end from her hand, then tied the ends off. She now had six feet of stout rope loosely wrapped round her wrist.

She ran her fingers over the coils. "Would you like me to do the other one?" I softly asked. She nodded. I fitted another soft leather cuff and a second rope coiled around her other wrist. She sat sipping her drink, she kept fingering the bindings.

"But these are hardly restraints?" She was bolder this time and looked me in the eye for a few seconds.

"But they can be. Would you like to see how?"

She nodded. "Hold out your hands." So while she had her glass in one hand she tentatively held out the other.

With a stainless steel 'D' shackle, I passed the pin through the bindings and screwed it home. The heavy metal glinted in the overhead bar light. She fingered the simple loop and turned the thread in and out a few times. I had left it quite loose.

"It's become half of a hand cuff, but would be very easy to get off."

"Would you like to try the other half?" She held out her wrist and I fitted another 'D' shackle to the other wrist.

"How do they fit together?" she asked.

"Well they can be used like that and joined together with other rings or with rope to keep your wrists together or used to hold your arms apart separately. I took a small thin rope and tied the shackles together loosely. She fingered the crude handcuffs and again turned the pin a few turns each way.

"Aren't they rather easy to get off?"

"Perhaps, but that is part of the game, being tied, but easily freed. Try walking about."

She stood and walked about. "Where is the bathroom please?"

I took her elbow and led her down the short corridor.

"Can you manage like that, here let me untie that string."

I returned to the lounge room. She was taking her time.

She walked to the settee and sat down. She asked for more wine and held out her glass. I took the bottle with me and sat beside her while she pondered the situation.

"I suppose you have similar things for legs?"

I nodded.

"Could I try them?" Her eyes flashed white and she flushed slightly. "You won't do anything will you?"

"I will let you try the leg cuffs on. If you tell me to stop, then I will stop."

I smiled and got the items, two cuffs, two ropes and two `D' shackles. I placed them on the arm of the settee in her reach and asked her to pass them to me as I bound her trim ankles. She was trembling slightly when I took the first in my hand. I stood back when each ankle was cuffed.

"You usually spread the legs I suppose?" She was a little red around the neck and face as she said this. She looked around the room desperately avoiding my eyes.

I nodded, smiled and said. "Do you want to try a spreader?"

She blushed fully now and nodded. I fetched a stout polished pole and handed it to her. She felt the surface and looked at the five metal loops one in the middle and two six inches from each end and two in the ends.

"What are these for?" She asked, there was a catch in her throat and she coughed.

"Perhaps I can show you later, but you wanted to try the spreader. Your skirt will be too tight; could you lift it up a little?"

She handed me the pole, stood and hiked her skirt to mid thigh and sat down again.

I bent and snapped the shackle and re-threaded it through the ring at the end of the pole. I laid the pole down on the floor, looked at her, and smiled looking at her unsecured ankle and the other end of the pole.

She shifted her position and placed the cuffed ankle next to the end ring. She did not know it but she had just become my slave.

I stepped swiftly to the side as she pulled the skirt between her legs covering the flash of black panties. I knelt and secured her leg.

She handed me her empty glass and I asked. "Another?" She smiled and while I filled it, she bent and tested the fastenings.

`I am hardly trusted up; these don't seem to be terribly effective. I could get free in seconds. How can you justify the silly prices you probably ask for these bits of rope and wood?" She seemed more confident, but there was still a catch in her voice.

I turned her question again. "Oh they can be very difficult to get out of. Would you like to try?"

She nodded. "You won't do anything will you?"

"You can try to get out when I tell you, just wait and do what I tell you, then I will sit here and watch while you get free."

I fetched two more spreaders and fixed one between her right ankle and wrist, then the other between left ankle and wrist. She had held her hands in position while I did this. I poured myself a small glass of wine and toasted her.

"Just one more thing and you can try to get free." She fingered the loose shackles at each wrist. I handed her the glass. She sipped more wine while I fetched a fourth spreader and fitted it to her left wrist.

I un-screwed the shackle and held the pole across her body she had her wine glass in her hand, but stretched out for me to re-attach the shackle.

"I will screw it in quite loosely. I do not want you to think I have cheated. Would you like to try and get free now?"

She looked at me shocked to find herself so loosely trussed yet not able to get hand to foot, or other hand. She had her legs spread four feet apart, her hands were three feet apart, and it was five feet from ankle to wrist. She could only just get her glass to her mouth she took a large gulp and asked me to hold the glass.

I took it and she tried to get the end of the rope to her mouth and pull the knot loose, but only made it tighter. She half stood and tried to get a hand to the opposite foot. Her skirt had fallen when she did this and its tight hem prevented her getting anywhere near her ankle. She looked at me.

"Please pull my skirt up." I smiled and she stood still while I pulled it to mid thigh.

"No higher, tuck it in. Yes there." I did as she requested and my hands brushed her thigh and tucked the skirt beneath her pretty panties hem.

She redoubled her efforts. She could just touch the `D' shackle at her ankle but the flattened end refused to turn with the finger pressure she could apply; she was much to weak to oppose the pressure imposed by the straining rope as she struggled to reach the pin.

"Damn silly things won't turn; perhaps I can reach the other side better."

She squirmed and attempted to reach the other ankle, but again was frustrated when she saw the threaded end easily in reach but the flattened end that unscrewed two inches away and beyond her outstretched fingers.

"You are enjoying this aren't you?" She said hotly.

"Of course, that is the whole point of bondage. How often do you think I get to see a perfect stranger voluntarily in bondage with her skirt up round her waist and secured by a few bits of rope, four poles and a few steel rings?"

She returned to the other ankle and the skirt fell restricting her still further. "This damn skirt is in the way! Please take it off?"