Meeting the Master

It's truly amazing the way a shower, a shave and a change of clothes can make you feel like a completely new man. Of course it's all an illusion, for in reality you are still the same middle-aged idiot whose wife has been secretly working as an upper class prostitute for some asshole throughout your entire marriage.

But hey, if reality sucks an illusion is better than nothing.

I removed my Glock from the coat with the intention of putting it in my pants and noticed that the gun felt different somehow. I was never a firearms expert, but I could have sworn the thing was lighter or somehow differently balanced compared to when I held it earlier. Upon a closer examination I soon discovered a square hole in the bottom of the grip and cursed to myself. Crap! The friggin clip was gone! M had given me his word of honour that I could keep my gun, but naturally he never said anything about bullets.

"Motoko you sneaky fox," I mumbled.

She evidently took her task of keeping me out of trouble seriously. Guess I could hardly blame her for following orders. And she may just have saved me from facing murder charges in the event that M or some of his goons should decide to push me around.

I left my useless gun in a drawer and strode downstairs intending to spend the rest of the afternoon exploring the premises. Well that, - and maybe locating something edible to silence my rumbling stomach. As everybody knows, there is no better way of working up a voracious appetite than engaging in great sex. And I sure as hell had my share of that earlier, courtesy of my beautiful but totally batshit oriental slave-girl.

Who incidentally was nowhere to be seen at the moment. So I guess I was exploring on my own. To be honest her absence suited me just fine. Oh, don't misunderstand me. I enjoyed Motoko's company a lot, but even barring the bullet-issue there was no way I could trust her where M was concerned. I might formally be her "master," but I had no illusions regarding who was really calling the shots in that place.

The mansion proved even larger and more impressive than I had originally assumed and seemed to offer every imaginable luxury. I found a cinema with rows of long couches rather than chairs -- perfect for making out while watching frisky movies - and there was a large pool and spa area with nude masseuses ready to offer their services,- which I had a pretty good idea went a lot further than "ordinary" massages. Yes, you better believe that I was temped, but I was on a recon mission and my time was limited so I took note and moved on.

The overall medieval theme of the decor occasionally clashed with the modern facilities -- the fitness room looked especially out of place -- but my general impression was that of an aesthetically pleasing house that was nice to live in. This was more like an x-rated version of Playboy Mansion than a prison, and none of the girls I encountered seemed abused or unhappy.

I could easily imagine how some of them might consider boinking a few customers once in a while and showing obedience to M a small price to pay for living a life of leisure in surroundings like these.

Some rooms were locked - I assumed they were private quarters or maybe currently in use for carnal activities - and a little further ahead I even located a gaming room with several pool tables, air hockey and slot machines. And this was where I bumped into Horsey and Monique.

Horsey was now wearing a brocaded smoking jacket and Monique sported the usual leather corset and garters, but I recognised them both immediately. They were engaged in a game of pool with another couple I hadn't seen before. Thank God it wasn't Ruth and her Ape-man. That would have been awkward to the max and I might even have been forced to set him on fire just for the fun of it -- but this woman wasn't wearing a black corset so I pegged her as a guest rather than a slave-girl.

I went to greet the party.

"Steve Mitchel," I said and shook hands with Horsey.

"Carl Armitage," he replied in a deep resonant voice. "And this is Monique Masters."

I greeted Monique who eyed me curiously. She had been sitting in the lobby when I had my little Mexican standoff with M and was probably wondering why Motoko wasn't along to keep me in line. Maybe she had discussed me with Ruth too. The two of them appeared to be good friends.

I smiled reassuringly and introduced myself to the other couple, Mr. and Mrs. Who-gives-a-fuck, and found my original impression to be correct. They were indeed guests, just like Horsey and yours truly. I was invited to join the game, but passed on the offer and politely excused myself.

As soon as I was out of the room, I whipped out my phone. As expected there was no signal, but as I had hoped there was wireless Internet without a passcode. Why bother with passcodes when you live on a private estate with miles to the nearest neighbour, right? I Googled "Carl Armitage" and was rewarded with several links mentioning "State Court Justice Armitage" complete with pictures of Horsey in a stately black robe.

What do you know? Horsey was a friggin judge!

No wonder M didn't want to disappoint him. I was willing to bet good money that Ape-man was a VIP of some sort as well. This realisation made me elevate M on the danger scale. I had already inferred that he had to be immensely wealthy, given that he owned a place like this, but if he also had a pocket full of influential people there were few things he couldn't get away with. I would need to step very carefully and feel my way around this guy if I wanted to entertain any hope of getting Ruth and myself away from this place unscathed. Provided that Ruth even

wanted

to leave, which was an open question at the moment.

What a fucking mess.

At that point the sound of steps from behind made me turn around and I saw Monique approaching.

"Pardon master Steve. A word?"

I couldn't imagine what she wanted from me -- I hardly knew her - but when she dragged me towards a side door I obliged. I was halfway hoping for a message from Ruth or something, but as it turned out that wasn't exactly what she had in mind.

"Master Steve. You beeg?"

"Six feet and a fraction. Why do you ask?"

"Non! Biroute... culotte... flute... member.... uuge... beeg?"

"You mean, do I have a big cock?"

"Oui," she nodded eagerly. "c'est ca."

"I am pretty satisfied with my size, but compared to Horsey in there I am afraid I can't measure up."

"Orsii?" she asked confused.

"Yeah, your date or trick or whatever the hell he is. Your pool partner in there. The guy is hung like a friggin horse. You know, like heehaw, giddyup, hi-ho Silver... cheval..."

Suddenly she started giggling and I knew she had understood me. Steve Mitchel -- polyglot extraordinaire. Yeah that's me.

"So I regret to have to disappoint you my fair French maiden, but I fear that I am not the droid you're looking for."

"Non. No beeg. Carl... c'est trop orsii... too beeg. Pleasing, but no orgasm. Too much pressure. Normal member for orgasm."

"Like me?"

"Oui. Ruth mon ami. She will permit."

"I would love to pound you like a flank steak Monique, but I honestly don't know if I can get it up. Motoko did a serious number on me twice today and I am no longer in my twenties, as you might have noticed."

"Oh? Pas de probleme," she replied with obvious self-confidence and almost before I knew it, I was in the process of getting my second blowjob of the day.

Monique was definitely no Motoko and not even a Ruth, but her enthusiasm was beyond reproach. She sucked, blew, chewed, kneaded, flicked, pumped, gargled and even blew a raspberry or two on my cock and before long her tenacity bore fruit.

Clearly a firm believer in never wasting a good erection, Monique grabbed me and pulled me down on the floor on top of her.

"Do me now, oui?"

"Totally oui," I replied and pushed inside her.

I wish I could tell about bone crushing orgasms, heavenly passion and wild animalistic tornado-sex, but the truth was that Monique wasn't a very active sex partner. Don't get me wrong. Sex is like pizza -- even when it's bad it's still pretty good -- and she was cute enough. But after being exposed to Motoko it was like moving from a sports car to an SUV. Clearly M had paired me with his top girl and Monique just wasn't in the same league.

She was mostly just lying there with her eyes closed moaning quietly. After about ten minutes she announced...

"Je jouis..."

...with the affect of a weather girl on TV informing about an upcoming drought and shivered a little. Assuming that was her long sought-after orgasm, I followed suit and pumped whatever was left in my poor overworked balls into her. Mostly stale air probably.

Afterwards we remained on the floor relaxing, when Monique suddenly glanced at her watch.

"Mon dieu! Orsii!" she yelped and got up. "Merci beaucoup master Steve. Au revoir."

She blew me a kiss and was out the door leaving me feeling oddly used.

"Some women just treat us guys like pieces of meat with cocks. But we have feelings too y'know," I said to nobody in particular.

Seriously though -- I HAD to either locate Motoko or get hold of Ruth next time I was in the mood for sex. I was obviously too spoiled for anything less than a sports car.

I got up, fixed my clothes and continued my exploration. Now that I was unarmed, I really hoped Monique would be able to hide our little tryst from Horsey. Because by wrapping my baguette in her crepe, I had just trespassed deep into the domain of a VIP client. The one thing M had explicitly forbidden under threat of ultimate violence.

**********

As it turned out I was a little late in my decision to refrain from pissing off M, because when I next saw him, he was in fact severely pissed.

I was outside exploring the park in the pleasing company of Kathleen -- an attractive thirty-something redhead who was technically a slave-girl, but assigned to maintenance rather than sexual services. She was in the process of trimming a hedge when I bumped into her, and I found her to be a knowledgeable and willing guide to the mansion. I also liked her for being less hung up on all the semi-creepy master-crap and just calling me Steve.

Already from far away I could tell from his determined stride that M was upset about something, and when he got closer the way he made a beeline straight for me left no doubt about who was the focus of his ire.

"Could I please have a word Steve," he asked rhetorically.

I nodded and said goodbye to Kathleen with a kiss on the cheek and trailed him to a deserted part of the gardens. M's control barely lasted until we were out of earshot from Kathleen before the mask of pleasantry was dropped. He turned to me in seething anger.

"What the HELL Steve? I granted you status as my guest and expected you to comport yourself with the dignity of a gentleman. I extended you EVERY hospitality I have to offer and you just..."

"Stop RIGHT there M!" I barked angrily back at him. I would be damned if I was gonna allow myself to get chewed out by this glorified pimp.

"Tell me -- not shout, but TELL me -- in which way you believe me to have abused your hospitality. Because right now I have frankly no friggin idea what I have done to piss you off."

He regarded me with a doubtful expression.

"You really don't know?"

"Damn straight I don't. So why not enlighten me Kemosabe?"

"It's Motoko. She has chained herself in the dungeon and refuses to leave, eat or drink. She has been bawling non-stop for the past hour and keep screaming at everybody who approaches to leave her to die. Something happened between you two to cause this. I don't know what the hell it was, but as her master YOU carry full responsibility regardless!"

I froze in place, speechless. This was friggin insane, even by the standard of this place!

"I'm waiting," M growled. "What the hell did you do to her? She is one of the nicest and most manageable girls I have. That's why I assigned her to you. Whatever you did to her, I can't fucking imagine how she deserved it."

"I thought you paired her with me because of her ability to kill me with her deadly martial arts skills," I commented dryly.

M shook his head and sighed.

"Come on. I was bullshitting you man. Hoping -- apparently against hope - that the idea would curb your impulses and make you a little more accommodating. I can't believe you actually bought it. The girl can hardly eat a steak without feeling sorry for the cow. She's more yoga than Kung Fu. Anyway, enough smalltalk Steve. Tell me what the hell you did to her."

"I honestly don't know M. Last I saw her she was running away because I refused to whup her ass with a friggin cat o' nine tails. She did seem a little on the edge, but not suicidal or anything."

M looked at me questioningly.

"A cat o' nine tails?"

"Yep," I replied.

"That's a bad one. Pretty much the most severe whip in our arsenal."

"I agree. And there is no friggin way you will ever get me to use something like that on another human being, let alone a young girl. I don't care if your rent-a-gorillas threaten me with lethal force. Simply not gonna happen M."

For a moment I had the distinct impression that he was contemplating that lethal force option. Then he seemed to dismiss the idea and enquired further about my interaction with Motoko.

"So what exactly made her feel like she deserved to be whipped?"

"Good question. We were just done having sex and slept for an hour or so. When I woke up she handed me the whip and pretty much told me to use it on her."

"Did she disobey you during sex?"

"Not at all. Well ok, I DID tell her not to climax but that was just a joke..."

"You told her not to cum, and she came anyway? Did you ORDER her not to cum?"

"I guess I kinda did. But I was just teasing."

"Listen Steve. As you already know we have many rules here. Some are written and some are unwritten but they are all part of our way of life. They are not all equally strictly enforced though -- some carry a harsher punishment than others. Furthermore there are certain situations where breaking the rules are punished even harsher than normal. The rule that carries the most severe punishment is disobeying a direct order from your master and the worst situation in which to do it is during sex. Do you understand?"

Not really, but I tried to extrapolate from his logic.

"Thanks to my little game of teasing, I tricked her into disobeying a direct order and because it happened during sex there were aggravated circumstances," I said slowly -- as much to myself as to M.

"Bingo. You want the pink rabbit or the blue teddy bear?"

"But can't you just go tell her to cut the crap? You are the all mighty cult leader after all."

"I am not her master before your lease runs out on Sunday or you formally return the authority to me. Besides even if I was, the infraction happened during your tenure as master and was directed against you. Only you can do anything about this Steve. She will not accept any other authority at this point. Not even mine."

"And she will actually stay perpetually in some crappy dungeon on hunger strike because of this shit?"

"Believe it Steve. To you the master title may be nothing but a sex-game, but to Motoko it's her core belief. Her master is the center of her universe. You were responsible for her and you not only failed to protect her, but actively put her in peril out of carelessness. I am NOT impressed."

Without another word M turned on his heels and strode off in obvious contempt.

So I had evidently failed big time as master. Not that I would ever admit it, but M was right in one respect. I had considered the master/slave thing to be nothing but a kinky sex-game and failed to recognise that these people apparently weren't merely playing -- they were "living" this shit. According to M he had made Motoko my slave for the weekend in an attempt to make me understand their ways, and he had picked her because she was easy to work with. Like when you give the new guy on the ranch a docile and well behaved horse for his first ride.

"But I still screwed up" I mumbled to myself, feeling grateful that I at least hadn't told the crazy chick to go jump off a cliff.

What I had to do next, was a no-brainer. My dad didn't raise his son to run away from his mistakes. Besides I wanted more of that awesome sex. So I walked back to Kathleen, who was now busy fixing a garden lamp.

"Might I impose on you for a minute Kathleen? I have a pressing appointment in the dungeon and I could really use some directions as to where the hell I find it."

"I heard Master have a go at you. It's about Motoko?"

"Yeah."

"I'll take you there. I can finish this later."

**********

Kathleen led the way down into the deepest part of the building. Access was provided by a narrow winding stone stairway that seemed to go on for a long time, as if we were walking all the way into the bowels of Hell itself.

When we arrived at the bottom of the stairs I found myself facing down an arched corridor with a row of heavy wooden doors on both sides. The raw granite walls were illuminated by flaming torches held in place by wall-mounted brass fixtures. The atmosphere of the place couldn't have been more medieval if Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe had walked by on the way to his armoured war-horse. I could even hear muffled screams from somewhere nearby as if somebody was being tortured.

"Crap on toast Kathleen. This place is friggin unreal. How deep are we anyway?"

She gave me a smug smile.

"Not nearly as deep as you would think Steve. You probably didn't notice, but the steps had a slight upward slant, which made our descent feel steeper than it actually was. We are only three levels down. This would be the sub-sub-basement."

"You guys went all out, huh? And friggin live torches too."

"Well, they're actually camouflaged propane burners -- we add a chemical to the gas in order to make the flame yellow. We couldn't use real torches down here. The air would become unbreathable, even with the ventilation system on full power."

"Ventilation system? In a medieval dungeon?"

"This dungeon is used for sexual bondage Steve -- not a reenactment of the fourteenth century. We even have an emergency electric lighting system and intercoms installed for improved fire safety. Oh, and there are cameras all over as well. I challenge you to spot any of them though."

I looked around carefully and she was right. For all I could tell, I was in an authentic dungeon. I had never seen shit like this outside Disney World. Come to think of it, Disney World's imagineers probably wished they were this good.

"It is quite amazing Kathleen. And I am impressed with how well you seem to know your way around all the technical details."

I could almost see the dark cloud forming over her head. "What the hell did I do now," I wondered.

"You know Steve," she began. "I would like you a lot more if you weren't such an arrogant prick!"

"Hey! Just a minute," I tried, but was cut off.

"Shut your pie-hole and open your ears for a change. Do you think we haven't noticed how you're prancing around like some holy-man, judging people left and right? Do you think we aren't aware that you are feeling like Alice on the wrong side of the looking glass? Like a so-called normal person exploring an asylum and mingling with the loonies?"

"Kath! I never..."

"For some unfathomable reason Master sees something in you. I think he hopes against his better judgment that you will learn to accept our lifestyle and maybe even join us or at least stop giving Ruth a hard time about it. But I know that will never happen. Do you know why? Because you are walking around with your head so far up your ass that you only see the world through your belly button. And the corkscrew big enough to pull it out doesn't exist."