MASTER IS DARK - Christian and Leila's Last Day

MASTER IS DARK

There seems to be an overwhelming demand for this chapter. If you're only interested how CG was with Ana, please skip this chapter. I was only intending to e-mail the copy of it to those of you who wanted to see my rendition of a different side of him and (thank you!) there has been over 30 e-mails in the last 1/2 hour. I'll repost it for the time being especially since I won't have time to post till Monday.

 This chapter was difficult to write because Christian was hard, and I almost didn't like the person he was: unrepenting, unredeemed. I could have portrayed him harsher, but I opted out on that. Just a glimpse of his past self to give you an idea what it entails to surrender your entire being to another person to do as s/he wishes... On the flip side, the submissive employs tricks to gain the affection of the Dom. I would in the future go to lenghts to avoid writing about CG being with someone else because it lacks the element of love, but I wanted to challenge myself.

It is Saturday, but I have so much work to get through. Leila is fixing our lunch. I have to go over some winding cell phone schematics. I want to make the communication technology available to places where power is not readily available. But, there is a glitch, and it’s driving me crazy. I like things to be done in a timely manner. When I want them, not when my engineering team get its act together! Someone’s getting fired over this! This is incompetence!

I take my Blackberry out and call the head of the engineering team.

He answers on the first ring:

“Yes, Mr. Grey. How can I help you?”

“Warren! This is such incompetence! I wanted this cell phone design to be completely free of the need of charging. You have not eliminated that!”

“Mr. Grey, the phones still have to be charged by electricity at least once a week. We just couldn’t eliminate that, sir,” he mutters in a weak voice.

“Here’s my problem: I hired your team to ELIMINATE the dependency to the power grid. It should have the capability; yes. But not the need and dependency! I told you the issues with it. We want this to be available in places where there is no immediate power source. It should be able to go for weeks without charging. That way it can be available to people in remote corners of the globe, or to hikers, travelers, soldiers alike. How do you expect them to charge the phone if we require them to plug it into a power source? Should they just plug it into their asses?”

I can almost feel him flinch on the phone. “Of course not, sir,” he can barely utter. “They would still need some sort of power source, though.”

“Warren, I hired you and your team to resolve that very issue. Charging your phone for five years adds 3.6 kilos of CO₂ into the atmosphere.”

“But sir, that’s less than half of what a single gallon of gasoline produces in your car,” he comes back smugly.

“Listen to me idiot! There aren’t two point five billions cars in North America! But there are 2.5 billion handheld device chargers in America alone and that will draw enough electricity to generate 8 billion kilograms of carbon emissions! Do you now get me, sweetheart? And you are supposed to be the clean energy engineer,” I say seething with anger.

“I understand, sir,” he says reprimanded.

“I want to know when you and your team can resolve the problem. I’m not asking you ‘if you can, but when you can.’ I cannot have incompetence from an engineering team that works for me!”

“We may not be able to make it completely independent of some sort of power source, sir,” he says in a meek voice.

“I want the charging time limited to one hour, once a month. The rest must be dependent on the self-winding. This is your goal. Work towards it! I want periodic improved schematics and working samples once a week! Do it! If I don’t find improved models within 4 weeks, your team is fired! Get in touch with your fucking team, and get them up to par, and I want to see them on Tuesday. This is not a request. You guys better be ready!”

“Yes, sir,” he says worried, and I hang up. Anger is seething through my pores. I run both my hands through my hair in exasperation. They’ve had six months and this is the best they come up with! I want to distribute that technology. And, I pay this team a hefty salary, lots of money for their research and they give me a half ass job!

As I glare at the schematics again, there is a knock at my door.

“What?” I growl.

Leila enters her gaze down. She looks lovely in her satin nightgown.

“Speak,” I say.

“Lunch is ready Master,” she says in a small voice.

“Come here, Leila,” I say. I need to relieve this tension and get rid of this anger. She approaches my desk slowly, her head is still down. “You may look at me Leila,” I say softly. She does. Her brown eyes are alight with some excitement. “We’ll eat lunch later,” I say pulling her.

On her days here at Escala, she’s not to wear underwear unless I instruct her so. So, right now I know she has nothing under her satin night gown. Leila’s long lashes flutter as she lifts her brown eyes up to me, and I can feel her heart speedily beating away when she meets my gaze, nervous. She’s expecting a punishment today for her repugnant behavior last night. My expression is dark, but impassive. She moistens her lips with her tongue instinctively, and I grab her face between my hands and my lips descend upon hers capturing them effectively with mine. As I mold my lips to hers, my tongue darts into hers seeking release. Her response is automatic, but her hands remain on her side as she’s instructed never to touch me without my permission. Only her lips and her tongue work their magic. She closes her eyes as her lips mold into mine, and for a brief moment she loses herself and her hands come up to my chest stealthily caressing, and curling into my chest hair and digging in. I immediately pull back and push her away as if I was doused and set on fire. Bile rises in my throat. My hands go to my chest automatically as if to put out that fire.  I shudder with disgust. Leila looks surprised at my reaction.

“I’m sorry Master, I forgot,” she says.

“Quiet!” I bark.

She’s reprimanded but will require punishment for breaching my hard limit. She did not forget. She’s been with me for eight months! I go over the rules on our first meeting. She’s not a new sub either! She knows dos and don’ts, my hard and soft limits very well! I walk around her, her head bowed, her hands to the side. I approach her, and with my index finger, I lift her head up, and force her to look into my eyes. My eyes are blazing with anger. She stiffens under hard my gaze, and as if she’s leaving her body, her gaze turns serene, and accepting of what’s to come. I push her on top of my desk between the cell phone schematics, and business plans, and lay my hand flat across her lower back pressing her down onto the desk as my legs spread her thighs apart. Her waxed sex is opening up like a flower and exposing the tight hole.

I bluntly insert my index and middle finger, pressing into her sex, and run them along the pleats with my expert touch. The lips of her sex are already swelled in response, and she involuntarily thrusts her hips up, and I take my hand away as she meet the empty air.

“You’re already wet,” I say. It’s not a question, it’s a statement, but she answers it.

“Yes, Master, for you.”

“You’re not allowed to speak, Leila!” I bellow. Leila has been trying to attempt to breach my rules lately. She’s making subtle hints of her desire to get more from our arrangement. I don’t do ‘more’ than fucking. That’s our arrangement. I’m barely 25 years old, I have singular interests and goals! My business and my freedom are my priorities. Not my subs! I love my autonomy. I have no intention or the interest of involving with emotions attached with relationships. I’m not hearts and flowers. Love is for suckers! Same end goal can be achieved without the emotional connection. Dom / Sub relationship allows you to bypass all the vulnerabilities love gives to the recipient. I provide for Leila very well, and my rules are clearly defined, and never to be breached. I’m always in control. She, however has been trying push her limits discreetly. Leila who has been a great sub in the beginning now pushing her way into punishment at least once a week! Little bit each time, like she just did. I lean into her ear and say, “You are not to achieve satisfaction, and you certainly aren’t allowed to come without my explicit permission Leila, until further notice. Do you understand your punishment?” She is silent, docile, and expressionless.

I slap her bare behind hard as she gives a slight shriek.

“Quiet! Do you understand your punishment, I asked. Answer me!”

“Yes, Master, I do,” she breathes. 

“Good.”

“I’m going to tie you up, and  fuck you on my desk, hard and you are not to come! Understand?”

“Yes, Master,” she breathes her eyes widened.

I take the my belt off, wrap it around her wrists, I put her on my desk on her back, stretched all the way, and pull the remainder of the belt through the ornament of the heavy desk. She’s stretched and taut, but her legs still touch the ground. Leila’s elongated body looks delicious and the curve of her hips are exposed. I push my growing manhood farther up at her sex though I am still fully in my jeans as my hands squeeze the globes of her buttocks. She tries to yank her hands, but I shake my finger at her. It will only restrain her against the belt and that will just worsen the pain. I unzip my jeans and lower my pants down. I slide my length farther into her, stretching her, and stuffing her fully and her entire body reacts to the pressure. Leila’s sex clenches around my manhood involuntarily, and the head of my shaft swims with sensory overload and her arousal flickers into life.

“Don’t come!” I say through gritted teeth, boring into her eyes as I pump into her. The friction caused by each stroke heightens the pleasure she’s experiencing, and I see her clenching her teeth to prevent herself from coming, she’s pulling on her hands to cause herself pain to counterbalance the pleasure.

Her legs clenches around me, she’s groaning as I’m digging into her, holding her hips. Leila’s sex is juicy, and each of my thrusts causes her ass to bounce from the impact. Finally a husky moan breaks through her, as I pump into her and my testicles repeatedly slap against her. She pulls against her arms like a masochist; as I know Leila enjoys pain a lot. She draws in and pulls against me with her legs.

“Damn it Leila! Stop!”

“Trying...Master,” she says between her pain and pleasure filled breaths. My strokes increases rapidly, and I feel that Leila’s body sink into a myriad of sensations and she comes as I empty into her. She looks chagrined.

I curse. “Fuck! Fuck!  I told you not to come!” Leila closes her eyes, and she bites her teeth into her lower lip hard drawing blood to stop the remaining shudders of sensation from spreading to her body.

I go to the head of the table and unbuckle the belt from her arms.

“It’ll be a late lunch today. I want you to go to the playroom, and wait for me,” I say and she knows the meaning.

“Yes, Master,” she replies. Fixing her satin nightgown, she scuttles out of my study.

Being a seasoned submissive, Leila knows that denial of orgasm is a standard form of punishment. She knows how to control her impulses, but lately, she’s trying to force me to make a decision to make her my girlfriend. I don’t do the girlfriend thing. I never have, never will. I like my autonomy, I like my control, and I like my life remain this way: Me, as the master of my own destiny. I close my eyes, slow my breathing down. I haven’t forgotten the fact that Leila tried to sneak into my bed last night. I was having just another nightmare, and it didn’t make me feel any better when her arms started snaking around my waist in the middle of the night, making me freak out. I rolled out of her grasp so fast, I fell to the floor. She hasn’t been punished for that yet, and this is two strikes against her within less than twenty-four hours. I might not renew our agreement at the end of the our term. She’s becoming relentless despite the punishments. The fact that Leila enjoys pain isn’t helping improve her behavior – like a drug addict looking for her next fix. That’s why I didn’t punish her last night despite her transgression. Most people, even subs for that matter would go a long way to avoid pain, to avoid punishment. That’s why societies function better, because people are afraid of consequences.

I take a deep breath. I have decided on the form of punishment. I go my room and my closet, change into my worn out jeans, commando. I make my way to my playroom. When I cross the threshold into the room I transform into the total dominant that I am. Leila is naked sitting on her heels, her hands splayed on her laps. Her head is down, her breathing shallow, completely docile, and expressionless.

I go to the drawers where I keep some of the toys; choose the cuffs. Lay them on the sofa. Then I casually walk back to Leila and stand before her.

“You may look up at me, Leila,” I say. Her serene gaze looks up, expectant.

“Do you know why you’re going to be punished?”

“Yes, Master,” she responds.

“Why then? Tell me.”

“I disobeyed your rules.”

“You are being punished because; you didn’t just disobey my rules. You have continually disobeyed simple mandates: You have been a sub for years. You know the drill. If you can’t even control yourself, I will have to take further measures to control you. On top of that, you have come to my bed unbidden. That’s my hard limit, and that’s a major transgression,” I say.

Leila turned her head away chagrined with my censure of her.

“You are not given permission to look away, Leila,” I say and she brings her gaze back to my eyes.

“You will be punished of course,” I say as she swallows, with a slight glint of expectation in her eyes. I don’t want to feed her need for arousal; this is not a reward – it’s a punishment.

“Come,” I say, leading her to the red leather covered four poster bed. I lower one of the suspenders from the ceiling over to the bed. I’ve got leather handcuffs in my hand.

“Extend me your wrists,” I order. She obeys. I clamp one of the cuffs around one of her wrists, and then with a separate pair, I cuff the other wrist. I fasten the cuffs to the now lowered suspenders, and pull them back taut. Her arms are stretch to their full lengths. She’ll be incapable of moving from this position until she’s released. Her breasts are lifted high and jutting forward. As her back is curved, her bottom slopes outward. I make her splay her legs, then shackle her ankles.

“What is the safeword, Leila?”

“Yellow and Red, Master,” she mutters.

“Good.”

“Why are you being punished, Leila?”

“I forced my way into your bed last night,” she says choking on her words.

“And?” I probe harshly.

“And this morning I tried to touch your torso.”

“Why was it bad to do those things, Leila?”

“Because they were your hard limits, Master.”

“You deliberately attempted to do them anyway?”

“Yes, Master,” she responds as she clenches her hands over her restraints, her breathing becomes so rapid her chest heaves with a lot of force. She looks aroused, and expectant; like a drug addict who is about to get her next fix. I hold the whip in my hand with several thin, leather tails.

“I will punish you with this; ten blows and I will fuck you, hard. You are not to come.  Do you understand, Leila?”

“Yes, Master,” she says expectantly.

I hold the whip up; swing it towards Leila making the whip whistle through the air, then land it so hard against her bare buttocks. The splayed leather tails cover her bottoms and her displayed sex leaving red welt lines. She trust forward and giving a loud gasp, followed by a pleasure moan.

“Quiet!” I order.

I take the whip again and land it once more over her fleshy buttocks. Her fingers grip the restraints tight, her chest heaving forward. I make my way to her front and land the blow to her perked up breasts. Leila gasps again, but still have the pleasured look on her face. I move to her side and land another blow where red lines appear in her pale skin. She just shudders. I flick the whip expertly towards her breast hard marking them with stinging lines, and she yelps, her eyes closed. I know just how much pressure to apply in order for the whip to leave behind a powerful reminder of pain, and consequence without breaking her skin.

I lift the whip up and land it on her belly, she tries to move but her restraints keep her in place. I move around her body, and dip my fingers into her sex. She’s drenched, aroused, throbbing. She’s not complaining; she’s absorbing and enjoying the sensation. That’s the thing about Leila; her mind goes to a different place when she’s receiving pain. In the context of play, it’s a great trait in a submissive, but the punishments have to be creative for someone who is borderline masochist. I lift the whip up and land the remaining four blows to her round bottom now sporting deep red lines.

“Ten!” I say, and go behind Leila, and position her bottom, and slam into her without a preamble.

“This is for my pleasure only! You are NOT to come, Leila!” I warn. After each hard thrust to her sex, she groans trying to suppress her pleasure. She’s clenching her body, fighting not to succumb to the mounting pressure spreading through her insides. As I slam into her now reddened bottoms, she moans driving pleasure from her pain. She holds her buttocks up even further to further meet my thrusts, and she comes loudly as I reach my climax.

I unfasten her restraints after I pull out of her. I’m now raving mad, completely displeased. She’s deliberately trying to disobey me to prove some random point I don’t give a shit about. I bring an Aloe Vera lotion from one of my drawers, and apply it to her back, her bottom, her chest and her belly. I say nothing. My eyes are ice chards, and she knows it.

“Master?” she says her hand reaching up.

I hold my finger up to stop her from talking. I finish my task robotically, and pull my pants on.

“Put your dress clothes back on; we’ll have lunch,” I say in an ominous tone. Fear grips her eyes.

“Master, I’m sorry!” she says.

“Don’t speak to me, unless you are spoken to, Leila. You deliberately and continually disobey my rules. Come, we’ll eat.” I say. She nods, “Yes, Master,” and assumes her submissive demeanor lowering her eyes as I pull my gaze away from her. I leave the room.

Twenty minutes later, we’re both back showered in our own respective bathrooms, and sitting at the breakfast bar, eating our lunch. The Three Tenors are singing “O Sole Mio” in the background. (←O Sole Mio sung by Domingo, Carreras, Pavarotti)

“Why have you been disobeying me deliberately in the recent weeks?”

She shrugs in answer.

“Speak, Leila!” I order. “You have disobeyed and got punished every time, and yet, you keep disobeying, and pushing my clearly defined limits. What are you trying to do?”

She winces as she tries to find a comfortable sitting position in her stool, but not being able to, she gives up.

“Master, I...” she says, and stops.

“You, what?” I ask in an ominous tone.

“I want something... no I need something,” she says, and I’m pure attention.

“This thing, you want and need... Is this the cause of your disobedience?”

She nods without holding her gaze down.

“Look at me!” I order.

“Yes, Master.”

“If you have a certain need, it is my job as your Dom to fulfill it and eliminate the deficiencies in your life. Why didn’t you tell me you needed something?”

“I have been trying... With hints. Different things...”  she says.

“Like what?”

My iPod shuffles into playing “La Donna E Mobile.” (←La Donna È Mobile sung by Pavarotti)

“May I change the music, Master?” she asks trying to distract me.

“Fine!” I snap.

She eases off the stool slowly, wincing, and walks to the music station housing the iPod. She switches the song to Beyoncé. She starts crooning the popular “Crazy inLove.” (←Crazy in Love by Beyoncé)  

She walks back, and claims her stool back, I look at her confused.

“I’m waiting!” I say. She sighs.

“I need...no I want to be a priority in your life, Master.”

I cock my head to the side.

“Priority, how?”

“The significant one in your life.”

“Leila, you know I’m monogamous in my relationships. You are currently the only sub I have.”

“I need to turn the music down. It’s loud and distracting,” I say, and reach for the remote and lower the music to the level of a background noise. She gives another sigh.

“I want to be your girlfriend Master!” she blurts out and I drop the fork from my hand.

I turn around to face her giving my full attention.

“The whole time when you came to invade my room, and disobeyed me every single day for the last nearly four weeks was because you want to be my girlfriend?”

“Yes,” she says meekly.

“Leila, I don’t want, or need a girlfriend. Never have, never will. You and I have a contract, a consensual Dom / Sub relationship. I take care of you, and you take care of my needs.”

“That’s the thing, Master.” She says as if she’s going to divulge another secret.

“I’ve met someone,” she says meeting my gaze.

“Did you have sex with him?” I ask angrily. I don’t share my subs; I am monogamous with them, I expect the same from them.

“No! Not like that. But he wants more, he want to be involved with me. That’s what I want too. And you...” she says trying hard to get the words out of her mouth. “You don’t want that. I want that for myself. I want a relationship. As a couple.”

“And you thought, you’d offer me the first chance to fulfill that position? I’m the first in line?” I ask.

She grimaces with the assessment.

“Well, we are involved. I would like it to be with you Master.”

“Leila... That’s not me. I don’t do relationships. I fuck. I’m a Dom. All I want is a sub. If you want to pursue a relationship with someone else, I won’t stop you. You deserve it. But I wish you told me that before. It would have spared you all the punishments. My views aren’t going to chance. This is all I want from a relationship. I don’t want anything else. I’m not interested in anything other than a Dom / Sub relationship with a signed contract, my rules lined up and agreed! You have a get-out clause, you know that.”

“I know. I think I would like to use that clause right now,” she says.

“Is that what you want?” I ask as I bore my gaze into her.

“Yes, Master.” I assess her demeanor. She looks determined.

“Okay. You know that once you get out of the contract, you’re not allowed back to Escala, or to my life in any shape or form.”

“I understand, Master,” she says in a barely audible tone.

“Your contract is now void. You’re free. I’ll have some money deposited to your account to see you through for some time.  Your health insurance will also continue until you get your own.”

“Thank you, Master,” she says forlorn.

“Taylor will take you once you’re packed. If you wish to stay tonight, you can. Let me know,” I say with an impassive face.

“I think I will go today,” she says.

I nod. “Let me know when you are ready.”

“Master?” she asks. “Can’t I persuade to change your mind? About us?”

“No, Leila. I don’t do girlfriends, or relationships. I just fuck,” I say with an impassive face and walk out of the kitchen leaving Leila alone gazing behind me with a shocked expression. Time to take a break and find another sub.