Master Frown Novels & Stories

Every eye in the room turned to me. At the base of the stairs stood Franco. He wore a midnight – blue suit that mirrored the shadows, but there was nothing professional about the way he looked at me. His dark eyes tracked every step I took, sweeping over the liquid onyx silk, the high slit exposing my thigh, and the violent, blooming bruises I wore like jewellery. His jaw clenched tight. The lust radiating from him was a physical weight in the room, raw and entirely undisguised. The Master of the Game was completely captivated by his own creation. He raised his glass to me in a silent, reverent toast.

He looked down at the wet sand, then back at the ocean, his dark eyes narrowing in a severe, almost adult frown of indignation. That frown. That expression of focused, intense annoyance at the chaos of the world. I remembered it in the reflection of my father’s expensive car when I was five years old, furious that my perfectly stacked block tower had been knocked over. I saw it in the mirror every time a business deal went sideways. It was the Conti expression—that mix of fury and intense concentration.

Master said. "Yes, Master." His hand came down. Smack. I felt the warmth start under his hand and slowly spread. I counted. Smack, another on the other side. Smack; evenly paced warmth spreading out from the points of contact, approaching my already heated cunt. Smack, smack, smack, counting each time, my bottom glowing, becoming redder with each swat of my Master's hand. Smack, ensuring his slave remained the obedient slut he wanted. Smack, smack, smack. I'm still counting, mindless. The actual number irrelevant; I'd keep counting as long as he kept swatting. I felt the tension rising, the wave starting to roll in, to crest.

"Wmiz va haf silz? (What do you want?)" "Tmy qurd. Lyq Myr qa. (The girl. Let her go)". I was no longer smiling. You bastard!. He raged on in his head. The fury radiating off him was enough to set the whole of planet earth ablaze but he knew better than to act on it. I could bear him gnashing his teeth. "Only. Ticy myr. (Fine. Take her)". A smile appeared on my face at that, infuriating him more. Throughout the exchange, the girl was staring at us in confusion, not knowing what was happening.

they pleaded, tears streaming down their faces. "You're on mining duties," Master decreed, his voice devoid of empathy as he dragged me back inside the house. I was still reeling from the violence I had witnessed, my anger simmering beneath the surface. Master's eyes locked onto mine, a mocking glint in their depths. "That's it, no thank you, Master?" he taunted, his smirk infuriating me. I bowed my head, forcing out a meek "Thank you, Master" while seething with rage and a desire to defy him.

He took an agitated puff of the Cao Gold cigar in his hand and exhaled it out slowly as he ran his fingers through his glossy honey-blond tresses. The person he was speaking to rolled his eyes in irritation. He hated being pressured into doing things. He preferred doing things at his own pace and in his own time. "Why wouldn't I be quiet when you have been complaining non-stop for over twenty minutes, Adryan?" Master Faizar asked as he rubbed his temples. Master Faizar was a handsome and brooding man in his early sixties. Shrewd and cunning, he evoked a certain command that made Adryan bow his head in respect almost instinctively as he spoke in a reverberating, though exasperated voice.

She smiled a little, Master was known for liking to be a clean wolf. "What can I help you with?" Master said as he leant on the wall. He was built, his chest visibly defined as he crossed his arms. Megan hesitated, distracted by his body. "Megan?" he asked again, this time sounding a little amused. And aroused. And relieved.

So Butler Jin was curious how many glasses it took to bring him to this state. But as usual, Julian gave no answer. Butler Jin expected that, so he changed the topic. “So… how was it? Was that man the young lady’s boyfriend?” He must have hit a nerve because Julian immediately frowned. Butler Jin froze in surprise. He wasn’t imagining it—his master, who always wore a poker face, ‘frowned'. Something he had never seen before. He had seen a brief frown once, a fleeting expression too quick to catch properly. But now, even with the dim lighting, he was certain—this was a real frown.

He ached a brow while wearing a manipulative smirk on her face. “You seem like you want me to” I frowned after realising he might just want that, why though? -------

My watcher is staring back at me from behind a small pane of glass, the dark brown frame enhancing the natural tan that graces his skin. “Who are they?” I ask the man; when he doesn’t answer me, I press the gun hard against his head and let out a low growl. “The Master. They’re all the Master.” He cries as he holds up his hands and drops to his knees. I lick my dry lips as I pull back the gun, but I don’t lower it; I keep it trained on the man’s head as I look from one picture to the other. Some of the men are so old they look like they might crumble to dust, but others look more like Francis if he were younger.