To My Beloved Master Novels & Stories

His fingers cupped and kneaded them as if he wanted them in and out of shape. I beat his hand off and his hands burned as hell. “You're in my mansion now”he stuck out his tongue and graced my lower lip. I thought of kicking him in the groin and to break free but the possibility of my survival after that restrained me. “You are mine” “I'm not yours”I shot back “You are my little pet,”he continued. “You are my sex slave from henceforth you shall call me master,my love or lord”.He emphasized and bit my chin hard.

But he made me formalize the agreement. "Say it. I'm your Master. I can do anything I want to you. I can hurt you. I can share you. I can...love you." On my knees, I looked into his eyes. "You're my Master. You can do anything you want to me. You can hurt me. You can share me. You can love me."

I bit my lip to keep quiet. She leaned down. Hot breath against my core. “This is mine now,” she said. Voice low. Possessive. “No one else touches it. No one else tastes it. You come to me when you’re aching. You beg me when you need to come. Understand?” I nodded frantically. “Say it.” “Y-yours,” I whispered. Voice shaking. “Only yours… Master.” The word slipped out before I could stop it. Her eyes flared. Dark. Triumphant.

Of course he did, I lowered my eyes to my lap so they wouldn’t see the hatred flicker briefly across my face, hatred itself was dangerous, the Mothers said bitterness poisoned a woman’s spirit, but lately I felt poisoned already. Two months ago, the Master summoned me to his private study after evening prayer. I still remembered every detail, the smell of incense, the heavy silence, the guards outside the door and him, Gabriel Vane. The man everyone worshipped like a prophet, he was old enough to be my grandfather, perhaps older, no one actually knew his real age because nobody dared ask questions about the Master, but whispers among the older women claimed he was already in his sixties, his

The table is silent as we eat, my Master doesn't want to talk either, so the only sounds are the forks tapping against the plate, hardly even the breathing of the other occupants of the table. Is this my Master's way of saying that I'm no longer a slave? What is my new status in this society? The only thing I know is that this is my farewell, that I will probably never see my Master again, or if I do, it will be on rare occasions. It makes me sad to know that this is our end, after all, he was my first mate and I can't deny that he taught me many things, even with his faults... Well, not faults, just the certainty of who he is and who I am.

At the same time, the way he's cherishing every piece of me, I want to belong to him. "It's... Master's.", I respond with weighted words. "Hmm? It's Master's what?" "It's Master's... kitty." "That's right. This is Master's kitty. Do you love it when Master licks this pretty kitty?" "Yes, Master.", I reply shyly. "Good girl.", he whispers, caressing my cheek. "Master's going to show you what this sweet little kitty does to him."

"You must promise that you will never again sell yourself into such slavery. Find a job as a cook, marry for love, and raise children whom you will devote your life to." "I promise I will never again sell my body in such a manner," she replied to him breathlessly. Her bosom almost did jump from between her laces before he pulled them back together. It startled her, but only for a split second. Then she startled him by hugging him. She stepped back as though someone had pinched her out of a beautiful dream she had not wanted to leave. "But, Sire," she said cautiously, "Madame will not let me leave just because a hooded man says so."

“You’re so wonderful and dazzling. I actually believed that you were a scheming b*tch, just like Tiffany, not too long ago. I even scorned you and said bad things about you in front of Second Master. Sigh! Thank goodness Second Master never listened to me and was still very nice to you. However, I’ve neglected my duty as Second Master’s right-hand man. I’m a disgrace, totally ashamed… Milady, you can slap me a few times if you’re mad at me. I have thick skin, so I’m not scared of the pain. Just go ahead and hit me.”

"... is with your mother. Adam too. Now, relax. Calm yourself. Yes?" I drop my head, leaning into his hand, kissing the fingers, a little awkwardly around the cuff. "Yes, Master." He stoops to kiss me, softly, brushing his lips over mine. "That's better. Now, there are more here than just you and I. Beth loves her husband and would like to see that you are servicing him appropriately. You are his now." My Master steps away, letting Richard move closer. Pushing my chin up with paired fingers, he meets me with his blue-eyed gaze. "You're happy with this, Charlotte?"

, his voice was cold, but his touch burned her skin when he got close to her. Her violet eyes looked straight at his. “What am I to you?“, she asked him directly. “One of your whores, that you take when you feel like, because you can forget that”, she was upset. His eyes turned darker. “No, you are my beloved, which makes you different, but if you think I’ll wake up with you in my arms, you better think twice”, he warned her, with his cold, but sharp voice. “I won’t settle for that”, she said with tears in her eyes.