Master Stephen Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Totally Bound Publication

  Master Stephen

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-214-6

  ©Copyright Natalie Dae 2014

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright August 2014

  Edited by Sarah Smeaton

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 2.

  Marshall Cottage

  MASTER STEPHEN

  Natalie Dae

  Book four in the Marshall Cottage series

  I wanted Master Stephen. The thing was, would he want me?

  I’d been visiting Marshall Cottage for a while, watching a certain Dom who never seemed to have a sub of his own. He borrowed other people’s, giving them a slap here, a nipple tweak there, seemingly confident and comfortable with himself. But I was shocked to find he wasn’t any of those things—until he took control as a Master.

  I wanted him as mine. Would he agree to dominate me? Give me the pain I desired? I aimed to make that happen and couldn’t wait to see how things played out. I’d observed him for long enough. It was time to step up and take what I wanted—and every beautiful bite of pain he was willing to dish out.

  Would he also give me the love I craved? A permanent relationship where we shared everything? A girl could hope, couldn’t she?

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmark mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Coke: The Coca-Cola Company

  Chapter One

  He was subless—again. And I was Masterless.

  I could have been offended that he hadn’t appeared to have seen me over the past few weeks, but I wasn’t. Maybe I wasn’t his cup of tea. Maybe he wanted to go around sampling every other sub he could get his hands and mouth on for a while. Maybe I was just hoping a little too much that he’d notice me.

  I’d had my eye on him for a while, and if I hadn’t been coming here for so long, I doubted Mr M would have let me through the front door, knowing I had no Master to meet once I got inside. The same must have gone for Master Stephen—and I knew that was the case because he’d been coming here for as long as I had. Longer, I suspected.

  He was sucking a sub’s nipple, her bound to one of the crosses, spectators standing around enjoying the show. I wondered if everyone thought of him as just a tart—and whether he cared if they did. Or maybe he just wasn’t a particularly nice person, hence him having no permanent sub. He might be married ‘out there’ and only came here to indulge in something he couldn’t get at home. So many potential reasons for his behavior, but ultimately, what he did was his business, really. Nothing to do with anyone else so long as he played by the rules.

  And as far as I could see, he always did.

  The sub on the cross tried to writhe, but she’d been bound so tight she could barely move. Not only was she tied at the wrists and ankles, but her Master had roped her middle. I counted fifteen rotations of rope, and they went from just above her pubes to sit below her breasts. I felt like the hemp chafed me, and I experienced the delicious sensation of not being able to move. For a second or two I envied her. I hadn’t had rope play before, but imagination was a powerful thing.

  I sighed. One day my Master would come. One day I’d meet the man I was supposed to be with. But something inside drew me to Master Stephen. Perhaps he was the one for me. Or had I just convinced myself that he was the perfect partner because no other had arrived in my life and had wanted to stay? Quite possibly and—as hope had a tendency to do—it had sent me off thinking that fate had planned for us to be together.

  I shook off my fanciful musings. After all, it sounded like a load of rubbish even to me. Inside I was a girl longing to be noticed, to have a Master who would take my life in the direction it needed to go. Take me where I needed to go. A friend of mine had said that if you went looking for The One you’d never find him, but my answer had been that if you didn’t look, if you didn’t put yourself in the places where a Master would notice you, how the hell were you supposed to meet anyone?

  I frowned. It might be time to put myself right in his line of vision—to get eye contact with him—and if he looked away, at least I’d know I was wasting my time. The sad thing was, though, I was prepared to wait however long it took. He might find a new sub, but I’d still wait. Some would say I was bordering on stalker material, but when I knew something deep inside, when I had that feeling…

  He was mine. I wanted him. And he wanted me—he maybe just didn’t know it yet.

  Go over there. Make him see you—really see you.

  I wandered closer to the cross, slipping between two people and jostling others so I came out at the front of the crowd. The sub appeared to be asleep. She’d hung her head, chin to chest, looking for all the world as if she were truly out of it. Master Stephen sucked her nipple so hard it lifted her breast, elongated it, yet she didn’t groan or seem to be getting any pleasure from it at all. Maybe she was in sub-space, that wonderful place where body and mind separated.

  Her Master stepped to her side and whispered something. She didn’t react except for the slight flicker of her eyelashes. He plunged four fingers into her cunt, right up to the second set of knuckles, his thumb tip covering her clit. She jolted, came alive, and raised her head to stare at everyone watching, although her eyes were glazed. Master Stephen sucked on and lifted one hand to touch her other nipple. He tugged more than fondled, twisted rather than caressed, and my nipples reacted as though he were doing it to me.

  I wished he was.

  Her Master shoved in and out of her pussy at quite a speed—with force, too, and I knew that must be how she liked it. Rough and ready, a good old finger fuck and nipple suck. Both Masters played with her until she whimpered and tried to drop her head back, the action stopped by the cross behind her. She wiggled her fingers, clenched then unclenched her hands into fists, and I guessed she was on the edge or had the urge to be involved somehow, to touch the men back. Or perhaps her hands had gone numb, her bindings a little too tight. Either way, the fact that she could hardly move turned me on.

  “Come,” her Master said, his voice loud, like he’d intended for everyone in the room to hear him, so that those who hadn’t been watching rushed over to do so. He looked proud of her—it seemed he wanted everyone to
witness her orgasm.

  He pushed his fingers—all four of them—in and out so quickly, so hard that if she could have bucked she would have. She was hungry for him—something about the way she panted gave me that idea—and I longed for some of the same, to have a Master I craved, a real one, not just one in my fantasies or one I possibly couldn’t have, like Master Stephen.

  The man in question reared back, taking her nipple with him. I groaned, wide-eyed and completely lost in the visuals. I wanted to touch my tits, to give them a treat similar to what this sub’s were having, yet it wouldn’t have been the same. I wouldn’t have had that wet heat, those teeth nipping, that painful pull that threatened to put me on that knife edge it always seemed I sat on when my nipples were yanked like that.

  The sub let out a long wail, closed her eyes, her teeth bared and her hair sticking to the sides of her face. Sweat drenched her as she held off, yet she’d been told to come.

  “Step away from her now,” her Master said.

  Master Stephen did as he’d been asked, letting her nipples go and melting back into the crowd. Then she came, and I understood why she’d denied herself an orgasm. She didn’t want to come from someone else handling her—that was saved for her Master alone. I was fascinated by her. She came immediately, a woman who couldn’t move anything but her hands, feet and head, who screamed out as if she were being tortured. But I knew better. She was loving this, loving her release, her Master pumping his hand in and out of her like she was just something to be used.

  I understood how that felt, because I enjoyed it myself. I’d told someone about it once, and she’d said I gave subs a bad name, that it gave credence to the crap that flew around about BDSM in general. How it was abusive. How the message that subs liked being treated in certain ways created the wrong impression. I’d been confused—and a little upset. Wasn’t a sub allowed other emotions? If I wanted to be used, wasn’t that my right? I’d wandered away from her, into a corner where I’d thought about it all evening. I’d gone home, thought about it some more, and it hadn’t been until the early hours of the morning that I’d decided I could feel how I wanted to feel, want what I wanted without experiencing any guilt for it.

  And here was another sub who apparently felt the same way.

  I wasn’t alone.

  I glanced across to see if I could spot Master Stephen. He’d gone to stand against the right-hand wall, his back to it, face flushed, attention on the sub as she continued to come and come and come. Going by his facial expression, I would say he was amazed by her, perhaps pleased that he’d had a hand—and mouth—in making her go off like a firecracker. Yet something else lurked on the edges of his features. Shadows, which crept in until his whole face had changed from enthrallment to sadness.

  Before I could stop myself, I walked over and stood beside him, staring at the cross.

  “You helped to make her come, Sir,” I said, hoping he’d answer me and that I wouldn’t be left there looking like a fool.

  Maybe it had only been seconds since I’d spoken, but it seemed longer. Several uncomfortable minutes of me staring while the sub was unbound then somewhat peeled off the cross and led away. I contemplated just walking away myself—I was clearly wasting my time here—out of the door the sub and her Master had gone through, into the foyer then out into the night. Getting in my car, driving off, back to an empty flat with nothing better to do than think about everything that had happened so far tonight.

  I realized, with crippling embarrassment, that he didn’t have any intention of talking to me and my silly little idea of us getting together, even only for one scene, was rapidly becoming a pipe dream. I pushed off the wall, ready to make a dignified exit, to walk off as though I hadn’t spoken to him at all. That would be best. Not to make a fuss.

  He reached out and clamped his hand around my wrist, preventing me from going anywhere. I stared down at my arm, blinking. Heat seared into my skin, his hold firm and, if I were honest, it was hurting me. I glanced up to find he wasn’t even looking at me but in the direction of the cross.

  “You’re hurting me, Sir.” I narrowed my eyes. Wondered if my earlier idea of him not being a very nice person had been spot on. “Please take your hand off me.”

  He loosened his hold but didn’t let go. “Stay with me?”

  “I would, but it doesn’t seem like you want any company—not really. You’re always alone here, Sir, and I think I’ve overstepped the mark, entered your personal space.”

  “If I asked you to stay, I meant it. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. What would be the point in that?”

  I sighed quietly. “I don’t know, Sir, but your body language, the way you’re not even looking at me… I find it odd. A bit disconcerting, if I’m honest. It’s probably better that I go, leave you to do…whatever.”

  “I’m not very good at this,” he said. “This… This.”

  I frowned. I’d been watching him for long enough to know he appeared to be very good at this. At being a Master. So it was a puzzle as to what he’d actually meant.

  “I don’t understand, Sir. What’s this?”

  “One on one,” he said.

  “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  “I think so.”

  I leaned back against the wall again, him still holding my wrist, and waited to see if he’d say anything else. It was a long wait.

  Then, “I find it difficult to approach people with a view to asking them to sub for me on a regular basis.” He cleared his throat. “I can Master, but I’m not too good with the relationship side of it.” He laughed. “A Dom who isn’t emotionally strong. Possibly not something you hear about every day, is it?”

  I thought about how I maybe wasn’t your usual sub. “I can relate to that, Sir. There are things I like, things I want, that may make me seem as though I’m not proper sub material. I get caught up in the rules, how I’m supposed to act and feel, when inside I just want what I want.” I paused to grab a cheeky glimpse of him. “I probably don’t belong here at all.”

  He turned and saw me looking, blushed at being caught observing me. But he didn’t turn away. He stared at me as if he were feasting, like he’d wanted to do it for a long time but hadn’t dared.

  “I like you,” he said. “Have done for a while.”

  “You do? You have?” I sounded dumb, but his admission had surprised and shocked me. I’d gone all this time thinking he’d never taken any notice at all.

  “Yes, but each time you’re near, I feel like I’ve gone back to high school. Tongue-tied. Not worthy.”

  “Goodness,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “I had no idea.”

  “No, I don’t think you ever caught me looking until now.” He smiled, glancing away into the distance, perhaps thinking of the times he’d watched me.

  “I didn’t.”

  Boldly, I reached out and touched his jaw, pushed his face a little so his attention shifted from the scenes in his head to me.

  “Sir, would you like to have a drink? To talk?”

  My heart pounded while I awaited his response. If he said no thanks, I’d know it was because he seemed to suffer from shyness. But if he said yes…that would be nice, wouldn’t it?

  “I can’t say I’ll be any good at it,” he said, lowering his eyes. “But I’ll give it a go.”

  “You might want to give making eye contact a go as well, Sir. If you don’t mind me saying, you not looking directly at me makes me think you’ve got some sub in you.”

  That gave him a jolt. He stared right at me.

  “Sub in me? No, just a touch of shyness.”

  “Then maybe it’s about time you ditched that, Sir. If it’s only a touch, it’ll be easy to get rid of, won’t it.” I walked two steps, tugged my arm.

  He didn’t let go. And he pushed off the wall to follow.

  “I’ll give it a go,” he said.

  “Good. Come on then. I fancy a lemonade.”

  Chapter Two

 
Switching roles wasn’t something I’d contemplated doing at any time, but here I was, sitting beside Master Stephen and being the one who seemed to have more Mistress about her than sub. Then again, I was acting as if I thought everything always had to be about the lifestyle, when actually, we were just being people, our personalities shining through. To be a Master didn’t mean he had to be strong and confident at all times, and to be a sub didn’t mean I had to be meek and mild.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, Sir, do you find it easier to play with someone else’s sub?”

  I paused to gauge his reaction—he appeared somber and somewhat ashamed of himself, with his eyes half closed and his mouth downturned.

  “I mean, it must be something you enjoy doing, otherwise you wouldn’t do it, but what I’m getting at is, do you find it less hassle to approach subs who are already attached so that if you get rejected you can tell yourself it’s because they belong to someone else?” I realized that had sounded a bit too psychoanalyst, but it was out now and I couldn’t unsay it.

  “Maybe.” He shrugged, sipped his Coke. “Coming here and using the voyeur rooms… I thought it would give me some confidence, help me to see that I can just go up to someone, wait for their Master’s nod, then take what I want, join in. The frustrating thing is, what I want isn’t so readily available.”

  “What do you want?”

  “A permanent sub. Someone I can learn with. Someone who understands me, accepts that although I can be dominant at times, I may not always be that way. I’m confused as to who and what I really am, so really”—he huffed out a laugh—“I shouldn’t be here. Not until I’m sure of myself, at any rate.”

  He moved as if to leave, and I put my hand on his arm.