THE NOVICE MASTER
By Fidelis Blue
Georgina rang the bell. The door was opened by the Master, who stood
aside to allow her to enter. He greeted her with a kiss on both cheeks, but as
usual he said nothing. Instead, he turned on his heels and walked across the
hall to his study. Georgina followed.
To her surprise there was a young man seated in one of the leather
armchairs by the empty fireplace. She glanced at him quickly, then looked away.
She was not allowed to raise her eyes in the Master's presence, but she managed
to take in a slim figure with dark hair, dressed in an open-neck white shirt and
well-cut black trousers.
The Master took the chair on the other side of the fireplace. He nodded
towards the other chair.
'This young man has ambitions to be a Master. He hopes to learn by
observing my procedures.'
The Master pointed to a spot on the carpet just in front of him and
snapped his fingers. Dutifully Georgina took up her position.
'Take off your dress,' he said.
She undid the buttons of her dress down the front, pulled it over her
head and let it fall to the ground. Underneath she wore the black silk corset
that had been made for her by Mrs Carstairs, specially tailored to her
measurements and designed to the Master's specification. It was cut high at the
back to reveal her buttocks fully, while at the front the corset's edge came
just above where the line of her pubic hair would have been, had she not been
shaved clean. At the top, the straps were positioned at the sides, with only
half cups to support her breasts, leaving them exposed as far as the nipples.
It was also Mrs Carstairs who had fitted her with the harness she was
sometimes required to wear, a leather thong with black rubber dildos fixed
inside, a large one which lodged in her sex, a smaller one in her anus. It had
been uncomfortable at first, but Mrs Carstairs had insisted she get used to it,
disregarding Georgina's protest that the dildos were too large.
Today, though, she was naked below the corset except for her sheer black
stockings and high-heeled black shoes. She stood in the approved manner, her
hands clasped behind her head, waiting for the Master to speak. She could feel
the young man's eyes on her, taking in her full breasts, the nipples already
hardening, the waist narrowed by the tightness of the corset, the lips of her
sex just visible between her thighs.
'Let me hear your confession,' the Master said.
'I infringed the dress code,' Georgina said in a low voice.
'Yes?'
'It was hot one day, so I went to work without stockings, with just bare
legs.'
'I've told you about this before,' the Master said sharply. 'You'll pay
the penalty this time.'
'Yes, sir,' she whispered.
'And have you masturbated?'
She wished the young man didn't have to hear this. It was shaming to
admit such things before him. Not for the first time she considered telling a
lie. But she knew it was pointless. Why play these games if you didn't stick to
the rules?
'Yes,' she admitted. 'Three times.'
'Using what?'
Must she go into the details? She imagined the young man looking at her
intently. What would he think of her?
'Once with my hand. Twice with a vibrator.'
'What other infringements?'
'I - I went with a man,' she said.
Sex with other men was not forbidden. But the rule was that she must
first obtain permission. Sometimes it was given, sometimes refused.
'Give me the details,' said the Master.
'I went to a party. A man flirted with me. We danced together. He took
me home and I invited him in.'
'He stayed the night?'
'Yes.'
'Why didn't you ask permission?'
'It was late,' Georgina replied. 'I thought I might wake you.'
'Rules are rules,' the Master said. 'Give me more detail.'
'We went in the bedroom. We took our clothes off and got into bed. He
fucked me.'
'Did you felate him?'
Georgina hesitated. 'Yes,' she answered in a low voice.
'Did he come in your mouth?'
'No.'
'How did he fuck you? In which position?'
'From behind, while I was kneeling.' Did it make her sound like a whore?
'Did you come?'
'No, only later.'
'How?'
Again she hesitated. It was embarrassing to admit such things.
'Speak up,' said the Master.
'When he fell asleep I took my vibrator into the bathroom.'
'So you've masturbated four times in all?'
'I suppose so,' Georgina admitted.
'Follow me,' the Master said.
Georgina walked behind him down the corridor. She could hear the young
man following. She knew he must be staring at her bottom. She wondered if he
liked it as much as the Master did. 'Ripe' was his favourite word to describe
it.
The Master opened the door to what he called the Discipline Room. It was
windowless, with stripped pine floorboards. Built into the wall along one side
was a set of cupboards with drawers underneath. Inside the cupboards, hanging
neatly on hooks, were the instruments the Master used on her, whips and paddles,
leather straps and canes. In the drawers were more items of equipment, gags and
other restraints, iron manacles, steel clamps for the nipples and labia, posture
collars, even a set of needles which he had used on her.
In the centre of the room was a whipping bench, stoutly built of wood,
designed so that a subject could be secured in any position, on her front, on
her back, legs apart or together, just as required. At one end was a wooden
rail, padded in black leather, supported by two wooden posts bolted to the
floor. At their base were two leather straps.
The Master pointed to the rail. 'Bend over.'
Georgina stretched over it, bending double till her hands were down by
her feet. The Master did up the straps around her wrists. Taking another strap
from a drawer, he bound her ankles tightly together so that Georgina was
securely fastened.
'I find this is the optimum position for beating,' the Master explained
to the young man. 'The muscles are taut, the skin tensed and so more receptive.'
He went to a cupboard and selected a heavy leather strap, about two feet
long. One end tapered to a handle. He stood behind Georgina and stroked her
bottom thoughtfully with his hand.
'You must understand,' said the Master, 'that I am not a sadist. Nor is
Georgina a masochist in the true sense. I do not derive pleasure simply from the
infliction of pain. What I seek, rather, is to control the subject, to lead her
into a state where she not only accepts a beating but wishes it. This I achieve
by mingling pain and pleasure until the two are almost indistinguishable. Or at
least inseparable.'
He began to knead Georgina's left buttock with his fingers.
'She both fears the strap and desires it,' he continued. 'Always the
beating is a little harder than she can bear. Or rather, harder than she thinks
she can bear. But at the same time I mix it with pleasure, stroking and
caressing.'
The Master slid his fingers between Georgina's legs, taking her labia
between finger and thumb and squeezing gently. Shyly she imagined the young man
standing behind her, observing the insolence with which the Master took such
liberties. But the fingers excited her.
The Master lifted the strap and brought it sharply down across
Georgina's bottom. She gasped.
'Observe,' the Master said, 'how I always strive to apply equal force to
each buttock. This I do either by carefully laying the blow across the whole
backside, or by striking each buttock in turn. Like so.'
He brought the strap down across Georgina's right buttock, then across
the left, then once more across both. The thick leather stung her hard. She was
breathing heavily, forcing herself to lean into the pain, not fight it.
The Master stroked her some more, his cool hand soothing the burning
flesh.
'She submits through the fear of pain; if she resists, the pain will be
greater. Yet at the same time she craves pleasure and will endure the pain to
reach it. And she knows that if she can only bear it for long enough, the
endorphins will kick in and transmute the stinging of the strap into a higher
kind of pleasure.'
The Master smacked her with the strap half a dozen times, harder than
before. Georgina moaned, but tried still to keep her body relaxed.
'She longs to surrender, to place herself utterly in my hands. And yet
she fears that should she do so I will use the power she has given me to take
her beyond her limits. This fear is the essence of the thrill she finds in being
beaten.'
As he spoke the Master was stroking her again, tracing with his finger
the bright red outline the strap had made upon her white skin, then slipping his
hand between her legs again to press a finger upon her now swollen clitoris.
Georgina sighed with delight.
The Master beat her again, a further six strokes, harder than ever.
Georgina gasped and clenched her fists. There was a pause, during which she
hoped for further caresses, but instead more blows rained down. Her bottom felt
on fire. The heat was beginning to seep into her flesh, gradually moving in
between her legs. Her sex felt flushed.
'I think that will do for preliminaries,' the Master said. 'Now we get
serious.'
Georgina shuddered. She knew what that meant. Whips and straps and
paddles could all sting hard enough. But the Master had told her in one of their
very first sessions that the cane was the only implement for a serious beating.
Her knees grew weak at the thought; her stomach turned to water.
The Master went to the cupboard and returned with a thin bamboo cane
about two feet long. He swished it from side to side. Georgina trembled at the
sound. She felt him touch the cane to her buttocks, measuring the distance, then
he raised his arm and brought it swiftly down. The blow landed exactly in the
centre of her buttocks. As always, there was a split second when she thought
perhaps it wouldn't hurt so much, and then it arrived, a searing pain that bit
deep into her tender flesh. The agony was all but unbearable. Had she been free
she would have clutched her buttocks, might have even tried to move out of
range, despite knowing what the consequences would be. But she was tightly held
by her bonds. She could do nothing but flinch as she sensed the cane being
raised again.
The second blow fell exactly on top of the red weal made by the first,
thus doubling the torment. Why, oh why had she masturbated, why had she slept
with that man without permission? Why couldn't she be a good girl, just obey
orders and spare herself such punishment? Again the cane swished, this time
landing just two inches below the first two strokes. The next stroke landed just
above. When she came to examine her buttocks in her bathroom mirror this
evening, she would marvel once again at the Master's accuracy in laying such a
tight series of parallel lines upon her bottom. But now all she could do was
grit her teeth and wait for the end.
There was a pause. The Master spoke.
'You will observe that I attempt to place the strokes within a small
area. Not only does this produce the maximum effect, but I find the symmetry
pleasing. In order to achieve this I find that it is worth sacrificing a small
amount of force in order the better to control each blow.'
'Yes, I see,' the young man replied. It was the first time he had
spoken. Georgina imagined him bending closer to inspect the pattern made by the
cane upon her ass. Did he have any conception of just how much it hurt?
The Master resumed, the cane whistling down upon her poor tortured
bottom again and again. Georgina trembled uncontrollably. Yet once more the
miracle was happening. The heat of the blows was spreading between her legs. She
could feel her sex glowing, swelling, throbbing now with desire. Her whole body
seemed infused with a sensation that was neither pleasure nor pain but a mixture
of the two. She felt light-headed, intoxicated. Now she welcomed the blows that
fell, each one a testament to her fortitude, each new red weal a mark of honour.
She knew how proud the Master would be of her, that she could show such absolute
submission. At first she had been afraid she couldn't bear it when he brought
out the cane, that she'd shame him in front of the younger man by pleading for
mercy. Now she smiled to herself serenely.
At last the Master laid the cane down. For a moment there was silence
except for the sound of Georgina panting.
'Do you use her after a beating?' the young man asked.
'No,' said the Master. 'Never. I prefer to retain the purity of the
moment. We shall leave her alone to contemplate. Come next door for a drink.'
Georgina heard the two men leave the room. They left the door open and
in the study she could hear the chink of glasses. Gradually the high she had
felt subsided. Her bottom felt sore, but in a pleasant, tingly sort of way. The
bruises would be severe, but she rather liked them to remind her of her ordeal.
Time passed. She was not uncomfortable in her position. In fact she felt
herself drifting off. Then she heard footsteps behind her. One of the men had
entered the room. Bent double, she couldn't see which of them it was. She heard
the sound of trousers being unzipped. She felt a hand upon her left buttock,
pulling it aside slightly. Something warm, soft yet hard, something unmistakable
was being pressed between the lips of her sex. The Master had never once fucked
her after a beating. She was sure he wasn't going to break his rule now. There
could only be one owner of the cock which nestled at the entrance to her sex.
Had the Master given him permission to fuck her, or had he stolen away
while the Master was otherwise engaged? Suddenly the cock was thrust into her,
penetrating her up to the hilt. Georgina gasped. The cock stayed lodged inside
her for a few moments, then it was partially withdrawn, only to be rammed back
in.
The young man began to fuck her vigorously. Georgina groaned as his cock
thrust fast and hard. Her cunt was wet, accepting him with ease. Too soon it was
over, as she felt him twitch inside her, felt the hot stuff pumping into her. He
withdrew quickly, perhaps at last afraid of discovery. She heard him zip himself
up. Then he bent down to whisper in her ear.
'Call me,' he said.
He wrote a number on the palm of her hand, then left the room. Slowly
the thick white fluid oozed from her cunt and dried upon the inside of her
thigh.
Ten minutes later the Master returned, together with the young man.
Georgina was unbound. The Master told her she might visit the bathroom. She
washed between her legs and repaired her make-up. When she came out the young
man was sitting in an armchair in the study, leafing through one of the Master's
books of nineteenth-century pornography.
The Master kissed her on the cheek.
'You performed very well,' he said. 'Well done.'
She smiled in pleasure at the compliment. She glanced furtively at the
young man, who caught her look. She was certain the Master knew nothing of what
he had done. Dare she see him again, without the Master's knowledge? It would be
a risk. But all the more exciting for that.
Once outside the front door she looked down at the number printed on her
palm. How long should she leave it till she called? She'd make him wait a few
days, make him pay for his presumption in taking her without permission. She
smiled at the thought.
