Ashen Master Pt. 01

I followed, feeling like a scared little fool. God, it was only supposed to be a party night for a party girl. I wasn't as bad as my flower child days where I had done a lot of LSD and hopped on trains across states out of curiosity a couple summers ago and I had thought that was something.

He made me feel like I still had a long way to go and that made me shiver. I had never been so self conscious about my distant ways.

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"What are you going to do to me?" He led me through a back door in the upstairs of the club and I had been mortified to realize he lived in that place. God, I had fantasized about getting in the door for months, longed for it, and he lived there and never had to go home. With the sudden jealousy came a spout of drug fueled excitement, where I'd told him he was lucky and it was amazing and I wished I never had to go home. And then I'd stopped when I saw his expression, so vaguely amused and patient while I rambled on.

Every step after that had made me more and more afraid. When he opened the door to his back office, I realized there were toys even back here and they weren't the beginners' toys that were allowed on open door nights like that night. Canes and full whips and all manner of hard play implements lined the walls.

This was his motherfucking office. I swallowed at the knowledge, watching his steps. I walked sporadically, in nervous skips, while his walk was even, calm. Jesus. Holy Jesus. I was so far out of my league it was insanity.

Alright. You can do this. It's just one time and he's not that bad. Just don't look at his eyes too much. But of course after I thought it, I couldn't look at anything but his eyes. They were like shards of the most calming ice, soothing me and my wild edges. Even the drugs had started to become boring in my life lately, the ups and downs of serotonin use and depletion from Ecstasy becoming so predictable after I took it once a week. But those eyes... Like soothing stars. They reminded me of pictures of space, how vast and empty it looked.

"Are you even fucking listening to me?"

Shit. "I'm sorry." His eyes narrowed and I shivered. "I'm really sorry, honest. I was just thinking that I'm scared and I shouldn't look at you too much but looking at you calms me down so I can't stop and I really am sorry."

His mouth relaxed. It wasn't quite a smile, but it was something else to calm me. "Take your sash off and bend over the desk. You'll work yourself up imagining things if I let you get that far."

I obeyed, shaking again at the strict note in his voice. He wasn't anything like my fun, playful dom who hadn't taken a lot of control at all. That dom hadn't even insisted on things like honorifics, had just wanted to lightly play. No, this man's very voice and every mannerism demanded I call him "sir", even while he made me shy to say that word, made me scared to draw his attention to me at all.

He was entrancing though, impossible for me to ignore. He wasn't even an overly large person or anything like that, but his sheer self possession and exacting command was the real giant part of him. I trembled when he got a bottle of something that looked kind of like lubricant and a paddle. "Oh, God..."

"Hush." It quieted me, that voice, and I finally closed my eyes to just let it glide over me, to feel the comfort of obedience. And it was a comfort, to be directed, to feel like I was under some kind of structure when my life continually spiraled out of my control. There had never been any structure at all in being a wealthy orphan with a trust fund. No, I was blatantly a spoiled brat who was also too smart for my own damn good sometimes. When I opened my eyes again, I felt a little more secure, a lot more collected.

Just pretend like it's a game.

But almost immediately my mind retaliated, This doesn't feel anything like a game.

No, this felt real. This felt like I'd trespassed against a king of some kind by playing games and was going to pay for it. My thoughts shut up as soon as he turned back to me, everything going so still it stunned me. My body waited for his orders and command and my mind followed suit, going peaceful.

I loved it.

His eyes softened at whatever he saw in my face and he came back from the filing cabinet with a stapled couple of papers, flipping to one page in particular. When he set it down in front of me, I whimpered. It was the agreement I had to sign to walk into his play bar.

My heart thundered even while my mind was still blank and blissfully quiet for once in my life and I jumped when I felt him stroke my ass, rubbing whatever was in that lubricant bottle into my flesh with a medical glove on his hand. It was cool at first, soothing, and his petting was even, circular motions. I sank into that touch, gasping when he finished off his strokes with four slaps, one to each asscheek and one to each thigh.

By the time he walked to the trash can, threw away his glove, and came back, I realized what he'd rubbed into my skin. Well, I didn't know exactly what it was, but I knew what it did. The burn from

his slaps sang into my flesh and the oil he used ensured the burn went on... and on. I glanced at the paddle and had to look back to his eyes to calm myself because it had holes in it and it was long and thin, hard finished wood. He met my gaze for a moment, holding it, and then pointed to a sentence on the page.

And by that time I had a feeling I knew what that sentence would read, where this was going. This is a lot less fun than Secretary made it seem. No, the oil wasn't in that movie and this man was pure iron control that didn't allow for any reprieve or argument. There wasn't a touch of lust in his gaze, not that I could see, and that's what made it all the more humiliating and terrible. Because I was dripping, my sex swollen with need, and I could feel the amount of cum between my legs. Surely he would notice with those eyes that had noticed my drug use even though I had hidden it really well. There was no way he wouldn't be able to tell.

If he did, he didn't address it at first. I couldn't decide if that was worse or not because there was no heat at all in his voice. He was perfectly collected and I was laid absolutely bare. "Spread your legs wider and read that sentence."

I obeyed him almost automatically and I was somewhere far away from my body, in a kind of shock that I would find myself here and with this man. God, his voice was merciless. It was terrible.

It was amazing. Peace flooded through me along with the fear and a hot throbbing desire somewhere deep in my being. "There is no playing under the influence at- oh, my God!" The paddle strike shocked me with how badly it bloody well hurt. My body jarred forward with the force he could put behind it and the oil burned into my flesh, searing it. I mouth the words "oh, my God" again into my arm, even while I curled my hands into fists and tried to think.

"We'll be here all night if you can't even finish the sentence. I suggest you give it another shot and try harder."

I looked back to the paper almost eagerly, dying for more and dreading it all at once. It hurt, yes, but it was so much control and my body was heating to a wildfire desire as if it knew without thinking that I was on a one way track to hell and this was the kind of discipline that I needed. Pleasure flamed from it. "There is no playing under the influ-ence! At Sulfur's! Oh, please!" The cracks were so loud that they commanded my attention, just like he commanded it. My usually sporadic mind couldn't even think over the sound of them. He had all of my attention.

"Again," he said softly.

I snorted through my nose, my pussy quivering in need, and I was suddenly insanely aware of the absence of sensation on my sex. "There is no playing under the influence at Sulfur's." I had to gasp through it, the paddle crack in the middle that time. My flesh burned and I closed my eyes, not even reading anymore, just saying the words by rote. "There is no playing under the influence at Sulfur's." God, yes, this was what I craved. It was as if some void in my soul had been filled and I could be safe. "There is no playing under the influence at Sulfur's." The crack took my breath away and I had to refocus, taking some discipline from his iron control, loving him for it. He had so much and I had none but he was kind enough to let me borrow it, to teach me this feeling. "There is no playing under the influence at Sulfur's."

"Ah, you like this. Your ass is lifting back in anticipation for every paddle strike and your little cunt is dripping on my floor." I said the words he'd given me in breathless reply and took the paddling with it. "You'll have to clean that up with your tongue when we're done." I said the words again, closing my eyes, burning alive. Peace, calm, stillness. Hot, flaming arousal. I said the words again and he chuckled. "God, it's like a transformation." He wasn't wrong and I said the sentence, moaning with the next crack. "Now, let's see what we've taught you. What's something we don't do at Sulfur's, little birthday girl?"

Fuck me, I knew the answer was only allowed to be what he'd given me. For the briefest moment my bratty personality wanted to say something different but for the first time in my life, I was too scared. "There is no playing under the influence at Sulfur's."

"There's a good girl." I clenched my fists and unclenched them for some kind, any kind, of outlet for my arousal, desperate as it was. "And your pussy might be so very horny and needy, so red and swollen and in pain, but I tend to think that all that painful need will only serve as a better reminder for you to exercise better discipline in the future. I might be wrong, though. What do you think?"

I closed my eyes, knowing the answer and thinking that it was evil of him to ask it like that. It was a lot harder to not deviate from the only sentence I was allowed to say and beg for his mercy, for an orgasm. This desire hurt on a deeper level than sexual need usually did. This was a kind that was fiendish for more release and more of his safe, wonderful discipline. I swallowed, thinking that there was no way he would give me that release after what I had done and begging him for it would only make things worse. I had to force the words out with a soft whimper, miserably saying it. "There is no playing under the influence at Sulfur's."

The paddle crack was sharp and I felt my legs shake, closed my eyes in defeated submission. I was forced to admit that if he didn't want me to cum, then I wouldn't. He had me under absolute power and I didn't want to leave it. I kind of wished I never had to leave it and its safety.

"Good girl. Maybe I was wrong. That took some restraint to give me a proper answer."

Dare I hope? "Th-there is no playing under the influence at Sulfur's?"

He chuckled, amused, and paddled me again. "There isn't. Now, when I give you an introductory card, what's something you aren't going to do?"

That shred of hope for some release from the wildfire he'd started with this act that made me feel so fucking safe made me squeal the words eagerly. "There is no playing under the influence at Sulfur's!"

"That's right." The paddle cracked me harder than any of the other times and my ass felt like it was in flames from the oil searing it. It felt like I should be bleeding, though there wasn't any trickling. "You're going to be a good girl and not make me regret this. And what's something that good girls don't do?"

I shouted the sentence out, realizing there were tears on the tip of my nose. "I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry!" I broke, finally, and sobbed full on tears onto the paper and his desk, whimpering in pathetic sadness that I had caused drama and messed up someone's fun, kinky night. It was hard for me to feel empathy, but this man shoved my face in it like I was an errant dog, made me face it, and suddenly I could and absolutely did feel bad. The dom hadn't deserved my bullshit when I got caught, had only been interested in a fun night.

The tears poured down and there was a soft sound behind me and then I squealed, feeling two of his fingers penetrate me. "What are you- wait, I- Oh!" He twisted his hand and I whimpered, pleasure assaulting me.

"I have always thought that the sweetest little slaves come from the most uninhibited, emotionally capable little submissives. I wonder what you would be like with a little collar, kneeling and eager to serve once you've been trained." The thought placed the image in my head of me at his knees in that office, naked and without a shred of reserve or embarrassment, waiting for him to use me at his pleasure.

Arousal shot through my body, coursed through my veins like so much spiky poison. It was something so much more dangerous and intoxicating than the drugs. "Ah, you like that idea." I couldn't hide it, not when I was drenching and pulsing around his fingers, my sex dying for him to continue talking and taunting. And yet he merely stroked his fingers inside of me. Where other doms had spanked me to work me up for a wild fuck, he was nothing like that. He left me to hump his fingers, left me pushing back against the desk, while he was so unaffected and detached. "You like that idea so much you're close to coming for me." He was right. The blood was starting to roar in my ears and the flames of punishment on my ass were making me wild. "This gives us a problem together. I have a general rule of training and playing that suffering, disobedient girls are never allowed orgasm."

He pulled away and I sobbed miserably, but I didn't fight because there was still the terrible guilt he'd forced me to feel. "Please. Please." I mewled it against the desk, wondering if he would give me any kind of release at all or at least give me more pain to make this feel better.

"Exceptions to my rules cost you something, Pet. I do make them, but you'll have to make a deal with the devil, so to speak." I looked up at him, sniffling, pathetic, humiliated. God, I was on Ecstasy and my emotions were still a mess. They were all over the place, a whirlwind inside of me.

His eyes anchored me enough to let me speak and think a little more clearly. "What do you mean?"

He stroked my hair, the paddle laid to the side, and his eyes were stern amusement. Still like ice, still like protective stone that could keep me safe from even myself. "Well, this was all so you could earn an introductory card. I can make you cum, make you scream so loud it'll hurt your fucking throat, but if I do then it will cost you, say, five more punishments. Just so I can be sure I get my message across, you understand."

"F-five?"

That cool amusement deepened. "Five. I think a week, less a day, worth of punishment with orgasms will make up for one without."

Five. With. Orgasms. Five more where I could see those safe eyes and feel his control, borrow it for just a little while. "Yes, please, sir! Please!"

He laughed. "I had a feeling you might agree that to be fair." I didn't care about his softly mocking voice, didn't care that I had agreed to five more days of pain, didn't care about anything besides getting his fingers or anything else back inside of me. I whimpered when he lifted the paddle instead and held it in front of my face. "Now, show me how grateful you are for my lesson. Kiss my paddle."

God. Every degradation was another flame, another spark on an already insane bonfire. "Yes, sir." I obeyed because I wanted these wild things. They somehow felt restrained even while they fed my need for depravity and dark intensity.

"Good girl. Now thank me for your punishment. Be a polite, good little submissive for me."

I moaned, arching on his table. "Thank you for my punishment, sir." My voice was breathy and didn't even sound like myself. No, this girl sounded sweet and happy rather than giddy and insane.

"Very pretty. See how good you can be with some discipline? Let's see how five more days will do you."

He didn't give me his fingers back. He used the paddle handle instead and I choked, clinging to his desk with my nails clawed into the hardwood like a lioness in a frenzy. I squealed when he filled me with the handle, sobbing and whining for more. I was facing a transparent chest of dildos and forced to acknowledge that this was on purpose. Fucking me with the object of my punishment was another lesson, a harsh one.

And I didn't care. No, I lifted on the table, my world narrowed down to one concern and that was finishing this, finding my release. He held me still with one hand on my lower back and pumped me so hard and fast that I could hear the filthy sound of all the cum I had dripped. And I would love to say that it was the sex that threw me over, but it wasn't. It was the fact that he was barely even touching me. He stood distant from me and when I looked up at him, he watched with a deliberately dispassionate gaze, as if completely unaffected.

It was the fact that while he pumped me and watched with that gaze, he finally lifted an eyebrow and softly said, "Go on. Take what you need like a good little slut."

I squealed to the sound of that voice, so cruelly cold and calm while I fell apart, the orgasm so dark and from a deeper place than any other orgasm I'd ever had. I had never felt so safe to let go, had never felt like such a plaything under such controlled hands.

It terrified me how much I loved it, scared the hell out of me. And I had agreed to five more days of it.

He pulled away when I was still trembling, only to lift me by my hair and hold the paddle handle to my lips. "Open up and clean this." Obediently I did, still high from that intense pleasure, loving every filthy word, delighted by the fact that I was licking my own mess off the toy that had punished me. He frowned while he watched me and pulled the paddle handle away for a moment before he lifted me to stand straight in front of him, his hand still in my hair. "I said to clean it. Open up and suck, girl." I moaned and obeyed again, but this time he took over, thrusting the handle between my lips while I closed my eyes and tried to not climb towards orgasm again. His facefucking was brutal, tickling my throat so that I choked and whined, but he made me take it, twisting it so that it was licked clean. "That's how you clean my toys off. Now, let's try the floor, kotik, and this time if I see any cum left on it, we'll start it all over again without the orgasm, until you get it right."

I dropped to my hands and knees and licked while he placed one of his Harley Davidson boots on my neck and made me bow lower.

And even after all that? He still wasn't done. "Now, place your hands on the back of your neck, spread you legs like a horny little bitch in heat, and stay on your hands and knees in the fucking floor until I come back and get you." And he left me just like that, placing the tear stained entry agreement beside me so that I could see that sentence for the next thirty minutes of time out.

There is no playing under the influence at Sulfur's.

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Ash

Jesus, mother of fucking Mary.

That place inside of me where everything was icy and sterile, where I noticed everything as if I were standing on a mountaintop? That beautiful place that was where I had been made to rule from?

It was a hundred times more with her beneath me. I don't know why. Maybe it was because she was so obviously out of control, so clearly craving it. But it was something almost transcendent in nature with her bowed in front of me and bent for punishment. I had always felt a moment of connection with my partners because in that special clarity, I felt almost godlike, like I could see everything about them, notice every muscle tension and expression.

With her? It was like being connected on the deepest possible level. I just knew everything to say and do. I knew without considering it that I had to be cold and distant and have complete control to earn her submission. However badly I craved to fuck her, I couldn't do it and somehow, in that state, my discipline and self possession had been something that made even me amazed. It had been impossibly easy to ignore my raging hard on. I had always been good, but no one was that good. No one could be near that heady, intoxicating scent that she gave when she was dripping cum and not struggle for a brief moment to keep a sense of restraint. No one.