Ashen Master Pt. 01

And yet I had been that good. It had been something surreal, like a Chinese finger trap. However hard she pulled at my self control was as hard as it pulled back. Her temptation made me all the stronger with every breath I took of that delicious, hot scent of her.

God, the cream she had dripped. The only thing missing when she'd been bowed beneath my boot was a belt wrapped around her neck for me to pull and torment her with. I would have tugged on it while holding her down just to feel the power rush up my arm, feel the tension up my muscles, and feel that magical knowledge when I saw her back arch in panic that let me know I had to give slack.

And when I was away from her, I didn't even jerk off. Don't get me wrong, my body craved the release, but I didn't want to break her spell. Denial had never been my thing, but this feeling of powerful rush was the most exquisite hell. From the first taste of her humiliating service, I was hooked. She was the one who had been on drugs, but it was almost like she had given them to me instead. I burned for her, had to have her.

How to approach that topic with her? That brief insight and connection, as deep as it was, gave me a decent bit of knowledge. She was a wild little thing, flighty as all hell too, and obviously without many moral boundaries that most people had if she was indulging in drug use of that caliber. But more to the point she was without inhibition, a sexual creature who indulged in hedonistic behaviors, and she was a joy of emotional range.

Those were all delightful qualities in a slave and I hadn't met someone who had them in such full nature as she did. She would be something exceptional after a month of conditioning.

You, Ash, are getting way the fuck ahead of yourself.

God, was I ever. I sounded like a narcissist, taking her as a foregone conclusion. I stopped and blinked, realizing that while I was lost in my thoughts, my steps had taken me to my own private dungeon, the one I so rarely used. I had shaped it with the intention of training a real slave sometime, as a room of pleasure conditioning, a Master's room. I traced my hands over the locks and sighed. "Well, fuck."

Because I realized that I'd already made up my mind, even by that point. You see, I had never really gotten to use my dungeon for its original intention. I had never gotten to have my true slave. It had taken a few years before I realized that my training dungeon fantasies might not be something I could make into reality.

That same cold place that made me the perfect master? It was the same place that ensured I couldn't get close enough to someone to enslave them. Submissives I had been with wanted more, but I didn't have that kind of more to give. There was no depth beneath my surface. There was only more mastery and more dominance, more of that perfect ice.

And sometime when I had her under my paddle in that light little punishment session, I had made a decision.

I was going to have my fantasy and she was the slave who was going to star in it. Like her, my moral compass did not point north and I had evidently already set my eyes on something I wanted. And my conscience was not registering that the object of my desires should probably not be taken.

This was... new.

Okay. So. Hmm. Well, I had options. She had obviously felt safe under my hands. And she was an amazing creature. Legality evidently was not a deterrent for my personality, but there was something else that I focused on. Her pleasure, her safety.

I don't know if that justified the things I was willing to do, the fact that I knew I could calm her and make her safe and give her security. Because... if I were being honest?

I was absolutely willing to take her against her will. She made my kinky radar go absolutely batshit haywire with how submissive she was, even if she hid it. Behave, Ash. You have to be good, damn it. You knew this when you broke laws and damned yourself once that it would be easier to do it again after that. And you knew that you had to be good.

But there was another thought too. I have been good. I've been really, really good for years now. And this one is really worth it. She fit so perfectly to me.

Ugh. Not good. Bad Ash. Very bad Ash. The other problem with all of this was just how perfect my self control and dominance was, once again. You see, it was glaringly obvious to me that I could absolutely manipulate and ease her along a pathway that ended in my dungeon with gentle coercion and persuasion.

And I'd get away with it. There was nothing to stop me. She was just barely old enough to walk into my club and didn't even know her way around that underworld enough to know better. She hadn't even asked me for a safeword.

Fuck. Not good.

————

Jezebel

When he let me up that night he had made me stand in front of him, while he sat in his desk chair, and answer his questions. His gaze had been so direct that cum had rubbed against my thighs all over again and his voice was ever cool, demanding I answer. He asked me things like if I was a student, which I was. He asked me if I was off for the summer and the answer to that was yes as well. He asked if there was anything at all that was a pressing schedule that might get in the way of the timing for the punishments I had agreed to.

To which I had blushed and softly said, "I'm free to do as I wish for the next couple of months. There's no one and nothing that has any demands on me." And his eyes had flashed with something for just a second, the smallest second that would always stand out in my mind as the one intense lapse that made me shiver to see. Somehow it was even more terrifying than his iciness.

"You will come here tomorrow afternoon at one then and every day after that until your time is up." God, could I be any more humiliatingly wet from his treatment? It had seemed a surreal affair when he walked me back out into Sulfur's. He watched me dress with his gaze ever attentive and fixed my birthday sash with a wry smile. "Happy birthday."

"It's one of them anyway."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Oh?"

I shrugged. "The other birthday was actually a month ago, but I've forgotten which one is the real birthday now. When I first got my license, they messed the date up at the DMV." Why the fuck was I telling him this? Why wouldn't my mouth shut the fuck up? "And I didn't want to go through the effort of changing it, so I changed my birthday with doctors' offices and stuff and I can't remember what places have which birthday now, but I celebrate the later one to be safe." Motherfucking Ecstasy and Adderall.

He pet my hair. "I see, Holly Golightly."

I blushed. "Leon the Professional."

His laugh made me smile though, a happy smile. Freaking Ecstasy. I needed to shut up and get away from him and go someplace to let it wear off. But then those thoughts scattered when he circled me in the dressing room and my clothes didn't do a thing to make me feel safer. "You have no idea. I could interrogate you right now and you would tell me anything at all, wouldn't you?"

I shivered at the feel of his arm circling my waist, at the way the other hand snaked up until his hand curled around my throat. "P-please don't do that. Please tell me to go home and sleep and come back tomorrow."

His laugh was soft, threatening, and he held me tighter, watching me turn more afraid. "Perhaps you should think before you come to me drugged and so open to suggestion. Offering yourself like that to someone like me is a dangerous thing. I'll take you up on it and you won't like it when I do." I moaned with shivery pleasure when his hand stroked down to cup one of my tits. He weighed it in his palm, as if testing the feel of it in his hands, and his eyes glittered with that cool look that sent chills down my spine.

He released me with a laugh. "Go home. I have more offers for you but I need you sane when I give them. Tomorrow at one. I would suggest you not keep me waiting, unless you're just feeling extra flirtatious." When he winked, it made me go weak in the knees and I was still shivering with dark desire when he released me outside his door, letting me go.

The next day. God. I hated it because I was definitely going to go back to him. That thrill of danger down my spine was like a lock on my heart and intentions. I had to go back for more adrenaline. My drug problem had never really been a drug problem. It had always been a hedonistic indulgence problem, a fact I was reminded of when he released me.

Because I wanted to go back more than I'd ever wanted any drug. It was scary how badly I wanted for more of his power and collected calmness. Maybe if I spent more time under that discipline, some of it would rub off on me.

I walked through the streets the long way home that night, thinking about him and how he had looked. He was more than anyone I'd ever met, far more of a dominant. I felt strange outside of his office. His office was where he ruled and I still felt like I was under his spell. It seemed wrong to feel that kind of magic and be outside.

Eventually I made it back to my college apartment. I didn't know whose name it was registered under, but it wasn't mine. I stopped by once a month to pay while I took way too many classes because I was torn between majors.

Right now, my roommate was gone for the summer and the place was all to myself. I had been so excited for that fact a week ago. It meant that I could leave my puzzle cubes spread throughout the apartment, where I could randomly pick them up and tinker with one as I willed, and no one would stop me. But now I felt lonely. It was quiet and the noise of the city outside the window only served to remind me of how quiet it was inside.

I stared around me at the clutter of my apartment and felt a little lost. His office had been so neat, too, everything in an obvious place. I mean, my apartment wasn't messy or gross or anything but I had different books laid out on different tables, depending on what my mood would be and what I felt like reading. Cryptonomicon lay on the coffee table, God Created the Integers was in the kitchen, Descartes' Discourse on Method was in my bedroom, and Lovecraft's works were by the bathtub.

In the end I picked up Cryptonomicon and read myself to sleepiness, thinking of my "date" the next day like any junkie would, even while my body was so afraid of him.

He could get me under control, but what if that wasn't where I wanted to be?

Isn't it though? How wrong could it be? Aren't you getting sick of the drugs every night and the ups and downs that go with them? Aren't you getting tired of balancing the Ecstasy hangover with Lortabs and Vicodin while trying to plan out when you can take the next stack?

The weekend before that I had woken up counties away after having roofied myself so I could play a fun little memory loss puzzle with myself. I was pretty sure I'd been date raped, but the pastime had seemed like it might be worth it...

But now it was starting to seem so... dull. The memory loss puzzle had been too easy when I had Siri set to get me safely home.

God, I hated being bored, almost as much as I hated the idea of being a homeowner. Being tied down to something like that? Gross. Maybe he could keep me from getting bored? But he scared me.

That's what's going to keep you from boredom, you idiot. Being afraid.

Idiot was right. God, I was so confused. I had been confused since trying to decide on a major. It felt like I was deciding a final course for my life plan and I hated plans and now everything was spinning out of control and all I could do was take one drug and then the next to try to distract myself from the feeling of being a rat in a cage.

But now I could think about something else besides drugs instead. Him. I wasn't sure if that counted as being any better but maybe sex would be at least mentally better for me.

————

He was waiting for me when I knocked on his door, feeling a strange blend of subdued calmness and leftover energy while coming down from the Ecstasy. The hangover was somewhere not nearly as painful as alcohol, but slightly more shitty than Vicodin. He studied the look on my face when I knocked. "Interesting. You almost look peaceful with serotonin depletion."

"I'm not sure how much fun this will be for you," I said softly.

"It's not about being fun. What is it about, girl? Look at me when you answer."

I met his eyes and felt that peace. He had these pale, green eyes and now that I was calmer and not riding a horny high, I could focus on the little details like that. Sadly, this kind of peacefulness wasn't a real calm. For most people, it was actually depression. For me, it just felt peaceful in the sense that I wasn't all over the place. It was a sad peace, but that coolness that he had anchored me again. "It's about how I made a deal to orgasm and that six punishments with orgasm is the same as one punishment without."

He smiled. "Ah, this makes me even more interested to see the real you over the next few days. Which reminds me. If you take anything and I notice you on it or on a hangover besides this one, I'm going to conclude that these lessons aren't doing you a bit of good and we'll start over until you get it right."

I stared at him, stunned. "That wasn't what you said!"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Unless your drugs are more important than the card you claim to want so badly to get into Sulfur's. If that's the case, then we can forget all of this right now and you can leave."

I gave him a dark look. "Can I drink?"

"Lightly. I want you to exercise some fucking control and show me you can handle being in my doors. That's the point of all this. Get that through your thick skull." He stared down at me for a moment with something that looked close to his version of frustration, and even that was cool. But then when I glared back, his expression changed into something more wicked and playful. "How about we make another deal?"

I blinked, wary. Each deal with him felt like it should come with blood and a golden pen. And yet the last deal had ended up with me going back to Sulfur's, even if it was through the back door. "What kind of deal?"

He led me to his office again, considering his thoughts. "You don't strike me as a very drug addicted person. You seem more the type to take it out of impulse and boredom. Does that seem correct?"

He made me feel predictable and I hated that, but he was also right and I didn't want to lie to him when I felt like maybe he could control me. Maybe he would be the first person I couldn't manipulate, someone who wouldn't put up with my shit. That thought aroused me whether I liked it or not and I couldn't ignore that. "Yes, sir."

"You're already coming here for daily punishment. How about if you get bored, I will allow you to come to me to curtail your boredom? To me only, mind you, and if you can come see me while staying in possession of your senses, I'll keep you company."

He practically purred it, obviously wanting my agreement. I flinched because it felt like a strange kind of noose was being slipped around my neck. "Will you just talk to me or get coffee if I want?"

His smile was wolf-like and made me shiver even though his answer should have made me happy. "Of course, Pet."

"O-okay. Wait, I'm not agreeing to date you though, right?"

He chuckled. "Scared of my cage?" It came out mocking. "No, you're not. Just for time. Besides, if you wish to spend more time with me then I'll be able to see if you're behaving."

Even while the warnings went up my spine, my mouth opened. "Okay. Okay, yes, I'll take that deal."

"Wonderful. Now, strip naked and sit in this chair."

I obeyed and sat, and he started to tie me with rope to the chair while I looked up at him and couldn't look away. His eyes threatened and calmed me at the same time. He was the Phantom and I was a lost Christine. Wandering child, so lost, so helpless. The songs played through my head but they had a nature even darker than the movie had seemed, even though the Phantom had been insane.

Sir didn't seem insane. No, he was all the more terrifying because he seemed more like the Christian devil, perfectly aware and willing to be so evil anyway. Each rope felt like a snake curling around me and he took his time, working methodically. Each second he worked and tied made me more aroused to watch, to feel my bondage so evenly and steadily increased. "Have you tasted clamps before, Pet?"

Every time he said the word Pet it felt like he said it with the capital letter, like he was naming me that. He had never asked for my name and I didn't have his and now that I noticed that fact, I was afraid to exchange them. It felt like it would be a way to tie us together, tie me down like those ropes. He frowned and smacked my face. "Your mind always wanders and appears to go far too fast for your own good. I asked you a question. When I top you, I am not one of your playtime doms to be a notch in your belt. You give me your attention or I'll find ways you won't like to keep it. Now, answer me. Have you been acquainted with clamps before?"

"Y-yes, sir. Silver ones with jewels and that kind of thing."

"Not real ones then. Do you know clover clamps and alligator ones?"

I shuddered and he chuckled. "Only from books and stories."

"They aren't as fun as those make them seem. You're about to find out. Last night I was kind because you were on a pleasure drug and I was already breaking my key rules. This punishment will be more intense and more painful. But if you behave yourself and take what I give you, I'll make you cum as promised. Punishment will not be and should not be pleasant, as a fair warning."

I took a deep breath. "Yes, sir. I'm scared."

He held my gaze when he approached me with a set of silver and black clamps. "Deep breaths. Hold my eyes."

I did that and realized he knew the effect he had on me. He knew that he was disciplined and my body craved to take some of that from him. "Y-yes, sir. Please be nice. Please."

But I wasn't asking for less pain really. I just wanted him to... I don't know. He inclined his head. "I'll be however I need to be in order to teach you your lesson." He slapped my breasts and I whimpered, dripping on his chair, afraid.

And I wasn't bored. It scared me a little how far from bored I actually was, made me afraid of the addiction to his presence and how much power he could gain over me if he wanted. I stared up into his eyes, clinging to that gaze again for calm. God, he was like magic. Even when I whined and whimpered while he tormented and twisted my nipples. And then he softly said, "Brace yourself." And the first clamp fell closed.

Tears sprang to my eyes and I choked, gasping even while he placed the other one. "No! No, please!" But I was tethered tightly to the chair, with nowhere to go.

"Shh. Hush. Breathe. You can do this, Pet." I whimpered and sat still to try to avoid moving the chain. And it did get easier actually. Oh, it still didn't feel good, but I adjusted.

And then something happened because I almost seemed to mentally sink into his pain, seemed to fall to it. It happened so easily, so quickly, that it was as if I had been born for that mentality. I stared up at him, wide eyed, and he smiled in pleasure. "That's a good girl. Just let the subspace happen because it's a nice place to be. You please me when you submit to your punishment as you've earned it."

Control. Discipline. Punishment. Submit. I was learning a list of words that made me drip more and more with every one he spoke. I let my head fall back and relaxed into the pain. "Yes, sir."

"Good girl. You'll receive the crop this time."

I gasped when he started, watching him pace and strike my breasts. He snapped it against the clamps, hard, so that every single slap was a trial. He decorated my tits while I was trapped beneath him, flicked me over and over while I breathed under his calm instruction. Once again, he ruled me with that look that nothing seemed to affect. Not the tears that fell from me, not the scent of my arousal which he had to notice. Nothing moved him. He was stone, ice, and I looked up at him and thought of those things and how much I loved them.