Ashen Master Pt. 02

It was perfect, so fucking perfect. And at some point during all of his care and domination, all of his continual use and his hard touches, I finished swallowing more of his cum one day and stared up at him with glazed eyes. I felt like Sleeping Beauty, as if we were both in the most magical slumber and protected by the dragon of his mastery, and maybe that magic was what made me open my mouth and finally whisper, "I love you, Master."

Not "Pet loves you". For the first time, I bowed my head and broke that barrier. He curled his fingers through my o-ring and lifted my face up so he could kiss me. "I love you, too, darling."

He let me curl up over his feet while I nuzzled his ankles and licked his fingertips adoringly. It was something like 45 minutes that he let me curl there. But he didn't stay that way the entire time. No, he left about 10 minutes after I held him and came back with the demon mask I loved so much. That time, he knelt over me, holding me close while I breathed in his scent, and whimpered my gratitude. After that, he added a new routine between us, where he would cradle me or hold me close for minutes at a time. Sometimes, I would be in his office and he would lift me onto his lap. Sometimes, we would be in his bedroom and he would pull me onto his bed. Still other times, we would be in the dungeon and he took us both to the floor, with that demon mask. God, I loved that mask too. He took to even waking me up with it, and I would grin in joy.

He did that until the morning when he didn't. I don't know how many days passed from that mark. I had started to measure things in terms of new routines and changes to our dynamic, added things. I thought it was, at the very least, five days of waking up to that demon face. I started to have the feeling that I wouldn't mind if that demon mask waited to wake me up when I was in hell, just so I could see it forever. Demons had been turned into creatures of fiery lust for me. When he turned on the light without it, I looked up at him and blinked curiously, smiling. Changes in a routine made me excited and curious.

"Good morning, Master. I hope you had good dreams."

He leaned against the cage, with that soft little chuckle that made me turn wet just to hear it. Alright, that wasn't saying much, since everything he did made me turn wet. "I did, actually. Dreams of you."

I grinned and reached up to the top of the cage, to stroke his fingers where he held it. "What a coincidence! I dreamed of you, too."

He laughed and finally opened the door, so that I crawled out eagerly. Like every morning, my lips went instantly to his jeans. I kissed his cock through the fabric, opening my mouth to moan in my pleasure at feeling his hardness. My pussy pulsed and my asshole squeezed the wide toy that spread me so brutally. I could barely think about the anal toy anymore, or it drove me to such arousal that it was dangerous. My mouth watered at the thought of getting to him, of being able to swallow his cum. "Oh, Master..." I sighed it, turned on and greedy.

He growled low in his throat, but he didn't feed me like he usually did. He stepped away instead, to pet my hair, and I stared up at him, adoring him. "Dear God. This is painful, but we have to do this right. You might hate me in a few minutes, Pet, after I tug you from the waters I've had you under."

I felt a little bit of fear and glanced up at him worriedly, but he was my Master and he knew how to do everything the right way. He pet my hair and held out his hand. "Come on." When I took it, he tugged me to my feet and I blinked, but he didn't let me stay afraid for long. He lifted me into his arms and I grinned.

"Such a romantic Master." I teased him and he laughed.

"Well, you know the saying. 'At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.'"

I giggled and watched him take me from the dungeon. Instead of going to the slave bathroom, he went to his own, and I went giddy with excitement. His bathroom was so soft in comparison, and so wonderful. He had luxuriant water jets in his bathtub, and everything in it was decorated to make someone feel like royalty. Even with all that, it was still pretty small and cozy and that was my favorite part. I made a soft little squeak of happiness when he set me on the side of the bathtub and started the water.

He laughed in response. "Ridiculous girl. Is the slave's bathroom really so awful?"

"Well, not when you're in it to bathe me, but it's not as good as a jacuzzi."

"Fair enough. Let me unlock your belt. Turn around and bend over the side." I obeyed that, moaning when he slid each toy out of me. He took a brief moment to fuck me open with the anal toy and I cried out in bliss, then bit my wrist when the toy disappeared and I was left gaping. His fingertips fluttered over the opening and his thumb stroked through my pussy. "You're so fucking wet just from having the toys. And you drip just from having your asshole touched and played with now. Your body gets hotter from that than when I play with you cunt, even."

It was true. I went wild from anal stimulation now, after what he had done to me. "Oh yes, Master."

He pulled away with a soft little noise in the back of his throat that made me look over my shoulder at him. At the sight of my curiosity, he took a breath. "Sit in the water, Pet, and I hope you can appreciate the pain this is causing me. I've never been so close to doing something illegal in my life, to breaking my word."

I curled up in the bath and leaned over the side, while he knelt opposite me. "I never want to cause you pain, Master. And I'm not quite sure what you mean."

He smiled and reached around my neck. To my fear, I felt him twist at the collar, felt it tugged away. The sight of it in his hands seemed surreal after so long wearing it, and I watched in a kind of daze as he used a key to unlock the metal cuffs at my wrists. I jumped when the locks clicked and stared at my wrists, which felt far too light. I had forgotten how heavy the cuffs had initially felt, had forgotten that the metal wasn't part of me. When I lifted my foot at his gesture, he kissed my ankle and unlocked that cuff as well. And then did the same with the other one.

"You survived," he finally said softly. "One whole month. I hope it was everything you could have fantasized it to be. And if you never want to call me 'Master' again, you don't have to. But I sincerely hope you do want that."

What I wanted. For the first time in my life, he had opened me to the consideration of what someone else wanted, had kicked down all of my self centered bitchiness and found the slave curled up behind it, that secret side of me that thrived from someone else's desires and approvals. Now, the thought of what I wanted kind of scared me. What if I considered it and was just a bitch again? What if the past month had been nothing but a fairy tale and I had always just been a terrible creature?

Instead of answering like an adult, I did what the other me would have done... and burst into tears.

He made an exasperated, slightly amused sound, and cradled my head. "Such an emotional little slave girl. Hold on." I watched him pull away through my tears, watched him undress. And then he got into the water, pulled me close, and I was back in the safe circle of his arms, sniffling into his shoulder. "Deep breaths. Disorienting after I held you so far under, isn't it? We'll take this slowly. How about we finish the bath and go for a walk together?"

"O-okay. Yes, Master." And I could do that, when he laid it out like that. Everything seemed less confusing coming from his soothing voice. He put everything in a nice, listed order while my mind devolved into chaos.

He made another of those soft, pained sounds and when I looked up at him, he seemed to be forcing himself to talk. "Call me Ash," he finally said. "Well, my real name is Asher Lavrov, but I go by Ash."

My tongue felt too thick in my mouth when I answered. "Ash." Having his name felt like I had the name of a god. I threw myself into his arms again and held on tight, using him as an anchor.

————

Ash

I hadn't anticipated how goddamned difficult it would be to let her up from her slavery. Not for her, necessarily. I had long been wary of that, because I knew how deep subspace scenes could work, knew that the drop from them could be flat fucking brutal at times. For both sides. It had to be done slowly, easily. Little adjustments. For instance, I knew better than to show her the closet I had for her. You see, with her as my slave, during those moments when I was away from her, I would sometimes see outfits I thought she would like, or shoes or scarfs, and I bought them. There was also an eternity collar and set of cuffs in that closet, ones I had special ordered from Ivory's jewelry stores. I wasn't sure what the logic was for doing so, didn't really even think about where our relationship was going, but it had become clear that it was going somewhere.

But I couldn't just take her to that closet and tell her to get dressed. It'd be cruel to do so, in the same way it'd be cruel to take her to eat and tell her to choose whatever she wanted. She hadn't chosen those things, or even worn clothes, for a month now. But I couldn't just choose an outfit for her, either, because I needed her to make some decisions and get used to that feeling again. I had to have her back to reality, so we could talk about where our relationship might go.

And that's where the difficult part came in for me. Because my thoughts would answer that with, Do you really have to have that though? Why not choose her clothes for her and guide her along the path of being your slave, while getting her used to going back to school instead? Why not go for the walk and make quiet suggestions that end with her kneeling at your feet again by the end of the night? I had to focus and snarl at that voice to shut the fuck up.

Almost angrily, I chose three outfits, laid them out, and then I took a deep breath before I went to get her from the bathroom where she was drying her hair. I grinned at the sight of her staring at herself in the mirror, because she was turning this way and that. She touched her lips and pressed her fingertips to her ass, where there were some lingering marks from the braided whip. But then she jumped back when she saw me watching, and there was just a little bit of shy fear in her eyes, the kind that taunted my beast. I had to ignore my raging hard on as it was, just from the sight of her pressing my marks. "Come on. Come and get dressed, lovely."

Obediently, warily, she did. She followed me and studied the outfits on the bed, her eyes going wide. All three were something to be worn outside, something comfortable. "Oh! They're all so pretty. Thank you, M- um. Ash?"

I touched her nose, even though inside I was having my own little morality war. I itched to hear her say that unspoken word again. "You're welcome, Jezebel. They're yours if you like them. Choose your favorite and let's have fun and talk. No more of those tears. There's nothing to cry about."

And her eyes were clear again. She seemed to be okay when I laid out the choices, and I was both glad for that and chafed to that. Goddamnit. I can see how to do it. Which meant I didn't have any fucking excuse to not guide her out of it, had a responsibility to do it after I had so thoroughly enslaved her. I sought solace in that cold place, wondering what this strange feeling was that made me want to feel the emotions, even though some of them hurt me. Because the bad ones only seemed to intensify the ones that felt so very good. Like pain intensifying pleasure in my sex.

I spoke softly with her on the way to the trail I knew of, asking her about the book she was reading, which was an alternate history of the Tapestry of Bayeux. It animated her like it had done even in her slavery to me. Books and histories, anything mentally stimulating, made her alive no matter what state we were in together. Master and slave. Friend and friend. She spoke happily of Normandy's conquest of England in 1066 and it amazed me how into it she got. She felt so much emotion for even these crazy things and I had learned things about my little slave, her likes and dislikes.

"But still not as interesting as the Battle of Stalingrad and WWII?"

"Nowhere close!" Her eyes were shining when she got out of my car. She had chosen jeans, with a light sparkly jacket, and she looked downright adorable with her hands in the pockets. "There's nothing as good as WWII, though." She moved close to me when we walked together. After our stint, she curled into my arms with the ease of a lover, the familiarity of someone close. It soothed me to see it. Where once my eyes had been so analytical, I watched these motions with the pleasure of someone involved. God, what was I thinking? She was years younger than me, emotionally unstable, but that instability also spoke of loyalty. I had seen that adoration in her eyes, the gratitude for someone who could calm her. What was more, she was capable of empathy. I had to force her face in it, break her down, but she wasn't a bad soul. No, she was warm and sweet and I knew she was young. I didn't want to take her life and experiences away from her.

I wanted to be part of them. If she insisted on trying different doms or people out, I would understand. It would hurt like hell, but she had a right to live and find out whether I was really what she wanted. Maybe she would consider the idea of an open kind of relationship. Tricky, that, but if there was anyone it could work with, then I had to admit I was a good person for it.

Her laughter broke through to me and I turned my focus back to her. "I had to work up the courage to ask this, because it felt like breaking the rules to ask a question. What are you thinking about?"

We had reached the trail now and I smiled at her question. "Well, then, I feel I must encourage the behavior of asking me questions during certain conversations, and this is most certainly one of those conversations. I was thinking about how to propose a relationship with you."

Her nose wrinkled and I rolled my eyes. Relationship was a terrible choice of words, apparently. "You mean the last legal form of slavery?" I lifted my eyebrow and she grinned. "I'll take the real slavery to you any day, rather than a... than a... gilded cage..." Her voice trailed off and she swallowed and just like that, warning bells sounded in my head. I didn't know where her thoughts were.

How did I not know where they were? I had always been able to tell and yet now in this horribly fragile moment, I was at a loss. For God's sake, I had experienced a month in the most intimate relationship with her, and I couldn't tell now? Fucking really? "Than a gilded cage?" I prompted softly.

"Oh! Um, sorry. Than a gilded cage under a different name. I lost my train of thought."

"It's alright. I understand." My fear soothed a little bit, because her focus was back on me and not down whatever dark alleyway it had disappeared to. Her expression was cleared again. "And that's fair, really. I was going to say that I'd like to be in a relationship with you, if you're willing, and it can be whatever type of relationship you'd like, however open you'd like. You can date others and go to bookstores with me, use me for domination sessions to clear your mind, if you like. I'd have to warn you that would be hard for me, though. Or you can be my slave still, if you want." I grinned shyly. "That'd be easiest for me. And we can talk about you going to classes and living off campus and obeying me." My grin turned teasing and happy. "I think you'll find I can keep a little slave girl's focus where it belongs, instead of having her run wild on weekends, or going to sex clubs while rolling Ecstasy."

She laughed easily for a moment. "You're crazy if you think it will be anything less than slavery to you after what we just did for a month, especially after that feeling of... of..." And then she fell away from me again, and I heard those alarm bells. It was like I was talking to two people. One was the calm girl I had seen in the dungeon, but the other was the wild, terrified thing I had known beforehand. "That feeling of disappearing."

Disappearing.

Disappearing?

For a moment, I was more furious than I'd ever been in my life. The force of it stunned me and I had to focus to wrap myself in the icy coldness, regain my control. "How do you mean by disappearing?"

She frowned and considered it, but it was like I was watching her fade away right in front of me. Fear took over her little by little. Her stance turned defensive. "I don't... I don't know. Um, just there wasn't a feeling of being all there, I guess? Or maybe I was so calm and I'm never calm and I always feel like this instead where my thoughts are racing."

"Hey. Look at me, Pet. Take a breath. You're working yourself up. You need to calm down and think clearly for me, or else we can't have this conversation yet. Breathe for me and calm down." She obeyed automatically, but her thoughts still raced and her face still twisted with them. "Are you hungry, Pet?"

I was thinking of a change of scenery, but it turned out to be the question that would damn me. She nodded and then without thinking about it, her gaze lowered to my jeans, and she choked. And this time, there was nothing I could do to stop the panic that rose in her so fast that it stunned me. "Oh, my God. Holy shit, I just- No. I have to get out of here. I have to go home. I have to... I- I-" She cut off and stared at me with wide eyes that cut me. Without another word, she turned to run.

"Wait! Jezebel, please, don't leave. Talk with me." I caught her wrist in a last effort and she turned with so much panic.

"Let me go!" When she turned, her voice was a shriek and she clawed at my wrist and hers, cutting herself and breaking off one of the nails I had so carefully manicured. She tossed the icy hair I had glossed and tamed to a lovely shine, tousled it into a mess with her panic.

I let her go because somewhere, somehow, I had already fucked up. I had missed something crucial to her if I had given her the impression that she was disappearing under my care.

The worst part was that I didn't even know what I had missed. I had seen everything, noticed everything, except for something necessary. My chest felt hollow, aching, as if some part of me had been gruesomely ripped out and I should bleed to death from it. But there was no blood from this wound.

I made it back to my car without going insane, which was amazing, because all I could see was her face. But by the end of the week, my sanity was fraying. She wasn't at her apartment, I quickly learned, wasn't answering her phone calls or Facebook messages, at least not from me. Even days later she was gone, disappeared, and I stalked her like a creepy motherfucker, but couldn't find her. Her classes would be starting soon, and I didn't know if she was getting to them or if I had seriously fucked her up somehow. If she was active around campus, she wasn't staying at her place.

It was torture. The worry ate me alive.

————

"Holy shit." I covered my face with my hands and groaned, feeling terrible. I vaguely remembered that it was Sunday and after Sulfur's had closed down the night before, I had gone a little batshit. Because it was the first day I wouldn't have the club to distract me from the goddamned heartache that sucked so freaking bad. I remembered pouring a glass of the maple bourbon that Ivory liked, and thinking it tasted terrible, even while I drank another sip because it made me feel fuzzy. And then I remembered taking a leaf out of her book.

I had taken an Oxy for recreational use for the first time in my life. "How does she do this all the time?" I felt like freaking death.