Days Off with Lindsay - Megan Pt. 01

I hope you enjoy Megan's story! The Days Off with Lindsay series can be read in any order, though I recommend reading Julia's story first.

There is a lot of buildup and character development in this story, so if you're looking for something quick and hot to rub one out to, this isn't it. However, I think if you give it the chance, you'll enjoy the ride.

Chapter 1

Rumor had it he was back.

Mr. Weston had left the area five years ago, letting the club grow and expand in the hands of some of his trusted friends. Becca, Jack, Tammi, Jackson, and Paul, plus a few older Doms who had been in the lifestyle for ages, continued hosting his weekly events and monthly educational nights. He came by every few months or so, popping in to verify and meet new members, teach an occasional class, or provide mentorship to a new Dom on a specific technique. It wasn't the same without him here every week, though. I missed him, and although I was mostly over the heartbreak, It still hurt to be in his presence and know I'd been dropped.

He'd said it wasn't my fault. He'd been in an accident, had a vision, found religion, and he'd stopped having sex. He'd offered to marry me, but I was twenty-two and afraid, so I'd said no. I saw him a few times a year during events at the bar, and he was always polite and professional, but it felt so strange to know that he knew me better than any man ever had, and that I'd loved him and submitted to him with everything inside me, and that now we were just strangers on opposite ends of the bar.

He had asked me one time if I'd be willing to let him demonstrate on me for a shibari workshop, and I'd turned him down, knowing if I didn't cut myself off of him completely I'd never get over him. He was the hardest drug. Hell, I'd moved here to be with him. Granted I hadn't really left much behind, considering my life before him, but still.

At first I'd thought he'd get over his religious epiphany, and time would pass and he'd come back, begging me to forgive him. But after about a year, I'd given up hope. Now, nearly five years after he'd let me go, I was in a much better place, but part of me still believed it was my fault he'd dropped me.

I hadn't really found another Dom since. Becca had stepped in for me, keeping me accountable to myself and giving me the much needed authority I needed in my life, but I felt like she was doing it as a favor, not because she wanted to. She'd set me up with a few other people for extended sessions or weekends at some of the cabins, but I hadn't really found the connection or intensity I'd experienced with Mr. Reuben Weston. Still, it scratched the itch. Or I could pretend it did.

The bar, which was aptly named Reuben's, had grown significantly since I'd moved out here nearly seven years ago. It felt like a lifetime ago that Mr. Weston had bought the building, re-branded it, and turned it into what it was today. While before it was a small grungy bar with a picnic table for outside seating, now it felt like a luxury club downstairs, and a dark mysterious exclusive club upstairs. They'd opened the top floor of the building up into a sort of members only dungeon, and only long-time friends of Mr. Weston and those vetted by those members were allowed. There were three playrooms and a bar, with a few tables and some comfortable chairs and couches as the commons area. The common area and bar was fair game for play as well, although there wasn't really any equipment other than some beams above for rigging, and it wasn't often anything really happened in the commons area.

It was a small group of us who used the lounge, maybe a little under fifty altogether, and never more than twenty people in there at one time. Becca and I always went on Wednesdays, as it was a little busier than the other weekdays, and I liked to see Julia when I could.

One Wednesday evening, Julia was draped over Paul, her head in his lap, and I was sitting on the floor next to Becca on a soft floor pillow. Becca would occasionally reach down and stroke my hair or touch my neck, just a little bit of a reminder that she was there for me, but it was mostly in affection rather than ownership.

Julia was scrolling through photos on her phone, showing me her most recent work. She'd always been crafty and creative, but when she'd moved in with Paul and left her minimum wage job to pursue leatherwork full time, she'd blossomed. Her work had gotten so much better over the past few months, and she showed me her favorites; a gorgeous set of cuffs, lined with faux fur, three inches wide at least, with brushed nickel D-rings. A collar with a posture corrector, red embroidery running through the stained chocolate leather. And a gorgeous black leather collar with a thick silver chain, purple embossed designs on the background.

"Whoa," I gasped. "That's amazing." I zoomed in on the photo of the collar. It had a buckle and a heart-shaped padlock on the closure. The purple embossing was rich and bright against the shiny black leather.

"I have it with me, do you want to see it?"

"Yes please!"

Julia sat up off of Paul and dug through her bag, pulling out a black leather box. She set it on the small coffee table in front of us, and gently opened it up, pointing it in my direction so I could see it.

It was even prettier in person. "Julia, this is the best work you've ever done."

"Is that the collar Reuben ordered?" Paul asked.

I felt a trickle of cold run down my spine. Mr. Weston had ordered a collar? I'd heard whispers he was in the area, but nothing had been confirmed.

"Yeah he's coming by tomorrow to pick it up so I'm leaving it at the bar with Jack. You don't even want to know what he's paying for it," she added as an embarrassed whisper.

No, I didn't want to know how much he was paying for it. I wanted to know who it was for. Five years ago he'd let me go, and now he was collaring someone else? And he was going to be here? Tomorrow? Would she be here too? I hadn't seen him in almost a year. I'd taken to skipping my visits on the days he was in town.

Becca probably sensed my discomfort, and sat up straighter and waved a hand to Jack, who was leaning against the counter of the bar. A moment later he brought two drinks over to us. Becca always ordered Lindsay's Choice. I always ordered The Secretary. Jack knew I liked it without the lemon wedge though. Bless that man, I thought. He was always on top if it.

As he handed us our drinks, he glanced at the collar in the box. Julia beamed as he let out a low whistle. "Your latest work?"

She nodded.

"Hey you guys hear the news?" Jack said before he turned to go back to the bar, raising one eyebrow suggestively. He was tall, lanky and lean, with long black hair that hung flatly. Today he had it up in a low half-bun. His face looked perpetually pissed off, and his pale skin was flushed from a four-hour shift with no help behind the bar.

"About Mr. Weston?" I asked. Maybe Jack knew more about my former Dom's new choice and why he was collaring her.

"No... well, Mr. Weston is coming by. But that's not the news," he said, louder than he needed to.

I looked around. A few other people had heard him, and were now paying attention. Some were glancing over their shoulders, while others just let their conversations die down a bit. Tension hung in the air slightly. Jack relished it.

"You gonna hint and flirt, or spit it out?" Becca laughed, grinning widely.

He finally broke into a very rare smile.

"The Sadist is back."

***

There was some murmuring when he said it. He took the box from Julia and exited the room, presumably to lock the beautiful collar in Mr. Weston's office.

My head spun. I had never met The Sadist, but she'd gained a reputation. She and Mr. Weston were friends, but she'd been kicked out of the bar a few years ago for a situation that nobody ever wanted to talk about. To this day, if I brought it up, Paul shut down the conversation, Julia shut down on herself, and Becca gave me a scolding.

Maybe I could go to the source to find out. Curiosity burned in my brain. But I also knew Becca would be disappointed in me if I asked.

Since then, The Sadist had done a few chapters in Mr. Weston's most recent book, specifically writing about psychological domination, predicament rigging, and torture techniques that bordered on cruel and unusual punishment and pushed the boundaries of SSC. It had created a splash and a lot of discussion, especially since nobody seemed to know her name.

Julia knew her name. And I had a feeling I knew it too, but I never said it, because I hated seeing Julia go into that quiet withdrawn place when The Sadist was mentioned.

Becca did her best to distract me the rest of the night. We were joined later by a few other people, some who I knew and some who I didn't, but eventually she stood and I followed suit, ready to collect my bag and head home for another long boring day at the office.

I didn't hate my job, I just hated that I had to work. I missed being a live-in slave, and only worrying about serving my Master. I missed spending the day using my creativity on meals I could cook, books I could read, and ways I could serve him. Instead, I spent every weekday behind a desk, typing and counting and calculating, balancing books and submitting receipts for executives.

It was a good job. I should be grateful.

"Text me when you're home," Becca said, putting both hands on my shoulders and making me look at her. I nodded quietly. "I have a task for you. When you've showered and climbed into bed, call me." She gave me a quick peck on the forehead and walked away, her hips swinging as her black heeled boots clicked down the pavement.

At home, I tried to keep my mind quiet as I brushed my teeth, took a hot shower, and put on a silk nightie. My mind was buzzing, going back through some of my strongest memories of Mr. Weston. The night I learned his name, I'd stumbled across the video he was doing, live on a streaming site, quietly and confidently talking about consent while he flogged a beautiful girl tied to a Saint Andrew's cross. I'd read his books and gone to a signing, and he'd turned my world upside down with the way his eyes had bored into mine, and the realization had hit me that he knew what I was. It was like he could look into me and see my deepest darkest fantasies. When I went home and opened the book, I'd found his phone number.

We'd spent nearly a year texting, calling, having facetime meetings, him slowly opening me up, discovering who I was, pushing me, and working me down to where he wanted me. I had done everything he'd asked from the start, having been all too eager to have the kind of relationship that I'd been dying for since I was a teen and discovered BDSM was even a thing. And then he'd asked me over for an evening, paying for my plane ticket and taxi to his home. And then a weekend, in one of his play resorts. And then I quit my job, moved here, and he took me into his home, and my life had become a rollercoaster of emotions, chemistry, pain, and the drug of total submission.

And then it was over.

My phone rang. I answered it without even looking, assuming it was Becca.

"Hello," I said, trying to make my voice sound smooth and even.

"Hello, Megan."

I gasped when I heard his voice, and sat up in bed. Had I stopped breathing?

"I know you probably don't want to hear from me. I just wanted to make sure you knew I'd be at the club tomorrow."

"Yes Sir, I'd heard."

"You don't need to call me that anymore, Megan." He said it softly, but it still stung. I knew that, but it had just slipped out. Sheer habit.

I took a steadying breath. "Um. Yes. Sorry."

"May I see you? I won't be offended if you say no." His voice was always so soft and gentle, and he spoke calmly, just loud enough to be heard. It was deeper than the ocean and just warm enough not to be cold.

"I... um..." I didn't want to say yes. I didn't want to say no either. "Can I think about it? And text you?"

"Of course you may. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I'd just like to know how you're doing."

My mind eased a little. "Okay. I'll text you in the morning."

"Good night, Megan." And he hung up before I could answer.

I sighed and lay back down on the bed, and pulled up my messages. Becca hadn't texted me after I'd let her know I was home.

Shit, I realized. I was supposed to call her, not text. I called her quickly, but it went to voicemail, so I called again. Still no answer. I sent her a text letting her know I was in bed, waiting for her, and told her I'd call again in five minutes. I set an alarm, browsing Facebook but not really seeing anything. I scrolled without reading, scrolled back up to see what I'd scrolled by, and scrolled down again, wasting time not really absorbing anything.

When my five-minute alarm went off, I called Becca again. She answered on the fifth ring.

"Hey sweetheart, I'm sorry I missed you earlier. I was on a call with someone else."

"It's okay, I hope I didn't bother you."

"Are you ready for your task?"

"Yes miss."

"I have a video I'm going to send you. I want you to watch it and use your phone to record yourself pleasuring yourself while you watch. Don't cum."

I blushed, hearing some clicking in the background from her laptop. I didn't really like masturbating, as I never really felt satisfied afterwards, but it was better than nothing. Maybe that was the side effect of having had one of the best Doms in the state fuck me for several years. Still, at least it would get my mind off of things.

"Yes miss," I said, sitting up to grab my laptop and open the link.

"When you've finished, save the video, send it to me. Do you have any questions?"

"Can I use a toy, miss?"

"No, just your hands."

"Yes miss."

"And Megan... make it a good one."

I blushed again, and smiled. "Yes miss."

Becca hung up and I set my laptop and my phone on my nightstand, hitting the record button and sitting up on my knees, waiting for the video link to come to my email. It arrived, and I clicked it.

It wasn't a link to any public website or hub; it was a private link that had been uploaded to a cloud drive. It asked for my email address before showing the video, and I put it in, anxiously waiting for the video to load. I glanced back at my phone camera, catching the view of myself in a skimpy nightie, my hair down and slightly damp. I'd let my hair go back to it's natural strawberry blond, boring and straight. It hung limply just past my shoulders. I was five foot six inches, skinny, an A cup, with narrow hips and, honestly, a boyish figure. I'd never considered myself very attractive, but I knew I wasn't ugly either. Just plain. I looked at my hair hanging over my shoulders and moved it behind and out of the way.

I took a breath as the video began, and I sat back on my feet, spine straight, spreading my knees wide on the bed like I'd been trained.

A man in a black suit faced the camera. It was angled down slightly, but I couldn't see his face. As he walked away from the camera, I saw a beautiful brunette girl lying on a table, knees bent, legs spread wide, leather restraints around her ribs, her thighs, her ankles, her forearms and wrists, and her neck. The man in black took up a position at her feet. From the angle, I could only see his form and the back of his head. He was completely bald.

Just the sight of the restraints made my mouth pop open and heat run through my veins. I lightly brushed my fingertips over my thighs, and inched my nightie up to my hips. Up and down, a little higher each time, running up my inner thighs and then down the tops.

In the video, the girl looked up at the man and smiled. He whispered something I couldn't quite hear, but I loved the sound of his voice. It was rough and warm. She nodded at what he said. He laughed, a warm chuckle that I could feel crawling over my own skin. I lifted my nightie up to my waist, pushing it out of the way so I was exposed.

The man unbuttoned his cuffs on his sleeves, and began slowly rolling them up his arms, revealing a full tattoo sleeve on his right arm, and an intricate Celtic design on his left wrist. Fuck, Becca knew my weaknesses. I loved ink, and I loved rough hands, rough voices, and... well, rough everything really. There were a few scars on his left arm, and I could see sun marks, freckles, and fine hair covering his arms.

Damn I wish I could see his face, I thought. The girl on the table was biting her lip, and I caught myself doing the same. I swallowed, watching her eyes widen as she thought about what was about to happen. With one hand, I softly brushed the highest point of my inner thigh, wanting to touch my pussy but not letting myself yet.

He reached forward with his left hand, giving me a better view of his well-muscled arms and back. He brushed his thumb over her lips so gently, and her mouth popped open. As I watched his careful intentional movements, I felt a tingle across my own lips. His thumb gently pulled at her bottom lip, almost pulling her mouth open but letting go just as she did. His fingers trailed down her neck, and began circling her perfect full breasts with both of his hands, the circles getting slower and tighter as he neared her nipples. I played with my own breast, finding myself mimicking the hypnotic circles while I circled my pussy with the other hand.

One hand at a time, he brushed his fingers over her nipples, just lightly enough for me to watch them move slightly from his touch. She gasped and her eyes rolled back. God it looked like it felt so good. I'd never been that sensitive before and I wanted to feel what she was feeling. I squeezed my nipple of the breast I was playing with, rolling it between my thumbs but eventually giving up and letting both of my hands go down to my pussy.

He quickly figured out that her left breast was much more sensitive than her right, and he focused all his attention there. He leaned forward and whispered something in her ear and she let out a moan. His head got close to her breast and she sighed. Was he sucking on her? His fingers trailed down her stomach so slowly it was painful. She was breathing hard and fast, her hips slightly gyrating as much as they could within the restraints, which wasn't much.

His head moved and he kissed her tummy as his hands went lower, and then he stood tall, spreading her pussy with one hand as he began to gently finger her with the other.

My fingers inched into my own wetness, and I gasped as I realized I was soaking wet, and had dripped on my sheets. One finger lightly trailed up and down my slit, the other finger I found my clit, gently brushing the tip of my finger across it.

In the video, the man began to finger her in earnest, adding a finger, then another. She groaned, her eyes rolling back. Four fingers in and I realized what he was doing. Oh shit, how'd she find out about my fisting kink? I felt my face change, and a gush between my legs. Oh my god come on, do it, I thought. But he kept teasing her with four fingers, his thumb rolling over her clit. She was begging now, begging to cum, but he wouldn't quite let her get over the edge, his thumb pulling back off her clit right as she needed it the most.

I felt myself getting really close really fast. Shit, I realized, I needed to back off if I was going to resist my own orgasm. But I really didn't want to. How close could I get? I put two fingers in me and rocked my hips against my fingers, wishing I was laying there on that table.

Finally as the girl began to gasp, tears rolling down her face, he worked his thumb inside, and then his whole hand and arm were inside her. She screamed as she came, squirting everywhere, legs shaking and quivering against the restraints.