Death of a Master Ch. 01

Chapter One

Opportunity Knocks

The slave was hanging from the ceiling. Her feet just touched the ground. If she stood on her toes, the strain on her shoulders was eased a bit. She was naked of course. Leather cuffs encircled her wrists. There were rings on them that were hooked to a chain in the ceiling. The chain was embedded into a solid piece of oak that made the joist for the floor above. The six by six wasn't going to give any time soon. The slave's fingers briefly touched the quick release for the chain, but she'd never dream of releasing herself. Her Master wanted her suspended like this, and she never denied her Master anything. In fact, the prospect of the next several hours, suffering for Him gave her a feeling of joy. She smiled and concentrated on the buzzing of the vibrating ben wah balls that were stuffed in her pussy.

Four weeks earlier…

Valerie Burbon eased her car into her assigned parking spot. The smile on her face said a lot about how her life had been going these past two years. Since the opening of Valerie's Crisis, she'd been able to parlay the brief bout of fame from the movie into greater exposure for Delgrasi Publications, the premier publisher of fetish specialty magazines. In addition to the increased quality of ads in the magazines (a perennial problem for so called sex magazines), Valerie's efforts (and fame) had convinced several vanilla companies to advertise in Delgrasi publications.

Valerie's personal life was equally joyous. Her life partner, Sally Thatcher, had become her full time slave around the time the movie about their first month together was being made. In the over two years since, Sally had grown increasingly satisfied in her total subservience to Valerie. Valerie was pleasantly surprised to find herself thoroughly enjoying being a 24/7 Mistress. Of course, Valerie was still a submissive, answering to Charles Vanquil at his whim. Her submission to Charles had deepened in the three years since she first let Him take her home and have his way with her. It had been over a year since Val had used her safe word for anything other than safety concerns.

Valerie stopped on her way in to chat with the new receptionist, Imogene Cahara. "So, how was the date last night?"

"Oh. Ms. Burbon, it was fantastic. John took me to see Sampson's Pride," she gushed, referring to the new romantic comedy from Hellfire Pictures. "After that, dancing at the Gotham Club and home for some more intimate dancing."

"It does sound like you had a great time. Did you broach it with him?"

Imogene looked down, embarrassed. "No, I chickened out. He'll think I'm a freak."

Val cupped the receptionist's chin in her hand. "No, he won't; and if he does, you deserve better. Imogene, it's not like you're asking him to let you tie him up or something," Valerie continued, referencing her own particular kink. "When he sees how turned on you are by being in rubber during sex, he'll leap at the chance. Have you tried that rubber underwear out yet?"

"Oh, Gods! Once, and it drove me crazy. I got a new crotchless pair last week. Do you think I should…?"

"Of course! That's a great way to introduce him to your kink. You know, he may have one of his own he's been afraid to share with you?"

"Do you think so?"

"He's a man. Of course he has a kink. It may be as mild as wanting to see you with cum on your face, but he has a kink."

"Eww, that sounds so gross."

"Imogene, think about it. You're giving him a blowjob, wearing a tight, hot, full face rubber mask. He pulls out and sprays you and the mask with his cum. You rub it into the rubber…"

Valerie stopped, her point made as Imogene closed her eyes in fantasy, her breath coming up short. "Oh Gods! That would be wonderful."

"Yeah, it would. Well, back to work."

"Thank you, Ms. Burbon."

A short trip through the corridors of Delgrasi brought Valerie to her office, where her secretary, June, was already hard at work, finishing a conversation with someone on the phone. "…that's good. I'll let her know." She looked up at her boss and smiled. "Ms. Burbon, good morning. How was your weekend, ma'am?"

"It was good. Yours?"

"The kids and I spent Saturday at Six Flags, so I'm broke, tired and happy. You have a new appointment on your schedule. The gentleman called just a little while ago." June handed Valerie her day sheet so she could see her day. When Valerie saw her ten o'clock appointment she looked back at June.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes, ma'am. Vincent Sanders of Ridgeview Riding Gear requested an appointment to see you as soon as possible. Since Mr. Wilson cancelled again, I put Mr. Sanders into the open slot. I also checked with Mr. Freshin and he's free at ten as well."

"Very good. I wonder what brought this sudden change about. I couldn't get the time of day from them last year."

"I'm planning on checking that. With luck, you'll know by the time you see him."

"Thanks, June."

Valerie wandered into her office, her mind still trying to process what had just happened. Val had come to view Ridgeview Riding Gear as the holy grail of her job. Calvin Freshin, editor of The Pony's Paddock, had been wanting a real tack company to advertise in the pony girl's magazine for years. Valerie had been sending out feelers ever since her breakthrough two years ago with Yara's Leather Products. Yara's made the best leather care products in the world, as far as the local BDSM community was concerned, and they now advertised heavily in Delgrasi Publications.

According to Calvin, most pony girl gear was homemade and of wildly varying quality. What little there was available to buy was from cottage industries (usually pony girls themselves selling small quantities of homemade gear). The market was ripe for a forward thinking business to meet the increasing need for professionally made pony girl gear. The fact that quite a bit of actual horse tack could be used directly would make it easy for a company to make the transition. Until today, however, no tack company wanted to hear of their gear being used on humans. Equestrians tended to be very conservative; normal for suppliers of one of the oldest lines of human endeavor.

Val turned her mind from the mystery and concentrated on her work. She spent much of the morning going over proposed ads, verifying they met her standards of quality and taste. Improving the quality of ads in Delgrasi's dozen publications had been the primary reason Valerie's position had been created over two years ago. Most sex toy companies responded with enthusiasm at the prospect of having their ads improved at little or no cost to themselves. The increase in readership and in the advertiser's sales spoke to the success of the operation.

Just 15 minutes before her appointment with Mr. Sanders, June buzzed her. "Ms. Burbon, I've forwarded an online article from the Wall Street Journal dated three weeks ago. It might explain your next appointment."

"Thanks, June."

Valerie opened her email and clicked on the item from her secretary.

The financial and equestrian worlds lost a brilliant and generous friend today. Melvin Ridgeview, founder of the Ridgeview Riding Gear empire passed away in his sleep last night, the victim of age and a weakening heart. The company he founded expects to continue in the founder's footsteps, providing the very best equestrian equipment money can buy.

Melvin is survived by three sons and two daughters, along with numerous grandchildren. The eldest son, Patrick, inherited Melvin's controlling interest in the company. In a brief interview, Patrick said, "I expect to continue in my father's footsteps, as well as expand our market base with the development of new products." Just what those new products are was not forthcoming.

The article continued, going into more detail on the history of the company and Melvin Ridgeview's philanthropic activities. Val was beginning to see what was going on. A change in leadership at the company, under the hand of a member of a younger generation, was opening a door. It may well be the case that Patrick Ridgeview saw the fetish community, and pony players specifically, as potential customers. She wondered how receptive Vincent Sanders would be to this idea.

June buzzed Valerie. "Ms. Burbon, Mr. Sanders is here."

"Show him in, June."

Valerie rose and met the businessman as he was shown in. She extended her hand. "Welcome to Delgrasi Publications, Mr. Sanders." Once he was sitting, Valerie continued as she sat down. "Let me offer my condolences to your company for its recent loss."

"Thank you, Ms. Burbon. Melvin Ridgeview left the company in good shape to survive his death."

"That's good to know. What can Delgrasi Publications do for you today?"

"Our new CEO wants to, as he put it, 'take our company into the 21^st century.' For Mr. Ridgeview, that means taking our company into new ventures. One venture he wants us to investigate is so-called pony play as a market for our products." From his tone, it was clear Mr. Sanders had issues with the idea. Valerie hoped they were addressable issues.

"I can assure you, Mr. Sanders, pony players are definitely a market that's ripe for exploitation by your company. Pony girls and pony boys are possibly more dedicated to their fetish than any other members of the fetish community."

"That may be, Ms. Burbon, but the board of directors is concerned about just how appropriate it is to become linked with the intentional degradation of human beings. Is my understanding correct; pony play is predicated on the assumption that it's all right to treat humans as animals?"

"In a sense you're correct, but you're also wrong. Yes, pony play treats humans as animals. In fact, pony play is part of a larger fetish group referred to as animal play. Animal play itself is usually thought of as a subgroup of BDSM or domination and submission. What your characterization misses is that the human animals are willing and eager to be viewed as such. They're being treated as animals because they want to be treated that way."

"I find that hard to believe, Ms. Burbon. Why would any rational person want to be treated as if they're an animal?"

"Oh my. The reasons are about as varied as the people who play. Some, like transsexuals who feel like they've been born into the wrong gender, feel they've been born into the wrong species. They want to release their inner pony, dog, whatever. Some are merely taking role play to another level. For others, it's the ultimate expression of submission in a D/s relationship. You may as well ask why some people like to eat sour kraut. I personally find the stuff revolting."

"We're in agreement there. How can you be so sure, Ms. Burbon? I started my research by investigating the literature. It's rife with examples of forced animalization, I believe it's called. The board won't allow the company to become associated with such despicable practices."

"I see. It sounds like you've been reading erotic fiction, Mr. Sanders. A common theme in erotic fiction is non-consent. In the real world, we call that kidnapping and rape. Some BDSM play may well contain elements of non-consent fantasies, but consent is our watchword. The same is true for real world pony play. As for how I know, I can't say that I know any pony girls or boys myself. Calvin Freshin, the editor of The Pony's Paddock, has indeed met many human animals and can attest to their willingness and desire to be the animals they portray. In fact, he should be here. He's far more knowledgeable about the subject than I am." Valerie turned to her intercom. "June, would you ask if Calvin has a few minutes? If he does, ask him to come by the office."

"Yes, ma'am. Right away."

"While we're waiting, let's assume that we've convinced you that pony play isn't objectionable as you've been thinking. Just what does your new CEO want from Delgrasi?"

"Well, his plan is two fold. In the short run, he wants to advertise those products we make that are already useable by the players, I think you called them. In the long run, he's hoping to produce a line of pony play products; equestrian gear designed specifically for humans to wear and use. We, of course, have no idea just what those products might be. Market research would be a must."

"Well, Patrick Ridgeview is certainly forward looking. I'm sure there are plenty of your products that are already in demand in the field. I suspect some are already being purchased and used; or at least yours and your various competitors. You see, the equestrian field has ignored the fetish community since; well, forever. The first company to break that barrier will gain the most important thing there is in business; name recognition. Once your company begins advertising in The Pony's Paddock, every pony girl and boy will think of your company when they think of buying a new piece of equipment. I don't have to tell you how valuable that kind of name recognition is."

There was a knock on Valerie's office door and June stuck her head in. "Ms. Burbon, Mr. Freshin is here."

"Oh, good, send him in." As Calvin entered the room, Val greeted him. "Calvin, come in. This is Vincent Sanders from Ridgeview Riding Gear. He's investigating whether Pony's Paddock is a place they wish to advertise."

"Ah, Mr. Sanders," Calvin said, holding a hand out. "I've heard quite a bit about your company's products; very good things about them."

"You have? Are you a horseman?"

"Oh, no. I'm afraid real horses and I don't get along. No, your praises are sung by pony girls and boys. I've met several that use your company's gear already and they speak very highly of its quality and value."

"So, you've met these pony girls?"

"Oh, yes. As Editor of the Paddock, I need to keep up on the latest in the field. I regularly attend animal play conventions and competitions."

"There's enough interest in this fetish to support conventions? Just what kind of competitions are we talking about?"

"We estimate there's some 10,000 human animal enthusiasts nationwide and view that as a very conservative estimate. There's no telling how many engage in such play purely privately and escape the radar, as it were. As for competitions, if there's anything real horses compete in, pony girls and boys do so as well. They race, perform in dressage competitions, pony shows, even work pony contests. I understand there's even going to be a barrel race at the next Atlanta Pony Girl fair."

"That's…amazing. And all these human animals are willing subjects?"

"More than willing, I'd say. Many do so because they have a need to do so. Their lives would be incomplete without their animal sides having a chance to be expressed and explored."

"How can I know this for myself? The board didn't send me here to take your word for things. After all, you're hardly unbiased."

"The simplest way would be to go to a convention and talk to them yourselves. The Atlanta fair I mentioned is in two weeks."

"They allow outsiders at their conventions?"

"Of course. Most so-called outsiders will be vendors. You'd not only have a chance to meet the girls yourself, but you'd have the opportunity to scope out your potential competition. I think you'll find the market primed for your entry."

"I'd need someone who knew what was going on there with me. Are you going yourself, Mr. Freshin?"

"Yes, and I'd be honored to be your guide. Come to my office and I'll give you the information you'll need to register."

"Of course."

Calvin led Mr. Sanders out while Valerie smiled. Other than the usual misunderstandings vanillas had about the fetish, Vincent had an open mind about the venture. The idea of a real equestrian house making gear for pony girls would be a major boon to the lifestyle and the industry. A few minutes later, Calvin knocked and entered.

"Valerie, just how did you pull this little coup off?"

"It wasn't my doing, Calvin. Their CEO died and his son is pushing the company, 'into the 21^st century.' That includes broadening their market to include the fetish community."

"Amazing. I'd never have anticipated such a turn of events. Are you planning on auctioning yourself week after next?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world. Are you bidding?"

"Yes, most definitely. I love having you under me, especially since you don't safe word any more."

Calvin had won Valerie on three separate occasions at Mephisto's monthly charity slave auction. He was a very demanding Master who pushed Valerie beyond her limits. About two years ago, Val discovered that she didn't like using her safe word to stop a scene. She still used it when something dangerous had to be addressed, but she generally gave her all to her dominants. Her owner, Charles Vanquil, had been exploring the boundaries of her submissiveness ever since this change had occurred. He was of the opinion that Valerie could submit without safe words because she trusted her dominants that much; and because she needed an ongoing depth of submission to sustain her in her domination of Sally.

The rest of Valerie's day was occupied with the minutia of running the advertising department of a publishing house. Like most sexually themed magazines, Delgrasi's publications had nearly half their page count dedicated to advertisements. She envisioned a day when that wouldn't be so, but financial realities stood in the way of that dream. Until circulation was high enough to allow for a decrease in the sheer quantity of advertising needed to pay for the publications, a significant page count would be dedicated to paying the bills, so to speak.

As she worked, her thoughts drifted back to the weekend. Charles had taken in a new submissive and Valerie had been part of her initiation weekend. Nadine Johnson had spent two days in submission to Charles' household. Nadine had nowhere near the pain tolerance that Val had. The sub had used her safe word during every whipping to stop it short. Nadine didn't try to avoid whippings; she knew they were a part of submitting to Charles. She did, however, evidence an inability to bear up under significant levels of pain.

On the other hand, Nadine had a seemingly uncontrollable desire to be tortured with orgasm denial. She seemed to thrive while writhing in bondage; her orgasm on the edge but unfinished. Valerie was convinced that when Nadine cried out for more in such scenes, she was begging for more torture, not more pleasure.

Nadine also showed excellent qualities as a switch. She took to her initial training as a dominant like a fish to water. Where Valerie had been unable to finish the training at her initiation, Nadine seemed to truly enjoy being in control and giving pain to a willing subject. Valerie suspected she'd be as good at it as Sally had been, before the change.

By the time she was driving home, Valerie's thoughts had settled firmly on her lover and slave, Sally. Sally had spent a weekend alone for the most part while Valerie was involved in Nadine's initiation. Earlier that morning, Valerie had seen that Sally was craving use by her Mistress. Val had denied her clothes and masturbation privileges for the day; and then ordered her to clean all the toys in the basement.

As she parked at the base of the hill that was the entrance to their house, Valerie smiled in anticipation. Sally was in for a very rough night. Opening the door, she found Sally on her knees, waiting for her Mistress. Valerie walked up and let Sally kiss her legs. Sally was holding her hands behind her back as she lavished affection on the woman she loved and served.

Valerie grabbed Sally by the hair and tilted her head back. "Who do you belong to, slave?"