Master has a Secret

His eyes were fire.

That's the only way to describe it. Daniel's eyes were fire when he fucked me last night. Those eyes burned away all the insecurity of a lifetime just by looking at me. He consumed the sight of my figure like it was the best meal he'd ever had.

He was soft-spoken when I met him, with a kind smile and a gentle touch. I didn't know men like this really existed. Men who know how to cook, clean, and love. Men willing to look at their shortcomings and improve themselves constantly. An absolute gentleman.

In fact, I was concerned he might be too gentle. That he wouldn't know how to take charge.

Being proven wrong has never been more delightful.

From the moment he stripped naked, his curved muscles captured my submissive eyes.

I was intent on obeying him.

And trust me -- this man is a powerhouse in the bedroom. His fingers alone did things to me like I never could have imagined. He brushed my thigh, twisted my nipple, and rubbed my clitoris in just the right sequence to turn me into a puddle of the woman I once was.

After having sex with him for the first time, I decided that Daniel is in a class of his own.

It's no wonder we married. This tall, beautiful man with a good heart and just enough muscle to keep me down. Not that I'd ever want to get away from him. I doubt that another soul on the planet could make love to me like he does.

For the past three months, my new job took up all my time and energy. It's a high-paying corporate gig. Yet, despite having such an important position and a large corner office, I can't help feeling claustrophobic between those loveless walls -- surrounding by people desperate to steal my role in the company.

Getting used to the new position was draining. I wasn't in the headspace to make love to Daniel... until yesterday. When I came home with a small smile on my face.

"It seems like you've finally gotten into the swing of things," he said, toying with the remote control. His voice had that distinct baritone conviction that makes my body shiver with need. I couldn't wait to feel the thick, deep pressure of him inside me -- this man who makes me feel like a woman.

"So it seems I have."

We were playing that unspoken game where I try to remain composed and he forces me not to -- by breaking me down with those burning, elemental eyes.

He stood up, and gestured to follow him into the bedroom. When I'm that horny, it doesn't take much for my husband to become my Master.

He told me to strip.

I asked how much.

He said completely, so that's exactly what I did.

I loved the adoring way he looked at me as I revealed my naked body. I loved the way he held me, and bound me with rope, and made me his forever.

All those sensations are fresh in my memory as I drive home for Round Two.

I'm ready for him to dominate me again.

He told me he'd be waiting inside. I'm excited to see him in that incredible suit and tie. An outfit of formal, masculine authority.

But when I open the door, he's not there.

There's a woman in his place -- and not just any woman. She is easily the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen. Cream-white high heels... soft, dark pantyhose... an alluring, dark red dress. The outfit is elegant, sexy, and glistening.

Maybe it's time for that threesome I've been begging for.

I don't know who she is. But I feel a strong desire to touch her. I imagine my hands sneaking up her skirt, groping her thighs and ass. Anything to make contact with this powerful feminine body that could bring billionaires to their knees. The thought makes my labia tight and my clitoris stiff. I'm jealous of her supreme beauty.

Since she's facing the other side of the room, I still haven't seen her face. She's paying no mind to me or my perverted gaze. You'd think I'm a man by how lustfully my eyes glaze up and down her pretty figure.

I should be upset that another woman is at my house, but I'm too busy admiring this Platonic ideal standing before me. She exudes an aura of glorious poise that transcends every standard of beauty. Her imposing height and broad shoulders add volume to her striking femininity.

She's big and strong enough to pin me down.

Wavy auburn hair cascades down her back like a waterfall. She smells like lemon and rosemary, and I only wish I could taste her.

She starts turning her head, and I feel my heart thumping at a thousand miles a second. When I see her face, I recognize her immediately.

She's not a friend of Daniel's. Nor is she his lover.

No fucking way.

She *is* Daniel.

It's the sort of thing that's impossible to process. I almost gasp. All the wet heat that was swirling between my thighs stops in its tracks.

There's no mistaking that sharp, bearded face. The realization makes my whole body recoil at this body that attracted me just moments ago. A million feelings flood my body at the sight of this paradox in front of me.

I'm confused, excited, and scared.

I'm alarmed. I'm nervous. I don't know who I am, or who I married.

All of those emotions -- that inner turbulence -- comes out in a laugh. A big, mean laugh that I can't say I'm proud of.

"Oh my God," I hear myself say. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"Is something funny?" he snaps.

The question steals my breath. All I can muster is an almost-silent "I'm sorry."

He ignores my apology and struts towards me in fluid, dangerous steps. I can tell by the effortless motion of his legs that it's not his first time wearing heels.

His eyes sparkle with power and grace as he towers above me.

"So what do you think?" he says.

I've been in my house for less than a minute, and I already feel like I've entered a new world. The man I thought I knew has transformed into someone else. He's strong and pretty, dominant and vulnerable, handsome and voluptuous. A multitude of contradictions all wrapped up in one person.

In his seductive figure, I see both a brawny man and a gorgeous woman -- each soiled by the other.

Both are alluring. Both are incomplete.

I want to make love to her. I want to submit to him. My brain can't process these competing desires. I'm so overwhelmed that I forget what he asked me.

"You have a problem with my femininity," he decides, pulling me back to attention. He speaks with razor-sharp confidence, like he couldn't possibly be wrong.

"Do you think the outfit makes me less strong? Less powerful?"

There's a wall of fear inside me, but I can't tell what it's protecting.

"Daniel, I -- "

"My name's not Daniel tonight," he explains. "It's Danielle... Mistress Danielle. The Queen of your desire."

Something about the way he says it makes my skin warm to the touch. I'm filled to the brim with lustful tingles.

"Follow me to the bedroom," he orders, turning around.

I walk down the hallway, two steps behind my husband who's dressed up like a wife. I catch my eyes trailing down his body again -- and I can't help but notice that he's very, very sexy. The fabric shimmies around his hips and shoulders with every womanly step he takes.

As strange as the situation is, I have to admit I'm flattered.

After painstakingly dolling myself up for men all my life, I finally found a man willing to do me the same favor. He made himself a present for my eyes, and did a damn good job with it.

That's a perk of being the breadwinner. Your spouse pretties himself up for you.

We arrive in the bedroom. The air simmers with possibility.

Now that the initial shock is over, my fear is finally crumbling. Thoughts are bubbling up in my mind that I've never had before.

He's so damn cute I want to tie him up.

Immediately after I think that, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. The dress fits tightly around his bulky body.

Outside, the sun is setting over the horizon. Its orange glow seeps in through the window, highlighting the gorgeous contours of Mistress Danielle. Her round, chiseled muscles are silent behind the feminine fabric.

I want to fuck him.

I want to feel him up and make him mine.

I'd think he were emasculated if it weren't for how deep and commanding his voice is when he says, "You're wearing far too many clothes, my dear. I want to see you naked. Now."

I'm slipping out of my work blouse, stripping myself clean of professionalism at long last. I feel lighter... freer...

The pants come off next, followed by my bra and panties. Now he's looking at me even more desiringly than I looked at him. I feel powerful in my nudity as he bites his lip, admiring my sexiness.

"You're perfect," he says matter-of-factly. "Absolutely perfect."

I smile, flattered by the loving words of my Man Queen.

"Thank you, Sir. I mean, Ma'am. I mean -- "

He interrupts my cluelessness with a condescending chuckle and says, "Get over here and bend over my lap."

"Oh, um, okay."

I do as he says. And now I'm the vulnerable one, bent over his firm, smooth legs, and taking in the potent smell of perfume. The soft nylons and silky dress press against my bare skin. He softly, assertively rubs my back to settle me into place.

"This is the perfect position for a submissive girl like you" he says, his voice calm like the moon.

My heart pounds with anticipation, my torso snug against his enormous frame. His big hand brushes my ass, alternating between my left and right cheek in a gentle staccato. The intensity increases ever-so-gradually.

My stomach flutters. A tingle courses through my body.

I'm biting my lip, sinking into the drunken sensation of belonging to him.

"You don't know the first thing about me," he whispers softly in my ear. "Tonight's your lucky night."

His fingers suddenly slip past my crack, and insert themselves between the soaking wet lips of my pussy. The friction makes me sing a series of sugary gasps and moans as a candy-sized flame of pleasure blossoms below my abdomen. I grind my hips against his long, penetrating hand. These fingers are nice, but his dick would be even better.

He pulls out, refusing to please me, and gives another gruff, superior chuckle. I've never felt so powerless.

The first strike comes fast and hard -- making me squeal. The impact radiates through my body, making me warm everywhere.

"What's the matter?" he snarls. "Did you think I lost my strength or something?"

Before I can answer, the second smack hits the very center of my left cheek, showing me in no uncertain terms that he's stronger than ever. A third strike comes a second later on my right cheek, making every limb vibrate. My nostrils take in the perspiration, his and mine, as it leaks coolly off our bodies.

My pleasure is swelling now. It's hotter than the sun and wetter than the ocean -- leaking fast from my pussy and dripping onto his beautiful dress. Something inside me still wants to resist this feeling, but I have no idea why.

I'm desperately clinging to... something, when deep down I know that all he wants to do is liberate me.

The Queen continues administering one spank after another, going back and forth between my cheeks. The spanks are slow and steady, firm and inescapable. Every last one of them stings like hell.

I'm completely at his mercy. I mean hers. I mean --

"Say thank you."

"Thank you," I say immediately.

"That's a good girl."

He attacks the very center of my bare ass with his hardest slap yet. The sharp crack of skin meeting skin echoes percussively throughout the room, mingling harmoniously with my submissive scream.

The sound of pained pleasure makes him laugh with sadistic authority.

"So what's the lesson?" he purrs.

I can't think clearly about anything. "Um... well, I mean -- "

I scream again as he hits the same spot with even more velocity. A couple warm tears fall down my eyelids.

"What did you say?"

"I don't know."

Three more spanks on the top, bottom, and middle of my crack. His hand feels like power every time he crashes into me.

He sighs, and says, "The lesson is to never, ever laugh at me."

I respond to his sternness by stammering like an idiot. "Right. Yes, I understand. I shouldn't have laughed at you. I'm sorry, Sir. I mean Ma'am. I mean Queen. I mean Master. I mean -- "

He's done going easy on me.

He picks up the pace tenfold, smashing into my ass with his massive hand five-times-a-second. The agony is so intense that I feel my body try to squirm away.

But his arm aggressively locks me in place, making it impossible to rebel against his power. There's no escaping this avalanche of masculinity.

That feeling of being trapped -- of having all my freedom taken from me -- fills my body with an entire galaxy of pleasure. Ecstatic constellations burn and shine across my flesh, stretching from shoulders to fingertips, toes to thighs, waist to neck.

I groan and grunt violently like the horny little animal I am. My nipples are completely erect. My pussy is begging to get fertilized.

He doesn't stop all at once.

The spanking slows and weakens a little bit at a time, a gentle descent, until he's only tapping me. I'm soaking the nylons with sweat and other fluids as the tapping becomes rubbing. There's love, clarity, and control in the way his soft palm and fingers caress my sore, aching ass.

All my limp body can do is make messy, moaning breaths. I'm calm, but not quite satisfied.

"Get off of me. Kneel on the floor," he orders, with a firm tone that leaves no room for argument.

I do as he says.

"I'll be back."

I remain kneeling as he leaves the room.

It has been a long, long time since I've felt so invigorated, alert, and present. My body buzzes with the intensity of what just happened. And yet my silly mind hasn't processed it.

I know my ass will be an erotic shade of purple tomorrow, the way it always is after a beating. The bruise will remind me of my place.

After many long minutes of suspense, the door opens. I look up to see him, and my jaw instantly drops to the floor.

PVC boots. Fishnets. A sparkly scarlet skirt. A sleeveless latex top, and a face covered in slutty, sultry makeup.

He looks down at me with an overpowering smile, and I notice he's holding s slender rubber paddle. His first outfit was pretty and elegant, but this one is over-the-top, unapologetic, and kinky.

My Man Queen is a dominatrix now.

In her fullest glory, she sits back down on the bed.

"Worship me," she whispers. "Submit to my beauty with your mouth."

I'm high, heady, and hypnotized.

"Yes, Master," I say with a shaky breath.

I lift up a shiny black boot and kiss the very front of it. My lips continue up the slippery latex, from his ankle to his lower calf.

He spanks my ass with the paddle, making me sting. I yelp.

"Slow down," he orders. "And don't be afraid to use your tongue."

Following his instructions, I lick both of his kinky, thigh-high boots all the way clean. When they glisten with my spit, I'm told to remove them.

But it's not the boots that make him different than all the other men I've been with. Nor is it the tight fishnets hiding underneath those gorgeous thigh highs as I continue worshipping him with my mouth.

It's not the pink lipstick, either, or the black and crimson eyeliner.

I reach under his sparkly, strawberry-red miniskirt to hold his hardness between my fingers. I open my mouth. I taste him.

It's not just his huge dick on my tongue that makes my clit throb. It's not just his beastly groans that make me slip two fingers between my pulsing labia to toy with myself.

What really makes him special isn't the salty precum leaking down my cheeks as I pleasure him, or the spectacularly feminine outfit above me. The reason I'm obsessed -- the reason he lights such a fierce, tingling fire inside me -- is his certainty that all the prettiness in the world couldn't take away his power.

He understands that it makes him stronger if anything.

That's why my pussy is slick and wet with warm, sticky desire.

This man is so fucking hot. I swear to God I can't look away from him. The sexy outfit and makeup seduce me as he snatches me up and pins my whole body to the mattress. His possessive eyes hold me in place even more forcefully than his thick, bulging arms.

With every word he growls, his primal breath rains hot on my ear. "Just because I'm a woman tonight doesn't mean I'm not the man of this house."

He's fucking irresistible. I'm overpowered. There's no denying that I'm all his.

Forget galaxies. There's a damn universe inside me, swirling and growing, expanding everywhere. It presses hot against all my skin at the same time. Pure, cosmic energy that refuses to be constrained by any construct. I'm spellbound by my own lust.

Every heartbeat is an exploding star. "It's time for me to have my way with you."

"Yes, Sir," I exhale.

He strips.

Consumed by quick, heavy breaths, I behold the sight of his hard dick -- his forceful flesh -- his mountain of power, lubricated with my spit and ready to fuck me hard. The next thing I know, this gorgeous animal is filling me up completely. My lungs spill screams of fearless, timeless bliss.

I bite my lip and surrender.