Master's Favorite Toy Ch. 03

I had to admire his body. Master was shirtless, muscular, and enticing in just a set of gray slacks and an unbuckled belt. Kat had said we were very fortunate to have a handsome master, and she was right. Mr. Morgan's rugged, masculine good looks make the carnal portion of our duties much more bearable.

I spotted his undershirt and other clothing thrown into a sloppy pile on the floor and wordlessly collected it, doing my best to fulfill obvious and unspoken orders. Master continued his phone conversation while I tossed his clothes in the bathroom hamper.

"I can't be there in person to clean up every single mess. I'm tired of this whining."

I wasn't pleased at the idea of dealing with an ornery intercourse partner, and that was a growing prospect. He does look sexy when he's angry though.

I decided to take charge of the situation. While he fumed and fussed at the hapless soul on the line, I quickly and quietly dropped my pajama pants and pulled off my shirt, revealing Margaret's fancy underwear. I climbed into the bed and reclined on the pillows, resting one hand on my knee propping myself up on an elbow. When Master saw me, he stopped mid conversation to stare. I winked at him, and he laughed.

"I'm gonna have to let you go. I was just about to ..." The handsome, dark haired man winked back at me, "...Curl up with a good book. Yeah. Bye," He hung up the phone and stared at me, his eyes never wavering as he laid his cell on the bedside table.

"Are those Margaret's?" He asked.

"Yes, sire. She lent them to me. Do you like them?" I asked.

"Love them. Surprised she lent them out. I always thought she was the jealous type."

"We're actually quite close, sire," I explained. "Margaret is my friend." Yes, I was bragging a bit, but it felt good. Master nodded, eyebrows raising in surprise.

"Huh. Well, I like to hear that. Sometimes I think the other girls are too jealous of her. Some women behave strangely if they perceive a threat."

The irony of Master's statement was not lost on me.

He dropped his pants, sitting on the bed and rolling over to face me. The handsome young man was ludicrously attractive in a pair of boxer shorts.

"But Margaret's not where your interest lies, is it?" He asked. Confused, I tilted my head and squinted, trying to understand.

"Sire?" I asked. I didn't want to assume anything, but he did seem to be leading me.

"I'm talking about Katherine. You're interested in her? Sexually? Romantically, maybe?"

I hate it when I can feel my face getting hot.

"Margaret told you?" I asked.

"Margaret tells me if one of my girls takes a shit. Whether I ask or not. She'd already told me she likes you a lot. I'm impressed, honestly, Margaret doesn't have a high opinion of anyone."

I struggled with how to reply. It hurt to know that Margaret had passed on to Master something I had told her in secret. In the end, I decided it was to be expected. There was no way I could be mad at Margaret for telling my secrets to Master any more than I could be mad at the sun for shining.

"Thank you, sire. Yes, I... I don't know. Kat makes me feel things," I didn't want to put a label on it.

Master moved across the bed, climbing on me and forcing me onto my back. He straddled me and bent closer to my face, kissing my neck gently. His powerful arms sunk into the bed on either side of me, pinning my arms to me. I took a sharp breath when he gave my earlobe a lick, sending electricity down my left arm.

"That's fine," He said, "You can do whatever you like, to whoever you like. Just remember who comes first."

I was paralyzed beneath him. He let a small portion of his bodyweight crush me, and his chest pinned me to the bed.

"Yes sire." I replied.

"Who comes first?" He asked between kisses, his lips tickling my neck as he trailed kisses down to my shoulder, leaving a row of goosebumps.

"You do, sire." I replied. He sat up, still straddling my thighs. His eyes roved my body. I left my arms by my sides, allowing him to look. He played his fingertips gently across my skin, tickling my stomach and ribs.

"Actually, I kind of enjoy when my slaves enjoy each other. I'll have to play with both of you some time," He smiled. "Don't tell the other girls I said this, but you are... really something special."

Okay, yes, in hindsight that is a very cheesy, one might even say a 'classic' line. But I was caught up in the moment. The weight of his body crushed me gently. His handsome face and confident grin filled my vision. When I had first sucked his cock, I felt small and submissive. In his bed, that feeling was increasing. So when he called me special, beautiful, and told me nice things, it felt nice.

"Of course not, sire. Thank you," I replied, probably starry-eyed and swooning. I shouldn't editorialize so much, but I've got post-nut clarity.

He bent at the waist, kissing my stomach tenderly. Closing my eyes, I enjoyed the feeling of his lips on my skin. I moaned when I felt his hand on my underwear, rubbing my vulva through the cloth. With a motion of my hips, I rubbed myself on his hand as he continued to kiss me, his stubble occasionally scratching me as his soft lips covered every inch of my stomach. A sharp but gentle nip on the ribcage drew a moan from me. Goosebumps rose on my naked skin.

He ran his arms beneath me, his strong arms lifting me into a sitting position easily. His lips found mine, and I lost myself in a long, intense kiss. I was only dimly aware of his fingers unclasping my bra and discarding it. He broke the kiss, his voice harsh and low.

"I need you. I don't know why, but ever since I first saw you, I needed you," He smiled at me, shaking his head, and I looked up at him with surprise. He was speaking so sincerely, so feverishly, I was drawn in, trying to understand what he meant, and what I meant to him.

"Every woman I could ask for is at my disposal... I only want you," he whispered. I didn't reply, but my eyes widened with surprise.

Master lay me back down gently, our naked chests pressing together as he continued to kiss me. He dry humped, grinding his underwear against mine as he forced his tongue past my lips.

Hastily, he escalated, working his way off of me so we could both lose our remaining garments. Once we were suitably unclothed, he climbed on top of me again, and this time I felt his hard cock pressing against my pelvis. We continued to kiss while he rubbed himself on me slowly. Finally he shifted, backing up and grabbing my legs roughly. With a brief struggle, he lifted my legs and ass with one arm, wedging pillows beneath me until I was situated for him to eat me out.

Master was very different from Kat, much faster and rougher. His tongue was on my clitoris immediately. I felt his stubble on my labia as he licked me. His hands were all over me while he ate me out, groping my tits, squeezing my hips, tickling my ribcage. It took me a while to reach orgasm, but Master was persistent, and I soon found my breathing accelerating. My back arched and my legs squeezed his head, but he wrapped his arms around my thighs, holding his face against my vulva. I came, screaming, and he continued to lick me, tonguing me furiously all the way through the orgasm. I tried to push him away, I felt so overwhelmed, but he held me in place. It wasn't for me to decide when this was over, and he forced a second shrieking orgasm.

When he finally released my legs, I hoped he would spare a moment to recover. My legs were shaking and I was gasping so hard I felt like I might never catch my breath. I did not receive the rest I hoped for

His strong fingers sunk into the flesh of my thighs as he grabbed my legs firmly, pushing my knees to my chest. With a short pause for readjustment, Master pushed his cock into me, sliding his entire length in with one attempt. I was well lubricated with his spit, but the sudden penetration still surprised me and caused me to cry out. There was no pause to check on me, no sign of concern. He began to fuck me hard, pumping in and out of me. He let most of his weight fall onto my body, crushing and pinning me to the mattress while he fucked me.

He grabbed my throat and looked into my eyes.

"Whose property are you?" he demanded.

"I'm yours, sire," I replied, panting.

"You belong to me."

"I belong to you."

"Do you love your master?" He asked, still copulating me vigorously.

I don't know what the right answer was, but I didn't feel like I had a lot of options.

"Yes sire," I replied. My words grew higher in pitch. My breath was compressed by the tensing of my body as I ramped up to another orgasm.

"Say it," He demanded.

"I love you," I didn't have time to argue.

"I love you too, Marcie. You're mine. I own you,"

I came a third time, my whole body tensing and my eyes clamping shut. My mouth opened, but I didn't scream. When my sensitivity skyrocketed, I tried to push him out with my legs. Master was too strong and too dedicated, fucking me all the way through my orgasm until he came too, groaning as he released inside of me. Finally, He slowed down, and we both caught our breath. I couldn't move a muscle as the weight of his body held me still. Instead, I gently wrapped my legs around his waist and squeezed, telling him he was welcome to stay inside me as long as he wanted.

He kissed me tenderly on the cheek. Then again, and again, trailing towards my mouth. When he kissed my lips, Master didn't use any tongue - instead kissing me tenderly lips to lips. After one long kiss, he squeezed me close, hugging me while still coital.

"You're so gorgeous," he whispered in my ear.

"Thank you, sire," I replied, "You're very handsome."

"You're so amazing, Marcie," He ignored my comment. "You're very special to me."

His lie was easy to believe in the moment.

Master kept his penis inside of me while we recovered. He seemed to enjoy the feeling, even post-orgasm, of penetrating me. When we finally decoupled, Master rolled me onto my side before laying behind me and spooning me. He wrapped his arm under mine, groping my boobs while he kissed the back of my neck.

"You're mine. So beautiful. So lovely," he whispered. I didn't reply this time. I was shocked, trying to convince myself that the word 'love' hadn't really just been thrown around.

His hand wrapped around my throat, holding my head in place firmly, but not choking me.

Eventually I felt his breath on neck soften, slowly, until eventually he released me and rolled over. He picked up his phone, and started to play with it. I lay a short distance away from him, trying my best to fall asleep. My mind raced as I processed the words and feelings we had shared.

He LOVED me? I mean, he said he did, but really? I knew I didn't love him. He had ordered me to say it, I hadn't a choice.

"You're not sleeping here," He interrupted my thoughts, his tone bored. Wordlessly accepting his order, I rolled out of bed, searching for my panties. He gathered Margaret's lingerie, tossing it to me.

"Carry it. It'll be hotter if you walk back to the servant's quarter's naked." He ordered. I stood by the bed, shocked.

"Is that all you require of me, sire?" I asked. He studied his phone for so long in silence, I thought perhaps he hadn't heard me, but he did finally answer.

"I thought it was obvious you're no longer wanted," He finally answered, still staring into the dim light of his personal phone.

The mixed signals of love and dismissal were causing a minor short circuit in my brain. Fortunately, the orders were simple enough that I didn't have to devote much brainpower to compliance.

I did as I was commanded, carrying a pile of my clothes and underwear with me as I left his room. As I exited through the door, I risked a look back to see if maybe he was joking, and intended to call me back. He did not.

It was a very cold walk to the servant's quarters, and my legs still felt quite weak. It would have been great to at least have clothes on. I reflected that this was the second time in as many weeks that I'd made the long walk to the servant's quarters, at night, either partially or fully nude.

[Drawn in the Margin: A nondescript model wearing lingerie.]

Back at the servant's quarters, Kat and Yvette were splayed across the couch like ragdolls, arms and legs all over each other and the armrests in a desperate attempt to find comfortable seating. Yvette was playing her shooter game, her face all twisted in concentration. Kat jumped up when I came in, delayed only by the considerable amount of mutual effort needed to extract her limbs from Yvette's. She hugged me tightly, chattering faster than I could hear and asking more questions than I could answer. Still talking, she followed me into the bedroom, where I crawled into bed to keep warm. To my delight, she jumped in with me. We cuddled until I was warm. Abigail sat up from her bunk when we entered, bookmarking her paperback and facing us. The older slave's face wrinkled with concern, showing her age.

"How ya doing, kid?" She asked me.

"I'm okay," I replied. I felt a bit awkward to be cuddling with Kat, nude, while Abigail spoke casually with me. But casual nudity is a part of life for pleasure slaves, and I had better get used to it.

"Did you have fun?" Kat asked, "He's pretty good, huh? I mean, obviously it's a different game than when he's drunk - did he eat you out? Who's better, me or him? No, don't answer that, I don't want to know. Actually, do answer it, I do want to know. Did he cum in you? Did-"

"I did have fun," I answered, then winced, "I think."

"Go on," Abigail prompted. The directness of my nature battled fiercely with my respect for Master. I didn't want to misspeak, or tell one of his secrets.

"I think I might be confused about my relationship with Master," I said.

"Did he tell you he loves you?" Abigail asked, shocking me. In my surprise, I didn't answer, and Kat giggled at me. Abigail shook her head. She was tired, but not physically. An emotional burden troubled her, and it seemed like that trouble now included me.

"Master... he does that. With all of the girls," Abigail explained, "He's not good with women. This is probably just his way of... I don't know, expressing feelings he can never have returned. He's a lover at heart."

"He made me tell him I love him too," I said. Kat wriggled next to me, spooning me from behind while I talked to Abigail.

"I think that's why he keeps so many pleasure slaves," Kat spoke in my ear. "He wants to love someone, but you know, free women always have the option to walk away, and that, uh, well, that makes it tough on someone like Master. He prefers women who don't have the option to reject him."

I wrinkled my brow in confusion.

"First off, that's incredibly sad, but secondly, how does Master, tall, handsome, rich, charismatic, Gerrard Morgan have any trouble with women?" I remained as confused as I had been when I first walked into the room.

"He has really, really bad social anxiety," Kat continued to explain.

"That's Kat's theory," Abigail said with a hint of dubiety.

"That Winnie's theory!" Kat objected, "I just agree with it. Have you ever seen him talk to a non-pleasure slave?" She asked seriously. I thought for a moment.

"Yes," I remembered him flirting with Madam Dubois. "He seemed fine with it. I certainly didn't think he had social anxiety," I tried to explain.

"Not outwardly," Kat continued, "But he can't talk to women about love, or romance, or anything touchy-feely without getting, like, physically ill. That's why he talks to us that way. We're not a threat. We won't reject him. Why do you think he came back so drunk and hateful after going on vacation with that lady? He saw her as a potential love interest, and he fucked it up. It's easier to yank Margaret's hair and have her say 'I love you daddy Morgan,' than it is to tell a woman he's interested in her." Kat looked across the room. "I'm making sense, right Abs?" She pleaded for her mature friend to agree.

Abigail shrugged, shaking her head unenthusiastically.

"I mean, I guess," said the older woman, "I just, I'm with Marcie. He's rich and sexy. I don't get why he would have social anxiety."

Kat sat up in bed, scowling. She lay her hand on my shoulder, gripping me firmly. I was shocked to see the typically cheerful woman become so ill.

"Because mental illness doesn't care how sexy you are! Mental illness doesn't make sense, it doesn't just go away, and you shouldn't act like you know!"

Kat was downright cross with Abigail, and I interrupted with a squeak of pain as the young woman's nails dug into my shoulder. Kat released me quickly, withdrawing her hand.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," She spoke quickly, ashamed.

Like me, Abigail was taken aback.

"I... I'm sorry, Kat. I didn't mean to imply it worked that way," Abigail apologized, her eyes wide and forehead wrinkled with worry. Kat, utterly spent by the energy needed to contradict her own typical cheerful charisma, looked away. I could feel her hand shaking with emotion.

"He's got social anxiety." She affirmed, laying back down.

Before we could continue, we were interrupted by a knock on the door. Abigail did a double take, confused. No one ever knocked on the door. Only four people ever came into this room, and none of us ever knocked.

"Uh, come in," Abigail called.

Margaret entered, wearing a sickeningly rosy-pink silk nightgown and matching slippers. Her hair was down and unkempt, and she wore no makeup. On her neck was the ever-present choker denoting her as Master's favorite. The head slave was smiling, perhaps smiling too much. It felt forced, but it was nice to see her trying.

"Marcie!" She cried with glee, standing in the doorway. I rolled out of the bunk and stood, hugging my friend. Everyone here is so used to being naked; she didn't bat an eye.

"I'm so excited to hear all about your night!" Margaret said, squeezing me tightly. "Can I join you?" she asked.

"Sure!" I replied, happy that she was making the effort to spend time with me (and maybe the other girls, too).

I sat back down and Margaret glanced around the room, obviously looking for somewhere to relax.

"Can I sit on your top bunk, Abigail?" She asked, pointing above the older slave's head.

"That's Yvette's bunk, and I don't care," Abigail replied.

Margaret quickly climbed on top of the bunk bed, crossing her legs and giving me her full attention once she reached her perch. Her stereotypically girly look and loud pink outfit were an interesting contrast to Yvette's anime and gaming posters.

"So?" Margaret asked, "Tell us all about it!" I did, briefly describing the buildup to and a general description of my intercourse with Master. Margaret listened with interest the whole time. I was surprised she wasn't more jealous. Perhaps she doesn't see me as a threat any more. As I came to the end of my story, I drew near to the part where Master had told me he loved me, and prompted me to do the same.

"He did say something really weird," I started to tell Margaret, but stopped mid sentence. On the bottom bunk across from me, Abigail shook her head vigorously and mouthed 'NO'.

"What was it he told you?" Margaret asked. I froze. I wanted to tell her, but decided instead to heed Abigail's silent warning.

"Uh, he said I was, uh, tight. That I felt good for him." I lied. Margaret giggled, a cute, musical sound, almost too perfect to be real.

"Mr. Morgan's a sweetheart," She said, "A real flatterer. He's made me blush so hard in the past."

Whether we wanted to or not, we talked for a short time about Margaret's previous sexual experiences with Master. Not to be outdone, Kat picked up the conversation, telling tales of her sexual escapades with our Mr. Morgan. As Kat wound down one particularly raunchy story involving herself, Winnifred, Master, and a sex swing I hadn't yet become acquainted with, Margaret cut in.