Her Master Returns (Dark BDSM Erotica) (3 page)

At the appointed time Emily was standing at the elevator,
Chanel bag in hand. She didn’t call for it. There was no need. The
digital display showed that it was on its way. Her breathing became
a bit laboured as she took on board the situation and gazed at the
numbers as they steadily increased, announcing the elevator’s
pending arrival at the top floor. She was feeling flushed and
flustered, anxious yet expectant. She hated herself for buckling so
easily – obeying the summons without question. But there was also
excitement and wetness between the legs, for deep in her heart she
knew what she craved. Emily swallowed the lump that formed in her
throat and wiped away the sheen of perspiration from her brow. She
felt like a teenager of on a big date. She felt so incredibly
alive.

Then the bell dinged softly and the doors slid
open.

WHAT!!!

Emily stared in shock and disappointment at a tall and
exceedingly well built man. He was standing at the entrance, a
formidable figure, dressed in a very expensive black suit. He had
more of a continental than British look about him, with olive
coloured skin on his freshly shaved face that still hinted of dark
manly stubble. Italian like his clothing was the conclusion Emily
reached as she gawped at the towering hulk before her. His shirt
was white and immaculately pressed. His tie was black and funereal.
He wore dark sunglasses that prevented Emily from seeing his eyes,
and his jet black hair was slicked back severely. This wasn’t Her
Nemesis as Emily had expected, that ruggedly handsome dark haired
hunk that Emily had called Master – but if anything this man looked
scarier. Mafia hit-man was the initial conclusion and a shiver ran
the length of Emily’s spine as she formed this impression. Then she
shivered again as she made her own alternative assessment, electing
on a Greek god, as was this classical scholar’s want. And if any
man embodied it then this was the one – here stood ‘Hades’ god of
the underworld – harbinger of doom and death.

She gazed at him, definitely wary and somewhat confused,
wondering what on earth was going on. He probably gazed in return
but with the shades it was difficult to tell. There was a frozen
moment then he stepped aside to let Emily in. It was then that
Emily spotted Her Nemesis Master who had been standing behind this
larger man, concealed by his massive frame. The man who had used
her a fortnight before, leaned forward to push the ‘hold’ button,
all the while grinning at Emily. The woman stalled, her mouth
hanging open, raw lust raging in her loins. She wanted to rush to
him, but took a step back. This was not what she had expected – to
have any sort of company. Yet again the man was changing the rules,
and this new version wasn’t to Emily’s liking.

The man grinned. He absorbed her shocked gaze with nonchalant
indifference, as if this new scenario was perfectly natural. “Hello
again, Blondie,” he casually stated. “Or should I call you Mrs.
Johnson? Please! Step inside! I trust you informed Les that you
would be late again tonight. I’m sure he’ll be happy to take care
of the cats whilst we take care of you.”

Emily gasped in shock, horrified to hear him using her name,
even though she was a well known figure in the company. She was
even more horrified that he knew the name of her husband and that
she was the owner of two cats. What else did he know? Family
connections – her bullying older sister, her hard put upon mother,
her domineering father!

Emily began to stammer and shake her head. Was this a thinly
disguised threat to expose her if she didn’t play along? The other
occupant merely stared, or so Emily assumed, standing quietly with
his hands clasping each other in front of him. Hades he was not,
for that was only mythology, but mafia hit-man was still a strong
possibility. That didn’t make Emily feel any more at
ease.

She was determined to back away, but Her Nemesis Master
reached for her, grasped her wrist lightly and tugged her into the
elevator. She didn’t resist except to shake her head as her eyes
instantly welled up with tears. She stumbled into the elevator and
the doors slid quietly shut behind her. In her panic, Emily
happened to notice the buttons on the panel, and the basement was
the only one illuminated. There could be no question – they were
going to the changing room again, and this time they would have an
extra player! A threesome! Now that was new territory Emily hadn’t
considered, but she’d assumed another woman, certainly not another
man.

Emily choked out a sob and looked at Her Nemesis, still
shaking her head and trying to protest. The man laughed and reached
out to cup Emily’s breast, squeezing gently before moving his other
hand under her skirt to find Emily’s pussy drizzling in the gusset
of her thong.

“Now don’t be coy, Blondie,” the man harshly growled whilst
groping Emily roughly. “I know you want this – the cunt never lies.
I bet you’ve been climbing the walls for the past two weeks,
wondering why I’ve not been in touch. Did you miss me? Have you
missed my cock? I bet you’ve been thinking about it all the time,
masturbating whilst dreaming about it, frigging your pussy and your
filthy ass wishing it was me ramming my dick inside you... Good
news about the results from the clinic, by the way – I bet you were
relieved. It was a relief to my friend here as well because he
doesn’t want to wear a rubber when he stuffs his cock inside
you.”

So that was it confirmed – she was to be pimped by Her Master.
Emily looked to the mafia hit-man who stood dispassionately staring
straight ahead, apparently ignoring the lewdness before him and the
statement that he’d soon get involved. Having registered the
blankness that screamed confirmation, Emily returned her look to
Her Nemesis and shook her head. She began to sob louder, stuttering
a protest that she didn’t want to do this again, and certainly
didn’t want to involve a third party.

Her Nemesis moved in closer to Emily and she instinctively
stepped back from him, but the man just pressed himself against
Emily as her back hit the wall. The man’s cock was hard beneath his
trousers, and he grinded it slowly against Emily’s groin, rocking
sensually back and forth as he roughly fingered her gushing
pussy.

“Don’t be silly, Blondie. You know fine well that you want to
do this. You want more rough and dirty sex. You want my cock riding
you hard. You want to be abused and treated like shit, and that’s
exactly what you’re going to get.”

Emily groaned quietly and turned her head to the side as the
man spewed out this filth and humped away at her groin. Her bag
slipped from her fingers and Emily raised her freed hand and
gripped at the man’s shoulders, half-heartedly trying to push him
away. She could have used that free hand to reach out and press the
‘lobby’ button, but she made no such attempt. Instead she allowed
the man to continue to hump and grope her, putting on a show of
vulgarity for the newcomer who looked like a mafia gangster, but
was actually a rich banker from Milan. His profession was
irrelevant; Emily would think of him as Hades, god of the
underworld – for it was to the basement she was sinking – her own
private hell!

DING!

Emily gasped at the sound that announced their arrival.
Whimpering like a child, she saw the doors slide open – she cowered
away shaking her head, but the man grabbed her wrists and turned
her around. Emily stumbled out into the hall, darkened and
deserted. Her Nemesis pushed her roughly through the space and she
fell onto her hands and knees. She looked behind and saw Her
Nemesis get out and much to her horror, Hades followed behind
carrying the Chanel bag she had dropped.

“Please don’t do this to me again. Please!!” Emily wept - her
fear and shame prevailing over the lust that still raged for this
man. “I’m not the kind of woman you think I am. I have a husband
that I love! You can’t do this to me again! I don’t want to be
here. Please, let me go!”

Her Nemesis smiled at Emily’s pleas and tears then reached out
to stroke her hair in a mark of affection that she assumed was pure
fake. He calmed her for a moment with this tender display then
lowered his hand to Emily’s neck where her trademark string of
pearls hung. The pearls were softly grasped and Emily chokingly
pulled towards the man’s face so he could whisper in her
ear.

“Don’t be silly, Blondie. Of course you’re that kind of
woman. You can’t fool me. I know you want to be here and get used
and abused again. Why else were you standing waiting for the
elevator at the time I told you? You’re a cock loving whore,
Blondie, and you’re addicted to mine. You want my cock in your
mouth and you want my cock in your ass. And you certainly want my
cock back in your cunt. Remember what I promised you? Hours of hard
rutting – the best fucking of your life with more orgasms than you
thought possible - and now’s your chance to earn it. You think
about it constantly. I know this. You’re a dirty, dirty, cock
loving slut! And most importantly – you’re my bitch! I own you,
Blondie, so cut out the crap! I
need
you to do this for me, and
that’s the end of the matter.”

Releasing the pearls and backing away, he stroked the side of
Emily’s face with the back of his hand as he allowed his words to
register. And sure as eggs they did! Memories were stirred, truths
were awoken, that torrential lust was brought to the surface and
Emily knew she could never refuse. She wanted the sex and she
wanted the hurt, she wanted the humiliation. But most of all she
wanted to please – this was Her Master and he had used a telling
word: ‘need’! He needed her to do this, and that gave her a worth
that was more precious than her pearls.

It was a clever ploy, for Emily would need such help. That was
made clear when the man reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew
something chunky that glinted in the poor light. At first Emily
could not discern what it was, but when it was held in front of her
she let out a heart-wrenching cry.

“No! No! Please no!”

Speaking loud and clear for the benefit of all, Her Nemesis
gave an answer. “Pearls are all very well for up on the top floor,
but this is what dirty bitches should wear in the basement. Now be
a good cock whore and let me put it around your neck.”

Emily shuddered and sobbed, she hung her head in shame, making
it all the easier for Her Nemesis to dress her in the thick leather
collar which was attached to a chain leash. She sobbed even louder
as the chain was chugged and Emily was dragged on her hands and
knees towards the changing room, compliant but rueful, in a torrent
of emotion. Hades followed a couple of paces behind, like a shadow
of death even though there was little light, his shaded eyes fixed
to the bitch’s tight ass. Emily failed to hear it above the panic
screeching in her head, but for the first time in her presence the
new man made a sound – a deep throaty growl of beastly anticipation
– for that fabulous booty hugged tight in the skirt was everything
he’d been promised and had earned the right to enjoy.

Crawling like a dog, she arrived at the changing room and was
led inside. The fluorescent lights buzzed above her head; she
noticed that one of the bulbs was blown so the room was cast in a
dimmer light than before. The floor was still dirty and wet; she
could feel it on her hands and bare knees. If anything, the room
was even grubbier than during the first incident, which was a
damning indictment indeed! There was a major difference this time
however: the bench by the wall under the clothes hooks was now in
the centre of the room and a towel hung on one of the
hooks.

Despite the poor light, the new man didn’t remove his
sunglasses. He placed Emily’s Chanel bag on the washbasin then
crossed his arms menacingly and stood back. Emily didn’t like the
look of him at all as she eyed him warily. A chug on her leash
brought her attention back to Her Nemesis.

“My friend would like to see you fully naked, Blondie. Take
off your clothes and show him your body. Strip slowly – we’re in no
rush,” he told her.

The tears flowed anew down Emily’s face. They weren’t quiet
tears. They were accompanied by sobs and hiccups. Emily raised her
hands up in protest and shook her head, the poor woman a mass of
upset and confusion. She had accepted a return, accepted a
repeat... accepted that she wanted all this. Now that she’d seen
him again and smelled his manly aroma, Emily yearned to be taken
and used once again... But not like this! Not something to be
shared with a scary looking stranger. Hades stood quietly staring
at her, his face expressionless like a death mask, whilst Her
Nemesis scrunched up his ruggedly handsome features, furious at
Emily’s continued defiance.

SMACK!

The back handed blow sent Emily’s head spinning, her cheek
suddenly aching, adrenalin pumping into her system.

“Do as I tell you,” screeched the man in Emily’s face,
flecking her with spit as he bawled out the words. “And stop all
this snivelling – I’ve heard enough of your pathetic
whinging.”

“I’m sorry,” Emily bleated, wiping her tears.

SMACK!

Emily hissed in a breath as the man’s hand struck powerfully
across her other cheek.

“You’re forgetting your manners, Blondie. What did I tell you
to call me?”

“Master,” Emily sobbed, unable to obey part of the command.
She wiped her eyes again, and stroked her flushing cheeks, feeling
the heat of Her Master’s slaps. And right at that moment, if there
had ever been a doubt, Emily knew she was totally hooked. Her heart
was racing and her clit was throbbing, thrilled by the dominance
and surety of the man. Her pussy was pulsating, gagging for a
fucking, so needy for Her Master to take her and give her those
hours of rutting he had promised.