Maggie and the Master (6 page)

Maggie cried out with relief and pleasure. Instinctively her hips thrust to meet the driver's tongue, oblivious to everything but the bliss building deep inside. He slid a finger into her quim and another lodged just inside the puckered bud of her bottom. She groaned and writhed against his touch; Guido surely had to be Max Jordan's star pupil.

She closed her eyes tight, all rational thoughts vanishing into the abyss as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her, but then he pulled away and Maggie whimpered with frustration.

‘Come on then, ask me, I want to hear you beg,' he goaded, his tone thick with desire. ‘Beg me, bitch. Beg me for what you want.'

‘Oh,' Maggie sobbed, ‘please don't stop now, Guido, please don't stop. I'm so close, lick me… suck me… please. Please make me come.'

Guido's tongue brushed across her pleasure bud. Maggie groaned again, lifting her hips. He lapped a little harder, and it was almost more than she could bear.

‘Please, please,' she sobbed, any last shred of pride lost in the hungry pit of desire as he circled the little peak with the tip of his tongue. For an instant Maggie thought she might go mad and then the wave broke over her.

‘I'm going to come!' she shrieked. ‘I'm going to… oh… oh!' She shuddered, rolling from side to side, her sex grinding into his face. And as she peaked she felt him rise and sink his rejuvenated cock deep, deep into her sex. Her body closed around him and he followed her into oblivion seconds later, throwing back his head and grunting like a wild animal as he drove his cock into her.

And then finally they were both still and all Maggie could hear was their ragged breathing, the pound of her pulse and the rustling of the trees.

As the car made its slow way back down the uneven track, Max Jordan stepped out from behind the shelter of a tree and watched the red taillights disappear into the distance. Guido was somewhat crude in his technique, but Maggie Howard was far better than he had hoped for.

He walked slowly back to his own car considering the way the day had gone and what he had just witnessed. He smiled; he was going to enjoy training this one.

Maggie sat up in bed, her thoughts racing. The room was dark except for a ribbon of moonlight falling through the open curtains and settling across her duvet. It had to have been a dream, didn't it? A dream? More like a nightmare!

She switched on the bedside light, and there on the bedside cabinet was Max Jordan's contract. She closed her eyes, dropped her head into her hands for few seconds and then with a growing sense of determination got out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown and went across the landing to her office. This was ridiculous and dangerous. What did she think she was playing at?

Maggie booted up her computer and began to compose an email.

Dear Max, thank you very much for lunch today, and for your time, and for showing me some of the things your slaves have to endure
.

Her mind raced as the memories returned; was it endurance or enjoyment that lingered in her mind? Whichever it was she knew that however appealing the sensation it was also terrifying, perhaps too terrifying.

It was a real struggle to keep her mind on the task in hand, but even so she continued.

But I have, despite your parting words, come to the conclusion that I'm really not ready to be involved in the kind of activities you showed me - if I ever was. Thank you for your time.

Best, Maggie Howard
.

She pressed
Send
, and as the message vanished into the ether she sat for a few moments wondering whether it was a great mistake or a narrow escape. Was it relief or a sense of loss that gripped her?

For a few minutes she stared out of the office window into the night sky, trying to still her racing mind by picking out the constellations she recognised. What devil was it that Max Jordan had released? Certainly without his influence she wouldn't have responded to Guido in the way she did. Maggie didn't see herself as a slave or as naturally submissive, but there was no denying the kick of excitement she had felt whilst being at the two men's mercy. Was it too late to put that particular genie back in the bottle?

She padded back to bed, and as she turned off the light and closed her eyes it was Max Jordan's face she saw.

Chapter Five

‘So, how about coming out to dinner with me?' said Simon Faraday, leaning across his office desk.

Maggie, looking up from her computer screen, lifted an eyebrow quizzically. ‘I'm sorry?'

She had popped in to work to sort out a few things for the piece she was writing on garden design and was - at least to the outside world - totally absorbed in what she was doing.

Simon's crooked smile didn't falter. ‘I was just thinking, the last few times I've seen you, you've looked a bit down in the mouth. So I thought you could do with cheering up. There's this really nice little seafood restaurant on the coast and I just thought…'

Maggie put on a strained smile. She had assumed Max Jordan's response would be to try and persuade her to change her mind about his proposition, but what she hadn't been prepared for was the polite email accepting her decision and wishing her well. It was open now on her computer, and she'd read it over and over.

But that, of course, wasn't the end of it. In the week or so since their lunch date Maggie's dreams had been haunted by compelling images of Max Jordan and Guido, and in quiet moments during the day she found her mind recreating a stunning collage of erotic images from her encounter with them. Thinking about it made her wet and excited and left her longing for more. It was the sweetest torture. Maggie closed her eyes, trying to convince herself that if she starved this newfound hunger it would, eventually, wither and die.

‘So, what do you think?' asked Simon.

Maggie looked up at him and blushed, hoping he couldn't see what had been in her mind and painfully aware that she hadn't listened to a word he'd said. ‘I, um,' she began. ‘The thing is, Simon, that I…'

‘That I'll pick you up around eight, that's all settled then,' he said cheerfully.

‘No, I?'

‘We're going to the
Neptune
. It's so popular I was lucky to get a table at all.'

‘Eight?' Maggie couldn't quite get her head around what was going on.

‘Eight o'clock, that's right, tonight,' he insisted. ‘What's the matter, not changed your mind already, have you?' he laughed.

She stared at him, bemused. Surely she hadn't agreed to go out with Simon Faraday whilst daydreaming about Max Jordan?

‘I didn't say I'd go,' she said flatly; nothing was so important that she would have forgotten that.

He pulled a face. ‘Oh come on, Maggie,' he pressed. ‘You didn't say you wouldn't. And anyway, where's the harm? Everyone else is going to be there. This way you can have a drink, relax, and let me do the driving.'

Maggie shivered, recalling in graphic detail the last time someone had taken her for a drive.

‘Eight it is, then,' he said, and before she could decline he was heading off across the office at top speed with a huge grin on his face. She looked back at the email and sighed. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing; she could do with a night out. Maybe she was being cruel; maybe Simon Faraday wasn't so bad, really.

Perhaps he was an acquired taste. Perhaps he had hidden depths. Maggie sighed; who was she trying to kid?

‘So who's going to the
Neptune
with the delectable Simple Simon from accounts then?' said one of the guys from of the graphics department on his way past her desk.

Maggie growled at him. Evidently bad news travels fast.

‘What's all this about you and Simon Faraday, then?' said one of the other freelancers as she queued up in the deli at the end of the street at lunchtime.

By the time Maggie was ready to leave work she was seething. Was there nobody Simon hadn't told?

‘Goodnight, Ms Howard, have a good one,' said the guy on the front desk as she crossed the reception area, and as she reached the glass doors he added, ‘It's nice that you two have got together at long last. You'll make a lovely couple.'

There was no missing the sarcasm in the security guard's voice and Maggie swung round and glared at him, but he just grinned wryly.

So, it seemed that Simon had told every last soul that worked in the building, and Maggie was beside herself.

Supper was not a success.

‘And then I hit it straight down the fairway, nearly three hundred yards, sweet as a nut,' Simon bragged, miming a golf swing.

Maggie looked at him over the rim of her wineglass. Over two hours with him and all she wanted to do was swing at the end of a rope. The ‘everyone' Simon had said would be at the restaurant turned out to be a handful of minions and toadies from the accounting office. But at least one thing he was right about was the food, which was excellent, but by the time it was served she knew she had drunk too much to truly appreciate it. It had been a long and very dull evening.

She stifled a yawn, and when some little creep at the end of the bench said, ‘Looks like someone's ready for bed,' half the table sniggered.

Simon caught her eye, and Maggie smiled in what she hoped was a neutral sort of way, at which he drained his glass and said, ‘Well, it's getting late and we've all got a drive home. Think we should make a move.'

Maggie was about to protest, but then realised that she really did want to get home, and much more time spent with Simon and any pretext of good manners would have gone. So she got her coat and slipped outside.

‘Someone's keen,' said the same creep as the rest followed her out into the car park.

As they reached Simon's car he opened her door, but then any sense of gallantry was lost as he grabbed hold of her arms.

Maggie wriggled out of his grasp but even so he pressed his lips to hers in some revolting parody of a passionate kiss. ‘I've been wanting to do that all evening,' he rasped. ‘God, you look bloody lovely. Good enough to eat.' There was no missing the implication in his tone, and Maggie glared at him.

They drove home in complete silence, Maggie only too aware of the wine in her bloodstream. Bloody man. She might have accepted his dinner date but that gave him no right to maul her, did it? Or was she giving him mixed signals? Did he, like Guido, think she was offering a ride for a ride?'

When they got back to her house it was obvious that Simon expected to be invited inside. Maggie glanced up at the windows; Kay couldn't be home yet, the lights were out in the sitting room and there were none on upstairs. Maybe she was staying over at Mike's.

‘Simon,' she began. It was important to nip this in the bud before it went any further, but he smiled at her and slid his arm across the back of her seat.

Maggie sighed. ‘Look, Simon, I'm really… really…' she decided upon the truth, ‘I'm really pissed off that you told everyone at work that you were taking me out. That's not the way to do it…' He looked hurt and she felt a mixture of relief and contrition, but apparently undeterred he moved closer and this time she hadn't the heart to push him away. He took this as an invitation.

‘Maggie, you've got no idea how long I've waited for this,' he whispered, pulling her close and kissing her full on the mouth, his tongue hungrily seeking entry between her lips. As he pressed closer one hand crawled onto her knee and before she could stop him it eased clumsily up her thigh while the other settled on her breast.

He began to move his lips against hers, and for the briefest of moments Maggie tried to let herself sink into it, go with the flow, respond in kind, imagining what it might be like to have Simon as a lover, but every instinct in her body fought against it. She didn't want it. She didn't want him.

Encouraged by her apparent passivity Simon's fingers tightened on her breast while the one between her legs tried desperately to find a way into her panties.

‘Open you legs,' he murmured thickly. ‘Come on, baby, you know you want me.'

‘Simon, for God's sake,' she snapped, pressing against his chest. ‘Of course I don't want you.'

‘Relax,' he purred, still intent on seduction. ‘Let me do the driving.'

Maggie was so stunned she didn't know what to say until his fingertips grazed the lips of her sex and his panting increased in volume. ‘Shit I've waited so long for this,' he drawled. ‘You feel so good. Come on, open wider for me.'

‘For crying out loud,' Maggie yelped, managing to wrestle free and scramble out of the car, ‘stop it, Simon.'

Totally bemused he clambered out after her. ‘What the hell's the matter?' he demanded. ‘I thought it was going really well. Do you want to go inside instead, so we can get a bit more comfortable? I can understand you not wanting to make out in a car.' He looked at her intently, waiting for a reply, and then snapped angrily. ‘What? I thought you liked me.'

Maggie shook her head. ‘Simon, I need you to understand this,' she said slowly, as though talking to an imbecile - which perhaps he was, she thought. ‘I don't fancy you. I've never fancied you, and I never will fancy you. No, I never will, not at all. You're not my type. I think of you as a friend.' She could hardly tell him he made her flesh crawl.

For a few moments Simon looked taken aback by her words, and then he smiled. ‘Maggie, I understand what you're going through, and I don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for. I really like and respect you, and we can take it as slowly as you want.'

Maggie stared at him in astonishment. If only he knew, she thought. She shook her head. ‘No thanks, Simon,' she said. ‘Goodnight and thank you for a lovely dinner.'

‘What do you mean, goodnight?' he snapped angrily, as if the penny had finally dropped. ‘Aren't you going to invite me in for a coffee or something?'

She shook her head again. ‘No, it really isn't what I want, Simon,' she insisted. ‘
You
really aren't what I want. I'm trying not to be hurtful; I just want you to understand. I like working with you - but that's as far as it goes.'

‘You little tease!' Simon snorted. ‘You shouldn't lead men on like you do. You'll regret this, Maggie Howard. I promise you, you'll regret it.'

But she had already turned away feeling both sorry for Simon, and relieved to be away from him. She went up the path without looking back, closed the front door behind her and took a deep breath, waiting for the sound of his car pulling away.

After a minute or two standing in the dark of the hall she heard the roar of the engine and sighed with relief. There was something she had to do and she certainly wasn't going to do it with pining Simon lurking in the street outside.

She went upstairs, switched on her computer and began to type.

Dear Max
…

She stared at the screen, trying to work out what it was she really wanted to say. She erased her introduction and began again.

You're right, there is no escape
, she eventually continued.
Please may I
… She paused again. How did she ask, how did she let him know that she wanted more than anything else to feel again the kiss of his whip on her flesh? She opened the drawer of her desk and drew out the contract, and then with her heart in her mouth she began typing again.

Humbly beg to be trained by you?

Maggie
.

She pressed Send before she had a chance to lose her nerve, and then sat in the darkness staring at the screen. Although she was nervous and worried about what she had just done, she also knew with total certainty that it was the right thing to do.

As the thought settled in her head she heard a noise - a hiss and then a sharp intake of breath. At first she thought it was her imagination, and then she realised with a start that she had made a terrible mistake. The house wasn't empty at all. Kay and Mike were in Kay's room and the noise Maggie had heard was the swat of the crop or a whip. Something in Maggie's belly tightened as she heard Kay's emotional voice call out the number of the stroke.

‘One,' she squealed.

Maggie closed her eyes, her body and mind instantly alight with the memory of Max's touch. She crept across the landing and stood for a few seconds outside Kay's door. There was no way she wanted them to know she was there, spying on them, but part of her longed to join in. She heard the whistle of the crop again, and this time a guttural cry as the implement found its mark.

‘Oh my, please master, please no,' Kay begged as the crop cracked down again.

Maggie shuddered, feeling her sex tightening, and tiptoed back to her room.

Lying alone in the darkness, all thoughts of Simon receding fast, she listened as Mike thrashed Kay. At twenty-five strokes it finally stopped, and Maggie closed her eyes, imagining the sensation as a hungry cock drove deep into her friend's cunt, filling her as her beaten buttocks ground back against his groin. It was almost more than she could bear. Without thinking she moved her hands down over her breasts, relishing their weight and softness in her palms, teasing the hardening peaks, and then when the need became greater still she moved on down across her flat tummy, finding herself wet and hot. Easing two fingers into the tight confines of her sex she began to circle the glowing bud of her clit, lifting her hips, imagining her fingers working in and out were a cock as she impaled herself again and again.

With her excitement being mirrored in the bedroom across the landing it didn't take long for her to bring herself to the point of no return. As she stroked and explored and let the waves of pleasure wash over her she imagined Max Jordan there in the darkness, watching her every move, his eyes glinting with desire.

Finally Maggie fell asleep with her fingers still between her thighs.

‘I didn't hear you come in last night,' said Kay, helping herself to a cup of coffee, dressed in her bathrobe.

Maggie smiled and sipped her tea. ‘I was late getting back,' she fibbed, wondering how Kay felt, imagining the pattern of marks on her silky smooth skin.

‘And how did your romantic dinner go with the lovely Simon?'