Mastered (3 page)

Not able to hide my excitement, I untied the silky bow and removed
the lid, pulling out the sheets of tissue paper artistically arranged
on top. Reaching in, I grabbed a small string, lifting the soft item
out and letting it dangle off my finger.

Jake looked at me expectantly, and it finally dawned on me that he'd
given me a pair of panties. Actually, “pair of panties”
was being generous; what he'd given me was the silkiest, smoothest
triangle of fabric connected with satin ribbons the color of ripe
plums. I blushed so hard I thought my cheeks would catch fire.

“Flushed is a good look for you, Mags,” he said with a
wink.

I tried to recover quickly. “Ha-
ha
, Jake. You're so
incredibly funny. Now where's the real present?”

He looked nonplussed. “Go put them on.”

“Excuse me?” He may have been the owner of a fancy
restaurant, but that didn't mean he could suddenly boss me around.

He leaned in, his mouth dangerously close to mine. “I said,”
he began, reaching down and stuffing the tiny panties into my palm,
“go put them on.”

We stayed like that for a minute, his warm breath tickling my lips
and the silk wadded in my hand. Before I knew it, I felt myself
nodding and standing up. Without looking back, I marched
automatically to the only other door in the room besides the large
mahogany monstrosities, and stepped into the bathroom.

Closing the door behind me, I leaned against it. “
What?
”
I said out loud. Opening my hand, I looked at the panties more
closely, running my fingers over the incredibly soft silk and feeling
my center pulse instinctively.

I stood in front of the mirror and stared straight into my eyes.
“Maggie. Margaret. Margaret Wells. You are not going to put on
these panties. Jake gave them to you for goodness' sake. JAKE. Gave
you panties.” I sighed, shaking my head and looking down.

“What is happening to me?” I muttered, hiking up my skirt
and sliding the pink boyshorts down my thighs. Stepping purposefully
into the panties Jake gave me, I slipped them slowly up my legs,
feeling the softness glide against the smoothness of my skin.

Settling them into place, I lifted my skirt above my waist and turned
to get a good look in the mirror. The thin satin strings sat
perfectly on my hips, showing off the gentle curves of my body.
Turning around, I noted how the small
t
above my butt framed
my ass in the most flattering way. I hated to admit it, but Jake knew
his panties. Shaking my head once more, I lowered my skirt, smoothing
it into place, and taking a minute to tousle my hair. If Jake wanted
to play, it was game on.

Walking back into our private dining room, I saw Michael, the waiter,
setting down our flat-bread and refilling our wine. Without realizing
it, I'd apparently already blown through my first glass. Making sure
my discarded boyshorts were securely hidden in my clenched hand, I
approached the table as nonchalantly as I could.

“So,” Jake said, looking up, “how do they fit?”

I glanced quickly at Michael, who seemed intentionally unfazed by
Jake's remark.

“Um, what?” I stuttered, not entirely sure of the correct
response.

“The panties I gave you. How do they fit? Do they feel good? I
picked them out for you specifically because of how soft they are.”

At that moment, I sort of wanted to kill Jake.

“Well?” he persisted, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“They're fine,” I snapped, sliding into the booth.

“Huh, just fine?” he teased. “I'll have to see what
we can do about that as the night progresses,” he said with a
wink. “Now give me your old ones.”

“Excuse me?!” My face could not have possibly gotten any
redder. To Michael's credit, he simply continued to cut the
flat-bread into equal squares.

“Miss Wells.” Jake leaned in again, a stern look on his
face that I'd never seen before. “Put your panties on the
table.” I'm not entirely sure what came over me; maybe I wanted
to show Jake that I could go as far as he could, or that he couldn't
beat me in whatever game he was playing, but I dropped the boyshorts
on the table and slowly slid them across the short distance between
us.

“Now then,” he said with a smile, “that wasn't so
hard, was it?” He held them up, lightly fingering the crotch
and displaying them up for Michael's review. “Well these are
pretty, aren't they, Michael?” Michael looked them over,
reaching out to stroke the soft material that glimmered gently in the
warm lighting.

“Yes, sir.” Turning to me, he said, “You have
excellent taste, Madame.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled, not entirely sure what was going
on.

“Will that be all, Master?” Michael asked, bowing
slightly to Jake.

“It sure will be. Thanks, Michael.”

After he left, I leaned in. “What are you
doing
, Jake?!
Master? Is this some sort of weird...sex...den?” I reached
quickly for my glass of wine and downed it in three big gulps. I felt
like laughing hysterically.

Jake continued to rub his hands over my discarded panties, stopping
only to run his tongue along the crotch, his eyes not once leaving
mine. “You could say that.”

He must have seen the look of alarm on my face because he quickly
switched back into silly Jake mode. “Mags, I told you tonight
would be an adventure.” He laid my panties on the table and
grabbed for my hands again, holding them tightly between us. “I'm
not going to do anything to hurt you emotionally or physically, okay?
But I need you to trust me. Can you do that, darlin'? Can you trust
me?”

I looked into his pleading eyes, and forced myself to remember that
this wasn't just Jake, this was
my
Jake, and I would trust him
with anything. “Yeah. Yes, of course I trust you.”

His face relaxed. “Good.” He bent his head and kissed my
hand again, this time letting his tongue dip slightly between my
fingers. “Now, I won't hurt you, and I won't let anyone else
hurt you, but...”

“But?” I interjected, not entirely sure I liked where
this was going.

“But you
will
be pushed outside of your comfort zone.
Just know that at any time, you can ask me to stop, and I will. Just
call me Jake, and tell me to cool it, and I'll back off. Alright?
Tonight's about making you feel good, not scaring you.”

I puzzled over this for a minute. “Alright. But, if I'm
supposed to call you Jake when I want you to stop, what do I call you
until then?” I clearly didn't understand what was happening.

“Master, darlin'. You call me Master.”

Before I could react, I saw the large doors open and Michael entering
with our entrees. We hadn't even tasted the flat-bread yet. Jake
leaned over and whispered quietly.

“Touch yourself.”

“What? No!” I threw a furtive look to Michael.

“I'm not asking,
Miss Wells
. Play with your pussy, or
I'll do it for you.”

“And what's that supposed to mean?” I asked indignantly,
feeling my nostrils flair in frustration.

Before I could process what was going on, a gentle buzzing began in
the panties Jake had given me, the vibrations growing in intensity
until I couldn't help but call out.

Michael looked up briefly from setting out our dinnerware, then
returned to laying down the forks.

“Michael?” Jake inquired.

“Yes, sir?”

“Should I let Miss Wells cum now, or should I make her wait
until dessert?”

I honestly couldn't believe what was happening. There I was, cheeks
flushed, openly panting as Jake looked innocently to our waiter.
Michael stood before us, calmly watching me squirm in my seat, the
panties tickling my clit relentlessly.

“Jake,” I choked out, “What in the
hell
do
you think you're playing at?” The speed of the vibrations
peaked, and I arched against the booth with the sharp charge to my
core. The intensity only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to
make my breathing ragged and loud.

Jake pulled a small plastic device out from his pocket and set it
firmly on the table, his finger tracing lightly around a small, black
dial. I knew instantly that's what was controlling the pulsing in my
panties.

“You've forgotten the first rule of No. 2, Miss Wells,”
he chided.

“Never talk about No. 2?” I jokingly croaked out between
moans, the constant buzzing against my center driving me wild.

“Funny,” he teased, “but no. The first rule of No.
2 is that you may
only
call me Master. Now, I thought we'd
already established this, darlin', but maybe you need a reminder.”
With that, his fingers grasped the small dial and gave it one quick
turn. The buzzing turned into large pulses against my core, and my
moans grew louder and higher with the tickling vibrations. Without
warning, the pleasurable onslaught settled, leaving only a soft
buzzing against my mound.

“Understand?” Jake asked, clearly amused with himself.

I brushed my hair out of my face and tried to catch my breath. “Yes.
Yes, I understand.”

He reached for the dial. “You understand, what?”

“Master! I understand, Master!”

Jake smiled. “Excellent. Now, let's eat, shall we?” He
looked at Michael, and the waiter launched into descriptions about
our dishes. It was like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and
if it wasn't for the large bulge in Michael's pants indicating his
excitement at watching me writhe in pleasure, I might have thought
I'd imagined the whole thing.

After a few minutes had passed and we'd both tucked into our dinners,
(after all, moaning between courses took a lot out of a girl), I
finally had the courage to look at Jake.

“Master?” I murmured, not entirely comfortable with the
word.

“Yes, darlin'?”

“Is this what you...
do
...for a living? I mean, like, do
you bring lots of women here to...
eat
?”

Jake chuckled a little and leaned in. “Mags,” he said
softly, “you heard Madeline at the front. This is the first
time I've ever brought
anyone
here to 'eat'. I've been waiting
to use this room. I've been waiting for you.” He leaned back
and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Don't get me wrong, though,” he continued, “plenty
of others
dine
here often enough, and it's usually booked
months in advance. It was just luck that I was able to get us in for
tonight. Well, luck, and the fact that I'm the owner,” he said
with a wink.

I smiled and took another bite of my burger. Swallowing, I asked,
“So, is this it, then? Is this the whole place? People come and
eat in the dining room, or they eat in here?”

“Well, it's no secret that the food here is incredible.
Agreed?”

I simply nodded enthusiastically since my mouth was full of
perfectly-cooked meat.

“So,” he said, “people come here to enjoy a good
meal, sometimes with a few...extras...and sometimes not.”

“And the waitstaff?” I asked. “Do they all have...a
relationship
with you?”

“My staff here knows their place, yes. But no, I haven't
technically slept with any of them, if that's what you're asking.”

“Technically?”

He took another slow, deliberate sip of his wine.

“But you didn't answer my question,” I insisted. “Is
this all? Just this room?”

“There's the main dining room, this dining room, and the VIP
lounge.”

My pussy pulsed involuntarily. The excitement must have shown on my
face because Jake laughed.

“Don't worry, Miss Wells. We'll go there next. But first, slide
over here and sit next to me so we can properly enjoy our dessert.”

I slowly slid around the booth as Jake welcomed me to his side,
draping his arm easily over my shoulders. Right on cue, the large
doors opened and Michael wheeled in an elegant silver cart filled
with long-stemmed glasses. As Michael set the glasses on the table
one by one, Jake began to nuzzle into my neck, his lips gently
trailing along the side of my jawline. Michael looked pointedly into
my eyes as he continued to lay out the dessert cups, each one filled
with something different. Some looked to hold whipped cream, other
strawberries, chocolate mouse, or melted caramel.

Jake's kisses trailed lower, and he bit teasingly at the lace
covering my shoulder, nipping lightly. His warm hand once again found
my knee, and I moaned softly as he didn't hesitate with his touch,
but rather slipped his fingers all the way up, underneath the
panties, and gently into my wet slit. His fingers began slowly
pumping in and out while his thumb found my clit, and it took a fair
amount of effort to keep my head from falling back against the seat.

“Madame?” Michael never broke eye contact.

“Mmhmm?” I was too far gone for full sentences.

“Is everything to your liking?” He looked directly at
Jake's hand buried in my pussy, my skirt shoved above my waist.

“Oh, yeah. Yes. Yes, it is. Thank you, Michael.”

“Very well.” Michael smirked, bowed slightly, and then
reluctantly turned his eyes away, leaving us alone in the room once
more.

Jake looked up at me, clearly pleased with himself. “You
handled that like a pro, Miss Wells. I'm impressed.”

“And you,
Master
,” I said, tilting my head so my
neck was once again exposed to him, “are an ass.”

He chuckled against my throat, and pulled away, reaching for the
glass filled with chocolate mousse. Removing his hand from my core,
he dipped his fingers in the mousse, scooping up a dollop and holding
it to my lips. I eagerly sucked on his digits, purposefully rolling
my tongue around the tips and lightly dragging my teeth along the
sides. He needed to know that I could drive
him
crazy, too.

Jake growled softly and pulled his fingers out, again dipping them in
the mousse. This time, instead of sliding the dessert into my open
mouth, he ran it along my lower lip, smearing the chocolate
thoroughly, then sucking the remaining mousse of his fingers.
Cradling the back of my head, he slowly leaned in until just the tip
of his tongue reached out to trail gently against my mouth. I openly
moaned, already more turned on than I'd ever been.