Captivation & Maggie and the Master

Captivation & Maggie and the Master
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ISBN:  9781780801094
Author:  Sarah Fisher
Word Count:  128,485
Format:  eBook

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Originally published individually, Captivation & Maggie and the Master are two Sarah Fisher damsel in distress stories now brought together in one sizzling volume!

Captivation

When Alex Sanderson is commissioned to paint a mural on a remote Greek island, everyone is expecting the artist to be a man - not a beautiful English girl called Alexandra. Warned to leave by her mysterious employer's housekeeper, Alex finds herself caught up in a complex game of passion and punishment. Humiliated, and passed from hand to hand, Alex embarks on a dark journey of self-discovery - a willing participant in her own Captivation.
Maggie and the Master

When Maggie Howard takes in a new lodger she gets a glimpse of a dark, sensual, forbidden world that has always fascinated and intrigued her.

With the lodger's input she meets Max Jordan, a notorious Slave Master whose speciality is training wilful, spirited young women to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

Naked and tormented, eyes bright with conflicting tears of trepidation and longing, Maggie finds herself at the mercy of the Master, and begins to learn the true meaning of submission.

Captivation

The room beyond the gallery was gloomy, lit only by skylights that caught the last rays of the evening sun. Alex stood in a pool of light, losing Peter Tourne in the shadows.
   'Where are you?' she said unsteadily, unable to disguise the tremor in her voice.
   'Here,' said he from behind her.
   Alex trembled. 'Please... what do you want me to do?'
   He stepped closer. 'Everything,' he purred. He stroked her neck. He touched her gently, his tenderness surprising her. She let out a thin hiss, jumping at his caress. His fingers were cold, almost unnaturally so.
   'You will learn to obey me,' he murmured. 'You won't need to ask me what I want, you will know instinctively. You will be available for everything I desire.' He paused. 'All the time, night and day.' As he spoke his fingers caught in her hair, jerking her head back. The pain made her gasp. 'Do you understand?'
   Alex shrieked as his fingers tightened in her curls, his lips pressed into the soft curve of her neck. 'Tell me you understand,' he said.
   She grimaced and twisted as his fingers tightened again, pulling her closer. She whimpered and then whispered, 'Yes - yes I understand! Please, you're hurting me!'
   Peter Tourne stepped away from her. His expression was one of triumph.
   'Good,' he said. 'Now take off your clothes.'
   Alex flushed. 'No,' she said immediately.
   He pouted in displeasure. 'You tell me you understand,' he said flatly, prowling around her. 'But you obviously don't understand, or you would obey me at once - like Gena does.'
   Alex started to justify herself, but to her horror he sprang forward fluently and grabbed hold of the neck of her dress, his fingers closing tight round the fabric. Alex shrieked, feeling the cloth bite into her flesh. Before she had a chance to resist he pushed her violently against the wall. Hitting the cold bricks knocked the breath out of her. She struggled to regain some shred of control, fighting her fear and surprise.
   Peter Tourne's fingers tightened on her dress, wrenching at the thin material. She twisted and turned under his grip.
   'Let go of me!' she hissed in terror. Looking up into his face all she could see were his eyes, bright and catlike in the gloom. She knew he was relishing her struggles - the realisation unnerved her and she froze. He gave the material another sharp tug and the summer dress ripped to the waist, revealing her delicate lacy bra beneath.
   He grinned as she instinctively tried to cover herself. He pushed her hands away and traced the soft curve of her breasts. She whimpered as his fingers tracked across her nipples, roughly brushing and nipping at their sensitive peaks. She let out a sob and then pushed against his chest, trying to break away.
   He let go of her, the smile fading. 'Why are you fighting me, Alex? We both know this is what you want. Take off the rest of your clothes.' His voice was low and hypnotic. 'Do it now before I lose my patience with you.'
   Alex watched him like a hunted animal, glancing instinctively towards the door. He followed her eyes.
   'You may leave if you wish,' he said evenly. 'But we both know you want to stay, don't we?'
   He was right - and she knew now why Gena had said Peter Tourne understood her. She shivered and caught hold of the ragged remains of her dress, pushing it down over her hips. In the gloom he watched her coldly.
   She stood on the stone floor in her underwear, the dress around her ankles.
   He waved his hand towards her. 'And the rest, take everything off,' he whispered. His eyes travelled down over her body. 'Come along don't disappoint me now, Alex. I have so much to teach you. Tonight is merely your first step of a wondrous journey.'
   It suddenly seemed to Alex as if her body had a will of its own. She undid her bra, letting it drop to the floor, then slid down her knickers; both excited and at the same time frightened and acutely conscious of her vulnerability. From the shadows she could see his eyes and knew he approved of what he saw.
   'Turn round slowly,' he murmured.
   She did, teasingly, deftly. When she had her back to him Alex felt his hands on her shoulders. She yelped as his fingers pressed into her flesh. His voice was a threatening murmur in her ear.
   'Don't flirt with me, Alex. There is no need, you are mine already.'
   As he spoke he pushed her to the floor. She stumbled forward onto the cold flagstones, landing heavily on her hands and knees. Before she had time to recover he grabbed hold of her arms and jerked her towards him. His face was impassive as he produced leather cuffs from the pocket of his dinner jacket. She watched in stunned surprise as he slipped them round her wrists and then tied them down into rings set in the floor. It wasn't until she had let him put them on that she realised he had rendered her completely helpless.
   'Mr Tourne,' she gasped in horror, suddenly afraid. His response was to turn his attentions to her ankles. When she started to strain against the straps he tightened those around her wrists, jerking her face closer to the floor, so that she was crouched on all fours. She let out a thin desperate sob as his hands moved slowly across her body, 'oh Alex, you will be perfect - just perfect,' he said on an outward breath. 'I knew it as soon as I saw you. It will give me the greatest of pleasure to be your first teacher.' He paused as his fingers circled her hardening nipples. 'A good teacher can always bring out the best in his pupil, I will bring out only the very best in you.'
   Alex shuddered as his hands moved slowly round to the curve of her buttocks. As he got to his feet, the feelings of vulnerability and exposure overwhelmed her. She trembled, listening to his footfalls in the gloom. She wasn't sure what was more frightening - the sound of his moving away from her, or the sound of him returning.
   The shadows subtly changed and she guessed he had altered the lighting in the room so that he could admire his new prize. As he stepped closer she held her breath. He let something cold trail along her spine. She could hear his breathing in the empty silence and closed her eyes, fighting the growing sense of terror.
   Peter Tourne let the leather belt rest for a moment on Alex's beautiful bound body. He smiled to himself, relishing the fear and the anticipation he could feel rising from her. She looked divine. Her buttocks were thrust up towards him, accentuating the erotic 'hour glass' shape of her body. Between the cheeks of her bottom he could see the lips of her sex, just parted to reveal the delicate inner pleats, and above them the tight dark bud of her anus. Her sex was framed with a delicate flush of coppery curls. The kiss of the belt made her shiver and wriggle, revealing a little more, opening her a little wider. Already he could make out the glistening moisture of her juices, gathering in the sensitive folds, betraying her excitement.
   He let the belt move on, relishing his sense of power, drinking in the heady cocktail of emotions her body created in him. As the seconds passed, he could see her desperately fighting to retain some vestige of dignity, or control. Her breath came in shallow gasps as if she were straining to hear his every move. He saw her relax momentarily, and in that instant he drew the belt back and hit her squarely across the plump orb of her buttocks.
   Alex screamed, twisting away from him, her belly dropping to protect the soft exposed areas of her body, while her face pressed down onto the cold floor. Before she could brace herself for the next stroke he brought the belt down again, harder this time.
   Peter Tourne grinned, relishing the desperate noises of her humiliation and pain, delighting in the angry red glow that flushed across her skin. She struggled and writhed, trying to avoid the next blow, but he had bound her too well, and the stroke exploded across her buttocks, which clenched as she fought to evade his attentions. Between the heavy curves he could still see the lips of her sex gaping, glistening in the soft light. As if she could read his mind she clenched her muscles tighter still, trying to hide the secret parts of her body from him as the belt swept viciously back again.
   Alex gasped as the next blow struck. The soft leather bonds creaked quietly as she jerked and vainly tried to twist away from her assailant. Tears of pain and shock bubbled up in her eyes. Whatever she had anticipated from Peter Tourne's instruction, it had not been this. The overwhelming red hot bite of the leather belt made her gasp and buck with surprise. She could feel the glowing pain in her buttocks spreading up through her whole body. She tried hard to control herself, not wanting to cry out to let him know how much it hurt - or more telling still - how much the hot stinging sensations and the sense of exposure and helplessness were awakening something deep and hungry in the darkest recesses of her mind.
   She arched against his next blow, letting out a strangled sob as her face and breasts pressed down onto the cold floor. Behind her, she heard Peter Tourne moving. For a few seconds, she thought the beating was over and let out a thin whine, letting the tension ease in her back.
   Before she had time to catch her breath the belt caught her again, hard and hot. The sensations spread out from her bottom in incandescent ripples. She knew she was losing control and let out a dark wailing moan as he hit her again, her rational thoughts were being overcome by the scorching arc of sensations. She bucked and strained against her restraints, letting instinct take over. She felt as if everything she had ever known was slipping way, as Peter Tourne ministered his own particular brand of instruction.
   Suddenly there was stillness. The only sounds in the room were those of her desperate and ragged breaths. This time Alex didn't relax, fearing that it would herald another volley of blows from the belt. Instead she held herself taut, waiting for whatever torment might follow.
   After a few seconds Alex felt fingers splaying the glowing, stinging contours of her buttocks. She shuddered as long fingers dipped inside her - she knew she was wet - and whimpered as they commenced their exploration.
   From behind her, she heard the raw metallic sound of Peter Tourne's zip, and then the brush of his engorged cock against her inner thighs. The contrast to the hot angry glow of her bottom was electrifying. Brutally his fingers opened her sex and he slid into her without prelude. She bayed as his cock filled her and stifled a sob as he grabbed her hips and dragged her exhausted body back against his...

Maggie and the Master

Max Jordan smiled at Katya and ran a hand over her cheek and then down to her shoulders, his fingers moving slowly, tracing the curve of her breasts and the faultless contours of her pink nipples. Under his touch first one and then the other hardened into tight buds.
   Eyes downcast, feet apart, hands behind her back; over the past few months Katya had become the very epitome of the dutiful slave, and thought Max, was all the better for it. Since he had completed her training she was altogether calmer, more self-assured, even more beautiful than when they first met. She was the picture of elegance when they were out together and completely wanton, his to command and enjoy, when they were in private.
   Katya had been a pleasure to train - a natural submissive, despite her initial resistance. The girl had been remarkably quick to understand what was required of her, and helping her to find the way past her natural resistance, finding the way to make her - and others like her - compliant and eager to serve him was what Max Jordan did best.
   She trembled slightly as he stroked his fingertips over her belly and parted the lips of her sex to enter and explore. There was no hint of resistance; rather he sensed her eagerness for his caress, his attentions, his dominance.
   Since they’d met Max had helped Katya unlock the natural submissiveness she had hidden away for so long. Now her body and her mind and her very soul were his to use and abuse and pleasure exactly as and when he chose, to give to whom he wanted, to deny her, to indulge her, to beat her until her screams filled the room and lingered in his dreams.
   Tonight he thought how exquisite she looked, totally naked, her mons shaved and oiled for his approval, her face betraying just a hint of make-up to emphasise her full lips and deep brown eyes, her short blonde hair brushed off her face making her look almost elfin. Her black and silver collar was cut deep to accentuate the line of her slender neck, and the matching lead - well, he intended to hold on to the lead for just a little longer.
   ‘You understand what is happening, my little one?’ he asked tenderly. Max had no need to shout or bark instructions at her; Katya had long since learned the penalties of disobedience and the rewards of complete submission.
   ‘Yes... Master.’ Katya’s voice was low and soft and faltered over the words.
   He smiled again, and tipping her face up to his pressed his lips to hers. He could see the glitter of tears in her eyes and felt the trembling flutter of her lips like a trapped butterfly against his.
   ‘You will be well taken care of, my precious,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t have it otherwise.’
   She didn’t have a chance to reply.
   ‘Master, Mr Gilbert is here.’
   Max swung round at the sound of his housekeeper’s voice. ‘Wonderful, Mrs Griffin, would you show him in, please?’
   He stepped away from Katya and hung the lead up on the hook alongside her. ‘Spread you legs a little wider, my dear; Jack will want to inspect his new toy.’ Without lifting her head Katya did exactly as instructed. Six months earlier she would have fought him, answered him back or made some smart remark, and it was interesting how the crop and a firm hand could teach a girl the virtues of silence and complete obedience. For a moment, master or not, Max’s heart ached. He would miss her.
   ‘Ah, Max, there you are. How’s life treating you?’
   Max crossed the room to greet his guest. ‘Fine, Jack, how nice to see you again. Come in and make yourself at home. Would you like a drink?’
   ‘Scotch would be good.’
   ‘How was the drive?’
   ‘Very good, hardly any traffic...’ Their exchange of pleasantries was brief; Max could see that Jack’s attentions were already elsewhere. ‘So this is the little creature you told me about, is it?’ he said, walking over to the corner where Katya was secured.
   Soft lights picked out the delicate glow of her skin; she was so perfect, so very delicately made that she almost looked like a statue standing there.
   ‘Indeed,’ said Max. Her delicate appearance belied the way her body writhed beneath his like a hungry animal, the way she opened up under his touch, the silky wetness that pooled in her sex, so much that often as he buried his cock deep inside her it seeped down her thighs.
   Jack pursed his lips and looked the girl up and down thoughtfully, as if appraising livestock. ‘Not bad... not bad at all,’ he said, stepping a little closer. ‘May I?’
   ‘Help yourself,’ said Max, pouring a generous measure of scotch into the two tumblers on a side table. ‘After all, after tonight she’ll be all yours. Assuming of course that you want another of my girls in your harem?’
   Jack laughed as he surveyed Katya. She stood perfectly still, just as she had been taught, dark eyes resolutely downcast. ‘Hardly a harem, Max, and besides, your girls are always so well schooled. I’ve never had the stamina for breaking and training myself, whereas you - well, it’s a gift. A gift we are all pleased to enjoy.’
   ‘Flattery will not reduce the price,’ said Max wryly.
   ‘As if I would think such a thing,’ said Jack with a grin. He took the drink offered him, and fishing the ice from the glass drew it down over Katya’s throat and then traced a slow glittering line to her belly, before easing it slowly across the contours of her sex.
   The girl shivered, and with her eyes closed threw back her head as it passed over her clit, letting out a gasp as his fingers found the heat of her.
   ‘Wet already,’ he said admiringly. ‘My, my, but you train them so very well, dear fellow.’
   ‘Anticipation plays a great part in this game, Jack; you should know that by now,’ said Max. ‘As a slave Katya already has some idea of what to expect. The secret is to tell them just enough to feed the imagination, but not enough to spoil the surprise.’
   ‘So you keep telling me, in which case let’s not disappoint her, eh?’ Jack said, pushing the ice home, forcing it deep inside her, his fingers parting her outer lips to find his mark. Katya gasped.
   Max closed his eyes for an instant, imagining the way the well-toned muscles of Katya’s cunt would close tight around those invading fingers, imagined the sensation as the ice instantly began to melt, glistening rivulets trickling down the insides of Katya’s taut thighs, water mixing with the musky perfume of her body.
   He could see the girl’s cheeks reddening furiously and smiled to himself. It was a fine balance to unleash the wanton in a girl whilst still retaining a certain coy self-consciousness, an ability to feel shame mixed amongst the most extreme pleasures.
   Jack’s finger explored deeper still, moving rhythmically while his thumb lifted to brush her clitoris, and in the stillness of the room Katya let out a long moan, a heady mixture of pleasure and humiliation.
   Pulling out, Jack took the lead down from the hook and snapped it tight. ‘Get on your hands and knees, bitch. I want to see exactly what it is I’m getting for my money.’
   Wordlessly Katya complied, her head down, hips raised, knees well apart so that every inch of her body was available to the man Max had so recently sold her to. Jack left her there a moment or two so that the extent of her submission was emphasised.
   He then crouched beside her and ran his hands over her breasts, cradling their weight in his palms, teasing and pinching the nipples, before working farther back over her flanks and thighs.
   ‘What’s this, not a bruise, nor a single welt?’ he mused conversationally, passing a hand over the ample curve of her buttocks before turning back to Max.
   ‘No, I thought you might prefer to mark her yourself.’
   Jack laughed. ‘How well you know me,’ he said. ‘What shall we say, then? Twenty with the cane? Or perhaps the crop? Or maybe just an old fashioned spanking to begin with?’
   ‘Whichever you prefer, Jack, you know we can accommodate them all here.’ On the floor between them Katya remained totally motionless.
   Jack glanced at the wall of Max’s study, hung with the instruments of his craft. The man smiled appreciatively. ‘That’s a rather handsome cat you have there. It’s new, isn’t it?’
   ‘Handcrafted by a dear friend of mine,’ Max confirmed. ‘Would you care to try it out?’ He passed it across, and Jack hefted the weight and tried a couple of practice sweeps to judge how the weight lay before taking off his jacket and moving behind Katya.
   ‘Twenty?’ he said again, and Max nodded. Katya was certainly not afraid of pain, although like most of the slaves he’d trained over the years her relationship with it was ambivalent - love and hate combined in a single instant. Max could see a sheen of sweat on the girl’s back and detected the slight tremble in her legs as Jack prepared.
   His first strike was clumsy, missing her buttocks and instead winding the snapping tendrils around her thighs, biting the silky skin.
   ‘One,’ she sobbed, grimacing.
   The cat hissed again.
   ‘Two,’ she gasped, Jack hitting her squarely across her bottom, making her rock forward. He waited until she was still, waited for that instant when she just started to relax and then struck again, lower this time so the tails cut across the tops of her thighs.
   ‘Three,’ she squealed.
   Max felt his pulse quicken as she writhed under the cat’s attentions, letting the pain echo through her. He could almost feel the crack of it like some electrical charge that lit a fire in his belly. Damn she looked beautiful; her skin reacted quickly, the bite of the cat’s tails already lifting narrow stripes and red kisses on her creamy white flesh. Tonight he and Jack would share her and tomorrow she would be gone forever.

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