My Master_ My Lover

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					My Master, My Lover        9/7/2011          Rose Paisley

                      My Master, My Lover
                           By Rose Paisley

My Master, My Lover                    9/7/2011                           Rose Paisley


      Adrian stepped into room and watched her thrash helplessly, totally unaware of his
presence. She appeared to be gripped in the throes of unquenched desire, dazed and only
able to respond to the cry of her body‟s need. She lay on the bed, exposed and displayed in
the most delightful way. To his eyes, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
The soft, pale, luminescent skin of her legs gave way to a thatch of delicious black curls wet
with her arousal. Her scent filled the chamber, and it was ambrosia to his starving senses.
The flare of slim hips was accentuated by her small waist, which spread upward into a
delicate ribcage decorated with a pair of full but not overwhelming breasts. Her puckered
nipples betrayed the chill of the room, their tight pale cherry-colored tips almost tempting
him beyond control, the glittering chains that held her had a little slack, left her only the
tiniest bit of room for movement.
      "I am so glad you waited for me, Pet. I trust you were good while I was gone," he
crooned softly as he moved to stand by the bed. He reached out and gently pulled the small
gold rings that pierced her delicate nipples, bringing the desired whimper. "I didn't mean to
be gone so long, but you must understand how it is with me. When business calls, the rest
must wait."
      Adrian moved a hand to her leg and stroked up her calf, sliding it enticingly up her
inner thigh, watching for the muscles to quiver in response. He stopped short of his ultimate
goal, struggling for control of his unruly hunger, fighting his urge to feed. He indulged
himself bit more, teasing and stroking, petting her silky skin as his fangs lengthened in
anticipation. She gave a muffled protest, pulling uselessly at the strong but delicate bindings
that kept her invitingly open to him. He watched as her body writhed beneath his hand,
straining and arching, seeking to ease the additional torment he caused with his long,
elegant, gently circling fingers.
      “Beg for me, pretty Pet.” It was a command to her body. He‟d laced it thickly with dark
compulsion that he knew she would not, could not disobey. He chuckled wickedly, watching
as she tried in vain to push her hips off the mattress and press herself into his hand. Her
restraints kept her from her goal. He gently brushed her thoughts, lightly pushed again at
the erotic images he had planted just as he caressed the softness of her taut stomach,
barely brushing against the tight curls, and taunting the tortured nub of nerves hidden just
below. From behind the gag, a plaintive sound emerged. Adrian smiled. “Good girl, let me
hear you again, show me how much you want me to ease your suffering.”
      He was proud of this lovely acquisition. She was strictly an impulse purchase. He had
known others who had such as she, and he wondered at the enjoyment they found in
ownership. Though he hadn‟t really wanted to own or be bothered with a pet before, he had
become quite attached to her, much to his own surprise. She had a fiery spirit, still whole,
unbroken, and defiant. She proclaimed she was independent, a slave to no man or beast,
but he had very quickly proved her wrong in those assertions. Her lush young body was ripe
and made for sex, and he had gladly taken her virginity and initiated her into the joys and

My Master, My Lover                     9/7/2011                             Rose Paisley

pains of his world.
       It was not often one truly seduced a virgin, yet Adrian did so ruthlessly, in spite of her
pleas and tears. He was a master of seduction, and those particular pleas fell on deaf ears.
Adrian‟s preternatural senses told him when Katrine finally fell to his wiles, compelled and
totally enslaved by her traitorous and oh so ready body. She had been readily and eagerly
betrayed by its first taste of sexual heat, and her newly awakened senses were quickly
trained, accustomed, and constantly thirsting for the sensual pleasures only he could
provide. Katrine proved to be quite intelligent, quick to learn, entertaining, as well as
responsive beyond his wildest dreams. She still claimed to hate him, but his training
ensured that desire and lust ruled every fiber of her being. He had created in her a wholly
and completely sensual creature, an addict to the lusty need he ignited within her body, and
that now filled her soul. She was a treasure to him, and it was delightfully easy to keep her
burning with the wanting and craving that which only he could relieve.
       Katrine captivated him, pleasured him, and pleased him as no other had before in his
long life. He could not see himself growing tired of her anytime soon. Other girls and
women had been brought to him for training before he found her, some virgins, some not.
Some he bought to train and resell, others were sent to him by their masters to be schooled
to please. Those who survived were returned quite skilled in the arts of passion, and those
he sold were most highly sought after by the exceedingly rich. Adrian was truly a master, a
Pleasure Master without equal, schooled long ago in the many arcane methods of pleasure
and pain, of bondage and domination, a graduate of mythical eastern schools lost in the
mists of time, and legend.
       Those concubines and slaves trained by him were the most highly prized, to own one
of his creations was a rare privilege. He kept few personal slaves besides those he was
training for others. He neither needed nor wanted an abundance of servants to care for his
limited needs. Never had he bought a slave strictly for himself, never had he found one he
liked or wanted as a pet until he was drawn to Katrine. Adrian was constantly bemused by
his own behavior when it came to Kat, his beautiful, sensual, and most delicious pet. He
found it easy to slip into a reverie about the night he discovered his jewel, as he stroked her
softly. He sat by her caressing, petting, and provoking her and turning her responses into an
all-consuming desire to please.

      A frisson of a premonition sent him to the docks that night, a quirky instant when the
Fates themselves led him to Raynaud‟s place. He didn‟t usually troll the auctions at the
seafront, and stayed away from the decaying warehouses near the derelict slums of town.
This market, however, was open only on special occasions, and though stock was prime and
pricey, the occasional bargain could be had by Adrian alone at this particular establishment.
He knew from long experience few of the offerings here were worth the time or his interest.
Yet something drew him that night, and as he entered, he fixed his eyes expectantly on the
platform. His sudden bout of hunger for companionship, and a sense of anticipation were
uneasy partners stirring both his curiosity and desire.
      A slight shuffling, a small figure was led onto the platform. The dirty, ragged girl to be
sold was exquisitely put together beneath her rags, and as he looked her over, he sensed
her potential, knew he had to possess her. His mind set, he upped the current bid, for he
never ignored his feelings. When he joined the bidding, the others soon ceased for they
knew none would or could out bid him. The final bid was his and a bargain in spite of it all,

My Master, My Lover                    9/7/2011                            Rose Paisley

and he sighed in relief. Although not a large sum to him, her price was still above what
many of those present would be willing to pay, or could afford for a slave. He knew this to
be true for he had paid much more for other women, securing them for wealthy clients. But
he knew instinctively this one was to be for him alone.
       He fastened his gaze on her face, taking in the vague drug induced stupor that dulled
her deep emerald green eyes and kept her docile. He saw the fire that raged there, the
spirit that even when drugged, struggled weakly at its bonds. A blush rose to tint her skin as
the rags were stripped from her, and she was bared and turned for his inspection. As they
proceeded with the examination, Adrian was extremely glad the deal had been struck,
payment made, and her ownership papers and bill of sale rested securely in his possession.
She had proved to be innocent, an untouched and untried treasure. Discovery of her virgin
state prior to the sale could have raised her price substantially, even in this slum market.
Adrian shook his head over the man‟s protestations and accusations. He had, in truth, paid
a pittance for a rare gem. Next time, maybe Raynaud would be more careful with his stock.
But then again, the wink Raynaud gave him as he left with his new pet made Adrian think

        A pitiful sound brought him back from his sweet contemplation and reminiscence, and
he looked to where his fingers had come to rest in the triangle of springy curls between her
legs. He pressed lightly against the vibrating leather-encased button nestled against her
most sensitive flesh, and felt the quiver that traveled to her core. She was more than ready
for him, her fragrance permeated the air, the sheet dampened beneath her writhing hips.
Her juices flowed and the slight sheen of perspiration in the cool room caused her body to
glow, her nipples to pull tight. She called to him, drew him like a magnet. He leaned over her
prone body to breathe the heady perfume, the scent uniquely hers drawn deep into his
lungs, allowing it to cause his own body to come alive.
        “So beautiful, Katrine,” his harsh whisper caressed the skin low on her stomach as he
drew another deep breath. He pressed again on the tiny vibrator, drawing forth a strangled
moan that made him smile once more. “So beautiful and needy aren‟t you my pet? Have
you missed me my sweet?”
        He felt her overexcited state, felt the muscles quiver beneath silken skin, as his lips
lightly grazed a path upward. The pulse raced under fingers lightly pressing the inside of
her thigh. He ran gentle hands up her sides, caressed her. The warmth of his breath
washed across her swollen breasts. Another moan was forced from her as he tweaked her
distended nipples and twisted the golden hoops he had so carefully placed through them.
She struggled, but was held securely by the exquisitely wrought chains as he continued to
tease and torment. His senses, ultimately tuned to her body, told him when a deeper, darker
desire forced more liquid from her core in renewed anticipation.
        He'd had to leave her for a few hours, but he had made sure she wasn't without a
proper chaperone. The pulsating button he‟d centered on her clit had been her companion
while he was gone, and if the moisture soaking the leather strap was an indication, she was
still riding the edge of passion's blade. The pleasing scent of her arousal filled the room, and
he licked his lips in anticipation of his feast. Her mind and body were his, his to worship, to
own, and ultimately to control. Her lust was his to command and enjoy, and he knew she
would do anything he directed to ease the overwhelming and unfulfilled wanting of her body.
        He raised his eyes to her face and saw the pleasure/pain reflected in her glazed

My Master, My Lover                     9/7/2011                            Rose Paisley

emerald gaze, saw in them her plea for the release he would not grant her quite yet. He
released the chain at her waist and removed the clip that held the soft leather thong in
place between her luscious legs. He pressed the vibrating button against her tender bud,
rubbing it ruthlessly, and bringing her just to the peak. He felt her strain for release, pleased
to note the way she begged with her whole being, but he would not let her come.
       He leaned over her again, this time reaching for the gag that held her silent for the
most part. Only the most ragged of her cries escaped the leather folds when it was in place.
The golden collar she wore proclaimed her as his property, as did the dainty floral tattoos
scattered over her body, and golden chains that bound her to the bed. She was his life, his
love, and his very existence. As he did every night, he would feed upon her passion, her lust,
her pleasure, and in the end...her life.
       "Please Adrian, end this now. Don't torment me any more tonight," Katrine pleaded
with him. The sensual torture was winding her tighter. She wanted to shatter in one bright
explosion, but only the small pre-climax quakes had been allowed. She needed to escape,
to get away, yet couldn‟t seem to concentrate on a means to accomplish her freedom. Most
of all, Katrine was desperate for release. “Please…”

       Three hours she had been forced to wait for Adrian's return. Those hours she writhed,
left alone and chained to the beautifully carved bed. The room cooled, but her naked,
shivering body was quaking and heated with passion. A clock on the mantel taunted her as
the time seemed to crawl by at a snail‟s pace. Three lonely, desperate hours Katrine spent
crying silently for the intimate touch of his hand or the press of his talented lips to her
aching flesh.
       She was an addict, praying for him to return and grant her blessed relief by providing
her with her drug of choice. She shivered as vibrations pulsed and brought her back to
thinking of him driving himself into the depths of her pussy. She cursed the fates that had
brought her to this end, as need rode hard upon her. This damnable demand for fulfillment
was as sharp as a knife and could only be filled by her captor. Her mind rebelled at the
thought until another wave of unrelenting desire crashed through her body.
       Her eyes were unable to focus, the tension within her almost too great to bear, but she
tried to still her shaking body. The vibrations and the pressure increased, driving any more
coherent thought from her mind. She reached for release, but it escaped her grasp. Again
and again the pressure built. She thought she heard a sound, and she strained against her
bonds, tried to hear the footsteps or the voice of her master and tormentor. The vibrations
ceased, but only to be replaced by cool teasing fingers gliding across fevered flesh.
       He was here! At last Adrian was home.
       “Beg for me, Pet. Beg now.” The command echoed and vibrated through her like a
magic potion. If she begged and pleaded with him, surely he would be pleased and allow
her release. The question was how did he want her to beg? Katrine was nearly desperate.
She whimpered, and moaned, her throat choked with the tension that thrummed along her
body, gathering itself in her swollen depths. The gag that prohibited her speaking was
removed and she tried to wet her dry lips. The moisture had abandoned her mouth and her
parched throat, and flowed freely to the needy place between her legs. She knew it was
dripping from her body, and she was ashamed. Katrine had to think of him as he, tried to
forget his name, forget her own. She struggled to depersonalize her lust, her wanting, her
insatiable desire for this man, her Master.

My Master, My Lover                     9/7/2011                            Rose Paisley

       “You have returned. Please, release me. Please. I need…” the hoarse plea ended in a
strangled sound, the catching of her breath as though she was too overcome with the
feelings he brought forth. She knew it was only too true.
        The light brush of his fingers over her swollen clit caused her to try arching toward the
gentle motion. The movement was slight, not nearly enough to allow her to press against
those tormenting digits. She keened her disappointment, showing the need that rode her so
hard. Again a light stroke and a jolt of electricity screamed to her core. The soft snick of a
lock signaled the release of her hands from their golden bonds. She knew he wanted her
moving beneath him, against him, knew she would comply. He gave her no choice.
       Her arms were shaking from the hours of lying there in the restraints. He massaged
them gently, firm sensual strokes, kneading her arms, her shoulders, her breasts. The nerve
endings prickled and stung as the feeling returned. She moaned as he lowered her arms to
her sides. His head bent to her, mouth and tongue tracing damp patterns across her chest,
nipping again at the rings piercing her, at the nipples already swollen and aching for more of
his attention. They were left wanting again as he continued to travel down her body, using
his mouth to tease and stoke the flames until she felt as though she would be fully engulfed,
encased in an inferno of passion completely and totally out of her control.
       “Yes, my sweet pet, very, very good, yes.” He knew, he could feel her passion somehow
for she heard the satisfaction in the hissed approval.
       His lips found the wet treasure they sought. He licked, nipped, and suckled her tender
clit, sending her careening out of control, to the edge of the abyss. It seemed Adrian toyed
with her like a cat playing with a mouse, holding her ruthlessly on a razor edge. He withheld
from her the one thing she needed, thus keeping her tethered to the ground when she
wished to soar. Her hands desperately entangled themselves in the fine black silk that was
his hair, pulling him closer to the center of her need. She heard a voice that sounded a lot
like her own begging. She felt his tongue plunge deep, once, twice, three times as he
stoked her fires even higher, as he went back for more and more of her. He moved slightly
and his sharp teeth scraped over her tender nub. His lips drew it hard into his mouth, then
his teeth bit down sharply pinching the juicy bit of flesh. She screamed as the tide overtook
her, her hands falling limply to her side.
       She cursed the weakness that brought her to this point, the cravings and demands he
was able to pull from her body. She lived to please him, for her body was constantly starved
for his touch. She hated him and her captivity, and yet she could no longer envision any
other life. She was desperate for total release, once was not enough to relieve the
incredible tension that boiled deep inside.
       She had to beg him, “Adrian….” His name on her lips gave her tormentor a face, made
her remember her name and his, and brought an additional flush to her already heated skin.
       “Please, Adrian,” she begged, pressing herself against him in a desperate attempt to
achieve the climax she sought. “Please release me completely.”
       "Feed me, love, give me more," his whisper echoed up through her body and his
tongue again drove deep for her nectar. He suckled deeply, drawing another, then yet
another shattering climax hard on the first. She moaned her pleasure, her throat too dry to
do more. She tried to beg more, but all that remained were ragged breaths, and muscles
pulled so tight with pleasure it bordered on pain.
       He drew his lips from the delicacy between her legs, trailing them in damp caresses up
fevered flesh, nipping and sucking deliberately at the places he knew would inflame her
most. He grabbed the golden chain of her collar and drew her to a sitting position, carefully

My Master, My Lover                   9/7/2011                            Rose Paisley

positioning himself between her legs to assure he had maximum access. Adrian drew her
head to his and kissed her deeply and passionately.
      Greedy fingers grasped and rolled her tender nipples, plucking and twisting the rings
as well. Moist heat surrounded one as his mouth claimed her in yet another way, drawing
her breast deep into his mouth, allow his tongue to fondle, taste, and play with the swollen
nipple. He couldn‟t resist chewing on the sweet offerings that were his alone. Adrian felt as
though flame and heat were going to consume her, the warmth radiating from her felt like
the rays of the sun that he had forsworn so long ago. She was his sun, and he was going to
make sure that she burned brightly for him for a very long time.
      Drawing her astride his lap, he drove himself into the depths of her still quaking body.
Passion had extracted a heavy price. The edge, on which she‟d been forced to ride for so
long, drained her will just as Adrian wished. She fought to stay close to him in spite of that
weakness. The shackles that still held her to the bed aided in keeping her seated. Her slick
sheath grabbed on to his shaft, gripping it and bathing it in a warm and inviting way, begging
for his continuing attention. She had very little strength left, but she clasped her arms
around his neck, anchoring herself to him. Her body brushing, begging, and pleading with
him for more, the soft whimpers and cries her signs of distress.
      Grabbing her hips, he drove into her relentlessly until he felt the spasms start within
her once more. Releasing her lips, he nuzzled into her neck. As one hand kept her driving
hard on his erection, the other found, pressured, and pinched her tender clit. Another
scream of pleasure was ripped from her and echoed in the room. Her screams were music
to his ears, and he grew harder with each one. Adrian carried her with him, forcing her back
on the bed once more, and sank his fangs into her neck as she shrieked her pleasure yet
again. He knew the ecstasy was almost more than she could bear, and he smiled against
her neck at the knowledge as he drank deeply from her.
      His world exploded in a shower of bright sparks as she climaxed, carrying him along in
her wake. He emptied himself into her willing body as the world fell away and they flew over
the edge. Paradise. This was sweetness beyond words, and it was his. She was his prize,
his pet, his slave, his life, and his lover for as long as he wished.

     Hmmm....eternity might just be beautiful after all.

My Master, My Lover                     9/7/2011                             Rose Paisley

                                             Chapter 1

       “Who is she, Bertha?” Henri demanded for what seemed to be the thousandth time in
a week. “Why won‟t you tell me who she is? Is she a big secret here?”
       “You go on and mind about your own business, young one,” Bertha scowled at the
impudent slave. “You have no right to be asking about anyone here in the master‟s house.
It is not a good idea unless you want to be courting trouble.”
       There was still no convincing Henri otherwise. The girl was being mistreated. He had
come to this house often enough, he knew what went on here. He heard enough to know
that those who left, either walked out, or were carried. Those who were carried were more
often more dead than alive. He had caught a glimpse of a vision, a beautiful face in the
window above the garden as he was delivering the fresh produce to Bertha, the
housekeeper and cook. His master had the finest produce in the town of Tygar. All of the
wealthiest people, and the finest of inns, purchased from Welk the Grocer. Henri was proud
to be owned by him, to serve him for he was a kind and generous man. The problem was
with Henri, his ignorance was only outweighed by ambitions too far above his station. His
arrogance was bound to cause him grief, or bring him to a bad end. This was fact, and
Bertha had warned the young man about his attitude. Not that Henri acknowledged it, for
he could not see his own faults, only those of others.
       This place, however, always gave him the chills. The dull gray stone seemed to be dark
and forbidding, the windows like a myriad of blank, dead eyes, hopeless against the evil
within. He had heard rumors about the master of this house, dark ones, deadly secrets that
imperiled one‟s soul. He was always wary, more so when he delivered here, but there was
never any visible reason to fear, no perceptible cause for the goose flesh that made itself
manifest whenever he was forced to deliver this order. Henri felt it was a shame too, he
liked Bertha. She, unlike some others, always treated him well.
        The food he delivered was consumed, in spite of the rumors that surrounded the
house and its master. He knew because he watched the place when he could get away with
it, watched as the kids fed the pigs, slip the pair of dogs some bones, saw Bertha give the
horses a few apples when she emptied the slops in the pit behind the shed. Bertha always
met him at the door with the payment. He always took all the produce, and whatever else
he‟d had to load for her on his master‟s cart, into the huge kitchen. The place always
smelled good, the aromas of fresh baked goods, floors scrubbed clean and fresh. Today he
smelled the slightly acidic odors of tomato, onion, and garlic, tangy whiffs of spices, the fruity
richness of tarts, and plenty of good cooking. There were no rancid stale smells of some of
the other houses and inn kitchens where he stopped and made deliveries. Here there was
always a reward of some sweet that had been saved for him. Bertha knew his favorites, and
often kept a portion of what was left for him.
       “Mind you now boy, you keep to your place. Just because your owner gives you his
trust, it doesn‟t mean that everyone else will automatically do the same.” Bertha‟s rebuke
stung his ears.

My Master, My Lover                    9/7/2011                            Rose Paisley

       “I want to know who she is, what is wrong with that?” Henri was beyond caring that he
was overstepping his bounds, and totally unaware of the danger that he was courting.
       He remained vigilant now, especially after he spotted the beautiful girl in the window a
while back. He could not be sure, but it appeared that she wore a heavy golden chain
around her neck, and he was fairly certain it wasn‟t a necklace.
       “You know, I can come back here anytime I want. If I want to see her, I will,” Henri
brazenly claimed. “I may even marry her and take her away from here. She is too good for
an old man.”
       He had tried to find out about her from the servants and slaves there, but there were
very few to ask. The place was definitely not over staffed, and to Henri that did not seem
right. There were none even willing to talk to him, and Bertha, though she loved to gossip,
said nothing about the master of the house. Her lips were sealed when he asked her to
confirm the rumors he had heard. When he asked about the girl in the window, the warning
she gave to him only inflamed his curiosity.
       “You have no right and you should not be looking at someone else‟s property, Henri.
You are not free to do as you please. Don‟t let me, or anyone else, catch you snooping
around again or your master will hear about it real quick. You know better.” The threat in
Bertha‟s words was unmistakable, but Henri couldn‟t help himself.
       He returned to the cart, hoisting yet another sack of produce. Tossing caution to the
wind, he gazed at the window that looked out on the back of the house, over the stable yard
and the servant‟s entrance. Henri strained to see past the glare of the newly rising sun on
the glass panes. He was sure that it was the window from which she had looked down at
him before. Was that a motion? Did she wait for him?

       Bertha watched the arrogant young slave as he searched the windows at the rear of
the house. He was trouble. He had seen her, the new slave her master had acquired a few
weeks ago. The girl was in training, and although Bertha knew what the master did, she
knew she would never complain. She was grateful to Master Adrian. The master paid her
well, provided for her and her family, even gave them the very roof they had over their
heads. It was better work than many had in the town, and she could not fault his generosity.
       Even though it had only been a few months she‟d been here, she felt comfortable, as
though she and her family truly belonged. The thought back over what transpired that bleak,
cold early spring day when the master had saved her and her family from certain death and
shame. Milos, her husband had fallen ill, and had been fired from the local dock where he
had been a bookkeeper. She had lost her job at the town‟s best inn when she had to stay at
home to take care of her husband. Their lives were further compounded when they could no
longer afford the few pennies that the neighbor charged to watch the children, and when the
landlord decided to raise their rent it spelled the end.
       Bertha had been frantic, using the last of the money in the household to purchase the
ingredients to bake some meat pies. She was hoping to sell them and get at least enough
to cover the rent, and maybe have a bit left over. Her hopes were fulfilled until a bunch of
rowdies tossed her pies into the dirt, and stole the money she had worked so hard to earn
on that cold, wet day. She was totally unprepared for the strong, well manicured hands that
lifted her from the slush to her feet, the deep voice asking about her well being. The
compassion she heard, brought her to tears, and with her two youngest children clinging
fearfully to her worn dress, Bertha blurted the story to the stranger. She barely felt the fine

My Master, My Lover                     9/7/2011                            Rose Paisley

linen of the handkerchief that wiped the tears and grime from her face. She only heard the
command telling her to go home, barely felt the touch that pressed a few sovereigns into her
       The next morning, a knock at the door, and the announcement, “we have come for
you” had Bertha shaking in fear. Slowly she opened the door to find a well dressed
coachman on her doorstep, accompanied by two others dressed in similar fashion. She was
puzzled to say the least until the man told her they had orders to remove her family from this
fire trap. She was ordered to take only what valuables they had, anything of personal or
sentimental value, and then leave the rest for everything they needed would be provided for
them by Master Adrian.
       The two men came in and bundled Milos into several blankets, carrying him out the
door. Another carried the two youngest out to the waiting coach. The two older children
gathered favorite toys, their few clothes, and the cat while she packed her few pots, dishes,
and linens into an old, badly scared but well loved chest. She removed a battered tin box
from its hiding place in the cracked wall, and checked to be sure that the meager contents
were still there. The sovereigns that the stranger had given her were still safely tucked
away, as was the necklace and the few old jewels left from her mother‟s legacy. Milos didn‟t
want her to sell them, but in secret desperation she‟d pawned a couple of the pieces to put
food on the table.
       She tucked the tin into the chest, nodded to the men, grabbed the two cracked pots of
herbs from the narrow sill, and followed them out the door. Bertha was frightened, there
was no doubt. When the men drove around to the back of a grand house and through the
gates, she was stunned. The wagon pulled up to a two story stone cottage attached to the
main house.
       “Ye „ave a new home missus,” the coachman growled in his raspy voice. “The master
says ye‟r to be settled in here. He will be ta see ye this eventide, and „til then, here there be
things written that need takin‟ care of.” Bertha just stared at the list he shoved into her
hand as he continued,” Ye will know when the time comes, ye‟r to do as ye‟r told until the
master comes.”
       Such were the circumstances bringing her into the employment of the master. Bertha
was left with precious little time to think that day as the family was visited by a doctor, a
dressmaker, a tailor, various and sundry merchants. A pretty young woman named Elise
informed her that she was to be the children‟s governess. Elise took charge and promptly
marched, bag in hand, up the stairs calling the children after her.
       Bertha had hardly recovered when a timid knock sounded on the connecting door to
what she assumed was the main house. She tested the door, and finding that the handle
turned easily and quietly in her hand, she opened it to a young girl clutching a sheaf of
       “I am Molly, ma‟am. The master sent me to you, he says that I am to give you these,
and that I belong to you now,” she said, shoving the papers into Bertha‟s hand and scurrying
into the kitchen.
       “What do you mean that you belong to me?” Bertha followed the girl into the kitchen,
watching nervously as Molly opened, and carefully unpacked the chest the men had set in
the corner.
       “I am yours now. The master said that you have great need of help to look after your
ailing husband. He said the papers say you are my new owner.” The girl looked as though
she were ready to cry. “Please, don‟t sell me. I promise, I will be good, and won‟t cause you

My Master, My Lover                   9/7/2011                            Rose Paisley

any trouble. Master says that I am a good girl.”
      Bertha looked at the papers in her hand. The bundle contained a pedigree, a bill of
sale, and a transfer of ownership with her name, and lastly a signature scrawled in a bold
hand. The girl, Molly, was very young and recently purchased, but Bertha noticed several
scars that looked very old. She stared at the name that appeared at the bottom of the
      Adrian de Laurent, Lord Blacklocke.
      The name was familiar. Everyone knew of the elusive pleasure master, the foreign
noble who was said to be the best at training pleasure slaves. Bertha had a hard time
reconciling the compassionate man who had come to her rescue with a man who trained
pleasure slaves. She did not know what to expect. Fortunately, she never was a slave, nor
had she ever owned one until now. She was truly uncertain as to how she felt about it as
well, but that would be explored later.
      “Tell me Molly, were you in training to the Master?” She was not sure of the answer,
but she knew there was a dark side to the trade. She had heard the stories, heard about
the horror, the debauchery, and the deaths that occurred in the seedier parts of the town.
She shuddered at how close she and her family had come to being sold into slavery, and
again silently thanked her dubious savior, her new employer and probably her new master.
She had no doubts this was her whole family‟s descent into slavery, and she didn‟t know
whether to laugh or cry. It was strange though. It did not feel as though they were being
enslaved. It was more like a position of servitude, but until she knew for certain, she would
have to tread carefully.
      “Yes, Ma‟am, I was bought specially to be trained as a maid and kitchen helper.
Master said I would be real good at that, he promised,” the hopeful look on Molly‟s face
spoke volumes as to the state of the girl emotions.
      Bertha shook her head in wonder. It seemed that Master Adrian de Laurent, Lord
Blacklocke, was full of surprises, and had more to him than just a reputation for slave
training. She thought at first that it was an aberration, but she soon suspected otherwise.
She remembered little about the stranger who cared enough to help her and wondered
anew about what kind of man he was underneath it all. In the end, it didn‟t matter any way.
Lord Blacklocke had earned her undying loyalty, even to the grave and beyond.
      “When you are done there, Molly, we shall start to get something ready for supper,
would you like to help me?” Bertha would gladly put the girl to work, if she was willing.
      “Oh yes, please, the master said you were a very good cook,” Molly said as the smile lit
up her face. “Maybe I could learn to make cake?”
      Before she could answer, a knock sounded on the door.

      Adrian stood outside the door to the attached cottage, and wondered what the hell he
was doing. For someone in his position, he was collecting an awful lot of humans, and was
keeping them too close for comfort. He was truly not concerned for himself, but for those in
his care. He was unsure as to what had drawn him to the woman, but he had seen the
ruffians who had stolen the hard earned money from her, had seen how they had no regard
for her or her frightened children.
      He had followed them, and had dealt harshly with them, and doubted they would be
missed. He was happy, sated, and for the first time in a very long while he looked forward to
his duties, his commissions, and most of all, his new pet. He needed to get the new

My Master, My Lover                     9/7/2011                            Rose Paisley

housekeeper settled, and also talk to her man. She had said he was a man of business, a
bookkeeper at the docks. Adrian needed such a man, a bookkeeper. Although the man was
ill, he thought that he could be of use once he had sufficiently recovered, and Adrian was
going to make certain he recovered fully.
        The door opened, and the woman, slight, wary, weary, and rather frightened, dropped
a wobbling curtsey and stammered out a greeting. She gestured for him to enter, her face
pinking as she remembered it was, in fact, his house. Adrian brushed her thoughts, noting
the fear, and the uncertainty as he stepped casually into the room.
        “How do you fare, Bertha?” His voice was low, melodious, and compelling. “Do you
have all that you need for now?”
        “Yes, my Lord Blacklocke, we have enough for now,” she replied. She was slowly
relaxing to the mild compulsion threaded through his voice. “No one has told me what I am
to do here, what is expected of me, my children, my husband…”
        “Relax Bertha, I have need of your services for as long as you wish to stay. The house
is large, and I need a housekeeper to manage the schedules, to see the slaves and servants
get chores done and finished properly. Someone is needed who will see they are kept busy,
and don‟t disturb me. I also need someone who will act as cook for the household, to do the
ordering, managing, and the bookkeeping,” he paused for a moment to gauge her reactions
to his requests. He knew she could handle it, and do the job well. The hovel his men had
taken them from was barely worth calling a home, and yet they reported she had managed it
well, kept it neat, clean and tidy in spite of everything she was going through.
        He heard the quickly indrawn breath as he went on and outlined the duties, and then
inquired as to Milos‟s health. The shudder that went through her as he asked after the
children‟s health, and whether they had eaten sufficiently this day spoke volumes as to her
fragile state. She was a woman riding the fine line between uncertainty and desperation.
Adrian often used his voice as the weapon that it was, but now, he used it to calm and
soothe Bertha as if she were a skittish horse. The soothing compulsion to stop fretting, to
relax and listen soon had Bertha calmed and answering the questions he asked in a more
assured voice.
        Adrian listened as she told him what the doctor had said, about how the bad living
conditions and lack of decent food were part of the reason Milos had been unable to return
to health. She struggled with tears that threatened to spill again, but this time they were in
gratitude, not sorrow and despair. His heightened senses picked up her roiling emotions, as
well as the soft voices of the children upstairs at their lessons, and the off tune humming of
the little slave in the kitchen as she merrily worked away.
        That was yet one more, another human to add to his lists of responsibilities, but he
could not help himself. She was a beautiful young girl, but her mind was not whole. She
would never have survived the man who was trying to purchase her. She could live out her
life here, in his house, safe, sheltered, and well cared for by Bertha and her family, not
needing to fear the unwanted attentions or cruelties of a mean spirited, greedy, uncaring
and self-indulgent master.
        Bertha‟s awkward and stiff curtsy brought him out of his short reverie. Funny how he
was wont to do that lately. Acquiring a pet, he realized belatedly, was downright civilizing, but
he was still uncertain as to whether it would last. Meanwhile, he had to keep his attention
on the woman, Bertha. She was a rather tall woman, slender enough that she was not
intimidating, yet with curves in the proper places. She was pretty, but time had been hard
on her. He wondered if she was aware that she was going to be blessed with yet another

My Master, My Lover                    9/7/2011                            Rose Paisley

mouth to feed. It seems the fates were playing the right cards for her yesterday evening.
      In truth, he could not regret the kindness to her. Adrian had always been scorned by
his kind for it, but to deny it would be to deny a fundamental part of his nature, a part that
even the Gift of Night could not seem to destroy. To others of his kind, it was a weakness,
an immense vulnerability. Adrian saw it as strength. Too many had given up their better
natures to the Gift. He may have lost the sun, but he would not give up his light or his soul.
      “Do you think that Milos would be up to a visit from me, Bertha?” The quiet question
drew a long sigh from the woman as she answered him.
      “Yea, m‟lord, he would be honored by your visit,” Bertha said as she offered another
awkward curtsey, and led him up the stairs to the cottage‟s master bedroom.
      So began the changes in his household, Bertha‟s life as housekeeper to Master
Adrian, Lord Blacklocke, who in turn was the proud owner of a brand new pet named

My Master, My Lover                   9/7/2011                            Rose Paisley

                                        Chapter 2

       She awoke to the sound of the carter in the courtyard, the clack of the wheels against
the roughly cobbled drive, the soft command of an expertly flicked whip, and the clop of the
iron shod hooves against the stone. Katrine threw the rag that passed for a coverlet from
her, and shivering, reached for the gown that was once a shimmering slide of silk, now a
tattered puddle on the floor beside the bed. The sheer silk overdress, now dirty and torn
was the only clothing she was allowed, but it gave her a much needed illusion of modesty.
       This was the time she hated most in her day, the time she spent struggling with
boredom, alone in forced solitude. There was nothing to do, no one to speak to until the
maid brought her food, and then she was alone again. She wished for company, someone
to talk to who would answer her questions. She had no illusions about her place here, she
had heard them talking as she was led naked from the platform. She was going be trained
as a pleasure slave, and be sold as such. The man who purchased her was the best trainer
in the world when it came to pleasure slaves, and there was speculation as to whom she
was being trained to accommodate.
       Katrine wondered how she could have ended up in such a precarious position, and
mourned her lost freedom. She had heard about the slave markets, but never thought to
find herself in one let alone on the block. It was her fate, however, for here she was, only a
tattered piece of sheer silk to cover her, and the gold cuffs, the cold and constant reminder
of her status. If those were not a prod enough for her memory, the new golden manacle
around her ankle, and its corresponding chain, allowing her to go only as far as the window
seat, made things perfectly clear. Her world had narrowed to the view of the back courtyard
cobbles, and if she stretched, brief glimpses of the wood fringed meadow beyond.
       She rose slowly, carefully, unsure if her wobbly legs could hold her. She had been here
only a few days it seemed, but the drugged stupor in which she had been kept weakened
her, dulled her mind, her senses, and her recollection of time. Too many things happened
too quickly, and yet, as she figured them up, she was surprised at the pair of weeks that had
in actuality passed.
       Upon arrival at this place, she had been stripped of the cloak that the master had
draped around her and taken to a bathing room. There, she had been bathed, massaged,
had her body hair removed, and was intimately examined. After being pronounced a healthy
virgin, she had been led to the blacksmith‟s where she was measured and fitted for her
golden bindings, the jeweled chain collar, a pair of slave bracelets, and ankle manacles she
now wore.
       The first day was a nightmare, spent alone, locked in a small windowless room, seeing
no one, and being fed nothing. The second day was a bit better, and she was given a rasher
of bread, a jug of watered wine, and a ewer of hot water, soap, cloths, and basin to wash.
       The days repeated themselves in such a fashion for the first week, until the day that
the door to her cell was unlocked, and the blacksmith came in bearing her bonds. The
golden collar was fitted and secured, as were the bracelets that adorned her wrists and

My Master, My Lover                     9/7/2011                            Rose Paisley

arms. The bands that circled her slender ankles were also secured quickly and efficiently
along with a length of golden tone chain attached to her left ankle by a ring dangling from
the hasp of the band. The small jeweled padlock that secured the closure was a marvel to
behold, but to Katrine it was just another sign of her captivity. At least now, since she had
received her chains, she was moved and she had a small bit of a view, and what little light
filtered through the filth on the dungeon window.
       She was not prepared for the depth of the anger in the deep voice that evening, nor
the shrillness of the one pleading for mercy as they came closer to her dank, dim, dirty
prison. Nor was she prepared for the sight that greeted her eyes as the door to the small cell
burst open.
       “This is how you treat my property?” The man was tall, dark, and oozed danger, as the
anger in his green-gold gaze snapped fire and heat, and something else, something feral.
There was a lethal aura about him, menace accompanied by an ethereal quality leaving
Katrine feeling as though he wasn‟t quite real. She could not get her bearings around him,
confusion reigned as she didn‟t know whether to be grateful or terrified, happy or fearful.
       “Feel very lucky, Tagger. Lucky you still live for now. I have killed men for lesser
slights, but ultimately, you are not worth it.” The words almost froze in the air, the coldness
in his voice caused Katrine to shiver.
       “But my lord, no instructions were given, no payment made, the chit was just
       “Silence whelp! Those who delivered her had my full set of instructions, and payment
enough for her to be kept and provided for as I required until my return. Do not lie to me or
you may as yet lose the miserable excuse you call a life.” He stalked toward her as he
spoke, and Katrine cringed into the corner. “I will, of course, require a return of the unused
funds…” The voice trailed off, and as Katrine looked up, her gaze locked to his.
       It had to be her imagination, she‟d felt as though his thoughts brushed hers, as if he
could see into her mind, her heart, and could steal her soul if she was not careful.
       “Your name my Pet, what is your name?” The softness of velvet wrapped around her,
the slow slide of his finger down her cheek entranced, and before she knew what she was
doing she blurted out “Katrine d‟Villeux.”
       “Very nice, a beautiful name for a precious pet, and you will be my Pet, won‟t you,
Katrine?” Smooth, seductive, she could only nod her head in the affirmative as the
compulsion to obey rode her. The fingers slid underneath the fragile barrier and caressed
the delicate skin of her breast. “Excellent. Then we shall be off.”
       With a quick flick of his wrist, the sheer silk was shredded and dropped from her body.
Her startled cry was swallowed as he claimed her mouth, fusing her to him with his will alone
as his hands freely roamed her nakedness.
       “This is how you were meant to be, Katrine, and this is how you will stay unless I will it
otherwise. You belong to me now, and you will answer to no other, see no other unless I
command it, and will learn all I have to teach you. Do you understand?”
       She was too shocked to answer, too weak to fight, and too drugged and confused to
truly understand.

     She amused him.
     He felt the whirling of her mind, the intelligence there, the fire hidden beneath the
drugs she had been given to keep her docile and manageable. They had been administered

My Master, My Lover                   9/7/2011                            Rose Paisley

against his orders, he did not believe in drugging his slaves or those he trained. He would
deal with Tagger later, and he would definitely be sorry for his greed. For now, he had more
pleasant things to do, and the first of them was to get his newly acquired pet to her new
home. He knew he faced a different challenge. This time, the training was for his pleasure,
for his needs, and from what he could see when he brushed Katrine‟s mind, she was smart,
quick-witted, and should be easily trained. The trick would be in not breaking her spirit, but
enslaving her body and soul to him and him alone. He would become her drug of choice,
bringing her so much pleasure she could not be satisfied by any other. She would have
others to compare, he would see to it, and she would come to crave only him.
       When he completed her training, she would be his, body, mind, and soul. If in the
process he claimed her heart, it would be a bonus beyond measure, for it was yet another
set of controls for him to use. He was ruthless in getting what he wanted, and that night in
Raynaud‟s Auction two weeks ago, he had struck gold.
       He took the heavy golden chain attached to her ankle, and used it to secure her hands
behind her back, attaching it to the cuffs with identical jeweled padlocks, and finishing off
with yet another padlock at her right ankle. He pulled a thinner chain length of a finer gold
and attached it to the D ring at her neck. The delicate jeweled filigree collar was stronger
than it looked; he had been assured by the man who made the golden bonds for her they
would hold even the most recalcitrant slave. The woman about whose slim neck, wrists, and
ankles they were now secured would soon learn of their true meaning.
       He tugged on the chain, pulling her forward to the door, leaving the fetid little room,
and her only garment behind. He expected her to fight a bit, even through the drugs he
could feel her rebelling at her naked state as Tagger and the others leered at her. When a
hand reached out and pinched the delicate skin of her breast and caused her to whimper,
Adrian spun around and struck without mercy, almost striking the offender hard enough to
       “No one approaches or touches what is mine without permission. The next to try is
dead, understood?” Heads nodded, and Tagger blanched. If he was smart, Adrian thought,
he knew his time was limited unless he could appease him, and Adrian did not know if that
was possible after the conditions in which he had found his new Pet, and the drugs swirling
in her system.
       Adrian led his new acquisition through the hallways and into what appeared to be
living quarters. There, he handed her chain to a man dressed in fine livery of purple
superfine trimmed in silver and gold embroidery.
       “I will need your assistance with this as usual, Jonathan,” as he snapped his fingers
and another man, dressed the same appeared with a satchel and handed it to Adrian.
“Thank you, Thomas.”
       The bag was opened, and Adrian started removing some small bottles, and a few odd
looking objects from within. They were placed on a cloth spread on the table beside a large
chair. When all was ready, he turned his attention to his new toy, the new Pet who would
learn to warm his bed, beg for his body, and fulfill his every need.

My Master, My Lover                   9/7/2011                            Rose Paisley

                                        Chapter 3

        A shiver coursed down her body, and Adrian watched the slender muscles ripple as
awareness coursed through her. She was fairly clean, but she had not bathed in days,
Adrian could see the streaks of her paltry attempts at cleaning herself. This pleased him,
assured him she was not of a slovenly nature.
        He directed James to position her by the arm of the chair, and before her drugged
mind realized what was happening, he had her feet bound to the legs, and she was bent
over the arm and into the perfect position for what he was going to do. Spread open, and
vulnerable, held in the grip of the two strong men, she couldn‟t move, couldn‟t fight, could
only cry.
        “Easy Pet, don‟t fight me on this now,” he crooned as he stroked his hand down her
spine, then over her luscious buttocks. Gently he drew a finger down the rift between the
globes, finding unerringly the small puckered opening he was about to invade. From the
table, he picked up a small vial of liquid, a lubricant he‟d made just for her. He wet the
fingers of one hand with a small amount of the slippery fluid, then slowly dripping a bit more
directly on her and spreading it about her anus. Gently as possible, he slipped one finger
inside, pumping and pushing a bit farther with each stroke. When it was buried as deep as
it could go, he gave her two quick slaps on each cheek, and slowly with drew the finger, only
to add more lubricant and repeat the process with two, and then three. By the time he had
three fingers buried in her rear entrance, the cries had turned to tears, and the tears to
moans of arousal. His new Pet was a quick study. She adapted well to this pleasure/pain
which was a good omen for him.
        He knew he was being watched, Tagger and his friends were not about to miss this,
and although he wished he had privacy for Katrine‟s sake, the sooner she acclimated to the
life she would be leading, the better. From the table, he picked up a set of graduated golden
balls strung on a thin bar with a large ring on one end. He applied lubricant to the device,
then pressed the first ball into his new pet‟s anus.
        “Easy girl, relax sweet,” he crooned as he slipped each successively larger ball into
the waiting opening. “That‟s my Pet, you can do it, take them all for me. These are not very
big, sweet, these are nothing. Ah yes, take them in just line that. Good girl.”
        When he had them all in, Adrian started to pump them inside her. The sounds she
made at first were those of discomfort, but soon changed in texture. She was learning about
the pleasure he could give, but she had to learn it came with a price attached. In order to
appreciate the fullness of the pleasure, she had to earn her arousal with a little pain, which
he proceeded to give her by way of his riding crop across her blushing ass. Three strokes to
each cheek to start was followed by his hand softly stroking the pinked and sensitized flesh,
then he returned to the pumping the toy imbedded within her.
        He knew she didn‟t understand, he was not going to explain now. It was imperative
she learn to trust him, and that was part of the reason he was fitting her special plug with

My Master, My Lover                    9/7/2011                            Rose Paisley

this audience. He also needed them to watch him claim what was his, and if they were
lucky, they would survive the experience. He reached between her legs, finding the opening
to her vagina almost dripping wet and well lubricated. From the table he again picked up a
pair of loose gold balls, and a small slightly cup-shaped filigree disk with a ring attached to
the inside. He slipped the balls into her passage, pushing them up as far as they would go,
then inserted the disk, ring-side down, to hold them there. He knew he would have her
exercise the muscles so eventually she would hold then within without help, but for now, the
disk would do. Then he picked up a small length of gold chain and attached it to the ring on
the disk and to the ring on the rod. Dangling from the chain just below the disk was a tag
engraved with Adrian‟s initials, signifying his ownership.
        He stood back, admiring his handy work. Her ass was flushed from his crop, she
wore his plug and his disk, his initials dangled between her thighs for all to see. He reached
out again, stroking the soft and heated flesh with a possessive air. Danger swirled around
him, the air heavy with menace.
        “Release her, gentlemen, and allow her to stand,” he still stroked her as he gave his
orders. When her hands and arms were freed, and she stood shaking against him, Adrian
turned her toward the audience gathered in the room. Cupping her breasts and lifting them,
he faced the men gathered there.
        “This is my property, my Pet. These beautiful teats are mine, to lift, to caress, to
pinch and pull as I will.” Each statement was accompanied with the action, and he heard
Katrine gasp in renewed pleasure. The blush of her arousal and her acute embarrassment
at being put on such display colored her skin as he continued to play with her breasts.
        “Look at her.” His voice was laced with compulsion, the men had to obey. Adrian‟s
hands lifted and kneaded her breasts, plucked at her nipples. Experience told him he was
causing them to tingle and send shards of electricity to throb between her legs. His
sensitive nose told him he was succeeding in arousing her even more. He moved one hand
down her body to the tangle of black curls hiding her femininity. His skilled fingers found the
sensitive bundle of nerves and stroked, his rhythm matching the hand still plucking and
stroking her breast. He brushed her mind with his and knew she felt herself heat, felt
pressure build, but didn‟t know what was happening. Her virgin status was intact, so she
wouldn‟t have any idea of what her body was doing, was preparing for, or telling her. She
only knew the feelings of arousal, and for now that was enough.
        His hand stilled and cupped her mons, fingers idly flicking the chain. “Spread your
legs, Pet. Let them get a good look at what they will never have,” he crooned as he nudged
her feet apart, leaning her back slowly as he grasped the chain and tugged. He knew the
sensations that were rocketing through her. He was trained in the sexual arts, his ambition
drove him to excel. The school was the most highly regarded in its time, and the Masters
believed that to administer the training, and become a Master, one had to experience it as
        “This tag proclaims her as my property. I hold the papers of her ownership. Any man
defiling, mistreating, or attempting to do so, will pay my price. Tagger, if you value your life
and your property, return what you have stolen. I will be at the White Horse Tavern. You
have till midnight.”

My Master, My Lover                   9/7/2011                          Rose Paisley

                                       Chapter 4

        A watery moon cast its pale light across the courtyard and the gardens beyond as the
ostlers hitched the huge blacks to the coach. James and Thomas were closely supervising
the work, with their master‟s baggage ready to be loaded for the trip home. The return to
the inn had been tense, Adrian was angrier than either had ever seen him, and they had
been with him for longer than they wanted to admit. They knew there would be hell to pay if
Tagger didn‟t come through and return the money and the clothing he‟d taken for the girl‟s


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