Page 14 of Jonah Noble - Anticipation Is Everything (Interview With a Master 2.5)

On one level, Leticia was deeply aroused by watching me train and have sex with Cameron. On another, more significant level, Leticia had wanted to participate.

It was early afternoon. I went out through the glass kitchen doors and found both Cameron and Leticia lazing by the pool. They were lying on their backs in recliner chairs, sharing the kind of companionable silence that didn’t need conversation. The sun was warm, the sky blue and cloudless. Both women were wearing bikinis, their bodies glistening with perspiration and lotion. Leticia had a straw sunhat over her face, Cameron had an arm flung across her eyes. I took an indulgent moment to compare their bodies once more – they were remarkably similar in shape and figure. Cameron’s breasts were a little larger, Leticia’s legs a little longer, a little more toned. I stood so that my shape cast a shadow across Leticia’s body and after a moment she seemed to sense my presence. She drew away the sun hat and gave me a warm lazy smile.

“I wondered how long it would take you to find us,” she said. Cameron sat up, as though coming drowsily awake. She saw me standing before the chairs and her expression became curious.

“I haven’t been looking for you – until just now,” I said to Leticia. “I’ve been working, and thinking all morning. I came outside for a breath of fresh air – and for a meeting.”

“About work?” Leticia looked puzzled.

I shook my head. “A meeting between the three of us,” I said. “Kind of like a progress report, and a chance to discuss how the week has been so far for everyone involved.”

Leticia cast a sideways glance at Cameron and then her eyes drifted back to mine. “Now?”

I shrugged. “Why not? It doesn’t look like you two girls have too much going on.”

Leticia sat up in the chair and took a long look at the sky. There was an hour of sunbathing time left before the sun dipped behind the tops of the trees. She adjusted the straps of her bikini top with the hook of her thumb and then fluffed her hands through her hair. “Sure,” she said with a reluctant resignation in her voice. “Just as long as we can hold your meeting right here.”

I pointed to a small wrought-iron table and chairs that were nested around the far side of the pool. “The table,” I said.

When we were seated, I turned my attention to Cameron. I asked her for her thoughts and feedback regarding her experiences since Friday night.

“It’s been an eye-opener,” she admitted. “I knew the reality would be very different to the fantasies I had, but I didn’t realize how different.”

I lifted a curious eyebrow. “In what ways have you noticed differences?”

Cameron shrugged her shoulders. “Well for starters, I thought you would be training me in some dark atmospheric dungeon. I thought all BDSM Masters had these carefully appointed rooms full of whips and equipment,” there was a twinkle in her eyes. “But the reality has been almost mundane.” She held up a hand quickly. “Maybe that’s not the right word,” she said in apology. “I was just expecting something much more elaborate… and intimidating.”

I nodded. This comment was perhaps the most common one regarding the lifestyle. It seemed that every woman who submitted herself thought BDSM was all about walls lined with heavy timber equipment and a range of toys and tools to match a torturer’s dungeon.

“Submissive women do not surrender to intimidating equipment, nor whips, nor crops, nor cuffs,” I said. “And no man can convince a woman he is a Master just because he has all the paraphernalia associated with the lifestyle,” I corrected Cameron’s assertion with patience and a low reasonable voice. “A woman submits to a man. It is the man that matters, not the equipment he has at his disposal. A good Master can offer a submissive woman infinite pleasure and experience with just a few household items and his imagination – if he genuinely is a Master.”

I glanced at Leticia. She had heard this before but nevertheless she was paying attention, watching Cameron’s face as though she were reading the impact of my words as they registered and altered the woman’s expression.

“The reverse is true also,” I cautioned Cameron. “Just because a man talks the talk – and just because he has a room packed with intimidating equipment – that doesn’t make him a good Master. At the heart of this lifestyle it comes down to the relationship between the man and the woman. Everything else is like the decorations on a Christmas tree.”

Cameron nodded her head as though I had delivered some sage revelation that had been dipped in the wisdom of the ages. She tilted her head to the side and made her eyes wide and artless.

“Have you always known what women want?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Ever since I cared to take an interest,” I said.

“How did you learn?”

“Exactly like this,” I smiled. “I asked questions, I sought information and feedback. I asked what women liked and I began to understand a woman’s mind.”

Cameron fell thoughtfully silent, and I picked up the thread of the conversation, steering it back on the course I had initially decided upon.

“Have your experiences since Friday night measured up to your expectations?” I asked.

Cameron nodded her head as though the question required no thought. “Yes,” she said. “On a physical level, the sex has been amazing.” She hooded her eyes almost shyly. “I like how you take control,” she confessed. “How you make me obey you. I thought you would be harsher and more demanding, but it turns out that the things you command me to do are the very things I want so much. It’s like you know what will turn me on – what will arouse me the most.”

I nodded. I didn’t say, “That’s because I listen and pay attention.” I didn’t feel the point needed to be made again.

“It’s on an emotional level that I have been the most surprised,” Cameron went on. “I had expected this to be a purely physical experience – I mean we hardly know each other,” she turned her head to include Leticia in her comment. “And yet I find the emotional satisfaction of submitting to be even more empowering than the liberating sensations of the physical sex. Does that make sense?”

I felt the question had been directed more to Leticia than me. I sat silently. Leticia nodded her agreement. “I get it,” she said. “From a woman’s point of view I can understand how satisfying it must feel to have something like the BDSM lifestyle resonate deep in your soul. And I can understand that it might be even more emotionally satisfying than the sex itself.”

Cameron nodded the way a person does when they feel like someone in the world actually understands them. The two women started to chat between themselves and in a single instant the meeting threatened once more to veer away from the path I had intended.

I interrupted, bluntly. I hadn’t called this meeting for chatter; I had called it for genuine feedback. As a Master, I had always found communication with my submissives crucial. I wanted to know how Cameron felt, and whether she was enjoying her taste of the submissive lifestyle. Listening to her was like a mechanic listening to the sound of a car’s running engine. Her comments and the tone of her voice would help me ‘tune up’ her experiences so that the entire week was mutually satisfying.

A lot of men make the mistake of assuming that their role as a Master centers around their own satisfaction. I was too experienced to make that error. I was only a Master for this week because Cameron had consented to submit. I wanted to know how she felt – and then ensure those feeling were the ones she found satisfying and rewarding.

“Do you feel used?” I asked her suddenly, and then narrowed my eyes because I was paying close attention to her answer.

“Oh, yes!” she said happily. “I sense it in the way you stand over me and insist I use my mouth to please you… and I feel it in the way you watch me when you make me touch myself. It’s like I am on display for you.”

“So feeling used in this way is something that is gratifying?” I wanted to be sure.

“Of course,” Cameron shrugged her shoulders, as though the answer was obvious

. Then she reached across the table, stretching her fingers towards me as though needing to be in contact with me. “I’m enjoying everything about this week,” she smiled sincerely. “There’s not a thing that has happened in that bungalow that I would change in any way. Not a thing…”

I sat back, satisfied and at the same time intrigued. Cameron’s comment had come with a double edge, and an intimation of something more than her submission to me. Between the lines was a veiled willingness for Leticia’s tentative participation in our activities to continue.

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