Page 24 of Master Class

Edge stiffened in his seat and sucked in a lungful of breath. His lips were pressed together into a thin pale line, and his jaw was thrust out, giving his profile a kind of arrogance. Or maybe it was resolve…

Edge turned to Clarissa at last, and as he moved in

the driver’s seat, his body twisted and her hand tightened its press against his cock.

“Your virginity is not an inhibition to your training,” Edge said flatly.

“It is to me!” Clarissa became urgent. “Without being fucked, how can I ever truly be prepared? How can you send me from here experienced in everything except the thing that a Master will want more than anything else?”

Edge’s eyes turned cold. “Don’t be so impatient.” It sounded like a warning. Clarissa felt herself flinch.

“I’m simply responding to everything you’re teaching me,” Clarissa made her voice placating. “That’s a good thing. I’m aroused. My pussy aches. I know I’m a virgin, but I’m not a child. I’m ready to be fucked, Master. I’m aching for you to take me and use me.”

“Don’t be so impatient!” Edge said again. His voice rose. He pushed her hand off his cock and reached abruptly for the car’s door handle. “Now, get inside and get your things. Your training for tonight is finished.”

Chapter 12:

Clarissa slept only fitfully, despite the weary exhaustion that made her body feel heavy as lead. It was her mind; it wouldn’t switch off.

At first she had lain awake, staring at the ceiling of her bedroom, while she replayed the scene at the sex shop and everything she had learned from the girl named Margie. She thought back over each of the cocks she had sucked, and they seemed to blur in her memory. What remained crystal clear were the instances she had turned to admire the other girl – the way Margie had slavishly adored each fresh cock that had been thrust at her, and how she had given herself so completely to ensuring each man’s pleasure.

Then Clarissa’s thoughts turned to Nick Edge – as they inevitably did every night before she slept. The man was an enigma that baffled her. She knew she aroused him; she had seen and felt evidence of that again tonight. She had made his cock hard. He wanted her.

So what was the fucking problem?

Was Edge so morally rigid that he was incapable of bending his own discipline, even for the chance at a fresh tight pussy?

A virgin pussy, no less?

Or was there some deeper reason that Nick Edge wouldn’t just put her on her back, spread her legs and fuck her?

Was it some emotional connection to Anna Wilkinson that was keeping him in check? Was he in love with Anna?

Or – more dreadfully – was it that he just didn’t find her, Clarissa, sexy enough to break his disciplined resolve?

This last thought filled Clarissa with genuine fear. She knew she was attractive… but not all men had the same tastes. Maybe Edge got his buttons pushed at the sight of girls with short hair, or dark hair, or big breasts… or… or what?

She didn’t know how many submissive women Edge had trained before she had arrived on his doorstep. And she didn’t know what those women looked like. Were they more attractive than her? Did Edge have some secret fetish that Clarissa was oblivious to, and that he was keeping secret from her because of her pitiful lack of sexual experience?

She mulled the problem over, like it was a big round ball floating above her head, spinning slowly. On the surface of the ball were written all her fearful doubts and questions, but nowhere on the ball could she see an opening. The ball just kept spinning round and round, and Clarissa didn’t see any way inside; any way to unravel the enigma of Nick Edge.

Clarissa hoisted herself up in the bed, smashed her pillow into shape with her fist and threw herself back down on the mattress. Her frustration wasn’t just emotional. It was physical too.

In the shower before bed, she had washed away the dry splashes of cum and the stuffy odors of the sex shop’s little booth… but what she couldn’t scrub away was the lingering ache between her legs; the soft, constant throbbing need for satisfaction. She carried the urge to cum like a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach, dammed by her self-control, but threatening to spill over because she was only human, after all.

“Fuck him!” Clarissa said out loud, and dug her elbow into a lump in the mattress. “Fuck you, Nick Edge!”

If only she could, she thought bitterly. If only she could fuck him, then all of this… this nightmare would be over and she could get on with her life, and save her grandfather’s farm from the manipulating clutches of the Congressman.

“Fuck you, Nick Edge!” she said again, this time spitting the words like she was uttering a wicked curse. As if to spite the man, she reached down across her abdomen, and at the same time spread her legs beneath the sheet.

Edge hadn’t given her permission to cum, but Edge wasn’t here, was he?

She was alone – and she was horny because Edge refused to fuck her, so in a way, this was payback, dammit.

And Nick Edge could go to hell, because he’d never know, Clarissa decided with a little thrill of rebellion.

She let her hand glide over the soft raised mound of her sex and felt her flesh tingle with delicious anticipation. She could sense the pulsing need of her clit. It was there, just an inch away from where she held her fingertips. It would take just the barest movement, and she could massage away the ache that robbed her of sleep.

“Fuck you, Nick Edge!”

Clarissa drifted her fingers across her clit and her body jolted with the delicious electric pleasure of the sensation. She needed this, bad! She hadn’t realized just how desperate she was until the moment she had touched herself, and her body had responded with such violent need.

She teased her clit and felt its hardness. Then she let her fingers glide down to the soaking wetness of her pussy. She gasped and arched her back. Her legs flayed further apart. A spark of fire chased its way up her spine and made her eyes glaze over.

“Fuck you, Nick Edge…” she said it more softly this time, the tone no longer an abusive reproach, but instead almost with despair.

Clarissa closed her eyes and her mind filled with swirling images of her and Edge, lying on a bed. It was her bed – her narrow little bed in her tiny little apartment. Edge’s big muscled body seemed to cover the entire mattress. They were lying, facing each other. They were naked. One of Edge’s hands was draped over her hip, his fingers dipping between the gap of her thighs. Clarissa had one leg flung over Edge’s body so they were entwined. The position opened her up to Edge’s exploring fingers and she ground herself against him, encouraging him with her writhing hips and the soft aching moans in the back of her throat. She kissed his naked chest. Her little gasps became pants. She could feel the tips of Edge’s fingers pulling apart the lips of her pussy and then a warm wetness melted over her. She heard the soft slick sounds of Edge’s touch as he dipped two fingers inside her pussy. She clenched her teeth and shuddered. She could feel Edge’s heart beating through the muscle of his chest. She could feel it vibrating against her lips. His beat was steady and rhythmic, while her own heart felt like it was racing like a revving engine.

On the bed, alone in her room, Clarissa matched the touch of her own fingers with the fantasy playing through her mind. She pleasured herself slowly – just the way she dreamed Edge was doing it – then lifted her hips off the mattress and slowly rocked herself.

In her mind, Edge rolled on top of her and Clarissa’s legs opened wide to welcome him. He seemed weightless; there was just the feel of his chest against hers, and the insistent pressure of their hips, locked together.

“Fuck me, Nick Edge…” Clarissa muttered in a strained whisper.

Her mind drifted back to the fantasy. She buried her head in Edge’s strong shoulder and then felt him at the gates of her pussy demanding entry. “Yes!” she called out to him, overwhelmed by the vision so that reality and fantasy melded together. She imagined him then, sliding slowly inside her and the marvelous sensations she would feel. She imagined her nipples turning hard as bullets and her breath hitching in her throat. She visualized Edge groaning in her ear, washed away on a tide of his own desire… and that alone was enough to claw her from the fantasy as she buried both her fingers as deep inside of herself as she co

uld manage. She compressed her body on the mattress, drawing her knees up. She could feel the familiar rush of her orgasm sweeping over her like an inevitable wave crashing towards the shore. She drew herself tight and clenched her teeth. She was gasping; hissing each fresh breath.

“Oh, God…!” Clarissa’s eyes flew open, but she did not see the ceiling of her bedroom. Instead she saw Nick Edge’s face, his expression concentrated and racked with tension. His eyes were wide open, swirling with disbelief at the sensations he was experiencing. His mouth was scraped back into a tight thin-lipped line.

It was how she imagined he would look at the moment of his orgasm.

Clarissa came, matching her real-life release with the picture of Edge exploding inside of her. The force of her pent up orgasm threw her about on the bed. Her hips bucked and thrashed and then her whole body went stiff as a board. She had both her hands clamped between her legs as if she were trying to hold the orgasm within herself and never let the feeling go.

It lasted a long time, and she seemed to drift back from a place far away. She was breathing deeply, her body limp and languid. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, and there was a hot flush glowing through her skin. She lay, basking in the heavenly sensation for long minutes before she felt her body settle and her senses finally clear.

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