Page 25 of Master Class

The bed was a mess. The sheets were on the floor, and so was a pillow.

Clarissa let out a long heavy breath, like the one people use to blow out birthday candles.

Afterwards – when the room was quiet and her breathing had settled back into its usual rhythm – she felt better; lighter. But she also felt guilty. She knew Edge would never know that she had defied him, but she would know.

Clarissa was struck then by a startling, profound thought. She realized just how dedicated and committed she had become to her submissive training. It wasn’t even necessary. She had gone to Edge for BDSM instruction for one reason only – to get him to fuck her and to photograph the moment. Nothing else mattered, because with the evidence she would be set free of the Congressman.

And yet, here she was, diligently following Edge’s instructions, obeying his every command without question, and earnestly trying to win his favor and approval.

…Until tonight when she had made herself cum without his permission.

She rolled onto her side and stared out through the bedroom window. There was a chink in the gauzy thin fabric and she could see the city skyline; not the pretty façade of Washington – nothing like a million dollar view… but rather a grimy scene of the working city’s bleak underbelly, lit by bright lights as though to mask the ugliness. Clarissa folded her arms and used her hands for a pillow to support her head. With the need to cum washed away from her body, she felt soft and limp. She could sleep now… if the guilt would let her.

Chapter 13:

Clarissa skipped work at the city politician’s office the next morning. She was tired and irritable; sleep had eluded her for much of the night, and when she had finally dozed, Nick Edge had been there, tormenting her in her dreams.

She wasted the day in listless contemplation; mired in a lethargy of helplessness. She simply didn’t know what else she could possibly do to tempt Edge into fucking her.

It wasn’t this hard for other women!

Jesus! There were guys on every street corner that would gladly fuck her. She saw the way men looked at her; the lustful hungry look in their eyes when she walked past, or when she smiled shyly. So what the hell was wrong with Edge? Why couldn’t he be just another red-blooded guy with only one thing on his mind?

She threw herself back on the unmade bed and lay there stewing. The sun through the window of her room was like a magnifying glass, turning the whole bedroom warm. A shaft of light spread across her chest and legs, lulling and comforting. Clarissa closed her eyes and tried to visualize herself in Edge’s arms, with him tearing at her clothes as she twisted and teased him, laughing with flirtatious giggles. She would put up a struggle, of course. Just enough to show Edge that she wasn’t that kind of girl…

…In her romantic fantasies.

Because in reality, she was that kind of girl. She was exactly that kind of girl! She was the sort of woman who was so desperate for Edge to fuck her that she had literally begged him to!

And still he had refused her.

Clarissa closed her eyes. The sun crept slowly up her body, wrapping her in a blanket of soft radiant warmth that reminded her of her childhood. When she had been too ill for school, her mom had made her spend the day in bed, and the sun through the window was just like it was right now…

Finally, she slept.

Clarissa woke with a start, suddenly chilled. There were goosebumps on her arms and legs, and the room was gloomy with darkness. She shot a horrified glance at her bedside clock and then swore vehemently.

“Fuck!”

It was after 6 pm. She had slept through the entire afternoon. Now night was draping itself like a black cloak over the city. Lights were winking from down on the busy street below. Clarissa flung herself out of bed with no time to shower, and called a cab while she hurriedly dressed. She snatched red panties and a bra from the top drawer of her dresser, then pulled on a short black dress. In the bathroom, she combed her fingers through her hair and swept a cluster of cosmetics into her handbag, like a poker player collecting his winning chips. She could attend to her makeup on the way.

She was down the stairs and waiting on the sidewalk just fifteen minutes later. She paced back and forth impatiently. A cab pulled out of the streaming traffic and swung to the sidewalk. She gave the driver the address and slumped back in the seat with a blast of breath and a heavy sigh.

She would be late, she fretted.

Edge would not be happy.

Clarissa arrived beyond the high gates of Nick Edge’s house a few minutes after 7 pm. She paid the driver with a fistful of bills and ran on high heels to the intercom that was built into the stone fence post. She stabbed the button with her finger in an impatient frenzy.

“It’s Clarissa,” she said when she heard the buzz of a connection.

The high iron gate opened. Clarissa ran down the driveway, licking at her lips and pressing at her hair. She saw an unfamiliar car parked near the wide steps. It was a dark sedan – a vehicle she had never seen before. She frowned for an instant, then frowned again when she looked up at the façade of the house. Apart from a light inside the front door, the rest of the bottom floor of the house was dark. There were two lights burning in windows on the second floor.

She dabbed the doorbell with her thumb. After a long agitated wait, she heard heavy footsteps. Clarissa braced herself and wrenched her face into a wide-eyed expression of apology.

Edge opened the door.

“You’re late,” he stared at her balefully, as though she had committed some high crime. Clarissa licked her lips with nerves. She felt herself seem to physically wilt under the blow torch of the man’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” she said, then lowered her head. “I have no excuse.”

The admission made her cheeks flush bright red. She had flirted with the idea of lying; of passing the blame onto the cab driver, or the traffic… or space aliens. But in the end, her honesty made her confess the truth. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I didn’t work today. I slept instead.”

Edge grunted. His eyes were like chips of stone. He swung the door back and stepped aside. Clarissa came meekly into the foyer.

“Undress,” Edge said.

Clarissa had been expecting this. It was almost a routine. Quickly she shrugged off her dress, shimmying her hips to pull the tight fabric down over herself.

“And the lingerie,” Edge’s voice was flat and without warmth. “I want you naked except for the heels.”

Clarissa did as she was told. She discarded her bra and then finally her panties. She bundled the sheer fabric into a tight ball within her fist and stuffed the garments into her handbag. She stood up straight, her eyes fixed ahead and staring into space. Edge reached into his pocket and produced a thin, soft length of rope, about four feet long. At one end of the rope was a loop. He draped the loop loosely over Clarissa’s neck, like a leash.

“Follow me.”

He led her up the staircase to the top floor of the house. Clarissa could see wedges of light from two open doors halfway down the passage on her left. She followed Edge into the first room. It was a bedroom with a big king-size four-poster bed. Lying in the middle of the bed, in just his shorts, was big Jim – the man who owned the sex shop she had been driven to.

Standing in a corner, also naked and with her hands cuffed behind her back, was the blonde submissive girl, Margie. The girl had her head down, her eyes gazing at the floor between her feet. Her flesh was soft and pale under the light from the lamps on either side of the bed. She was standing obedient and straight and silent. Edge led Clarissa over to the corner where the other girl was waiting and left her there.

“Eyes down. Hands behind your back.”

Clarissa obeyed. Edge let the leash dangle between her breasts.

From the corner of her eye, Clarissa could see a joining internal door that connected to a bathroom, and then another open door beyond which revealed a second bedroom where more lights burned.

Edge

went casually to the side of the bed and flicked a glance at Jim.

“Well?” Then he folded his arms across his chest and ran an appraising eye over both the girls, standing still as statues. Clarissa was taller, her body a little slimmer. She had smaller breasts, but they were still pert and well defined shapes that curved from her chest. Margie’s breasts were larger, her hips a little wider, and her skin a little paler.

Jim didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, of course,” he said. He had missed the opportunity to experience the pleasure of Clarissa’s mouth at the glory hole. He wouldn’t miss another chance. He was watching Clarissa with dark lustful eyes, his cock growing hard in his shorts. He propped himself up on one elbow. He was a big man, and any muscle that had ever accumulated across his arms and chest had long since turned to pale flab. He wasn’t yet fat… that would inevitably come in a few more years of poor diet and no exercise.

“You want her here?” Edge asked.

Jim shrugged his shoulders. It didn’t matter. This room, the bathroom or the other bedroom; he didn’t care. He just wanted her. “Sure,” he said finally. “I’m comfortable enough.”

Edge nodded and grunted. “Remember the rule?”

“How could I forget?” Jim’s face became a wry grimace of disappointment. Edge narrowed his eyes. “It’s set in stone, Jim. Understand?”

“Yeah,” he capitulated. “A deal is a deal.”

Edge nodded. He went back to Clarissa and lifted her face with a finger under her chin.

“You are going to stay with Jim in this bedroom and pleasure him in any way he desires,” Edge explained. “I’ve told him he cannot fuck you – but he can do anything else he wants. I expect you to give him the time of his life. Do you understand?”

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