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  “Master Class”

  Jason Luke

  Copyright © 2017 Jason Luke

  The right of Jason Luke to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  Chapter 1:

  One of the girls about to sell her virginity was crying.

  She had her lips pressed together, muffling her soft sobbing gulps. There were three other women waiting in the line, all of them with their hands shackled behind their backs. The cuffs and chains that bound the four women were real, though the locking mechanisms that constrained them were a staged deception… like everything else about this moment. It was an illusory fantasy to conceal a dark and grim reality.

  The young women were all dressed in lacy white panties that tied at the hips, and matching string bras that barely contained their breasts. They were all young and silken, glossy with youth and vigor… and the unmistakable aura of quiet desperation.

  They stood straight at attention with their shoulders back and their feet pressed together; statuesque erotic models in high heels and careful makeup.

  The sound of muffled voices and footsteps approaching sucked the nervous breath from their lungs. The women exchanged hopeful and fraught expressions, and then cast their eyes expectantly towards the closed dungeon door.

  The walls of the room were covered with a lining of imitation sandstone brick, and there were torches burning from iron brackets along the far wall. The bare concrete floor was covered with straw, and there was a rack of leather whips hanging from a large wooden flogging cross in the middle of the room.

  The high dungeon door swung back on creaking hinges. A man and a woman came into the room. The man wore a thin black leather mask to conceal his identity, but through the eyeholes, his gaze was glittering with avarice and excitement.

  “We’re so glad you could find the time to visit us today, sir,” the woman fawned over the man. She was in her fifties, with cold grey eyes and carefully manicured features. She had unnaturally blonde hair piled into a bun at the back of her head, and from her neck and ears hung glittering diamonds. “I am so glad the merchandise in the catalogue appealed to you.”

  The man nodded brusquely. He took a moment to admire the setting. When he had visited two months earlier, this room had been elaborately decorated as an ancient Egyptian temple, and the girls on offer were each dressed as servant girls. Today it was a dungeon. He admired the madam’s enterprise and muttered a compliment. Then he fixed his eyes on the four young women displayed for his inspection. He was wearing an expensive suit; his grey hair parted on the side and cut short.

  “It’s always a pleasure to visit,” the man smiled. “And the photos you sent were certainly enticing.” He appeared to be about the same age as the woman. He had the traces of a slow drawling southern accent, but in his words were also the illusive but distinctive qualities of wealth and power.

  The woman clasped her wrinkled, bejeweled hands together and smiled up into the man’s masked face. Behind her cold eyes was a glittering predatory gleam. “I think it will be a busy week,” she said softly. “The quality of merchandise available is very high.”

  “I can see,” the man said smoothly. He walked casually to where the four young women stood waiting and silent. The man stopped before the first girl and noted the lingering redness in her eyes and the slight puffiness there.

  “Has there been anyone else visit yet?” the man asked the woman without turning to address her. His eyes were fixed on the breasts of the first girl waiting in line.

  “No,” the woman put pleasure and excitement into her voice. “As always, you get first choice.”

  The man smiled to himself. Power and influence had their own special privileges.

  He drew a deep breath and kept his eyes on the girl’s body clinical and appraising. He wasn’t really interested in her. He had come for one reason only… but that didn’t mean he wasn’t an appreciator of fine female flesh. And a beautiful young woman always had her uses…

  “Tell me about this one,” the man insisted, turning to the middle aged woman at last, and gesturing back at the first near-naked girl like she was a piece of furniture.

  The woman’s expression turned cunning. “You have a discerning eye,” she flattered the man with groveling praise. “You always pick out the prettiest girls I can find.”

  The man’s smile was like everything else about him; oily and condescending. A man like him didn’t claw his way into the corridors of power by getting played by bitter old whoremasters like this woman. Still, he played the game – and kept the beast of his real nature behind his carefully cultivated public façade.

  “So nice of you to say so.” Spoken like a true southern gentleman.

  The woman fluttered her eyes, made coquettish by the man’s genteel charm. Her most important clients always got her personal attention.

  “The girl’s name is Katherine,” the woman ran her own simmering gaze over the lithe body of the first girl. “Her mother is Scandinavian. You can see it in her features and the long golden hair.”

  The man nodded. He had his eyes between her legs, staring fixedly at the tiny patch of gossamer fabric that covered her sex.

  “She’s got a 34” bust, 24” waist, and 36” hips,” the woman went on, repeating information that she had emailed the man in the catalogue. “She’s also bisexual…” she let that tantalizing fact hang in the air, knowing it was a particular fetish that appealed to many of her clients.

  “Interesting,” the man could feel his cock hardening in his pants. The girl was exquisite, and at another time he would certainly have bought her.

  “Let me see her breasts.”

  The woman smiled with slanted hooded eyes. The girl before them was staring fixedly at a space on the far wall, her chin lifted, her lips slightly parted because she was breathing in short, shallow gasps. She had choked back the last of her nerve-wracked sobs. Now she was simply too frightened to move. She felt the man’s smoldering gaze roam across her body like crawling insects. She closed her eyes.

  The woman caressed the girl’s shoulder with the palm of her hand in a gesture that was vaguely sexual. With her other hand she unfastened the string knot of her bra and the wisps of fabric fell to the floor at the girl’s feet. The woman gently cupped one of the girl’s breasts, massaging the warm resilient elasticity of her flesh until the nipple hardened.

  “Would you like to touch?” the woman offered the girl to the man.

  He drew his lips into a tight smile. The girl’s nipples were like small rubies against the milky white flesh of her breast. He tweaked the girl’s nipple between two of his fingers and heard the girl suck in a ragged breath.

  “Isn’t she delightful?” the woman’s eyes were misted with her own kinky lust.

  “She’s gorgeous,” the man agreed.

  “And she’s shaved.” To prove it, the woman tugged at the string knot of the girl’s panties. The silky fabric fell away like a drawn theater curtain. The man looked down at the shaved mound of the girl’s sex and saw the soft pouting lips of her pussy.

  “How old
?”

  “Twenty.”

  “And definitely still a virgin?”

  “Yes,” the woman became serious.

  The man clasped his hands behind his back and braced his stance like he was on a military parade ground conducting an inspection.

  “Open your eyes, girl.”

  The naked girl opened her eyes, startled to be addressed.

  “Have you ever sucked a cock?”

  “Once,” the girl said.

  “Did he cum in your mouth?”

  “No, sir. He came on my breasts.”

  The man grunted. His features were stern but still detached and clinical. “And you’re bisexual?”

  “Yes, sir,” the girl’s voice broke with a tremor of fitful nerves.

  “You like licking pussy?”

  “Yes, sir,” her face flushed with some kind of societal shame.

  The man stared into her eyes like he was making a judgment. The girl looked away, feeling herself begin to melt under the intensity of his scrutiny. Without another word he turned to the madam.

  “No.” he said to her flatly.

  The woman’s smile of anticipation froze on her lips and stayed fixed like that for several seconds until the mist of her own lust cleared, and the reality of the man’s rejection struck her. She pursed her lips and then smiled again, this time wider, but stretched and made brittle by her disappointment. She nodded her head, and the man stepped along the line until he was standing before the second girl who was offering the sale of her virginity.

  He dismissed the next two young women with barely a cursory glance, and although the madam tried with rising desperation to entice his interest, the man seemed oblivious to them both. He shuffled by them and stopped again when he was standing before the last young woman waiting in the line. His face remained inscrutable, but behind the leather mask he wore, his eyes came alight with a zealous hunger.

  “Tell me about this one,” he kept his voice flat and almost bored.

  The madam licked her lips. She was anxious. It was her last chance to profit from the man’s visit. She reached out for the girl eagerly and caressed her lithe tanned body with the palm of her hand like she was polishing a precious jewel.

  “This is the lovely, Nikita,” the madam’s voice purred.

  The man grunted. He knew that wasn’t true. The girl’s real name was Clarissa Oldham. In fact, he knew a lot about this girl. He had made it his business to find out.

  He turned his head to listen to the madam’s description.

  “Her grandfather was Maltese,” she began, “which explains her flawless honey-brown skin tone, and the delicacy of her features. Look at how tiny her waist is,” the madam enthused. She put her own hands on the young girl’s hips from behind and then let her fingers drift provocatively downwards across her abdomen towards the young woman’s panties. The man’s eyes were drawn with magnetic attraction. He felt himself hardening powerfully in his pants. The girl being fondled stood perfectly still. She had her feet slightly apart, her shoulders squared. She was looking past the masked man’s shoulder. Her lips were slightly parted and glossy. Slowly… very slowly, she tilted her pelvis forward in a kind of subconscious invitation.

  The man watched the madam’s fingers slip just inside the string line of the girl’s panties before they stopped. He drew his gaze up to her breasts and his mouth curled into a small tight line.

  “She only has small breasts,” he noted.

  The madam nodded. There was no way she could sell something that wasn’t on show. “Yes,” she admitted, “but they’re exquisite. And if they were any larger, they would look unnatural.” She tugged at the strings of the bra and let it fall away. The girl drew in a short breath and held it. She felt vaguely humiliated. These people were discussing her like she was nothing but a sex toy.

  Around the girl’s throat was a simple gold chain, and hanging from it, a very delicate gold key. She was the only girl in the line wearing any jewelry.

  The man thrust his hands into the pockets of his pants and felt the hard press of his cock brush against his fingers.

  “Take the panties off,” he motioned to the madam with an inclination of his head, careful to keep up the façade of bored indifference. The madam unfastened the panties and drew them away. Beneath the lace, the girl’s pussy was shaved and soft and smooth.

  The man grunted. He lifted his gaze from the slim perfection of her body to the girl’s dark eyes and felt a fierce jolt of clenching desire grip in his loins like a fist.

  The girl’s gaze simmered like molten steel. They were not the eyes of some naïve subservient girl. They were the eyes of a determined and defiant young woman. The challenge he saw in the girl’s gaze piqued his own peculiar arousal. The thought of taking this girl, then breaking her, and then to bend her to his will… made his pulse race, and tightened his breath.

  If only… he lamented forlornly.

  “Is she educated?” the man asked the madam curiously, talking about the girl that stood right in front of him like she was a pet or an object.

  “She works in a coffee shop, waitressing,” the madam said, as if her answer would tell the man everything he needed to know. “But you don’t want her for her brains. You want her pussy and mouth for one unforgettable night,” she leered around a wicked cold smile.

  The man smiled back grimly.

  The girl had carefully concealed her true identity. The man knew, in fact, that she had graduated college with high honors and was studying politics. Twenty-four hours ago she had been working as a volunteer intern for an inner-city politician.

  The man didn’t resent the girl’s deception, or the false identity that she was selling her virginity under. He actually admired her forethought. This was a young woman who had ambition, he guessed.

  The madam had seen the silent exchange of looks between the man and the girl she was selling. Nervously she asked the question.

  “Does she interest you, sir?”

  The man shrugged his shoulders. “Is she docile?”

  The madam nodded vigorously. “She will do everything you tell her to do,” she promised. “She has a very placid nature.”

  “You know that for sure?” the intensity of the man’s snapped question startled the older woman. She kept her expression open. She nodded and licked her lips. “She signed the contract,” the woman said pointedly as a reminder to the girl that she was legally obligated to perform all the tasks asked of her as part of the terms of the agreement, even though the comment had been directed to the client. “And she knows that if she doesn’t fulfill every expectation of the man who buys her virginity, then all financial rewards must be refunded in full.”

  Again, the man grunted. But from the corner of his eye he saw a flush of color rising hot into the young girl’s cheeks. Behind her gaze there was seething outrage, glinting in her eyes like jags of lightning. Through the entire exchange her expression had remained remote and impassive.

  “Is she bisexual?”

  The madam shook her head and frowned. “It wasn’t noted on her application form, but she is definitely a virgin.”

  “What experience with men?”

  The madam shrugged. “She’s very attractive, sir – as you can see. Naturally a young woman this beautiful is going to draw the admiring attention of a great many men.”

  “Naturally. Open her mouth.”

  The madam reached for the beautiful young girl’s face but she opened her mouth of her own accord, with a spark of willful defiance. Her small teeth were white and perfect. The man smiled to himself wryly.

  “Has she had a cock in there before?”

  The madam nodded. “She had a boyfriend when she was eighteen.”

  “So she’s swallowed cum?”

  The madam nodded.

  The girl could feel her face flushing with intimate humiliation and a cringing kind of anger. She felt her hands by her side slowly bunch into tiny fists, and her breath snagged with indignation in her throat. Th
e serene façade of her expression began to slowly crumble. A tear welled in the corner of her eye, and she blinked it away stubbornly before it could slip the rim of her eyelid and spill down her cheek.

  The man stepped forward and boldly cupped the girl’s sex in the palm of his hand. He locked his eyes on hers. She gasped and trapped her bottom lip between her teeth. She could feel the pressure of the man’s hand against her clit. His flesh was hot.

  The man heard the rattle of the girl’s shackles behind her back, but she stood perfectly still for him. She had her eyes averted; disturbed by the dark intense way the man was staring at her. A small chill of premonition ran down her spine.

  “Why is she auctioning her virginity?” the man asked the madam. He could feel the heat of the girl’s pussy. She wasn’t wet, but she was warm. Slowly he drew his touch back and forth, gently rubbing.

  “The girl wants to travel to Europe,” the madam had to think for a moment to recall the information on her application form. “She has distant relatives in Spain.”

  “Is that so?” the man sounded mildly amused.

  He knew the story wasn’t true. The reality was that this girl had far more perilous financial needs than a desire to travel. He knew that because he had created them.

  “Spain? To visit distant relatives?” he repeated the answers as taunting questions. The girl’s face stayed as tranquil as a stone carving.

  “Yes.”

  The madam wasn’t sure what was happening. She sensed there was some secret and subtle power play taking place between the client and this girl that she was unable to fathom or understand. She shuffled her feet and wrung her hands. She could recognize the prospect of a sale slipping through her fingers the longer this exchange lasted.

  “Sir?” she faltered. “Would you like her?”

  The man was still slowly rubbing his hand across the girl’s pussy. He stopped abruptly and turned to the woman. “I’ll take her,” he said. “For sixty thousand… provided she is willing to enthusiastically participate in sex with a woman as well.” It was a trivial point and inconsequential to his plans. But he wanted to test the girl.