Master Class Read online

  “I’ve spent too much time kneeling in that position to suck cock,” she said. “Now it makes my knees ache.”

  She dressed slowly, in no particular hurry and oblivious to Edge’s eyes on her breasts. Clarissa too, shrugged on her bra. Then Margie gave Clarissa a chaste peck on the cheek. Both the girls had smudged lipstick and numbed lips. “You did fine,” Margie offered her praise. “We made a good team.”

  When they left the small dark cubicle, there were men milling about in the corridor. They pressed themselves against the wall as Edge brushed past them and Clarissa followed in his wake. One of the dark strangers ran his hand over Margie’s ass as she passed.

  “You workin’ tonight?” the guy asked. It was a deep gravelly question from out of the darkness. Margie acted as though she recognized the voice. She stopped in the passageway.

  “Ask Jim,” Margie answered. “It’s up to him. You know the rules.”

  When they were back in the sex shop, Clarissa drew Margie aside. Edge and the big man behind the counter were locked in their own conversation. Clarissa kept her voice to a scandalous kind of whisper.

  “Are you that guy’s submissive?” she glanced back over her shoulder to look at the man behind the counter even though the gesture was unnecessary.

  “Kind of,” Margie whispered back, not really knowing why she was whispering at all.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Jim is my husband,” Margie answered. “And my Master.”

  “And he lets you suck other men’s cocks?”

  “Sure,” Margie shrugged her shoulders like it was no big deal. “And more than that… of the guys have the money.”

  “So he pimps your body out to customers?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you don’t mind?”

  Margie’s face became almost amused. She started to smile and a twinkle came into her eyes. “I love it,” she confessed. “I wouldn’t have married him if I didn’t.”

  Clarissa was withdrawn and reflective during the drive back to Edge’s house. She sat in the corner of her seat, and her eyes were glazed and unseeing. Her thoughts were back in the small sex shop booth, going over every moment, frowning with each recollection. She had learned a great deal about pleasuring a man’s cock, and indeed, about herself. It had been another profound evening, and she silently marveled at how little she truly understood about herself until she had given herself to Edge’s tuition. Undoubtedly, she was far more skilled at giving pleasure; Edge’s sessions had given her ample opportunities to develop her skills, and she was grateful for every lesson learned and every fresh experience.

  But it was the deeper, personal insights that startled her – discovering that to be submissive didn’t necessarily mean remaining passive had pulled back the curtains on a whole new aspect to the lifestyle she had never thought to explore. Margie had taught her that in the way she had worshipped the strangers’ cocks.

  Not sucked.

  Worshipped.

  The girl had taken the expression ‘giving a blowjob’ to a whole new level. Margie gave everything of herself. To Clarissa, Margie’s passion had been inspirational.

  The realization that her own desire could be wrapped up in the way she gave pleasure astonished Clarissa. She had never made the connection before tonight. But it was true. She had the undisputable evidence, simmering in the crotch of her soaked panties. She was as wet as she had ever been in her life, and her pussy was cramping with the urgent need to be filled.

  Slowly, Clarissa turned her head and stared out through the windshield. She recognized a couple of houses and realized that they were just a few streets away from Edge’s house. Clarissa licked her lips, suddenly frowning with apprehension. Congressman Jansing’s ominous threats came tormenting into her mind, pushing aside the pleasant recollections she’d had of the sex shop.

  She stole a glance at Edge. His face was in profile. He was concentrating on the road his gaze dark and fixed. Clarissa wondered what dark and mysterious thoughts swirled behind his eyes. Was he remembering the scene in the dark little booth?

  Was he thinking about fucking her?

  She hoped so… but could she afford to wait and take the risk? Clarissa had no doubt that Edge was aroused. She had seen the bulge of his raging cock in the cubicle, and again when they had first climbed into the car to return home. She glanced down at his crotch now, but it was too dark to tell if he was still hard in the ghostly glow of the car’s dashboard lights.

  Clarissa bit down on her lip and felt her apprehension rise.

  “I really enjoyed tonight, Master,” she said softly into the darkness.

  She saw the corner of Edge’s mouth twitch into a chill smile.

  “I liked it even more because you were watching me.”

  “Oh?” Edge flicked her a curious glance, then diverted his eyes back to the road.

  “Uhuh,” Clarissa said, keeping her voice very quiet. “I liked knowing that you were watching me, and I liked thinking about your cock while I sucked all those other men. I imagined you hard and wanting me, Master. Then I thought about you taking me while I was on my knees with a stranger’s shaft deep down my throat. Just thinking those thoughts made me want to cum.”

  “You wanted me to fuck you in that cubicle?”

  “Yes,” she said the word as an exclamation of pain and desperation. “Oh, God yes, Master.” Impulsively she reached across the dark void and slid her hand into Edge’s lap. Her fingers brushed across his crotch, and she felt the vaulted manhood of him, tightly straining within the trap of his jeans. Clarissa was trembling with thrill and alarm. She stopped breathing. The next few minutes were perilously important.

  For long moments she said and did nothing. Edge did not speak. Clarissa’s heart was racing. Finally her hand moved an inch. Then back an inch. Slowly she moved her hand further each time until she was rubbing Edge’s cock through his jeans with the palm of her hand. She heard Edge’s breathing sharpen, but still he said nothing.

  Clarissa licked her lips and became emboldened. She didn’t have much time before they would arrive out the front of Edge’s house. She found the steel tab of his zipper. Edge’s hand closed over hers like a trap.

  She looked into his face with fright and fear.

  “Please, Master,” she groaned. “I need your cock.”

  “No,” he said, then added, “not yet.”

  When they turned onto the long driveway, Edge slowed the car to a crawl. The houselights were burning in several windows. He parked the car by the wide front steps and they sat in the dark silence while the car’s engine ticked and pinged and cooled.

  Clarissa still had her hand in Edge’s crotch, and he still had his own hand holding her to stillness. But his cock was alive! Clarissa could feel it moving beneath the tight denim.

  She was breathing in short little gasps, not knowing what to do next. Edge seemed torn by his own turmoil. He sat staring at the house in the tense silence, his expression stone-like.

  “I’m training you as a submissive,” Edge said into the silence, not turning his head to look at her as he spoke.

  “Yes, Master. I know. And I love my training… but it feels incomplete.”

  “Because I won’t fuck you?”

  “Yes. Because you don’t want me enough to take me,” she carefully manipulated her answer. “I feel like I’m failing because I can’t even arouse the man who I am supposed to serve. I go home each night, still a virgin, and ask myself what’s wrong with me.” She stopped then because her instincts told her she had to tread carefully. Edge was a clever man. If she came on too strong, he would see through the words and suspect another motive. She clamped her lips shut, and moved her hand on his cock just a little.

  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.