ONE MORE TRUST
“Before we’re ready to play host and hostess in scene, I have one more exercise I need to take you through, princess. It’s something we’ve never done before, something you’ve expressed hesitation about previously. Are you up for exploring something new with me?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately.
Master smiles and holds up his camera. “This camera also has a video setting.”
He leaves it there, and my head spins back to Montauk. Master clearly sees my thought process and interjects, “I know we discussed this, way back around New Year’s. When you asked me if you’d hard limited anything I really wanted—this was it.”
“Yes,” I acknowledge the memory.
“Here we are. Things have changed. You have done so incredibly well with the pictures and I’m feeling really good about this. If you’re able to make the decision and trust me, you know the videos won’t go any further than our family room TV. Just for us. We can delete them tonight if you want. Or next week. I will give you the memory card and you can flush it down the toilet for all I care—though I’d prefer you didn’t clog up my plumbing. I just want to record you and watch it with you once. That’s all I ask.”
His face transforms from worried, responsible, serious Master to little boy opening electric train set on Christmas. “Okay? Really?”
“Yes. I trust you. I love you. I’m not worried I’ll end up on YouTube.” He’d sooner cut off his arm than share me.
“RedTube if anything,” he mumbles before checking himself. “Sorry, I’m just kidding.”
“Do your worst, Master,” I tempt him.
“Oh, Isabella, you really should not have said that.”
Me and my stupid big mouth. Master rushes over to the tripod and sets the camera on top. He shows me where to stand and he goes to work adjusting all the settings.
“Ready, princess?” Master asks, finger poised above the record button, I presume.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes, Master.”
“Take your standing pose, and keep your eyes on the camera lens at all times. Here we go.” He pushes the button and a red light appears.
A reflexive warning shudder threatens to throw me off track, but I bat it away. The good-girl security force is going to have to stand down today.
“Hello, princess,” Master says, in a friendly off-camera-documentary voice. Holy shit, he’s enacting the interview scene from my journal entry, and he’s added the video element to boot.
“I want to thank you for agreeing to talk to me today on video. You know I’m already half hard thinking about watching this later…seeing my submissive dressed for me in my favorite outfit—your collar and heels and nothing else. You look stunning.”
“Thank you, Master.” Cue blush.
“Is it exciting to be videotaped naked?”
“Yes, Master.” I’m tempted to hide my face but I stand tall and wait for his next question.
“Even though I have clothes on? You’re kind of a dirty girl, aren’t you?”
“I am.” My pussy confirms this by releasing a trickle of fluid.
Master steps away from the camera and my gaze follows him, but when he points to the camera, I remember myself.
“Not just any kind of dirty though, you’re a very kinky girl, isn’t that right?”
“Tell me what you are, Isabella.”
“I’m your submissive, Master.”
“Tell me about what you like.”
Eyes on the camera, I remind myself, as Master’s voice draws nearer. These conversations are so much easier in the dark, or with his body wrapped around my back, or even blindfolded. I suppose this is the fascination I have with the interrogations I’ve seen—there is absolutely no hiding.
“I like to be told what to do,” I admit with a shiver.
“What is your favorite thing to be told, princess?” he presses.
“I like…to be ordered to my knees for my Master.”
“What is it about being on your knees that makes you so excited?”
I think hard about the question, attempting to remember back to when I was a mere lurker who happened to name herself “On My Knees” plus incorporate everything I’ve experienced and learned from Master since Christmas. What is it that makes me crave the command?
“I like that it puts me lower than you, Master. Usually, I’m eye level with your…with the part of your body that gives you the most pleasure. Sometimes you allow me to please you with my mouth. That’s my favorite.”
“Surely you can name that part, princess? You’re not going to play coy with me today, are you?”
“No, Master. It’s your…cock.”
“Thank you for saying that you like to take my cock into your mouth, Isabella. I have noticed how much that pleases you.”
“What else do you enjoy doing on your knees?” He’s next to me now, so close he could touch me, and how I wish he would.
“I love to crawl, especially when my Master holds the leash.”
“You like being my pet?”
“But, Isabella, don’t you find it degrading to be treated like an animal?”
Here we are at the crux of the matter. “I do, Master.”
“And you say you actually enjoy that?”
“I love it.”
“Dirty, dirty girl. I can see that you’re getting turned on just talking about it, aren’t you, Isabella?”
His words are pulling me under. “Yes.”
Master twists one of my nipples, leaving it even pointier than it was before. “Exhibit A…two perky nipples,” he narrates for the camera. “Spread your legs for me, please.” He slides one finger through the channel then holds out the evidence in front of me. “Exhibit B…one sopping wet pussy.”
Master seems to really be enjoying himself tonight.
“What other fun things does your Master do to you?”
“Sometimes you spank me. Other times you use a paddle or a crop.”
“Turn around and show the camera where I spanked you on Sunday.”
I turn my back to the camera and catch Master’s eyes on the way. His arms are crossed and he’s observing casually.
“Bend forward and spread open your ass cheeks for the camera.”
Master runs his hand over my ass, pulling me further open and squeezing at my flesh. He surprises me by lifting his hand and swiftly striking me, and I hop forward with a little squeak. Master chuckles and responds, “So that would be the kind of thing that makes you even hotter?”
“Yes,” I admit, feeling a blush creep across my face.
“Ask me to spank you again. But first, look over your shoulder so the camera can see you…very nice.”
“Master, please spank me again.”
“Your wish is my command,” he teases, just before bringing his palm down on the other cheek.
I turn away instinctively, but Master is having none of that. He grabs a handful of hair and turns my face back to the camera. “You need to look into that lens when I spank you this time, or there is going to be real cause for a spanking. Understand?”
“And let’s not have any pretending you don’t love it, shall we? We know you’re hot for it, don’t we, princess?”
He nods and releases my hair. “That’s better.” THWACK! Master’s hand touches down right in the middle, catching both sides while pressing his fingers into the hot moisture between them. He rubs those fingers around a bit before pulling them away, just enough to tease and leave me a horny mess.
“Ah,” he says happily. “Now that’s the look I was hoping for.”
I can only imagine what the camera captured just now.
“You can turn back now, Isabella. You’re not getting any more of that…right now.”
I spin slowly on the high heels, mildly dazed with lust, which Master clearly spots—or perhaps smells. “You liked that, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Master.” I am tingling all over, every admission he pulls from me drawing me deeper into his thrall.
“So a little pain arouses you?” He reaches around and surprises me by harshly twisting my nipples, and he doesn’t let go until I answer him.
“Yes, Master,” I whimper, leaning back into his firm chest.
“I bet you’ll like it even better with these.”
He pulls a pair of nipple clamps out of thin air and attaches the second one before I can adjust to the first. “Tell me how much you love wearing those for Master, princess.”
I fight through the initial pinch and the dull ache and force out, “I do love wearing these, Master.”
“That’s not very convincing,” he says. “Perhaps they’re not tight enough?”
“I love wearing the nipple clamps for you, Master,” I repeat loudly and more enthusiastically.
He flicks at the hardware.
“Nnnnngh,” I groan.
“And the clip of Master’s crop?” He lifts my wrists out of the way and swats me swiftly on my bottom with his leather riding crop. Being made to watch the camera has, for all intents and purposes, blindfolded me to Master’s plans, and I teeter forward on my heels at the unexpected blow. Master throws his arm across my stomach and pulls me into his body. “Easy, princess. I’ve got you.” I feel the chuckle echo in his chest as he rights me and says, “Let’s try that one again. Spread your legs a little wider…for balance.”
I don’t turn around to see the smirk I know he’s wearing. His next blow is more manageable until he asks me to describe how it felt “for posterity.”
“It felt…there was a sting…I…don’t know what to say.”
“Oh tsk tsk, princess. Surely you have some dirty words left after all your filthy story-telling. Just tell the camera what happened to your pussy just now.”
“I felt a jolt, and a kind of tingle…and now there’s kind of a throbbing.”
“I bet you’d like to be touched right now, wouldn’t you?”
I’m not going to get my hopes up, but I am going to be honest. “Very much, Master.”
“That’s my needy princess,” he says lovingly, cupping my chin for the camera and kissing me on the cheek. “So…we know you like it a little rough,” he strikes me once more before tossing the crop out of the picture, “but I seem to remember you love to be held down and tickled, too.”
Master waves the big blue feather in front of me, catching the tip of one very sensitive nipple. “Here’s an old friend. Where do you like to feel this?” He catches me just at the sides of my ribcage, causing me to squirm and jerk.
“Wherever it pleases my Master,” I’m able to answer once he stops.
“Good answer, princess. I would be pleased to brush that bare pussy of yours.”
“Ahhhhhhhh,” I sigh as the delicate fronds waft across my skin. I clasp my wrists tightly so I don’t accidentally lash out at Master.
“I know, that wasn’t fair, was it? I really should cuff you up first. Turn around.”
I turn once again and this time, I’m able to look at Master’s face. He was just reaching into another pocket for my cuffs, when he catches the sight of me head-on. Playfulness is set aside momentarily and he lets me see straight into his heart. “You’re doing great,” he commends me.
“Thank you, Master.” I smile, not just for the words of encouragement, but for the reminder of the full man in this sexual odyssey with me.
Isabella is not only holding up under pressure, she is shining. Despite clamps and cuffs and dirty talk, lewd poses and teasing feathers and fingers, she’s holding her chin high, wearing her mantle proudly. After the intense tickling, there’s nothing left but her reward—and mine.
“You have been such a very good girl tonight for your Master,” I praise her. Standing behind her once again, I release the clamps one at a time and help support her while the blood comes rushing back. “Master has a special gift for you.”
I pull the tiny butterfly vibrator out of my pocket and unwind the cords. “Have you ever felt the kiss of the butterfly?”
“No, Master,” she answers with excited curiosity.
“This little piece goes right here,” I say, pressing the vibe against her clit. “I tie you all up like so…” I loop the cords around her hips and make sure everything is secured, “and then…I stand back and make the magic happen.”
I switch the remote on to the lowest setting and Isabella turns her head to look at me. I immediately switch it off. “You have to follow the rules, princess, or you don’t get to have your fun.”
“Sorry, Master.” She moves her eyes back to the camera and waits.
“That’s better,” I say, restarting the vibrations and watching her body take in the waves of pleasure.
“How does that feel?”
“Feels like heaven,” she oozes, her mouth dropped open.
“Do you think you could come from this intensity?”
“It feels just beyond my reach,” she says, adding, “but amazing just the same.”
“Okay, good.” I turn it off. “We’re going to play a little game, and if you win the game, I promise you are going to have one of the best orgasms of your life. Ready?”
“Yes, Master,” she responds.
“Start off by telling the camera one of your favorite dirty moments with your Master.”
I don’t rush her while she sifts through some choices. “The bathroom thing,” she answers. “When my Master cleaned me up.”
“Excellent answer,” I say, turning on the vibe to low once again. “I rate that memory a ‘dirty.’ Now, give me a ‘dirty-er.’” Her eyelids flutter and she seems highly motivated to ratchet up the intensity.
I’m sure the constant hum of pressure on her clit is making cognitive activity challenging, and that’s part of what makes this so effective. The deeper she descends into sub space, the more colorful her choices are likely to be.
“At our dinner scene, when Master made me show his mentor that I was aroused, and I put the knife inside me, inside my wet pussy.”
“Oh yes, how could we ever forget that moment? Yes, princess, that works.” I turn the vibe up a tick and she rocks on her heels. With her wrists still cuffed behind her, she doesn’t have much of a counterbalance. Her tits bounce compellingly up top and her face pinks up.
“You are rockin’ now, princess. That little clit must feel really good right now.”
I shift back down to low gear before she comes prematurely.
“Before we go for the grand prize, you need to ask for permission to come, because I have a feeling when I hit you with the next level, you’re gonna jump right through the roof.”
The low whir of the vibe serves as the background for her request. “Master, may I please come?”
“You may. After you tell me—no, tell the camera—what is the single dirtiest thing your Master has made you do?”
“I would have to say, it was that morning that my Master buried my nose and mouth with all his man parts.”
The rim job. She’s now labeled that as our ‘dirtiest’ moment, and yet, that day, she’d replied that receiving pleasure was the biggest challenge of the day. Remarkable.
“Tell me about that.”
“First you offered me your…” Yes, I’ve noticed she has once again avoided mentioning that body part by name, and she’s not getting ultra-stim until she manages to get it out. “You asked me for a blow job…”
“Your Master is not the asking type. Tell me what really happened.” I turned off the vibe entirely.
Isabella pouts. “You forced yourself into my mouth.”
I stuff the remote into a pocket and fold my arms across my chest. “All stripped bare and nowhere to go, princess?”
Her face drops as she’s realized her tactic will not be successful. Her eyes turn wild and desperate, but she knows me better than to think I’ll allow for compromise. She passed needy an hour ago, and she’s been teetering on the edge since I strapped on the butterfly. She knows what she needs to do.
“My Master forced his cock between my lips and pumped in and out. And then he pulled back and stuffed his balls inside my mouth and made me roll them around inside my cheeks, all the while he was covering my nose and mouth with his shaft and his entire ass and then he made me tongue his asshole.”
Her face is bright red when she finishes. She stands before me, having given all she had left, awaiting my appraisal. I clap my hands and smile, giving her a one-Master standing O, soon to be followed by one of her own.
Retrieving the remote from my pocket, I start her on low, then pass through medium, and finally ratchet her up to high. “You win the game, dirty girl, you win. Enjoy your prize.”
Her knees buckle as she ripples and undulates like one of those giant air Gumbys that bob and attract attention to used car lots along busy highways. When the last wave of pleasure has rippled through her, Isabella lifts her eyes to the camera once again, and I sense the twinge of guilt she feels at having turned away in the heat of her release. I rush to her side and enclose her in my arms, whispering private messages of praise and love not meant even for our own personal screening.
“…I want to thank you for agreeing to talk to me today on video. You know I’m already half hard thinking about watching this later…seeing my submissive dressed for me in my favorite outfit—your collar and heels and nothing else. You look stunning.”
“Look at yourself, Isabella. Do you see what I see?” Master intones from behind me. It’s not as if I’d be able to look anywhere else in this position: bent forward at the waist, chin tucked between crossed arms perched on a bar stool set several feet back from the huge television screen.
“I’m not sure what you see, Master.”
“Fair enough,” he chuckles. “I didn’t mean that to be a trick question, but you’re wise not to answer if you’re unclear what I’m asking. Tell you what,” he starts, smoothing his palms over my rear end, which is currently conveniently positioned waist high between his bare legs, “why don’t you just tell me what you see, and I’ll answer my own question.”
Oh yes, of course. Make me say it.
“I,” Master corrects sternly.
I take a deep breath and start again. “I look seriously turned on.”
“Oh yeah, we’re on the same page.” He runs two fingers between my cheeks and finds me wet and ready once again.
“Tell me what you are, Isabella.”
“I’m your submissive, Master.”
“Do you know how hot that is, Isabella? Feel what your words do to me.”
He rocks against me, pressing his stiffness along the divide.
“I like to be told what to do.”
“Warms a Master’s heart to hear that.” He pulls my hips back and pushes, slides, and thrusts.
“Sometimes you allow me to please you with my mouth. That’s my favorite.”
“Ohhh, sweetheart, that is just beautiful.” Pulling harder, rocking faster
“I love to crawl, especially when my Master holds the leash.”
“I wish I had time to parade you around the floor right now…” he says wistfully, making me believe he’s actually considering shifting course right now, “but your interview has me all hot”—thrust—“and bothered”—thrust—“and if I’m not buried inside you in the next ten seconds…”
He slips between my sodden folds, and I pull him in like a hungry succubus.
“Ahhh, Isabella, that is perfection.”
“Bend forward and spread open your ass cheeks for the camera.”
“Peek-a-boo, princess. I am so fucking grateful I can reach out and touch you this time.”
Master squeezes me roughly with both hands and speeds up his hips.
“God, this ass…” his words disintegrate into grunts as he pounds me again and again.
“Ask me to spank you again.”
The pinching changes to the harsh slap of palms, forcing me forward into the stool.
“Hold your ground, princess. Lean back. Yessss, that’s it…offer it up…ungggghhh…yesss.”
My thighs are burning from the effort of balancing on the unwieldy heels while being thrust forward by his insistent cock and hands, but when Master clasps his hands around my waist and slams me back forcefully against his body, I’m rewarded with his exuberant release.
“You liked that, didn’t you?”
Master drops his chest to my back and wraps his strong arms around my upper body. Placing a kiss on my shoulder blade, he says, “I don’t know which was hotter—recording you or watching the replay.”
Of course, the video is still rolling, and I feel oddly detached watching Master clamp the nipples onto the on-screen version of me. While I can still feel that sting—and the harsher moment when they’re removed—I also experience the scene as a casual (yet highly aroused) observer. I root for the TV dom to be harsh, same as I write my Dark Prince as a more sadistic version than I’d ever want to live.
Master and I watch together, fully joined from head to toe, and I wonder if he’s having the same thoughts I am about the actors. I hope I’ll work up the nerve to ask him later. As we both watch TV dom strap on the butterfly, Master slides his hand to my clit and matches the intensity of the vibrations with his skilled fingers.
“You win the game, dirty girl. You win. Enjoy your prize.”
“Come for me, baby, one more time. Just for me.”
He strums me like a beloved guitar, and I sing out my pleasure for him.
“Mind if I ask you something?” inquires the little spoon with her foot-shaped icicles pressed against my shins.
“Never,” I mumble into her neck.
“Besides the obvious, what were you thinking when we were watching the replay of that interview?”
“The obvious being how freaking hot you are and that I’m the luckiest Master on the planet?”
She chuffs softly. “Yes.”
“Hmm, okay, let’s see…you wanna know my favorite part?”
“I loved that you never tried to hide from the camera. You gave me everything you had, just like you always do.”
“I wanted to burrow my face into your shirt so many times—”
“But you didn’t. Even when I moved, you stayed focused on the lens. That was…amazing, really.”
I hear some kind of yearning in her brief response. “Isabella, was there something else you wanted to talk about?”
She threads her fingers through mine and pulls me closer. “I guess I was wondering whether that dom in the video was the one you want to be.”
“Who’s the dom in the video?” I’m desperate to understand her meaning. What did she see?
“He’s…kind of happy-go-lucky, I guess.”
“Yes, agreed. Happy as all hell. Why wouldn’t I want to be that guy?” I’m starting to understand why we’re having this conversation in the dark.
“Don’t you guys like to have more of a chance to…”
Oh, I am so not saying this for you, princess. I’d wait all night for her to finish this sentence.
I kiss her neck to reward her for getting out the tough words. “Us guys? Us guys with copious quantities of lube stored all around the house, you mean?”
“Oh shit, you’re never gonna let me live that one down, are you?”
“Never,” I chuckle. “Are you asking me if I wish you’d slip up more often so I could punish you more often or more sternly?”
“Not exactly. I mean, I know we’ve talked about that before, and you’ve said you’d rather have the good behavior and the sub who can’t please you enough, and I get that.”
“Correct. What am I missing then?”
The words spill out in a rush. “Do you maybe wish you didn’t love me while you were being my Master?”
Do I feel held back as a Master by my overwhelming feelings for her? Am I a different dominant now than I have been before? Bottom line: do I wish to give the sadistic urges a longer leash?
“You’re asking whether I miss the wolf?”
“Yeah,” she answers, letting the thread of conversation spin around her head, “I guess.”
I press my lips into her hair and search my heart for the truest answer to her profound question, one that is not to be taken or answered lightly. When I’m sure of myself, I let the words pour over us both.
“I wondered this myself when I first started to recognize my feelings for you, and I’m not gonna lie, I was scared—though not how you think. I never once worried that my love for you would ruin me as a dom. I figured if that ever happened, it would be because our relationship had changed us such that neither of us needed that any longer, and frankly, I’d be ready to let it all go.
“My fear was that having the perfect lamb would only make the wolf in me hungrier.”
“For more mutton chops,” Isabella interrupts.
“Not ‘more’ as in ‘other lambs,’” I swiftly correct her, “‘more’ as in ‘ripping into the flesh with my bare hands and devouring you from the inside out.’”
She laughs nervously, “Oh, that’s all so very comforting. Thanks for clearing that up.”
“You’re welcome. It’s true that I’m not the same kind of master with you than I’ve ever been before, but my fears have not come to fruition. I still feel the sexual agitation that drives my need to dominate you; in fact, if anything that part of me has grown since I found you.”
“Thank goodness for that,” she answers.
“Cheeky little lamb!” My breathy chuckle ruffles the hair on her neck.
Isabella giggles back, and I feel some of the tension leak out of her body.
“I am that happy-go-lucky Master because I know that wherever the scene goes, I will be thoroughly pleased. My mission doesn’t consist of a checklist of things to do to you or achieving a certain level of pain to inflict…” This thought actually makes me flinch. “The wolf doesn’t need to be a part of that scenario any more. You’re the submissive I’ve always needed; you satisfy me in every possible way, Isabella, and you’ve taken the self-loathing out of the equation. If only I could do the same for you, I’d be the happiest Master ever.”
She processes my explanation for a bit then replies, “I’m getting there.”
“Yes, you are. That’s what I see in those pictures we took the other day, and most clearly in this video. That makes me very, very happy, and it tells me you’re ready for dinner with your friends. If you’re not feeling self-conscious about your choices, there’s no way Garrett will be able to hurt you.”
“Well, this little lamb feels very loved and protected, in case you were wondering.”
“Then I’m doing my job properly.”
“Oh…such a chore, is it?”
“Yes. You’re the toughest job I’ve ever loved.”
“Oh my god, I just love it when you get corny.”
“How about this then? You have the sweetest mutton chops I’ve ever tasted.” I pause to move her hair off her neck and trail a line of kisses up to her ear.
“Good. Anything else before I give you your good-night boink?” I flex my hips playfully into her rear.
“Such a romantic!”
“It’s your fault. All this animal kingdom talk is getting me hot and bothered again.”
“Honestly, Edward, I think the weather channel gets you hot and bothered.”
“Hey,” I protest, “have you seen the weather girl on channel seven lately?”
She elbows me in the belly and I pretend to be wounded.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, there was one more thing I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about.”
“I got an email from Marcus earlier.”
“He was responding to my journal post.”
“Something tells me his response was favorable.” The dirty old goat.
“Yes, he said something about how my master must’ve been very warmed by my courage and the new opportunities afforded by my lovely revelations.”
“Indeed I am. That interview scene was just the tip of the iceberg. Wait till I get you into a prison cell for a cavity search.” I run a suggestive finger down the crack dividing her left and right cheeks, and she squirms. “Toss in a pair of handcuffs, and if you’re really feisty, maybe a good, old-fashioned hogtie.”
Is it getting hot in here or is it just my brain?
“Okay, thanks. I think I’m caught up to you now,” she replies, pressing her bottom against me, looking for some friction.
“Any other wisdom from the Marcus front?”
“Yes. He told me to start putting some serious thought into what I want to talk about with him tomorrow night.”
“That’s a good idea. It’s your nickel.”
“Wait, am I paying him?”
I can’t help but laugh at her horror. “Hell no. He should pay us, and he damn well knows it. This is his pleasure, Isabella. Trust me.”
Twisting her neck so I can see her wry smile she asks, “Don’t I always?”