The Master’s Weekend
When I moved to Madrid, I brought with me a taste for absolute authority. My partner and I had already established ourselves as Masters in our previous city, but a new beginning required new subjects. It didn’t take long for us to find a couple who craved the very thing I offered: a strict, experienced hand to guide them into total submission.
The couple arrived at my apartment on a Saturday afternoon. He was older, slight of build, and carried an air of nervous anticipation. She was soft, curvy, and looked at me with a mixture of fear and hunger. From the moment the door clicked shut, the power dynamic shifted. I didn’t waste time with pleasantries. I stripped the husband bare, forcing him to the floor, establishing my dominance with a firm foot against his back. He was a dog in my house, and he knew it.
I led him to the dedicated room, where the hooks were already waiting. I bound him securely, his limbs stretched and exposed. The session began with the sharp crack of a whip, the sound echoing through the room as I marked his skin. His wife remained on her knees, watching her husband’s vulnerability, her own breath hitching in her throat. When I turned my attention to her, she didn’t flinch; she leaned into the intensity, her desire for surrender evident in every shiver.
The afternoon blurred into a symphony of sensation. I used wax, the hot droplets landing on their skin, followed by the soothing pressure of my palms to temper the sting. I pushed them to their limits, alternating between the harshness of the lash and the intimacy of touch. I forced them to witness each other’s submission, breaking down their defenses until there was nothing left but their need to please me.
The climax of the weekend came in the bathroom. I pushed the woman against the mirror, forcing her to look at her own reflection—flushed, trembling, and completely mine. I entered her with a forceful thrust, the friction intense and demanding. She cried out, her fingers digging into the porcelain sink as I claimed her. I whispered commands into her ear, reminding her of her place and the pleasure of her obedience. As she reached a shattering orgasm, I felt the raw power of the connection we had forged.
By Sunday evening, they were transformed. As they dressed to leave, I placed weighted beads inside her, a secret reminder of my ownership that she would carry with her into the public world. We walked to the shopping center together, appearing to the world as a normal couple, while the husband remained behind, waiting in silence for the next time he would be allowed to serve. They had found their Master, and I had found the perfect subjects for my art.