As soon as he finished I tried to rise and run but he was just getting started proving his point. He palmed my lower back and reached over grabbing baby wipes to clean us both up.
“Get your ass over in that corner behind my desk,” he mandated. Though he always used a condom and safe sex was always practiced here at the mansion—I had noticed that baby wipes were in discreet locations throughout the residence.
Attention to detail was evident in all things concerning the mansion—the Masters here border-lined on being OCD. I would soon learn that it was an inside joke in the BDSM community that most Masters and Doms suffer some form of OCD in one manner or another.
When I attempted to pull my pants up he growled, “Pants down, you just shuffle your little ass right over there.”
I made small steps shuffling and sniffling, until I reached the corner and he made his way over and drew a circle on the wall with chalk.
“I want your nose in that circle and if it moves—you young lady are in deep trouble!”
I stood eyeing my little Ophelia’s tear stained face and snotty nose. She was absolutely adorable and I can’t say that seeing her this way did not tug on my heartstrings. But……Not to the point of me not teaching her a lesson.
I stood in that corner for what seemed like forever. I was grateful for the fact that I was turned around. I have never been so embarrassed, or humiliated in my life.
People went in and out of the office while I was like that and I couldn’t turn to look, so I had no way of knowing who had seen me like this.
I hated him right now, just hated him……..
I eyed my little Ophelia in the corner, it had been my plan to bring her in for a ‘mind fuck’ session, not a ‘discipline’ session. But the best laid plans, oh well…..there was plenty of time, because I was in no hurry.
Barbie
Daphne listened as Barbie filled her in on all of the dirt.
“When slave Ashia went in to Master’s office he had that high and mighty bitch standing in the corner…..With her pants down.” Barbie covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “That means that she is fucking up and I still have a chance. Once Master sees that she is not slave material he will kick her ass to the curb. Serves the bitch right, thinking that she can walk in here and take the head Master,” Barbie spewed in disgust.
Master William
Master William sat doing one of his favorite things to do—spy on the slaves of course. So that he could find their weaknesses and use it as mind fuck material.
It worked out quite well for his Sadistic and voyeuristic sides. He chuckled as he reveled in the control that he had.
Master William was all about control. He enjoyed the thrill of the hunt; the hunt of finding each slave’s Achilles heel and using it for his benefit.
Once again he had been under-estimated by a slave and once again, that slave would regret it. You see, Barbie still didn’t get it; she was a slave now. She had no rights. She had the Masters of the Mansion and their will for her life—and sooner or later—one way, or another—William was going to get that through to her. It was the Master’s way, or no way. Such was the law of The Mansion.
Chapter Six
Ophelia
I had been instructed to be dressed and ready for dinner by 6:00pm promptly. Timing was everything here at the mansion. There was order, rules, and protocol. Once again my clothing had been picked out for me. Master Richard, had insisted that my hair be worn down and I wasn’t about to defy him on the matter. My ass insisted that I adhere to his wishes. The stings of the day before; reminded me of him each time that I sat down.
Dinner was always a formal affair in the mansion and guests were expected to be dressed accordingly. Black Tie was usually the genre of attire that was donned by the professionals—professionals that were guests for the evening.
Sometimes fetish wear would be worn and that was accepted. There seemed to be an unspoken protocol here and those who got it were accepted. Those who didn’t—were asked to leave. They were black marked from the upper echelon of the BDSM community.
Very few graced the doors of the mansion. This was the playground of the high rollers and the most elite of the BDSM community. There was a shroud of secrecy and discretion was of the utmost importance here.
Though I struggled inwardly with my relationship with my Boss, there was a part of me that was honored to be here. I held him in the highest esteem and respected him immensely—yet I warred inwardly with the fact that he was pulling me into his world. And it was as if I was losing control and he was gaining it.
I am an Author and certain personality traits come with that. It carries with it an innate desire and curiosity to research things, until I have a full understanding of them. I don’t just want to know how something works, or how someone thinks, I want to know why it works that way and why they think that way.