Clara had been searching all her life, it seemed, for the Master who would take her to the depths of her submissive desires. She’d tried kink, she’d tried clubs, she’d had a vanilla lover or two, but when she first saw Adam’s ad, it had opened up a new world of possibilities. A slave. She said it to herself when she arose, when she retired, at every moment it was throbbing through her. She could be a slave. And now that she had met him, the phrase changed. She could be His slave.

“Undress. Let’s see what you’ve got,” he said, leaning back. The two women slowly stripped, trying as unobtrusively as possible to keep their clothes neat and out of sight. Monique, Clara noticed, had some trouble removing her shoes gracefully, as she clearly wasn’t about to sit down to do it. “My God,” she thought. “Where do these people come from?” Soon both women were standing, legs slightly spread, arms behind them, as Adam slowly inspected them.

Clara watched Monique covertly. She was attractive, in a heavy sort of way. Creamy skin, full, rich breasts, large areolas and heavy, pronounced nipples. She wanted to chew on them, to bury her head between the two gentle hills, to feel their weight and softness. When Monique turned around to display her rear, Clara again glanced at her. The ass was large and meaty, waiting to be grabbed, or slapped. As Monique turned, her eyes met Clara’s for a moment in a glare of pure hostility. Perhaps she had not been so grateful for the good example after all.

Now Adam was touching them, running his fingers lightly across their bodies, feeling their wetness. He chuckled as first one, then two and three, fingers slid effortlessly into Clara’s waiting pussy. He moved his hand in and out, watching her face. She began to breathe more rapidly. He was really fucking her now, with his hand. She moaned and moved with it. He stimulated her nipple with the other hand as she got closer and closer to orgasm. “Come on,” he whispered. “Come for me now, baby.” “I can’t.” She was almost in tears herself. “I’m so sorry, Adam. I can’t come this way.”

He didn’t seem very disappointed. In fact, he gave her a quick, appraising glance. “You really can’t come, or you just can’t come right now?” he asked. His hand continued to move inside her. “I can’t come from this at all,” she confessed. “How can you come?” he wanted to know. “Only if – only if – ”. His hand became more urgent. She began to tremble. “Answer me.” She’d been asked a question. What was it? She remembered, but it was so hard to speak. The hand was raping her. “Only if I do it myself. . . sir. Adam.”

She knew what would happen next. He would declare that she could come, and furthermore that she would, and then he would try. And try. She would feel tremendous pressure, eventually apologizing and taking her leave. She could never be owned by a man who was incapable of understanding what “I can’t come” actually means. She gave a small sigh. Very small. But at that moment, almost as if he had been waiting for just that signal, he abruptly removed his fingers, absently wiping them on her breasts and abdomen. “Go stand with your back to the wall. Look but don’t touch.”