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Her New Master

By:Opal Carew

Opal Carew

Reminder from The Office Slave #3: On Her Knees

The car pulled up to yet another big, stately home. They got out and walked to the front door and Mr. Grant knocked. When the door opened, her eyes widened at the sight of Mr. King.

“Mr. Grant, you have the document?”

“Of course.” He handed Mr. King a folder and he opened it, glanced over the piece of paper inside, then signed it. Then he handed Mr. Grant a check.

“Goodbye, Sylvia.”

She watched Mr. Grant turn and walk toward his waiting limo.

“Sylvia, come in.”

She stepped inside and the door closed behind her. She glanced around to see the limo driving away.

“He’s gone,” Mr. King said, then he smiled. “Now you’re mine.”

Sylvia’s stomach clenched at the pain. Mr. Grant had sold her to Mr. King.

She wanted to turn and fling open the door, then run after the retreating limo.

To beg Mr. Grant not to do this.

But he wouldn’t listen. He had sold her because he didn’t want her any more.

She glanced at Mr. King and the kindness in his deep blue eyes almost made her cry.

“I know this is unexpected and you’re feeling unsettled and probably abandoned.”

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. But she blinked them back.

“I understand, and I’ll do everything I can to make the transition for you as easy as possible.” He smiled warmly. “I want to make you happy, Sylvia.”

“But I’m supposed to make you happy,” she said, feeling as if her world was crashing around her.

“You know it goes both ways. You serve me, but in doing so, satisfy that need inside yourself to be dominated.”

He pressed his hand to her lower back and guided her up the stairs.

“I’ll have your things packed and brought over, but for now you have everything you need here.”

“But my apartment… my life…”

“Is here now. With me. You belong to me.”

She knew that she could protest. That he couldn’t legally make her stay. But she didn’t. She didn’t have the energy. Staying with him would be easier. And deep down inside she knew she wanted to be owned.

By Mr. Grant.

But if he didn’t want her, then she would be Mr. King’s.

He stopped in front of a door and opened it. “This is your room. Take a look around. Rest if you like. Then come downstairs when you’re ready.” His gaze caught on hers. “But leave your clothes behind.”

A shiver ran down her spine.

Was this what it would be like? A room where she would spend lonely hours? Where she would sleep alone? And the rest of the time she would spend naked at his beck and call?

Mr. King left the door open when he turned and walked down the hall. She heard his footsteps on the stairs.

She glanced around at the room. It was simple. A bed with white bedding, a soft mauve throw blanket and pillows. An easy chair and a dresser. She walked to the dresser, catching sight of her drawn face in the mirror. She opened one of the top drawers. It was filled with skimpy lace and satin panties and bras. In the second drawer were leather harnesses, wrist and ankle straps, leather bras and panties. In the bottom drawer, she found cardigans. The closet contained clothing. Mostly slinky dresses, but some jeans and shirts, too. So he didn’t intend on keeping her naked all the time.

She sat on the chair and glanced around. This was her new home. At some point, she might ask Mr. King if she could bring some color into the room. Make it more hers.

But right now she really didn’t care.

She stood up and stripped off her clothes, then walked to the door, goose bumps dancing across her flesh. Whether from cold or anticipation and anxiety, she wasn’t sure.

Mr. King couldn’t believe his good luck. Grant was a fool to have let Sylvia go. The woman was obviously totally and hopelessly in love with him. Grant was probably just as in love with her, too, but couldn’t deal with the feelings.

Which was Mr. King’s good fortune. He hoped and prayed that in Grant’s absence, she would learn to depend on him. That her feelings for him would grow. If he could have even a fraction of what Grant had with her, he would be a happy man.

He heard footsteps on the stairs and glanced toward the doorway. He was waiting for her in the family room by the fireplace. When she stepped into the room, totally naked, his breath caught.

She was stunning. Her long, dark hair cascaded around her naked shoulders and her beautiful blue eyes were downcast. His gaze fell to her pert, full breasts, the nipples hard and pointing forward. Was she cold or turned on?

His gaze lingered, then glided down her taut stomach to her naked pussy. He longed to slide his fingers inside her, to see if she was wet. And he could order her over here and do just that.

But he wanted to give her time.

“What can I do to serve you, Master?”

He smiled. The word Master on her lips—referring to him—made his cock ache with need.

“Come sit with me.”

She walked toward him.

“Here. By my feet.” He pointed to the large, round cushion on the floor.

She knelt on it. The way he’d placed it, she was between his calves.

“Sit and relax. Lean against me,” he said as she knelt rigidly, facing away from him.

She shifted, sitting on the pillow and leaning against the couch. He lifted her arm so it curled over his thigh.

He turned on the television and started a movie. He stroked her hair as he watched, like she was a favorite pet. After a while, she relaxed more and settled her head on his knee. When one movie ended, he started another, not wanting to move from this glorious position.

But partway in, he could sense her restlessness.

“What would you like, Sylvia?”

Sylvia turned her head, still resting on his muscular thigh, and gazed at him. She wanted to be loved. She wanted to be cared for.

Mr. Grant did neither.

But would Mr. King?

“It’s all right. You can tell me.” He smiled kindly.

Her heart welled and she needed… she wanted… to be desired.

She sucked in a breath, then surged up and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Her lips merged with his and he answered by sweeping his tongue into her mouth, his arms gliding around her and holding her close to him.

She trembled in his arms, needing so much more.

“I want to feel you inside me,” she murmured against his mouth. “I want you to make love to me slowly and deeply.”

She wanted him to fill her so full she couldn’t feel the emptiness any more.

But she was overstepping. Would he turn her down? Discipline her?

His hand glided down her side, sending her flesh tingling.

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” he murmured.

His words made her quiver. She climbed onto the couch, kneeling over his lap and her hands slid down his chest, then found his zipper. She pulled it down and reached inside for the prize.

His cock was thick and solid in her grip. Too big to wrap her fingers all the way around.

His fingers glided down her stomach, then cupped her mound. His middle finger nudged against her, then slipped inside.

“You’re wet and ready for me.”


She pressed his cockhead to her slick slit and glided it along the folds. Stroking her aroused flesh. Then she centered it and lowered her body. The plum-sized head stretched her as it slid inside. Once the bulbous tip was all the way in, she paused, then locked her gaze with his intense blue one.

“I want to be inside you, my love,” he said. “Deeply buried in your hot, wet depths.”

She nodded as she slowly lowered herself, taking him bit by bit. His thick, hard column gliding deeper into her body.

It felt so good. So comforting.

It was so clear that he wanted her.

Finally, he was fully buried in her depths. She stared into his eyes… the intimacy in their joined gazes almost more intimate than the joining of their bodies.

He smiled and kissed her lips. Gently. Lovingly.

Then he moved, pivoting his hips to rock his cock inside her. Her eyes closed as her head fell back at the exquisite feel of him stroking her insides. His hands wrapped around her hips and he lifted her slowly, then guided her back down again. The sizzling caress of his erection inside her took her breath away.

Then he rolled her under him. His big body covered hers as she lay back on the couch. His cock moved inside her. Smooth as silk. Filling her slowly, then drawing back. Like a slow deep inhale. Then exhale. His hard flesh quivering along her nerve endings.

She hooked her fingers over his shoulders.

“Oh, faster now. Please.”

He smiled and drew back, then glided deep. When his cock was all the way inside she sucked in a breath. Then he did it again. She shivered beneath him, pleasure washing through her.

“It feels so good.” She murmured the breathless words into his ear and he thrust forward, making her gasp.

She squeezed him, wanting to keep him inside her forever, but momentum kept him gliding in and out. Pumping into her. Her pleasure building.

“Ohhhh, yes.” She gripped his shoulders tighter. “Ohhh, Master.”

“Fuck, sweetness,” he said on a groan. Then he jolted forward, pinning her to the couch.

She felt him spasm, then liquid heat filled her. She shuddered as an orgasm washed over her, crumbling any barriers left between them. She clung to him as she moaned in ecstasy.

After a few moments, when she finally caught her breath, he stroked her hair and lifted his head to gaze down at her. The warmth in his eyes melted her heart.