The Whip Master Read online

  "I was desperate to belong to someone when I came here because I lost everything," Fifty said sadly.

  "You did not plan on coming here, nor were you aware of your needs until after you began to work. I find that very telling of you, as a person. Also incredibly sexy."

  Fifty shook her head. "There is nothing sexy about me. I'm good for organizing and planning, nothing more."

  "Don't underestimate yourself, darling. I'm sorry, but I wanted to attend the Rope Workshop. Would you like to join me?" he asked, glancing at his watch.

  "Thank you, but I'm grounded. I misbehaved this morning and Master Graye forbade me from attending any festivities this weekend." Fifty stuck out her lower lip.

  "Is that why you are unable to sit flat on your bottom?"

  "Oh dear, you noticed?"

  "Of course I noticed. You are adorable. Would you like me to talk to Mr. Graye?"

  "No, sir, but thank you for offering. I earned this punishment and it would be disrespectful of me to not pay my dues."

  "I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

  "It doesn't matter if the Master minds or not. This is an issue of integrity. I will not disappointment him, or myself, by not being a woman of my word."

  Mr. Carmichael lifted an eyebrow. "I want to talk with you more. Do you have a name, or just a number?"

  "The number fifty is my name, Mr. Carmichael. One that I am proud to hold." Fifty lifted her chin and looked him steadily in the eye.

  "Well, Fifty, it has been both an honor and a joy getting to know you. Please, call me Greg."

  "Calling a client by his first name is against our rules, Mr. Carmichael. I'm sorry."

  "Does that rule change if a client purchases a contract?"

  "If the client desires it. He can have us call him anything he wishes. He can also rename us if he chooses."

  He kissed the back of her hand. "There would be a lot I'd desire should I have you as my maid. May I bid on you?"

  Her heart fluttered. He was a handsome man, for certain, and had impeccable manners. She nodded silently and watched as he stood up and reached for her hand. He pulled her to her feet as though she weighed no more than a feather and held her hands in his. They were strong and callused, suggesting that he used them for more than pushing pens and answering telephone calls. He was also very tall and graceful, and in complete command of his movements. Did he dance? Do martial arts? Her mind swam with questions.

  "Because of these bruises, Master Graye will not permit me to stand on a public block. There are also two others—"

  He kissed her. There was no warning, no request. Her heart pounded and her legs grew weak as his lips crushed hers. When he released her, she had no breath to speak.

  "I'll walk you back to the Manor," he said with a firm tone, still holding her hands tightly in his own. They walked silently and he kissed her one last time before leaving her at the kitchens to return to work.

  Fifty stood frozen in place, watching him leave. A warm arm wrapped around her shoulders.

  "How did it feel?"

  She turned to look into Mrs. Lyon's eyes and inhaled deeply, bringing her fingers to her lips. "It felt right. It really felt right."

  Chapter Ten

  Dorian stood in the entryway of the Festival ballroom with Merry clutching his arm.

  "This is simply ethereal, Dorian. Oh my…"

  "Marilyn and her team outdid themselves this year, didn't they?"

  Cirque de Sade. Purple, green and gold—the traditional colors for Mardi Gras—swathed the room in cascades of glimmering fabric, lighting, and music. The guest tables sparkled with dressings fit for a king. Atop royal purple table linens sat vividly colorful floral arrangements that radiated with hidden fairy lights, red cut crystal plates nestled in gold chargers, solid gold utensils and crystal stemware that glittered in the colored beams. In the center of the massive room sat the acrylic pedestal, already pulsing with changing purple hues and holding the surprise under its protective top. Glowing fountains and iridescent ice sculptures drew the eye to tables laden with implements, toys and novelties, and various furnishings for 'after-dinner' play were tastefully arranged and illuminated for the guests' enjoyment.

  "What do you think, Mr. Graye?"

  "Marilyn, you and your team have outdone yourselves. I am speechless. Thank you."

  "It's my pleasure. Merry, you look incredible!"

  "Thank you," Merry smiled, turning to show off her provocative gown. It consisted of a gold lamé buckled corset and long gold skirt with hand-sewn Swarovski crystals.

  "Gold is the color of power," Dorian said proudly. "She came out as Mistress Graye today."

  Marilyn clapped her hands, her eyes filled with longing. "I am so happy for you! The Manor has needed a mistress for a long time. So, are you no longer One?"

  "She will always be One, but her proper address will now be Mistress Meredith Graye."

  "You are positively bursting with pride." Marilyn smiled. "I'll let you get to your evening. I'll have my phone if you need me."

  "You aren't going to join us?" Merry asked.

  "No, ma'am. I—"

  "I insist. Elias!" Dorian called, seeing the man approach. "Take Marilyn to the seamstress and have her find a gown for tonight. I want this young lady to look like Cinderella."

  "Yes, sir, Boss. Come on, my dear," Elias said, holding out his elbow.

  "Really? You really want me to go to the ball?"

  "I really, really want you to go to the ball," Dorian said with a gentle smile.

  Marilyn flung her arms around his neck, kissed his cheek with a squealed 'thank you,' and then grabbed Elias's arm to leave.

  "She has the makings of a Little, you know," Merry said, watching the tiny woman drag Elias to the door. "Did you see how she transformed when you mentioned Cinderella?"

  "Hmm, you might be right. Perhaps my Merry will have her little lamb after all."

  "Really? Do you really think so?" She squeezed his hands excitedly.

  Dorian laughed at the repeated phrase. "I really, really think so. Let's approach it slowly and see where it goes. She wants me to introduce her to the lifestyle, remember? And since she isn't one of our maids, she isn't subject to the same guidelines and policies."

  Merry flung her arms around his neck in the same manner the tiny girl had moments before. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

  "You're welcome, my pet. Now let's go to our table and open the doors for our guests to mingle before dinner. The moment for the Festival has arrived."

  Dorian's table sat upon a raised platform which allow him to watch over the entirety of the immense room. With Merry on his left, and Elias on his right, he truly felt that he was the King of his castle, with his Queen and Grand Master at his side. Marilyn had just joined them, clad uncomfortably in an elegant white dress, and was placed between him and Jamal. Gregory Carmichael was already engaged in deep conversation with the pregnant Pleasure and Merry. Poor guy, Dorian thought, he's probably being raked over the coals.

  The meal was carried in by maids dressed in both Manor livery and costumes of their participation for the evening. They were beautiful dancers, daring acrobats, and mesmerizing side-show performers who teased and lured the crowd into excitement. Then Dorian got to his feet and the room fell into a giant hush.

  "Ladies and Gentlemen," his low voice boomed across the room. "I again thank you for joining me on this special occasion. This weekend marks the fifteenth anniversary of Graye Manor, and my taking of a bride. I wish to introduce you to my One, and only, Mistress Meredith Graye. Isn't she lovely? Stand up, my dear."

  The applause was deafening as the room celebrated her honored title. Merry blushed, stood quickly to wave her thanks, and returned to her seat.

  "Our theme this year is Cirque de Sade. Thanks to the efforts of our very own engineer, Miss Marilyn, we have quite the show and after dinner activities waiting for you. Stand up, dear."

  Marilyn reluctantly stood and then quickly sank back down in her ch
air as clapping and cheers greeted her.

  "I'd like to just remind you to please limit your wine intake if you are going to participate. Safety first, right?" Dorian gestured to the wings of the room. "Bring in the food!"

  True to the theme, the tables were served with authentic French and Creole dishes that were perfected with Mrs. Lyon's magic. Jambalaya, étouffée, savory lobster crêpes, escargot and multiple other items meant to inspire the palate and ignite the senses were placed before the hungry guests. The clinking of glasses and happy conversation blended with exuberant exclamations of praise for the menu and the meal, the décor, and the anticipation of the evening's entertainment. The maids wove gracefully between the tables, filling glasses, removing empty plates, and responding to their patrons in a choreographed dance of practiced ease.

  Dorian crossed his arms, proudly watching his beloved girls. Many of them would be on the block tomorrow evening, a symbol of the closing of another chapter in Graye Manor's history. He would miss them. Under the table, he felt a hand on his inner thigh and turned to his smiling wife.

  "You outdid yourself this year."

  "I had nothing to do with it. This is Marilyn's making. We hit the jackpot when we decided to bring her home with us."

  Her hand slid to his crotch. "We certainly did. I know you're hurting, honey. It gets harder every year when your little chicks leave the nest."

  "I bet this is how a father feels when he sees his daughter leave home. Kind of gets you right here," he said, lifting her hand from its warm resting place and pressing it to the center of his chest.

  "You've been exactly that to most of these girls. Why do you think every last one of them cries when the bidding is over?"

  "Why do you think I cry like a baby after the last one leaves?" Dorian kissed her knuckles.

  "Never like a baby. Like a loving, sensitive man who is proud of the women he helped to make strong and fulfill their dreams."

  "Seriously, Mer?" Elias leaned across Dorian. "He cries like a baby?"

  "You're no better, Mr. Snivelpants."

  "Oh, yeah? Well—"

  "Enough, you two. Behave or I'm going to spank both of you and send you to bed early."

  "Promise?" they both asked at once. The two looked at each other and broke into laughter.

  "Okay, no more wine for either of you." He looked across the table at both newcomers' shocked expressions. "I apologize for my family. Now you see why I am very selective about who sits at my table. Beware, gentlemen, Fifty has taken all of her bratting lessons from this one here."

  "Hey! Don't I get any credit?" Merry pouted as he pointed to Elias.

  Marilyn and Greg looked at each other over Jamal and broke into rambunctious laughter.

  "Take the wine from them, too. What is wrong with you people?" Dorian asked as his entire table broke into uncontrollable laughter and giggles.

  That, in turn, sparked several of the maids to lose control and before he knew it, the entire room was filled with laughter. Dorian sat, straight-faced and in complete control, slowly shaking his head.

  "This is your fault," he stated to Elias, whose loud chortling was sending another wave of laughter over the room. "You do this every year. Stop it."

  "I can't." Elias released another loud snort. "It just happens."

  Dorian fought against the contagious laughter, but when his best friend began to snort, it was just too much for him to resist. He held his stomach, the laughter pouring out in loud rumbles. He held his hands up and turned his face from Elias, who still hid his head in his arms upon the table.

  Once Dorian was finally able to catch his breath and regain control, he stood and lifted his right hand into the air. The guffaws slowly dissolved into twitters, punctuated by an occasional stray giggle.

  "The show will start in a few minutes. In the meantime, I apologize for the… uh… oh, hell. Feel for me, people. I have to live with him." Dorian said, looking down at Elias who continued to release muffled oinking sounds, with his head buried in his arms.

  "We feel for you, Dorian," someone called out. "Some of us have learned over the years not to be drinking when Elias begins to laugh."

  "Dorian? I say, Dorian?" Mr. Tin waved his hand. "What's so funny? Did you tell a joke? Did I miss something?" He looked around the room in obvious confusion.

  "Change your batteries, Tin," a man said loudly.

  "What? What?"

  "Turn on your hearing aid, Tin," one of the people at the old man's table shouted in his ear. One of liveried maids trotted over to the man, sat on his lap, and wrapped her arm around his neck. She kissed him affectionately on the cheek and turned up the device.

  "Oh? Oh yes! That's much better." The old man grinned, having captured a giggling maid in his arms and kissing her back. "Now, why was everyone laughing?"

  After a brief silence during which they could hear the crickets, boom! Another explosion of laughter struck.

  "Smooth move, Tin. Once again, he ends up with a pretty girl on his lap. How the hell does he always manage to do it? Was she one of yours?"

  Mr. Tin winked, accepting another affectionate kiss on the cheek from the maid. "Of course she was one of mine! With age, experience and cunning, a man need never to have an empty lap. Plus, I'm irresistible."

  "You crafty old dodger. I want one of those!" Mr. Doyle called out, pointing to the woman snuggling the old man.

  "You need to earn it, son. Oh look! Another one!" Mr. Tin exclaimed as a second maid joined the first in his lap and covered his face with affectionate kisses.

  "And we were worried about him being upset about not getting Fifty," Dorian whispered to Merry. "I rest my case."

  Once the tables were cleared of the meal and the guests were sitting comfortably, sipping coffee and tea, the lights dimmed. The show had begun. Every performer was a Graye Maid, both ones in training and those in service. A gold curtain opened in the wall and a light slowly illuminated the six piece orchestra of beautiful women adorned in black harnesses. A violin began the plaintive melody of the 'Lux Aeterna', Dorian's favorite song, and he felt his chest tighten with emotion.

  "They did all of this specifically for you, my friend," Elias whispered. "Happy anniversary."

  The room awakened with purple, green and amber spotlights that pulsated in time to the music. Eight figures were slowly lowered from the ceiling, each long-haired form tied in erotic, breathtaking Shibari poses. They dangled for a moment over the guests' heads and then started to circle clockwise around the room. The crowd pointed and 'oohed' as the twirling women were elegantly illuminated by soft amber light

  A new stanza brought a fall of yellow dance ribbons from inside the circle of Shibari performers. Contortionists, with their legs wrapped around the strong folds of fabric, performed a modified pole dance. They climbed up and down the cloth shafts, from floor to ceiling and moving unnaturally to the music that enveloped the room. On cue, they each climbed to the center of their ribbon and wrapped it around their legs, and then dove face down as the down beat introduced the powerful chorus.

  Dorian held his breath as the ribbon dancers were rotated counter-clockwise, each posing as the turning gear sped faster. A gasp from the audience accompanied the next surprise. The large pedestal located in the middle of the floor began to transform. The sections of the round table top folded towards the center to form a cone shape as the base began to rise from the floor like a giant cock. Shackled to the pillar were six slaves with their backs to the audience, each wearing only a black leather thong and thigh-high patent leather stiletto boots, and illuminated with a different color light. The column began to slowly turn clockwise and took on a neon purple hue as it crackled with static electricity.

  "She built a giant violent wand! Unbelievable!" Dorian exclaimed, grabbing Elias's forearm with excitement. Six whip masters stepped out of the darkness and uncoiled their single tails braided with fiber optics. Together they threw their whips, creating living snakes of light that exploded in bursts of color as
they made contact with the bound slaves.

  There were no words to describe what his eyes were witnessing. The music—his music—came alive in a dance of pain and pleasure. Everything that he might have visualized for the piece was there, and it was being shared with the people most important to him. A tear rolled down his face.

  ***

  A pair of arms hugged him from behind after the applause had died down and the party began.

  "Did I do good?" Marilyn asked.

  Dorian pulled her upon his lap and hugged her tightly. "I have no words. This was amazing. You are amazing. Thank you."

  "So you're gonna keep me, right?" she teased.

  "You always ask me that question and you always get the same answer. There is no way I am ever going to let you go. In fact, I wanted to ask you a question."

  "Let me up, first." She squirmed on his lap.

  "Settle down, little girl. You need to get used to sitting on my lap," Dorian ordered. She immediately obeyed and he rocked her. "Merry and I would like you to consider becoming our Little."

  Marilyn pushed back to stare into his eyes. "Like… your little girl?"

  "Do you understand the term? The ageplay element—"

  "Yes, I know exactly what it is. I…" she wrapped her arms around his neck and began to cry. "Yes! Yes!"

  "Shhh. Why are you crying?"

  "I'm so happy. I've never had a mommy and a daddy and you two have been like parents to me. I've been wanting to find a way to ask you about exploring ageplay since I first heard of it, but thought I was too old, and—"

  "Merry? Come here, sweetheart," Dorian beckoned to his wife. "I wanted to wish you a happy anniversary and give you my present."

  "What's wrong? Why is Marilyn crying? Honey?"

  "She's happy. She just agreed to be our Little Lamb."

  "Oh, Dorian!"

  ***

  After transferring Marilyn to Merry's loving arms, Dorian joined his guests on the floor. The human buffet table was being enjoyed by both men and women as they sampled both the available finger foods and the Insatiables bound to the platforms. The living sculpture of his lovely contortionists flowed in molten fluidity, changing their forms every minute or so, drawing the attention of both lovers of their art and potential buyers.