A drink to wash away the stresses of an end-of-the month Friday and a screaming boss was what Miranda needed. Maybe two. It had been unseasonably warm for late November in Baltimore, so the diaphanous skirt that swirled to her ankles and the silk sweater she sported bowed to the day. Meeting Master at their favorite pub couldn’t come soon enough as she dashed off the elevator into an enveloping dusk. Hopping the water taxi to Fells Point, gentle breezes caressed her skin, lashes closed in weekend contentment, her reverie was broken by the text chime on her phone: ’15 minutes Bertha’s. M’ As she knew to do, the answer was immediate: ‘Yes Master, as You wish’.
He greeted her outside the restaurant, devouring her with a deliberate fiery gaze. Miranda’s eyes were cast downward as he lifted her chin, kissing her so deeply that she was set off balance on the aged cobblestones. “Come, I have a martini and some steamed mussels waiting, baby.” M guided her inside, helping her to coveted stools at the back of the jammed bar. They toasted the weekend and hungrily slurped the salty mollusks. Before ordering a second round of drinks, M slipped one hand under Miranda’s skirt and pulled her closer with the other. Raspy commands filled Miranda’s ear, “Outside, to the side of the building by the street light. Now, slut. I will join you in a moment.” She quickened to rest beneath the iconic ‘Eat Bertha’s Mussels’ sign practically melting into the historic brick, as she knew he would require. M strode confidently toward her, holding a crisp white linen napkin and a sharp knife. Miranda processed the napkin, but was frightened by the knife he wielded. Wordlessly handing the impliment to her, he unfurled the makeshift blindfold and tied it tightly over her eyes. “I want to exhibit my whore tonight.” The icy steel of the collar encircled her neck as the point of the blade grazed her thigh, violating the fabric. Bent forward slightly, M slashed the silk like a surgeon into jagged ribbons, most hitting Miranda’s sinewy upper thigh. Alterations now complete, he pinned her body to the wall. “Touch yourself and let me taste, Princess.” Licking and kissing, they shared the musky sweetness coating her fingers before going back inside to settle the tab.
Nestled in cozy covers, Miranda sleepily waited for M to join her in bed. Adjusting the dimmer, he flashed her a lustful smile. Once again, there was something in his hand– a fine marker. “My slut, you need to be reminded of Master’s rules and will dress as I say.” Her eyes wide, hands and feet restrained to the bed, his guidelines were established. “Nothing longer than provocative or there will be punishment. Are we clear?”