Marshall Cottage: Part Two
I wanted Master Stephen. The thing was, would he want me?
I’d been visiting Marshall Cottage for a while, watching a certain Dom who never seemed to have a sub of his own. He borrowed other people’s, giving them a slap here, a nipple tweak there, seemingly confident and comfortable with himself. But I was shocked to find he wasn’t any of those things—until he took control as a Master.
I wanted him as mine. Would he agree to dominate me? Give me the pain I desired? I aimed to make that happen and couldn’t wait to see how things played out. I’d observed him for long enough. It was time to step up and take what I wanted—and every beautiful bite of pain he was willing to dish out.
Would he also give me the love I craved? A permanent relationship where we shared everything? A girl could hope, couldn’t she?
People think I’m the Dominant and Dan is the sub. In reality, it’s the other way around.
My husband, Dan, enjoyed being naked on his hands and knees, a dog leash around his neck while I paraded him about. People at Marshall Cottage undoubtedly thought I was the Dominant and that he was the sub. Who wouldn’t? Outside appearances said just that. In reality, though, he was the one telling me what to do and how to act. He called the shots. Giving out the wrong impression made Dan horny as hell, while I often wondered whether fooling people meant we were being not only dishonest with them, but with ourselves too.
Marshall Cottage was putting on a show night, and while we waited for the main event, Dan and I somehow made it onto the stage, giving a show of our own. Would it become clear to all who watched who was really in charge? Would they believe it? Or would our attempt in showing who we really were go completely unnoticed?
Master M sometimes denied me permission—but not tonight. No, I was in charge this time…
Standing on stage with Master M, ready to perform in front of guests in Marshall Cottage, I remembered the past. How I’d met my Master came tumbling back into my mind—and why he’d created a place for BDSM lovers to play. I adored him, wanted what was best for him, as he did for me. But the question was, could I get him to obey me this time, instead of the other way around?
He told me to always keep a part of myself to myself—to never give everything. The thing was, I wanted to give him everything. Every little bit of me. While we played out a scene on stage, the past continuing to stream through my mind, things began to change. He changed—giving me, and himself, permission to fully let go.
His hands on me. His whispers in my ear. His complete trust. I wanted it all—forever.