Her Master Returns (Dark BDSM Erotica) Read Free Page A

darn site more civil to Les, her hard put upon husband
from the Welsh Valleys, rarely ever bossing him around or showing
him discourtesy which had been the norm for most of their four year
marriage. But she was also less sexual – the month of passion that
she had treated him to, playing the dirty slut, demanding endless
fucks, even going down on Les and sucking him off, came to an
abrupt end. It was only when she received the relieving
confirmation that she had not contracted any disease that Emily
made an effort and allowed Les to screw her, which happened in the
dark with tears in her eyes. Les didn’t comment on any of this
behaviour – he was used to such vagaries, and he had always thought
of Emily as his darling angel and not as his dirty
whore.
    At work Emily appeared to be normal, efficient and aloof – a
tight assed bitch in other words, which was what most of her
co-workers thought of her. But behind the professional facade of
cool efficiency, Emily was edgy. Every phone call she took was done
with apprehension, each knock on the door was greeted with alarm,
when she walked along a corridor she would flick glances all
around; her days were filled with dread and trepidation... and as
the week progressed - a sense of disappointment.

Chapter 3
    It came on a Tuesday.
    Almost two weeks had elapsed since Emily had taken the journey
down to the basement and surrendered to a man and the depravity of
her nature. She had succeeded to a degree in fooling herself that
she was actually putting it all behind her and that her life was
returning to normal. She had even managed to kid herself that she
was happy about the fact that no subsequent contact had been made –
sold herself the ridiculous notion that she wasn’t in the slightest
bit bothered that the man had probably moved on to some new tasty
prey and had consigned Emily Johnson to history, another notch on
his belt that was quickly forgotten having had his evil way with
her. Emily had refused to acknowledge the growing anger that she’d
been dismissed and forgotten so easily - that no attempt whatsoever
had been made to engage again and reclaim the stake he had made –
to use his bitch as a master should and treat her to those hours of
promised rutting. It was only in the shower, alone and naked, that
the naked truth occasionally surfaced and Emily absently played
with herself, recalling the sex that she vowed could never be
repeated, scratching an itch that just wouldn’t go away.
    Neither would Her Nemesis! He was never going away. He was a
man with a plan who was just biding his time, waiting for the next
strike.
    The strike came on a Tuesday, catching Emily by surprise. She
had planned to go to lunch with some of her bitchy professional
girlfriends, daring to face them having gathered her strength and
veneered herself with comforting lies. It was supposed to be
another step on the way to rehabilitation, but it all went up in
smoke when the internal mail arrived containing a simple printed
memo from an unknown source. Emily read it with shaking hands and a
galloping heart in her chest.
    ‘Mrs Johnson. I am pleased to inform you that you will be
working late tonight. You may leave at 6:45p.m. Have a nice
day.’
    The first reaction was joy – he hadn’t forsaken her! Then came
excitement – he was going to use her again and give her all that
she craved. Then came the voice of righteous indignity – he was
going to use her again and take her back to square one – the very
fabric of her life was a risk! Finding resolve, Emily crumpled the
paper up and threw it in her waste bin then quickly retrieved it,
worried it might be found and embarrassing questions asked. Before
feeding it to the shredder, she pressed it out flat and read it
again, seeing the same words. There could be no mistake about the
meaning. It screamed out from the sheet, stark in black and
white... Her Nemesis Master was telling her to get in the elevator
at 6:45p.m. There was no threat, no