Sackmaster (10 page)

He spoke softly, his voice deep and serious
as he promised to care for her, protect her, treat her as his most precious
possession. In return he expected her to give him control over her body and
obedience to his reasonable orders. “Do you want this?”

No doubt existed in Julie’s mind. “Yes,
Master.”

“What will you give me as proof?”

She bowed her head. “My hair, Master, if
you will have it.”

“I will.”

Anticipation sluiced through Julie’s veins
as the sub named Donna came forward and folded back the cover from the table.
She felt rather than saw the woman place a pair of scissors in Jimmy’s hand
then step back outside the circle. Suddenly warm, Julie glanced around, saw at
least a dozen pairs of feet surrounding them. Others were watching.

“Suck my cock, pet.”

Oh, yes.
She
bent and took his cock in her mouth. Her nipples tingled as they brushed the
insides of his rock-hard thighs. Submission before witnesses. Her cunt
contracted and moisture wet her labia when he made the first cut. Her hair
tickled her back as it fell.

“I love you, baby.” His honeyed voice
bathed her head in sensation as he snipped away her hair. Nothing like the
barber’s businesslike work, this was a sensual treat. With each snip came a
caress, an incredible feeling of submission to the man she loved.

Yes, she loved her Master, now and for as
long as he wanted her. She wanted to please him. She’d never felt so adored, so
taken as when he laid the scissors down and ran his fingers through the short
tufts of hair that remained.

She saw him hold out one hand for the
electric clipper Donna offered. The sound of its motor whirring made her cunt
clench and release more hot, slippery lubricant to trickle down her legs. The
buzzing of the clipper on her scalp had her desperately sucking him, wanting
him to come. Wanting to come, herself.

He wasn’t unaffected. His cock swelled,
growing impossibly larger against her throat. She tasted the salty lubrication
escape, and his harsh groan let her know he was close. As close as she was.

Oh God, he was killing her with every
slow-motion pass of the vibrating clippers on her scalp. She squirmed, blew out
her breath around his throbbing flesh. The tiny clippings of her hair clung to
both of them.

The clipper stopped buzzing and he ran a
big, gentle hand over her head. “Feels like fine sandpaper, pet. Damn, I can’t
stand it. Gotta come.” When he groaned and trembled, she realized the harness
buckled around his scrotum and the base of his cock had to be hurting him
terribly. “Let me loose.”

She raised her head enough to see the cock
ring and remove it then took him back in her mouth in time to taste the first
hot spurts of semen. “Oh God yeah.” He pulled away and came on her stubbled
scalp, spurt after spurt of creamy, salty ejaculate that slid over her.

“Master, may I come?” She felt it low in
her belly, in her breasts. In every cell of her body. But he controlled her
pleasure. “Please.”

“Come, my beautiful slave.” With gentle
hands he massaged his slick semen into her nearly bare head, scooped it from
her cheeks and ears. It felt incredible, almost as good as the release that
left her limp and helpless.

It could have been minutes or hours when
she felt her master clamp a slender collar around her neck. It closed with a
blessed, final
click
as he said one welcome word, “Forever.” Gently he
threaded the long, diamond-studded chain through the rings in her nipples and
clit and fastened it through the one dangling from his collar. “A pretty leash
for my beautiful slave,” he said, his tone deep, his dark eyes focused on her
face.

When her head had been shaved before, she’d
gotten sensual pleasure. But not like this. Jimmy borrowed the big Domme’s
slave and ordered him to shave Julie’s head. Jimmy must be afraid he’d cut her.
While the slave wielded the razor, her Master knelt behind her and fucked her.

Gently. Possessively. He played with her
nipple rings. “Come now,” he ordered her once the shaving was done, as he came
again, his heat scalding her. It felt…incredibly good. Clamping down on his
spasming cock, she came and came…and came.

* * * * *

On Monday they did the photo shoot. Pissed
at first to have to let a male photographer see his slave naked, Jimmy felt
better when he realized, if anything, he’d attract more of the guy’s attention
than Julie would.

“You have a hot, hot body.” That had been
the photographer’s first utterance when they came out of the dressing alcove,
even more naked than the days they were born, except for the makeup that made
him feel like a weirdo.

Jimmy shot him a killing look, but his
dismay was mixed with relief that nobody but him would be ogling his Julie.
“Let’s get on with it,” he said, his tone pretty damn close to a snarl.

“How’re you doing?” Julie asked once they’d
been posing for an hour or more.

“Okay. This gig’s not half bad, compared
with standing around in football pants, pushing shampoo and conditioner. I
never got to lie around all morning with a gorgeous chick before, and get paid
for doing it to boot.”

“I want that look a little more intense,”
the camera guy ordered. “Look like you’ve got a major hard-on for the chick,
macho-man.”

Jimmy looked down at Julie, whispered, “And
he thinks I don’t?”

“Hush.” But she broke out in laughter as
the camera rolled. “Sorry about that, Ted.”

They went on for four more hours before
Ted, the director, and the gay photographer finished the session. “We got some
good shots. Kidding aside, you two have chemistry that’s gonna jump right off
the pages of those magazines. The company may want us to shoot some video for
TV ads. They’ll know within six months, they say. They think they’re saving
money, but it would have been cheaper to do the stills and video all in one
shot, even if they decide against the TV spots.”

Ted looked at Julie and smiled. “You
willing to go naked again, Miss Julie?”

She looked up at Jimmy. “Up to you, boss.”

Was she kidding? “Get naked with you, baby?
Any day.”

Hell, they had a fetish they could explain
away in vanilla company if they ever needed to!

Chapter Seven

Two months later

“I’m
what
?” Julie stared at the
doctor she’d gone to because of some vague stomach disturbances she’d been
having the past few weeks.

“Pregnant. P-r-e-g-n-a-n-t. As in, with
child.”

Alison Drake, M.D. was very young and a
smart-mouth to boot. Not as reassuring as Julie’s regular doc, for certain.
“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Do I refer you to the OB guy or
the Women’s Center?”

She was pushing thirty-six. She had a loving
Master—at least for now—but they’d never talked about the possibility of…
this
.
And kids didn’t necessarily go real well with the BDSM lifestyle they both
enjoyed. Still…

“Well?”

“I-I’ll have to think about it.”
Talk to
Jimmy. He has a right to know, doesn’t he?

Dr. Drake shrugged. “I’ll refer you to the
OB, then. If you’re not going to abort it right away, you’ll need prenatal
care. After all, you’re getting old to be having a first pregnancy.”

Did she have to say that? Julie
knew
every year of her age. But she wasn’t on the brink of senility as this woman
seemed to think. “Okay. I’ll want…hold on, let me call my friend and find out
her obstetrician’s name.” She pulled out her phone and speed-dialed Susan.

She got the doctor’s name, and an
invitation to drop by Susan’s place for lunch that sounded a lot like a royal
command. “Dr. Mark Cohen,” she told Dr. Drake.

“That’s a good idea. He specializes in
high-risk pregnancies.”

Was she high risk? “Am I?”

The doctor had an annoying habit of
shrugging, Julie decided when she prefaced another statement with the gesture.
“Not that I know of. But at your age…”

Enough! Julie stood and held out her hand
for the referral. “Thank you.” Then she made a beeline past the front desk and
out the door.

* * * * *

She’d bounced back and forth, trying to
decide between going to Susan’s or seeing if she could get hold of Jimmy while
he was at practice—the last one before the Rebels’ game with the Maulers who
apparently were archrivals who’d beaten them in the Super Bowl last winter.
This wasn’t something she wanted to tell him during a hurried phone call while
he was surrounded by other coaches and players. Susan won hands-down, so here
she was at her friend’s front door, waiting.

“Congratulations! You’ve gotta be
thrilled.” Susan was beaming, ear to ear, her pretty face glowing with apparent
good health. “Come on in,” she said in her endearing west-Texas drawl. “I fixed
us some soup and salad. And milk. Good stuff for expectant moms.”

Julie smiled. She couldn’t fault her
friend’s enthusiasm. Now five months along with what she and Colin called their
miracle pregnancy, she thought the condition was the greatest thing on earth.
Julie, on the other hand, hated milk and had a sinking feeling her baby daddy
wasn’t going to be delighted about impending fatherhood—at least not with her,
not now.

But she was. If not delighted, then at
least protective as hell of the little life growing inside her. She hadn’t
known until this moment, but she was certain now. She was going to have this
baby. If she lost the Master she loved, so be it.

“I’ll pass on the milk. I guess I’ll have
to get my calcium from cheese and yogurt. And broccoli. I hear it’s loaded with
calcium, which is weird since calcium’s white and broccoli’s dark green.” Julie
realized she was babbling when Susan shot her a curious look. “Sorry, I must be
a little crazy right now,” she said apologetically as she sat at the table in
front of a steaming bowl of clam chowder.

“Don’t apologize. When I found out, I spent
the four hours before Colin got home that day, bouncing between joy and
absolute fear. You’ll be fine once you tell Jimmy and he acts like you hung the
moon and he’s the only man on earth who’s managed to father a child.”

“I hope so.” Julie didn’t feel like
enumerating her fears or reminding her friend that their situations were quite
different. They both wore pretty gold chokers that said “slave” to anybody in
the lifestyle. But Susan also wore her master’s wedding band, along with a
flashy diamond engagement ring that went with it. She’d mentioned several times
how Colin and she had decided from the first to do their best to have a baby,
or to adopt if she failed to conceive.

Julie tried to stay calm, pretend interest
in Susan’s chatter about the supposed joys of pregnancy including some details
Julie would have rather waited to learn about on her own. Forcing a smile, she
ate a few spoonfuls of the soup and a few bites of the fresh-fruit salad Susan
had fixed. “I’m afraid I’m not very good company today. I think I’ll go home and
wait for Jimmy to finish with practice.”

“Don’t worry, it will all be fine,” Susan
said as she walked Julie to the door.

* * * * *

To keep from thinking too much, Julie
undressed, set her wig on its stand and shrugged into a terry robe. On the
deck, she stripped and climbed in the Jacuzzi tub in hope that the swirling
water would ease her tension.

It didn’t. In an hour she’d turned herself
into a prune but her temples still throbbed. She didn’t want to think, but she
had to. Idly, she scratched Missy’s sleek neck until Jimmy called to say he’d
be late.

“Great. More time to fret,” she told the
dog after hanging up the phone. Missy just looked at her, a puzzled doggy look
on her face.

By the time Jimmy got home—an hour later
than usual—Julie was in a fine funk. Every minute she sat on the deck of his
new house where they’d lived together for the past six weeks, she visualized
his possible reactions—all bad. Maybe she should just leave, go somewhere and
have the baby alone.

But no. She couldn’t do that. Even though
she figured he might send her away, she couldn’t leave him to wonder what he’d
done. What she’d done that made her leave him without any explanation.

She patted the dog they’d found together,
and she remembered how he genuinely loved the pooch. The pins had been removed
from her hind leg last week. Maybe…

Maybe he’d want his baby, too, even if it
was conceived by accident. She got up and went inside as she heard him get out
of his SUV and close the door.

He deserves to know, whether he wants to
or not.

As he climbed the stairs to the great room
overlooking the water, she tried to stop trembling. Her stomach rolled, more
nerves than the all-day morning sickness that had sent her to the doctor.

A beer. He’ll want one. After I tell
him, he’ll probably want a six-pack.
Going to the
bar, she got a beer for him and a bottled water for herself. With any kind of
luck it wouldn’t send her racing for the bathroom.