My Master Trained Me to Seduce and Obey

Mara had been awake for more than an hour, listening to the thick silence of the house. Moonlight slipped through the tall windows and stretched the shadows of the furniture across the wall. The side of the bed where Dorian was supposed to be remained cold, not a single crease in it. He still hadn’t come upstairs.

He had been locked in his study all night, and curiosity gnawed at her from the inside like a small animal. The words he had let drop two days earlier still echoed in her head, and she could no longer pretend she hadn’t heard them. She threw back the sheets and got up.

Her heart was pounding, though fear was not what drove her. She knew perfectly well who Dorian was and what he did. She knew his associates were not ordinary men, that his business had more than one crooked edge and his intentions were rarely clean. And even so, she was willing to do anything for him.

If I have to be his spy, I will be. If I have to be his weapon, that too. If I have to spread my legs for him, I’ll spread them.

She reached the study door, from which a murmur of voices drifted out. The carved wood seemed to warn her that this was not her place. But Mara was not a frightened girl: she was a woman who had learned to move among difficult men, to read them, to outlast them. She adjusted the thin nightgown she was wearing, so sheer her hard nipples showed through the silk, and pushed the door open softly.

Inside, the only light came from a desk lamp and the fire crackling in the fireplace. Dorian stood by the flames, imposing, jaw tight. Beside him, a man in a dark suit was speaking in a low voice, his face so still not a single muscle moved. Mara stayed in the doorway, making no sound.

“She’s perfect for what we need,” said the man in the suit. “Her beauty, the way she moves… she can walk into any room without anyone suspecting a thing. And her loyalty to you isn’t in question.”

Dorian crossed his arms. “She’s not just another tool. She’s more than that. But yes, she can be useful to us.”

Something cold ran down her spine. Useful? Is that what I am? She did not let herself hesitate for more than a second. If he considered her useful, then she would be useful; and if she had to be a blade, she would be the sharpest of them all. A blade with a cunt and a mouth, ready to sink itself wherever he pointed.

The man in the suit turned toward the door, as if he had smelled her presence. “Mara, right? Come in, no need to hide.”

She advanced, measuring each step, aware of how the nightgown clung to her body with the firelight behind her, turning transparent, revealing the curve of her breasts, the dark shadow of her pussy, the long line of her thighs. “Sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Dorian fixed his gray eyes on her. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to know,” she said without hesitation. “I want to understand what you’re planning and how you intend to use me. And I want to help. For you, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The man in the suit smiled, a smile that never reached his eyes. “I see you’ve trained her well.”

Dorian did not smile, but something in his shoulders eased. “Mara is not just my ward. She’s part of me. And if she’s willing to get involved in this, we’ll prepare her.”

“Prepare me?” she asked, and her own voice trembled with anticipation.

“There’s a reception next week,” the man said. “A private event where the most powerful men in the city gather. We need you to infiltrate it and get certain information. And if necessary, use your charms to distract a particular target. Blow him if that’s what it takes. Fuck him until he tells you what we want to hear.”

Mara nodded, her mind already working, her cunt already starting to wet from the rawness of the way that man said it. “I’ll do it. Tell me how.”

Dorian came closer, and his presence filled the whole room’s air. “First, understand that it won’t be easy. There will be men who try to humiliate you, use you. But you’re stronger than them. And I’m going to be watching, always.”

“I’m not afraid,” she lied, though her pulse was hammering at her neck.

The man in the suit cleared his throat. “First you’ll need to prove you’re ready. Dorian, why don’t you show our guest what it means to belong to this circle? Make her get on her knees and suck you off in front of me. I need to know the bitch obeys.”

Dorian took her by the hand and led her to the center of the rug. “Take off the nightgown,” he ordered, his voice low and without a trace of doubt.

She didn’t hesitate. With slow, deliberate movements, she slid the straps down her shoulders and let the fabric fall to the floor. She stood there, completely naked, exposed to the two men’s gaze and the heat of the fireplace. Her nipples had gone hard as stone, the hair of her pussy neatly trimmed, her thighs only slightly trembling.

“On your knees,” he said.

Mara obeyed. Her knees sank into the rug and she lifted her gaze to Dorian, her eyes shining with surrender and a desire she could not hide. She felt the suit-clad man’s stare fixed on her bare ass, on the open slit between her cheeks, and instead of shame she felt a slick wetness sliding down the inside of her thigh.

He crouched until he was level with her face. “Are you willing to do whatever it takes? To debase yourself, to obey, to let us use you to get what we want? To have that son of a bitch watch you suck my cock like the whore you are?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “For you, Dorian. For you I’ll swallow it all. For you I’ll open myself wherever you want.”

He grabbed her hair without warning and pulled her toward his mouth. He kissed her hard, demanding, his tongue deep inside her until she gave in completely and opened herself to that domination. Then he let go of her hair for a second, unbuckled his belt, and pulled out his cock, already hard, thick, veins pronounced, the tip shining with fluid. He seized her again by the nape.

“Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue. Show the guest how you suck your master’s cock.”

Mara stuck out her tongue and he laid his cock on it, dragging it across the flat surface, pushing inward. She closed her lips around it and began to suck, slowly at first, letting him set the pace with his hand on the back of her neck. She felt the hot cock swelling against her palate, the salty taste of precome at the back of her throat.

“Deeper,” Dorian growled, and pushed it all the way in. The tip bumped against her throat, she gagged, tears filling her eyes, but she didn’t pull away. She held on. She swallowed around the hard flesh and thrust herself forward again, so he would know she could take anything.

The man in the suit came closer, without touching her, and crouched beside her. He looked closely at her soaked face, the lips stretched around the cock, the strands of spit hanging from her chin. “She’s good,” he murmured. “She knows how to take it without complaining. She can endure.”

Dorian grabbed both her ears and started fucking her mouth for real, driving his hips, sinking his balls against her face with each thrust, the testicles hitting her chin every time. She let him, panting, throat open, mascara smeared, her free hand sliding down to her cunt to masturbate while she swallowed his cock. She was soaked through. She was dripping onto the rug.

“Look at her touching herself,” the man in the suit said. “She likes being used.”

“She’s my bitch,” Dorian replied in a hoarse voice, never stopping his thrusts. “My beautiful bitch. And she’s going to be yours for one night.”

Before he came in her mouth, he pulled out. He hauled her up by the hair until she was standing, turned her around, and shoved her against the desk. He yanked her ass apart and, without ceremony, drove his cock into her cunt all the way to the hilt. Mara moaned, guttural, feeling herself stretch around him, every inch of flesh scraping her walls.

“Fuck her against the table,” said the man in the suit, still impassive, watching Mara’s ass move with each thrust. “Let the guest feel it. Let him know what belongs to him.”

Dorian gripped her hips and fucked her hard, without pause, the desk banging the wall with every drive, papers falling to the floor, her breasts dragging across the wood. He tugged her hair back so she arched, and at that angle he drove even deeper. Mara panted, moaned, told him yes, yes, more, take me, I’m yours, in a voice broken by every thrust.

“Come with me,” Dorian ordered. “Come on my cock, in front of him.”

She couldn’t hold on any longer. The orgasm split her in two, a long spasm that clenched her cunt around him and left her shaking against the desk. Dorian thrust three more times and came inside her with a low grunt, emptying his cock to the very last drop in the depths of her pussy. When he pulled out, a thick white thread began sliding down the inside of Mara’s thigh.

The man in the suit nodded slowly. “Impressive. I think we’re ready to begin.”

Dorian held out his hand and helped her to her feet. “We’re going to prepare you. And remember, Mara: whatever happens that night, you’re still mine.”

“Always yours,” she replied, still trembling, with his semen running down her thigh.

***

The following days were pure training. I learned to slide among powerful men without them noticing I was studying them, to use a smile as bait, to draw a confession out of an ordinary conversation. But I also learned something harder: the power in surrendering, in giving yourself completely. Dorian pushed me to the limit every night, demanding that I humiliate myself before him, that I strip away everything that wasn’t obedience.

One night he made me strip in front of the mirror and forced me to masturbate while he watched, without touching me, giving me precise orders: two fingers inside, now three, now the thumb on the clit, now faster, now slow, don’t come until I tell you. When he finally let me come, he made me lick my own wet fingers clean in front of him, and then he shoved those same fingers into my mouth along with his cock, so I would learn to taste on my tongue the mixed flavors of my cunt and his dick.

Another night he tied me face-down on the bed, my legs spread, and spent an hour eating my pussy and my ass alternately, not letting me come, until I started begging him. When I begged, he shoved it into my ass, with his cock lubricated by my own spit, and fucked my ass slowly, for a long time, forcing me to feel every inch, while he whispered in my ear that that hole was his too, that everything in me was his. He made me come without touching my cunt, only with his cock in my ass and his filthy words in my ear.

Another night I was lying on the study floor, naked, my wrists tied with a silk ribbon above my head. He leaned over me and his breath brushed my ear.

“Are you ready for the reception? Ready to be mine in body and in everything else? Ready to let another man put his tongue between your legs if that gets me what I want?”

“Yes, master,” I answered, my voice broken with desire, my cunt already throbbing just from hearing him.

“Then prove it to me.”

He yanked my legs open and drove into me in one thrust, without preparation, without mercy, all the way to the balls. I screamed, not from pain, but from pure dirty, raw pleasure, and arched against the silk ties begging for more. He fucked me while looking into my eyes, never taking his gaze away for a second, repeating that I was his, his bitch, his weapon, his cunt, his mouth, his ass, all of it his. I came twice before he was done, and when he finally emptied himself inside me, he untied my hands and forced me to clean his cock with my tongue, licking every drop of semen mixed with my own juices.

I closed my eyes and knew what was coming would take me to places I had never even imagined. But I also knew that whatever happened, I would remain his. And that, more than anything, made me feel whole.

***

The night of the reception I moved among the guests with a hunter’s calm. The black fitted dress marked every curve Dorian had chosen for the occasion, and my smile promised things I had no intention of delivering. Under the dress I wore nothing, no underwear and no bra, and he knew it. Every time I moved, the fabric brushed my already sensitive nipples and my naked cunt, reminding me who had dressed me and why. Behind that façade, my mind recorded every word, every gesture, every extra drink. I knew he was watching me from some shadowed corner, and that certainty was an invisible shield.

When the party reached its peak, I found myself alone with one of the most influential men in the city, in a luxury room apart from the noise.

The velvet curtains were drawn and the air was heavy with expectation. The only sound was the ticking of an antique clock in a corner, reminding me that time was passing even for me. I wasn’t entirely alone, of course: there were hidden cameras in the lamps and in the picture frames, and Dorian was on the other side of those lenses, waiting. Don’t fail me, he had told me. I wasn’t going to.

Senator Valdés wore an impeccable suit, the kind only men with real power can afford. He smelled of wood and new leather, of money and control. When his eyes landed on me, I felt the weight of his stare, as if he could undress me without touching me. But I wasn’t one to be intimidated. This was what I had been trained for. I was the one who was going to undress him.

“You’re even more beautiful than I’d heard,” he murmured, extending a slow hand as if afraid to spook a prey animal. But the prey wasn’t me.

I approached with a smile I had practiced in front of the mirror for hours, half innocence, half promise of a blowjob. “Senator. It’s a pleasure to meet you tonight.”

His hand brushed mine and I felt his pulse quicken, a tiny detail that didn’t escape me. Valdés wasn’t used to being the pursued one, and that made him interesting. I guided him to the sofa with fluid movements, calculated to make him feel in control just as I already held the reins.

“Do you mind if I sit?” he asked, his voice a shade rougher.

“Please,” I replied, sitting beside him, close enough for our heat to mingle, not so close as to frighten him. As I sat, I let the dress ride up just enough to expose half my naked thigh.

“Mara,” he said, saying my name like a secret, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh?” I leaned slightly toward him, letting a strand of hair fall over my shoulder and the neckline open a little more. My nipples pressed hard against the fabric.

“They say you’re… extraordinary.” His eyes traveled over my mouth, my neck, and openly fixed on my breasts. I felt that look like a finger tracing my jaw, sliding down my chest.

“That depends on what you’re looking for,” I whispered, closing the distance a little more until our breaths touched.

“And what are you looking for, Mara?” he asked, now in a whisper.

“The same thing as you, Senator. Fucking and forgetting surnames.”

His hand brushed my cheek with a softness I hadn’t expected, firm yet careful, as though he feared breaking me. But I wasn’t made of glass. I was made of something harder, forged in my loyalty to Dorian.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured against my ear.

“Only to those who deserve it.”

And then his mouth found mine. The kiss began slowly, a brush that explored, that promised. But I wasn’t there for empty promises. I took control, pressed my lips harder, and let my tongue make him gasp. His hands slid down my back and squeezed my hips against him. I felt his cock, hard and urgent, against my thigh. I smiled without him seeing it.

I took his hand and lifted it to my breast, over the fabric at first, letting him squeeze and feel my hard nipple against his palm. Then I lowered his hand to the edge of the dress and guided it inside, until his fingers brushed the bare skin of my thigh and moved upward. When he discovered I wore nothing underneath, a guttural moan slipped out of him.

“Holy shit, Mara,” he panted against my neck. “You’re naked under this thing.”

“And soaked, Senator,” I whispered in his ear. “Check it.”

His thick fingers found my cunt, already dripping, and sank in without resistance. One finger first, then two, moving inside with eager clumsiness. He made me spread my legs over the sofa and finger-fucked me while I bit his lower lip and unbuttoned his jacket.

“That’s it, Senator,” I panted. “Deeper. Touch me.”

I led him slowly to the edge of the sofa and started unbuttoning his shirt with a slowness that made him groan with pure frustration. Button by button, until a broad chest covered in dark hair was exposed. His skin burned beneath my fingers.

“Mara,” he panted, “I don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“I’m barely getting started,” I replied, and let my lips trace his neck, his collarbone, the center of his chest. I kept going down, leaving a trail of saliva over his stomach. His breathing turned short, unsteady. A man not used to losing control, losing it.

My hands found his belt and undid it in one motion. The pants gave way soon after, and when I yanked his boxers down too, his cock sprang out hard and thick, with a swollen vein running underneath and the tip bright red and wet. I looked at him, exposed, and my smile was half seduction, half triumph.

“What do you want, Mara?” he asked, his voice thick with need.

“All your cock,” I answered. “In my mouth. All the way down.”

I knelt before him on the rug. My fingers traveled over his thigh before closing around his sex, hot and tense. I started with my tongue, long and flat, licking from the base to the tip, tasting the salt of the precome already beading out. Then I kissed the tip, wrapped it with my lips, and lowered slowly, very slowly, millimeter by millimeter, until I felt it hit the back of my throat.

I looked him in the eyes while I did it, seeing his control unravel, his breathing turning into shallow pants. I held it there for a second with his entire cock buried in my throat, feeling it pulse against my palate, and then I began to come back up, pressing my lips tight, leaving a thread of spit and precome hanging from my chin.

“Mara,” he groaned, “I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

“You don’t have to last at all. I want you to come in my mouth. I want to swallow every drop.”

And I took him again. This time without mercy. One hand tight at the base, the other massaging his balls, my mouth moving up and down in a locked rhythm, sucking hard on the way up, easing on the way down, letting him slide back to the throat and out again to the tip. It sounded obscene, the spit making noise, sloshing between my lips and his hard flesh.

His body tensed, his pulse beating under my fingers. His hands buried themselves in my hair and guided me with an urgency I didn’t want to ignore. I picked up the pace, faster, bolder, my hand pumping the base at the same time my mouth sucked the tip. I let go of his balls and brought one finger down to his perineum, pressing where I knew it would finish him.

“Mara… please… I’m going to come… I’m going to come in your mouth…”

“Yes,” I murmured with his cock between my lips. “Give it all to me.”

I felt him tense enough to know he was on the edge. His back arched, his voice broke into a strangled cry, and then he exploded inside my mouth. The first pulse hit my palate, hot and thick; the second filled my tongue; the third spilled out and ran down my chin. I swallowed as much as I could, never stopping sucking while he came, milking him for the last drop until he shuddered and pulled me off, too sensitive to go on.

I watched him recover, still trembling, breath wrecked, his cock still hard and shining with my saliva over his stomach. I wiped a finger down my chin, gathered the semen that had escaped me, and put it in my mouth, licking it slowly in front of him, looking him in the eyes. I smiled, half satisfaction, half victory. I had what Dorian needed: every second of it had been recorded, and Senator Valdés had just become a man with a great deal to lose.

“Mara,” he murmured, still hoarse, “you’re incredible. The best blowjob of my life.”

“I’m just doing my job,” I replied, and stood up, smoothing my dress, still tasting him on my tongue.

“What happens now?” he asked, desire still staining his voice. “Come on, let me fuck you too. I want to put it in you.”

“Now,” I said, with a smile that was seductive and cold at once, “I think there’s something you should know before this goes any further.”

He looked at me, not understanding, his cock still out, but before he could speak the door opened and Dorian walked in, filling the room with his mere presence. “Mara. It’s time to go.”

The senator went rigid, and his expression shifted from desire to rage in a second, trying to cover himself with frantic hands as his pants hung around his ankles. “Who the hell are you?”

Dorian smiled with that smile that never reached his eyes. “Someone you should never have underestimated. And by the way, Senator: every moan of yours, every drop my woman drew out of your cock, was recorded on four different cameras. Tomorrow morning you and I are going to have a very long conversation. Mara, come.”

I obeyed, moving calmly to his side. But before leaving I turned back to the man, still with his pants at his ankles and his cock half-softening, and whispered, “Next time, make sure you know whose cock you’re putting in your mouth.”

And I left the room with Dorian beside me. In the hallway he gripped my neck with his hand, possessive, and whispered in my ear that watching me suck another man’s cock had made him hard, that as soon as we got to the car he was going to fuck me in the back seat to wash the senator’s taste out with his own. I felt my cunt tighten with pure desire, and I knew the night had only just begun. But for now I was safe beside him, my protector, my master. And that, for me, was enough.