{"id":521,"date":"2013-08-08T19:49:41","date_gmt":"2013-08-08T19:49:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/?p=521"},"modified":"2013-08-08T19:49:41","modified_gmt":"2013-08-08T19:49:41","slug":"under-her-masters-control-by-anna-alexander","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/under-her-masters-control-by-anna-alexander\/","title":{"rendered":"Under Master’s Control by Anna Alexander"},"content":{"rendered":"

Sometimes plot bunnies become plot monsters that don’t leave you alone. This story was inspired by recent events. Enjoy \ud83d\ude42 <\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cTouch me,\u201d he said in a hard tone that made her thighs clench. \u201cTouch me!\u201d<\/p>\n

Her hand trembled as she reached out. Oh, he was so smooth under her fingertips. The flat planes and tiny ridges along his bare middle made her knees buckle and her breasts grow heavy, desperate to feel the delicate scrape of new lace against her nipples.<\/p>\n

As the possibilities of the night to come filled her with delicious anticipation, so too did the twinge of dread at the thought of the inevitable morning after. Master was an expert at making her feel cherished and desirable, cooing compliments in her ear as she strutted around in a new pair of high heels or while lacing up a handcrafted bustier. He knew her weaknesses well and delighted on taking her from aroused to begging for satisfaction with a few well-chosen words. But then he\u2019d leave her on her own with nothing but the cold, lifeless, once-pretty gifts and a sense of shame at what she allowed to happen.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, no, no, my sweet,\u201d he murmured as if he sensed her faltering enthusiasm. \u201cYou belong to me now and I want my girl to look pretty. Chin up. Take this and go make me proud.\u201d<\/p>\n

She straightened her spine and walked with sure steps across the room with a midnight-blue silk dress balanced reverently her hands. He loved the way the neckline highlighted her creamy cleavage and how the fabric cupped her hips. Her master did have any eye for the finer things.<\/p>\n

Then she<\/i> appeared.<\/p>\n

Damn. Why was it always with the threesomes? What was this one named? Bambi? Cammy? Oh, Tawny. That was it. What the hell kind of a name was that?<\/p>\n

Cool, collected and\u00a0dressed to the nines in a fitted jacket and slim skirt, the woman looked bored out of her mind, but the act was all a joke. The blonde was greedy and always turned on the charm when master appeared. With a coy smile and a bat of her fake lashes, Tawny held out her hand.<\/p>\n

Blood rushed in her ears and her heart beat an erratic rhythm as she hugged her master tight.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome now, darling. You know the rules. You have to share,\u201d Master reminded her with a bite of reprimand coloring his words.<\/p>\n

No. She didn\u2019t want to. This bitch didn\u2019t know her master like she did. Didn\u2019t care about the turmoil her presence caused in their relationship. Even now Tawny\u2019s foot tapped with impatience as she waited to get her fill.<\/p>\n

This did not make Master happy.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo as she says. Now!\u201d \u00a0The barked command made her jump like a strike of the lash across her back.<\/p>\n

A whimper escaped her lips as she thrust out her hand, wincing as the girl yanked the plastic from her firm grip. The finesse with which she slid the card through the machine spoke of her years of experience as did the little flourish at the end as she presented the receipt.<\/p>\n

\u201cHave a nice day,\u201d Tawny said, then her face resumed the impersonal mask from earlier. Now that her need was met, politeness was no longer necessary.<\/p>\n

She slid the MasterCard into the side pocket of her purse, the tightness in her lungs easing now that he was back in her possession where he belonged.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you say now, love?\u201d he purred.<\/p>\n

With a soft sigh she smiled. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

*And by recent events I meant back to school shopping. Duh. <\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Sometimes plot bunnies become plot monsters that don’t leave you alone. This story was inspired by recent events. Enjoy \ud83d\ude42 \u201cTouch me,\u201d he said in a hard tone that made her thighs clench. \u201cTouch me!\u201d Her hand trembled as she reached out. Oh, he was so smooth under her fingertips. The flat planes and tiny…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-521","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p39eCR-8p","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/521","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=521"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/521\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":524,"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/521\/revisions\/524"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=521"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=521"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.annaalexander.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=521"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}