Disclaimer: Anything recognizable is not mine. Everything else… well, all the naughty stuff… yeah, that's me.

The Mistress and Her Master

Raked Across the Coals

When I woke in the morning I was greeted by darkness. I could feel the mattress shifting, but I couldn't see anything. When I tried to move my hands to my face to see what was covering my eyes, I couldn't move them. Terror spiked through me, and I tried yanking at the restraints, both at my wrists and ankles.

Then I smelled him.

The bed shifted again and I felt him lean over me. "Good morning, my pet."

I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. This wasn't Edward's voice. It was Master's. I twisted and turned, trying to free my wrists and ankles to no avail. I wasn't going anywhere. I ran through my memories, trying to figure out what would have caused this type of reaction, and I remembered last night.

My heart was flopping around in my chest, anxiety coursing through my veins. "Good morning, Master." I knew the best course of action was to obey. But the only thought reverberating through my mind was 'He knows!'

He shifted again and I heard an unusual sound. It hadn't registered in my brain before; nothing had gotten truly through the terror, but that sound was familiar. I just couldn't place it. I could feel his breath on my face and I waited for him to speak.

"Did you have a restful sleep?" There was an undercurrent in his voice: restraint. He was holding himself back.

I swallowed, hard. There was no doubt in my mind that this was about last night now. I wished, briefly, that I had considered the ramifications, before I rubbed myself to release. And while hindsight is great and all, it didn't help me with my current problem. That being one very large, very male, very angry Master.

"Yes, Sir," I squeaked out. I knew immediately that even though we had no session scheduled today, this wasn't about a session anyway. This was about dealing with defiant behavior. I was going to be punished, for real this time.

Part of me was incredibly aroused at the possibilities. The other part of me was downright terrified and ready to scream 'truck' from the rooftops. That part of me was a wimp. That was the old part of me, suddenly second-guessing what I had gotten myself into. The more aggressive side of me reminded me of the orgasms I had finally been able to achieve. The wimp was tied up, gagged, and put in the corner. No pun intended.

He moved his hand to run it down the front of my body and I squirmed. That sound was back again and I suddenly knew what it was. Somehow, in my sleep, Edward had managed to get a sheet of plastic under me. He had also managed to strip me bare and tie me up, which led me to believe he was either extremely stealthy or that I had been deeply asleep.

"I believe, my little treat, that I gave you one simple instruction last night, did I not?" His voice was eerily controlled. He was calm and collected - everything I was not.

"Yes, Sir." I wondered briefly if I would be able to escape this somehow. "But if I don't start getting ready, I'll be late for class." The words tumbled out before I could stop them. He reached down and pinched my clit roughly between his finger and thumb. Sweat broke out over my body and I arched my back and screamed.

His low chuckle was the only thing I could hear over my ragged breathing. "Don't lie to me, pet. I have your schedule here with me." I could hear papers rustling around. "Yes, it says that your class for today was rescheduled." Then he leaned down and whispered huskily into my ear, "Which means you are mine for the entire day."

I started trembling at the thought. What could Master Edward do to me over the course of a day? Whether I was ready or not, I was about to find out.

"Now, I believe we were talking about your one instruction last night, weren't we?" How could he be so calm? I was a quaking mess underneath him and his voice was level and his touch was firm.

"Yes, Sir." I had a feeling I would be saying that repeatedly over the course of the day.

"Yes, that's right," he cooed. His hands were running over my skin gently, arousing me even further. "And what, little one, was that instruction?"

My breathing hitched. He was going to make me confess. I felt rotten. I had let him down. This, beyond anything else, was the worst torture. I had to tell him I had disobeyed him. "You told me not to come, Master." I could barely force the words through my lips, and when I did my voice was nothing but a whisper.

"Yes, I did. I told you not to come." He was quiet for a moment before he switched tactics. "Have I been a good Master to you so far, Isabella?" The question threw me off guard. I hadn't been expecting him to ask that.

"Yes, Master. You've been wonderful."

"Then why, my pet, did I witness you blatantly disobeying my command? Have I not given you incentive to trust me and obey me?"

I wanted to cry. Big, repentant tears threatened to break free at any moment.

"I'm sorry," I sobbed. I would do anything at that point to get back in his good graces. I was afraid that maybe he would decide I wasn't worth the effort. That if I was going to disobey so readily now, I wouldn't be worth the time he would have to spend training me.

He ignored my comment and continued on in his low voice, "I have to teach you, little one, what happens when you disobey. I have to show you what happens when you play with that pretty little pussy against my order." His fingers began probing me, causing me to squirm again.

He stopped abruptly and moved off the bed. I heard him moving around the room before I felt something hard placed between my legs. I couldn't tell what it was, but I could feel the unforgiving cold of it pressed against my clit, close enough for contact, but not nearly close enough for pleasure.

"Do you enjoy disobeying me, little one?" His voice remained jarringly calm, like a storm was ready to break at any moment. My heart was pounding rhythmically against my breast bone.

"No, Master." The tears couldn't be held back any longer. Most of them soaked into the blindfold stretched over my eyes while a few managed to slide past the barrier and track down my face.

"Then you must enjoy masturbating. Is that it? Do you enjoy the tingling sensation on your pussy?" I felt so embarrassed. I didn't know how to answer him without feeling like a complete failure.

"I… don't know, Master." The answer was both a yes and a no and I wasn't sure how to clarify that.

"You mean you don't know whether or not you like touching yourself, my pet?" His smooth voice caressed the words, his velvety voice dripping with honeyed temptation.

My breathing hitched. Even his voice made my desire spike. "Yes," I breathed simply.

I felt him lean over me and then his breath whispered across the skin of my neck, his words sounding softly in my ear, "Yes what, Isabella?"

My heart was pounding in my ribcage and each breath was strangled from a mixture of tears and pleasure. "Yes, I like touching myself."

He chuckled softly before speaking again, "And what do you think of when you are touching yourself, little one?" One of his dexterous fingers traced the skin on my side causing a shiver to run down my spine.

"You, Master. I think of you when I touch myself." My voice was breathy and it was increasingly difficult to concentrate. The tears had long since stopped, yearning replacing them.

He hummed his acknowledgement before the cold, unknown object against my clit began to vibrate. I moaned and tried to shift my hips closer, anything for more friction. In the back recesses of my mind, I briefly wondered when I had become so wanton, so depraved, but in the forefront I couldn't care less. My body craved release now, at almost any cost.

Suddenly, through the fog of bliss, I felt him near my ear again. His breath fanned out causing goose bumps on my neck. "Do. Not. Come." Each word was spaced out to emphasize his point.

I tried not to think of the vibrator near my clit, but the more I tried not to think about it, the more I did just that. It was enough to drive me to insanity, but not enough to allow me to come. I couldn't wrap my brain around it.

I could vaguely register noises from the room, but I couldn't focus enough to distinguish what they were. Everything seemed to be muffled, like I was witnessing it from behind a curtain or underwater. I hazily wondered why my senses weren't more sharpened.

Each other time I had been blindfolded my other senses had honed themselves until I could pinpoint smells and hear Edward's light footsteps around the room. Now, I was unable to tell what he was doing or where in the room he was. Only the current along my skin told me he was still close.

Then I heard a scraping sound and could smell the distinct odor of sulfur. Edward had lit a match. My skin began to hum and tingle. There was a thrill to not knowing what was happening. Usually, Edward would tell me exactly what he was doing so I could be as comfortable as possible. Something told me that he wouldn't be giving me any warnings today. I imagined that was part of my punishment.

After minutes - or hours - I felt the bed shift again. I was still trying not to squirm too much and was still trying not to think about the vibrator teasing me so relentlessly. I heard a very soft click, like Edward had set something down on the bedside table, but still couldn't make out any specifics. My breathing began to pick up in anticipation. Before I could work myself up into a panic, Edward was at my ear once more.

"Shhhh, pet. I will not hurt you, but you need to be reminded of who is in charge. First, I need you to remember to breathe. Can you do that for me?" I felt his finger tracing over my skin again and swallowed back any hysteria before it could form, and then nodded slowly.

Suddenly, there was a blinding pain across one of my nipples. My back arched up off the bed and a broken sob tore through my lips. I was seconds away from screaming out my safe word when the burn subsided into a tingle and finally to a dull throb. My nipple was tightening and my skin was pulling against whatever was on it, but through my surprise I didn't know what it was.

Edward chuckled softly before leaning over me again. "You handled that fairly well for not knowing what was happening." It didn't escape me that even though he was angry and punishing me, Edward couldn't help but nurture and encourage me. He made no indication that he was going to tell me what was happening, though, and then the burning was back.

My other nipple seemed to be engulfed in flames. The burning went from the very tip of my nipple and ran down the inside of my breast before pooling in the valley between the two. I could tell now that it was some kind of liquid, but didn't know what it was until I felt it hardening there. Until that moment, it hadn't dawned on me. It was wax.

For some strange reason, knowing what was happening made it all that much less frightening. Even though I didn't know where on my body he was going to pour the wax next, just knowing that it was wax made me more relaxed. In fact, the unknown was incredibly erotic and appealing.

Each time the hot liquid would hit my skin, the burn would be so intense I was sure I wouldn't be able to take it anymore, but before any other thought would break through it would cool and harden on my skin. The combination of the wax and the vibrator barely buzzing away against my clit nearly did me in on several occasions, but I gritted my teeth and prayed to any god that would listen that I would not come.

For a little while, I did simple addition tables in my head. 1+1=2, 2+2=4, 4+4=8, 8+8=16, and so on - anything to take my mind off of the pleasure and the pain, the mixture of the two, a recipe that should have been my demise. When I couldn't do that any longer, I tried naming the capitals for all of the states, but I hadn't paid enough attention during my geography lessons. I had to admit that the strain of trying to remember if Montpelier , or Burlington was the capital of Vermont was enough to make me forget about what Edward was doing to me.

Throughout my punishment, he didn't say a word. He just drew criss-crossing patterns over my skin with the wax. I felt like it was taking an eternity and I had no gauge to tell me how much time had passed. Without my sight, I could see no clocks, nor could I see the sun shining through the windows to tell me where it was in the sky. But soon enough, Edward set the candle down with a very audible snick.

I remained tense, waiting for whatever was going to happen next, but for a moment, nothing did. I wasn't even sure whether Edward was still in the room or not. My skin felt flushed from the strain and the excitement, and my senses were all jumbled. I was a mess of nerves and desire.

Then I heard him breathing.

His breaths were deep and shallow, as if he was aroused, and I knew he was somewhere close. I felt him lean over me and gently remove the blindfold from my face. His eyes were dark, his pupils were dilated, and his gaze was fixed on mine. His finger traced down the center of my body, through the valley between my breasts, swooping over my belly button, and down over my pubic bone.

His hand hovered there for a second and his eyes bore into mine. Then, without any warning, the vibrator was yanked away and Edward's fingers were titillating my clit. It was already so sensitive from so much stimulation that I was afraid that I was going to come on contact. My teeth snapped together and my entire body tensed. Then his mouth was at my ear again and our staring match had ended.

"You've done well, my pet, but I want you to watch when I masturbate you." I was certain he was trying to make me fail. He wanted me to disobey his command. He wanted me to come. Or he was trying to build my resolve. He could have been trying to make me stronger than my need. Stronger than my basic instinct. Stronger than I was.

My eyes, which had closed of their own volition, opened slowly and peered down the length of my body. There were Edward's amazing fingers, teasing my opening and swirling over my clit. It was a beautiful thing to see. His thumb was tapping out a rhythm against my clit while his dexterous fingers were toying with my g-spot.

I looked up from his hand and watched him watching me. He had a wicked smile on his face, as if he knew that I was onto his game. My teeth clenched further and my jaw began to ache from the tension. His smirk grew and I could see a plan formulating in his eyes.

He broke eye contact once more with a whispered, "Watch," and began to lick from my neck down the same path his finger had just taken. When he was poised over my aching sex, he slowly withdrew his hand and lowered his mouth. My pussy was throbbing, achingly so. I needed release and Edward was providing the exact amount of pressure and friction that I needed. I screamed.

His tongue dipped in and out of me, tasting me, and savoring me, but I refused to come. I was not going to fail at this. That wasn't an option. My will strengthened and my determination was set. I was going to see this through, no matter what.

I tightened my stomach muscles and willed my orgasm away. I recited the states again, in alphabetical order, the simple task that had gotten me through my first session so successfully. I glanced toward the bedside clock and noted that it was nearly 10:00. We had been at this for roughly an hour and I still had not come.

Tears began forming in my eyes. I was losing momentum and didn't know how much longer I could last. I was balanced on a very fragile ledge; one slip could send me tumbling to my doom. Failure.

Suddenly, he stopped. Then he stood from the bed and began to untie me. He rubbed my wrists and ankles and made sure everything was in working order. He told me I did very well, instructed me to take a shower, told me I was still not allowed an orgasm, and walked from the room.

I lay there for a few minutes trying to gather myself.

I had succeeded. I had not come. He had complimented me.

I rose on shaky legs and made my way to the bathroom. When the water was on full blast, I let the emotions go. I sat on the floor of the shower and cried. I cried for my success and I cried for my previous night's failure. I cried because he seemed proud of me and I cried because I had still failed him. I cried because it all seemed to be too much and I cried because I didn't know if I was good enough. I cried because I could.

Once I was finished with my shower, I dressed in comfortable clothes and was tempted to curl up in my bed for the remainder of the day. That wouldn't have accomplished anything though. Wallowing never really does. Instead, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen to make lunch. I also wanted to show Edward that I could handle punishment with my head held high and I could be mature about it afterward. I was an adult after all.

When I got there, I found Edward sitting in the breakfast nook, reading the paper. I met his gaze over the top and he lifted one brow. "Are you feeling okay?"

His voice was quiet, but firm. He was always calm and gentle, even if I could sense the controlled passion and power underneath his cool demeanor. I briefly wondered what he would be like if he ever lost control.

I rolled my shoulders and shrugged lightly. "I'm a bit stiff, but nothing a good, long soak in the tub later won't cure."

He watched me carefully for a moment and then handed me a notebook. "When you are finished eating, I would like for you to write me a one thousand word essay on the importance of following directions. Hand-written. I would like for it to be finished by tomorrow morning. You can slip it under the door to my office as I would like to read it before I leave for work in the morning."

My mouth hung open in shock. He couldn't be serious, could he? This wasn't school, it was an arrangement we had. Could he really assign me an essay? By the look on his face, the answer was yes. I grumbled lowly and padded over to where he was sitting to take the notebook. "Yes, Master," I responded rather glumly. I hated writing essays.

He looked like he wanted to laugh, or to smile. Fortunately he did neither, only nodded at me and went back to his paper. I set the notebook on the counter and began banging around in the cabinets looking for something to make. My mature mood from before had suddenly plummeted and I was feeling rather sulky. But really, there was nothing I could do about it. He was in charge, and it was clear that this was a part of my punishment for defying him the previous evening. And here I thought I had completed my sentence earlier. Too bad I was wrong.

I settled on making turkey sandwiches with avocado slices. It was simple enough and would leave me enough time to go to my room and write my essay. Which was really bugging me. Stupid essay. Even worse, I could feel Edward's eyes watching my every move, waiting for the tantrum he was sure I would throw. I refused to give him the satisfaction.

I set a plate in front of him, grabbed my plate, a bottle of water, tucked the notebook under my arm and headed back to my room. I was afraid that if he tried to make conversation with me, he'd figure out how unsettled I was about this whole assignment.

I sat at my desk with my plate to the side and thought about what I could write. Ideas formulated in my head and were quickly discarded. Nothing I thought of sounded right. I didn't really need it to be deep; I just needed it to be honest. Sandwich forgotten, I picked up my pen and began to write.

Obedience. One could define obedience as following a simple command. At its most basic root, that could be an acceptable answer. In the case of a Master and His submissive, however, it's much more that that - both complex and simple. The complexity comes in when you factor in that obedience must become a lifestyle. As a submissive, you give up your sense of self, in a very small way. Suddenly, choices are no longer yours alone, and instead you must learn to take your cues and your direction from someone else - your Master.

The Master could decide anything from what time you should be going to sleep at night to what kind of exercise program and diet you should be on. If decided, They can even decide who you can and cannot associate with in any given circumstance. In many instances, They even have a say in your clothing choices. The details are in the type of relationship you have entered into and what you, the submissive, have delegated as your hard and soft limits.

On the other hand, the simplicity of obedience in a Dom/sub relationship boils down to being told to do something, or in my case NOT to do something, and immediately following that command, without thought or question. You trust that your Master would never do you harm and that They will at all times respect your limits and your safe word.

For some, that's a big leap to take. Many marriages don't have that level of trust and/or faith in the partner. For a Master and a sub, if the relationship is going to work as it was designed to do so, that is not an option. If there wasn't that trust or that faith, the relationship would be doomed for failure from the get-go.

As I wrote, I lost track of time and fully immersed myself in my writing. I believed that I was in the right kind of relationship for me, and it made it that much more vital that I explore what obedience meant to me. I wanted to also show Master Edward that I understood his disappointment and would do my best to not let him down in the same way at any point in the future. I knew there was no way I would never disappoint him again; I was only human, and it was human nature to do so. But at least I would try to be more conscious of my actions from there on out.

I didn't notice him standing in my doorway watching me, nor did I notice him flipping on my light when the natural light became too dim to see. The plate he brought me for dinner sat untouched, as did the remaining quarter of my sandwich from lunch. I was too busy humbling myself with pen and paper.

When I was satisfied with my essay, I noted that I had nearly twelve hundred words, slightly more than the expected thousand, and I hoped that he would be proud. There were moments that I was not nearly as eloquent as I could have been, but the whole thing was me, stripped bare for him – only it wasn't my body that was naked, this time it was my soul.

I rose and stretched out my stiff back, and only then did I realize that it was nearly 11:00 in the evening. I also noticed the plate Edward had left for me. His sweetness brought a few tears to my eyes as I wasn't all that used to having someone take care of me. It was clear that he cared; I could only hope that I could make him equally as happy.

I slid the notebook under his office door, and then made my way to the kitchen to wash my dishes and to grab a quick snack. My hunger was finally making itself known now that I was no longer submerged in the idea of conformity.

When I finally made it back to my room, my fatigue seemed to catch up to me. I lay between my cool sheets and never even thought about touching myself as I nodded off to sleep.

The next morning the campus was buzzing with gossip. I thought I heard Eric's name one or two times, but couldn't be sure. I made my way through my normal routine and it wasn't until I met Alice and Rose for lunch that I had any clue of what was really going on.

They were both bouncing in their seats as they waited for me at our usual diner. Before I could even slide into the booth Alice nearly lunged over the table and whisper yelled in my face, "Please tell me you've heard about what happened to Eric Yorkie over the weekend!"

My mind was drawn back to all of the gossip flying around the campus that morning and I felt a weird tightness in my stomach. I shook my head slowly from side to side as I stared at them, slack-jawed.

Rose elbowed Alice sharply and shook her blonde mane. "Calm down, Alice." Then she leaned over the table and started whispering, "Apparently Yorkie got a taste of his own medicine this weekend." Then she winked at me, as if to make a point.

That tightness was back in my stomach, I wondered briefly if it was guilt. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was just anxiety and a touch of anticipation. "Really?" I prompted, needing to know what happened.

A wicked gleam came into Rose's eyes. "Well, word is he met a drop dead gorgeous red-head at a frat party a few weeks back. He told his friends how he planned to give her the 'Yorkie Special' soon." She laughed and muttered, "Yorkie Special…"

I was enthralled. The only gorgeous red-head that I could think of that would have had the knowledge to pay Yorkie back in spades was Tanya from the Chicago Femme-Domme League, but what would she be doing at a frat party?

"So anyway, he finally talked her into leaving the party with him over the weekend. When they got back to his place, the story goes that she told him it would turn her on if she could blind-fold him and play and little 'spanky-spanky', according to Eric.

"Imagine his surprise when she had him blind-folded and cuffed to the bed and walked out. No one really knows what she said or did, but there was an anonymous phone call placed to security in his apartment. They went to check it out and found his front door wide open and went inside to investigate."

My mouth was still hanging open and Rose and Alice were cracking up. Rose had tears pouring down her face and was hiccupping. Alice took over from there, "So they go inside and find him in his bedroom, only no one can find the keys to the handcuffs and security doesn't have any either. So, they have to call the police to come and uncuff him, right? But they can't put any clothes on him because he cuffed at his wrists and his ankles, so one of the guys from security found a washcloth in the bathroom to put over his pecker.

"So the police get there and after he's uncuffed and dressed, they ask him for information, but all he can tell them is her name is Tanya, he met her at a frat party, and that she said she was an undergrad here." Then she cocked a brow at me, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?"

The laughter began to bubble out and I couldn't do anything to stop it. I was shaking my head violently and I laughed. I wondered how Tanya had managed it; I made a note to ask Edward about it later. I just couldn't believe it. The whole situation was so ridiculous but somehow very appropriate. Eric must have been so embarrassed. Served him right.

Lunch was a very satisfying affair.

End Notes: *peeks around hand* Is anyone still out there? Can all of you find it in your hearts to forgive me for the long wait? If any of you saw in my profile, I had some personal shit come up that fucked with my creativity, but I fully intend on finishing my stories. I want to sincerely thank all of you that are still here with me. And as a bonus, for any of you that didn't notice, the first outtake from Edward's POV is posted in my profile. It's called "Memoirs of a Dom," so please check it out.

I have to also take a moment to send out my special thank yous to all my favorite bitches in the whole wide world. First, Ang, my fucktabulous beta. She's patient for my work, but always quick to get it right back to me. I lurves her. Then there's Lillie, Tracy, Amanda, and Kristine, too! I fucking adore each and every one of you. You held my hand through this and you've yet to give up on me. You even gave a swift kick in the ass when one was needed. That's a special kind of friend. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Sorry for the long-ass author's note. But please, if you're still reading, review and let me know what you thought. All of your words mean so much to me and inspire me when my life is going like shit. I appreciate all of you. I hope there won't be any more long ass delays. But I make no promises other than the fact that I WILL finish this story along with my others.