"I like to touch myself and come screaming your name, Master!"

By S.M. May

Did you like the previous two fragments from S.M. May's latest book, Secret Funding? Well, here's a third one, the last one for the time being. Enjoy.

(Artwork by Bob Bienpensant)

“Once again I have to repeat myself. You haven't explained the real reason why you requested this meeting, Mr. and Mrs. Hervstein.” Noah impatiently looked between the man and the woman. He hated the sitting rooms on the Circle's first floor, with their expensive velvet and the tacky fake-Victorian ambiance that some overpaid architect with questionable taste had tried to create inside the austere, late-1960s' building. Noah's guests, on the contrary, seemed delighted to be sitting there with him, drinking tea in Wedgwood cups and eating the sandwiches Alain had brought on a silver tray. “And I should remind you, I will not grant extra time to strangers who aren't even club members.”

“We perfectly understand,” the woman readily agreed, moistening her full lips, perfectly lined in bright red pencil. “And we are so glad you agreed to meet us and take us into consideration as perspective clients.”

“It's such an honor for us, Master Noah,” the man added, with a thick drawl. Maybe Texas. Or even worse. “Some of our friends talked about the Circle, the most exclusive club in Boston, but the atmosphere we saw far exceeds our expectations.” As he spoke, he cast a glance around the room. “The guided tour was enlightening. Who would imagine that below these classy, well-furnished rooms there are all those creepy secret dungeons? If I think about it, I still get goosebumps.” The man looked at Noah, satisfied.

"The atmosphere we saw far exceeds our expectations.”

Noah couldn't blame him. Luxury and mystery combined almost always had an undeniable effect on people. That was exactly the atmosphere the Circle's owners were aiming for; their inspired interior designer must have had fun coming up with his sketches.

He tried to keep his expression neutral so they wouldn't detect his annoyance. Those clients had come a long way to meet him and he didn't want to cause offense. At least, not without a valid reason.

“As you can see, my husband was quite impressed by the tour. Unfortunately, the club we attend back home is so bleak. Always the same people around, it's so depressing,” the woman with the bright lipstick said. “Our friends speak very highly of you, Master Noah. You see, next Saturday it's our twentieth wedding anniversary, and we'd like to give ourselves a very special present.”

“Apart from the trip to New York and Boston, of course,” the husband added.

“So that's why you're here. This illuminating tour of our Circle isn't enough, you want to play too.” Noah folded his hands, automatically starting to evaluate the couple.

The wife was a curvy brunette, not too tall but with juicy-looking breasts. However, finding noteworthy breasts on a woman over forty usually meant they were filled with silicon, and Noah hated working with plastic boobs. It was no fun applying the clamps to a blow-up doll.

Mr. Hervstein seemed a bit better. Middle height, neither skinny nor fat, no disgusting flab spilling over his waistband, no receding hairline. A rather anonymous face, but with large pale-colored eyes.

Now, those eyes were interesting: they could do. Master Noah gave great importance to eyes – their shape, depth, exact color. He liked seeing in his client's eyes the growing effect of what he did, working on their flesh.

“And on which one of you should I... experiment?” he asked suddenly.

The couple fell silent. They weren't expecting such a direct question, not while they were still lost in the elegant pleasantries of teatime.

The wife cleared her throat. “We were thinking on both. After all, it is our anniversary.”

Noah firmly shook his head. “I never work on two bodies at a time. You have to choose.”

“On Jamie, then. He's usually the one who has stuff done to him,” she answered.

"Jamie is usually the one who has stuff done to him."

“Stuff, Mrs. Hervstein?” Noah's tone turned cutting, almost mean. “If you've heard my references... by the way, how far did my references travel?”

“Amarillo, Texas,” Mr. Hervstein clarified.

Bull's eye. “As I was saying, if my references reached you all the way in Amarillo, you'll know I don't just do stuff, as if I was playing with some trained pets. I play out of passion only, and not with just anyone.” Noah stared at them as sternly as he could. He had to be clear from the very beginning, although that didn't mean acting rude. “I usually have a long list of requests and I only accept submissives who can guarantee an excellent performance level. I don't take beginners, nor do I give couples' discounts or anniversary specials.” He tried to seem more understanding since he suspected the club's owners might be listening to the conversation. “The only reason I agreed to talk to you is the impressive donation you made to the Circle. As a member, I felt I had to show my gratitude for your generosity. But, as a professional, I have my own code of conduct and I intend to stick to it.”

“Absolutely.” Mr. Hervstein seemed to recover from his temporary astonishment. “And I want to make it clear that our generosity, Master Noah, will remain no matter the outcome of this meeting. But I have references too and I came prepared to prove it.” He leaned across the tea table to hand over three printed pages.

Noah examined them carefully. One was a reference letter from the Moulin Rouge private club in Amarillo, stating that the Hervsteins had been members and attending regularly for over ten years. He brushed it aside because, as his clients themselves had noted, any experience gained in a provincial club didn't carry much weight.

The other two sheets of paper listed the addresses of various masters that the couple had played with all over the United States. He read through the names and recognized at least four. They were renowned professionals – one was actually Master Lud – and they all stated that Jamie Hervstein was a mature and very diligent submissive.

“Pardon me, but if you've already worked with Master Lud, why not ask directly for him? Do you know he still occasionally plays at this club?”

“We know.” The wife smiled at him – a smile full of desire. “As you’ve read, we've already experimented with that master, and for our anniversary we want someone like you, Master Noah.”

“Someone like me?” Noah lifted an eyebrow, doubtfully.

“Young, handsome, cruel,” Mr. Hervstein replied. “As soon as our friends mentioned you and gave us a brief description, we looked for some pictures online.”

“There are no pictures of me online.” Noah kept his hands folded. “I don't let anyone take pictures during the sessions.”

“Yes, yes, I know. So my wife started fantasizing about you, physically I mean. Being allowed to play with Master Noah soon became her favorite fantasy, and eventually mine as well.”

“Oh, yes.” She licked her lips again, casting sideways glances toward Noah. “I like to touch myself and come screaming your name, Master.”

“Even though you've never seen me before?”

“A fantasy is a fantasy.” Susan Hervstein tried to make her voice into a sensual whisper.

Noah made an effort not to laugh. “That's true.” Luckily, his usual East Coast clients were never that mediocre. He brushed his thumb over the dimple on his chin, noticing that the wife was following his every move with a hungry expression on her face. Texans, rednecks, commoners. He would need a crane to pull his dick up during the session with them. “So I should play with your husband while you watch, Mrs. Hervstein?”

“So I should play with your husband while you watch, Mrs. Hervstein?”

“Please, call me Susan.” She leaned over the teacups, under the impression that Noah might be anxious to take a peek at her cleavage. “Yes, this is what I often see in my dreams. I want you to work on Jamie and make him scream for me. Oh, I can already picture Jamie in your hands, Master. It's going to be a wonderful present for our anniversary.”

“Then who am I to deny this fantasy to such a loving couple?” Noah brushed back the hair falling across his forehead. “But whether you're participating directly or indirectly, I must warn you that I will charge a double fee. I charge five thousand dollars a night, so this wonderful present will cost you ten thousand. Without any couple’s discount.”

“Oh, Master Noah, that's perfectly fine with us.” Jamie Hervstein's mouth parted in a triumphant grin. “We already asked the Circle for a private room without spectators, and we negotiated a total fee of twenty thousand dollars covering your payment and this extra request.”

“It's been all paid in advance this morning,” the wife almost chirped, happily huddling close to her husband on the velvet couch.

Noah huffed. “I see. You were pretty confident I would end up accepting you as clients.”

“Sure, why shouldn't you?” She flapped her long lashes, coated in glittery mascara. “Master Lud said you prefer men, but that you might take into consideration the occasional interesting threesome.”

Noah huffed again and bit the inside of his cheek to keep his frustration in check.

It was a well-paid gig, but it would be absolutely exhausting. Besides, he wanted to ask his mentor as soon as possible why he'd saddled him with this bored, rich couple.

Ludwig was always busy planning some practical joke, since he was the most mature among the club's dominators – not so much to make fun of Noah, but to put him in difficult situations. He called them his “challenges for my younger colleagues” and he believed they helped keep up the level of the dominators' performances. Even though he had a weird sense of humor, Ludwig was one of the few people Noah considered as a friend and, since the very beginning, he'd tried to pass on to his pupil the core values of their role, such as transparency, perseverance and morality.

So, if Ludwig had suggested that gig, Noah couldn't refuse. Who knows... maybe it would help soothe the uneasy mood that had plagued him lately.

“Then we have a deal,” he snapped. “But don't make me regret this. Show up in two weeks at ten in the evening, sharp. Our butler Alain will now give you detailed instructions about cleanliness, shaving and other physical requirements I consider non-negotiable. And finally, one last requirement which is not up for debate: you must be in excellent shape and be ready to obey every one of my orders.”

“Of course, Master Noah. We won't disappoint,” the Hervsteins answered in unison as they jumped up from the couch.

“I hope so.” He looked from the wife to the husband and finally allowed himself a smile. A tight smile, devoid of any sympathy. “It's a busy time for me, although for different reasons. Therefore, I will not allow any faux pas or unpleasant surprises from the people I have to work with.”


“Touch me, Master. Please, touch my humble body again.” Jamie Hervstein seemed determined to enjoy until the last drop the sweat he'd paid for with his twenty thousand dollars.

His lovely wife, kneeling beside them on the floor, was focused on celebrating their anniversary to the fullest too. “Oh, yes, please, caress him,” she begged once again.

“Oh, yes, please, caress him,” she begged once again.

Since the session had begun almost half an hour earlier, she had done nothing but moan and whine following Mr. Hervstein's moaning and whining, and Master Noah was beginning to feel irritated.

He told himself that it wouldn't take much to make those two happy and that it was easy money, like Ludwig had remarked, and he tried to go over the games they'd planned together.

To be fair, a capable dominator should follow his inspiration and let his instinct guide him, as well as the natural desires of the body writhing under his touch. But as Noah had unfortunately guessed during their first meeting, that night his dick just didn't want to cooperate. It was limp and pale. A forgotten zebra stripe in the middle of the road while a never-ending line of trucks kept running over it.

Noah couldn't remember ever feeling such low excitement. He couldn't tell if it was because of the idea of that triangle itself, because of the stressful moment he was going through or because of Jamie Hervstein who, even though he’d looked handsome enough when fully clothed and busy negotiating his services, had become a limp lump of flesh once he'd been tied naked to the steel square.

“You're disappointing me, Jamie.” Noah dragged the whip handle down the man's spine, stopping above the crack between his buttocks. “You led me to believe you were a well-prepared submissive, capable of following and complying with his master's whims. But so far you haven't been very compliant.” He pushed the leather handle inside the crack just enough to tease the man without giving him the pleasure he craved. “My wrist is tired from trying to show you my interest through these blows and I’ve painted a pattern of thin purple lines on your pale ass to make you more beautiful. Yet, nothing. You're not worthy of my adoration. You just stay still, you don't come to life.”

This time he shoved the handle deep between the man's buttocks, sinking an inch inside his hole. The Texan gave a loud groan, yanking at the restraints and contracting his legs.

“See, barely a twitch while I'm working so hard for you.”

“See, barely a twitch while I'm working so hard for you.” Noah pulled out the whip and pinched one of Jamie's buttocks hard, right where it looked most tender. “What about sweet Susan watching us? You're disappointing her too. We're both really sad,” he went on in a deprecating voice.

It didn't matter that sweet Susan, sitting nearby, was purple in the face and had one hand down the front of her evening dress, probably teasing her nipples, while resting her other hand between her legs, frantically pressing against the fabric. She was the only one still clothed because Noah hadn't given her permission to undress.

“Oh, no, Master, give me another chance,” the client begged, whining. “Just tell me how to please you and I will do it.”

His wife joined in his pleading. “Please, Master. Jamie is so nervous. He knows I'm watching him and pleasing myself and he can't control himself any longer. You're so good and so seductive...”

For a moment, Noah was tempted to kick her out of the playroom.

It was already hard trying to bring back to life that sort of boiled fish who ecstatically took his lashes as if they were splashes of mayonnaise, while Noah's shoulder was hurting from all the whipping and he felt as receptive as a fakir lying on his carpet of nails.

“All I want is for you to focus,” he explained patiently. “I want Jamie to burn for me, to grow hotter with every stroke and to yearn for pleasure but hold back until I give my permission. And you, Susan, will do the same.”

“But it feels so good, Master.” The Texan shuddered again and sighed. “Other masters are usually happy when they see me reach my climax so quickly thanks to their intervention.”

"But it feels so good Master!"

Maybe because they've already pocketed your money and they know there's no need to make any effort. “I'm not your other masters.” Noah smacked Jamie's thigh with his whip. “You want to deny me the chance to reach my pleasure with you, Jamie?”Especially if the secondary purpose of this engagement is to help me unwind a bit.

“No, of course not, Master. I'll be good.”

“I'm glad to hear it, because I hate it when I have to be the bad guy.” He quickly rummaged through the tool tray placed at the bottom of the steel square. There was a leather cockring embellished with metal studs. It looked perfect. Noah grabbed it and slipped it quite rudely onto Jamie's cock. The man gave a long, strangled moan. Noah ignored it and went to stand in front of his submissive to apply two clamps to his nipples and connect them to the cockring with a thin chain.

He yanked on it a couple of times to check the visual effect then went back to stand behind the square, after shooting Susan – still kneeling and quiet – a long, threatening glare. The message was clear: from now on he wouldn't tolerate any interruptions or hesitations.

He started methodically hitting Jamie again, alternating two lashes on the upper part of his legs and his buttocks with other, gentler ones on his back, until the only sounds in the playroom were the regular hiss of the leather whip through the air and the matching hissing noises made by his submissive through gritted teeth.

When he understood that Jamie was running out of willpower and was headed to the point of no return, Noah put down his whip feeling in a much better mood. Even though it wouldn't go down in history as one of his best performances as a dominator, at least he would be able to enjoy it a bit.

He put on a condom, leaned against Jamie's sore, whipped buttocks and sank completely into him. His client yelled, but Noah had no intention of punishing him further. He took off the cockring and started stroking his submissive's dick while pumping in his ass with quick thrusts.

“You can come now, Jamie. I'm proud of you.” He kissed him behind his earlobe and came first, hard.

"You can come now, I'm proud of you!"

The Texan came too, with a last loud hiccup which seemed to break him in two, and started crying like a baby with relief.

For a minute, maybe less, Noah kept their bodies joined, enjoying the feeling of his client's flesh still tight around him. Then two greedy, sweaty arms wrapped like snakes around his legs.

Damn Susan Hervstein, always meddling.

He was still dizzy from his orgasm, but not so much that he would let himself be touched. While Jamie had worked hard to earn his touch, that noisy, clingy woman didn't deserve a thing.

“Stay away from me,” he croaked, stepping away from her and from his client.

Only then did he perceive a movement behind him and heard the sliding door hiss as it closed. He still hadn't rung the bell to call the staff, so it was clear that someone had been watching the performance and had just left.

Finding out he'd had an audience all along, completely unaware of it, annoyed him even more than the unexpected touch of Susan's damp arms.

“I thought you paid extra to have this room reserved exclusively for us.”

“We did.” Jamie Hervstein was still hanging from the hooks and was catching his breath. “Then the board of directors asked us to make an exception for a special guest.”

“Another dominator,” Mrs. Hervstein clarified. “One of the founders of this Circle.” Her hair was ruffled, her make-up smeared, and she was glaring at Noah with the hostility of someone who felt rejected after getting really close to fulfilling an erotic fantasy. “Jamie and I thought performing in front of him would be an honor for you too.”

“Obviously,” Noah slurred, a single thought occupying his mind.

It looked like he and Martin Scheer kept bumping into each other.

Which was anything but reassuring.

The first time had been by chance, the second time could have been a strange coincidence, but to a financial analyst the third time was an unusual statistical occurrence: not by chance but on purpose, which was setting off somewhere inside him a hidden alarm bell.

S.M. May is a mom of three, lawyer, and blogger. She lives in North-East Italy where she's trying to find the right balance between work, family, reading and writing. She's good at some things, a bit less at others. But she does them all with passion.

She writes F/M romance, M/M romance, epic fantasy. Secret Funding, is her first book published in English.