The Executioner by Suzanne Steele Read Free Book Online Page A

and the professional attire that I am required to wear, I usually get my share of curious gawkers.
    I am late but if I hurry, I can beat my Master to the room and avoid punishment.
    My hand trembles as I swipe the card through the magnetic device with one hand and open the door with the other.
    I quickly undress and kneel prostrate facing the door with my head bowed. It doesn’t take long for me to hear him at the door and though I am trembling, I feel a sense of relief that I have beaten him here and have not been caught being tardy.
    I remain prostrate, awaiting my Master’s command, which does not come in the form of words.
    He slides his shoe under my lips and stands peering down at me as I begin to kiss it. I can feel the moisture already pooling between my thighs.
    He leans down, grabs a fistful of my hair, and lifts my face, glaring into my eyes.
    You have to understand that just my Master’s presence throws me off balance, off of my game if you will.
    My eyes are still downcast when his voice cuts through the air like razors, “Look at me, slave!”
    “Oh fuck,” I think to myself.
    I look up at him, trying to be more confident in my appearance than what I am feeling at the moment.
    A sadistic smirk washes over his face as he turns my head from side to side by the handful of hair that he is holding. He is eyeing me, studying me, and scrutinizing me.
    “You were late!”
    It isn’t a question; he knows…
    “How the fuck does he know that?” I once again think to myself.
    “Yes Master, I’m sorry, Sir. Traffic…” is all that I get out of my mouth.
    “Shh, no excuses!”
    He just keeps glaring at me and I can feel the heat in my chest. I know I am getting splotchy; my chest always breaks out in red splotches when I get nervous.
    He cocks his head, raising his eyebrows as he looks at me, almost as if he can read my thoughts.
    “Are you nervous, slave?”
    “Damn it,” I think, “how does he read me the way that he does?”
    “That is a rhetorical question, slave, one not in need of an answer.”
    He pushes my face ever so lightly into his groin, but every time I try to nibble at his suited crotch, he pulls my head back.
    I wanted him in my mouth in the worst sort of way. I can see the outline of him hardening against his suit pants and I know my Master well enough to know that his domination of me is pleasing to him.
    Over and over, he pulls my face towards his groin and each time I try to rub my face against it or wrap my lips around it, he pulls me away.
    “You are wet, aren’t you, slave,” he taunts me?
    I begin to whimper.
    Stick your finger in your pussy and show it to me. That’s it, and you pull it right back out… now, show me. Does your Master make you that wet, girl?”
    “Yes, Master,” I answer.
    He begins taunting me again, pulling my face in towards his flesh that is still in his pants but hardened and pressing up against them, causing the fabric to become tented.
    “I want you in my mouth, Master. Please.”
    “Put your hands behind your back and open your mouth like I taught you,” he commands me.
    I sit on my haunches with my hands behind my back and my mouth open, looking up at him.
    “Such a good, little, late slave. Lean up here and unzip my zipper with your teeth.”
    I lean in, catch the zipper with my front teeth, and manage to get it pulled down.
    He chuckles as he eyes me endearingly.
    “Now, remove me from my pants with no hands and you can have it.”
    I want him in my mouth and I pull at the sides of his briefs with my teeth.
    “You better not bite me; I will spank your ass with my bare hands and we both know how badly that hurts.”
    Faced with the dilemma of getting a spanking, I change my strategy.
    I begin working at his belt and get it loose with my teeth.
    I then take my shoulder and push in on one side of his waist band, pulling the hook of his pants loose with my teeth on the other side, causing them to drop to the floor.
    I smile up at him as if I