The Master

By Lily Brom

The Master is the third book in the Kinky Girl Series, it is brutally honest in its intent to show a glimpse in the life of a BDSM lifestyle slave. Even Lily with her experience as a submissive wasn’t prepared for what her new handsome, educated and pretentiously wealthy Master wanted from her.

Now it might appear this is another book about the billionaire taking the regular girl and turning her into his princess but, umm no. This story is about Lily’s servitude to a man, in every way he demanded. He would own her, as a slave and she would be completely his, to do with as he saw fit during their contracted time.

Her motivation to enter into this arrangement was more than just the opportunity to travel, the new clothes or any general spoiling she knew he would lavish upon her. Lily’s decision to become a slave was about her desire to transcend. Becoming a slave would force her to trust, force her to believe, in someone else and her own judgment in that person.

She knew constant servitude wouldn’t be easy. It would mean being expected to say yes, when she wanted to say NO! She knew Ty’s demands sexually would push her beyond her own limitations and fears. A notion she found to be incontrovertibly delicious.

• Language: English
• Publisher: XinXii
• Release date: Feb 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9780993865022

Lily Brom

Lily is a writer, lifestyle submissive, petite masochist, proud seductress, mentor and advocate of a woman's right to self-determination.Lily is an adventurous person, an ardent outdoor enthusiast, and can often be found on the hiking trails of the Rocky Mountains with her dogs. She loves travel, culinary arts, gardening, sewing and spending time with her family. She has a degree in Liberal Arts and Business, a former career in public service and owns her own business. She is an advocate for volunteerism, social responsibility and the environment.

Book preview

lies."

ONE

As It Turns Out, He likes Easy

So you’ll commit six months to me? he asked like it was a foregone conclusion.

Yes, I thought, what’s the worst that could happen?

Good, I will make arrangements for you to join me by Monday, he said, almost happily.

Ok, feeling the weight of my decision starting to creep up my spine and settle on my shoulders.

Well, I guess this is goodnight, we will talk again tomorrow, he was already clicking away at his keyboard, presumably to make the necessary preparations.

Goodnight, doing my best to mask the panic now pounding in my chest.

Night, Sweetie, he said and hung up.

Ty and I met at work. His office was on the same floor as mine but we didn’t work for the same company. He inherited his family’s clothing manufacturing business, and the business rented offices in my building. He was handsome, tall, very well educated and pretentiously wealthy. Our paths had crossed a couple of times and we had noticed each other in passing, but hadn’t really spoken until there was a Christmas party in our building. The party eventually moved to a bar, where I got positively wasted, rejected his sexual advances by telling him that I was into kinky sex and he wasn’t my type. To which he said through the wryest of smiles, Oh yes, my dear I am very much your type.

I ended up having sex with him that night. I was feeling lonely, extremely horny, he was there and I honestly thought that my easiness would kill his curiosity. As it turns out, he liked easy.

He showed up at my office that following Monday with flowers and perfume. We slipped into a very casual dating dynamic of a mostly non-sexual nature. We would go out to dinner if he was in town. More often than not, I would attend business meetings as an arm ornament, bored to tears while he feigned devotion to me. Somehow, my need for an apartment resulted in him renting me a condo in the city and that led to sleeping together regularly. After a little while, I got the feeling that our arrangement was all about the milk and nothing about the cow, so I broke it off and moved out of his apartment with very little fanfare.

This brings me to our earlier conversation. A few months after I had moved out, he invited me to join him for a friendly lunch. We exchanged general pleasantries for a bit and then, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. He needed a wife type to travel with him and tend to his personal needs, both physically and sexually. Given he was travelling through countries where call girls were frowned upon, he was also seeking consistency and kink. Basically, I was a whore who did the laundry. There is no easier way to put our relationship, and it was an arrangement with financial incentives for me.

Now it might appear this is another book about the billionaire taking the regular girl and turning her into his princess but, umm no. This story is about my servitude to a man, in every way he demanded. From how he liked his cock sucked to how he liked his eggs in the morning. He would own me, as a slave and I would be completely his, to do with as he saw fit during our contracted time. My only out was to leave him and if I left before the end of the contract, there would be a financial penalty.

My motivation to enter into this arrangement was more than just the opportunity to travel, the new clothes or any general spoiling I knew he would lavish upon me. My decision to become a slave was about my desire to transcend; my lack of trust and faith in men was holding me back as a person. Becoming a slave would force me to trust, force me to believe, in someone else and my own judgment in that person. I knew constant servitude wouldn’t be easy. It would mean being expected to say yes, when I will want to say NO and that was going to seriously test my patience and ultimately any desire to maintain the relationship. Not playing test my Dominant’s game required me to be completely self-aware, to modify my socialization and check my ego at the door. Believing someone wants the best for me, believing someone puts US above either individual would require me to go against everything I believed to be true or had previously experienced. I wanted to stop running from men and I wanted to know what it felt like to be committed completely. Submitting to someone was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, but even harder was the concept of long term commitment to just one person. This was a challenge with a promise of personal growth and a chance to push myself beyond my own limitations and fears. A notion I had found to be incontrovertibly delicious.

Ty would make all of our life decisions, from where we lived, to when I went to visit my family. He decided my hair color, its length, my weight, what I wore and even my breast size. He would choose who I had sex with. We would be polyamorous but our relationship was exclusively between just the two of us. He would be and I would call him, Master. He would control every facet, every aspect of my life.

TWO

Are You Ready For An Adventure?

He sent me a dress for my trip. It was a black sundress with pink flowers on it, and honestly, it really wasn’t my style. I detest wearing pink in general, but especially in public. I’m a strictly black metropolitan kind of girl. Ty was different from the men I had been with previously. With him, being ladylike in public held the utmost importance; it was one of the things I liked about him. To spice up my arrival, I squeezed myself up into a fifty’s style strapless Merry Widow and the cutest black high heels; so cute I wish I could show them to you.

He picked me up from the airport himself much to my surprise, greeting me with a big hug and a kiss.

Oh, so beautiful in that dress, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me to him.

Thank you, Master, happy for the compliment.

Are you ready for an adventure? he asked giving me a wicked smile.

Oh, I am, Master! I happily replied, excited to be living in the Caribbean for the next six months. I can’t wait to go diving with you.

Ah yes, one of the things I like about you, your adventurous spirit, he smiled, taking my hand. Now let’s find your luggage and go home.

On the ride home, Ty pulled my skirt up so he could see my panties and rested his hand on my thigh. When we pulled into the driveway of his house, he stopped and got out of the car. He opened my door, took my hand and gestured for me to get out.

"I just can’t