The Master Comes Downstairs

Reaching the Master she set the silver tea tray on the desk in front of him. Standing opposite of him on the other side of the desk, she leaned over trying to clasp the handle of the tea pot in her hand. It was just out of reach, and her ample breasts were grazing the desk below her.

She looked up from her quarry and realized the Master was smirking, completely amused by her avoidance tactic not working as well as she had hoped.

“I won’t bite,” he quipped, “At least not at the moment.”
Clara, still leaning, cocked her head at the statement, “I suppose this won’t do.”

She stood up and made her way around the too large desk stopping beside the Master’s chair and tried again. She could feel his gaze sear into her and the spout of the tea pot rattled against the tea cup as she poured. Setting the pot back down onto the silver tea tray the Master clasped her wrist and turned it upward.

He brought it to his lips and kissed the sensitive translucent area before sliding his silken tongue over her delicate wrist. She gasped and the dizzying effect he created within her betrayed her once again. She grabbed the Master’s muscular shoulder feeling faint, swaying as he licked.

He groaned, a sound coming from deep within, and suddenly jerked his mouth up away from her wrist. Clara jumped with the sudden motion. He looked up at her smiling. A cruel smile combined with a look of lust she hadn’t noticed before in his cold calculating stare. She wanted to run.

“I promised I wouldn’t bite,” the Master soothed seeing the panic pulse slowly through her luscious body.