Maggie and the Master Read Online Free PDF Page A

meet you.’
    â€˜Max,’ she said, with considerably less assurance in her voice. Was she supposed to call him that, or master, and how preposterous an idea was that? She reddened, feeling uncomfortable and unsure in a way she hadn’t felt since her teens. Tension crackled in the air between them like the edge of a storm. Maggie shifted her weight, feeling like a lamb waiting for the wolf to decide her fate.
    â€˜So,’ said Max, taking the champagne bottle from the bucket and pouring a second glass. ‘What is it you want? What excuse are you going to use? Are you going to tell me that you’re here to interview me, or shall we dispense with the nonsense and the half-truths and the lies, and you tell me what you truly want?’ As he spoke he brought the glass to her, all the time his eyes calmly taking in the details of her face and body. It felt as if he was looking into her very soul.
    He offered her the champagne and she took it, murmuring her thanks while her heart beat frantically in her chest.
    â€˜I don’t know, I’m afraid,’ she said weakly, almost to herself.
    He smiled and gently stroked the line of her jaw. ‘I know,’ he said.
    Maggie trembled, shocked by her reaction to his touch.
    â€˜And I do understand, my dear. Drink your champagne then tell me, did you do as I instructed? Did you remove your hair.’ His open palm brushed her lower belly so lightly and so fleetingly it was almost like a breath.
    â€˜Yes,’ she said, eyes downcast, trying to avoid his gaze.
    â€˜And what are you wearing under your skirt?’
    Maggie felt so self-conscious she thought she might faint. ‘White underwear,’ she began. ‘Although I?’
    â€˜Yes, white underwear and what else?’ he interrupted. ‘Are you wearing suspenders?’
    She nodded.
    â€˜And you understood my email, that if you made the wrong choice then you would be punished?’
    â€˜Yes, but… but surely that was a joke? I mean, you didn’t mean punished, not really.’
    He pressed a finger to her lips in a gesture so intimate it took her breath away. ‘I’ll ask you again, Maggie. Did you understand my email?’
    â€˜Yes,’ she said, still longing to justify or explain her choice, but he held up his hand to silence her.
    â€˜Open the left hand drawer of the bureau and tell me what you find there.’
    She looked up at him, eyes bright with fear. ‘I don’t understand.’
    â€˜You will, now do as you’re told.’
    Uncertainly she walked across the room, opened the drawer and let out a little gasp of panic. Inside was a white envelope with her name written on it, but it wasn’t that that made her gasp; it was the leather riding-crop that lay across the envelope.
    â€˜Well?’ he said, sipping his champagne.
    â€˜There’s some sort of whip in here, and an envelope.’
    â€˜Open the envelope, Maggie,’ said Max, from somewhere behind her.
    She picked it up, her hands trembling. Inside on a single sheet of paper were the words, For wearing suspenders your punishment is twenty strokes .
    Maggie swung round as if he’d spoken the words out loud. ‘But this isn’t fair,’ she complained. ‘It’s ridiculous. How was I to know?’
    Max held out his hand to her. ‘Bring me the crop, Maggie,’ he said, as if she hadn’t spoken.
    She stiffened, determined to hold her ground. ‘How was I to know?’ she repeated.
    Seconds ticked by, seeming like hours. Max Jordan didn’t move, didn’t reply, while Maggie’s mind raced… and then froze. Wasn’t this the very thing she had always imagined? Wasn’t it the fantasy that had driven her to a potent climax in the shower? Wasn’t this the act of submission that had fuelled countless such fantasies? If she walked away now, if she turned and left, then she might be turning her back on the very thing