Tricked

by Claire Thompson

  Again he extended his hand, and this time he took hers in his, pulling her gently forward. “In my office, if you please.”

  Charlotte, who stood nearby, drew in a soft gasp and Jaime turned to regard her. She met Jaime’s eyes and smiled, giving a small nod of what seemed to be encouragement. “Lucky girl,” she mouthed silently.

  Intrigued, excited and a little frightened, Jaime allowed Anthony to lead her by the hand through the club. Longing sizzled over Jaime’s skin as they moved past the various play stations, many of them containing new bondage equipment since the last time she’d been at the club.

  Anthony lifted a heavy satin curtain to reveal a pocket door, which he slid open. Gesturing for Jaime to precede him, they stepped into a small but nicely appointed space, more like a sitting room than an office, with comfortable chairs and a sofa placed in a conversational configuration in the center of the room. There was a small desk in the corner, a thin, sleek laptop the only item resting on its polished marble surface.

  Anthony pulled the door closed, shutting out the sound of the club beyond. “Let me take that for you.” He reached for Jaime’s gear bag and lifted it from her shoulder. His fingers brushed her bare arm as he took the bag, his touch sending another involuntary shudder through her frame. She looked up at his face. He was staring down at her with a darkly inscrutable yet unmistakably masterful gaze. She stared back, transfixed, her pussy moistening, her nipples hardening into marbles beneath the thin leather of her vest.

  She could feel the sexual tension thrumming like an electric current between them. Or was it only on her side? He was, after all, old enough to be her father. Suddenly unsure, she managed to wrench her gaze from his. She moved toward one of the chairs to sit and get her bearings, but Anthony’s words stopped her. “You may sit down, of course, but I think you might be more comfortable kneeling on a cushion. I believe that is where you belong.”

  It was then she saw two large floor cushions set on the carpet between the furniture, in the place where a coffee table might be. Jaime drew in a breath, her hand fluttering to her mouth.

  Where you belong.

  “You will remove your boots and pants,” he instructed. “You may leave on your panties and your top, for now.”

  Jaime reached down and tugged at her boots, pulling them from her feet one at a time, along with her socks. Standing straight, she unzipped her jeans and rolled them down her legs. She stole a glance at Anthony, who had taken a seat on the sofa.

  He was watching her intently, appraisingly, and the slow heat of a blush moved over her face and neck. He pointed to the cushion nearest him. “Kneel up,” he instructed. “Shoulders back, hands clasped loosely behind your back.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The words, again, came unbidden. She settled on the soft silk. The carpet was padded beneath the thin cushion. It felt good—it felt right—to be on her knees after so long. Though she remained nervous, a certain submissive calm settled over her as she squared her shoulders and straightened her spine, her hands finding each other behind her back.

  “I’ve invited you back here, Jaime, because I sense something in you, something I would like to explore further. I appreciate your trust and patience during the process. I have an opportunity that might be something you want to consider, but first I need to find out a little more about you. I apologize in advance for the mystery, but I’ll make it all clear soon enough. Is that all right with you, Jaime?”

  Anything you want is all right with me, Sir. As long as it involves whips and chains. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Excellent.” Anthony appeared satisfied, as if she’d just passed some kind of test. He leaned back against the sofa. “Before I get down to my proposal, I’d like to ask you a few questions about yourself. Please just answer them as openly and honestly as you can. There is no right or wrong answer. First, the basics. How old are you?

  “I’m twenty-seven.”

  “In a relationship?”

  “I’ve been single a while now. I was with my last boyfriend for nearly two years.”

  “A D/s connection?”

  “Kind of. Just not the right one. I actually moved down here from Vermont to be with him.” She shrugged ruefully.

  “What caused the breakup?” He seemed genuinely interested.

  Though this was the most unusual setup for a play scene Jaime had ever encountered, she decided to go with it. “When we met, Jake claimed he was a Dom, but by the end of the relationship, he was the one begging to be tied up. It got, you know, really strange. He’s a sweet guy, and I tried to make it work in the context of submitting to his desire to be sexually dominated, but it just didn’t feel right, you know? We both finally agreed to end it about six months ago. I’ve been single since.”

  “And you’ve met your submissive needs with scenes at clubs? But your finances are constrained at the moment and this limits your ability to satisfy those needs?”

  Jaime nodded. “Constrained. Yeah. That’s one way to put it.” Dead broke is more like it. “I, uh, I lost my job a few months back…” She trailed off, embarrassed. This was feeling more like an interview than the prelude to a hot scene with a sexy Master. She shifted on the cushion, her knees suddenly aching.

  “What is your occupation? How did you lose your job?”

  “Look, I’m not sure—”

  “Please.” Anthony leaned forward, placing his large hand on Jaime’s bare shoulder. Again just his touch sent a powerful current of need through her. “I’m not being idly curious. I need to know about you, Jaime. If you would indulge me a little longer? As I mentioned, I sense something in you. Beyond the physical beauty, which is abundant, I see in you a sensual submission, or at least the potential for submission, that is rare. I’ve made my fortune by going on my instincts, and my instincts are telling me you have what it takes. Trust me just a little longer, Jaime. Let me find out what I need to know, and then I’ll tell you my proposal. No matter what you decide, you are free to use the facilities here at The Garden whenever you like—free of charge, my guest at any time.”

  Jaime was silent as she tried to process everything the man said. She was hugely pleased at his assertion of her submission, her sensual submission—she quite liked the sound of that. His reference to making his fortune intrigued her, and then there was the completely unexpected gift of free admission to The Garden any time she wanted! Her body tingled with anticipation at trying out all the fabulous new equipment waiting just beyond the door, hopefully with Anthony as her Master and guide. If she had to put up with some embarrassing probing into the financial ruin of her life at present, so be it.

  “Okay,” she finally said. “You’re throwing a lot out here. This is all kind of mysterious, but I admit it—you definitely have my attention. What did you want to ask?”

  Anthony leaned back again and smiled. “Your job. Tell me what happened.”

  “I was—am—a paralegal and I was working at this small law firm, Gordon & Chase, I don’t know if you’ve heard of them.”

  “The name rings a bell,” Anthony said.

  “Well, you might have seen the stories in the papers a while back. It was right after Jake and I broke up, and he’d moved out. I thought I could carry the full rent myself, since I had a steady paycheck at the time.” She snorted derisively in hindsight at her foolishness. “I’d just bought a new car, too, plunking down all my savings on the down payment.”

  Did he really want to hear this stuff? Since when did one’s job status have anything to do with setting up a scene? Jaime, who had been staring at the intricate patterns on the woven carpet as she spoke, glanced up at Anthony. His expression was intent, his focus entirely on her. “Go on,” he encouraged.

  Apparently he did want to hear it, the whole miserable saga. Jaime shrugged inwardly, somehow sure she could trust this man, and more than a little curious about his proposal, whatever it might be. “Long story short,” she continued, “the two partners were involved in some big embezzlement scandal and a whole lot of sh
ady stuff I don’t really understand, and the place was closed down. I never even got my last paycheck.”

  “Insult to injury,” Anthony remarked, shaking his head sympathetically.

  “Yeah,” Jaime agreed, the surreal nature of what was happening suddenly hitting her. When she’d come out tonight hoping to slip into the club for a little BDSM action, she certainly hadn’t envisioned herself kneeling with her pants off in the back office and telling the owner about her career woes. It was, she had to admit, somewhat cathartic to tell someone about it—as far as her parents back in Vermont knew, she was still gainfully employed.

  “The whole thing was a nightmare, but I figured I would land on my feet, right?” She grimaced. “I hadn’t counted on the taint of the place following me.”

  “How long since you lost the job?”

  “Six months. I’ve been working in retail and trying to hang on, but it’s not going so great. In case you were wondering, it’s pretty much impossible to live on minimum wage. My credit card is maxed out, my rent is past due and I can’t even drive my car because I’m afraid if I take it out of the garage, the repo man will get it.” Jaime clamped her mouth shut, aware she was rambling, certain he must be bored and turned off by her pathetic little story. There was no way this sophisticated, erudite gentleman could be interested in her stupid problems. The patterns on the carpet blurred as her eyes filled with sudden, unwelcome tears.

  “A lesser woman might have given up.” The man’s voice was calm but firm, not a trace of pity in his tone. “Gone back home to her parents perhaps, or looked to a man to save her, but you persevered. That takes courage. Courage is an important trait in a submissive.”

  Jaime lifted her head, blinking away the tears. “Thank you, Sir,” she said softly.

  “Enough about that,” he continued, to her relief. “Tell me about your specific experience in the scene. Beyond what sounds like a rather unsatisfactory relationship with your boyfriend, have you ever been in a Master/slave relationship with a real Master, someone who understood your deep-seated need for submission, for erotic pain, for total sensual subjugation at the hands of another?”

  “Ooh,” Jaime breathed, the words moving over and through her like a hard but perfect caress.

  “Answer the question.”

  “No, Sir,” she whispered.

  “But you long for it.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she admitted.

  “Have you ever undergone any sort of formal training—positions training, endurance, pain tolerance, sexual service?”

  “Formal? Like with a trainer?”

  “Yes. With a trainer.”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Can you imagine yourself in such a scenario? Living the lifestyle 24/7? Sleeping bound in chains, your every move dictated by another? Your body, heart and soul the possession of a Master who wouldn’t hesitate to take what he wanted, but also to give you what you need, what you crave, what you were born for?”

  “Oh my god,” Jaime whispered, at once shocked and thrilled to her bones by his words. Again she met his gaze. He was staring at her, his expression almost ferocious in its intensity. She found herself falling into those dark, liquid eyes.

  “Answer me. I need to hear you say it—to admit who and what you are, slave girl.”

  Jaime swallowed hard. “Yes,” she finally said, her voice hoarse. She cleared her throat. “Yes, Sir. I can imagine it. I have imagined it.”

  “When you’re alone, naked on the bed, your hand between your legs.”

  “Yes.” Her blush confirmed her admission. “Like O,” she added, certain he would get the reference.

  “Like O,” Anthony repeated. “While other girls were reading teen magazines and romances, you found The Story of O, and it was like a homecoming.”

  “Yes,” she breathed. Oh god, yes.

  “You devoured the descriptions of O’s complete sexual subjugation, her erotic humiliation, the willful debasement and her joyous acceptance of her servitude. You dreamed of being completely owned by another.”

  “‘Your hands are not your own,’” Jaime quoted. “‘Neither your breasts, nor, above all, is any orifice of your body, which we are at liberty to explore and into which we may, whenever we so please, introduce ourselves.’”

  “Precisely!” Anthony said, the word exploding into the room and startling Jaime, who had fallen headlong into the pages of O, many tracts of which she could quote verbatim from having read them so many times over the years. “I knew it,” he continued, excitement in his tone as he rose to his feet. “You were born for this. Please stand up and remove all your clothes.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You didn’t hear me?”

  “I heard you. I was just—”

  “Then obey.”

  Jaime hesitated, aware this was a pivotal moment, aware she was making a decision before even being entirely certain of what was being decided. Rising to her feet, Jaime reached for the leather ties that held the front of her vest closed. She was braless beneath it, and the cool air moved over her bare breasts and erect nipples as she let the vest fall. Her eyes on his, she pulled her panties down her thighs and kicked them aside. She was proud of her body, and yet oddly shy in front of this enigmatic stranger—this stranger who seemed already to know her from the inside out.

  “Feet shoulder-width apart, hands behind your head,” Anthony instructed, moving closer.

  Jaime assumed the position, an ache now throbbing between her legs. Anthony lifted his hand. Before she realized what was happening, he slapped her face twice, once on each cheek, the crack of his hard palm reverberating in the small room, followed by Jaime’s startled cry. Instinctively, she brought her hands to her face, pressing them against her hot cheeks. Every nerve of her body was screaming as her mind struggled to catch up.

  “Hands behind your head,” Anthony said calmly, as if he hadn’t just struck her. “I didn’t tell you to fall out of position.”

  “But—but you—”

  “I struck you, yes. And while you are protesting with your words, your naked need for what I offer is betrayed in your every move, the dilation of your pupils, the parting of your lips, the way your body leans toward me.”

  Jaime stared mutely at him, unable to deny his words. “Now,” the Master said, “assume the position once more, hands behind your head. This time show some control.”

  Jaime, her cheeks still hot from his palm, did as he commanded. Without asking, Anthony placed his hand between her legs, a single digit pressing into the wetness.

  Unable to help herself, Jaime groaned, her hips moving wantonly forward to take more of him inside her. “You are pure potential,” Anthony murmured, his warm breath on her cheek. “Not spoiled by poor training and bad habits. You are waiting to be taken, controlled, molded into submissive perfection. You are just what we need at The Enclave.” He moved his finger inside her as he spoke, making it difficult to concentrate on his words.

  “We?” she managed to gasp just as he touched something inside her that made her jerk forward and then back. He inserted a second finger, the palm of his hand grinding against her throbbing clit. No one had ever touched her like this. It was perfect, almost too perfect, but only almost.

  “Fuck,” she breathed, only aware she’d spoken after the fact.

  He slapped her again, even harder than the first time. Again Jaime cried out, the pain radiating in perfect juxtaposition to the dark magic he continued to work at her cunt, though somehow she managed to keep her hands locked behind her head. “Mind your language. A slave girl doesn’t need to resort to such vulgarities.” His voice remained soft but she could feel the steel beneath it. “One more outburst like that and I’ll have to gag you.”

  Another O quote slipped into the jumble of her thoughts. “The gag stifles all screams and eliminates all but the most violent moans, while allowing tears to flow without constraint. There was no question of using it that night. On the contrary, they wanted to hear her scream.�
��

  She’d had a question—something he’d said, something she needed to explore, to understand, but his touch was too perfect, too intense. “Spread your legs farther,” he ordered. She obeyed. He moved his fingers roughly in and against her, the intensity nearly more than she could bear. She began to pant. He lifted his other hand again and she flinched, expecting him to slap her face, but instead, he reached for her left nipple and gave it a sharp twist.

  She yelped in pain, the nipple throbbing and engorged. He reached for the other nipple, twisting it just as roughly, all the while stroking her cunt until she began to shake. “Oh god, oh f—” She caught herself in time.

  Anthony’s free hand circled her throat, his finger and thumb pressing hard just beneath the jawline, completely cutting off her ability to breathe. “You already belong to me, don’t you?” he murmured, his face so close she could have kissed him, if she had been able to move.

  Unable to respond, she could only blink her eyes in urgent agreement.

  His lips lifted in a slow, sensual smile, perfectly complementing the sadistic glint in his dark eyes as he took over her body and her will. “Come for me, slave. Now.”

  He released his chokehold and Jaime staggered back a step, held upright only by his hand buried deep in her sex. She inhaled in a shuddering gasp of release as she tumbled headlong into the most powerful orgasm of her life at the hands of this stranger, a stranger she felt she’d known all her life.

  Jaime was seated on the sofa, a glass of cold, crisp white wine in her hand, a short silk kimono provided by Anthony around her shoulders. She was a little vague on the time between the endless orgasm, during which she’d traveled somewhere outside her body, into a place as close to Nirvana as she could envision, and now. As her thoughts cleared and her brain clicked back on, a tingling sense of excited anticipation began to take over. If that was the intro, what was next?

  Anthony sat across from her, his intent gaze fixed on her once more. “You’ve proven yourself a good candidate for what I have to offer. I ask that you permit me to explain fully without interruption. Then, of course, you may ask whatever you like.”