“Sounds good.”
“You will also receive the schedule for the coming week and for each day via email the day before. If something changes, I or Tamara, my receptionist, will let you know.” Lucas paused and reached into one of his drawers. “Here.” Lucas pushed a piece of paper across the table. “These are the rules. Please look them over and let me know if you have any questions.”
Hugh glanced at them, before folding the paper and storing it in the inside pocket of his jacket.
“If you don’t have any questions now, we could start on the tour of the club.”
“I’m good. Let’s go.”
Chapter 2
Hugh perused his wardrobe and sighed. What was he supposed to wear on his first day working as a paid Master? There wasn’t an official uniform of the club that he knew of, but in his experience, most Dominants went for leather. Maybe he should go with that. Frowning, he grabbed the hanger holding one of his two pairs of leather pants. They were top of the line, custom made, and he hated them. But he would wear them until he figured out something else.
Glancing toward the bathroom, he decided to skip the shower. There wasn’t enough talcum powder in the world to help him squeeze into the pants. Even without washing, it would still take him a good fifteen minutes to get them on. Damn leather. Trying to at least not offend everyone, he gave his armpits a sniff. At least he wouldn’t be stinking up the place.
A soft, cotton shirt and a pair of boots that he loved completed the outfit. Standing in front of the mirror, he let out another sigh. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable day. He only hoped there was air conditioning at The Dungeon or he’d have to cut off the leathers.
“Good morning.” The girl—Tamara, if Hugh remembered correctly—greeted him cheerfully from behind the front desk when he arrived.
He offered her a wide smile, her warmth contagious. “Good morning to you too.”
“Here is your schedule for today.” She handed him a clipboard and rose from behind the desk. “Let me take you to your room.”
It wasn’t as if he didn’t know where it was, but her presence made him feel a tad better. As they passed along the corridor, some of his tension drained away. He’d been afraid it would look cheap and sterile in the daylight as opposed to the evening, when he’d visited with Lucas as his guide, but there was none of that. The club looked as cozy as the first time he’d seen it. Leather and corduroy covered the walls, and collectible paraphernalia brought everything together quite nicely.
“Here it is.” Tamara held the door open. She followed inside after him and went to the closets on the other side of the room. She gestured to the contents of the drawers. “You have here the standard kit, but if you need something else, let me know and I’ll get it for you.”
Quickly, professionally, she pointed behind him and at the ceiling. “And, of course, the furniture and the suspension hooks.”
Hugh smiled at her, but didn’t look to where she gestured. Surrounded by all the toys, his anxiety dissipated. “Don’t worry about me, Miss. I have everything I need.”
She flushed at the title. “It’s Tamara. And okay, then. I’ll leave you to it. Your first appointment arrives in half an hour.”
The announcement brought back some of his anxiety. Closing his eyes, he regulated his breathing. “Thank you.”
Damn it. Time to face the music.
The room was perfect, just as he’d expected, yet it felt all wrong. Too sterile, too impersonal. How the fuck was he supposed to perform in such a place?
But as he walked around, familiarizing himself with the layout, he decided it didn’t look so bad. He could see why some people would prefer this environment to real life. It wasn’t just the fantasy, which for some was enough, but it was safe, while real life a lot of times wasn’t.
With that realization came calm. No matter the personal choices, he was a Dominant, a Master at that. Through his very nature, he was used to putting the needs of the sub above his own. So, now, he would do just that.
More confident, Hugh took out the profile for the first client. He’d already read it, but he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything. With the information fresh in his mind, Hugh set out the tools for the session.
The first client of the day was an older man named Alexander. He was heavy into bondage—no pain, no humiliation. That made it an easy time for Hugh, which could only mean Luke was starting him off slowly.
He put Alexander through his paces, appreciating the man’s form and responses. Once they were done, with Alexander happy, relaxed and well on his way, Hugh cleaned and disinfected everything he’d used. He threw away the used leather cuff covers and set the ropes aside for a thorough cleanup later.
The next client was just as easy, but as the session with Matthew drew closer, Hugh’s anxiety rose again. He pushed it back, focusing on the current submissive, but it kept burning in the back of his mind. Because the next one was Matthew. He shouldn’t allow himself to get so worked up over him. But he was. There was something special about Matthew, something he couldn’t lay his finger on, but he very much wanted to discover what it was. Maybe it was Lucas’s influence, maybe it was his own hopes, but the result was the same. For the first time in years, he was interested in someone.
Then the dreaded and expected hour arrived and Hugh couldn’t step back. His heart skipped a beat at the rap on the door. With a long, embracing breath, Hugh rolled his head to relieve the tension in his shoulders.
“Come in.”
Whatever nervousness Hugh had experienced until then faded in the presence of the submissive.
Matthew entered the room, eyes trained on the floor, hands resting gently at his sides. If not for the slight tension in the line of his shoulders, Hugh wouldn’t have known how nervous Matthew was.
“Take your shoes off.”
Silently, Matthew toed off his dress shoes, never raising his eyes from the ground.
“Set them nice and neat by the wall.”
At once, Matthew knelt, took them and did as instructed. The task done, he turned toward Hugh again, waiting.
Hugh hesitated. By this time he’d usually have gotten into his part; he’d have known the submissive’s thoughts and reactions. Now, despite the extensive profile the club had collated on Matthew, Hugh felt like he was flying blind. Which was a horrible feeling for a safety-obsessed Master. But he’d joined the game, so now he had to play. Or however the saying went.
“Remove your shirt and socks. I want them folded and set by the shoes.”
Matthew complied without the slightest hesitation. Pushing away his own nervousness about this whole deal, Hugh focused all his attention on his current sub. If there was a little spike of anger at the word current, Hugh ignored it. It wasn’t about him but about the man folding his shirt close to perfection. And a paying submissive was just another submissive.
Having finish his task, Matthew waited patiently by his stuff. Hugh watched him carefully, looking for something to criticize, but the sub’s stance was perfect. His legs were slightly parted, hands clasped loosely in front of him. His shoulders were squared, head tilted forward a smidge in the perfect submissive pose.
“Kneel.”
Once again, Matthew obeyed immediately. His posture remained perfect, testament to the amount of practice that went into it.
“Come here.” At Matthew’s slight hesitation, Hugh clarified. He would have loved to string him along, make him work for it, but it was their first session together and that might have been pushing things too fast. “Crawl to me on all fours.”
Excitement rose as Hugh watched Matthew crawl to him. Each step had his heart beating faster and faster. Heavens, the man was exquisite!
Matthew stopped a step away from Hugh, waiting. Unable to help himself, Hugh grabbed a handful of his hair and lifted his head up, searching his face. And even now, Matthew wouldn’t meet Hugh’s gaze. Watching the play of emotion on the sub’s face, he traced Matthew’s face with the tip of
his finger. Matthew shuddered, glancing up. For a brief moment, their eyes met. Then Matthew dropped his gaze again and the contact was broken.
Without a word, Hugh released his hold and Matthew resumed his position. Mind voided of any idea, Hugh struggled to find the next command. Matthew’s profile popped up in his head. Moderate humiliation. Hugh thrust his foot forward.
“Lick it clean.”
Matthew blushed, and once again Hugh cursed this paid deal that stopped him from knowing the reason behind it.
****
Matthew leaned in, fighting to control his trembling. With every word, every command, Sir’s voice sent shivers down his back. He fought for control while he tried to comply with the requests. His heart pounded, making it difficult for him to concentrate.
He dropped to all fours as instructed. Bracing himself on his hands, he leaned in. The boots—the biker type that he himself preferred—looked well worn. The smell of the leather was faint, almost gone, replaced by that of the wax used to shine them. He extended his tongue and gave a lick at the toe—just a little taste. The leather felt smooth, the wax tasteless.
“Yes, that’s it.”
He swallowed back his gasp.
“Again.”
He hurried to obey, his knuckles going white against the mat on the floor as he flexed them for better balance. A blunt object pocked him between his shoulder blades, pushing him down. It wasn’t painful in any way, but it enhanced the feeling of confinement the scene offered.
“Lower.”
Breaking out in goosebumps, Matthew leaned in farther. His arms strained, bent at an odd angle.
“Lick it.”
He jumped to comply, the pressure on his back adding more strain. His muscles screamed, his body wanting to rebel, but his mind wouldn’t allow it. He leaned in, tongue extended, and gave another lick.
“That’s it. Again.”
Under the praise, Matthew’s heart rhythm changed, slowed. With the added pressure, endorphins flooded his system. He closed his eyes, pressing his face against the tip of the boot. The object pressing into his back disappeared, only to travel downward. It dug into his lower back, just above his ass. His muscles strained as he fought the need to arch into the touch.
Then it was gone, only to land against the mound of one butt cheek. The blow was soft, no bite in it, and clearly a warning.
“Did I say you could stop?” Though still gentle, there was steel in Sir’s voice.
“No, Sir.”
Lowering himself until his chest nearly touched the mat, Matthew complied. Emotions flooded him to the point where he couldn’t latch onto any of them, his world reduced to the voice above him and the boot under his lips.
“That’s it.”
His head was jerked up by the hair and he found himself staring into Sir’s face. Matthew gasped and struggled to lower his gaze, but the hold tightened and he couldn’t move. Sir searched his eyes. Matthew struggled to maintain contact, but it was hard to focus with Him standing close enough Matthew could smell his breath.
Something inside him loosened, the strain in his body no longer confining him but offering a gentle wrap around his mind. He relaxed into it, warmth spreading through him. His lids fluttered close and he fought the need to keep them like that. Something flashed through Sir’s eyes: a gentleness Matthew hadn’t expected. But the hold on his hair didn’t waiver.
With his free hand, Sir traced the shape of Matthew’s jaw. The touch was brief, barely a whisper, but it had him breaking out in goosebumps. Then the caress was gone and he was pushed down. Matthew went with it, allowing Sir full control. He didn’t tense up even when his nose nearly touched the boot. But Sir stopped, just when Matthew’s cheek rested against the hard leather. Matthew exhaled deeply. The hold in his hair tightened a notch, his head lifted from its position. Meanwhile the foot was removed from under Matthew’s face.
“What were you supposed to do?”
“Lick your boots, Sir.”
“And what did you do?”
“I didn’t do it, Sir.”
“It seems you don’t deserve to lick my boots.”
Matthew’s heart skipped a beat, adrenaline surging.
“Licking my boots is nothing difficult, is it?”
“No, Sir.”
“And yet you failed to accomplish that simple task. I’m going to have to punish you.”
Matthew swallowed, his mouth dry.
“Is that clear, Matthew?”
Somehow, the use of his name made everything more intense. His breath deepened, making the pounding in his ears impossibly loud.
“Well?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You will have to answer me more quickly from now on when being asked a direct question.” Sir paused, giving Matthew a moment to process the request. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Let’s see how well you listen, then.” Sir climbed to his feet, releasing Matthew, and walked around him. “Come here.”
Matthew rose, swaying just a tiny bit, and followed Sir to the middle of the room.
Sir pointed toward the network of hooks dangling from the ceiling. Matthew glanced at them, his stomach sinking in disappointment. Suspension bondage wasn’t something he was particularly fond of. But it was a matter of preference, not a hard boundary, so it was the Master’s choice on how to proceed.
With a push of a button, the rings lowered. Matthew bit back his disappointment. But Sir brought out no ropes or leathers. Instead, he gestured toward the closest circle.
“Grab onto that ring. Do not let go under any circumstances. Is that clear, Matthew?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Positioning himself under it, Matthew obeyed the command. The metal was cold against his skin. The ring slipped against his sweaty palms and he had to try again. This time, he made sure to fist his hands securely around it.
“Very good. Spread your legs.”
Matthew obeyed immediately. He positioned them at a distance similar to the width of his shoulders. Swaying a little, he found his balance and braced himself for what was to come.
“I want you to stay completely still. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound unless asked a direct question. Is that clear, Matthew?”
“Yes, Sir.” Matthew jumped to answer, fighting to control the tremor in his voice.
“Good. Close your eyes.”
Excitement spiked, his heart jumping as his eyes snapped closed. At once, his other senses heightened. The process started with his skin, which became more sensitive. The air in the room felt colder against it and he had to suppress a shudder. Next came the hearing, the steps Sir made as he walked around the room sounding a lot louder. The air stirred as Sir stopped behind him. Matthew tensed, waiting for the punishment.
But no pain came. Instead, the softest caress tickled his back. His spine arched. His breath hitched.
“Uh, uh, uh.” The caress turned to a pinch at the top of one butt cheek. “I told you not to move.” Another pinch, harder this time. Matthew nearly yelped. “Didn’t I?”
“Yes, Sir.” Speaking through clenched jaws was difficult, but Matthew managed it.
Sir pinched him again, on the other cheek. “Let’s try this again. I want you to stay very, very still.” Sir’s voice turned lower, deeper, the accent intoxicating.
Closing his eyes again, Matthew focused on Sir. His presence, his requests. When the next caress came, he was ready for it. And while his body remained frozen, his stomach lurched to his throat.
The touch, soft and warm, was unnerving. He was used to pain, not gentleness. This wasn’t something he would normally associate with a session at The Dungeon, yet it kept him in such a mental hold, he couldn’t move. Flinch, yes, but not move.
Praises and encouragements poured from Sir Spencer. Matthew shivered with the need to please, to deserve them.
“There you go. Steady.”
Sir caressed Matthew’s other side. The skin pebbled into goosebumps. Dopamine
flooded his system.
“Easy now.”
Sir Spencer’s voice took on a musical quality, adding to Matthew’s mental hold. Focusing on Sir, Matthew let himself drift.
****
Hugh watched pensively as the door closed behind Matthew. The session had been taxing, but after he’d moved past the awkwardness of doing a scene with someone he didn’t know, things had gotten easier. Then Matthew reacted to him more and more, surrendering completely, and Hugh could only marvel at the beauty of his submission. If Matthew reacted like this to a paid Master, how would he react when he was in a relationship? That thought haunted Hugh the entire day. By the next morning, he’d nearly convinced himself he had imagined it all in his need to find someone like Matthew. So, when the next session came along, Hugh dreaded it. Impossible it could go the same way as the first.
And then it did.
In fact, it was better than the first. Matthew placed himself in Hugh’s care with such ease, it shamed Hugh.
So, at the end of the day, he took Matthew’s file home with him. He had to know more about the man. That night, after dinner, once everything was clean and back in its place, he made himself a cup of tea. He took his time with it until it tasted perfect. Then, when there were no more distractions, he took out the couple of pages of information the club had put together about Matthew.
He started from the top, with the physical details. Brown eyes, brown hair, five-foot-seven. He noticed that the weight wasn’t listed, but as that was a feature that might change, it made sense to him to leave it off. Yet none of these details captured the sparkle in Matthew’s eyes when he entered the playroom, or how they went dreamy during a scene. It was all sterile information—a bunch of words strung together.
But despite lacking the personal touch, the file was comprehensive. It covered everything from physical traits to general information, like Matthew’s current place of employment, previous jobs and so on. To Hugh’s surprise, there was even a school listed, and he made a mental note to check the files for his other subs, to see if this was an error in Matthew’s file or a general issue.
A Master for Matthew (The Dungeon Book 6) Page 2