She opened her eyes and looked directly at Master Anthony.
“Yes, Sir,” she said. “I accept.”
Chapter 2
The buzzing vibration of Jaime’s cell phoned dragged her unwillingly from sleep. Too bleary-eyed to see who it was, she took the call. She was greeted by the unwelcome voice of her latest boss, Junior (what grown man called himself Junior?), who managed the mall shoe store that was her latest attempt at paying the bills.
“Janie,” he barked, though she’d politely corrected him at least half a dozen times in the three months she’d been working there, “Matt called out sick, and we’ve got the whole inventory thing going on and the kids’ sneaker sale starts today. I need you in here by eight o’clock.”
She was on the schedule for the afternoon shift, and had already been dreading it. The job paid better than the last gig she’d had, but Junior was constantly changing up the schedule on her, and threatened darkly every time she balked that there were plenty of “honest, hardworking folks lined up behind you,” ready and willing to take her job if she had a problem.
As she came more fully awake, the amazing events of the night before came pouring like sunlight into her consciousness, and she smiled in spite of the nasal voice buzzing like an annoying mosquito in her ear.
Ten thousand dollars, paid in advance, hers to keep no matter what.
It was so incredible. She almost felt she should be the one to pay the ten thousand to Anthony just for the chance to experience what he was offering. He’d given her his card before sending her home, as well as the address and phone number for the doctor’s office. “You’ll receive a text with your appointment time. It will be early Sunday morning when the office is closed to the public. If you have a change of heart between now and then, you can just text back that you’ve changed your mind.”
“Janie? You there or what? I need your ass in here pronto.”
“I’m sorry, Junior, I won’t be able to make it.”
Junior was silent for a beat. “I don’t think you heard me correctly, Janie. That wasn’t a—”
“Jaime.”
“What?”
“Jaime. I’ve told you like ten times, my name isn’t Janie. It’s Jaime.”
“I don’t care if your name is Tinker Bell. If you don’t get your ass in here by eight, there are plenty of other—”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Jaime interrupted, a part of her standing back in amazement as she watched herself torpedo her job, “there are plenty of other folks lined up to take my job. So give one of them a call, why don’t you? I’m sure they’ll be falling all over themselves to get their ass in there by eight. Bye, Junior. Have a nice life.”
The air was fresh and still cool in the early Sunday morning stillness. The doctor’s office was located in a primarily residential neighborhood, the only thing distinguishing it from a private home, a small painted sign at the curb that read Asheville Health Services, A. Hershfield, MD.
Jaime walked up the flagstones that led to the front door of the doctor’s office, butterflies batting against the walls of her stomach. She rang the doorbell and stepped back, her heart pattering as she shifted from foot to foot in nervous anticipation. A moment later, a tall man in his mid-thirties with short dark hair and handsome, regular features opened the door. He was dressed in pale blue scrubs, the very picture of a young MD, save for a burgundy leather collar at his throat with a row of silver studs bordering the edges.
He stepped back, gesturing for her to enter. “You must be Jaime,” he said. “Come on back and I’ll get you set up. The doctor should be here any minute.”
“Oh,” Jaime said, confused. “You’re not the doctor?”
The man smiled. “No. I’m her assistant. My name is Gene.”
What must have once been the living room of the house had been converted into a large, comfortable waiting area, with thick carpeting on the floors and framed posters of soothing landscapes and pleasing abstracts on the walls. Gene led Jaime through a door at the back of the room, next to the empty receptionist’s counter, and along a short hallway to an examination room.
“Have a seat.” Gene gestured toward a chair and settled on a stool nearby. The room also contained a gynecological exam table, complete with stirrups. An old-fashioned metal gooseneck lamp perched on a stand beside the table. Gene reached for a clipboard from the counter. “I’ll just take your blood pressure and do a brief medical history while we wait for Mistress Aubrey.”
Jaime, who had been reading the doctor’s diploma, which hung in a gold frame on the wall, glanced at Gene, who smiled as he answered her unspoken question. “As Master Anthony probably told you, Dr. Aubrey Hershfield is a Mistress at The Enclave. I’m not only her nurse here at the office during the week. I belong to Mistress Aubrey. She is the focus and center of my life, and there is nothing in this world I would not do for her.” As he spoke, his face took on a serene radiance.
“Oh,” Jaime breathed, aching with longing.
“Now,” Gene continued, his tone suddenly businesslike, “What is your full name and date of birth?”
Just as Gene was finishing the last of the medical history questions, Jaime heard the sound of a door opening and closing, and the click of heels along the hallway. A moment later, a short, slightly plump woman in her early forties appeared, with light brown hair in a blunt cut around a pretty face, large blue eyes and a pointy chin.
“Hi there,” she said as she entered the small exam room. “You must be Jaime. I’m Dr. Hershfield. You will address me as Mistress Aubrey. Stand up and remove your clothing. Then stand in the center of the room, feet shoulder-width apart, hands behind your head.”
Mistress Aubrey was wearing a form-fitting red dress cut low enough to reveal substantial cleavage, her small feet shod in red stiletto heels, no white lab coat or stethoscope in sight. When Jaime didn’t react immediately, Mistress Aubrey stepped closer to her and snapped her fingers just below Jaime’s chin. “Come on, up, up, up! Anthony told me you were a sub. Was he mistaken?”
Jaime stood quickly, Anthony’s name kicking her into gear. Gene, she noticed as she slipped off her sandals and unzipped the back of her sundress, was kneeling on the ground beside his stool, his head touching the linoleum, his arms crossed behind his back. As she folded her dress and took off her bra and panties, Mistress Aubrey crouched in front of Gene and tapped his shoulder. When he rose to his knees, she took his face in her hands, pulling it down to kiss his mouth.
Jaime assumed her position as ordered, fingers laced behind her neck, watching the lovers with nervous excitement. After a moment Mistress Aubrey stood, and Gene rose along with her, towering a good foot over her when on his feet. As Mistress Aubrey stepped back, Jaime couldn’t help but notice the full erection tenting Gene’s scrubs.
Mistress Aubrey turned her attention to Jaime. Tilting her head, she regarded Jaime appraisingly. Moving closer, she ran her fingertips along Jaime’s sides up to her armpits, tickling her in the process. Jaime giggled involuntarily and shifted on her feet.
“Stay still and quiet,” Mistress Aubrey snapped. “I didn’t tell you to move.”
Chastened, Jaime pressed her lips together. Fortunately, Mistress Aubrey stopped tickling her. Instead she cupped Jaime’s breasts and then tugged at her nipples. As the nipples responded to the rough but sensual touch, Jaime’s pussy moistened and swelled. Though Jaime had never found herself particularly attracted to women, something about Mistress Aubrey’s decidedly masterful touch and sense of entitlement, as if she owned and could do what she liked with Jaime’s body, was deeply exciting.
Mistress Aubrey turned to Gene. “Gloves,” she said.
Gene reached into a drawer and brought out a pair of disposable latex gloves. Mistress Aubrey held out her hands like a doctor at an operating table while Gene pulled the gloves over her fingers. Turning back to Jaime, she kicked lightly at Jaime’s ankles. “Spread your legs wider,” she ordered.
Jaime obeyed, her heart thumping as Mistress Aubr
ey brought her hand between Jaime’s legs. Jaime gasped as the doctor pushed a finger inside her and probed. “Nice,” Mistress Aubrey pronounced. “She’s hot and wet, just as a good little sub girl should be.” She moved her gloved palm skillfully against Jaime’s vulva as she spoke, and Jaime struggled to stay still and silent. After a moment, Mistress Aubrey withdrew her finger.
“Time for the gynecological exam,” she announced. “Lie down, ass on the edge of the table, feet in the stirrups. Gene, tie her down.”
Tie her down.
Not a typical doctor’s instruction to her nurse, but then, this was hardly a typical physical. Jaime lay on her back against the crinkly white paper that covered the padded table and scooted forward to get her feet in the stirrups.
Gene appeared beside her, holding a handful of leather straps with metal clips at the ends. “Hands over your head, arms on the table,” he instructed. As she obeyed, he gripped her wrists together and wrapped a strap around them. Pulling her arms taut, he clipped the strap to a discreet metal loop at the edge of the exam table, which Jaime supposed must have been added by the pair for just this purpose. She wondered what Dr. Hershfield’s vanilla patients must think of the loop, if they even noticed it.
Moving down, Gene used more straps on Jaime’s ankles, binding her to the stirrups. He placed a thicker strap of leather over her midriff and clipped it into place beneath the table.
“Excellent,” Mistress Aubrey said, appearing between Jaime’s spread knees. “First, the vaginal exam. I imagine you’re familiar with the more traditional exam, which I’ll conduct before moving on to the rather, uh, less conventional part of your visit today. Speculum, please, Gene.”
Jaime lifted her head nervously as Gene produced a shiny silver speculum, which he handed to Mistress Aubrey, along with a tube of lubricant. As unwelcome images of vaginal torture with sharp metal objects leaped into Jaime’s overactive imagination, she reminded herself that Mistress Aubrey was, in fact, a medical doctor, and wouldn’t do anything to harm her.
Jaime lay back, staring at the ceiling as Mistress Aubrey slowly and carefully slid the gooey, cold metal spreader into her pussy and widened it. The ceiling had been painted light blue, with tiny silver stars swirled in random patterns over it.
“Aim the light for me, Gene,” Mistress Aubrey instructed. Jaime felt the sudden warmth radiating from the incandescent bulb. Despite the deeply erotic thrill of the situation, the doctor’s actions were brisk and clinical as she conducted her exam. “A quick swab for the lab,” she finally said. There was an unpleasant but brief pressure against her cervix. In her peripheral vision she saw Mistress Aubrey hand a small glass slide to Gene, who slipped it into a medical envelope and set it on the counter.
The speculum was pulled gently from her. The exam wasn’t over yet, however. A lubricated, gloved finger pressed deep into her anus while Mistress Aubrey’s other hand moved against her belly as she felt for whatever it was doctors felt for. “Excellent,” the doctor murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. “Very good.” Finally the finger was withdrawn. “Now, we need to do your blood work,” she said. “I assume you’re comfortable with needles. Gene is an excellent phlebotomist.”
“As long as I don’t look,” Jaime said meekly, her stomach dipping unpleasantly at the thought of being pricked. She lay watching as Gene pulled a tray from beneath the counter and placed on it a wrapped needle and syringe, a disposable orange plastic tourniquet and two small glass vials.
Turning back to her, Gene released Jaime’s arms, allowing her to rest them at her sides. He cranked the table so she was in more of a sitting position, and then drew up a stool to sit beside the exam table. After pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, Gene prepared the syringe and then reached for the tourniquet. This he strapped around Jaime’s upper arm. He instructed her to clench her hand into a fist, while he tapped at the veins rising at the bend in her arm.
Apparently satisfied, he reached for a small plastic container of alcohol and pulled a ball of cotton from a glass container on the counter. He swabbed her arm and then reached for the syringe. Jaime turned away and closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing. There was a small, sharp prick as the needle entered her vein, but, as Mistress Aubrey had promised, Gene was good at what he did. After a minute or so, she felt a pressure at the spot where the needle had been, and turned to see Gene placing a Band-Aid over a fresh ball of cotton. The two vials were now filled with bright red blood.
Jaime looked away from this, instead searching for Mistress Aubrey, who stood at the end of the exam table watching the proceedings. “Are we done?” Jaime dared to ask.
“No, we are not,” Mistress Aubrey replied in a no-nonsense tone. “The medical part of the exam is over, but now you will be subjected to endurance and sensitivity testing, which is just as important as physical health.” Without elaborating, she turned to Gene. “Secure her arms again, slave Gene.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Gene lowered the table so Jaime was once more lying flat, and re-bound Jaime’s wrists. “I think she can handle the number two dildo,” Mistress Aubrey said to Gene. “And get me a medium anal plug.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Gene replied.
Jaime’s sphincter muscles tensed. She pressed her lips tightly together to keep from voicing her apprehension.
“Is there a problem, Jaime?” Mistress Aubrey said, her smile belying the steel in her tone. “I’ve examined your vagina and anus, my dear. You are in excellent condition, with healthy tissue and good elasticity. If this is an issue for you, however, we can end this right now. I’ll just let Anthony know he was mistak—“
“No!” Jaime blurted. “I mean,” she amended desperately, “Please, I’m sorry, Mistress Aubrey! I just wasn’t expecting the anal plug thing. I mean, I’m kind of shy about my bottom and—”
“Your bottom? You mean your asshole? Be explicit, please.”
Jaime’s face began to burn. “Um, yes. My, um, my asshole. I don’t really have a lot of experience with anal play and—”
“Well, get used to it,” Mistress Aubrey cut in. “If you join us at The Enclave, that asshole will belong to me, to Master Anthony, and to every Dominant at the compound. If you have a problem with that, now is the time to find out. This isn’t a game. If you sign on, your body will no longer be your own. Modesty has no place, none whatsoever, in a slave’s repertoire. You will do as you’re told, when you’re told, or be punished. If this isn’t something you think you can handle, you’d better face that right now. If you can’t deal with a little anal play in this controlled environment, then I assure you, The Enclave is not for you.”
Jaime blew out a breath, forcing herself to calm down. She had always hated any attention to her asshole, even though intellectually she realized this didn’t make a lot of sense. It was something she didn’t really even understand about herself, and no one had ever forced her to confront the issue before—they’d always just accepted “no ass play” as one of her hard limits. But apparently there were no hard limits at The Enclave.
Mistress Aubrey was right. Either she was willing to give of herself completely, to let all the old inhibitions and hesitations go, or she wasn’t. And yes, now was certainly the time to find out, before she signed on the dotted line.
“I apologize, Mistress Aubrey. I let old fears get in the way of my desire to submit and obey.”
Mistress Aubrey regarded her silently for several long beats while Jaime held her breath, now desperate for whatever Mistress Aubrey wanted to give her. Finally the Mistress nodded. “All right then. We will proceed.” She turned toward Gene. “You ready?”
“Yes, Mistress.” Gene held a tray with a sizable pink rubber dildo, as well as a forbiddingly large anal plug that appeared to be made of glass. Mercifully, there was also a tube of lubricant on the tray.
“You will be naked for this part of the session, slave Gene,” Mistress Aubrey said casually.
“Yes, ma’am!” Gene said eagerly.
He placed the tray on the counter and lost no time pulling off his sneakers and scrubs.
“Quite a specimen, isn’t he? Definitely easy on the eyes.”
Jaime turned her head to focus on the now naked Gene. He was, indeed, easy on the eyes. Gene was well-muscled and completely smooth, not a trace of hair on his body. Her eyes were drawn irresistibly to his cock, which was semi-erect above his shaven balls, a shiny loop of gold glinting just below the crown of his penis. As he turned to retrieve the tray, she saw the stripes, both new and fading, of a recent caning on his small, muscular ass and the backs of his thighs. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight, her skin tingling with sympathy and desire.
Once Gene returned to the foot of the exam table, Mistress Aubrey said, “Crank the stirrups wider for better access to her cunt and asshole.”
Jaime’s heart kicked into a higher gear as Gene released some kind of mechanism on the underside of the table that caused the stirrups to slowly widen, pulling her legs farther and farther apart and putting a strain on her inner thighs. Jaime was just about to protest it was too much, when Mistress Aubrey finally said, “Perfect. Stop there.”
Mistress Aubrey stroked Jaime’s spread vulva with gloved fingers. Her touch caused a spasm of pleasure to ripple through Jaime’s loins and she was barely able to suppress her moan. The moan escaped as the fingers were pressed into the tight, wet grip of Jaime’s cunt.
“You don’t need to stay quiet,” Mistress Aubrey said. “In fact, I want to hear how you respond.” Mistress Aubrey’s fingers moved inside her in sensual, stimulating strokes, pulling a deep sigh from Jaime. “That’s right,” Mistress Aubrey urged. “Hold nothing back. I want to hear every sigh, every moan, every scream. Is that quite clear, young lady?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Jaime said, though she could barely hear her own response over the beating of her heart, which was pounding in her ears.
“Good.” The hand was withdrawn. Jaime lifted her head, biting back the urge to beg for more. She watched as Mistress Aubrey reached for the dildo, which she handed to Gene.
BDSM Club Series Box Set Page 3