Stepping back, Master Mark reached around her and gripped the leash, pulling it up and to the side. He tugged lightly at the leash, directing her to turn so her back was now to the cross. He moved back, drawing her forward off the platform.
“Time to meet a few of our members,” Master Lawrence said. Jaime was nonplussed, confused. Her ass was stinging. One of the welts felt as if it might actually be bleeding! Where was the aftercare she received at the clubs—the healing lotion, the soothing words, the praise?
None, apparently, was forthcoming. Without a backward glance, Master Lawrence opened the door and walked back into the living room. Master Mark followed just behind him, Jaime in tow on her leash.
Hans was still there, though he now stood erect as a soldier behind his Master’s chair. The man looked to be in his late thirties. He was quite handsome, with chiseled features, a square jaw and wavy brown hair streaked with blond, brushed straight back. There was an end table beside his chair with a tray containing a packet of surgical gloves, a tube of lubricant and a shiny black anal plug. Jaime eyed the tray with dismay, praying it wasn’t there for her.
As they moved closer, she got a better look at the couple on the couch. Even seated, she could tell they were both tall, their builds slender but athletic. They appeared to be in their late forties or early fifties.
Behind the couch stood a young woman with curly red hair, round green eyes and a small rosebud of a mouth. She was naked, her large, heavy breasts marked with a crisscross of new and fading welts. A thick slave collar of rich, emerald-green leather circled her neck, sewn so it came together in a V at her throat. She offered the hint of a smile as she caught Jaime’s eye. Jaime didn’t dare to smile back.
Master Mark brought Jaime to a standstill in front of the gathered group. He removed the leash. “You may stand at ease,” Master Lawrence said. “Hands clasped loosely behind your back, legs shoulder-width apart. You may look directly at whoever is speaking to you. You will obey every command without hesitation.”
“Yes, Master Lawrence,” Jaime said, pleased her voice didn’t quaver. Master Mark took a seat on the other side of the woman on the couch. Master Lawrence sat on the empty chair to the right.
“We’ve heard a lot about you,” the seated woman said. She had honey-blond hair cut to her shoulders. Her eyes were a clear, beautiful shade of green. She wore a figure-hugging black satin gown. Surprisingly, around her neck there was a silver leather collar studded with O-rings, a small heart-shaped crystal padlock at its center. While the piece was stunningly beautiful in its own right, it was clearly a slave collar. “I am Mistress Marjorie. Welcome to The Enclave.” She smiled, the smile at once easy and somewhat sad, as if she saw the humor and the tragedy in everything at once.
“Thank you, Mistress,” Jaime replied.
“I am Master Brandon,” the man beside Mistress Marjorie said. His hair was auburn, trimmed short on the sides and swept to the side on top, with a whisper of gray at the sideburns. He was very tan, with rugged features and bright blue eyes. He, like Master Lawrence, was dressed in black leather. “We’re pleased to have you as a training candidate. It’s unfortunate you had to be punished immediately upon your arrival. Tell me, what did you do to earn that punishment, Jaime?”
“Oh, I, uh”—Jaime glanced helplessly at Hans, her mind suddenly blank. He stared back at her impassively. Her eyes flitted toward Master Mark, who nodded ever so slightly. Jaime’s mind clicked back on. “I didn’t obey quickly enough when Master Hans—“
“Slave Hans,” interjected the man in the chair. “Hans belongs to me. I am Master Julian.” Master Julian spoke in a posh British accent that instantly charmed Jaime.
“Slave Hans,” she amended. “I failed to address him properly, and I, uh, I didn’t obey quickly enough, Sir.”
“Turn around,” Master Brandon said. “Show us your welts.“ Flustered, Jaime did as she was told.
“Beautiful,” Mistress Marjorie murmured. A sudden rush of pride swelled inside Jaime.
“Remain facing away from us, but come closer,” Master Brandon continued. “I want to examine the welts.”
Jaime obeyed, stepping backward toward the couch. She jumped slightly as fingers glided over her sensitized skin. She gasped as they stroked the most painful of the welts. “You have delicate skin,” he remarked. “We’ll toughen that up over the next two weeks, won’t we?”
“We will, indeed,” Master Lawrence, whom Jaime could see in her peripheral vision, remarked dryly, and there was laughter.
“Step forward and bend over,” Master Julian said, once the laughter subsided. “Spread your ass cheeks. I want to inspect your asshole.”
Taking a breath, Jaime forced her hands to unclasp as she bent forward. She moved quickly, not daring to risk another punishment. She reached for her bottom and pulled at the welted flesh to expose herself, glad her flaming face was hidden from scrutiny.
“Hans,” Master Julian said from behind her, “give me a glove and some lube. Let’s see how tight this girl is.”
“Yes, Master Julian,” Hans replied.
Jaime remained in her awkward, bent position as Master Julian presumably prepared himself behind her. Though she knew to expect it, she jumped when she felt his hands on her—one hand gripping her hip while a thick, hard, but mercifully lubricated and gloved finger pushed insistently into her ass.
“Yes…good…nice and tight,” Master Julian murmured approvingly as he probed her most private orifice. “Do you like ass play, Jaime?”
How to answer? No, I fucking hate any attention to my asshole, please stop at once? But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? While it was humiliating, and not directly sexually stimulating to her, hadn’t she experienced the second most powerful orgasm of her life while her ass was plugged on Mistress Aubrey’s exam table?
Just answer honestly, a small voice whispered inside her head. “It makes me nervous, Sir. I’m not used to it…yet.”
“Yet. I like that,” Master Julian replied, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “We’ll be sure to work on that while you’re here, since I only like to fuck slaves in the ass—I’m sure you understand.” Some of the others chuckled.
His finger was withdrawn, and Jaime started to rise, but his hand pressed firmly against her lower back. “Remain in position. I didn’t tell you to move. Keep your cheeks spread. I’m going to insert the plug. You will keep it inside your ass during the rest of our welcome interview.”
“Yes, Sir,” Jaime managed through clenched jaws.
She flinched when the head of the plug touched her anus. She felt awkward and uncomfortable, bent over as she was, all eyes no doubt on her exposed asshole. She told herself to calm down, to breathe, but she wasn’t really listening. All she could manage was to tough it out.
The plug pushed slowly into her. “Relax,” Master Julian admonished gently. His other hand had remained firmly on her back, his touch centering and reassuring. “This is the last bit.” There came the sudden but short-lived burst of pain as the fat end of the plug slipped inside her. Jaime gasped and then sighed with relief. The damn thing was in. Master Julian’s hand fell away from her back.
“You may stand and face us,” he said. As she obeyed, Master Julian returned to his seat. He held out his gloved hand toward Hans, who slipped it off and dropped it into a small trashcan near the end table before returning to his post behind Master Julian’s chair.
“Do you like girls?” Master Brandon asked suddenly, peering intently at her with his brilliant blue eyes.
“I’m sorry, Sir?” she replied, confused.
“Girls. Pussy. Sex with other women,” he clarified, his tone impatient.
Feeling like an idiot, Jaime stammered, “Uh, not really. I mean, I’ve never had sex with a girl, if that’s what you mean, Sir.” Her eyes flitted involuntarily toward the naked girl standing silently behind the couch.
“You’ve never done it, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t like it,” Master Br
andon replied. “Love and sex exist along a continuum of desire for most people. It’s a matter of learning your true self—of jettisoning all the societal dictates and nonsense that can shut you down before you’ve even given yourself a chance. An open mind and a willingness to learn are all you need. Isn’t that right, Marjorie?” He put his hand proprietarily on Mistress Marjorie’s thigh.
“It is, Master Brandon,” she said softly, beaming at him.
“Perhaps a brief demonstration is in order?” Master Mark spoke, his question directed toward Master Brandon. Jaime’s eyes moved toward the pleasing sound of his baritone. Then her mind processed his words, and she tensed.
“Excellent idea,” Master Brandon agreed. He twisted back to the slave girl behind the couch. “A good opportunity for you, as well, slave Katie, to demonstrate your obedience.”
Red color seeped like spilled paint over Katie’s fair complexion, and Jaime’s stomach dropped. Whatever was about to happen, it was going to happen between the two of them, and this girl looked as nervous as Jaime felt.
Mistress Marjorie shifted on the couch, nudging Master Mark to the edge as she made a space between herself and Master Brandon. She patted the cushions. “Come sit between us, slave Katie,” she said gently.
“Yes, Mistress,” Katie said in a low, pleasing voice. She came from behind the high-backed sofa. She was of medium height with a little extra meat on her bones, though she carried it well. Her pretty face remained beet red as she settled herself between the couple.
“Scoot forward,” Mistress Marjorie instructed the girl. “Spread your legs. Jaime is going to lick your cunt to orgasm. You will ask for permission to come, of course.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Katie said in a small voice.
Master Brandon reached for Katie’s arms, capturing both her wrists in one hand. He pulled her arms upward over her head and held them there. “You,” he said, pointing with his free hand toward Jaime. “Get on your knees and get to work. I assume you understand the mechanics of the task, even if you’ve never done it before?”
Jaime swallowed hard. She looked from face to face. They were all watching her—judging her, and no doubt finding her wanting. She felt lightheaded as she sank to her knees.
Katie looked incredibly vulnerable, naked between the Dominants, her arms held high over her head, her thighs parted. The small voice in Jaime’s head was whispering furiously now, and she tried to listen. Don’t fuck this up, Jaime Lee Shepard. It’s just a pussy, for heaven’s sake. You have one. You know what to do. Just do what you like to have done to you. Stop being such a baby. This is a test. They are testing you. Don’t fail!
She took a deep breath and blew it out. She scooted closer to the girl, until she was right between her knees. Carefully, cautiously, she placed a hand on either thigh and gently pushed Katie’s legs a little wider. She studiously avoided looking up into Katie’s face, and instead focused on the pierced pussy directly in front of her. Katie was shaven smooth. She had piercings along both sides of her outer labia, three to a side, each containing a small, thin gold hoop. Her inner labia were a darker pink than the outer, folded like the petals of an orchid. The hood of her clit was pierced as well, with what looked like a real diamond.
You can do this. You can do this.
Tentatively, Jaime snaked out her tongue and touched the delicate folds of flesh with the tip. Katie flinched slightly. “Offer yourself, slave Katie,” Mistress Marjorie said softly. “This is your gift of submission, remember?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Katie breathed. Jaime felt suddenly better—even this obviously well-trained full-time staff slave needed encouragement and reminders. She touched the soft folds again with her tongue, and this time drew it up along the curve of flesh. She moved it in a circle around the diamond and Katie sighed softly. Emboldened, Jaime pulled a little on Katie’s inner thighs for better access. She licked along the inner labia, fluttering her tongue as she moved. The skin was silky soft. Katie sighed again.
Jaime realized she’d been holding her breath. Her tongue still moving over the now moistening folds, she breathed in through her nose. Katie’s scent was a mixture of soap with a hint of something sweet, like honey, and an underlay of spicy musk. To her surprise, Jaime found the smell intoxicating rather than off-putting, as she’d feared. She became aware of her own pussy in that moment; of the gentle throb of desire pulsing at her core.
She licked with more pressure, running her tongue directly over the hard diamond and feeling the rise of Katie’s clit beneath it. Katie’s moan was more audible now, the scent of her arousal stronger. Jaime focused on and around the hood of flesh until it began to miraculously contract, revealing the hard purple nubbin of Katie’s clit beneath it.
Aware of her own sensitivity to too much direct stimulation, Jaime shifted her focus, licking in lazy, sensual circles over Katie’s pussy. She even poked the tip of her tongue into the silky wetness of her entrance, and Katie shuddered and shifted beneath her. Jaime held her still, her grip firm on Katie’s thighs.
After teasing Katie this way for a while, Jaime realized she was having fun. This wasn’t horrible at all. It was similar to the rush she got when pleasing a man, but with something sweeter beneath it, somehow more tender. Katie’s responsiveness was thrilling.
Jaime alternated her strokes, flicking lightly at Katie’s clit, and then sliding away. Finally Katie began to tremble, her thighs hot beneath Jaime’s hands, her clit pulsing against Jaime’s tongue. “Oh god, oh Sir, oh Mistress!” Katie cried. “May I, oh, may I come, please?” she begged breathlessly.
“Yes, slave Katie,” Mistress Marjorie replied calmly. “You may come.”
“And you, Jaime,” Master Brandon added. “You are not to stop until you have permission.”
Jaime nodded as best she could with her head buried between Katie’s thighs, to show she had heard. Katie begun to buck against her, her movement punctuated with breathy cries. After several long seconds, the girl sagged back, her thighs pressing against Jaime’s hands as if she would close them.
Jaime kept her grip, however, mindful of Master Brandon’s dictate. Holding Katie open, she continued to lick and suckle the engorged, slick folds of Katie’s cunt. Katie lay limp at first, but after a minute or so she stiffened and began to squeal, little high-pitched yips. Jaime wanted to stop, worried she was over-stimulating the girl, aware of how easily the pleasure could turn to irritation, even pain, after a certain point. But Master Brandon had been very specific in his orders, and she was determined to obey.
Finally Katie began to shudder. Her whole body trembled, her thighs slippery with sweat beneath Jaime’s hands, her clit hard as a glass bead beneath Jaime’s tongue. She moaned, the sound low and guttural, and then she went completely limp and silent, not even a rasp of breath audible in the silent room. For a frightening split-second, Jaime thought she’d killed her.
“Breathe,” Mistress Marjorie said softly, and, thank goodness, Katie did.
Jaime felt a hand on her head. “You may sit back,” Master Brandon said.
Jaime obeyed, leaning back onto her haunches, exultant. She had made a girl come! And not just some wimpy little ‘gasm. She’d practically knocked the girl unconscious!
“Proud of yourself, aren’t you.” Master Lawrence’s voice cut across her thoughts. The sentence was declarative, rather than a question. Jaime glanced in his direction, her heart dropping at his stern expression. “Pride has a place in a slave’s repertoire,” he continued, his voice soft but edged with danger, “but not the pride of power over another. No, your pride should be in obedience and service. In doing what you are told and doing it well.”
“That hunger for power will need to be beaten out of her,” Master Julian remarked as Jaime’s triumph vanished beneath their criticism.
“Indeed,” Master Brandon added, his tone dry. “I would say daily beatings are definitely in order for this one.”
Jaime was suddenly aware of the plug still embedded in her ass. He
r face was soaked with her own saliva and Katie’s juices, but she didn’t dare to wipe it off. She was hot and sweaty, and suddenly very thirsty. Her jawed ached. This was so unfair! She’d done everything they asked of her. Could she help it if she’d been proud of her accomplishment? She looked down at the ground.
“It takes a lot of courage to be a true slave, Jaime,” Mistress Marjorie said quietly. “The most difficult thing to let go of is ego. You’re used to a different world, where submission is a game in a carefully controlled scene at a public club. This two weeks is designed to give you a glimpse into our world, and to understand that it isn’t for everyone.”
Her gentle touch on the top of Jaime’s head made the tears fall, and Jaime tried to blink them back. “You are used to having the focus on you. You’ve probably heard it many times before—it’s all about the submissive. She remains in ultimate control, because she controls the scene. You are obsessed with your own pleasure and pain, and your effect on your Dom. When do you get a whipping, when do you get to come, does your Dom find you sexy, attractive, submissive, obedient? The underlying theme here is ego.”
Mistress Marjorie placed her finger just beneath Jaime’s chin, forcing her to raise her head. She gazed at Jaime with sharp, knowing eyes. “If you choose to stay with us, Jaime, and if we choose to accept you, the pride, the vanity, must go. You will learn by observing and experiencing the training process, which, as you’re probably gathering, won’t always be easy and won’t always be fun. But in the process, if you can set aside your preconceptions, your fear, and most especially your ego, you will achieve a level of peace and actualization that is tremendously freeing.”
Jaime nodded slowly, Mistress Marjorie’s words resonating in her soul. The jittery anxiety and sense of indignation she’d experienced had evaporated, replaced by a fledgling sense of calm that was new to Jaime.
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