“Yes, Mistress Marjorie,” she said. “Thank you.” She turned slowly to look at each person in the room, including Katie and Hans. “Thank you all.”
Chapter 5
Katie preceded Jaime down a set of narrow concrete stairs, the way lit by sconces of brushed nickel set along the walls. Though her leash had been removed, the anal plug was still very much present inside her. “Are we allowed to speak?” she whispered as they descended to what must be the basement.
“Sure,” Katie said in a normal tone of voice. “Once you put your foot on these stairs, it’s considered the slave quarters. We’re permitted to speak freely down here, unless there is a Master or Mistress present.” She flashed a shy smile at Jaime. “You said you didn’t have experience with girls, but you sure seemed to know what you were doing up there.”
Jaime smiled and shrugged. “I tried to do what I would want done, I guess. You were, uh, very responsive.” She felt her own face flushing.
Katie beamed. “Thank you. It’s been a lot of work for me—the hardest part of my training, by far. Before I got here, I’d never had an orgasm.”
“Never had an orgasm?” Jaime blurted, shocked.
They’d reached the bottom of the stairs. Jaime looked around, realizing she’d expected a typical basement—concrete walls and floors—but that wasn’t what she found. The space opened into a large, finished room with thick carpeting on the floor, the walls painted a pleasing, pale yellow. The space was softly lit with more wall sconces, and there was a grouping of chairs and a sofa in one corner of the room.
“I love to serve others,” Katie explained. “But sex”—she wrapped her arms protectively around her torso, her voice dropping to a whisper—“I mean when I’m the center of attention, it makes me uncomfortable. I’ve lost a lot of weight since I got here, but I’m still kind of dumpy, you know, and—”
“You’re not dumpy,” Jaime interjected. “You have a lovely body.” It was true. Though she was heavyset, Katie was curvaceous, her skin creamy smooth.
“Thanks,” Katie said softly, her cheeks still pink. “Mistress Marjorie tells me that every day. Hopefully, I’ll actually believe it one day.”
Her hand fluttered to her slave collar, prompting Jaime to ask the question that had been in her mind since she’d entered The Enclave. “Your collar, it’s so unique. All the staff slaves have such beautiful collars.” Jaime’s hand went to her own collar, which, while simple, was buttery soft, the O-rings expertly hand-stitched into place. “Even this collar they’ve given me feels like such quality.”
“That’s my Master’s handiwork.” Katie beamed. “Master Brandon makes all the collars for The Enclave. It started as a hobby for him—he loves to work with leather—but word’s gotten out in the BDSM community. Apparently people are always pestering him to make custom collars. He’s thinking of starting a cottage industry, now that he’s retired from banking. He’s been teaching me a little about the process, and even lets me do some of the cutting and stitching.” She stroked her collar lovingly as she spoke, her green eyes sparkling with pride.
The distant sound of a clock’s chime from upstairs made Katie move her hand from her collar to her mouth. “Come on,” she said, quickening her pace. “We only have fifteen minutes before lunch. Our quarters are back here. I’ll show you.”
“Um, this plug?” Jaime said. “Can I take this thing out? I was afraid to ask up there, but it’s bugging me.”
Katie shook her head. “It can come out, but you’re not to do it. Mistress Marjorie told me I was to remove it for you when we came down. Let’s go to the bathroom first and take care of that.”
“You’re to remove it?” Jaime asked, dismayed. “But I can do it myself…”
She trailed off in the face of Katie’s expression. “No,” Katie repeated firmly. “You cannot. Unless you were specifically directed to do so?” She lifted her eyebrows skeptically. Jaime reluctantly shook her head.
“That’s what I thought. Be careful, Jaime, about doing something like that without permission. I mean, don’t even think about it. Forget everything you ever knew or thought you knew about D/s scenes. For the next two weeks at least, you are in one long, continuous training scene and the rules are very exact. Your job is to listen and obey to the best of your ability. Don’t ever make assumptions or decide to do something on your own without express direction or permission. That’s a sure way to get punished, and fast.”
As Jaime absorbed the warning, Katie led her down a hallway, the floor of smooth, polished wood. They moved past doorless rooms, four on each side of the hallway, each containing a full bed set in a wooden frame and a small bureau. The beds were neatly made with quilts in pastel colors. Despite the lack of windows, the rooms were bright from indirect lighting, the walls painted in soothing blue. Jaime had envisioned some kind of bunk bed, dormitory type arrangement and was pleasantly surprised by the accommodations.
The end of the hallway opened into a spacious bathroom. The bathroom contained a row of doorless toilet stalls against one of the walls. Showerheads protruded from the tile on an adjacent wall, a drain set into the flooring beneath each shower. There was a counter in which four sinks were set, a drawer beneath each sink. Fluffy white towels of varying sizes were stacked beside each basin. There was a large sunken tub in one corner of the room. Above the standard faucets at the head of the tub, there hung a long, detachable showerhead with a spray nozzle at its end.
“Bend over here,” Katie said, moving toward the sinks. She turned on a faucet in the basin at the far end of the counter. “This last sink is for cleaning equipment and toys.” She picked up a small bottle of dishwashing liquid and squeezed a stream of it into the water. “I’ll just drop your plug in there. You can take care of it after you clean yourself.”
She spoke so matter-of-factly Jaime almost forgot to be embarrassed as she leaned over the counter, legs spread, bottom out. She was just glad the thing would be removed. Katie reached bare-handed for the base of the plug and gave it a firm tug. After a bit of initial resistance, it slid easily out of Jaime’s bottom. She stood abruptly and closed her legs.
Katie dropped the plug into the water and then turned off the faucet. She moved to another sink to soap and rinse her hands. She gestured with her head toward the toilets. “The end one is a bidet. You can wash yourself there.”
“A what?” Jaime looked down at the last toilet, which did look different from the others, its shape more elongated. It had no seat. There was a set of faucets at the back.
“A bidet,” Katie repeated. “You know, like in Europe? It’s like a mini bathtub for your privates.” She giggled. “I’d never seen one either when I got here, but they’re very handy for quick cleanups. You just crouch over it facing the faucets and turn them on. You can adjust the temperature just like you would a bath. It fills really fast, and there’s an automatic dispenser in there that adds soap to the bowl as it fills. You can use one of those washcloths there to clean yourself.” Jaime saw the small stack of white washcloths neatly folded on a wide shelf above the bidet. A larger stack of hand towels rested neatly beside the washcloths.
Intrigued, Jaime crouched as directed, facing backward on the porcelain. She turned on the faucets, causing two jets of water to spray into the bowl, one cold, the other first warm and then quite hot. Purple liquid also seeped into the bowl, the smell of fresh lavender and lemon wafting up from the now bubbling water. After a moment, Jaime turned off the faucets, the bowl now filled. She reached for a washcloth. “Wow, this is really cool,” she enthused as she washed herself with the warm, scented water.
“Yeah,” Katie agreed. “I love it. But you better hurry up. I still need to inspect you and show you your room.”
“Inspect me?” Jaime asked, confused.
“Yes. We have to make sure you’re properly groomed before your training session this afternoon. Lucia handles daily grooming first thing in the mornings, but she’s not available right now.”
“Lu
cia?”
“Yes, another of the staff slaves. You’ll meet everyone who’s on the grounds at lunch.”
Jaime toweled herself dry and dropped both the wet and the dry towels into the small hamper beside the bidet. Katie led her to the center of the bathroom. She tilted her head as she eyed Jaime’s naked body with a critical expression. “Put your arms up, hands behind your head and spread your legs. I’m going to do a check to feel for any stubble. It’s kind of, um, personal.” She flashed another shy smile.
Jaime assumed the position, silently marveling how quickly she’d become accustomed to being naked. It helped that both Katie and Hans were naked—it wasn’t like she was being singled out or anything. Katie moved to stand behind her. She jerked away involuntarily as Katie’s fingers trailed along her underarms. “That tickles!”
“Get used to it,” Katie replied tersely. “You move around like that when a Master is inspecting you and you’ll be sorry.”
“I can’t help it!” Jaime protested.
“You better learn to, then,” Katie said ominously. “Let me try again, and this time concentrate on holding your position.” She ran her fingers lightly along Jaime’s armpits. It tickled just as much, but she was more prepared and managed to stay still.
“See?” Katie said from behind her. “That wasn’t so hard, right? And your underarms are nice and smooth, good job. Staff slaves are to be smooth at all times, unless otherwise directed. It’s a matter of accessibility and vulnerability.”
Katie crouched behind her and ran her hands lightly up and down Jaime’s legs, again tickling her, though it wasn’t as bad as under her arms. “Okay,” Katie said, standing. “You’re good. Now your pussy and ass. I’ve found it’s easiest to check when you’re sitting down.” She moved toward the tub. “Sit here on the edge so I have easy access. Spread your legs as wide as you can.”
Jaime did as she was told, vaguely embarrassed by the position, in spite of the fact she’d licked this girl’s pussy just a while before, with much the same view she was now offering Katie. Though she didn’t relish the idea of Katie inspecting her pussy and ass for errant hairs, if she’d missed a spot, it was far better for a staff slave to discover the problem than anyone upstairs.
Katie crouched before her, a look of concentration on her face as she ran her fingers lightly over Jaime’s mons and labia. She ran a finger down to Katie’s nether entrance and rimmed it lightly. Jaime was about to close her legs, when Katie said, “Uh oh. You missed a spot right here.” She stroked the skin between Jaime’s two holes. “We better fix it real quick. You just stay right there.”
Katie jumped up and rushed over to the sinks. She opened a drawer and pulled out a fresh disposable razor and a small tube of something. She turned on the faucet and reached for a fresh washcloth from the stack. While she was doing this, Jaime reached down to touch the area in question. Sure enough, she could feel a small, soft patch of fine pubic hairs. How had she missed that? She’d been so careful that morning, or so she’d believed.
Katie returned to her with the items in hand and crouched once more. “Lucia will groom you in the tub every morning, but we don’t have time for that right now.” She uncapped the tube and squeezed a small amount onto her fingers, which she smeared onto Jaime’s perineum. She then sat beside Jaime on the sill of the tub. “Okay, hold still.” She placed one hand on Jaime’s thigh, and used the other to gently glide the razor along Jaime’s skin. She followed up with her finger. “Perfect,” she announced.
She jumped up and handed Jaime the washcloth. “Wipe off the shaving cream and let’s get a move on.” She returned to the sink and put away the items. “You can drop the washcloth in with your plug. Go ahead and rinse it off now. It’s soaked long enough.”
Jaime wiped off the remnant of shaving cream with the damp cloth and stood. She moved toward the last sink and pushed down the lever to release the sink plug. Ignoring her distaste for the task, she picked up the anal plug by its base and ran clear water over it as the sink emptied. She reached for another clean washcloth and set the plug on it while she rinsed the damp cloth and wrung it out.
“Good,” Katie said, moving to stand beside her. “Dry off the plug and then just drop the used washcloths in the hamper there.” She pointed to another hamper, this one to the left of the sink. “That plug belongs to you now. There’s a container for it in your bureau. Come on”—she glanced at the wall over the tub, and Jaime, following her gaze, saw the clock affixed there—“we just have time for me to show you your room and then we have to get back upstairs.”
Holding the plug gingerly between thumb and forefinger, Jaime followed Katie out of the bathroom. “Do all the staff slaves sleep down here?”
“No,” Katie said. “Only those who are not specifically owned. That would include Lucia, Danielle, and now you.” She smiled brightly at Jaime. They stopped at the door on the left closest to the bathroom. The room was identical to the others, the bed inviting with its pale blue coverlet and plump pillows, except for one thing.
Above the bed affixed to a large eyebolt embedded in the wall, hung a long chain, a pair of wrist cuffs secured at the ends of the chain. At the base of the mattress lay a long metal bar with cuffs on either end. Jaime drew in a breath and took an involuntary step back, bumping into Katie, who stood just behind her.
Katie put a comforting arm on her shoulder. “Those chains?” Jaime squeaked. “Those cuffs? Do I have to sleep in those?”
“It’s just for two weeks,” Katie said, her tone sympathetic. “And, yes, you will sleep chained during the two-week training. I admit it takes a little getting used to, but just focus on the erotic aspect of it. Didn’t you always dream of being a naked slave girl chained to her bed, just waiting to do her Master’s bidding?”
Jaime had to admit that, yes, she’d had that precise fantasy. But fantasy, she was quickly coming to realize, was a lot easier to handle than the real thing. “What if there’s, I don’t know, a fire or something? Isn’t this dangerous?”
Katie pointed to a small black webcam discreetly mounted high in one corner. “That surveillance camera has a microphone in it too, so they can hear if you call out or anything like that. The Masters never leave us unattended, so even if you’re bound and gagged and left alone for hours on end, you’re not really alone.”
“Bound and gagged and left alone for hours on end…” Jaime repeated faintly, her heart jolting into an unpleasant rhythm. “They do that?”
“Only if you misbehave, silly,” Katie said with a laugh. “Just be a good girl, and you have nothing to worry about.”
~*~
Lunch consisted of tomato soup and grilled cheese, but not the canned, reconstituted soup and processed cheese food on white bread of Jaime’s youth. Instead, the obviously homemade soup contained fresh tomatoes and basil, and the sandwiches were made from thick slices of cheddar cheese perfectly melted on buttery, toasted sourdough. Brewed iced tea and lemonade were set in large glass pitchers along the table.
Jaime hadn’t been sure what to expect as far as a seating arrangement, having read novels where the slaves were expected to kneel beside their Masters and be handfed, or were forced to kneel in rows, eating with their mouths directly from bowls set on the ground. Instead, the subs entered the dining room first, waiting quietly behind their chairs as the Doms entered and took their seats around a long, rectangular table.
Jaime was delighted when Anthony came into the room, though she was reintroduced to him now as Master Anthony. He welcomed her warmly to The Enclave, and for the first time that day, she relaxed, at least a little. Master Brandon sat to Anthony’s left, Katie tucked between him and Mistress Marjorie. Master Julian was seated beside Mistress Marjorie, Hans to his left.
Master Mason, a big, burly man with a shaved head and tattoos, sat at the other end of the table, closest to the kitchen. To Master Mason’s right was an empty chair, eventually occupied by Ashley, a staff slave who worked in the kitchen and had prepared the lunch
that day, which she served with the help of another staff slave named Lucia, who sat on Master Mason’s left.
Ashley, who appeared to be in her mid to late twenties, had pixyish features and very closely cropped hair, really little more than a crew cut. She was petite with small, high breasts, multiple piercings along both ears and in both nipples as well as her eyebrow and lower lip. She, like Master Mason, had multiple tattoos along her arms and on her back.
Lucia was in her early forties with lovely coppery skin and black hair that framed a face with eyes so darkly brown there was almost no demarcation between the iris and pupil. After serving, she slid silently into a chair beside Master Lawrence, who sat on Master Anthony’s left.
Between Master Lawrence and Master Mark sat slave Danielle, who Jaime guessed to be in her mid twenties. She was lovely to look at, with a sheet of very straight, very blond hair hanging in a shiny curtain down her long, slender back. She had large dark blue eyes, a pert nose and a bee-bitten mouth. While the others subs had smiled at Jaime, Danielle’s plump lips had lifted into a curve that was more sneer than smile, her expression at once haughty and dismissive. Something about the girl’s demeanor threatened to cast Jaime instantly back into middle school, until she came to her senses and realized she had nothing to fear from, or to prove to, this person. She was there to train and learn, not to compete in a popularity contest.
The two seats to Jaime’s right were empty, and she deduced they must be for Mistress Aubrey and Gene, who probably remained in town during the workday. Master Mark was on her left. Her skin actually tingled when his hand lightly brushed her arm at one point when he reached for something on the table.
The Doms talked among themselves as they ate, making small talk about local politics, the Asheville food scene and the weather. When everyone was finished eating, Master Anthony asked, “So, what are everyone’s plans for the afternoon?”
BDSM Club Series Box Set Page 7