BDSM Club Series Box Set

by Claire Thompson

  “The basics are in the contract,” Aaron said, “which I see you both have already.” To Morgan, he added, “Once it’s signed, we’ll work out a detailed training program, specifically tailored to your particular goals and needs.”

  Tom looked at Morgan. “Are you ready to sign on the dotted line?”

  Morgan looked down at the contract, again scanning the terms. There was a lot of legalese defining the parties involved and issuing disclaimers, but as far as she could see, it basically said what they’d been saying all along—once she signed, she gave up her rights as an autonomous individual for the next two weeks and agreed to submit in every delicious way to the sexy British trainer with the mesmerizing eyes. If it didn’t work out, she could bail, but then Tom would forfeit whatever money he’d paid, and his full-time job offer would definitely be off the table.

  Two weeks, she reminded herself. Piece of cake, and this sexy trainer is the icing.

  She looked up from the contract to see that Aaron was staring at her, as if memorizing the lines of her face, and color washed into her cheeks. Her nipples hardened as his eyes moved slowly down her body. Was he flirting with her?

  “Morgan?” Tom prodded. “The contract?”

  “Did you have questions about any of the terms?” Michael interjected.

  “What?” Morgan said, pulling her gaze from Aaron, her blush deepening as she realized everyone was staring at her. “No, no, I’m good. I’m ready to sign.” She gripped the pen and, her heart beating furiously, signed her name on the line above the word Trainee.

  Chapter 2

  As if they’d rehearsed it, Michael, Tom and Aaron all stood. Michael reached for Morgan’s clipboard, sweeping it from her hand. “It’s done,” he said with a smile. He shook Tom’s hand. “We’ll take good care of her for you.”

  “I’m sure you will.” Tom gave Morgan a hug. “My driver is waiting, so I’ll say goodbye and good luck. See you in two weeks.” And, just like that, he was gone.

  It was really happening. Morgan was dizzy with nervous excitement. She turned to Aaron with expectation, but, to her surprise, he was no longer in the room. Instead, Michael bent down and retrieved her purse, which she’d set on the floor by the loveseat when she’d sat down. “You won’t be needing this for the duration.”

  “But my cell’s in there. My private things are in there,” Morgan blurted, alarmed.

  “We will keep your phone charged and check for any emergency messages, and, if necessary, you’ll be permitted access. But you need to understand something right away. You have no private things as of this moment, Morgan. I am aware you are completely untrained, but you belong to us now and the rules are clear. First off, when you speak to me, or anyone in a position of authority in this establishment, you will address us with the proper respect. You will use the terms Master or Sir with Gerard and me, and you will address Aaron as Trainer or Sir. You will address Claudette as Ma’am or Mistress. Is that clear, young lady?”

  Morgan swallowed, the full impact of what she’d done just starting to become clear to her. “Yes…Sir,” she managed. She glanced at her purse, which he still held in his big hand. “My, uh, my birth control is in there.”

  “Claudette will handle your medications and personal effects. You’ll have whatever you need, but you’re no longer in charge. The sooner you figure that out, the better things will go for you.”

  As if on cue, Claudette reappeared at the door. Michael looked over at her. “Ah, here she is.” Moving toward her, he handed her the purse and then turned back to Morgan. “Clearly, you have a lot to learn, and your training will commence immediately. Claudette will take you to your room and prepare you for inspection.”

  Inspection. That sounded ominous.

  With no choice in the matter, Morgan followed the older woman out of the room and up to the third floor. When they entered the room that was to be hers for the next two weeks, Morgan glanced around, but her suitcase was nowhere in sight. There was, however, a large duffel bag on the end of her bed.

  Claudette followed her gaze. “After you strip, we will review the contents.”

  “After I strip?” Morgan repeated stupidly.

  “Pardon, did Michael forget to tell you how to address me now that you are in training?”

  “I’m sorry, uh, Ma’am.” Morgan couldn’t help but ask, “But I thought you were a sub? That you belonged to Michael?”

  “I do belong to him and I am submissive in my orientation, but I also assist in training. As far as you are concerned, I am your Mistress, tu me comprends?”

  Drawing from the dim memory of her high school French, Morgan replied, “Yes, Ma’am, I understand.”

  “Bon. Now get those clothes off at once.” She tapped her bare foot impatiently. “We have a lot to do before you’re ready for your first meeting with your trainer.”

  Galvanized by the reminder she would soon be with Aaron, Morgan reached back to unzip her sleeveless summer dress. She stepped out of it and placed it in Claudette’s outstretched hand. Another inpatient tap of Claudette’s foot propelled her to remove her bra and panties, which Claudette also took from her.

  While she wasn’t shy about her body and was used to nudity in the club scene, it was incredibly strange to be naked in front of this older woman. She would, she supposed, get used to it.

  “Whenever a Master calls you to inspection, you will stand at attention, back straight, hands behind your head, legs shoulder-width apart, chin up, eyes straight ahead.” She paused a beat. “Go on. Do it now. And be sure not to move while you are examined, except as ordered.”

  Hoping she remembered all the instructions, Morgan assumed the position, refusing to allow herself to blush.

  Claudette took a step back, tilting her head and stroking her chin. “Your hair is your best feature,” she pronounced. “Such a rich, burnished chestnut brown, and so thick and shiny. The face, it is lovely too.”

  As Morgan basked in the unexpected praise, Claudette reached out suddenly and tweaked one of Morgan’s nipples, which caused her to draw in a startled breath.

  Ignoring Morgan’s reaction, Claudette said, “Your breasts are beautifully shaped. The nipples are too pale of a pink, but no worries, we will address that. You have a lovely figure—long and slender, but with the hips of a woman.”

  Claudette ran her fingertips lightly over Morgan’s underarms. She jerked reflexively away.

  “Stay still,” Claudette said. “Did I not tell you to stay still?”

  “It tickled,” Morgan explained.

  “You will experience a lot more than just tickling over the next two weeks, Morgan,” Claudette said sternly. “I sincerely hope you manage to show more self-control with your trainer.”

  Speaking of self-control, Morgan wondered how long she’d last before she kissed him. Would he kiss her back? Aloud, she only said, “Yes, Ma’am.”

  She managed to keep still as Claudette ran her fingers over her legs, though that tickled too. But when she cupped Morgan’s sex, Morgan flinched and nearly took a step back.

  Claudette clucked disapprovingly and dropped her hand. “This pubic hair will have to go. All slaves must be smooth and accessible at all times.”

  Morgan frowned. She had never liked the growing trend of shaving off pubic hair—legs and underarms were plenty, thank you, and no guy had ever complained to date. But a glance at Claudette’s face stilled any thoughts of objection.

  “Turn around. Show me the derrière, the behind.”

  Morgan started to drop her arms to comply, causing Claudette to snap, “Keep your hands behind your head. Did I tell you to drop them? When you are told to assume a position, you maintain that position until otherwise instructed.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Morgan replied, chastened and embarrassed, and suddenly aware of just how much she had to learn.

  “Ah,” Claudette said warmly from behind her. “This ass is made for whipping, ma chérie.” She swatted Morgan’s butt and then laughed, the sound ric

h and musical. “The Masters will enjoy use of this lovely body, I can assure you.”

  “I’m sorry, what? Does that mean sexually?” Morgan’s voice came out as a squeak.

  “Of course it means sexually, silly girl.” Claudette appeared in front of her. “Don’t look so scandalized, chérie. You read the contract. You are the property of this establishment while in training. Naturally that includes the use of your body as it pleases the Masters. That means in every way. Surely you understood that?”

  Embarrassed to admit how distracted she’d been by Aaron’s presence while reviewing the contract, Morgan could only nod. “Yes, Ma’am. I guess so.”

  Claudette tilted her head as she regarded Morgan, and then shrugged. “Let us hope so. You may drop your arms.” She walked toward the bed and unzipped the duffel bag. “You will bring this bag with you to your training sessions.”

  She pulled out a pair of black leather wrist cuffs, a large flogger, a riding crop, a single-tail whip, a ball gag, a black sleep mask, and several dildos and butt plugs of varying sizes, still in their original shrink wrap. “These items are yours and yours alone, and you may take them with you when you leave the program.”

  Morgan stared at the toys, and reached out to touch the long, smooth tresses of the flogger. It was a beautiful implement, the leather supple and smooth. Her skin tingled with anticipation as she imagined Aaron standing just behind her, the flogger in his hand, and a shiver moved involuntarily through her body.

  She was distracted by a light knock at the door, and both she and Claudette looked in that direction. Laura stood there. “Excuse me, Mistress,” she said to Claudette. “Morgan’s bath is ready.”

  “Ah, Laura. There you are. As you can see”—she flashed a disapproving glance at Morgan—“this girl is clearly in need of grooming. And the nipples, the pink, it is too pale, oui? Make sure to rouge them when you apply her makeup.”

  She turned back to Morgan. “Go with Laura. She will make you presentable and, if there is time before dinner, introduce you to the other house slaves and show you their quarters. You will meet with your trainer for your first session this evening.” She moved toward the door. “I must go see to dinner.”

  As Claudette floated gracefully past Laura, the young woman took a step into the room and smiled shyly at Morgan. “The bathroom’s just down the hall. If you’ll come with me?”

  Hugging her naked body as they walked down the empty hall, Morgan followed Laura to a large bathroom. The air was fragrant with scented bath oil, and steam wafted gently above a large sunken tub filled with water. “We don’t have time to wash your hair,” Laura said, looking her over, “so I’ll pin it up for you before you get in the tub.”

  “Oh, I can do that,” Morgan said automatically.

  Laura shook her head. “No, I’ll do it. I’m here to serve you.”

  Morgan shrugged. Whatever. She sat on the edge of the tub, the tile cold against her bare bottom, so the petite woman could reach the top of her head.

  Laura retrieved an elastic ponytail holder and some bobby pins from a drawer and pinned Morgan’s hair up into a high, loose pile on top of her head. She took a step back. “There you go. Climb in and I’ll wash your body.”

  “No, really,” Morgan said emphatically. “I can wash myself.”

  “I know you can,” Laura said gently. “But I have very clear instructions, and they are to bathe and groom you.”

  “Well, how about we tell them you did that, and meanwhile you just take a break or whatever, and I’ll take care of myself? Claudette told me I have to shave off the pubes, and I get it. So just tell me where the razor and shaving cream are and—”

  “No, please,” Laura interjected, this time more forcefully. “I would never lie or go against something they wish for me to do.” Her voice became gentler as she moved closer and placed a hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “Look, I know you’re brand new here, and don’t yet understand our ways. But I’m a house slave. I serve here because that is my greatest wish and because it fulfills me. You’re here for training, and I’m sure, if you just take a minute to think about it, you don’t want to start out your training by figuring out ways to get around what’s been asked of us. I was given a very specific duty, and while my touching you might make you uncomfortable, it’s what they desire of us. That should be enough, Morgan. That is, if you’re really here to learn.”

  Morgan was quiet as she took in Laura’s words. She was right. Either Morgan gave herself one hundred percent to the process, or why bother?

  She smiled apologetically at Laura. “You’re right. Sorry I was being a jerk about it.”

  “Not at all,” Laura said quickly. “You’re still just feeling your way.”

  “Thanks,” Morgan replied sincerely. She climbed into the tub. The water was deliciously hot and soothing, and she sighed happily as she leaned back against the porcelain.

  Laura picked up a washcloth from a pile of towels on a small cabinet nearby and knelt beside the tub. As she soaped Morgan’s body, Morgan closed her eyes and focused on enjoying the sensation of being washed, without thinking too hard about who was doing it. She opened her eyes only reluctantly when Laura said, “You’ll need to climb out now so I can groom you.”

  Morgan stepped out of the tub onto the thick bathmat and started to reach for a towel.

  But again, Laura stopped her. “No, please. I’ll do that. Then you need to lie down on the mat so I can groom your cunt.”

  Your cunt.

  The petite, docile Laura said the word as if it were the most natural, inoffensive term in the world. Maybe, to her, it was.

  To hide her own embarrassment, Morgan quipped, “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Oh.” Laura’s cheeks turned pink. “You don’t need to call me that. Laura is fine.”

  “Relax, I’m just teasing,” Morgan said with a small laugh to hide her embarrassment at having apparently upset the girl.

  She allowed Laura to dry her, lifting her arms and spreading her legs wider when asked, while all the time her fingers itched to grab the towel away and do it herself. Then Laura had her lie down on the mat while she went to a cabinet. She returned a moment later with a pair of scissors, a fresh razor and two large jars.

  “Please stay very still while I’m using the scissors,” Laura said. “I won’t hurt you. I’ve done this many times.”

  Morgan stared up at the ceiling, trying not to flinch as the cold metal blades grazed her skin.

  “Spread your legs, please, and arch your hips,” Laura instructed.

  To distract herself, as much as anything, from what was going on between her legs, Morgan asked, “So what’s your story, Laura? How did you come to be a house slave at a BDSM training facility?”

  Laura opened one of the jars and smeared a very emollient shaving cream over Morgan’s sex. As she began to gently stroke the cream away, she replied in a soft, sad voice, “My Master gave me away. He didn’t want me anymore.”

  Morgan lifted her head, startled by this response. “I’m sorry, what?”

  Laura blinked back sudden tears, a spasm of pain moving rapidly over her face. But as quickly as it had been there, it was gone, her serene placid mask once more in place.

  She resumed the grooming. “We were never right for each other. I knew it in my heart. He sent me here for training because he was displeased with me. He was a very, uh, exacting Master, and he said I was always holding back. I didn’t mean to hold back, but I could never seem to please him. He sent me here in what he called a last-ditch effort to break through my reserves, but when the training was over, he told them to keep me. He said he’d found another slave.” Her voice cracked but then grew strong again and she lifted her dimpled chin, a flash of anger appearing for a millisecond. “He said she understood the passion of true suffering, while I was just a doormat.”

  “What a fucking asshole,” Morgan blurted, outraged on Laura’s behalf. “Good riddance to bad rubbish, I’d say.”

  Laura flashed her a grateful smile. “Thank you. Mistress Claudette says the same thing. They allowed me to stay, and”—she shrugged and offered a small smile—“it’s possible one day my contract will be purchased by a Master who will love and cherish me. Meanwhile, I’m very happy here.”

  “Your contract?”

  Laura dipped a washcloth in the still-warm bath water and stroked Morgan’s now denuded mons. “Yes. Master Gerard brokers contracts for people looking for a life partner in the scene. It’s a matchmaking service for people seriously into the lifestyle, and they charge a big fee to members, but he’s doing this for me for free.”

  “For free, or in exchange for you being a 24/7 house slave?” Morgan couldn’t help but ask.

  “Oh, I would do that anyway, Morgan. It makes me happy. One day I want to be with just one man, but for now, this suits me. And in point of fact, they pay me.”

  “They do?”

  Laura nodded. “Master Gerard and Mistress Claudette own the Chateau. They’re cousins, and they came over from France together to open a place in New York based on one they still own in Paris, and another they helped to start in London—the one Aaron’s from.

  “Master Michael is the general manager, as well as Claudette’s husband.” That was an interesting tidbit, which Morgan filed away as Laura continued, “We house slaves receive salaries, and the money is held for us in individual bank accounts until we need it. As a slave, I have no need of funds. The Chateau provides everything I need.”

  She applied a lightly scented lotion to Morgan’s skin, rubbing it in with soft, gentle fingers. Finally, she rose to her feet. “Come to the counter and we’ll do makeup. Your skin is perfect—you don’t need much. I’ll just do a little touch-up.”

  “And the nipples,” Morgan said with a self-conscious laugh. “Don’t forget the nipples.”

  Laura nodded soberly. “No. Of course not.”

  She pulled out a tray that contained a huge assortment of makeup and had Morgan sit on a stool, her back to the mirror. She worked quickly, dabbing makeup and stroking on mascara, the tip of her tongue emerging between her lips as she concentrated on her task.

  -->