BDSM Club Series Box Set

by Claire Thompson

  Perhaps aware of Kristen’s interest in the man called Richard, Claudette’s gaze came to rest on Kristen, her smile knowing as she said, “Slave Kristen will go on the block with the other girls. Scott and Laura will take care of the guests, making sure everyone has whatever they need, and of course, participating in the fun as requested.”

  “Good, that’s decided then,” Master Michael said. He looked at the heavy gold watch on his wrist. “The guests should be arriving at any moment.” As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Michael looked up. “Positions, everyone. We’ll see you shortly.”

  As the two left, everyone around Morgan sprang into action. “Come on,” Kristen said, grabbing Morgan’s arm. “We wait up on the dais until the auction begins. It’s a great chance to check everyone out before the fun begins.”

  “And a good opportunity to practice stillness and poise,” Laura added. “You are to stand at-ease and make sure you don’t fidget. Remember, you’ll be on display.”

  Morgan swallowed, at once nervous and excited at the idea of being auctioned off to the highest bidder, even if it was just a game. As the four women slated for auction climbed the set of portable stairs and took their positions on the small stage, Morgan asked Kristen the question that had been burning in the back—no, to be honest, the front—of her mind all evening. “Will Trainer Aaron be coming, too?”

  Maybe Aaron would want to enjoy a good scene—maybe with her! Her brain instantly provided the ideal scenario—one of the St. Andrew’s crosses, a good flogging, and then she could thank him properly with some cock worship. Yum…

  Kristen shrugged. “I don’t know. He doesn’t usually come to the regular house parties, but he has come a time or two to the guest parties, so it’s possible.”

  The doorbell rang a second time, and there was a sudden hubbub just outside the dungeon door as guests were greeted and welcomed. A crowd of people entered the dungeon at once, all of them strangers except for Master Michael, Claudette and Master Gerard. Morgan held her breath, Kristen’s words buzzing like excited bees in her mind. But Aaron was not among them.

  Master Gerard introduced the guests to the room at large. “Please welcome Mistress Mary Ann and her slave boy, Billy.” Mistress Mary Ann, in her mid-forties, had fiery red hair. She wore a tight-fitting red leather pantsuit with a matching leather halter-top over breasts so small they were almost nonexistent.

  Billy was a tall, thin man, about the same age, with a long face and thinning sandy-blond hair. He had dropped to his knees once they’d entered the dungeon, and knelt up beside his Mistress. His outfit consisted of crisscrossing strips of black leather over his body, his cock and balls exposed. He wore a thick dog collar with a leash, the other end of which was held loosely in his Mistress’s hand. In her other hand, she held a single tail whip, and Morgan noticed the telltale marks of a recent whipping on her slave boy’s back and shoulders.

  “This is my dear friend, Master Louis Garnier, visiting from Paris.” Gerard used the French pronunciation—Lou-ee Gar-ni-ay. Master Louis was in his late forties or early fifties, but his body was that of a man in his prime—broad and muscular, without a trace of fat. He wore a black T-shirt over black leather pants, a captain’s hat on his head.

  “Master Jack Marcus and his lovely sub girl, Julia,” Gerard continued. The pair were in their thirties, Master Jack slightly shorter than his partner, who was easily five foot ten in her flat sandals. She was dressed in a body-hugging red silk dress with a long zipper up the front, while he wore the uniform of black leather pants and a matching vest, no shirt beneath it.

  “Most of you know Richard Campiello.” Kristen drew in a small, sharp breath. Richard was a big man of African American descent, easily six foot four or taller, with a broad barrel chest and massive legs. He reminded Morgan of a big bear. Somewhere in his forties, he had dark curly hair that was silvering at the temples, and a kind face. He looked over at the dais, his eyes coming to rest on Kristen, who actually uttered a tiny squeak of excitement.

  “And last but not least, a new friend to the Chateau, Stuart Reiner,” Gerard continued. “He’s a world renowned whip maker.” Stuart looked rather young to Morgan to be “world renowned,” not much older than her own twenty-five years. Maybe it was because of his round, chubby face and large blue eyes. He had dark hair that hung over his forehead, partially obscuring one eye, and wore a cream-colored pirate’s shirt loose over a brown leather pants.

  Turning to his guests, Gerard said, “You all know our house slaves—Scott, Laura, Rick and Kristen.” He waved a hand toward each as he said their names. None of them moved or nodded a greeting, Morgan noted, but stood still, their expressions placid, as if they were serene mannequins.

  “Taking Jack’s excellent suggestion, we will have an auction tonight, all in good fun, of course. After we’ve had a chance to mingle a bit, you will be given some play money with which to bid.” There was an excited murmur as he continued, “On the dais with Kristen are our trainees.” All eyes swiveled toward them. “Slave Diana, step forward.”

  As Diana did so, Gerard said, “Diana is studying sexualization. She is at the end of her training, and I’m sure she’d welcome a chance to demonstrate her ability to give and receive pleasure this evening.” At a wave of his hand, Diana took a step back, and Morgan could see the flush in her cheeks.

  “Slave Tara, step forward,” Gerard said. “Tara has learned to handle the cane and the paddle with extraordinary grace. She’s experienced with intense bondage and knife play, and I’m sure she’d welcome this chance to show off her skills.” He waved a hand toward Tara, and she stepped back into place beside Morgan.

  “Slave Morgan, step forward.”

  Morgan’s heart began to thump so loudly she was sure the other slaves could hear it. She managed to come to the front of the small stage without stumbling in her heels.

  “Trainee Morgan is new to us. Her focus at present is on basic skills. She would certainly benefit from being put through her paces in whatever fashion appeals.”

  Not exactly a ringing endorsement, Morgan thought with some annoyance. The other girls got much better introductions. At the same time, she was grateful he’d warned the would-be bidders of her inexperience. Hopefully, whoever chose her for the evening would go easier on her as a result. She searched the room as she returned to stand with the girls, but Aaron was nowhere in sight, damn him.

  Master Michael stepped forward. “Before we begin the bidding, Laura and Scott will be serving hors d’oeuvre and champagne. Of course, you all know to go sparingly with the alcohol, especially if you plan to play. As usual, Claudette’s made enough for an army, so enjoy.” He grinned with affection at his wife as he said this. The guests laughed while Claudette smiled and blushed.

  They began to talk among themselves, a few of them settling on the sofa and chairs, others walking through the dungeon to check out the equipment. Morgan’s feet began to tire in the high heels, and her mouth watered as she watched Laura moving gracefully among the guests with trays of stuffed mushrooms, slices of fresh baguette with Brie, shrimp cocktail, bruschetta and chocolate-dipped strawberries. As Scott poured and distributed champagne flutes, she could almost taste the tart-sweetness of the sparkling wine.

  The other girls remained still and quiet on either side of her while Morgan struggled not to fidget or nudge them with her elbows and whisper observations about the guests. Then the door to the dungeon, which had been left ajar, pushed suddenly open.

  Morgan forgot her impatience and fatigue as Aaron entered the room. He glanced toward the dais, his eyes locking with Morgan’s for an instant as she drew in a small, excited breath. He, too, had dressed for the party, in black leather pants and a black knit shirt that clung attractively to his broad shoulders and bulging biceps. His blond hair looked damp, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower, and the golden hairs on his sexy forearms glinted in the muted glow of the chandeliers overhead.

  Gerard caught sight of him and excused himself
from a conversation with his friend, Louis. “Ah, there you are,” he said, approaching Aaron. “Do you have the play money?”

  Aaron handed Gerard a stack of what looked like Monopoly money. “Excellent,” Gerard said, fanning the bills. “Five hundred for each bidder.” He looked toward Rick, who came over to him at once. “Hand out the money, pet, and tell them the rules. Our auctioneer has arrived.” Turning back to Aaron, Gerard said, “I appreciate you taking the time to do this, Aaron. The guests have already had a brief introduction to the girls, so you can just dive right in with the bidding. Afterward, I hope you will stay and enjoy the fun. Jack’s brought his Shibari rope, and I think he’s hoping for a few tips.”

  They moved away from the dais as they spoke, and Morgan couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation. If Aaron was the auctioneer, he couldn’t be a bidder, and she forced herself to let that particular fantasy slip away. Probably better this way, she tried to tell herself. As he reminded me in no uncertain terms, he’s my trainer, not my lover.

  With a small sigh, she looked around the room, wondering which of these strangers was going to “buy” her for the evening. Richard struck her as the most sympathetic, but she knew how much Kristen wanted him. Hopefully he wanted her, too. Maybe he’d even buy her contract and they’d ride off together into a D/s sunset.

  It would be weird to be purchased by a Mistress, and Morgan wasn’t interested in girl-on-girl play, but Mistress Mary Ann had a male slave, so she probably wasn’t either.

  Master Jack and Julia seemed like a nice couple, and the comment about Shibari rope was intriguing. Not to mention that Aaron might be involved in giving a few tips.

  There was something about Stuart Reiner she didn’t like, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. Maybe it was the way his lips curled into a slight sneer, and the hardness in his eyes. Whatever it was, she hoped she didn’t end up with him.

  Aaron approached the dais and spoke softly to the girls. “I expect each of you to behave with the submission and grace I know you possess.” He fixed his gaze on Morgan. “Whatever is asked of you, you do it. Obey without hesitation. Everyone here is experienced in the scene, and it’s all in good fun.”

  The room quieted as Rick handed out the money, and the guests moved closer to the dais, standing in small clusters. Aaron turned to them and said, “Our first lovely slave girl is Diana. Is there an offer?”

  “Fifty,” Stuart called out, and Morgan relaxed a little. Phew.

  “One hundred,” Mistress Mary Ann countered.

  “Two,” Stuart said at once.

  “Five hundred,” Mistress Mary Ann said, placing her hands on her hips and daring the whip maker with her expression to defy her. “Billy needs to work on his cunnilingus skills while being, uh, distracted.” She snapped the single tail in the air, the whistling sound making several people in the room, including Morgan, flinch. “This newly orgasmic slave girl is just the ticket, and I want her.”

  With a laugh, Stuart threw up his hands. “I know when I’m beaten. You can have her.”

  Aaron held out his hand and helped a visibly nervous Diana down the stairs.

  Next up was Kristen, and before anyone could say a word, Richard called out in a loud voice, “Five hundred.” Morgan stole a glance at Kristen, who had a broad grin on her face.

  “Not much of an auction,” Aaron muttered as he helped the second girl down, but he was smiling.

  Jack and Julia won Tara, though Stuart again threw out a bid.

  Morgan remained alone on the stage, and she understood with a sinking heart that she would go by default to the whip maker. Sure enough, before Aaron even had a chance to open the sham bidding, Stuart approached the dais, waving his play money. “I get the leavings,” he said with an unpleasant laugh.

  Fuck you, too. The decidedly unsubmissive thought leaped into Morgan’s mind before she could stop it. Fortunately, it didn’t make it to her mouth.

  Stuart raked her body with his gaze. “At least she’s easy on the eyes,” he said to Aaron.

  “That she is,” Aaron said so softly Morgan wouldn’t have heard him if she hadn’t been looking directly at him. Her heart executed a tiny happy dance at his words. In a louder voice, he said to Stuart, “While Morgan’s not new to the scene, she’s fairly inexperienced in terms of depth of play, so be mindful of that, please.”

  “Of course,” Stuart said. “I’ve got a new flogger I want to try out on her. It’s made from a synthetic that mimics leather, but it’s less than half the cost. It could be the next big thing in BDSM toy sales.”

  Aaron looked as though he wanted to say something to that, but he only nodded. “Sounds good.”

  Morgan’s heart began to thump as she was handed over to the whip maker for a scene. She reminded herself this was no different than her job at the club. She was used to scening with strangers, and it was no big deal. Besides, she loved a good flogging, and it had been a while since she’d received one.

  Thus resolved, she let Stuart lead her away, resisting the strong urge to turn back and watch Aaron as he was accosted by Master Jack. “I’ve been working on the Ryo-Ashi Zuri upside down suspension with Julia, and I thought it would be fun to bind both girls together,” Jack was saying. “What do you think?”

  Morgan couldn’t hear Aaron’s reply as they walked in the other direction. Stuart hoisted a large gear bag she hadn’t noticed before onto his shoulder as he looked her up and down. “You’ve got some body on you, babe,” he said, the sneer morphing into a leer. A sleer, she thought, coining a new word.

  “Thank you, Sir,” she forced herself to say, though she would rather have told him to get lost.

  He led her through the large dungeon to a pair of wooden stocks in a far corner. Dropping his gear bag nearby, he lifted the top half of the stocks and gestured for her to come forward. “This thing adjusts for kneeling or bending at the waist. I’ll want you standing so I have good access to that ass. Get your butt over here and place your head and wrists in the stocks so I can adjust the height.”

  Morgan approached the apparatus with some reluctance. She had never been restrained in stocks, and wasn’t sure she wanted to experience it, but nor did she want to disobey. She bent forward and rested her neck and wrists in the half circles, which were lined with soft red leather. As he adjusted the height and then lowered the top half over her head and arms, Morgan experienced a slight frisson of panic.

  “I’m kind of nervous about this, Sir,” she blurted.

  “What’re you nervous about?” he asked as he slid the bolts into place to hold her fast. “I’m a trained professional.”

  “It’s these stocks, Sir.” She shifted her legs, her feet wobbling slightly in the heels.

  “I like them. You look incredibly hot, and it makes for an easy target. Spread those legs farther.” He kicked lightly at her ankle, forcing her legs wider. “You got a safeword?”

  Morgan relaxed a little at this question. He was behaving responsibly, and it was unlikely she would need a safeword for a flogging. “Lemon,” she replied, adding a belated, “Sir.”

  “Lemon,” he repeated. “Got it.”

  She jumped a little as his hands moved over her ass and the backs of her thighs, but told herself to calm down.

  “You’re barely even marked yet. We’ll have to remedy that.” She heard him moving behind her, and then he appeared, waving a large, multi-tressed flogger in front of her face. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” he asked. Without giving her a chance to agree, he added, “You’ll need to tell me if it feels like the real thing or not, okay?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The flogging began lightly, and steadily increased in intensity and tempo. Morgan had to admit, she couldn’t tell it wasn’t real leather, and her pussy moistened as her skin began to heat from the stinging strokes he landed across her ass and thighs. She would have preferred it to be Aaron behind her, but at least she was getting a good flogging for the first time since arriving at the Chateau.r />
  “It’s good, right?” Stuart said from behind her, his voice slightly breathless with exertion. “It feels like the real thing, right?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she gasped as the flogger continued to rain down on her flesh. She settled into the whipping, almost forgetting the discomfort of the stocks as she focused on the sensual pain blooming over her skin. She was just nearing that lovely, elusive place where pain transmuted into pure, sublime pleasure when, all at once, the whipping stopped.

  Though she wanted to twist back to see what had happened, she couldn’t move in her position. She could hear Stuart moving behind her again and then, without warning, there was a whistling sound and then the cutting bite of what had to be a cane.

  She might have been able to tolerate it if she’d been prepared, but as it was, she screamed.

  “Hey, keep it down,” Stuart said from behind. “I hardly hit you. Aren’t you supposed to be into pain? I just got this new cane and your ass definitely needs a few marks.” He hit her again, a searing stroke across both cheeks.

  “Ow! Please, Sir, stop,” she cried. “I’m not used to a cane.”

  “Stop being a baby.” He hit her again, several small, rapid strokes of fire. “You know you love it. You look so fucking hot like that. I just love the look of welts on a cherry red ass.”

  Again the cane landed, this time across her thighs, and Morgan cried out again. She didn’t want to fuck up her very first play party, but this was too much, and she was on the edge of freaking out as she gasped for air. Because of the stays in the corset, she was having a hard time catching her breath.

  Another stroke landed, the tip of the cane wrapping around her hip with a vicious bite.

  Morgan was dizzy, her hands clutched into fists, her legs trembling. The cane whistled and struck with continued ferocity despite her pleas. The guy was a fucking asshole.

  “Lemon!” she finally shouted in desperation, but the cane continued to strike. “Lemon, lemon, lemon!”