BDSM Club Series Box Set

by Claire Thompson

  He stood, patting his belly. “But first things first. I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

  Aaron rose from his chair. “I don’t have much of an appetite. I think I’m just going to drive out toward the airport, and you can call me if you get a response from that agent. I’ll head toward JFK.”

  “Your call.” Michael glanced at his Rolex. “The slaves are probably already seated. You can just pull Morgan aside to let her know you’re leaving.”

  Aaron’s stomach did an unpleasant flip-flop. He’d been planning to just sneak away, but of course Michael was right. Leaving others to break the news to her would be the coward’s way out. Anyway, he was definitely back in control now, his mother’s condition taking precedence over whatever the hell was or wasn’t going on between his trainee and him.

  ~*~

  Morgan perched gingerly on the padded bench. Though it had only been a few days, it was strange to actually sit on the furniture.

  “You must be doing really well, to have already received furniture privileges,” Tara said from beside her.

  Morgan smiled with pride. “I’m trying.”

  “It shows,” Laura, seated across from her, said with a smile.

  “Don’t get up too high on that horse, missy. You’re still naked, aren’t you?” Rick tossed his handsome head. “We all heard how you fucked up at the party.”

  “Ignore him,” Kristen said with a laugh. “He just can’t stand it if there’s anyone around who’s prettier than he is.”

  They all turned at the sound of a masculine throat clearing at the door. Morgan’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Aaron standing there. He was looking directly at her. “Excuse me,” he said, looking distinctly uncomfortable, “Morgan, may I see you a moment?”

  Morgan put down her fork and rose quickly from the bench, glancing at Laura as she did so. Laura had a concerned expression, while Rick’s smirk said I told you so. Shit, was she in trouble?

  She walked quickly toward Aaron, her face hot. “Yes, Sir?”

  He took a step back, gesturing her forward. “I need to talk to you.” They walked in silence through the kitchen, past the main dining room where the Masters were seated around the table, already eating their lunch, and into the living room.

  Morgan looked up expectantly at him, still unsure whether she was in trouble or not.

  “Listen, something’s come up back home in London. It’s my mother. She’s been in a car accident and I need to fly back and make sure she and my dad are all right.”

  “Oh, Aa—” Morgan stopped herself in the nick of time, amending it to, “Sir, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” Then the import of what he’d just said really sank in.

  He was leaving. He was leaving her.

  “I only just got the news. I’m heading over to the airport now. Michael will take over this afternoon’s session, and he’ll coordinate with Gerard to continue your training until I get back.”

  Heat washed over Morgan’s face, while at the same, ice trickled through her veins, the combined effect making her feel sick and woozy. “But—but you’re my trainer. You can’t just—” She clamped her jaw shut. How could she be so selfish? For all she knew, Aaron’s mother was dying across the world. Of course he had to go to her.

  “I’m sorry, Sir,” she amended quickly. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. Will she—will your mom be all right?”

  He nodded tersely, though a muscle was jumping at his jawline. “They believe she will make a full recovery. But my dad doesn’t do well during these kinds of things.” He ran a hand over his face, looking as miserable as she felt. “Look, I’m really sorry. Normally I’d never leave in the middle of a training, but—”

  “No, no,” Morgan interrupted, her heart aching for him. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” She was almost afraid to ask, but had to know. “Do you know when you’ll be back, Sir?” Will I see you again? Ever? Oh god, I can’t stand this.

  “I can’t really say until I get there. If she’s doing well, I’ll probably only stay a few days, assuming my dad is up to the task of caring for her once she’s out of hospital.”

  Morgan bit her lip, blinking back tears. She was being ridiculous. She’d known the guy such a short time. “Good luck, Sir. Safe travels,” she managed.

  He reached for her chin, cupping it gently as he tilted her face upward. “You’ll be fine, Morgan, truly. You made a breakthrough today, and I see real potential in you, no matter who completes your training. I look forward to seeing your continued progress when I return.”

  Morgan got lost in his eyes, and might have remained there forever, staring up into them, but he dropped his hand and took a step back.

  “Right, then. I’d better be going. Make me proud while I’m gone, and I’ll see you as soon as I can.” He bent down and brushed her cheek with his lips, moving so quickly he was already upright by the time her brain fully registered his touch.

  Her hand flew to her cheek as she gasped softly in shocked delight.

  He flashed a brief smile and lifted his hand in a gesture of farewell. Then, turning on his heel, he walked toward the front hall.

  Morgan remained where she was, her hand still on her cheek as she watched him walk out the door. “Hurry back,” she whispered.

  Aaron had kissed her. He believed in her. He would come back to her.

  And when he did, he’d find a fully trained, graceful submissive—someone worthy of his dominant love…

  The sound of silverware clinking and the rumble of voices from the Masters’ dining room snapped Morgan out of her dreamy reverie, and reminded her she’d better get back to her lunch. She’d only taken a single bite of the ham and cheese on a fresh baguette, and, in spite of everything that had just gone down, she was hungry.

  Morgan was surprised when after lunch she was told to report to Michael and Claudette’s bedroom on the second floor for training, instead of one of the training rooms. As Claudette led her up the stairs, she explained, “My Master likes to do sexual training in a more natural environment. He’ll assess your orgasmic capability, as well as test your self-control and ability to climax on command. Master Michael is highly skilled in sexual training, and you should consider yourself extremely lucky that he’s willing to work with you.”

  Morgan stole a sidelong glance at the older woman. Was she jealous that her husband was going to basically be having sex with a much younger woman? Morgan was sure she would be horribly jealous in that situation.

  But Claudette’s expression was one of utter serenity and acceptance. She smiled gently at Morgan. “I know what you’re thinking, ma chérie, but it’s only because you are not truly owned. Perhaps one day you will know the joy of belonging, heart, body and soul, to another.”

  They entered a large bedroom, the major focal point of which was a huge, four-poster bed covered in a blue and white striped satin quilt, piles of decorative pillows at its head. The bed was at least a foot higher than a normal bed. Several whips and floggers were hung where a headboard might have been, and cuffs had been attached to all four posts.

  “My Master has the right to use and enjoy other women when and how he wishes,” Claudette continued as she led Morgan into the room, “but this is only because it pleases both of us that he does so. I have never been possessive, but even if I were, I would find a way to accept his wishes, precisely because he wished it. For me, this is the height of pure submission—to put my Master’s needs and desires ahead of my own. The lovely irony is that this gives me a deep sense of submissive satisfaction and serenity.”

  She walked toward the bed. It occurred to Morgan that Claudette planned to stay for the training, and she was glad. Though Michael seemed nice enough from what little interaction she’d had with him, there was something slightly predatory about the older man, and she’d feel safer having another woman there, especially his wife.

  Pointing at her feet, Claudette instructed, “You will wait here for your trainer in the offering pose. Do you remember that position?”
/>
  “Yes, Ma’am,” Morgan replied as she lowered herself to the ground. How could she forget—Claudette had had her do it like six hundred times. Positioning herself on her knees with her back toward the door, she leaned forward with outstretched arms until her forehead touched the thick carpet, and crossed her wrists as a further symbol of her subservience.

  “Raise your bottom higher and spread your legs wider, ma chérie. Make it clear that you offer yourself without reservation.”

  Morgan obeyed, hyper-conscious that her spread pussy and asshole were now fully on display.

  “Bon,” Claudette said. “Much better.” Her feet moved in Morgan’s peripheral vision as she pulled back the covers.

  Morgan’s pulse quickened at the heavy sound of masculine footsteps clomping up the stairs.

  “I will leave you now. The Master is arriving.”

  Huh? Shit.

  She heard their soft murmurs and the sound of a kiss, and then Master Michael entered the room with his heavy tread. He said nothing, and Morgan startled a little when his hand was suddenly on her ass. He ran a finger along the worst of her welts from the morning session, reawakening the sting, as well as the memories.

  “I understand you did very well this morning with your pain assessment,” he said in his deep voice. He drew his finger lightly along her labia, pulling an involuntary shudder from her.

  He chuckled and let his hand fall away. “Let’s hope you do as well this afternoon.” He gave her ass a sudden, sharp smack.

  Since he hadn’t told her to move, she stayed where she was. She couldn’t see what he was doing behind her, but she could hear a door opening and the sound of something heavy being pulled across the carpet. Then there was a tap on her shoulder. “Stand. Remember your grace as you move.”

  Morgan drew in her arms and lifted her body slowly as Claudette had taught her, until she was kneeling up, back straight. Then she rose as fluidly as she could. But when she got to her feet, Master Michael wasn’t even looking at her, instead busy placing a small set of plastic, portable stairs next to a full-size gynecological exam table, though this one had been modified to include leather restraints.

  When he stood upright, she saw he was dressed in dark slacks and a soft gray cashmere sweater, his feet shod in expensive-looking leather loafers. Though he was easily twice her age and not especially handsome, there was no denying his powerful charisma. “You know the drill, I’m sure. On your back, feet in the stirrups. You will stay perfectly still while I examine you.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Morgan managed, though her heart had begun to thump in her ears. She climbed the plastic stairs and sat on the padded table, which was covered in that white, crinkly paper they used in doctors’ offices. Lying back, she scooted forward until her bottom was on the edge of the table, and then placed her feet into the stirrups, which someone had thoughtfully covered with cloth booties.

  Morgan lifted her head as Master Michael moved between her legs. He had taken off his shirt, revealing a broad barrel chest covered in dark fur. “Lie down flat. Did I tell you to raise your head?” he snapped.

  “No, Sir. Excuse me, Sir,” she said quickly as she let her head fall back.

  She flinched slightly when his fingers moved over her labia. As he pinched and gently tugged them, he said softly, “Very pretty,” more to himself than to her. “Beautifully formed.” He pulled open a drawer on the side of the table and she heard the squishing sound of lubricant forced from a tube.

  She drew in a breath as a thick finger gooey with lube pressed its way inside her. He placed his other hand on her pelvis as he added a second finger and pushed in deeper. “Very tight. Good muscular elasticity. Excellent,” he pronounced as the fingers were withdrawn.

  He reached again into the drawer and this time she heard the distinctive sound of latex gloves snapping into place. “Just relax,” he said as he touched her asshole with his gloved, lubricated fingertip. “A properly trained slave welcomes her Master in all ways.” He pushed the finger into her ass and moved it slowly. After a moment, he added a second. Again putting his hand on her pelvis, he forced in a third, pulling a grunt from Morgan, though she managed to bite back the cry of pain his abrupt invasion had caused.

  “Too tight,” he pronounced. “You’ll need further anal training. Gerard is excellent in that department.” Mercifully, the fingers were withdrawn, and Morgan blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  “You may get off the table and wait for me on the bed,” Master Michael instructed.

  As Morgan sat up and swung her feet over the side of the table, she saw him disappear into what she presumed was the bathroom. She heard the sound of water running as she stepped down from the table and made her way to the bed.

  Morgan had to hoist herself slightly to get up onto the mattress and wondered how Claudette managed. Maybe those plastic steps did double duty. She lay down on silky-soft dark blue sheets, feeling like an interloper, though she reminded herself she had the older woman’s blessing.

  I’d rather it were Aaron’s bed, she couldn’t help but think, though somehow she doubted he would have conducted the sexual assessment in his private bedroom.

  Master Michael appeared a moment later, completely naked, his cock at half-mast. He had the strong, broad physique of a football player, perhaps edging slightly toward fat. Would Aaron have gotten naked for the training? Again, she doubted it.

  How blithely she’d signed that slave contract, in spite of being clearly told she would be used sexually and physically by all those in a position of authority. She’d signed up for this, but that was when she’d thought Aaron would be the only one training her.

  Do it for him, she thought suddenly. A true sub isn’t just submissive when her Master is watching. She takes it into her heart and soul, like Claudette, like Laura. Like…me?

  Her resolve fortified, she tried to focus on Master Michael as if he were the only person in the world at that moment. She would make him proud, and by extension, make Aaron proud as well.

  “First I’m going to assess how easily aroused you are,” Master Michael said as he sat on the bed, recalling her to the moment. He stretched out beside her and slipped his arm under her shoulders, pulling her close so their bodies were touching. He actually smelled nice, his cologne a subtle combination of sandalwood and orange, and his touch, while not Aaron’s, was comforting.

  “Scoot up a little, and put your right leg over my thigh,” he instructed. “I’m going to stroke you. Your sole task right now is to relax and accept what I give you. I don’t mind if you move or make noise. A caveat, however—you will not come until given express permission. Got that?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  She scooted up and placed her leg over his thick, muscular thigh. Reaching across with his right hand, he cupped her pussy, positioning his palm in such a way that her clit instantly hardened against it. He ran a finger lightly around her labia and entrance until she was soaking wet, the scent of her arousal mingling with his fine cologne.

  He slid his finger inside and began to move it in and out with rapid, almost painful thrusts that quickly turned to dark, delicious pleasure as he continued to massage her throbbing clit with his palm, his fingers flying.

  Her hips arched up to meet his hand, and she couldn’t stop the low, feral moan that his touch pulled from her lips. Jesus, if he didn’t stop in a second she was going to come. There was no way she could help it. No one, including herself, had ever touched her the way he was touching her.

  She tried to twist away from his perfect fingers to stave off the powerful orgasm that was building inside her. She began to pant, her entire body trembling with the effort to control herself. Please, please, oh god, please give me permission to come, please!

  Then, all at once, his hand fell away, leaving her throbbing, aching and desperate for his touch. She actually whimpered with frustration and turned to him with a pleading expression she couldn’t control.

  His smile was crue
l. “Very good, Morgan. You’re highly responsive. We can definitely work with that.”

  Was there such a thing as blue balls for women? Blue ovaries? She bit her lip hard to keep from begging him to continue, having learned enough in her few days of training to know that would not be well received.

  He pulled his arm from her shoulders and rolled from the bed to his feet. “Reposition yourself on your back with your head hanging just off the edge of the bed. Keep your hands at your sides.”

  He fisted his erection as he watched her shift into position, taking a step back as she let her head hang just over the edge of the mattress as instructed. Then he moved closer, and she suddenly understood why the bed was so high. Her head was at the exact height of his groin.

  Using his hand, he tapped the head of his cock against her closed lips. “I want you to take my cock into your mouth. Caress it with your tongue. Get familiar with it.”

  Morgan opened her mouth, allowing him to slide his long, thick cock partway inside. She felt both helpless and aroused in this clearly submissive position, and her poor cunt continued to throb from her interrupted orgasm.

  As if this were a perfectly ordinary thing—and she supposed for him it probably was—Master Michael continued to talk with his cock resting heavily in her mouth. “I’m pleased you were able to control yourself during the previous exercise, though I’m aware you were teetering on the edge there. A slave must never orgasm without permission. I’m not alone in taking sadistic pleasure by arousing a slave and then reminding her through my express control that I own her body, her orgasm, her desires.”

  He moved forward, sliding his cock deeper into her mouth until the head was touching the back of her throat. Morgan would normally have gagged with a cock so far back in her throat, though she was usually able to adjust fairly quickly. But the position of her head prevented her throat from constricting, and the cock moved easily past her soft palate without resistance.

  “It’s important for the slave to remain fully focused on her Master, on his pleasures instead of her own. Any decent prostitute can suck a guy off, but a slave’s job is more nuanced. She needs to show not only her skill, but her passion, while always remembering her position as the servant to her Master’s needs above her own. I’ve found an effective technique for training of this kind is for the slave to touch herself while her Master’s cock is down her throat. In this way, you balance your own passion with your Master’s pleasure, always keeping his needs paramount.”