BDSM Club Series Box Set

by Claire Thompson

  He gave a small laugh. “Forgive me, Claudette says I tend to lecture, and I’m afraid it’s true. Let’s just try the exercise and see how it goes. You will pleasure yourself while you strive to please me with your mouth and throat muscles. Show me your skill and acceptance, and at the same time bring yourself to the edge of orgasm so you’re ready when I give you permission.” Again he chuckled. “If I give you permission, that is. You’ll have to earn it.”

  He moved forward, pushing his cock slowly down her throat until she couldn’t even breathe. “Touch yourself,” he reminded her. “Give me your full passion. Hold nothing back, but keep your focus on my pleasure.”

  She reached between her legs. She was still wet and swollen from his skilled touch, but her fingers were no match for his. She was glad for this, because if he’d been touching her as he had, she’d come in ten seconds flat.

  She focused on suckling at his cock with her throat muscles until he pulled slowly back, though not all the way out of her mouth. She drew in a deep breath through her nose as she licked and sucked at his sizable erection. The submissive vulnerability of her position added excitement to the situation, and in spite of her inferior ability compared to his in bringing herself to climax, she arrived quickly to the brink of an orgasm.

  She had to pull back, however, because Master Michael showed no sign of nearing his own release. Hoping he wouldn’t notice, she stopped rubbing herself with quite as much conviction, and focused more on worshipping the cock down her throat.

  Finally, he began to grunt, his breath quickening. Then, with a sudden thrust and cry, he released his seed so far back in her throat she didn’t even need to swallow. As he continued to thrust and groan, he panted, “Come now, slave girl. Come for Master Michael.”

  Her fingers began to dance rapidly over her swollen sex, and suddenly it was Aaron standing over her, thrusting his shaft into her throat, his hand rubbing her cunt and sliding a finger inside. “Come for me, Morgan, my slave, my love,” he commanded in his delicious British accent.

  She slipped over the edge of a climax with a sharp gasp of pleasure around Master Michael’s still-hard shaft. As he pulled it slowly from her mouth, she continued to move her fingers until the last trembling wave of pleasure subsided.

  When she opened her eyes, Master Michael was crouching beside her, a smile on his face. “You’ll make a Master very happy one day, Morgan. Well done.”

  Beaming with pride, Morgan replied sincerely, “Thank you, Sir.”

  The only question was—who would that Master be?

  Chapter 10

  The next morning Morgan reported to the positions studio. After neatly arranging the items from her gear bag, she knelt up while she waited for Claudette, wondering where Aaron was at that exact moment, and if his mother was okay. She wished she had her cell phone so she could text him, which was silly, since she didn’t even know his number.

  Claudette came into the room in a swirl of blue silk. “Bon jour, ma chérie,” she sang. She clapped her hands. “Up, up. No time to waste. We will review all the positions you have learned since your arrival. But first I will show you a new position favored by Master Gerard, who will be your primary trainer during Aaron’s absence. It’s called the pony. Of course, the look is more complete when we add an anal plug horsetail, but we’ll forgo that for now.”

  Morgan silently thanked the BDSM gods for that small favor as she rose to her feet.

  “Allow me to demonstrate.” Claudette, without a trace of self-consciousness, stripped off her gown. “You stand like this, feet wide apart. Then you bend at the waist like so and place your hands far in front of you on the floor.” She easily touched the floor while keeping her legs perfectly straight. “The slave should be able to move in this position, walking on all fours and keeping the legs spread apart.”

  She stood again and reached for her gown, which she slipped back over her head. “Go on. Now you try it.”

  Morgan tried to imitate the older woman’s graceful movements, and then glanced up at Claudette for approval.

  Claudette nodded. “Good. Now, walk across the floor with your hands still on the ground, like an animal. You may bend your knees as necessary.”

  Morgan began to move, feeling a little ridiculous as she scuttled like a crab across the floor.

  “Not bad,” Claudette said once she’d crossed the room. Morgan started to rise, but Claudette stopped her with a raised hand. “I didn’t tell you to stand,” she said sharply. “Did you forget? You remain in position until given permission to rise.”

  Morgan hastily resumed the awkward position, as Claudette continued, “Next, we move from the pony position to a graze position. When you are a pony, and it’s time to eat, your Master might allow you to graze. For this, you drop to your knees, while still keeping your legs open wide.” She lifted her chin toward Morgan. “Go on. Try it.”

  Morgan lowered herself to the ground, her palms still pressed to the floor.

  “Good. Bend your elbows so your forearms are resting on the ground. Now you can lower your head to eat from your food bowl.” As she spoke, Claudette moved closer and gathered Morgan's long hair, which had fallen into her face, and pulled it back, twisting it into a quick braid.

  They reviewed the ten basic slave positions Morgan had already learned, plus a few new ones, and then Claudette had Morgan work with the dildos on her deep-throat technique. At first, Morgan gagged every time Claudette pushed the thick, hard phallus past her soft palate, but eventually she was able to relax her throat muscles enough to handle even the largest of them.

  After two exhausting hours, Claudette finally said, “Bon, enough for this morning. Lunch is in an hour. You may shower and whatever else you need to do in preparation for your session with Master Gerard.

  That afternoon found Morgan again on her knees, this time in the training room, as she waited for Master Gerard. She had been hoping to see Rick at lunch, to get an idea of what to expect, but he’d been absent from the slave table.

  Master Gerard entered the dungeon, dressed casually in jeans and a black button-down shirt. He wore leather sandals, which he removed as he entered the room. To Morgan’s dismay, Rick was just behind him in the house slave drawstring white pants, his smooth chest bare, his spiked slave collar prominent around his neck.

  “Hello there, little one,” Master Gerard said, his French accent not as pronounced as Claudette’s. “I’m going to take over your training in Aaron’s absence. I should warn you, I’m not nearly as nice.” He flashed a grin, white teeth against tan skin. “As my darling boy can tell you, I’m a hardcore sadist, right, Rick?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Rick said, his big brown eyes fairly blazing with devotion as he looked at his Master.

  “Show the trainee your marks from my new stinger.”

  Rick turned and Morgan drew in her breath at the sight of the myriad small welts over his back and shoulders. When he turned back, his face was aglow with pride.

  “Tell me, little one,” Master Gerard said, moving closer until he stood directly in front of her. “Did Trainer Aaron get a chance to show you the punishment horse?”

  Morgan swallowed. “No, Sir.”

  Master Gerard nodded toward Rick. “Set it up, boy.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Rick moved away, returning a moment later with what looked like a construction sawhorse—a one-by-two wooden beam secured parallel to the ground on two sturdy tripods. He set it up beside Morgan.

  “Stand up so we can get the height right,” Master Gerard instructed. “Get her wrist cuffs,” he said to Rick.

  Pulse racing, Morgan rose to her feet. Master Gerard had her straddle the horse, one foot on either side. “Hands behind your back,” he instructed. He slipped her cuffs over her wrists and clipped them together.

  “Good. Now, we raise the bar like so.”

  They adjusted the tripods until the beam was pressed hard between her legs, digging into the delicate folds of her pussy. She hissed her pain and then bit her li
p, trying to keep quiet.

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?” Master Gerard said. “And if you think it hurts now, imagine the pain after five minutes, ten…an hour.”

  Morgan didn’t want to imagine it, but was sure it would hurt like hell.

  “Lift up on your tiptoes.”

  Morgan at once did so, blowing out a breath of relief as the pressure eased, though she wobbled a little, her balance affected by her cuffed wrists. As she got her equilibrium, Master Gerard continued, “This is what is called predicament bondage. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

  Morgan nodded nervously. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Predicament bondage gives you a choice. You can stand on tiptoe and get relief for your sweet little cunt, but after a while, those calf muscles will fatigue, and you’ll be forced to lower the weight back onto your sex. As you tire, you will spend more time with your weight on that most sensitive region. The higher the horse is set, the shorter the time required to bring you to exquisite agony.”

  Morgan’s calves were already tiring, but she managed to remain on her toes. Surely he’d finish the demonstration soon and let her down. After all, she wasn’t being punished. She’d done nothing wrong.

  “For the boys, we use a different device. Bring over the ball crusher, Rick.”

  Again Rick trotted away, returning a moment later lugging an odd-looking contraption. Two clear acrylic squares, one square situated about two inches directly in front the other, were held in position using six inch screws and wing nuts. A hole had been cut through the center of the two pieces of stacked acrylic, and the squares were attached to a pole with a flat base to keep it upright and steady.

  “Demonstrate for her, darling,” Master Gerard instructed.

  Rick at once dropped his drawstring pants, his cock rapidly rising as if someone were using a bicycle pump on it. Stepping in front of the ball crusher, he slid his shaft through the hole and pushed his balls between the two sheets of acrylic. Master Gerard moved to him and, while kissing Rick on the mouth, screwed down the wing nuts, causing the distance between the two sheets to close until Rick’s smooth balls were mashed flat between them.

  Master Gerard stepped back, admiring his handiwork, while Rick winced in obvious pain.

  “Do you like to suffer for me, slave boy?” he asked in a soft voice.

  “Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir,” Rick said between clenched teeth.

  Master Gerard turned to Morgan, whose left calf suddenly convulsed with a charley horse that caused her to land heavily on her feet. She gasped at the sudden, painful pressure of the wood wedged hard between her legs. “And you, slave girl,” he said in the same quiet, dangerous voice. “Do you like to suffer for your Master?”

  Blinking back the sudden tears of pain, Morgan managed, “Yes, Sir.” But she wasn’t thinking of Master Gerard.

  He leaned close, his mouth pursing. “My Rick tells me you’re vain, little one.”

  What the hell?

  “He says you’re always tossing that pretty hair around, and that you think you’re better than the house slaves.”

  “That’s not—” Morgan began, outraged at this blatant lie, but Master Gerard cut her off with a sudden, sharp slap to her face.

  “I did not ask you a question nor tell you to speak,” he said as she blinked back startled tears, her cheek smarting. Bending down toward her gear mat, he grabbed the ball gag. “I’ve found this device to be a most effective reminder not to speak unless spoken to.”

  Holding it to her mouth, he snapped, “Open wide. Now.”

  She didn’t dare protest as Master Gerard pressed the nasty rubber ball between her teeth and tightened the contraption behind her head. When he was done, he returned to stand in front of her, his smile cruel. “You look especially vulnerable and beautiful like that, Morgan. At least your vanity has a basis in reality. You really are a very lovely girl.”

  Morgan wanted to scream at the injustice of what had just happened. Instead, she bit down hard on the gag, the saliva already pooling in her mouth. The wooden horse was pressing hard against her labia. She lifted back onto her toes, her legs trembling.

  Why was Rick being such an asshole? While Master Gerard released him from the ball crusher, she tried to think what the best approach would be to handle the jealous house slave. She needed to let him know in no uncertain terms that she was not interested in his Master, and as such presented zero threat. But would that be enough?

  She breathed a sigh of relief when Master Gerard, with Rick’s help, lowered the tripods until the wooden beam no longer touched her body. Her pussy felt bruised and fragile. Master Gerard was right—he wasn’t as nice as Aaron.

  Oh, Aaron, I miss you.

  “Get off the horse,” Master Gerard said as he took a step back. “Try not to fall on your ass in the process.”

  Morgan stood still a moment, trying to figure out how to raise her leg back over the bar without falling over, her balance off because of her cuffed wrists. An idea occurred to her, and she scooted backward along the bar until she was free of it. She couldn’t help flashing a triumphant look at Rick, who’d been watching her with a gleeful expression, as if he’d just been waiting for her to mess up. He scowled back at her.

  Unaware of the silent war between them, Master Gerard, thankfully, unbuckled the ball gag and pulled it from between her jaws. Holding it by its leather strap, he handed it to Rick, who took it toward the sink, presumably for later cleaning.

  Morgan was already exhausted, though the session had only lasted about a half hour so far. As she tried to wipe the drool from her chin on her shoulder, she thought about asking for permission to speak so she could deny Rick’s earlier lie, but before she could decide, Master Gerard said, “Another enjoyable type of predicament bondage is the kneeling stress torture, reserved for very naughty slaves. It’s extremely effective, albeit a bit tricky to set up. The idea is to bind the slave in such a way that kneeling up on the knees is impossible and at the same time kneeling down on the haunches is equally impossible. Rick is very strong, and can hold the position for an hour before he falls over, isn’t that right, sweet boy?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Rick replied, a superior look on his face.

  Master Gerard glanced at his watch and sighed. “Unfortunately, we don’t have time for a demonstration today, as you have more preliminary work to complete,” he said, to Morgan’s immense relief. “Instead, this afternoon we will focus on anal training.” He reached for the fly of his jeans and drew down the zipper. “I take a rather different approach to anal training than some. No dildos or anal plugs are necessary.” He pushed his jeans down his legs, revealing a long, uncircumcised penis, already semi-erect.

  “Remove my jeans, boy,” he instructed to Rick, who immediately crouched in front of him and pulled the pants away. “And my shirt,” he added. Rick, who was easily eight inches taller than Master Gerard, remained on his knees, kneeling up to reach the buttons. Once the shirt was open, Master Gerard shrugged it off and then grabbed Rick by the back of his head, mashing Rick’s face to his groin.

  “Make me hard so I can fuck our new toy,” he murmured, staring hard at Morgan, his fingers twisting in Rick’s hair.

  Morgan stood naked and cuffed, watching Rick avidly sucking his Master’s cock. She wasn’t their new toy—she was a trainee. She was Aaron’s trainee. At the same time, deep in her being, she experienced a dark, vibrant thrill at her situation. While her rational mind told her to be outraged, her submissive, masochistic soul responded with lust and longing. She wanted to be used—controlled, subjugated, owned.

  After a few moments, Master Gerard released Rick and took a step back. His cock was shiny and hard, and he gripped the shaft in a light hold with his right hand as he pointed with his left toward a spanking bench.

  “Get her ready for fucking,” he instructed Rick.

  Rick, who had risen to his feet, took Morgan’s arm none too gently and tugged her toward the bench. With Master Gerard watching them, he managed to keep his
face neutral, even pleasant. He released the clips that held her cuffs behind her back but left them in place as he said in a flat voice, “Straddle the bench so I can secure you.”

  Morgan climbed onto the contraption, which was shaped like a long gymnastic vault with leg rests on either side. She draped her torso over the vault, resting her shins and forearms on the legs on either side. Rick attached her wrists cuffs to eyehooks embedded on the front of each leg rest, and then buckled her ankles into place. The position held her in a crouch, her ass up and splayed, her head hanging off the front of the bench.

  Master Gerard, meanwhile, had moved to the wall with the supply cabinet and counter. Morgan could see him in her peripheral vision as he opened a condom packet and pulled the sheath over his cock. Taking a tube of lubricant, he returned to stand in front of her, standing back so she could see his face. “With new trainees, the main issue I encounter is resistance. It’s not because you are virginal, or too tight, or any of that nonsense. It’s a failure to submit—to open oneself to one’s Master in every possible way. If you experience pain, this is because you are resisting. Once you’re properly trained, you will be able to accommodate a cock of any size with complete ease. It’s all about acceptance.”

  Morgan had had anal sex before, and while she’d always enjoyed the submissive aspect of it, it had never been her favorite kind of play. And yes, sometimes it was painful at first, especially if the guy didn’t know what he was doing and tried to penetrate too quickly. She’d usually touched herself to counterbalance the pain, bringing herself to orgasm in the process. Clearly, that wouldn’t be an option this time. Still, she couldn’t deny the thrill of being bound to the bench, offered up to this dominant man, even if he wasn’t the one she would choose. If only Rick weren’t along for the ride, glowering at her from the sidelines…