Kathryn shook her head, trying to brush aside the image. Stephen didn't like to be kept waiting. She adjusted her skirt, suddenly self conscious of her exposed snatch, uncomfortably aware that it had become ever so slightly wet at the sight of the girl on stage, and strode quickly to the stairs up to Stephen's office.
"Ah, Kat, come on in. Come come, quickly now."
Stephen sat behind the large mahogany desk he loved so dearly, the air filled with the thick, greasy smoke of his Cuban cigars. Kathryn stepped through the door into the large office and immediately saw the client Henry had mentioned, standing it the corner as far as possible from the acrid smoke.
Kathryn didn't dare turn her head in his direction - even as a serving wench she was expected to act in a subservient manner to the clients - but she knew she'd not seen him in the club before. All she could tell from the corner of her eye was that he was younger than the average client, perhaps in his early 30s, he had short, dark hair, and he was dressed in a simple but obviously well cut dark gray suit.
As soon as Kathryn stood to attention before Stephen's desk she heard the man behind her begin to move. "Yes," he said, his voice deep but soft. "She'll do." Kathryn didn't turn around, but when she heard the door close she could feel that he was no longer in the room.
"Take a seat, my girl. Would you like a drink?" Stephen didn't wait for her reply before filling two tumblers half full of bourbon from the decanter on his desk.
"You asked to see me?" Kathryn didn't like the way Stephen looked at her when she was dressed in her revealing wench uniform, and she was eager to get down to business. She sat carefully, immediately crossing her legs so Stephen couldn't steal a glance between her thighs.
"Yeah," he replied, taking a gulp of his drink. "Look, Kathryn, I have a little problem I think you may be able to help solve. The man who just left is potentially something of a cash cow. We're on the verge of stealing him from a club in New York where he spends... well, that's privileged information, but let's just say he's a serious high roller."
"Uh huh," she replied, noncommittally. Kathryn had no idea what this had to do with her. She already knew which clients to favor with special treatment. Those who invested the most in the club were always given the best private rooms and the finest wines. All Stephen had to do was point out this new client and she'd make sure he was taken care of. "Do you want me to find him a good sub?"
Stephen chuckled awkwardly, toying with his drink. Kathryn got the feeling he was reluctant to continue. "Well, actually it's a little more complicated than that. You see, this client has a few very specific tastes, and if we want to sign him onto our rolls we have to prove that we can deliver. He... well, I'll cut to the chase. He wants a fresh sub."
Kathryn knitted her brow. "Sorry, I don't understand what you mean, Stephen."
"I mean, Kat, that he wants to take on an inexperienced girl. He wants to play with a sub who hasn't been put through the wringer. He wants you."
Kathryn placed her glass softly on the desk and stood. "No, Stephen. We talked about this when you hired me. I serve drinks. That's all. I'm not into this shit. The answer is no." She turned away from him, suddenly more furious than she'd ever felt. She had her hand on the doorknob before Stephen could get out from his seat.
"Wait, wait, wait! Please, Kat, just hear me out, then you can storm off, make a voodoo doll and poke it 'til I bleed. Please, just sit down."
Kathryn remained standing, but released the knob.
"Look," pleaded Stephen, his face red with embarrassment. "I know you said you'd never be involved in what goes on here, but answer me this: how much debt are you in?"
Kathryn whirled around, brimming over with rage. "You think this is about money? Christ, Stephen, what's wrong with you?! If my father were alive he'd have your balls!"
Stephen held up his hands, desperate to placate her. "Please, don't take it the wrong way. I'm just saying that you must be in, what, a hundred grand of debt right now? Kat, this isn't about money. It's about a lot of money. This client could be worth a million dollars to me over the next few years.
"Now hear me out, please. If you were to agree to spend some time with him... hell, just one night, if that's all you can take, I can make your debt go away. All of it. You understand what I'm telling you?"
Kathryn could barely move enough to blink. Her breath caught in her throat. The thought of freeing herself from debt was just too much to compute. In the last few years she'd spent all too many long, depressing nights working out just how many years it would be before she paid off her college loans. She'd come to the conclusion that it would be at least ten years before she could even think about buying her own home, and even more before she could consider starting a family. The idea that her debt could be wiped out in a single night... it was too crazy to imagine.
Stephen sensed her shock, and even as she remembered to take a breath she noticed the smile creeping onto his face. He knew he had her. "A hundred grand, Kat. Think about it. You could quit this job and start you career. Maybe buy a car. Meet a nice boy. Go out and have fun with your friends. I'm offering you your freedom, Kat. All I need is one night from you."
Freedom. One night, in return for freedom.
Could I really go through with this?
Chapter Three
The room was one Kathryn had never seen before, up on the top floor above Stephen's office. She hadn't even known there was a higher floor until Stephen explained that the suite was for 'special' clients. It was completely private, a specially outfitted dungeon that could be rented out for days at a time to high rollers, stocked with an harem of subs all serving just one master.
The new client proposed to hire the suite permanently, at an obscene price.
"You can wait on the couch," said Stephen, pointing to a comfortable looking leather sofa in the corner. "The client will be along shortly. Remember, Kat, all you have to do is fake it for a while. Call him 'Sir', or whatever. Let him tie you up, spank you a little. You've seen how the girls do it. Just think about the money and get through it." He spoke quickly, his voice wavering as if he were trying to placate a rabid dog. He could tell Kathryn was uncertain, and he knew the wrong word at the wrong moment might send her running.
He left her alone in the room with a final desperate plea to do whatever the client asked. Kathryn hustled him out, too nervous to put up with his grating voice a moment longer.
The suite was made up of several rooms, each apparently designed for specific activities. In one room the floor was lined with some sort of waterproof material, while another contained a terrifying steel frame covered in hooks, all of them attached to a confusing array of ropes and a complicated pulley system. Kathryn backed out of the rooms quickly, hoping against hope that the client wouldn't want to use the devices within, whatever they was for.
She found it safer to sit on the couch in the main room, the only furniture in the suite that didn't look like it was designed for torture of some kind. Her eyes settled on the floor, intently avoiding the racks of paddles, floggers, dildos and costumes that lined each wall. Whenever her attention was drawn up towards them she felt a gnawing doubt, a pit of terror in her stomach that yelled out to her that she didn't have to go through with this. She could back out now, flee the club and escape to a safe, sane world. Her heart thumped in her chest as if it was trying to draw her attention, yelling out to her that this was crazy. Forget the money. This isn't you, Kathryn!
She was moments from bolting when the door opened and the client walked in, and Kathryn was instantly frozen by his appearance. He was tall, around six feet, with a thick, dark head of hair just long enough to fall rakishly across his brow. Kathryn realized immediately that she'd misjudged his age. His calm, placid smile brought out dimples in his cheeks that made him look boyishly handsome, like any of the thousand teen heartthrobs she'd idolized as a girl, but a faint sprinkling of gray at his temples and the fine laughter lines etched into the tanned skin beside his eyes told her he must be appr
oaching his late thirties, maybe even early forties.
As for his body, it was clear that beneath his exquisitely tailored suit the man was in excellent shape. The cut of his jacket was snug enough to show broad, well muscled arms, and his torso narrowed pleasingly at the waist, with the fabric hanging like --
With a jolt of embarrassment she realized she'd been staring as he approached, and dropped her gaze back to the floor. Be submissive, she thought. Act like a slave. Should I be on my knees? With a sudden attack of worry Kathryn realized she had no idea how to be a submissive. She'd watched the girls in the club bowing their heads, but she didn't know the protocol.
"It's OK, Kat. You can look at me. There's no need to study the carpet like that."
She looked up to see him smile broadly. Just like a normal person, she thought, almost laughing at herself the moment the notion appeared in her head. Why shouldn't he look normal? Most of the clients in the club looked like they'd just left the office. Very few dressed up to play.
"Kathryn," she mumbled in a low voice.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm sorry, sir. I prefer to be called Kathryn."
The man sat beside her on the couch, turning sideways to face her and resting one leg on his thigh. "Of course. Kathryn." He noticed her discomfort. "It's perfectly OK to speak to me, Kathryn. I know you're not like the other girls here. That's exactly why I wanted to meet you. I don't want the other girls."
Kathryn felt her muscles relax, and was surprised to notice just how tense she'd been. He must have noticed how she was sitting, ramrod straight with a look of fear in her eyes. Now she felt... not relaxed, exactly, but certainly more at ease. Despite what she knew he wanted to do to her, there was something about this man's manner that made her feel safe. Secure.
He smiled again, that charming, boyish smile that flowed warmly over her. "My name is Patrick. While we're together I expect you to address me as Master. Do you understand why that is?"
Kathryn shook her head. "No, Patr... Master. I don't really know anything about this kind of thing. I'm sorry."
He chuckled. "That's quite alright, Kathryn. I'm sure a lot of this seems unusual to you. Maybe even scary. Now, the reason I forbid you from using my given name is to help you understand that you belong to me. The name you use when addressing me is a symbol of your subservience, and it's for your benefit alone. It reminds you of your place."
Kathryn felt a wave of defiant anger push a retort toward her lips. I don't belong to anyone, creep! How dare you!? She bit her lip to hold it in, reminding herself over and over about the money.
He looked her up and down, pausing at Kathryn's full breasts, lifted and exposed by her leather corset. "OK, so you're an absolute beginner. Why don't you tell me what you think of the things that go on in the club." He noticed Kathryn's startled look. "Please, I expect absolute honesty from you. I don't think you could say anything that would surprise me."
She dropped her head and stared at a spot on the carpet between her legs until Patrick gently lifted her chin with a finger. "Please, speak to me as you would anyone else."
"Well, Master," she began, worried that she'd offend him whatever she said, "A lot of it I don't like. I've seen a lot of the girls get whipped by the clients. A lot of them come out of the rooms with bruises. I feel bad for them. I don't know why they allow anyone to beat them like that."
Patrick nodded as she spoke. "You don't like pain?"
She shook her head decisively. "No, I don't. The thought of it scares me."
"I understand, Kathryn," he said, in that soft, reassuring voice. Despite the anger welling up inside her she felt lulled by that soft, comforting tone. "It scares a lot of people. Not many people understand the attraction of accepting punishment. Not many understand that pain can be pleasurable, when administered correctly. It must look very cruel to you. Sometimes it is. Some people take it too far for my tastes. You can relax, though. I don't particularly enjoy inflicting pain on my submissives."
Kathryn was confused. "You don't? I thought all dominants liked to hurt their submissives."
"Oh, not at all," laughed Patrick. "This lifestyle attracts a broad spectrum of people, each with their own tastes. Some like ropes. Others like to be spanked. Some like to be humiliated and objectified. Some even like to be cut. I worked out long ago what I enjoyed, and it doesn't usually involve causing pain."
He shifted in his seat and took Kathryn's hand. "It's important that you trust me, Kathryn, before we begin down this road. The relationship between a dominant and his submissive can be complicated and difficult to understand, but it's always grounded in trust. Now, you'd be foolish to trust me completely after just meeting me, especially as a novice, but I can promise you that I'll never inflict undeserved pain on you. I will never hurt you simply for my own enjoyment, and you will only feel pain if you disobey my instructions." He looked deep into her eyes. "Do you believe me?"
Kathryn gazed into his deep, sparkling green eyes and saw nothing but honesty radiating from them. A knot of fear still clutched her stomach, but there was something about his manner that loosened it moment by moment. It was almost as if he were a kindly teacher, gently educating her while allaying her fears. She whispered, "Yes, Master. I trust you."
"Excellent," he replied. "Then we'll begin."
Chapter Four
Kathryn balanced awkwardly on her knees, thankful for the thick carpet, and clasped her hands tight behind her back as instructed by Master. Master. She rolled the word over her tongue, enjoying the unexpected tingle of pleasure she felt deep in her pussy when she uttered it. There was something so deliciously naughty about the word. Master... Master... Mmmmmmaster.
He stood over her, slowly circling as he surveyed her body. "From this point onwards, Kathryn, my word is law. You must obey my commands immediately and without complaint. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master," she purred, savoring the tight little shiver between her legs. Just uttering the word made her pussy clench, and she realized the anger was all but gone. In its place was a strange sense of anticipation; a delicious but unnerving sense of inevitability. It was too late to back out now, she thought, and with that acceptance of the situation came an unexpected benefit. She was actually looking forward to sleeping with the man calmly surveying her body.
Master must have noticed something in the way her body moved as she spoke. Standing behind her he reached down, hooked his fingers beneath Kathryn's tight latex skirt and ran his fingertips along the puffy, moist lips of her pussy. She gasped lightly at his touch, and pressed herself toward his hand.
"You're already wet, Kathryn. Can you tell me what arouses you?" His fingers dipped between her lips, slipping deep inside, and when he removed them he held his glistening hand inches from Kathryn's face. She could smell her sweet juice on him, and had to fight a sudden urge to lick his fingers clean.
"It's your name, Master." her voice shuddered a little as she spoke. "I can't explain it, but when I say the word I feel a little... buzz, I guess. Like you're holding a vibrator to my clit. I... I kinda like it."
Master smiled. "That's good, Kathryn. It makes me happy to see your pussy get so wet for me. Many girls enjoy addressing their dominants by an honorary title. It tends to help them release control of the situation and enjoy it on a deeper level. I think you'll find this is just the first of many new things you'll learn about yourself tonight. Lick."
Kathryn bowed her head forward and delicately ran her tongue over Master's fingers. They tasted incredible. As long as she could remember she'd been fascinated by the taste of her own pussy. Whenever she played with herself she always coated her fingers with her own honey and drew it across her lips, and the opportunity to do the same with the fingers of a strong, beautiful man drove her crazy.
There was more, though. She realized her arousal stemmed from the order itself. He told her to do something, and she did it. A tight little pulse of warmth deep within her whispered this new, delightful discovery: it's so simple. You
can abandon control. You can enjoy his commands. Give in to his will.
Master slid his fingers from her mouth and wiped himself dry on his trousers. "That's enough for now, Kathryn. I don't want you getting excited too quickly. Now stand. That's right, stand up straight. Hands clasped behind your back. Face forward, and lower your eyes. Now, this is called position one. Whenever I order it you'll take that position immediately.
Her Submission: The Boxed Set Page 2
