BDSM Club Series Box Set

by Claire Thompson

  Donovan climbed off the bed and went into the walk-in closet on the side of the room. He came out holding a large mirror on a stand, which he placed beside the bed, tilting it until Jordan got a view of herself that made her gasp. The large stainless steel hook emerged from between her ass cheeks as if she were a side of beef suspended by the hook and rope. It looked, she realized, a lot scarier than it felt.

  Donovan left the mirror where it was. He showed Jordan the cane he was going to use. It was shorter and thinner than the one he’d used at the club and would, she knew, pack a stronger, whippier sting. “Let’s make this a little more interesting,” Donovan said, again reaching into the drawer beside the bed. This time he extracted another shrink-wrapped package, which Jordan saw was a pink dildo with a small protrusion near the bottom she recognized as a clit tickler.

  Donovan squirted lubricant onto the head of the vibrator and stepped behind Jordan. She could see him in the mirror, at least his lower half, as he placed the head of the vibrator between her legs. She felt the phallus being pushed into her cunt—another foreign object—but certainly easier to tolerate than the anal hook. She could feel the clit tickler nestling snugly between her labia. The fullness inside her ass and pussy were almost overwhelming. Yet at the same time, there was a certain erotic comfort to the fullness that surprised her.

  Donovan turned the base of the vibrator and it whirred to life inside of her, the clit tickler vibrating along with the rest of it. It made the metal balls buried in her ass vibrate too and as odd as it was to admit it, it felt kind of nice.

  “You have permission in advance to come. You don’t have to ask during this exercise,” Donovan informed her. As if she’d be able to come while being caned, with a freaking anal hook buried in her ass!

  Jordan glanced at herself in the mirror, unable to stop staring at the huge silver hook emerging from her ass, tied with rope that hung at a forty-five degree angle to the ceiling. There was enough give in the rope to allow her some movement, but if she fell forward or jerked too hard, what would happen inside her? She shuddered at the thought, and reminded herself all she had to do was stay in position and she would be fine.

  “You good, Jordan? Everything okay?”

  Is that a trick question? she wanted to quip. Would he be okay with an anal hook shoved up his ass? Jordan forced herself to focus on the question in the spirit in which it was intended. She, too, checked with her subs once she had them in whatever position they would stay in for the duration of a session. He was only practicing proper D/s safety protocol.

  “Yes, Sir,” she replied, just as properly. If things got out of hand, she’d just use her safeword. Donovan was a pro. He would stop the action instantly, she knew.

  He started the caning lightly, the same as he’d done the day before at the club. It hurt more from the outset though, the sting more focused and pronounced. When the first real stroke landed Jordan jerked reflexively, which caused the hook buried in her ass to tug inside her. Was that dangerous? In spite of his assurances, she didn’t want to find out the hard way, and made a mental note to stay as still as possible.

  She glanced sidelong again at the mirror. Her breasts swayed, the nipples fully erect at the tips, her back arched, her ass thrust out, the stainless steel hook rising lewdly from between her cheeks. She couldn’t see the upper half of Donovan’s body in the mirror, but she could see his hand, and the cane as it whipped over her skin.

  The cane stung like a line of angry bees along her ass and thighs. Jordan twitched with each painful stroke, but didn’t dare move too much. The vibrator whirring inside her was also beginning to do its work, along with the tickler that was teasing her engorged clit. The mixture of pleasure and pain was confusing to her body, though her mind understood the purpose of the exercise. The Master was trying to blend the two for her, to show her that woven together they could be more powerful than either sensation alone.

  She stopped thinking when the cane struck her body just where her ass met her thighs. A line of fire ripped its way over her flesh and she gasped in stunned pain. Before she could even form words of protest, another line of fire seared over her skin, just above the first one. She jerked and screamed but instead of stopping, Donovan caned her again and again and again. Jordan began to tremble, even while she knew she had to remain in position on her hands and knees, or risk jerking the anal hook from her body.

  Apple. You can say it.

  But she didn’t say it. She wasn’t sure why. Her cunt was throbbing, her clit exploding in a series of mini climaxes that distracted her, at least momentarily, from the relentless cut of the cane. She could hear the whipping, whooshing sound of the cane as it hurtled through the air in the split second before it landed against her skin.

  She felt Donovan doing something to the vibrator, and suddenly it shifted to a higher level of vibration that transferred itself across the thin membrane that separated her vaginal and anal canals, and caused the metal balls in her ass to vibrate as well. Still the cane came crashing down in a steady blaze of fire, the whoosh of the cane now instantly followed by her agonized cries of pain.

  At the same time the cane was welting her skin, the vibrator continued its work, lifting her into a fully realized and powerful orgasm. She jerked and felt the tension of the hook inside her, but she was unable to control her shuddering. The cane landed again and again on her flayed skin. Hot tears wet her lashes and blurred her sight as they fell like raindrops to the sheet beneath her.

  She felt as if she were at the top of a cliff, panic about to propel her over the edge. She would fall, screaming and flailing, unable to break the fall, unable to save herself…

  “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” She heard herself whispering these words over and over, though it just sounded like an inarticulate muttering, a hiss of sound, interspersed with cries of pain and gasps of pleasure.

  But Donovan somehow understood the words, because, dimly over the roar of her pounding heart and the steady whoosh of the cane, she heard him say, “You can. You are. You’re amazing, Jordan. You’re almost there. Let go, baby. Let it all go. This is what you were born for.”

  The cane continued to strike her skin, and it hurt just as much as it had a second before. The vibrator continued to tease and titillate her cunt and ass until she thought she was going to pass out from the stimulation. Her tears continued to fall and her body continued to shudder and tremble. But the panic that had a moment before threatened to engulf her dissipated somewhat beneath Donovan’s encouraging words.

  She was crying full out now, noisy, gasping sobs wrenched from somewhere deep inside her. She was again on the edge of the cliff, too exhausted now, and too overwhelmed to resist any longer. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and let herself…slip…over the edge…

  But instead of hurtling and tumbling down into her panic, she found herself floating, soaring like a bird wheeling high overhead. She was still inside her body—she could still feel the cane and the vibrator and the anal hook—but the pain was gone. Or rather, it had somehow transmuted into something different. Something not only bearable, but rather, something sublime. Something to be sought, embraced, taken deep inside.

  “Yes,” she breathed, though no sound came from her. It didn’t matter. She continued to soar on the wind, a sense of the most pure and profound peace she’d ever experienced in her life settling over her like grace itself.

  Vaguely she became aware of the vibrator being turned off and gently pulled from her body. And then the anal hook was removed, slipping painlessly from her ass. She remained on her hands and knees, actually unable to move, still caught in the trance that had lifted her out of herself so completely. She didn’t want to come back—she wanted to stay in this quiet, unearthly place of pure serenity.

  She felt Donovan settle beside her on the bed. She didn’t resist him as he pulled her down onto her side. She was still crying, she realized, though now it was just tears coursing down her cheeks and sliding into her hai
r. He pulled her gently into his arms, spooning her from behind and wrapping his arms around her torso.

  “I’ve got you,” he whispered into her ear as her heavy eyelids closed. “You’re safe in my arms. Take as long as you need to.”

  She wanted to answer, to thank him for the amazing session, to wonder aloud what had happened to her and what it was she was experiencing, but she had lost the capacity to speak. She couldn’t even move or open her eyes, though she wasn’t asleep, not by any stretch. He seemed to sense this, and he didn’t press her, or try to make her talk. He just held her and his presence was warm and comforting as she slowly floated back into herself.

  Then an overwhelming fatigue moved through her, as if she’d run three marathons in a row, or climbed the highest mountain in the world. She had come back into herself, she realized with a pang—she would have liked to stay wherever he’d taken her forever, but of course that wasn’t possible. The deep feeling of wellbeing had stayed with her, however, and she gave in to the fatigue, letting the heaviness move through her limbs. She sighed, a deep, satisfied sigh and snuggled back against Donovan’s warm, strong body as he held her in his arms.

  She wanted to tell Donovan about what she’d experienced. Did he have any idea what had happened? She needed to share this amazing thing with someone. She tried to speak, but only managed to say, “Mmmm…”

  And then she was asleep.

  Chapter 9

  There was a softness to Jordan’s features as she stared up at Donovan from her cushion on the floor beside the table. Her large green eyes were shining with a submissive glow. The sassy smirk that had lifted her pretty lips so often at the club was nowhere in evidence. Amazing what an anal hook and a cane could do, Donovan thought with an inward grin.

  He’d let her nap while he’d prepared their dinner, proud he’d resisted the very strong temptation to get naked and take the girl then and there, the bet and the training be damned. He had every right to fuck her, of course. That had been part of the agreement, but he wanted to make the submission more real for her—more intense. And that meant keeping tight rein on his own sexual impulses in order to give her a more powerful experience. She had to earn his cock with erotic suffering and sacrifice. It would be the grand finale of the weekend.

  He fed her another bite of pork chop, followed by a bit of roasted potatoes and then held the glass of red wine to her lips, careful not to spill its contents as she sipped. In spite of his resolve, his cock was hard as a bar of iron as he drank in the sight of the naked beauty on her knees. As much to distract himself as anything, he said, “I haven’t forgotten the way you were watching from the edge of the crowd when I did the hot wax scene with Linda. Your expression was priceless—part fear, part longing. I think we’ll recreate that scene after dinner, wax, whip and all.”

  “Oh!” Jordan said, her eyes widening, her hand moving to cover her pubic mound. Donovan let his eyes linger pointedly on her hand. When she didn’t move it, he frowned.

  “Are you forgetting yourself? You know better than that. Subs don’t cover their bodies. Are you looking for punishment?”

  With obvious reluctance, Jordan let her hand fall away. “It’s just that…” she began and then trailed off.

  “Just what? You have an issue with hot wax?”

  “No, it’s not that. Not exactly. It’s just…” Again she failed to complete her sentence.

  Donovan reached down, placing his hand under her chin and forcing it gently upward as he looked into her eyes. “Jordan. Tell me what it is that’s bothering you.”

  He suppressed a smile as a rosy blush moved over her cheeks, her small chin still cupped in his palm as he waited for her to continue. Finally she said, “It’s just that, well, you know, I’m not shaven. Dried wax and pubic hair can be something of a mess.”

  “Agreed.” Donovan nodded, releasing her. He took a long drink from his wine and added casually, “Much harder to whip off too.” Jordan bit her lip and wrapped her arms protectively around her body at this statement, no doubt remembering the flick of the whip against Linda’s wax-covered body and imagining herself in Linda’s place.

  “Position,” Donovan reminded Jordan, pleased that she dropped her arms, though her lower lip remained caught in her teeth. “There is a solution, of course.” When Jordan didn’t answer, he continued. “We can make you smooth first. From a purely practical standpoint, I like my sub girls smooth for precisely that reason—better access. Nothing hidden, no obstructions. By the same token, it’s a sensual offering—it indicates a willingness on the part of the sub to hide nothing, to hold nothing back from her Master. Don’t you agree?”

  “Oh. I, um…” Jordan swallowed, looking sweetly flustered. “Isn’t that kind of drastic?”

  Donovan shrugged. “Why? Hair grows back. It’s just for the weekend. I think it would make your submissive experience more genuine. And then there is the matter of the wax and the whip.” He let the sentence hang, again watching the play of emotions on her face, as transparent as if she were speaking aloud.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  “You’re forgetting protocol, sub girl. How do you address your Master?”

  Jordan’s eyes flashed with a dominant spark, but as he stared her down, she finally amended, “Yes, Sir.”

  After dinner, he led her into the master bathroom. He got out a big, thick towel and placed it on the linen cabinet in the corner of the room. The cabinet was higher than the counters, the perfect height to provide easy access while he shaved her. He turned on the tap to get the water hot and got a large plastic bowl from beneath the sink. He filled the bowl and added a special scent-free massage oil he’d found worked very well for shaving sensitive skin. He placed the bowl, a pair of barber scissors and a fresh razor on the counter beside the cabinet and turned to Jordan. “Up you go.”

  Jordan frowned. “Wait. What? I’m going to do it myself. In the shower.”

  Donovan shook his head. “No, you’re not. I’ll do it. You just sit back and relax. Leave it all to the Master.”

  She made no move. Donovan felt a sudden rush of irritated impatience. Was everything a fight with this willful girl? Patience, he reminded himself. Jordan still considered herself a dominant with him, even in the face of what she’d experienced so far. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and a woman who had identified as a Domme all her adult life wouldn’t suddenly become his willing submissive, even if he’d made her fly.

  “Jordan,” Donovan said in a calm voice, as if coaxing a skittish animal. “Please trust me. I know what I’m doing. I can do it much better than you can do it yourself, bending and reaching in the shower. I’m using a safety razor and I know how to properly prep the skin. You’ve done beautifully so far today, Jordan. Don’t disappoint me now. Show me your courage and your strength of will. Submit with the grace I know you possess.”

  Slowly she nodded and moved toward the linen cabinet. Donovan helped her up and positioned her so her ass balanced on the edge, her legs spread on either side of her offered cunt as she leaned back against the wall and rested on her elbows.

  The desire to drop his jeans and push his cock into her soft heat nearly overwhelmed him, but Donovan kept himself under control and focused on his task. First he clipped away what he could of the auburn pubic curls, dropping the hair into the trashcan. Then he dipped a washcloth into the steaming, oiled water and draped it over her mons.

  While it warmed her skin, he reached for her face and leaned down to kiss her. He’d just meant to kiss her lightly, lips closed, but she opened her mouth, her tongue gliding over his lips, which parted of their own accord. They kissed for nearly a minute, and Donovan had to force himself to pull away before he lost all control.

  He took the washcloth from her body and reached for the bottle of massage oil. He squeezed several tablespoons into his hand and then gently stroked it into her skin. Taking the razor, he carefully shaved every bit of hair, moving his fingers along behind the razor until her skin was as smooth as
a baby’s.

  His mouth actually watered as he imagined putting his head down between her spread legs and tasting her silky sweetness. Instead, he helped her down from the cabinet and led her to the full length mirror. “There,” he pronounced. “It’s done.”

  Jordan stared at her body, her mouth opening into a small O, though she said nothing.

  “It’s time for your session,” Donovan informed her.

  He led her to the playroom. She waited, watching while he placed a plastic sheet beneath the padded spanking horse. He retrieved a red paraffin candle the size of a large aerosol can from the toy cabinet, along with a box of matches. He lit the candle and set it carefully on the small table he kept near the spanking horse.

  He had Jordan lie on her back over the horse. He positioned her so her feet were flat on the floor, her newly-smooth cunt fully exposed. He cuffed her wrists together beneath the horse and clipped her ankle cuffs to the legs of the spanking horse. He added leather straps at her calves and thighs, buckling her firmly into place against the legs of the spanking horse so she couldn’t move her legs an inch.

  He stepped back to admire his handiwork. She looked beautiful tethered to the horse, her arched body accentuating her soft, full breasts tipped with dark pink, fully erect nipples and her smooth cunt, bared to reveal its petal-like folds.

  Jordan’s eyes were on the candle, in which a small puddle of melted wax had already accumulated. Donovan lifted the candle and moved close to the naked, bound girl.

  “You ready?” he asked softly, eager to begin the erotic torture.

  “Yes, Sir,” she replied, a small tremor moving through her form.

  Donovan held the candle high as he let the first drops of bright red liquid drop on Jordan’s stomach. She flinched as the hot wax made contact, though Donovan knew it didn’t hurt, not from the height at which he’d let it fall. He continued this way for a while, speckling her body with droplets of red. When he felt her relax some, he lowered the candle to increase the heat of the wax when it landed.