Jack held the paddle to her lips. “Kiss it,” he instructed, and Eva obeyed, a thrill of erotic fear moving through her loins at what was about to happen. Though Eva wanted to experience the thuddy, stinging impact of a full-on paddling, she was scared she might not be able to handle the intensity.
Master Jack moved out of her line of vision. She jumped a little when something touched her bare bottom. She blew out a breath as she realized it was just Jack’s hands, moving in a soothing, preparatory way over her skin. Too soon, he said, “Once we get started, I’m not going to stop until I’m ready, no matter how much you whimper and beg. Only your safeword will stop the action prematurely. I’m confident, however, that you can work your way through the experience without resorting to that.”
He continued to massage her flesh as he spoke, his touch at once gentle and arousing. She could feel the heat and moisture pooling beneath the leather of her chastity belt, and she ached for her Master’s cock.
“Are you ready for your paddling, Eva?” Master Jack asked, recalling her sharply to the task at hand.
Every nerve ending in her body was pinging in anticipation. While she feared the paddle, she longed for it. She was as ready as she would ever be. She made a silent promise to both Master Jack and herself to take her paddling like the strong, brave submissive she knew herself to be. “Yes, Sir,” she begged. “Please, Sir.”
The paddle whooshed through the air and struck her hard, the impact of the blow pushing her forward. She was tensed and ready for the second blow, which came crashing down just as hard as the first. The paddle smashed against her ass again and again in a flood of searing pain. Eva began to whimper, despite her intention to remain stoically silent.
Her flesh was on fire, flames burning over her skin, a different kind of heat kindling deep in her core. After a while she forgot any unspoken promise of decorum and grace. She was glad for the restraints, because she doubted she would have been able to keep her position otherwise. The tears flowed down her cheeks and her hands were balled into fists.
“Please, please, please, please,” she panted, though she wasn’t sure just what she was pleading for.
“You’re doing so good,” Jack whispered, his voice close to her ear. “You’re almost there, baby. Let the magic happen.”
At his words, whatever coiled tension that remained in Eva’s gut loosened and slipped away. A heavy, velvety blanket fell over her senses, wrapping her in its safe, warm cocoon. Her body became weightless as she soared into inky, perfect darkness and utter peace.
“Eva? Darling?”
Jack’s voice, warm and concerned, penetrated Eva’s consciousness. She forced her eyes to open. Jack was smiling at her. It took her a moment to orient herself as she came back to earth. The restraints had been removed, and she rested comfortably on the bench. She sighed contentedly as Jack smoothed soothing, emollient salve over her skin. “I love you,” she murmured dreamily, turning her face toward his as he crouched beside the bench.
“I love you more,” Jack replied with a smile.
Once the couples were all arranged in and around the folding chairs facing the stage, Jessica stood in front of the keyholders once more. “Ben and I were able to watch at least some portion of every scene that took place tonight, and we’ve selected a winning couple,” she announced. She caught Eva’s eye and actually winked, but fortunately Eva was reasonably sure Jack hadn’t witnessed the tell. “Jack and Eva, you are the winners of tonight’s contest. If you’re ready, please take the stage.”
Eva’s heart began to hammer in her chest. She had gone over the details of her plan a hundred times in her head, and so far everything had gone without a hitch. Suddenly she wondered if she were absolutely nuts to have orchestrated such a personal event in front of all these people, even if they were their best and most trusted friends.
“All right!” Jack said enthusiastically, innocently unaware the contest had been rigged. He stood and turned to Eva, holding out his hand. She took it and let him pull her upright.
“Remember the rules, Jack,” Jessica said as Jack and Eva climbed up onto the platform. “Eva has won the right to make a request of you, and you have to grant it. Understood?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Jack said with a mock bow in Jessica’s direction. He faced Eva with a broad smile. “Your wish is my command. Ask what you will.”
Eva flashed a nervous glance at Jessica, and another at Nora, who, Eva realized, had figured out that there was more to this story than met the eye. Both women were smiling encouragingly at her, and Nora lifted her thumb in a gesture of approval.
Eva turned back to Jack. This was it. Show time.
“Will you unlock my chastity belt, please, Sir?”
Jack lifted his eyebrows and chuckled. “You’re ready to get that thing off, eh? Is there an ulterior motive here, my sweet little slut?”
Eva felt herself coloring at his assumption, as the other people in the room laughed good-naturedly. She said nothing, however, but stood waiting, her heart kicking up a notch. Still grinning, Jack reached into his back pocket and pulled out the key to the belt.
He pushed aside the satin strap that discreetly covered the little padlock over her left hip. He started to insert the key and then saw what was there. He looked up at Eva’s face, a question on his. He looked back down at the lock. “What is that?”
“Open the lock, and you’ll see, Sir,” she said softly.
He inserted the key and the tiny lock snicked open. The item she’d slid onto the lock before closing it fell into his hand.
Eva held her breath, waiting for his reaction.
Jack held the ring up to the light. “Eva, did you make this? It’s beautiful.” The awe was evident in his voice, though he didn’t yet seem to get its significance.
“Yes, Sir,” Eva said breathlessly. “Please unlock the other side of my chastity belt, Sir.”
Jack gave her a quizzical look, but did as she asked. A matching ring dangled from the lock, a man’s size ten. He inserted the key and let the second ring fall onto his palm. The chastity belt fell to the stage, but Eva barely noticed.
Jack stared down at the matching bands, realization dawning on his face. He looked up at Eva, his eyes creasing into half-moons as his face split in a wide smile. “Oh, Eva—”
“Will you marry me, Master Jack?” Eva blurted.
Jack said nothing at first, but only looked at her. The room had gone utterly silent. His gaze, at once tender and fierce, remained fixed on Eva as he placed the larger of the two rings on his finger. He reached for Eva’s left hand, and slipped the other ring onto her ring finger. Eva’s heart swelled with joy.
The room erupted into raucous applause and a champagne cork popped. Jack pulled Eva into his arms, cradling her tight against his chest. She could hear both the tears and the laughter in his voice as he said, “Yes, sub Eva. Yes, my darling, my angel, love of my life. Yes!”
No Turning Back
You signed the contract. There’s no turning back…
If two weeks of intensive training will save Morgan’s job at the BDSM club, she’s all for it. Though nervous about full-immersion into erotic discipline, excitement takes over when she meets her drop-dead gorgeous trainer. Too bad she leaped before looking, because now she’s in over her head… Way over.
Trainer Aaron Sterling’s hackles rise at the sexy, sassy would-be sub girl’s manipulations. Determined to discover her submissive grace, he uses every technique and tool he has at his disposal to systematically break down her defenses. Glimpses of what’s beneath her surface make it increasingly tough to keep his heart under wraps.
But when Morgan’s submission is put to the test by another trainer, the fallout threatens both her and Aaron in ways neither of them would have imagined…
Author’s Note: When I began my writing career, I penned a novel called Slave Castle. Those of you who have read that book might notice this story takes place in the same setting with some of the same characters, but t
Chapter 1
Morgan bit down hard on the ball gag as she clenched and unclenched her fists over the cuffs. Let me down, you son of a bitch.
To her relief, the guy, who liked to be called Lord Jim, dropped the electric shock wand and stepped toward the St. Andrew’s cross. His face twisted with annoyance as he ripped open the Velcro closure behind her head and yanked the gooey rubber ball from her mouth.
“I thought you were a sub, but you’re just a brat,” he snarled.
“I told you no ball gag and no shock wand,” she cried, outraged, “and then that’s exactly what you did.”
“Is there a problem here?”
Morgan turned gratefully toward Tom Reed, the owner of the exclusive Manhattan BDSM club where she got occasional gigs as a paid play partner for members who didn’t have subs of their own, or liked the occasional spice of someone new.
“Yeah, there’s a problem,” Jim snapped. “I pay a very hefty fee to scene here, and the girls are supposed to be compliant and submissive. This one keeps giving me a hard time.” He snorted with obvious disgust. “Just because she’s hot, she thinks can get her way. She has so many fucking limits she might as well be a fucking nun. She doesn’t seem to understand that ‘no’ shouldn’t be a part of her vocabulary.”
Morgan started to protest that the guy had specifically ignored her stated limits, but Tom stopped her with a raised hand and a shake of his head. She could almost hear the words he was silently beaming at her: the member is always right.
Tom turned to Jim. “Sub Morgan is still learning the ropes.” He smiled at his small pun but nobody else did. He put his hand on Jim’s shoulder in a conciliatory gesture. “Let me find Carrie for you. You always enjoy playing with Carrie, am I right? I do believe one of the private suites is open, if you’d like to enjoy a complimentary upgrade for the evening?”
“Carrie’s here?” Jim’s small, piggy eyes lit up. “I didn’t realize she was back from Europe. Absolutely I want to play with her.” He shot a venomous look at Morgan, adding, “Carrie knows how to submit.”
Tom turned to Morgan. “Wait for me in my office,” he said quietly.
Morgan sighed. She should have known this gig wouldn’t last. It had seemed too good to be true when her friend Jada had told her about the opening a few months before. At twenty-five, though she’d dated plenty of guys, true love had yet to find her. Meanwhile, the part-time job had been the perfect opportunity to scene at a really great BDSM club with guys pre-screened by management, and get paid to boot. Now she was probably going to be fired, and she earned more from the three or four nights at the club than she did the entire rest of the month at her day job.
As the two men walked away, Morgan grabbed her silk robe and wrapped it around herself. She walked slowly to Tom’s office, located just off the main dungeon, and settled herself glumly into a chair.
He arrived a few moments later and sat down behind the desk across from her. Folding his hands on the smooth wood, he regarded her for at least ten seconds without saying a word.
She waited him out. She wasn’t going to defend herself or beg for another chance. She briefly considered trying to flirt her way back into his good graces, but it wouldn’t work. Though he was discreet about it at the club, Tom was gay, married, and impervious to her feminine charms.
Finally he spoke. “What am I going to do with you, Morgan?”
“Hire me full-time?” she quipped, forcing a playful smile as she blinked back sudden, unwelcome tears.
He smiled back, though he shook his head. Now came the part where he said how sorry he was, but things just weren’t working out…
Instead, he said, “Have you ever heard of Le Chateau L’Esclave up in Westchester County?”
“Le Chateau what?” Morgan replied, confused by the sudden non sequitur.
“Le Chateau L’Esclave,” he repeated. “It’s French for the Slave Castle. It’s a training facility—very exclusive. They only train a few women at a time, but they’re very highly regarded. I’ve never personally availed myself of their services, but several of our members have sent their subs there for specialized training, and with great success.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I’ve been thinking I might like to send one of my more experienced subs there for a stint, a kind of tune-up, if you will. But after this most recent, ah, incident, I’m thinking maybe I’ve got it backward. Maybe someone like you, someone”—he paused, no doubt trying to come up with a diplomatic term—“someone with submissive potential, would be the right person to send. What would you think of a two-week, all-expenses-paid stay at a posh slave training facility?”
“Is there really such a thing—a slave training facility?”
“Absolutely. I know of one in Paris, another in London, several in Munich and one in Japan. The concept is not unique, but the Chateau is definitely one of the better ones. They accept trainees for anywhere from a week to a year. From what I understand, the program is specifically tailored to the needs of the individual. You’re a sexual masochist, obviously, but you could definitely use some work in the submissive grace department.” He smiled to offset the sting of his words. “I think two weeks would be a good start, do you agree?”
Morgan couldn’t deny she could use help in that department. While she loved BDSM play, it had never really been more than that. But slave training? That sounded pretty extreme. “Is that even legal?”
“Sure it is,” he replied. “No one is forcing anyone into something they don’t agree to. The arrangements are fully consensual and completely voluntary. While you wouldn’t be free to just pick up and leave once the training begins, you would have participation in the negotiated contract beforehand. And if it isn’t working out, I’m sure there’s a clause in the contract that allows you to terminate. It’s really that simple.”
It didn’t sound simple to Morgan, but at the same time, she couldn’t deny being deeply intrigued. She adored the erotic allure of BDSM, she had to admit she’d never understood or been able to embrace the concept of D/s—of true submission to another person, without regard to her own desires or needs. Truth to tell, she wasn’t even sure she wanted that.
On the other hand, the idea of actual training was kind of exciting—thrilling, even. Rather than just engaging in play scenes with rich, horny guys at Tom’s club, she would learn how to submit with grace and serenity—something she’d observed in Jada, Carrie and the other full-time staff subs at the club, but which she’d never fully grasped.
There were logistics to consider, however. “What about my day job? It’s not the kind of place where you put in for vacation. If I don’t show up for two weeks, I’ll be fired, no matter what excuse I come up with.”
“You work at the Museum of Modern Art, is that correct? As a guard?”
Morgan was startled that Tom knew what her day job was, but she didn’t deny it.
Apparently reading her confusion, he volunteered, “Remember, when I hired you, you gave me permission to do a background check. Forgive me if I’m being rude, but isn’t that basically a minimum wage job?”
Morgan bristled. “It’s better than that,” she asserted, though in fact, not by much. The only reason she’d taken it was because she loved the artwork and could easily get lost in a single painting for an hour or more. One of the perks of the job was free membership at the museum with access to all the exhibits, even the private showings. Her favorite thing to do during breaks and before or after her shift was to explore the storerooms, where she found wonderful pieces that weren’t currently on display. Some of the work hadn’t been upstairs for years, and she loved knowing she was one of only a handful of lucky art lovers who got to enjoy it.
“I’ll make you a deal,” Tom said. “You’re a beautiful girl with a passionate nature. I’d like to hire you full-time, if you can prove yourself worthy at Le Chateau L’Esclave. What you’re earning nightly right now at the club—you’ll earn at least triple that as a salaried employee, and the work will be steady—four nights a week instead of a few nights a month.” When Morgan didn’t immediately respond, he added, “And because you might lose your day job, I’ll give you an incentive bonus of ten thousand dollars. Even if things don’t work out between us, that bonus money is yours to keep.”
Ten thousand dollars! Holy shit. She could pay off her credit cards and put down the deposit for a studio apartment with no roommates. Triple her present earnings times four days a week would be more than enough to pay rent and have plenty left over. And she’d have her days free. She might even be able to go to college someday. Instead of being a guard at the museum, she might one day be its curator.
But was she up to the challenge of 24/7 immersion at a slave training facility? What if she totally sucked at it? What if she hated it?
It’s just two weeks, she told herself firmly. You can do anything for two short weeks.
Tom glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly closing time. Why don’t you head on home for the night? Think it over for a day or two. Do some research, talk to friends—whatever makes you comfortable. Meanwhile, I’ll call my connection there and see if there’s an opening.”
Three days later on a Friday afternoon Morgan sat in the backseat of the black sedan headed toward Westchester County, butterflies of nervous, excited anticipation flitting in her belly. Tom was up front beside the driver. Both Jada and Carrie had encouraged her to seize the opportunity, Jada focused mainly on the bonus money and opportunity for full-time work at the club, Carrie on the rapturous joy of true submission.
“Those kind of programs are very expensive,” Carrie had said. “Tom must really see something in you to spend that kind of money on your training.” Hopefully, whatever he saw was actually there.
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