BDSM Club Series Box Set

by Claire Thompson

As soon as Morgan lifted her pretty face from Scott’s foot, Aaron dismissed the house slave with a wave of his hand. “You’re done here.”

  ~*~

  Tara, Diana and Morgan stood in a line in front of the mirror as Laura executed the finishing touches on their hair and makeup. Morgan’s hair hung loose over her shoulders. Laura had added some kind of sparkly product that emphasized its reddish tones when Morgan turned her head and shook back her hair, and she was quite pleased with the effect.

  “You’re so lucky you’re here for a guest play party,” Tara said. “This will only be my second one and I’ve been here two months.”

  “Two months!” Morgan blurted, trying to imagine being there for that long. “I’ve only been here two days and it already feels like a lifetime.”

  Diana laughed. “I’ve been here six weeks and it feels like five minutes. I never want to leave.”

  Tara’s face in the mirror had gone from an excited grin to a frown, two deep vertical lines appearing between her eyebrows.

  “What?” Morgan said, impulsively touching the woman’s hand. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, it’s okay,” Tara replied. “It’s just that I wasn’t supposed to be here this long. Henry—that’s my Master—he brought me here for what he called a tune-up before he left for Europe. It was only supposed to be for a week so I could work on my caning skills while he did his business trip. But he’s been…delayed.” Her face darkened a moment, but then she actually grinned and shrugged. “He keeps sending money to cover the fee, so I’m getting trained in all kinds of cool things like Shibari and knife play. Between you and me, he can take all the time he wants—I’m having fun.”

  Morgan sensed there was more to the story, but didn’t feel comfortable enough yet to probe. Instead, she turned to Diana. “What about you? Six weeks seems like a long time to me. I’m not sure I’ll last the two.”

  Diana shrugged. “I’m a slow learner, that’s what Daddy says. But he doesn’t mind. Anyway, I’m about to go home.”

  “Daddy?” Morgan asked, confused.

  Diana laughed. “That’s what I call my Master. He likes me to call him Daddy, and he calls me his little girl. He’ll be here soon to take me home.” She hugged herself happily as she said this.

  “If you pass the test,” Tara interjected.

  “Yes.” Diana’s face fell for a moment, but then brightened. “I know I can do it. Claudette’s really helped me with learning to love and accept my body. She’s says that’s the key. And I actually came four times this week without even faking it.”

  Seeing Morgan’s expression, Laura offered helpfully, “Diana is a pain slut—she lives for erotic pain, but she has trouble with sexual expression. Her Master sent her here to help her become more sexualized—more sexually responsive. That’s one reason she’s still naked all the time. Diana’s been exposed to constant sexual training and stimulation, with a focus on teaching her to be comfortable with her body and to experience genuine and repeated orgasms.”

  “And not a single beating,” Diana wailed histrionically. “I can’t wait for Daddy to take me home and tie me up and whip me good and proper.”

  “If you pass the test,” Tara reiterated ominously.

  “What’s the test?” Morgan asked, intrigued.

  Diana bit her lip. “I have to come ten times in one day—really come, no faking.”

  “You’ll do it,” Laura said encouragingly. “I know you will.”

  Diana flashed her a grateful smile. “Thanks. From your mouth to the orgasm god’s ears.”

  Laura clapped her hands together. “Okay, girls. We better get moving. You need to put on your outfits.” Laura was still in the house slave uniform of a short white shift, but apparently the trainees got to dress up for the night. Morgan was excited to see what she was to wear. After two days of being stark naked, anything would be appealing.

  Laura went to a large linen closet near the door of the bathroom and took out three large, flat white boxes, which she clutched in her arms. “Here you go,” she said. “I’ll help you get into them.”

  Each box had a name on it, and Morgan took hers, both nervous and excited as she lifted the lid and pulled back the white tissue paper. “Oooh,” she exclaimed happily as she pulled out a beautiful black corset with long, shiny ribbons trailing down the back and garters sewn into the hem. She plucked at the tissue paper, looking for the panties that would go with it, but found none, though she did find a pair of sheer black stockings. She held the corset up to her body as she regarded herself in the mirror. “I’m not sure I can fit into this thing. What is it, a size two?”

  “I’ll help you,” Laura said. “You’ll never manage by yourself. Put on the stockings first, and be careful you don’t run them with your fingernails.”

  Morgan rolled the stockings one at a time over her calves and thighs. The silky nylon was rich and smooth against her skin.

  Tara pulled out a series of gold chains from her box and held them up with a grin. “I see the jewelry, but where’s the outfit?”

  “It’s a harem costume,” Laura explained. “You step into it. There are shoulder straps. If you can’t figure it out, I’ll help you after I get Morgan laced up.”

  Tara pursed her lips as she carefully stepped into the complicated-looking getup and pulled it up her small, slender form.

  Meanwhile, Laura had Morgan lean against the counter. Moving behind her, she helped her fit the boned satin over her torso. “Pull your hair out of the way while I do this, so I don’t accidentally lace it into the corset,” she said with a grin. After tightening the ribbons so that the whole thing didn’t just fall right off, Laura placed her bare foot strategically on Morgan’s bottom. “Suck in,” she commanded, and then she began to yank methodically at the ribbons from top to bottom and back up again.

  As she was working, Morgan glanced at the other girls. Tara seemed to be handling her costume on her own, though the way she was angled, Morgan couldn’t see the total effect. Diana was pulling on a bodysuit made of black, shiny latex. The cups of the bra had been cut out, leaving only underwire to hold up Diana’s large, exposed breasts. The latex had also been cut away at her crotch and, as she turned slowly in front of the mirror to admire herself, her bare ass was also revealed.

  “Oooh, I love it,” Diana cooed as she regarded herself. “I can’t wait for the party to begin.”

  “And just think,” Laura said, glancing up from her work. “Two months ago you would have been mortified to wear that costume.”

  “Wow, you’re right,” Diana agreed, a surprised look on her round face. “I guess I have come a long way.” She giggled. “Pun intended.”

  “Arrgh,” Tara groaned, and they all laughed.

  Diana looked down at her bare feet. “What about my shoes? Do I get to wear shoes tonight?”

  Laura nodded. “I’ll get them after.” She gave another tug.

  “Hey, ease up,” Morgan complained. “I feel like Scarlett O’Hara. I can barely breathe.” But then she caught sight of herself in the mirror, and her mouth hung open as she stared at the transformation.

  Her normally size B breasts looked like Cs or Ds, pushed up and together over the demi-cups of the corset’s bra. Her nipples, recently rouged, were like red cherries at their centers. Her waist, always trim, was cinched in wasp-tight, giving her an hourglass figure.

  “I’ll loosen the ribbons a little so you don’t pass out during play,” Laura said with a grin.

  “Thanks for that,” Morgan said sarcastically, though her stomach was fluttering with excited, nervous butterflies.

  Laura loosened the ribbons a miniscule amount and then crouched behind Morgan, reaching for a garter to secure an already-slipping stocking. “You do the front garters,” Laura commanded. “I’ll do the back.”

  As Morgan reached for a garter, Diana appeared beside her and stared at Morgan’s image in the mirror. “Holy crap,” she enthused. “You’re fucking hot in that thing.”

&
nbsp; “You look pretty great yourself,” Morgan said sincerely. The latex smoothed and sculpted Diana’s figure, while highlighting her bare breasts, pussy and ass.

  Tara whistled as she came up on Morgan’s other side. “Look at you. That outfit is killer. Gerard really knows his stuff. I guess they want to show off the newbie for their guests.”

  Morgan swallowed hard at this sudden reminder she was going to be the object of attention at a play party. Relax, she ordered herself. It won’t be that much different than Tom’s club.

  Would Aaron be there?

  To distract herself from this line of thought, she focused on Tara. “You look terrific, too. I love the way the gold chains work with your piercings.”

  Tara flashed her a rare smile. “Thanks. Took me a minute to figure out how to get the darn thing on.”

  The effect really was enchanting—dozens of thin gold chains clipped together in such a way that they created a kind of gown that draped over Tara’s body while still showing most of her skin. Her bare breasts were highlighted by a bodice of gold chain that matched the gold hoops at her nipples.

  “Now for the shoes,” Laura announced. She went again to the linen closet, this time returning with three shoeboxes. Diana was issued thigh-high stiletto boots of shiny black leather, while Tara was given flat gold slippers. Morgan got black leather heels that were higher than what she was used to, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

  “Okay, girls,” Laura said, standing back as she regarded them all with a satisfied smile. “I have to go get ready myself. You’re to report to Gerard’s study for inspection. He likes to make sure his creations are properly realized.” She said the last sentence with an exaggerated French accent, and they all laughed.

  Gerard’s study was located on the second floor. The door was ajar, and Tara tapped on the doorframe. “Come,” Gerard said from within. They entered the room and Morgan looked around. Where Michael’s study was warm and cluttered, Gerard’s was spare, the lines elegant and clean. He sat behind a cherry wood desk that held nothing but a closed laptop and fancy gold pen set. He wore a black leather vest, no shirt beneath. Rick stood just behind him, massaging his Master’s shoulders. Rick was also bare-chested, his nipples pierced with silver barbells. A silver chain hung between the piercings, a nice contrast to his smooth, tan chest. Something had been applied to his skin so that it actually glittered in the light.

  “Girls,” Gerard said, getting to his feet as Rick took a step back, “you all look ravishing. Stand in a line so I can inspect the handiwork. We have some very important guests this evening. I know you will make us proud.”

  Rick stepped to the side as Gerard made his way around the desk, and Morgan saw the rest of Rick’s outfit, which consisted only of a black codpiece that cupped his cock and balls, heavy black army boots on his feet, along with the slave collar he always wore. Gerard had on black leather pants that looked as soft as butter and molded perfectly to his slender but well-muscled legs and ass.

  As he approached them, Morgan stood between the other girls, arms at her sides, her head high, her eyes fixed on the middle distance. Gerard moved slowly in front of them, his face twisted in concentration as he adjusted a chain here, a garter there. Morgan stifled a yelp when he unexpectedly gave her nipple a vicious twist. She managed to remain still, however, and was proud of herself for that.

  He took a step back. “Tonight’s party will be an excellent opportunity for you slaves-in-training to submit with grace to whatever awaits you. You will be used by some very important players in the BDSM scene, and I expect you all to behave with perfect courtesy and obedience.” His expression was stern, but then, all at once, he smiled a wide, crooked crocodile smile that erupted into a hearty laugh. “Don’t forget the most important thing of all. Let’s have fun, mes enfants!”

  Chapter 7

  Gerard turned to Rick. “I need to return a phone call, pet. Why don’t you take the trainees into the dungeon? Guests should be arriving soon.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Rick’s body snapped so quickly to attention Morgan almost expected him to salute.

  As Gerard pulled a cell phone from his pocket, it occurred to Morgan she hadn’t had possession of her phone since her arrival. What if someone was trying to reach her? What if someone had posted something essential on social media that she needed to like or comment on?

  At the same time these thoughts whooshed into her head, she dismissed them, surprised she didn’t really care what was happening on social media, and certain if there were a real emergency, Claudette would let her know. As far as her parents knew, she was taking a two-week vacation on the Jersey shore with a friend, who had agreed to cover for her. Her roommates didn’t particularly care where she was and were no doubt just glad she was gone—more kitchen and bathroom time for them.

  No, what she was experiencing now was far more exciting and important. For the first time, she was doing something that truly mattered, even if it was the scariest thing she’d ever done in her life. The fact that she was half in love with her trainer didn’t hurt either, though she didn’t allow herself to dwell on that overmuch, aware in her heart of hearts it would probably go nowhere.

  Rick led them into the dungeon. While she’d been focused on the play equipment during her first visit, she now took note of a raised dais in the corner of the room, as well as a long table at the back piled with appetizers and buckets of ice with bottles of champagne resting in them.

  Scott and Kristen were at the back table arranging food on trays, and Laura entered the dungeon a moment later. Both she and Kristen were wearing long white lace gowns with slits up both sides to the tops of their thighs, cut so their breasts were fully exposed. Scott was dressed like Rick in a codpiece and boots, though he didn’t pull it off nearly as well.

  Kristen looked up as they entered and hurried over to Rick. “Dude, tell us who’s coming tonight. What’s the guest list? Did Master Gerard tell you?” As she approached, Morgan saw she wasn’t wearing her chastity belt beneath the lace.

  “He did,” Rick said self-importantly. “There’s a French guy, an old friend of Gerard’s. His name is Louis and he wants to play with me. I can’t wait.”

  “Yeah, so?” Kristen said, tapping her foot impatiently. “Who else? He’s not the only guy coming, is he?”

  Rick looked up at the ceiling, squinting in mock concentration. “Mistress Mary Ann will be here with her boy, plus Jack Marcus and his sub. Oh, and Stuart Reiner, the whip maker.”

  “That’s it?” Kristen persisted, her lips drawing downward into a frown as she put her hands on her hips.

  Rick lifted an eyebrow as he regarded her. Then he flashed a grin. “Oh, yeah,” he said with exaggerated slowness. “I almost forgot. Richard Campiello will be here too.”

  Kristen clapped her hands like a little girl, but then demanded, “Alone?”

  Morgan could feel Kristen’s excited tension as she waited for Rick’s response.

  “Yep. All by his lonesome.”

  Kristen blew out an obviously relieved breath and then punched Rick in the shoulder. “You did that on purpose, you prick. You love to drive me insane.”

  Rick laughed. “Guilty as charged. You’re so easy, Kristen.” He touched her mons through the lace, adding with a wink, “In more ways than one.”

  She slapped his hand away with a laugh. “Yeah, so? Like that’s a bad thing?” She met Morgan’s questioning look, still smiling. “In case you’re wondering, Master Richard is my ideal Master. My dream Dom. He’s the one interested in my contract. I’m so excited I could burst!”

  They quieted as Master Michael and Claudette entered the room. Master Michael wore a red velvet smoking jacket over black leather pants, while Claudette was dressed in a low cut silver gown that hugged her voluptuous curves, with sparkling high-heeled sandals on her feet, and long diamond earrings dangling from her lobes. She swept into the room with the regal air of a queen.

  “Inspection position,” Kristen whispered to Morgan a
s she placed her own hands behind her head. All the others in the room also assumed the position, lifting chins, lacing fingers behind their heads and standing with backs straight and eyes ahead. Morgan hurried to follow suit.

  Master Michael, Claudette just behind him, moved from slave to slave, touching, adjusting, making comments about their outfits and appearance. When he came to Morgan, he cupped one of her breasts and, startled, she very nearly took a step back, but recalled herself in time.

  “How are you faring so far, Morgan? Does slave training suit you?”

  Yes. No. I have no fucking idea.

  “Yes, Sir,” she managed, her nipple poking perversely against his palm.

  He smiled and dropped his hand. “Good. I think you’ll have fun tonight. The auction is always exciting.”

  “Auction, Sir?” she blurted, and then bit her lip. Had she spoken out of turn?

  But Master Michael didn’t seem upset. “That’s right. Gerard just got off the phone with one of the guests, who reminded him we haven’t had a slave auction in at least a year. They’re not real auctions, of course—the slave is purchased with play money and claimed only for the duration of the party. Louis won’t be included in the auctions, as he will be playing with Gerard and his slave boy.”

  Morgan stole a sidelong glance at Rick, who looked more like a preening peacock than a humble slave.

  “That leaves four dominant guests in attendance,” Master Michael continued. “So we’ll need four slaves on the dais.” He turned to Claudette. “We’ll use the three trainees, of course. Do you agree, darling?”

  Claudette smiled. “Absolutely, Maître. An excellent idea.”

  “And who should we use for the fourth?”

  Claudette furrowed her brow as she glanced around the rooms at the house slaves, all of whom stood still as statues in inspection position. Claudette tapped her cheek. “Let me think. The other four guests all prefer women, so it wouldn’t do to put Scott on the dais. That leaves Laura and Kristen.”

  Morgan could feel the sudden tension in Kristen’s body beside her, and almost hear the woman’s silent urging: Pick me, pick me!