No Safeword

by Claire Thompson

  The kitchen was huge, with top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances, granite-topped counters and hanging pots and pans, everything gleaming and in its place. She caught sight of Danielle’s retreating back as she moved through a doorway.

  Following, Jaime entered what must be the mudroom, though it looked nothing like her parents’ mudroom back in Vermont, which had been filled year-round with boots, umbrellas, jackets, parkas, sweaters, scarves, gloves and mittens, much of it piled in corners, some of it undisturbed probably since Jaime had been in the third grade.

  This mudroom also contained jackets, coats and boots, but everything was neatly arranged and stowed. There were cabinets hung all around the walls, some of them extending to the ground. Danielle stopped in front of one of these and pulled open the doors. Without looking at Jaime, she said, “What size are your feet? Nine? Ten?”

  “Uh, eight, actually.” Jaime moved beside Danielle, who was eyeing a neat stack of shoe boxes.

  Danielle shifted as she approached, obscuring Jaime’s view of the boxes. “Too bad,” she announced, reaching for a box and then slamming the cabinet closed. “The smallest size here is a nine. But no biggie”—she yanked open a drawer and pulled out two pairs of thick socks, which she tossed in Jaime’s direction—“you can just double up on the socks. You’ll be fine.” Her drawl, Jaime couldn’t help but observe, was much less noticeable.

  Jaime automatically caught the socks, though just barely. She wasn’t thrilled about the idea of hiking in new shoes that were a size too big. “Are you sure?” she asked. “Can I just check if—”

  “No,” Danielle said forcefully. “I told you that’s all there is. You better move your ass and get those socks and boots on. We’re going on a hike, girl. Didn’t you hear the Masters?” Danielle reached for a pair of boots from a neat row and sat on the floor, pulling out the socks stowed inside her boots.

  They put on their footwear in silence. Jaime had a lot of questions, but didn’t feel comfortable asking Danielle. She was confused by Danielle’s cold, even hostile reception, especially after Katie’s warm welcome. Had she done something wrong? She almost opened her mouth to ask, but the sound of footsteps approaching silenced her.

  Hans appeared and also moved toward the wall along which the boots were aligned, reaching for a large pair. More comfortable with him, Jaime asked, “What about clothing? We aren’t going out hiking naked, are we, Hans?”

  “Of course we are. We’re slaves,” he replied as if the question were absurd. Then, his tone softer, he added, “If you are worried about being observed, don’t. The Enclave is in a secluded area and the land is private. It’s only occasionally that hikers stray onto our land, and if they do”—he shrugged elaborately—“it’s their problem, isn’t it?”

  “You have an issue with being naked, newbie?” Danielle asked, her face once more twisted into a sneer. “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it? I thought you were a sub?”

  “It’s her first day, Danielle,” Hans interjected. “Cut her some slack.”

  “Oh, I can cut her all the slack in the world, but that’s not going to help her when her training really starts.” Danielle fixed her large, beautiful eyes on Jaime and flashed a dazzling smile that came nowhere near her eyes. “You think you can just waltz in here with those fake tits and that spray-on tan and have your pick of the single Masters, but you got another think coming. Don’t get too comfortable, is all I’ve got to say.”

  Jaime stared, dumbstruck, her mouth falling open. Fake tits? Spray-on tan? What the fuck? “I don’t—” she began indignantly.

  “Shh,” Hans interrupted. “The Masters.”

  Jaime bit back her retort as they listened to the masculine rumble of voices and the clomping of boots along the kitchen floor. Hans and Danielle both shifted quickly so they were kneeling up, their arms behind their backs, their eyes down. Jaime struggled to follow suit, though her bootlaces were not yet tied.

  She could see the Doms’ boots appear in her line of vision, Master Mark standing in front of Danielle, Master Julian in front of Hans. As if it had been choreographed, each slave leaned gracefully down and brushed the top of their Master’s boot with their lips. Jaime glanced sidelong at them, biting back a sigh of envy as Master Mark stroked Danielle’s pretty head.

  At a tap on the shoulder, both slaves rose back to a kneeling position. Master Mark’s boots appeared in front of Jaime and his hand rested lightly on her head. “Stand up, Jaime.”

  Jaime rose to her feet, her heart beating rapidly. The too-big shoes felt clunky on her feet. It was odd to be wearing hiking boots and nothing else. Master Mark pointed at the boots. “Make sure and tie those laces securely.” As Jaime crouched down to obey, Master Mark set down a large backpack. “You’ll be carrying this pack on the trails.”

  Jaime looked at the canvas backpack and nodded. “Yes, Sir.” When her shoes were tied, she stood once more. Danielle and Hans were standing at attention. They, too, were now wearing backpacks on their shoulders, though their packs were smaller than Jaime’s.

  Hans stood erect as a soldier, his body smooth, muscular and tan. Danielle stood proudly as well, her high, round breasts thrust forward, the pretty, dark pink nipples erect at their tips. Her rude, unfounded jibes still rankled, but Jaime made a conscious effort to let it go. Somehow they had got off on the wrong foot, but she would do her best to make it right. She would need to get along with this girl, at least for the next two weeks.

  Taking her cue from the others, Jaime hoisted her pack onto her shoulders. It was surprisingly heavy, which made her wonder what was inside, not that she dared to look without permission.

  Both Masters had changed into jeans and T-shirts. Master Julian opened the back door of the mudroom, and they filed out into the afternoon sunlight. They stopped just outside the door. To their left was a large vegetable garden with vines laden with tomatoes, some small and green, some plump, red and ready for picking. There were neat rows of basil, dill, rosemary, fennel and other herbs Jaime didn’t immediately recognize. The air was fresh and cool, a slight breeze offsetting the warmth of the sun.

  “Oh,” she breathed, taking in the spectacular view. Beyond several flower beds filled with blooms stood a placid lake glittering in the dappled sunlight, ducks and geese paddling on the water. Beside the lake was a wooded forest, and beyond that, a breathtaking view of mountain vistas, purplish blue in the distance. The place really was a paradise.

  Both Danielle and Hans removed their backpacks and set them on the ground. After a quick nod from Hans, Jaime did the same.

  “Sunscreen,” Master Julian said. Danielle opened her backpack and produced two containers of spray-on sunscreen. The three slaves were directed to spread their arms and turn slowly as Master Mark and Master Julian covered their exposed skin with the spray. When they were done, Master Mark handed baseball caps to each of them, and Jaime pulled hers down over her ears, thinking what a peculiar picture the three of them made, naked in boots and caps. Finally ready, they hoisted their packs into place once more.

  “Okay, then, kids,” Master Julian said with a broad smile as he cupped Hans’ smooth balls in one large hand. “Let’s take a hike.”

  Chapter 6

  Jaime couldn’t help but glance continually around for any trespassers as they moved through the open space behind the house. She saw no one, but was relieved nonetheless when they entered the cover of the trees. Their boots crunched softly along paths carpeted with dried pine needles and dead leaves. Birds warbled and small animals darted in the foliage around them. Otherwise all was silent as they walked.

  The trail steepened once they cleared the copse of trees, and the sun was warm on Jaime’s shoulders. She was glad of the sunscreen, but annoyed she’d been forced to wear shoes that didn’t quite fit. The boots lifted and rubbed against her heels with each step she took, and she predicted blisters in her future. She would have liked to stop and retie them a little tighter, but didn’t have the nerve to make the req
uest.

  A hike seemed like a strange sort of slave training, but clearly it was something they all did with some regularity, and she decided to suspend her questions and just go with the flow. Her job, as Katie had reminded her, was to listen and obey. So far, hopefully, she’d been doing that to everyone’s satisfaction.

  They had been climbing steadily for perhaps twenty minutes. Jaime, while fit, was a bit winded, not yet used to the higher altitude, she supposed. She was glad when Master Mark halted the procession as they came to a broad, flat rock at a fork that diverged into two paths. One of the paths was marked by a small reflective sign tacked to a tree trunk, a white circle painted at its center. The other path had a red circle painted on its sign.

  “Let’s take a little break and have some water,” Master Mark said. He nodded toward Danielle and Hans. “You both have water in your packs. Let’s sit down a few minutes and rest before we continue.” Turning to Jaime, he asked solicitously, “How are you holding up? You do much hiking?”

  Flustered but pleased by the sudden attention, Jaime stammered, “I’m fine, Sir, thank you. I did a lot of hiking back in Vermont, where I’m from.”

  “Far from home,” Master Julian commented.

  “Yes, Sir,” Jaime agreed, thinking he, a Brit, was farther still, though she refrained from comment, since this wasn’t, after all, just a hike among friends.

  They settled on the smooth, warm rock ledge. It was a relief to remove the heavy backpack from her shoulders and, again, Jaime resisted the impulse to open it and peek inside. Instead, she used the opportunity to reach for her bootlaces, which she tightened and retied. Danielle and Hans each retrieved a bottle of water from an insulated sack inside their packs. They unscrewed the lids of their bottles and handed them to the Masters, Danielle to Master Mark, Hans to Master Julian.

  After the men had drunk their fills, they gave the bottles back to their slaves. Danielle and Hans each took a long drink. Without a glance toward Jaime, Danielle placed her bottle back into her backpack. Hans handed his bottle to Jaime, and she gratefully drank the few ounces that remained.

  “I think this is a good time to split up for our training sessions,” Master Julian said.

  “Why don’t I take Jaime,” Master Mark said, and Jaime’s heart leapt with excitement.

  “Sorry to pull rank, old boy,” Master Julian said in his polished accent, “but I have a rather delicious training plan in mind for the newbie. I do hope you don’t mind?”

  Master Mark didn’t respond immediately, and Jaime held her breath, wondering if he would protest. “Not at all. That’s fine. No problem.”

  Jaime glanced from Master Julian to Master Mark, her heart now down in her too-big boots. She could feel Danielle smirking beside her.

  Master Mark glanced at Jaime, and for just a second she thought she saw something in his eyes—regret? Desire? She looked down, aware she was probably projecting her own feelings onto him. Stop it, Jaime reminded herself. You’re not here to find a boyfriend. You’re here to learn.

  Master Julian stood. “Let’s go, kids,” he said with a wolfish smile.

  Adjusting her backpack on her bare shoulders, Jaime scrambled from the rock after Master Julian and Hans, not allowing herself to glance back at Master Mark and Danielle. She kept her focus instead on her feet in their increasingly uncomfortable boots, carefully stepping over stones and protruding tree roots as they ascended along the mountain path.

  The three of them stopped after another twenty minutes or so at another stone outcropping, this one set between two large oaks with arching branches that met in the middle, creating a natural canopy of pleasant shade. Hans opened his pack and removed a folded blanket, which he spread on the ground beneath the trees.

  “Take off your pack,” Master Julian said to Jaime. “Open it and remove the items inside. Line them up neatly on that corner of the blanket. Take off your cap and socks and boots, too.”

  Jaime shuffled off the pack, glad to shuck it from her shoulders. She removed the baseball cap and shook her hair back, tucking it behind her ears. Sitting on her butt, she stretched out her legs and untied her bootlaces. It was a huge relief to pull off the heavy boots and sweaty socks, though as soon as she did, she regretted it. There were, indeed, blisters on each heel, white and throbbing in the cool air. It would be a bitch to get the boots back on. Ah well, for now, at least, she was grateful for the reprieve.

  Focusing on her task, she opened the flap of the backpack and reached inside. The first item she withdrew was a coil of bright red cotton rope. A pleasant shiver of anticipation moved through her as she set it down. Next she pulled out two smaller hanks of neatly wound white rope with metal clips attached, along with a pair of nylon wrist cuffs with Velcro closures. She extracted a short-handled cane, its bamboo rod thin and wicked. She set it down carefully, the skin on her still tender ass suddenly tingling.

  Next came a large tube of lubricant and a small cardboard box of disposable gloves. Finally she pulled out a large metal briefcase, which explained why the pack had been so heavy. She was dying to open it, but decided to wait for further direction. Master Julian sat on the blanket, his back against one of the trees, his long, muscular legs stretched out in front of him. He regarded Jaime. “Do you know what’s in that case?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Open it.”

  Jaime did as she was bidden, unlatching the clasps and lifting the lid. Inside was a kit of some kind, compartmentalized into many pockets and slots cut into foam rubber. At the center was what looked like a handheld generator, shaped like a fat black plastic pencil with an electric cord at one end. All around it, each in its own separate cushioned slot, was an array of glistening glass tubes and balls of various shapes and diameters, as well as several metal pinwheels with sharp-looking teeth.

  She looked up at Master Julian, whose lips had curled into a slow, cruel smile on his handsome face. “You know what you’re looking at?”

  “I think so, Sir. It’s a violet wand kit.” Jaime had seen the devices used at various clubs and BDSM conventions over the years. As she recalled, the globes at the end of the wands came alive with color—lightning bolts of amethyst, magenta, plum and royal blue sparking as the electricity danced through the glass. The effect was beautiful, but not something she’d ever wanted to experience herself.

  “It is,” Master Julian agreed. “Since we don’t have an outlet handy, we’ll use the portable wand for today. It’s that one, there.” He pointed, adding, “Lift it out, if you please, then close the case and place the wand on top it.”

  Jaime lifted out the delicate glass rod tipped with a glass orb the size of a ping pong ball by its plastic handle, pulling it free of its spongy bed. She closed the lid of the case and set the wand carefully on top of it. “I don’t like to break up the kit,” Master Julian continued, “which is one reason why I had you tote the whole thing. That”—his evil grin widened—“and because it’s good to build up your stamina by carrying heavy loads. If we weren’t bringing the kit, I would have put a few bricks in your pack. Builds muscles, and character, too. Isn’t that right, slave Hans?”

  “Yes, Master Julian.” Hans, standing at attention on the edge of the blanket, said in a strident, military tone.

  “That red rope,” Master Julian continued, “isn’t just any ordinary bondage rope. It’s called conductive rope, and it’s got metal filaments woven all through the cotton fibers. We’re going to tie you up today between these two trees”—he waved languidly toward the tree trunk opposite him—“and give your bondage a special, added zing. A zap on any part of the rope will travel along its length, sometimes in unexpected ways you should find quite, uh, thrilling.” Master Julian’s gaze shifted to Hans, where it lingered, his tongue moving slowly and sensually over his lower lip as he stared.

  “Oh!” Jaime exclaimed, the word slipping out before she could stop it.

  “Yes?” Master Julian said, lifting his eyebrows in query as he returned his gaze to he
r. “Do you have something to say on the subject?”

  “I, um, it’s just, that rope sounds kind of, I don’t know, dangerous, Sir?”

  “No danger of electrocution, if that’s what you’re worried about. Sometimes there can be small burns left on the skin, if the user isn’t careful and knowledgeable about what he’s doing.” He shrugged. “Happily for you, dear girl, that isn’t the case here. You’re perfectly safe. I might hurt you—no, let me amend that, I’m definitely going to hurt you, but I would never harm you.”

  Jaime swallowed hard, willing herself to stay calm. She trusted Master Anthony absolutely, and therefore, by extension, she would trust Master Julian. She understood the distinction between erotic pain and suffering versus actual bodily harm, and even as her mind rejected the concept of electric shock play, she couldn’t deny the hot stirring of lust and longing rising from deep in her psyche.

  “Yes, Sir,” she murmured. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You’re welcome, slave girl,” he replied with a chuckle. “Now, stand up just about there”—he pointed toward the center of the blanket—“in an at-ease position.”

  As Jaime moved to obey, Master Julian turned his focus to Hans. “Cuff her to the trees and then bind her body using the Shibari knots Master Anthony taught you.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Hans said. He moved quickly, taking two hanks of rope and the wrist cuffs. He attached the cuffs, one to the end of each rope, and then wrapped the cuffs around Jaime’s wrists, pressing the Velcro snugly closed. He then tied the other end of each rope to a low hanging branch on either tree. As he pulled the rope taut, Jaime’s arms were raised. He adjusted each rope until her arms were stretched into a Y over her head, and then knotted them into place around the branches.

  Jaime had been so focused on what Hans was doing, she was now startled to see Master Julian had removed both his boots and his jeans. He leaned against the tree trunk, naked from the waist down, his rapidly rising cock fisted in his right hand, his eyes fixed, not on Jaime, but on his naked slave boy.