No Safeword

by Claire Thompson

  ~*~

  The second time they made love was even better than the first. Their bodies fit perfectly together, the eager desperation of their first time segueing into a slower, more fully realized sensual dance. At one point he rolled from her, pulling her along as he moved and positioning her so she was on top. Even astride him, ostensibly the one in control, Master Mark subtly shifted the balance of power back his way by reaching for her nipples, capturing and twisting them as he ordered her to ride his cock to orgasm. She was more than happy to comply.

  Afterward they dozed together in a pleasurable fog of post-orgasmic bliss, entangled in one another’s arms. When Mark’s breathing became deep and even, Jaime pulled carefully away. As her mind began to boot up, the huge decision that loomed before her came once more to the fore. She had thought she was certain of her decision to remain as a staff slave the moment Master Anthony had made the offer, but she recognized at least part, perhaps the most significant part, of her decision was colored by her feelings for Mark. Now that she understood they could be together whether or not she signed on at The Enclave, she had to rethink her decision, probing and analyzing it to make sure her motivations and desire to be a full-time staff slave were pure.

  Lifting up on her elbow, she regarded the sleeping man beside her, her eyes moving lovingly over the muscular curves of his body. On an impulse, she leaned over and ran her tongue lightly over the rope tattoo that circled his left bicep. He didn’t stir. She moved her hand softly over his chest, following the pattern of curling chest hair along his sternum and down his flat belly, veering away from his lovely, resting cock to the tattooed whip that graced his hip.

  “Hmmm,” Mark said sleepily, his thick fringe of lashes fluttering as his eyes opened and focused on her.

  “When did you get this?” Jaime asked as she stroked the black ink image.

  Mark reached for her. She rested her head on his chest, snuggling against him as he pulled her close. “I got the whip back in my early twenties when I was still relatively new to the scene. My Mistress wanted me to get it. It was her farewell gift to me.”

  Jaime was silent a beat as her brain tried to compute the words she must have misheard. She lifted her head to see Mark’s face. “Wait, what?”

  Mark chuckled and nodded. “Yeah. You heard me right. When I first was exploring BDSM, I tried it both ways. I wanted to understand the experience from all angles. I met this older woman at a BDSM underground club in Charlotte and she invited me to spend a weekend with her in her dungeon. She believed in total immersion, and she kept me naked and chained the entire time. She was heavily sadistic and had lots of whips and canes, every single one of which she used on me during that long, amazing weekend. She controlled my every move and action, from when I ate, when I used the bathroom, when I could ejaculate—everything.”

  “Wow,” Jaime blurted, trying to imagine Master Mark in such a position, and failing. “How did you handle all that?”

  “The same as you handled Sadie Hawkins Day at The Enclave, I suppose,” he said with an amused smile. “Remember, I wasn’t there against my will. I wanted to experience the passion of D/s from the other side. I’m not sorry I did it. Not for one second. The experience was very intense and very involving. I feel like it’s given me a better understanding of the true courage and enormous trust it takes to submit fully to another. It also firmly solidified for me what my own needs and desires are. I understood by the end of the weekend that my orientation lay squarely on the other side of the spectrum. I need to be the one in control, the giver of erotic pleasure and pain, the Master of the situation.”

  Jaime was quiet as she absorbed this fascinating aspect of Mark’s story. It made her love him just a little more, if that was possible. “What about a tat relating to your career as a musician? Do you have some hiding somewhere I haven’t seen?” Raising her eyebrows, she flashed a grin.

  Master Mark shook his head. “You know, I’ve been asked that before. My band mates had plenty of them, enough for all of us, I guess.” He rubbed his chin, as if still pondering the question. “I guess we get tattoos, which are permanent, to honor the things that mean the most to us.” He met her gaze. “As weird as it is to say, while I love music and writing songs, the whole band and touring thing—it was never really right for me. It was a constant struggle, if you want to know the truth. Even if Jake hadn’t”—Mark paused, a spasm of pain moving over his features—“if he hadn’t died, we still would have broken up the band. It was time. I was done.”

  “Maybe you could keep the part of it you love,” Jaime suggested gently. “You can still sing and write songs, even if you don’t go touring, right?”

  “Yes.” Master Mark smiled. “You’re right, Jaime. I can keep the part I love. Thank you for reminding me.”

  They were both quiet for a time. Eventually, Jaime began to trace the tattoo on Master Mark’s arm. “What about this one? Did another Mistress order you to get it?” she teased.

  Master Mark grinned and shook his head. “I just got that this past year when I was attending a Shibari workshop in Houston. I’m fascinated with the power of erotic bondage, especially as practiced by the Shibari Masters. It goes beyond the physical act of restraint, and even beyond the visual beauty of the precise placement of rope, body and limbs. I love the emphasis on sensuality and vulnerability, and also of strength. I got the sense when we introduced you to Shibari that you share my sensibility on this.”

  “Yes,” Jaime breathed, her skin suddenly tingling with longing for the rope. “Though I’m new to it, that session with you and Master Anthony was one of the most intense bondage experiences of my life. It’s like the rope became an extension of your hands. It was so—so intimate.”

  “Yes, exactly,” Mark agreed, holding her tighter. “I love your description of the rope as an extension of my hands on your body. That’s exactly how I visualize it.”

  She twisted toward him so their pelvises were touching, her breasts smashed pleasantly against his muscular chest. In spite of the fact they’d made love twice in as many hours, she felt the swell of his cock between them and her cunt moistened in instant response. “I never travel without my rope,” Master Mark murmured in her ear. “I left my duffel just inside your front door. I want you to get it and come back as fast as you can. I think a Shibari session is in order, slave Jaime.”

  “Yes, Sir!” Jaime didn’t try to hide her broad, happy grin as she scampered from the room.

  ~*~

  Though the weekend alone had been wonderful and affirming, Mark was excited to begin their new life together, no matter what Jaime’s decision might be. As he reentered her apartment that Monday morning, a bag of warm croissants and some fresh raspberries in tow, he heard Jaime’s cell phone chime from the bedroom. “Hello?” came her sleepy reply and then, considerably more alert, “Oh! Hello, Sir. Good morning, Master Anthony.”

  Mark moved closer in the silence that followed as Jaime listened to whatever Master Anthony was saying on the other end. “Yes, Sir,” Jaime said, a quiet determination entering her tone. “I have made my decision.”

  Though he’d meant it when he’d said he would find a way to fit her into his life, whether or not she joined The Enclave on a full-time basis, in his heart of hearts he wanted her there 24/7. He wanted to share her grace and submissive charms with the people he’d come to regard as his family. And at the same time he wanted to possess her fully, to keep her in his bed at night, and by his side or on her knees in front of him when she wasn’t serving the needs and pleasures of the household. The days away from The Enclave, both at his brother’s wedding and over the past two days with Jaime, had solidified for Mark his desire and intention to make a full-time commitment himself to The Enclave. As a fellow musician had once said to him when marrying his true love after two decades on the road, Mark was ready to unpack his suitcase and put his shoes under the bed. In a word, he’d found his home. Now, with all his heart, he fervently hoped Jaime had come to the same conclu
sion.

  Mark stood stock-still, forgetting to breathe as he waited to hear what she would say.

  “I want to return to The Enclave, Master Anthony,” Jaime said, her voice clear and sure. “I want to serve.”

  Chapter 18

  Strings of tiny lights twinkled in the leafy branches overhead, the sky velvety black above the canopy of the trees. The effect was magical, like a scene from one of Jaime’s favorite childhood stories about a secret fairy garden where a lonely little girl was transformed into a princess. White wooden folding chairs had been arranged in a semi-circle in front of an arch cobbled together with wooden beams. The arch resembled a wedding canopy, except instead of white gauzy curtains and garlands of flowers, it was hung with rope, leather restraints and whips. A folding table had been set up to the side of the arch, piled with gear Jaime knew would come into play later in the evening. A large plastic bowl had been placed underneath the table.

  Throw rugs had been scattered on the ground over the area to accommodate bare feet and knees. The staff slaves knelt on the rugs, three on either side of the arch, their backs tall and proud, their hands resting lightly, palms up, on their thighs. They were all looking at her and smiling encouragingly, even Danielle. Jaime would have smiled back, but her lip muscles weren’t cooperating at the moment, and it was all she could do to remind herself to breathe.

  Lucia and Katie had helped Jaime with her hair and makeup earlier that afternoon, Lucia creating a beautiful, elegant updo to rival actresses on the red carpet, Katie applying Jaime’s makeup in a way that left her looking dewy fresh and natural, only better. Master Anthony had reviewed the basics of the ceremony with her beforehand, including her expected behavior and responses, which were simple enough, as long as she kept her mind clear and focused. Mistress Marjorie had led her through a meditation just after dinner to help her focus and relax.

  Before she took her place with the other slaves, Jaime would have to walk the gauntlet between the Dominants, who stood before her in two lines, four on each side. Master Anthony and Master Mark were at the head of the line. Master Anthony gave her a solemn nod, his dark eyes fixed on hers, his lips lifted in a hint of a smile. Master Mark’s smile was broad, his eyes fiery with pride and love. She could feel his positive, encouraging energy moving through her, easing away at least some of her jitters. She smiled back, took a deep breath and stepped forward.

  Master Brandon and Mistress Marjorie were first in line, standing across from each other. They both held single tail whips, which they raised as Jaime approached. Master Brandon spoke first. “Will you take my mark, slave Jaime, as a symbol of your submission and service to The Enclave?”

  “Yes, Master Brandon,” Jaime said, her voice quavering a little as she faced him.

  “Offer your right breast to me,” he commanded.

  Jaime placed her hand beneath her right breast and lifted it, trying to hold onto the sense of grounding Master Mark had given her a moment before. The single tail landed with a crack against the top of her breast, leaving a line of white-hot pain in its wake.

  “Thank you, Sir,” she said through gritted teeth, “for your gift.”

  “You’re welcome, slave Jaime.”

  She turned toward Mistress Marjorie, the welt on her breast now a dark red line. “Will you take my mark, slave Jaime, as a symbol of your submission and service to The Enclave?”

  “Yes, Mistress Marjorie.”

  “Offer your left breast,” the Mistress instructed. Her stroke landed with the same fiery, welcome pain, creating the symmetry of a second welt.

  “Thank you, Mistress,” Jaime managed, “for your gift.”

  “You’re welcome, slave Jaime.”

  Mistress Aubrey was next. She had a pair of clover clamps in her hands held together by a thin black chain. “Will you wear my clamps, slave Jaime, as a symbol of your submission and service to The Enclave?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Offer your nipples, slave Jaime.”

  Jaime lifted both welted breasts, her nipples tingling with anticipation. Mistress Aubrey gripped her right nipple first and opened one of the clamps, letting it close on either side of the distended nipple. The intense pressure was immediate and explosive, and Jaime couldn’t stop the hiss of pain that escaped her lips. Unperturbed, Mistress Aubrey gripped the second nipple and closed the clamp over it, sending another seismic tremor of erotic pain through Jaime’s nerve endings.

  “Thank you, Mistress, for your gift,” Jaime breathed as she struggled to process and handle the tight, unyielding bite of the clamps.

  “You’re welcome, slave Jaime.”

  Shakily, Jaime turned to Master Julian, who stood across from Mistress Aubrey. To her dismay, she saw he held a fat butt plug already shiny with lube. His eyes crinkled with amusement as his gaze moved over her face. “At least pretend you like it,” he teased.

  Embarrassed, Jaime struggled to arrange her features into welcoming submission. “Please pardon me, Sir.”

  Still smiling, Master Julian intoned the ritualistic words, “Will you take my plug, slave Jaime, as a symbol of your submission and service to The Enclave?

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Turn around and bend over.”

  Jaime did as she was told, determined to finish the gauntlet without another graceless hitch. She spread her ass cheeks and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing as the hard rubber pushed its way inside her. When it was firmly in place, Jaime stood and turned to face Master Julian once more.

  “Thank you, Sir, for your gift.”

  “My pleasure, slave Jaime.”

  As she approached Master Lawrence, Jaime’s gut clenched with residual fear, despite her awareness of Lawrence’s sincere efforts to become a better Master. He gripped a long, thin cane by its black-suede-covered handle with one hand, stroking its length with the other as he stared into her face with his icy blue eyes. “Will you take my mark, slave Jaime, as a symbol of your submission and service to The Enclave?”

  Jaime’s eyes fixed on the long, lethal rod. Determined to bear its stroke with as much grace as Master Lawrence had shown with his apology to her, she, too, squared her shoulders. “Yes, Master Lawrence. I will.”

  “Offer your ass.”

  Jaime turned and bent, the chain of the clover clamps swaying between her nipples. The stroke was quick and broad, the cane catching her along both ass cheeks, the force of the blow nearly making her stumble. A cry of pain rose in her throat like a sob, but she managed to bite it back to a whimper.

  Breathing hard, she stood and turned to face Master Lawrence. “Thank you, Sir, for your gift.”

  “You’re welcome, slave Jaime,” Master Lawrence said, stunning her as he added, “We’re all glad to have you here. You’ll be a good addition to the community.” He actually smiled.

  Jaime realized her mouth had fallen open and she clamped it shut. Finding her voice, she replied with complete sincerity, “Thank you, Sir. I appreciate it very much.”

  Master Mason grinned at her as she turned to face him. He, too, held a pair of clover clamps. Jaime regarded the clamps, confused, until the direction of Master Mason’s hooded gaze made his evil intentions clear. “Will you wear my clamps on your pretty little cunt, slave Jaime, as a symbol of your submission and service to The Enclave?”

  Jaime tried to swallow away the lump that had risen in her throat. Failing that, she still managed to reply, “Yes, Sir.” She spread her legs wide and arched her hips forward to give Master Mason easier access to her tender folds. The clamps bit into her flesh, but it was actually less painful than the initial throb at her nipples, filled as they were with so many more nerve endings than her outer labia.

  “Thank you, Master Mason, for your gift.”

  “You’re welcome, slave Jaime.”

  She turned next to face Master Anthony, though she could feel Master Mark’s warm, intense gaze on her. Master Anthony held a silver leash. “Will you wear this chain, slave Jaime, as a symbol of yo
ur submission and service to The Enclave?”

  “Yes, Master Anthony,” Jaime breathed, much of the tension that had coiled inside her unspooling beneath his calm, steady gaze.

  Master Anthony clipped the leash to Jaime’s collar and led her to the row of kneeling slaves, indicating she should kneel in the spot at the center, the space reserved just for her. He draped the leash over her back as Jaime, still clamped and plugged, sank to her knees between Danielle and Lucia.

  The Dominants, save for Master Anthony and Master Mark, had moved to sit on the chairs facing the arch. Jaime bowed her head as she struggled to get a grip on the emotions churning within her—the thrill and honor of being accepted as a staff slave warring with the excited, anticipatory fear of what was to come next.

  Master Anthony stood in front of the row of slaves and faced the seated members of The Enclave. “It is my pleasure and honor to welcome Jaime as a full-fledged staff slave.” There was applause and a few cheers. In spite of her jitters, Jaime felt her face warm with happiness.

  Master Anthony smiled broadly at Master Mark and then turned to face the Dominants. “There is more good news. After living and working with us these past months, Mark has agreed to join the community as a full-fledged Master.”

  “Yeah!” called out Master Mason, amidst laughter and more applause.

  “I tell you this during Jaime’s ceremony,” Master Anthony continued, “because I have very special news to share with regard to these two young people. Slave Jaime will be joining us not only as our communal property, but as Master Mark’s personal slave. To commemorate their union, Master Mark and I have chosen a boundary-pushing experience, with the full knowledge and consent of slave Jaime.”

  Murmurs of excitement and approval rippled through the space, and Jaime’s heart began to pound. At a nod from Master Anthony, the other slaves rose and moved to stand in a neat row behind the seated Dominants. Master Mark appeared beside Jaime, his long, leather-clad legs so close she could have wrapped her arms around them.