Claiming Cleo (Masters Club 2)

“Ten thousand from paddle one. The gentleman is clearly determined,” he added with a chuckle.

Ten thousand!

There was total silence for several seconds.

Then Master Grayson said in a ringing voice, “Going once. Going twice. A five-day total power exchange contract has been awarded to paddle one for ten thousand dollars. Sir, you may come up to the stage and claim your prize.”

There was a burst of laughter and applause. Who in the world had paid so much money for her?

Goosebumps of anxious excitement prickled over Cleo’s skin, her breath catching in her throat. She was dying to tear away her mask, but managed to remain in position, arms crossed overhead, posture erect.

The room quieted again as someone climbed the stairs and walked across the dais. The person came to a stop directly in front of her. Hands reached for her wrists, bringing her arms gently down to her sides. She caught the familiar scent of cedar and citrus, and her heart began to race wildly, even as her brain struggled to catch up.

The mask was lifted from her eyes.

And there he stood, looking better than any man had a right to. A slow, sexy smile moved over his handsome face.

“Hello, Cleo,” Master Jack said.

“What the…?” Cleo breathed, the words petering away as she stared into those dark eyes, which glittered with power and intent.

She glanced toward Master Grayson and Mistress Dominique, who had joined her husband on the small stage. They were both grinning at her, and the penny dropped. Before she could stop herself, Cleo blurted, “Oh my god. You set me up!”

Though Master Grayson continued grinning like a Cheshire cat, Mistress Dominique’s smile fell away. “Watch your tongue,” she admonished in a sharp tone. “You agreed to be auctioned to the highest bidder, and it’s for a very worthy cause. It is our intention that you serve this Master per the terms of the auction, to which you agreed in advance.” A measure of steel entered her tone.“Is there a problem, slave girl?”

Cleo looked helplessly from her owners to Master Jack, and back again. “No, Mistress,” she said softly, stung by the well-deserved rebuke. “No problem at all.”

Chapter 6

Jack led Cleo from the stage and through the auction room. He acknowledged the various congratulations and thumbs up with smiles and brief thanks. It was rare that a play bid, for charity or not, went as high as ten thousand. He would have happily bid twice that if that was what it took to secure the win.

Hayden was right. It was time to man up—to reassert his position as a Dom with Cleo. This spectacular chance of five full days with her was an amazing opportunity. He would determine once and for all if what they’d shared in the past could grow into something more meaningful and lasting, or if it simply wasn’t meant to be.

For some reason, despite the intensity of their shared scenes, Cleo appeared to have built an emotional wall around herself, effectively shutting him out. Somehow, he had to get through to her. At the same time, he didn’t want to bully her. Part of being a responsible Dom was making sure the sub gave her fully-informed consent, in advance, to engage in the power exchange. Cleo’s obvious reluctance on stage made it clear he had his work cut out for him.

Once in the main hall, Jack stopped and turned back to Cleo, who had silently followed him out of the auction room. “Is there a particular place we should go to discuss the terms of our agreement?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said somewhat stiffly. “Auction slaves are typically taken to Mistress Dominique’s study by their new Master. There are copies of the standard Masters Club slave contract there.”

For genuine slave placements, the contract was an important initial step between the parties to make sure goals, desires and limits were clearly understood and respected. While it couldn’t be legally enforced, it was taken seriously by Masters Club members, Dom and sub alike. The play auctions were less formal, of course, but the boilerplate contract was often used as a kind of simple checklist to make sure both players were on the same page.

Jack allowed Cleo to lead him to the study. A large, glass-topped desk with folders and papers neatly stacked in a mesh three-shelved bin beside a laptop computer commanded half the room. A conversational arrangement of a sofa and three armchairs had been set up nearby.

“The blank contracts are in Mistress Dominique’s desk. Shall I get one for us, Sir?” Cleo asked, her tone overly polite.

“No,” Jack replied. At her startled expression, he added, “Not right now. I want to talk to you first.” He walked to the sofa and sat down.

Cleo followed him. She started to lower herself to her knees on the carpet near his feet.