Claiming Cleo (Masters Club 2)

She focused on her task, gasping slightly as her fingers danced over her swollen clit and slick labia. She had to bite back a groan as she slid a finger inside, suddenly imagining it was Master Jack’s thick, hard cock filling her.

The soft murmuring at nearby tables had stopped completely, and, though she kept her gaze fixed on Master Jack’s handsome face, she was certain everyone was now watching her. She wanted to close her eyes so she could lose herself in her pleasure, but she kept them open, at Master Jack’s command.

A small tremor shuddered through her frame.

“Yes,” Master Jack murmured in a deep, throaty voice. “Right to the edge, slave girl. Faster. Harder.”

She quickened her pace, a tiny yip escaping her lips as her fingers flicked over her now highly sensitized clit. Her body began to tremble, the warmth spreading through her signaling an impending orgasm.

“Don’t come without permission, and don’t ask.”

With a tremulous sigh, she forced her fingers to slow their tempo and ease their pressure. Power radiated from Master Jack like a force-field drawing her ever closer. If he so much as blew a breath in her direction, she was afraid she’d come.

“Don’t stop,” he snapped. “I didn’t tell you to slow down.”

“But,” she blurted, catching herself as he stared her down. Gritting her teeth, she rubbed herself harder, her entire body now trembling in her effort to control her orgasm.

Literally seconds before she gave up the fight, he reached across the table and placed a firm hand on her upper arm. “Stop. Stand up and walk to the bathroom at the back of the room. Do not re-button your dress. Leave it as is. You will wait inside for me. Don’t lock the door.”

A dark thrill of raw lust shot through her being at his masterful words. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine she was really his slave, rather than just a plaything for an extended, five-day scene.

Stop it, Cleo ordered herself sternly. Don’t let yourself be fooled by his intense, sexy ways. This is just a game, no matter what he says. Play by the rules, but keep your heart safely under lock and key.

She sat still for a moment as she struggled to regain some semblance of composure. Her poor cunt ached with pent-up release, a pulse throbbing in her swollen labia. Smoothing down her rumpled dress, she pushed back her chair and got to her feet. Moving past the tables, all of which appeared to be occupied now, she made her way to the back of the small establishment. Her inner thighs were moist with her own juices, and her bared breasts jiggled as she walked on shaky legs past the tables. She could feel all eyes on her, watching her every move.

She opened the door marked with a discreet sign that read Les Toilettes in scrolly letters, glad to escape into its privacy. The room was larger than she expected, with a small lounge area that contained a leather loveseat directly across from a marble countertop with two sinks, the fixtures of brushed gold. There were two small toilet stalls with swinging doors tucked discreetly in the corner.

She moved toward the counter and regarded herself in the large mirror that covered most of the wall above it. Her hair had fallen partially out of its twist and her color was high. With her dress hanging open, she looked as if she’d been ravished.

Mindful of Master Jack’s dictate, she didn’t re-button the dress. Her fingers itched with the need to finish what she’d started at the table, but she didn’t dare. Instead, she splashed a little cool water on her hot cheeks as she tried to calm down.

Never in her life as a pleasure sub or even as a service slave had she felt so unbalanced by a Master’s commands. As ironic as it might seem to the uninitiated, it was far easier for her to handle intense erotic pain and restrictive bondage than it was to let herself be manipulated in the subtle way in which he was engaging that evening.

Without even touching her, he’d exerted a control she wasn’t used to, not even from her owners.

She whirled at the sound of the door opening behind her. Master Jack stepped inside and closed the door. He had removed his sports jacket. She could see the outline of his erect shaft in his trousers.

He turned the lock and approached her. “Hands on the counter, face toward the mirror,” he directed. “You will maintain that position until I release you.”

Heart instantly pounding, Cleo obeyed. She watched him through lowered lids as he moved directly behind her. Her breath caught in her throat as he undid his belt buckle and unzipped his fly. Reaching into his trousers, he pulled his erect cock free.