Claiming Cleo (Masters Club 2)

Too soon, he pulled back. She lifted her head, following his movement, her lips still parted as she absorbed the lack of him.

“Time for some aftercare,” he said. “We’ll do a salt-water sitz bath later this evening for your nipples, but right now I just want to check the sites and make sure you’re doing okay.”

He reached for one of the cloths and brought it to her right breast. He lowered his head, peering closely. “Looks good. No bleeding.”

Cleo lifted her head, craning to see her breasts. She wanted to ask why he’d strapped her down—did he have something sexy in mind? But her training as a slave kept her silent. He would let her know in his own time.

The warm, wet cloth felt good as Master Jack gently cleaned the area. He similarly attended to the second nipple and then patted them dry. Then he gave her more of the delicious soda. She was touched both by the fact he’d remembered some offhand remark, and that he’d gone to the trouble to get her a bottle while she was napping. She wasn’t used to others doing things for her, but she quite enjoyed the nurturing attention.

Patting her nipples dry, he rose again to his feet. He kicked off his loafers and began to remove his clothing, first his belt, then his shirt and finally his trousers and underwear. All the while, he stared into her eyes, a dark, sexy spark in his gaze. He was an absolutely gorgeous hunk of a man. Unable to help herself, her gaze swung down his broad chest and flat abs to his rapidly rising erection.

“Is this for more than decoration?” he asked, leaning over her to reach for the single-tail whip that hung on the wall above her bed.

“Yes, Sir,” she replied, her heart instantly kicking into gear.

Master Jack removed the whip and walked to the end of the bed. “We’ll go to dinner soon, but first, I need to help you get into a more submissive state of mind. A nice inner-thigh whipping should be just the thing.”

“Oh,” Cleo breathed softly, her entire body tingling with masochistic expectation and plain old lust.

Leaning forward, he lightly snapped the whip across her left thigh with perfect precision.

She drew in a breath as she processed the erotic pain, and let it out slowly. He struck the other thigh and then reached out to cup her exposed cunt.

“It’s like a little furnace,” he said approvingly. “You love this, don’t you, slave girl? You love to be tied down and whipped.”

“Oh, yes, Sir,” she agreed ardently. “More, please.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Be careful what you ask for, little girl.”

The whip snaked out and bit, harder this time. Cleo hissed and closed her eyes. The pain was very real, but it almost instantly morphed into a dark, perfect heat that filled her with nearly uncontrollable lust. Her cunt throbbed along with her smarting thighs as he flicked the whip again and again, leaving a trail of perfectly symmetrical welts along her flesh.

Her safeword—banana—very nearly rose to her lips. It was just a passing thought, one she was able to banish by focusing on her Master’s desire for her to suffer. She exalted as much in the act of submission as she did in the erotic pain, if not more.

Thinking of her safeword distracted her for a moment, as she recalled Jack laughing when she first told him her safeword back at the London club. She, of course, pronounced it correctly—ba-NAH-na—versus the flat, nasal American twang. But for some reason, he had found it terribly funny.

Another stinging kiss of the lash brought her back to the moment. Her thighs were stinging from groin to knee. She panted in her effort to absorb the erotic pain, not sure how much more she could take.

To her relief, he set down the whip. He climbed onto the small bed and crouched between her spread legs. Placing gentle hands on each hot thigh, he lowered his head to her sex.

Cleo moaned softly as his perfect tongue darted over her labia and teased around her clit. She was more comfortable now with his intimate touch. She was, she realized, coming to trust this wonderful, darling man who had miraculously reappeared in her life. She closed her eyes, giving into the raw pleasure as he carried her closer and closer to climax.

“Please, Sir,” she gasped. “May I come?”

He lifted his head, his golden-blond hair falling over his eyes, his lips wet with kisses. “No, little slut, you may not.” He dipped his head again, licking and suckling her with exquisite precision.

So, so good…

A small sigh escaped her lips as her head fell back against the pillows. She squeezed her eyes tight and clenched her fists above the leather cuffs as she struggled to stave off the inevitable. Her body began to tremble uncontrollably.