Claiming Cleo (Masters Club 2)

She was aware Master Jack was regarding her with indulgent amusement, but she was having too much fun to care. After a delicious meal, they sipped brandy while chatting about this and that. Jack was so easy to talk to, and his lovely, deep voice was like a caress over her senses.

Things had moved very quickly once Cleo had agreed to return to London with Master Jack. Within a day, he’d changed his flight plans, buying a second ticket for Cleo. Mistress Dominique had been very kind and supportive, as always. In his usual teasing manner, Master Grayson had “ordered” her to have a fun, relaxing “vacay in the UK,” and not to forget the Yanks back in the colonies.

“Don’t worry about rushing back,” he’d added. “Britany has volunteered to serve us during your absence.”

Britany was a pleasure sub that Master Grayson often enjoyed scening with. Only a few days ago, Cleo would have been jealous at how easily it seemed she could be replaced, even if temporarily. Now, she was simply grateful, as she didn’t want to let Master Grayson and Mistress Dominique down.

But her allegiance had shifted, however terrifying that realization was. Even if things didn’t work out with Jack, she was no longer sure she was willing to settle for service slave. The possibility of love had resurfaced inside her with a vengeance, after having lain dormant for so long.

She understood the dynamic would be different now that he was taking her into his home, however brief her visit. The rules were changing. She was no longer the pleasure sub she’d been at the London club, nor was she his temporary auction slave. Yet, neither was she his lover or partner—not yet.

They were in a kind of limbo—a trial period. She wouldn’t have expectations. She would take things as they came. At the very worst, it was a free trip back to the UK.

It was dark now over the Atlantic, the plane lights dimmed, people settling down for the night. Master Jack’s demeanor changed as he turned a burning, steady gaze on Cleo, sending a little shiver of desire and anticipation through her.

“Take off your panties and hand them to me,” he said softly, not taking his eyes from her face.

Cleo glanced around to see if anyone was watching them. The couple seated across the aisle both had on sleep masks, the man snoring audibly.

“Eyes on me,” Master Jack snapped. “Do as you’re told.”

Heart fluttering, Cleo reached beneath her skirt and tugged down her knickers. Wadding them in her fist, she passed the little bundle to Master Jack. He took them with a smile.

Reaching for his carry-on, he slipped the knickers into a side pocket, and then rummaged a moment inside. He took out a small silk pouch, which he handed to Cleo.

“What’s this?” She started to undo the little drawstring that held it closed, but Master Jack stopped her.

“Don’t open it here. Go into the bathroom. Put it in place and then unlock the bathroom door but don’t come out. You will wait for me there.”

“Yes, Sir,” Cleo replied.

She loved the way he took complete control, shifting effortlessly from easygoing Jack Hartford to Master Jack in the blink of an eye. It thrilled her to realize he’d carefully planned this in advance, eager to give her a sexy BDSM experience while the rest of the passengers slept or absorbed themselves with their electronic devices. As she slipped into subspace, concern about the future melted away, replaced by serene acceptance of her Master’s sexy wishes, along with a healthy dash of anticipatory lust.

She made her way to the loo, the pouch in hand. Once there, she used the toilet and did a quick wash-up. Then, sitting on the closed lid of the commode, she plucked at the string and let the contents of the pouch fall into her palm.

She instantly recognized the butterfly vibrator, which fit like a G-string, soft fabric leg and waist straps holding it in place. There was also a small packet of K-Y Jelly. The remote that went with the toy was noticeably absent, no doubt still in Master Jack’s possession.

She coated the working side of the gel-like butterfly-shaped vibrator with the lube. Then she carefully arranged the contraption into place around her waist and thighs, positioning the vibrator against her sex.

Fully aroused now, she unlocked the door but remained inside as directed. Maybe thirty seconds later, the handle turned and the door opened. Master Jack appeared, the sports jacket he’d worn onto the plane now back in place over his shirt.

He closed the door, locking the two of them in the tiny enclosure. He held a rectangular, zipped pouch which Cleo recognized as her toiletry bag. He set the bag on the sink.

“Don’t make a sound,” he directed. “Not a peep, no matter what I do to you.”