One True Master (Desire Island 1)

Resisting the absurd impulse to pull her into his arms, Caelan popped open the cap of the lube and squirted some onto his fingers. Setting down the tube, he approached her from behind. He reached his hand between her legs. When he glided his fingers over the folds of her sex, she startled a little, but otherwise remained reasonably still. He dipped his middle finger inside her. She was soaking wet, her body ready for whatever was happening, even if her mind was lagging behind. Using his other hand, he lightly teased her clit while continuing to move his finger gently inside her.

A shudder moved through her frame, a small sigh escaping her lips. Her clit hardened beneath his touch. Jesus, this woman was hot. This training was going to be more challenging than he’d expected. He’d need to keep his professional trainer hat firmly in place if he was going to get through this.

He pulled his hands away, taking a deep breath as he forced himself back under control. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a powerful reaction to a trainee. It wasn’t appropriate, and he silently ordered himself to cut it out.

He focused instead on her ass, lightly rimming the tight pucker and then slipping his finger inside. As he’d anticipated, based on her questionnaire and their conversations, she jerked forward. If they’d had all the time in the world, he might have waited before pushing that particular button in her psyche. But because he only had one week with her, he didn’t have the luxury of time. In his experience, the most effective training method was to face difficult issues head-on, helping the sub both understand and embrace their fears as they moved toward acceptance and true submission.

“Stay still,” he said calmly but firmly. “You are not to move or react in any way.”

She stilled, but couldn’t control the slight tremor that moved through her body. He continued the anal exam for longer than he might otherwise have done, just to assess how well she tolerated it. To her credit, she remained in position as he added a second finger into her relaxing anus, though tension radiated from her body.

Finally, he pulled his fingers gently away and straightened. “You may stand up,” he informed her. “Turn around and face us again. You may keep your arms at your sides.”

As she rose and turned to face them, her color was high. Her eyes were bright, her lips parted, her hair now a wild golden tumble around her face. In spite of himself, he moved a little closer, inhaling the clean, just-before-a-rain scent of her soft skin.

Catching himself, he took a step back and pivoted on his heels. He went into the small bathroom that adjoined the presentation room to wash his hands in the sink.

As he dried his hands, he could hear Ella, midsentence. “—will spend the duration of the week working with Master Caelan. We have a lot of events and activities that might be appropriate for a slave in training, depending on her progress. Master Caelan will decide if and when you earn the right to participate.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Ella turned toward Caelan as he came back into the room. “I’m satisfied, Master Caelan, that Skylar is ready to begin.” She flashed a smile.

“Thank you, Mistress Ella,” he replied. “I’ll take it from here.”

He approached Skylar and reached for the leash, his hand brushing a pert nipple as he lifted the chain. He pulled her gently toward the door, giving her time to get used to the rhythm of walking on a leash. “We’re going to take a little tour of the facilities.”

As they walked, he asked her, “How are you feeling right now?”

“Truthfully?”

“Always,” he said, stopping a moment to stare into her green eyes. It took him a moment to figure out what was so unusual about them. It was the gold ring around each iris that gave them the look of precious gemstones. Realizing he’d been staring, he glanced away and continued their walk.

“I’m nervous as a cat,” she admitted. “I thought I was going to die of embarrassment back there, with everybody watching while you touched me like that.” Color splashed again over her face and neck.

“Happily,” he replied with a grin, “no one ever died of embarrassment. You’ll get over that pretty quickly around here, trust me.”

He took her to the main dungeon on the first floor where the majority of their vacationers spent their evenings. It was a well-stocked BDSM dungeon, complete with all the usual BDSM furniture, whipping posts, racks and restraint devices. She stared around the room like a kid in a toy store, her eyes wide, her lips parted.

“This is gorgeous,” she enthused, her expression rapt.

“There’s a room at the back I especially like. Come see.” He led her through the dungeon and through the double doors at the back of the space. This area had been the locker rooms for the indoor racquetball courts. The courts had also been repurposed and now served as specialized playrooms for various fetishes, including a medical exam room, an extensive wardrobe for roleplay and a hot wax torture chamber.