One True Master (Desire Island 1)

“If you get embarrassed, just remember that you are serving your Master and pleasing him. That’s all you need to hold onto.”

Ten minutes later, Skylar was kneeling alone on a yoga mat in the center of the tiled room. Her fingers were interlocked behind her head, chin up, eyes down, butt on her heels, back straight and knees spread.

There had been several scenes already in progress in the main dungeon as she’d passed through on her way. She was glad her session was going to take place in private, as she didn’t yet feel ready for public display.

Master Caelan finally entered the empty room, his boots loud on the tiled floor. Despite an intense desire to look up, she kept her eyes downcast and waited, her heart thumping.

“Before we get started with training this morning, I think you have something to tell me.”

Confused, Skylar asked, “I’m sorry? What?”

“Last night, Skylar. When I came in to check on you. What you were doing under the covers?”

Her stomach twisted into a hard knot, her palms suddenly sweating. Heat seared her cheeks as she looked away from his probing gaze. He knew. Shit. He knew…

A dozen lies leaped into her brain. She was just scratching her leg. She was doing her Kegel exercises. She wasn’t doing anything—what was he talking about?

His words from their online phone call echoed in her guilty mind. “I want—no, I require—full honesty and open communication at all times. Trust is at the core of any BDSM relationship, even the somewhat limited relationship of trainer and trainee.”

He obviously knew something had been going on. To compound the infraction with a blatant lie would be a big mistake. The only person she would be sabotaging was herself.

Girding her courage, she forced herself to look at him. He was regarding her with a calm but rather stern expression. Pushing past the fear still coiling in her gut, she admitted in a mumble, “I was touching myself, Sir.”

“What was that? Speak up clearly.”

She blew out a breath, her face flaming. “I was touching myself, Sir,” she said in a louder voice. “I was masturbating.”

He nodded slowly, her words only confirming what he clearly already knew.

“Is it permitted for a slave in training to masturbate by herself and without the express permission of her trainer?”

He obviously knew the fucking answer, but he was going to make her say it—the sadist.

“No, Sir,” she managed. “But I stopped,” she added urgently. “After you left that second time, I knew I shouldn’t be doing it, and I stopped before I even came.”

He nodded soberly. “I believe you. And that’s commendable. But it doesn’t change the fact that you flagrantly violated the island rules, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Sir,” she admitted miserably, tears springing to her eyes.

“What should I, as your trainer, do about that?”

“Um…give me a pass because I’m so new and it was just my first day?” she suggested hopefully.

The stern look changed to one of surprise and then he actually laughed, just a brief, startled bark of sound before his smile fell away. “Uh, that would be a no, Skylar. What I should and will do as your trainer is punish you.”

Skylar absorbed this distressing news, images of that nasty cage flashing in her mind.

“Front display mode.”

It took Skylar a moment to process what he meant. Hoping she was doing it right, she shifted awkwardly from her knees to her back and assumed the position.

Master Caelan crouched beside her. He ran his hands lightly over her body and legs, his touch leaving an electric trail of desire along her skin. He cupped her breasts and tweaked her nipples, which instantly stiffened at his touch. She resisted a very real urge to raise her arms and wrap them around his neck, forcing him down for a kiss.

“Cunt display mode,” he said, his hands falling away from her body.

Oh, god. This was so embarrassing. A horrible flashback of a fumbling make-out session back in sophomore year of high school with a guy she hadn’t even liked all that much leaped into her brain. They’d been lying in an uncomfortable sprawl on the back seat of his parents’ car. Her panties were off, her legs akimbo, her eyes closed.

He’d suddenly flicked on the car’s overhead light. When she’d opened her eyes, he was leaning right over her cunt, his expression both eager and horrified. She’d slammed her legs together, outraged and embarrassed. Of course, she’d been fifteen and insecure about her body. She was a grown woman now. And she was here voluntarily with a professional who was calmly waiting for her to obey.

Reluctantly, she brought her arms from over her head and reached for her cunt, spreading her legs in the process. She arched her back and lifted her pelvis as she held herself open for him. She felt hot all over, as if her entire body was blushing.