At His Mercy (Masters Club 1)

Mistress Dominique stopped in front of the first door and turned the knob, pushing it open. “Come in,” she said, gesturing Jess inside.

Jess glanced around the space. The floor was polished hardwood. The back wall was entirely mirrored, the room brightly lit. Four armchairs faced a thick yoga mat set on the floor in front of them. Beside the mat was a suspension rig, chains with cuffs hanging from the top bar. There was a side counter with cabinets underneath. The wall above the counter was hung with various whips, floggers, canes and paddles.

A cold spurt of adrenaline shot through Jess’s system as she took it all in. At the same time, her nipples stiffened with anticipation, a jolt of arousal hardening her clit. This wasn’t some elaborate role-play where she was expected to perform along with the others as part of a BDSM game. This place was the real thing. There was no going back now.

“Remove the skirt and give it to me. You may keep the shoes, stockings and corset on—for now.”

She stood waiting as Jess unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. The corset came only to Jess’s hips, the attached black satin garters holding up her stockings. Stripped of her panties, Jess resisted the impulse to cover her mons with her hand, aware that sort of modesty was not appropriate for a submissive.

Mistress Dominique gave her a slow, assessing once-over, as if Jess were a horse or piece of furniture she was considering. Though Jess wasn’t sexually attracted to women, she could sense this particular woman’s dominant power. The submissive in her reacted to the purposeful objectification of Mistress Dominique’s appraising gaze, causing her nipples to tighten and her pulse to quicken.

Mistress Dominique finally said, “Remove your shoes and place them beside the mat. Then you will kneel, ass on your heels, knees spread wide, hands resting on your thighs palms up, eyes on the floor. You will wait here until we are ready for you. You will not move out of position until directed to do so. You will not speak unless spoken to directly and a response is required. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Jess replied, heart racing. The sexy directives issued by the chauffeur who’d brought her to this place had put her in a submissive frame of mind, no question. And when it came to the BDSM scene, she had always thought of herself as fearless. But whatever was happening now was on a whole new level. She could only pray she had the courage to go through with this. And where was Master Cameron?

Mistress Dominique watched her, hands on her hips, as Jess removed her shoes and then lowered herself to the mat. While Jess had never been formally trained as a submissive, she’d read enough novels and watched enough videos online over the years. She had a basic grasp of the various standard slave positions and protocol. Even so, she wasn’t entirely sure she was doing it correctly.

“Back straighter,” Mistress Dominique snapped. “And spread those knees wider so we have a proper view of your cunt.”

Jess obeyed, keeping her eyes downcast as heat flooded her face. She wasn’t used to having a woman direct her like this. She really needed to get a better handle on this blushing business. She was a seasoned player, after all.

But maybe that was at the crux of it—she had always been just a player, used to scening with other players whom she forgot almost the instant a scene was over. Master Cameron and Mistress Dominique weren’t would-be Doms like the guys she encountered at the public clubs. They were the real thing. And she was being given the opportunity to enter their rarified, thrilling world.

She spread her knees wider, back straight, breasts thrust proudly forward.

“Better. The audition will begin shortly.”

Jess, eyes still downcast, heard the door open and then close. The room was silent. She remained as she was for several long moments, eyes closed as she consciously slowed her breathing and heart rate, and emptied her mind.

But, as the minutes ticked by and nothing happened, she eventually opened her eyes. Turning her head, she surveyed the impact toys hung above the counter. Would they choose one of those? The flogger? The whip? The cane? Her skin tingled, fear and anticipation mixing like a potent cocktail in her bloodstream. She twisted her head, regarding herself in the mirror. The corset was beautiful with its crisscross of satin ties at the back. It had cost a fortune, but she didn’t care. It was worth it.

She examined her face in the mirror. She looked anxious, her eyes too wide, her teeth worrying her lower lip. It was a nervous habit she needed to break. She released her lip and took a deep, centering breath. She flashed a nervous smile at the mirror, willing a confidence she most certainly didn’t feel.