At His Mercy (Masters Club 1)

It had been real, perhaps the realest experience of her BDSM life. She was no longer paddling in the baby pool. She’d been tossed into a vast ocean of potential. For a moment, she hadn’t been sure if she was going to sink or swim.

She’d been that close to shouting her safeword. Seeing Mr. Lord there, or rather, Master Cameron, was what had saved her. She’d been teetering on the edge of a dark, consuming panic when he’d suddenly appeared like a beacon beyond the glass. As they’d locked eyes, she’d actually felt his silent encouragement, his assurance that she could do this, if she just let go. It had been like a lifeline, tossed just before she was about to go under for the last time. And as she reached for it, the panic had ebbed, submissive peace and acceptance taking its place.

Now she slid deeper into the oil-soft water, her hand seeking the sweet spot between her legs. Closing her eyes, she rubbed herself to a rapid orgasm, Master Cameron’s image beyond the mirror looming large in her mind’s eye. She recalled his gentle touch and the way he’d looked at her. Her imagination took over, and he dipped his head to kiss her mouth. His arms came around her as he slid his hard, perfect cock inside her. “After I fuck you, I’m going to whip you,” he whispered in her ear. She came hard, panting with the effort and the release.

Once her heart slowed, she reached for her wineglass and took a long, deep drink. She lolled in the tub awhile, drifting in a peaceful daze. When the water began to cool, she climbed out, finishing the glass of wine as she dried herself.

She washed her face and brushed her teeth, wishing she had a girlfriend close enough to confide in. She thought about Cleo, who actually lived at the Masters Club as a full-time slave. Jess tried, and failed, to imagine herself in a similar position.

But she’d instantly liked Cleo and was looking forward to getting to know her better. She sensed there was a complicated backstory there, and hoped one day they’d be close enough for Cleo to share it.

Once in bed, she lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling. Hardcore impact play, bondage, edge play…

How was she ever going to get through the next thirty-six hours or so until it was time to return to the Masters Club for her physical?

Cleo’s words came back to her: “He gives a lovely sadistic twist to his exams, so be prepared.”

She shivered, pulling the sheets closer around her. Her gut churned with anxiety as she envisioned various scenarios involving speculums and enemas. She’d never been much into medical play, but a real Dom could infuse any situation with erotic intensity. Even her brief introduction had been enough to see the Doms at the Masters Club were of a different caliber and intensity than she was used to. Hopefully, she’d be able to handle whatever was thrown at her without making a total fool of herself.

It was now well past midnight. She was physically exhausted, but her mind continued to replay the evening’s events, Master Cameron looming large in her thoughts. Eventually, she closed her eyes, though there was no way she would ever be able to sleep.

When she opened them again, the late morning sun was streaming in through her bedroom window.

She went into the office for a while, mainly to distract herself. Just because Mr. Lord had given her Friday off didn’t mean her work had somehow completed itself. If anything, there was more crap piled into her inbox.

There were several other associates and paralegals in the office, all trying to catch up on their heavy workloads. As she worked, her thoughts kept drifting back to the Masters Club. She tried to imagine what it would be like to step out of the world, as Cleo had done, and into a very special, secret place, where all one’s darkest fantasies were brought to life.

Eventually, her work took over, her focus required for the intricacies of the law. Somehow, she got through the day. She briefly toyed with the idea of going to one of the local clubs, but it would be better to get a good night’s rest.

She woke early Sunday morning, too excited to sleep. She opened the window in her tiny living room, letting in the fresh air. She would take a run, and then treat herself to some breakfast at her favorite deli. Dressed in jogger pants and a T-shirt, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and put on her running shoes. She slipped her keys and cell phone case, which also contained her wallet, into a small fanny pack around her waist, and left the apartment.

Ignoring the elevator, she took the stairs down to warm up. Once outside, she jogged to a nearby park and ran its perimeter until she was pleasantly fatigued. She made her way the three blocks to the deli. Though it was early, there were already plenty of people buying fresh bagels, lox and tubs of cream cheese. The place smelled of fresh bread and strong coffee. She thought about getting some breakfast, but found her belly too full of butterflies to contemplate eating. Instead, she just ordered a large coffee, light and sweet, along with a glass of ice water. After gulping the water, she sipped her coffee while standing up at one of the tall tables set along the window.