At His Mercy (Masters Club 1)

Then, to his surprise, she slipped gracefully from her chair and knelt up on the cushion on the floor between them. She pushed the robe from her shoulders, letting it puddle to the ground behind her. She placed her hands behind her back, her posture ramrod-straight, her pretty breasts pleasingly thrust toward him.

“I want you as my mentor, Sir. If it pleases you to have me.”

He stared at her for a long moment. This was probably the stupidest, most reckless thing he’d ever done in his life. But yes, it pleased him to have her, as she so charmingly put it. It pleased him way the fuck more than it should have.

He was stepping into a potential minefield. Subs often got overly attached to their mentors, at least initially. It was up to the mentor to maintain the boundaries between them, and Cameron was self-aware enough to know this time wouldn’t be as easy as it usually was. He would need to be careful.

But then, wasn’t he always?

Chapter 10

Jess hadn’t realized she was starving. The delicate cucumber and smoked salmon sandwiches were so tasty, she had scarfed four small triangles, along with peaches, raspberries and several pastries, before she got herself back under control. Master Cameron hadn’t taken any of the food, which made her self-conscious as she stuffed her face, but it was too delicious to stop.

A part of her, the responsible, sensible part, was furious at herself for not taking the out that Master Cameron had offered her. He was absolutely correct. People who worked together shouldn’t play together.

But the rest of her overruled her objections, too smitten with the man and the place to resist. And anyway, she rationalized, it wasn’t like they worked directly together on a day-to-day basis. Shit, she’d only been in his office that one time, and that wasn’t because of the work she’d done on the Lansing deal, though he’d used that as a pretext. It was so he could tell her in his round-about way about the impending invitation to the Masters Club. Whatever he’d seen at Spankees had apparently been enough to merit the invitation. She would be forever grateful for that, whatever else came out of this whole adventure.

This whole thing was unfolding like some kind of dream. Imagine if Mr. Lord’s unofficial fan club at work could see them now! What a hoot it would be to waltz in Monday morning and tell Brenda that the Lord Hunk just happened to be her mentor at an exclusive, private BDSM club. Talk about the scoop of the century for Brenda to share in the breakroom.

Her mentor!

It was kind of funny that they used that designation at the club, as the term was also used at the office when partners took one or another associate under their wing. Though, she guessed it made sense. Bona fide slaves got the real trainers, because they were expected to serve 24/7 in every possible way. She was more of a temp—a casual weekend sub. At the coolest BDSM club in Manhattan. Hell, in the world!

Master Cameron rose to his feet. Jess was still kneeling up on the cushion, though she’d brought her hands to rest on her thighs. “Ready for the grand tour?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir.” Jess climbed to her feet, aware she lacked the fluid grace of Cleo and Mandy, and made a mental note to try to work on that.

As she bent to retrieve the robe, Master Cameron said, “Leave it. A pleasure sub has no need for modesty. ”

A shiver of delicious excitement sparkled down Jess’s spine at this pronouncement. She was a pleasure sub!

“Yes, Sir,” she replied, trying not to squeal from the excitement of it all.

Leaving the robe where it lay, she followed Master Cameron from the dining room, feeling the eyes of the other patrons on her bare body as she passed their tables. It was one thing to be naked in dimly lit play clubs and even at the two auditions she’d undergone. But it felt weird in a sunlit dining room that served cute little sandwiches and French pastries.

They walked past a large room filled with overstuffed antique furniture. She noted various restraint devices and slave cages interspersed here and there, but the place was deserted. Sunday morning clearly wasn’t a peak time for BDSM play, she thought with an inward grin.

Master Cameron led her up a wide, curving staircase covered in plush burgundy carpet. They stopped at the second-floor landing, a large marble foyer that led to a set of double doors. The stairs continued up another flight, narrower but just as lushly carpeted.

Master Cameron pulled open the doors to reveal a huge room that must have once been several rooms, the walls broken down and reconfigured to create the large space.

As they stepped inside, Jess drew in a breath, her nipples instantly perking to attention at the glorious sight. The huge dungeon contained all the usual bondage and restraint gear—St. Andrew’s crosses, suspension racks, spanking benches, whipping posts—but unlike the typical basement dungeons with concrete walls she was familiar with, this one was palatial in its elegance. The wall-to-wall carpet was the same thick, luxurious pile as in the rest of the place. Every sparkling piece of equipment looked to be state-of-the-art, and the rich scent of fine leather filled her nostrils.