At His Mercy (Masters Club 1)

Once she had shucked the sexy outfit, he commanded, “Wait up,” just for the pleasure of looking at her perfect body. As she stood still, legs shoulder-width apart, wrists crossed over her head, naked save for those fuck-me pumps, it was all he could do not to moan aloud. It might take more than one session to get this girl fully out of his system.

His mouth watered as he gazed at her erect, pink nipples. Her sex pooched ever so slightly beneath her flat stomach, fairly begging Cameron’s hand to cup it. If he slid a finger inside her, would he find it wet? His balls tightened, his cock aching. Jesus. He needed to get control of himself if he was going to be able to concentrate.

“Get yourself situated on the bench so I can strap you down,” he directed.

Clearly familiar with spanking benches, Jess draped herself over the vault, placing her bent legs on leg rests on either side, her forearms on the armrests. Cameron busied himself with securing the various cuffs and restraints, glad for the momentary distraction.

Once she was properly immobilized, her pretty little bottom thrust out, he crouched in front of her. Her hair was hanging down, partially obscuring her face. Rising to his feet, he grabbed a scrunchy from his gear bag and returned to her. He gathered the soft, springy hair into a loose ponytail so it wouldn’t fall into her eyes.

Crouching again, he regarded the lovely girl. Her shiny lips were softly parted, her pupils dilated. One disobedient curl had escaped its tether, and hung prettily against her soft cheek. She looked both nervous and adorably determined, the perfect combination of shy sub girl and wanton slut.

“We’ll keep it simple,” he informed her. “I’ll start with the paddle to get you in the proper headspace, then I’ll finish with my hand. I do love the feel of hot, thoroughly paddled flesh beneath my fingers. Any questions or concerns?”

“No, Sir,” she replied in a throaty voice.

“Excellent.” Cameron pulled his trusty paddle from his gear bag. It resembled a ping pong paddle, but was made from stiff, smooth black leather, perfect for smacking a naughty little slave girl’s bottom.

He walked around the bench to stand behind her, the paddle gripped in his right hand. He took a step back, bending a little to peer between her spread legs. Her little asshole was a perfect asterisk, her cunt lips plump and lightly sheened with moisture. With his left hand, he ran his fingers lightly over the smooth, pale globes of her ass, resisting, for the moment at least, the urge to stray to her splayed sex.

A visible shudder moved through her frame at his touch. Was it fear? Desire? Perhaps both, a perfect combination for a sub.

“Relax,” he soothed, stroking her with a sure but gentle touch to calm her. “Breathe.”

Once he was satisfied she was ready, he said, “We begin.”

He used the paddle lightly at first, well aware of what a wallop it could pack. As her skin warmed and pinkened, he increased the intensity, letting the paddle land hard against her soft flesh.

He expected her to cry out, but she only drew in a sharp breath, reminding him of the first time he’d seen her at that public club, stoically enduring that wannabe Dom’s whipping.

Pleased with her self-control, he smacked her again, just as hard, this time on the other cheek. Her ass was reddening nicely, and he could smell the faint but distinct scent of her arousal. He settled into a steady, intense rhythm, alternating placement in a random pattern until she began to pant, and then to whimper.

Each sexy, breathy cry and gasp was like a pair of lips closing over his cock. He was forced to reach into his pants to adjust his pulsing erection. He had only planned to spank the girl, but his cock apparently had other, rather urgent, plans.

Bad idea, he reminded himself sternly.

But, with each sexy, mewling little cry, his resolve weakened. Where was the harm in an innocent little blowjob? Subs performed this basic duty all the time at the club. She’d already demonstrated her considerable skills in that regard. She was no novice to the scene. She understood it was nothing personal.

Except it sure felt personal. Way too personal for his comfort. He needed to get himself under control ASAP.

Clearly, he needed to scene steadily with Jess if he was to get her out of his system. Because that would surely happen, probably sooner than later. As had always been the case in the past, he’d soon lose interest, regain control, and keep his orderly life intact.

Her ass was a deep red now, evidence of some bruising appearing here and there. She was whimpering steadily, the sound punctuated by periodic cries when the paddle found its mark. Deciding she’d had enough, he set down the toy and came around to check in.