More than a Dare (Masters Club 4)

Carefully, she eased herself from beneath his arm, which lay like a deadweight across her. As it flopped to the mattress, he mumbled something and then rolled to his back. She waited, holding her breath as she watched to see if she’d woken him. He began to snore softly, sinking back into sleep.

She lifted her head to look over him to the clock beside the bed. It was 6:22 a.m. Quietly, she rose from the bed and went to the window. Lifting the edge of the blinds, she peered out. The sky was a pale lavender-blue, not a trace of the dark, snow-laden clouds of the day before. The entire city was shrouded in a thick coating of white, the streets utterly deserted. It had the look of a post-apocalyptic ghost town.

She glanced back at Hayden, who hadn’t moved. Silently, she padded to the bathroom. The nightlight in the bathroom provided enough light for her to see where she was going. Entering the privacy stall, she closed the door so she wouldn’t disturb him.

As she peed, she thought about what it would be like to routinely ask permission for such basics as using the toilet or getting a glass of water. While that sort of thing could be erotic in the short term, she could totally see it quickly edging into a pain in the ass.

She couldn’t deny that last night had been one of the most intense and exciting experiences of her life. She’d been genuinely frightened at certain points, but also thrilled in a way it was hard to describe.

Hayden had been like a different person. Or no, not a different person, but a more intense and masterful persona of himself. He’d been so fucking sexy as he took complete control. But there had been a hardness there—an implacability as he informed her of what he expected—what he demanded—of her. That had frightened her, even though she trusted him. Was that what he was like all the time at the Masters Club? And how had she measured up compared to the women he scened with there?

As they entered this more serious phase of their relationship, would he still expect to go to the club and play with those other women? She’d never considered herself possessive, but the thought of his being so intimate with other women didn’t sit well with her. Yet, the Masters Club was his passion, or so he had told her when they’d first left the path of friendship to seek something more. Hadn’t she gone into this with eyes wide open? Was it fair of her to expect him to give that up?

You’re getting ahead of yourself. Stay in the moment. It’s still early days.

Was she falling in love?

Who was she kidding?

She’d already fallen.

Maybe she’d fallen that very first night, when he’d come to her apartment and put her through her paces to see if she merited an invitation to the Masters Club party. Even then, before she’d admitted the degree of her submissive need, she’d responded to his dominance like a moth drawn to a flame.

Had he been leading her carefully but inexorably toward the Master/slave experience of last night? Had she known, in some secret part of her, that this was what he would eventually require?

While her intellectual side balked at the very idea of a 24/7 power exchange, she couldn’t deny that last night she’d never felt so vibrant, so alive, so in the moment. It was almost frightening, the degree to which she’d slipped into a submissive headspace—a slave headspace…

Not wanting to wake him with the sound of the toilet flushing, she just closed the lid and left the stall. She washed her hands and face. Staring at her image in the mirror, she reached for the collar around her neck.

As she looped a finger through the O-ring that hung from the front of it, she flashed back to a scene she’d witnessed her one time at the Masters Club. A naked man had been chained to a whipping post by his collar, his wrists cuffed higher on the post as his Mistress whipped him relentlessly with a single tail. An involuntary shudder moved through her at the memory, and she shook it away.

She tiptoed back into the bedroom, suddenly afraid of what she’d done. Would a proper slave girl have just remained in bed, bladder full, until her Master awoke? Well, she wasn’t a proper slave, not by a long shot. And anyway, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Still, she was relieved to see Hayden was still fast asleep. The sheets were down around his waist, his broad, smooth chest slowly rising and falling. As quiet as a mouse, she slipped back into bed. Leaning up on one elbow, she admired the copper coins of his nipples and his flat six-pack abs. He really was a gorgeous guy.