Page 5 of Under His Control

Though Ellen’s eyes were downcast, Damon observed a faint blush moving over her cheeks. Turning so her back was to the room, she spread her legs and bent forward at the waist. She grasped her ankles, presenting a very sexy view of her ass and cunt from behind. In spite of himself, Damon had a sudden vision of coming up behind her and sliding his cock into her ass in one long, smooth motion. He could almost feel the tight ring of muscle massaging his shaft.

“Is she your first choice?” Tom asked in a stage whisper, startling Damon from his revery.

Damon realized his mouth was hanging open. He snapped it shut. “What?”

“The way you’re looking at her,” Tom persisted. “Like you could eat her whole.”

Damon shook his head as he crossed his legs to hide his erection. “Nah. She’s totally not my type.”

Who was he kidding? He wanted her. So what if they weren’t aligned in their long-term goals? At the end of the week, he could just walk away.

Startled by the direction of his thoughts, he gave himself a mental slap. Ellen wasn’t right for him. She’d been his last choice out of the three. Coming to this thing had been an impulse, one he might end up regretting. It would probably be better if he wasn’t one of the three Doms to win a contract. Who needed the complication?

Chapter 3

Ellen passed a fitful night in her single bed in the slave quarters. She finally slipped out of her room at around five that morning, so early not even Master Mason, The Enclave’s chef, was in the kitchen.

Having been assigned primarily to the kitchen during her previous tenure as a slave trainee, she knew the protocol. Coffee was always made before anything else. She set about grinding the beans and preparing the coffee in the five-gallon restaurant-quality stainless steel coffee urn. As she worked, she thought of her time as a slave trainee at The Enclave. While it had been one of the most challenging things she’d ever done, she’d adored being fully immersed in the kind of BDSM intensity she’d only dreamed about before being accepted into the program.

At the same time, she’d had the constant support of the other trainees, not to mention The Enclave staff slaves. Yet, despite that support, she’d sometimes felt lonely. Or not lonely exactly but objectified—interchangeable with her fellow trainees. She’d been the property of all the Masters, used and trained as it pleased them, but always sent down to the quarters at night to sleep alone, tethered to her bed.

Prior to her stint at The Enclave, she’d been active in the Charlotte BDSM scene, and had even been involved in two relationships with like-minded guys. But both had fizzled out, not because they weren’t good guys, but because they weren’t able to give her the intensity and all-consuming Master/slave connection she craved.

The coffee ready, Ellen poured herself a mug, added a bit of cream and sat at the small wooden table where Master Mason worked on his recipes. As she sipped, she thought about the six men she’d scened with the night before.

The subs didn’t get the option of officially ranking their choice of Doms, but that didn’t stop them from doing it anyway, at least in their own heads. It was understood that she would accept whichever man The Enclave Masters deemed right for her. Still, she thought about the two guys she’d concluded would be the best fits for her.

“Master Zach and Master Aaron,” she murmured aloud. Both men were in their late twenties. They were each good looking without being over-the-top gorgeous like Master Dam— No. She was not going there.

Her scenes with the two Doms had been intense and satisfying. They both had good jobs, though neither one lived in Charlotte. That wasn’t an insurmountable problem, since her work could be done anywhere as long as she had her easel, art supplies and laptop.

She heard the low rumble of Master Mason’s voice a moment before the swinging doors to the kitchen were pushed open. Master Mason entered with Hannah, who had been an informal participant in the slave training class after Ellen, and who had fallen in love with the gruff chef during her tenure.

Ellen jumped to her feet, grabbing up her mug and nearly spilling its contents in the process. Master Mason could be particular about who was allowed to sit at his table. “Good morning, Sir. I already made the coffee, Sir.”

“Then what are you doing just standing there, slave girl?” Master Mason barked. “Get me a mug.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ellen replied, nearly stumbling in her haste to obey. Master Mason had always made her nervous, and not only when he got out his BDSM knives. But then she saw that he was smiling, something she’d very rarely witnessed before Hannah had come into his life.

Hannah walked over and gently took the mug Ellen had grabbed from the cabinet from her. “Are you all right, honey? Did you get any sleep last night? I’ve never seen you so twitchy before.”

“Is it that obvious?” Ellen asked with chagrin.

“It’s going to work out just the way it’s supposed to.” Hannah placed a comforting hand on Ellen’s bare shoulder. “Anthony and Lawrence are already ensconced in Anthony’s office going over everything. Whoever they place you with, it’s going to be the proper pairing. You’ll see.”

Ellen bit her lip, unable to draw on her usual well of submissive calm. “I know you’re right,” she replied, startled at the quaver in her voice as she spoke.

But what if Hannah wasn’t right? What if she’d made a terrible mistake signing up for this auction, giving herself over to a man she barely knew for an entire week? What had she been thinking?

“Hey,” Hannah said gently. “I’ve always found when I’m especially nervous that a long, hot soak in the tub can work wonders. You’ve got time before things get started. Why don’t you go down and have a nice bath?”

“Yes,” Ellen agreed, glad for something—anything—that might distract her. “That’s a good idea. I’ll do that.”

The bath did help. She soaked for a long time in a huge sunken tub in the slave quarter’s bathroom. The lavender oil she’d added created a lovely, calming aroma as it soothed her skin. The four new slave trainees—three women and one man—who had just started the program a few days before came into the communal bathroom as she was drying off.

Ellen, who had completed her training several months before, felt a rush of nostalgia as they chattered excitedly about what the day might hold for them. The Enclave training program had been all-consuming, almost every moment of every day regimented, each task and situation more challenging than the last.

Serving and pleasing a single Master was a different experience, and one she missed. What would Master Zach or Master Aaron offer her, expect of her, command of her?

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