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Her knees were hurting. She was exhausted and had to pee again. Her cunt still pulsed with the unrequited need for release. When Master Anthony and Master Mason finally stood to leave and Master Damon took his legs from her back, Ellen nearly sobbed with relief.
She stayed where she was as the men said their goodbyes. She heard the door shut with a click. A moment later, Master Damon was beside her. She felt a tug as he gently eased the anal plug from her ass. Then he pulled her to her feet. When he removed the blindfold, she blinked in the sudden brightness.
“You did good, Ellen,” he said, smiling down at her. “I’m very proud of how you handled yourself.”
While she warmed at the praise, Ellen remained on her guard, ready for the next sexual insult or degrading instruction.
Instead, he took her face gently in his hands and kissed her lightly on the lips.
Ellen’s lips parted of their own accord, her tongue coming forward to meet his. But his lips remained closed as he stepped back from her. Confused, Ellen pressed her own lips together in chagrin and embarrassment.
Why wouldn’t he kiss her? Why hadn’t he made love to her?
Breathe. Relax. Accept.
“You’ve had enough for today,” Master Damon said. “I’m going to pour you a hot bath. After you soak a while, I’ll give you a full body massage. That work for you, slave girl?”
It was definitely better than nothing.
“Like a charm, Sir,” she whispered gratefully.
Chapter 20
They discussed knife and blood play over breakfast.
Having woken before Ellen, Damon had already placed Mason’s knives on top of the rolling cart that stood near the bondage table, along with a first-aid kit and a box of antiseptic wipes.
During one of their daily text exchanges, Anthony and Damon had brainstormed ideas about new ways to challenge Ellen. The topic of edge play had come up. Anthony had remarked that, while she had handled herself with grace during her sessions with Mason, he hadn’t managed to penetrate her natural reserve.
When Damon had acknowledged that he had fairly extensive experience with knife and blood play, Anthony had encouraged him to bring his skill to bear with Ellen. “I think you will be able to take her further than she was able to go within the constraints of a training scenario, especially given the connection that seems to be developing between the two of you.”
Damon didn’t bother to correct Anthony on that score—to remind him that whatever was or wasn’t developing between Ellen and him was temporary by definition. It was clear the guy had matchmaking tendencies and saw the world through a romantic lens.
Now, Damon said to Ellen, “I understand from The Enclave Masters that you’re pretty new to edge play, specifically blood play, but that you handled yourself well during your training. I would like to take you further on that journey. Does that work for you, slave girl?”
Ellen drew in a breath, her lips parting, her eyes shining. “Oh, yes, Sir.” She hugged herself, a shudder moving through her frame.
Having expected at least a little resistance, even if just through body language, Damon was pleasantly surprised by her reaction. “Excellent.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” she added with a nervous chuckle. “The whole idea of blood play scares the pants off me.” She’d looked down at herself, adding with a grin, “If I were wearing any.”
Damon laughed. He was going to miss this girl.
He sobered as he added, “I plan to challenge you today, Ellen. Given your reluctance to use a safeword, I order you to tell me if you need me to slow down or stop something I’m doing. A blood play session is not the time to power through. Part of submission is sharing what you’re feeling with your Master, especially if you’re heading for a freak out, especially when there are knives involved. Got it?”
Ellen sobered too. “Got it, Sir.”
After breakfast, Damon took Ellen into the playroom. He instructed her to lie on her back on the padded bondage table. Once she was in place, he noted the thick leather straps that were attached to the table at various intervals. He brought the body straps across her abdomen and hips. He noted with approval that they were secured with Velcro for quick, easy removal in the event of an emergency. The cuffs at each corner of the table that he used on her wrists and ankles also had Velcro closures.
“Can you move at all?” he asked once he was done.
Ellen squirmed a little and shook her head. “No, Sir.”
She was completely at his mercy, just the way he liked it.
“Good. I wouldn’t want to accidentally cut you.”
Her eyes widened with the delicious erotic trepidation of the true masochist. She looked sexy as hell, bound and spread eagle on the table. Her rich coppery brown hair spread like a fan around her pretty face. Her nipples jutted from the creamy mounds of her breasts. Damon’s cock throbbed at the beautiful sight.
