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“Sure. Ask anything you like. We only have a few minutes right now, but I’ll answer what I can.”
A million questions about this place and what she might be signing up for tumbled into Jess’s mind, but she ended up asking the one that was foremost in her thoughts. “What’s Master Cameron like?”
Cleo cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve met him?”
“I know him in a different context, yes,” Jess admitted. “He’s the one who extended my invitation. But I don’t know him as a Dom. Does he…?” She trailed off, suddenly not sure she wanted the answer. But knowledge was power, and she needed to know. “Does he have a particular someone? A sub or a…a slave?”
Cleo threw back her head and laughed. “So, you don’t know him at all,” she retorted, still grinning. “Or not, as you say, as a Dom.” She refocused on her task, gently massaging the incredibly soothing ointment into Jess’s skin as she continued, “Master Cameron has never had a particular someone, at least not that I’ve seen in the seven months I’ve been here. He comes here on the weekends to decompress. He always leaves alone.”
“I see,” Jess replied, barely admitting to herself how glad she was he was unattached—at least that anyone knew of either at work or at this club.
“Sometimes,” Cleo continued, “a club slave or submissive gets collared by a Master here, but that’ll never happen with Master Cameron. While he’s always the consummate gentleman Dom, he’s as reserved as they come. Master Cameron has scened with all of us, but rarely twice. He likes variety.”
She patted Jess’s thigh. “All done. You can use the toilet, wash your face, whatever you need to do, as long as you do it fast,” she added with a grin. “There’s plenty of makeup in the drawers under the sinks.”
Jess rolled from the sofa, grabbing the robe in the process, which she slipped back on. Returning to the bathroom, she used the toilet and washed her face. As promised, she found lots of cosmetics in one of the drawers, most of it still in its original wrappers. She selected a new tube of mascara and untwisted the cap. As she was stroking more color onto her eyelashes, Cleo appeared behind her.
“Back to Master Cameron,” she said in her delicious English accent. “I can tell you, any or all of us would love to be collared by that bloke. All the Doms here are good, but he’s the best, hands down. The crème de la crème. He’s super with impact toys and rope, but he’s even better with the mind fuck.”
She was watching Jess in the mirror, and when Jess cocked an eyebrow, she elaborated, “You know what I mean—that ability some Doms have to get right into your head and heart and cunt and just know you from the inside-out without your having to say a word. He knows what you need before you do, and he gives it to you, and then some.” She shuddered, hugging herself. “He turns even the most seasoned submissives into squirming, whimpering, sex-crazed sluts without even touching them.”
Jess barked a startled laugh at the striking imagery. At the same time, she felt a tug deep inside. She wanted to experience that. With him. With Cameron Lord. Which was insane. Not to mention possibly detrimental to her career.
“He sounds amazing,” she managed. Then, thinking on Cleo’s words, she mused, “If I become a club submissive, will he scene with me, do you think?”
“Odds are good,” Cleo promptly replied. “You’ll be in high demand, especially at first. Something new and shiny for the Doms to play with. Not to mention, Master Cameron recently achieved Head Master status. That means he can do what he wants with whoever he wants whenever he wants,” she added with a giggle.
“A headmaster?” Jess asked. “Like Albus Dumbledore from the Harry Potter novels?”
“Don’t be daft,” Cleo replied with a laugh. “A Head Master. Two words. There’s a hierarchy of the members. It shall all be explained to you if you join the club. That is, if you’ve passed the audition.”
A sudden pang of fear spasmed through Jess’s gut. What if she hadn’t passed? They hadn’t said one way or another. They’d barely said two words to her after the caning. Were they even now debating whether to induct her? Would Master Cameron be a part of that decision?
Cleo eyed Jess in the mirror as she finished her makeup. “You have lovely hair,” she said, admiration in her voice. “It’s such an unusual color, like burnished copper. I think you should wear it loose.” She came up just behind Jess and unclipped the barrette. Jess’s unruly hair sprang free, framing her face and brushing her bare shoulders.
“All those gorgeous curls,” Cleo said, shaking her head as if in wonder. “You should never pull it back—not while you’re here, anyway. If you do put it up—say for a flogging, you should just sweep it up, like so.” She stroked Jess’s hair into a makeshift ponytail which she twisted and then piled on top of Jess’s head, several disobedient tendrils instantly escaping her grasp.
