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They stopped just inside the doors. “Wait up,” he said to her.
For a second, she thought he meant she should stop and wait for him. But then she realized he was giving her a position command. She quickly lifted her arms over her head, crossing her wrists as she spread her legs to shoulder-width.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a voice designed to carry. “I’d like to introduce our newest pleasure submissive. This is Jess. She is here to serve you all. Who would like to be the first to use our newest toy this evening?”
Wait.
What had he just said?
No. She couldn’t have heard that correctly. He wasn’t going to hand her off, was he? Tears of confused anger pricked against her eyelids. She blinked them rapidly away. This was a test of some kind. It had to be. Surely, he wanted to scene with her? The way he’d touched her while she was in the wheel position…she’d felt his yearning as palpable as her own. Or had that just been wishful thinking?
Dangerous thinking, more like.
A crowd had gathered around them, mostly male, but a few women as well, all of them dressed in a way that left no doubt they were Doms, some holding whips or floggers. One man, dressed in a black leather vest and matching leather pants, appeared. Somewhere in his late forties or early fifties, he was tall and lean with a thick head of salt and pepper hair. He had a long, angular face and a strong nose, his birdlike round eyes twinkling with devilish humor. There were two subs with him, both in waist cinchers that stopped just below their bare breasts, nothing on below the waist. Both women had large, pierced nipples, heavy gold hoops hanging from them. They were on their knees on either side of him, their heads bowed.
He stepped forward. “She’s quite lovely, Cameron. Where did you find her?”
“At one of the public clubs downtown,” Master Cameron said smoothly. Technically, that was true. There was no overlap between Jessica Cooper, attorney at law, and Jess, Masters Club pleasure sub.
“No kidding?” The man moved his eyes over Jess with a hungry gaze. “You plucked a diamond from the rough, eh? She’d be perfect for a scene I have in mind with my two beauties. A little predicament torture for the trio. What do you say?”
“Sounds good,” Master Cameron agreed. He unclipped Jess’s leash and gave her a small push in the man’s direction. “This is Master Kevin. You will obey him to the letter. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” Jess somehow managed to croak, still reeling with dismayed shock at what was happening, or rather, not happening.
Master Kevin placed a heavy hand on Jess’s shoulder. “Come along, little girl. This is going to be fun.”
Jess couldn’t help but glance back at Master Cameron as Master Kevin led her away, the two women crawling behind them. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression inscrutable. She faced forward to keep from stumbling as Master Kevin directed her toward an empty scene station.
Half a dozen people followed along, no doubt ready to watch the show. Jess lifted her chin as she girded herself for her first scene at the Masters Club. So, it wasn’t with Master Cameron. That was fine. She hadn’t joined the club to find a specific man, after all, but to get her kink massaged. She would rise to the occasion with submissive grace. She would show Master Cameron—she would show them all—that she had what it took to succeed as a pleasure sub. This was, after all, what she had longed for—real Doms in a state-of-the-art BDSM club with no limits, except the last recourse of a safeword. Which she had no intention of invoking.
They stopped at a station that was empty, save for an overhanging suspension rig. Jess glanced up at it as they entered the space. He’d said predicament torture, and her mind was busy trying to come up with a scenario involving the rig.
As if reading her mind, Master Kevin said, “We won’t need that for what I have in mind.” He let the large gear bag he carried over his shoulder fall to the ground.
“Girls,” he said, turning his attention to his two subs, “get the sex toy pouches out. There’s an extra pouch in there, which will be perfect for Jess. Insert your toys first and then Anna, you do Jess’s front, Layla, you do the back.”
“Yes, Sir,” the pair piped in unison, Anna’s voice high and reedy, Layla’s a smooth alto. Pretty, slender women, they both appeared to be in their thirties, one with white-blond hair, the other with dark brown.
Crouching, Anna unzipped the large duffel. She handed Layla a small zipped canvas bag with orange and white stripes. She then pulled out a nearly identical bag, though the stripes were blue and white.
