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“Scene’s over,” Eric said quietly from over her head. “I’m sorry for this. Can you see to Cleo while I care for Rowan?”
“Of course.” Jack put his arm around Cleo, concerned, but confident Eric could handle things on his own. That was no trained slave they’d been working with. Clearly, that girl’s Master had some explaining to do.
Cleo had wrapped her arms protectively around her torso, her gaze still on Rowan. The girl was saying something between hiccupping sobs. It took Jack a moment to parse the words.
“So sorry, Sir… Please don’t tell him… I didn’t mean to… It’s been so long. Master John will be so angry with me. Please, please don’t tell him,” she begged.
Eric stroked the girl’s dark head. “Shh, it’s okay, Rowan. Calm down. No one is telling anybody anything. This is just between us. I don’t expect perfection. That’s why it’s called training.” He lifted his chin toward Jack. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks for all your help.”
Jack looked to Cleo, reaching out a hand. It took her a moment to react, her brow creased with worry. He could tell she wanted to stay—to comfort Rowan. Finally, she accepted Jack’s offered hand.
They tiptoed from the room, closing the door behind them. “Let’s go down to the dining room and decompress a little,” Jack suggested.
“You think she’ll be okay?” Cleo asked as they made their way downstairs. “I’ve seen trainees screw up before and get upset—it’s only to be expected. But her reaction seemed so out of proportion, you know?”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed. He was shaken up too. Used to the trained subs at every Masters Club, he hadn’t been prepared for Rowan’s breakdown, or whatever the hell it was that had just happened.
“I know what you mean,” he said, his hand lightly on Cleo’s shoulder as he guided her down the stairs. “This Master John must be a real piece of work, to have made her so skittish and afraid.”
“Right?” Cleo agreed with a frown. “Eric won’t take this lying down, you can be sure of it. He’ll get to the bottom of this.”
The dining room was located just off the kitchen of the converted brownstone. The only other people in the room at that time of day were Grayson and Dominique, who were seated at a corner table with two gentlemen. There was a plate of pastries on the table, and cups of coffee in front of each of them. Jack didn’t know the man whose face he could see. The other one, a silver-haired guy, had his back to Jack.
Grayson looked up and gave a small wave as they entered but was quickly pulled back into what looked like a fairly intense conversation. Jack led Cleo to a table on the other side of the room, not in the mood to socialize.
She automatically lowered herself to the cushion beside his chair as he took his seat at the small table. A staff service sub immediately appeared from the kitchen and made her way to them.
The young woman wore a bib apron sewn in such a way that her ample breasts were fully exposed. She had a rose tattooed on her right breast, a droplet of tattooed blood dripping from the thorn on its stem. She wore the red collar that marked her as a pleasure sub, reminding Jack of the blue slave collar he’d taken from Cleo. Did she feel its lack? Would she one day wear a different collar—his collar?
Things were going well, after all, better than he’d had a right to expect. During their shared scene with Eric and Rowan, Cleo had really seemed to become his sub, not just his scene partner. He’d felt the strong connection between them as they’d both silently urged Rowan to succeed and was pretty sure Cleo had too.
It was too early for lunch, but it had been a while since breakfast. After a brief consultation with Cleo, Jack ordered a cheese and fruit platter and a large glass of iced tea for them to share.
Cleo was clearly still agitated from what had just occurred upstairs, as was Jack. He couldn’t help but notice that Cleo’s lovely nipples were still pleasingly red from the clamps. If they’d been lovers instead of pretend-Master and slave, he would have pulled her up onto his lap and suckled each lovely nubbin in turn.
Instead, after the staff sub left them, Jack placed his hand lightly on his kneeling sub’s shoulder. “That was tough to watch—her breaking down like that. She was like a scared little rabbit, new to the scene. Makes me wonder about her so-called Master, that she’s conditioned like that. What’s your take on her reaction? I have to say, it took me by surprise.”
“You and me both, Sir,” Cleo replied. “I keep wondering if I did something that threw her off, but I don’t think that was it. I mean, it’s natural to be nervous in a new training situation. She’s supposedly an owned slave, but you’re right. She acted more like a newbie—someone who hasn’t had much training or real experience in the lifestyle. Did you notice her fingernails? Ragged and bloody. The poor girl’s a bundle of nerves. Something’s off there.”
