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Cleo and Fiona had always been reasonably cordial, though not exactly friends. Fiona saw all other women as competition and kept them at arm’s length. It figured she would greet Master Jack by humping his leg, while basically ignoring Cleo.
Get your grubby hands and fake titties off him. He’s mine now, Cleo thought possessively. She shook away her uncharitable sentiment. Fiona was just being Fiona.
“Cleo, oh my god, when did you get home?” cried Marissa. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”
“I didn’t know I was coming,” Cleo said with a breathless laugh. She glanced at Master Jack, who was smiling indulgently at her, completely ignoring the girl at his feet, which pleased Cleo to no end.
As Marissa and she embraced, the third girl, Yasmina, originally from India, added to the group hug, squealing in her deliciously accented English, “Cleo is home. Cleo is home.”
Marissa managed to whisper into her ear, “Master Jack? You’re here with him? How in the world…?”
“I’ll tell you everything later, promise,” Cleo whispered back. “It’s all happening so fast.”
Master Jack pulled Fiona to her feet, ignoring her little pout. They engaged in a few moments of small talk with the girls, with all three of them gushing with approval at Cleo’s gorgeous nipple jewelry, which made her beam with pride and pleasure.
Master Jack was gracious and pleasant to the girls, though Cleo could feel his impatience, which she shared. She would have been happier to be alone with Jack just then, rather than at the club. But, since they were there, she would certainly make the best of it, staying as long as it pleased him.
They spent a few more minutes making the rounds, greeting old friends and stopping here and there to watch a few scenes in progress. It was then Cleo spied a gorgeous punishment bench at an unoccupied station.
“Oh, Sir,” she said, placing a hand on his forearm. “Look. That’s new since I was here.”
He followed her gaze. “Oh, yeah. They got that a while ago. It has some nice features. Shall we check it out?”
“Yes, please, Sir,” Cleo replied eagerly, suddenly not at all tired. The bench was a delightfully versatile piece of equipment that could serve a number of functions.
“Since breast play is out for a while,” said Master Jack, we’ll focus on that lovely ass of yours. I have yet to mark you with a cane since we’ve reconnected. Would you like that, dirty girl? Would you like me to cane that little bottom of yours until you scream?”
Lust spurted through Cleo’s body, lodging squarely in her throbbing cunt. “Yes, please, Sir,” she agreed enthusiastically.
The bench was composed of a sturdy steel frame covered in dense, leather padding. Master Jack had Cleo drape herself doggy-style over the bench, resting her forearms and knees on the comfortable padded rests on either side. She adjusted herself so her nipples weren’t at any risk of being tugged if she moved suddenly.
Master Jack locked her wrists and ankles into the powder-coated steel cuffs. She rested her forehead in the comfortable head cradle and closed her eyes. Her legs were spread, ass hanging just off the back edge of the bench, cunt on full display. She settled into her submissive sweet place as he brought the wide nylon bands over and around her body, further strapping her into place.
From behind her, she heard Master Jack unzip his gear bag and let it fall with a small thud to the thick mat that defined the perimeters of the station. Then he was behind her, his body between her spread legs.
A soft moan escaped her lips as he cupped her sex from behind and slid a finger into her wetness. He moved his fingers in and over her slippery, rapidly swelling cunt. She moaned again, unable to control herself as she wriggled into his touch as best she could in her bound position.
“Stay still,” he barked, the hand falling away.
Clit throbbing, heart pattering, she mentally prepared herself for the thwack of the cane.
But instead of its stinging bite, Master Jack’s hands moved sensually over her ass and the backs of her thighs. Because she wasn’t expecting that, his touch made her jump a little, her muscles flexing in her restraints.
“Shh,” Master Jack soothed. “I can feel your tension right now. Each muscle and tendon you’re holding tight reflects resistance and anticipation, not submission. I want you to relax, Cleo.” He leaned his body over hers to purr into her ear. “Take slow, deep breaths. Each time you exhale, let go and give another bit of yourself to me.”
“Yes,” she breathed in soft reply, his words cocooning her as much as the comforting restraints that held her down.
He continued to stroke her skin as she focused on her breathing and on relaxing her body to receive the gift of his dominance. Then he stepped away to stand beside her. The cane whipped in the air, its whistling sound making Cleo jerk against the padded bench, tensing for the stroke that didn’t come.
