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“Yes, Sir,” Cleo replied sweetly.
When he’d put out the immediate fires in his email, he set his phone aside and turned his attention to Cleo. The crimson of the corset was a pleasing contrast to her milky-white, flawless skin. Her eyes were the color of soft, velvet blue pansies.
Getting to his feet, Jack extended a hand, which Cleo took, allowing him to lift her to her feet. He turned her so he could tug the long sashes at the back of the corset into place. He pulled them tight, accentuating her lovely hour-glass figure, and then spun her so he could take in the effect from the front.
Her large, perfect breasts were thrust forward like offerings in the satin demi-cup bra. The bra of the corset was cut in such a way it covered only the bottom half of her breasts, exposing her pierced, decorated nipples.
“Jesus,” he breathed with admiration. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Cleo.”
She pinkened prettily, ducking her head.
He considered taking her to the playroom, where he could secure her properly for a serious pussy whipping. He hesitated, however. He hadn’t entered the space since the early months after the accident and wasn’t quite ready to venture back.
He might have jumped the gun in bringing Cleo to his home—the home he’d shared with Annette. The home he’d basically ignored since her death, and which still held reminders of her at every turn.
He would address all that, now that he was ready to live again. He would clear out what needed clearing. And, if things worked out as he hoped, they could redo and redecorate, reclaiming the place together.
Returning his focus to the lovely sub girl standing before him, he directed, “Lie on the bed. Scoot your ass right on the edge, knees bent, feet flat on the mattress.”
As she obeyed, he picked the new pussy whip from its bed of tissue paper in the shopping bag and flicked it playfully in the air. “Time to earn your orgasm.”
Chapter 24
They stood in the front foyer, Jack dressed for work, Cleo naked as a jaybird. He looked quite dashing in his tailored charcoal gray suit with a blue and gray paisley tie, a leather briefcase in his hand.
“Have a nice day at the office, dear,” she said with saccharine sweetness. “I’ll have the bangers and mash ready when you get home.” She managed a straight face for about two seconds before she burst out laughing.
Master Jack laughed too. “As long as you’re wearing nothing but Saran Wrap when you greet me at the door.”
“What wrap?” Cleo queried, not sure what he’d just said.
“Cling film,” he explained. “That’s just a popular brand in the U.S.”
“Oh, right. I think I knew that. Not much call for cling film at the Masters Club, except in the kitchen. Though maybe it would be fun,” she added with a grin.
Master Jack waggled his brows. “You’re giving me ideas, slave girl.” Growing more serious, he said, “I know it’s too soon to negotiate a contract, but I’d like to begin establishing some protocols. One of those will be how you greet me when I come home.”
“Yes, Sir,” Cleo replied, instantly shifting into sub mode.
“I don’t plan to spend too long at the office this morning. I’m still officially on vacation. I just need to handle some pressing matters. A few hours should take care of it. I’ll text you when I’m on the way home. I’ll expect you to be on your knees at the front door waiting for me in submit slave position—kneeling face down with knees spread and arms stretched in front. You will remain in that position until I release you.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said again.
Was this really happening? Was the dream she’d held close in her heart for so long actually coming to life at last?
Master Jack set down the case and took Cleo into his arms for a long, passionate kiss.
When he let her go, she was breathless and thoroughly aroused. Sadist that he was, he gave her a discerning look and said, “You will not touch yourself in my absence. I want you burning for me when I get back. Is that very clearly understood, slave girl?”
“Yes, Sir,” she instantly replied, though his mandate had the probably intended effect of making her even hotter.
With a final kiss, he left Cleo alone in his gorgeous flat. She returned to the kitchen to clean up the remains of their breakfast, humming as she worked. She was beyond happy, though still somewhat gobsmacked by how quickly and wonderfully things seemed to be moving between them.
She’d been so afraid to trust again when he’d first reappeared on the scene in New York. But each step of the way, he’d shown her that her trust was not misplaced. He seemed to have managed to move on with his life. Could it really be that she was the one he wanted to move on with?
