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“Hmm?” he queried when she didn’t immediately reply. “What’s it to be, Cleo? You go under and get to come, or we end the scene now. I’m cool either way.”
He held his breath as he waited for her answer. He didn’t have to give her the choice, obviously, but he’d done it for precisely that reason. He wanted to see if she was ready to submit further to him. Would she allow him the total control of her body and mind that such a scenario would entail?
“The water, Sir,” she finally whispered, her cheeks flushed as if with fever, her eyes bright with fear and lust.
Yes, he cried triumphantly to himself.
Brandon was able to adjust the various chains on the winch so Jack could lower only Cleo’s head into the warm, swirling water. Just before submerging her, Jack reminded her, “I’m going to hold you under either until you come, or until you use your safe signal. Got that?”
“Yes, Sir,” she breathed.
Standing at her waist so he could keep one hand on her head while the other was between her thighs, he slowly pushed her down until her head and shoulders were submerged. He glanced at the clock to keep track of the passing seconds.
Her clit was actually pulsing against his fingers as he rubbed the hard nubbin in a teasing circle, careful not to apply too much direct pressure. Power pulsated through his blood like hundred-proof, pure grain alcohol as she trembled beneath his hands. He worked quickly, mindful of the small window of time he had to make her come.
To his delight, within fifteen seconds, the girl began to shudder. He shifted his hand so he could slide two fingers inside her as he ground his palm against her clit. At forty-two seconds, she bucked against him, clearly in the throes of orgasm. He pulled her close, keeping her head under until the most violent of her spasms had eased.
He nodded toward Brandon, who instantly lifted her from the water. The scene had been amazing, as powerful as any they’d shared in the past. Energized, Jack moved to stand directly in front of Cleo. Crouching, he took her face in his hands.
She was breathing hard, gasping for air. He wanted to pull her close—to kiss her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips and tell her he was proud. Then he wanted the room and everyone in it to vanish, leaving them alone to savor the moment.
Instead, he asked, “How’re you doing?”
For a moment, he could have sworn he saw such longing in her expression that his heart leapt. But then, almost as if a light had been extinguished inside her, the brightness in her eyes vanished. Though he could see she was still struggling to regain control after the powerful session, when she spoke, her delivery was formal, almost cold.
“I’m well, Sir. Thank you for the scene. It was a pleasure to serve you. Enjoy the rest of your stay.”
Jack bit back a sigh. One step forward, two steps back.
“Great,” he said, his tone falsely bright. Looking toward the service slave, he called, “Let’s get her down from here, Brandon. It’s clear that Cleo has had enough.”
Chapter 4
The next morning, Cleo sat across from Jess at a tiny Greek diner in the Village. Since Jess had joined the Masters Club several months before, the two of them met as often as they could for an early breakfast. It was a great chance to catch up, and they’d both come to cherish their time together away from the scene.
As they ate blueberry pancakes drenched in butter and real maple syrup, Cleo gave a full account of the events of the night before. Her words tumbled out in an incoherent rant as she struggled to maintain control of her emotions. She was aware she was rambling, but Jess just listened in that intent way she had that made Cleo feel totally heard. That ability not only to listen, but to hear, was a rare trait that Cleo both admired and appreciated.
Jess was familiar with Cleo’s story, as they’d instantly bonded when they’d first met. Cleo had been there for Jess when she was trying to sort out her feelings for Master Cameron, and Jess had been there when Jack had sent that damn letter.
At one time, such a letter would have thrilled her to her toes, despite the rather breezy, impersonal tone. Jack had written to her! He still thought about her! But, coming so long after she’d left London, it was too little, too late.
“I’m happy now, damn it,” she insisted. “I really do love my life here. I have my own special place in the club community. I’m valued. I’m well compensated for doing what I’d do for free, which is pretty awesome in and of itself. I belong to Master Grayson and Mistress Dominique, while still maintaining the autonomy I need in order to serve all the Masters at the club. I love working with the other submissives, keeping track of schedules, ordering supplies and making sure everything runs smoothly. I never realized before I have such a head for business, but it’s fun. Mistress Dominique is teaching me some accounting skills and says I have a natural talent for it. I’m safe, I’m fulfilled and I’m happy.”
