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The pair carried the bondage table to the side of the hearth and then resumed their positions on their cushions. Meanwhile, Marjorie produced a small bottle of water, which she handed to Charlotte. She drank its entire contents in one long gulp and handed it back.
“Well done, both of you,” Brandon said. “Now for the formal collaring.”
Charlotte radiated a quiet joy. Jim gazed at her with such naked love it took Hannah’s breath away.
The room quieted again as Brandon took an oblong box from the small table beside him, opened the lid and held it out for Jim. Jim removed a burgundy-red leather collar with a heart-shaped silver padlock clasp, much like the one on Marjorie’s collar.
As Charlotte sank gracefully to her knees, he said, “Charlotte, by accepting this collar, do you agree to be my slave, my property, my most cherished possession to use and adore as it pleases me?”
She looked up at him with shining eyes. “Yes, Master Jim. I do.”
Hands clasped behind her back, Charlotte bowed her head as he slipped the collar around her throat. He clicked the padlock closed, locking the collar in place. Meanwhile, Marjorie quietly turned and took something from the second slave kneeling behind her.
Moving close to Charlotte, Marjorie bent down and dropped whatever it was into Charlotte’s open hand. Charlotte lifted her hand, palm open, to her Master. Hannah was close enough to see it was a silver key on a chain.
“Master Jim, will you accept the key, not only to my collar, but also to my heart?”
Jim’s eyes glistened with tears as he accepted the chain and slipped it over his head. “Yes, my darling slave girl. I will.”
“By the power vested in me,” Brandon boomed, grinning broadly, “I now pronounce you Master and slave. Master Jim, you may kiss the slave or spank her or whip her—your choice.”
“How about all of the above?” Jim replied amidst the laughter and cries of congratulations.
“Excellent idea,” Brandon agreed. “Let’s all celebrate, Enclave style. The dungeon awaits.”
As people rose to their feet and filed out of the room, Hannah felt Anthony’s hand on her shoulder. “It’s time you were properly introduced to erotic pain. Will you join us, Hannah?”
His deep, sonorous voice, his piercing gaze and his words were like fingers slipping into her panties. Ignoring the birds flapping their frenzied wings in her chest, she lifted her gaze to his.
“Yes, Sir,” she said, feeling like a heroine in her own novel. “I would be honored.”
Chapter 4
When Hannah had visited The Garden for her research, she’d always felt like a kid with her nose pressed to the glass of a candy store. Now she was standing inside the equivalent of Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, a golden ticket clutched in her hand.
Not quite as large as The Garden, The Enclave’s main dungeon was laid out in similar design. There were spanking benches, whipping posts, St. Andrew’s crosses, bondage chairs, a pillory, a suspension swing, a cock and ball torture device and various restraint racks. There were several cages along the back wall, some vertical, some horizontal. Portable racks of impact toys including floggers, whips, riding crops, canes and paddles were set strategically about the large space.
Charlotte appeared beside Hannah, glowing with happiness. She had remained bare-breasted, the diamonds glittering at her nipples. “Mistress Marjorie and Master Brandon want to scene with us. Will you be okay?”
“Sure,” Hannah squeaked, her voice pushed an octave higher from nerves.
“She’ll be fine. Lucia and I will take good care of her.” Anthony placed a hand lightly on the back of Hannah’s neck and gave it a gentle squeeze. His touch centered her, and she was able to breathe again.
“Thank you, Anthony,” Charlotte said, taking his hand. “Both for letting us share our joy here at The Enclave, and for taking care of my dear friend, Hannah.”
“Go have fun,” Anthony said. “Just be careful with those piercings.”
“Will do.”
As Charlotte hurried away, Hannah noticed people were gathering at various scene stations, readying for play. She saw the Mistress in a clingy black dress whose name she had immediately forgotten upon introduction. The woman’s collared sub boy was a tall, nice-looking man with short dark hair. Dressed in only black Spandex gym shorts, he led the two naked trainees by leashes attached to their collars.
An attractive couple Hannah was pretty sure were called Mark and Jenna, or maybe it was Janey, were already at one of the padded spanking benches. The lovely girl was draped over the bench, her Dom securing her with wide leather straps. Hannah vaguely recalled Charlotte telling her that Mark, once in a successful band, was now a solo musician who performed locally.
Anthony interrupted Hannah’s people-watching by saying, “Let’s go over to that bondage rack. It should accommodate the two of you nicely.”
Hannah’s stomach swooped with nervous anticipation. As they made their way to the scene station, a little voice in her head chanted, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. This is really happening. This is really happening.”
Made of black metal, the bondage rack looked like a small swing-set frame. But instead of swings, several chains hung from the top bar, large O-rings attached on their ends. A thick yoga mat had been placed on the floor beneath the rack.
