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It was thrilling to watch, but when Hannah tried to visualize herself in Lia’s place, masturbating for Mason while he held a knife to her throat, her brain rebelled. She would, quite simply, die of terror, embarrassment or some combination of the two.
But Lia had no such qualms. She was going at it fast and furious, her face twisting in concentration as she played with herself. It wasn’t long before she was panting, her fingers a flurry between her legs.
“Please, can I come?” Lia begged breathlessly.
“No,” Mason said.
Lia didn’t seem to hear him, her fingers still flying over her sex.
Mason set down the knife, his face darkening. He slapped Lia’s hand away and then gripped a handful of her pink hair, jerking her head back. “I saidno,” he repeated in a hard voice.
Getting to his feet, he pulled her upright by the hair. When he spoke again, he didn’t sound angry, only measured and firm. “You just failed submission 101. Obey your Master without hesitation or question. Clearly, you’ve got a lot to learn if you want to make it through this program.”
Lia’s face was red with some combination of indignation, shame and fury. Letting her go, Mason took a step back and shrugged. “Frankly, I’m not sure you’re worth the bother. Go on. You’re dismissed. After lunch, Lawrence will see to your punishment—again.”
The poor girl fled from the room.
Mason turned to Hannah, his eyes flickering over her bare body. She’d almost forgotten she was naked, so caught up in the drama unfolding before her. Now her bound arms twitched with the need to cover herself.
“Sorry about that,” Mason said with a rueful smile. “Though I guess it was a lesson of sorts—a lesson on hownotto behave.” Mason shook his head. “Anthony must have seensomethingin the girl to grant her admittance, though I’ve no idea what.”
Hannah wasn’t sure if she was supposed to reply or not. To be on the safe side, she held her tongue as she waited for him to let her down.
Instead of moving to release her, however, Mason busied himself cleaning the play area and putting away his gear. He bunched the paper covering the bondage table into a ball and tossed it into the trashcan beneath the worktable.
Finally, he came over to Hannah. As before, he stood very close toher as he reached for her cuffs. Closing her eyes, she again inhaled his comforting scent. He leaned closer, his chest brushing her bare nipples, sending a shiver of desire through her.
He released the cuffs and brought her now tingling arms down to her sides. He didn’t step away, as she’d expected. Instead, without letting go of her wrists, he dipped his head so she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.
Hannah froze, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. What should she do? Was he going to kiss her? Should she shove him back before it was too late? Or should she just let it happen…
All at once, Mason took a step back. He gave a quick shake of his head, as if he were engaged in a silent conversation with himself, just as she was. Turning abruptly away from her, he bent down and plucked her sundress from the floor.
He tossed it to her with a grin. “Come on, newbie. Let’s go down and serve lunch.”
Chapter 15
It was late Tuesday afternoon when Mason took off his apron and hung it on its hook. Everything was prepped for dinner, the kitchen tidy, the dining room table already set. Hannah was off doing positions training or some other BDSM-lite bullshit activity.
Despite what he still considered her wannabe status as a trainee, she was turning out to be of far greater help than he’d anticipated. She had surprisingly good knife and prep skills and clearly knew her way around a kitchen. That morning, he’d given her the task of making biscuits to go with the morning’s breakfast, along with his recipe.
To his surprise, she’d asked if he wouldn’t mind if she used her own recipe. He’d been mildly affronted at her audacity. If she’d been his actual sous chef, he would have put her promptly in her place. Curiosity won out over professional umbrage, and he’d let her go ahead, though his expectations had been low.
She’d produced a product as good, if not better, than his own, with a perfect golden-brown crust, the insides fluffy and flaky. When he’d complimented her on them, she’d smiled shyly, her cheeks dimpling prettily. He’d liked that smile and had found himself smiling back.
It still irritated him that Anthony was allowing Hannah to wear clothing when not in a training session. He found her clothing distracting. All Enclave subs were generally kept naked or nearly so, particularly the trainees. He was so used to this state of affairs that he barely registered their nudity in a day-to-day setting. But Hannah’s clingy dresses, the fabric hugging her ample ass and draping over her lush breasts, were like a taunt.
If she’d been any other Enclave trainee, he would have come up behind her as she worked. He would have flipped up that dress andpressed his hard erection against her bare ass. “Don’t stop what you’re doing,” he would have murmured in her ear. Then he would have gripped her by the hips, pulling her against him as he slid his hard cock into her wet cunt.
Idly massaging his cock through his jeans, he glanced out the kitchen window at the outdoor dungeon. Brandon and Marjorie were conducting a training session with Michael and Ellen. The two slaves straddled the punishment horse, facing one another. Their arms were bound and suspended from the overhead trellis beam. They were both on their toes, their genitals almost but not quite touching the hard-edged wood between their legs.
To give them even more of a challenge, clover clamps were attached to their nipples—one chain tethering Michael’s left nipple to Ellen’s right, the other Michael’s right to Ellen’s left. Each time one of them flinched or jerked, they both paid the price.
The punishment horse was aptly named. The basic wood sawhorse had been modified so the thin edge of the main plank faced upward, perfect for fitting snugly between labia or pressing painfully into testicles. The plank could be adjusted to accommodate the height of those who straddled it. To make up for the height difference, for this session it had been angled so both trainees faced the same trial. Even so, Michael had the advantage of muscle over Ellen, whose slender legs were already trembling with the effort of holding her cunt above the sharp-edged sawhorse.
To add fire to the slow smolder of their predicament bondage, Brandon stood behind Ellen, Marjorie behind Michael, each wielding a single tail whip. From his vantage point at the window, Mason could see Ellen’s face twist into a grimace of pain each time the lash snapped against her back.
Aroused, he went out back to watch the scene unfold. To his delighted surprise, Hannah was kneeling on the tatami mat nearby, her arms bound behind her with Shibari rope. Her nipples were also caught in a pair of clover clamps, the chain swaying between her breasts. Her knees were spread wide, no trace of clothing on her curvaceous body.
