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“Do as you’re told,” he warned her in a low growl. “Don’t compound the punishment you’ve earned by disobeying again.”
Tears filled her eyes, which she rapidly blinked away. She was breathing fast, her chest rising and falling. Was she trembling?
Mason placed a hand gently on her thigh, reminding himself she wasn’t yet a trained Enclave slave, ready and eager to suffer and to serve. She was still at the beginning of her submissive journey. She just needed someone, someone like him, to guide her.
“Slow your breathing, Hannah,” he urged gently. “I’m not giving you more than you can handle. Trust yourself. Open yourself to me. You know you need this. You know you long for it.”
With a tremulous sigh, she let her legs fall apart. The spicy-sweet scent of her arousal filled the car. He breathed it in, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting her.
“Here’s what’s going to happen for the rest of the drive. I’m going to bring you close to the edge of a climax. Only to the edge, mind you. To keep you from toppling over, I will smack your sweet little cunt with my open palm. No matter what I’m doing to you, you willnotclose your legs. Your job is to suffer for me, Hannah. To accept the pleasure I give you and embrace the pain that is the price of that pleasure. Do you understand?”
“I’m afraid, Sir,” she cried. “I want to obey, but it hurts. It really hurts when you smack me like that.”
“Of course it does,” he agreed with a chuckle. “You’re a sexual masochist, sub girl. For you, there is no distinction between pleasure and pain—not when it pleases your Master to use you in this way. You were born for this. I see it in your eyes, Hannah. I hear it in your sigh.”
He waited a beat, in case he was pushing the newbie too far, too fast. To his delight and relief, she didn’t offer any more protests. Encouraged, he reached again between her legs. He rubbed and teased her until she was panting, her clit hard as a marble beneath his fingers, which were slick with her juices.
When he gauged she was again about to climax, he pulled back his hand and smacked her wet, swollen cunt once more.
She cried out but, this time, managed to keep her legs spread. “Good girl,” he encouraged. “You please me.”
For the rest of the drive, he toyed with her, bringing her to the edge of orgasm, then slapping her reddened cunt with a resounding smack. Her whimpering cries only spurred him on.
His erection throbbed, his balls tight with lust by the time they reached the gates. As he guided the car to the house, he flipped down Hannah’s skirt and yanked her cuffs free of one another.
“No orgasm for you, slave girl,” he said, his eyes once more on the road. “You still haven’t earned it.”
She huffed a breath, and he half expected her to protest. But she remained silent. Good girl. He’d shape her into a proper slave girl yet.
Pulling to a stop in the circular drive in front of the house, he twisted in his seat, reaching for her discarded bra and panties. Turning back, he tossed them onto Hannah’s lap. Several tendrils had escaped her twist and hung prettily around her face. Her color was high, her eyes bright.
Glancing at his watch, he said, “You have an hour’s free time before dinner prep. I’ll expect you in the kitchen at six sharp. Meanwhile, you’re going to climb out here while I pull the car around back and bring in the provisions. Be sure to take off the rest of your clothing and present at the front door like a proper Enclave slave, naked and on your knees, until someone comes to let you in.”
A play of emotions moved over Hannah’s face—part fear, part desire, part pure mutiny.
You can do it, he telegraphed silently, holding her gaze with his.
As if she received the message, she lifted her chin, a look of resolve coming into those silvery-blue eyes. Her panties and bra clutched in one hand, she released her seatbelt, opened her door and stepped out of the car.
As Mason drove away, he watched her in the rearview mirror and smiled.
Chapter 22
Heart hammering, Hannah knelt in front of the doors, her clothing in a small bundle beside her. Though the property was private, she couldn’t stop glancing around continually, anxious that someone might see her.
Her inner thighs were damp with her own juices, her clit still throbbing. Her bottom still felt tender from the paddling. She was careful as she adjusted herself on her haunches.
After an hour had passed—or maybe it was more like five minutes—one of the doors finally opened and Mark’s partner, Jaime, appeared. While they had exchanged a few words in passing, Hannah hadn’t yet had a chance to properly get to know Jaime.
She was a very pretty girl with beautiful eyes and long, flowing dark hair. She was naked, too, save her elegant slave collar, nothing like the strip of black leather Hannah wore. Jaime’s collar was made of soft leather dyed a deep blue gray with what looked like a genuine diamond where an O-ring might have been.
Hannah’s eye was drawn to the small silver hearts studded with yet more diamonds that framed Jaime’s cherry-red nipples. The hearts were held in place by thin rods that pierced each nipple, tiny balls on either end. Hannah’s own nipples tingled in sympathy. That had to have hurt. But she couldn’t deny that the result was quite striking.
“Hey, there,” Jaime said, smiling down at Hannah, who felt more than a little ridiculous kneeling on the welcome mat as if she were a package that had just been delivered. “Master Mason sent me to fetch you.”
“Finally,” Hannah breathed, scrabbling to her feet. Grabbing herclothing bundle, she rushed into the front hall.
“Your first time naked outside?” Jaime asked with a grin as she closed the door.
