Authors: Claire Thompson
“Thank me for the correction, slave,” Cam said when he was done.
“Thank you, Sir,” Marissa replied, surprised to realize how much she meant it.
Using a small metal comb, more oil and a wet cloth, Cam easily removed the dried wax, leaving Marissa’s smooth cunt tender, but otherwise none the worse for wear. Finally he reached for her hands and helped her to her feet.
“I think that’s enough for a while. Let’s go downstairs. I have something I want to show you.” He led her down to the second floor, retrieving the pile of her clothing and tucking it under his arm as they moved down the hall. He stopped at his bedroom and said, “What I want to show you is in here.”
He led her to the bed and pushed her gently down. Quickly pulling off his clothing, he climbed naked onto the bed beside her.
“What did you want to show me?” Marissa giggled, snuggling against him.
“How much I love you,” Cam replied, pulling her into his arms.
One night as they lay in bed together after lovemaking, Cam lifted himself onto an elbow. “Hey, I almost forgot to tell you—Jack and his partner, Jessie, are having a piercing ceremony to cement their bond as Master and slave. Jack has invited Dorian Martin, a master piercer and body artist, to do the honors. I thought you might like to observe. Dana and Tony will be there. What do you think? Would you like to go?”
“A piercing ceremony?” Marissa tensed at the thought, at the same time experiencing a sudden, unexpected thrill of longing.
Cam nodded and smiled. “A ritualistic piercing can be a symbol of ownership—of submission. Who knows”—he shrugged—“we might want to look into it for ourselves when you’re ready.” He pulled her into his arms, whispering into her ear, “A lovely little gold ring on your labia—a sweet, private reminder that you’re cherished and owned.”
“Me? My labia?” Marissa squeaked, pulling back to look into her Dom’s face.
Cam laughed gently, his beautiful blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Only if and when you’re ready, darling. That’s never something I would demand of you. It would have to be something you asked of me.”
“Oh.” Conflicting feelings of relief and dismay moved through Marissa. Sometimes she just wanted to be told what to do. Isn’t that what Masters were supposed to do? Even as she thought this, she knew Cam’s approach was the correct one. She understood Cam had no desire to run roughshod over his submissive, taking her power from her, but rather he continually sought to engage her, while always respecting her physically, intellectually and psychologically.
Marissa had come a long way since fantasizing about the kind of submission Master Mark demanded on the online BDSM site. What Cam offered was real, and while it required Marissa to respond with courage and grace, it was worth all the effort she put into it, and then some.
For now she decided to focus on the invitation itself. It was gratifying to realize she was becoming an accepted member of the BDSM community, one invited to events such as this. She leaned again into Cam, who wrapped his arms around her. “I’d love to come,” she said, resting her check against his warm chest. “I look forward to meeting Jessie.”
The next morning at the gym, Dana and Marissa agreed they would meet after work to go shopping for new outfits for the occasion. “I’ll help you pick just the right thing for a night at Jack’s place,” Dana said with a grin.
Thinking back to the elaborate and extremely revealing outfits Dana liked to wear to the club, Marissa laughed. “Oh, I just bet you will. I get the final say, though, agreed?”
They went to Dana’s favorite BDSM boutique in the Village. The small space was filled with racks of leather bustiers, corsets and dresses. Boots and high heels lined the floor around the perimeter of the room, and BDSM gear and paraphernalia hung from hooks along the walls, hefty price tags dangling from their handles.
Dana selected leather bras with the cups cut out, crotchless leather pants, and miniskirts so short they would barely cover a person’s hips, much less the rest of them, each time announcing the item would be perfect for Marissa. Marissa chuckled and shook her head at each outrageous suggestion.
“Come on, Marissa,” Dana urged. “You’re not a newbie anymore. Quit with all the modesty crap, will ya? Oooh!” she interrupted herself, moving toward a pair of thigh-high boots with six-inch heels. “These are perfect!”
“If it’s all right with you, I think I’ll choose a few items on my own,” Marissa said with a laugh. “You just focus on you.”
Reluctantly Dana agreed, after extracting a promise from Marissa to “step outside the box”.
Marissa finally settled on her outfit—a long black velvet skirt that hugged her hips, with slits on either side to mid-thigh, and matching black velvet open-toed high heels. She paired the skirt with a low cut black leather corset with thick satin sashes crisscrossing in front and back. The salesperson pulled them so tight Marissa could barely breathe, but she had to admit as she regarded herself in the full-length three-way mirror that the effect was stunning.
“Wow!” Dana enthused when she saw Marissa. “You’re right. You
can
do your own shopping. I was a fool to ever doubt it,” she quipped with a grin. She had chosen a black leather miniskirt and the thigh-high boots she’d had her eye on, along with a sheer white silk blouse beneath which her bare, perfect breasts proudly jutted.
Marissa had to admit, she hadn’t had this much fun shopping for clothing in years—if ever. She couldn’t wait to wear her sexy new outfit. She felt like a caterpillar just coming out of its cocoon, ready and eager to spread her wings.
Tuesday night found Marissa jumpy with excitement and nervous energy. As they rode the subway from Cam’s home in Queens to Jack’s Chelsea apartment, Marissa looked around at the other passengers, wondering what they’d think if they had any idea that this handsome man beside her in his unassuming white knit shirt, faded jeans and sneakers would soon transform into a sexy Master, his lean, muscular body clad in a black leather vest and leather pants soft and smooth as a second skin.
How marvelous to think this man—this kind, compassionate nurse, this sexy, thrilling Dom—loved her, Marissa! Another bit of lyric from one of her grandmother’s favorite songs drifted into her mind, this one from
Westside Story
—
and I pity any girl who isn’t me tonight.
The doorman at Jack’s apartment building seemed to know Cam. He nodded and smiled as he pulled the door open for them. “You can go on up, sir,” he said, doffing his uniform cap. When they arrived at Jack’s fifth floor apartment, a slender man in his early thirties opened the door. He had a shock of red hair and narrow, merry green eyes over a small, freckled nose. He was shirtless, his lower half clad in loose white linen pants held up by a drawstring at the waist. His feet were bare. A thin collar of dark green leather with a gold padlock dangling from an O-ring at its center circled his neck.
The man stepped back to welcome them in and, after exchanging a hug with the man, Cam turned to Marissa. “Marissa, allow me to present Jesse O’Brien, Jack’s partner and sub.”
Not Jessie, a woman.
Jesse. A man.
Marissa took a second to readjust her brain as she realized her error. She hoped her initial puzzlement hadn’t shown on her face. She held out her hand. “Very pleased to meet you, Jesse.”
Jesse took her hand in his. “Likewise, I’m sure.” He spoke in a soft, Southern drawl. Everything about him was a contrast to the dark, powerful presence that was Jack, but as Marissa well knew, opposites often attracted. “Master Jack’s just making a pitcher of Sangria,” Jesse continued, shutting the front door behind them. “Dana and Tony haven’t arrived yet.”
Jesse glanced at the large duffel over Cam’s shoulder. “Did y’all want to change? You know where to go, Cam. We’ll be in the living room. Sangria good for you both? Or would you rather have iced tea?”
“Sangria’s perfect,” Cam said. He glanced at Marissa. “You?”
“For me too.” She nodded, thinking a little wine might help ease the nervous fluttering in her belly.
They walked through a nicely appointed living room with fine leather furniture, large wooden bookshelves lined with books and framed photos, and striking black and white photographs of city landscapes on the walls. The whole apartment was suffused with the delicious aroma of baking bread.
Cam ushered Marissa into a large windowless dressing room, though instead of clothing and shoes, the walls were lined with enough BDSM gear to stock a small store, along with racks containing a large assortment of whips, floggers, crops and paddles. Two of the four walls were entirely covered in mirrors. There was an empty clothes rack with a few hangers dangling from it.
Cam dropped the duffel on the carpet. Reaching for Marissa, he gripped her gently by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. As Marissa stared up at him, all the chatter and hubbub of the workweek was quieted in her head. The tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying slid from her like a discarded jacket. Her lips parted and her breathing slowed as she focused on her Master.
She could feel his power, and her entire body thrilled to its call. “Sub girl,” he said in a clear, low voice.
“Sir,” she replied, held willingly captive by his penetrating gaze.
“There are rules in Master Jack’s house. You will obey the rules as if they were mine.”
“Yes, Sir,” Marissa agreed, transfixed.
“In Master Jack’s house, subs do not speak unless spoken to, except to ask permission to speak. They don’t sit on furniture, or use utensils. Any Master’s word given to you tonight is an instant command to be obeyed without hesitation or question. Does this suit you, slave girl?”
Marissa felt suddenly dizzy, as if she’d already had the offered wine. A flush moved over her skin and her nipples ached with longing. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
Cam released her and turned toward the duffel. She stood frozen for several moments as she watched him take out their things and lay them on the carpet. He stood and pulled his shirt over his head. Marissa’s mouth actually watered at the sight of his muscular chest and tapering waist. When he slid out of his jeans, she had to catch herself to keep from moaning out loud.
Stripping quickly, she pulled on black stockings with the pretty lace at the thigh, the only underwear that would be permitted tonight. She slid on the velvet skirt and picked up the corset.
She turned again to Cam, who was lacing the crotch of his sexy leather pants. “I’ll need your help to get this on, Sir.”
“I’m tempted to have you wear only the stockings and heels.”
Marissa pressed her lips together to keep from making a decidedly un-submissive retort. Mutely she held out the bustier.
Cam grinned. “Okay, okay,” he relented.
Together they fitted the corset around her midriff. Standing behind her, Cam pulled the satin stays into position. As they tightened, Marissa’s waist was cinched, her breasts plumped together to create deep cleavage. She couldn’t help but stare at herself in the mirror. A part of her brain still had trouble reconciling the sexy, curvaceous woman who stared back at her with her deeply ingrained persona as the no-nonsense Dr. Roberts.
“You are breathtaking,” Cam said from behind her. He pushed her gently but firmly against one of the mirrored walls so her back was to him, her cheek resting on the smooth glass.
His body was hard behind her, his erection poking like a fist into her lower back. Marissa’s entire being throbbed with desire. She wanted Cam to fuck her then and there, without tenderness, without mercy.
There was a knock on the door. “Hey, quit monopolizing the changing room. There are people waiting, you know.” Marissa recognized Tony’s voice. The knob turned and Cam stepped back from Marissa, who swallowed her groan of dismay.
They exchanged quick hugs with Dana and Tony, and returned to the living room. Jack was standing with a man Marissa hadn’t yet met. Before introducing him, Jack and Cam exchanged greetings and a hug. Jack nodded toward Marissa, his dark eyes moving over her like fingers. Marissa felt herself flushing beneath his penetrating gaze, but managed to keep her arms at her sides.
“Welcome to our home, Marissa. You look lovely,” he said, finally releasing her from his stare. “Dorian”—Jack turned to the tall, thin African-American man with large, dark eyes and friendly smile—“allow me to present Cam’s sub girl, Marissa. She’s new to the scene.”
Dorian extended his hand, and Marissa took it, feeling shy but ridiculously pleased to be referred to publically as Cam’s sub girl. “A pleasure, Marissa,” Dorian said in a smooth tenor, his long fingers cool and strong around hers. He wore a white button-down shirt open at the throat to reveal his smooth chest. The shirt was tucked into leather pants the color of toffee.
Jesse appeared from the kitchen with a tray containing wine glasses and a glass pitcher of Sangria with slices of orange and lemon floating on top. He set the tray on the coffee table beside a platter of cheese and crackers. Dana and Tony entered the room a moment later. Dana was stunning in her short skirt, see-through blouse and thigh-high boots and Tony looked suave in a black silk shirt and black linen pants over designer Italian loafers.
Cam, Jack, Dorian and Tony sat down—Jack and Dorian on chairs, Cam and Tony on opposite couches. Large flat pillows were strategically placed around the sitting area. Dana lowered herself carefully in her short skirt beside Tony and laid her head sweetly on her husband’s knee. Jesse sat cross-legged beside Jack, his face suffused with happiness as Jack stroked his shoulders and back.
Marissa lowered herself to her knees beside Cam. He placed his hand on the back of her neck and his touch sent an electric jolt of desire through her. He leaned close and whispered, “You belong to me, slave girl.”
Jack poured the drinks and handed out the glasses. Marissa drank the chilled, fruity wine, relaxing as the alcohol’s warmth suffused her body. The four seated men exchanged small talk about mutual friends, favored piercing techniques, the latest BDSM gear and various other topics while Dana, Jesse and Marissa stayed quiet and sipped their wine.
It was an exercise in restraint for Marissa not to chime in with an observation or opinion. At one point Dana smiled and winked at her, as if to say,
Look at us, a physician and an attorney, barely dressed in our leather and satin, kneeling at the feet of our Masters!
The odd thing was, Marissa found she didn’t really mind. Or no, to be honest, she found the situation rather thrilling. She felt vibrant and alive, and excited about the coming ceremony.