She grinned nervously at her reflection and reminded herself again this wasn’t a date she was preparing for, but an assessment. It sounded so formal, so clinical. She wondered who this so-called trainer would be. Would he bark orders at her, like Master Mark had with slave L, and make her do things like scrub floors and lick his boots? God, she hoped not. That had been sexy to watch, but how would she handle it when she was the one on her knees?
A piece of cake, Dana had said. No big deal. And you can always end the scene, Marissa reminded herself. Yes. She could use her new safeword—lemon. She would have to make sure this trainer knew her safeword and understood she had next to no experience. He was a professional. She didn’t need to worry. All she had to do was listen and obey. A piece of cake.
Marissa’s cell phone buzzed and she glanced at it. We’re a little early. Come down when you’re ready, the text message read. Shit! Dana and Tony were already downstairs. Marissa pulled on her skirt and slipped her bare feet into the higher-than-usual heels she’d only worn a few times before, but which were surprisingly comfortable.
Be right down, she texted back. She ran her fingers through her hair, which had dried naturally into loose waves that fell around her shoulders and framed her face. She had thought about and rejected any jewelry. Keep it simple, she told herself. After all, you’re going to be stripping anyway.
Wrong thought, as it sent her heart once more into overdrive. She reached for her black velvet jacket. A last glance in the mirror, and she grabbed her purse, took a deep breath and murmured, “Piece of cake,” as she locked her apartment door.
“Welcome to The Power Exchange.”
Marissa looked up to see a fortyish man of medium height with massive arms and a shaved head. He was wearing a black leather vest over a barrel chest, leather pants stretched over muscular, stocky legs. His large nose was crooked, as if it had been broken, perhaps more than once. His eyes were dark and penetrating, and Marissa could feel the power in his gaze.
“Hi,” Marissa said. The man held out his hand, which engulfed Marissa’s as they shook.
“I’m Jack Morris.” His voice matched the rest of him, deep and gravelly. He spoke like someone used to being obeyed. “Tony’s told me a lot about you.”
Marissa glanced at Tony, who sat with her and Dana at the same table they’d occupied the last time she’d been to the club. Tony lifted his glass in Jack’s direction. “All true,” he grinned. Smiling at her, he added, “You’ll be in excellent hands, Marissa. The trainer who will assess you tonight is regarded as tops in his field—a real pro, and with good reason.” He turned back to Jack, adding, “Marissa won’t let you down. This one’s a keeper, Jack, you’ll see.”
You’ll see? Was Jack going to be her trainer?
Marissa bit her lower lip. Where Tony had been understanding of her fears, and had let her go at her own pace, she strongly doubted Jack would go as easy on her. While the man was certainly compelling, he was also rather formidable, and not what she had visualized. In truth, she’d been harboring a fantasy that she would be trained by someone like the tall, dark and handsome Master Mark from the training videos.
Don’t be stupid. This is the chance of a lifetime. Tony and Dana say he’s the best. He has to know what he’s doing. She realized they were all three staring at her. “If you’ll come with me,” Jack said, holding out his hand.
Marissa glanced nervously at her friends. Tony was smiling encouragingly at her. Dana put her hand on Marissa’s shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Good luck,” she said softly. “I know you’ll do great.”
Marissa pushed her chair away from the table. Excitement warred with trepidation inside her as she took Jack’s offered hand. She was ready. She wanted this. More than that—she needed this.
Jack stepped to the bar and lifted a panel, gesturing for her to follow him. With a last look at Tony and Dana, Marissa stepped behind the bar. The bartender didn’t even glance up as they passed her. They walked through a small kitchen and down a narrow hallway to a set of double doors. Tony turned the knob on one of the doors and pushed it open. He stepped back, ushering Marissa in ahead of him. The room was larger than she had expected and looked something like Tony’s playroom, except there were more pieces of equipment, some of which she recognized, some she didn’t.
In addition to a St. Andrew’s cross, several spanking benches, a whipping post, a medical exam table and a set of stocks, there was an interesting series of rubber strips in one corner strapped to a metal frame. The apparatus was shaped like a huge spider’s web, with cuffs and chains dangling from various parts of it. Nearby were two cages, one upright with cuffs attached at the upper and lower corners, and one low and oblong, with newspapers spread on the bottom and what looked like a dog’s water bowl set inside it.
Muted lighting was provided by a series of sconces set high along the perimeters of the room. Marissa noticed several racks, some with floggers, some with canes, some with wicked-looking single tail whips of various sizes, the largest a coiled bullwhip that looked like a shiny-skinned, sleeping snake.
Marissa jumped a little when Jack closed the door behind them.
“You can put your things over there.” Jack pointed to a small set of cubbyholes, not unlike those found in a kindergarten classroom for book bags and lunchboxes.
“My…things?” Marissa said faintly. She knew she would have to get naked—Dana had warned her. But now that it had come to it…
Jack glanced sharply at her. “Yes. Everything. Strip naked. Oh wait, leave on the heels. You will wait for the trainer on that dais, there.” He pointed again, this time toward a raised platform in the center of the room with a set of three wooden steps set along its side.
Did that mean Jack wasn’t the trainer? Who was? Where were they? She realized Jack was watching her, his bushy eyebrows raised, as if questioning why she was still just standing there.
Don’t blow this. Do what he says. Remember, you can always use your safeword.
“My safeword is lemon,” she blurted suddenly, and then felt herself blushing.
Jack’s lips lifted into a half smile. “That’s nice,” he said flatly. “Now do what you’re told.”
Marissa tried to swallow, but somehow her mouth had filled with sawdust. She moved toward the cubbies and reached for the zipper of her skirt with trembling fingers. She realized she had left her velvet jacket over the back of her chair in the outer room. She stepped out of the skirt, folded it and set it into an empty space. With a glance toward Jack, she reached for the hem of her chemise and pulled it over her head. Blowing out a breath, she reached behind herself and undid her pretty new bra. Jack stood with his arms crossed over his massive chest, an implacable expression on his face, his eyes trained on Marissa.
Just do it, she admonished herself. Nudity was the norm at The Power Exchange. Half the people in the outer room were in various stages of undress, and no one batted an eyelash over it. She was being silly and self-conscious. It was just skin. No big deal. She reached for her panties and slid them down her legs, stepping carefully out of them while still balancing in her heels.
She placed the panties on top of her clothing pile and turned to face Jack Morris. His eyes swept over her body, his expression still difficult to read. “Good,” he finally said. “Now get up on the dais.”
As Marissa moved through the room on rubbery legs she could feel Jack’s dark eyes on her. She climbed the small set of stairs and stood on the wooden platform, wondering what to do with her arms. As if reading her mind, Jack said, “Stand at attention, arms up, fingers locked behind your neck, feet planted shoulder-width apart, eyes forward. Don’t move until the trainer tells you to move.”
Marissa attempted to do as the man had ordered, feeling at once ridiculous and at the same time kind of sexy, naked in nothing but high heels. The position forced her to thrust her breasts forward, and she felt like an object designed to be ogled, which was no doubt the intent of being forced to pose on a r
Without another word, Jack turned and left the room by the door through which they had entered, closing it with a small click that seemed to echo in the empty space. Marissa drew in a shuddery breath and released it slowly. Her nose itched suddenly, and she wondered if she dared move out of position in order to scratch it. Keeping her head still, she managed to glance around the room, half expecting to see a camera trained on her. Unless it was hidden, she didn’t appear to be observed. Jack had said not to move, but who would know?
The itch was now driving her nuts. She dropped one hand and quickly scratched her nose. Shaking back her hair, she once again assumed the somewhat awkward position, her fingers laced behind her neck. The room was cool, but she could feel the prickle of perspiration beneath her arms, and the dampness of undeniable arousal between her legs.
She was there on a completely voluntary basis, she reminded herself. She could leave at any time. No one was holding her prisoner. This was just an assessment, and Tony had said she was a natural sub. Not that she needed him to tell her. She knew what she was now, or more accurately, she understood now what she had the potential to become. She was being offered a rare and precious opportunity to be assessed by a top trainer.
Marissa heard the sound of a door opening from somewhere behind her. Though she’d been told to keep her eyes straight ahead, Marissa couldn’t help turning toward the sound. Her mouth fell open as she took in the figure standing there dressed in a black muscle T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and tapered along his body toward a narrow waist and slender hips. He wore black leather pants that looked like they were molded to his long, muscular legs, his feet shod in heavy black boots of the Master Mark variety.
Marissa forgot all about holding her position. Instinctively she tried to cover her naked body. Her heart was thumping like a drum against her bones while her mind struggled to place the man within these surroundings.
His piercing blue eyes moved over her body and settled on her face, and his mouth, like hers, fell open. They stared at one another for several beats of the loudest silence Marissa had ever experienced.
“Dr. Roberts?” he finally said, his voice incredulous.
It was impossible, and yet it was he. No question about it. Her nurse, Cam Wilder, was her trainer. “Holy shit,” she exclaimed. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Chapter 5
The shock of seeing Marissa Roberts standing there stark naked, save for those fuck-me high heels, caused something to short circuit in Cam’s brain, and he found himself momentarily speechless. He realized now Jack hadn’t even told him the subject’s name, but only that she was a novice with almost no experience in the scene.
Despite the fact she was trying to cover herself, Marissa’s body was even lovelier in real life than the images he’d conjured of her when stroking himself to a quick morning orgasm in the shower. She was blushing sweetly. Her shiny, dark hair cascaded to her shoulders, a deep cleavage created between those luscious breasts by her arms hugging her body.
Cam felt like one of those cartoon characters whose jaw had come unhinged from shock, but his brain sternly ordered him to regain control of the situation. He was the Master; she was the novice trainee. To cede control would be to undermine the entire process. The thing to do was to push on with the assessment. He owed it to Jack, to himself, and to Marissa.
“I could ask you the same thing, sub girl, but we both know the answer. I am a master trainer, and you are here as my subject. You are in the inner room, which means Jack apparently saw something in you worthy of exploration. My job tonight is to assess your submissive potential. As of right now, I see none.” He glared at her. “Look at you, out of position, hiding your body from me. The first rule of submission is never hide from your Master—not your feelings, not your fears and most definitely not your body. Back in position, arms behind your head. Now!”
Marissa didn’t move. If possible, her face became even redder and she stared at him with flashing eyes, her chin lifting in defiance. If she didn’t obey even this most basic command, Cam would end things then and there. He would let Jack know he was not compatible with the subject and hadn’t been able to properly assess her as a result. Jack wasn’t a forgiving sort of man, Cam knew, and that would be the end of Marissa’s chances to join the club.
He would count to three in his head. If she hadn’t obeyed by then, he’d walk out. There was no other way.
One…
Two…
He could see the war of emotions moving over her features, but she dropped her arms and then slowly lifted them behind her head, locking her fingers at her neck. Cam could barely admit to himself the vast relief that washed over him at seeing her obey in time. He moved closer.
“I know this is difficult. This is an unusual situation, but we both know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need this. Whatever exists between us outside this room, for right now you are my sub girl and I am your Master. If you find yourself unable to agree at the outset to put everything outside this room aside, we won’t be able to move forward, and you might as well get down from there, get your things and go.”
She didn’t move.
“You want to stay, then? To move forward?” He realized he was holding his breath as he waited for her to answer.
She lifted her chin again, a stubborn look crossing her face. “Yes, Sir.” At least someone had coached her to address a Master with respect.
Cam hid his smile, and his relief. “Okay, good. A few ground rules. You will not speak for this hour, except to answer direct questions. When you answer, you will do so as completely as you can. There are no wrong answers. I really do want to get a feel for where you’re at each step of the way. If something scares or upsets you, it’s okay to ask for permission to speak, and then, once granted, for you to tell me what’s bothering you. Though the decision will ultimately be mine, I will listen to you and take your concerns into account.”
Cam felt himself settling into his comfort zone, his nervousness and confusion at the bizarre situation dissipating. “To give you an idea of what to expect, first I’m going to conduct a physical examination of your body. After I’ve assessed your comfort level with being touched, I’m going to put you through a series of exercises designed to determine masochistic reactions, pain tolerance levels, sexual responsiveness, and obedience. You will submit with all the grace you can muster. I will then report to the owner on my findings.” He waited a beat while she absorbed all this, and then said, “Are we agreed on this?”
He saw she was trembling slightly, but she nodded and whispered, “Yes, Sir.”
Cam climbed the small stairs and stepped onto the dais in front of Marissa. The smell of her perfume, something spicy and floral, mingled with the sharp but not unpleasant tang of fear sweat. Unable to help himself for a moment, he closed his eyes and breathed in her intoxicating scent. Scent had always been a powerful trigger for Cam, and he had to exercise every ounce of self-control not to take the beautiful, trembling woman into his arms and kiss her.
He delivered a rapid, silent lecture to himself that included reminders of professionalism and the limits of this assessment. He’d been attracted to trainees before and he’d managed to keep his tongue in his mouth and his dick in his pants. He would do it now and cut out the teenaged horn dog bullshit.
“I’m going to examine your body now, sub girl,” he said, his voice coming out gruffer than he intended. “Your only job is to obey. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied softly.
He started by walking in a slow circle around her. Stopping behind her, he placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. She jumped a little at his touch, but held her position. He massaged the rigid muscles beneath her skin, allowing a touch of gentleness to enter his tone, now that she was behaving. “Relax, sub girl. Just the fact that you’re here m
He continued the massage until he felt the muscles ease, if just a little. Stepping back, he cupped her ass cheeks, which, though small, were full and round, an excellent target for the flogger or the cane.
Or his hand…the intimacy of skin on skin, stroking, then slapping, watching the flesh jiggle and flush to red. He wouldn’t stop until she begged him. Erotic pain and lust would intertwine like rope around her senses until she was nothing but raw, submissive desire. Then, and only then, would he slip his fingers into the wet heat between her legs as he pressed against her naked body with his…
Shit. Cam’s cock had sprung to rock-hard erection and was straining against the soft leather of his pants. He dropped his hands, closed his eyes briefly and thought about bedpans and patients vomiting into a bowl until his cock got the message and at least partially deflated.
Moving to stand in front of her, he said, “How are your arms? Are you okay staying in that position while I complete the examination?”
Marissa nodded. He lifted his eyebrows until she spoke. “Yes, Sir.” He smiled, and she actually smiled back, if somewhat hesitantly. A sudden tenderness swept through him, and impulsively he stroked her cheek, which was indeed just as soft as he’d imagined.
Stepping back, he reached for her breasts, cupping his hands beneath each one and lifting them. She drew in a small breath but didn’t resist him in any way. He let them fall and reached for her left nipple. It was dark pink, and it lengthened between his thumb and finger. He tweaked it lightly, pleased at her responsiveness, which manifested as another small, sudden intake of breath and a dilation of her pupils.
His fingers still on her nipple, he looked into her eyes, and she looked back. Were they blue or were they green? He couldn’t quite decide. He twisted the nipple, pinching it hard. She gasped and emitted a small cry as she instinctively jerked backward.