All of a sudden Jordan’s heart was beating way too fast and her mouth had gone dry. She could feel the tension in every muscle of her body, her fight or flight instincts on high alert. At the same time, she had an almost uncontrollable desire to throw herself into Donovan’s arms and bury her face in his chest. Instead she just continued to stare stupidly at him.
“So?” he said softly. “You in?”
“What are the stakes,” she finally managed to reply. “How do we decide who wins?”
“I’ll take you through a scene. If I’m wrong and the experience leaves you cold, then you win. If it affects you, and believe me, we’ll both know it if it does, then I win.”
“And the prize?” Jordan asked faintly.
A curious gleam came into Donovan’s eyes, making them look like blue flames. Jordan could feel his raw power, and her own impulse to yield to it. “Forty-eight hours,” Donovan said. “Forty-eight hours serving as the other person’s personal sex slave. If I win, you’ll come stay with me for that time period, and submit one-hundred percent to whatever I choose, sexually and otherwise. If you win, I’ll come to you and serve you in whatever way suits you, sexually or otherwise.” He grinned. “If the sex part doesn’t interest you, I’ll be perfectly content to clean your house, wash your car, give you massages and foot rubs or paint your toenails. Whatever you want, I’ll be your obedient slave boy.”
The image of strong, sexy Donovan kneeling in a frilly white apron and nothing else, painting Jordan’s toenails while she idly flicked him with a whip made Jordan grin. The thought of him naked and in her bed made her press her thighs together and bite her lower lip to keep from moaning. As long as the sex was on her terms, bring it on!
Jordan felt herself rallying and she shook off the strange languor that had suffused her senses a moment before. Of course she would win such a bet. No question about it.
“You’re on,” she said with a grin. “It’s a bet. When should we schedule the scene? The club’s closed tomorrow—”
“We’re here now,” Donovan interrupted. “Let’s finish the audition, shall we?” Without giving her time to answer, he continued, “I need to run out for just a minute. I’ve seen you eyeing the bondage wheel all week. When I return, I expect to find you naked and waiting, arms and legs extended along the X.” He leaned down, kissing her lightly on the cheek while she struggled to form a cohesive thought, much less give it utterance.
It wasn’t until she heard the click of the back door as it automatically locked behind him that she finally managed to say, “What the hell?” Yet, even as she spoke, her legs moved her into the dungeon, and she realized she was heading for the wheel.
Chapter 5
Donovan would have placed even money on what he might find when he reentered the club. He hadn’t really had anywhere to go, but he wanted to give Jordan a chance to get her bearings and make her decision. As he entered the dungeon, he let his eyes move slowly toward the bondage wheel, his heart doing a sudden flip in his chest as he took in the sight of the naked girl facing forward, her arms and legs extended along the X exactly as he’d commanded.
Without speaking, he walked slowly through the room toward her, the click of his boots echoing against the hardwood floor. Jordan followed his approach with those wide, sage-green eyes, her cheeks and neck suffused with color, her chest rising and falling as she breathed from softly parted lips.
He could feel her tension like a palpable thing in the air between them, but also saw the resolve in her eyes and in the set of her jaw. As he came to a stop directly in front of her, he couldn’t help but drink in her fragile, feminine beauty.
She had a narrow waist that only flared slightly at her girlish hips before curving again into the long, lean lines of her legs. Her breasts were heavy on her slender frame, lifted by her upraised arms and tipped with dark pink nipples that were standing at attention. A small, groomed triangle of red pubic hair, darker than the red-gold hair on her head, barely concealed the sweet cleft of her sex between her spread legs.
Donovan stroked her cheek, letting his fingers slide down her throat, feeling the shudder that passed through her body at his touch. He pressed his palm lightly against her chest. He could feel her heart pounding.
“Shh,” he said, moving his hand again to her face. “There’s no need to be afraid, Jordan. I won’t give you more than you can handle. You’ve done this yourself a hundred times. You know that what I offer isn’t about pain, per se, but about surrender. Surely you can take what you dish out, no?”
Mutely, she nodded, though he could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced. Normally he would have insisted she answer properly and address him either as Master or Sir, but for now he let it go. After all, she hadn’t agreed to submit to him, but only to experience firsthand the sensations she’d been so ready and willing to provide for others, without a real understanding of what it felt like to be on the receiving end.
Donovan wouldn’t deny Jordan knew her way around a BDSM scene. She’d done an excellent job with Rita. She clearly had the gift of dominance, as well as the fire and skill needed to conduct a good scene. But he couldn’t forget the haunted, hungry look in her eyes when she’d watched his shows, or the visceral reaction when he’d challenged her to take this chance. Yes, there was fear there, but there was also desire—he was sure of it.
“We’ll start slowly,” Donovan said, a surge of adrenaline ripping through his body at the thought of flogging this gorgeous naked young woman. “A nice warm-up flogging, okay?”
Again she only nodded, and again he let it pass.
“Turn around,” he commanded. “Face the wheel, arms and legs against the X like before.” He waited while she obeyed, his eyes lingering over the sight of her small, rounded ass. His cock hardened as he contemplated the various ways he would turn her skin from milky white to cherry red before the session was over.
“I’m just going to cuff your wrists for now,” he informed her. “It’s your job to maintain your position, feet flat.” He chose the lower wrist cuffs so Jordan’s feet could remain on the floor. He wrapped and clipped the leather cuffs around Jordan’s wrists one at a time, a thrum of anticipation making his heart pop into a higher gear.
“Relax your hands,” he admonished, noting her curling fingers. “You know better.”
Stepping over to the rack, Donovan selected a heavy suede flogger. Jordan turned her head to the side. She was watching him, anxiety radiating from her like a force field. She was still breathing too fast and he moved closer, gently pressing his chest against her bare back as he spoke softly into her ear.
“Jordan, you need to slow your breathing. You can do this. I know you can. But if you’re unsure that you want to continue, if you want to stop now, just say so. Your job as waitress is still waiting, and there’ll be no hard feelings, I promise.”
“No.” Jordan’s voice came out hoarse and she cleared her throat, repeating, “No. I want to do this. I want the job. If this is what it takes…” She let the sentence trail off.
Yes, he thought to himself. This is what it takes, but there’s more going on here. I’m sure of it. Aloud, he said, “Okay, then. Deep breaths. Close your eyes and let go of your resistance. Show me the same grace you demand of your subs.”
Jordan drew in a deep, shuddery breath. “That’s it,” he urged. “In…and out. In…and out. Better.” Stepping back, he pressed his hands lightly against her shoulders. “Lower your shoulders. Stop holding all that tension. That’s better. Just relax. Open yourself to the experience.”
He began slowly, brushing her skin with the soft suede. He took his time, very slowly building the intensity until he gauged she was sufficiently calm. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he let the first real stroke swish and sting against her ass.
Jordan yelped, her body tensing. Donovan struck her again, thrilling as he always did to the sound of leather against flesh, enjoying the jiggle of her ass with each stroke, and the rising color on her skin.
&
nbsp; “Hey! It hurts!” Jordan cried, doing a little avoidance dance with her feet as she tried in vain to escape the stinging kiss of the flogger.
“It’s supposed to, silly girl,” Donovan chided with a grin. “Stay in position. Feet flat on the ground. Don’t focus on the pain. Focus on where that pain can take you. Focus on the pleasure of pure sensation.” He moved the flogger, letting the suede tresses wrap around her thighs and land between her shoulder blades before returning to her delectable ass.
Her yelps continued, but a sort of breathy quality began to infuse the sound, which segued from outraged cries of pain to something much more like the sweet moaning of a woman in the throes of orgasm.
I knew it, he thought triumphantly, though he recognized it was too soon to really make such a call.
Replacing the flogger in the rack, he returned to the girl and released her wrist cuffs. “Turn around and place your back to the wheel,” he said. When Jordan didn’t immediately react, he put a hand on her shoulder and spun her around. She brought her arms protectively over her breasts as she fell back against the padded leather. Donovan watched the play of emotions moving over her face, their meaning clear to him—part fear, part protest and, she couldn’t hide it from him, part desire.
“Arms extended over your head along the X. I’m going to cuff you fully into the wheel. Since you have a hard time staying in position on your own, we’ll just take away that option for now.”
This time he secured her wrists in the higher cuffs, forcing her onto her toes. He buckled the waist belt in place and then secured her thighs and ankles along the X to hold her fast against the wheel, with the net result that her feet no longer touched the ground.
“How you doing, Jordan? Still okay?” Donovan asked as he stepped back to admire the view.
“I’m nervous,” Jordan answered. “I feel very vulnerable.”
Donovan nodded. “Yes, you are completely restrained, completely at my mercy. Takes a lot of trust, doesn’t it? It’s a lot to ask of someone, would you agree?”
Jordan nodded. “Yeah. I get it. The whole sub experience thing, how it’s important to put myself in their shoes, or, uh, their cuffs.” She flashed a sudden grin, though her eyes remained anxious. “I think you can let me down now.”
Donovan smiled, shaking his head. “You think wrong. We’re just getting started.”
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a pair of clover clamps. “You know what these are, right?”
“Yes,” Jordan whispered, her eyes widening as she stared at them. “Is this really necessary?”
“It really is.”
Donovan reached for one of her perfect nipples, his mouth watering as he fantasized about closing his lips over the soft marble of flesh and making it harden with his tongue. Instead he rolled it in between finger and thumb, pulling it taut. He glanced at her face. Her lips were pressed into a single line, her brows furrowed, nostrils flaring.
“Jordan, look at me.” She shifted her gaze, her eyes interlocking with his. “You need to calm down. You took the flogging well. It’s not necessary to white-knuckle through the experience the way you appear to be doing. Follow the advice you give your subs. Embrace the experience. Savor the eroticism to be found in what I’m giving you. Let go.”
Jordan nodded slowly, her mouth relaxing a little, some of the panic easing from her expression.
Donovan stroked her satiny soft cheek, the lyrics from that Radiohead song, Creep, moving through his head: you’re just like an angel, your skin makes me cry. He lost his concentration, and had to remind himself this was about Jordan, not himself.
He reached again for her nipple, which had hardened to a stiff point, perfect for the clamp. Pressing the clamp open, Donovan positioned it carefully on either side of the dark pink nubbin, getting as close to the base as he could before letting it close.
Predictably, Jordan yelped. Ignoring this, Donovan did the same to her other nipple and then stepped back once more to admire his handiwork. She looked incredibly sexy with the clamps compressing each reddening nipple, the silver chain swaying between her lovely, full breasts. There were tears in her eyes, her cheeks and chest mottled with color, her breath again rasping in her throat.
Donovan knew from personal experience how much the clover clamps could hurt. “Hey,” he said gently. “You’re doing really, really good. You know, right, that the pain gets easier to bear as your nerve endings numb?”
“It hurts,” Jordan whispered, pleading with her eyes.
If she were his lover, he would have crouched now between her legs, spreading her sex with his hands and pulling her hips forward so he could taste the spicy sweetness of her cunt. That would distract her from the pain, he was sure of it.
Of course, that wasn’t an option. Instead, he began to spin the wheel, very slowly. Jordan gasped, her body visibly tensing. “Relax,” Donovan urged. “You’re completely secure in the cuffs.” He continued to turn the wheel until she was upside down. The chain between the nipple clamps fell downward, glinting silver against her throat.
“It’s not so bad now, right? Your nipples are numbing about now.” To further distract her, and because he wanted to, Donovan stroked the soft skin of her inner thighs. Jordan shuddered at his touch, and he could feel her desire radiating from her skin like heat—or was it his own desire he felt? How easy it would be to let his fingers continue their slow glide to the sweet pooch of her sex so enticingly displayed between her spread legs. Was she wet, in spite of her fear? Because of it?
He turned the wheel until she was once again upright. “I’m going to take them off now, okay?”
Jordan bit her lower lip and furrowed her brows. She knew, of course, what was in store for her. Slowly she nodded.
Donovan reached for both clamps, releasing them at the same time.
“Fuck!” Jordan screamed as the blood flow returned to her tortured nipples.
Donovan hid his smile as he cupped her breasts, moving his palms gently over the engorged, tender nipples, soothing away the pain. “Pretty intense, huh?” he offered, stating the obvious. Jordan didn’t reply.
When he gauged she was sufficiently recovered, Donovan unbuckled the belt and released the cuffs, helping Jordan regain her footing as she stepped away from the wheel.
“You’re doing really well so far,” he said.
“So far?” Jordan blurted. “You mean we aren’t done yet? Come on, Donovan. I can’t take much more of this.”
“Sure you can, Jordan. Don’t sell yourself short.” Donovan grinned.
“But—“
He put two fingers to her lips, shaking his head. “No buts, Jordan. We’re not done yet. Turn to face the wheel, arms and legs against the X.” Again she opened her mouth to protest but he spoke first. “Just think about Rita. She’s probably got the club on speed dial by now, just itching to get the first pro session with Mistress Jordan. And once the word is out, you’re going to be as busy as I am, you can count on it. You don’t want to just be a Domme who goes through the motions, without the deeper level of real understanding you can attain if you choose to, do you? Don’t quit before the miracle, Jordan. Give the process a chance.”
Jordan closed her mouth, the glint of determination again appearing in her eyes, her small, square chin jutting forward in a show of defiant courage.
“That’s the spirit,” he said. “There is nothing sexier to me than a strong submissive.”
“I’m not—” Jordan began.
“I know, I know. You’re not a sub. So you say.” Donovan pointed to the wheel. “Go on, get in position facing the wheel.”
To her credit, Jordan obeyed without further protest, staying quiet and still as Donovan again locked her into the cuffs. Securing her at the ankle and wrists, he used the lower cuffs this time, allowing her to remain standing, her toes snugged in the space between the wheel and the floor.
Returning to the rack, he selected one of the thicker canes, which he knew would be easier for a novice
to handle than one of the thinner, whippier canes that marked the skin far more easily. “I’m going to introduce you to the cane, Jordan. As you know intellectually, it’s very different from the diffused sensation of a many-tressed flogger. The impact of a cane, because of its shape and material, is very focused, very intense.”
He started slowly to warm and ready her skin, just tapping the fleshiest part of her ass for several minutes until he felt her relax, her muscles easing, her breathing slowed to something approaching normal. He began then to hit her a little harder, just enough to get her attention. He tapped the cane in steady, even strokes over the small, fleshy globes of her cute little ass.
Just a slight increase in intensity caused her to squirm and gasp, though she couldn’t move much, bound along the X as she was. He struck her harder, causing a long pink line to rise on her left cheek. For symmetry’s sake, he added a second line on the right cheek.
“Jesus!” Jordan cried. “This fucking hurts, Donovan. I can’t do it. It’s too much.”
“It’s not enough,” Donovan countered. “You aren’t letting go.” He relented though, and set down the cane. He placed his hands gently on Jordan’s ass. As he stroked her hot skin he murmured, “Think about what you said to Rita. Remember? Something about pushing her sensual envelope. I liked what you said, Jordan. And that’s what it’s really about, isn’t it? Sensuality. Touch. Connection.”
He continued to stroke her skin, letting his fingers trail along the backs of her thighs. However much she protested that she wanted him to stop, he could feel her desire, sense her need. He could smell the spicy, delicate scent of her musk, and feel the throb of his own cock.