“When you’re fully trained,” he said, “I’ll expect complete orgasm control, including the ability to come on command.”
He released her arms from their restraints, but left her legs spread and bound in the chair as he went to the small refrigerator, returning a moment later with a cold bottle of water. As Morgan gratefully drank it, he took his cell phone from his pocket and tapped at it with his thumbs. Looking back at her, he said, “You deserve a reward for your hard work.”
A moment later came a tap at the ajar door, and Morgan saw Claudette standing there. Following Morgan’s gaze, Master Michael turned, his face breaking into a smile. “Ah, my darling, there you are. Come in, come in.”
As Claudette floated into the room, Master Michael said, “Morgan has done well this afternoon, and I was just telling her she’s earned the reward of an orgasm. Will you please do the honors, sweet slave girl?”
“Bien sûr, Maître,” Claudette said, her eyes on her Master. To Morgan’s astonishment, she pulled her gown over her head, revealing her naked form. Moving toward Morgan, she knelt between Morgan’s spread legs, her intention clear.
What the fuck?
Heat suffused Morgan’s face as she blushed furiously for both herself and Mistress Claudette. How humiliating to be ordered to lick another woman’s cunt, especially a slave in training. Why would Master Michael force his slave—his wife—to do something so demeaning?
Oddly, Claudette didn’t look in the least perturbed. She smiled gently up at Morgan, and then bent her long neck gracefully, bringing her lips to Morgan’s spread pussy. At the same time, she placed her hands lightly on Morgan’s thighs, her touch cool and reassuring.
As her warm tongue stoked lightly over Morgan’s over-sensitized folds, Morgan couldn’t help the small, soft moan of pleasure. When Claudette began to circle her still swollen clit, Morgan’s head fell back, her eyes closing. Claudette’s touch was light, the pressure and friction just right against Morgan’s sex, and she forgot to be shocked or embarrassed, her mind emptying as her body took over, consumed with pleasure.
It wasn’t long before a powerful orgasm began to build inside her. Forcing her eyes open, she looked toward Master Michael for a cue. Was she allowed to come? Oh, please, please, let me come.
His eyes were hooded and glittering, his erection sharply outlined in his gray slacks. Reading her expression, he nodded. “Yes, Morgan. Come for me. Hold nothing back.”
She obeyed.
That evening after dinner found Morgan posing as a piece of furniture, a decidedly unsexy exercise in her estimation. On her hands and knees, she struggled to keep still and serene as Master Michael rested his booted feet on her back. Claudette knelt beside her Master, her head in his lap as he stroked her hair. Master Richard sat beside him, Kristen perched naked on his lap, his fingers idly playing with her full breasts.
“We’ll miss her terribly,” Master Michael was saying. “Kristen’s been a wonderful addition to the household, but we’re delighted you’ve purchased her contract. I know the two of you will be very happy.”
Morgan couldn’t see Kristen’s face from her uncomfortable position on the rug, but she could practically feel her happiness radiating like a force field around the couple. Kristen had been nearly delirious with joy during dinner, though she’d also shed a few tears, as did everyone at the table, at the thought of her leaving them.
“You’re a really good cook, Scott,” Kristen had reassured him when he’d worried how he’d carry on alone in the kitchen. “You’ll be fine. And maybe Claudette will even teach you how to properly make baguettes. That’s one thing I never got down the way I wanted to. But Richard’s going to send me to culinary school, with an emphasis on pastry and bread. I’m so excited I could burst. All my dreams have come true.”
After what seemed like five hours, but was probably closer to thirty minutes, Master Michael finally lifted his feet from Morgan’s back and leaned forward, lightly tapping her shoulder. “You may get up and bring the champagne. You’ll find the bottle chilling in the refrigerator, and the glasses set out on a tray on the counter. We’ll open the bottle here.”
Morgan rose unsteadily to her feet, her knees screaming. She left the living room and headed into the kitchen. “Oh,” she cried, shocked to find Tara and Scott locked in an embrace, kissing each other as if their lives depended on it.
At the sound of her voice, they sprang apart, both of them looking sheepish and guilty, though they relaxed when they saw it was only her. “Shit, make a little more noise next time,” Scott said with an embarrassed laugh.
Morgan wrinkled her brow, though she was smiling. “Aren’t you, uh, taken, Tara? And are slaves even allowed to, um, to do whatever you were doing?”
“It’s called kissing,” Tara said sarcastically, and then her face crumpled a little and she blinked rapidly, as if holding back tears.
Scott put his arm comfortingly around her. “It’s okay, baby. You’re going to be fine. Better than fine.”
Though she was dying to know what was going on between the pair, Morgan, recalling her task, went to the refrigerator and opened the wide double doors. “I’m supposed to bring champagne.” She pulled out a bottle of Dom Perignon. Unable to hold her tongue, she turned to Tara. “What’s going on? Don’t you belong to”—she paused a moment, trying to recall Tara’s Master’s name—“Master Henry?”
Tara’s face darkened. “I just found out he’s not coming back—ever.” Her face brightened as she flashed an impish grin. “Scott was just, um, comforting me.”
“I want her to stay on as a house slave,” Scott added, his eyes fixed on Tara’s face. “There’ll be an opening, now that Kristen is leaving.”
“I think I’ll need a little more persuading,” Tara quipped, still grinning.
“I’ll persuade you with a whipping,” Scott shot back with a laugh. He pulled opened a drawer and took out a towel, which he handed to Morgan. “Wrap this around the bottle, and then put the bottle under your arm so you can carry the tray. You’d better get your ass back in there—they don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Recalling her task, Morgan did as Scott said, moving slowly as she balanced the four crystal champagne flutes on the tray and prayed she didn’t drop anything. This place, she thought with a grin, was better than a soap opera.
The next morning, Laura woke Morgan from a delicious dream that featured Aaron and some fabulous sex. She was embarrassed to discover her hand between her legs, her fingers sticky with her own juices. Fortunately, the sheet covered her body, and Laura didn’t seem to notice or care.
“Get up,” she said breathlessly. “Master Gerard wants you in his rooms for breakfast. Rick’s still asleep down in the slave quarters, and I’m going to keep him from finding out, if I can. As I know you’ve gathered by now, he’s super possessive of Master Gerard, and you’ll have enough to deal with as it is.”
“Master Gerard wants me in his rooms?” Morgan repeated, confused.
“Yes. He’s up early and already waiting for you, so you need to get moving. He just takes herbal tea, fruit and yogurt in the morning, which I’ve already brought up to him. He’s the third door down. I’ve never heard of him asking for a trainee. Usually, if he wants someone, he chooses Rick, and occasionally Kristen. He must have really taken a liking to you.” She flashed a smile. “So, you see, even though you were punished, you must have done something right.”
Morgan swung out of bed, not sure how to feel about all this. The last thing she needed was to have to deal with any fallout, once Rick found out. “Rick’s not going to like it,” she said aloud.
“I’m going to head him off at the pass if I can, before I get Tara and Diana up. Oh!” Laura added excitedly. “Did you hear the news about Tara? She might become a house slave!”
“I know,” Morgan said with a grin. “I found her and Scott making out in the kitchen.”
“Ha,” Laura said. “That wouldn’t be the first time.”
Her
interest piqued, Morgan was dying to hear more, and also to ask Laura what to expect with Master Gerard that morning, but before she could open her mouth, Laura said, “Gotta go. We’ll talk later. You better get your butt in gear.” Then she was gone.
Morgan went into the bathroom, showering and grooming as quickly as she could. Maybe Master Gerard just wanted to share a bowl of yogurt and a cup of tea with her, but somehow she doubted it.
She slipped a clean, white dress over her naked form and dashed down the stairs, her heart already beating a nervous tattoo against her ribcage. Taking a deep breath, she knocked lightly on Master Gerard’s door.
“Come,” he called, and she turned the handle. His breakfast tray sat on a table beneath a large window. The food was apparently untouched, and he lay in the center of his large bed, naked as a jaybird, his erect cock fisted in his hand. He grinned broadly and gestured toward her with his free hand.
“Come in, come in. Close the door behind you. And take off that dress. Present yourself for inspection.”
Trying to keep her nerves at bay, Morgan did as instructed. The contract allowed the Masters to use her as they wished, and she would submit with whatever grace she could muster. The dress removed, she stood with her fingers laced behind her head, her pulse racing.
“Come closer, little one,” Master Gerard said, his hand still on his cock. He patted the mattress with his free hand. “Right here, next to the bed.”
Morgan moved closer, her hands still locked behind her head.
“Turn around so I can see your ass,” Master Gerard instructed. As she did so, he reached out and lightly stroked her flesh. “The bruises are lovely,” he said. “You took quite a strapping. And just so you know, I had a talk with my slave boy about, er, embellishing the truth. I know he tends to exaggerate sometimes.”
He didn’t exaggerate. He out and out lied. Recalling Claudette’s warning and Laura’s advice, she managed to keep these comments to herself, glad he couldn’t see the angry look on her face.
“Come and lie down here beside me,” he ordered.
Morgan tried to slip a mask of serenity over her features as she turned toward him. Maybe someday she’d actually be serene, but for now, her heart was skittering like a frightened mouse in her chest, her mouth dry when she tried to swallow.
She lay down on the sheets next to the slight, slender man, wondering for a moment what the hell she was doing there. Aaron will be home soon, she reminded herself, renewing her determination to live up to his expectations of her during his absence.
Master Gerard turned on his side and cupped her breast in his hand, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger until it hardened. He did the same to the second breast, and then dropped his hand between her legs, gently nudging her thighs apart as he cupped her smooth sex.
“I’m going to fuck your ass again this morning,” he said casually, as if it were no big deal, which, she supposed, for him it wasn’t. Removing his hand, he sat up and added, “Get on your hands and knees.”
Morgan rolled over and assumed the position, actually glad he was going to use her anally so she would have her back to him. It was less personal than vaginal intercourse, especially in the missionary position. Though she wasn’t even remotely attracted to the guy, she would try to be as submissive and accommodating as possible. At least Rick wasn’t there to sabotage her.
Master Gerard moved behind her, and a moment later, cool lubricant was smeared between her cheeks. His cock head pushed insistently at her opening, and in spite of her resolve, she tensed.
“Relax,” he urged in a soothing voice. “Yes, that’s it. Accept what is offered.”
After the initial, sudden pain, he eased into her without difficulty, and she let out a long, slow breath of relief. She could totally get through this. She would be fine.
He leaned over her as he began to move. He placed one hand on her hip and, to her surprise, put the other between her legs. He began to stroke her labia, his lubricated fingers moving lightly over her clit in time to his thrusts behind her.
“I want you to come,” he said, his voice husky beside her ear. “But practice control and wait for my command.”
She couldn’t deny it—what he was doing felt good, the steady thrust of his cock an arousing complement to his busy fingers, which definitely knew what they were doing. She tried to control herself as the pleasure mounted, praying she’d manage to hold off until he gave his permission.
She began to tremble with the effort of staving off the rising orgasm, and moaned softly with relief when he cried breathlessly behind her. “Now. Come with me. Give me what I want from you.”
She let herself go as he suddenly stiffened behind her and then thrust forward in a series of small, convulsive jerks, his fingers still flying over her swollen, throbbing clit. She fell forward onto the mattress as he collapsed against her. They lay tangled together like that for several long moments. She could feel his heart hammering against her back as he sighed noisily in apparent satisfaction.
Finally he rolled away from her and onto his back. “The only way to start the morning,” he said with a laugh. Then he added, “I didn’t use a condom, so be careful when you climb out of the bed not to leak onto my sheets. Clean yourself up, and then bring a cloth to wash me.”
Morgan did as instructed, using the bidet function on his fancy toilet to wash herself. She found a stack of washcloths under the sink, and ran the water over one until it was hot. Squeezing it out, she returned to the bedroom with it and a fresh hand towel.
Master Gerard lay as she’d left him, an arm thrown casually over his face. Kneeling beside him, she carefully wiped his cock and balls, wondering if he’d fallen asleep. While she was patting him dry, he moved his arm and opened his eyes, training them on her.
“You did well, my dear. Please go fetch Rick and send him up to me, and then you may join the others for breakfast.”
Morgan’s feet grew heavier and heavier as she descended the stairs. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was find Rick and ask him to report to Master Gerard. He would want to know why she was the one sent to find him, and she had never been good at hiding the truth.
She would find Laura instead, and ask her to do it. But when she went to look, the only person she saw on the first floor was Scott, who was busy at the kitchen stove. “Hey there,” she said. “Where is everyone?”
He turned briefly to regard her, before turning back to his work. Shrugging, he said, “How should I know?” Then, a little more helpfully, “Tara and Diana probably aren’t even out of bed yet—you lazy trainees get up hours after we do.” He transferred a pile of scrambled eggs onto a large warming plate, which he slid into the lower oven. Opening the oven above, he pulled out some fresh rolls and set them on a cooling rack. Flashing another look at Morgan, he added, “Kristen didn’t even come down to bed last night—she’s probably wrapped in her new lover’s arms up in the guest suite. Oh, and Laura is with Mistress Claudette, getting the morning’s assignments.”
Morgan’s heart sank at this news. She couldn’t very well ask Scott, obviously plenty busy, to go get Rick. “And Rick?” she asked tentatively. “Is he busy, too?” Please, let him be unavailable.
Scott snorted. “Sure, he’s busy primping as usual. You’d think a guy that good-looking wouldn’t need to spend so much time getting ready, but there you have it. He’s still downstairs.” He finally turned to face her as he wiped his hands on his apron. “Why are you asking all these questions?”
“I was sent to get Rick,” Morgan admitted. “Master Gerard wants him upstairs to eat breakfast with him.”
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place? You better hustle downstairs and get him, then. Master Gerard doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Morgan blew out a breath and headed toward the slave quarter stairs. She was being ridiculous. She would find Rick, deliver her message, and enjoy a well-earned breakfast.
She hadn’t been back to the slave quart
ers since the first day when Laura had shown her around. It was hard to believe that was such a short time ago. In some ways it was as if she’d been at the Chateau forever, this lifestyle of erotic servitude nearly second nature now.
The main room was empty, all the beds neatly made. “Rick?” she called out hesitantly, determined just to deliver her message and hightail it out of there. “Are you down here?”
“In the bathroom,” Rick called. “Who is that?”
“Uh, it’s Morgan. Master Gerard wants you upstairs.”
“What? I can’t hear you over the running water.”
She waited for him to appear in the open doorway. When he didn’t, she walked through the room toward the bathroom, her irritation rising. He was in his white drawstring pants, his broad, muscular torso bare, his back to her.
Their eyes met in the mirror, and he whirled to face her, a hairbrush in his hand. “What the hell do you want?”
Morgan crossed her arms over her chest. “Master Gerard wants you upstairs,” she repeated.
Rick knitted his brow in apparent confusion. “No, he doesn’t. Laura told me he didn’t ask for me this morning.” He frowned. “Wait a minute. Why were you sent?” He took a step toward her, his free hand moving up to touch his slave collar. “Did my Master send for you this morning?” His faced twisted with sudden anger.
Morgan took an instinctive step back, but then held her ground. Who the fuck was this asshole? It wasn’t her fault Master Gerard had preferred her to this spoiled brat. She lifted her chin. “So, what of it? He wants you now, so you better get your ass up there.”
She expected him to bluster some more, but instead he just stood there, his mouth falling open as his face drained of color. He was gripping the hairbrush so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
“Why, you little bitch,” he breathed, dropping the hairbrush to the floor. “You’re trying to steal my man.”