One True Master: Desire Island Series - Book 1 Page 4

  A shudder moved through her frame, a small sigh escaping her lips. Her clit hardened beneath his touch. Jesus, this woman was hot. This training was going to be more challenging than he’d expected. He’d need to keep his professional trainer hat firmly in place if he was going to get through this.

  He pulled his hands away, taking a deep breath as he forced himself back under control. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a powerful reaction to a trainee. It wasn’t appropriate, and he silently ordered himself to cut it out.

  He focused instead on her ass, lightly rimming the tight pucker and then slipping his finger inside. As he’d anticipated, based on her questionnaire and their conversations, she jerked forward. If they’d had all the time in the world, he might have waited before pushing that particular button in her psyche. But because he only had one week with her, he didn’t have the luxury of time. In his experience, the most effective training method was to face difficult issues head-on, helping the sub both understand and embrace their fears as they moved toward acceptance and true submission.

  “Stay still,” he said calmly but firmly. “You are not to move or react in any way.”

  She stilled, but couldn’t control the slight tremor that moved through her body. He continued the anal exam for longer than he might otherwise have done, just to assess how well she tolerated it. To her credit, she remained in position as he added a second finger into her relaxing anus, though tension radiated from her body.

  Finally, he pulled his fingers gently away and straightened. “You may stand up,” he informed her. “Turn around and face us again. You may keep your arms at your sides.”

  As she rose and turned to face them, her color was high. Her eyes were bright, her lips parted, her hair now a wild golden tumble around her face. In spite of himself, he moved a little closer, inhaling the clean, just-before-a-rain scent of her soft skin.

  Catching himself, he took a step back and pivoted on his heels. He went into the small bathroom that adjoined the presentation room to wash his hands in the sink.

  As he dried his hands, he could hear Ella, midsentence. “—will spend the duration of the week working with Master Caelan. We have a lot of events and activities that might be appropriate for a slave in training, depending on her progress. Master Caelan will decide if and when you earn the right to participate.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  Ella turned toward Caelan as he came back into the room. “I’m satisfied, Master Caelan, that Skylar is ready to begin.” She flashed a smile.

  “Thank you, Mistress Ella,” he replied. “I’ll take it from here.”

  He approached Skylar and reached for the leash, his hand brushing a pert nipple as he lifted the chain. He pulled her gently toward the door, giving her time to get used to the rhythm of walking on a leash. “We’re going to take a little tour of the facilities.”

  As they walked, he asked her, “How are you feeling right now?”

  “Truthfully?”

  “Always,” he said, stopping a moment to stare into her green eyes. It took him a moment to figure out what was so unusual about them. It was the gold ring around each iris that gave them the look of precious gemstones. Realizing he’d been staring, he glanced away and continued their walk.

  “I’m nervous as a cat,” she admitted. “I thought I was going to die of embarrassment back there, with everybody watching while you touched me like that.” Color splashed again over her face and neck.

  “Happily,” he replied with a grin, “no one ever died of embarrassment. You’ll get over that pretty quickly around here, trust me.”

  He took her to the main dungeon on the first floor where the majority of their vacationers spent their evenings. It was a well-stocked BDSM dungeon, complete with all the usual BDSM furniture, whipping posts, racks and restraint devices. She stared around the room like a kid in a toy store, her eyes wide, her lips parted.

  “This is gorgeous,” she enthused, her expression rapt.

  “There’s a room at the back I especially like. Come see.” He led her through the dungeon and through the double doors at the back of the space. This area had been the locker rooms for the indoor racquetball courts. The courts had also been repurposed and now served as specialized playrooms for various fetishes, including a medical exam room, an extensive wardrobe for roleplay and a hot wax torture chamber.

  The locker room itself had been converted into a water play area. There were manacles set into the back wall with adjustable chains and cuffs, along with coiled hoses for spraying naked, spread-eagled bodies. A hot tub had been installed in a corner, steam gently rising from the water. There were two submersion tanks, plus a special restraint platform set only a foot or so above the tiled floor, about the size of a twin bed. A diabolical machine was positioned nearby, ideal for any number of erotic torture scenarios.

  Not surprisingly, Skylar was drawn to the imposing contraption. “Wow,” she breathed as he led her toward it. “What is that thing?”

  “We call it Maestro,” Caelan said, smiling at her wide-eyed, open-mouthed wonderment. “It’s a fucking machine,” he explained. “Both the anal and vaginal dildo probes have adjustable stroke speed and depth penetration. Add water torture to the mix and you’re looking at a very powerful experience.”

  “Whoa,” Skylar breathed, wrapping her arms protectively around her torso.

  He instantly imagined her lying spread eagle on the platform, arms and legs extended in an X, her wrists and ankles cuffed into position. The sexy, vulnerable image nearly made him groan aloud. He angled slightly away from her as he slipped his hand in the waist of his jeans, surreptitiously adjusting his aching cock and balls. He needed to get a better grip on his emotions if he was going to be an effective trainer.

  “Come along,” he said, giving a sharp tug to her leash. “There’s more to see.”

  He led her from the dungeon and toward the lobby. Maya was back at her station, checking in a new group of arrivals. They all turned to stare at Skylar as Caelan led her to the bank of elevators. She was blushing again, a lovely shade of rosy pink that covered her cheeks, throat and chest as the new guests openly goggled her.

  “Stand proud,” he murmured into her ear. “You’re an object to be admired. Modesty has no place in a slave’s repertoire.”

  She pulled back her shoulders, giving the gawkers a lovely view of her luscious breasts. But when the elevator door slid open, she practically jumped inside, her cheeks still flushed. She was adorable.

  As they rose to the second floor, he explained, “Floors three and four contain the guest rooms. Staff Dominants have suites on the fifth floor. You’ll be spending most of your time in the training rooms on the second floor, and in the main dungeon and water room on the first.”

  The elevator door slid open, and they stepped out into the carpeted hallway. He led her past the small windowless space that had once been a supply closet. It was outfitted with a narrow, upright cage and a restraining rack. “This is the punishment room,” he said, stopping to let her see inside. “Hopefully, you won’t be spending any time there.”

  “No, Sir,” she agreed emphatically.

  They continued on past a series of private dungeons to his personal favorite at the end of the hall. He led her inside and closed the door. “We’ll be spending a lot of time here,” he said as he unclipped her leash and set it aside.

  The room was outfitted with the usual St. Andrew’s cross, a spanking bench, a nylon spiderweb restraint apparatus and a suspended straddle beam. The two side walls were covered in mirrors, making the room seem larger than it was. More importantly, they provided a full three-sixty view during training, so he could stand behind his charge with an impact toy, while still able to see her reactions in the mirrors. As in all the private dungeons, the back wall was hung with a selection of whips, crops, paddles, chains and rope. A wardrobe in the corner contained additional toys and equipment, a recovery sofa set nearby.

  “What’s this thing
, Sir?” she asked, moving toward the beam. The device consisted of a polished wooden board that was four feet long, one foot wide and one inch thick. It was suspended on its side from the ceiling by rope at either end.

  “It’s called a straddle beam. It’s a very effective training tool,” Caelan replied, instantly visualizing Skylar astride the board, standing on tiptoe to keep from letting the narrow edge of wood press hard between her legs.

  He imagined her long, slender legs starting to fatigue. Eventually she would tire, unable to hold herself up. She would lower her feet, forcing the beam to wedge hard between the petals of her cunt lips. Sweat would bead her brow, her body trembling with the effort of handling the erotic pain. He saw himself in the fantasy, seated in a chair in front of her, his cock fisted in his hand as he watched the erotic display of submissive suffering. He visualized the aftercare, when he licked away the lingering pain from her delicate, bruised flesh…

  He shook his head, clearing his throat as he struggled to get himself back under control. What was it about this girl that drew him so immediately and intensely?

  Yes, she was lovely to look at, but he was often around beautiful, naked women in the scene. It was one of the many delightful perks of his chosen career.

  Beyond mere physical beauty, she had been easy to talk to during their long phone conversations. She’d seemed older than her twenty-nine years as she’d offered funny, discerning insight about the various players she’d encountered in the scene, along with hilarious, scathing imitations of some of her work colleagues that had made him laugh out loud.

  Though he usually kept these sorts of interviews focused on the trainee, he'd found himself sharing funny stories of his own from his misadventures in medical school and residency, along with some doozies in the BDSM scene. She’d listened with her whole self, asking questions and making comments that made it clear she wasn’t just waiting for the next chance to bring the conversation back to herself, as so many people did.

  But beyond their easy, relaxed banter, there had been an instant underlying connection between them that defied easy explanation. Now, seeing her in person and observing her powerful, heartfelt and unfiltered reactions to this initial tour, he sensed more than ever the kindred connection between them.

  He needed to be careful. However much he was attracted to her, their relationship was professional, and he must behave accordingly. Normally, he had no trouble maintaining the necessary distance from a trainee, easily deflecting any efforts to take things to a more personal level. But somehow, whether she was aware of it or not, Skylar had slipped past the iron doors of his usual defenses as easily as if they were made of air.

  This was going to be a long week if he couldn’t pull it together.

  “How does it work?” Skylar asked now, a hint of anxiety in her tone as she stared at the beam.

  “As the name implies, you straddle it.” Caelan reached up to manage the pulley device that controlled the height of the board. “You climb over the board and position your legs on either side.” He turned the pulley lever to demonstrate, first lowering and then lifting the board by its ropes as his new trainee watched with rapt attention.

  “Straddling this board for an extended period can provide an especially effective form of predicament torture. You can only hold yourself up on your toes for so long.”

  “Yikes,” she said, once more hugging her torso in a protective way. “Thank goodness for safewords.”

  “You bring up a good point,” Caelan said. “First, in the packet you received before coming to the Island, you saw that we use a universal safeword here to prevent confusion, right?”

  “Yes, Sir. Yellow light for if you’re starting to freak out and need things to slow down, and red light for a total scene stopper, cut it out this instant, I’m totally freaking out.”

  Caelan grinned. “That’s one way to describe it, yeah.” Sobering, he added, “Safewords are important, especially when you aren’t intimately familiar with your partner’s limits. That said, hopefully, you’ll never have to use your safeword with me. I tend to be a pretty good judge of what a sub can and can’t tolerate, and it’s usually quite a bit more than you think you can. But if I seem to be missing the cues and you feel you are in danger and have no other recourse, you may use the safeword.”

  “Got it. Red light.”

  Caelan nodded. “Good. Now, I need to do an assessment of your pain tolerance levels and your sexual responsiveness. Please remove the leather outfit and take off the heels. I’ll want you completely naked during our training sessions, save for your collar.”

  I want you completely naked all the time so I can fuck you whenever the mood strikes me.

  Okay. This was getting ridiculous. He was going to get fired if he couldn’t keep his personal feelings under better control. He made a mental note to masturbate before every session, just so he could keep his wits about him.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  As Skylar slipped off the leather straps and stepped out of her shoes, Caelan selected a pair of nylon cuffs, two vibrators that operated with the same remote from the wardrobe, along with a tube of lube and a harness to hold the dildos in place. He grabbed a washbowl as well, and brought the items to the small table set up for the purpose by the yoga mat.

  “Come over here,” he said. “Stand on the mat and raise your arms so I can restrain you.”

  Skylar dutifully lifted her arms over her head. Caelan closed the cuffs over her slender wrists and clipped them to the hanging chain. He adjusted the height until she was forced just slightly onto the balls of her feet. Her features suffused with that particular dreamy look true subs get when bound. She was a natural, all right.

  Once she was properly bound, he picked up the larger of the two silicone dildos, a rabbit with a handy clit stimulator attached. He removed the sterile shrink wrap and slathered the tips with lubricant. “I’m going to push this inside you. Try to keep it in place until I get the harness on.”

  He moved behind her and reached around, positioning the lubed vibrator at her entrance. He tried to ignore the proximity of their bodies, arching his back slightly so his hard-on wouldn’t touch her back. Slowly and carefully, he eased the dildo inside her tight passage. He adjusted the rabbit ear, nestling it against her clit. She sighed softly. That was a good sign—she was accepting the phallus easily and was clearly aroused.

  Now came the hard part, at least for her. He stripped the second, slimmer dildo, of its wrapping and squirted a dollop of lube on its tip. Remaining behind her, he crouched down and spread her ass cheeks with one hand. She stiffened, clenching as he tried to ease the slender phallus into her ass.

  “Relax,” he commanded. “Stop resisting. That’s grounds for punishment.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir,” she gasped, twisting away. “I-I don’t like butt plugs.”

  “I’m aware of that, but this isn’t about what you like. It’s about what pleases your trainer.” At her anxious expression, he took pity, adding gently, “It’s not a butt plug. It’s just a small dildo, easy as pie to accommodate.” He smiled to soften his words. “Now, stop jerking around and stand still.” He gave her ass a sharp smack to punctuate his point.

  “Ouch,” Skylar yelped, not very convincingly, but at least she stopped resisting him.

  He continued to push gently until her body accepted the length of it. “There you go,” he said, pleased. “Now the harness to keep everything in place.”

  The nylon harnesses had been custom-made for Desire Island. Machine washable, they looked something like a sumo wrestler’s costume, with a strap that was positioned between the legs and attached to a waistband that Velcroed easily into place. He slipped the harness into position and adjusted the strap around her waist.

  Taking a step back, he picked up the dual remote and started the vibrators whirring inside her. It didn’t take long for her to begin squirming, her chest rising and falling as the toys inside her did their jobs. Christ, she was a sexy woman.

&nbs
p; When she started to pant, he said sharply, “Don’t come, Skylar. I don’t want you to come—not yet.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she gasped, doing a cute little dance on her toes.

  “I’ll give you a distraction,” he added, moving toward the back wall to select a whip. If she were a novice to the scene, he’d have chosen a flogger, but Skylar had indicated during the vetting process that she was comfortable with fairly intense erotic pain, including whips, paddles and other impact gear.

  Returning to the now trembling girl, he lowered the intensity of the vibrations with the remote and held up the whip, a deliciously wicked single tail with a nice little cracker on its end. Her eyes widened as she took it in.

  “I’m going to whip your ass to help distract you from what’s happening inside you,” he said. “Ten strokes. You will count for me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said breathlessly. Her cheeks were flushed, her lovely green eyes bright, her body still trembling.

  Taking up a stance behind her, he snapped his wrist, letting the throw arc and crack against her small, rounded ass.

  “One,” she squeaked, an octave higher than her normal speaking voice.

  A lovely pink line appeared on her right cheek. Sadistic pleasure coursed through Caelan’s veins at the sight. He struck again, adding a symmetrical line on the other side.

  “Two,” she cried.

  He watched her carefully, gauging her responses as the whipping continued. She managed to call out each stroke. The sharp sting of the lash, which would have nullified the pleasure of the dildos for a vanilla person, was having precisely the effect he’d hoped for in this sub girl.

  Her nipples were engorged, her skin flushed, her pupils dilated, her breath a sexy pant. Her face twisted with genuine pain with each cracking stroke, but he could see that her masochistic, submissive brain was processing it as erotic pain, which was its own kind of dark, perfect pleasure.