Misty stood in front of the full-length mirror inspecting the fire red corset now threatening to cut off her air. With nothing else to use for a cover, and both her breasts and her nether region exposed, she almost didn't recognize her reflection. Her image alone was disturbing enough, but knowing what she was about to do caused second thoughts to race through her head. Why had she thought she could still pull this off, especially when she'd failed miserably just a few short days ago?
She shifted her attention from the mirror to the window, taking in the palatial spread outside the space she now considered her room. While she wouldn't deny the mansion and grounds were beautiful, she certainly hadn't agreed to this for the view. Why had she agreed? Her mind drifted back to the conversation she'd had with Travis when she'd discovered the strip club she waitressed at was closing. She'd been desperate not to end up on the street, destitute and starving.
She could have, of course, returned home to live with her drug-addicted, alcoholic mother, but death seemed a better option than subjecting herself to such hell again. It was bad enough she'd had to live with the woman while she'd been growing up, but to voluntarily go back there now wasn't an alternative.
With no discernable skills other than waiting tables in skimpy clothes, she didn't have many employment options. Desperate not to dip into the savings she'd so carefully been squirreling away, she'd agreed to at least listen to what his friend had to say.
Somehow, despite what the position entailed, she'd managed to talk herself into the job.
Here she was a week later, completely moved into the mansion of industrial tycoon Garron Worthington, preparing for her second--and hopefully more successful--encounter. Never having been a submissive before, Misty did what she could to learn about the lifestyle before her first rendezvous with Garron. Unfortunately, no amount of preparation could have given her the experience to handle what he would throw at her. Their first encounter ended miserably, with tears trickling down her cheeks and her gagging while he fucked her mouth. He hadn't come. While he hadn't punished her or even yelled, his frustration with her was obvious by the tone with which he delivered his lecture on the expectations he had for his submissives.
He'd assured her that first times for women who'd never been dominated were usually difficult, and many chose to leave, knowing they could never acclimate to the lifestyle. She considered doing the same, but knowing she'd walk away with next to nothing had her begging him for a second chance.
Teary-eyed, she promised she would do better during their next session if he would just give her a second chance. Now, her second chance was facing her in the mirror, causing butterflies in her stomach. Could she be the person he wanted her to be? Could she be the person she needed to be?
This wasn't simply about the money, though she had to admit, the pay he offered was what had ultimately swayed her. With the amount of money he was offering, plus free room and board for the next year, it would be enough for her to move across country and start fresh. Far away from her mother and the memories she harbored was something Misty had been working toward for years. All she had to do was be everything Garron Worthington wanted her to be for the next twelve months. Then she could also put this part of her life behind her.
"I think you are ready," Garron's housekeeper, Audrey, said, yanking Misty out of her thoughts. From the first day Misty arrived at the mansion Garron referred to as Rosewood, she and Audrey had hit it off. Maybe her instant friendship with Audrey was nothing more than her own innate need for something familiar in a new home. After meeting the other submissive, Chloe, and finding she had the personality of a feral cat, Misty was even more thankful for Audrey's quick acceptance.
Turning left, then right, Misty inspected the outfit. "I hope you're right. This is my last chance to do well."
Audrey patted her hand. "Let go of any in-inhibitions, and you will do fine."
Misty blew out a nervous breath. "I'm not sure I can. Sex is hard for me as it is, and I don't know Garron well enough."
"Are you having second thoughts?"
Misty turned her gaze toward her friend. "I'd say that's a bit of an understatement. When I originally said yes, I thought I could separate the physical act of sex from the emotional aspects of it, but now I'm not so sure."
Audrey started to respond, but the sound of a door opening caused her to close her mouth without a peep. Misty's stomach rolled with nerves as she turned to face Garron. Dressed in black jeans and a simple black tee, Garron stood waiting in the doorway. His stance spoke of power, his voice stern, but there was an unmistakable look of compassion in his eyes. "Are you ready?"
Misty swallowed the lump in her throat and made a conscious effort to speak. "I ... I need to put on my heels."
"Then do so."
Using the bed for support, she slowly slipped on each of the four-inch silver-strapped heels, while she checked him out from beneath her lashes. Beneath the black tee, his muscular chest rippled and flexed, leaving Misty to wonder exactly when he had time to maintain a body like that. Boy, could the man fill out a pair of jeans. That same thought had stuck in her brain mere days earlier, before she'd embarrassed herself in front of him by wussing out.
Well, not this time, she decided. Swallowing the last of her fear, she stood to face him. This was an opportunity of a lifetime. Where else could she learn about all the naughty pleasures she'd been conditioned to avoid, without guilt? After all, if someone else was in charge, she was only following orders, right? "Sir, I am ready."
He pushed off the doorjamb and sauntered over to where she stood. That's when she noticed the black and red collar in his hand. He slipped the collar around her neck as if it were a cherished adornment, checking to make sure it wasn't too tight. Then he turned to Audrey and took the leash she held, clipping it in place. Humiliation streaked through Misty, and she bit down on her lip to keep from blurting that she wasn't a dog. Three days ago, she'd followed Audrey to the playroom where Garron waited. Yet today, he'd come to retrieve her. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for her previous behavior, or possibly it represented something more. She'd read that a collar could mean possession, a claiming of property of sorts.
When she was at the club with Travis, she'd accepted the collar as a necessary evil but hadn't considered the ramifications of what being collared long term would involve. Having her identity reduced to the level of a possession was difficult to acknowledge. Yet she had no one to blame for her feelings of humiliation and shame but herself. She'd agreed to the contract and all the stipulations involved. At this point that's exactly what she'd become--property for him to use as he saw fit. Disturbed by her last thought, she let her gaze drift to the floor while she followed him out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and back to the playroom. Had she really reduced her own value with the stroke of a pen?
As they entered the room Garron deemed the playroom, Misty fought to push the worrisome thoughts from her head. Regardless of how she'd reached this point, the fact was she had a job to do and a curiosity about the taboo. She was sure she'd endured situations much worse than what Garron would subject her to. If she were wrong, in a year, when her contract was up, she could forget any of this ever happened.
Digging deep for long-forgotten pride, she lifted her head to gaze at the room she knew held both her greatest pleasures and worst fears. Before, she'd been too nervous and stressed to take in much of her surroundings, but now she'd get a good look at what awaited her.
Starting to her left, Misty slowly scanned the area. The wall closest to her held a painting of a couple engaged in sex. Instead of being gratuitous like a porno movie, it was beautiful, depicting the love and desire between the man and woman in their most intimate of moments. Beneath the painting, two mauve-colored wingback chairs flanked a small pedestal table. The far wall contained an impressive fireplace with a mantel of granite. Lining the hearth on each side, the walls held various instruments of the trade, including different types of whips, paddles, and restraints.
A king-size, four-poster bed took up most of the third wall.
She'd noted the pole in the center of the room. Her gaze flicked upward, landing on what appeared to be a straight bar dangling on two chains from the ceiling, with restraints attached to either end of the bar. Her pussy flooded on the idea of all the naughty pleasures that had probably taken place in this room.
He turned to face her. "Three days ago never happened. Do you understand?"
He frowned, and immediately she realized her mistake. "I mean, yes, Master."
"Your initiation begins now. In order to be a good submissive, you will need stamina and patience. Let's see how much of both you have, my dear." He led her beneath the bar. "Arms above your head, pet."
Pet? That was the name the master at the club Travis had taken her to had used on his sub. So the collar really was what it appeared, a representation of his possession of her. Her stomach twisted, and she swallowed audibly as she slowly walked to where he stood. For some people, pets were treated as more than simply a possession. They were companions, and some people even cared for them like they would a child. Maybe, if she were truly lucky, he would come to see her as more than just property.
He'd restrained her on their first encounter. She'd found it terrifying. This time, while she was still nervous, the stark terror she'd felt before wasn't present. Maybe that was a good sign, one that she would hang on to if things got rough. She hesitated for only a second, then lifted her arms above her head.
He unclipped the leash and set it on a nearby table before turning back to face her. As he secured her wrists in the leather restraints, he spoke, "You have your safe word, and if you simply can't take any more, you may use it. However, if you do, I will nullify your contract, and you will leave immediately. Remember, pet, this is a test to see if you have it in you to become a good submissive. Not everyone can and not everyone will enjoy the lifestyle. Better to find out now than trap yourself in a binding agreement for the next year. Therefore, I must test your limits, and they must meet my criteria. Once you have completed your initiation to my satisfaction, from that point forward you will be free to use your safe word without fear of reprisal. Do you understand?"
"Good. Let's begin. I went easy on you the other day. Today I won't be as kind. This is your one and only chance to prove you want this position, pet. It is important for you to understand all aspects of what will be asked of you. Therefore, we will start with punishments."
Her skin prickled with fear-induced adrenaline. One of the things she'd read about the Dominant/submissive relationship was the balance of penalty versus reward. If a sub misbehaved or upset the master, some sort of punishment would result. Could she handle the pain that would come with physical retribution? Would the humiliation that came hand in hand with castigation be more than she could handle?
With thoughts running wild inside her head, she stared wide-eyed up at him and tried to pay attention to what he was saying. "If you disobey my orders or fail to please me or my friends, you will be punished." He lifted his hand, and Misty braced for the blow, surprised and confused when instead, he brushed a finger along her cheek. "However, pet, you strike me as a woman who could come to understand the concept of pleasure from pain. If you can find that balance, even in your punishments you can find pleasure. Have you ever participated in any type of bondage play, Misty?"
He walked to the wall, paused, apparently considering his choice of instruments. Within seconds, he reached for a long steel spreader bar, then returned to her side. He placed the steel bar between her legs, cuffing an ankle in the restraint at each end. "Lovely," he murmured as he stood and walked to the dresser positioned mere feet from the bed. "There are several erogenous zones on the body, pet. Some of the most sensitive are the breasts, more specifically the nipples. When highly sensitized, they can cause both great pain and great pleasure."
He pulled something from the drawer she couldn't see, then turned back to her. "If you can get past the pain, you will feel the pleasure."
He opened his hand and lifted the first nipple clamp up for her inspection. "Nothing I do to you will leave permanent marks or residual pain. Do you trust me so show you the path to pleasure, pet?"
The idea of purposely inflicting pain made her squirm, yet that pesky curiosity that caused her to sign the contract a week ago now had her agreeing before she had time to change her mind. "Yes, Master."
He leaned forward, taking her first breast in his mouth. Warm, wet heat filled her senses and raced toward her pussy with a speed she couldn't imagine. His mouth was like a lightning rod, electrifying her senses. It had to be the fear of the moment, the anticipation of the unknown that brought on a desire she hadn't known she harbored. Slowly, he tongued her nub, then gently raked his teeth across it, causing it to pebble. Sufficiently satisfied with the result, he raised his hand and showed her the open clamp. "Last chance, pet. Do you want to back out?"
Yes! "No, Sir."