Page 77 of Under His Control

That hadn’t stopped Damon from purchasing a portable suspension rack and a full-size St. Andrew’s cross, both of which he kept in the bedroom. He’d also equipped their four-poster brass bed with rope and cuffs for when he wished to restrain his slave girl. She still wore wrist cuffs at night to remind her even in sleep that she belonged to him.

Just as he was pulling on the black silk drawstring pants Ellen had recently bought him, she entered the room. She was holding the leather spanking paddle he’d ordered in both hands, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Kneel and present it to me,” he commanded.

Ellen at once sank to her knees. Balancing the paddle on her upturned palms, she lifted her arms in offering.

It was a handmade beauty from the Leather Master. Dyed black with burgundy edging, it was made from two thick layers of cowhide saddle leather stitched together to give it extra heft. Damon took the paddle from her and snapped it against his thigh with a loud slap.

Ellen’s eyes widened at the sound, her lips pursing as she drew in a sharp breath.

“You have a choice,” he told her. “I can strap you onto the cross, or you can lie over my knees. A nice, hard paddling should get you in the right mindset for the weekend.”

“Your lap, please, Sir,” she said sweetly.

He sat on the bed. Setting the paddle out of the way for the moment, he patted his thigh. Once Ellen was appropriately positioned on his lap, he ran his hands over her ass, enjoying the silky-smooth feel of her skin. He slipped a hand between her legs, running his fingers over her labia. She was already wet for him, as she should be. He slipped a finger inside her heat, enjoying her responsive shudder and soft moan.

He played with her cunt until she was quivering, her breath rapid in her throat. Leaving her on the edge, he reached for the leather paddle. He brought it down with a satisfying slap against her ass. The leather left a pretty red mark in its wake.

Ellen drew in a sharp breath at impact. He smacked her again, putting a little more force into the blow. Ellen sighed, settling against him in that lovely, surrendering way she had.

He paddled her for several minutes, until her ass was bright red and his cock was painfully erect beneath her. Setting down the paddle, he pushed her gently from his lap to her knees on the carpet at his feet.

Standing, he tugged his pants down to his thighs, allowing his cock to spring free. Ellen needed no command. With tears still running down her face from the paddling, she reached eagerly for him. Cradling his balls in one hand, she closed her lips over his shaft.

She bobbed forward, taking the length of him until her nose rested on his pubic bone. He palmed the back of her head, holding her in place for several seconds, aware his cock was blocking her ability to breathe.

When he let her go, she went to work, expertly sucking and stroking him. He gripped her thick, shiny hair, using it to push her forward and pull her back on his cock as he fucked her face. He tried to hold on at least for a little while, but it was impossible with this beautiful, lovely girl working her magic with her lips, tongue and hands.

With a groan, he let himself go. When he was done, she looked up at him with a sexy, satisfied smile. In that moment, there was no question about who owned whom. He may have laid claim to her body but she definitely owned his heart.

≈

When they arrived at the compound around nine that night, they drove straight to the main house. The party wasn’t until the next night, but Ellen was eager to see her Enclave friends before they headed down to the cabin.

Leaving their car in the circular drive, they made their way to the front door. Mindful of Enclave protocol, Ellen slipped out of her dress as Master Damon lifted the heavy brass knocker. Already naked beneath her clothing, she stood proudly beside him. As they waited for the door to open, Damon took her hand in his.

The door was opened by Jaime, with whom Ellen had texted earlier in the evening. They had stayed in touch via texts, but it had been far too long since they’d seen each other in person. Like all slaves at The Enclave, Jaime was naked, save for her beautiful collar, which was made from the softest leather dyed a pearly blue that perfectly matched her eyes, a genuine diamond sparkling at its center.

While Ellen had been over the moon with happiness when Master Damon had presented her with her slave collar a month into their relationship, she’d secretly wished he’d thought to commission one from Master Brandon. Which wasn’t fair, as she doubted he even knew of Master Brandon’s leatherworking hobby.

Master Mark, Jaime’s owner and husband, stood just behind her, a smile on his handsome face. He was dressed casually in jeans and a black T-shirt with the name Planck Time, the grunge band of which he’d been the lead singer before he joined The Enclave, painted across it in dripping red letters.

As he and Master Damon shook hands, Jaime and Ellen embraced. “I’m so glad you’re finally back for a visit,” Jaime said as they all walked together to the living room.

“Me, too,” Ellen said sincerely. “We kept meaning to get back to Asheville sooner, but life just kept getting in the way.”

As they stepped into the large living room, it was like going back in time to her training days. A naked woman with a shaved head and tattoo sleeves up both arms was perched on the four-postered punishment platform that had been set up in front of one of the large fireplaces. She wore a slim black collar that identified her as a trainee. She was on her knees, her back to the room. Her wrists were cuffed to eyebolts attached high on the posts on either side of her. Evidence of a recent whipping showed on her ass.

Following Ellen’s gaze, Jaime whispered, “That’s Cecelia. She reminds me a little of Lia. She just can’t seem to stay out of trouble.”

It was a typical Friday evening at The Enclave, most of the members seated in casual groupings around the room, the Masters and Mistresses in chairs or on sofas, their slaves kneeling on floor cushions at their feet. Dinner was over and soon those who wished to would head into the dungeon for a little BDSM play before bedtime.

Two women whom Ellen presumed were also trainees were kneeling in front of Master Brandon and Master Lawrence. Both men had their pants open. The trainees were bobbing their heads over the men’s cocks, their hands grasped together behind their backs. A third trainee, this one male, was similarly engaged at Master Julian’s crotch while his slave boy, Hans, looked on in apparent approval.

“Ah, there they are,” called out Master Anthony as Master Damon and Ellen came more fully into the room. “We’re so glad to have you with us again.” He flashed a warm smile at Ellen and then shook hands with Master Damon.

Lucia, who served as a sort of house mother for the trainees, rose from her perch at her Master’s feet to pull Ellen into a warm embrace. “So good to see you again, querida.”

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