MasterinMelbourne (3 page)

She’d been accumulating the coins and leaving them at the
hotel ever since she got here. It took some getting used to, having coins worth
enough that one wanted to use them instead of hoarding them to dump in a
counting machine at a supermarket. Finding that even a two-dollar coin wouldn’t
buy her a soda was something of a shock too, but she’d adapted by drinking
coffee and cutting back on the caffeine some.

She walked into a dark room lit with purple lights around
the edge, with spot lighting here and there. She let her eyes finish adjusting
for a moment, and then looked around for someplace to put her sweater. At least
the dim light would make her marks less obvious, although it would make it
harder to find Nick
. If he’s even here. In any case, I’m not here for him.
I’m here for me.

There was a corner where people had hung up coats. Apparently
it was all honor system, so she hung up her sweater and hung on to her purse.
She took a walk around. There was a big dance floor, which had a few couples on
it and one threesome, but the crowd was thicker around the floor than it was on
it. The people, she decided, were more interesting than the place.

There were a few other little black dresses, but most of the
women were in fetish attire—rubber, latex and lots of leather. A few wore
G-strings and electrical-tape crosses over their nipples. Others were entirely
naked. She pursed her lips.
I’ll keep my clothes on, thank you very much.
Stu had always had control over that, and she hadn’t dared challenge him,
especially toward the end of their relationship.

Satisfied that she didn’t stick out like a sore thumb, she
turned her eyes to the men. Some were dressed casually, in jeans and a T-shirt.
Some wore leather harnesses. A muscular Dom whose chest was bare was flogging a
naked male sub who was chained to an X-frame, the scene highlighted by the
spotlighting from above. The Dom’s tight leather pants accentuated a shapely
ass. He looked nice, but short for her tastes. The sub was built too, and his
hard cock was huge, the head of it glistening as it jutted out past the wooden
beams of the frame to the other side.

She watched for a while, transfixed by the sight of two men
going at it. They presumably had no interest in the likes of her, and while she
had occasionally entertained the fantasy of being trapped between two hulking
men, she found that vaguely comforting. They were safe, even if one was raising
dark-pink stripes on the back of the other.
Maybe I should hang out in gay
bars instead of BDSM ones.
She frowned at herself and made herself move on.
Surely I’m not that afraid of someone desiring me.

A table near the back of the club caught her eye. Two
spotlights illuminated it. A slender young woman with perky breasts was lying
on it and making little gasping sounds. On her side were streaks of solidified
wax in bright blues and reds and purples. She winced, gripping the inside of
her elbow where she’d been burned. He’d done it on purpose too, holding the wax
closer and closer.

An older couple, a man and a woman in jeans and matching
white T-shirts, were dripping wax from flaming candles onto the sub’s body, and
they were holding the candles over even their own heads to make sure the wax
cooled enough by the time it hit that it would be hot but not burn.

She walked closer, trying to get a better view. She’d
enjoyed waxing until she’d been burned. Well, enjoy was a relative term. It had
excited her, the little sharp bursts of pain that faded, the way wax hardened
on her nipples and then shifted as they crinkled in excitement. The pretty
colors were fun too, turning her body into a temporary piece of art, even more
ephemeral than a sand mandala. It made her feel sexy. And these two knew what
they were doing, working together wordlessly, turning the already lovely girl
into a beautiful waxen princess. She edged closer and watched them work.

The Dom put down the candle and picked up a knife. It was a
long thing, the sort of knife Stu would love, bigger than his six-inch cock. It
shined in the spotlight. There was no way to tell how sharp it was, but in her
imagination it was a razor blade, and a touch of it would draw blood. She
stared, frozen in place.
No. No. No.

A man moved in her way and she couldn’t see what was going
on. Part of her was relieved, but part of her needed to see and know that it
was going to be all right, that they weren’t going to cut that helpless girl.
She found her voice. “Down in front.”

The man didn’t move. He was tall, big. Strong, no doubt,
despite a sizable beer belly. One of those who thought that black jeans and a
black T-shirt was as much effort as men could be expected to make to dress up
at a fetish gathering.

“You’re a sheila who likes it rough, aren’t you?” He grabbed
her right elbow and held her arm up, apparently so he could see the scar
better.

“No.” She jerked her arm away. “Let me go!”

“Heh.” He let her right arm go only to grab her left. “Burn.
My, you do like to play rough. My kinda girl.”

“I am not.” Fear rose in her. What if he wouldn’t take no
for an answer? She knew no one. She forced herself to think, to figure out her
options. His grip was too firm to wiggle out of.

“Oh yes you are. And a Yank too. I guess they make ’em
different over there. Could use a little change. You’ll be in safe hands with
Master Jules.”

Jules, huh? A knee in the family jewels was definitely an
option. She looked down, saw that he was wearing sandals, and slowly smiled.

“That’s what I want to see,” said Jules.

“Let me go,” she repeated. Her heart was still pounding but
she managed to say it calmly and firmly.

“Now you don’t really want that.” Jules grinned, and it
wasn’t a pretty sight. She’d seen hockey players with better smiles.

“The lady said let her go, Jules,” said a man’s voice as she
lifted her leg and brought her heel down on Jules’ vulnerable foot. He shrieked
in pain, several notes higher than she had thought his voice would reach. He
let go, which was a good thing for him, because she was willing to try to see
if he could get up another octave with his balls in his stomach.

“And she appears to have matters under control,” observed
Nick drily. She couldn’t imagine a more welcome sight. She could hurt Jules,
but she couldn’t beat him. In the end, she’d have to rely on the community
banding together against a bully, and she didn’t know this community. Jules
presumably did, and so did Nick.

“I suggest you leave before I change your name to Julie,”
Zoe told the man. Regretfully, she stopped grinding her heel into his foot.

“Huh?”

“I think she’s suggesting she’s going to emasculate you if
you don’t get out of her sight,” Nick explained. “I’ll hold you while she does
the work. Trust me, plenty of other people here will cheer. I know of at least
three women here who will join the party. If there wasn’t a new bouncer, you’d
never have gotten in at all. Leave.”

“I’ll get out of your way,” said Jules, backing up.

“You’ll get out of the club,” said Nick. “And you won’t ever
come back.”

The two glared at each other for a moment, and then Jules
beat a hasty retreat.

Nick laughed and grinned at Zoe. “Onya!” he said, giving her
a thumbs-up.

“Huh?”

Nick looked sheepish. “Sorry. Good on you. Er, well done.
He’s a real piece of work.”

“Oh! Um, thanks.”

“I have to admit, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“The knife!” She had forgotten it for a moment but now she
had to know. She stepped around Nick, who turned to look at what she was
looking at.

The older man was sliding the knife along the young sub’s
body, flecking up little pieces of wax. But that was it. Order had been imposed
on frozen rivulets of blue and red. She watched, fascinated, as the woman
poured a little more, noting that the man never did his blade work when the sub
was twitching in response to the sudden heat of the wax.

“Sophie and John are really into what they do. They’ve
become real experts at it,” said Nick. “As safe as safe gets.”

Zoe took a deep breath, and another, and calmed herself.
“I’m okay,” she said.

Nick grinned. “Good to hear it. I thought you had other
plans.” He frowned. “No, that’s not quite the truth. I thought you were scared
to be here. Or perhaps scared of me. Which?”

Zoe nodded. “Probably a little of both, actually.”

He nodded toward her left arm. “If someone had done that to
me, I’d be scared too. Wax?”

Zoe wasn’t sure she believed him. He didn’t look as if he
would be scared of anything, he was too solid. But she didn’t really know him.
“Yes.”

His gaze shifted to the other arm. “Single tail?”

“Yes.”

“And on your feet?”

“Cigarettes. And a cane, once.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised you didn’t drive your
heel through his skull one day while he slept. I assume this is the ex you
mentioned when we first met.”

“He liked to chain me to the bed while he slept. It was hot,
at first.” She shrugged. “I was a fool.”

To her surprise, he didn’t argue. “I don’t think you’ll be a
fool again.”

She appreciated that little bit of honesty. But she could
easily imagine becoming foolish for Nick if she let him seduce her. “No. I
should go.”

He didn’t grab her or try to stop her. “I don’t think that
would be the best idea. Stay. Please.”

What kind of Dom said please? “Why wouldn’t it be a good
idea?”

“You have to get back on the horse that threw you, or it’ll
kick you later on. I don’t know anything about you, really, but I know you were
hurt by some jackass, and that in spite of that, you came here. Something draws
you. Maybe it’s not an irresistible force, but it’s strong. Chances are it will
draw you again. And if you don’t face it down, you’ll be weaker to face it the
next time.”

Zoe stared at him. He didn’t know her, that much was true.
But somehow she felt he’d seen deeper inside her than anyone had for a long,
long time. “I’ll stay.”

“Good girl.” He touched his open hand to hers, and after a
moment’s hesitation, she placed her hand inside his. His strong fingers closed
around her small hand and she fought back a moment of panic before she managed
a smile. His hand felt nice and warm, and he’d waited for her to signal consent
before holding hers.

Baby steps.

Chapter Three

Nick led her away from the spotlights to a dark corner of
the big room. He wondered if he’d have the courage to come to a party like
Indigo after the abuse Zoe had suffered. His first impulse was to protect her
from everything and make sure nothing happened to her. But one didn’t get over
one’s fear of riding a horse by watching it from a distance. He’d have to be
very careful.

“Inside Indigo, if you yell ‘safe word’, help will come
running, and lots of it. Might take two or three of ’em but they’d take me down
eventually.” He grinned to let her know he was half joking, but he didn’t have
any doubt that was exactly what would happen. Normally he’d be part of the
help.

She nodded to him. “Simple. No complicated word to remember.
I should have tried that when that guy started being all pushy.”

He chuckled. “His foot might not thank you, but what you did
looked pretty effective.”

“I feel kinda bad about it.”

“Don’t. He’s had it coming for a long time. I wish I hadn’t
interrupted before you really worked him over.”

She looked at him. “Are you poking fun of me?”

He shook his head. “I’m impressed at the way you take care
of yourself. He’s at least twice your size, but I think you had him under
control. Amazing how those most into giving pain sometimes are the least able
to deal with it when it comes their way.”

She looked at him curiously. “And you? Are you into giving
pain?”

“Only the good kind.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed
over his chest. “Intensity. Pleasure. I enjoy the dynamic of top and bottom,
Dominant and submissive, the feeling that I’m in control. And I like giving my
partners the freedom that comes from knowing they aren’t in control.”

She smiled, wistfully he thought. “I don’t know how out of
control I can stand to be.”

He nodded. “You mentioned that you didn’t want to be tied
up. Ever again, I think you said. But there are things we can do that don’t
involve being restrained.”

“Hmm,” she said, sounding doubtful.

“And that don’t involve hurting you, either.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“This.”

He reached around her waist and pulled her to him. “Like
this.” He kissed her full on the lips, the way he’d been imagining kissing her
since he first saw her. She tasted sweet, and her lips parted to let his tongue
inside. In moments her lips were moving against his, kissing him back as
passionately as he was kissing her. Her breasts squished against his chest as
he picked her up off the ground, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and
held on tight. He wanted more of her, wanted to turn and pin her against the
wall and feel her legs around his waist. Heat surged inside him, his cock
straining against the seam of his pants. He rubbed her thigh, just below the
hem of her dress.

When she squirmed, it took all his self-control to let her
go.

“That was…” She pursed her lips, seemingly searching for the
word.

“Acceptable?” he suggested.

“I think so.” Her eyes glittered, hinting that wasn’t
exactly the word she was looking for. “We might have to try again. To make
sure.”

He kissed her hungrily and she pressed her body against his.
He’d tried to avoid letting her feel how turned-on he was, but there was no
doubt she noticed it now. But she didn’t back off. He didn’t remember enjoying
a kiss so much in a long time, not since he’d lost his virginity when he was
fifteen. Her body was soft and yielding. He cupped the curve of her ass and she
moaned softly, sending vibrations through his lips.

“You promised no restraints,” she murmured when their lips
parted. “I get to keep my hands free at all times.”

How sweet it would be to hold them behind her back while he
kissed her, both wrists encircled by his one large hand, leaving the other free
to roam her body without impediment. But he understood her need. “I promise.
Tonight, no restraints, and your hands stay free.”

He didn’t know if there would be other nights. Not many even
in the best case, since she was going to go back home in a few days. But he
wanted to see how much of her trust he could win in that short period of time.
He didn’t just want to heal her, he wanted to fuck her silly. He stopped
kneading her ass, even though its softness felt good against his palms. She
needed his serious attention, and he was going to go crazy if he kept making
out with her.

“No gags either, so I can always call for help if I need
it,” she said.

“I don’t like gags anyway. Agreed.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Then, if you’re willing
to try with me, I’d like to be yours for the eve—for one hour.”

He gave her butt a squeeze, and in the process bunched up an
inch of her dress. An hour. He could do plenty with an hour even though she’d
been about to say evening, and he would have liked that even more. “I’d love
that.”

She shivered in his arms.
She’s scared, and she’s going
on ahead anyway.

“Brave girl,” he told her. In his experience, people tended
to live up to what one expected of them, as long as you were reasonable. He
wanted to encourage her bravery without spooking her. First, though, he had to
know what he was working with.

“Any injuries I should know about? Medical conditions?”

She shook her head. “Nothing like that. Just some scars.
I’ve got a high threshold of pain, but I really don’t enjoy it.” She paused, as
if considering whether to say the rest.

“Out with it, little sub.” He smiled at her to take the edge
off it. Stern was not the way to go with this brave but skittish woman.

“I used to like it. But I don’t think I could anymore.”

Always she keeps coming back to the pain, even though she
doesn’t want it and I told her that I wasn’t into giving it.
“Don’t worry,
Zoe. I won’t hurt you. I promise. If I do something that hurts, say something.”

“A safe word?”

“I was thinking ‘ouch’ would do fine.”

“Oh!” She giggled. “I’ll, um, do my best. Believe it or not,
that might be a challenge.”

He nodded. “Your best is all I expect.” Some Doms wanted
their subs to be as stoic as possible, and he’d been with a few experienced
ones who had been trained that way. Personally, he wanted to know how a sub was
feeling, to hear her moans and squeals, to see the expression on her face. If
he was into dishing out pain he’d want to hear a whimper and a scream, he
suspected. People who weren’t into the interaction, as far as he was concerned,
might as well be playing with a blow-up doll.

“Stay here.” He let her go. “Just as you are. I’ll be back
in a few seconds, and you won’t be out of my sight.”

“Um, okay.”

He didn’t move. “Let’s start with some proper respect.”

“Oh!” She looked down at the ground and took a deep breath.
When she looked up, her face was unreadable. “I know how to do this, Sir,
really I do. It’s just been a long time.”

“How long?”

“I left my former Master just over a year ago.” Her face
wasn’t unreadable then at all. Sadness, and shame.

“The one who abused you?”

“Yes. Sir.”

“Well done, then. And before that? How long has it been
since you played with someone who deserved your trust?”

She thought for a moment before giving him an answer. “Four
years, Sir.”

“That’s a long time, as you said. But I still expect to be
called Sir when you address me.” He decided not to tell her there would be
consequences if she didn’t. So far, he didn’t know what kind of consequences
would reinforce what he wanted without reminding her of the abusive
relationship she had escaped not long ago. From what she said, it sounded as if
she’d been with him over two years, and it clearly still had a strong effect on
her. She was still, in some sense, rebounding. And how better to do that than
with someone she couldn’t possibly have a long-term relationship with, someone
who would spend most of his life fifteen thousand kilometers away?

“Yes Sir.” Her back straightened and he thought he saw a
trace of a smile, and genuine pleasure in saying the formulaic words.

“I’ll be right back.”

Ten meters away there was a pile of blue cushions. There
were other piles of them scattered around the club. They’d been a feature of
Indigo for most of its existence, nearly a decade now, after a group of subs
decided they were tired of being asked to kneel on the floor and wanted some
comfort. A dark-blue once, they were now faded and grayish, but still very
functional. He got the best-looking one of the lot and brought it back with
him. He set it at Zoe’s feet.

She started to kneel on it and then stopped, straightened
and looked at him. “Is that for me, Sir?”

“Yes. You may kneel.”

She nodded and knelt on the pillow, facing him. She spread
her legs, hesitantly for a moment, but at a nod from him she spread them
farther until her knees were farther apart than her shoulders were wide. To
sustain that position for long took practice, and strain showed on her face,
more than he wanted but he wasn’t about to repudiate her sacrifice by telling
her not to. The hem of her dress rose on her thighs, revealing soft, creamy
flesh, black panties and a scar on her thigh. She pulled it back over the scar.

He crouched next to her and pushed the dress back up an
inch. “How’d you get this?” He didn’t want to make her relive bad experiences,
but he did want to know what ghosts haunted her.

“Knife, Sir. For crying out during a scene.”

Fucking hell.
“If you cry out during a scene with me,
you’ll get a warm hug and a hungry kiss.” He feathered his fingers over the
inside of her thigh, neither avoiding nor seeking out the scar.

He was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath and the heady
scent of a woman aroused. “Feels good, doesn’t it? You’re a beautiful woman,
Zoe. You deserve to feel good.”

“I’m damaged goods, I’m afraid.” Her hands fluttered, as if
she was not sure what to do with them.

“No damage that matters, or that can’t heal. Put your hands
behind your back, and hold one wrist with the other hand.”

He watched as she obeyed and her chest pushed out as her
shoulders went back. His cock responded, and he had to remind himself not to go
too fast or rough with her.

“You’re soft and lovely.” Her brushed the side of her breast
with his knuckle, then slid his other hand farther up her thigh. The back of
his hand rubbed against her panties and they were very damp. “You clearly don’t
need pain to be aroused.”

“No Sir.” She let out a breath and smiled as if she was
relieved to discover it.

Around them the partygoers bustled, chatted and played, but
he shut them out to focus on Zoe.

“So you’re not really a masochist,” he told her softly, his lips
an inch from hers. “And you’re not a simple bottom, or you’d have wanted to
negotiate exactly what we were going to do, rather than just where your limits
were. Which leads me to the conclusion that you’re a submissive, and that, at
least, that bastard didn’t manage to beat out of you.”

She looked up at him as if she’d been caught out, although
he didn’t think he was saying anything that wasn’t obvious. “We’ve talked a lot
about what you don’t like, Zoe, it’s time we talked about what you do enjoy.
You like having your thighs stroked. Do you like it when I rub you through your
panties?” He cupped her crotch and rocked his hand on her vulva.

“Yes.” She sounded out of breath.

“Yes what?”

“Yes Sir.”

“You like calling me Sir, don’t you? Is that as hot for you
as it is for me? Because it’s really hot for me, having my hands between your
legs and you calling me Sir.” She was staring there, so he spread his legs a
few inches, his eyes fixed on her but sure she could see the bulge in his
jeans.

“It turns me on that it turns you on, Sir.”

He palmed her breast through her dress, his hand sideways,
the heel of it over her nipple, which was starting to indent the dress. “Do you
enjoy having your breasts touched, Zoe?”

“Yes, very much.”

He didn’t correct her on omitting the Sir, because getting
beyond a simple yes was progress. His hand drifted over her peak, feeling it
get stiffer with every pass. There were no words between them, but her sharp
intakes of breath and soft sighs told him plenty. As did the strain on her
face. Before long, the stress of the way she was kneeling was going to
seriously interfere with her arousal.

“Let me move you.” He said it softly, but with enough steel
in his voice that she’d know it was a direction and not a request. Her let her
breasts and pussy go long enough to shift her knees inward, until they were a
foot apart. He still could reach anywhere he wanted to, but it would be easier
for her.

With someone else, he might have simply told her to relax,
but if he read Zoe right, he wouldn’t be giving her what she needed if he’d
done that. He wanted to show her that she could experience deep submission
without being physically restrained or in danger, and the act of him setting
her pose would be something like bondage for her without arousing the same
fears.

“Thank you, Sir.” He watched her whole body relax, her
shoulders still back but less stiff, her face less tight.

“You’re as I want you. Simple, really.” Her nipples were
quite obvious now against the dress, and he plucked at first one, then the
other, quickly pinching, tugging and releasing.

She smiled and closed her eyes. Submissives often shut their
eyes to focus on the sensations and blot out distractions, but it was the first
time he’d seen her do it. It was an expression of trust as well. She no longer
felt she needed to watch his every movement to make sure she was safe. Of
course, if he did something wrong, her eyes could open, her thighs close, her
hands unclasp. There was no blindfold, no spreader bar, no cuffs holding her in
place. Nothing but her will, backed up by his.