The Master Page 2

  They had a problem.

  “We need to talk, Jodie. Monday morning, at the gym.” He was done. Disappointment and anger warred within him as he stepped past her.

  She grabbed his elbow, and Dylan paused. He regarded her slender fingers on his sleeve, noted irrelevantly that she had painted her nails to match the dress. That entire outfit could have been painted on, come to think of it. He lifted his gaze to hers. Her pretty blue eyes glittered, but he firmed his jaw in response.

  “Was there something else?”

  “Yes. What about the meeting, at the bank? I thought…”

  “Is there really any point, Jodie? I explained what would be required to make an Olympic champion of you, and it’s more than just a decent sponsorship deal. It’s a lifestyle, and clearly not one you’re ready to take on board.”

  “But I am. I want it, all of it.” She spun around and handed the dregs of her beer to another girl standing open-mouthed behind her, then turned to face him again. “One lapse, that was all. I know what’s required and I do take my sport seriously. I’ll be absolutely dedicated. You’ll never have any reason to complain. I’ll work hard, and… and…”

  “Then why are you here, Jodie?”

  Was that a flicker of annoyance flitting across her expressive features? She flattened her lips, drawing his attention to the deep scarlet lipstick she had applied.

  Christ, this girl’s hot.

  It hadn’t escaped Dylan’s notice that his star pupil was fucking gorgeous. He was male, after all, and he had a pulse. How could he fail to appreciate that curvy, sexy little body, so supple, exquisitely toned, and supremely fit? As far as Dylan was concerned, strong was sexy, and Jodie had it all going on. But all of that was beside the point. She was his pupil, so off limits. Even here, within the not-so-hallowed walls of Club Sin, that remained the case. All he needed to do now was convince his rampant cock of that inconvenient little fact, and right at this moment he wouldn’t give much for his chances.

  “I just fancied some fun.” Her tone held a dwindling note of defiance. “It’s been a while and I thought it would be okay, a last fling before…” She paused, drew in a long sigh, then capitulated. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be here. I’ll go.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Please, Master Dylan, don’t cancel the meeting on Monday.”

  She offered him a polite bow, backed off a couple of paces, and turned to leave.

  “Wait.” He wasn’t entirely certain what impulse drove him to call her back, but it was done now. She paused, apprehensive. Despite her obvious nerves—or maybe because of that—her nipples speared the tight bodice of her dress, begging to be squeezed. Dylan quashed the impulse to oblige them.

  “All right, the meeting’s still on. But you need to learn that I mean what I say.”

  “I will, I promise. I know that. Thank you.” Again, she bowed and turned to leave.

  Shit! Oh, what the fuck…

  “Jodie.”

  She halted, turned again. Dylan beckoned her back with one upraised finger.

  “I didn’t say you could go. I haven’t finished with you yet.”

  “Master Dylan? I’m not sure I—”

  “Like I said, you need to learn.”

  “Sir?”

  Jesus, did she really say that? His cock swelled in his leather pants.

  “What sort of fun did you fancy, Jodie? What’s your kink? I assume that is what brings you here.”

  She nodded, flushing slightly. “Yes, Sir. And it’s spanking. Oh, and I like to be tied up…” Her blush deepened.

  “Is that it?”

  Another nod, and she started to worry her lower lip with her teeth. “So far. I haven’t tried anything else, but perhaps…” She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders in a gesture that turned him on more than he cared to admit. “I’m a submissive, Master Dylan. I’ve always known it, but I wasn’t sure what to do about it. I don’t have time for a boyfriend, not with my training schedule, and having to work for a living. Even if I did…” She shrugged. “Then I discovered this place. I come here occasionally. It’s a good club and just lately I’ve enjoyed… exploring. There’s no harm in it. And it’s my business. Private, nothing to do with… It won’t affect my training, and—”

  “Okay, okay.” Dylan managed to conceal his grin. “I get it.”

  “I suppose you do. You’re a dom, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  He lifted one eyebrow. “Will you not? Well, that’s up to you, obviously. I value my privacy as much as anyone, but I’m not that bothered either way. My professional and personal lives are quite separate.”

  “Mine too. I… I’d prefer if you didn’t mention that I was here. People might get the wrong idea. Some of the male team members, especially…”

  “Have you had problems?” Surely he’d have noticed if any of the men’s team were hassling the female players. It was his job to spot things like that.

  “Oh, no, not at all. I just… well, I need to be careful.”

  “I won’t out you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Thank you, Sir. I… shall I go now?”

  “Go? But you haven’t had what you came for yet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You came here hoping to be tied up and spanked, did you not? Did I get that bit right?”

  “Well, yes. But I thought—”

  “Maybe we can salvage something from this. You want a spanking, I want to teach you the consequences of disregarding my rules. Ergo…”

  “You want to spank me?” She couldn’t have looked more astonished if he’d reached behind her ear and produced a flock of white doves.

  “I’m offering, if you want—”

  “Yes! Yes, please, Master Dylan.”

  Her enthusiasm seemed a tad misplaced, given the circumstances. Dylan felt obliged to clarify. “Not just for fun. This is about teaching you a lesson, too. This spanking will hurt.”

  She nodded. “I know, but… I still want to do it. I just need to tell my friend…” She glanced over her shoulder.

  Now Dylan did allow himself a wry grin. “I think your companion got bored of waiting and has wandered off to find alternative amusement.” The other girl had retreated to the far side of the dungeon and was engrossed in watching an ageplay scene. “It’s just you and me. And the business end of a paddle, obviously.”

  She blanched slightly but offered no argument. The deal settled, Dylan glanced about and spotted a vacant spanking bench a few yards away. He offered her his hand, and she took it.

  “House safewords, okay?” He gestured to Jodie to assume the position on the bench.

  “Red, yellow, green. Yes, that’s fine, Master Dylan. Do… do you want me to undress?”

  Dylan seriously doubted that, once out of that dress, she’d be going back into it any time soon. “What do you have on under it?”

  “Just a thong, Sir.”

  “That’ll be fine.” He was already pushing the boundaries. He had no intention of touching her. A thong would preserve some sliver of modesty whilst offering no protection from his paddle.

  He waited until she was draped across the top of the bench, then crouched to secure the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Given that she wanted this spanking, the restraints weren’t needed for practical purposes, but she’d mentioned she enjoyed being tied up, so why not?

  “Comfortable?”

  “Yes, Master Dylan. Thank you.”

  He peeled back the scrap of red latex that purported to make up the skirt of her dress and rolled it up to her waist. The thong beneath was made of bright red satin and disappeared between the rounded cheeks of her delectable ass. He could just make out the darker patch between her thighs that betrayed her arousal.

  Good. That makes two of us.

  A selection of spanking implements was displayed on the wall behind the bench. Dylan already had a good idea what he intended to use but took his time
over making his choice. His little newbie sub would benefit from the wait. Eventually, he lifted down a paddle made of polished wood. It was of medium weight and would deliver a resounding, heavy stroke, more of a thud than a slap really. It would make plenty of noise, and he knew that would add considerably to the experience for Jodie.

  “This is going to smart, but you’ll be fine for practice on Monday. That’s almost three days away.”

  “Th-thank you.” She clenched her buttocks in anticipation as he took up position behind her.

  “Ten strokes. You can count them if you like.”

  “Only ten?” She shifted on the bench. “I usually manage more than that.”

  Was that a note of disappointment in her voice? Dylan grinned. She’ll learn.

  “We’re dealing in quality here, not quantity. Ten will be ample, I assure you.”

  “Oh, but—”

  “Are you ready, Jodie?” He tapped her upturned buttock with the flat of the paddle.

  “Yes, Sir. I’m ready. I… Oh!”

  She let out a satisfying squeal when he dropped the first stroke across her right cheek. The outline of the paddle bloomed in bright red across her creamy skin.

  Pretty as a picture, he thought.

  “Are you counting, Jodie?”

  “What? Oh, yes. One, Sir.” Her voice was considerably less even now, her breath coming in short, quick pants. Oh, yes, she would most certainly learn.

  He shifted slightly and raised the paddle again.

  Jodie yelped, shrieked, writhed in the restraints. This will be a memorable lesson, he reflected as she counted out the next three strokes, whimpering between each one.

  He spread the spanks evenly across her buttocks. Each cheek now bloomed beautifully, her gorgeous globes clenching and quivering as he selected his spot for the next slap.

  The sound made by the paddle was sublime. A swift whistle as it whooshed through the air, then a deep, resonating thud when it connected with her flesh. From her squeals and grunts it was obvious Jodie appreciated the finer qualities of the implement; in particular, its ability to deliver a serious and memorable lesson with little in the way of aftereffects.

  She wouldn’t sit tomorrow if she could help it, and she’d still be tender on Sunday too. But by Monday the lingering effects would have subsided enough not to interfere with their practice session.

  He could apply much more weight to the strokes if he chose, but of course he wouldn’t. She was relatively new to all of this, and he didn’t know her well enough to push too hard. He’d yet to learn her responses, her tolerance…

  Whoa! “Eight,” yelped Jodie as he gathered his errant thoughts. He was already planning a next time.

  Her bottom was a bright shade of puce, not a spot remained unspanked. He laid his palm on her left buttock, pressed lightly and smiled to himself at her wince. Oh, yes, ten would definitely be ample.

  The heat from her punished flesh radiated through his hand. He lifted it and watched with casual interest as the paler imprint he had left swiftly reddened again.

  Right, now for her sit spots. In Dylan’s view, no spanking, especially a punishment one, was complete unless the sub’s sit spots were smarting.

  “Two more, and this time we’re not playing.”

  Jodie had the good sense to groan. Dylan waited a moment or two, just in case she was contemplating her safewords. She remained silent though and clenched both her fists and her buttocks.

  Whoosh! The flat of the paddle landed across the backs of both her thighs.

  “Aaaagh!” She let out a keening scream and rose up onto her toes. She was sobbing now, gulping in air.

  Dylan bent to finger-comb her hair back from her face. She opened her eyes and peered at him through her tears.

  “I’m sorry, Master Dylan. I won’t… I won’t…”

  He waited, allowed her the few seconds she needed to collect herself.

  “I won’t disobey again. I want to please you, to do my best.”

  “I know that.”

  “I won’t disappoint you, Sir.”

  Dylan frowned. He knew that, too. Had always known it, even before he strapped her to this bench. “No, you won’t. And you won’t disappoint yourself either, will you?”

  She shook her head. “I swear it.”

  “One last stroke. Okay?”

  If she said ‘red’ now he’d be pissed off, but with himself, not her. It was a dom’s responsibility to gauge his sub’s response, to know how she was coping and adjust accordingly. It had been years since a sub last safe-worded on him and he didn’t want to break his winning streak with Jodie.

  She mattered too much.

  “Y-yes, Master Dylan. The last one…”

  He straightened, took up his stance again, and swung the paddle one final time.

  Jodie screeched, her body shaking as she fought to process the pain. The crisis soon passed. She lay still, hugging the bench, panting.

  Dylan set the paddle aside and dropped to his haunches to unfasten the cuffs, ankles first, then wrists.

  “Good girl,” he murmured, then on impulse he kissed her naked shoulder.

  Jodie turned her tear-streaked face toward him, and she smiled.

  “That hurt like fuck, Master Dylan. Thank you.”

  “Happy to oblige.” He offered her his hand and she rose from the bench, unsteady, her exposed buttocks glowing a vibrant crimson. He noted she made no attempt to roll her skirt back down.

  “Come with me.” Still holding her hand, he led her to the closest break-out station, a long, low sofa set back in an alcove. A small stack of blankets was helpfully provided at one end. Dylan grabbed one, shook it out, and draped it across her shoulders.

  “I’m fine, really…” she began.

  “Yeah. Even so…” He’d deliberately dialled back the intensity—she was in training again in three days, after all and he meant to work her hard—but a spanking was more than just physical. The emotional impact was at least as potent and for some subs it could be overwhelming. And sub-drop could come out of nowhere. Until he knew Jodie better he’d be playing it safe.

  There he went again, imagining future encounters. He couldn’t help it. It was madness, he knew, but fuck, he didn’t want this to be their one and only scene together.

  Dylan settled on the sofa and pulled Jodie into his arms. She came willingly, snuggled under the blanket and leaned against his chest. Her eyes were closed now, her features calm, contented. He swept a few stray strands of blonde hair back from her forehead. She had beautiful hair, he’d always thought so. It was one of the first things he’d noticed about her. That and her gorgeous, curvy, and utterly off-limits bottom, of course.

  What have I done?

  Perhaps twenty minutes passed in silence before she raised her face to look up at him. “What time is it?”

  Dylan glanced at his watch. “Just going up to midnight.”

  “I should be going. No late nights.” Her grin was mischievous now. “I promised my trainer.”

  He quirked his lip. Dylan always appreciated a healthy dose of sass from a submissive. “Fair enough. How are you getting home?”

  “I came with my friend. Sally should be around somewhere. We’ll get a taxi…”

  “I doubt she’ll be ready to leave for a while yet.” He tilted his chin in the direction of the St. Andrew’s cross where Jodie’s companion was writhing under the attentions of one of the house doms. Jake was a maestro with the flogger and from the looks of it he was nowhere near done yet.

  “Oh.” Jodie sat upright, winced, then yawned.

  “I’ll have a word with her dom. Jake’ll see she gets home all right. Then I’ll drive you.”

  “You don’t need to do that. I can phone a cab. The club doesn’t close for hours yet. You could—”

  “I’m done for the night, and you’re not making your own way home.” He eased her from his lap and deposited her on the cushions where she shifted gingerly onto her right hip. He smirked at her
. “Wait there. I’ll have a quick word with Jake, then we can be off.”

  Jodie was quiet on the drive home. Dylan wasn’t surprised; it had been quite a night for her. He didn’t need to ask directions, he made it his business to know where all his students lived. Outside the low-rise block where she had a flat on the third floor, he pulled up and killed the engine.

  “Do you need me to see you inside?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

  “Which is your window?”

  She pointed upward. “That one, the corner flat.”

  “I’ll wait here until that light goes on. Okay?”

  “Yes, Master Dylan. And… thank you. For tonight, and for… everything.”

  His grin was wry. “My pleasure. See you Monday.”

  Chapter Two

  It was just a quarter to eleven when he strode out of Liverpool Street underground station and turned left. The headquarters of Bishop HLS Bank was only a ten-minute walk away so he was in good time for the meeting. Dylan breathed in, enjoying the crispness of the spring morning despite the noise and bustle of central London. The traffic used to be much worse, before the congestion charge, the local tax that discouraged traffic from venturing into central London, but still, the streets of the city’s business sector were heaving.

  Dylan felt oddly out of place in his casual attire, weaving through the teeming crowd of suits and briefcases. He had a suit—of course he did—for weddings, funerals, the occasional court appearance. This morning, though, he’d opted for a pale grey sports shirt, chinos, and a casual leather jacket. His training shoes probably cost as much as the gleaming, handmade Italian footwear favoured by most of those hurrying along the pavements all around him. He wondered what Jodie would choose to wear.

  Something classy, he imagined. And appropriate.

  He took the short flight of stairs leading to the plate glass door two at a time. The doors opened as he approached, gliding silently apart to allow him to access the building. Three paces further and he met the security arrangements.

  “Good morning, sir. Do you have an appointment?” The uniformed doorman had impeccable manners, but Dylan was under no illusion. If his name wasn’t on the list discreetly concealed behind the counter, he was going no further.