Schooled: The Mastered Series Page 10

  Ronin translated everything up to that point for Amery.

  “So the first time Master Black is in my club is the night everything is fucked up. I imagine the chances of you doing a demo are pretty slim now.”

  That took Ronin aback. “What gave you the impression I was here for any reason besides to observe?”

  Go-jen looked at Amery.

  “What did he say?” Amery asked Ronin.

  “He seems to think I’m here to do a demo.”

  “You are. Well, technically we are. It was supposed to be a surprise. So, ah … surprise.” She looked away.

  Ronin touched her chin and forced her attention back to him. “Did Yasuji guilt you into this?”

  “No.”

  “Then what changed?”

  “You changed.” She closed her eyes before she continued. “You don’t understand what it’s been like for me watching you struggle, not only with your jujitsu training limitations, but the limitations I’ve placed on you with public rope play. I told you months ago I’d be willing to do private demos and you’ve not scheduled anything because I don’t think you believe I will actually go through with it.”

  She had that right. The owner of Twisted had practically offered Ronin his first-born child if he’d return to the club strictly in an instructor’s role for private lessons. Ronin kept putting him off because after Amery first mentioned the possibility of her participating in private instruction with him, she’d never broached it again. And he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t push her. “Why now?”

  “Yasuji told me about his wife and their joint decision to give public rope play demonstrations to show the beauty and the intimacy of kinbaku. They felt it was Yasuji’s responsibility to teach the right way. You saw what happened tonight when people do it the wrong way.”

  “Was the scene just a setup to see what I’d do?”

  “No.” Amery’s eyes softened. “Not only did Yasuji form you into a rope master, you seeing Rikya demo with Yasuji all those years formed you too. You’ve always held out for that kind of partnership.” She paused. “I can be that partner, Ronin. I promise you I came to this decision on my own. I didn’t have anyone to explain my worries, fears, and frustrations to until I met Master Yasuji. He’d been through it all with his wife so he helped me come to grips with things, from the perspective of a teacher and a husband.”

  Despite the excitement building inside him, he knew he had to play it cool. “And so that’s what tonight is? A way for you to prove it?”

  “Yes. I was so sure I’m ready for this that I had your ropes, your gi, and my robe sent here.”

  “When?”

  “Three days ago.”

  Before any of the stuff went down with Master Daichi. Before Yasuji’s cryptic, Trust in Amery to know her own mind. She will be what you need.

  Looking into her eyes, he saw love and determination, but no fear. That’s when he trusted she had cleared the last barrier. He held her face in his hands and kissed her until she rested her body against his in total surrender. With reluctance he broke the seal of their mouths and let his lips drift up to her ear. “Let’s go to the dressing room and get ready to do a demo.”

  “Get ready together?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you always get ready alone.”

  “Not anymore.” Ronin held her tightly. “Now I’ve got a partner.”

  If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review at Goodreads or any reader site or blog you frequent.

  Now that you’ve read SCHOOLED, don’t miss the next book in the Mastered series!

  UNRAVELED

  Available March 2015

  Saturday night Shiori walked into the main lounge area of Twisted like she owned the place. The immediate buzz of interest fed her ego, which hadn’t been stroked in so long she’d almost forgotten that feeling of power.

  The first man to approach her was Merrick McBride, the club’s owner. He clasped both of her hands in his and kissed her cheeks. “Mistress B, it’s an honor that you’ve joined us.”

  “Thank you.” She looked around the space—a horseshoe shaped bar, a large meet and greet lounge area with couches, chairs, and floor cushions. The hallways that led to the private play rooms allowed for a separation of casual conversation to serious play.

  Master Merrick gave her a slow perusal. For tonight’s fun and games Shiori had donned a platinum wig, and a cream-colored lace mask. She’d gone for the traditional Domme look in clothing, a black leather vest with burgundy laces up the front, a pair of hip-hugging burgundy leather pants and four-inch black platform booties.

  She fought the urge to fiddle with the gold band adorning her wrist that denoted her Domme status at the club. “Do I pass inspection, Master Merrick?”

  His hungry gaze met hers. “You are stunning. You’ll have subs falling at your feet tonight.” He cocked his head. “I’m curious about the mask. When I did your background check, I was told that’s always been part of your persona at the clubs in Tokyo.”

  “So why would I continue that here in the U.S. when there’s a slim possibility anyone will recognize me?” She leaned in. “Besides the fact I’m Ronin Black’s sister?”

  “Your brother hasn’t been here in ages. Which is unfortunate for me, from a business standpoint, because we have some of our biggest crowds when he gives demos.”

  “I imagine the rope master is a huge draw. He’s been through a lot of changes in the past several months, but I’m confident he will return to do demos at some point.” Ronin’s wife had put off any discussion of Ronin doing bondage demos while he was on medical restrictions due to injuries. But Shiori knew now that he’d been cleared by his doctors, his need to teach would force that issue between them—sooner rather than later. “I assume you mentioned my pending membership to my brother?”

  Master Merrick shook his head. “I merely verified you’re his sister. It’s against the rules to divulge members names—real or the personas they choose to use.”

  Shiori touched the mask. “It’s become such a part of Mistress B that I felt naked without it.”

  “It adds another layer of mystery to the exotically beautiful Mistress you already are.” He kissed her hand again. “Anytime you decide you want to test your limits on whether you might be a switch, you let me know. I would love to tear that mask away and see the real woman beneath.”

  Her belly did a slow curl. She touched Master Merrick’s face. He was beautiful, the epitome of an all-American guy with his rugged good looks, athletic body and easy charm. He definitely had that Master’s way about him—where she felt the pull to do what he commanded. “You are a dangerously sexy man, Master Merrick. You almost make me question my orientation.” She smiled. “Almost. And I promise if I’m ever in the mood to be topped you’re the first man I’ll call.”

  He laughed. “I’ll hold you to that. Now would you like me to introduce you around?”

  “I’ll take you up on that later. Right now I’d like to have a glass of wine and get the lay of the land, so to speak.”

  “Understood.” He turned and crooked his finger at a young man poised at the end of the bar. “Tell Greg to pour Mistress B a glass of my private reserve.”

  “Yes, sir, right away sir.”

  “I rate the private reserve on my first night?”

  “I imagine a woman of your stature doesn’t drink house wine.”

  Her stature. There was another reminder on why she’d chosen the mask and become Mistress B. Then no one knew her a corporate executive and an heiress to billions; they saw her as formidable for an entirely different reason. She flashed Master Merrick a frosty smile. “My stature in the club is Mistress B and I’m perfectly content drinking house wine. But I do appreciate your gift as a welcome gesture.”

  His eyebrows rose. Then he smiled. “Understood. And I see that you and I will get along very well indeed, Mistress.”

  The young submissive returned with her wine and Master Merrick took his
leave.

  Shiori sipped her wine. This definitely wasn’t the house special. She looked around and realized she was still getting curious stares. It would be interesting to see who approached her first. When she turned, she realized part of the reason for the interest in her was the young submissive sitting at her feet. “You may look at me,” she said softly.

  He tipped his head back and gazed at her with wonder.

  Oh, how she’d missed that. “What’s your name?”

  “Justin, Mistress.”

  “Well, Justin. Why are you sitting at my feet?”

  “Because I want to serve you tonight, Mistress.”

  She took another long sip of the luscious red wine and considered him. He was young—twenty-two at the most. He had the blonde hair, sharply defined cheekbones and icy blue eyes she associated with a Nordic gene pool. He wore a tiny pair of black athletic shorts and the green bracelet that identified him as a submissive.

  “I can strip so you can decide whether my body pleases you,” he offered.

  “Tell me, Justin. Do you have a preference on whether you submit to a Master or a Mistress?”

  “No, Mistress, no preference.”

  Such a shame. She didn’t waste time with men who went both ways. She smoothed her hand over his soft blond hair. “I appreciate your honesty. You’re dismissed.”

  He lowered his head and his shoulders slumped. “Thank you, Mistress for the consideration.”

  She wandered over to the bar.

  The bartender smiled at her and offered his hand. “I’m Greg.”

  She shook his hand, noticing he didn’t wear a bracelet. “Mistress B. I’m new to this club and I’m not exactly sure what that signifies.” She gestured to the black band around his biceps.

  “The black bands are worn by security, although that’s a loose interpretation of what I do. I float between keeping an eye on the rooms to make sure the rules are being followed to pouring drinks, to providing certain services to submissives as well as Masters and Mistresses.”

  “‘Certain services’ sounds ominous.”

  He shrugged. “It means sometimes I function as a third player in threesomes. Or mete out discipline. I intervene if a submissive uses their safe word in a scene. Pretty much jack of all trades.”

  “So is it like an apprentice level? Before you become a Master?”

  “No. Black bands are their own station here. Not everyone aspires to be Dominant. Or submissive. We are the peacekeepers and we keep the balance in check. We are neutral.”

  “It’s the first I’ve heard of that kind of role in a club like this.”

  “Merrick doesn’t define the club, except for the privacy policy. So the members run the gamut from hardcore pain sluts, to newly ‘out’ submissives who aren’t sure what aspect of BDSM appeals to them—that’s the Friday night members—to dabblers in the lifestyle, to Dominants and subs just out for a good time, or on the flipside, Dominants and subs looking for a permanent partner. That means the membership fluctuates.” He grinned. “Which makes my job interesting.”

  “I’ll bet. So are there any special events going on tonight?”

  “A violet wand demo on the main floor. Besides that, just the usual.” He sipped from a bottle of water. “What specifically are you looking for tonight, Mistress B?”

  “Are you asking because I sent Justin on his merry way?”

  “I’m asking because maybe I can help you out.”

  She smiled at him. “I’m only interested in hetero male subs, if you’re curious about me.”

  He grinned back. “Never hurts to ask.”

  Shiori finished her wine and slid the empty glass toward him. “Thanks for the info.” She adjusted her vest and headed down the hallway to see what awaited her.

  ***

  Knox twisted the handle as he swung, sending the flogger to reconnect with the same section of skin as the last three blows. The man made a loud “uff” of pain and his Master stepped in.

  “He’s done.”

  “Sir, I can take more,” the man in the chains protested.

  Knox didn’t get involved in the argument. While he had a break, he grabbed the towel and mopped his face and stepped in front of the fan to cool down. He uncapped a bottle of water and drained the entire thing in four long swallows.

  Master Rand motioned to him to help unhook his sub from the chains.

  As soon as the guy was freed, he sank to his knees. He wrapped one hand around the back of Knox’s calf. “Thank you. That was … what I needed.”

  “Happy to help.” He watched as Master Rand hauled his sub to his feet and led him away.

  One down; one to go.

  He twisted his neck and shoulders, trying to ease the ache in the middle of his back. He’d need a massage after his last scene tonight. Master Angus expected that immediate explosion of pain from the first lash to the last lash. No build-up, just continual bombardment for fifteen minutes. Having a set time frame helped Knox keep his stamina. Wielding a whip for that long took its toll on him as well. Everyone expected a big guy like him to have superior strength and staying power, so that’s the image he maintained even if he could barely move the next day. He’d gotten smart and limited himself to three sessions in a night, so his skills were in high demand for those members who craved the type of pain he provided.

  Stepping out of the hot box, Knox noticed a crowd had gathered in front of one of the open use rooms. He meandered that way, thankful his height allowed him to see over everyone’s heads.

  But he didn’t have the greatest view of what held the crowd enthralled, so he got closer.

  A platinum blonde Domme in leathers was whipping Dex, a male submissive, with a short handled whip. The instrument of torture wasn’t as interesting as where she was leaving marks. She’d reddened the area around both of his nipples and the skin below his hipbones. She’d stretched him out—a spreader bar between his ankles and his arms equal distance apart above his head. That position gave her access to the front and the back sides of his body.

  Dex had been a club member for a few years and hadn’t asked Knox to deliver the pain, but most of Knox’s scenes were at the behest of submissives’ Masters and Mistresses. Since Dex was an unattached sub, Knox wondered who the woman was because she clearly knew what she was doing. Dex’s cock, bound with a cock and ball strap, was fully erect.

  Knox watched as she cracked the whip and the tip landed on the inside of Dex’s thigh. His entire body jerked and he started to beg her to let him come. But she didn’t respond, she just gave him a matching whip kiss on the inside of his other thigh.

  Dex hissed—a sound of pain tinged with pleasure.

  When the Domme walked behind Dex and delivered two strikes to the backs of his legs, Knox studied her. Her hair might be real but he doubted it. And then there was the mask that covered her face.

  She grabbed Dex by the hair and pulled his head back so she could speak directly into his ear.

  He nodded and squirmed when she coiled the whip around his calf with a flick of her wrist and dragged it up across his thigh. Then she did the same thing on the other side. She reached between his legs and released the restraint.

  His relief was short lived when she snapped two hard strikes on his inner thighs and followed through with two more hard strikes on his balls. He immediately started to come and the Domme used the handle of the whip like a riding crop, connecting with the marks on his inner thighs as he shot his load into the air.

  When he slumped against the chains, the crowd thinned.

  But Knox remained in place, watching the Domme bring her sub down to earth with whispered words and gentle touches on his chest and back.

  And Dex looked at her adoringly. Dex. The submissive the Dommes always complained about because he tried to top from below.

  When the blonde Domme circled Dex and came to stand in front of him, Knox had a niggling sense of familiarity. When she stood on tiptoe to release Dex’s arms from the cuffs, her ide
ntity hit him with the force of a spinning back fist to the head.

  He knew that biteable ass.

  He knew she struggled to reach items in the store room because she was so short.

  When she turned her head, Knox groaned.

  He knew those fucking luscious lips too.

  In the past eight months he’d fantasized way too many times about taking that sassy mouth in a dozen different ways. And he almost had last night.

  Knox watched the rest of the scene unfold. After she freed Dex from his wrist and ankle restraints, she sat him in a chair and draped a blanket around him. She handed him a bottle of water and when he was too shaky to drink, she helped hold it to his mouth.

  This wasn’t her first time dealing with a submissive’s aftercare.

  As if her expertise with a whip wasn’t already a sign she was no amateur playing a role.

  But fuck him.

  Shiori Hirano was a Domme.

  A fucking Domme.

  He shook his head to clear it and watched as Dex dropped to his knees in front of her. He wrapped one arm around her shin and looked up at her beseechingly.

  She petted his hair and spoke so softly Knox couldn’t hear. But whatever she’d said, it pleased Dex and he stood, clutching the blanket around his naked form before he wandered off.

  Leaving the two of them alone.

  From the shadows he said, “I like you as a platinum blonde, She-Cat.”

  She turned around slowly, her gaze zeroing in on him even in the shadows. She said nothing as she sauntered forward, her carriage as purposeful as it was in the dojo, but her hips held an enticing sway he’d never seen before. She kept hold of the whip, flicking it with annoyance like a cat with a twitchy tail.

  Too late he realized she’d cornered him completely.

  “Well, well Godan, if this isn’t an unexpected treat, running into you at my new club.”