The Inner Room (6 page)

Muted lighting was provided by a series of sconces set high along the perimeters of the room. Marissa noticed several racks, some with floggers, some with canes, some with wicked-looking single tail whips of various sizes, the largest a coiled bullwhip that looked like a shiny-skinned, sleeping snake.

Marissa jumped a little when Jack closed the door behind them.

“You can put your things over there.” Jack pointed to a small set of cubbyholes, not unlike those found in a kindergarten classroom for book bags and lunchboxes.

“My…things?” Marissa said faintly. She knew she would have to get naked—Dana had warned her. But now that it had come to it…

Jack glanced sharply at her. “Yes. Everything. Strip naked. Oh wait, leave on the heels. You will wait for the trainer on that dais, there.” He pointed again, this time toward a raised platform in the center of the room with a set of three wooden steps set along its side.

Did that mean Jack
wasn’t
the trainer? Who was? Where were they? She realized Jack was watching her, his bushy eyebrows raised, as if questioning why she was still just standing there.

Don’t blow this. Do what he says. Remember, you can always use your safeword.

“My safeword is lemon,” she blurted suddenly, and then felt herself blushing.

Jack’s lips lifted into a half smile. “That’s nice,” he said flatly. “Now do what you’re told.”

Marissa tried to swallow, but somehow her mouth had filled with sawdust. She moved toward the cubbies and reached for the zipper of her skirt with trembling fingers. She realized she had left her velvet jacket over the back of her chair in the outer room. She stepped out of the skirt, folded it and set it into an empty space. With a glance toward Jack, she reached for the hem of her chemise and pulled it over her head. Blowing out a breath, she reached behind herself and undid her pretty new bra. Jack stood with his arms crossed over his massive chest, an implacable expression on his face, his eyes trained on Marissa.

Just do it,
she admonished herself. Nudity was the norm at The Power Exchange. Half the people in the outer room were in various stages of undress, and no one batted an eyelash over it. She was being silly and self-conscious. It was just skin. No big deal. She reached for her panties and slid them down her legs, stepping carefully out of them while still balancing in her heels.

She placed the panties on top of her clothing pile and turned to face Jack Morris. His eyes swept over her body, his expression still difficult to read. “Good,” he finally said. “Now get up on the dais.”

As Marissa moved through the room on rubbery legs she could feel Jack’s dark eyes on her. She climbed the small set of stairs and stood on the wooden platform, wondering what to do with her arms. As if reading her mind, Jack said, “Stand at attention, arms up, fingers locked behind your neck, feet planted shoulder-width apart, eyes forward. Don’t move until the trainer tells you to move.”

Marissa attempted to do as the man had ordered, feeling at once ridiculous and at the same time kind of sexy, naked in nothing but high heels. The position forced her to thrust her breasts forward, and she felt like an object designed to be ogled, which was no doubt the intent of being forced to pose on a raised stage. Rather than feeling humiliated by being put on display, arousal burned its way through her, spreading into her sex and engorging her nipples.

Without another word, Jack turned and left the room by the door through which they had entered, closing it with a small click that seemed to echo in the empty space. Marissa drew in a shuddery breath and released it slowly. Her nose itched suddenly, and she wondered if she dared move out of position in order to scratch it. Keeping her head still, she managed to glance around the room, half expecting to see a camera trained on her. Unless it was hidden, she didn’t appear to be observed. Jack had said not to move, but who would know?

The itch was now driving her nuts. She dropped one hand and quickly scratched her nose. Shaking back her hair, she once again assumed the somewhat awkward position, her fingers laced behind her neck. The room was cool, but she could feel the prickle of perspiration beneath her arms, and the dampness of undeniable arousal between her legs.

She was there on a completely voluntary basis, she reminded herself. She could leave at any time. No one was holding her prisoner. This was just an assessment, and Tony had said she was a natural sub. Not that she needed him to tell her. She knew what she was now, or more accurately, she understood now what she had the potential to become. She was being offered a rare and precious opportunity to be assessed by a top trainer.

Marissa heard the sound of a door opening from somewhere behind her. Though she’d been told to keep her eyes straight ahead, Marissa couldn’t help turning toward the sound. Her mouth fell open as she took in the figure standing there dressed in a black muscle T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and tapered along his body toward a narrow waist and slender hips. He wore black leather pants that looked like they were molded to his long, muscular legs, his feet shod in heavy black boots of the Master Mark variety.

Marissa forgot all about holding her position. Instinctively she tried to cover her naked body. Her heart was thumping like a drum against her bones while her mind struggled to place the man within these surroundings.

His piercing blue eyes moved over her body and settled on her face, and his mouth, like hers, fell open. They stared at one another for several beats of the loudest silence Marissa had ever experienced.

“Dr. Roberts?” he finally said, his voice incredulous.

It was impossible, and yet it was he. No question about it. Her nurse, Cam Wilder, was her trainer. “Holy shit,” she exclaimed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The shock of seeing Marissa Roberts standing there stark naked, save for those fuck-me high heels, caused something to short circuit in Cam’s brain, and he found himself momentarily speechless. He realized now Jack hadn’t even told him the subject’s name, but only that she was a novice with almost no experience in the scene.

Despite the fact she was trying to cover herself, Marissa’s body was even lovelier in real life than the images he’d conjured of her when stroking himself to a quick morning orgasm in the shower. She was blushing sweetly. Her shiny, dark hair cascaded to her shoulders, a deep cleavage created between those luscious breasts by her arms hugging her body.

Cam felt like one of those cartoon characters whose jaw had come unhinged from shock, but his brain sternly ordered him to regain control of the situation. He was the Master; she was the novice trainee. To cede control would be to undermine the entire process. The thing to do was to push on with the assessment. He owed it to Jack, to himself, and to Marissa.

“I could ask you the same thing, sub girl, but we both know the answer. I am a master trainer, and you are here as my subject. You are in the inner room, which means Jack apparently saw something in you worthy of exploration. My job tonight is to assess your submissive potential. As of right now, I see none.” He glared at her. “Look at you, out of position, hiding your body from me. The first rule of submission is never hide from your Master—not your feelings, not your fears and most definitely not your body. Back in position, arms behind your head. Now!”

Marissa didn’t move. If possible, her face became even redder and she stared at him with flashing eyes, her chin lifting in defiance. If she didn’t obey even this most basic command, Cam would end things then and there. He would let Jack know he was not compatible with the subject and hadn’t been able to properly assess her as a result. Jack wasn’t a forgiving sort of man, Cam knew, and that would be the end of Marissa’s chances to join the club. 

He would count to three in his head. If she hadn’t obeyed by then, he’d walk out. There was no other way.

One…

Two…

He could see the war of emotions moving over her features, but she dropped her arms and then slowly lifted them behind her head, locking her fingers at her neck. Cam could barely admit to himself the vast relief that washed over him at seeing her obey in time. He moved closer.

“I know this is difficult. This is an unusual situation, but we both know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need this. Whatever exists between us outside this room, for right now you are my sub girl and I am your Master. If you find yourself unable to agree at the outset to put everything outside this room aside, we won’t be able to move forward, and you might as well get down from there, get your things and go.”

She didn’t move.

“You want to stay, then? To move forward?” He realized he was holding his breath as he waited for her to answer.

She lifted her chin again, a stubborn look crossing her face. “Yes, Sir.” At least someone had coached her to address a Master with respect.

Cam hid his smile, and his relief. “Okay, good. A few ground rules. You will not speak for this hour, except to answer direct questions. When you answer, you will do so as completely as you can. There are no wrong answers. I really do want to get a feel for where you’re at each step of the way. If something scares or upsets you, it’s okay to ask for permission to speak, and then, once granted, for you to tell me what’s bothering you. Though the decision will ultimately be mine, I will listen to you and take your concerns into account.”

Cam felt himself settling into his comfort zone, his nervousness and confusion at the bizarre situation dissipating. “To give you an idea of what to expect, first I’m going to conduct a physical examination of your body. After I’ve assessed your comfort level with being touched, I’m going to put you through a series of exercises designed to determine masochistic reactions, pain tolerance levels, sexual responsiveness, and obedience. You will submit with all the grace you can muster. I will then report to the owner on my findings.” He waited a beat while she absorbed all this, and then said, “Are we agreed on this?”

He saw she was trembling slightly, but she nodded and whispered, “Yes, Sir.”

Cam climbed the small stairs and stepped onto the dais in front of Marissa. The smell of her perfume, something spicy and floral, mingled with the sharp but not unpleasant tang of fear sweat. Unable to help himself for a moment, he closed his eyes and breathed in her intoxicating scent. Scent had always been a powerful trigger for Cam, and he had to exercise every ounce of self-control not to take the beautiful, trembling woman into his arms and kiss her.

He delivered a rapid, silent lecture to himself that included reminders of professionalism and the limits of this assessment. He’d been attracted to trainees before and he’d managed to keep his tongue in his mouth and his dick in his pants. He would do it now and cut out the teenaged horn dog bullshit.

“I’m going to examine your body now, sub girl,” he said, his voice coming out gruffer than he intended. “Your only job is to obey. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied softly.

He started by walking in a slow circle around her. Stopping behind her, he placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. She jumped a little at his touch, but held her position. He massaged the rigid muscles beneath her skin, allowing a touch of gentleness to enter his tone, now that she was behaving. “Relax, sub girl. Just the fact that you’re here means someone saw something valuable in you. Just go with your instincts. Don’t try to fight me or yourself as we move through this process.”

He continued the massage until he felt the muscles ease, if just a little. Stepping back, he cupped her ass cheeks, which, though small, were full and round, an excellent target for the flogger or the cane.

Or his hand…the intimacy of skin on skin, stroking, then slapping, watching the flesh jiggle and flush to red. He wouldn’t stop until she begged him. Erotic pain and lust would intertwine like rope around her senses until she was nothing but raw, submissive desire. Then, and only then, would he slip his fingers into the wet heat between her legs as he pressed against her naked body with his…

Shit. Cam’s cock had sprung to rock-hard erection and was straining against the soft leather of his pants. He dropped his hands, closed his eyes briefly and thought about bedpans and patients vomiting into a bowl until his cock got the message and at least partially deflated.

Moving to stand in front of her, he said, “How are your arms? Are you okay staying in that position while I complete the examination?”

Marissa nodded. He lifted his eyebrows until she spoke. “Yes, Sir.” He smiled, and she actually smiled back, if somewhat hesitantly. A sudden tenderness swept through him, and impulsively he stroked her cheek, which was indeed just as soft as he’d imagined.

Stepping back, he reached for her breasts, cupping his hands beneath each one and lifting them. She drew in a small breath but didn’t resist him in any way. He let them fall and reached for her left nipple. It was dark pink, and it lengthened between his thumb and finger. He tweaked it lightly, pleased at her responsiveness, which manifested as another small, sudden intake of breath and a dilation of her pupils.

His fingers still on her nipple, he looked into her eyes, and she looked back. Were they blue or were they green? He couldn’t quite decide. He twisted the nipple, pinching it hard. She gasped and emitted a small cry as she instinctively jerked backward.

He let her nipple go but frowned sternly. “Back in position,” he snapped. “I didn’t tell you to move.”

“It—oh, I…” She pressed her lips together, and then said, “Permission to speak, uh, Sir?”

Jesus Christ, she was fucking adorable. Keeping his expression neutral, Cam nodded. “Go ahead.”

“It hurt! That’s why I jerked away. I wasn’t expecting it.”

Cam shook his head, allowing his mouth to curve into a hint of a smile. “It’s supposed to hurt, silly girl. You’re a sexual masochist, aren’t you? Look around you.” He waved his arm to indicate all the BDSM apparatus and gear in the room. “Where do you think you are? This is a BDSM dungeon. How am I going to assess your pain tolerance if you can’t even submit to a little nipple tweaking? Are you sure you want to be a member of The Power Exchange?”

“No, I mean, yes! I mean, that is, I do want the assessment. I am a sexual…masochist.”

She seemed to stumble over the words, and Cam could see this was truly hard for her. What had Jack been thinking, giving him such a complete neophyte to assess? She looked down, but not before he saw tears suddenly pooling in those beautiful eyes. He softened.

“Marissa,” he said gently. “It’s not too late. You can still back out of this. I’ll just explain to Jack that we know each other outside of the scene and—”

“No!” she burst out. “I want to stay. Please. Just give me another chance, okay? I can do this. I know I can. Please, Sir?” She looked up at him, her expression beseeching.

“All right then.” He nodded, barely admitting to himself how delighted and thrilled he was she hadn’t given up. “Lower your arms and step down from the dais. I’ll conduct the physical examination with you lying down. It’ll be a little less stressful for you that way.”

She nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Sir.” 

He brought her to the exam table, an old ob/gyn table complete with stirrups. She looked askance at the apparatus. That was supposed to make her more comfortable? She turned to Cam. “You want me to…to lie down on that?”

“Yes,” he said, unable to hide his grin. He let her failure to address him correctly slide for the moment. “I do believe lying down for an exam is easier than standing at attention, but if you disagree, we can always go back to the dais—“

“No, no, please. This is fine, Sir,” she said unconvincingly, but she didn’t move.

Letting a little of his impatience enter his tone, Cam snapped, “Go on. Do as you’re told. You know drill. Take off your shoes. Once you’re on the table, scoot forward, feet in the stirrups.”

He could actually see her girding herself, her shoulders going back, her chin lifting, her hands curling into fists as she moved to the end of the table and turned so her back was to it. She stepped out of her high heels. In bare feet she only came up to Cam’s collarbone. She would have to lift her head for a kiss, as he dipped his to meet her.

Idiot. Stop it.

She hesitated another second, but finally put her palms flat on the table and hoisted herself onto it. She slid back against the smooth leather surface and then scooted forward as instructed, placing her feet in the metal stirrups.

Cam moved to stand in front of her, positioning himself between her spread legs. Her body was strong and lean, but still had feminine curves in all the right places. He placed his hands lightly on her legs, and he could still feel the tremble in her limbs. He stroked the soft skin of her inner thighs. “Relax,” he soothed. “I am not the enemy, sub girl. I am your Master. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t longing to submit. Submit now to my touch and my command. Close your eyes and breathe slowly.”

He waited for her eyes to flutter shut. He watched as she dutifully took in a large breath and slowly let it out. “Yes, that’s good,” he encouraged. “In…and out. Slow and easy. Let all resistance flow out of your body. For this moment, you belong to me.”

He moved his hands along her legs, lightly massaging the firm muscles of her shapely calves, and then moving up again, his fingers stroking the sensitive skin where her legs joined her body, meticulously careful not to touch the delicate, sensual folds of her exposed cunt.

Not yet.

He moved around to the side of the table and brought his hands over her stomach and abdomen. Leaning over her, he cupped each breast, and felt the perk of her nipples hardening against his palms. Though he would have enjoyed lingering there quite a bit longer, he lifted his hands to her slender arms and gently massaged her biceps and triceps before sliding down her forearms. He massaged each hand in turn, pressing his thumbs into her palms and stroking each finger until he felt her relax beneath his touch.

“Lift your arms up over your head.” He was pleased when she obeyed without protest and without opening her eyes. He touched her underarms and she startled slightly, but didn’t wriggle away. Good—not overly ticklish.

He moved back to stand between her spread knees. Leaning forward once more, he placed his hands around her throat and squeezed lightly. Her eyes flew open, the pupils dilated so wide there was only a ring of blue-green iris rimming them. She gasped, her hands moving toward his. He stopped her with a firm shake of his head. “I didn’t tell you to move. You need to trust me, sub girl. You are safe. Keep your arms over your head.”

She blew out a shaky breath, but she let her arms fall back into position. He could see that his hands at her throat were a trigger for her, though he surmised by the way she had begun to pant, and the fact that her nipples were hard as pencil erasers, that the trigger was a positive one, even if it was a little scary.

He tightened his fingers at her throat, though he was careful to keep the pressure light as he gauged her reaction. Her lips parted and she began to tremble again, but her eyes were shining and the whimper she emitted sounded sexual to his trained ears.