Author: admin

Reader Advisory: This story is for mature audiences only and features intensely erotic situations, bdsm play, discipline, pain play, bondage, humiliation, submissiveness and dominance. All characters are 18 or older.

It’s been three days since Adam arrived at the master’s house, but when looking back on them he remembers only a whirlwind of new experiences that overwhelm any sense of time. In only that short period it has fulfilled all the lofty hopes that brought him here, but it has awakened new deeper, secret hopes as well. In quiet moments, he even dares to think that it is special to the master, too, even as experienced and worldly as he is. As together they delve ever deeper into the submissive dominant relationship and push at the boundaries of what Adam thought himself capable of and comfortable with, the promises that they would not become too attached begin to erode. In the heat of the moment – and the moments get very hot indeed – who can say what will be said and what plans may be changed to address these unexpected feelings?

Excerpt:

He had lowered himself so that he was sitting on my thighs, his skin against mine. His hand rested on my hip as he continued to hold my face towards his with his other hand. It was a symbolic gesture. I could never have looked away now. He was praising me for things I had never known about myself, but now that he had said them and said that he liked them, I couldn’t bear the thought of being any other way. So I looked at him, submissive and patient for him to do what he clearly wanted to so badly.

He produced a match from his pocket, struck it, and lit the candle before setting it aside on the floor. The clean scent of its smoke infused the air.

“Do you trust me, Adam?” he asked.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good,” he said. “That’s good. Because this isn’t something I would do with just anyone.”

“I trust you, Master,” I repeated. But even so, my chest felt tight.

He laid a hand on my on the pale, sensitive skin of my stomach. He could feel my slight trembling. He could see the trepidation that, in spite of my need to please and be brave and be open-minded, I could not shut out entirely.

“If it becomes too much for you, I want you to tell me,” he said. “I want you to say so, alright? I want you to say ‘Awry.'”

“Awry,” I repeated.

“This is a safe room,” he said, “where two people who trust each other can explore things that they would not do with other people.”

I watched him, still at a complete loss for what was about to happen. I pulled lightly at my wrists. The bondage I understood. The bondage I liked. But it also made what was coming all the more terrifying, whatever it was. But I was grateful that he was speaking this way with me. It reminded me why I was not, in my conscious mind, afraid.

Notice: This title includes themes and passages that have been adapted from Jessica Whitethread’s His to Train: Flirting with Boundaries with full consent of the original author.

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Reader Advisory: This story is for mature audiences only and features intensely erotic situations, bdsm play, spanking, public discipline, humiliation, submissiveness and dominance. All characters are 18 or older.

Adam’s first hours in his new master’s house have been intense ones, but he knows they have only scratched the surface. Before he has done little more than catch his breath, it’s time to meet the other submissives in the master’s household and learn just exactly what he has gotten himself into. Far from being allowed to wade in slowly, Adam’s initiation into this tight little community will mean getting tossed directly into the center of its many different flavors of discipline and power play. By the time his first morning has come to a close, he will have a lot more to think about than why there isn’t a number on the mailbox.

Excerpt:

“Yes, Master,” several of them agreed and the others nodded obediently.

“His shorter time here makes it all the more important that his experience is a positive one.”

Again they agreed, smiles breaking onto some of their faces. I could feel excitement rising in the room.

There was a slight teasing note in Master’s voice. It was as though he and the men at the table were in on an inside joke, as though they all knew what was coming and Master was being deliberately slow in getting to it: tantalizing them under the guise of introducing me.

Slowly, Master strode to the head of the table, a hand stroking his chin and that infectiously mischievous smile on his lips.

“For those of you who haven’t heard,” he went on, “Adam and I encountered each other at his audition for the Langston Society. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Master,” I agreed.

He nodded, his hands splayed lazily on the wooden table and his eyes closed. “Quite a performance.”

A slight rustling passed through his audience.

When he reopened his eyes, they fell as though by coincidence upon a small spiral-bound notebook lying in the center of the table which I had not noticed.

“And what’s that? The Log?” he said as though surprised.

He reached out one hand and drew it towards him. A collective shiver along the table confirmed that whatever had everyone so on edge had a great deal to do with that unremarkable little book. He licked a finger, drew it open, and flicked through several pages.

“My goodness,” he said. “Look at this. Would you look at this. Four days I’m away and you acquire a rap-sheet like this?” He tutted softly, turning a page back and then forward again. “Now I understand the nervousness. We have some serious accounts that need settling, don’t we?”

The sighs and shivering had stopped. He now commanded the room in utter silence.

“Who was my record keeper this week?” he asked.

“Me, Master,” a blond man seated two down from the end answered him. He had a lean muscularity and a well-defined face that was fixed in an expression of nervous expectation: a strange mixture of dread and excitement. Even sitting down he was two inches taller than the men to either side of him, and his pale skin was flushed.

Master shook his head and tutted again. “Hayden, Hayden, Hayden. All this happens when I leave you in charge?”

Hayden seemed to be holding his breath.

Master looked at his paralyzed, blushing form. “That’s ten spanks, isn’t it? For a house poorly run?”

Around the table the men nodded in confirmation.

“Would you come up here, please, where everyone can see you?”

Hayden rose carefully from his chair and made his way around the table. Master took his own chair and turned it around so that the back of it faced the room.

Hayden stopped beside him and stood waiting with nervous hands clasped over his bare stomach.

“Apologize to everybody, please. They are going to be punished because you couldn’t keep them in line. If you had done your job, none of this would be necessary.”

Hayden turned and faced the onlookers. “I’m sorry,” he said in a weak voice.

Notice: This title includes themes and passages that have been adapted from Jessica Whitethread’s His to Train: First Discipline with full consent of the original author.

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