Page 23 of Master My Love

Chapter 6

VAL DROVE BY THE FRONTentrance at a snail’s pace, her hands gripping the wheel tight to stop them from trembling, her nerves in a jumble of excitement and dread. The instructions directed her to park in the upper level of the adjoining garage, which she hadn’t noticed the last time she was here.

Only a handful of cars were there when she parked, mostly luxury models and expensive SUVs, making her Toyota Highlander seem out of place. As she sat there, wondering like that first night what a woman in her forties was doing at a kink club to begin with, two more cars pulled in. The drivers got out immediately and disappeared inside the metal door marked Decadence LA: members only.

Glancing at her watch, with ten minutes before class, she knew she couldn’t stall any longer. She imagined the instructors wouldn’t think twice about using a tardy student’s behind to demonstrate disciplinary techniques.

Grabbing her weekender bag from the passenger seat, she double-checked the contents. She had packed a change of clothes—skirt, blouse, high heels, lace bra, and panties. Master Eric didn’t explicitly state the last two items in his instructions, which he’d written in a bold scrawl on the back of the class flyer. She assumed they were appropriate for a dinner in public. She bit her lip, suddenly uncertain. He’d also dictated minimal makeup, no jewelry, and to leave her hair loose. With such attention to detail, maybe she should skip the underwear.

“Well...I guess I’ll find out soon enough,” she uttered as she stepped out of the car.

With more questions than answers, she resigned herself to being unsettled for the foreseeable future. Hopefully, the class would change that.

Entering the club today differed from her first visit, mostly because in yoga pants and a tank, she wasn’t in danger of flashing anyone. Although her arms were bare, her important parts were covered. With a good chance of seeing Eric during class, unforgiving spandex that showed every bulge and imperfection would never be her first choice. But workout clothes were all she had that complied with the flyer’s instructions for attire that allowed free movement and the use of restraints.

Holy cripes—restraints!

Still unable to believe she was actually doing this, she followed a few more stragglers inside, hoping they knew where they were headed. Down two flights, they came to a landing with a set of doors, one labeled “Staff Only” and the other “Members and Guests.”

Choosing the latter, they passed through to the main lobby where twenty more people had gathered, all dressed similarly to her.

Seconds after her arrival, a young woman ushered everyone into the lounge, instructing them to find a partner, unless they were part of a threesome or pre-approved larger group. Val stood by herself after everyone else paired off. It was like being in grade school and getting picked dead last for kickball, except she hadn’t been picked at all.

At a loss at what to do, and feeling rather pathetic, she looked to the instructors for guidance. There were three of them. A tall, burly man in black leather. A scary-looking, dark-haired woman who, from her red leather corset dress, thigh-high boots, and the riding crop dangling from her waist, must be a domme. Instantly intimidated by her sour expression and laser-sharp stare, Val vowed to steer clear of her. The third instructor was a petite blonde who was much less daunting. The other two towered over her, the man likely able to squish her beneath his giant boots like a bug, but she seemed unconcerned and sent Val a sympathetic smile.

Would they allow her to participate without a partner? Val’s heart leaped in alarm as she glanced at the threesome in front. Surely, they wouldn’t make her join a group of strangers. She swallowed hard, her palms turning clammy.

“Miss Thornton.” The young woman’s soft voice carried to her in the back.

It surprised her she spoke at all. From her shiny latex painted on minidress, to her bare legs and feet, and the collar she wore around her throat, Val had assumed she was a submissive. Nothing about Decadence LA made much sense, so it shouldn’t surprise her when her judgments turned out wrong.

“You were a late addition to the class,” she explained. “Which leaves us with an odd number. We secured a partner for you, but he won’t be available until after the lecture. Please find a seat; we’re ready to begin.”

She waved her hand at an empty chair at a table in the last row, clearly expecting her to do as she was told.

As soon as Val sat, things got underway.

“Good afternoon, newbies. I am Master Thomas. My co-instructor is Mistress Tara. She and Julianna, her submissive, have volunteered to assist me today. Please be mindful of the speaker as our class is quite large. No side conversations or distractions because we have a lot to cover.”

They passed out booklets which contained the house rules, sample contracts, illustrations of slave positions, and a glossary of common BDSM terms. Val flipped through it and was delighted to see that it was exactly what she was looking for.

A buzz of excitement swept through the students. When she glanced up, she smiled. Master Eric, as delicious in dark jeans and a long-sleeved tee as in the more formal attire he’d worn the other night, had entered the lounge. His striking features were a treat for her eyes. While she tried not to be obvious and stare, she couldn’t look away. Fortunately, she didn’t have to because he strode to the front and addressed the class.

“Good afternoon, newbies.” As his deep voice commanded the attention of the room, the hum of chatter faded to silence. “Welcome to Decadence LA,” he continued, “where we like to say inhibitions are shed and boundaries are shattered—within limits.”

A mischievous smile played on his lips as the rest of the class laughed in response, except for Val, distracted by the sensory overload of his masculine presence. From the scruff of beard on his firm jaw, a shade darker than the blonde on his head, to his full, kissable lips, and the jersey knit of his snug T-shirt hugging his body like a second skin. He had the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing tanned, muscular forearms. Val’s gaze moved to his hands with their long, tapered fingers. He had barely touched her on Friday, but those hands had starred in her fantasies ever since.

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