Page 25 of Master My Love

“Thank you,” Val whispered, when she really wanted to hug Julianna and cry. “She’s crazy scary. I imagine it was difficult confronting her like you did.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Tara is a switch. She tops me, and Samson tops us both. I’ll fill you in later. Right now, better get back.”

For the remainder of the classroom-style lecture, Val did her best to pay attention but kept getting distracted by images of Samson’s ménage and his unusual power dynamic—at least in her inexperienced assessment.

Before she knew it, lecture time was over. The group collected their things and moved to the members’ only area inside the gothic doors. They were shown to changing rooms with Master Thomas leading the men and the women following Mistress Tara. There were bus terminal-type lockers with plastic keys to store their belongings. Except these weren’t dingy and dented. Like everything else in the club, they were top quality and in pristine condition.

“If you become a member,” the domme explained, “you’ll be issued a combination as well. Memorize it. Having a key dangling around your neck during a scene is dangerous, and you submissives can forget about stashing one in a pocket or on your body somewhere. Pockets aren’t standard issue on fetwear as far as I’ve seen. Besides, most dominants allow very little clothing, if they permit it at all, so hiding a key in cleavage is out, as are shoes in the dungeon.”

Her comment produced a round of laughter from the student dommes and looks of dread from the submissives.

Chapter 7

WHEN VAL EXITED THEwomen’s locker room, Eric was waiting, one shoulder propped against an ornately carved archway near the entrance of the playroom. Gone were his casual clothes. In their place, he wore a fitted open-collar shirt and tailored trousers, black on black like the other night. Even in the casual pose, he was the image of quiet authority, and while she paused only a moment to take it in, her hesitation was too long, evidently. With the crook of a finger, he summoned her forward.

Pushing her nervousness aside, she padded his way, her bare feet slapping lightly against the swirled marble floor. Considering the vast scope of the room, it had to have been costly, like the oiled bronze fixtures in the bathrooms, the gleaming bronze accents throughout, along with the expensive furnishings and décor—all the epitome of decadence and befitting of the club name. The membership fees didn’t come cheap. If she joined, she was going to have to limit splurges and nonessentials to fit it into her monthly budget.

As she approached her well-dressed, extremely good-looking partner for the rest of the class, she caught the flash of gold at his wrist. She felt woefully out of place, suddenly, and not only because of her discount store yoga clothes and bare feet.

“Is everything all right, Valerie?”

She glanced up in surprise.

“You were frowning,” he volunteered before she could ask why.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, not realizing that she was. “I’m nervous is all.”

He tipped his head toward the play space behind him, which seemed very different nearly empty, the overhead lights burning bright, and without the sounds of BDSM play providing background noise like on her last visit.

“Decadence can be intimidating for a beginner.”

She let him believe it was the club, rather than the man, causing her jitters.

“Relax, you’re just now getting to the fun part.”

He pushed away from the wall and moved closer, leaving only inches between them. At more of a height disadvantage now, Val tipped her face up as his angled down. As with the first glimpse of him, she felt a spark of excitement shoot through her.

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