Enthrall Him (Enthrall Sessions Book 3) (33 page)

On those sweeping stairs appeared a dream-like vision. A tall, stunning brunette stood elegantly on the last step, dressed merely in a tiny thong. Crowning those lush brunette locks was a dramatic headdress; black feathers rose high. Those pert breasts, that perfect figure, made her look like a supermodel, and if that wasn’t stunning enough, on her right hand she wore a black glove upon which sat an enormous black owl. Its eyes shone a shocking blue.

It blinked at us.

“Welcome to Oberon Grove,” she said, her accent crisply British.

Richard bowed his head.

She gracefully strode down that last step with the prestige of an Amazonian goddess. Richard had once told me about the need for showmanship back in Enthrall, but this was altogether different. She was ethereal. Flawless.

She arched a brow as her gaze fell on me.

“Down,” whispered Richard.

I sunk to my knees before her and bowed my head, the vantage point perfect for checking out those diamond studded strappy heels and her red painted toenails.

“I trust your journey was comfortable?” she said.

“Very, thank you,” said Richard, and he reached out to take her left hand to kiss it.

This seemed to please her.

“Mr. Booth, you’ll change and then you’ll be permitted to play.” Her focus shot to me. “You may rise.”

I pushed myself to my feet as elegantly as possible.

“You will address me as Mistress Summer,” she said. “Gatekeeper of the Dragon’s Lair. Mistress of doms. Dame of the submissives. My word is sacrosanct. My word is final.”

“An honor,” said Richard.

She raised her right hand and the butler, now wearing a similar black glove, leaped forwards and took the bird from her.

“He’s beautiful,” I said. “What’s his name?”

“Puck,” she said.

Richard signaled I shouldn’t be talking.

She caught it. “There’s plenty of time for silence, Mr. Booth.”

“Please, call me Richard.”

“Richard.” She made it sound so alluring. “We have your tuxedo.” She motioned to the butler. “Mr. Wherry will show you to your accommodation. A suite you may return to anytime should you wish. Ms. Lauren, you’ll accompany me.”

I shot Richard a nervous glance.

“She’ll be well taken care of, Mr. Booth,” she said.

“Please see she is.” He stepped towards her, his height equaling hers. “She’s my sub. No man touches her, understand?”

She raised her chin proudly. “If Ms. Lauren is to stay she will need to be prepared. Introduced to the other subs. Expected to perform as a superior submissive. If she breaks so much as one order she will be expelled. Forever.”

Richard neared me. “Obey Mistress Summer.”

I gave an uneasy nod.

Richard took my hands in his. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Where am I going?” I muttered.

“To change, Ms. Lauren,” said Mistress Summer. “There is a dress code. You are breaking it.”

My heart fluttered with anticipation.

Before arriving, I’d wanted to go back to Chelsea Crescent. See Cameron again. But now I chose to be bold and face this new adventure he’d arranged for us, and show Richard what I was capable of.

After all, Cameron knew my limits.

“Thank you, Mistress Summer,” I said.

Richard gave a wave of support and headed off down the hallway. I followed Mistress Summer in the opposite direction.

She told me I was to walk a few feet behind her and I did.

The curve of her spine, that thin thong, her rounded buttocks, those long, long legs strolled before me. Her noble stride complemented her commanding presence.

As though Summer had been cloned, three similar leggy women strolled our way in that same majestic stride. They too were naked other than wearing masquerade masks. They bowed their heads as they past. These women were six foot at least and their high heels nudged them taller.

I forced myself not to stare, not to make eye contact, but with my belly full of butterflies and this need to find some common ground with these goddesses, it was a challenge.

Inside the candle lit room, I admired the dark wood and lavish furniture. Deep green drapes covered the windows, paintings of barely clad women hung on the walls, and the scent of sandalwood hung thick in the air.

Summer pointed. “Shower and return to me. Do not get your hair wet.”

The bathroom was all black marble and glass.

I found a shower cap, put it on, and headed into the glass paneled shower. I wondered what Richard was doing right now. Was he getting similar treatment? Knowing Richard, if Mr. Wherry tried to help him he’d tell him to fuck off.

I rallied myself.
Make him proud
.   

Within ten minutes, I’d followed Summer’s command and now found myself back in the sandalwood room, wrapped in a plush white towel, filled with anticipation.

Mistress Summer tapped the high padded bench. “Up.”

I hurried over and scooted onto it. My legs dangled over.

“Pain is our prerogative.” Her thumb brushed over my mouth to free my bottom lip from my teeth.

I’d been biting it.

“We expect great things from a submissive trained by Dr. Cole.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” I ran through
the
mantra: always assume the pose during play, and obey.

Every. Single. Command
.

A flood of adrenaline made me focus on the door. I wanted to go find Richard. Experience all this with him.  

“Towel.” She held out her hand.

I shimmied on the bench until the towel was no longer wrapped around me and I was now completely naked. She took it from me and threw it down.

“Open your legs wide, please,” she said.

I hesitated, breaking the cardinal rule, and earned myself a frown.

She blinked at me. “We must decorate you for your master, Mia.” She picked up a deep red lipstick and dabbed the tip with a small makeup brush.

“Orders are given once and only once,” she said firmly.

“If she breaks so much as one she’ll be expelled.”

My thighs parted on their own accord, as though she held some hypnotic power over me.

“Show me,” she said sternly.

Gently, I eased apart my labia.

She brought the brush low and painted my clitoris red with the lipstick, sending shudders of pleasure. My thighs trembled and my heart raced. My fingernails dug into my delicate skin as I held it apart for her.

“Good girl,” she said. “Nice and still for your mistress.”

Oh my god
. She was dragging out painting my clit, taking her time stroking that brush over and around it, flicking, patting, dabbing, as though taking pleasure from arousing me. Her brush caused me to swell, and as I peered down I saw that delicate nub stand erect, responding to each of her brushstrokes. My sex spasmed, clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed, and her focus down there seemingly gauged my response.

This didn’t make any sense.

Cameron had warned Richard not to share me, yet here was this goddess clearly performing an intimate act.
Don’t share me?
Had I misinterpreted what those words really meant?

But this was a woman touching me and I took comfort in that at least.

She reached for a small tube of glitter and sprinkled it upon my clit; it shimmered beneath the lights.

She used her fingertip to rub it over completely. “Edible glitter.”

I held back on a frown.

“Down you get,” she ordered.

My shaky legs found the ground, my thighs still trembling from this heightened arousal, but I quickly regained my balance and brought my hands behind my back, assuming the pose.

Back straight and breasts pushed out. Stare forward. No eye contact. Head high, proud. Willing to serve.
To please.

To pleasure.

My lips parted and I moistened them with my tongue. My breathing stuttered and my cheeks flushed. It was easy to admire her, from the way she moved so elegantly, to those gentle but firm touches emphasizing her control.

“What an exquisite submissive you are, Ms. Lauren.”

Summer continued her ritual, dressing me in a skimpy corset that exposed both my breasts and, not surprisingly, my nether region, considering the time she’d taken to decorate it. She brushed out my hair and secured a feathered headdress, clipping it to my head with precision. Those crystal nipple rings pinched as she slid them on. They sent a ripple of pleasure around my areola and into my breasts, and lower.

She took her time playing with my nipples to adjust those decorations just so—

Shooting jolts of ecstasy into my sex.

A soft whimper escaped me.

She ignored it, as though this was all business as usual, and knelt before me to ease my feet into strappy high heels.

Mistress Summer applied my makeup last, using Estee Lauder foundation, fixing false eyelashes with ease, and lining them with heavy eyeliner. She chose that scarlet red for my lips—

“It’s imperative you match.” She slapped my pussy hard.

Sending another jolt of pleasure.

I stood still, letting her tap out a steady beat between my thighs. “Very good,” she said, continuing to punish me, her hand coming down hard on my clit with firm, steady spanks. Arousal stole my breath away.

My footing lost for a second, I quickly righted my back and tried not to lean.

Slap. Slap. Slap
.

I remembered my hands needed to be behind my back.

And shuddered.

Trembled.

She paused and parted my labia with her delicate fingertips, holding it apart for at least a minute.  

I stared dead ahead, trying to control my breathing.

Was I meant to say something? Do something?

“Good,” she said, seemingly pleased by my obedience.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

She was bringing me closer, sending me into a luscious trance of pleasure.

This was it.

I was experiencing what I’d only glimpsed at Chrysalis. I was playing in the same domain as aristocrats. My first bisexual experience, and I was liking it.

My reservations lifted as I kept reminding myself Cameron wanted me to experience this. He knew I was ready. Uncertainly was pushed aside by pride.

This gorgeous goddess was focused on me and I sensed she was as high end as it got. This was a privilege reserved for the very few.

For the sensually elite.  

Cameron had once hinted at my bi-curious nature, and I wondered what he’d say if he saw me now, standing tall and proud and surrendering in his name to this stunning brunette, this queen of dominatrixes.

The only sound was that of her slaps striking my pussy.

“Arms behind your back, please,” she demanded.

They’d slipped to my side again as my mind tranced out, my clit throbbing woefully in-between those delayed slaps.

Her hand was shiny with glitter.

“Stand to attention, Mia.”

Slap.

“Yes, Mistress. Sorry, Mistress.”

Slap.
“Much better.”

My jaw gaped, and my eyes fluttered as they fell upon her. I imagined all those submissives swooning at her feet, willing to do just about anything for her.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

I swallowed hard, suspecting she’d noticed if I trembled through a climax.  

A sigh of relief mixed with longing when she withdrew her hand and ceased her teasing. She played with my hair, readjusted those nipple rings, and tugged on my half corset.

She stepped away to admire me and then strolled across the room, pulling back a drape.

I studied my reflection in the full length mirror that had been hidden behind it.

I looked like her, or even one of those exquisite women we’d past in the hallway. All glamorous vixen and more stunning then I’d ever dressed before.

My nipples stood erect from her play, and a sparkly glistened over the red lipstick painted on my clit. It glinted like a rare jewel and I understood its meaning.  

“Look how perfect you are now, Mia,” she cooed, as she clipped a long chain to the back of my diamond collar.  

“I’ll fit in,” was all I could say.

“On the contrary. You’ll stand out.”

All I needed was a mask and I too would blend in with the others.

I didn’t want to stand out.

“Follow.” She gave the chain a tug.

A yank at my neck. “My mask, Mistress?”

“No mask.” She turned to look at me. “How else will they see your expression?”