Working Out the Kinks (Chain) Read online

  When he opened it, two men stood there, one of whom had a girl leashed behind him. They took turns greeting my Master by firmly shaking his hand.

  “Thank you for coming by,” Eric said to each of them as they greeted one another. The first man to step inside was tall in stature. His hair was flaxen like Eric’s, but slightly darker. I was immediately taken in by his deep emerald eyes. His face was sculpted with high cheeks and firm lips. He was a Dominant.

  The other man, whom I also pegged for a Dom, was shorter, but no less striking. He had a darker complexion, with eyes to almost perfectly match his jet-black hair. He was dressed just the same as everyone else, except he also wore a silk-styled vest buttoned up the front. The girl at his side had slunk down to her knees, looking in my direction, studying me just as closely as I was her. She had small features, a tight nose and lips curved just enough to be a secret grin. She reminded me of a cat, and I felt intimidated by how she was oozing confidence in her stance. Watching the greeting, I barely remembered I was sitting there with only a ribbon tied around my neck as an accessory to my nude body while the other submissive wore a black minidress that hugged her small curves.

  Wesley stood up and Eric presented the duo, extended his hand to each.

  “Wesley you remember Richard and James,” Eric said as they all shook hands.

  “Gentlemen,” Wesley said with a nod. I was taken back by how mature he sounded, nothing of his normal sarcasm coming through his voice. In the midst of watching the men extend their hands in greeting, I almost didn’t see the third man enter the room. He gazed at me as he stood there, leaning against the doorway. Eric turned toward him and welcomed him in.

  “It’s good to see you again, Grant,” he said. Grant turned his attention to Eric as a small smile crept to his cherub-like face. His golden curls shifted as he moved from his place to greet everyone else.

  “It’s good to see you, too,” he replied as he shook hands with Eric. “Thank you for helping me out on such short notice.”

  “He didn’t have much of a choice,” Wesley injected quickly. There was the asshole I remembered.

  Eric tried to brush off his attitude. “It’s quite all right, Grant. I know that you would do the same for me, had I needed the help.”

  “Hopefully this year we’ll get to see you back at the retreat,” James said to Grant while he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

  Grant nodded his head and looked at the ground a moment. “I’m hoping tonight’s performance will help me back into the spotlight there.”

  “I have no doubt you’ll be the hit of the summer,” Eric replied. “Would you all like to take your seats for me and I’ll bring her out?”

  Wesley chose the couch, closest to me. My arm brushed against his leg as he sat down. James and Richard chose seats across from us, close to one another, while Grant sat on the other end of the sofa. There was a large empty space in the middle of the living room, and I noticed a trunk sitting in the corner where it hadn’t been before. As we waited for Eric to return, Wesley crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap.

  “How much are you charging this year for the high roller seats, James?” Wesley asked. James smiled, amused by Wesley’s cockiness.

  “Two months pay this time,” James answered.

  “How pretentious of you, increasing our rent like that.”

  “We were all in favor of a price hike, just to keep the unwanted out this time around.”

  “If you don’t like my money, I can take it elsewhere, you know,” Wesley hinted.

  James crossed his legs, mimicking Wesley’s stance. “Cut it out. You’ll pay like everyone else does and get exactly what you want.”

  Wesley grinned, then unexpectedly turned his focus toward me. My cheeks burned with the blood rushing into them.

  “And I always do,” he said.

  There was a faint click of a door closing. Eric returned to the room with Whitney attached by her collar to a leash in his hand. She was crawling naked behind him, blindfolded and gagged. My heart skipped when I saw her, knowing how important this was for not only her, but for Grant as well. He didn’t move when she emerged. Like a statue, Grant sat there, keeping his chin resting on his fingers, hiding his lips. Though he didn’t give any signal of a change when Whitney entered the room, his gaze focused intently on her. He watched as she was walked around first to James and Richard for them to inspect.

  “Upright,” Eric called and instantly she was kneeling, her back as straight as a board.

  “Hands,” he said and her hands were laced behind her head.

  “She’ll fetch too, if you want,” Wesley joked. Richard found that amusing, a slight smirk on his lips.

  Eric ordered Whitney back to her feet and walked her up to kneel between Wesley and Grant, her back toward the couch.

  “She’s been taught four nights a week, with weekends specifically for sensory practice and play, as you wanted,” explained Eric. Grant gave a nod, his eyes never straying from his prize.

  “Show me the bullwhip,” he said to Eric.

  “Position,” Eric called out. Whitney crawled just a few feet to the middle of the room where she placed her hands behind her head. She turned around so she could face us, although I knew she still couldn’t see with the blindfold so tight around her eyes. Eric walked over to the black chest in the corner and pulled out the bullwhip he used briefly on me the week before. When I saw it held firm in his grasp I flinched, as if on cue. It wasn’t for me that night, but I still could feel it hitting my skin. When her back was good and flushed crimson red, Grant had Eric change to another, sleeker whip. Eric would strike lower and then higher. It became a random pattern of hits, nothing ever hitting more frequently than to momentarily inflame the skin. To my fascination, Whitney never showed much of any emotion. She was gritting her teeth. Her jaw was locked, but she never cried out.

  An hour into the whipping, Eric had broken out into a light sweat. He rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, though I was hoping that soon he would just forget about the whole shirt entirely. Wesley sat, seeming impressed by Whitney’s stamina. Both James and Richard would casually lean over to one another and whisper something into each other’s ear. The submissive at James’s feet look bored, her head leaning to one side as she watched the scene play out.

  Eric showcased Whitney’s flexibility next. She was placed in a series of contortions and then ordered to hold the position for a few minutes at a time. There was a moment when he poured a black-colored wax down between her breasts, and my eyes widened when I heard her gasp. But the sound she made wasn’t from pain. She was in pleasure, lying there with Eric towering over her, a candle dripping from his hand. I wanted the candle instantly, wondering what types of sensations it would bring me. After, Eric methodically scraped away the hardened bits of wax from her body, which left behind red lines against her cream-colored skin.

  “Back down, legs bent,” Eric ordered her. Whitney assumed her position. With legs open, she was facing Grant and exposing all of herself to his view. Eric brought out from the trunk a vibrator similar to the one he had used on me. He flicked it on and it hummed to life.

  Grant stood up and stuffed his hands into his pockets. When Eric placed the vibrator up against Whitney’s clit, she jumped, then held herself steady. Grant walked around her, watching her closely as Eric increased the speed of the vibrator. I became curious when Grant turned away and rummaged through the trunk. When he returned back to Whitney and Eric, he had a small leather box in his hand.

  “Lower the speed,” Grant said, his voice almost inaudible over the noise of the vibrator. Eric flicked the tempo down two notches and Whitney relaxed and tossed her head to one side. Grant opened the box. A pair of tools wrapped in plastic rested on top of a set of blue gloves. He fitted the gloves over his hands and tore the clamps out of the plastic. My stomach dropped when I saw him bring out a needle, long and thick. I tore my gaze away and looked at the others, to see their reaction. Wesley had an e
rection he was doing nothing about covering up, and Richard and James were sitting there, unaffected by the situation unfolding. I was the only one about to have a panic attack because I knew neither where the needle was going, nor what to expect.

  Eric affectionately brushed away a strand of Whitney’s hair that had come loose from her small ponytail. His hand lingered against her face, comforting her silently as he watched Grant fit the needle onto a barbell. With gloved fingers, Grant squeezed at Whitney’s right breast, puckering up her nipple into a stiff peak. She moaned and whimpered at the touch when the clamp came down and locked around the areola.

  “Increase the speed,” Grant said calmly and vibrator grew louder. Whitney went rigid once more, doing her best to keep herself stiff.

  “Again,” he said to Eric. The noise was louder, harsher sounding. My heart was racing as I sat there watching Whitney’s fate unfold. The needle was set in place, ready to pierce her skin.

  “Come,” Grant called out. Whitney bit down on the gag and like a domino effect, I listened to her stifled moans as the needle went through and her orgasm came over her. Grant placed one hand on her stomach to hold her down while she submitted to her pleasure. The breath I had been holding deep within my chest finally exhaled from me. I saw the hint of a smile on Eric lips as he watched Whitney come down from her high, her mouth parted and her head thrown back. Grant quickly finished up the piercing and unlocked the clamps from her breast. It left an impression from where it had been placed, but other than that, there were no signs of blood.

  Grant walked away to finish cleaning up as Eric brought Whitney back to her knee and had her fall into the waiting position. He looked tired, but pleased with the results. When Grant returned back to the circle, he was given Whitney’s leash, and he wound the end of the chain tightly around his fist.

  “She’ll do beautifully,” he said with a nod.

  “I was honored to have her, and I know you’ll be just as happy as I was,” Eric replied. Grant took his seat on the couch, holding on to Whitney, keeping her close as he stroked her hair softly with his fingers. When Eric came closer to me, I couldn’t help but feel pride in him. He was proud of what he did, and I was proud of him. After taking his seat, Eric’s hand snuck under my hair to grasp my neck. He guided me back against the chair, tilting my head and capturing my lips in a deep kiss.

  “I’m yours,” I whispered low enough so only he would hear me.

  “You’re mine,” he replied, just as quietly.

  “Maybe we can pierce other parts of her tonight?” I heard Wesley ask. Eric released me and I adjusted myself back into my waiting position. Grant was smirking, looking at Wesley as he crossed his legs over one another.

  “Perhaps another night. I need to get us home. We have a flight to catch tomorrow morning,” Grant explained, then leaned over to untie Whitney’s blindfold. She blinked to adjust to the light in the room and found me. Her smile was contagious, and I couldn’t help but smile back at her. The mascara on her lashes had smeared, her hair was disheveled from the intense play and she couldn’t have looked more amazing. Grant stood up and the men around the room got up from their seats as well.

  “Gather your things up and return back to me,” he told Whitney while unleashing her collar.

  “Alexandra, go and help her clean up,” Eric ordered me.

  “Yes, Master,” I said quickly and followed Whitney out of the room, the both of us crawling on our hands and knees. Once we were inside Eric’s bedroom, I closed the door just enough to give us some privacy. Whitney was on her feet, jumping up and down, covering her mouth with her hand as she muffled her laugh. I grinned and shook my head.

  “I can’t believe I did it,” she exclaimed.

  “You were incredible,” I said. Whitney went straight for her bag and began to dress. She slipped on a pair of jeans and then pulled a white tank top over her head.

  “He’s taking us to Hawaii before he has to get back to work,” she said and picked up a brush to tame her wild hair.

  “What does he do?” I ventured in asking.

  Whitney twisted around, her brush in midstroke. “He was one of my professors last year.”

  I almost choked on my breath, my eyes widened with shock.

  “Nice,” I said with a nod. She laughed and turned back around to finish up.

  “His best student, or so he said,” she replied. “Personally, I think I deserved a full A, not an A-minus, but whatever.”

  Whitney finished her hair and then stuffed the rest of her things back into her bag, zipping it up and throwing it over her shoulder.

  “Will I see you in class in two weeks?” I asked.

  “Of course, I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you now,” Whitney said happily. She and I embraced one another tightly in a strong hug. I smiled and squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Promise me you’ll take care of him,” I heard her say. “He’s a wonderful man, and an even better Master.”

  “I promise,” I said as we stepped away. Whitney picked up her bag once again and swung it over her shoulder, giving a sigh.

  “Well, shall we?” she asked and motioned with her hand toward the hallway.

  “Wouldn’t want to keep them waiting,” I replied as I sunk back down to my knees to crawl back to my Master.

  Epilogue

  My legs couldn’t hold me up any longer and I came crashing down to the ground–chains and all–the moment Eric released me. He caught me before I landed face-first on the floor, my world still spinning from the orgasm I had been rewarded. The switch he had used on my thighs would cause bruises, ones that I would wear with pride for days. The weeks after Whitney had been formally presented to Grant, Eric and I spent each and every night we could together, training and exploring one another. Somewhere in between the chains, the sex and the pain, I had fallen in love with my Master. He was my perfect match, and I was his. Training wasn’t any easier, even after two months had passed. I continued to always compare myself to Whitney’s perfection and Eric didn’t care for that.

  “You are here to satisfy me, not her,” he would say after our sessions. He was a mind reader. I was convinced because I could never keep anything from him for long. If I had a bad day at school, Eric would know about it simply by the way I would react when we would play. I found I enjoyed the pain of the weighted nipple clamps even more than I expected, because they left my breasts oversensitive afterward, which meant Eric would spend more time taking care of them when we finished. I loved the flogger because it made me wet, plain and simple. For punishments and infractions, normally due to not studying for tests enough, or anything lower than a B on my papers, Eric would bring out the cane. I almost never screwed up in speaking out of turn or doing anything that he would forbid when we were separated, but the punishments were still there.

  The other thing still present in our relationship was Wesley, as I expected he would be. He always seemed to be present for my punishments, more so than other sessions. I wasn’t surprised. He was a sadist, and I knew what he liked to see. What bothered me was he started to bring around his new submissive–a beautiful, leggy blond girl, a few years older than me. She was cold as a submissive, but friendly enough outside of our roles. Whitney had struck up more of a friendship with her than I would, but I found we all got along quite well as a trio. Her name was Caitlin, and she was a senior in college. Majoring in Psychology, she had discovered just how dark her world could go when she met Wesley at a local BDSM club in Hollywood. Caitlin came with some experience, just enough to pass for interesting in Wesley’s eyes. She loved pain all too much, and I normally would see her with new marks on her body each time we ran into one another. But I couldn’t judge her, because if she was happy with her Master, then I was happy for her. Yet Wesley’s presence still intimidated me, to the point where I became embarrassed and uncomfortable when he saw me naked, even though he had done so for weeks.

  “Waiting position,” Eric reminded me with a hard slap to my ass when I h
ad taken too much time in gathering myself up from the floor. The strike caused me to fall forward to my elbows, but I quickly adjusted to my knees, placing my hands behind my head accordingly.

  He walked around me to study my posture, and to see if he needed to make any changes. He didn’t, of course. I felt perfect.

  “The living room,” I heard him say as he turned his back to me and left the playroom. My brows fused together with puzzlement. Why the living room? It was nearly midnight, and we both had early schedules that next morning. Living room play was rare, since Eric liked to get a lot of things done in a place built for our types of activities–not that the front room was off-limits, or any room for that matter.

  I crawled out into the hallway, looking both ways to try and listen to hear where Eric might have wandered off to, since it was clear he wasn’t in the living room. I took my place at the floor, next to his chair and folded my hands behind my head, breathing in a heavy sigh as I waited. His footsteps came closer as he left the bedroom and finally joined me. One thing he had begun to train me better in doing was keeping my eyes firmly looking forward and only looking at him when he called for it or when he liked me watching as he came in my mouth.

  Eric sat down and tapped my shoulder, our signal that I could relax. My hands fell to my sides as I twisted around and rested my head on his knee. Our gazes met when he stroked the side of my face and smiled down at me.

  “You’re doing so well,” he cooed. “I think I want to spoil you a bit tonight.”

  I smiled back and noticed that tucked into the chair next to him was a long black box. My gaze couldn’t pull away from the sight. Eric picked it up and set it on his lap, keeping one hand on the lid. When he opened the box, my mouth parted open in shock. Inside and molded into a white velvet case was a solid-glass butt plug that faded from a clear color at the base to a soft pink at the tip. I was surprised to find myself not intimidated by the object, but fascinated, even excited to try it out. Eric had me play with plugs and beads before to try and coax me out of my nervousness in trying anal activities. But to see that plug in front of me, knowing it was truly mine, was quite an honor.