Michaels, Skye - Calleigh's Collar [Le Club 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (4 page)

“Actually, this is our first visit here, and I am not sure it won’t be our last,” Calleigh said. “This is all really different. I don’t think I could live with this twenty-four-seven.”

“I will just tell you to relax and enjoy the experience. If it’s not for you, then at least you will have something to tell your grandchildren…or maybe not!” She chuckled. “BDSM and this club are partly responsible for the wonderful marriage Mike and I have. If we didn’t have this getaway, I don’t know how we would relieve the stress. We don’t practice the Lifestyle at home. As I said, we have two teenage kids, their pets, all of their friends, the household staff, the farmhands, jockeys, trainers, exercise riders, veterinarians, farm manager, etcetera, coming and going at all hours. A lot of the staff live on the farm in staff housing. A stud farm and thoroughbred training facility operate twenty-four-seven, three-sixty-five from before sunrise until nightfall, or later during foaling season.”

“Sounds like a busy life,” Paula said. “What’s the name of your farm?”

“Eden Creek Farm off Route 326 in the northwest corner of the county.”

Paula was impressed. Eden Creek Farm was a five-hundred-acre farm that had bred more than a few of Ocala’s most famous thoroughbred race horses.

Ocala, located in central Florida’s rolling green hills, was locally touted as the “Horse Capital of the World” and gave Lexington, Kentucky a run for its money. The town went nuts whenever there was a Florida horse in the Kentucky Derby.

“Frankly, you don’t seem like a ‘submissive’ type of person,” Calleigh said tentatively.

“Let me explain submission. Yes, I submit to my husband’s wishes and obey his orders when we are in a ‘scene,’ as he is the Dom. But I am the one with the power. If I say we don’t play, we don’t. If I don’t want to do something, we don’t. The submissive controls the relationship by what he or she is willing to accept. This is a consensual relationship, not an abusive relationship.”

Calleigh sipped her mojito and asked, “So, this submission stuff doesn’t make you feel put upon or abused?”

“No. My husband wants nothing more than my pleasure. I have to tell you that I have the best sex life of any of my friends, and I am forty-five and have been married twenty years.”

Just then Michael Hamilton leaned over the back of the chaise and kissed his wife’s temple. He was tall and well muscled, but not bulky, with rather long, wavy, black hair and startling blue eyes. “Let’s go, woman. I have some plans for my slave. Want to take a stroll down to the square and have dinner at the Irish Pub?”

Robbie winked and waved a quick good-bye as she rose to join her husband, who pulled her close to his side as they walked back to the house.

“Well that puts a new light on things,” Paula said, an impish light in her eye. Paula realized that this was a woman worth knowing and calling a friend. She hoped they could develop a relationship.

* * * *

As the sun was setting, Robbie and Mike walked downtown to the old-fashioned town square, the centerpiece of which was a large white bandstand or gazebo. The beautifully landscaped square was surrounded by shops, restaurants, bars, and office buildings.

The square was a well-known meeting place, but there were not many people out and about for a Friday evening. Mike grabbed Robbie’s hand and pulled her up into the deserted gazebo with a devilish grin. “I have always wanted to do it in the gazebo,” Mike said.

“
Oh no! No way!
There are always people wandering around the square,” Robbie replied. “Maybe there’s a concert or something tonight.” The twinkly, white fairy lights decking the trees in the square had just come on, but the gazebo was in the shadows.

“Oh come on, baby, that’s half the fun!” He took a quick look around. “But we’d better hurry,” he said as he sat on one of the benches and pulled her unceremoniously back into his lap, arranging the skirt of her short white sundress over the evidence. She was hot and ready. He had already pulled down his zipper, and his cock was standing at attention as he settled balls deep in her moist pussy. “I’d say don’t get your panties in a twist, but you’re not wearing any panties.” He grinned. Laughing, he kissed the back of her neck and began to gently rock her as she sighed with pleasure. “You feel like hot, wet silk, baby,” he crooned as he began to pump up into her, holding her steady against his chest. She arched back to take him in deeper, moaning in delight as he slammed into her again and again, harder and faster. She came with a moan muffled in the side of his neck as she jerked and spasmed her completion while he held himself still and deep, his cock spurting hot cum into her waiting womb.

“You are crazy! You know that, don’t you?” she said when she could speak again. “But it’s a good kind of crazy.” Mike was always good for a laugh or “up” for an adventure. “Oh God, there are people parking their cars on the other side of the square! Hurry up! You goofball!” she squealed.

“Now, baby, I can’t hurry up when my cock is buried in the sweetest pussy in Ocala!” he whispered in her ear. “Just sit still and act like nothing is going on.”

“I am going to get you for this,” she sighed as his cock twitched inside her, and she plastered a bland smile on her face. The couples from the parked cars crossed the square in front of the gazebo on their way to the restaurants on the other side. Robbie smiled and said, “Hi, lovely evening, isn’t it?” She slowly and almost imperceptibly rotated her hips, driving Mike to another climax as he tried to keep a straight face.

“Isn’t that sweet, Earl? Such a cute young couple cuddling in the bandstand on a lovely evening!” the older lady said as she took her husband’s arm with a smile.

“Yup, they’re just cute as bunnies, Mabel.” Earl turned back to Robbie and Mike as they passed and winked as he tipped his ball cap.

People in this town are just so darn friendly.
Robbie grinned delightedly.

“Happy twentieth anniversary, Mrs. Hamilton,” he said, smiling broadly.

“Happy twentieth anniversary, Mr. Hamilton.” She giggled back.

“Hungry?” Mike asked as he raised her to her feet, and she stood on unsteady legs. He carefully pulled her skirt down over her bottom.

“Yes, but did you tuck that bad boy back in your jeans, or is he swinging in the breeze?” she asked with a saucy grin and a glance at his crotch.

“I meant for dinner! But another round can be arranged if you’re up for it.”

“You mean if
you’re
up for it!” She giggled. “Not a chance. Our next audience might come equipped with a squad car, whirling red and blue lights, and handcuffs. I don’t want to be hauled in for public lewdness!”

In the Irish Pub, Robbie and Mike were seated in a corner booth in the rear. Robbie sat down and decorously crossed her legs and opened the menu. “Uncross those legs, sub,” he ordered with a growl in his low voice. “I want to enjoy my handiwork.” His talented fingers moved into her still-vibrating pussy under the cover of the tablecloth.

“Yes, Master,” she hissed as she brought the menu up to cover her face as she came one more time.
Isn’t life grand
? She sighed.

Chapter Eight

“The members have voted seven to three that Ms. Roundtree is to be disciplined in the Playroom tomorrow night,” stated Anne Sutton, the manager of Le Club. “In the alternative, if she does not agree, they want to proceed with legal action, which I know would not be your preference. I think the fact that she was overheard talking to a member of the press,
Ocala Country Life
notwithstanding, really upset some applecarts.”

“I had every intention of disciplining Ms. Roundtree for her lapse, but certainly not publicly. In my way and at a time determined by me. I am not comfortable with this,” Steele replied.

“I was one of the three ‘no’ votes, of course, as I am sure Steele was. Who was the other?” Trent inquired.

“Michael Hamilton also voted ‘no,’” Anne replied. The three were meeting in the administrative offices of the club on Friday afternoon. “Mistress Adrienne volunteered to administer the punishment if you are unwilling. She feels that you might not put enough effort into it. Of course, the ‘no more than ten strokes’ rule would apply no matter who the Dom is. ”

“No way in hell. Calleigh’s my sub, and I will take care of it. Certainly no one else will touch her.” Steele was furious.

“Certainly not Adrienne,” Trent exclaimed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if her subs had calluses on their butts! I do not know where she finds people who enjoy that level of discipline. I think she’s just this side of over the top.”

“Maybe the other side of over the top. She is absolutely one of the more extreme members, that’s for sure,” Steele replied. “She has the ‘punishment’ part down pat, it’s the ‘reward’ part she doesn’t seem to get. Why can’t we just get this over with tonight?”

“Several of the members want to come in to be here for the punishment,” Anne replied. “I think they want to be sure it’s carried out in a ‘workmanlike fashion,’ you might say.”

“You mean they want to be sure she gets a ‘good whippin’,’” Steele said with a frown. “I really don’t like this. This is supposed to be fun, not torture.”

“I’m afraid there is no alternative. I have already taken a second poll to see if we could avoid this, but I couldn’t get anyone to change their vote. Adrienne is really the driving force behind this initiative, and she’s putting a lot of pressure on the members.”

“Ms. Sutton, I have a list of all the members and their various contact numbers, if Mr. Steele would like a copy,” Kelly Anderson, Anne’s assistant, said. Kelly was tall and slender with large green eyes fringed with thick, black lashes. She was twenty-five years old and had shoulder-length, black hair cut in a bob style. She dressed conservatively and had a confident though modest demeanor.

Jason smiled to himself. He knew that Kelly really did not
get
this BDSM business
at all
. She apparently couldn’t understand why anyone would want to do this to someone else or have it done to them. Although the job paid extremely well, and she seemed to like her position, she never participated in club activities, and she never called the members “master,” only “sir” or “mister.” If she was the least bit curious about BDSM, she never let on.

Chapter Nine

“Let’s go, baby girl. Time for some more training,” Steele said as he joined the girls at the pool.

“Yes, Master Steele,” Calleigh replied with a trickle of excitement running down her spine.

Calleigh rose from the chaise, rolled her eyes at Paula, and followed him into the house to the Southern Plantation Suite, a corner suite on the second floor. The suite was decorated in plantation style with heavy, carved mahogany furniture, beautiful oriental rugs, and original oil paintings. The suite looked like a layout from
Southern Living
magazine.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that eye roll downstairs. I would advise you to adjust your attitude if you don’t want a spanking right now. Strip and assume the slave position,” he ordered in his domineering Master voice. “Yes, Master,” Calleigh said as she contemplated getting naked before him.
What? No romance? No sweet nothings whispered in my ear? No caresses?
She was not sure if this was going to be fun or not so much.

“Now,” he growled. She hurried to comply, feeling scared but compelled to obey that voice. She stripped out of her bathing suit and knelt on the floor.

Jason sighed under his breath as he saw her naked for the first time. She could see desire and appreciation in his eyes. “We have a couple hours until dinnertime, and I want to teach you some of the more pleasurable aspects of the Lifestyle.
Remember, you are not to orgasm without permission or speak unless asked a direct question. Lie facedown on the bed in spread-eagle position. I am going to bind your hands and feet to the bed. I don’t want you to be afraid. Remember, trust me.”

“Please, Jason, can’t we just…”

“To whom are you speaking, sub?”

“Please, Master Steele, I would be more com…”