Read Online The Art of Submissive Survival - Book Two in The Perfect Submissive Trilogy by Kay Jaybee - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kay Jaybee
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throat as she listened.
‘He calls himself David Proctor, his real name is of no consequence. He is less formal than many of the guests we have here, and prefers to be referred to by his Christian name.’
‘May I ask what room he uses, Mrs Peters?’ This was the first time Jess had ever asked her employer a direct question, and she wasn’t at all sure how her request for information would be received.
‘You may ask.’ Mrs Peters considered her pupil for a moment. ‘You were wise to ask for permission for that information. Again you prove to me how quickly you can catch on to the rules here.’ Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the clerk. ‘I’d like you to remove your blouse and underwear, and then I’ll tell you what you need to know.’
Jess slid her jacket from her shoulders, and holding it clumsily between her knees, unbuttoned her white top, painfully aware of how blatantly her nipples were protruding as she removed her bra, and how damp her knickers were as she slid them to the floor.
‘Now, slip your jacket back on and do it up. I’ll take your clothes.’
Mrs Peters held the garments as though they were offensive articles, before pointing to the furthest door on the right side of the corridor. There were only two rooms Jess hadn’t visited so far, and she was fairly confident it wouldn’t be the secret room she’d heard about on her arrival at Fables. So it had to be the dungeon. A gut wrenching churning began in her stomach.
‘The fact you’ve gone rather pale, tells me you’ve worked out which room this is. An excellent place to teach you the finer points of satisfying our visitors. Master Philips is particularly fond of it in there.’ Mrs Peters took Jess’s hand. Her skin was cold, and yet still managed to send a bolt of heat through Jess’s nervous system.
Tugged and guided into the room with only the token resistance of uncertainty, Jess allowed herself a few moments to take in the contents of Room 50. The subdued light provided by wall candles, cast strange shadows after the bright glare of the lift and corridor.
More than usually aware of her breathing, Jess felt it scrape in her throat as she took in the focal point of the room. The rack, which she could easily imagine Lee enjoying as Mrs Peters had indicated, loomed menacing and silent. The walls were hung with sinister-looking meat hooks holding every torture and correction implement possible.
In contrast to all the other rooms in the hotel, the dungeon was neither air-conditioned nor spotless. Dust had been allowed to accumulate on the floor; there was no evidence of any form of heating. The overall impression of medieval dankness that the architect of the room had tried to secure could certainly be declared a success.
‘Some of our guests require us to dress the part in this room. Medieval tunics, wench outfits, slaves tatters, and so on. Others couldn’t care less what we wear as long as it comes off quickly and they get the kicks they’ve paid for.’
Her eyes wide, Jess continued to survey the room as Mrs Peters spoke.
‘David likes business suits and no underwear, but with one medieval addition.’ Mrs Peters went over to a wooden cabinet in the corner of the room, returning with a slim belt that had a wide flap of leather attached halfway along its length. Without having to be told, Jess knew exactly what she was looking at and her mind immediately recoiled at the idea of the chastity belt.
‘Hurry up, girl, let’s get it on you, he’ll be here in a minute. Lift your skirt, I need to put this around your waist, and believe me, you’d be very uncomfortable if I hurried and placed it incorrectly.’
Deftly, Mrs Peters fastened the belt around Jess’s waist, commenting as she did so on how much more toned her stomach muscles were, although she also added that there was still room for improvement. Pushing a hand between her clerk’s legs, she grabbed the oval of leather, which had been lined with sheepskin,
‘He calls himself David Proctor, his real name is of no consequence. He is less formal than many of the guests we have here, and prefers to be referred to by his Christian name.’
‘May I ask what room he uses, Mrs Peters?’ This was the first time Jess had ever asked her employer a direct question, and she wasn’t at all sure how her request for information would be received.
‘You may ask.’ Mrs Peters considered her pupil for a moment. ‘You were wise to ask for permission for that information. Again you prove to me how quickly you can catch on to the rules here.’ Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the clerk. ‘I’d like you to remove your blouse and underwear, and then I’ll tell you what you need to know.’
Jess slid her jacket from her shoulders, and holding it clumsily between her knees, unbuttoned her white top, painfully aware of how blatantly her nipples were protruding as she removed her bra, and how damp her knickers were as she slid them to the floor.
‘Now, slip your jacket back on and do it up. I’ll take your clothes.’
Mrs Peters held the garments as though they were offensive articles, before pointing to the furthest door on the right side of the corridor. There were only two rooms Jess hadn’t visited so far, and she was fairly confident it wouldn’t be the secret room she’d heard about on her arrival at Fables. So it had to be the dungeon. A gut wrenching churning began in her stomach.
‘The fact you’ve gone rather pale, tells me you’ve worked out which room this is. An excellent place to teach you the finer points of satisfying our visitors. Master Philips is particularly fond of it in there.’ Mrs Peters took Jess’s hand. Her skin was cold, and yet still managed to send a bolt of heat through Jess’s nervous system.
Tugged and guided into the room with only the token resistance of uncertainty, Jess allowed herself a few moments to take in the contents of Room 50. The subdued light provided by wall candles, cast strange shadows after the bright glare of the lift and corridor.
More than usually aware of her breathing, Jess felt it scrape in her throat as she took in the focal point of the room. The rack, which she could easily imagine Lee enjoying as Mrs Peters had indicated, loomed menacing and silent. The walls were hung with sinister-looking meat hooks holding every torture and correction implement possible.
In contrast to all the other rooms in the hotel, the dungeon was neither air-conditioned nor spotless. Dust had been allowed to accumulate on the floor; there was no evidence of any form of heating. The overall impression of medieval dankness that the architect of the room had tried to secure could certainly be declared a success.
‘Some of our guests require us to dress the part in this room. Medieval tunics, wench outfits, slaves tatters, and so on. Others couldn’t care less what we wear as long as it comes off quickly and they get the kicks they’ve paid for.’
Her eyes wide, Jess continued to survey the room as Mrs Peters spoke.
‘David likes business suits and no underwear, but with one medieval addition.’ Mrs Peters went over to a wooden cabinet in the corner of the room, returning with a slim belt that had a wide flap of leather attached halfway along its length. Without having to be told, Jess knew exactly what she was looking at and her mind immediately recoiled at the idea of the chastity belt.
‘Hurry up, girl, let’s get it on you, he’ll be here in a minute. Lift your skirt, I need to put this around your waist, and believe me, you’d be very uncomfortable if I hurried and placed it incorrectly.’
Deftly, Mrs Peters fastened the belt around Jess’s waist, commenting as she did so on how much more toned her stomach muscles were, although she also added that there was still room for improvement. Pushing a hand between her clerk’s legs, she grabbed the oval of leather, which had been lined with sheepskin,
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