Marissa in ahead of him. The room was larger than she had expected and looked something like Tony’s playroom, except there were more pieces of equipment, some of which she recognized, some she didn’t.
In addition to a St. Andrew’s cross, several spanking benches, a whipping post, a medical exam table and a set of stocks, there was an interesting series of rubber strips in one corner strapped to a metal frame. The apparatus was shaped like a huge spider’s web, with cuffs and chains dangling from various parts of it. Nearby were two cages, one upright with cuffs attached at the upper and lower corners, and one low and oblong, with newspapers spread on the bottom and what looked like a dog’s water bowl set inside it.
Muted lighting was provided by a series of sconces set high along the perimeters of the room. Marissa noticed several racks, some with floggers, some with canes, some with wicked-looking single tail whips of various sizes, the largest a coiled bullwhip that looked like a shiny-skinned, sleeping snake.
Marissa jumped a little when Jack closed the door behind them.
“You can put your things over there.” Jack pointed to a small set of cubbyholes, not unlike those found in a kindergarten classroom for book bags and lunchboxes.
“My…things?” Marissa said faintly. She knew she would have to get naked—Dana had warned her. But now that it had come to it…
Jack glanced sharply at her. “Yes. Everything. Strip naked. Oh wait, leave on the heels. You will wait for the trainer on that dais, there.” He pointed again, this time toward a raised platform in the center of the room with a set of three wooden steps set along its side.
Did that mean Jack wasn’t the trainer? Who was? Where were they? She realized Jack was watching her, his bushy eyebrows raised, as if questioning why she was still just standing there.
Don’t blow this. Do what he says. Remember, you can always use your safeword.
“My safeword is lemon,” she blurted suddenly, and then felt herself blushing.
Jack’s lips lifted into a half smile. “That’s nice,” he said flatly. “Now do what you’re told.”
Marissa tried to swallow, but somehow her mouth had filled with sawdust. She moved toward the cubbies and reached for the zipper of her skirt with trembling fingers. She realized she had left her velvet jacket over the back of her chair in the outer room. She stepped out of the skirt, folded it and set it into an empty space. With a glance toward Jack, she reached for the hem of her chemise and pulled it over her head. Blowing out a breath, she reached behind herself and undid her pretty new bra. Jack stood with his arms crossed over his massive chest, an implacable expression on his face, his eyes trained on Marissa.
Just do it, she admonished herself. Nudity was the norm at The Power Exchange. Half the people in the outer room were in various stages of undress, and no one batted an eyelash over it. She was being silly and self-conscious. It was just skin. No big deal. She reached for her panties and slid them down her legs, stepping carefully out of them while still balancing in her heels.
She placed the panties on top of her clothing pile and turned to face Jack Morris. His eyes swept over her body, his expression still difficult to read. “Good,” he finally said. “Now get up on the dais.”
As Marissa moved through the room on rubbery legs she could feel Jack’s dark eyes on her. She climbed the small set of stairs and stood on the wooden platform, wondering what to do with her arms. As if reading her mind, Jack said, “Stand at attention, arms up, fingers locked behind your neck, feet planted shoulder-width apart, eyes forward. Don’t move until the trainer tells you to move.”
Marissa attempted to do as the man had ordered, feeling at once ridiculous and at the same time kind of sexy, naked in nothing but high heels. The position forced her to thrust her breasts forward, and she felt like an object
In addition to a St. Andrew’s cross, several spanking benches, a whipping post, a medical exam table and a set of stocks, there was an interesting series of rubber strips in one corner strapped to a metal frame. The apparatus was shaped like a huge spider’s web, with cuffs and chains dangling from various parts of it. Nearby were two cages, one upright with cuffs attached at the upper and lower corners, and one low and oblong, with newspapers spread on the bottom and what looked like a dog’s water bowl set inside it.
Muted lighting was provided by a series of sconces set high along the perimeters of the room. Marissa noticed several racks, some with floggers, some with canes, some with wicked-looking single tail whips of various sizes, the largest a coiled bullwhip that looked like a shiny-skinned, sleeping snake.
Marissa jumped a little when Jack closed the door behind them.
“You can put your things over there.” Jack pointed to a small set of cubbyholes, not unlike those found in a kindergarten classroom for book bags and lunchboxes.
“My…things?” Marissa said faintly. She knew she would have to get naked—Dana had warned her. But now that it had come to it…
Jack glanced sharply at her. “Yes. Everything. Strip naked. Oh wait, leave on the heels. You will wait for the trainer on that dais, there.” He pointed again, this time toward a raised platform in the center of the room with a set of three wooden steps set along its side.
Did that mean Jack wasn’t the trainer? Who was? Where were they? She realized Jack was watching her, his bushy eyebrows raised, as if questioning why she was still just standing there.
Don’t blow this. Do what he says. Remember, you can always use your safeword.
“My safeword is lemon,” she blurted suddenly, and then felt herself blushing.
Jack’s lips lifted into a half smile. “That’s nice,” he said flatly. “Now do what you’re told.”
Marissa tried to swallow, but somehow her mouth had filled with sawdust. She moved toward the cubbies and reached for the zipper of her skirt with trembling fingers. She realized she had left her velvet jacket over the back of her chair in the outer room. She stepped out of the skirt, folded it and set it into an empty space. With a glance toward Jack, she reached for the hem of her chemise and pulled it over her head. Blowing out a breath, she reached behind herself and undid her pretty new bra. Jack stood with his arms crossed over his massive chest, an implacable expression on his face, his eyes trained on Marissa.
Just do it, she admonished herself. Nudity was the norm at The Power Exchange. Half the people in the outer room were in various stages of undress, and no one batted an eyelash over it. She was being silly and self-conscious. It was just skin. No big deal. She reached for her panties and slid them down her legs, stepping carefully out of them while still balancing in her heels.
She placed the panties on top of her clothing pile and turned to face Jack Morris. His eyes swept over her body, his expression still difficult to read. “Good,” he finally said. “Now get up on the dais.”
As Marissa moved through the room on rubbery legs she could feel Jack’s dark eyes on her. She climbed the small set of stairs and stood on the wooden platform, wondering what to do with her arms. As if reading her mind, Jack said, “Stand at attention, arms up, fingers locked behind your neck, feet planted shoulder-width apart, eyes forward. Don’t move until the trainer tells you to move.”
Marissa attempted to do as the man had ordered, feeling at once ridiculous and at the same time kind of sexy, naked in nothing but high heels. The position forced her to thrust her breasts forward, and she felt like an object
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