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Jennifer's first hours in her new master's house have been intense ones, but she knows they have only scratched the surface. Before she has done little more than catch her breath, it's time to meet the other submissives in the master's household and learn just exactly what she has gotten herself into. Far from being allowed to wade in slowly, Jennifer's initiation into this tight little community will mean getting tossed directly into the center of its many different flavors of discipline and power play. By the time her first morning has come to a close, she will have a lot more to think about than why there isn't a number on the mailbox.


"Yes, Master," several of them agreed and the others nodded obediently.

"Her shorter time here makes it all the more important that her experience is a positive one."

Again they agreed, smiles breaking onto some of their faces. I could feel excitement rising in the room.

There was a slight teasing note in Master's voice. It was as though he and the women at the table were in on an inside joke, as though they all knew what was coming and Master was being deliberately slow in getting to it: tantalizing them under the guise of introducing me.

Slowly, Master strode to the head of the table, a hand stroking his chin and that infectiously mischievous smile on his lips.

"For those of you who haven't heard," he went on, "Jennifer and I encountered eachother at her audition for the Tremboix Society. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Master," I agreed.

He nodded, his hands splayed lazily on the wooden table and his eyes closed. "Quite a performance."

A slight rustling passed through his audience.

When he reopened his eyes, they fell as though by coincidence upon a small spiral-bound notebook lying in the center of the table which I had not noticed.

"And what's that? The Log?" he said as though surprised.

He reached out one hand and drew it towards him. A collective shiver along the table confirmed that whatever had everyone so on edge had a great deal to do with that unremarkable little book. He licked a finger, drew it open, and flicked through several pages.

"My goodness," he said. "Look at this. Would you look at this. Four days I'm away and you ladies acquire a rap-sheet like this?" He tutted softly, turning a page back and then forward again. "Now I understand the nervousness. We have some serious accounts that need settling, don't we?"

The sighs and shivering had stopped. He now commanded the room in utter silence.

"Who was my record keeper this week?" he asked.

"Me, Master," a blonde woman seated two down from the end answered him. She had long, elegant limbs and a delicate face that was fixed in an expression of nervous expectation: a strange mixture of dread and excitement. Even sitting down she was two inches taller than the women to either side of her, and her pale skin was flushed.

Master shook his head and tutted again. "Naomi, Naomi, Naomi. All this happens when I leave you in charge?"

Naomi seemed to be holding her breath.

Master looked at her paralyzed, blushing form. "That's ten spanks, isn't it? For a house poorly run?"

Around the table the women nodded in confirmation.

"Would you come up here, please, where everyone can see you?"

Naomi rose carefully from her chair and made her way around the table. Master took his own chair and turned it around so that the back of it faced the room.

Naomi stopped beside him and stood waiting with nervous hands clasped over her bare stomach.

"Apologize to everybody, please. They are going to be punished because you couldn't keep them in line. If you had done your job, none of this would be necessary."

She turned and faced the onlookers. "I'm sorry," she said in a weak voice. "I should have been better."

She seemed to include me in her apology. Not yet understanding what that meant, I took it to be flattering. Already I was a part of something.

Fiction & Literature
August 1
Jessica Whitethread
Smashwords, Inc.

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