Touch
of Class
Class
in Session
Book
3
Leigh
Ellwood
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary
Publisher: ARe Books
Date of Publication: 12/1/15
ISBN: 978-1-943576-48-7
ASIN: TBA
Number of pages: TBA
Word Count: 15,600
Cover Artist: Erin Dameron-Hill
Book Description:
This standup comedian takes kink
seriously.
Maeve Kramer wants to explore her
submissive side. After months of communicating with Master Q on an online site
for kinksters, she's ready for her first play session with him. Love isn't on
the table, just safe, sane, and consensual fun.
Jimmy Quinlan, JQ to friends, is
ready for a break after a series of standup gigs. His agent wants him to
audition tonight for a regional tour sponsored by an up and coming brewery,
which happens to employ the sub he's meeting.
A tour could mean fame for JQ,
but less time in the BDSM clubs. Maeve lives to serve and JQ lives for
laughter. Can both have their kink and enjoy it, too?
Excerpt:
Maeve woke from
her daydream to find the person ahead of her had stepped away from the
reception desk. Behind the polished mahogany sat a young woman with a dark page
cut, eyes done up in smoky shadow, and several tiny metal hoops piercing the
outer shell of her right ear. Her pale makeup gave her the look of somebody
more at home escorting tourists into the Haunted Mansion. Maybe that was the
woman’s day job.
“I-I’m sorry.
Saffron,” she said, and automatically fished for her driver’s license. No, you
don’t need that, she scolded herself and ceased fidgeting. She didn’t want to
look like a complete newb.
The receptionist
consulted a tablet, swiping down a list. Maeve took a moment to inspect her
understated surroundings. The color scheme of soft reds and browns gave the
small lobby an intimate feel, like she’d entered an elegant supper club instead
of a place where people explored kinky fantasies.
She’d researched
other BDSM spaces online, organizations and venues not as exclusive as The
Scene. Some resembled stark gymnasiums with different stations set up for
various pleasures, and heavy mats on the floor for protection. Others looked
like dance clubs with tricked out light displays and center stages for grand
performances.
Maeve told
Master Q how exhibitionism intrigued her, but having a man spank her in front
of hundreds of people left her cold. She considered clarifying a few things
with him when the receptionist addressed her again.
“Yes, I have
your name here, Saffron. Welcome,” she said and took Maeve’s pass. “You are
expected in the Celosia Room.” She reached under the desk, presumably to press
a button because seconds later a buzz sounded and the deadbolt in the door
behind her gave. “You’ll go immediately to your right and Aaron will escort you
the rest of the way. Enjoy your visit.”
“Thank you.”
How…clinical. This seemed more like she was going in for a dental appointment.
Well, maybe somewhere in this mysterious kink palace one could engage in a bit
of pain play dressed as a hygienist. The thought might get her through an
actual dentist visit with some amusement.
Aaron—short, mute,
naked but for a spiked collar and a pair of tight leather short-shorts—met her
at the end of the hallway. She followed him past doors labeled for flower
names: Periwinkle, Iris, Daylily, and finally Celosia. All found in Central
Florida, if she remembered her local history. She thought to ask Aaron the
reasoning behind the names, but he put a finger to his lips when he opened her
mouth.
Does that mean I
should be quiet, or that he can’t speak? So much to learn about this lifestyle.
The Celosia room
appeared as Master Q had described it in his note. The mirror on the opposite
wall took up every inch, and Maeve guessed voyeurs had access to the room on
the other side. How many people stood or sat there now, watching her take in a
BDSM room for the first time? Not hundreds, she knew. The building was only so
big. Maybe somebody clucked with sympathy, thinking her a frightened mouse.
You will not
touch anything.
She clutched her
bag and looked around. The St. Andrew’s cross loomed to her left, the sofa to
her right. Above her head, two thick chains bolted in the ceiling hung down to
support a vertical pipe. It appeared one could adjust the height by moving the
links on the hooks. Here, however, she could probably just reach the bar if she
stood on tiptoe.
Aha. Master Q
had asked her height not long ago.
Aaron cleared
his throat. She whirled around and he gestured to the only table in the room,
situated at the corner.
Fold your
clothes neatly and place everything on the corner table near the mirrored wall…
Once alone…
She wouldn’t
mess up tonight. For all she knew, Master Q watched from the other side,
waiting to see if she slipped.
Aaron next
pointed to a buzzer on the wall near the door. Maeve understood it as a panic
button, but if Master Q fastened her to something she wouldn’t know how to get
to it. She nodded anyway, and the young man offered her a smile before leaving.
Once alone, you
will undress until you’re wearing only a black thong.
“I can do this,”
she muttered, and cringed. Well, he hadn’t said anything about not talking
before she got into position, so she felt safe in that regard. She stepped up
to the table and undressed quickly. The shoes came off first, but as she
finished the task she asked herself if the shoes remained on the floor or on
the table with the rest of her clothing. She didn’t want to scuff the
surface…and did shoes count?
Ugh. Details.
She was supposed to enjoy this experience. Finally she laid her folded attire
on the table, the shoes on top, then her purse. Try and fault me for this.
“Damn, it got
cold.” Interesting how the temperature dropped right as she stepped away from
the table, clad only in her wispy G-string. She longed to rub some heat back
into her arms but she remembered the directive not to touch herself. She’d
assumed that meant she couldn’t fondle her breasts or try to rub one out while
she waited. Nope. Not taking chances. It wouldn’t surprise her to learn
somebody peeping on the other side of the mirrored wall adjusted the AC as she
stripped.
The cooling air
caressed her cheeks as she walked, the thin crotch of her thong rubbing in a
taunting way. She clenched to keep from going mad.
…then position
yourself on the strip of red tape on the floor, facing the door.
Easy. Or maybe…
About
the Author:
Leigh Ellwood writes erotica and
romance in a variety of genres and pairings. She is a two-time finalist for the
Gold Crown Literary Society Award and an EPIC Award finalist and winner.
When Leigh isn't writing, she
reads. She enjoys all genres, especially historical fiction.
For more information on other
books by Leigh, please visit her official website: www.LeighEllwood.com
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