Saturday, July 1, 2017

Collaring His Cadet By Claire Thompson


*★**★**★**★**★*

Collaring His Cadet
By Claire Thompson

*★**★**★**★**★*



Bondage, discipline, sadomasochism… Masters and slaves, whips and chains… What have I gotten myself into?

My name is Remy, Cadet Remy Harris, and I always show the world my tough-girl side—ready, willing and able to beat any guy at any challenge. When I enrolled at a venerable Southern military college, I never dreamed I’d be inducted into the secret BDSM society that pervades the campus and military at every level.

My submissive fantasies explode as I’m drawn into a dark, edgy world of erotic servitude, training and punishment. Each new experience pushes my masochistic boundaries, but the yearning in my submissive soul remains. Though I’m assured the Slave Corps is the be-all and end-all for serious slave girls, my doubts and questions linger. Maybe I just don’t have what it takes for true submission?  

Then I meet Him…



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Excerpt: 

 Mistress Janet led me to the circle of chairs and remained standing beside me. “Allow me to present Remy Harris. She has no previous formal training, so please keep that in mind as you put her through her trials.”
Put her through her trials.
Her words jolted me into another round of internal questioning. What the hell was I doing there? What had I signed up for? I glanced nervously from face to face, settling at last on Jacob, who continued to smile his bland, ironic smile.
Was there still time to back out?
Stand and fight, I reminded myself. Never surrender.
Mistress Janet placed cool fingers on my arm. “I believe you are already acquainted with Master Jacob?”
I nodded, resisting the urge to say something sarcastic about the precise nature of our acquaintance. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Yes, Mistress,” she said in a soft but steely voice.
“Yes, Mistress,” I promptly amended.
“And this is Mistress Diane”—she nodded toward the woman and then turned toward the other guy—”and Master Floyd.”
Floyd? Who the hell was named Floyd?
Keeping my face military impassive and respectful, I nodded politely toward each of them.
Turning back to me, Mistress Janet said, “You’re here of your own free will, is that correct?”
“Yes, Mistress,” I managed, pleased my voice sounded steady, even if my legs had turned to jelly.
“You are about to undergo a series of trials devised by this committee to determine your suitability,” she continued. “If you pass and choose to join the Slave Corps, you will be admitted as a novice. Based on your predilections”—I must have looked blank at the unfamiliar word, because she clarified—”your sensual hardwiring, you’ll either be trained as a potential slave or a potential Dominant. Watching your reaction the other night, along with input from Master Jacob, we will conduct the trials with the assumption you’re a submissive.”
No point in denying it. Without looking at Jacob, I replied, “Yes, ma’am, er, Mistress.”
“Good,” she said crisply. She took her seat beside the others. “Start by removing your uniform. Then you will kneel on the floor facing us, forehead touching the ground, arms extended in front of you along the ground.”
I glanced from face to face. They were regarding me intently. Jacob’s expression was slightly mocking, as if challenging me to fail.
Fuck him.
Bending down, I unlaced my boots. I pulled them off, along with my socks, and set them neatly aside. Standing tall, I took a breath and reached for the top button of my blouse, willing my hands not to shake. As I shrugged the garment from my shoulders, I ordered myself not to blush.
As their eyes burned into my flesh, I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra. My torso bare, I became uncomfortably aware of my breasts, wishing as I always did that they were small and high, instead of full and large. In spite of my discomfort, my nipples tingled and hardened under the four Doms’ relentless gazes.
With fumbling fingers, I opened my fly, pushed my pants and underwear down past my hips and kicked out of them. I glanced at Mistress Janet, who gave me a small nod as if to say, “Go on.”
Glad to hide my bare body, I lowered myself to the floor and leaned forward until my forehead touched the carpet. I extended my arms in front of me. My heart was mutinying in my chest, my gut clenched into a ball as I waited for whatever was coming next. I tried to take in a deep breath and release it slowly in an effort to relax, but it came out as a heaving shudder.
I heard the sound of a chair scraping back, and then saw Mistress Janet’s feet appear in my peripheral vision. Reflexively, I lifted my head to look up at her.
Mistress Janet placed a firm hand on the top of my head, pushing it back down to the floor. “Stay in position. I’m going to blindfold you.” When my forehead was once more touching the carpet, she fitted what felt like a sleep mask over my eyes.
She tapped my shoulder. “Stand up, feet flat and shoulder-width apart, hands locked behind your head.”
I stood awkwardly, slightly off balance because of the blindfold. Though my heart was still pounding and my lungs seemed to have collapsed, something else was happening too. Assuming that position—blindfolded, naked and on display—brought about that familiar, softening release I had experienced when Jacob had commanded me in his bedroom. As nervous and uncertain as I was, I couldn’t deny my excitement.
I lifted my arms as instructed and stood waiting in front of the four judges, my nipples tingling, my clit swelling. This was it. I was poised at the top of a steep slope, ready to fly down this mountain of adventure. I sensed all it would take was one little push.
“Very nice,” murmured Mistress Diane. “Such supple youth, such strength, and yet she’s every bit a woman, no doubt about that.”
I felt the heat of a flush rise up my neck and into my face, but I stood my ground, clenching my interlaced fingers against the back of my head to keep from reflexively covering my body.
“Too bad she cuts her hair like a goddamned boy,” Master Floyd interjected. “All these GI Janes trying to act like guys. Enough to make you puke.”
My distaste for the man blossomed into full dislike.
“Let’s see how she handles a whipping,” Jacob said mildly, as if he didn’t care one way or the other.
A whipping!
I drew in a sharp breath, my muscles tensing as adrenaline squirted into my bloodstream. At the same time, I couldn’t deny the hot pulse of desire that surged through me as my skin tingled with anticipation.
I heard some movement, and a moment later two large, masculine hands gripped my shoulders from behind.



Author Bio:
Claire has been writing for nearly two decades, and has published over 70 novels. She writes BDSM romance and non-con abduction tales, spanning both m/f and m/m genres. She has received numerous awards for her bestselling work, including the 2010 NLA-Int’l Pauline Réage Award for best BDSM fiction. Her darker works press the envelope of what is erotic and what can be a sometimes dangerous slide into the world of sadomasochism. Ultimately her work deals with the human condition, and our constant search for love and intensity of experience.


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