The Retreat: Book Two of The Perfect Submissive by Kay Jaybee
Kicking it off with a change of pace, we are dipping our toes into the land of dominance and submission with a twisted fairytale-ish...
Continuing the story of Miss Jess Sanders journey through the world of the professional submissive, The Retreat takes her away from the life she has only just been getting used to in The Fables Hotel, Oxfordshire (see Book One: The Fifth Floor).
Not only is Jess being taken further out of her comfort zone...she has to face life through the haze of a mangled fairytale...
Just as Jess Sanders is adjusting to her new life as the submissive in residence on the fifth floor of The Fables Hotel, her employer, Mrs Peters, makes a startling announcement. She has agreed to loan Jess, and her dominatrix Miss Sarah, to one of their most demanding clients; Mr David Proctor.
Whisked away by the mysterious Kane to The Retreat, a house hidden in a remote part of Scotland, Jess and Miss Sarah find themselves teaching a new submissive how to meet Proctor’s exacting rules.
As Jess comes to terms with the techniques of The Retreat’s overpowering dominatrix, Lady Tia, she discovers that Proctor’s motives may not be all they seem. Just who or what is Fairtasia? And why does Jess feel like she’s walked into a warped fairy tale?
In order to get back to the fifth floor, Jess is going to have to be far more than just a perfect submissive...
...Still held by the back of the neck, she was frogmarched along a narrow corridor by a slim young man Jess hadn’t been able to see clearly in the dark. Whoever he was, he had kept purposely behind her as they strode through the castle. She had almost dared ask him where she was going, but Jess’s words died on her lips when she saw the spiral staircase of bare stone ahead of them.
Two minutes later, at the top of the stairs, they’d reached an open wooden door. With no corridors to either the left or right, there was no other way to go but through it. Jess was suddenly reminded of Rapunzel; who’d been imprisoned in a room at the top of a tower with nowhere to run.
The guide held her by the shoulders. His unspoken instruction that she should not look at him was made clear by the increasing intensity of his grip. With an unexpected burst of speed, the man then took a step back, while at the same time urging his charge firmly forward. No sooner had she stepped into the room than the door was snapped shut behind her. Jess found herself alone in a circular space which had curtains drawn all the way around it.
Five minutes later, she was still taking slow, deep breaths in an effort to keep calm. Whatever was happening would be for a reason, and if she knew David Proctor like she thought she did, Jess was sure that somewhere in the room there would be a camera observing her every move, gauging how she was reacting to this enforced situation.
Stood still, Jess cast her eyes around the room. If life at Fables had taught her anything, it was that the more detail she took in about her surroundings, and the more attention she paid to every word spoken to her, the more she’d learn, and the better her chances of survival and erotic contentment would be.
‘So, I’m inside the turret I saw from outside.’
In the centre of the room, a spindle-backed wooden chair sat next to a matching table. ‘All that’s missing here is a spinning wheel. Forget Rapunzel, this is Sleeping Beauty!’ Jess muttered to herself as she walked around the rug-covered stone floor, skirting the very edges of the room as if she was a tiger patrolling the surrounds of its cage. She ran her hands across the floor to ceiling dark purple velvet curtains. Unsure if she wanted to see behind them or not, Jess drew each one back.
The majority of the room’s walls were constructed of large blocks of bare granite, but as she threw open the third curtain, Jess stepped back in surprise. A wooden door, about four feet high, and two foot across, had been built into the curve of the stone. ‘OK, so maybe this isn’t Sleeping Beauty or Rapunzel after all. Maybe it’s Snow White.’
With her heart thumping, the submissive placed her hand on the brass doorknob and bent to see what was through the doorway. ‘Oh thank God!’
It was just a washroom. A modern shower cubicle, sink, and toilet were plumbed into the exquisitely tiled carpeted semicircle. Making use of the facilities, Jess wondered if this was to be her room; where she was to spend all her time when she wasn’t doing whatever it was that Proctor expected her to do.
Returning to the larger room, she continued to explore behind the curtains, wondering if any other cubbyholes were secretly attached to this turret. No more doors appeared but, drawing back the last pair of drapes, Jess jumped as she came face to face with her own bedraggled reflection.
A huge, round mirror stared at her. ‘So maybe this is Snow White! Complete with the scary mirror on the wall and the dwarf-sized door. Which means, I only have the Wicked Queen left to meet.’
As soon as she’d spoken the words she slammed her hand to her mouth. Why had she said that out loud? Until that point she’d considered herself to be doing well. She’d shown whoever was watching her via the camera she was convinced was installed in the turret somewhere that she was capable of acting calmly, and was brave enough to explore, not merely sitting and cowering on the chair awaiting her fate. Now she’d blown it. I might as well have laid back on the bed and wanked without permission, Jess thought crossly. Instantly, she wished she hadn’t had that thought either, for some solo comfort from her fingers over her ever-damp clit would been have more than welcome.
Beginning to shiver, realising that the curtains hadn’t been there to hide things, but to keep the heat in the room, Jess put the heavy velvet drapes back in place, starting with the one over the mirror. She’d never liked looking at herself, and the sheer size of this particular mirror, along with the brilliance of its shine, unnerved her as it reflected back her dishevelled red hair and tired eyes. ‘Not exactly the fairest of them all!’
Sitting at the little desk, Jess reasoned that this couldn’t be her bedroom, as there was no bed. That meant that, despite the fact it was almost one o’clock in the morning, she was being kept there for a reason other than to get some sleep. The idea of a wicked queen came back to her mind. No one had mentioned a mistress equivalent to Mrs Peters. Until now Jess had assumed that David would run this place, but now, as fatigue took a firmer hold, Jess saw how unlikely that was. Hot shot businessmen don’t run places like this; they get other people to run such establishments for them while they sit back and get off on the results. Surely though, she thought, allowing her eyes to close for a few seconds, if I can survive Mrs Peters’ regime, then whoever runs this place will be no problem. She snapped her eyes back open. Or could they be worse
Kay Jaybee was named Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the ETO. Kay received an honouree mention at the NLA Awards 2015 for excellence in BDSM writing.
Kay Jaybee has over 180 erotica publications including, The Retreat- Book2: The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (KJBooks, 2018), Making Him Wait (Sinful Press, 2018), The Fifth Floor- Book1;The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (KJBooks, 2017), Wednesday on Thursday, (KDP, 2017), The Collector (KDP, 2016), A Sticky Situation (Xcite, 2013), Digging Deep, (Xcite 2013), Take Control, (1001 NightsPress, 2014), and Not Her Type (1001 NightsPress), 2013.
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