Blonde and Owner

BLONDE AND OWNER

Sindra van Yssel

www.loose-id.com

Blonde and Owner Copyright © May 2012 by Sindra van Yssel All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. eISBN 978-1-61118-691-8 Editor: Jana J. Hanson Cover Artist: Anne Cain Printed in the United States of America Published by Loose Id LLC PO Box 809 San Francisco CA 94104-0809 www.loose-id.com This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter One Susan Petrauskas eyed the bouncer doubtfully. He was a big man, rough around the edges, perched on a ridiculously small stool. He dwarfed her date for the evening, a smart doctor named Bert Norstrum. For that matter, she was taller than her date too. She didn’t know why short guys seemed to find her attractive, but Bert was five-eight, four inches shorter than her. As long as he doesn’t try to bury his face in my cleavage when we dance. If we dance. Bert nodded to the bouncer, who nodded back with the same neutrality. The bouncer opened the door for her and gestured her in with a slight bow and a broad low sweep of his hand. Susan walked in to the dark club, lit only by a sequence of red, blue, and green lights around its circular interior. Her eyes took a few minutes to adjust, as it was summer and still quite bright outside even at eight in the evening. The music had a strong rhythm and haunting melodies, and she didn’t recognize it. “You’ll love this place,” Bert had gushed. She doubted it. It was in the middle of nowhere, off a rural road rather than in downtown Baltimore or Philadelphia. She’d never heard of it. And she felt uneasy about the company. Bert had been a nice enough date once to go out with a second time. For this date he had bought her a black dress that hugged her form, and he’d tried to get her to wear heels, which would have made her even more aware of their height difference. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to be on dress-buying terms with Bert, but she’d gone along with the dress and drew a line at the heels. The fact is I’m not attracted to short men. I’d be happy to wear heels if my date was sixfive. But Bert was nice enough. And he definitely had good prospects, which her mother always reminded her was something to consider, although she made enough as an

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architect to provide for herself. I need someone stable in my life. There aren’t enough tall ones to go around. So what if he’s not my fantasy? Then she started processing what was in front of her, and she did a double take. The people around her were not exactly dressed like normal people or even normal club goers, but what caught her eye was a short brunette stripped down to almost nothing in the center of the room, which was a few steps down from the outside walkway. Her wrists were chained to a frame made of two sturdy supports and a heavy wooden crossbar. She was being beaten by a tall man and a woman in strange leather get-ups, wielding multitailed whips. The brunette’s skin was pink, although she wasn’t bleeding. Yet. “What the fuck?” She charged off. The man was bigger than her but not much, and she had the advantage of surprise. If she clocked him, she might be able to get the whip out of the hands of the woman, who was short and curvy. Bert followed her and grabbed her arm, which slowed her down. She tried to shrug him off. “Let go of me! Can’t you see what’s happening? I’ll take the guy; you take the girl.” That probably wasn’t the best thing for Bert’s ego. Oh well. Then she caught a look at the face of the woman being beaten. She was glassy-eyed, but there was no mistaking the sensuous curve of her open lips. She wasn’t in pain. She was in ecstasy. Susan turned away. It wasn’t proper to see a stranger in such an intimate moment. In an alcove, a tall muscular shirtless man hugged a small curvy naked woman on his lap. There were marks on her back, blotches of pink. But whatever had happened to her, she was being taken care of. In that moment Susan would give everything to be held that way, cared for, protected. Bert was talking. “… consensual. She’s having a good time.” Susan wasn’t sure if he was talking about the woman in the middle or the woman being held, so she nodded and kept scanning the crowd. Lots of leather clothing, a bit of shiny vinyl or latex, and lots of bare skin of all shades. This was no ordinary dance club.

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There was a big wooden X-shaped cross in the center area near the scene she’d first spotted, and little rooms off to the side. Given what went on in public, she was more than curious as to what went on in the little rooms, although she had an idea. Sex. This is a BDSM club. Never thought I’d actually be in one. “Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Not really. Just taking everything in. “Hard to hear you over the music,” she told him, even though it was quieter than most dance clubs she’d been in. What was playing had a steady electronic beat. Why had Bert brought her here? To gawk or because he wanted to tie her up or do something kinky? He might not be her dream date exactly, but she was curious now, more about what went on in the club than him. Still, he was her date, and she didn’t expect to get many other chances to be in a place like this, so she supposed it was with him, now or never. Although if she sat on his lap like that one girl, it would look incongruous. Not for the first time, Susan yearned to be small and cuddly. Sure, everyone said she was pretty and said they wished they were tall and thin. But no one ever thought to hold or comfort her. They always assumed Susan could take care of herself. And they were right. That didn’t mean she always wanted to. She took a deep breath and turned to Bert. Thank goodness she hadn’t worn heels, or she’d have to bend even more to whisper in is ear. “So you obviously brought me here for a reason. What did you want to do to me?” His voice was soft, and she wasn’t sure she heard him correctly over the music. “Whip you,” was her best guess. She looked back at the woman in the middle. She did seem to be having a good time. But she also looked awfully exposed. Her thong exposed her ass, and two little electrical tape crosses covering her nipples and a leather collar was all she wore otherwise. And the idea of the little man next to her wielding the whip was nearly as strange an idea as sitting in his lap.

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“Maybe,” she murmured and was annoyed when Bert looked obviously disappointed. It’s not the kind of thing he can expect a yes to right off the bat, is it? Whatever. I’m going to look around first. She walked around the place, and the gazes of others followed. She was aware of them watching. It wasn’t precisely unusual. At six feet, she always got stares. A few turned their eyes shyly away when she met their gaze. Submissives perhaps? She’d heard about the BDSM scene, but it wasn’t obvious who was who. There was a blond god who was kneeling for his tiny Mistress. In street clothes, without the kneeling, she’d have never guessed who was in charge. Others stood at the edges, solitary, wearing provocative clothing but their preferences unclear. At least two women were naked and wore collars. There’s something you don’t see every day. For a moment she wanted to hightail it out of the place, but they’d come in Bert’s car. It was all just a bit too strange. But she supposed as long as she kept her clothes on, she’d be all right. One man caught her attention. He stared at her, and he didn’t look away. A handful of inches taller than her with broad shoulders, he was dressed outlandishly: in tight black pants tucked into his high boots, and a white shirt with a cravat that looked like something straight from the eighteenth century. He had a black bracelet on his wrist. His dark hair fell in waves to his shoulders. His chiseled chin and cheekbones stood in contrast to the sensuous, almost feminine curve of his lips, which quirked upward slightly in response to her look. She broke contact first, turning her head away from the gaze of his smoky eyes. She knew she wouldn’t appreciate it if her date spent his time ogling other women, so she supposed she shouldn’t ogle men here either. One of the doors had a cut-out window in it with bars instead of glass. She looked inside. There was a hirsute man there with welts on his ass, she guessed from the cane of the tall woman with him. Susan winced as the woman struck him again. It was the first woman she’d noticed with what she thought of as her own body type, and she at once identified with the woman because of her size and was repelled by her actions. What led someone to want to do such damage to another human being? A naked

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woman was manacled on the wall to the right and was squirming and laughing as a man in jeans and a T-shirt tickled her with a long feather. Susan took a breath. That was more like it, although she was no fan of being tickled. Softer. And she liked the idea of a man being in charge. Someone who could hold the person he’d tortured and teased after, and make them feel protected. She made a face at herself. As a professional architect who expected to be treated as an equal by her male peers, she was surprised at her own prejudice. If the woman liked to be on top and the man wanted to submit, that ought to be fine. Still, the cane and those nasty red welts were way too intense. There was a big difference between the pink skin of the sub in the middle and the raised red lines on the hairy man’s butt. She looked over at Bert, who had been following her around like a puppy and was now looking up at her hopefully. He wants to whip me, does he? What’s the Mae West quote? “I’ll try anything once, twice if I like it.” Bert hadn’t brought anything with him, she was pretty sure, but maybe you borrowed stuff like whips from the club. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t as physically imposing as she would have liked. If it were the guy with the smoky eyes, I’d probably keel over and do whatever he asked. But with Bert, well… If he steps out of line, I can stop him. “Show me what you have in mind. But no way am I getting naked in front of these people.” He nodded and smiled, took her hand, and led her farther around the circular room. There were a few alcoves as well as rooms and a few tables in one of the alcoves with chairs and so forth for people to gather around and talk. He let go of her hand when he got to an unused table and pulled out a chair for her. She sat down, and he slid the chair under her. She expected him to run back and return with some hopefully not too vicious-looking implement, but instead he sat down cross-legged on the floor and took her left shoe off. I’d better keep my legs crossed. He could see right up her dress if she didn’t, although it seemed prudish to worry about her date seeing her panties when there were half a

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dozen completely naked women he could be looking at. We aren’t at that stage yet. I’m not sure we ever will be. He started rubbing her foot. Okay, that feels nice enough. He’s buttering me up first, I guess. She watched him for a moment, but his eyes were on her feet, so she started looking around. The brunette she’d seen first was being cuddled by her two tormenters, who had her sandwiched in a warm hug. Both of them, she noticed, wore black bracelets. Then they drew back, and the woman bent down and kissed the tip of the thigh-high boots of the domme and then the hand of the dom, and they all started picking up together. The domme was a little thing, one of those soft women men loved to cuddle. So was the sub. Sigh. Bert was pulling at her other foot. She recrossed her legs quickly to let him get the other shoe off and continue, but she only glanced down for a second. She turned her head and caught the man who’d stared at her before. He was watching her with the same sardonic look on his face, as if he knew something she didn’t. It made her nervous. This time she turned away more pointedly, as if to show she didn’t care what his lips would feel like. I’ve got a date, she told herself. But he sure is taking his time. Suddenly she felt something wet and slimy on her foot, and she looked down suddenly. Still not looking up, Bert had sucked her big toe into his mouth and seemed utterly enraptured. She pulled her foot back. Yuck! “Go ahead and get the whip already,” she said crossly. He looked up at her, blinked in surprise. “What whip?” he asked. “Something soft and gentle,” she said. No need to go off the deep end. She already regretted asking for it, but anything was better than having his tongue on her foot. There was kinky, and there was weird. Probably some people liked that sort of thing, and more power to them, but no thank you. “I’ll, um, see what I can do.” He had a decidedly odd expression on his face as he got up and walked away.

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Curious, she watched him as he approached a woman in leather pants and a bustier only to be greeted with a shake of the head. Then he moved on to another woman with garish lipstick and voluminous blonde hair, whose outfit had metal spikes coming out of it. She laughed at him with such obvious contempt Susan felt like going over and smacking her, but she’d probably get hurt on one of those spikes. The woman could barely move around without poking someone, and people were giving her a wide berth. Well, at least there’s one woman who looks less cuddly than I do. She had to admit Bert didn’t look very dominant at the moment—okay, he had never looked dominant—but it took guts to bring her to a place like this. Would have taken more guts to tell me where we were going in advance. Eventually, Bert came back holding a black whip whose numerous tails extended a foot and a half from an unadorned handle. He knelt in front of her and lifted the handle reverently in both hands, his own gaze fixed on the floor. “Huh?” All the clues suddenly came together in her head. He doesn’t want to dominate me. He wants me to dominate him. And he wants to suck on my toes. Yuck. She snatched the whip from his hands. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with it. She felt like throwing it on the ground, but she realized belatedly it was someone else’s property. Instead she put it on the table. No wonder Bert didn’t come prepared with his own gear. He didn’t have this planned out in the first place. “I brought you a whip as you requested, Mistress.” Mistress. Why did men insist on seeing her as some kind of fantasy and never as a woman? She took a deep breath, and then remembered the conversation she’d had with Bert when they’d first entered the club. She must not have heard him correctly. “I thought you said earlier that you wanted to whip me.” “Me. Whip you?” At least he looked up at her. “I would never even think of such a thing. You’re like a goddess, and I worship the very ground you walk on.”

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Worship. That’s what he said. Yet he couldn’t even ask me first before taking me to a place like this. Her jaw tightened, and she clenched her fists in anger. “Please, Mistress, if I’ve angered you, feel free to beat me.” His head went down again. Yeah, she was definitely angry. And then she laughed. He’s looking at his true love, after all. The floor. Not me. Just some imaginary person, a role into which he’s slotted me. “We’re done, Bert. You had no right to take me here without warning me. And I don’t want to be your mistress.” “Have I been unworthy? Please, Mistress, forgive this humble—” “Go find some other woman to fulfill your little fantasy.” She was starting to get annoyed by the sound of his voice. To her surprise, he suddenly developed a backbone. Not that the look on his face was particularly attractive as he straightened and stood. “Fine. Leave. The doorman will get you a taxi.” She noted he wasn’t offering to pay for it. And with the place in the middle of nowhere, it would take a long time to get a taxi out here, and the fare home wouldn’t be cheap either. Besides, she wasn’t about to take orders from him. “Oh, no. I’m staying. I like it here.” That was an exaggeration, but she was curious. She could never be one of those cuddly little subs, all curves and softness, but the idea of it tugged at her. To give up control for an hour or a day and let someone care for and protect her. Yes. She’d watch, until the pain of watching became too much. She leaned back in her chair, trying to look as comfortable and as immovable as possible. Bert grinned nastily at her. “Members and guests only. I’m afraid you’re no longer my guest, so you have to leave.” “Or what? You’re going to throw me out?” Sometimes being big had its advantages. “Nah. That’s what the bouncer is for.” He walked off. She expected him to head to the door, but he didn’t. Instead he made a beeline to the couple who had been flogging

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the sub in the middle of the room earlier. They talked for a few minutes with glances in her direction. Finally the woman walked over toward her. She was maybe five-five, plus a few inches for her heels, a far cry from a muscular bouncer. “Hello. I’m Mistress Elizabeth,” the woman said, her voice cool. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Susan.” If she thinks I’m impressed because she put the word mistress in front of her name, she’s in for a shock. “Hello, Susan. This is my club. Mine and my husband’s. I don’t recall seeing you around here before. Are you a member?” “No, I’m not.” She could see where this was headed. And she’d walk on out if it wasn’t what Bert wanted her to do. “I’m not sure how you got in, then, but this is a private club, and I’m afraid it’s members and guests only. One of our members says you were abusive to him and refused to accept the club safe word.” “Abusive to him? Because I wouldn’t let him suck my toe? And what’s a safe word?” Elizabeth frowned. “Are you new to BDSM?” “Yes.” “A safe word is a word set up in advance that requires the participants to stop their scene immediately. Usually a sub will use it when they feel their physical or emotional safety is threatened. In this case the word is mayday. Did you read the club rules?” “What club rules?” This isn’t going well. Dammit. “They’re posted all over the place.” Elizabeth gestured around, and sure enough, Susan noticed white sheets of paper taped to the walls and a couple of supporting pillars. The people had been too much of a spectacle to pay much attention to signs. On the one closest, she could make out the word RULES in block letters, and Excess below

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it in flowery script. There was probably an “of” in between them. “If you haven’t read the rules and you aren’t a member, you have to go.” She would have gladly made a strong man or two drag her out kicking and screaming, but she wasn’t going to fight this woman. Elizabeth actually sounded regretful about throwing her out. Susan started to get up to go when a strong hand on her shoulder pushed her back down into the chair. She looked behind her. Standing there was the man who’d been watching her earlier. Up close he seemed taller. He had a rich, deep baritone. “She’s my guest, Mistress Elizabeth. She was supposed to read the rules, and I’ll punish her for her omission.” Punish me? The word sent shivers down her spine, along with a dose of anger. Who does he think he is? But she wanted to see how it would play out. He spoke with such perfect assurance. No one ever treated her that way. She wanted to sink into the feeling, let him take care of everything, and she didn’t even know him. The weight she’d always borne on her shoulders felt lifted, just a little. Elizabeth looked up at him without blinking. All their attention was on each other, and only the touch of his hand, right where her neckline met her shoulder, half on flesh and half on fabric, indicated they even knew she was there. “Master Vincent,” Elizabeth said with a nod. “There is still the matter of her ignoring the club safe word.” Vincent’s sensuous mouth curved upward in amusement. “I assure you I didn’t use the safe word.” “Not you. Your ‘guest’ was apparently topping another man, a regular here. Have you met Bert?” Vincent nodded. “I know Bert. He predates you here, actually. He’s been coming here a long time. And what did my guest do, exactly?” “She was using that flogger on him.” Elizabeth nodded over at it. Susan opened her mouth to object, but Vincent spoke first. “Not a very sophisticated implement. Looks homemade, in fact, and probably a first attempt at that.” They were still ignoring her.

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“Yes. Well, everyone starts someplace.” He picked it up. “Goat skin? Hard to imagine it doing enough damage to merit a safe word.” Elizabeth frowned. “Indeed.” “And besides, I didn’t swing it at anyone!” Susan cried. “He brought it to—” Vincent squeezed her shoulder. “Quiet, sub. That’s two extra strokes. I’m more than capable of defending you. I think, Mistress Elizabeth, you’re being taken for a ride. I’ve been keeping my eye on her. She never swung the flogger. He brought it to her; she took it and laid it on the table. I don’t think she thought she was doing a scene at all. For some reason Bert has an animus toward my submissive.” He’s been keeping an eye on me. His submissive. He obviously has me confused with those soft girls. And what the hell does he mean by two extra strokes? Or maybe he’s being a white knight, correcting injustice, and feeding her a few lines to make it all work. She smiled slightly. He didn’t look like a Galahad. A Lancelot, maybe. If ever a face had sin written over it, it was Vincent’s. “My apologies, Master Vincent.” What about apologizing to me? “You acted with the information you had, Mistress Elizabeth. No harm done. And I certainly should have made sure she read the rules. The flogger belongs to the new dom with the red hair. Do you know his name? I’d like to return it to him.” “Sir Rusty.” Elizabeth reached for the flogger at the same time he did. “I want to talk to him anyway. He might add some information.” “Of course.” Vincent took his hand off the flogger. Mistress Elizabeth took the flogger and then finally looked at Susan. “Enjoy your stay, Susan. And do read the rules.” To her surprise, the woman actually smiled at her. “Thank you, Elizabeth,” Susan said, thinking she should try to be polite.

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Elizabeth shot Vincent a look, shaking her head. “Good luck with her,” she said and walked away. Whatever. “Susan, hmm?” said Vincent when Elizabeth was out of earshot. “I’m Vincent. Master Vincent to you. Well, Susan, if you wish to stay, go read the rules, and then come back to me for your punishment.” She had no problems with reading the rules, and got up out of her chair before the rest sank in. “Punishment?” “As I promised Mistress Elizabeth,” said Master Vincent, taking the chair she’d gotten out of, sliding it back a few inches, and then sitting down. “Although I think I would have found an excuse anyway.” “What makes you think I even want to stay?” Vincent smiled and met her gaze but didn’t say a word. “What kind of punishment?” she said at last. “Read the rules, and then we’ll talk.” Talking didn’t sound too bad. She turned away and walked to one of the pillars to read the fine print.

RULES OF EXCESS ABSOLUTELY NO PHOTOGRAPHY OF ANY KIND. IF YOUR CELL PHONE HAS A CAMERA IN IT, YOU MAY ONLY USE IT OUTSIDE THE BUILDING. FOR EVERYONE’S SAFETY, MASTER GRAY, MISTRESS ELIZABETH, AND OTHER DUNGEON MONITORS ARE TO BE OBEYED AT ALL TIMES. PLEASE SHOW THEM PROPER RESPECT. THEY ARE IDENTIFIED BY THE BLACK STEEL BRACELETS THEY WEAR. NO ONE BUT DUNGEON MONITORS APPROVED BY MISTRESS ELIZABETH OR MASTER GRAY MAY WEAR BLACK STEEL BRACELETS. THE CLUB SAFE WORD IS MAYDAY. DOMINANTS MUST HONOR THE CLUB SAFE WORD. NO WATER SPORTS OR SCAT. CLEAN UP ALL BODILY FLUIDS AFTER A SCENE AND DISINFECT THE EQUIPMENT WITH THE SPRAY BOTTLES PROVIDED. MORE INTIMATE SCENES SHOULD HAPPEN PRIMARILY IN THE THEME ROOMS.

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Susan pursed her lips. More intimate scenes. So naked cuddling wasn’t considered “more intimate.” She wondered what would qualify. And Vincent was a dungeon monitor, whatever that meant. Was that why he expected her to obey him? She didn’t think his threatened punishment had much to do with her safety. She walked back and stood in front of him. “So.” He looked up at her with the same amused grin on his face. “So you didn’t read the rules, you interrupted, and you didn’t properly address Mistress Elizabeth. Whatever am I going to do with you?” “Look, this is all a mistake. My date brought me here, I didn’t want to leave because he was telling me to, that’s all. I was just being contrary.” “That’s all quite true. And that was all there was to it?” “Yeah.” “Leave, if you like. You won’t get back in. Or you could take a chance and stay under my protection. Following my directions. I’ll teach you what you need to know to thrive here. It’s your choice, really. In the end, it’s always the submissive’s choice. In the middle, well, that’s sometimes a different story. I think it’s the middle that makes you curious.” There was that word again. “What makes you call me a submissive?” “I watched you. The way you looked away when you met my eyes. The way you asked Bert to whip you, thinking he was a dominant, even though you obviously didn’t have any respect for him. You may have just been curious about the sensations, but trust me, it’s better with someone you respect. If you walk away, you’ll wonder what could have happened. If you’re brave enough to stay, I promise you that you won’t get hurt. Feel pain, perhaps. Get hurt, no.” He was sitting back in his chair looking so utterly relaxed it boggled her. Men didn’t talk to her that way, especially when asking her for a date—if that was what he

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was doing. They stuttered and didn’t look her in the eyes. Some stared at her tits instead and tried to pretend otherwise. His gaze was roving her body, taking it all in, but when he looked at her face again, there was no attempt to hide what he was doing, just a smile to let her know he’d enjoyed the view. She looked toward the door, her heart pounding. A nice safe taxi ride versus a stranger who expected her to submit to him. Who wanted to punish her. Two more strokes of what? It would be an expensive taxi ride, but she could afford it this once. She wasn’t completely ignorant about BDSM, although everything she knew came from fiction. She’d found it hot in a dozen or so books. She was enticed by the idea of giving up control, of doing things she’d never be able to do without being guided, almost forced. Men didn’t ever see that in her, but he had. This chance wouldn’t come again. She turned back to him. “If I yelled mayday, what would happen?” “I would stop whatever I was doing to you and make sure you were okay. Mistress Elizabeth or Master Gray or possibly both would probably come running to find out what was going on. If I was harming you in any way, they would stop me. If you have to do that, you yell it out as loud as you can, so everyone can hear.” “Fine. You won’t cover my mouth or gag me or anything like that?” He chuckled. “No. If you scream when you come, I want to hear it.” Her heart skipped a beat. “In your dreams.” He raised an eyebrow. “First lesson. That’s ‘in your dreams, Sir.’” She stared at him for a moment. He wasn’t objecting to what she said, just how she’d said it. She knew deep down she’d been trying to get a rise out of him, to even the scales for the effect he had on her. “In your dreams, Sir.” “Good. You learn quickly. Second lesson. It’s rude to stand when your dom is sitting down.”

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“There aren’t any other chairs here right now.” She noticed at a nearby table about six people were gathered. They’d probably had to steal chairs from other tables. “That would be rude too unless you were invited to sit in a chair. Your proper place is to kneel on the floor. If you value your knees, you’ll ask to get a cushion, and you’d likely be given permission.” “Where are the cushions?” She looked around. He tapped his fingers on the table and waited. “May I get a cushion?” He arched an eyebrow. “Sir?” “Yes. They’re just inside the railing of the center area. I think a blue one would suit you quite nicely.”

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Chapter Two Vincent watched Susan walk away to find the cushions. She was different from most subs he’d known; he actually had a moment of uncertainty about her, and normally his BDSM radar was inerrant. The way she charged off when she first entered the club, sure that she knew what she was doing and not waiting for anyone else to fix it, didn’t exactly say submissive. She was clearly a woman used to being in control. But the way she looked at the cuddled sub with interest but ignored the indisputably sexy Karen when she walked by her in a push-up bra and panties had tipped the scales. There were two options when a woman looked at another woman that long, and if she didn’t want to do her, there was a good chance she felt a yearning to be her, at least in part. Clearly, she hadn’t been going to get that from her date. Bert had been looking for a dominant woman to own him from the moment he’d set foot in the club. Susan had a nice, curvy ass, and Vincent appreciated it as she bent over to rummage for a blue cushion. At least half the cushions were a sort of dusty-rose color, and he’d chosen blue in part because it would take her a while to find. He wanted to discover whether Susan enjoyed obeying or was just attracted by the idea of being held and cared for. Wanting to be held was natural enough, of course, and a desire he fully intended to indulge. Later, as a reward for both of them. She found a blue cushion. He watched her walk back to him. She had long legs too. His cock hardened at the thought of having those legs wrapped around him. He could watch her walk all day if he had to. She leaned over to put the cushion at his feet. Bending over, she gave him a nice view down her dress that made him want more. If she’d had even a little experience,

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he’d start pushing and satisfy his desire to see more of her body. But Susan was new, so he’d have to go slow and give her options. For a while. “You really want me to kneel, Sir?” she asked skeptically. “Yes.” “Darn.” She wasn’t graceful, but she got her knees and her butt down onto the cushion. He waited until she looked up and met his gaze, and then touched her chin lightly to let her know he wanted her to continue to look at him. “Now about your punishment. Six strokes—three for not reading the rules, two for speaking without being spoken to, and one for failing to address Mistress Elizabeth properly.” She frowned. He sensed a rebellion coming on. “But I didn’t have any way of knowing. I thought she was just puffing herself up with that Mistress business.” He chuckled. “Trust me, she’s earned it. She also owns this place and has run it better than the, er, previous owner.” No need to mention that he was the previous owner. He’d stayed away for a couple months to make sure Elizabeth and Gray could get everything in the club working as they wanted it. He’d have been in the way for that. When he’d darkened the doorstep of Excess again, they’d ganged up on him to make him take the black bracelet. He hadn’t wanted the responsibility, but he’d taken it. “Strokes with what, anyway?” “A very good question. With an experienced sub, I might ask for suggestions, or I might go straight for something particularly unpleasant. But we don’t know how you’ll react. I’ll give you two choices. I could use a flogger—not the flimsy thing Bert brought you but nothing too difficult to take, either. I have in mind a deerskin flogger with many, many tails—they tend to get in the way of each other and slow down, producing an effect you might feel as anything from a caress or as a mild, thuddy sort of pain.” He saw her nod, which he interpreted to mean she understood.

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“I could also use a riding crop. Not the tip of it, but the shaft itself, which is slightly milder than a cane but similar in nature, leaving red lines and sharp sting. I’m quite sure you’d feel that as pain.” “It’s not much of a choice, is it?” she asked. “Sir. I mean, it sounds like the flogger may not even hurt.” He smiled. Ah, you’re so easy to reel in. “An excellent if obvious point. However, the flogger would be pointless at the moment. You’d not feel it through your dress, whereas the fire of the crop will only be slightly deadened by the fabric. So the choice is between a flogger on your bare backside or the crop fully clothed.” She frowned and hesitated. He suspected she was not mulling the two choices he gave her but thinking about fleeing Excess entirely. And that wouldn’t do. He leaned over and spoke softly to her. “You’ve been curious about this for a while, haven’t you? What it would be like to be under someone else’s control? You’re a brave, independent woman, and it’s difficult to give in to someone, but you want to try. Am I right?” Her breathing got shallower, and he suspect her pulse was racing from the wideeyed look on her face. “Yes,” she whispered. He caressed her cheek and leaned closer still. “Would you like me to make the decision for you?” “That scares the heck out of me.” He smiled. He knew she was speaking the truth, but if that was her only reaction, she’d have left already. “But you want it, don’t you?” “Yes.” “Yes, what?” “Yes, Sir.” He guessed that she made a lot of decisions. Maybe more than she wanted. Not surprising if she went out with guys like Bert. He kissed her softly on the forehead. “Very good, Susan. It’ll be the flogger.”

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She bit her lip in the cutest way, and her cheeks turned pink. “You know, I really don’t look very good naked, Sir. You’re better off using your imagination.” “Hell, I’ve been using my imagination all night.” She looked away, but her cheeks turned redder. Even her neck was pink. God, she blushes nicely. I wonder how far that blush extends. He guided her chin back so that she had to look at him, and then he couldn’t resist anymore. Her lips were plump and looked so damn kissable. He pulled her toward him, tilted her head up, and pressed his lips against hers. Her eyes went wide, and she froze for a moment. And then she was kissing him back, hungrily, like she hadn’t been kissed in ages. Her tongue slipped against his and wrestled with it. Her wet lips bruised his own. He could feel her hot breath on his skin, and he wished they were standing so he could feel her body yield to his. Putting her in a more erotic frame of mind was one thing, but too much kissing and she might get the idea he was doing more than teaching her a few lessons about BDSM so she could make her way in the heady world of Excess. He forced himself to pull back. She tried to follow, but she couldn’t catch up to him without climbing up onto his lap. With a sigh she sat back down. “What was that for?” she asked. “Your lips looked so soft and welcoming, and I wanted to. Seems you didn’t mind too much either.” She shook her head, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “Hopefully Bert saw too.” “Bert? Ah, yes, the jerk who brought you here.” He didn’t blame her for wanting to make a point, but he was disappointed that was her reason for kissing him. “If you feel you need to make another display, ask politely, and I’ll most likely oblige. In the meantime, your punishment.” He stood up, and she looked up and then started to rise as well. He put a hand on her shoulder. “No, Susan. You ask if you can rise first.”

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She rolled her eyes. “That will be two more.” Her jaw dropped at the injustice of it. “But I didn’t say anything! Sir!” He nodded. “You didn’t have to. Your look spoke volumes, as you intended. Try again.” She looked down for a second. He let her gather her composure. He wanted her to succeed, not to fail, even though he’d love to add more to her flogging. He’d make it a proper introduction to impact play either way, though. “May I rise, Sir?” “Yes, Susan. Rise and follow.” He let her almost get to her feet before turning and walking around the periphery of the main room. He grabbed his bag from one of the little alcoves without slowing down. There were little windows in all the rooms, not so much to encourage voyeurism but to allow people to see if they were occupied and to insure the safety of anyone who might go inside. Some people got off on the exhibitionism of public play, but most people who came to Excess were there either to socialize with other like-minded people or because the monitors made it a safe place to play with strangers. He casually looked in the windows as he walked by. The medical room wasn’t the best place for what he had in mind. The Asia room was occupied by a couple of guys going at it. He glanced back after he passed it to catch Susan lingering, but when she noticed he was watching her, she blushed and hurried to follow him again. The principal’s office, however, was empty, so he opened the door and gestured her inside. The room consisted of an old oak desk. Under the rim of the top of the desk, well hidden, were a couple of eyebolts for bondage purposes, but otherwise it was ordinary enough. A few old textbooks were on one corner of the desk to help set the theme, looking even rattier than they had when he had first put them there, no doubt from having been knocked to the floor several dozen times. Someone with an odd sense of humor had tossed a copy of SM 101 on top of them. Oh, it’s that kind of school, is it?

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There was also a wooden ruler and a rectangular wooden paddle, both well-worn. Good for people who didn’t bring their own toys, but either would cause more pain than he intended. On the wall were various educational posters and a fake diploma. In front of the desk was a chair-and-desk combination with a folding desktop and school supplies in a plastic box beneath. Some people liked to use the room for negotiating scenes, but Vincent thought the power imbalance between principal’s chair and student’s was less than ideal for a good negotiation. Then again, I haven’t been negotiating at all with Susan, really. He didn’t intend to start, but he did need more information. He watched her as she entered the room. “Have I been a bad girl?” she asked. He chuckled. “Yes. Sit. I have a few questions before we start.” He put his bag down on the floor and sat on the edge of the principal’s desk and indicated the other. She nodded and sat in the student’s chair. “Have you ever been in a BDSM club before or a play party?” “No.” “I didn’t think so. Any other BDSM experience?” She shook her head. “Just reading books. I tried online too, but I’m busy enough leading one life without leading two.” “What do you do?” He saw her hesitate and cut in. “If it’s private, you’re allowed to tell me it’s none of my business.” She took a relaxed breath and smiled. “It’s not, really. I design solar panel layouts for people who are converting old structures to use more renewable energy, or I work together with architects who want to include green energy in new buildings.” “Business is up, I take it?” “Yes.”

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“Good. Any medical problems someone who is about to hit you with a couple dozen tails of leather ought to know about? Old broken bones, places that are already sore, and so forth?” She shook her head, biting her lip. He had to ask, even if it unnerved her. But he didn’t want to lose her, either, so it was time to relieve some of her uncertainty. He got up to take out the flogger he intended to use: deerskin with tails in blue and red. It had a beautifully weighted handle, wrapped in braided leather, topped with a Turk’s head knot. He set it on the desk. “This is a flogger. You’ve read about them, at least. You saw one in operation when Master Gray and Mistress Elizabeth were doing their scene with Angelika. That’s what I’m going to be disciplining you with. Any questions?” He suspected if he gave her another chance to run at this point, she might. Her posture in the chair was decidedly rigid. She wouldn’t stay there for long, in any case; it was made for a smaller person and would be uncomfortable to sit in for long. Like all the equipment he’d installed when he’d owned Excess, he’d tried it out himself before letting the public use it. He’d decided its discomfort was a feature, accentuating the feeling of helplessness many submissives craved, especially in a school-based authoritarian scene. “When you’re ready, simply move up to my desk here, lift your skirt, pull down your panties if you’re wearing any, and bend over the desk.” He tapped on the left side of it. “If you use this side of the desk, your ass will be mostly hidden from someone looking through the window. If you choose the front side, it will be on full display.” Choices. He needed to tempt her each step of the way, seduce her consent. Consent was more than a verbal affirmation; it was a willingness deep inside to continue. “What if I choose the back side of the desk?” “Can’t do that. That’s my side.” Having choices was different from being in control. It scratched the itch for control, but it wasn’t the same thing at all.

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“Why is there a window at all?” He smiled. “So a crazy can’t get a girl in one of these rooms and beat the snot out of her. Someone would notice. They’d call a dungeon monitor. If a scene looks out of control, it only takes a moment of interruption to check in with all concerned, but it keeps people safe. Especially subs, but sometimes doms too.” The windows had been his own idea, but right now it seemed awfully inconvenient. He knew he wouldn’t harm Susan. And now that he thought of it, he didn’t like the idea of anyone else getting a good look at her either. He’d much rather have the view all to himself, which was unusual. Usually he enjoyed introducing a sub to public play, breaking past her natural resistance to being seen without clothes. In part that was because he was always thinking of the greater enterprise, preparing girls for the club but not necessarily for himself. Teaching them what they were capable of. I don’t have to think that way anymore. This one could be mine. At least for a while. Susan got up from the chair. He moved aside to let her choose her spot. Either would suffice, and he would learn something about her from her choice. She moved over to the side of the desk, trembling. The club was warm enough for subs to feel comfortable walking around naked, but her nipples had bunched up and were tenting the dress she wore. She wasn’t just afraid; she was turned on. A delightful combination. He wanted to feel just how wet she was, but he’d wait for that. He circled around her, taking the flogger into his hand as he passed, trying to ignore the way his cock urged him to find someplace wet and warm. She had no way of knowing whether she was going to like what was to come, but the idea appeared to entice her. She’d know more about her desires when they were finished. Not just how the flogger felt, but how she liked being under his control. She turned to face him. “You know, that makes a lot of sense, with the windows. Even though I don’t want anyone watching—I don’t even want you watching—I don’t think I’d feel safe without it. I don’t know you.”

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When new subs came to Excess, it was always as a guest of another member. Usually, if they weren’t attached to the person who brought them, they’d at least find out from them the names of people who were good to play with, who shared their kinks, and who was into different things. He never had to worry his references weren’t thoroughly in order. But Susan knew no one. And she didn’t know him or have reason to trust him. “Smart,” he told her. “And I think you might be kind of evil.” Her head turned, so he couldn’t see whether she meant it in jest or not, but she bent over the desk. Her upper body pressed down on it, and predictably, she knocked over the pile of books when she stretched out her arms. He caught them on their way to the floor and set them gently on the floor. She’d forgotten to pull up her skirt or had decided not to. He suspected she was seeing if she could resist. Evil, hmm? There was a time when his sadistic impulses had him believing that about himself. But he never gave any woman pain other than the erotic kind and never without consent. No. Just strict. If she thought she was going to get away with her rebellion, she was in for a surprise. He let the tails of the flogger fall heavily onto her bottom. “We’re only going to count the good ones.” He gently waved the flogger back and forth. “This doesn’t count, of course.” “Oh.” A pause. “Makes sense.” “And we’ll add one each time you answer me without saying Sir.” “Makes sense, Sir!” she squeaked. “Good. We’ll do nine now, if you can mind your manners. Count them, with respect.” He swung the flogger swiftly through the air. Her clothes would absorb much of the impact, spreading it around her bottom to give her nothing more than a dull glow. He knew that.

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She jerked up at the first blow, and he put his free hand in the middle of her back, forcing her back down. He let her catch her breath. Just because the impact was muted didn’t mean she didn’t feel the thud. “One, Sir,” she said at last. He chuckled. Okay, that did sound evil. “Two, Sir! Three, Sir! Four, Sir!” He thought he detected some triumph in her voice. She was counting soft swings as well as hard ones, but that wasn’t the point at the moment. He waited until she got to eight. “Feeling any pain?” “No!” she said delightedly. “Sir. I shouldn’t tell you that, should I, Sir, or you’ll make the last one a whopper.” “Do you think you’re on the last one?” “Um, you did say nine, Sir. And I’ve been very careful to count each one.” He ran his hands through her long straight blonde hair. “You have. You’ve done very well. However, I was quite clear you were to lift your dress and remove your panties and make your pretty little ass available and bare for my attentions. And you haven’t done that yet, so none of these have counted.” “No fair!” She tried to get up again, and again he held her down. “Very fair. Strict but fair. You knew full well what you were doing, you little imp.”

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Chapter Three Little. No one ever calls me that. Imp, yes. Susan thought of claiming she was innocent, but she’d be lying. She didn’t think he’d take lying very well, and somehow she was sure he would know. Besides, she’d felt more like she was being shaken against the desk by the flogger than actually spanked by it, although her ass was warm. Her pussy was feeling warm too, but it wasn’t the flogger causing that. It was the way his hand held her down and made her feel small against his strength. Her breasts were pressing against the desk, and every time the flogger moved her, her nipples rubbed against it through her clothes. She could feel its roughness even through two layers of fabric. She supposed the well-used furniture added to the old-time school feel of the place. It certainly provided her with some stimulation, and he wouldn’t let her avoid it. She reached behind her. It will be easier if I don’t look at him. But she looked back anyway and saw his lips curled into a smile. He’d won this round. She got the feeling he was used to winning every round. Well maybe I’ll win a round someday. Right now she had no idea how she’d do that. She bunched up the folds of her dress in her hand and pulled it all up until she could trap the soft cotton between her body and the desk. She hadn’t expected Bert to make it past second base at most, no matter how well the date had gone, so she was wearing plain cotton panties with blue stripes. Vincent had been quite clear they had to go too, and they seemed inappropriate for what they were doing. Most everyone in this place was wearing black and probably had matching underwear. If they were wearing underwear at all. Knowing other people were as undressed as she would be gave her courage, or perhaps it was recklessness. She tucked

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her thumbs in the waistband and pulled them down and then readjusted the dress when it tried to fall back down to cover her. Although, those panties might be something a schoolgirl would wear. Besides, now they’re around my calves. Heat rushed to her face. The air felt cool against her bottom. And since when do I prefer being bare assed to a fashion faux pas? His hand caressed her bare bottom. Warm hand, cool air. Since now. “You have a very nice ass.” It wasn’t as if she’d never been told that before, but he said it like it was his considered opinion, not a mere leer. To make her feel good rather than to make her feel uncomfortable. And his hand was heavenly, rough as it moved against her tingling skin. “Mmm.” She wiggled her butt at him. His hand left her for a moment, and then she felt him pulling her panties the rest of the way off. Her pussy was so wet and so empty. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to just fuck me?” “You would enjoy being fucked by this strange, evil man?” I think strange and evil might be my type. She wondered if she’d hurt his feelings with her earlier comments, but his voice was playful, teasing. And the thought of him inside her made her tummy flutter. “Please.” “After I do everything I want to do with you, I might take advantage of your offer.” Over her shoulder she saw him lift the flogger above her back and let the tails trail down against her bare skin. Was that what he had done before, except with her skirt in the way? Now she could sense each one as a tiny tickle, rather than feeling the whole

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like a broad brush. He waved the flogger in the air, teasing her. One feathered against the crack of her ass. “Close your eyes, beautiful, and feel.” Her neck was tired of twisting anyway, so she rested her head against the desk and closed her eyes as he’d told her. “You’re nicely warmed up from the first flogging. The one that didn’t count.” “Yes, Sir.” Have I committed some infraction that will make this one not count either? I don’t think so. But I’m definitely going to obey him word for word if there’s a next time. The tails brushed against her as he waved it faster. Still more like tickles than a blow or a sting, though. “Do those count, Sir?” she asked. “No. You’ll know.” She was scared. Obviously it was going to feel worse, but how much worse? The tails kept going faster, but there was no clear line she could see that had been crossed. His hand on her back was vaguely comforting, even though it was holding her down. Maybe because it was holding her down. It would stop her from embarrassing herself if she suddenly wanted to bolt and run, which every instinct in her told her to do. The flogger suddenly whacked against her butt hard, and she jerked. “Ow!” she cried before deciding it really didn’t hurt as much as it startled her with its sudden intensity. Her head swiveled automatically so she could look at him, her eyes flashing open. “You’ll know.” She knew. What was I supposed to say? Oh. The practice round helped her remember. “One, Sir.” She turned her head away from him and closed her eyes again. “Very good.” His deep voice was full of warmth. She hadn’t realized how much she craved his approval. She didn’t know why she cared. He was a stranger. An attractive stranger. She understood her lust for him but not the rest. But his praise made

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her glow inside, like an internal reflection of how her bottom felt: warm, glowing, aching. The tails swished against her ass, milder now, sustaining the glow. Rather than dreading one that counted, she found herself looking forward to it, and she didn’t understand that either. “You don’t have to think about it so much,” he told her softly, “if you don’t want to.” Don’t think. Feel. Is that really safe? She laughed. I’m thinking about even that, aren’t I? And how can he tell I’m thinking? The flogger cut through her thoughts. His hand stopped her from rising, but she managed to keep her eyes in place. “Two, Sir.” You did that purposely, knowing I’d be thinking about thinking. Bastard. But she smiled. The momentary ouch had quickly faded again, leaving her warm and safe. “Stay down and spread your legs for me more.” His hand left her back, only to pull on her thigh a moment later. He nudged the other leg with his flogger. She tried to obey. “If you don’t object to sex, then you are presumably fine with being touched.” His fingers moved up and down her inner thighs, not quite touching her pussy. Her clit ached for contact. He kneaded her ass with strong fingers instead. With every touch her traitor pussy got wetter. Are you sure you don’t want to just fuck me? She held her tongue, not sure how he would take that. Knowing him, it would probably mean an extra stroke of the flogger rather than of his cock. Or even fingers. Don’t you want to plunge your fingers inside me? He stroked her inner thigh one more time and then touched her back again. It gave her enough warning to expect the blow that followed but not enough to brace for it. “Three, Sir.” She barely got out the words before he landed a fourth. They built on each other, her skin made sensitive by the first, and she felt it more, but it still wasn’t pain, as she

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envisioned pain, because she couldn’t point to the spot where it hurt. It was too spread out for that. Across my big ass. “Four, Sir.” “Such a lovely backside you have.” It was like he could read her mind. His hands moved over it, evening out the warmth, before drifting between her legs again. His finger feathered across her labia, tantalizingly close to her clit. “You’re teasing me, Sir.” She wasn’t able to keep the complaint out of her voice. “As is my privilege,” he told her sternly. “You’ll get to come, little imp, if you’re well behaved. But I’m not going to let you until I’m sure it’s an experience you’ll remember for the rest of your life.” Oh! She sighed. Men said things like that, but they didn’t follow them up. She hadn’t believed one since Tommy in the eleventh grade had told her how wonderful sex was when they were in the back of his mom’s van. But Vincent she believed, sort of. He might be able to follow through. She bit her lip. No sense getting her hopes up. Swish went the flogger through the air, and this time it felt almost entirely different. Just the ends of the tails hit her, and it hardly rocked her at all. But it stung. It was definitely pain this time, but pain that seemed to mix with the aching in her pussy, making her feel even more turned on. She almost forgot to count it. “Five, Sir.” Was that supposed to count? Was it even supposed to feel that way? “You didn’t like the feel of that as much.” His voice held amusement to it. “No. But I can take it, Sir.” She wanted to, for him. If it made him happy. “Part of you liked it, though.” He dipped his finger into her pussy, sliding in easily. “Yes.” He rubbed his thumb against her clit. His thumb was delightfully rough. She felt her core tightening, the pleasure building up inside her. She fidgeted, rubbing her nipples against the desk as well as she could. I’m going to get to come.

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Then suddenly, he wasn’t touching her at all. “Not yet, little imp. It’d feel good, but we’re not after merely feeling good.” She whimpered. She’d never whimpered for sex before, and she blushed at the sound she made, and felt ashamed at her weakness. “You’re a good imp,” he said. “Very good.” This is what he wants. He wants me needy, on the edge. Evil man. So I’ll give that to him too. I don’t have a choice. She found herself pushing her bottom out for more. More touching or more flogging, she didn’t know. More of him. A thuddy blow landed from left to right, then another from right to left, and she’d barely shouted out numbers in response when a third stung her. Her pussy clenched in reaction, and she knew it would have sent her hurtling over the edge if he hadn’t paused for a moment after touching her. Her pussy felt like it was quivering, or maybe her whole body was shaking. She’d never been so aroused before. He pressed up against her, and she could feel his hard cock through his pants. He dropped the flogger next to her, and with seemingly effortless ease, he pulled her up from the desk enough to insert his hands between her breasts and the desk. He squeezed, rocking her with thrusts of his pelvis, rubbing against her supersensitive backside, making the pleasure he was getting from flogging her very apparent. One touch on my pussy, please! But his hands on her breasts and cock against her ass only served to inflame her more, when she thought that was impossible. Worst of all, she couldn’t even touch herself very easily, as she often had to do to get herself off when having sex before. He wouldn’t let me anyway. He’d stop me. He slid his hands over her belly, and she thought maybe, just maybe he was going to give her relief, but then they were gone, and he had the flogger in his hands again. “One more.” She clenched her bottom. “Please not the kind that stings!” He patted her bare bottom lightly with his free hand. “Whose choice is that?”

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“Yours, Sir.” Dammit. He’d probably add more if I tell him different. Giving him back control made it easier to relax. “I do believe you’re learning, little imp.” The flogger crashed into her, the hardest blow of all. It stung, but he’d honored her request. He’d been holding back, it seemed. Before her mind could absorb the impact, his hands were on her. He must have dropped the flogger to the floor, because he thrust his fingers in her pussy at the same time he pinched her clit. She screamed and came like a rocket. Everything that had been coiled inside her seemed to flow outward at the same time, making her pussy clench at his fingers and her ass vibrate and shivers run up and down her spine. His fingers pistoned inside her, moving past her resistance when she squeezed, making her orgasm go on and on. She grabbed the edges of the desk and pulled so hard on them she thought she was going to break the thing. At last she stopped, feeling as if she’d melted, her muscles not wanting to even hold her up anymore. If he drew back, she would slither off the desk onto the floor and lie there in a puddle, but he didn’t draw back. Instead he rolled her over with one hand, and her eyelids fluttered open in time to see him lick his fingers. “You taste good.” I actually believe he means that. Wow. He got up on the desk with her and pulled her onto his lap. Her dress settled into place, at least enough to make her decent. She could feel his hard cock hard against her hip. I should do something about that. In a minute. After I recover. I should tell him how that felt too. Incredible. “Mmm,” was the best she could manage. She hoped he understood. He ran his fingers through her hair. His left arm fit comfortably around her waist. “I should do something to get you off,” she said at last, breaking a comfortable silence lasting minutes.

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“Don’t worry, darling. I’m okay. Just rest. That was incredibly hot, by the way. You are incredibly hot. I loved flogging you, and I loved making you come.” “Wasn’t bad for me either.” She grinned. He grinned back. “I don’t usually take novices so far. But then, I don’t usually find them so responsive. Or so attractive. You’re a beautiful woman. How’d you end up with Bert, anyway?” She shrugged. It was nice and warm in his arms. “Seems he’s the type who is attracted to me. Men in search of a mother or a boss or something.” Vincent chuckled. “I assure you I don’t want any of those things.” “And you don’t want to come, either. I don’t think I can figure you out.” She poked his ribs playfully. “Are you sure you’re a man?” “I didn’t say I didn’t want to come, and yes, I’m quite sure. Rest first. I’d actually very much enjoy fucking you, Susan. But it’s more important you have some time to absorb what happened and reflect on it before you decide if you want to go further. Like I said, I don’t usually take novices so far.” “Hmm.” When he told me not to think—no, that was wrong. He told me I didn’t have to. There’s a difference there. Men usually either didn’t appreciate that she could think, or wanted her to do all the thinking for them. He told me to feel, and now he’s telling me to reflect. He’s not threatened by my size or my brains. And his lap feels very comfortable. A knock on the door startled her. “Two minutes,” shouted Vincent. Then, more softly, he added, “Someone else wants to use the room to do a scene, and priority goes to people who want to play. Have a seat in the chair if you like, and I’ll clean the desk quickly, and we can talk about what happened in the cuddle room.” Susan sat up. “The cuddle room?” “It has sofas and cushions and old comfy chairs in it. It’s not for scening, but it’s great for aftercare and relaxing.” Vincent stood, opened one of the desk drawers, and

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pulled out a spray bottle and a towel. She got out of his way as he sprayed the desk and then went over it with the towel. Bent over, he had a particularly fine-looking ass. She gave it a squeeze, curious as to how he’d react. He smiled back at her for a moment, then continued. She was tempted to continue fondling him, but then she remembered her underwear. “Where’d you put my panties?” “In my bag. You’ll get them back before you go.” He straightened and turned to face her. “Right now, I prefer you without.” “And if I want them now anyway?” “Then all you have to do is say your safe word, and you’ll have them.” “And then you won’t play with me ever again. Isn’t that how it goes?” The idea didn’t make her happy, although she tried to ignore that. He had come to her rescue for the evening, because she was about to get thrown out. And because he wanted me. But he didn’t make any promises. “No, not exactly. But I won’t play with you until you show me your panties are off again.” He stroked her cheek with his rough fingers and then dropped them to caress the side of her breast. “I’d very much like it, however, if you kept them off. Can you do that for me?” She noticed he didn’t just say she’d have to have them off, but she’d have to show him. She felt herself blush again. But she’d do almost anything for him at the moment. “Yes, Sir.” “Good. I’m hoping we’re far from done yet, you and I.” He put the spray bottle back in its drawer. “Get the books, please?” She picked them up off the floor. While she was there, she noticed the eyebolts under the ledge of the desk. She doubted very many real principals had eyebolts on their desks. They looked sinister, as if something worse was possible in that place, something someone would want to run away from if they weren’t tied up.

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She piled the books back on the corner where they were, happy to have something to do to help. He tossed the flogger in his bag, and then hoisted it over his shoulder on the far side from her. He put his arm around her waist and opened the door to a muscular Asian man in slacks, a dress shirt, and a tie, and a thin woman older than Susan who was wearing a white blouse, plaid miniskirt, bobby socks, and mary janes. “Have fun, Master Alan,” Vincent said. “Thank you, Master Vincent,” said the man. The woman kept her eyes on the floor and followed the man in, not saying a thing. The man closed the door behind Vincent and Susan after they left. Vincent nodded back at the door before guiding Susan around the center room. “I think they may have come tonight specifically planning on using that room. Sandy tends to be a brat, and Master Alan won’t put up with much of that, so I suspect she’s going to be feeling both the ruler and the paddle.” He led her around to another room. It was much as he described it, although on one couch the cuddling between two men and a woman had gotten decidedly frisky. The men had the woman sandwiched, and their hands were roaming freely over her naked body. All three were a bit overweight, which somehow made it seem far more real than if they’d all looked like movie stars. The woman certainly seemed to be enjoying herself. Hot but not for me. One guy at a time is all I can handle. Vincent found a blue lounger, its upholstery soft and fuzzy from wear, and pulled her onto his lap as he sat down in it. Her head came higher than his, but she found if she ducked, she could nestle her face nicely in the crook between his head and his shoulder. Her bottom was sore, and the way his leg and his hard cock pressed against it reminded her of that, but she didn’t mind the memory one bit. “So you liked getting flogged,” he stated. It wasn’t a question, but it seemed like it required an answer. “Yes, Sir.” “Something you’d like to do again sometime?”

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Oh yeah. “Yes. But not right now. My butt hurts.” She giggled nervously. Talking about her butt shouldn’t have made her feel too self-conscious after what they did, but it did. “I’m glad it was a good experience.” “Why didn’t you tie me down? I saw the little hooks when we were cleaning up.” He smiled. “There was enough new about what we were doing without adding that. Your first flogging. Your first meeting with me. And I suspect more exhibitionism than you’re used to, although I was happy to keep that to the minimum needed for you to enjoy the flogging properly. That’s a lot, maybe too much already. There are a ton of things we could do—bondage, clamps, wax—even a lot of different ways to do a flogging, and of course different instruments to be used for impact play. If I introduced too many at once, you might like one and hate another, and it’s hard to sort out what you like and don’t like at that point. You might have decided you hated being flogged, when really you like that, but you hated being tied up. Or vice versa. That’s not fair to you, when you’re learning about your reactions to S&M.” “You’ve done this a lot, haven’t you, Sir?” “Yes, I’ve been doing this for years.” “I guess what we did was kind of boring by your standards, huh?” “Hardly. You’re a beautiful woman, Susan, and you’re not like anyone else. What we did flowed out of how we met, who you are, and how I read you, and that made it not like anything else I’ve done.” She buried her face in against his shoulder farther, not sure how to react. On the one hand, he made her feel welcome. But she also heard he’d been doing BDSM for years, and he still was picking up new women to play with, and it was her newness making it special for him. “Do you want to try other kinds of floggings?” he asked.

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“Maybe.” She looked up at him. “It’s scary. This was scary. In some ways, I can’t believe I let you do it to me, but I had to know. It could be kind of addictive, I think.” I’m afraid I might be addicted already. “It can be. People get addicted to a particular activity, and sometimes that’s not a metaphor. Feeling pain can make your body produce powerful drugs which give a kind of high. The way I was reading you, however, I don’t think you got too much of that. Of course people can be addicted to another person as well.” “You mean fall in love?” Oh, far too much of a danger with a man like him. He’s fantasy material, for sure. “Maybe, but one can be addicted to a person without loving them. And at the same time, if you’re a top, I think it’s important to love everyone you play with, at least to some extent. If you’re not ready to value their needs and wants, you’re not ready to take control of what happens to them.” She nodded slowly. That made sense, and she thought it was to his credit he felt that way. But at the same time he was saying he loved lots of women, and that made a knot in her gut. It’s my first time. Of course I’m a little infatuated. Not that I got infatuated with Tommy the first time we had sex. More disgusted, but this is different. “Best to be careful,” she said cautiously. “Safety first,” he agreed. “Emotional as well as physical.” He touched her cheek and then closed his hand around her chin. “I really liked playing with you, Susan. I’d like to play with you again.” “Now?” He shook his head. “No. I’d love to, but I think now you should wander the place and see what there is to see. Watch and learn. Get an idea what you might like doing, what turns you on, what scares the hell out of you. We could play next week. If you’re free.” “Oh.” She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed he didn’t want to play now. Or wasn’t going to, even if he wanted it.

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She straightened and ran her hands over his chest. She didn’t understand him. Every other man she’d been out with, with the exception of one Baptist kid, had been all too eager to have sex with her. And she’d offered to get him off. If it wasn’t for the hard cock under her bottom, she’d be convinced he was gay. She was sure he was no bornagain virgin, either. “We could go to your place, maybe, now?” He smiled. “Oh, so tempting.” He grabbed her bottom and lifted her slightly, his hands reminding her of the flogging and also how naked she was underneath her dress. “But I really should teach you a lesson about playing with strangers. There’s a lot of people who seem nice in clubs but aren’t the same in private. Here, there’s people watching out for you.” “And are you dangerous in private?” Before she finished asking, she knew the answer. He was dangerous anyplace. And yet she trusted him too, because every step he made, he’d been deliberate and given her an out. Or maybe she just wanted to trust him, because she’d finally met a man who could give her what she wanted. Who could hold her and make her feel cared for. He didn’t answer her but fixed her with his stare. She could gaze into the gray eyes, the color of storm clouds, forever. “I’m safe in private. But you don’t know that.” “Maybe I do,” she lied. His dangerousness was part of his appeal. Those sensuous lips, those dark eyes. The kind of man every woman’s mother warned about. Then suddenly those lips were against hers, his tongue slipping inside her mouth. She found herself looking up at him as he pulled her against his hard body, and all she could do was yield to him, letting him take her mouth by storm. Her nipples hardened. To hell with private. If he wanted to fuck her right then and there, she’d let him. His kiss made her feel light-headed, but whether it was because she wasn’t getting enough oxygen in through her nose or if her heart was skipping beats, she wasn’t sure. But she wasn’t going to resist, even if she fainted in his arms. It felt too damn good to be taken by such a strong, dominant man.

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When he finally drew back from her, she had to take a few seconds to catch her breath again. He waited, but his look was insistent, demanding, and when she was breathing normally, he tilted her chin so she couldn’t look away from him. “You think you need to be fucked, and I don’t doubt that you want that. God knows I’d love to bury myself deep in your warm, wet pussy. But you need to learn more, and I’m responsible for you. So you’re going to take a little tour.” “Do I have to?” she asked. “Yes. Now go look around, but don’t let anyone touch you. And don’t make eye contact with the doms. Some of them seem to think that’s practically an invitation. I’ll be with you, and I’d hate to end up having to get in a fight.” She blinked, not sure whether he was serious. She barely knew him, as he’d said. In some ways it was none of his business who she let touch her. But knowing he cared warmed her heart more than it should have, and she didn’t want anyone else touching anyway. “Yes, Sir.” “Good.” He lifted her off his lap enough to give her fanny a pat.

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Chapter Four Susan frowned. It felt like she was being dismissed, but he did say he would be with her. Protecting her from other doms, even, and that was an attractive thought. But she didn’t want to look around. Maybe she would, under other circumstances, but she wanted to be fucked. And she wanted him doing the fucking. Now. But she got up anyway, because it was impossible to get what she wanted and disobey. If argued, and won, what made him so attractive would be lost. She had to trust that he knew what was best, even though she seriously had her doubts. My heart knows what it wants. She’d taken two steps when she revised that. My pussy knows what it wants. Not the same thing. He had risen and was closing the distance. His arm settled into position around her waist, his hand resting comfortably above her hip. She wasn’t just going to be wandering a strange club with a stranger looming behind her. He was with her, and he’d be guiding her. That felt better. Together they walked to a small window that let them see into one of the rooms. The room itself had an oriental theme, with soft silk cushions and a chest of drawers that looked a little like a pagoda. Inside a man about her height was trussing up a short, curvy redheaded woman with a complex pattern of ropes. She couldn’t move her arms. Rope ran above, below, and between her breasts, supporting and constricting them. Susan realized she had forgotten to breathe. Her own breasts felt heavy and tingly, as if empathizing with the woman behind the window. Vincent wasn’t looking at the naked woman, she noticed. He was watching her instead. Taking in her reactions. “That’s hot,” she admitted. “Isn’t it,” Vincent agreed.

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The man continued adding more rope, crisscrossing the woman’s belly until there were three diamonds of rope on it. From the center of the lowest one, he stretched a single line between his sub’s legs, and then back up, tight enough to wedge between the cheeks of her buttocks. On that line he had tied a knot that had to be rubbing very close to the woman’s clit, if not right on it. When the redhead adjusted her weight, her eyes went wide. “How long is she going to be like that?” Susan asked. “Probably the rest of the evening,” Vincent said. “But I suspect that part of that rope will be getting a bit wet.” Susan gulped. She had no idea how that would change the sensation. But it sounded like the sort of thing she wouldn’t mind having done to her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to admit it, though. The top pulled out something that glittered. She watched, fascinated, as he teased the woman’s big puffy nipples until they were long and hard. Susan felt her own peaks tightening in response. Then the man attached a complicated-looking clamp to one nipple, and the woman shrieked. I shouldn’t want that. It looks like it hurts. But I do. Vincent brushed her breast with his hand, and she looked down. Her excitement was all too obvious. If all the things he made her watch were like that, she’d be screaming before the night was through, and it would be in frustration, not in ecstasy. His casual touch on her breast would have been enough to get her date slapped on most dates she’d been on, especially in public. Here, now, it was not nearly as much as she wanted. She didn’t think she’d resist if he turned her around and fucked her against the wall. Or even made her watch the couple through the window while he took her from behind. She realized her breath was getting ragged and a drop of sweat was sliding down her forehead. It was warm in the club, but that wasn’t all the heat she was feeling. It was hot to think about being fucked that publicly, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to try it. She leaned against Vincent, and he held her close. For a moment she fancied he knew

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everything that was going on in her head, knew her better than anyone else ever had. But that was silly, and she knew it. He gently pulled her away from the window. They moved on to another room. It was set up with a medical look, complete with an examination chair and stirrups. It didn’t strike her as sexy at all, but the couple inside seemed to be ignoring the medical equipment. She supposed they just wanted a room. The woman was older, and smaller, than most of the subs, and her dom was big and a bit fat. She took off her clothes, and the man reached into the bag he had and pulled out a cane. She’d seen what it had done on a man before, and she didn’t want to see what it would do to this little woman. “No,” she said. Vincent frowned. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to see that.” She set her jaw. He nodded. Did he think she was a wuss? Oh well, then she was a wuss. Better he know that, and that she draw the line right then and there, before he got crazy ideas. She didn’t want big welts on her ass or anywhere else. “Go ahead and look in on the dungeon,” he said, pointing at the barred window through which she’d seen the man being caned before. She hoped that scene was done. There was something different about it being done to a man, though. Intellectually, she felt it shouldn’t be. And certainly some of her reaction to the scene in the medical room was because the woman was so small and the man so huge. She shook her head. She’d have to figure that out sometime, because she didn’t like being treated differently because she was tall, either. “I’ll be right back.” She really didn’t like being left alone. She watched him as he quickly walked away, as if on a mission. He spoke to the man she’d watched in the first scene she saw, one of the ones who wore the black bracelet. Just a few words, and then he almost ran back to her. She turned to peek through the window. The tickling couple had moved on, but the other couple were still there. This room was much bigger than the others, with room

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for several people to do whatever—there was a table, and two sets of shackles set into walls. The man was chained into one of them. But the only other person there was his mistress, and she was using up a lot of space. Crack! went the whip she held. Susan took in a breath. “Now that is a whip,” she said. That flogger Vincent had used felt good, but this one made the right sound. It looked right. And the idea of it was turning her on. She wondered if Vincent could tell. Or if he felt like she was dismissing what he had used, and she really wasn’t. He’d told her he was breaking her in gently, as it were. The domme was just cracking it in the air. Nothing else, and the man was shuddering each time anyway. The sense of anticipation was delicious and frightening at the same time. Susan leaned up against Vincent and watched. Crack! This time, the whip made contact, and where it struck, a trickle of blood seeped down the man’s back. “Oh my God.” She covered her face. “Yes,” said Vincent. “That is indeed a whip.” He turned her to face him and held her face against his shoulder.

VINCENT HAD WANTED to make love to Susan. But experience had told him he was better off not to indulge that. He’d had too many subs, just his for the evening, become attached. And what was wrong with that? I’m not running the place anymore. I don’t need to be the impartial arbiter of what goes on here. What’s wrong with wanting a woman for myself? But he owed it to her to get her feet under her and let her get an idea of what she was getting into. And he wanted to know what made her tick. Bondage and nipple clamps, yes. Canes, no. And the look of the single tail pleased her more than the reality. He wasn’t into dishing out that kind of pain, although he’d provided it before to serious masochists he’d played with.

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He’d let Gray know what was going on with the idiot who was starting in with a cane without any warm-up work. Even serious masochists usually wanted to be eased into a scene. He’d let Gray figure out what to do about it, but he thought it bore watching, at least, by someone who was ready to intervene if needed. The scenes going in “the pit,” the lower area in the middle of the main room, would be more to her liking, he suspected. And he hoped. He led her there once she’d had a chance to catch her breath. She leaned against the rail that separated the pit from the gallery, her long blonde hair falling down and blocking most of her face. He brushed it back, but it didn’t stay. He enjoyed running his hand through her silky tresses anyway. He kept his other hand around her waist, making sure she didn’t get too far away. He liked the feel of her close. And he wanted to see her reactions to things, to try to find out what she liked. “So why do people play in the middle of the room?” Susan asked. He turned his attention from her to the scenes she was watching. The bondage frame had been wheeled out at some point and replaced with an X-frame and a spanking bench. Elizabeth liked to keep the furniture changing, even sometimes during the middle of the evening, to make sure different sorts of scenes happened in the center. It was hard to believe the take-charge domme spent part of her time on her knees in front of Master Gray. Then again, it was hard to believe it went the other way around, either, but somehow they seemed to make it work. On the X-frame, a brawny man was being flogged by his even more muscular top, Master Griffin, but the spanking bench was where Susan seemed to be looking at the moment. A small blonde waif named Janet had a red bottom from spanking, and now she was thanking her dom, Master Robert, by giving him a blowjob. She was still tied down to the spanking bench, but that seemed to put her at the perfect height. “Some people get off on being seen for any of a number of reasons,” Vincent said. “Embarrassment can be an aphrodisiac for some. For others, playing in public is a way

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of affirming their own sexual identity. Most doms and submissives aren’t ’out’ about their lifestyle, but here, they can wear it loud and proud.” “Instead of clothes.” Both subs were naked. Vincent chuckled. “Yes. Instead of clothes.” “I don’t see how anyone could be proud of that. I mean, we must both be a bit sick.” Susan’s words cut him like a razor blade. She turned away after she said them. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought the same thing, once upon a time. What sort of man was he to enjoy a woman’s pain? But he didn’t enjoy it unless it was the woman’s pleasure. He’d found that could take many forms, either a masochist’s direct enjoyment of pain or the need to test oneself against something difficult. He’d concluded a long time ago the women he played with weren’t sick, just wired differently. It took him a few more years to decide he was okay too, but he’d gotten there. Once, Susan’s words would have sent him into days of self-doubt, but not any longer. He didn’t like her thinking it about herself. Not one bit. “No, little imp, we aren’t sick. Just different. And I think more people are like us than admit it. Most of them don’t find a good way to act on it. Do you think those men are sick, because they’re gay?” “Of course not.” Susan’s head whipped around fast enough it was a wonder she didn’t have whiplash. She glared at him. “Of course not, indeed,” Vincent agreed. “I don’t get it myself. I don’t understand their desire, and I don’t really understand why most women prefer men, either, although obviously we wouldn’t be here as a species if they didn’t. Women are so much more beautiful. But I do know they aren’t sick, and neither are we.” He kissed her on the cheek and caressed her waist. “You are beautiful,” Susan said. “I’m just a plain Jane who had too much of a growth spurt.”

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Vincent blinked. Did she really not know how gorgeous she was? Her legs went on forever. She looked like she should be walking into a private detective’s office bringing a sad story and all sorts of trouble. “I’ve nothing against plain Janes, and I’m firmly convinced the inside is more important than the outside. But trust me, you aren’t a plain Jane.” She looked away, and he let her. He wanted to turn her little chin around, but she had a lot to digest and plenty of other things to look at. He watched her in silence as she stared at the waif with a cock in her mouth. Susan’s breath was getting tight, and her nipples were making their mark on the silhouette of her dress. Vincent let his hand fall to her bottom, cupping and squeezing her ass, and she didn’t object. “She’s got to know everyone’s watching her,” Susan said, her voice husky. “I’m sure she does. I suspect Master Robert is reminding her of that fact.” For learning about S&M, the scene with the two men was more interesting. Master Griffin was using a wide variety of implements on his slave, who Vincent had never heard called anything but “boy.” His back was leathered up by Griffin’s careful use of floggers and was ready for harder things, like the braided cat Griffin now wielded. Vincent considered directing Susan’s attention to it, although it had now reached a point where what Master Griffin was doing was far too intense to be done to a beginner. But her reaction to the other scene was more interesting. “Would you like to be in the center someday, little imp?” Susan shook her head quickly and emphatically. “Of course not. The whole idea gives me the chills.” It looks to me like it excites you. But he didn’t say anything. She’d have to make that mental leap herself. He was happy to play in public, to help the sub feel safe, or to offer a demonstration of a technique for others. There was a charge out of it, for sure, to be seen in the company of a beautiful naked or near-naked woman who was clearly submitting to him, but most of the time, he’d rather have the sight all to himself, which was part of the reason he hadn’t fucked Susan senseless when she’d offered. The one

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thing he missed about owning Excess was using the office when he and a woman needed a break from the crowd. Then again, he didn’t miss being interrupted to deal with some emergency at all. If she had a taste for exhibitionism, on the other hand, that would change what he wanted quite a bit. He always wanted to make a sub happy. To satisfy her needs of the moment, without doing any harm to what she needed in the long term. He didn’t think Susan was ready for a big public scene yet, but maybe someday it would be just what she wanted. Or needed. She straightened. “I think I’ve seen…about as much as I can take.” Vincent nodded. “This place can be a lot to absorb. You’ve done very well, your first time. I’ve seen people bolt after one look.” She smiled. “I was tempted. But I’m glad I didn’t.” “I’m very glad too.” Even if she never came back, he would treasure the evening. Their scene had been simple and mild by the standards of many, but he’d thoroughly enjoyed himself. He was tempted to take her home with him, but his reasons for why she shouldn’t go were still valid. And it had been a long time—years—since he’d brought a sub into his house. Some habits are best not broken. “How’d you get here?” “Bert drove.” She frowned. “I guess I’ll have to get a taxi home.” Vincent frowned. “Takes ’em a long time to get here. We’re kind of remote. I’ll drive you home.” “You don’t even know where I live.” “Where do you live?” “Maybe it’s not safe for me to tell you.” Smart girl. “Maybe it’s not. But I’m afraid I don’t have another solution any better. I assure you I’m not a stalker, but you only have my word on that.” The last girl he had taken home, Maureen, kept showing up at his house uninvited after they broke up. It wasn’t full-on stalking, but it was decidedly awkward. If he’d been a woman, and

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Maureen had been bigger, he knew her behavior would have seemed like more than an annoyance. But that was before he had built his own house and moved. Maureen had either given up, or she hadn’t found his new abode. She considered it for a moment and then nodded. “I would very much appreciate you driving me home, thank you, Sir. I live southwest of Philadelphia, in Kennett Square.” He raised an eyebrow. “That’s forty miles from here. Good thing I like driving. That’d be a hell of a taxi ride.” He led her to a dark blue pickup truck. She’d imagined him for a sports-car guy. He helped her into the seat with a hand on her ass. He didn’t need to do that; she could have gotten in by herself easily enough, but maybe shorter girls had a problem. Or more likely, judging from his easy grin, he wanted an excuse. The inside was neat and clean. He plugged an iPod into the car radio and then handed it to her. “See if you can find something you like on there.” She accepted it gratefully. It gave her an excuse not to talk. She needed to process. His iPod was the same kind as hers, so she soon had a handle on it. There were a lot of bands she didn’t recognize, as well as some classical stuff. She set it to shuffle and hoped. What she got was a downbeat kind of electronica, soft and soothing. “You going to be able to stay awake for driving okay with this?” she asked. He smiled. “Yep.” She leaned back and closed her eyes, thinking about everything she’d seen. And what she’d done. The way she’d wanted sex with him more than she had ever remembered wanting sex with anyone, and that was after an orgasm. She toyed briefly with the idea of inviting her up to her apartment. That would be a wild, crazy thing to do. Also stupid. She really didn’t know him well enough. Getting in a car alone with him was crazy enough. But he really made her feel relaxed and safe. Taken care of. He’d wanted her too; she was sure of it. He’d put her interests above his, and while she still wanted to argue

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that he’d been wrong about what she needed, she wasn’t sure. She’d never get a chance to see things like that again. Not unless she went back. The next thing she knew, the pickup was stopped at a red light, and he was shaking her shoulder. “Huh?” she blurted. “I think you fell asleep. I need you to give me directions now that we’re coming up on Kennett Square.” She nodded. A few minutes later he stopped his truck in front of her building. She supposed that was it, just a couple of strangers who met and had a wonderful and interesting evening. Perhaps not even all that interesting, by his standards, but wildly crazy by hers. He touched her cheek, and she turned to look at him. “Susan. Come to Excess next Friday evening, seven o’clock. I’ll make sure you’re on the guest list. Don’t wear panties. We have unfinished business, you and I.” She should have known he wouldn’t just ask for another date. He had to tell her. She ought to be irritated. Instead it reminded her of all he had done and how he’d insisted that she obey him. She didn’t want their business to be finished, either. She wanted to find out where it would lead. “Yes, Sir.” He grinned and kissed her. It started out soft , but it didn’t stay that way. Soon his hand was wrapped in her hair, and his tongue was deep in her mouth. He tasted good. When he pulled back at last, she felt like there was something missing. She wanted more. Her instincts told her he was safe. “Thanks for the ride,” she said. “Pleasure. Now get on in, while I can still keep my hands off you.” He opened her hand and stuffed something soft into it. Her panties.

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His gaze was so hot she felt like her skin was burning. “Yes, Sir,” she said. She opened the door, hopped out, and hurried to her apartment before she could do anything as stupid as invite him up for a quick fuck.

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Chapter Five A week later, Susan was watching the door to Excess from inside her car. The same bouncer was there, nodding to people he recognized, checking the ID of a few. The man was naturally gregarious, she noticed, not at all the laconic figure she’d assumed from his curt nod to Bert last week. Still, she didn’t know if she wanted to go in. Sure, Vincent had haunted her fantasies since they’d parted. Half the things she imagined him doing to her didn’t strike as safe or sane, and there was no way she’d consent to them if asked. She didn’t know if she was afraid reality couldn’t measure up or if she was afraid it would. She’d done some reading about BDSM on the Net. There was no shortage of information, although it didn’t always say the same thing. Old guard or new school, Safe, Sane, and Consensual or Risk-Aware Consensual Kink, there seemed to be as many ways to approach the subject as there were people who wrote about it. She had thought spanking, flogging, and some nipple pinching would cover the activities involved, but that only scratched the surface. And all the terms—was she a bottom, a submissive, or a slave? Slave sounded hot but such a loaded term. “Bottom” seemed to mean someone who was in it for the sensations, and she thought there was more to what she wanted than that. The one thing consistent about her fantasies was Vincent being totally, absolutely in charge. She’d hoped to get there before Vincent, maybe talk to him outside the club for a few minutes before going in. Excess was kind of…intense. And she’d dressed up for him, far more provocatively than she ever would have on her own or for any other date. Her short black dress had a V-neck, revealing all the cleavage her push-up bra could provide, and she had to adjust it now and then to make sure her bra didn’t show. The

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hem was barely low enough to cover the tops of her stockings. Hopefully Vincent would appreciate the effort. But it was a few minutes past seven, and she hadn’t seen him, which probably meant he was inside, although she hadn’t spotted his truck either. She had a feeling “late” would merit her a punishment. Which would be fine. Maybe he’d take me over his knee and spank me until I call out for him. I won’t give in easily. She smiled wanly at that. Girl, you’ve got it bad. Still, she didn’t want more punishment than she could handle. She walked toward the door. The bouncer grinned at her. “Weren’t you with that shrimp last week? Good to see a fine woman like you back. I need to see some ID to check against the guest list.” A fine woman. The man was even bigger than Vincent, although some of the extra bulk he carried around was fat rather than muscle. She knew submissives and dominants came in all shapes and sizes, but she couldn’t see the man as a sub. And no one yet had pegged her as a sub, except Vincent. She handed her driver’s license to him. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, or would it? I’ve gotten this far, I might as well be brave. “Are you a dom or a sub?” The bouncer chuckled and handed her ID back. “Pleased to meet you, Susan. I’m Joe. Just Joe, not Master Joe or Come-here-and-kiss-my-boots Joe. I think the term they use for me is vanilla. You’re here with Vince, huh?” Vince. It didn’t seem to fit with the soft curve of Master Vincent’s lips, or the elegant grace with which he moved. But she chose not to correct him. “Yes.” “Go on in, then. He hasn’t showed yet.” Joe’s eyes shifted. “Maybe he wo—Nah, I can’t do it. Me and Vince go way back. I’m not going to make a move on his woman. He left a message that he’d be here as soon as he can be. Apparently there was an accident at work. Seems he’s made arrangements for you inside, though. If you ever get tired of him and all this kinky stuff, let me know.” A wan look appeared on the bouncer’s face, and he pulled out a walkie-talkie and spoke into it. “She’s here.”

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“What’s going on?” “Vince didn’t want you to be alone in there.” So what, he set me up with some other dom? She wasn’t going to be traded around like so much meat. She’d read swinging was a big part of the lifestyle of some people. Well, that was one thing she definitely was not into. He must have gotten the wrong idea from the way he’d grabbed her from Bert so easily, but that was a one-time only of circumstance. She wasn’t going to lash out at Joe. It wasn’t his fault or his idea. She’d go in and tell Vince’s surrogate a thing or two, though, and then go right back out. At least she had her own car with her this time. She didn’t want to take her anger out on Joe, though, so instead she simply said, “Lucky me. Good to meet you, Joe.” Joe beamed, so she supposed he didn’t notice the sarcasm that had seeped into her voice about being lucky. Or maybe he just liked the last part. “Pleasure’s all mine.” Even if Joe wasn’t her type, his admiring looks and words were a confidence booster. She walked through the doors full of purpose and ready to speak her mind, but then she got sidetracked. Why isn’t he my type? Because he isn’t a dom? He was certainly a nice big hunk of man and friendly. If he could stand to lose a few pounds, maybe so could she. She didn’t think she was that shallow, although Vincent being ripped hadn’t hurt his chances. “Hi, Susan?” The voice speaking to her was too soft and high to be a man’s. She looked down and saw a woman with a perky, friendly smile. Her blue-black hair had a pink streak in it. She was wearing a tight pink top that matched the streak and a black vinyl mini that matched the rest of her hair. Susan nodded. The black hair didn’t look any more natural than the pink did, but it looked good on the other woman, and her smile was infectious.

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“I’m Amanda. Vincent asked me to answer any questions you might have. And help you fight off the doms.” Amanda winked. “We have to keep ’em in line sometimes, don’t we, sis?” “Uh, yeah. Sis?” Why did I imagine Joe was talking to a man or a dominant? Now she had a new concern: why Vincent felt he could call on this woman for a favor. But maybe that had something to do with the black bracelet Vincent and the owners wore, which obviously meant he was held in high regard at Excess. He knew people. It didn’t necessarily mean the two had a relationship. At least not of the kind that worried her. “The grand sisterhood of submissives. If it bothers you, I can avoid it.” Amanda grabbed Susan’s hand, pulling her away from the door. “Come on. We don’t want to crowd the entrance, and Mistress Elizabeth is doing a demonstration.” Sisterhood, huh? She’d never really felt she’d fit in well in groups of other women and certainly had never thought of one as a sister. Perhaps it was her height, or maybe that was just an excuse, but she wasn’t going to tell Amanda no. As she followed, she glanced around her and thought she understood better what made Excess work. Maybe the patrons were doctors or whatever in their other lives, but here they belonged. Maybe they were all outcasts in a way, their sexualities off from the norm. And I might be one of them. The other woman weaved through the crowd like an expert, not slowing down or seeming to mind when she got goosed a couple times on the way. Everyone knew Amanda, it seemed. She made it to the rail, and Susan joined her. Mistress Elizabeth was in the middle of the room, a wireless microphone clipped to her leather bustier. She curved her hand the way one would if one wanted to try to hold a little water in it, and she was waving it around. “Like this,” she said. She turned to an older woman on the spanking bench, whose skirt was pulled up around her waist and who wore only a thong beneath. She spanked her with a hard slap, and the other woman moaned. “See how my hand naturally molds itself to the

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curve of her buttocks and pushes it up with each blow.” She demonstrated again and this time made no noise, moving in slow motion. “Makes me wish I was the victim,” said Amanda. “She’s really good.” “You’ve, um, played with her?” “A couple times. She and Gray double-team subs sometimes, and man, is that an experience. Better than sex, I kid you not, which is a good thing because they have some rather firm limits as to what they will and will not do with anyone else.” Susan nodded. “Is everyone so easy?” That didn’t come out right. Amanda laughed and didn’t seem to take offense. “There’s no sense in being difficult, is there?” “No, I just meant—I mean, changing partners and couples playing with other people and all that. I’m used to the notion of dating one person at a time, and I don’t think swinging is my scene at all.” And I don’t have any interest in playing with a woman, either. Amanda nodded. “There’s a balance, I guess. I like to keep it light. I don’t want to settle down yet, you know? Plenty of fish in the sea and so on. I’ve only been in the scene for a few years, and everyone has a different way of doing things, and I learn something new with every partner.” Her face darkened for a moment. “Sometimes that I don’t want to play with them again. But usually it’s great. But no, not everyone is like that. There’s a number of married couples here who don’t do anything with other people except talk. The thing is, when you’re around other people, you learn a lot. About stuff like spanking, like Mistress Elizabeth is talking about, but also about yourself. And it’s a very supportive community. For most of us, being kinky is not something we can be completely out about at work or whatever, so this is the place where we can be ourselves.” Susan was aware of the other woman’s eyes on her. Amanda hadn’t asked a question, but she still seemed interested in a reply.

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“Yeah, I don’t think I could be completely out about it either. Although I wouldn’t talk about how I was having sex or who with even if it was completely, like, missionary position or whatever.” Amanda smiled. “But here, you can. If you want to. And no one will force you to.” “And you’re okay with everyone touching you like that?” Susan gestured back toward the way they’d come, hoping Amanda would know what she was talking about. “Everyone doesn’t touch me. Just my friends. I happen to have a lot of friends here. But if anyone touches you in a way you’re not okay with, Master Vincent will have their ass.” Susan smiled. She’d remembered the way Vincent had come to her rescue with Bert, and the way he’d told her not to let another dom touch her, and she could imagine people wouldn’t want to make him angry. “But what if a woman doesn’t have a protector like Vincent?” “Then we’ll all protect her. This place is about bondage and leather and kinky fun, not about sexual harassment. Honestly, I feel safer here than I do at my job. I’ll protect you until Master Vincent gets here.” Amanda seemed to feel there was nothing incongruous about that, even though she was much smaller. Susan smiled. Obviously, being a person with a voice was enough; you didn’t need to be big and scary. Amanda pointed. “Look, she’s got a paddle now.” Susan followed Amanda’s pointing back to the center, where Elizabeth had a long wide piece of wood with a curved handle in her hand. The bottom’s bottom was a light shade of pink. “Paddles aren’t nearly as flexible as your hand. There’s not a whole lot of different ways to use them, and they don’t give a dominant the same immediate feedback a barehanded spanking does. That is, it doesn’t make my hand sting. You want to aim a paddle at the soft, fleshy side of the bum”—she tapped the area lightly— “or possibly the upper thigh. Never, ever, the upper part of the bottom where you’re in danger of hitting kidneys and the tailbone and all sorts of bad things can happen.”

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“The good doms really know their stuff,” said Amanda. “They know their toys and they know anatomy and they can read you like you wouldn’t believe. I wouldn’t ever lie to Master Vincent if I were you. He doesn’t like it, and it’s almost impossible to slip anything by him.” How does she know? Oh. “You’ve played with him?” Susan tried to keep her voice cool and emotionless, but she didn’t succeed. “A few times,” Amanda said, after studying Susan for a moment. “You’re falling for him, aren’t you? You’re not the first. But some woman might be the last. Maybe you. A lot of guys play with someone new every week. Master Gray used to until Mistress Elizabeth came here. Master Vincent did when he owned the place. But Vincent always struck me as different, like his heart wasn’t in it completely. He did a lot of demos, and I think he felt it was best to know as many people at the club as well as possible. Don’t worry. I’m not your competition. I’d never step in between a girl and her guy if I knew what was going on.” Susan forced a smile. Of course Vincent had been with other women before. Hadn’t she been telling herself on the ride down to enjoy the experience and not expect commitment or anything like that. They’d had one date, if she could even call it that. That was it. One night that had her thinking about Vincent and looking forward to this all week long. She had no call to get jealous of every woman he’d ever been with, but knowing that didn’t suppress the feeling entirely. Then the rest of what Amanda had said registered. “Wait, he used to own the place?” She remembered what he had said, about the current owners doing a better job than the previous one. She’d thought he’d sounded a bit judgmental, but this cast it in a new light. “Yep. Listen, if you ever need someone to talk to, I can give you my number. Doms may seem psychic, but they haven’t been there, if you know what I mean.” “The sisterhood of submissives.” Amanda grinned. “Corny, huh? But still. Offer’s open.”

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Susan thought about it for a moment. She liked Amanda, instinctively. “Sure, let’s exchange numbers.” Afterward, Amanda turned back to watch the demo. Watching Mistress Elizabeth demonstrate the ins and outs of spanking was hot in a way, but Susan got the feeling it was much more aimed at the tops than the bottoms. That might not be the entire appeal. Elizabeth is kinda hot. Even my straight self can see that. The irony that Elizabeth had the sort of small, cuddly body she’d always wanted was not lost on her. If a domme can be dominant in that body, I can be submissive in mine. As soon as Vincent comes through that door. She watched. There was a tendency for people to mingle near the door, and then a critical mass would be reached where they’d realize they were blocking the entrance, and they’d all pull their conversations to the side and let people through. But there was still no Vincent. How would he take it if I had been the one with an emergency at work? He’d probably put me over his knee and spank me once for every minute. She felt herself becoming moist at the thought, which reminded her she wasn’t wearing any panties. That didn’t help. I’d like it, I think. And maybe that would be why he was doing it, really. The crowd shifted again, and she saw Vincent. At first she didn’t recognize him, and she had to do a double take. Whereas the week before he was dressed in elegant clothes from another century, today he wasn’t dressed up at all. He was wearing blue jeans and a blue shirt with black smudges on it. I was a fool to come here and dress like this too. She didn’t need for a man to be a fop, but she liked it when they showed at least some interest in how they looked on a date. The air in Excess felt thick and hard to breathe. She had to get back out, into the air, back to her normal life. Someone new every week, Amanda had said. Maybe she’d last for two, but eventually the result would be the same. People parted as Vincent made his way through the crowd.

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“Sorry I’m late. I didn’t have time to change. And hi, Amanda. Thanks for keeping Susan company.” Amanda smiled. “My pleasure. I always like meeting new sisters.” She moved away a few feet, as if to give them privacy, although they were in a crowded area of the gallery around the center. Vincent turned his attention back to Susan, his gaze sweeping from head to toe. “You look absolutely stunning, and I wouldn’t have missed out on one moment of seeing you if I’d had a choice.” She glowed from the compliment. His open stare made her want to curl up into a ball or pose for him, both at the same time. Dammit. But she knew she wouldn’t be at peace until she found out what was more important than being on time, and anything was a better subject of conversation than how she looked. “You came straight from work?” “Yep. A man who works for me had to be taken to the hospital, and as his supervisor, I went too. Had to wait for his wife to come before I felt okay leaving him alone. I could have stopped and changed, but that would have made me even later.” Oh, shit. Here I am worried about him being late when more important stuff was happening than me waiting. “Is he okay?” “He will be in a few weeks. His arm is broken, nothing life threatening. A bunch of iron pipe rolled down on him because he hadn’t secured it properly. I guess he’ll remember now not to get careless just because it’s about time to go home. Tough way to learn a lesson, though.” “Ouch. Yeah.” Vincent shrugged, and he chuckled. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been here without dressing the part. Not when it’s been in full party mode like this, anyway.” She blinked. Rather than being too lazy to put on something nice, it sounded like he’d actually skipped it for her. “Why do you always get dressed up?”

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“Well, I guess I’ve always seen it as part of the atmosphere of the place, and it helps if everyone contributes. Particularly…” “Particularly what? When you owned the place?” “Ah, I see Amanda’s been talking.” He chuckled. “It’s not a secret. I just didn’t want you to think I was passing myself off as some big shot, because it’s really not like that.” It might be a small pond, thought Susan, but he’s still a big fish in it. But I guessed that, from the way he carries himself. “Why’d you sell?” “I think I got tired of playing a role, and wanted to be myself. And it’s not exactly a way to make money. What was it Richard Branson said about how to become a millionaire? Start off as billionaire and launch an airline. Running a bondage club is a little like that but on a smaller scale.” “But you still were dressed up the night you met me.” He nodded. “It’s a way of making the transition from work to play, of making the time special. I run a construction crew, so I guess telling people what to do comes naturally. This is different.” Now that didn’t fit with her image of him at all, not from the way he was dressed when she met him. Still, the idea of him working and sweating in hot, physical labor, muscles flexing and skin glistening—that might be fun to watch sometime. Distracted by her vision, she wasn’t sure what to say. “Oh.” “Anyway, this isn’t the same. Different rules.” His grin widened. “Curvier subjects. Why did you get all dressed up?” “Because I wanted to keep your eyes on me instead of all the prettier girls here.” He moved closer to her, almost touching. “I haven’t seen any prettier girls.” “Oh.” It didn’t seem like a very good response, but she wasn’t used to having to look up to see anyone. And this close, she most definitely had to look up.

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His chest bumped against hers, and his hand went around her waist and quelled any notion she had of backing up. “And did you obey instructions?” She blushed, knowing full well what he meant. “I was here at seven.” “I know. I asked to be texted when you got here. Other instructions.” No panties. “Yes.” “Kind of a short dress to be wearing without panties, don’t you think?” Yes. “Too short?” “Perfect. It’s as if you wanted me to check.” He slid his hand down over her bottom until he reached her thigh. Apparently in the back there was flesh between the tops of her stockings and the hem of the dress, because his hand had found a bare spot. Was he going to reach beneath? She knew Amanda had been watching. Maybe other people. “No, I don’t think that’s necessary, Sir.” “It’s not your decision, though, is it, my little imp?” Of course it’s my decision. But she so didn’t want it to be. She wanted him to sweep her away and off her feet and allow herself to let it all go. “It’s not, Sir.” His hand slid under her dress and stopped on the curve of her bottom. He pulled her to him for a deep kiss, his tongue plundering hers, taking her breath away. When they finally parted, her lips were swollen and sensitive, and she wanted more. If his hand quested any farther, he’d find out how wet she was, and then he’d think he could do almost anything to her. And he’d be right. “I think checking could be rather fun, don’t you?” He moved forward, making her retreat until her back was against a wall. “Yes, Sir.” She could only manage a whisper, and her face felt feverish with embarrassment. But his hand would feel so good touching her. Wherever he wanted. He slid his hand up the front of her dress, shielding her from the crowd with his body. His finger rubbed along her pussy lips. “Please,” she told him, not even sure

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what she was asking him to do. To stop or to push his fingers inside or to fuck her right there. She pressed against him and felt the hardness in his jeans. There was plenty of him, for sure. “As I please,” he said, his voice husky. And then he frowned suddenly and pulled away. His eyes looked fierce. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “We have a watcher. Let’s move.” She looked around. It looked to her like several people were watching. She wasn’t sure why that surprised him, but maybe he didn’t want some particular person watching. An old flame of his, perhaps? Or maybe his next conquest. The thought made her heart tighten and her stomach bunch up. He grabbed her hand and led her around the gallery until they were to an alcove. He pulled her into it and pressed her against the wall. “My bag of toys is at home. But I still have my fingers, and my hands are clean.” His hands slid up the side of her hips, lifting her dress dangerously high. She couldn’t see exactly how high, because he was right up against her, but she could feel cool air on her private parts. I should stop him. But she didn’t. And she wouldn’t, even if he took the dress all the way off. One look at him, one smell, and she wanted to do whatever he said. She was addicted, all right. That’s crazy. He slid his knee between her legs. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you this week.” She rubbed against him, her bare pussy against the rough denim, her stomach against his hard cock. “You’re horny.” He stared into her eyes. “And you’re making my jeans wet. I bet I can make you come, just by rubbing against you.” “No.” Yes.

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She ground her pussy against his leg, feeling like she was making a slut out of herself and not caring. She was wet. He was hard. She wanted him inside her, and she’d happily let him fuck her right there, even though she wasn’t that kind of girl. She dreamed of being that unrestrained. Somehow, however, he broke what held her back. She was braver with him. More free. “That’s a good little imp.” That he found it pleasing made her want it even more. She put her hands on the top button of his jeans and pulled. He didn’t object. She held the zipper between two fingers and was about to pull down when she spotted Bert over his shoulder. She didn’t stop. Part of her was mortified. A group of strangers was one thing. Even Amanda, who wasn’t a stranger anymore. But to have Bert watching was something else entirely, and he was staring straight at her. What must he think of me? Part of her wanted Vincent to mark her, claim her in front of him. Show him what a real man was, and how she could be a soft “little” woman in his Vincent’s arms. So she stared, her hips moving automatically, his leg sawing back and forth between her thighs. Bert took out his phone. She couldn’t tell for sure if he was making a call or using the camera. But where showing off in front of Bert was one thing, having him take pictures, possibly to show other people he knew, was another. Their social groups didn’t intersect much, but they did know a few of the same people. “Take me home, please, Sir?” she asked, burying her head in his shoulder. He stopped the motion of his leg. “Are you not feeling well?” “No. I’m fine. To your home, if it’s not far.” She didn’t know if she had a right or a reason to trust him, but she did. He could have taken advantage of her the last time she was at Excess, and he didn’t. “I trust you.” She knew she didn’t say the words with as much conviction as she should have. She wasn’t convinced going home with him was safe. It was a risk she was willing to take.

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He frowned. For a moment, she thought he was going to refuse. “Tell me why,” he said instead. “That guy I was with last time. Bert. I don’t know if he’s taking pictures of us or talking on the phone, but he’s making me nervous. “Bloody hell.” He pulled the hem of her dress down so fast she felt the tug on her neckline. He turned around, but Bert was already putting his phone away. “We’ll tell Gray about this. Taking pictures is definitely against the rules, and if I wasn’t directly involved, I’d handle it myself, but I don’t want to be acting like I still own the place. He was watching us rather intently before, which is why I moved over here. Normally I don’t care too much what people see, but for some reason I’m feeling rather possessive about you.” She smiled. “He’s no competition.” He chuckled. “I know that.” He took her hand. He led her through the crowd toward where Gray stood watching things from the gallery, and quickly explained things to the man. “I’ll have a talk with him,” said Gray. Vincent frowned, obviously not liking the answer. “Thanks,” he said shortly to Gray, and then turned and said, “Let’s go,” to Susan. He led her to his truck, not letting go of her hand until he’d boosted her up and her bottom was resting on the car seat. “I could follow in my car.” “We’ll come back for it later.” He grinned at her. “Right now I’m going to try not to get busted for speeding on the way home. I want you more than I’ve wanted any woman for a very long time.”

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Chapter Six The little house in the woods surprised Susan. By the time the truck had climbed the winding driveway, she expected a rustic cottage. Instead, she saw a thoroughly contemporary building with more glass than siding. The roof was mostly covered with solar panels, although there was space in the middle of the grid for a skylight. The house overlooked a softly whispering stream thirty feet below and behind it. There was no garage. It would be almost impossible to construct one that didn’t mar the beauty of the place, which somehow seemed to be above internal combustion. He took his work boots off in a small foyer area the moment he entered. He pulled back a screen to reveal a neat row of shoes and a line of hangers for jackets. She took off her shoes as well, grateful for anything that made her shorter. She started a second row, and he didn’t object. Judging from his smile, she’d done the right thing to take hers off. “You can hang up your purse as well,” he said, indicating the hooks. She did so. The inside was simple, almost stark. The walls were simple black and white. The exterior walls were more frames for the windows than anything else, and any color would have detracted from the green of the woods and the blue of the sky. The living room was sparsely furnished. A chair, a flat-screen TV on an interior wall, and a Bang and Olufsen stereo in a cabinet. Two cushions, one on each side of a short fancy table. Nothing else. “I don’t have company often,” he said, gesturing her inside. Often? That was clear, with only one chair. Maybe ever. But the cushions struck her. Someone came to visit, clearly. She wandered over toward them and looked at the table more closely. She recognized the patterns of black lines on it. “A Go board?”

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“Yes,” he said with sharp interest. “Do you play?” “I played a few times, in college. It was fun. That’s a very nice-looking board.” “Thank you.” She was aware of him moving behind her, and then he wrapped his arms around her waist. A few nice things. A few perfect things, as if he didn’t want anything less than perfect in his living room. So what the hell am I doing here?

VINCENT HAD INTENDED to play with Susan in the club. It was safer for her if she got in the habit of playing in public, especially with new doms, and none of his relationships lasted. And he didn’t let people into his house, except for the occasional visits from Alan for Go games. His job was essentially social. Even though there were plenty of good opportunities to pitch in and get his hands dirty, his main role was to direct and teach others. His life at Excess had been very social as well. Home was a retreat, a hideaway from all that. He could have stayed, waiting for Bert to be dealt with. But Susan was uncomfortable, and he wanted to protect her. And surprisingly, he couldn’t wait to get her alone. He was pleased she recognized his goban. Under other circumstances he would have been happy to let her know it was a hundred years old, made of authentic kaya wood by a master craftsman from Osaka. Perhaps he would even offer a game. But he didn’t want to indulge that passion right now. Not with Susan so close. He inhaled deeply as she leaned her weight back against him. Her hair smelled like sweet oranges. He had almost forgotten that when he got the cushions, he had thought they might be used for more than playing Go. They had been formed to make it comfortable for someone to stay in the seiza position for hours while playing, which meant they would also be good for a submissive to kneel on. Later. First he had other ideas. “Little imp, I’m going to do some bad things to you, and I think you’re going to like them.”

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She shivered delightfully against him. Holding her with one arm, he found the zipper in the back of her dress and pulled down on it, taking his time as he inched it down to her waist. She didn’t object. He pushed it off of her hips, and it fell to the ground, pooling around her ankles. He let his hand drift over the twin spheres of her ass, squeezing softly. He was rewarded with a soft sigh. He let her go. “Bend over the chair.” She stepped out of her dress and obeyed. The chair wasn’t especially high, and with the footrest tucked underneath and her hands on its arms, her torso was still mostly above it. Her breasts hung down like ripe lace-covered fruit, waiting to be plucked. The slit of her pussy with its little curls of golden hair wisping around it was glistening. Her black stockings, the edges of them inches from the tops of her thighs, helped frame her pussy, making it even more inviting. He forced himself to pick up her dress. He had no place to put it in the living room, so he walked to the tiny foyer to hang it up. “Think about how I’d want to see you.” The truth was she looked damned fine the way she was, and it was all he could do not to pull open his jeans, roll a condom over his cock, and fuck her hard. She responded, though, after a moment, spreading her legs farther, arching her back. It didn’t look comfortable, but it was sexy. After he’d hung up her dress, he walked behind her and felt her pussy. When he found it very wet, he thrust two fingers into her. She moaned. God, she gets wet. She was so wet, if he fucked her a few strokes, he bet his cock would be slippery enough to take her ass without any additional lube. He loved the way his fingers slid in so easily. He took them out, rubbed up and down her slit, slickening every surface, and thrust in again. That extracted another moan, pleading this time. “Is my little imp aroused?” He knew the answer, but he wanted her to say it. “You know I am.” She seemed to struggle with the words, ashamed of her own desire. He loved it and didn’t want her to be ashamed.

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“Good girl. I always like that. Wherever we are, whatever we’re doing, I’ll always be happy to find you wet.” “Sir,” she said, like it was please and thank you all rolled up into one. He leaned over her, squeezing her breast softly. He worked his fingers in and out of her pussy, hearing her breathing shorten to little gasps of pleasure. He teased her nipples to hard nubs, pinching them and rubbing the lace of her bra against them. Mine. Mine. If he wasn’t careful, she would come. She was so close, and he had other plans for her. She’d have an orgasm later, when he wanted her to. He pulled his fingers out of her. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, sounding desperate. “No. Nothing. I’ll choose when you come. Not quite yet.” For a moment, he thought she’d argue. But she didn’t. There was a pout in her voice as she told him, “I’m yours, Sir.” Perfect. Like everything he let in this room, she was perfect. He walked over to one of the cushions next to the go table and pulled it over until it was in the middle of the room, not too far from her feet. “Kneel on this, Susan.” She glanced over her shoulder, saw it, and moved to obey. The way his heart soared as she followed directions surprised him. It was a simple pleasure: acting in harmony, him giving orders, her following them. Letting him draw her pleasure out until it was something special. “Knees apart. This far.” He held up two fists together. Many submissive women were taught to kneel with their knees as far apart as possible, but that wasn’t what the cushions were made for, and it was harder to maintain that pose for very long. Traditionally, women kept their legs together when sitting in the seiza position, but he enjoyed the extra access keeping them separate provided.

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She spread her legs the distance requested, the pink in her cheeks deepening, and looked up at him. “Hands on your thighs,” he told her. She obeyed. He nodded appreciatively. “Well done. Don’t move your hands. I want you exactly like that when I come back. You are especially not allowed to touch yourself sexually.” “Where are you going?” “To my room to get some toys I intended to pick up before coming to the club. And some clothes more suited to what we’re doing.” “You don’t need to wear any clothes on my account.” He chuckled. “Then I won’t.” Like I want to spend any more time than necessary getting dressed. But I do want to get out of my grubby work clothes. When he came back into the room naked a few minutes later, Susan was exactly as he’d left her. Still perfect. Her gaze was on him. The way her eyes went wide as she watched him was flattering. He put the briefcase he was carrying on the floor a few feet from her, opening it so she could almost but not quite see its contents. He intended to get her permission at each step of the way, and he only wanted to use a couple of things from the case, but she didn’t know that. If she seemed overanxious, he’d tell her. Otherwise, he’d let the hidden contents remind her she wasn’t in control. She was still new at this, however, and he had no intention of throwing too many different things at her at once. He pulled out a length of rope, neatly coiled, and set it in front of her. He also pulled out two tweezer-style nipple clamps, which were gentle enough for a beginner and did a good job of staying the same tightness until adjusted. He detached the chain from them and put it back in the case; even though the weight of the swinging chain wouldn’t tighten the clamps, it still intensified the sensation in a way that wasn’t under

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his or Susan’s control. When he knew his sub’s limits wouldn’t be exceeded by the random notion, that could be enjoyable, but not for the first time. She looked at the objects as he placed them in front of her, and then her gaze went back to him. Or more accurately, his crotch. The brief break from her had taken the edge off his arousal, but he was still semierect, and knowing she was watching made his cock twitch and harden. The corner of her mouth quirked up at the sight. He sat in front of her, cross-legged, knowing it would let her look all she wanted. The more aroused she was, the easier she’d find it to take what he intended for her. And the less of a struggle she had with that, the more likely it was to actually arouse her. Might as well start the cycle now. She blushed when she noticed he’d seen where she was looking. “That’s, um, a pretty big cock.” He grinned. “Glad you approve.” “Oh yeah, I approve all right. Are you going to fu—enter me?” Hell yes. “Say it the way you started to say it, and I might.” She blushed some more. She looked so lovely when she did that. “Are you going to fuck me?” “Yes. But only after we’ve played. If you do well, I’ll fuck you hard and fast.” He wasn’t sure it was dependent on how well she did. Looking at her was enough to make him hard, and he’d been anticipating having sex with her all week long. But years without a long-term relationship made him appreciate each and every time with a woman, and he didn’t want this one to pass without her learning more about herself. Or without him learning more about her. “I’ll do my best,” she promised. She glanced down at the rope and the clamps and then met his gaze again. “I’m sure you will.” He paused in case she wanted to ask a question about what was going to happen. To his delight, she didn’t but looked at him with big, trusting

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eyes. Apparently she knew he’d tell her whatever she needed to know. “First, take off your bra.” She smiled, her impish grin tugging at his heart strings. “And I’m to do that without moving my hands, Sir?” His eyes narrowed, but he’d asked subs to do things before to do things after telling them to keep their hands in position, and scolded them for using their hands when it was possible to do what he requested without. He didn’t know of any way she could get her bra off without them, however. “Point to you. You may move your hands. When you are done, cross them behind your back.” “What good are points, Sir?” She reached behind her back and undid the clasp. “They’re exchangeable for spankings later.” “I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.” She slid the straps over her shoulders and then hesitated one moment. “But I’m thinking it’s good. I’ll try to get as many as I can.” She took the bra the rest of the way off and laid it on the floor right next to the rope, spreading it out so each cup jutted upward. He hadn’t realized before he’d put the clamps so neatly behind the rope until she placed the bra so it shared the same line of symmetry with the coil of rope and the two clamps. In fact, if he followed that line, it ran right through her pussy and between her succulent breasts until it bisected her perfect lips. She smiled at him and put her hands behind her back. She might be teasing him about his need for order, but more importantly, she was enjoying herself. So many submissives approached a scene with fear, and if not fear, then with a solemnity that made it seem like a sacred ritual and bondage their religion. He was all for taking BDSM seriously because that kept everyone safe, but if one didn’t enjoy oneself, why bother with any of it? He picked up the rope and moved behind her. She turned her head to watch him, although he was sure she couldn’t see her wrists from that angle. He wound the ropes around each wrist several times, making sure they were well supported and the

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pressure evenly distributed before cinching them together and applying the finishing knot. She didn’t struggle. “Try to get free.” He didn’t doubt the effectiveness of his rope tying, but he wanted her to feel it for herself. He moved back to her front and watched her strain as she tugged at the ropes. “I can’t,” she told him, grimacing. “Well done. Do they hurt?” “No.” So the straining was just from effort. Good. “If at any point you feel your hands going numb or cold, pins and needles, or anything like that, you’re to tell me immediately. A safe word would be appropriate. Do you remember the one they use at the club?” She had to think for a moment. “Mayday, right?” He beamed at her. “Right.” “You look lovely. Kneeling. Hands tied like that. It makes your chest stand out; did you know that?” He was sure she did. He wanted to see what shades of red she would turn, and she obliged nicely. He bent down and sucked at one little nub, feeling it stiffen further in his mouth. Then he moved to the other. He casually rested his hand on her thigh, a couple of inches from her pussy, and tapped his fingers on the inside of it. She purred. She really was delicious. Perfect. I like the way she looks with her hands tied like that. I should do that to her again. He stopped and leaned back, surprised at himself. Since when did I start thinking about the future? One scene at a time. First I invite her into my house, although I had good reasons not to want to play with her at the club. And now I’m planning a relationship? I need to focus and be in the moment, because this moment is precious.

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“Is something wrong, Sir?” Her voice was soft, but it wasn’t the scared voice of a submissive who thought she might have made a mistake. It was concern, concern for him. He wasn’t used to hearing that. He was always the caregiver. “No, nothing.” He rubbed at his eye. “A speck of dust.” She smiled. “All better now?” He smiled back to reassure her. “Yep.” He ran his fingers lightly along her sides. She shivered. He kissed her, and she kissed back, nibbling on his lip, sliding her tongue alongside his. Her lips tasted so sweet, and the wetness of her tongue reminded him how wet her pussy had been. And how neglected. He slid his hand down over her chest, across her stomach, until he reached her pussy. He passed over her clit firmly and then thrust two fingers into her as far as they would go. She let out a gasp. He sat back, savoring the expression on her face. Her dazzling smile had been replaced by an openmouthed, heavy-lidded look of pure need. He pumped his fingers inside her, brushing her clit with his thumb, watching her, learning to read her. All women were different. This one was special. He watched her as her breathing got shorter, and he began to play with her tits, weighing them in his hand, rubbing a thumb over the hard nipples, then pinching and pulling on them lightly. His other thumb tapped her clit once, and then stopped rubbing it, and she moaned with frustration, but he didn’t want to tip her over quite yet. Soon. When he was satisfied her right nipple was as engorged as it would get, he withdrew his fingers, which got him not merely a moan but a whimper. Her eyes opened. “I was so close, Sir.” It started as a whine but ended as a calm statement, as if she only mentioned it in case he was unaware. “I know, my little imp. Not yet.” “I love your touch on my nipples. That makes it so much easier for me to come.” She bit her lip, and averted her gaze, as if afraid she said too much.

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“That’s good to know.” He fastened one rubber-tipped tweezer clamp on her nipple, tightening it until it gave her as much pressure as his fingers. She winced, then let out a breath. “Easy.” He touched her shoulder with one hand, caressed the side of her other breast with the other. “That’s intense,” she said, as her breathing was restored to normal. “But you can bear it for me?” “Yes. It’s actually a little easier to take than it was, um, right at first.” He smiled at her. “I love the way you give me all the information I need.” He started teasing her other nipple while he talked to her. “They’re easiest to take when you’re turned on. Do you play with your breasts when you masturbate?” She bit her lip and turned pink again. “Yes,” she whispered. “Gently or rough?” “I pinch them, especially if I’m having trouble.” “Trouble?” He knew what she meant, but he wanted her to talk about it. And if it stopped her from anticipating the other clamp and imagining the initial pain before it even hit, so much the better. With some subs the anticipation of pain and the fear of it could be worse than the sensation itself. Her blush spread down her chest. “Trouble coming. Or just trouble focusing.” He slid the second clamp over the left nipple and touched her shoulder again to steady her against the initial pain. But this time his other hand dipped between her thighs and pushed inside her pussy. Her moan of pain trailed off into a moan of pleasure. “This way I get to pinch both your nipples and still keep my hands free,” he told her. He stroked her cheek and gathered up a tear which had escaped her eye at the first bite of the clamps. “Oh my God, Sir, that’s so much…”

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He kissed her mouth lightly. “So much what? Pain? Pleasure?” “I don’t know!” She shouted it at him. Her shoulders tensed, and she closed her thighs around his arm and squeezed hard. Then she came, her pussy contracting around his fingers, and she let out a loud, high-pitched wail.

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Chapter Seven He lifted Susan up as if she was weightless. Susan thought he was going to cuddle her as he carried her to the chair, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for a cuddle yet. She was still feeling little aftershocks, and those devilish little clamps were sending bolts of electricity straight to her core. Why did he take off that chain? That looked interesting. Vincent settled her in his lap but not the way she’d expected. He pushed her legs open so she was straddling him. She wasn’t sure when he’d gotten a condom onto his cock, although she knew she was missing a few seconds there when she’d been aware of nothing except the waves of pleasure wracking her body. She managed to summon up some energy and assist him as he positioned the head of his cock at her entrance. Inch by inch, he entered her slowly, stretching her pussy as she lowered herself down until at last he was fully inside. He grinned at her, and then he lifted his hips. It was all she could do not to fall over, but he put his hands on each side of her waist and held her steady while he fucked her. He moved her easily with each thrust. She watched his muscles ripple from his six-pack abs to his mighty chest. She wanted to touch, and she couldn’t. Yet she loved being at his mercy too, unable to resist him. She’d always thought of being on top in sex as the dominant position, but there was no doubt he was in charge. Each time he bumped her swollen clit with his pubic bone sent small shudders through her. The way her breasts bounced as she rose and fell with him intensified them as well, changing the dull pleasurable ache from the clamps to a brief spike of pain she couldn’t quite comprehend, and then back again. She didn’t know whether she

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liked it or not, but it was certainly hot, and there was no way she was going to disappoint him by asking to have them off. Besides, on the whole, the longer they were on, the less pain she felt from them. Pleasure built inside her, but her eyes were fixed on his face. She’d come already, and she wanted this time to be about him. He was pounding her with urgency now; soon he would explode inside her. A brief fantasy crossed her mind of kneeling before him, sucking his cock, but if he’d wanted that, he could have had it. Right now he could have anything he wanted. Especially her. I’m yours. The thought made a pleasing warmth suffuse her all over. How simple that sounded. Real life was rarely that simple. But perhaps it could be, just for a few moments. He slid his hand between their bodies, touched her clit, and she forgot all about his pleasure. “Come now,” he whispered to her, and his voice and one touch was enough to send her over the edge. She whimpered as her whole body tensed and spasmed around the cock filling her. Then he joined her, swelling inside her and rocking her with his force. His face contorted, and she wondered if she looked like that when she came. The look was so intense, it was almost as if he was in pain. Her pussy squeezed him, milking him in some instinctive desire to be filled with the seed of a skillful man. She collapsed against his chest, spent, and immediately regretted it as her nipples complained of the clamps anew. Without her hands she couldn’t right herself, so she had to put up with it. Making a sacrifice to enjoy nestling against his shoulder and having her body close to his pleased her, which seemed pretty twisted. “You’re incredible,” he told her. “That felt so good, and I was so hot after watching and feeling you come the first time. You’re so responsive, so wet, so very beautiful.”

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She blushed. He forced her shoulders up, and her heart fell. After those words, he was pushing her away. It must have showed on her face, because he smiled at her and shook his head. “You’re fine, love. But those clamps need to come off before your nipples go numb. It will hurt, but it needs to be done. And I need to get the condom off, and then we can cuddle. Will cuddle. I insist.” Oh. “Thank you, Sir.” She loved the idea of him insisting. Maybe he liked the idea of cuddling as much as she did, but it seemed unlikely. He was a man, after all. But she got the feeling he’d insist on feeding her chicken soup if she was sick. Now where did that come from? Second date, and I’m already imagining living with him? She certainly didn’t need anyone taking care of her. And—ow! She’d been dimly aware of his fingers on the clamp and knew it was about to come off, but she wasn’t prepared for the sudden burst of pain that accompanied it as the blood rushed back into her tender peak. She tried to reach around to give it a soothing rub, but her hands were tied as securely as ever, and he didn’t seem interested in rubbing it for her. Instead, he was watching her face. “That fucking hurt.” “Yes. You didn’t look like you believed me. It always hurts.” “Rub it for me?” He shook his head. “That will only make it hurt worse, love. Trust me; I have experience.” “I’ll learn,” she promised. “You will. Ready for the other one?” The pain had subsided quite a bit. She nodded and took a breath in. Deep yoga breaths; that should help. “Ow!” The breathing helped some, but not nearly as much as she wanted. Fucking sadist. But the pain softened, and she knew she’d let him do it all over again if he

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wanted to, because her pleasure had been so intense. In fact, she thought she’d do just about anything he asked. And that thought scared her. He lifted her off him and slipped off the condom. She expected him to get up and take it out of his immaculate little room, but instead he dropped it on the floor with the clamps. Maybe he really is in a hurry to cuddle. He pulled her up against him again, and this time it was pure pleasure. She nuzzled against his hairy chest enjoying lying her head there without feeling like her feet were sticking way off the bed. Chair. Whatever. He’d extended the footrest, and she was extremely comfortable. I could fall asleep like this, easily. But she didn’t want to. She had questions. “Why didn’t you use the chain on those nasty little clamps?” “You’re still learning, little imp.” His voice was soft and patient. He wasn’t drifting off to sleep either. But she was still sure he was a man, even if he didn’t need to roll over the moment he came. “The swinging and the weight of the chain can be too much for some people. Clamps can be too much for some women too, but I don’t think there’s anyone who likes them with the extra weight but can’t stand them without.” “It’s something to work up to, you’re saying.” “If you want to work up to it.” “Would you enjoy seeing the chain on me?” She didn’t know how it would feel, but she could imagine quite well how it would look connecting her breasts and swinging between them. It would look hot. “Yes.” “Then I want to work up to it.” She looked up at him. One corner of his mouth turned up, and he looked at her thoughtfully. She nibbled on her lip, like she always did when she was trying to work something out. One night at a time was the way to be. She wasn’t falling in love, not

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after two dates. But to say she was strongly attracted to Vincent was an understatement. The sex was fantastic. The feeling of power radiating from him, however, was transcendent. She didn’t think she’d grow tired of it in a week or a month or a year. She wanted to keep seeing him. She knew there were other doms at Excess, and some of them were probably quite skillful, but that was an abstraction. Vincent was real, concrete. Maybe it was just that he was her first, but she didn’t think so. And she might be reading way too much into it—maybe he just didn’t want to be in those clothes any longer—but now that she’d been inside, she didn’t think many women had been invited into his house. Maybe he feels there’s something special about me too. “A penny for your thoughts,” Vincent said. Then again, the only thing special about me is I’m freakishly tall. “Nothing,” she told him. He raised his eyebrows and murmured, softly but with unmistakable warning in his voice, “I don’t accept being lied to, Susan.” She looked at him, wide-eyed, and remembered what Amanda said. “I wouldn’t ever lie to Master Vincent if I were you.” “I was thinking I’d like to do this again with you.” A smiled flashed on his face for only an instant. “We will. If you can learn not to evade my questions or give me half-truths.” She squirmed. She wanted to avoid his gaze, but that would be like admitting she was concealing something. “I don’t want to scare you away.” “I don’t get scared easily.” “I’d like to do this again and again, then.” Yes, I’m addicted. “I don’t want it to stop or our relationship to end. I like serving you. I like the things you do to me. And I want to learn to take more and to serve better, and”—she paused—“what gives you pleasure, and how I can please you best. Could you—”

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“Could I what?” She wished she could read him, but she couldn’t, not at all. “Would you train me, Sir?” His face wasn’t so unreadable anymore. He was surprised, and she wished she could take the words back. Maybe those weren’t the right words, but they were what she wanted. She loved the way he told her exactly how far apart he wanted her knees and where he wanted her hands. She wanted to learn how he wanted everything. “I’ll think about it,” he said at last. He’d have said yes if he wanted it, wouldn’t he? “I’ll think about it” usually meant “No, but I don’t want to upset you” in her experience. Maybe she didn’t know what she was asking for, entirely, but she knew she wanted to find out. And maybe him bringing me home isn’t as special as I think. I kind of invited myself, didn’t I? He untied her wrists, and they snuggled some more. He ran his hands through her hair, which felt lovely. She ran her hands over his chest, watching the way the hair on it swirled when she rubbed in circles. She teased his right nipple with her fingernail and looked up at him. “Hmm?” He arched his eyebrows. “I was just wondering if you like it when people do the things you do to you.” She pinched his nipple between her fingers. He let out a pleasurable sigh. “Some things, yes. But one of the things I like best about BDSM is it isn’t symmetric. Pleasure can go in one direction without worrying about when it comes back in the other. There doesn’t have to be quid pro quo all the time, and two people don’t have to like the same things. Instead, we can be two halves of the same coin. Different. Unique. Individual.” “And that’s not true in vanilla relationships?” “It can be. It’s rarely explicit in the same way. It’s not a matter of it being better…just better for me. Better for you, I hope, too.”

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She bit her lip and nodded. “I think maybe. I guess what we’ve done so far wasn’t too bad.” She shrugged. “Could be worse.” Vincent glowered at her, but she could tell he was trying to suppress a laugh. Then suddenly, he kicked back the footrest. “Another point to you, my little imp,” he said, and before Susan knew what was happening, she was stretched over his lap, and he’d tied her hands back. He rested his own right hand on the curve where her bottom met her legs. Her head was a foot from the nice, shiny floor. “Don’t I get a choice about when I spend those points?” “Not this time.” He touched her hands, giving each a squeeze. “Hands okay? No numbness, no tingling?” “Um, yes, but they’d like to be free so I could fight back!” “I’d win anyway. They’re nice and warm, so you’ve got good circulation. Here we go.” He smacked her bottom, hard enough to startle her into silence. And damn him if being bound and helpless over his knee didn’t warm her pussy. He had her full attention now. Two more swats did nothing to cool the fire. “Am I supposed to be counting?” she asked. She wanted to be doing it the way he wanted. “Counting is for punishment,” Vincent told her, with a light pat on her bottom that still stung because of the previous swats. “This is for fun.” He gave her another swat, hard this time, stinging and jolting her. “Whose?” she retorted, even though she found herself thrusting her butt up to take the next blow. “Mine,” he said, pushing her legs open. He slid his fingers along her pussy. “Wet,” he told her, as if she didn’t know. “That’s one of the delightful things about women. Wonderful recovery time.” He pinched her clit lightly, sending sparks all over, and then drew his hand back. She moaned to complain of its leaving.

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It came back hard on her ass, the pain mingling in her core. She felt herself get even wetter, and she squirmed to try to get some kind of friction against him. She didn’t succeed, but she did notice his rapidly hardening cock pressing against her belly. “Seems I’m not the only one with a quick recovery time,” she told him. Another swat landed. “Sir!” “Good girl. It’s about time you learned some respect.” He stroked her pussy. He didn’t have to pull her legs open again; she’d kept them spread in case he wanted to touch her there—or spank her there, although that frightened her. “Do that, and I’ll call you whatever you want, Sir.” “Hmm. You might be trainable after all.” Her heart surged. “Yes, Sir.” Unless it was her imagination, he was getting even harder. Seemed at least part of him liked the idea. She found herself moving in a rhythm with him, pressing up against his lap each time he swatted her bottom, then sticking her ass up for him every time he paused. His fingers would wrap under her sometimes to tap her pussy, and she liked those strokes the best of all. I can come if he keeps doing that. Maybe just from one more of those. “First lesson, trainee, is to never, ever come without permission.” He stopped to squeeze her hand. Checking her circulation, perhaps. The knot he had tied this time seemed more constrictive than before, but she felt okay so far. She wasn’t paying much attention to her hands, though. “And how do I stop when you’re doing that?” So close. Does he know how close I am? Her nerves felt like they were coiled and waiting to spring. And calling her trainee didn’t make them relax one bit. “If you can’t control yourself, you might want to let me know. And possibly ask for permission.” “Can I come?”

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He swatted her, compressing her left cheek hard, jolting her but not touching her pussy. If he kept to those left cheek, right cheek strokes and didn’t put another one down her center, she might be able to hold off, forever on the edge. She didn’t know whether that would be good or bad. “You can do better than that,” he told her. “Can I come, please?” Another swat, this one on the right. Then again, she might not be able to hold off. Each swat seemed to tug at her pussy and sent pleasurable tingles all the way up her spine about a second after his hand met her flesh. “Slight improvement,” he said. “Can I come, please, Sir, Master of the universe, my trainer, owner of orgasms, e—” “Much better. Yes.” He struck her right down the middle, and after his fingers struck her pussy, they stayed, rubbing her clit, until she shrieked out. She closed her thighs around his wrist and squeezed it there so hard her knees hurt, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t going anywhere while she shuddered out her pleasure, gasping for breath. When she finally got her breath back, she thought it was only fair she finish her sentence. “Evil sadistic bastard.” “On the other hand, maybe you could still use work.” He laughed, and his amusement warmed her heart. Master. She always assumed anyone who would be called that would be incredibly full of himself, but he could laugh at himself with her. “Thank you, Master.” He rubbed her sore bottom gently, and then untied her wrists, before saying anything. “You’re welcome. You’re staying the night, by the way.” Mmm. Sounds good to me. She didn’t say it, because it sounded too flip. “Yes, Master.” She stretched her hands. They felt stiff but not too bad. She wasn’t entirely sure she was glad to have them free.

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“And now, I want your mouth on my cock, and I want it now because you’ve made me incredibly hard.” She smiled. “Will you show me exactly how you like it done? I don’t have a lot of experience, although it’s not quite my first time.” She slithered off his lap and moved the cushion in front of the chair, kneeling on it. “I’ll train you,” he promised. “And you’ll get plenty of practice.” Oh my. What have I gotten myself into? But for the orgasms he gave her, it seemed like a more than reasonable trade.

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Chapter Eight Train her. Why had he agreed to that? He must have been thinking with his cock, and if so, it had been well rewarded. Susan might not have a lot of experience at oral sex, but she more than made up for it with enthusiasm. She managed to coax him to another fantastic orgasm, despite their recent coupling. “Sorry I couldn’t stay on and swallow it all. It’s a reflex, and maybe I do need practice.” A little cum was dripping down her chin and on her breasts. It looked damn sexy, actually. “You may not apologize for that, little imp. That was amazing. Breathtaking.” Literally. If she hadn’t looked so disappointed at not being able to hold him inside her mouth while he was coming, he would have waited until he caught his breath to say anything. Her mouth had felt so good he’d forgotten to breathe for a few moments. “And,” he added after a few gulps of oxygen, “I don’t mind making a mess of you in the slightest.” She looked down and blushed. The angle of her head almost hid the pleased smile that crossed her face for a moment. By the time she tilted her head up again, she looked lost, and she’d wiped her face. “What do I do now?” she asked. Which got him right back to the whole issue of training. He’d shown a number of novice submissives how to negotiate, when to use a safe word, how to speak to a dom respectfully. That was the work of an hour, maybe two if they were on the slow side. He couldn’t pretend that was all he agreed to with Susan. He’d been teaching things about BDSM for years, but to train a person meant more than imparting a lesson or two from a scene. As he saw it, Susan had asked to be molded into something special. But what he valued most, she already had. Skill had never been as important to him as enthusiasm.

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The fact was, there was no such thing as the perfect submissive. Every dom desired different qualities and had different ways of doing things. What was a must for one might be anathema to another. The only thing I can do is train her to be my perfect submissive. And if I do that, will I be able to let her go? “Sir? Master?” He leaned forward and wiped her chin with his thumb. He’d have to do his best. And as for what happened when they were finished, he’d have to wait and see. “Master. You trust me enough to train you? I don’t need you to do what I say without questioning, but I do need you to give me the benefit of the doubt. There’s no golden set of laws in BDSM. I can’t guarantee that what I teach you will please every dom or domme in the world.” “Dom or dom?” she repeated, looking confused. He chuckled. “It was clear in my mind, but I guess it sounds the same when I say it, doesn’t it? Male dominant or female dominant.” “Ah. Well, not really interested in the women anyway. I think if you teach me to please you, that will do quite well.” She looked up at him with an insincere-looking innocence. Do you know what kind of trap you’ve laid for me? I’m beginning to suspect you might, my little imp. He wondered if he had the strength to escape it or if he even wanted to. “I think the next thing for us to do is go to bed. I have a spare toothbrush, and you can clean up if you wish in the bathroom off my bedroom. And you won’t need a nightie. I have the feeling tomorrow is going to require a lot of energy on both our parts, and bed is the best place to teach you more about a very important BDSM practice.” She blinked. “What’s that, Master?” “Cuddling.” She smirked. “I think I could get into that. You’ll show me how to do it right, Master?”

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Now she’s teasing me. Again. Being teased by a sub had never been something he’d thought to put on a list of “likes,” but he was becoming quite enamored of it. From this sub anyway. “Absolutely. I’ll give explicit directions.” “Would you like me to help clean up here first? He’d known “submissives” who could take a single-tail whipping if asked to do so by their tops but who wouldn’t ever think to ask about helping with a menial task like cleaning up. “That would be excellent.” He got up and moved to help, but from her kneeling position, she was closer to almost everything on the floor. She gathered up the rope and the clamps and even the used condom before he could get his hands on them. He’d intended to get the condom himself. He took the rope from her hands. “Tomorrow I’ll teach you how I like my ropes stored. There’s a way to keep them nice and neat but still easy to use when needed. But after midnight is not a good time to learn things like that.” With practiced hands he quickly looped and twisted the rope until it was all in a knot that would come out completely straight with a good hard pull. “Looks complicated. Where’s the nearest wastebasket?” she asked after watching him with the rope. “In the kitchen.” He pointed toward the archway that joined the kitchen to the living room and watched her shapely ass as she strode toward it. Even in bare feet she had a sexy walk, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much more her hips would sway if she was wearing heels. He’d broken a lot of his own personal rules tonight, some almost without thinking. Maybe at some point he’d let his very special guest wear shoes in the house. Hell, I’ve already invited her into my bedroom. I’d have straightened it up when I was getting undressed if I’d any intention of doing that. Ah well, after seeing the living room, she probably thinks I’m a neat freak; I suppose that an unmade bed and a few clothes on the floor will provide balance. Besides, she’s got to know the real me at some point.

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His lips pursed. Had he ever shown any woman the real Vincent? It’d been a long, long time, and he’d been a far different person. A facet of himself, sure, but not the whole thing. He hung the bra up over the rod in the foyer. He didn’t want it or any other clothing available to her first thing in the morning. “All done, Sir. And I accidentally walked off with these. Will they go back in your case?” She opened her hand to reveal the clamps. He took them from her hand. “Yes, they will. Did you like them?” He bent down and put the rope inside and took out the chain that had run between the clamps. “Oh, that’s a complicated question. Should I be kneeling, Master?” He smiled. “No, not necessary. But I’ll show you a pleasing way to stand. Lace your hands behind your head.” She did. “Now move your head back against them, and you’ll feel your chest rise as you do.” He watched her obey and smiled. Training might be fun, after all. “Now move your legs apart until you’re confident that I could feel your pussy without obstruction. Thank you, very good. That’s lovely.” He stroked her softly between the legs, enjoying the moist folds and the way her breath caught when he touched her. “It makes your breasts available too, for touching, pinching, or clamping even. Whatever I wish, really.” He wasn’t sure if she was reacting more to his touch or his words when she made a mewling sound. “Yes, Master.” “Please stand that way when returning to me. Or when I say the word ‘present’ to you without a gesture.” He took his hand away and reattached the chain to one of the clamps. “What would it mean with a gesture, Master?”

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He smiled. “You’ll learn tomorrow.” He attached the other clamp, crouched down, put the set into the case, and closed it. “Now, keep your hands where they are, if you can. It might be a challenge.” Her eyes widened. “What are you—” He scooped her up, putting his hand behind her knees as he stood and catching her back with the other hand as she tipped over. As he expected, she reached out to try to break her fall, but he had her. “We’ll work on that,” he promised, and he carried her to the bedroom.

SUSAN SUPPOSED SHE should have warned him that she snored, but it had been a while since she slept with someone, and she never noticed the sounds she made. Her past partners had usually felt obliged to point it out. He was probably about to tell her himself. I better ingratiate myself now. Maybe I should suck him off again. When she’d fallen asleep, his arm had been draped over her waist in a way that made her feel protected and cherished, but it wasn’t there now. She rolled over to face him. He wasn’t there, and her next breath told her why. Smells of bacon cooking drifted to her, and probably eggs as well. Good thing I’m not a vegetarian. She looked about for clothes and remembered that she had taken hers off in the living room. She’d intended to carry them with her, but when he picked her up and carried her, she’d forgotten all that. I could search his closet for a shirt to wear. But even as big as he was, his shirt wouldn’t cover her like it would a shorter woman. I guess I’m to be naked. If he wanted me to wear something, he would have told me. Her stockings were draped over the edge of his laundry basket, but she decided to let them be. She got out of bed, and her bladder immediately told her she needed to pee. There was a bathroom adjoining, and she found a neat set of towels stacked up on the vanity, obviously placed there for her benefit. She smiled. It was certainly going to be an interesting day.

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Train me. What was I thinking? But the idea still excited her. Still, on the second date? He was the first dom she’d ever met, and she ought to explore other options. After she emptied her bladder, she looked at herself in the mirror. It’s not like I’m falling in love with him; I just think I’m unlikely to do better anytime soon. She frowned, not totally convinced. Her hair was all tousled, and her brush was back at home. She ran her hands through her hair to neaten it as best she could, took a deep breath, and followed her nose to the kitchen. He was standing at the stove, making an omelet. He wore a tight pair of black jeans and nothing else. She watched for a moment, thinking he hadn’t noticed her, admiring the curves of his biceps and the taut lines of his stomach. “Good morning, imp,” he said after a moment, without turning his head. “Present.” Oh. She took a moment to remember what she was supposed to do, and then laced her hands behind her neck. It made her breasts tingle to be thrust out like that, made available to him. He smiled at her. “Well done. You look lovely this morning.” “I’m a mess.” She contradicted him without thinking. He chuckled. “You know, it’s always good to tell your dom when you think he’s wrong.” She gulped. He must be being sarcastic. “I’m so sorry! My mouth runs away with me sometimes, Master.” “I was being serious. A dom needs to know what their sub feels, and honesty is far more important than agreement. In private, I can deal with almost anything, but you wish to be trained, so I’ll train you. There are probably better ways to do it, however, especially in public. For instance, if I ask you if you want to do something, and you don’t, you might say ‘only if it pleases you’ rather than a simple ‘no.’ Or if you disagree with what I say, you might try ‘if you say so.’ You don’t have to stick to the formula, but at least those are some words if you find it difficult. We’ll try again. You look lovely this morning.”

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“If it pleases you to think so, Master.” He smiled. “Trust my little imp to find her own way. It does please me to think so, and it pleases me more that it’s true. You’re beautiful. Relax and have a seat.” He gestured to a small wooden table, set with plates for two, which was pushed against one wall of the kitchen where there was a window. She smiled. From the way he looked at her admiringly, he seemed to really believe what he was saying. “Do you need coffee in the morning?” he asked. “No, thank you. Do I, um, get any clothes?” “No. I’ll let you know when you’re allowed to wear clothes.” “Um, thanks, Master.” There were two tall glasses filled with orange juice, and three chairs, one on each side other than the wall, and she sat down on one of the chairs. The chairs were simple wooden chairs with pale blue flat detachable cushions on the seat, and it felt strange to have her bare butt on the fabric and her bare back against the cool wood. But she was soon distracted by the view out the window overlooking the stream behind his house, the rest of the vista filled with the green leaves of trees. It was gorgeous, and she could imagine how it might look in the fall when the leaves turned golden or in the winter with trees bare and snow covering the banks of the stream. “Are you a vegetarian?” he asked. “No.” He shoveled five pieces of bacon onto her plate from where they’d been sitting on a paper-towel-covered tray, and then put five on his own. “I figured the odds were if you were a vegan, you’d have spoken up when I used a leather flogger on you, but in case you didn’t eat meat, I made the omelet without and made them separately so they wouldn’t have bacon grease in them. Allergic to anything?” “Yes, Master. Peanuts.” “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t use peanut oil. I didn’t want to take chances.”

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She smiled. He thought of everything, it seemed. “Thank you, Master. Trust me, the peanut reaction is not a pretty sight. I’ve got an EpiPen in my purse, though, if anything happens.” He nodded. “Good to know. I’ve used one before. One of the guys on my crew is allergic to bees.” He set an omelet on her plate straight from the pan before starting his own. “Go ahead and eat while it’s hot,” he told her. “Mine will be ready soon enough. I need to know more about you, Susan. Knowing what you’re allergic to is a start. Do you have any other medical conditions, especially ones that might affect our play or your ability to follow some kinds of directions?” She thought about it. “I had patellar tendinopathy—jumper’s knee—years ago from playing basketball, but it’s mostly healed now. Still, I need to keep the jumping to a minimum. I don’t suppose that would really come up, though.” “Does it bother you when you kneel?” “No. It hurts me a little when I stand up afterward.” He nodded. “That’s precisely the sort of thing I need to know. Would it help if I helped you up?” She thought about for a moment. She could do most of the work with her other leg, which she did more or less reflexively. But the less strain she put her leg under when straightening the better. “Yes, that would help quite a bit.” “Well, then I’ll do that. And if you feel that any other activity is putting strain on it, let me know, please.” He folded the omelet he was cooking over, and she was reminded that she was supposed to be eating. She cut off a bit of omelet with the side of her fork, put it into her mouth, and sighed. There were bits of tomatoes and bell pepper, as well as creamy cheese, perfectly cooked eggs, and a hint of dill. “Wow, this is good.” She giggled. “Thank you, Master.” “What’s so funny?”

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“Here you are, serving me while I sit about. Not exactly like Master and slave, is it?” “Slave, hmm?” He pursed his lips. “BDSM relationships are all different, like I was saying. I’m sure in some you’d be doing the cooking, but not right this moment between us. I know where things are in this kitchen, and if you have a secret desire to cook for me, it will have to wait. Do you?” “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, would it be?” He laughed. “Smart-ass. That will get you into trouble one of these days, little imp. But not until after you finish eating. Answer the question.” Despite his words he didn’t look angry. In trouble. What would he do? It made her shiver in a mixture of anticipation and dread. She didn’t know what to think about that. She took a breath. She’d have to trust him. “Yes, Master.” What was the question again? Cooking. “Um, not really a desire to cook, but I would, if you wanted. I’m not really very fond of cooking.” Hmm, that doesn’t seem like a very good submissive answer. “I’d be very happy to bring you a drink or set the table or otherwise be of service. But I think you might be disappointed in me as a cook. Unless you have a real fondness for tuna casserole or mac and cheese.” He smiled. “I’m no gourmet chef myself, but I’m used to fixing food for me, and it’s a pleasure to have someone else here to enjoy it.” He grabbed his plate from the table, transferred the finished omelet to it with a tip of the pan, and then sat down to eat with her. She hadn’t been thinking about food one way or the other when she’d asked him to train her. “BDSM is about a lot more than sex and pain and tying people up, isn’t it?” He nodded. “It can be. For some people, it’s a twenty-four-hour-a-day thing and affects the way they sleep, the way they eat, almost every aspect of their lives. For others, it’s something that kicks in only in the bedroom or at a club. For still more, it’s something that they do with their lover sometimes, as a spice or change of pace to vanilla lovemaking.”

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“The twenty-four-hour-a-day thing sounds intense. But I guess that’s what we’re doing, at least for now?” It seemed so simple to say yes, Master, but she was beginning to realize there was a lot that needed to be spelled out. He finished chewing a forkful and leaned forward to talk to her. “For today, yes. But if you need a break, say the safe word, mayday, and we’ll stop. You don’t have to be in excessive pain or danger. If you want five minutes or even hours to go back to being your normal self, then say it. Because as far as I’m concerned, you’re an equal in every way, except when we both want you not to be.” “I’m hoping I won’t need breaks.” He smiled. “You used the word ‘slave’ a moment ago. What does that word mean to you? You’ll find language is important in BDSM. Sometimes all that separates BDSM from vanilla is the difference between ‘yes’ and ‘yes, Sir.’” She pursed her lips and thought about it, but she didn’t really have a good answer. “I guess I used it because it’s kind of hot. I didn’t really think about it. It goes with Master; that’s all.” “I think a lot of people use it for that reason. But I’d make a few distinctions, and again, other people might draw the lines differently, and there are overlaps. A bottom is someone who receives the attentions of a top, whether or not she’s submissive. A submissive is someone who enjoys or chooses to submit her will to a dominant, who might be called Sir or who might be called Master. Both are terms of respect. Someone might be a Master—Master Gray, say—to you, but not your Master. You’re acknowledging status, not a relationship there, and if you’re addressing someone who isn’t your master, you should use their name as well as their title to make it clear that you’re not making a claim on them.” “It’s very complicated. But I think I got that, so far.” “Good. People have come up with far more elaborate ways in BDSM to communicate status or preference. I won’t get started on hankie codes, where tops and bottoms use handkerchiefs to indicate what sort of scene they are looking for, and

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which pocket the handkerchief is in might indicate whether they wish to bottom or top. Personally, I prefer talking and risking being turned down now and then.” The thought of him propositioning someone else didn’t please her. Oddly, the thought of them turning him down pleased her even less. What kind of bitch thinks she’s too good for my Vincent? She managed to turn her frown into a smile at that, but not before he noticed. “What’s wrong, Susan?” She bit her lip, not really wanting to say. But she remembered what he said about him needing to know things. She might as well say it. “I don’t like the idea of you with other women.” He smiled crookedly. “I think I can get that. I don’t much like the idea of you with another man.” “I’m not looking for another one.” “Fair enough. I think I have my hands full at the moment with you.” Not exactly a promise of fidelity, but she’d take it. “Now then. Where were we? Ah yes. Masters and slaves. A servant might call someone Master. But a slave has something beyond a Master. A slave has an owner. Calling someone your slave, despite the jerks one runs into online and elsewhere who toss the term about casually, is a sign of commitment at least as strong as putting a ring on their finger. Probably stronger, given the divorce rate.” She swallowed. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, I’ve only really just met you.” He leaned back, and she thought he looked relieved. Yet there was something else there too, some kind of regret? Perhaps she was only seeing the regret she herself felt, and she saw her own emotions in him. But she knew she was right. She didn’t know him nearly well enough for commitment. “Glad we have that straight. Now then, my lovely submissive and trainee, please finish your food.” He bent down to eat his breakfast, and she did the same. They spent

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the next few minutes in silence, the deliciousness of the food distracting her only slightly from wondering what was to come. When they were done, he leaned back in chair, lacing his hands behind his neck not unlike the way she had been instructed to do. But with his body relaxed and his expression thoughtful, it took on an entirely different meaning. He was studying her. She folded her arms over her chest, embarrassed at being nude in such an otherwise normal situation. Being naked for sex was one thing, but wearing no clothes for breakfast was somehow more humiliating. “No. Hands behind your head, as you do when standing. Sit up straight.” “But you’re not sitting up straight.” “We aren’t the same.” She frowned at that. She knew he was right. This was what she’d asked for. But the unfairness of it grated on her all of a sudden. What was sexy last night wasn’t sexy this morning. But as she obeyed, even grumpily, her chest rose, and she became more aware of her body in a different way. Her nipples started tingling again. He reached out and ran his finger across one hardening peak, and it stiffened further. Then the other. Then back again, his gaze on her face. The sexy was back. Being naked meant she was available to him, and that at any moment, he might start doing things to her—wild, kinky things. He got up and pulled his chair back, and then picked up the table and moved it to the side as well. He moved the spare chair out of the way. Now there was nothing between him and her nakedness, and she went from turned on to feeling vulnerable again. No, that’s not quite right. I’m turned on and vulnerable. He stood over her and then reached down, bending his knees slightly, and she thought he was going to pick her up out of the chair, although it seemed an awkward position. Instead he lifted the chair with her in it an inch of the ground and repositioned it so that her back was to the window. Then he went back near the range he’d been

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making omelets on and leaned on the edge of the counter next to it. He looked over her and then ordered in a low, husky voice, “Legs open.” She spread her legs, feeling the heat from her breasts spread through her core. Could I possibly be more vulnerable and still be turned on? “Very nice. Play with yourself.” Her face scrunched up. “Excuse me?” He raised an eyebrow. “Did you not hear me?” “Um, I heard you, but why?” She squirmed in her chair, and it was all she could do not to slam her thighs shut. Thank goodness her hands were laced behind her head, or she’d be covering up with them too, and she was sure he wouldn’t like that. But she’d have to bring them forward to follow directions anyway. “I’m not always going to be able to tell you why, little imp. But this time I’ll indulge you. I need to know what pleases you best, and you already know. So you’re going to show me. Play like you want to come as fast as possible, this time, but ask permission when you get close.” Fuck. She noticed he said this time too, implying she might have to do this all over again. Once was hard enough. Maybe it got easier, but she doubted it. She had to admit his reasons made some sense, however. She slid her right hand between her legs. He said efficient, and the fastest way she knew to get there involved being rough with her breasts and rubbing her clit and not bothering with any penetration. Even if she had her vibrator, it would work faster on her clit than inside her. She gripped her left nipple between her thumb and the side of her index finger and squeezed, while her other hand moved between her legs, going slowly at first but building up speed as the pain began to hit. She didn’t understand why nipple pain was so effective, but she knew it was. She looked back at him and saw him studying her. Her fingers almost faltered at that, and then his serious expression broadened into a smile. He shifted his weight, and

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she noticed his cock straining against his pants. All right then. I don’t mind if I’m turning him on. She was tempted to draw it out and make a show of it, but those weren’t her instructions. So instead she tugged at her peaks and rubbed two fingers over her clit fast, feeling things build inside her, closer and closer until the circumstances faded and all she wanted to do was come. “Don’t forget to ask, trainee,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “Can I?” He chuckled. “Can you what?” Bastard. “Can I come, Master?” “No. Stop right there. Hands behind your head.” Oh my God. She clenched her hands into fists and ground her teeth together before she could obey. “You’ll get enough orgasms, Susan. I promise that.” He moved forward and stroked the sides of her breasts gently, to the sides of her sore nipples. “You’re really quite rough with yourself. If I’d seen that, I might have started with the chain on the clamps after all. Or even used less gentle clamps.” Oh my. “They get worse?” “They definitely get more intense. I have a set that get tighter every time you pull on them. You might find you like the intensity. We’ll find out. You now understand that to present means to display yourself and make yourself available for me. Let’s try one more such position. Come over to the counter.” He moved aside and gestured to where he’d been. She wasn’t sure whether she was allowed to use her hands to get up, so she kept them where she was when she rose, which she didn’t think was going to look very graceful. It didn’t. She walked over to where he indicated.

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“If I point to something you can bend over, like a desk or a table or this counter, I want you to make your ass available to me, so that I can spank you or fuck you as I choose. Think about how to do that best, and you’ll end up in the right place.” She nodded. Using her hands to help her stabilize, she stretched out over the deep counter, and then put her arms under her head. Her forearm ended up almost touching the wall, but there was barely room for her torso on the counter. Her breasts were cold and squished against the varnished wood. She spread her legs, her feet wider than her shoulders. Maybe he would spank her or fuck her even. She could always hope, although she got the feeling she was being taught as an academic exercise. She heard a snap being undone, then a crinkling sound, and then he placed his hand on her hip. She wiggled her butt, trying to encourage him. The edge of the counter was a sharp right angle, and she wasn’t quite desperate enough to rub her clit against it to get off, but she thought about it. He entered her in a hard thrust, almost before she had time to register the fact that his cock was brushing against her pussy lips. Then he grabbed her hips, pulling and pushing her in rhythm with his pistoning cock. “Come now!” he told her. She’d forgotten all about asking. With the third thrust, her world exploded, white light filling her vision and her pussy clenching around him. She squeezed her own arm hard to stop from thrashing around. He kept fucking her. He lifted her slightly so that his balls bounced against her clit with every thrust, driving her on toward another climax. It felt so good to be with someone who cared about her pleasure. But she could feel his heavy breathing and knew this wasn’t all about her. He needs to come too. He needs me. I can be more than a limp doll for him. There wasn’t much to grab on to, but she pushed against the wall at the edge of the counter to press herself against him. “Fuck me, Master. Use me for your pleasure.” Come inside me.

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He grunted and pulled her hips one more time, burying himself in deeply. She felt him swell and pulse inside her. “Oh God. Oh God!” he exclaimed. Men always seemed so stoic about their orgasms, even though they sought them as if they were twice as good as hers. To hear him vocalize his pleasure pushed her over the edge, making her body tremble as the sensations poured through her, wave upon wave, in perfect sync with him. She didn’t know if it was okay to break position, although she’d already taken some liberties with her hands in order to push back. She lifted her head, careful to dodge the cabinets above even as he put out a hand to shield her from them. She puckered her lips, and he bent down and kissed her, pulling her carefully back out of danger. Their tongues intertwined. She wanted to taste him and feel him on every inch of her body, and for a moment, it seemed like no closeness could ever satiate that need. He reached down to hold the condom on his cock and slipped out of her, backing up and pulling her with him so she could twist around and face him. His chest felt warm and solid, and she pressed against him, squishing her breasts against his hard muscles. She found herself doing what she always resisted—being aggressive, pushing her tongue inside his mouth in a demanding kiss. She could be as strong as she wanted with him because he would always be stronger still. She didn’t have to hold back to preserve his sense of masculinity. She grabbed his taut ass, and he grabbed hers back, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. They were both out of breath when they finally let go. “You’re a hell of a kisser.” He reached up to brush her hair from her cheek. “You’re not half bad yourself.” She grinned and then added, “Master.” Being naked in the kitchen didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore. I could get used to this. I could definitely get used to this.

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Chapter Nine She’d been surprised when at the end of the weekend he hadn’t given a time for them to get together next. “I’ll call you,” he’d said. The look in her eyes must have given away her hurt and disbelief, because he’d looked her in the eye and repeated it with emphasis. “I will call you.” Something wasn’t right. The weekend had been lovely—difficult at times but wonderful. Still, the way he’d let her go made her wonder if he was really ready for a relationship. She resolved to give him time to get used to the idea, but she really wanted to take matters into her own hands. On Tuesday he hadn’t called yet, and the name on the paper on her boss’s desk caught her eye. Vincent Furillo was listed as a contractor on a vegetarian restaurant Archer and Associates had designed across the line in Delaware. She’d worked on the design. She had no idea what her Vincent’s last name was, and he probably wasn’t the only man with that name in construction. But she’d been working on some plans for an office building she wasn’t satisfied with all morning, and a breath of fresh air might be what she needed. “I’m going to head out to the Sunlight Restaurant site and see how it’s going,” she told James Archer, who greeted the news with a raised eyebrow. “Everything all right, Susan? You never do on-sites unless I ask you to.” Susan laughed. “Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf.” Archer nodded. “When you come back, bring the old Susan. We need her insight on the Morris building, and she’s been distracted lately.” Oops. She hadn’t been a complete slacker, but she had been daydreaming some. It was hard to get a man like Vincent out of her mind or stop from thinking of what he

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might do to her or order her to do. Or whether he’d call. I’ll get used to this eventually, right? Well, I’d like to get used to it. She’d felt a lot happier lately too, but Archer wouldn’t care about that. On the way down to the site, she thought about what she’d say if it was him there. Am I stalking? She had a perfectly reasonable explanation for her presence, if it came to that. The site was little more than a hole in the ground and a foundation at the moment, the first elements of the frame beginning to go up from the basement level. A dozen men in hard hats scurried around, and Susan could watch them from her vantage point on the sidewalk at the corner of the block. It took her only a few seconds to spot Vincent. Even among a number of well-muscled men and wearing a hard hat like all the others, he stood out. She watched him work for a couple minutes. A few of the men had looked up, distracted, and were staring at her; she supposed women didn’t stop and watch them work very often. They were laughing, and one even pointed, but Vincent kept on his task. He seemed to be instructing two men in how a beam should be placed, and he was demonstrating rather than just telling. He put one in, his muscles straining with the weight of it. I could watch that all day. Then he stepped back as his two men put in another. He nodded approvingly, and the men smiled and started on a third beam. Then he noticed a number of men weren’t working. “No time for gawking, guys. Let’s get to work.” He followed up with a few words of Spanish, probably saying the same thing, and as the men sheepishly scurried to obey, he looked up to see what they were looking at. His eyes widened as he saw Susan, and she thought she saw a trace of a smile. He glanced at his watch and then yelled, “On second thought, lunchtime. Break!” This order was met with more enthusiasm, but she noticed a number of the men kept working, finishing what they were doing before going on break. He climbed up to where she stood. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

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She couldn’t tell whether he was happy to see her or not. “I’m from Archer and Associates. It’s my day to go out inspecting. I designed the roof of this place, among other things.” He chuckled, and she relaxed. “We’re a long way from the roof. How long have you been with Archer?” “Four years.” “Huh. Never seen you out before. I’m sure I would have remembered.” He looked at her curiously, and just as she was about to get uncomfortable, he added, “There’s a sub place a block away that’s good. Let’s grab lunch.” He wiped his hand off on his thigh and put it around her waist. “Um, okay. Um, Master.” For all her planning in the car, she realized she didn’t have this planned out very well. He was in control, not her. He walked her down the street until they turned into a small dive, and he ordered two Philly cheesesteaks. “This place knows how to make ’em right. Out here in the burbs, you get all sorts of strange variations.” She nodded, unconvinced. She’d never understood the fuss about Philly cheesesteak after moving from Ohio four years ago. But when they got their subs, sat down in a booth, and she took a bite, her eyes widened. “This is good,” she said. “What’s the secret?” He laughed. “You don’t wanna know.” “It’s like the cheese is all over and practically liquid, it’s so well melted.” He leaned back and watched her eat for a few seconds. “It’s nice to see you enjoying yourself.” “Seems to happen a lot around you.” He smiled. “Good. Now why are you really here?”

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Oh. She thought of insisting on her story. How could he know otherwise? “I saw your name on a contract on Archer’s desk and thought I’d get some fresh air. And gawk.” The corner of his eye crinkled. “You like watching men work?” “I suppose I do. Mostly you, actually.” “You realize I’m in for no end of ribbing when I get back, don’t you? Guy like me, going out with a beautiful woman in a suit?” Is that how he sees it? It was almost like he was saying he was dating above his station or something. “Of course, totally worth it,” he added. “Next time, though, give me a call and let me know you’re coming.” He took a pencil from his pocket and scribbled his phone number on the wrapper her sub had come in. “Cell phone. You should have it anyway.” ”Thank you.” ”Thanks for this unexpected pleasure.” “My pleasure, Master. It’s nice, getting to be, you know, normal for a few minutes.” “You wouldn’t mind if I took you out to dinner sometime, then?” “Mind? I’d love it!” “Next Monday night, then.” “What about Friday?” “Friday I’m going to be teaching you all about public play. Gray bounced Bert, so we don’t have to worry about that. He called me and told me his membership was revoked. And they made him delete the pictures off his cell phone.” “Oh.” Public play. She shifted uneasily in her chair. The thought scared her. And turned her on. Why does it turn me on so much? Her pussy was getting wetter and wetter the more she imagined what he might do. He would be in control of how much she wore, what he did to her. She knew she’d obey. “Yes, Master. And Saturday?”

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“My place. I’m fixing you dinner. Are you wearing panties?” She gulped. “Um, yes, I usually do.” He nodded. “I won’t make you take them off now. But next time you come inspecting, I will. And I expect them off for our dinner date. I’m all for having a nice, normal romantic night out with you—in fact I’m looking forward to it—but I always like you having a reminder you’re mine.” The way he said the word sent a shiver all the way down her spine. Her pussy tingled, and she knew it wasn’t going to get any relief until she got home to her vibrator. It was a poor substitute for Vincent, but she really didn’t think she’d last the two days until Friday without it.

VINCENT CHECKED THE bolts holding the bondage frame together. They were tight. It was a tall structure, built for holding the weight of a large sub suspended off the ground. He’d tightened the bolts on it every Friday night for years, because they had a tendency to loosen after a hard evening’s use. He’d mentioned it to Elizabeth when he’d sold the place to her, and obviously she was keeping up. It made him more convinced than ever he’d done the right thing in stepping down as owner of Excess. Susan was the other reason he was glad he’d stepped down. Would he have ever allowed himself to spend an entire weekend with a woman like that if he’d still owned the place? He doubted it. Maybe I can only own one or the other. He returned to getting ready, trying to shake that thought out of his mind. He didn’t own Susan. Sometimes he thought it was the other way around, the way she’d taken over his dreams. She was big, tough, not a fragile flower at all, yet he still wanted to take care of her. He pulled out everything he needed for the approaching scene and neatly organized them on a small table. He looked out over the chattering crowd, which was paying scant attention to him in the center. Tonight was the night to test Susan’s exhibitionistic streak and see what happened.

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Susan was in the ladies’ room with Amanda, getting ready and doing whatever women did to “freshen up.” She’d smiled at him and waved when she got in and immediately latched on to Amanda before he’d had a chance to do more than return her blown kiss. He’d hoped they’d end up getting along when he’d had Amanda meet her the night he was late. The experienced sub would make a good and impartial guide. Much more impartial than I am. And when I drop her, she’ll need a friend. But he didn’t want to drop her. He wanted more of her each day, and if he wasn’t careful, eventually he’d want more than she was willing to give. And then she’d drop him. Thursday night he’d told her on the phone what he’d planned, and when she’d called him Friday afternoon to tell him she had an important meeting with a client early Saturday morning, he’d half expected her to bail on him. But instead she said she’d appreciate it if they’d finish early so she could get a good night’s sleep. Perfectly reasonable, and he noted with pleasure she’d made it a request, not a demand. “Can I wear panties?” she’d asked on the phone. “Only if you wear nothing on top of them,” he’d told her. She’d arrived wearing a trench coat, and he had no idea what she had underneath. He spotted Amanda wearing a schoolgirl outfit first, but Susan was right behind her, and she held his attention. She was dressed in black lingerie—black lacy bra, thong, garter belt, stockings, and heels—and nothing else. Amanda was leading her through the crowd, holding her hand, which Vincent appreciated. An unescorted sub dressed that way could get a lot of unwelcome attention. As it was, the two women were being gawked at, but that was it. They came down the stairs into the pit. He couldn’t tear his gaze off Susan. She was beautiful. The tops of her breasts made gentle curves that made him want to squeeze them; her nipples, pinker than he remembered them, were clearly visible through the lace. Her lips were a reflective red he didn’t think they’d been when she

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entered. Her gaze was averted, but now and then, she’d look up shyly, catch his eyes for a moment, and then look back, a smile on her lips. “Amanda said I had to take the trenchcoat off before I got here,” she complained when they arrived. “Was that your order, Master?” He chuckled. “No, but it was a lovely idea.” Amanda put Susan’s hand in Vincent’s. “Have fun, you two,” she said. Amanda took a couple steps backward, staying facing him long enough for him to thank her, and then turned to head upstairs. He brushed the back of his hand against Susan’s right breast, noting the hard bud its peak had become. “Being so provocatively dressed seems to have turned you on. Did you like having everyone stare at you?” She blushed. “No,” she murmured, but she looked away when she said it. She was lying. The heat was turned up, as usual. Her pulse sped up, and her breath caught, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her reaction. It was nice to show her off, for sure. Look at what I have. In any case lying was not acceptable. “Then your panties won’t be wet, either, if I check?” Her voice caught on whatever she was going to say, and then she stopped. “Yes, Master. I was turned on. Is that bad?” He smiled. “It’s the way you are, Susan. I suspected when I first met you. Shy but you’ve got a wicked streak in you too. I’m rather fond of wicked women. But I don’t like it when you lie to me. How can I do things you enjoy if I don’t know what they are? Put your hands out in front of you.” She bit her lip and did as directed, and he attached cuffs around her wrists. He was going to have to punish her, but he wanted her to stew on it for a few moments first. “Present, please.”

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She spread her legs and laced her hands behind the back of her head as she’d been taught. She faced away from as much of the crowd as possible, although since the gallery formed an almost complete circle around the pit, she couldn’t avoid them entirely. Her gaze was on him, and her chest was thrust out. He couldn’t resist pinching the tight little buds that seemed to be trying to drill their way through the bra. Her breath caught again. “More of that later,” he promised. He took the other set of cuffs off the table and strapped one around each ankle. “Thank you, Master. I like it when you play with my breasts.” “You know, usually I blindfold a sub at the start of her first public scene, so she’ll be able to shut out the crowd. But I don’t think I’ll do that with you yet. Maybe later.” She gulped. He smiled. Apprehension, if it didn’t turn to panic, could mix with arousal powerfully. He had her just where he wanted her. “I think I get you. You’re not a show-off in the usual sense. You’re not one to flaunt your body. But having other people watch gets to you, nonetheless. We’re all wired differently, and in your case being embarrassed is tied into being aroused. Not humiliated—embarrassed. So I want you to know I’m going to make you look good. Everything I do to you tonight will show you off for the wonderful submissive you are and that I’ve trained you to be. It will all be within your limits, but you’re going to have to stretch yourself. In doing so you will bring me pleasure. As for your pleasure, well, that’s in my hands, isn’t it?” She nodded. “Yes, Master.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. It was going to be a wonderful night. A sort of graduation, perhaps. If she performed as he expected, every unattached dom in the room was going to want to play with her in the future. The thought twisted his gut, but it wasn’t going to stop him. It was her life. Her choices. This wasn’t necessarily the last time they’d play together. He took her shoulder and led her under the bondage frame, and then turned her in the direction that would display her best.

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SUSAN CLOSED HER eyes as she faced the gallery. Her hands were still laced behind her. There weren’t as many little conversations going on there anymore. Instead there were people watching her, or maybe they were watching Vincent. She opened her eyes and caught sight of Amanda. The other girl winked, licked her lips, and gave her a lascivious grin. Okay, I can do this. Vincent took hold of one of her wrists and lifted it. He clipped the cuff on it to chain hanging from the lintel, and then he did the same with the other wrist. He pulled her legs apart. He’d always given her instructions, showing her how he wanted her, and let her move. There was something nice about obeying, but there was something wonderful about being manhandled too. She could let her mind go and just be. Her legs were spread almost to the point she couldn’t keep her balance, and she grabbed on to the chains above her for stability. At that point, he attached the ankle cuffs to chains of their own. She wasn’t going to get to close her legs anytime soon. With the heels on, it was going to be a challenge to keep her balance. She slumped, trying to see if it was easier not to try, but she quickly tightened her legs muscles and brought herself back up. Leaning back was hard on the arms. I don’t have control of this. I’m wherever he puts me. The thought made her tingle, and that made her realize how wet she’d become. Thank goodness for opaque panties, however skimpy they might be. And black wouldn’t show the dampness too much. He ran his hands over her body. She closed her eyes. Everyone could see where he was putting his hands: on her breasts, between her legs, everywhere he wanted. They settled on her breasts at last, lifting them better than any underwire or padding would ever do. “I think they might want to see more of these,” he whispered. She kept silent. She wasn’t going to say no. She certainly wasn’t going to say yes. The idea of being exposed turned her on, but she’d gone as far as she dared go on her own. The rest was up to him.

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“Let’s get them all ready first,” he said. He squeezed her breasts, lightly at first, but soon he had her moaning from the way he pinched tight and pulled. “That’s a good girl. Nice stiff nipples. Your little nubs get so big and hard when you’re excited. It’s quite extraordinary.” He pulled down the bra cup on the left side, and she felt cool air against the underside of her breast. His hand was warm, but he slowly drew it downward until her nipple was exposed. Then he moved to the other side. She closed her eyes. He was right that having people watch turned her on, but seeing individual faces was confusing. It was enough to know they were out there. In fact, on one level, she wished they’d all go away, but her pussy was juicing, and it wasn’t all the touch of his hands. It was like their pain play. She wanted it to stop, but she didn’t, all at the same time. But even though she was turned on, she could feel the panic rising in her. If she opened her eyes, she’d see everyone, and they’d all be staring. Opening her eyes would be like looking down from a tall precipice: not very smart but almost irresistible. If she did, she knew she’d want to get away and hide. Sweat broke out on her brow. Something warm that smelled of leather touched her eyes. She tried to open her eyes, but all she could see was darkness. She heard the snick of Velcro as the blindfold was snugly attached. “Thank you, Master.” He seemed to know when too much was enough. He’d watched her and changed his plans based on her reaction. That didn’t put her in control, but it meant she was cared for. Safe. The panic faded, and her shoulders relaxed. He pulled the other bra cup down. Her peaks felt as if they were as hard as rocks. She pressed forward against his palm, aching for contact. He ran his fingers over each nipple again and then up to her shoulders. He was walking around her again. Maybe he was blocking her from view. She could only hope. She felt the rubber press against the sides of her nipple, and she realized instantly what it was, even though it didn’t feel quite like the tweezer clamps he’d used on her

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the previous weekend. This clamp squeezed the rigid nub harder, and she gasped. But the hot pain quickly faded to warmth, spreading from her breasts all through her body before coalescing in her core. When he clamped the other side, it wasn’t a surprise, and she only had to bite her lip for a few seconds to hold back another gasp. A cool chain tickled below her ribs, and she knew she’d feel its weight every time she moved. Was it only a week ago she felt clamps on her nipples for the first time? They weren’t quite as scary anymore because she knew what to expect. They’d still sting like hell coming off, but she could settle into the way they made her peaks ache and welcome it. She wiggled when his hand touched her shoulder, seeing what it felt like when the chain swung. They seemed to pinch harder, filling her with delicious intensity, shooting pleasure through her as if there was a direct line from them to her clit. “Easy, honey. These are the ones that get tighter when they’re pulled on.” She stilled. So far it felt good, but she could imagine it becoming quite uncomfortable if they got much tighter. And she still didn’t know how she’d react to the variety of floggers he intended to use on her back. She’d caught a glimpse of them laid out on the table. I hope I can take them all. For him. And for me. She told herself to relax. She was in good hands. He rubbed her shoulders with strong but gentle fingers, taking away tension in her back. Very good hands indeed. Does he know every time he tugs on the front of my shoulder, I can feel my skin stretch all the way through my chest, and that intensifies the clamps? I bet he does. One hand let go. That probably meant he was up to something. But he kept one hand on her shoulder, and she appreciated the connectedness. He was there for her. The other hand let go, but she didn’t lose him for long. The flogger came down on her back, making a loud slapping noise but producing only a little more pressure than the backrub had before it. It was the deerskin flogger she knew, the same one he’d used in their first scene. No problem. I can take that.

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Then the flogger hit her hard, and she jerked forward. The chain between her nipples swung and tugged at her. She bit her lip. God, that’s intense. She tried to resist the next one, but they were all light until she relaxed again, and he caught her by surprise. The fire in her nipples flared all over again. For a second she thought about how she must look—a chain, probably silver, waving between two clamped tits. Then the next blow struck, and thinking about anything but the sensations was too much to do. Suddenly, her back felt like it was on fire. It wasn’t a hard hit, but it was so much more intense, a dozen tiny stings. It hadn’t even sounded as hard. It was a sudden sharp distraction from the pain in front, and it got her attention, but it faded quickly. The deerskin flogger hadn’t produced such an effect. But then she heard its almost familiar whoosh as it thudded into her and made her rattle the chains. Sting or thud, she never knew which one to expect. Dimly she figured out he had a flogger in each hand and that the two were not at all the same. He wrapped the deerskin around to sting her breasts and sent the chain swinging again, right when she got the hang of not being rocked by its blows. The sensations blended, trickled down her spine, and settled at its base. She felt as if she was floating away, aware of the stings distantly now, a minor melody played over the deep harmony of need in her belly. He reached around her and clapped his palm to her mound, and her pussy clenched in a miniature climax. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. “More,” she heard herself say. Instead he simply slipped his hand into her panties, his fingers tantalizingly close to her clit but not quite reaching. “Want your panties off, love? I’ll give you more.” It was blackmail, and she knew it. She’d come here knowing her bra might come off but intending her panties to stay on. Bad enough not to have a skirt over them. But she couldn’t remember the formula for saying no politely, and besides, she wanted more. Badly. “Yes, Master.”

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She heard two snips, and then her panties were pulled back through her legs. They were gone. Her pussy was bare. On display, like her breasts. His palm slapped against her mound again, and this time his fingers reached. She tried to rock against them, anxious for more than a touch, but then his hand was gone. Then back, bringing a sting that didn’t matter. She arched her hips, knowing it probably looked horribly slutty but not caring anymore, and this time his hand lingered long enough for her to get some friction. Not enough. “You want to come, little imp?” he asked, his voice light and teasing. “You know I do, Master!” “I could fuck you right here in front of everyone,” he murmured. “Yes.” His cock would feel wonderful, and she didn’t care anymore. He’d slip right in. She’d soaked her panties, and now there was liquid running down her thighs. “Too bad you’re not in charge, hmm?” He held her mound again, two fingers pressing down on her clit, and then he spanked her. She shrieked in surprise. He wasn’t being gentle, and the force of it ground her clit against his fingers. It felt so damned good and so bad all at once. Then he did it again and again and again, and she climaxed, her whole body tingling and pulsing for him. Someone was screaming, and it took her a moment to realize it was her. In front of all those people. Oh my God. There couldn’t be anyone in Excess, even in the private rooms, who didn’t know she’d come. “You bastard,” she whispered. He nibbled her neck. “You lovely girl.” “Thank you.” She felt in a haze, an almost narcotic high. “Thank you.” “God, you’re sexy.” His voice was low, husky. “We’re not done.” “Oh.” She smiled. “As you wish, Master.” “What I wish for is you.” He unclipped her right wrist and then reattached it, giving her more slack. Then he did the same to the other. She didn’t know why until he

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bent her forward. A moment later, she felt his condom-covered cock at her entrance. She knew with her feet chained, she was open to him. He entered her as easily as she’d expected, even though she had to stretch to accommodate his girth. Then he started moving against her, using her for his pleasure. It was his turn. She was sure she didn’t have another orgasm left in her, but her body tried to tell her differently, building and making her pussy tingle with need. Then he tugged on the chain connecting her two nipples. Both clamps tightened around her tender peaks at once, sending a stream of pain and pleasure shooting right to her clit. On his next thrust, he held her mound again, pulling her onto him, and when his finger rubbed her clit and his cock was buried deep inside her, she gasped, her pussy contracting around him. The intensity with which her climax tore through her body belied the drugged feeling of a minute before, and it seemed to go on and on, as if she couldn’t stop coming. Then he pulsed and grunted, and she knew he was coming too. Her pussy fluttered, trying to milk him. She wondered what it would be like to have him spurting into her womb instead of in a sheath of rubber, and she shivered. I shouldn’t be thinking of things like that. He pulled out of her, but he didn’t let go. With one hand, he supported her, and with the other, he deftly unclipped her wrist cuffs from the chains. He helped her down to sit on the floor, and then undid her ankle cuffs, his arm staying around her shoulders. He placed one hand over the blindfold before slipping it off, slowly opening his fingers to let the light in as her eyes adjusted. Then he reached over to her left nipple, and she grabbed his wrist. She knew the clamps would hurt like hell coming off. She looked down. They were complicated looking things, and she wasn’t sure exactly how they worked, but he said they tightened when you pulled on them. She was curious. “They have to come off sometime, little imp.”

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“Yes, Master.” She took a deep breath. She wanted to feel all they could give her, first. “If it pleased you to tug on them first, I would like to feel that.” He smiled. “You’re sure.” No. “Yes, Master.” “I’ll let you get away with that one.” He tugged on the chain, and she felt the clamps bite into her nipples. She had to grit her teeth against the pain. They didn’t loosen when he let go. What am I trying to prove? “Again, Master?” He shook his head and tugged again. This time she couldn’t hold back the squeal of agony, and she had to breathe hard and fast until it subsided to a manageable level. Even as it was, they ached horribly. She remembered having painkillers after she’d broken her foot one time. They didn’t really make the pain go away. She just didn’t care about it. This was like that. “Again, Master?” “No.” Without warning, he grabbed her hands, pulled them behind her back, and clipped the two cuffs together, as if guessing at her impulse to do it herself if he wouldn’t. “We can try sometime when you’re not flying, love. You’ve nothing to prove to anyone.” A tear ran down her face. Maybe that’s what I needed to know. That he’d stop me. He kissed her, softly, and the tears started flowing faster, out of control now. She wasn’t sad. He was so lovely. God, he does bad things to me, but I love it. I love him. He held her. People were still out there watching probably. She noted it, but she didn’t care. He was holding her. That was enough. He waited until the tears stopped flowing, not saying anything, acting like he had all the time in the world. She was aware of some other people moving equipment around near them, but she didn’t look to see who they were. “Okay,” she said. “I’m okay.”

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“Good girl.” “You destroyed my panties, didn’t you?” “Yes. But I like you better without.” She didn’t know why she didn’t argue. But she didn’t even want to. “As you wish, Master.” Saying the words made her feel better. She wanted things to be as he wished. She’d always looked after mostly herself, and it felt strange to feel so unselfish. But good, as if he’d unlocked a better person inside her. She heard a nearby male voice, and it wasn’t Vincent’s. “I’ve got your gear, Vincent, and I’ll clean up. Get her to the cuddle room.” She looked up, and it was Master Gray. “Thanks, man.” Vincent nodded and got to his feet, then bent down to pick her up. She relaxed in his arms. He climbed up the stairs with her, and people got out of their way until he’d found a couch to settle onto. I love you. But the words didn’t come. Vincent looked into her eyes. “Susan, I need to take your clamps off, and that needs to happen now. They’re on so tight I’d worry about damage if they were on much longer.” Oh. “Yes, Master. It’s going to hurt a lot, isn’t it?” He nodded. “It’s going to hurt a lot. Grab my arm and squeeze if you need to.” She nodded and grabbed his forearm in her left hand. She had to hold it near the wrist, or she could barely get a good grip. He released the clamp on her left nipple, slowly easing up the pressure, but from the moment he started, it felt like it was on fire. She squeezed, digging her fingernails into his arm. “Ow, ow, ow!” “Two minutes until the other one. Breathe. Focus on breathing as regularly as you can. Deep breaths.”

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She nodded, knowing he was right. The pain went down, but God, it hurt. She wondered what it would feel like if she didn’t feel kind of high, and she decided she didn’t want to know. He waited, glanced at his watch, and then took the other one off. Knowing what was coming didn’t help. If anything, anticipation made it worse. She squeezed his arm hard. It wasn’t until a minute later when she could finally let go that she could see the marks she’d left in his arm, deep indentations. In one spot, she’d actually drawn blood. “I need to trim my fingernails.” It was a lame apology, and she knew it. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it hurt you worse than it hurt me. It’s not every day a dom gets a mark he can wear with pride.” He winked at her. She smiled. She snuggled up and kissed his shoulder. “Judging from the applause, I bet there were at least a dozen doms here who would love to play with you, Susan.” She froze. Was he about to tell her he’d finished her training, and he was letting her go? “What applause? I didn’t hear any applause.” If she denied the applause, maybe the dozen doms could go away too. And she was telling the truth—she really hadn’t heard any clapping. “I think your mind might have been otherwise occupied.” He looked amused. “Did you hear yourself scream?” “Yes.” She made a face at him. That was embarrassing. “Good, because I wasn’t sure at the time. You had quite a ride. Anyway, as I was saying, you made quite an impression.” She frowned, then sighed. He’d known he wasn’t a long-term guy. Amanda had told her the same thing. She knew it already. “But I don’t want to let you play with any of them.”

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She blinked. She felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her chest. She played back his words in her mind to make sure she understood them and what they implied, and almost missed the fact that he was still talking. “I want you to be mine, all mine,” he told her. “I want to have the right to say they can’t have you. Which I suppose means the one thing I’ve been avoiding saying to anyone.” Her heart soared. “I love you, Susan.” She smiled. “I love you too, Vincent.” “And I want you to be my slave. I want to own you.” She blinked. Own her? “That, um, that’s a lot to take in.” She wasn’t even sure what it meant. Only one way to find out. “What does that mean? I mean, legally, you can’t own someone.” “Of course. It means I don't intend to let you go, and I don't expect you to leave me, either. It means I trust you to love me and to obey me, and it means I trust myself to love you back and honor and cherish you. It means a connection meant to stay there every second of both of our lives, built on respect, trust, and honesty, nurtured by openness and affection.” Obedience. Respect. Trust. Honesty. Isn’t that exactly what I want? But the other words were harder to swallow. Own. Slave. She certainly wasn’t interested in being anyone else’s. It had only been two weeks, but she already knew that much. But she owned herself. How can I give something that basic to anyone else? And if I say I need to figure it all out, will I lose him? Her heart pounded. She didn’t want to lose him. She didn’t want to risk it. She took a deep breath. If I would, there wouldn’t be much there to begin with, is there? “I need to—” she started.

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“You don’t need to—” he began at the same time. They stared at each other for a moment, and then he chuckled. “You first. I promise I’ll say exactly the same thing after, that I would have said before, and we’ll see how they match up.” She nodded. “I need to think about it. That was all I was going to say. Your turn.” “I was going to say you don’t need to give me answer now. Or in a week or even a month. Know it’s there if you want it.” She gave him an innocent look, but she couldn’t resist smiling. “Maybe I still need training.” He grinned. “We can do that. I don’t know you need it, but practice makes perfect.” “Doesn’t it, though? Thank you, Master.” She leaned against him, and he held her quietly, running his hands through her hair. He was comfy. So nice and solid. She could fall asleep there, which would be a very bad idea, because she needed to be in Philadelphia at a god-awful hour. She didn’t want to leave, but maybe she could use the long drive to clear her head. “I need to go. Maybe grab a soda at a convenience store and head for home. Get some sleep.” He nodded. “We can get you a can from the bar, I suspect. Safer than stopping.” She chuckled. Most men decided she could take care of herself. And she could, unless someone had a knife or a gun. Then it didn’t matter what size she was; she was still a woman and possibly a target. She appreciated his concern. “Thank you.”

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Chapter Ten Vincent leaned back in his chair, the intricate patterns of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos playing on the stereo. He enjoyed a wide variety of music, but it was for Bach he’d bought his high-end stereo system. He closed his eyes. He hoped he hadn’t blown it with Susan. He’d come on strong and at the worst possible time, when he knew she had a limited time to talk. She could read so many things into what he said. He didn’t want to keep her naked and chained—well, not for more than an hour or two. He didn’t want her to quit her job. He was willing to negotiate where they spent their time together, whether to live in two places or one, and any of a number of other issues. He didn’t need to win every argument. And she could be and probably was thinking he meant otherwise. But he wanted her in his life. He didn’t want to be her master just for a scene or a weekend. And if she ever decided to play with someone else, he knew he’d feel like his heart had been ripped from him. Plenty of fish in the sea, they say. Ha. He’d caught and released lots of fish and enjoyed their company for a while. He’d expected to continue with the same pattern. But Susan had broken that all down, and when she asked to be trained, he’d been undone entirely, even if it took him a little while to realize it. He’d been fishing long enough to know when one was the catch of a lifetime. She took to everything he wanted to do to her, with her. He looked at the clock. One fifteen. He’d expected to hear from her by now, a phone call at least. He’d even checked his e-mail a half dozen times. Maybe it was a good sign, and she was thinking about what he’d said. Or maybe she’s procrastinating telling me to fuck off.

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The last notes of the third concerto finished. I’ve done enough sitting around. There was a place a hundred feet from the house where the ground flattened near the stream, and he’d set up a chair there because it was so very peaceful. It was time he replaced it with a bench, and he’d been working on building one in the basement. Hopefully, someday, Susan would share it with him. He was determined to be optimistic until proven otherwise, but he needed to be doing something to make it work, not sit around and wait.

SUSAN TURNED OFF of I-95 and headed toward Vincent’s place. She ought to have called first, but she wanted to talk to him face-to-face and find out what he had meant when he said he wanted to own her. She’d had a rocky sleep before the meeting, and her attempt to take a nap after had failed as well. Fortunately, the client had been happy with her suggestions of how to arrange a solar array on his mansion, as well as a green roof on the backside, which would be largely hidden from view. Primarily, he had wanted to talk to Archer about expanding the bathrooms, which had nothing to do with her. Had she been less sleepy, she might have tried to sell him on a more efficient way to heat the water for his giant bathtub, using on-the-spot heating rather than heating the water in the basement and pumping it halfway across the house. She couldn’t get Vincent out of her mind. Slave. It was a fantasy word, not a reality. She’d always considered herself to be a person well grounded in reality. In her job she dealt with clients who didn’t know what was possible and who were amazed at what could be done with solar energy but also people who expected her to create miracles without expecting to pay for them. There was still a substantial outlay for most of the best energy-saving solutions. She dealt in facts, not dreams. The word “slave” made her horny, and she hadn’t done anything about that, as tempting as her vibrator had seemed. She stopped because she wanted Vincent’s approval, his control of her body. She remembered how he’d brought her to the brink of orgasm and then left her alone with orders not to pleasure herself. It had been so

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tempting, but she’d stayed still. Unfortunately, thinking of Vincent deciding whether or not she was allowed to masturbate only made her more aroused. A slave wouldn’t decide things like that for herself, would she? She really wished that thought didn’t make her so wet. But there were things she had no intention of giving up too. Her job, which did a lot of good in the world as well as providing her with a comfortable living. And as lovely as Vincent’s place was, it was tiny and designed for just one person to live in. He would have to move in with her, not the other way around, and she didn’t see him leaving his labor of love. Or they’d find a third place; she hadn’t really rented her apartment with two in mind, either. Maybe it was best if they lived separately. There were a lot of things that were best kept separate. She’d only known Vincent for a few weeks. That wasn’t nearly long enough. But she loved what he could do to her. I love him. We just need more time. She drove down his driveway, into the woods, and parked behind his truck. She let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. She’d have felt foolish if he hadn’t been home. She got out of her car and hesitated for a moment at the door. She knocked the hair out of her eyes and smoothed her sweater and slacks with a downward sweep of her hands. She wondered what he’d think of her in pants. She’d obeyed his preferences by not wearing underwear, in case things turned out okay, but she didn’t want to be too vulnerable when she needed to talk more than she needed to play. She knocked. She waited. No one came to open the door. I could call him and let him know I’m here, in case he’s out in the woods somewhere. But she drove down because she didn’t want to talk on the phone. She tried the door. It wasn’t locked. Ignoring a pang of conscience, she let herself in. She removed her tennis shoes. The living room had been rearranged. He’d gotten a third cushion, and it was sitting in front of the chair. The rest of the furniture had been shifted slightly to preserve the balance of the place. She padded over to the cushion in

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her socks and took a closer look. It had intricate designs on it in red and gold, and the fabric itself felt like silk. There was no sign of any wear at all. It’s there for me to kneel on. He was used to getting his way, and he’d assumed she was going to give in. Her fists clenched for a moment before her heart softened. He’d made a place for her in his perfectly organized little home, even though he didn’t know what her answer would be. She felt welcomed. Wanted. And loved. She wondered what he’d think if he came in and she was kneeling on the cushion. Maybe he’d think she was accepting his offer, no strings attached. That she was giving up control of every aspect of her life to him. No, that wouldn’t do. But it was so tempting. It seemed odd to be dressed in his house. She’d spent a whole weekend naked in it, and she’d taken off her dress almost the moment she’d entered last time. She felt like she was disobeying the rules. I’ll hear him on the steps outside when he comes to the door. She remembered his big heavy work boots. There would be no missing those footsteps. I could kneel and quickly get up. Just to see what it feels like. If I kept my sweater nearby, I could even take it off and put it back on in a hurry. Bad idea. But she didn’t want to sit in his chair, so she stood, feeling she was somehow putting the room out of balance. Perfect room. Perfect man. She moved to stand near the kitchen doorway but soon got restless there too. The seconds ticked by, becoming minutes. She tried not to look at the silk cushion. To hell with it. I’ll hear him when he comes. She moved to the cushion. She thought of sitting on it cross-legged, but that really didn’t satisfy the itch in her. She knelt on it. I’ll definitely hear him. Impetuously, she stripped off her sweater. Her breasts tingled at being exposed to the air, her nipples making little dents in the smoothness of her white silk bra. She turned her sweater back right side out and kept it near her right hand, her ears primed for the sound of his boots on the front step.

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“Susan,” said a voice from behind her. “How nice to see you.” She whirled, and there was Vincent, silhouetted in the archway between the living room and the hall leading to his bedroom. He had a smile on his face, and when she saw him, he moved in her direction, toward the chair. Dammit. She scrambled to her feet, leaving her sweater behind. Putting it back on would make her seem scared of him, and while she didn’t exactly want to have the discussion topless, she didn’t want to let him know she needed the security of her sweater either, now that it was off. He sat down. “You look startled to see me. It is my house.” He smiled at her. “Don’t get up on my account.” “We need to talk.” “As Master and Trainee? Or as Vincent and Susan?” She breathed easier. “I’d love to say both, but as Vincent and Susan.” “Then put your sweater back on and join me at the kitchen table.” He rose again. “You let yourself in?” “Yes. Why didn’t you answer my knock?” She pulled the sweater over her head, feeling more at ease. He didn’t seem to be angry about it, at least. “I was in the basement, making a bench. I didn’t hear anything. It’s well insulated for sound, but I do get a phone signal down there.” She nodded. Was he reproaching her for not calling? She couldn’t blame him; she supposed she shouldn’t have let herself in, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Now that she thought of it, calling when she found him gone seemed obvious. “Shit. Sorry.” “Obviously, you wanted to talk things over face-to-face. No harm was done, and in any event, the sight of you on the cushion would make up for it.” He strode to the

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archway leading to the kitchen, then gestured her in. She entered and headed for the table she’d eaten breakfast at. “Would you like anything to eat?” She shook her head and sat down. “I got a burger on the way.” He nodded and sat across from her. “I want to keep doing what we’re doing. It scares me how much I like it, but I do. I want you to keep showing me how to serve you better, because I like being able to repay you for the wonderful pleasure you give to me. I think more than wanting to, I need to, to be able to enjoy being pleasured the fullest.” He smiled. “You do, Susan. You more than repay me.” “It’s an amazing thing, being able to let you do things to me, knowing you’ll make me feel so good, and not worry about anything else.” He nodded. “I don’t even have to worry if all balances out. All I know is that I’m getting plenty of what I need.” She took a deep breath, seeing the understanding on his face. I’m probably telling him things he’s thought about a hundred times before. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you I enjoy what we have.” “I know, Susan. It’s all right.” He put his hand on top of hers. “We can keep going the way we are.” “But now I know you want more. And I can’t do it. I can’t give up my job and serve you full-time. I’d go crazy. Besides, I think I do a lot of good in the world.” The words started tumbling out, her carefully prepared speech going by the wayside. Tears started flowing down her face, and her chest hurt. “And this place isn’t designed for another person, even though that pillow is a wonderful touch. I don’t need a huge place, but bigger than this. I don’t even know if I’m ready to move in with you. It’s only been a few weeks. I need my own bank account, my own identity. I don’t want to be swallowed up. I—”

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He squeezed her hand and broke in. “Easy. I think I’ve gotten it all so far, but you’re going fast, and I don’t want to miss anything.” “You said you wanted to own me, and I’m my own person.” That was one of the lines of the prepared speech. She sat back in her chair. “I’m done, I think. Just that. That’s the whole of it.” “I wouldn’t want you to be anything but your own person. I don’t want the woman I love to be swallowed up, because then I wouldn’t have the woman I love. You’d have become something or someone else.” He smiled at her. “If I found that happening, I’d want to change course. Do you think it’s happening now?” She started to say yes. That had been what she was afraid of. But then she thought about it. She’d been distracted by him calling her the woman he loved. That felt good. She was more herself than ever, like a part of her she’d kept caged up had finally been let out. She felt stronger for it, walked taller, figuratively. And literally, being tall no longer seemed at odds with who she was inside. When he gave her pleasure, she enjoyed it with every fiber of her being. When she gave him pleasure, she could throw herself completely into that. “No, Master, I don’t believe it is.” She winced. She hadn’t meant to call him that. He obviously noticed, both the word and her facial expression, but nodded. “Good. I want you to tell me if you ever do. Let me know and quickly. Use your safe word to make us stop and talk about it. Physical dangers aren’t the only risks in BDSM, and I’m not even sure they’re the main risk.” She nodded. “I don’t need to combine our bank accounts, and I think that would be unwise anyway, certainly at this stage. Nor do I want to tell you how to spend your money. I might tell you what to wear but not what to buy. And I’d expect you to tell me if you thought my choices had a negative effect on your ability to perform your job. Outside those constraints, at home, well… I don’t think I’d be letting you keep your sweater on.

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Or pants unless we were working in the garden or something and you needed them for protection. Not in our home.” “Yes.” She didn’t mind stripping for him at home. She liked it. Even in the club, it was hot. She hadn’t thought she’d be nearly brave enough, but she knew now she was. It wasn’t something she could have done on her own. She needed him for that. Needed to be his. “I certainly don’t want you to quit your job. I agree, you do a lot of good. I don’t intend to quit mine either. Nor to take you away from family or friends. I can see how when I said I wanted you to be my slave, you might have thought I did. As to this home being too small, little imp, I love this place. Not as much as I love you, but I do love it, because I built it myself. But I’m willing to modify it for two. Since I build houses for a living, and you design them for yours, don’t you think we could make that part of it work? Because I definitely want you living with me.” “Of course we can.” It seemed so obvious, now that he mentioned it. When she was driving, thinking of how he had everything the way he wanted it, it seemed like it would be impossible to change. But he’d already added a cushion for her. He was willing to make changes. He was flexible. Living together was still a big step. But last Sunday night she hadn’t wanted to drive back to her home, and she hadn’t wanted to sleep in a different bed the night before either. She didn’t think there’d be a day when she wanted to leave his side. “I don’t just want you living with me, though, or I wouldn’t have used the words I used.” “What do you want?” “I want to have you with me, naked and collared, as much as our lives allow. I want to be able to fuck you anytime I like or tie you up and make you come or have you take me in your mouth or spank you. I want you to have a safe word, but I want you to have to use it, not to be able to simply say no. I want to know I could take you sexually

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at any time. That every moment of free time, even if all we’re doing is eating or watching TV, has a sexual potential to it. I want to be in charge of that. I want to tell you when you can come and when you can’t, when you can touch yourself and when you can’t. I want to be your sole source of sexual pleasure. Not some other man, not even yourself. Only me.” “No vibrator, huh?” With him around, she doubted she’d use it, but she felt like she had to say something to break the tension. She wanted what he described, and it was turning her on talking about. She knew exactly what he meant about a moment having sexual potential, because she could feel it right now. “Not unless I order you to use it.” “Would you do a thing like that?” “I might. And I’d watch too.” She blushed. “You like being watched, don’t you?” He held her gaze with his, and she couldn’t turn away, even though she wanted to. Admitting it was embarrassing, but she knew he’d know if she lied. “Yes.” “You should know, then, that I want to control who gets to watch and when. And the rules for what I can do to you in Excess or at any other kinky gathering are the same as at home.” He grinned. “Anything I want.” Anything he wants. Why does that make me wet? She’d not ever worn pants without underwear before, and while it had seemed safe enough when she set out, now she wondered if they were getting obviously damp. Good thing the table was in the way. “Yes, Master.” “Sure you don’t want more time to think it over?”

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She hadn’t really intended her yes to mean she was accepting his proposal. “While we’re, um, building, I’ll probably want to go to my apartment sometimes. But you’re welcome to join me.” He nodded. “Fair enough.” “Then I don’t need any more time to think it over. Yes. I’m yours.” “Then go back to the living room, remove all your clothing, and kneel on the cushion. I have something I want to get from my room. For you.” He waited for a moment. She didn’t know what to say. He stood up and walked a few steps, but stopped in the archway. “I have one more thing to say. Something really important.” She had started to get up. She twisted halfway to see him. “What’s that?” “I love you, Susan.” His words filled her with warmth. She wondered if she was blushing, but it wasn’t because she was embarrassed. It felt so good to hear those words. “I love you too, Master.” “Good.” He winked at her, turned, and walked toward the bedroom. She walked into the living room, pulling her sweater over her head. All of a sudden she couldn’t wait to get out of her clothes, and she stripped as fast as she could. There was one place for her in that room, one way to be, and that was naked on the cushion waiting for Vincent. The cushion yielded to her as she knelt, the silk soft against her knees and shins. Once she was there, the tension went out of her shoulders. She was at peace. She knew then she’d made the right decision. He wasn’t gone for long. When he entered the room, his left fist was clenched as if he was holding something small in it. He sat down in his chair in front of her and smiled. “You’re beautiful.”

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“If it pleases you to think so, Sir.” She smirked at him. She knew he meant what he said. She could give him a list of reasons why he was wrong, but she wasn’t going to. He chuckled. “It does. Hands behind your back, chin up.” She did as directed. It was a pose that increased her sense of vulnerability, with her neck exposed and her hands out of position. But being vulnerable in front of him only heightened her arousal. She wanted to clench her legs, to hide any sign of wetness from him, but instead she found the courage to open them farther. “Close your eyes.” She shut them. And her pussy ached for him even more. She’d hump his leg if he ordered her to. I’d do almost anything. He really does own me. Something tickled her neck, and she wanted to open her eyes and reach with her hands to stop him. But she didn’t. He fastened something under her chin with a click. “Consider yourself collared, little imp. I’m not letting you go. You may open your eyes.” She opened her eyes. She could feel it around her neck, but it didn’t feel like she imagined a collar: thick, heavy, smelling of leather. Instead it was light and almost wispy feeling. Snug, though. Even straining she couldn’t see, because her chin was in the way. “Would you like to see?” She smiled. “Yes, Master.” He took his cell phone out of his pocket and held it in front of her. It wasn’t the perfect mirror, but it was sufficient. She could see her face clearly and her neck. Around her throat was a golden choker. It was a collar if he said so, but it was closer to a fine piece of jewelry. Connecting the chain in the center and hanging from it was a gold heart about a half inch across, studded with brilliant clear stones. It took her a moment

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to notice the center of the heart had a tiny keyhole, and above the heart was an upsidedown U-shaped bar of metal. “No one but people who understand need to know it’s a collar.” He opened his hand and showed her a tiny key. “But you know, and I know. If you ever want it off, you can break it easily enough, or you can ask me to unlock it. But I hope you’ll never do either. You can safely wear it in the shower or anywhere else.” Break it. That was the last thing she wanted to do. She wasn’t going to ask him to unlock it either. He was right; no one would know it was anything except a pretty necklace. Even if they figured out the heart was a lock, the symbolism could pass for normal in the vanilla world. It did tell everyone she was taken, and she didn’t mind that at all. “Thank you, Master.” He smiled. “You’re welcome, my slave.”

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Chapter Eleven Vincent put down the cordless screwdriver and took out his level, checking his work. Perfect. The tabletop had a lip on one end and could be pivoted like an easel, but when the supports were out, it would still stay perfectly level. He’d done most of the work in his workshop in the basement, but it was much easier to move before it was fully assembled, so he’d done the last touches in Susan’s studio, which like the kitchen and the bedroom overlooked the stream behind the house. They’d made massive progress on the house, and Susan was staying at his place full-time. How did I ever get along or think myself happy without her? To come home every day and know she would either be there waiting for him or she would be home by the time he finished cooking dinner was truly special. They’d each adapted and made some changes along the way, and it had been totally worth it. Where’d she gotten to, anyway? Last he knew she’d said something about fixing a fruit salad for later, so maybe she was still in the kitchen. He headed that way. He found her bent over the sink, dishrag in hand, mixing bowl in another, listening to music on her earphones and singing along softly. She was wearing only a black Bauhaus T-shirt and a short denim skirt. Some days she pranced around nude, but he let her change it up, within limits. Neither of them wanted her to be wearing anything that limited his access to her body, so the rule was she could have no more than one layer on in the house, except for when she was dressing to go to work. She had just gotten the water sudsy for washing the small collection of dishes on the counter. He stepped up behind her. Lost in the music, she didn’t hear him coming until he’d wrapped his arms around her.

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“Oh, Master.” She set the bowl down and turned her head for a kiss that ended up being long and deep. “Mmm.” “You taste good,” he told her, because it was true. The dishes could wait. He’d do them with her, later. “Bedroom?” she asked. “No. Right here.” He dipped his hands into the dishwater and then lifted them to her breasts. The thin fabric of the shirt stuck to her body where it got wet, but not as much as he wanted it to. He could feel her nipples stiffening underneath, however, and he pinched them lightly. She moaned. He pressed up against her, his hard cock nestling against the valley of her ass. Grinning, he scooped up some of the warm, clean soapy water and splashed it onto her torso. A month or two ago she might have instinctively tried to dodge out of the way, but no more. She ground her bottom into him, making his cock ache with need. He lifted her skirt with his warm, wet hands and then pushed her thighs apart. She leaned farther over the sink, thrusting her ass and pussy up into the air for his delight. He unzipped his jeans and freed his cock, holding her hips to help guide himself into her pussy. She was wet, so wet. Just what he wanted. He buried himself to the hilt. “Messy and wet. The way sex ought to be,” he said. “Yes, Master.” He reached around her and grabbed the sprayer attachment with one hand, turning the water on with the other, and sprayed her breasts. She liked it in the shower when he focused the water there or on her clit. Of course, she usually wasn’t wearing a T-shirt in the shower. Judging from her moan, however, it didn’t make much of a difference. He brought the sprayer in closer and started to rock inside her. “Mmm. What brought this on?” she asked, rocking back against him.

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“Pretty slave, horny master.” “Good enough.” He set the sprayer down and dipped a finger into the soapy water. “Want something in your ass, love?” She bit her lip. She was so cute when she did that. “You like to make me say it, don’t you?” “Yes, I do.” He stopped moving for a moment. He wanted things to last awhile. “Yes, Master, please.” “Please what?” “Dammit.” She blushed a pretty shade of pink. “Please put your finger in my ass.” “Since you asked so nicely.” He pressed his finger at her rear entrance and tugged lightly at the tight tissue around it until he could push the tip inside. “Relax, little imp.” “How can I relax? You’ve got a finger in my—” She stopped and giggled. “Not like I’m not going to have to relax eventually. Yes, Master.” She squeezed his cock with her pussy and then closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. He fondled her soaking breasts with one hand while he slowly worked his way into her with the other. At last the tight ring of muscles gave way, and he slipped his finger all the way inside her. Soapy water wasn’t the best lubricant, but it was good enough for the circumstances. Then he started to move his hips, thrusting inside her, moving his finger in rhythm. He squeezed her breasts through the wet shirt. Soon she was rocking back, matching him. Her pussy was a hot, wet vise around his aching cock. Her breathing was getting shorter, a sign she was getting close to her climax, but he felt ready to burst already. He strained to hold on, not wanting to come until she did. And she wasn’t allowed to come without permission. “Master?”

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“Yes?” He knew what question she was going to ask, when her voice got breathy and she said “Master” like that. He liked to make her say the words. “May I come?” She turned her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye. “Hmm.” He pretended to consider and rammed into her hard, wiggling his finger inside her at the same time. Her ass wasn’t quite lubricated enough to keep moving it back and forth, but he’d found wiggling often worked as well. He saw the look of concentration on her face as she tried to hold back and had pity. One more thrust, and he was almost there. “Come, Susan.” She screamed as her ass clenched around his finger, and then her pussy started contracting around his cock. It felt like molten fire running through his cock for a moment, and then he attained his own welcome release, each squeeze she gave him milking out more and prolonging his pleasure. He held her close. The wet tee was rapidly cooling. “Let me take that off you,” he murmured. He pulled out, and she turned in his grasp and lifted her arms for him. He peeled the shirt from her body. Her nipples stuck out toward him, dark pink and engorged. He didn’t know whether it was from being turned on or from being cold, but he suspected both. He lifted her up onto the counter and then cupped one breast, feeling the weight of it in his hands while he sucked the other tender bud into his warm mouth. He didn’t let it go until it was beyond doubt it was a sign of arousal rather than cold. He switched sides, wanting to finish the warming his hand had done. “You’re turning me on again, Vincent. Master.” He smiled at her. “There’s nothing wrong with using my name, Susan. I know you know who your owner is.” She shivered. He was sure that wasn’t from cold either. Her skirt had only caught a little of the spray, but he lifted her an inch above the counter and eased the skirt over her hips to make sure. He didn’t want to risk her catching a chill. He sat her back down to pull it off her legs entirely.

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She spread her legs. “You own me. Your juice is running down my thighs.” He could see it was true. His semen, mixed with her arousal and sweat, had made her thighs damp and sticky. “Play with yourself for me.” “Yes, Master.” Her hand snaked down her stomach slowly. She was still shy about performing such an intimate act before him. He smiled. I’ll have to train her more. Practice makes perfect. Her hand finally settled on her mound. He waited until she reached her clit with two fingers, and then put his own hand on top of hers, making sure he used the one that was clean, and pressed it toward her. He guided her fingers, setting the pace, pushing down on the tops of them. She smiled and closed her eyes, letting him guide her. He listened to her breathing getting shorter, watched her skin flush. Was there anything more beautiful than a woman approaching her climax? He didn’t think there was. Certainly there was nothing more beautiful than his woman. She moaned, little bursts of sound each time she exhaled. He pressed her fingers, urging her to rub more firmly. Her face suddenly changed, her mouth opening and twisting in an expression he might take for pain if he didn’t know better. He touched her shoulder. “Now, lover.” She let out a long wail ending in a quaver, and he had to catch her as she fell off the counter into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him, and he held her close as her body trembled through the aftershocks of orgasm. “Yours, Master,” she whispered. He ran his hands through her long blonde hair and smiled. “Mine,” he agreed, wanting to hold her in his arms forever.

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Loose Id Titles by Sindra van Yssel A Haunted Romance Blonde and Owner Dom and Domme In the Middle Purple Passion Red Lust Secretary for Two The Barbarian and the Witch

**** The BONDAGE RANCH Series Roped In Pushing Limits Moving On

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Sindra van Yssel I live in Northern Virginia with my partner, my teenage son, and a lot of fish. For many years I was active in our local BDSM community. Yes, people really do the things people do in my books! By day I work in a public library, where I get to meet all kinds of readers. I've a soft spot for happy endings and characters who learn more about themselves, but I enjoy torturing my characters along the way, too. Hopefully you'll enjoy watching them squirm as much as I do.