Reason

Club Pleasure 3

Reason Ivone Mendes-Rodrigues and Jamison Landry are two peas in a pod. They are scarred by their childhoods and afraid of commitment, yet are secretly longing for someone to complete them. Jamison has compensated by becoming a play Dom. Ivone gives over within the context of her sexuality in the short term, and both rely upon the superficial to carry them through life. They meet at a BDSM club, and what follows is a battle of wills. It is a struggle against a powerful sexual attraction that demands a deeper commitment. If patience is a virtue, then Ivone is blessed, but she can only be pushed so far, and Jamison must dig deep for virtues he didn’t know he possessed and be a quick study in learning others. They seem perfect for one another physically, and that should be enough given their histories, but love has crept in on little cat feet. Genre: BDSM, Contemporary Length: 26,326 words

REASON Club Pleasure 3

Allyson Young

EROTIC ROMANCE

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer. WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at [email protected]

A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

REASON Copyright © 2012 by Allyson Young E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-679-7 First E-book Publication: June 2012 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers Dear Readers, If you have purchased this copy of Reason by Allyson Young from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book. The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment. This is Allyson Young’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Young’s right to earn a living from her work. Amanda Hilton, Publisher www.SirenPublishing.com www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION For Robbie, best friends since forever. You always knew I would find my way.

REASON Club Pleasure 3 ALLYSON YOUNG Copyright © 2012

Prologue Ivone Mendes-Rodrigues carefully smoothed out the sheet of paper she had extricated from the envelope not three minutes earlier. She had only scanned the contents, but the results were there in black and white, just as the doctor had told her on the phone two days earlier. It was a huge word. Endometriosis. It had been a previously unknown medical condition to her, and now it had a direct application in her life. The severe cramps and constipation she suffered since she had changed her form of birth control made sense, now that she had done her research. The doctor assured her a fairly routine surgery and drug therapy was in order although it was a severe case, except it meant that she likely wouldn’t be able to have children, or at best the probability of conceiving was extremely low. The doctor seemed to feel that it was a fairly common affliction among women, but Ivone felt sick and alone at the thought. Jamison been talking of an heir, and Jamison didn’t talk about something unless he had worked it through and was totally committed to the idea. Ivone was his mistress, girlfriend, submissive, whatever role happened to suit at the moment, although if she were to be totally honest with herself, she was his submissive first and foremost. He owned her and she owned him by virtue of her surrender to him and his domination of her. If Jamison

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wanted a child, then he would want her to bear it. She had seen him look at Kennedy and Graham’s little boy, Nathan, with something like awe on his face. She knew he worried for his friend, Patrick, because Pat’s wife Madi hadn’t had an easy pregnancy the first time around and the second one wasn’t going much better, yet he appreciated that couple’s desire for a large family. He never verbally professed his love for her, never spoke of marriage, but all the same their connection was deep. And now she wouldn’t be able to give him what he ultimately needed. Ivone closed her eyes against the pain in her chest and worked hard at calming herself. Somehow she would have to figure a way out of this, and she would indeed find a way. Ivone knew she was intelligent and quite able to manage her own life, if she chose to do so. It was just that when she met Jamison at the club, something inside of her recognized him, and playing at submission turned into a full-time need to live the real thing. He only had to look her way and she knew he was the only dominant she would ever want. Jamison hadn’t been as easily convinced, and fought it tooth and nail, nearly driving her away in the process, but after a few weeks and “sessions” together, he accepted that he had indeed met the woman who was absolutely willing to give him anything and everything he needed, if only he would abide by a code beyond that of a play Dom. And Jamison needed and took everything. He moved her in with him and had her quit her job, put her career on hold, and expected that she totally focus herself on him. He was quite self-centered and could be selfish, but Ivone had been carefully and unobtrusively guiding him to become the man she caught glimpses of and knew lived beneath his protective façade. Ultimately, she forced him to share his feelings, and their relationship had recovered from its passionate, but rocky start, and had blossomed into something deeper. She became his hostess, his confidant, and his lover, although lover was such a gentle word. Vanilla sex was rare and while she cherished that lovemaking, the times when Jamison bound her and gave her erotic pain and

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beyond, before fucking her senseless, were what they both throve on. And now she had to find a way to set him free because it was the right and reasonable thing to do.

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Chapter One Six months earlier… Ivone slipped out of her coat and shoes, leaving them with the attendant, and made her way into the general meeting area of the club. She could hear the rise and fall of distant male and female voices as the evening ramped up along with the sound of the music that emanated from a large number of speakers tucked into various corners of each room. She was late, which was quite unlike her, and anxious that she had missed meeting everyone who would have turned up for the event. Ivone didn’t have her own Dom, being content to connect with one at these regular affairs. She wasn’t interested in finding a long-term connection, probably because she hadn’t met a Dom who she believed would meet her needs on a regular basis, but sometimes there weren’t enough Doms for subs and vice versa, and she really needed a release tonight. Ivone picked up the pace until she came to the doorway of the meeting room. The area seemed fairly empty, and she felt disappointed but walked in anyway, hoping she had missed someone in the dim lighting. She was wearing a simple, black silk chemise that fell just to midthigh and nothing else, aside from a delicate red ribbon of silk and lace around her neck. The ribbon signaled her availability and she hoped there would be someone in the club tonight to connect with and take her mind off of the absolute bitch of a week she had just endured at her present job. Her boss was away on vacation, and his second-incommand was a spoiled, petulant wannabe who took delight in ordering his subordinates around as well as assigning make-work

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projects. Ivone was the senior designer of the team and therefore took the brunt of his pettiness, partly because she was the senior member, but mostly because she felt the need to shelter some of the younger staff. Frederic—imagine someone calling their son Frederic—it sounded like a perfect name for a Pomeranian, was an ass, but Reed would be back next week, and things would go back to normal. This evening might be her R & R if only she could find a Dom to meet her needs. She was tired of taking care of other people and being assertive. She wanted someone to see to her, to demand and take from her, force her to let go, to surrender, if only sexually. Tonight. **** Jamison Landry spotted the tall, voluptuous brunette the instant she passed into the meet-and-greet area. His reaction to her puzzled him. His taste usually ran to tall, thin blondes, yet none of that type had appealed to him tonight. He had been entertaining the idea of going back to his own club, Pleasure, and seeking a connection for the evening, given the fact that he wasn’t finding anyone here. Maybe that was what was lacking in his life. He was picking the wrong type of women, because that package in the scrap of silk really spoke to him. Certainly his senses were already on alert by virtue of the environment, and he planned to do a scene with some woman tonight and fuck her afterwards, either at this club or his own, but his gut was tight, not just his cock. He had thought to visit Vice, to see if he could counter the ennui, the sense of his life unfolding without purpose, but he never figured he would lay eyes on a woman who would speak to him in such a way. He turned to one of the wait staff and motioned her over. “Yes, Mr. Landry?” “Bring me the brunette in the black slip, the tall one,” he ordered. “Certainly, Sir.” The woman nodded, but gave him a cold look. Jamison ignored it.

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**** Ivone spun at the touch on her shoulder. “Hello, Veronica! Nice to see you.” Veronica smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Jamison Landry has asked for you, Ivone. You want to watch yourself with that one. He doesn’t play games. He only does short-term stuff, and he’s just slumming tonight, so remember that, too.” Ivone searched Veronica’s face carefully. A truly serious Dom. Could this Landry be the man she had been searching for? One who might really meet her needs and possibly be available for more than a night? “Okay, Veronica,” she responded. “Thanks for the heads up. I won’t leave the club with him.” “And don’t go into one of the private rooms with him either, honey,” Veronica advised. “He’ll hurt you.” Veronica’s dire warning awoke the pain slut within Ivone. She could take a lot of pain. Oh, not knives or burning, although wax was okay if the Dom knew what he was doing, but if he was good with a single or double tail, she would bleed for him. She’d simply contract that he whip her only on her lower back and buttocks, maybe the tops of her thighs. Those parts she could cover in public with clothing. She wondered for a moment if he shared his submissives with other Doms. She had yet to really give up that part of her. Being handed off at her Dom’s discretion wasn’t something she really wanted to do, although she had done a couple of threesomes, and the sex had been very good, probably because she had been dominated. And if he were a real Dom, he would learn that being shared wasn’t what she really needed. She obediently followed Veronica to where this Jamison Landry was slouched comfortably in a leather club chair. She kept her eyes cast toward the floor, but noticed his thick black hair and forbidding handsomeness. His eyes were hooded and in shadow, and

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she wondered what color they were. She had the impression of a large, hard body, and now, within view of her downcast eyes, she could see his heavily muscled thighs, molded by the leather pants he wore splayed in front of her, an impressive bulge between them. “Ivone Mendes-Rodrigues, Master Landry,” Veronica advised him and then slipped away. Ivone stood there for what seemed an eternity. But she had learned patience early on in her childhood, and it had served her well right into her thirtieth year. Fascinated, she unobtrusively watched Landry’s body shift like a big cat’s as he reached out a large hand, the fingers long and spatulate, the nails big and square. He hooked them into the front of her chemise and pulled her to stand between his thighs, right up against his package. Ivone felt the heat and hardness clear to the centre of her being and tried not to tremble, then gave it up as a bad job. Both of his hands slid up her arms to toy with the thin straps, sliding them down to her elbows, the silky fabric shimmering over her breasts to drag on her erect, pebbled nipples. He paused and brushed a thumb against each of them, the roughness of his callused skin making her shudder. He pushed the garment down over her hips and let it pool around her feet, then leaned back to scrutinize her. At his gesture she spread her thighs further apart and his violet eyes darkened to amethyst as he looked at the naked folds of her labia. The rest of the room and the people in it simply ceased to exist for Ivone. The sound of them was like the faint buzzing of insects. Jamison Landry was her only focus, and she obediently turned when he motioned for her to do so, stopping when he grasped her hips to hold her in place, then stroked a callused hand over the curve of her ass. A pressure on the small of her back signaled for her to bend over, and she did so, grasping her ankles. She felt a finger press between her buttocks and find her anus. “Do you let a cock in here?” a low, mesmerizing voice asked. “Yes, Sir,” she managed.

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The finger moved to her vaginal opening, pausing at the wetness then pushing up inside of her, high and hard. Shit, one of his fingers felt like three of every other man who had fingered her. Would his cock be larger, too? What she thought was his thumb swirled in her moisture and pressed a little ways into her anus, and Ivone gasped at the double penetration. “Do you let two men here?” he now demanded, his voice even deeper with arousal. “Twice, Sir,” Ivone whimpered, as the thumb pressed harder at her answer. “We’ll see,” was his response, and the digits were abruptly removed. Ivone held the position until he lightly slapped her ass and pulled on a thigh to turn her. “Kneel,” he ordered. Ivone dropped to her knees instantly. “Do you fuck women?” “No, Sir.” “We’ll see. Now suck me. Do it as you would usually and I will correct you if I have any complaint. Keep your hands on your thighs.” Ivone opened her mouth as he pulled his cock from the front of his leathers. It was enormous, the head as big and dark as a plum and the shaft thick and heavily veined. He was already wet for her, and she rejoiced at the fact that she aroused him. This was not appropriate behavior in such a public part of the club, but Ivone knew not to tease this man. She accepted him into her mouth and then sucked him in as deep as she could manage, wishing she could use her hands. As if he had read her mind, he circled his thumb and forefinger where her lips joined his cock, and she realized that he didn’t want to choke her. She hoped his thoughtfulness extended to knowing how much pain she needed, too. Ivone worked at the blow job, totally focused and intent. She lost herself as she did so, enjoying his taste and texture, enjoying the

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sensation she got from fellating this man. She loved the dichotomy of being on her knees with a big cock shoved in her mouth yet feeling so powerful. Jamison was, for the most part, silent during her ministrations, and let her set the pace. She then felt his hands fist in her hair and he thrust deep against her throat. She barely had time to relax and swallow against him when he ejaculated. She somehow drank him down, but it was an effort, and there was a sensation of drowning. He pulled out of her mouth and tilted her head up. His eyes bored into hers and it was like nothing Ivone had ever felt before. She couldn’t have looked away if the fire alarm had gone off. Oh, God, this man might so be for her. **** Jamison fought against the pull of this Ivone Mendes-Rodrigues. Her astonishing eyes mesmerized him, not to mention that she had just given him the best blow job he had ever experienced, and that was saying something. She hadn’t sucked harder than other women, or taken him any deeper. She hadn’t used her tongue to greater effect. It was her single-mindedness, her absolute sense of purpose that created the connection. She had loved blowing him, and it connected them. Somehow he knew this. But he had lost his mind to engage in such an overt sexual act in the public area of the club and he had to gain some control over the situation before it blew up in his face. Ivone had one green eye and one blue. It was disconcerting and yet a perfect look on her. This tall, curvy woman with the long, silky, dark hair looked at him with her mismatched eyes, and he was somehow lost. It was a totally unfamiliar feeling for him, and he then felt a twinge of anxiety. Jamison dug deep for every bit of control he possessed and shuttered his eyes and his heart. He would explore this Ivone Mendes-Rodrigues and see where he could take her, and she him, but he wouldn’t be vulnerable. He had learned his lessons well over the years, and he was sure she would have a flaw that he couldn’t

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overlook and accept. All it would take was a period of time for that flaw to make itself apparent to him and remind him of his own imperfections. Besides, it was crazy to think that, after one sexual encounter, he would even want to pursue anything other than an evening or two with her, just as he did with every other sub. There seemed to be a never-ending supply of women who were either exploring the lifestyle or fully committed to it, and Jamison always found a sub when he required one. Because that was all he allowed himself. He fell back into his self-preservation mode, forgetting how purposeless his life seemed lately, how empty. “Do you want to go to the dungeon, or a private room?” Jamison asked her. He heard himself give her a choice and was surprised that he had done so. She, too, was surprised that he had even asked, for he noted a bemused expression flit across her face. He hoped she wouldn’t choose the dungeon. He wasn’t ready to share any more experiences with this sub with other club members. They had already seen enough, and he hated to share his pleasure with them. He wondered at his possessiveness for this was so unlike him. The venue kept the sex casual and held commitment at bay. “Private room, Sir.” Jamison fought his displeasure. He might have given her a choice, but she should have given him the power back. Instead, her answer went against the grain. She was supposedly a trained sub if she was available here tonight. He didn’t want a newbie. He wanted a woman who was past the coddling, introductory stage, someone he could fine-tune, and only for the night. There was no patience in him and probably never had been. Then it crossed his mind that Ivone might have been as thrown off by her response to him as he had been to her, and actually wanted to be alone with him to the extent that she had forgotten her role. He briefly wondered at his soul searching. Well, he would give it to her this time. Once. If she forgot again, he would punish her. Not discard her, but punish her. He should really take her

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to the dungeon and have others bear witness to their new connection and establish that this was purely play, but he found himself wanting to be alone with her. He snapped his hand toward Veronica who placed a key card in his hand. “Room seventeen, Sir,” she said. Jamison’s eyes shot to hers at the little tone in her voice. She didn’t flinch, merely looked at him back at him, her face blank. He had apparently gotten carried away with Veronica when she was participating in scenes. At least she thought he had. He knew that he had given Veronica what she needed, and also knew she had confirmed it with other members. It was when he had moved on to another sub that her opinion changed. She had then left Pleasure and found employment here. Veronica finally dropped her eyes and moved away. Jamison made a mental note to find out how Ivone and Veronica were connected. He didn’t care to have Veronica poisoning the well. He reached down and took Ivone’s wrist, pulling her up as he stood. She came up like a feather. A strange feeling swept over him. He shook it off. There was no need to feel possessive. Ivone and he were just dabbling as was his wont. “Use the bathroom,” he ordered. **** Boy, he was a man of few words, Ivone thought. She liked that he got right to the chase. She was sick of the constant prattle at work, saying one thing and meaning another, or nothing at all. She was sick of the girls vying with one another and sick of the office politics. Design was cutthroat, even if it was architectural design and not the catwalk kind. The younger team members saw her as ancient, she knew, and she fostered the idea in order to do the job she loved rather than be included in the collegial bullshit. She followed the prescribed distance behind Jamison, totally comfortable in her nakedness, her eyes devouring his broad, muscled back and great ass. She had a

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sudden urge to pat it, maybe smack it and quashed a giggle. He would kill her for her temerity. Kill her with pain and then with pleasure. When he had the room open and stood aside for her to enter, her face was schooled in submission again, although he gave her a sharp look. Ivone hoped the night would be wonderful. She’d seen Jamison’s walls go up earlier. She wasn’t offended. Ivone knew about trust, or the lack thereof. She knew a fellow survivor when she met one. But this time, they might complement one another. Jamison Landry had compensated by becoming dominant. She compensated by giving over. This would mean that they both would have to come to trust the other, and maybe that would never happen, but he called so strongly to that something within her that she was going to give this the old college try. She instinctively knew that this man was playing at being a Dom. Oh, he was dominant, but not about to commit, and she had a fleeting thought about her own inability to do so. Perhaps he, too, had a similar past. Perhaps their future beckoned them. Jamison stripped when he entered the room. Ivone was a little disappointed that he didn’t have her undress him. She would have liked to unveil his body a bit at a time, fold his clothing neatly, and show her willingness to serve. He was magnificent and also clearly at home in his own skin. He was all delineated muscle interspersed with dark hair. Ivone again wished she could have pulled his clothing off slowly to better enjoy it, but would follow his direction. He arranged some toys on the bedside table and some lube, but it was the paddle in his hand that caught her attention. “Face down over the bench, sub, legs apart.” Ivone instantly complied, her pussy wet and her breasts growing heavy with desire. Jamison began to paddle her. He laid the heavy strokes across her buttocks and the top of her thighs with no preliminaries. After a time she felt some of the stress of the week begin to drain away as the endorphins poured forth, and she slipped into subspace. When he stopped she fought to stay, only to be brought

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back when he filled her with a dildo. It had been well lubed, but Jamison had thrust it inside of her with no quarter. He truly knew what she liked, was able to read her body language like no other in such a short period of time. The paddle came down again, much harder, and Ivone writhed against sensation. “Stay still,” came the order, and Ivone fought to obey as the paddle descended, and the dildo stretched her. Two greased fingers breached her anus and it burned, making Ivone whimper and flinch, to no avail. More lube was added, and the huge digits scissored and twisted. Her ass stinging, her anus burning, Ivone realized she had not been given a safe word. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The fingers slid out, and Ivone felt Jamison’s cock push against her tightness. His weight lowered over her, and he shoved deep, in one thrust. Lights flashed behind Ivone’s eyelids, and she couldn’t get a full breath. It felt like he was pressing up against her lungs, and for a moment she panicked, but then he began to work in earnest, awakening all the nerve endings inside of her. She was packed full, so full that she thought she might burst, and began to feel her climax build from the stretching alone. The burn was just a bonus against the scratchy sense of such pleasure. She opened her mouth to ask permission to come when Jamison spoke in her ear. “You are not allowed to come,” he said with dark finality. Ivone fought orgasm like she had never fought it before. His hand slid around to pet her clit, and she cried out in protest, but he touched a little harder, then pinched it just as he pulled out and shoved back in hard, the sensation of heat evident even through the latex he wore, as he groaned his release. Ivone shattered. “You were not allowed to come,” Jamison said with a growl from just above her. Ivone opened her eyes and was aware of him watching her. This had to be a test. No one could have held off coming considering what he had done. She knew that he would punish her for it, and despite her recent climax, wanted more. So he had recognized her need for

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correction and had given her a reason to receive it. He pulled out without further comment and went off to cleanse himself, then returned with a cloth to gently and carefully clean her up, at such cross purposes with what she believed he intended next. Again, such dichotomy thrilled her. He lifted her relaxed form and laid her on the bed where she thought she might doze for a moment. She was stretched and sore, although it felt delicious. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she apologized. She knew better than to offer excuses or suggest he had made it impossible for her to avoid orgasm. He had done it on purpose, for her, and now she had to figure out what he needed. “You have no self-control, sub,” he observed. Ivone kept her expression totally neutral and waited. “I will teach you some,” Jamison said quietly. “Can you keep your hands above your head and your legs apart or must I restrain you? And be sure, Ivone, because if you make the wrong choice, I will add to your punishment.” Ivone now knew what he wanted, needed. “Whatever pleases you, Sir.” Jamison didn’t smile, but she knew she had pleased him. He turned on the overhead light and then quickly tied her wrists and ankles with the velvet ropes attached to the bed and shoved a pillow under her hips. She nearly hissed at the friction on her sore ass, but caught the sound. She didn’t yet know if he wanted her to be vocal or not. He began at her throat, stroking and touching every inch of her skin, over her collar bones, down her arms and up under her armpits. He ran his tongue over some spots, making her shiver, and then nipped those areas, awakening her arousal. He paid special attention to her breasts, weighing each in his hands, pinching and rolling the nipples, pulling them to elongate them, until the nip of pain was evident. He then grabbed the clamps from beside the bed and took his time applying them, watching her carefully until he was likely satisfied she was right at the end of her endurance. Ivone had to pant

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through the experience and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes darken again to that jewel-like color. By the time he had worked his way down to her thighs, Ivone was beginning to writhe. Jamison immediately stopped and popped the clamps off. Ivone shrieked and fought the miniclimax that moved up on her. “You will lie still until I have completed my exam,” he said, his voice rough, deep. Ivone wanted to tell him no when he clamped her sore nipples again. Somehow she bore through it and was rewarded with a tiny salve from his tongue on both of the aching tips. God, she loved the pain and already he knew it. He knew how much she could take. He returned his attention to her thighs and wandered his way down to the arch of her feet. Who knew the sides of her knees were so sensitive? And if he didn’t quit with her feet, Ivone was going to scream. When he moved to her other foot, she slipped away in her head a little and managed to cope as he found the other knee. Boy howdy. He stroked her thighs and rolled them further apart. It didn’t seem to be enough for him, so he released her ankles and knelt between her splayed thighs, lifting her calves and arranging her ankles over his shoulders, her knees bent back nearly to her chest. “Keep them there, sub. If you move them, you won’t like what happens.” From her position at the head of the bed, her head propped on the pillows, Ivone watched as Jamison shifted her to rest her buttocks on his knees, her legs now nearly perpendicular to her body. He stared down at her apex and then parted her folds. He had something in his big hand, and Ivone felt it push into her. The walls of her vagina began to stretch apart, and she understood he was using a speculum. Medical play was something that she hadn’t done before, and she felt a bit queasy. When Jamison turned on a little flashlight however, and Ivone felt how his cock suddenly jumped to total attention beneath her buttocks, she understood how primal, how essential, this intimate perusal of her was to him. There was nothing withheld from his gaze,

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with the exception of her anus, and she somehow figured he would be looking there at some point. Almost absentmindedly, Jamison tapped her clit, now poking from its protective hood. Not again. Ivone fought really, really hard against coming and Jamison obligingly removed his finger, giving her abdomen a little pat. The speculum spread wider and Jamison lifted her higher to his gaze. She could feel his breath up inside her and then his tongue. Oh Christ. His tongue withdrew, followed by the speculum, and he licked his lips, clearly approving of her taste. He then carefully examined every fold and crevice, saving her clit until last. By then Ivone was so turned on that any hint of embarrassment she might have felt at the intimate search had long since disappeared, especially when she could see how much he approved of her. Jamison flipped her over and began the same inspection of the back of her body. Ivone managed not to rub her clit on the sheet. She moaned when he massaged her back muscles and shivered into his touch as he stroked her legs. When he spread her ass cheeks, Ivone didn’t move a muscle, not even when he pushed a plug inside her, seating it with a final twist and a hard spank on the end. She hoped he would soon remove the clamps though, because with her position on the bed they were past painful. As though he read her mind, Jamison flipped her over again and, without further ado, popped them off. Ivone gasped as the blood flow returned and writhed against his tongue and lips. He suckled her until she begged him to stop, then nipped one then the other. Ivone again fought coming. He was so good at this. He read her like a book. He propped her buttocks on a pillow and bent her legs to set her feet wide apart on the bed. “Hold this position.” No threat of consequences this time. He made himself comfortable between her thighs, making her stretch even wider to accommodate his bulk and then began to fuck her with a curved dildo, the butt plug moving in concert with his moves. The dildo stimulated her G-spot, and Ivone recognized the faroff trembles of a vaginal orgasm. Jamison recognized her cues and

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stopped. Ivone groaned in frustration. He left the dildo inside and turned to her exposed clit. Taking a little vibe, he began to torment it. Ivone’s thighs clenched and her toes curled into the mattress. Please. Please. “No.” Ivone hadn’t realized she’d begged out loud. She fought against coming but was nearly there when Jamison pulled the vibe away, starting in on her again with the dildo. Ivone thrashed her head on the pillow. She panted and whimpered, she moaned and begged, and still Jamison denied her. She was sweat soaked, her hair clinging to her head, the sheets damp and wrinkled around her. Her clit felt enormous and so very tender, especially when the vibe returned to tease and torment. Slap! Jamison’s hand came down on her spread folds with authority, right on her clit. “Come.” **** Ivone went over with a vengeance, screaming her pleasure, squeezing him tightly between her legs. He was amazed at her strength. Orgasmic flush rose up from her breasts and over her throat. Her face went tense then slack with her passion and those amazing eyes glazed over. Jamison’s heart palpitated. She was absolutely, fucking sensational. Shit, she was absolutely getting under his skin. He tore his gaze from her, quickly pulling on a condom to then thrust into her open pussy, reveling in the vestiges of her massive orgasm. He worked her hard and pushed her into another one with the angle of his cock against her G-spot and the grind of his pelvis, and let himself go when she did. Jamison wanted to roar with satiation and ownership but contented himself with a groan. They slept for a while, Jamison having pulled out of her to drop heavily onto his belly. He wanted to pull her to him and indulge in some postcoital cuddling, but some part of him cautioned against

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letting her in. She rested a slender foot on his calf and it touched him in spite of himself. The inspection, the fast-paced contact was new even for him. It had felt like he had a deadline, needing to know this woman inside and out, from head to toe. Jamison was beginning to wonder if Ivone just might meet some previously unknown criteria when sleep overtook him. **** Ivone had not slept, although she pretended to. She needed a few minutes to think without being overwhelmed by Jamison’s attentions. There was a cold, hard part in the man. She felt it in his obvious determination, obvious at least to her, not to connect on a softer, emotional level. Veronica’s warning echoed in her head. Well, she had just come to the realization that she needed the emotional piece to balance what she knew were dark needs, as dark as her own, if this was to be a D/s relationship and not one or two evenings of play. It might be too much work, too hard, to break down his walls in order to be completely fulfilled, let alone demolish her own. She was already thinking, with the optimism of a woman in love, that she could reach him, that he was salvageable, and it scared the shit out of her. It was too soon for love, even the dark, twisted kind. It was insane to be thinking of anything more with this man but she couldn’t deny that he had linked with her somehow. And she had never, ever, done something like this, never felt so claimed and so satisfied. She would have to watch her heart, depending upon the next stage of this connection. Ivone wasn’t a fool. She hoped.

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Chapter Two “I want you to come back to my home for the weekend,” Jamison stated, having come from asleep to a state of watchfulness in the blink of an eye. It had startled her. He had pulled her into the shower with him and efficiently washed all the evidence of their passion away before tending to himself. He had used some topical anesthetic on her nipples and anus as well. Someone had taught him the importance of caring for subs, but it was more important to Ivone that he didn’t try to avoid the intimacy. She tried to read his tone and studied him through the veil of her lashes. Hell, yes, she wanted to go home with him. She wanted more of him, more pain, more pleasure. But Veronica’s warning reverberated in her head. “Should I have a safe word, Sir?” She tried that on for size. Jamison’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline, and he was silent for so long that she knew he was as shocked as she. He said gruffly, “Of course. It was an oversight. I apologize.” “Sir, do I need one?” Jamison stared at her as though she was out of her mind. And she probably was. He could cripple her, and she might have no actual recourse. “Explain,” he barked. “Sir, I don’t know if I can. I don’t trust easily, but I do trust you. I trust you to know what I need and when I can’t take anymore.” “You will choose a safe word. I have never made such a mistake before. And you may need it later, for I intend to punish you for your assumption. We don’t have a contractual D/s relationship, sub, not

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yet, maybe never. I enter only short-term connections. So choose,” he snapped at her. Ivone sighed inwardly. Well, that answered the sixty-four-dollar question. He was going to try to keep her at arm’s length. She had pushed him, though, and probably too soon. She wondered at her own need to do so. “Reason.” Jamison said, “Repeat that.” “Reason.” As in, the voice of.. Not that she was listening to that particular voice at this particular moment. **** Jamison had nearly been overwhelmed by Ivone’s statement. Had anyone, other than his employees and his very, very, small, select circle of friends, ever trusted him? And he wasn’t totally sure about all his employees, although they seemed loyal. He certainly paid them enough and ensured that they had good benefits. No, he couldn’t let her presume, trespass, in this manner. She was going to work her way past his defenses with that attitude if he allowed it. Fuck, she already had! No safe word! What if he had taken her to the dungeon and those there found out? He could lose his membership here and at Pleasure, and they would think he had lost his mind over this woman. And he may well have done so. He tried to regroup, all the while hiding his thoughts from Ivone behind a practiced poker face. Jamison instinctively knew that Ivone had chosen her safe word quite deliberately, and he decided not to examine the whys too carefully right then. He hoped he wasn’t getting into something here that wasn’t of his choosing. She seemed really bright under that incredibly sexy exterior, and he looked forward to peeling back the layers, although what he might find may not suit him. An old quote from a high school English class popped into his head, something about protesting too much. Jamison shook the thought out of his head and

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looked to Ivone to attend him. He strode out of the bedroom without checking to see if she was following, although his gut twisted to think that she might not. Maybe he should take back his invitation before it was too late. Shit, he was damned unsettled, and waffling. He hated indecisiveness in a person, most of all in himself. Change is good, you ass, he tried to reassure himself. Ivone again walked behind him, but this time to the coatroom where she retrieved her coat and shoes. He could scent her, a light, fresh smell that belonged only to her, separate from the toiletries supplied by the club. He saw her flash a reassuring smile toward Veronica and looked at her speculatively but chose to say nothing. Ivone was nothing like Veronica. Ivone had taken everything he had provided tonight, and he knew she wanted more. He sensed no worrisome hidden agenda, but admitted to himself that he had never looked for one before because his boundaries were so clear. Jamison Landry did women one or two nights and then moved on. He might connect with the same one at a different time, but never for more than a night or two. He liked the Club scene because it tended to keep things very clear. Except for tonight. What was it about this woman? “Where is your car?” he asked abruptly, trying to pull his thoughts into line. “I took a cab.” “Do you work?” “Yes.” “Then I’ll take you home in time for you to get ready for work, on Tuesday morning,” he answered. Ivone nodded, but he noticed she didn’t speak. He checked his need to push for a verbal response. There was something about her that allowed him to cut her some slack, and he immediately questioned it. It was a three-day weekend, and no telling how things would play out. He was thinking ahead to the punishment she had earned by coming without permission and that he had promised her,

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and if she chose to increase it, then it would confirm his belief that she was a true masochist, to his sadistic streak. Jamison drove a huge SUV, and he settled Ivone in the passenger seat, and then drove toward his home, competently, like he did everything else. “Take your coat off,” he ordered. Ivone shrugged out of the coat and folded it over the back of the seat, refastening her seat belt. “Open the glove box, and recline the seat until I tell you to stop.” Ivone did as she was told. The windows were darkened, and the streets weren’t very busy at that time of night, but there were still enough people out and about that if they were stopped at a light, then others might be able to see inside. The light from the glove box would make it easier to do so. Jamison didn’t want Ivone to get in trouble should someone spot her naked in public. Being reclined made that possibility less likely unless a big truck pulled up alongside. Something he counted on. This had been a fantasy of his for years, and he had never found a woman he wanted to act it out with until now. He believed she would enter in this wholeheartedly and quit questioning himself. He would simply pay attention to her cues. “There’s another button to raise the front of the seat. Push it until you can comfortably put your feet on the dash, on either side of the glove box.” Ivone complied without hesitation. The little light lit up her labia and having her feet splayed up there on the dash opened her right up. It was a big vehicle, and Jamison was a fair distance away. He wanted to look over and see her, if he couldn’t touch while he was driving. “Put your hair behind your neck, down your back so your breasts aren’t covered,” he said. There Ivone sat, held in place by the seat belt, on display, the warm, evening air from the vents flowing across her wet folds and taut nipples. He saw her finger the towel he had placed beneath her, but she said nothing, didn’t protest, didn’t squirm, or he would have

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stopped his plan immediately. Jamison pulled from behind the semi he was following and cruised to a stop beside the truck at the red light. Ivone closed her eyes, only to pop them open when Jamison leaned way over and stroked one nipple, then the other. He didn’t have time to decipher the look in her eyes, but he could smell her arousal, and that clued him in. Ivone liked the hint of danger of exposure and the thrill of exhibitionism. The light changed and the semi groaned up through the gears. Jamison matched his speed, ignoring the traffic, and then slowed right down to fall in behind. “Sir?” Ivone asked. Jamison ignored her, knowing it would increase her anticipation. There was no hint of worry or anxiety in her voice, merely curiosity, and she was still relaxed, not afraid. His cock was so hard that his leathers creaked. The bridge was coming up and there was often a long wait there. He knew the driver of that truck had been looking. The meet and greet had told him that Ivone was fine with her body and comfortable with others watching a scene with her as the star. He felt, rather than saw, her tense with anticipation as the truck slowed and Jamison swung around it to pull up at the bridge. The wait time was seven minutes. Jamison could smell Ivone’s increasing arousal. It filled the cab, attracting his cock like a bee to nectar. Good deal. Her original idea of no safe word was going to be tested severely starting right now. He knew the truck driver was male. He had seen the man’s face looking back at him in the side mirror after the first stop. He now had an unknown, silent partner, and Ivone was going to be their mutual entertainment. Jamison now could feel her excitement, and his hardon was still straining at his leathers. He could have sex twice a day in a good week, although he didn’t often have the luxury of a bedmate, and Ivone was promising to up that average. He shoved the stick in neutral and engaged the emergency brake. Seven minutes would be plenty, and the enraged honks behind him would signal time. He slipped off his seat belt and shoved the steering wheel up to allow for

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some maneuverability. Ivone was nicely displayed and she hadn’t moved a muscle. He began by rolling and pulling her nipples, being careful not to make the already tormented nubs sorer, but hoping the other man was getting an eyeful. He leaned closer to Ivone. “Tilt the seat up more.” He smiled when her little hand unquestioningly slipped down to do his bidding. Now she was nearly prone, her hips higher than her head and her legs spread wide. She really wanted this, and exhibitionism obviously wasn’t a hard boundary. Jamison pulled her folds apart with one hand, framing her clit and opening. He wished he could show the driver her nice little asshole too, but aside from making her push her buttocks against the window, he didn’t know how to manage it in the time they had left. He wanted everyone to have a fleeting glance at this sexy, gorgeous woman but he wouldn’t put her at risk. Five minutes. Shit. Not wanting to block the view with his other hand, Jamison took the small anal wand he had placed in his pocket after the little discussion about the safe word. He ran it over Ivone’s folds, watching in satisfaction as she writhed against it. He began to fuck her with it in short, swift strokes, holding her wide open, seeing her moisture glisten in the light from the glove box. He glanced at the sign. Two minutes. No time. He pulled the wand out and slid it down her perineum and then into her puckered opening, knowing that the semi driver would understand where it had gone. Ivone cried out in passion. He then pushed his middle finger up her pussy and pressed her clit at the same time. Ivone arched and came, without permission, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth slightly agape, her breasts heaving. Jamison caught peripheral movement and realized the driver was leaning out the window, taking a picture with his phone. Not that a cell would capture anything at the distance and in the relative darkness. It wasn’t Ivone’s face the driver wanted a picture of, he was sure, and it thrilled Jamison that he had the real thing. That Ivone was his. He couldn’t even withdraw that thought,

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because he realized it was exactly what he felt. He had shown a complete stranger that he owned this woman and that she had accepted him, trusted him with her pleasure. The predicted honks had him sliding back to his seat and starting up the vehicle. Ivone didn’t move or say anything for the remainder of the journey. He pulled up in front of his home, right at the top of the circular drive. John had the front door open by the time Jamison made it around to help Ivone down. He left the wand in her and denied her the coat, although he threw it over his arm. Time to establish his boundaries and push hers further. He guided her up the wide steps and past John, into the foyer, pressing her down to kneel at his feet. “Thank you, John. Put some water in the master bedroom please, and then go to bed.” He passed John Ivone’s coat. “Yes, Mr. Landry. And breakfast?” “Let’s try for eight, but organize something that can wait until nine if necessary.” “Certainly.” Jamison watched his only live-in “servant” tuck the coat into the hall closet and then make his dignified way down the hall. John had been with him for years, since before his father died. John knew him inside and out and totally accepted him, which was more than Jamison could say about his father. That man had been impossible to please and never thought Jamison would amount to anything. The old man had left everything to Jamison by virtue of his gender alone, assuming that he would take care of his sister. That was the only accurate assumption Landry Senior had ever made about his son. Perhaps because of that, if not in spite of it, Jamison had built his father’s financial empire into something much greater than the old man had been capable of. It was too bad that he hadn’t been able to work on himself to become less dark, a more approachable sort. Maybe if his mother had lived past his birth, if he hadn’t killed her in gaining his own life, things would have been different.

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John hadn’t ignored Ivone. Jamison hoped she knew that. He wasn’t being ignorant by not introducing them either. It was simply that he wasn’t certain where this was going. He had never brought a woman home and put her into immediate submission before. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he had brought one home. His playroom was sadly underutilized. He had seen John’s surprise, although the old Brit was too well trained to let it show very much. He would introduce them at breakfast tomorrow unless Ivone asked to leave before then. He knew he was testing her, and couldn’t make himself slow down. It was like he wanted to get any issues out of the way so they could move forward. He was doing everything he could think of that might push her away, and desperately hoping nothing would do so. Putting Ivone into submission just as she entered his house was symbolic, spontaneous, and very important to him, even if he hadn’t planned it. No wonder John had been surprised. Jamison had surprised himself! He bent to pull Ivone to her feet. Her expression was neutral but those mismatched eyes flashed at him for a moment. He recognized a temper, a fierce spirit behind all that submission. He had really wanted a compliant woman, he mused, so if Ivone challenged him, it would be a battle of wills, unless it was a reasonable challenge of course. If there was such a thing in a D/s relationship. Of course there was. Jamison knew the protocol, although he found he had stepped outside of it tonight and that was disconcerting. Time would tell. “Go down the hallway and into the first door on your right,” he instructed her, stifling his wool gathering. “There is an adjoining bathroom. Take care of the wand and then choose a dildo from the case on the wall of the playroom. Stand under the cross and wait for me.” Ivone pattered forward, having slipped out of her shoes. He watched her slender body move gracefully down the hall, her high, rounded buttocks swaying, brushed by the soft waves of her hair that hid the lovely length of her back. His breath checked in his throat, and

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his vision grew narrow. He felt a spurt of defensive anger that she could so easily affect him this way and resolved to punish her for it, fully aware of how unfair that was, but seemingly helpless against it. He was again totally conflicted. It was as if she were medicine that he badly needed, and he didn’t want to take it, even if it meant good health, didn’t want to give into his need for her. He went quickly to the bedroom and searched for a hair tie that he had last seen in the catchall dish on the dresser in the master bathroom. His sister tended to leave her stuff all over his house when she visited. John had already managed to set a crystal pitcher of water and two glasses on a tray there. Jamison hesitated and then put one of the glasses out of sight. He wanted them to drink from the same glass, to have no separation between them. He ignored the symbolism of his act, stripping out of his shirt. He then went in search of his sub, looking every inch the Dom in his leathers. His breath caught again at the sight of her, standing submissively beneath the cross, the red-beaded dildo in her hand. It was his favorite, its dark color looking so hot as it split the folds of women and impaled them. He instantly wished he had something different for Ivone. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was now acting like a spoiled child who desperately wanted something and then questioned if it was really what he wanted after all, if it was the right choice. Jamison resolutely pushed his thoughts away and tended to the immediate. He took the toy from Ivone’s hand and pushed it up between her spread thighs from behind, knowing she was ready without needing to check. She stood on tiptoe until it was seated but didn’t protest, and he pressed a kiss on her shoulder. Shit, he hadn’t even kissed her properly yet, just got to the discipline and the sex. He had to get back in balance, as he found how much he wanted to kiss her. He tied her to the cross, making sure her joints weren’t under pressure, but stretching her taut. He then blindfolded her and stood back to stare without the risk of her seeing anything written on his face. He found it difficult to maintain an inscrutable look with her.

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She was perfect. Small, firm breasts tipped with cherry-red nipples. Waxed folds shielding what he knew to be a delectable, flavorful cunt between her rounded thighs. Her legs flowed from one curve to the next and ended in tidy, narrow feet, tipped with golden polish. Jamison longed to brand her, tattoo her with his initials right on the round of her belly where it met her hipbone. Maybe pierce her clit hood and attach a fine gold circlet. He walked around to run a hand down her spine, marveling at the suppleness of her skin and enjoying the shiver she made. He gathered her hair up and fished the elastic out of his leathers, awkwardly securing the mass on top of her head. Her back and ass shone under his gaze, the reddened patches from her previous paddling still obvious, although fading, and her thighs looked tender. Jamison decided on the single tail. **** Ivone stood in intense anticipation. The dildo stretched her, but not as much as Jamison’s cock had done earlier. She knew it would ground her if he let her come. She hated it when her vagina clenched on nothing, and he probably knew it from experience. She quit thinking of how he came to have the experience. How could she feel a bite of jealousy about a man she had just met? She wanted his experience, needed it. And she was the only one in the room with him right now. She wished he would get on with it. She still trembled inside from the exhibitionism in the vehicle. God, the sense of exhilaration it had given her, displayed and brought to climax publicly, the spice the danger of getting caught adding to her arousal. Not that she believed, somehow, that Jamison would truly put her at risk. She had loved it and wondered how he had known she would. She needed a bit more time to process what had transpired, but she was okay with it. Yet it still felt like he was testing her, and she wondered why. Did she affect him as he affected her? Was he wrestling with that knowledge as well? Did the intensity worry him?

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Scare him? Make him think that this was different from all the other times he played? Because it was so very, very different for her. “Remember your safe word, Ivone,” Jamison said, interrupting her thoughts. “This is both a lesson and a punishment.” The whip cracked and whistled as it came down on her back, her buttocks and thighs. Again and again it sang through the air, and Ivone breathed through the sting, the burn, the pain. Jamison laid the strokes on her back with precision and intensified the ones nearer her waist and across her buttocks, just as she would have asked him to do had she needed to. When the lash curled around her thighs and close to her sex, Ivone whimpered and tried to rock into them. She felt the tears soaking the blindfold. This was what she needed, and he seemed to know. This was finishing what the paddling had started. When he came around to lash her breasts and her belly, then the tops of her thighs, Ivone was already in a different headspace. It was far deeper than her earlier experience, and it took her away. **** Jamison was breathing and sweating heavily, and not just from the effort of whipping this woman. She was truly gorgeous on the cross, and he wanted to stripe every inch of her. He knew she was already in subspace and that he could push her higher without ever hearing her safe word. It was his responsibility to ensure her safety and, while he felt another tinge of resentment, as she drew him ever closer, Jamison tipped her head back and pulled off the blindfold until she opened her eyes and looked into his. She was some time returning and, when she did, the expression in her eyes and the inference of the smile that curved her lips wrapped him up in layers of unfamiliar emotion. Jamison crushed her mouth against his and explored her with his tongue until he needed air. He pulled away, nearly gasping for breath, and checked her condition. “Where are you, Ivone?” he asked.

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“I’m green, fine, Sir,” she breathed. Jamison couldn’t wait. He needed to fuck her immediately, if not sooner. He fumbled the ties loose and took her sagging weight into his arms, spinning to carry her into his bedroom. He placed her on his bed and worked his leathers off, watching as she writhed in sensation against the cool sheets. Her stripes needed care, but his need was greater. The sight of the dildo distracted him for a moment. He pulled it out and cast it away, then nearly threw himself down beside her and rolled her to lie on top of him to spare her back. He lifted her, her legs falling to straddle his hips, and slammed her down on his erection, watching her breasts bounce and her head fall back as she screamed at the invasion. Such was his need that he lifted and brought her down on him again and again without feeling her weight, his muscles rejoicing in the effort. She felt so malleable in his hands that he was able to keep at it until she roused and began to follow his movements. Ivone started to ride him, her hands now bracing her against his chest, so he moved his hands to her breasts, cupping them but leaving the nipples alone, recognizing how sore they had to be. She whimpered at his touch and increased her movements, frantic now. Jamison slid a hand down to find her clit and rubbed it in time to his strokes. He urged her to climax. Ivone arched back and then clenched him. He felt his seed hit her cervix and bathe them both. No condom, no need. The club ensured the sexual health of its members, and he didn’t care if Ivone wasn’t on birth control. He was never having a layer of latex between them again. What the fuck? As the pleasure of his climax faded, Jamison entertained some sobering thoughts. How many rules had he broken tonight? He forced himself to get up, carefully sliding Ivone onto her belly from where she had collapsed on his chest. He took the topical anesthetic from the bedside drawer and tended to her stripes. The skin of her back had a tiny split in two places near the bottom of her ribs, and he winced. While he didn’t think Ivone would protest, especially given their placement and the fact that any

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scarring would be nonexistent, he found he didn’t want to make this woman bleed, unless she pushed him with her need for it. Jamison prided himself on his skill with the whip, and he recognized that he had been pushed tonight, except it was also of his own making, a slip in his control because of this emotional thing he was resisting to the best of his ability. He carefully drifted the top sheet over Ivone and settled beside her to watch her sleep. She would need something to wear in the morning unless the housekeeper was given the day off. John would accept Ivone naked, but Jamison didn’t know if Joyce would be so understanding. She was relatively new, and while had to know of Jamison’s pursuits, especially as she cleaned his playroom, seeing a naked woman at his feet was a slightly different story. He wouldn’t tolerate attitude from Joyce, but Ivone seemed sensitive, and he couldn’t have her feeling uncomfortable. If only Eleanor hadn’t retired. Jamison didn’t notice that he had already begun to think of Ivone as being a fixture in his household. Ivone accepted the aftercare, probably exhausted after the evening’s events. She didn’t move, and clearly fell asleep immediately, her breaths little puffs of sound.

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Chapter Three Jamison opened his eyes and felt a soft, warm presence at his side. So he had slept after all despite the earlier catnap at the club. He usually had trouble sleeping and wondered if Ivone’s presence comforted him somehow, immediately dismissing the thought as frivolous. Ivone was asleep on her belly, just as he had left her. He wanted to fuck her again, despite getting off three times the previous evening and in the early hours of the morning. He drew back the sheet to check her back and noted that she was in good shape. He wouldn’t risk rolling her over and causing her discomfort however, so he reached under her waist and drew her up to her knees, resting her shoulders and head on the mattress. He was between her thighs, and pushing up inside of her before she was fully awake, his entry aided by his own seed, deposited the night before. He couldn’t make himself don a condom after failing to use one the last time. In for a penny, in for a pound. **** Ivone came awake just as Jamison thrust inside of her, and she gasped at the intrusion. The man must be part satyr. And he wasn’t using a condom again, the arrogant prick. That kind of attitude disappointed her. Yes, Doms were in charge, often arrogant, but were still expected to have their subs’ best interests at heart. The Club always checked sexual health, but birth control was left to the individuals as a matter course. He hadn’t even asked if she was protected. What was that about? This had been a time of firsts, and

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Ivone wondered if Jamison was as confused as she was. They communicated on a very deep level, but both had ignored the basics. It was like lightning had struck and fried their brains. She suddenly realized that Jamison had ceased his movements and was tense above her. “What is it?” he asked. “I expect you to receive me no matter when I need you.” Ivone bit back a sarcastic response. She was hoping that Jamison was what she wanted and that he could continue to give her what she needed. He had made an incredibly good start last night. The question was if she could do the same for him. There was that cold part in him again, espoused by his arrogance, in the colder light of day. She thought quickly, trying to formulate an answer that would enlighten him, but he had already pulled out of her and gone into the bathroom. Okay then, it was done. She already knew that about him. She had refused him without answering and few Doms took that kind of rejection, but especially this one. And a play night was just that. It was over. It had been an absolutely and totally incredible experience, one she would never forget, but it was done. Ivone was no stranger to disappointment and rejection, but she sighed and tried to ignore the incredibly desolate feeling that came over her. Wincing, she slipped out of bed and went to the bedroom door, the sounds of the shower masking her movements. The man who had opened the front door to them last night had hung up her coat, which held her bankcard, cash, ID and keys, although he hadn’t acknowledged her. That was okay. She was a sub, and Jamison would have had his reasons. Strange how she knew that already. The possible slight didn’t really affect her well being, if indeed it had been a slight. She had felt no censure from the older man. But now she had to find the coat and a phone in order to call a cab, and she was stark naked. She grabbed up Jamison’s shirt from where he had flung it on the floor in his haste to fuck her. There, another reason to be glad this didn’t work out. He was a slob. The white material draped her nearly

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to her calves, and the cuffs, even turned back twice, totally covered her hands. It felt like she was walking in a tent, but it rubbed her back and Ivone winced. No doubt she would have a few longer lasting reminders of her time with Jamison. **** Jamison showered, stroking himself to release, pushing away the thought of Ivone as he did so. He had found her flaw, just as he knew he would. She wasn’t totally submissive, or at least not as submissive as he required her to be. She hadn’t welcomed him that morning. He had read her body language as refusal and then she had the temerity to ignore his query. He reluctantly conceded that he had displaced his question with an immediate demand and hadn’t given her time to answer. Fuck, he was conflicted. In the cold light of morning, his brain was telling him to run, to keep his distance, that Ivone was dangerous to his status quo. But another part of him, and not his cock, although it, too, was extremely interested, fairly screamed for him to go and talk with her. With her, not to her. He wanted to get to know her as a person just as he had considered pulling back her layers last night. Physically she was perfect for him. She seemed able to meet all his dark needs as he thought he could meet hers. This felt right, and he then grudgingly admitted to himself that he felt a frisson of emotional fear. Fear that he could lose her. Perhaps he could ask her again what made her tense against him this morning. God, what if he had inadvertently hurt her wounds? Ivone liked harsh discipline, that he knew. She could also take punishment, of that he had proof. But he had made her bleed, not that she had complained or used her safe word. And maybe the pain had caused her to be less than accepting of him this morning. Jamison finished his ablutions, not a man to avoid completing a task, but moved right along. He briskly toweled off and then pulled on his robe, striding back into the bedroom.

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She was gone. Fuck, the little wench was gone. And she had no clothes. Joyce would be here. This was so not a good start for them. He tore down the hall and found her in John’s arms at the front door. Well, John actually had one arm around her, supportive-like, but a wave of anger swept over him. John was more than an employee, he was a friend, and his friend was cuddling Jamison’s woman. John’s eyes met his, and Jamison stopped dead in his tracks. Holy shit, John was looking at him with disappointment and a touch of anger. Ivone was already turning his household on its head. He knew she was bad news, standing there in his shirt, looking like a little girl immersed in her mother’s wedding gown. He must have had a brain aneurysm in the night. A wedding gown. He was delusional. This had to stop. “What is going on here?” he heard himself ask, in a melodramatic tone he remembered from some B movie. John spoke over Ivone’s head, for she refused to look at him. “I found Ms. Mendes-Rodrigues in the front closet, sir, searching for her coat. If you recall, you brought her home last night, uh, uncovered, and she can hardly leave without it. I called her a cab, and when I tried to help her on with her coat, I noticed blood on her, uh, your shirt.” Jamison winced and knew John saw it. That, then, was the reason for his disappointment and anger. It looked as though Jamison had abused Ivone and then kicked her out. John knew that his employer wouldn’t do such a thing and couldn’t imagine this scene taking place, so John was taking care of Ivone and stalling for an explanation. John continued, “I have been imploring Ms. Mendes-Rodrigues to stay and allow you to tend to her and then take her home as any gentleman would, but she became upset.” So Ivone had brought out John’s protective side. No surprise, for she looked so fragile. He needed to get her out of his house before she

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did any more damage to his well-ordered life, except he couldn’t get his head around her walking out the door forever. “I’ll see to things, thank you, John,” he managed, in a calm, uninflected tone. “Please have Joyce serve breakfast in fifteen minutes.” When John nodded gravely and hung Ivone’s coat back up before making his way toward the kitchen, Jamison moved to take her arm. She was rigid in his grasp, and when she looked up at him, he nearly backed away from the strong emotion he saw there. She was angry, but behind that Jamison saw hurt, something that made his heart cringe. “Let go of me,” she said coldly. “Call me a cab and give me my coat.” “You will come back to my bedroom so that I can look at those stripes, Ivone. Then you will shower, and I’ll find something for you to wear to breakfast. I’ll take you wherever you need to go afterwards. But you won’t cause John any more concern, do you understand?” Ivone stood tall, and dragged her arm from his grasp. “You stay away from me. I’ll have breakfast for your man’s sake. He is a gentleman and very kind. But you keep your distance or I won’t be responsible for what happens. Do you understand me, you jerk?” She was gaining her equilibrium back and hiding her pain from him. Jamison was both relieved and bothered. He didn’t want to cause this woman that kind of pain, never wanted to see it stand in her eyes again. He was distracted from his musing by a huff and a stamp of Ivone’s foot. He then wanted to laugh. He rarely laughed. He felt like a big dog being nipped at by a tiny puppy. He should be tanning her ass for the way she had just spoken to him, but found himself understanding that he had hurt her, offended her in some manner, broken the rules. So therefore the rules no longer bound her, and she could speak to him as she saw fit. He inclined his head and stepped aside for her to pass him and followed her back to the master bath.

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She pulled his shirt over her head, but not before he saw the tiny spots of blood on it. He reached out to position her in a manner to allow him to check her ribs, but she eluded him and fixed him with a look that actually made his balls draw up. “Back off. If you want to make yourself useful, find me something to wear that one of your other women left behind. Maybe you can match the hair tie.” Ivone slammed the bathroom door in his face. **** Ivone hunkered under the shower after pulling her hair up with an elastic she found wrapped around a package of Band-Aids in the medicine cabinet. She fought tears and knew that she had overreacted. She was actually horrified that she had spoken to a Dom in that manner. She was a trained sub for God’s sake. And she had no call to imply that she was just another one of his women. What had come over her? Well, he had, for one thing, and in more ways than one. He was too complex, running hot and cold, wanting her then pushing her away. She wasn’t a robot. It was too much, too fast, she thought. The idea of never seeing him again made her stomach hurt, and she rubbed it with the loofah in an attempt to assuage the throbbing. When Jamison had taken himself off to the shower, Ivone believed she had taken herself under control after Jamison rejected her. After pleasuring her with punishment, fucking her senseless and showing her off to a stranger, all of which she had really liked. It had only been one night and a truly memorable experience. One night wasn’t long enough to feel what she was feeling. So she had slunk down the hallways in reverse order and found the closet. One more minute would have given her the time to slip into her coat and shoes and be out the door. Maybe even thirty seconds. Finding a cab would have been tough, but she would have managed. But then that nice John had come along. He immediately noticed the telltale blood spots, like someone with x-ray eyes. They were nothing really. She had just

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irritated two little stripes by rubbing them with the shirt fabric. But John was worried for her and couldn’t believe that Jamison had allowed her to just leave without breakfast, or even calling her a cab. She had almost convinced him that it was okay, and hopefully hidden the tears standing in her eyes, when Jamison came along like some dark character from a stupid comic book. No way did she want to cause trouble between him and that nice John, but he wasn’t getting another chance to hurt her again either. Boy, how that rejection had stung. She stepped out and dried off, and pulled off the elastic, grimacing as it took some strands with it, and pushed her hair into some semblance of order. She scrubbed her teeth with a finger anointed with toothpaste and spat vehemently into the sink. Now to face him, the prick. Her simmering anger served to hold the sadness at bay. **** Jamison lounged in a chair, watching the bathroom door. She made him so hard. He thought he had wanted a compliant woman surely, not a little spitfire, although he knew she would be regretting her outburst given her training. He needed to find out what he had done wrong and correct it, then correct her. He had decided that she wasn’t leaving. He was vaguely aware that he had lost control of himself, eschewed his training, but he didn’t care. It felt quite exhilarating. They would take the weekend to determine where this would go. He had found a pair of black tights, pant things his sister had left on her last visit, and a flowered shirt Eleanor had set aside for rags. No undergarments. There was simply nothing else available that would come close to fitting her. Jamison managed to hide a smile at the thought of seeing Ivone’s face when she saw what there was to wear. His other women indeed. Surely she didn’t consider herself to be just another woman? Couldn’t she feel this thing between them? Was that what had upset her? Did she think the display in the car last

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night made her something less, cheapened her, and not made her the hottest thing ever in his eyes? They were going to talk after breakfast if he had to use the machine to help convince her. It could go for hours and he idly wondered how many orgasms Ivone could take before she opened up to him. Once he’d had her again of course. The sight of her naked body took his breath away. Again. She marched toward him, her pert breasts bouncing, and his eyes dropped to her sex. It was still swollen from his use and he badly wanted to touch her, sooth her there. “Let me see your ribs,” he demanded instead. “No, they’re fine.” “Ivone.” **** Ivone had herself under control now. She wasn’t going to swear and scream at him anymore. It was beneath her. “Don’t you try that dark-Dom tone on me, Jamison Landry. You forfeited that right,” she fairly snarled. Whatever it was had come over her again. She did not behave like this with any man she was in a sexual relationship with. Behave yourself, calm down, pull yourself together! She tried again, because he had coiled his big frame up from the chair, intent written across his features. She wanted to jump on him and grind herself against that erection he was sporting. He might be an ass, but lots of women boffed an ass. Just make this about a quick fuck. At the same time she longed to slap his face. “I am fine. I don’t need you to check my ribs, really.” There, that was the ticket. She had been firm but polite. So why was she face down on the bed with his hand on her ass? Jamison’s hand traced two places near her waist.

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“Stay like this,” he ordered. “I’m going to get a bandage and apply it so that you won’t irritate it. It’s already scabbing over again. And Ivone, if you move, you won’t sit down to eat your breakfast.” Ivone lay as instructed, and fumed. She suffered the application of some ointment and let him apply Band-Aids. All this fuss, much too late. Breakfast had better be worth it, although it would probably taste like sawdust if she had to look at him. Vaguely, she knew that her intense emotional response was a defense mechanism, although quite out of character for her. She was a patient person and never let people get to her, or at least never let them see that they had. She had considerable practice hiding her feelings, both to save her mother more guilt and to save herself. Goddamn this man. Why hadn’t he turned out to be a simple Dom, one who liked to give pain, coupled with lots of hot sex? Ivone pushed away the fact that she hadn’t been successful in finding one of those, as well as the fact that she had already acknowledged that she needed more, that Jamison Landry had awoken something deep inside of her. She donned the borrowed clothing without comment. The tights fit passably well, and the flowered shirt, although antiquated, was worn soft by hundreds of washings and flowed around her, hiding the fact that she had no underwear. Ivone figured Jamison had chosen the least flattering of the women’s clothing he had lying around and ignored the little twinge it gave her. Whatever. Breakfast and then, move on. The club would have another event in a few weeks and by then she would have forgotten Jamison and he her, if she could make herself go through that door ever again. **** Jamison was amazed at her lack of response when Ivone dressed in the only outfit he had been able to find. She looked adorable, if a bit frumpy in the top. The tights outlined her lovely little butt and legs though, and he was glad that Eleanor’s old shirt came down to her

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thighs. He didn’t need to be further tempted until Joyce was more seasoned. Having a naked woman kneeling at your employer’s feet or spread on his lap might take some getting used to. He offered his hand to escort her, but she smiled distantly and slipped past him out the door. When she hesitated, clearly not knowing where to go next, he placed his hand on the small of her back, carefully avoiding the small injuries and guided her to the dining room. Joyce was setting out silver trays of hot, steaming food on the sideboard. Jamison was taken aback. Joyce must have been under the impression that this breakfast was a big deal. Well, so it was. He was still trying to ignore how Ivone was getting under his skin while sussing out ways to keep her with him, but that was no excuse for being rude. He pulled a chair out for her, but she had already gone to where Joyce was standing to offer her hand and her name. He felt totally ashamed. There was no pretence with Ivone. John had seen that, even if she had been naked and kneeling when he first laid eyes on her. Jamison’s face flamed with embarrassment and he moved to awkwardly perform the introductions. Joyce looked a little flustered at Ivone’s outfit, but clearly the young woman’s charm and spontaneity disarmed her. She shook her hand and smiled widely, indicating that she hoped breakfast would be suitable. Ivone was so enthusiastic in her response that Joyce positively bounced from the room to get the coffee. John was waiting by the table and when Ivone turned her smile on him, the old man seemed to melt. Jamison felt like an outsider. He suddenly didn’t like himself very much. He went to fetch Ivone and placed her firmly in the chair he had selected. Joyce came back to serve coffee and asked that she be called if anything further was required. Ivone ignored him, but she and John engaged in conversation. Jamison heard John telling Ivone personal information that he had only learned about his friend as an adult. Which made sense, he supposed. John had been too busy shielding him from his father to

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have time for much sharing, and he had been too young anyhow for John to be his friend at the time. Ivone told John what she did for a living and made him laugh with some of her anecdotes. Jamison sensed, though, that she wasn’t always happy in her work, that she liked it, but that there were issues. Well, if she agreed to become his sub, she wouldn’t have to work. She wouldn’t have the time. He watched and listened as he ate and drank his way through a marvelous repast. John must have told Joyce that Ivone was to be treated very well indeed. Ivone picked at her food and drank too much coffee. Jamison longed to cut her off. Too much caffeine wasn’t good for a person. He managed to hold his tongue though. This breakfast was to assuage John’s anxiety, but he was getting incredibly invested in and possessive of Ivone. Why else was he thinking about her becoming his full-time sub? Not that she was giving him any real hints that she’d agree. Jamison was tenacious however, and had never failed when he made up his mind about something. Comparing a relationship with Ivone to a business deal probably wasn’t the best idea, and he resolved to think about it differently, once he learned how. When the meal was finished, Ivone thanked Joyce and gave John another smile. She turned to Jamison without looking directly at him, and gestured to the phone. “I think I’ll call a cab, Mr. Landry,” she said sweetly. “You’ll have lots to do, I’m sure, and I should be getting home. I have a cat who will be wondering where lunch is.” “Don’t,” he murmured. “I want to talk to you.” John discreetly vanished into the kitchen, and Jamison caught Ivone’s panicked glance in that direction. “I don’t want to hear it,” she tried, backing away. Jamison shrugged and effortlessly lifted her into his arms, and headed for the playroom. Ivone struggled a little, but she didn’t use her safe word or look at him. He could see moisture glittering on her lashes and he suddenly knew what it had cost her to get through

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breakfast for John’s sake. He felt ashamed again, and tried to think like a man, not a play Dom. He changed direction and went back to his bedroom where he gently sat her on the bed and took the chair. “I’d like to talk with you,” he amended. It was clear that Ivone understood the concession. “Then talk,” she invited. “Why did you deny me this morning?” “I didn’t,” she answered. He waited. “You didn’t use a condom.” Jamison closed his eyes for a moment. She wasn’t on birth control, and she could be pregnant. How had she taken his control? Bullshit. He needed to quit making this her problem and man up. Damn it. It didn’t matter because he didn’t care if he had made a baby in her. He wanted Ivone, any way he could have her. “Are you on birth control?” he managed to ask civilly. “I am.” “Then why…” he began, then abruptly shut up. He understood. She was totally right and he had fucked up. Christ. A night with her and his brain wasn’t working. That made two mistakes if he had been counting, and he hadn’t been, so that probably meant he’d made more than just two! “I apologize, Ivone,” he said quite formally. “My behavior was inexcusable.” Ivone said, “You tested me all evening and then ‘forgot’ something really important. You forgot about my rights as a sub. I share the responsibility for the safe word, but you…” Her words trailed off as she looked at his face. “I did test you. I am not in the habit of explaining myself, but in this case, suffice it to say that I have extremely high standards and hate to waste my time.” Ivone stood, effectively cutting him off. “Stop. Stop it now. You will never find someone to measure up because you keep changing

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the rules, raising the bar, because you don’t have a clue. It keeps you from making the commitment. I understand. I really do. I’m afraid myself. But I’ve just discovered that I need more, and perhaps I misled you. I apologize for my earlier behavior. I know better. Now, I would like to leave.” Jamison knew the truth when he heard it. Especially when he was so angry at himself that he could have punched a hole in the wall. In a few short sentences, Ivone had laid him bare and forced him to face himself. Now she would leave, and he would go back to his old ways and be content. Right, he wouldn’t interfere, wouldn’t try to stop her. He nodded. “I’ll call you a cab,” he affirmed. “You may collect your coat and wait at the front door. The clothing was all that we had available, and there is no need to return it. John will show you out.” **** Ivone kept a neutral expression and hurried out of the bedroom. So he hadn’t tried to remind her of her place when he’d provided the strange garments. She thought she should go back, try to open a dialogue, but she saw John was waiting with her coat. “I had hoped that he would recognize you, my dear,” the old man confided quietly. Ivone looked at him. “He needs you. I can tell you are different from the others and so can he, but he won’t allow himself to accept it. He is afraid, Miss Ivone.” Ivone bit her quivering bottom lip. “It scares me to know that I understand everything you just said to me, John. It should be too soon. I only met him last night, yet we connected in a way I’ve never felt before. But he would consume me because he can’t seem to stop finding fault, and would keep pushing me away. I know that he’s

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trying to protect himself, but I would keep trying until I was used up. That fear of his would kill us both.” She stopped, wondering where that insight had come from. Her mother talked of finding her soul mate in her father, but theirs had also been a tortured relationship even though they couldn’t live without one another for any length of time. Ivone couldn’t do that. She liked herself too much for that. It had taken a lot of work, a lot of therapy, but she had come to like herself, to learn and believe that she hadn’t been responsible for driving her parents apart. That she was entitled to a relationship that was different from her parents. That she just might be worthy of love. Impulsively, she kissed John on the cheek. “Take care of him,” she whispered. “I will,” he answered gravely. “As much as he will let me.” “Ivone.” Jamison’s voice penetrated their collusion. “Come here.” Ivone trembled but took a step toward him. Her brain told her to flee, to maybe save herself, but her heart was her mother’s. Jamison pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her like steel bands, and spoke to John over her head. “Miss Ivone will be staying for the weekend. Please advise Joyce.” John sounded both worried and relieved. “Yes, sir.” Jamison took her down with him onto his huge bed, tearing away the shirt and pulling the black pants down to her knees. He fumbled his cock out and entered her in the next breath, crushing his lips to hers. He pounded at her, the fabric restricting her knees and making her tighter to penetrate. It felt as though he was trying to show her what she meant to him, that he would try not to push her away, that she was his woman. They reached orgasm nearly at the same moment and he muffled her cries with his mouth and then groaned his release into her shoulder. He didn’t take his weight from her right away but engulfed her with his whole body, and Ivone fancifully thought he was trying to absorb her very soul as he held her so closely. When she

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pushed at his shoulders and he realized she couldn’t breathe, he rolled off but pulled her with him, never taking his eyes from her face nor his arms from around her. He looked at her with what she thought might be love, or something close to it, although she really wasn’t sure she knew what love looked like. She stared back at him with the same expression, she was sure, and when he smiled, her heart melted. Not that she would give voice to it.

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Chapter Four Ivone pushed the pencil behind her ear, snagging it through her hair. She was exhausted and hoped the final two hours of her work day would move quicker than the first several had. Reed was back and pissed at the lack of movement on one of the accounts. He knew where the fault actually lay, but for some reason decided to blame the team. Ivone stood up to him, and he had stormed away before returning a short time later to ask her forgiveness. However, that meant the team really had to produce and everyone was worn out and seeing double. Ivone ruefully reflected on the weekend she had spent with Jamison. He hadn’t let her sleep more than a few hours at a time, so she was more tired than normal. Idly, she thought back to those three days. Jamison was truly insatiable, and he had taken her every way he could think of and then became more creative. He had corrected her the same afternoon that she had lost it and told him off, and Ivone didn’t especially want to dwell on that memory. He denied her countless orgasms until she lost her voice begging, and then finally gave her one that caused her to pass out, for he had actually given her several, but so close to one another that she couldn’t separate them. That experience had actually been close to painful. He had woken her with an icepack on her clit while he fucked her from behind and she was glad to avoid release that time. She was also really glad that she took estrogen shots rather than oral birth control, because he was probably incredibly potent. He had then flogged her, paddled her, clamped her, and brought her off with ease throughout the weekend, and she had loved it all. She suspected his preference was her ass although she had sucked him

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off several times and had learned how much he liked her to hold her breath when he was at the back of her throat. Jamison seemed to save vaginal sex for his more tender moments. He held her afterwards and looked into her eyes as though he was searching for something. They spent time talking and sharing, too, although Ivone knew Jamison still kept a part of himself aloof. She understood it would take time before he would feel safe enough to open up to her fully but was too tired to speculate. She had learned he was wealthy and had inherited the business from his father, and that he had one sister, several years older than he was. Liza hadn’t married, apparently, although she was presently in a relationship. Jamison had told her that he hoped she would meet Liza when she came for her next visit. He clearly envisioned a longer relationship that his usual ones, and Ivone carefully stored that vision away for examination at a later date. She told him about her parents, and how they had time only for one another, although had cared for her in a diffident manner. She was careful not to draw too obvious a comparison about her mom and dad’s stormy relationship, on again, off again, but always with deep, deep passion. It had frightened her as a child, and scarred her psyche, too, for the continual leaving and reuniting tainted her views of relationships. Her parents hadn’t used her against one another. She went with whoever left after a drama, taken along like one of the suitcases, silent and worried. Oh, there was never any physical violence, but the emotional angst tied her in knots, and she worried about ever being able to commit, to take the risk of anyone having such power over her and being able to hurt her so deeply. She had so badly wanted to be taken care of on some level and then found the clarity of BDSM reassuring and freeing as the correction and discipline alleviated all her pent-up emotions. But it was about learning to trust, and now she had met someone she was strongly attracted to on so many levels, and who seemed to struggle with similar shit. Oh boy. Life had an interesting sense of humor.

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Joyce served wonderful meals, and although Ivone had been nude and kneeling at Jamison’s feet or curled on his lap, he had made certain that she had the choicest morsels from his own plate. Joyce took her naked presence in stride, which seemed to surprise Jamison, for initially he had been tense and protective. But Joyce, after a brief hesitation, had merely nodded to Ivone and kept cooking for them. John of course accepted her as though she belonged, which she felt she did. Jamison had undergone some sort of change. She didn’t want to examine it too closely, but he, too, seemed to have simply accepted her and had forgone his “tests.” There had been no talk of a contract, and Ivone wasn’t concerned about that, although she probably should have been. He had driven her home in time for her to get ready for her job, as promised, and told her that he would see her later. Ivone simply took him at his word and didn’t worry about it. She forced her attention back to the work. She caught Kathie’s interested look and gave a noncommittal smile. She had chosen her clothing and makeup with care that morning to conceal any evidence of the weekend of debauchery, but Kathie seemed to sense something. Kathie was nearer her age and had asked about BDSM. Ivone had told her not to fool with something unless she had educated herself, and suggested several books and Internet sites. Not that she was following protocol of late! Ivone didn’t hide her interest, but neither did she flaunt it and had wondered where Kathie picked up on it. It turned out that Kathie’s cousin frequented Vice and had let it slip that Ivone was a member. Fortunately, the cousin had moved away and hadn’t outed Ivone’s status in the club. Ivone had no intention of letting Kathie have any more info than she already had, especially about the past weekend. This thing with Jamison was too precious. Not that she would be the best mentor in any event, considering how she had flouted the D/s code much of the weekend. She really didn’t care that she had. Jamison was waiting for her outside the office building when Ivone finished work for the day. Her heart stuttered at the sight of him

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in jeans and a casual shirt, leaning against his SUV, his eyes unreadable behind dark sunglasses. She could feel Kathie’s eyes boring between her shoulder blades and smiled to herself. She went to Jamison, and he helped her into the passenger seat without a word after kissing her masterfully. Arousal came off him in waves and Ivone’s sex flooded in response. She was nearly naked by the time he pulled up in front of his home, but he had said nothing of import to her, other than to demand she remove certain articles of clothing. While they seemed to be able to read one another fairly well without using words, Ivone decided that Jamison was going to learn to verbally communicate on a more frequent basis. She was excited with anticipation but would welcome that verbal confirmation. He pulled her out of the vehicle and carried her into the house. John held the door and winked at her as Jamison strode past him and down the hallway, and then he stepped out, presumably to retrieve her clothes. Ivone smiled at him over Jamison’s shoulder, marveling at how comfortable and accepted she felt in this household. Jamison bypassed the playroom and went into the master suite. He dropped her on the bed and tore at his own clothes while she waited for him to indicate his preference. He dropped over her and pushed up inside with no preliminaries and then stilled. Ivone watched him close his eyes and saw his features tighten, as he simply held steady and felt her. She carefully wrapped her arms around him, and he fairly melted into her, and then began to thrust urgently. He came nearly at once and pressed a kiss on her shoulder when he finished. After pulling out, he rolled them both to stand and urged her into the bathroom where he set her in the shower and turned it on, directing the spray away from her until it reached a comfortable temperature. He climbed in and carefully washed her from head to toe. Ivone understood that there was some significance in Jamison’s actions and remained silent, waiting for him to share, but other than murmuring his approval, he didn’t enlighten her. He lifted her out and dried her as carefully as he had washed her, and then flooded her anus with lube, wiping off the

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excess with a cloth. Ivone trembled in reaction, and Jamison dropped a kiss on either buttock and then took her back into the bedroom where he dressed in front of her. He dropped some items on the bed beside her. “Put these on and come for dinner,” he said, and left the room. Sighing, Ivone sorted out the pieces of fabric. Such a difficult man, still so tied up inside. But she had signed up for the long run, and he clearly had a plan for her and believed she would comply. Truth to be told, she thought she would follow him through the fires of hell if it suited her. She stepped into the thong and then put on the bra. The cover-up was transparent, but if this was dinner attire then so be it. She added some lip gloss and went to eat. Ivone came to a halt as soon as she reached the dining room. The table was set for a large gathering, and there were several couples already in attendance. Shit, this had better not be another test. Would it be so difficult for Jamison to talk with her, prepare her? Obviously so. He expected her to accommodate him without question and her training must have been faulty, because she wasn’t doing so well with this, because he wasn’t doing the best job of communicating with her! But she would do her best if it was what he wanted. Maybe. If it suited her. The fires of hell, and how fucked up was she that she was going down this path? She met his eyes and went to him at his gesture. The room fell silent. “This is Ivone,” he announced. “She is mine unless we decide otherwise.” The men nodded to him and the women gave her quick, covert glances. Ah, Doms and their subs, although she was the only one in a revealing outfit. The other women were tastefully dressed and clearly not in full mode. So this was a test. Damn him. At least he had acknowledged that she could terminate this relationship as well as he! Stabbing him with a salad fork was probably not the best choice, however.

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Jamison pressed her to her knees on the pillow by his chair and took his place. Joyce and John came in immediately to serve, and the party began around her. Jamison fed her from his plate and offered her tiny sips of wine. No one spoke to her or acknowledged her presence directly although they asked Jamison about her. Some of the questions were quite personal, and he answered them honestly and matter-of-factly. Ivone found herself becoming resentful. She had not signed up for this. She hadn’t yet told him of all her boundaries, and he was pushing her to accept his. If he thought he would share her, then he had another think coming. Enough. Confusion roiled within her, and she so wanted to just trust him and believe. It was just that things were moving so quickly. **** Jamison felt the tension in Ivone the instant he had touched her to press her down by his feet, for her face had given nothing away. He thought that she would have settled once she came to understand how he honored her by introducing her to this select group of Doms and their subs. This was her initiation, and he thought she would recognize that fact, but instead she grew more anxious and wouldn’t eat. Damn it, what was he supposed to do? Had he made yet another mistake with her? Was he moving too quickly? Maybe he should have discussed this with her, but Ivone seemed to feel as strongly about him as he did about her, and he thought she had come to realize that he now had her best interests at heart. Jamison quit questioning himself. He had never claimed a sub before, but this was his group’s protocol. He had even invited his mentor and his sub here tonight. Patrick hadn’t been certain that his wife Madi would be well enough to attend, but they had made the effort, and he thought Ivone would do the same. He had thought Ivone would have simply trusted him and accepted it. He again forgot that he had carried her along with his

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need, his intent, and hadn’t discussed it with her, assuming she would read him and acquiesce. **** After the meal, Jamison announced that they would adjourn to the playroom. Ivone felt ambivalent. So that was his plan. She frantically thought of ways to extricate herself without totally humiliating him but couldn’t come up with any that would be believable. Well, she had her safe word, and this wasn’t going to be much different than the club. She wasn’t going to let anyone else touch her. And she and Jamison were going to have a chat later. He was simply pushing his luck. She meekly followed him to the playroom where he stripped her of her clothing and bound her to the cross. As he fixed the blindfold in place, he brushed his lips across her temple. Ivone took heart at the sweet gesture and tried to prepare, hypervigilant to the feminine murmurs and masculine sounds as the other members settled to witness her flogging. Jamison used the double tail. The first strike to her back made her aware of his choice and she nearly screamed at the bite of pain, and then rejoiced in it. He worked it carefully, and she soon slipped away, the endorphins flooding her system. She then became aware of being taken down, and cradled in someone’s arms, a bottle of water held to her lips, a deep voice urging her to drink. She scented Jamison’s familiar smell and relaxed into him, forgetting about their small audience. He then placed her over the bench and pushed her thighs apart. She expected him to push into her pussy but felt him at her anus. His huge, lubricated cock pressed against her and past the muscle, pulling a tiny cry from her lips. “Quiet.” His growl silenced her, and she bit herself to stifle any sound. She couldn’t hold back the purging tears however, and they soaked the blindfold and leaked down her face. She managed through his initial strokes as she had done their first night together, and again

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the burn turned to pleasure/pain, especially when he reached to find her clit. Ivone managed to muffle the sounds of her release when Jamison came inside her and pinched her clit at the same time. He pulled out of her to the sounds of approval of their audience and Ivone heard their voices raised in farewell as they took their leave. She allowed herself to slip to the floor and curled up as small as she could. She had relished it but was so confused. What had it meant? Was it a beginning or an end? He had said she was his, but things were moving so quickly. She heard Jamison make a small sound of consternation and he scooped her up. Ivone wouldn’t open her eyes, even after he removed the blindfold, not even when he lowered her into a warm bath. She was afraid of what she would see in his face. **** Jamison held Ivone in the tub, changing the water constantly, waiting for her to say something, anything. He knew his performance with the double tail had been flawless and had given her what she needed. He ass fucked her to establish his total dominance and claiming in front of witnesses and, aside from that one small sound, she had made him proud. He thought she would feel his pride and would see it, if only she would look at him. “Ivone,” he tried, wondering what he might say to her that would make her speak, tell him what was wrong. “Ivone, you make me so proud.” She finally opened her eyes and looked at him wearily. “How nice for you, Jamison. Thanks so much for considering me in your evening plans.” Jamison froze inside at her words. He lifted her out and dried her gently then laid her over his knee as he tended to her anus. Ivone didn’t move, didn’t respond. He carried her to his room and tucked her between the sheets and retreated, turning off the lights as he went.

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He hesitated, and then went to his study. Patrick should be home by now. “What can I do for you, Jami?” Patrick’s familiar voice instantly calmed Jamison. “And congratulations, by the way, on your lovely little sub. I initially wondered about you going to that other club, even for variety, but you found yourself a gem.” Jamison forced a laugh. “Thanks, Pat. But my gem is in my bed right now, pissed off or something of the sort.” Patrick sighed. “Just how long have you known Ivone?” “I met her last Friday night.” “And you initiated her tonight?” Patrick asked incredulously. Cautiously, Jamison concurred. “Well that’s the quickest, most trusting D/s relationship ever, then, buddy. Or maybe not, seeing as she’s pissed, or something, with you. You are an adequate play Dom, Jami, but you clearly suck at long-term relationships. Oh, that’s right, this would be your first.” Jamison could feel his anger building. “So tell me what the fuck I did wrong, you bastard.” “Did you talk about her boundaries? Did you establish your expectations? Hers? Do you by chance have a contract? Did she know, even a little, about the initiation? Your little group pushes some of the hardest boundaries, after all. I’m surprised you invited me. Madison won’t go with me again.” “She should trust me,” Jamison answered belligerently, ignoring the reference to offending the sensibilities of Patrick’s sub. “I am well trained. I know my Dom role.” “For fuck’s sake, Jamison,” Patrick tried. “You are a play Dom. You seem to know what subs need almost without asking and you read body language as well as Graham and I. But you have absolutely no experience with any woman longer than one, maybe two nights, and then you inevitably find something wrong with them, as paltry as it might be. And even then you mostly do them at a club. I’ve never

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even seen the inside of your playroom before. I’m not sure I knew you had one. You are clearly in over your head here. Playing isn’t like building a lasting emotional connection. You would have rushed even the most patient sub.” Jamison brooded. He heard Ivone’s words echoed in Patrick’s. Shit. He was more a show than talk kind of guy. “So what do I do?” “Well, for starters you take care of her body.” “I know that. Jesus.” “Okay then. The next part will probably kill you. This woman has obviously gotten to you on a very different level. A really deep level. Talk with her. Not to her, Jami. Talk with her. Communication is the most important part of any relationship. Any, Jami. She isn’t going to keep cutting you slack unless she gets off on the kind of treatment you really don’t want to continue. Not if you want a fulfilling relationship, and it appears that you do. Take a chance, buddy. I do know what I’m talking about.” Jamison thought it through. Patrick did indeed know. He and Madi were solid, and Jamison had doubted that Patrick would ever settle for one sub. And he didn’t even share anymore. Same for Graham and Kennedy. They even had a kid. Well, Graham’s kid from that little blonde bitch, but Kennedy was his mom, too. Kennedy had tuned Graham in, if the rumors were to be believed, and Graham was one happy dude. Food for thought. “Thanks.” Jamison hung up the phone and headed back to Ivone with renewed purpose. He wanted her again. She so did it for him. But he would have to talk to her first. Correction, with her. Ivone was sound asleep, curled up in a ball on her side, precariously near the edge of the bed. She looked like she was protecting herself and had put her back to him. Jamison once again felt guilt. Come to think of it, he was feeling things he hadn’t felt for years, if ever. All because of Ivone. He stripped and climbed in beside her, carefully gathering her to him, ignoring his throbbing erection, and drifted away.

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Chapter Five Ivone awoke to the sensation of hot breath on the nape of her neck and an enormous erection between her buttocks. She stifled the urge to scream and punch Jamison. Her bottom hurt. He had to know that and yet he…she realized that he wasn’t moving and accepted that he was sleeping. She eased out of his embrace and slipped to the floor. After using the facilities, she washed up carefully, and then felt a sense of déjà vu. Her clothes were nowhere to be seen, and she would need to seek out John. This time she was out of here for good. The sex and the erotic pain were simply not a good enough trade off for the guessing games. Jamison could find someone else. She ignored her heart’s protest. The stupid thing needed to get a grip. Last night had been the last straw in this bizarre relationship. Jamison was messed up, and she wasn’t a counselor. She had enough issues of her own, and it was time someone behaved like an adult and not like a teenager drunk on the pleasures of the flesh. Jamison was awake when she went back into the bedroom. He watched her with an inscrutable expression, and Ivone ignored him. She looked around for his shirt, certain it would be on the floor and spotted it under the window. As she reached for it, Jamison surged off the bed and wrapped her up, pulling her back onto the bed. Ivone didn’t fight him. “Let go, Jamison,” she said quietly. Jamison responded by kissing her, and Ivone resisted a response with everything she had. He pulled back and stared at her, surprise on his face. “I’m going to be late for work,” Ivone stated. “Let me go.”

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Jamison relaxed his hold and watched her scramble up and don his shirt. “John hung up your clothes in the bedroom across the hall,” he offered. “I thought you might want your own room sometimes.” Ivone fought the urge to scream and throw something at him. This man sorely tried her famed patience. She had figured out what last night meant once he had put her to bed and she had time to think. It had been another breach of protocol. Claiming was a serious business and there was no contract, no discussion, no collar, nothing. Claiming was built on extreme trust, and she hardly knew the man. He should turn in his leathers. Maybe there was a complaint process. She stomped out and found “her” bedroom with no trouble. It smelled of fresh paint, varnish, and new materials, and she realized that he had somehow transformed the entire room in one day. It was a princess room of cream and white, with accents of pink and had a queen-size bed draped in eyelet lace with roses and matching white French provincial furniture. Ivone hated it, and then she cried stormily at his attempt of thoughtfulness. Not that he had consulted with her. No, of course not. Ivone decided at that moment that the D/s lifestyle she had trained in was not for her. She must have been in the bathroom when the total control and sublimation part was discussed. Sure, she knew that there were some extreme elements in the lifestyle, but not in the club she belonged to. Jamison needed a dog, not a sub. This was as much her fault as his because she had let her heart, and her pussy, rule her head. Stupid. She pulled her clothes on and found her cell. The taxi company assured her a car would be there in minutes. “Ivone?” Jamison stood just outside her door. “May I come in?” “No.” “I’ll drive you to work,” he offered. “No.” “That wasn’t a request, Ivone.” “You just don’t get it, do you?” she muttered.

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It was actually kind of funny. He couldn’t come in her room without invitation, at least he knew that protocol, but she couldn’t leave unless she let him drive her. Stand off. Two adults acting like juveniles. So much for all that training. When it came to matters of the heart, it seemed as if it all went out the window. Ivone didn’t question her strong feelings for this man any longer, just as she intuitively knew he was head over heels in something for her. Not that it wasn’t stupid. It was the ass-backward nature of what they had. She sighed. “I would like to get it, as you term it, Ivone,” Jamison stated. “I’ll drive you to work and you and I can talk.” Ivone snorted. “Talk? Right. That would be a new skill for you, mister.” “Be careful, sub,” he warned. “You didn’t like the last correction.” A shiver went up Ivone’s spine, and then she straightened it. “You aren’t my Master, Jamison. You’re just another play Dom I thought was for real.” Ivone was horrified to feel her eyes fill with tears again, and her lip begin to tremble. She felt so hurt, so let down, and didn’t know if she was more angry with herself or with Jamison for the situation they were currently in. “Ivone, you need to let me in or come to me. Please.” The word actually sounded rusty to her ears. “Please.” **** Ivone tottered forward into his arms and Jamison crushed her to him. He wanted to take her right there on the hardwood floor, but managed to restrain himself. Even he knew that you couldn’t solve everything with sex. “C’mon, little one,” he heard himself say. An endearment. Not sub, not Ivone, but an endearment. It felt okay. It felt more than okay.

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“I’ll take you to work and then I’ll pick you up after. We’ll go somewhere for dinner and talk.” Jamison figured a public place would force him to stay on task, although he hoped that there would be a fuck in there someplace. Ivone smothered a sob. “I can’t go to work like this, you, you…” He smiled against her hair. She was so cute when she got upset. Holy shit. Cute. Upset. This was getting so out of his comfort zone. Well, time enough to rein things back in later. He had his woman to take home to get changed and get to work on time. She would give up her job when she moved in with him of course. It was probably something else to discuss with her. Jamison watched in awe as Ivone dressed and made herself up into the consummate professional. He saw her wince when she sat to pull up her hose and knew her bottom hole was paining her. He searched the bathroom for some ointment and upended her over his lap, warning her to be still so that he wouldn’t smear it on her clothes. He pulled her panties down with one hand and then spread her cheeks with his thumb and forefinger, marveling at the size of his hands against her. He actually flushed when he saw the result of his reaming the night before. Clearly he had overstepped once again with her, and he felt bad. He carefully applied the topical anesthetic and pressed a kiss on either buttock. “I’m sorry, Ivone, truly I am,” he rasped, allowing her to squirm off him. Ivone stood just out of reach and glared at him. “Sorry because your cock won’t be going there ever again?” “Now, sweetheart, don’t be hasty. All those other subs you met were initiated the same way. You’ll be okay.” “I doubt that those subs weren’t forewarned, Jamison. It’s not about the anal sex. And I like pain. Especially coupled with pleasure. It’s your expectation that I should either read your mind or take you on faith when we’ve known one another for five fucking days. I’m not accepting your apology unless I hear differently.”

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Jamison secretly wondered if she was right. He was normally not an impulsive man. Ivone took his control. He needed to get it together, because he wasn’t going to hurt her ever again. Now he had only to convince her. “If you’re ready, then let’s go.” He distracted her. Ivone pulled a lightweight summer dress over her head and stepped into some pumps. She looked good enough to eat and Jamison again fought his baser urges. Tonight couldn’t come soon enough. He was struck by a sudden thought. “Where’s your cat?” Ivone looked at him as if he had two heads and then flushed. Jamison gave her his best “you are so in for it later for lying to me” look, and enjoyed her tiny shudder. She might want him to open up and communicate with her, so she should learn immediately that he wouldn’t tolerate a lie. He escorted her out to his SUV and handed her inside, taking his time buckling her in, his hands drifting across her thighs and up over her breasts. Her nipples hardened, and he thought he could scent her arousal. He smiled to himself as he went around to climb into the driver’s seat and turn the engine over. The drive to her office was quiet. They pulled up in front of her building and Jamison broke the silence, although this time it had been somewhat more companionable. “I’ll be here at five. Be on time.” Ivone stuck her tongue out at him before exiting the SUV and dashing up the steps. Jamison sat there for a ten count, totally astonished. He then chuckled, just a little. Wench. Shit, another endearment. Perhaps a little change was good for him. **** Jamison checked his watch for the third time. It was nearly half past five, and there was no sign of Ivone. He couldn’t think that he was again reading her so inaccurately outside of their passion. He had

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felt her soften for him that morning, and despite the issue about her bottom, he believed she wanted to work things out, to talk. A big blonde tapped across the pavement to him and frankly checked him out. “If you’re looking for Ivone, she left a long time ago,” the blonde said archly. “I’m getting into that lifestyle and if you are at loose ends…” Jamison watched the woman push her breasts at him and sway her hips suggestively. He idly thought he might just pinch and twist a nipple and have her kneel and lick his boots to teach her a lesson, and then discarded the idea. Maybe not. Ivone wouldn’t approve. Not that she was where she was supposed to be. Sore bottom hole or not, she wasn’t going to be sitting down to eat her dinner with him tonight. Perhaps she could stand at a counter to have her meal, once he tracked her down. He left the blonde standing on the curb, now looking daggers at him, and pulled the SUV out into traffic. Ivone was probably at home. He felt her drawing him there and he didn’t question it. He parked close by and ran up the stairs to her apartment, ignoring the elevator, in an effort to blow off some steam. He pounded on the door panel twice and after a moment heard shuffling then a muffled curse. The door flew open and Ivone stood there, wrapped up in a fuzzy blue robe, with ridiculous rabbit slippers on her feet. “Jamison! I am so sorry! I went home with a headache and fell asleep,” she babbled. He walked straight in and put her over his shoulder, kicking the door shut behind him, and went to a kitchen chair. He pulled it out and sat, standing her between his knees as he stripped the robe from her, leaving the bunny slippers. Her face was flushed and creased from sleep, and she smelled warm and sweet. Jamison’s resolve faltered. Perhaps just a few smacks and then he would take her. “Jamison, please,” Ivone begged, fixing him with her curious eyes. “I don’t need another spanking.”

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Jamison released her and chased her into the bedroom, managing to crack her across the ass three times before she took refuge on the bed. He smiled and began to remove his clothes. “I thought we were going to talk,” Ivone protested. “After,” he promised, and fairly leapt upon the mattress, the box spring protesting their combined weight. He pushed her legs up and over his shoulders and bent to eat her pussy. Ivone quit protesting and within minutes was shattering under his busy tongue and lips. He pushed his cock into her and felt her clenching around him as she began to settle. Jamison once again just felt and enjoyed the sensation of her tiny channel as it stretched to pulse around him. He then stroked hard and fast, abandoning any pretence of control and pumped his seed into her. He rolled to his back and pulled her so that her head rested on his shoulder, trying to catch his breath, listening to the combined beat of their hearts. “Talk.” Ivone sputtered. “I want that dinner you promised me!” Jamison sighed. This relationship-building stuff was hard work. All the same, Ivone was well worth it. He struggled to his feet and began to dress, while she ran off to the bathroom. He then stood in the doorway to watch her brush her teeth and wanted to replace the toothbrush with his cock. She caught him looking and must have read his mind because she rolled her eyes and spat into the sink, spoiling the moment. He went to her closet and chose a simple dress for her. No underwear. Ivone looked as though she would protest then visibly kept silent. He found himself looking forward to sitting with her in an intimate booth where he could make her pull her skirt up for him. He had always been a pervert, he acknowledged cheerfully, but Ivone made him want to play out every dark fantasy. If she were to be his, then she would have to accommodate him. Except if she really didn’t want to, he amended, thinking about what Patrick had said to him. Hard work indeed.

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**** Ivone hoped that she and Jamison could sort things out, or at least begin to communicate on a different, cognitive level tonight. She wanted him in the worst way. He was like an addiction. But she promised herself that he would accept her boundaries or she would cut her losses. He was making her nuts. They were steamrolling along like a pair of infatuated teenagers, and while it exhilarated her, it scared the crap out of her, too. He took her to a quiet, well-appointed restaurant, and made a show of consulting with her before ordering their meal. She waited for the server to pour their wine before she began. “Can we be totally up front with one another, Jamison?” He stared back at her intently and then nodded. “This doesn’t feel like play, Jamison,” she said. “I mostly like what we have done together, but while I feel very close to you, I honestly can’t read your mind.” “I rarely explain myself, Ivone. I don’t have to. My word in my business is law, and I don’t entertain many challenges. I have extended this approach in all the other areas of my life. I won’t bore you with the reasons for this.” “You don’t have to explain the reasons, Jamison, if you don’t want to, but part of really connecting with another person is to let that person in. Let them in to share both your joy and sadness.” Jamison concentrated on cutting his steak, and seemed to avoid her eyes. Finally, he looked up and gave another nod, this one reflecting very real caution. Ivone took a breath and tried again. “I don’t expect you to unburden yourself all at once, honey.” She hid a smile when Jamison’s eyes flared at the endearment. “But I want to get to know you, all about you, and I need to share with you. I’ve learned that I need that in a relationship. We’ve been very sexual with one another, and while there’s a really strong emotional component

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under all of that, well, I don’t think it’s enough unless we work on sharing.” Ivone worked her way through her salad and pushed little pieces of steak around her plate, waiting for Jamison to process and hopefully respond to her heartfelt statement. She wasn’t going to let him off easily, but the silence was taking its toll. She didn’t need continual conversation, but she did require some. His abrupt reentry into the dialogue made her start. “I’ll do my best and perhaps you’ll keep reminding me, Ivone.” Jamison’s almost formal response clearly reflected his inner turmoil. Ivone could feel it, despite his attempt to cover it. But it was a start, and she smiled at him and reached out to touch his hand. He turned it to capture hers and they just sat there in the moment, their food forgotten. **** Two months after their initial meeting, Jamison indicated that he would prefer it if Ivone moved in with him and gave up her job. He had prepared a contract that, while nullifying any legal rights she might have as his actual live-in, more than adequately provided for her for up to a year should they decide to separate, and adjusted for the cost of living. She well remembered how Jamison had tried to both convey his hope and enthusiasm while being careful not to appear pushy. “I took the liberty of having my attorney advise me on this contract, Ivone, so I can assure you it is fair. I want to know that you are going to be available whenever I should want you, not just for my baser needs,” he had hurried to assure her, “but I do travel for business and you of course will come with me.” Ivone knew that the settlement would give her the necessary time to find a place and secure employment if they terminated the relationship, although she sincerely hoped that would never come to

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pass. There was a part of her, deeply buried, that secretly hoped Jamison would make a different contract with her in time, that he would want to marry her, but she understood that whatever drove him to protect himself might not bend enough to allow for marriage. She determinedly told herself that she would be happy with what he was capable of. He was opening up to her each and every day, albeit in baby steps. It was like he was rusty, stifled, or that some things were totally foreign to him, like talking about simple things such as how his day had gone. Ivone did her best to overlook his slipups and hoped he would eventually not feel such a need to protect himself, at least not from her. She wasn’t going to do anything to maliciously hurt him or make him regret his metamorphosis. At some point he might even come to profess his love for her verbally, because she wasn’t telling him first. There was enough of her own history she hadn’t yet dealt with, that kept her from sharing that ultimate feeling. Because once you said it, the other person had you, body and soul, and could use it against you. There was no coming back if they misused it. In turn, Ivone reminded him about her parents’ relationship and how she was determined not to repeat their mistakes. Jamison seemed to understand her fears and tried to balance their strong physical encounters with more dialogue. She didn’t worry that he would cheat on her, like her father had done to her mom. Jamison’s possessiveness kept her by his side nearly every hour of the day. He installed a lock on his office door so that he could fuck her on his desk or over his chair, or sometimes on the heirloom carpet that covered the office floor. Ivone had a fond memory of one time when Jamison bound her to his desk, spread eagle, after stripping off her clothes, blindfolding her, and clamping her nipples and clit, attaching the clamps with a fine gold chain. “You will not come without permission, Ivone,” he cautioned her. “And you will also remain silent.” He then made a conference call while he tormented each nub with a vibrator and his fingertips. Ivone had hovered on the edge for what

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seemed like hours until he finally ended the call and shoved himself deep inside of her, ordering her to come as he popped the clamps, letting her vagina milk his heavy erection of his seed. Never had she felt so connected to him without an additional bite of pain. He tried to exert his will over every aspect of her life, and for the most part, Ivone allowed it. She loved the clothes he chose for her to wear, and didn’t object to his expectation that she eat healthily. He had amazing taste in hairstyles and jewelry, and they shared the same taste in literature. The only time she balked was when he wouldn’t share the remote and expected her to watch football and other loud sports. She recognized and appreciated the compromise when he would cuddle with her while she watched a design show, something he clearly had little interest in. Mind you, she didn’t really get to see much of those shows, being either fucked silly or licked to orgasm by the second commercial. They entertained periodically, mostly Doms and their subs, but aside from using the playroom for one initiation to preserve the privacy of their group, that room was reserved for them. Ivone exulted in those times, but they weren’t the mainstay of the relationship. No, things had evolved and the kink was now the icing on the cake. Ivone still worried that Jamison would forget to communicate with her, fail to alert her of his expectations and that she would let him down inadvertently. It would mean rebuilding again, and she didn’t think she had the energy. So she kept him honest, pushing him, making him share. There were times when he would resist, and take out his frustrations on her, but Ivone loved the correction, too. She had the best of both worlds and allowed herself to believe this was forever. Until her diagnosis.

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Chapter Six Jamison shoved the desk drawer shut on the little black velvet box with an impatient hand. His senses were on high alert, and he had learned a long time ago never to ignore them. Something was going on with Ivone, and he didn’t know what it was. He believed he had come a very long way in their relationship. There were times when he wanted to spank her ass red when she wouldn’t let something go. It was like being pecked at in sensitive places by a little bird with a very sharp beak, but he had to admit that he was happier than he had ever been, and felt that his life was full of purpose. After over six months together, the intensity of their passion remained, but the other times were companionable and comforting somehow. He felt complete and satisfied. His life now had more purpose than just expanding his business and making money. Jamison couldn’t imagine life without Ivone, and he had planned to take her out for dinner and propose to her that very night, except she had pleaded tiredness and a headache and gone to her room. He knew his reaction was childish, because he was disappointed, but he was ticked with her. He had planned this for two weeks and it had taken considerable self-searching and courage. He wanted a child with Ivone, a child who would be raised with love and care, different from what either of them had experienced, a child to inherit everything he had worked for so it wouldn’t be in vain. He had begun to broach the subject with her, diffidently to be sure, but trying to express his need, knowing it might change everything between them. He had been willing to take the chance after researching how the dangers of childbirth were continually minimized as medicine evolved. He believed he loved Ivone, although he really

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didn’t have anything to compare that feeling to, and he didn’t want anything to happen to her, even if he really did want a child. But he did know that he didn’t want to wait another minute to ask her to marry him. He thought she would agree, and maybe she would say she loved him, and he would know for sure. Jamison tapped on the bedroom door. “Ivone? May I come in?” Ivone’s voice, muffled, came to him through the heavy wood panels. “No, Jamison. I’m not feeling at all well. I’ll see you in the morning.” Jamison stared at the door like it was his worst enemy. And so it was. It stood between him and his sub. Ivone was crying, he could hear it in her voice. He suddenly felt bereft and raised his hand again to knock, then lowered it. All his past emotional insecurities came flooding back in that moment, and he felt powerless against them. Ivone was shutting him out. Ivone, who talked about feelings as though they were worth their weight in gold and subsequently weighed his by the same measure, was withholding. He found he couldn’t handle it and was next standing outside by his SUV without a memory of leaving the house. He climbed inside and cranked the engine, then wheeled it around in a spray of gravel and pushed it up to speed with little regard for safety. Fuck this. He felt like the skin had been flayed from him because he knew there was a message from Ivone in there, one he had missed and one he couldn’t begin to guess at. Patrick offered him a chair and Jamison settled into it, declining a drink. He leaned his elbows on his knees and lowered his head into his hands. “Want to tell me?” Patrick asked quietly. Jamison sat up and stared at his mentor. Patrick had been his go-to guy over the past months when Jamison had needed someone to discuss thrice-damned, fucking feelings with, and to talk about whatever the hell Ivone was getting at, was wanting from him. It had been like learning a different language, but he had done it for her. He

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indeed was hopelessly in love with her and with that prescient ability of someone in love, in tune with his other, knew something terrible had happened. Some other man might have written off Ivone’s behavior tonight, shrugged it off, but Jamison knew better. He tried to find the words. “Ivone locked herself in her room and won’t talk to me.” Patrick didn’t minimize, much to Jamison’s relief. But then, Patrick was the most insightful man he had ever met. He knew women, and he knew Jamison. “Tell me.” “She usually comes to the office with me.” At Patrick’s sardonic eyebrow raise, Jamison found himself flushing like a schoolboy and needing to defend himself. “I want her with me as much as possible.” Patrick smiled. “You’re both making up for lost time, my friend. Ivone has told Madi a few things about herself, so I think I understand. Both of you want a loving connection and you are patently in love with her and she with you.” Jamison stood and paced the length of the office. “I only just accepted that it’s love, Patrick, but she’s never told me.” “She must love you to put up with your shit, Jami, and to spend such energy on being patient while you work things through in your usual pedantic style. Your very kink must inspire total trust, especially since she has forgiven you for that initiation you didn’t prepare her for, and trust is the essential foundation for any relationship. Ivone probably wants to hear it from you first. Now tell me the events leading up to this most recent issue.” “I had a couple of meetings this afternoon and Ivone decided to go shopping or get her hair cut or something rather than wait for me in my office. She usually waits.” Jamison stopped talking and began thinking. Ivone hadn’t gone to do something as frivolous as shopping or even to the hair stylist. Ivone had told him she had a doctor’s appointment but he hadn’t really taken notice, because he wasn’t

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happy she didn’t want to wait for him to conclude his meetings. That selfish side of him still caused grief. He had insisted she see a doctor some weeks earlier when her menstrual cramps kept her in bed for two months in a row, in pain and very uncomfortable. It had worried him to see her that way. She had told him afterwards she would need to change her birth control again, and he had accepted it without initiating further discussion, retreating from thinking about women’s troubles. He hadn’t gone to that appointment with her, being extremely uncomfortable around doctors and the like, and ruefully recalled her quiet assertion that he was going to have a physical as soon as she found a good doctor who would take him as a new patient. Jamison suddenly realized that Ivone had been the recipient of bad news. Come to think of it, she had been a little off since that first appointment, but her explanation had reassured him, and he let it go because he hadn’t wanted to think it was anything more complicated. Women were fragile. He had convinced himself of that over the years to assuage his inner infant’s guilt over his mother’s death, the guilt stoked by his father. This was another reason not to commit to one. They could die and leave you, hurt you. Jamison felt rage, fueled by fear and worry rise up in his chest until he thought his temples would explode. “Jami?” Patrick’s voice came from a distance. “She’s sick, Patrick. Sick, and I didn’t notice, and she fucking well didn’t tell me. Because she wants to spare me. Because of what my mother’s death did to me, among other things. Like how I want my own way all the time. You don’t need to tell me why she is withholding. Ivone has given me everything, all of her. I don’t need her to say the words to know that she loves me, heart and soul. She’s at home right now trying to figure out a way to terminate our contract so that it will be her fault and I’ll escape without my pride getting hurt and without any guilt. Because I goddamn well didn’t tell her that I love her and that I want to care for her for the rest of my life. If I had,

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the first thing she fucking well would have done would be to tell me that she was sick.” And following that convoluted piece of reasoning, Jamison crossed to the door and nearly tore it off the hinges as he threw it open in his need to get back to Ivone. “Jami?” Patrick’s voice was compelling. “What?” he snarled. “Actions speak louder than words, my friend, but you might want to find out what’s wrong first. Find out how sick she is. And Jamison? Welcome to the human race, my friend. Love isn’t always kind.” Jamison’s vision cleared at Patrick’s words, the red haze lifting like a curtain. Cold terror replaced it, and with it went his resolve. What if it was serious? What if? He couldn’t go there. He gritted his teeth and gave Patrick a look before he headed out to his vehicle. **** Ivone heard the front door open and close, sometime after Jamison had stormed out earlier. She had worked it out. She was going to listen to reason and do the right thing, although was no longer quite certain if she trusted herself to know what that was, because it hurt so badly. She would refuse Jamison. Oh, not all the time. Just on those occasions when she knew it would really annoy him. He had already felt pushed tonight when she had spoken to him through the door. And soon he would regress to being a boor and would give her a reason to blow up at him and storm out. It had been hard work, this compromising between them, this supporting one another. He had come so far, as had she, in becoming a healthier and happier human being, but Jami still had that cold flint deep inside of him. She saw it in his business dealings, and felt it when she pushed him. It scared her a little, and she knew it kept him from telling her he loved her. But it also protected him, and she respected that, was glad he had it, for now she would use it to give him his freedom. He wouldn’t be able to

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tolerate rejection for any length of time, and his formidable pride, backed by that piece of flint, would save him from too much heartache when she left. She was terribly sad, heartbroken in fact, to think of leaving him, but it was the right thing to do. Jamison wouldn’t be complete without a family, now that he had set his mind on making a baby, and she wasn’t going to stand in his way. She owed him that. He had given her more that she had ever hoped for, let alone deserved. She would cherish the memory of their time together, but she wouldn’t be selfish and saddle Jamison with a barren wife. She carefully made up her face and went out to start to put her plan in action. Jamison was standing in the great room, his back to the fireplace, a glass in his hand. The amber liquid caught the glow from the sconces, and Ivone realized his hand was shaking, the liquor gently swirling in concert. Her steps faltered. Jami had himself under iron control, something she rarely saw anymore unless they were doing a scene. His eyes were fixed on her, their violet hue veiling his thoughts. Ivone suddenly wanted to run, knowing something momentous was coming down, something she wasn’t prepared for. “Feeling better?” Jamison’s quiet question nailed her feet to the floor. Ivone took a breath. “I am, thanks.” He turned to the fire, and she heard the glass thud onto the mantle, and then he had turned and was striding toward her with deadly intent. Ivone backed up, but he was upon her in an instant. He hauled her up against his chest and crushed her to him, taking her lips in a devastating kiss. Then he tore his mouth away and shook her, holding her by her upper arms, her feet off the floor. Ivone had opened her mouth to protest when Jamison set her down, only to scoop her up, cross the room and dump her in a chair. He knelt in front of her and took both of her hands in his. “I talked to the doctor, Ivone.”

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Ivone’s heart kicked up a notch, and she battled with instant anger that her privacy had been invaded. But then overwhelming relief drowned the anger. She wouldn’t have to pretend and see the man she loved struggle with her rejection. She just hoped that Jamison would be able to deal with it. She would still make it as easy as possible on him. “I know why you didn’t tell me.” How could he know? “What do you mean?” she asked carefully. “I know you were going to find a way to leave so that you wouldn’t disappoint me, Ivone, if you couldn’t conceive. Because you love me too much to let me down.” Ivone stared at her Dom in utter astonishment. Her heart swelled with hope, then cramped with fear. He wanted to terminate their contract rather than give her the opportunity to do so. He wasn’t ready for that. It had to be her fault for him to move past it with righteous anger and disdain. She heard him continue as if from a great distance. “I am so full of conflicting fucking feelings right now, sub, that I’m not sure what to share first. I’m humbled that you would do this for me, to spare me, but I’m pissed that you didn’t give me more credit, although I’ll own some of that because I still have a selfish streak. I find myself wishing I’d told you how much I love you instead of waiting for you to say it first. We are so fucked up, Ivone, you and I, by our pasts.” Ivone tried to respond, to say anything, but couldn’t push much more than a muttered “Oh” past her lips. Jamison gave her a dark look. “But right now I am so furious with you, Ivone, that I could spit. I thought there could be something terribly wrong with you, that you were sick with something that would take you away from me permanently! Goddamn it, woman! You scared me to death! If you can’t have a child, we can adopt. I want you, Ivone. You.” Jamison’s tirade ended in a whisper, and his face was pale, his eyes bloodshot.

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Ivone reached out and gently laid her hand on his cheek. She leaned into him and pressed her lips to his and then stood. He rose to his feet to tower over her, his face a study in confusion. She pulled her clothes off and knelt before him, lowering her forehead to the floor. Jamison was silent for what felt like an eternity, then bent to pull her up to her feet, enfolding her in his arms. He rested his head on the top of hers. “We’ll follow up with your doctor’s orders, Ivone. But there will come a time when we’ll have a discussion about withholding. And I might not be inclined to honor your safe word. Are we clear?” Ivone nodded and finally found her voice. “Very clear, Jamison. And honey, I’m sorry I misjudged you, that I didn’t give you more credit. You don’t need me to protect you, at least not all of the time. I do love you, with all my heart, and you deserved to know.” She tipped her head up to look at him. “I obviously have much more to learn than you do.” “We’ll keep teaching one another.” Jamison claimed her lips with his, and any misgivings were swept away before the tide of love and trust between them. This, then, was the right thing and to hell with the voice of reason.

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Epilogue Ivone lay stretched over the spanking bench, her pussy clenching in anticipation. This night had been a long time coming. The laparoscopic surgery had been uncomfortable, and she thought that her insides might have been scraped and drawn like plaster on a wall, but her doctor was satisfied that most of the masses were gone, and the adhesions freed. The surgery took place after the drug therapy. Now that hadn’t been a cakewalk. Ivone had spent several nights sleeping alone in her room, despite Jamison’s entreaties. Such were the mood swings from the male hormone-based drug that she had been afraid that she might strangle him in his sleep on any pretext. She’d gained weight and privately inspected her body for telltale signs of beard growth. On one memorable occasion, she had slammed her water glass down so hard that it shattered, eliciting shocked glances from John and Joyce and an assessing one from Jamison. Ivone had really wanted to throw it squarely at Jamison’s head simply because he had made a comment about her refusing to eat vegetables. It had actually been kind of amusing, in retrospect. Ivone wondered if he had been concerned that she was going to challenge his supremacy in the household. Lord knew she had felt capable of it! However, the symptoms eased once she’d reached the end of the treatment, and the surgery had been more of an afterthought. There was even a carefully offered medical opinion that the odds of her conceiving had improved. Jamison clearly didn’t care. He had never wavered in his steadfast love and support, overcoming his abhorrence of anything medical. He had even gone to see a doctor for a physical and committed to seeing him on a regular basis. Ivone had held onto

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that throughout the whole time under the doctor’s care, clutched it like a lifeline. At the back of her mind, she knew that in selling Jamison short, in not sharing her diagnosis with him, she had both hurt him and challenged his authority. Not that he had ever mentioned it again until today, now that she was totally healed. Now it was time to pay the piper, and Ivone welcomed it. Jamison could let go of his hurt, reestablish his dominance, and Ivone would be purged of her guilt. “Are you ready, sub?” Jamison’s deep voice was full of dark promise. “I am, Master.” “You will count the strokes, sub.” The first blow on her buttocks was an indicator of what was to follow. It had been a long time for Ivone, and the smack stung like fury. She flinched and sucked in air. “One.” The next nine came hard on the heels of each count, and then Jamison rubbed his big calloused hand over her, making the burn spread. Ivone tried to focus. “Those ten were for withholding, sub. The next are for your presumption, and for not trusting me to accept you regardless, and for not believing I cared about you enough. They will be at my discretion. No safe word.” Ivone wouldn’t have used it anyway. They both needed this. She deserved it. She relaxed and he began. She next became vaguely aware of lying facedown on the bed, cool lotion being applied to what were very sore buttocks. Ivone could feel the tears drying on her face, and she was absolutely emotionally drained. She had no idea how long she had been off in her head, but Jamison had been patient. He stretched out beside her and touched her cheek. He looked at peace, and the love in his eyes shone back at her like a beacon. Ivone managed a smile, and he reached for her left hand. She felt him slip a cool circlet over her ring

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finger and Ivone nearly laughed, despite her languor. It was so typical of Jamison to simply indicate his intent of marrying her, not asking her, just declaring it. This time she was content to accept his arrogance for he was correct in his presumptiveness, and he would have chosen the ring with taste and care to please her. He maneuvered her up on her side, pulling her to him, hitching her thigh over his hip. His cock found her opening with ease and pushed inside. He filled her, completed her, and they rocked together for a long time as Ivone gently ran her thumb over the raised stone in her engagement ring, another symbol of Jamison’s love for her. He finally reached between them to where they were joined and stroked her clit. Ivone shuddered in a gentle release and felt him come as she quivered around his cock, his hot ejaculate bathing her womb. “Love you, Ivone.” Ivone smiled. This wasn’t a competition. It wasn’t about taking a risk any longer. She knew Jamison saw and felt the love in her heart. But he had said it first. “Love you, too, Jamison.”

THE END WWW.ALLYSONYOUNG.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada with her husband of many years and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica. Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfiedwhen all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the dark side of romance.

Also by Allyson Young Ménage Amour: The Promise Ménage and More: Forgiveness Ménage Amour: Running to Love 1: Away Siren Allure: Running to Love 2: Broken Siren Classic: Club Pleasure 1: Wishes Siren Allure: Club Pleasure 2: Madness Ménage Amour: Aspire 1: Near Perfection Ménage Amour: Aspire 2: True Perfection

Available at BOOKSTRAND.COM

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