Desire's Deception

K. J. Coakley

Warning

18 And Over Content

This book contains adult sexual content and is not appropriate for minors.

This book contains BDSM and S&M content.

Prologue

Life is a series of chances and regrets

Choice and consequence

Love and loss

Life is a series of hopes and dreams

Passage and obstruction

Surrender and pursuance

Life is a series of preludes and finales

Hollow and full

Memory and oblivion

Life is indeed a series of events

Regardless of the burdens today

Seize hope and persevere for tomorrow

Chapter 1

“Derek, where’s my black bra?”

“How am I supposed to know where your bra is, babe? It’s not like I wear the thing.” He looks up from tying his work boots with a naughty grin. “I’m the one who takes them off, remember? And from there I never know where they end up.” He strides over to me and smacks my ass. My whole body tingles from head to toe with awareness when he is near. Just the thought of him taking said bra off sends a shiver through me. I look over my shoulder after fastening my bra, which was hanging in the laundry room, loop my arms around his neck, and plant a wet kiss on his luscious lips. His hands quickly clamp down on my hips, and goosebumps emerge across my bare flesh. He deepens the kiss as a growl rumbles through his chest. I step back and smirk knowingly at the bulge in his jeans.

“Damn, little bit. Now I have to go to work sporting wood and a serious case of blue balls.” I grin at his nickname for me and then saunter to the bedroom as he walks to the front door.

“Now you have incentive to hurry home this evening and quit playing in the trees like a big ape. Love ya, babe!” I yell over my shoulder.

He chuckles, “Love ya, little bit,” and then mumbles something about me swinging from his tree, and then I hear the door click shut.

The drive to work is uneventful. I flip on the radio and listen to some pick-me-up music to get ready for the long day ahead. I pull into my parking spot, lock my Camry, and make the trek across the parking lot into the double doors of Portman Logistics.

After graduating college, I found my niche in logistics, and I’m damn good at what I do. I could have stepped into the role of Vice President at my father's logistics company, but I wanted to carve my own path in life. So, I worked the lower jobs for five years and was finally promoted to head of my department. I have ten good coordinators working beneath me, and a personal assistant who would rather talk about his manicure than the current fuel rate. All in a day's work.

“Hello, Parker,” I call out to him as I step toward his desk.

“Good morning, lovely.” Parker stands to greet me and hands me a stack of printed emails that I need to follow up on, as well as my daily tracker. We work well together. He is my right hand in this crazy mess of cutthroat transportation that we deal with.

Parker is the very definition of a metrosexual man. His black pinstriped suit and pink tie, not to mention pink cufflinks, all but scream, YES, I’M GAY...what of it? But he’s far from simple or transparent. Parker is the only bisexual male that I have ever met, and he takes great pride in educating me about the differences between homosexuality and bisexual beings. He’s also the best assistant I’ve ever had and he loves his job, so we click.

I scoop up my Starbucks off the corner of his desk. We alternate days on who makes the coffee run before work. Fortunately for me, today was his day, and my latte smells divine.

I cross over into my office and sit down at my desk, rummaged through the small stack of papers he handed me, and then begin to prioritize my tasks for the day. Everything seems to be in decent order. No major fires to put out before noon, so I sit back and power up my computer for my daily dose of fuel prices, shipment tracking, and any customer demands we need to meet within a deadline.

After several hours of the mundane tasks, it’s nearing lunchtime. I look down at my cell and notice Derek hasn’t phoned yet. We have a rule that he is to check in with me by lunchtime every day. In his line of work, it's a necessary precaution.

Derek is a tree topper for the state power board. His job consists of him climbing to the very top of a problematic tree and cutting it down from top to bottom. He is constantly in danger and I worry all of the time, but he loves his job and refuses to give it up, so we have come to the agreement that he must phone or text by lunch each day so I don't worry myself sick.

I chew on my bottom lip nervously and hit his speed dial button. The phone begins to ring in my ear as a sense of foreboding overwhelms me. My skin begins to crawl and a dark swirl begins to wreak havoc in the pit of my stomach. After several rings, it goes to voicemail. This has NEVER happened, and I am immediately on alert. I end the call and quickly phone his area supervisor, Charlie. He picks up on the first ring...sounds of chaos in the background.

“Charlie. Where's Derek?” My voice strains as I barely choke the next sentence out. “Is he okay?”

Men are yelling, and I hear the distinct sound of chainsaws buzzing. Charlie’s breathing is rapid as the words spill from his mouth. “There’s been an accident, little bit.” My heart stops. Black spots fill my vision and my hand is shaking so bad that I drop my phone. I feel the blood drain from my face and bile rise to the back of my throat.

Parker runs into the office after having seen my episode through the glass partition. He picks up my phone and hands it back to me as he ushers me to sit down.

“Marissa...Marissa, are you still there?” Charlie is yelling over the phone, but I can’t muster the words to answer him. I know something bad has happened to Derek and it feels as if someone is slowly sucking my soul from my chest.

I can’t breathe.

Everything is getting blurry and my heart is kicking so hard that it feels like it's going to explode.

I would know if he was dead. I would feel it. Wouldn’t I? He’s my soul mate. I would feel it if he was dead, dammit. Oh god, please don’t take him from me. I can’t live without him. The thoughts run through my mind with lightning speed, and in a matter of seconds, I’m asking the dreaded question.

“Charlie, is he alive?” I stutter the words, but he understands and quickly responds back. “He’s alive—but it’s bad. I’m not going to lie to you, so prepare yourself for the worst. They’re rushing him to St. Claire's hospital.” He clears his throat. “He’s busted up...in a bad way. They just loaded him into the ambulance. Do you want me to swing by and pick you up, or do you have someone who can take you?” The noise of a truck rumbling fills the phone as the world around quiets with the closing of his truck door.

My mind is all over the place, but somehow I go into reaction mode and shut down my emotions. It’s as if I’ve flipped a switch and the tears that I didn’t realize were spilling down my cheeks are drying up. I swipe them with the back of my hand and clear my throat. “I’m on my way.” I end the call and turn to Parker, who is already gathering up my purse and pulling me up from my chair. My car keys dangle in his hand as he ushers me through the office and out the front doors.

Parker drives like a madman, and we arrive at the hospital before Charlie. The ambulance is just pulling up as I run to the Emergency Room entrance. The paramedics pull his gurney out and all I see is red. Blood is everywhere.

Derek is unrecognizable.

His pants are shredded from the waist down. The paramedics have completely cut his shirt off, and his face is a mass of gashes and more blood. His eyes are closed and his mouth is draped open. For a moment, the breath leaves my body in a rush because to my untrained eyes, he appears to be dead.

This is my boisterous husband. The man I had loved since I was fifteen after he gave me a ride home when I missed the bus. The man who took me to my junior and senior prom, made love to me for the first time, and kissed away all of my fears while doing so. This is my Derek lying here and not firing off a line like, “Chill out, baby, it's just a cut. No limbs lost,” as he smiles up at me and his dimples melt my heart. His lighthearted sense of humor manages to erase my anger and put a smile on my face, no matter the situation.

Oh god, I can’t live without him. Oh god, please don’t take him from me. I hear a shrill voice in the distance, and before I know it, Parker has enfolded me in his arms as they wheel the love of my life past us and into the hospital.

He never moves. He never opens his eyes as I scream his name as if it will raise the dead. My arms are flailing and my face is soaked with salty tears as I continue to scream his name. My heart is shattering into a million pieces because I know...I know he’ll never be the same if he comes back from this. My Derek walked out that door this morning never to return to me. “Please god...Please god...Oh, please. I need him. I love him so much.” I choke the words out through a tightening throat as Parker picks me up and carries me into the hospital. The nurses immediately take us to a triage room while Derek is rushed to the OR.

A needle enters my vein as Parker holds me down on the bed. Nurses are flowing in and out of the room. I stare up at the white ceiling tiles—lost in a daze. I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m a mess. Deep mournful sobs that I can no longer control wrack my body. My chest feels as if someone has shot a hole straight through me, and with each tear I shed, my life's blood is leaving me. I cannot live without him. I cannot live without him. I cannot live without him......BLACKNESS. Peaceful. Numbing. Blackness settles over me.

“Ma’am?” A soft touch on my shoulder awakens me. My groggy eyes blink through the medicine-induced fog as I try to collect myself.

“Ma’am? Are you awake?” Her gentle voice coaxes me from the haze and I sit up only to be rewarded with a spinning room and revolting stomach. Before I’m able to warn her off, I puke over the side of the bed and all over her shoes.

Parker leaps from his seat and grabs a towel to clean my mess as I begin to sputter my apologies. The nurse steps back and offers me a reassuring smile. “Don’t you worry yourself. I’ll go clean this off and bring you back something to drink.” She gives a polite nod and leaves the room.

“Are you okay, sweetness?” Parker asks as he finishes cleaning up the mess and chucks the dirty towels into the hamper. I lean back on the bed and push the button to adjust it into a sitting position. His worried eyes collide with mine while he washes his hands and then carefully dries them off, before making his way back over to me.

I quickly pull my eyes from his stare and take in the Band-Aid on the inside of my elbow. A ball of cotton sticks out from under it and I pick the edges as I contemplate the questions I want to ask...but don’t want to ask. I don’t know if I’m ready for the answers yet. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to hear about Derek’s condition. My head is pounding and it feels as if a knot is drawing tighter and tighter in the back of my neck as the tension coils to a breaking point.

The nurse comes back with a can of Sprite and a straw. “Here you go, dear. This will help with that awful aftertaste.” I take the drink from her, pop the top, and plunge the straw down into the clear bubbling liquid. I close my eyes, swallow the refreshing citrus flavor, and try to block the heartache that is ripping my chest in half from my thoughts. It’s an impossible feat, but I try to fool myself into thinking I can control this...whatever it is that I’m feeling.

When I open my eyes again, the can is empty and the nurse has left the room. Parker is texting someone and his brow furrows with concern. Sadness that looks at odds with his masculine beauty lines his usually glowing face.

I set the can down on the side table and swing my legs over the side of the bed. This time the room doesn’t spin and I’m able to stand on my somewhat shaky legs. Parker’s reddened eyes look up at me, and I finally ask, “Did he survive?”

* * *

“Marissa.” He releases a heavy sigh and runs his hand through his messy brown locks as his head begins to shake. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but he’s on life support. The doctors are waiting for you...Ah, Christ, this is hard.” He rushes toward me and grabs my shoulders. “There’s nothing left of him. They need your permission to discontinue the life support.” I shake my head and take a few steps back to dislodge his grip from me.

“No. No. He can’t be gone. I’d feel it. I’d know.” My eyes tighten to keep the tears at bay. “He’s my soul mate, Parker. I’d know.” His face crumples at my words and he closes the distance between us, pulling my face to his chest as his arms surround me with warmth.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do to help you, Marissa. I’m complete shit at being the rock. You’re supposed to be the rock...not me. And I don’t know how to be the one to support you when you need it most.” His shoulders shake as he begins to cry.

I wrap my arms around him and finally let my tears flow as he leans down and rests his head on mine. We grieve together in this little room on the side of the ER. We let loose emotions that we have never shown one another, and in doing so, a bond like no other solidifies between the two of us.

Whether he knows it or not, Parker has become my rock.

* * *

The hallway seems as if I’m walking a thousand-mile journey to a dreaded fate that awaits me with open arms—ready to drain the light out of my life.

I know what’s at the end of this hall, and even though my lungs feel as if they’re about to burst...I take steady breaths and ready myself for what awaits.

The doors to his room slide open as I pass under the sensor. The stale scent of alcohol and sickness taints the inside of my nostrils and cloys the air with a subtle heaviness that only death itself could conjure.

I blink, for what feels like the first time in hours, and to my surprise, no tears drench my reddened cheeks. My heart beats at an irregular rate—sluggish and drained, just like the body lying in front of me with tubes coming out of his mouth and IVs running into his darkened veins.

The machines beep.

The IV drips.

And I can’t bring myself to take in the reality in front of me. I expect his eyes to open because he’s supposed to feel my presence.

He’s supposed to know that I’m here.

And still, my heart beats even though my mind is telling me that it should be breaking wide open. The life bursting from the dam that held my love for him deep inside my soul. The connection between us feels weak at best. I can’t sense his essence near me.

“Derek?” I whisper through a broken voice.

I approach his bedside with cautious steps. I don’t know why but it feels as if his fragility extends to everything around him. As if I step too hard, he’ll crumble inside and his will to live will shatter with the breaking of silence all around us.

I look down at my shaking fingers as I reach for his still ones.

I gasp out loud and nearly drop his hand when my warm ones are met with his eerily cold and lifeless touch.

A touch that used to caress me on the worst of my days and bring joy to me with the slightest connection.

My bottom lip begins to tremble as a tidal wave of emotions crashed over me.

“Oh, Derek.” I cry out as I crawl into bed with him and wrap my arms around him as best I can without disturbing the multitude of lines connecting him to various machines.

“Please don’t leave, Derek. I love you so much and I can’t live without you. Please...” I choke on a sob. “Please fight to stay with me.” And then the tears I thought I had held at bay begin to fall anew.

I cling to my husband as if I would die without him. Because that’s exactly what it feels like.

Like I’m dying inside.

I look up at his swollen face through blurry, tear-filled eyes, and he is unrecognizable. His eyelids are swelled shut and the whole left side of his face is covered with nasty purplish and blue bruises. The right side of his head has been shaved and a drain tube has been inserted to relieve the pressure caused by a massive hematoma.

The doctors tried to prepare me for what I was about to see. They warned me he would not look like himself.

They didn’t warn me enough!

His entire body is swollen to twice its normal size. Bruises and stitched up cuts cover his entire torso. One of his legs has been casted from the ankle to the thigh. They told me they would have to operate if he made it through the first forty-eight hours.

They don’t think he will. I could see it in their eyes, their body language, and the way they couldn’t make full eye contact with me when they spoke of his long-term prognosis.

They don’t foresee a long term for him and after seeing him for myself—I don’t either.

I lay my head back down on his shoulder and curl up with him as close as I can without disturbing him. “I love you, baby. I love you now and always.” I lean over and kiss his blue cheek. It’s even cold to the touch, but I don’t flinch or pull away. I let my lips taste his skin and I let the reality of his situation sink in further.

As I close my weary eyes, I think back on all of the years I have been blessed to call this man my own. There are many in which I can recount. We’ve been together since we were teenagers and we’ve experienced all of our milestones together as one. Not many people find the love of their life at such a tender age. Even fewer hold onto them as we have.

* * *

People come and go, but watching our families come in and say their good-byes is the hardest.

I sit back and watch as they cry and touch his battered face. Even though I know he’s clinically already gone...I still wish he would open his eyes...just one last time. Maybe it would lessen the heartache I feel—knowing I’ll never get to say good-bye to him as he looks deep into my eyes. He wouldn’t have to tell me that he loved me.

I’d see it.

I’d know it.

I’d feel it to the very depths of my bones.

His eyes have always been the path to his heart. I miss them so much that I physically ache when I think of never looking into them again. It’s a raw and open suffering and burns with a longing so painful that I can’t attempt to put it into words.

It’s been four days since Derek’s accident and I, in my own way, have come to terms with the fact that he left that morning never to return home to me. The only peace I can find is that I had told him I loved him before he left that day. We laughed. We loved. We played during our final moments together. Another blessing I tell myself to count, but it’s so fucking hard when I hurt beyond measure.

The doctors walk in and I give them a brief nod.

I gently whisper into his ear my final farewell. “I love you, baby. Always and forever.”

The machines are disconnected and I watch in a state of complete detachment as Derek takes his last breath and his heart beats its final beat. I hold his hand through it all and my eyes never leave his...hoping and praying that he’ll open them just one final time.

But he never does.

Chapter 2

“You can’t stay cooped up in this apartment forever, Marissa!” my sister, Leah, calls out from the bathroom before she slams the door shut.

We’ve had this argument countless times over the past couple of months. Me, saying I don’t want to go out. And her, insisting I need to in order to get over the death of Derek. I think she fails to realize that I don’t give a crap about going out anymore. I don’t care what people think of me. I don’t care about having fun. The only thing I really care about these days is work.

I work no less than sixty hours a week, and when I come home, I drink a bottle of wine and pass out, only to get up and do it all over again the next day.

Work stabilizes me.

Being home wrecks me and tears my heart in half.

It’s for that very reason that I sold the house last week and moved into this apartment. Walking through that door into the house that I used to share with Derek was like taking a butcher knife and cleaving my heart in half...repeatedly. It felt wrong to be there without him, and I felt like a pitiful excuse for a human being for not being able to cope.

The bathroom door opens and I look up from her book that she left on my coffee table. “Leah, what is this?” I ask as I finish reading a particularly hot scene where a man ties the woman down to the bed and whips her with a belt. The scene is explicitly vulgar and yet...I find myself somewhat aroused by the idea. I immediately push the thought back and slam the book shut.

Leah casually struts across the living room and plops down on the couch next to me. She reaches over and grabs the books and starts reading it. “This series is amazing.” She glances at me with a mischievous smirk before flipping to a page and reading aloud. “I’ve never known a lover like him before. He’s controlling. Dominating. And totally out of my league. But when he ties me down and demands my submission...I have never felt more free or aroused in my life.” She gasps dramatically and pulls the book to her heart. “I swear I have had to buy more batteries for my B.O.B. since reading this series than ever before. This is the stuff wet dreams are made of.”

I laugh out loud and shove her away. “You’re crazy. You know that, right?”

She gives me a look. “You know it’s hot. Here, take it.” She shoves the book at me. “I’ve already read this one three times. Read it all the way through and tell me that you don’t want to ride your dildo like it’s a bucking bronco.” She smiles her goofy smile and I can’t help but giggle back. “It’s seriously hot! And after reading this, you’ll never look at Parker the same again.” She shrugs, lost in her own mind. “Who knew guy on guy sex would be such a turn on?” she says under her breath. Her cheeks flushing a little.

“Leah!” I elbow her. “When did you become such a perv?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to say that out loud.” The corner of her mouth tilts up.

I know that she totally meant to say that out loud. My expression turns serious. “You know you have to be careful, right? You just can’t run around hopping from bed to bed and party to party. Right?”

She ignores me and goes back to reading her book.

I don’t know why I even bother trying to scold her. Leah does what she wants, when she wants, and how she wants. She’s young, so for the time being, she’s allowed. But I’m afraid that her wild and careless attitude will get her into trouble one day.

I rise from the couch and toss the decorative pillow at her head. It bounces off and leaves her hair a mess. I almost laugh...but I catch myself before it escapes. Her piercing eyes promise revenge and I give a fake shiver to let her know that I am so scared...NOT. “That’s for taking my dress and not returning it, troll face.”

She sets her book down on the table and runs her fingers through her straight locks to fix her hair, locking eyes with me as I round the bar in the kitchen. “It’s not like you were going to wear it anyway. I know your game. You sit here and pretend to be interested in something so you can ignore life as it happens all around you. You do it all the time, M. The only problem is...I’m your sister, so I know what you're thinking even before you do.” She points back and forth between us. “We have that kind of connection, ya know. You can’t shit a shitter.”

I crinkle my nose at her lewd reference. “That’s just gross, Leah. And quit calling me M. I’m not a letter on the alphabet chart.” I bend over and reach into the fridge to pull out a drink.

“You don’t have to be so damn surly all of the time, Marissa.” The shuffle of fabric and bare feet padding across the floor alerts me to her nearness. “I lost him too, M. And he was like a fucking brother to me. You act as if you’re the only one hurting and it’s so far from the truth that it makes me want to bitch slap you.”

I turn around and push the fridge door shut with my foot. My hand shakes as I reach to set the can of soda on the bar. Staring down at the gray and white granite countertop, I silently begin counting the tiny white spots. My mouth feels like I just swallowed a bucket of sand as I fight to force the lump of emotion threatening to overflow down deep inside, where the rest of my unaddressed emotions lie in turmoil.

She can’t possibly understand how much his loss hurts.

No one can.

He was my other half and now that he’s gone, I feel as if I can’t function anymore. Everything that used to be bright and colorful in my life has now turned a dull gray with flickering shades of pale ivory.

Life just isn’t worth living anymore.

And yet, I know that Derek would kick my ass if he saw me now. He would want me to go on living without him. Sure, he’d expect me to miss him, but he’d also expect me to move on. And that’s where I’m failing him the most. You see, I can’t move on because I find myself living in my memories every day. It’s those memories that offer a fraction of solace in my unending agony and crippling grief. It’s sheer torture curling up in my bed at night knowing that he’ll never lay beside me again. I reach over every night to touch the pillow that his head will never again grace with his thick brown hair and ruggedly handsome face. My big lumberjack.

My bottom lip begins to tremble, and before I know it, Leah has her arms wrapped around my waist and we’re both sobbing hysterically. “You can’t...understand.” I gasp between sobs. “I have no one. Nothing. It hurts so much. So much.” My words are a garbled mess as I lean on her shoulder and release the pain that has sucked the life from me.

We both cry and soothe each other for several minutes.

Leah pulls away and takes my face in her delicate hands. Her blue eyes are red-rimmed and still overflowing with fresh tears. “I know you hurt, M. I can’t even begin to imagine how much. But you have to know that he wouldn’t want this for you. Derek loved you so much. It would kill him to see you like this. You have to move on...for Derek. He would want that for you more than anything.” She leans in and puts her forehead against mine as I sniffle and try to come to terms with what I need to do.

“I know.” My voice is scratchy and comes out as more of a husky whisper.

I gently place my hands on hers and step away from her to make my way around the bar and then take a seat on one of the barstools.

Grieving for someone you loved as much as I loved Derek is physically and emotionally draining, and I just don’t have any more to give to the effort it takes. I’m so washed out, exhausted from crying and feeling bereft all of the time. I know I need to come to terms and find a healthier outlet for my sadness. I need to find that spark again that made me...me. Finding yourself when the other half of you is missing is like trying to find the perfect shell on a beach full of rocks. It seems like an impossible feat, but I know that I have to get my shit together and get back on track.

I take a drink of soda and let the cool, refreshing bubbles wash over my palette and down my parched throat. Leah takes a seat next to me on the remaining barstool and pulls a banana from the fruit basket. As she’s peeling it, a flashback of Derek and me comes to mind.

The night that we moved into our house, we celebrated with banana splits. He spoon-fed me as we sat on the floor in the middle of our bare living room. He purposefully slopped whipped cream and hot fudge on my chin and apologized by leaning in and licking it off. His lips made their way to my waiting mouth, and I’ll never forget how every time he kissed me it felt like an electric current lit from within.

We made love that night in our new house. Several times. He was slow and methodical in how he touched me and brought my body to life with a craving so strong I was practically begging him to take me. “My sweet little bit,” I whisper. Leah looks over at me with a pained expression. I offer her an equally pained smile. “That’s what he called me when he made love to me.” A bitter laugh escapes me as I run my finger over the granite and recall that night as if it were yesterday. Every detail comes to me in vivid clarity. I can almost feel his whispered words as they travel over my skin. “When I asked him why he called me little bit, do you know what he said?” She shakes her head as a tear runs down her cheek. “He said because no matter how many times I make love to you, I’ll always want just a little bit more. Just a little bit. But it’s never enough.”

I swipe the tear trembling on my upper lip away with the back of my finger. “I’ve lost him, Leah. I’ve lost him and I don’t know how to go on without him. Does that make me weak? ‘Cause I can’t bear to wake up tomorrow morning and know that he won’t be there beside me. And it hurts. God, it hurts so fucking much.” I wrap my arms around myself. It feels as if my chest is cracking open and my insides are going to burst apart if I don’t hold them in as tightly as I can.

Her hand closes over my thigh and gives a reassuring squeeze. “I know, sis. I know it hurts, and I don’t know how to make it better for you. It’s killing me. Please, don’t make me lose you, too. Please, M. Please pick up the pieces and fight to get your life back. I miss my sister,” she pleads, her eyes conveying a sense of powerless vulnerability.

I give a weak nod. “Charlie overheard Derek talking to me one day on his lunch break. He heard him tell me that he loved me.” A small smile breaks across my weary face. “He heard him call me little bit. He’s called me that ever since.” Leah laughs through her tears and I can’t help but chuckle along with her.

Strangely, it eases the pain inside and I allow myself to bask in its momentary reprieve. My tense muscles relax a little and I rest my arms on the bar.

“I was going to ask you about that. I’d heard Charlie call you that at Christmas parties. I bet he had no idea the meaning behind it, did he?” She grins.

I laugh weakly. “No, he sure didn’t. But Derek used to love how red my face would get when Charlie would belt out the nickname in front of a room full of people.” We both smile.

Derek loved to give me a hard time, and he was always looking for little ways to make me laugh. Thinking back to all of the times that Charlie unknowingly sparked that laughter by calling me that nickname makes me giggle under my breath. It went on for years and Derek never saw fit to tell him the hidden meaning. Thank god for small mercies.

* * *

Two weeks. That’s how long Leah has been staying with me—sharing her sexy books and trying to get me out of the house. I wake up each morning feeling a little better, after having spent the night with my sister watching comedies, or discussing the latest BDSM romance novel she’s picked up until the wee hours of the morning.

Even though I have to work today, I didn’t pressure her to go to bed last night, and if I'm honest with myself, our chats about hot men and bondage have become something I look forward to. It’s nice to hear her laughter and to laugh a little myself. I had almost forgotten what it felt like. To live in the moment and not worry about anything other than what is happening right then and there. The freeness that comes with that mentality is uniquely refreshing.

I stand and stretch my stiff limbs and then head to the bathroom for that all-important morning bathroom visit. After I relieve my bladder, I walk to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. As the smell of fresh coffee perks my senses, I grab my phone and flip through my work email account. More of the same...container lease agreements, fuel prices, stock market info, and an itinerary from Parker with my meetings for today. I don’t know what I would do without that man. He keeps me organized and on track, which, considering my state of mind the last couple of months, is no small task.

After showering and getting dressed, I make my way to the kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee. As I stand there wading through the haze in my mind that comes from not being a morning person, I’m hit with a sudden moment of inspiration. On the annual calendar is a date circled eight months from now. The convention that I begged my boss to let me attend. Derek hadn’t been too keen on the idea of me traveling to Olympia for the business getaway, but I hadn’t relented on the importance of the connections I could make while there. Many CEOs would be there taking in the lectures about advances in technology and the eventual changes in transportation that new DOT standards would bring about. It would be a proverbial Who’s Who in the world of logistics and greater business.

Maybe that meeting is exactly what I need in order to get over this hump, I think to myself. Being around influential people who walk in Fortune 500 circles would definitely pull me from the murky waters I have been wading in. Even if it's so far away, at least it gives me a small light at the end of a very dark and dreary tunnel.

I can start working on my presentation today and have Parker collect some data for further research. A perfect way to focus my energy on something that could benefit my career immensely.

It’s with that thought in mind that I drive myself to work and feel the dark clouds inside begin to shift a little, allowing a small ray of sunshine to break through.

Chapter 3

The hotel lobby is buzzing with conversation as I step out of the elevator. Parker and I have been in one presentation after another and I’m ready for a stiff drink to unwind the coiling tension in my stiff neck and aching back. Those chairs were about as comfortable as sitting on a balance beam for ten consecutive hours.

“Are you even listening to me?” Parker asks.

I stop my forward progression to the delectable bar that might as well be a watery oasis in the Sahara desert and turn to my assistant to give him my undivided attention. Much to my dismay, he smirks at the snarl I’m sporting and pokes me in the ribs.

“Easy now. You don’t want to appear an overzealous lush now do you?” He winks.

“At this point in the day, I don’t care what my appearance is as long as I no longer feel the stiffness in my joints. My brain is on a mental vacation and my back feels like the hounds of hell are treading upon it.” I reach back to rub the pain shooting down from the small of my back to the crack of my butt. “What were they thinking in selecting those awful chairs? I mean, sure they were pretty and all, but they offer the comfort of a pointed fence post at best.”

He laughs out loud and proceeds to tell me what he had been saying when I was ignoring him. “As I was saying...” We make our way to the bar as he fills me in on the latest mergers and stock prices of our competitors. It’s mundane information, but my brain manages to compute the figures and arrives at the same conclusion as he does.

“Well, we’ll simply diversify our assets division and reallocate our warehousing contracts to a more lucrative customer base. We can keep our momentum so long as we continually adjust our action plan to accommodate seasonal transitions and manufacturing setbacks. We just need to stay two steps ahead in case we lose footing and have to regain our edge over our competitors.”

“Exactly.” He reaches over and smacks the bar to gain the bartender’s attention. “We’ll have two Long Island Iced Teas, please.” The bartender starts to walk away to make our drinks, but Parker yells out, “With lemon.” The bartender nods and sets about making our drinks.

Parker swivels in his seat to face me again. “So, did you get to meet the owner of Stockton International? I hear he’s been quite the social butterfly at this convention.” He grins knowingly.

I know enough about the man he speaks of to gather that he is being sarcastic, so I just smirk and respond likewise. “Sure, we were discussing weather trends and summer vacation plans over brunch yesterday.”

He snorts. “You’re cute when you think you're funny.”

The bartender returns with our drinks. As I’m looking up from mine, I notice his hungry eyes are caressing every inch of my exposed skin. He’s cute—I’ll give him that. But he doesn’t really do anything for me, so I just smile politely and return to my conversation with Parker. From the corner of my eye, I notice him walking away with a little extra swagger in his step.

Parker’s eyes are glowing with amusement when I look over at him. “That man wants to rock your little world.”

I’m momentarily gripped with grief as I think of Derek and how he would’ve gone all caveman defending his woman against the advances of another.

My expression must give away my thoughts because Parker grabs me by the shoulders and stares deep into my eyes. “It’s been almost a year, Marissa. It’s time to let him go. You have to move on, and now is as good a time as any to test the levels of your comfort in doing so.” He gives me a brief hug and then takes a sip of his drink before resuming his lecture.

I already know where this is going because I’ve heard it from everyone who is close to me a million times by now.

“What you need is a good fucking.”

The drink that I just guzzled spews out over my lips as I cough and sputter in surprise at his bold statement.

The bartender appears out of nowhere with a handful of napkins that Parker quickly snatches from his grasp. The two men share a measured look and then the bartender seems to think better of whatever he was about to say before he steps away.

Parker starts blotting the counter and handing me napkins to clean myself up. “Now, as I was saying...you need a cataclysmic orgasm to rid you of the sour expression that haunts your beautiful face. I think that’s the only cure for what ails you these days.” I try to butt in, but he raises his hand to silence me. “Hear me out, Marissa. I know you’re still grieving and I know you can’t commit to a serious relationship right now. But what if it was just about sex and nothing else. What if you just allowed yourself a moment of bliss before all of the pain returned to consume you. Is that truly such a terrible fate?” His left brow quirks up in question.

I sit in silence and brew over his comment. Could I allow another man to touch me in such an intimate way? Derek was the only man I had ever been with. Hell, he’s the only man I’d ever kissed. We were so young when we met and I knew right away that I had met my one true love. It may sound cliché, but we were destined to be together. Everything about the two of us just clicked. Sure, we had our arguments and bouts when we would behave like immature kids and ignore each other out of spite. But in the end, our love was pure. It was as natural as breathing to us. Love consumed us both to the very depths of our souls, and once we were married, we were inseparable.

How could I ever taint that by allowing another to touch me as Derek had? Our passion was a sacred thing to me and I honestly don’t think I could stomach sharing that with anyone else. It’s all I have left of him...those moments and how he worshipped my body, inside and out.

But then I think of the books I’ve been reading and my face flushes a little. That’s nothing like what I shared with Derek. My red cheeks don’t go unnoticed by Parker. “See. You know I’m right.”

“I don’t know, Park. Just when I think that I’m ready to move on, I’m hit with this...” I struggle to put it into words so that he can understand.

“Guilt,” he quips, his expression far too perceptive. “Why don’t you try experiencing something completely different.” I try to speak, but he continues. “No, you need to hear me out on this. What about those books you’ve been reading? Those intrigue you, don’t they? That lifestyle. That kind of kink.” He waggles his brows.

I focus on my drink and run my thumb around the rim of my glass as the images provoked by those books run through my mind. I told Parker a while back that I was fascinated by the lifestyle those books portrayed. The thought of having someone to analyze my sexual and emotional needs beyond momentary satisfaction is appealing. The Doms in those books are meticulous and thrive on the control they exert over their submissives. It’s a world unlike anything I’ve yet to encounter. Who wouldn’t be intrigued?

His hand over mine stills my circular motion on my glass. I raise my eyes to his. “Listen. I know of a place where you can explore the lifestyle you’ve read about. It’s a club where fantasies turn into reality and anonymity is of the greatest importance.” He pauses, his eyes taking in the curiosity that I no longer care to conceal. He gives a subtle nod. “That’s my girl. Just remember, this kind of relationship is going to be unlike anything you’ve experienced before. It’s not about hearts and flowers.”

“I don’t need hearts and flowers or awkward dates. I need an emotional disconnect. I want something...” I debate on whether or not to tell him about my recent infatuation with books exploring S&M relationships. Those books gave me an unexpected thrill while reading them. The thought of a man tying me down and inflicting pain on me for his pleasure, and ultimately my own, makes my core tingle with excitement.

I would have never broached the subject with Derek. He was too old fashioned for that sort of perversion, and he would have probably laughed at me for even thinking it.

“Marissa.” Parker’s voice pulls me back to the conversation at hand. “You and Derek were married so young that I don’t believe you’ve ever had the chance to really discover who you are without him.” He looks at me sympathetically. “You’re entering a phase in your life when you can feel free to discover what it is that makes you the woman you are—and what it is that you desire. You don’t have to subject yourself to anyone’s scrutiny. Not even your own. Just do what makes you feel good and accept that it’s right for you.” He takes a sip of his drink before meeting my eyes again. “No one else’s opinion matters.”

I release a heavy breath.

He’s right. All I’ve done is second-guessed myself since the day Derek died. I keep thinking that I need to stay true to the woman who was married to him. But I’m not that woman anymore. When he died, she died as well.

Parker and I finish up with our drinks and are about to head upstairs and call it a night when a group of gentlemen calls out his name. We both turn around to four men in business suits. The two in the front are a little older than we are. Both have sprinkles of gray throughout their brown hair. The two in the back are deep in conversation with one another with their back turned partially toward us so I can’t get a good look at their faces.

“Parker! Good to see you, son. How’s the family been?” the gentleman to the right asks as he clasps Parker’s hand in a firm shake.

“They’re doing well, sir. And how are the missus and your daughters doing? They should be right about college age if my memory serves me right,” Parker asks as he takes a commanding stance and unknowingly blocks me from their view.

I can barely see the men over his shoulder as they speak of holiday get-togethers and little Sarah having grown up and going off to pursue her law degree. After a few minutes of this, I ease my way back over to the bar and order another drink.

The flirty bartender appears to have finished his shift and this time a young woman with long blond hair takes my order and rushes around to prepare my drink. Behind me, I can hear the men deep in conversation with Parker, their voices growing more hushed by the minute. I look over my shoulder to see that all four men have formed a circle around Parker and they appear to be discussing something of great importance. Each man nods enthusiastically and Parker steps from the center and makes his way back over to me.

As he approaches the bar, my brow raises in question. “What was that all about?” My tone is a little sharper than I intend, but I could tell that they were discussing something secretive and I want in on it.

His toothy grin lets me know he’s up to no good. “You know that club I was telling you about?” I nod. “Well, it appears tonight is open to nonmembers. By invitation only, of course.”

“And?”

“We’ve been invited,” he says, his voice raising an octave with excitement.

Before either one of us can utter another word, the gentleman that Parker was speaking to appears on my right and asks to speak with Parker in private again.

“I’ll be right back. Wait here for me.” He winks at me and then follows the man back over to the group.

I plop down in my seat and check my phone for missed messages. My father was supposed to represent his company at this event, but he fell ill at the last minute and had to stay home. I shoot him a quick text to let him know I spoke with the coordinator about emailing him the presentations shown.

My phone pings immediately with his response and I can’t help but smile as I read his complaints about how my mother is suffocating him with good intentions. She’s demanding he sleep no less than ten hours a day and shoving chicken noodle soup down him as if it were a cure for all his troubles.

I finish texting him and drop my phone back into my purse. As I wait on Parker, I get the funny sensation of someone watching me. I spin on my seat and look around, but find no one in particular looking my way. The feeling doesn’t ease and my body grows tense as the hair on the back of my neck stands to attention.

“You ready?” I yelp, jumping out of my seat and nearly dropping my purse.

“Dammit, Park. You scared me to death,” I say as I try to compose myself.

He looks at me curiously, a deep V forming between his brows. “You’re jumpy.” He looks around before his focused gaze returns to me. “Did someone bother you?”

I shake my head. “No, I was just texting my father and I guess I was so focused that I didn’t hear you coming.”

He reluctantly nods. “Okay. You just have this weird look on your face.” He drops the subject and grins triumphantly. “Are you ready for this?”

“What exactly is this?”

“The club. I have procured two invitations. One for me and one for a guest of my choosing.” He rocks up on his toes excitedly. “You have no idea how hard it is to get into this place. Getting an invite is like winning the lottery.”

I smile. “Well, then, what are we waiting for?” I grab my purse.

Parker settles up the bar tab and then we head up to our rooms to get ready.

* * *

As soon as the door clicks shut behind me, I spring into motion. A quick glance at the clock lets me know that I have two hours to get myself together.

By the time I’m standing in front of the mirror, I’ve convinced myself this is what I need to do in order to move on. I need to cut ties with the person I was while with Derek and form a new me. An alter ego, so to speak.

I raise my eyes to the full-length mirror and take in my appearance with a no small amount of apprehension.

My dark hair is pulled to the side and lies in soft waves over my left shoulder. The only thing sexy in my bag was a black cocktail dress. The look it lends screams sophisticated vixen and will no doubt call attention to my body. My shoulders are bare because the A-line Russia banded design is strapless and extremely form fitting. Even though it’s solid black, the woven bands give it an almost leathery texture, defining my curves flawlessly.

I sit down on the bed and strap on a pair of heels. I wind the silk ribbons around my legs and then tie them mid-calf. The bright red is a stark contrast to my black dress, but these shoes are to die for. As Parker says, they’re fuck-me shoes. So, I’m going to suffer through the uncomfortable height of the heels and lack of support in order to achieve my sexy bedroom appeal.

I rise and glance one last time at the mirror.

I have never worn an outfit like this and the only reason it was even packed in my bag was because Leah put it there...along with the shoes. I think her and Parker have been conspiring together to get me out onto the dating market.

I run my finger under my eye to remove a tiny smudge of mascara. I’ve never been able to apply the smoky eye make-up appropriately, but when you’re staying in a five star hotel that has a make-up artist and hair stylist on call...beauty is just a phone call away.

I smile, feeling sexy for the first time in what seems like forever.

* * *

I pace the hall holding my clutch purse so tight my knuckles are white.

Waiting and waiting and waiting. I can’t believe Parker hasn’t left yet. I swear that man would be late for his own funeral. I look over at the clock and see that it’s nearly nine forty-five.

I walk a few more circles around and then glance over to see ten minutes has passed and Parker still hasn’t come out. I stride over and knock on his door. After a minute or two with no response, I knock again.

Nothing.

I reach into my purse and pull out the spare room key and let myself in. “Parker?” I call out as I walk in and scan for his whereabouts. “Parker?”

I’m met with silence and an empty designer shopping bag on his bed.

“Bastard. He’s already left.” I pull my phone out, ready to text him, and see there’s a message waiting for me.

All guests are to arrive at 10pm sharp. A driver is waiting for you at the main entrance.

“What?” None of this makes any sense. Where is Parker and why am I getting a text from an unknown number?

I click on Parker’s contact and shoot him a quick text.

Where are you and why did you leave without me? I press send and wait for his response.

My phone pings with an alert and I quickly tap Parker’s name to pull up his message.

Sorry, had to arrive early to fill out paperwork. They’re sending a car for you. See you in a bit.

I scurry as fast as my alarmingly high heels will allow out of his room and down the hall to the elevator. Now I’m late, and my escort for the night is already there. Brilliant.

When I arrive at the main entrance, the doorman tips his hat and opens the door to a black SUV. “Is this for Marissa Frasier?” I ask, pointing to the big SUV.

“That it is, Madame.”

I give a thankful smile and climb into the vehicle, making myself as comfortable as my dress permits.

About fifteen minutes later, the driver pulls into a long, winding driveway that looks as if it’s taking us to a surreptitious country club. When the SUV parks at the front entrance, the driver peers back at me through his rearview mirror with shadowed eyes.

I give him a forced grin and quickly move to exit the vehicle. This guy is giving me the creeps and I want out of the vehicle...yesterday. As soon as I close the door behind me, he drives off. I heave a sigh of relief at his departure.

It’s pitch black and I can’t see a thing except for the small lantern light above a massive double door. I walk as gracefully as my shoes allow over what appears to be a cobblestone driveway. Go figure. Just my luck when I’m wearing stilts for shoes.

I finally reach the door after some evasive maneuvering and push the lighted button...I’m assuming it’s a doorbell. At least, I hope it’s a doorbell. While I wait for whoever mans the door to this mansion to let me in, I adjust my dress and make sure my girls are still neatly tucked inside, gripping my clutch purse as if it’s my lifeline to the outside world.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, but was really only a minute or two, a giant of a man opens the door and peers down at me.

He doesn’t speak a word to me in greeting, and for a moment, I’m struck stupid by his enormous size and intimidating demeanor. “Oh, um...excuse me.” I clear my throat and then announce myself. “My name is Marissa Frasier. I’m a guest of Parker Thibodeaux.” I chance a look at the intimidating man in front of me, and he gives a curt nod before stepping aside to allow me to enter.

“ID and door charge, please,” he deadpans.

I quickly fish out my driver's license and debit card. He scans my ID on a small printer in the corner, swipes my debit card, and returns them to me. His cold eyes lock with mine as his thin lips begin to move. “Purse and cell phones go over there.” He points to a line of what I can only assume is large lockers with keypads on the outside that resembles a digital safe. “I’m the only one with access to them. You need not worry, Madame, your belongings will be secure.” I give a shy smile, stuff my cards back into my purse, and then hand him my items to place inside.

He quickly locks them away and then ushers me down a narrow hallway. “You’ll need to sign the contract at the front desk before entering. If you have any questions, Miss Casandra will answer them before you enter.” He points to a wide wooden desk at the end of the hall.

I turn around to thank him, but he’s already making his way back toward the front entrance without so much as a backward glance.

As I approach the elegant desk, the gorgeous redhead sitting behind it stands to greet me with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. Her teeth are so white they look like Chiclets instead of real teeth. Her beauty is a study of flawless plastic surgery, but it’s paid off for her because she is absolutely stunning.

“Good evening.” She shuffles some wristbands of various colors around. “Welcome to The Inferno.” She smiles politely at me as I shift from foot to foot anxiously. “Is this your first time visiting with us, or do you have a membership with one of our sister clubs?”

“No. It’s my first time,” I stutter. “I’m sorry, I’m incredibly nervous.”

Her face transforms to one of understanding with a trace of pity.

Pity? Why would she pity me because it’s my first time visiting? What on Earth could they possibly do here that would invoke even a glimpse of pity in her expression?

“Well then, let’s get the formalities covered and then you can browse a bit to see what piques your interest.” She scoots her chair up under her desk and begins pulling papers from various folders and then stapling a packet together for me.

While she readies my paperwork, I try to look around the foyer, but a large wall decorated with black and white paintings of people in seductive poses blocks everything. They’re mainly abstract in nature, but if you look hard enough, you can make out the fine lines of silhouettes in various states of erotic bliss. They’re riveting, and I can’t help but stare somewhat awestruck by their harsh beauty.

On the other side of the room is a massive fireplace with embellished stone all around the mantel and hearth. There are no traces of black soot so I assume its purpose is merely decorative. To the side is a lounge with several black leather chairs that have brass studs running along the outer armrest and down to the wooden legs. The decorations are distinctly masculine with a touch of raw seduction in the mix. The colors are all dark and some form of metal embellishes everything. It invokes a visual wonderland of warm silk sheets and cold steel cuffs.

To say that I’m not somewhat aroused would be an absolute lie. This is a place where individuals are freed from their inhibitions and fantasies are brought to life. Dark and depraved fantasies. And for some reason, the depraved part of that thought is what appeals to me the most.

“Now then, please read everything over very carefully and should you have questions, I’m here to answer them for you.” She reaches over to a cup full of pens and plucks one out with her long, elegant fingers. I take it and then make my way over to the sitting area with my clipboard in hand and my mind a million miles away.

After thoroughly reading the document, I graze over the rules a second time for good measure. With clauses for scenes and proper etiquette to be followed at all times, there is little doubt of what I’m about to embark upon. This will be my first exposure to a world that most would recognize as seedy and verboten. Things that happen in here are talked about in huddled groups and hushed whispers.

Things that Derek would never have agreed to or approved of.

It’s that thought alone that makes my being here logical to me. I need to find some sort of divide in order for me to allow myself this pleasure. I don’t know why, and I can’t explain my rationalism, but I NEED there to be a distinct contrast in what I shared with him and what I’m willing to share with another.

I finish signing the forms and return them to the desk where the redhead is now standing, waiting for me.

She cocks her head to the side and gives me a quick once-over then secures an orange band around my wrist. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? Any last-minute questions?”

“What’s the band for?” I ask.

“It’s so other visitors will recognize you as a guest. We don’t have a health clearance on you so they need to know the potential risk factor should they choose to do a scene with you. If you have anything contagious, please do not participate in any activities that may run the risk of contaminating the room or subjecting others to risk of infection.” She says it all as if she’s reading me her grocery list. When, in fact, she just blatantly asked me if I was a carrier of any STDs.

“I’m clean. I’ve only been with one man.” She nods and taps the band around my wrist.

“Still, safety first. I’ll have Trinity escort you around and show you the ropes.” She laughs at her own pun. “Any other questions before I turn you loose?”

I run my sweaty palms over my thighs and shake my head. “I believe your contract covered everything.”

“Great. Trinity will meet you as soon as you pass through the main entrance.” She gives a satisfied nod and proceeds to walk toward a set of double doors. I can hear a low humming sound coming from the other side. The subtle bass in a sensual melody triggers a small quiver in my bones as I follow behind the hostess in her black leather mini dress and thigh-high boots. I look down at my dress and shake my head. If what she’s wearing is the norm, I’m seriously overdressed.

“There are Dungeon Monitors, or DMs as we call them, throughout the club to monitor scenes and ensure that everyone plays safely. You can easily spot them by their neon yellow armbands. They’re here to keep you safe at all times. If you ever feel threatened or afraid, get their attention by using the club safe word—red.” She stops and turns toward me with her hand hovering over the door handle. “Always remember the code—safe, sane, and consensual. No exceptions. Understood?”

“Yes. I appreciate your concern, but I have a friend here who can help me should the need arise.”

“Whom may I ask is waiting for you?”

“Umm...” I debate for second on whether or not to reveal his name but then I remember the contract and know that he must have signed with his legal name the same as I had to. After all, they scan our IDs into their computer system, so there is little doubt as to the identity of anyone who enters.

“His name is Parker Thibodeux.”

Her eyes light up with recognition. “Ah. Well, I believe he is presently occupied in one of the private rooms.” She clears her throat as her cheeks turn the cutest shade of pink.

This lady has the hots for my best friend. I bite the inside of my lip to keep from smiling. “I’ll be fine. I appreciate your concern.”

She smiles politely and then turns to open the door for me. I return her smile as I pass through the open door and into the intimidating den of ecstasy.

Chapter 4

My eyes roam over everything. Missing nothing and taking in even the most minute detail.

“Hey, there. You must be the newbie. I’m Trinity.” A cute little brunette with a face full of piercings says as she extends her tattooed hand out to me.

I look down at her extended hand and notice a hazy fog rolling in soothing waves over the floor, eluding to a sense of stepping into a forbidden zone.

I remember my manners and shake her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m Marissa.” I look all around us at the people milling about. Some dressed in business attire, some in leathers and chains, others in nothing at all. “It’s just a lot to take in,” I manage to croak out as my eyes fall upon a woman naked and bound to a huge X in the corner. A man wearing a leather hood with a zipper down the back raises what appears to be a cane and then brings it down directly over her bright red buttocks.

Smack. I flinch as the sound of the cane coming down on her backside reaches my ears.

The warm hand I forgot I was holding squeezes mine reassuringly, pulling my attention back to Trinity. She grins, her eyes glowing with mischief. “That’s the Saint Andrews Cross. If you’re lucky, Master D might allow you to play with them.” Her eyebrows wiggle suggestively.

I start vehemently shaking my head. “Oh, no. No. I wasn’t...”

Her eyes light up at my denial and she smiles sweetly back at me. Her hand gently pulls from my grip and pats the top of mine. “It’s okay. So, from your reaction, I take it that you’re a submissive?”

“I think so.”

“First timers seldom know what triggers their desires. It’s a learning curve that a good Dom will be more than happy to help you explore.” At my puzzled expression, she explains further. “This lower level,” she gestures to the expanse of people and various scenes taking place, “is our communal floor, where conversations are exchanged. Scenes discussed. And ultimately, partnerships are formed for a night of pleasurable play.” She points to the woman at the Saint Andrews Cross. “You can test the waters down here and make sure you’re compatible with one another. Full visibility tends to alleviate a lot of the newcomers’ nerves. They feel safer knowing they’re not alone with someone they just met and haven’t formed a well-developed sense of trust with yet. It’s a good way to build that trust, so you can take things a bit further, should you wish.”

My eyes flick from the scene back to her. “What do you mean...further?” I raise a brow in question.

She jerks her head toward the bar, gesturing for me to follow. We both take a seat on the tall barstools and she proceeds to order us drinks. “What’s your poison?”

“Um...I’ll have a Crown and Coke, please.”

“Mmmm, good choice.” She smacks the bar and a dark-skinned man wearing black military-style pants and a black t-shirt walks over. He has a bright yellow armband cuffed around his massive bicep with an engraved DM on it.

“A double on the Crown and Coke please, Master Jay,” Trinity calls out over the music.

His smile is warm and thoughtful, and he teasingly chucks her under the chin. “Anything for you, sweetness.”

Trinity takes in my confusion and explains, “Master Jay is a DM.” She points to his armband. “See that?” I nod. “All of the DMs will have one so that you can easily spot them amongst the crowd. If you ever feel threatened or like something is going too far for you...” Her eyes tighten as her expression shifts from playful to serious. “Red is the club safe word. All you have to do is say red, and they’ll put a stop to it if your Dom doesn’t first. Understand?”

I nod like a dumbfounded bobble head taking in everything she’s just divulged. “The lady at the front mentioned it as well.”

“Every club abides by a strict standard of Safe-Sane-Consensual. We’re all here to experience pleasure with like minded individuals. No judgment. I’ll go over the hard limits list since most newbies glance over it and don’t really pay much attention.” The guilty look on my face brings a hushed giggle up from her. “No worries, I’ve got you covered.” She begins to tick them off one by one on her hand. “One, no scat play. Two, no blood play. Three, no golden showers or other play involving urine. Four, no bestiality. Five, no breath play.”

“What’s breath play?” I ask, more than a little dumbfounded by all of these foreign terms.

“Asphyxiation. Strangulation.” Her pierced brow raises. “A lot of people find that it heightens their pleasure if they’re choked to the point of orgasm.” She shakes her head in dismay. “But there’s no safe way to practice breath play. I don’t encourage it and have never participated. It’s dangerous, no matter what level your experience may be.”

“That’s not for me.” I don’t want anyone choking me no matter the outcome or heightened pleasure. That thought is not even slightly appealing.

Master Jay places our drinks before us and gives us both a flirtatious wink before leaving to tend to other patrons. Trinity stirs her drink with a longing look as she watches him flirt with other women down the bar. “If only...” She leaves the sentence hanging as she takes a huge drink, her eyes flashing back to me with approval as I follow suit.

“Another club rule, only two drinks per night. No exceptions. Some of the things that take place within these walls require a great deal of focus and a steady hand. We can’t have people drunkenly participating in any scenes they would have otherwise steered clear of.”

“Makes sense. I could see how someone would overindulge to take the edge off and muster the courage to jump in,” I admit without shame. I was just thinking two or three more of these and I would be good to go. My barriers would fall and I could allow myself to venture into the unknown. But this rule brings everything into a clear perspective. I need to have my wits about me. I swivel on the stool and take in the various scenes in the four corners of the room.

“Over there, that’s a whipping bench.” She leans across me and points to a man strapped to a padded table shaped in the form of a person leaning forward while braced on their knees. There’s a place for each knee to rest on some sort of stirrup while leather buckles strap down his thighs, calves, and ankles. His chest and face rest against the flat padded surface and his arms are stretched out and down toward the floor, where they are strapped to the legs of the table on either side. The sight of the woman standing behind him with what appears to be a flogger stirs an unwanted emotion in me that I fight to contain as a warm tingle begins to travel through my veins.

“And over there, that’s a revolving wheel. It’s used for all sorts of play, but mostly for what you see taking place now.” She draws back onto her stool beside me, offering an unfettered view of the woman strapped to the wheel. She’s completely naked, blindfolded, and being fondled by men and women as they pass by. Her nipples are in some sort of painful looking clamps with a chain stretched between them that the group of onlookers gently pulls and tugs on, eliciting moans of pleasure and pain from her gasping mouth. A toy of some sort is strapped around her waist and thighs, securing a small object directly over her clit. “What’s strapped to her?” I ask with no small amount of awe to my tone.

Trinity giggles and then leans in to whisper in my ear. The heat from the breath of her whispered words triggers a deep and unmistakable shudder from my now aching body. “It’s a vibrator. It’s called orgasm denial. She can’t come until her Master allows it.” Her hushed words send my mind reeling with visions of having that done to me.

She slowly pulls away and I can feel her eyes on me as I watch the scene unfold before my enraptured gaze. An unmistakably masculine figure steps forward and runs his finger from the chain between her breasts to the toy over her clit. He leans into her body, his fingers plunging deep into her wet pussy, his masked face nestled beside her ear. My stool wobbles a little as I unknowingly mock his leaning action, my mouth going dry as I watch his lips move beside her ear. Whispering words that catapult her over the edge. Her scream ripples free from her moist lips as her body violently shakes with the most powerful orgasm I have ever witnessed.

Several onlookers smile and nod in appreciation.

“Nobody...” I jump at the sound of her voice and spin around to face a smirking Trinity. “As I was saying, nobody delivers orgasm denial quite like Master X. He used to be a regular here, but now we only see him when his business travels bring him through. Such a shame too.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. Her tone gives nothing away, but her expression says plenty.

“Well, as far as I know, he’s never taken a full-time sub. Only plays out a scene with whoever he chooses and then moves on to the next one.” She lifts her chin toward the woman and a couple of men helping her down from the wheel. One of them pulls her up into his arms and cradles her lovingly against his broad chest. He carries her over to a leather couch and curls her body around his as they sit together. His hand gently caresses her bare back while his lips feather tiny kisses across her cheek. It seems too intimate a moment to watch so I avert my gaze back to Trinity.

“He doesn’t even offer aftercare which is pivotal in any Dom/sub relationship. See how Master Drake took her down and is now helping her recover?” I glance back over at the couple on the couch and then back to Trinity. “Master X takes on a sub that he knows has a permanent Dom. He scenes with them, sometimes involving their Master, oftentimes not. Then he walks away.”

“Does he ever have sex with them?”

“Sometimes. Depends on how far their Dom is willing to let it go. He’s a sadist and good ones are hard to come by. A lot of Dom’s have subs with masochistic tendencies. Some can’t deliver the pain their subs require. So, they turn to a sadist like Master X to fulfill those needs. He’s in high demand.”

My mouth goes wide at that. The thought of having a Dom who wants to share me never entered my mind. I had become so accustomed to Derek’s possessive nature that the idea of a man willing to share his woman in an intimate manner with another was simply unfathomable. My naive expression causes Trinity to laugh as she teasingly pushes on my shoulder.

“Come on, Marissa...what did you expect? Aside from the club rules, nothing is off-limits here. This is the one place where couples and individuals alike can experiment without the ramifications or judgments of the outside world. You’re free to do who, and what, you want. So long as your Dom approves, it’s all fair game.” She grins and then presses her tongue ring against the front of her teeth, twisting it around playfully.

A shrill beeping draws her attention down to a phone holstered on her hip. Her face pinches as she removes it and reads the text. “Crap, stay right here. I have to go take care of something real quick.” She hops down and begins to walk away before suddenly stopping and calling back to me. “As soon as I get back, I’ll show you the upstairs. Then you can decide what you’d like to try out first. Got it?” she asks with a slight smirk to her smile.

“Sure thing.” I spin back around and finish my drink. The bartender looks down the bar at me, silently asking if I need another. I shake my head and he winks before turning back to the couple in front of him.

After what seems like forever, I stand and stretch my back. Then I decide to walk around and get a better look at the club. Whoever designed this place had a keen eye for all things sensual and alluring.

More of the paintings that were in the lobby cover the walls. Poses of a submissive bound and being flogged catch my eye and I find myself walking toward it for a closer look. The artist captures the sheer bliss of the moment on the subject’s face. Eyes closed, teeth biting down on her bottom lip, with a Dom behind her wielding a large flogger. A look of unbridled passion gleams in his onyx eyes.

I walk down the wall examining each painting for their deeper significance. Whoever the artist is, their brushstrokes suggest a sensual feel to their paintings. Each stroke ends with a slight upward flourish.

Enamored with the feelings the paintings evoke, I reach out to touch the curve of the submissive’s hip when a masculine hand wraps firmly around my wrist and draws my hand back.

Startled from my trance, I jump back and pull my hand away as my eyes raise to clash with those of the man still holding my wrist in a firm but gentle grip.

A face covered with a mask, eerily similar to that of the Phantom of the Opera, looks down at me. Sexily mussed brown hair graces one exposed refined eyebrow and hangs just slightly over the hooded lids of ebony colored eyes. His mask is black and covers the left side of his face while leaving the right side of his chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbone in open view for my entranced eyes to ogle over.

Plush pouty lips that make a woman want to do sinful things nearly wring a groan from me. He’s quite simply one of the most arresting men I have ever seen. With half of his face covered, his masculine beauty is still prevalent enough to make even my hardened ovaries quiver with need.

I look down at his large, elegant hand wrapped firmly around my slim wrist. He has the hands of a white-collar worker. They’ve never seen physical labor, and I’m instantly struck with a longing for my husband's strong, calloused hands.

I shake my head slightly to dismiss the thought and raise my eyes back to his.

The corner of his exposed mouth quirks just a bit as if my reaction to him slightly amuses him. But his eyes stay slit like sharp razors as they look me over from head to toe.

Satisfied with his perusal, he focuses on my eyes again and then his deep timbered voice rolls out and over my skin like a fine wine gliding over smooth glass. “Good evening. I apologize for startling you, but the owner frowns upon his paintings being fondled.” He gives a slight smile. “No matter how delectable the offender.”

I pull my hand again and this time he releases me and then looks down as if somewhat surprised he was still holding onto me.

My hands twist together in a nervous gesture that I can’t fathom reining in at this point. This man exudes wealth, power, and an intensity that intimidates me like no other.

I take in his designer suit, obviously custom made to fit his physique to mouthwatering perfection. He’s wearing black from head to toe. Even the dress shirt beneath his suit jacket is solid black. No woman is immune to a man in a nice suit...and this man wears it as if he were the very definition of a cultivated man.

My eyes rise from their inspection of his clothing and back to his plump lower lip and slightly thinner upper lip as they transform from a straight line into a panty-melting smile showcasing perfect commercial worthy teeth.

He steps closer to me and runs his fingers over the loose strands of hair and to the nape of my neck, drawing me in close to his chest.

The heat from his body causes goosebumps to prickle over my bare arms. His entire expression changes from friendly to a predator that has just zeroed in on his prey.

He closes the slight distance between us and whispers into my sensitive ear, “Tell me, little lamb, have you any idea what it is you seek when tempting a lion so? Lambs should know not to play in the lion's den. And yet, here you are...enticing me with your succulent curves and a mouth that craves to have those luscious lips wrapped firmly around my thick cock.” His teeth gently bite the shell of my ear, sending bands of liquid heat through my belly and over my clenching thighs.

Oh. My. God.

I suddenly realize that my fingers are clinging desperately to his hips beneath his suit jacket. His shirt crumpled in my palms. I clumsily back away and stagger a little beneath his intense gaze.

This is a man I know has the power to make me forget who I was and teach me who I need to be.

“I...” I struggle to form a coherent thought and then clear my throat. My voice sounds husky and leaden with unspent lust. “I’m sorry. This is my first time coming to a place like this.” His eyes are so piercing that I find myself constantly looking at the ground to break contact with them. This seems to appease him as the corner of his mouth twitches with a slight smile of approval. My eyes flick from the floor to him, searching for any sign of what is about to happen next.

Movement catches my attention and I watch as he places his hands in his pants pockets with his thumbs left hanging over the lip of the seam. I have come to recognize that power stance in the many business meetings I have attended. It’s meant to disarm and yet exudes a stance of complete control.

Something clicks inside my body and the need to submit to his power is nearly overwhelming. I want this man to take control of me and I know he wants to as well. If the bulge in his trousers is any indication...he wants it as badly as I do.

“Have you come alone?” It’s a simple question and yet I can sense it’s laced with a subtle undertone. Just what that means though, I haven’t a clue.

I glance down at the floor, unable to meet his stare. “In a sense. I have a friend who’s here as well. I just haven’t been able to find him yet.” I begin to fidget nervously with my bangle bracelet all the while keeping my eyes downcast. It’s an unusual show of supplication on my part, but my body is screaming to give him whatever it is that he wants.

Something raw and carnal passes between the two of us when he takes notice of my submissiveness.

He appears to struggle with his thoughts and then his tense expression relaxes. “Well, you’re not alone any longer, little lamb.” He tips my chin up with his thumb as he wets his lower lip with a sensual glide of his moist tongue. My eyes remain glued to his mouth as it closes the distance between us and when his warm lips press firmly against mine...I am lost to the sensation churning within that his masterful caress brings forth.

Deep swirls of pleasure curl in my lower stomach as his tongue pushes into my mouth, stroking over mine and exploring with an exquisite command. He instantly deepens the kiss and takes my face between his hands, his fingers plunging into my hair and pulling just enough to elicit a needful moan from me.

Then, as quickly as it started, it ends. He pulls away and traces my wet lower lip with the pad of his thumb. I react without thinking and take his thumb between my teeth, nibbling just enough to cause his dark eyes to spark with desire, before sucking it into the moist cavern of my mouth, lightly suckling and caressing it with my tongue and then releasing it with a subtle pop.

I reach up to remove his mask, but he quickly halts my attempt and shakes his head. “Tonight is a night of anonymity. All that you need to concern yourself with is pleasing your Master for the evening. Do you understand, my little lamb?”

He clutches my hands to his chest and envelops them in his firm grip. “Tonight, I will be your Dom and you my sub. Follow me.”

With his curt demand, I find myself tagging along behind him as he holds my hand possessively while leading me out of the main room toward a massive staircase.

“Master X?” Trinity’s voice halts our progression, and we both turn to face her.

The vision of the woman climaxing on the wheel flashes through my mind. It’s him. The man who never takes a sub for more than one scene. Just the thought of his hands gliding over my body as they did hers causes a damp heat to simmer between my thighs. I want this man. I want what only he can give me...release.

Trinity’s expression is more than a little concerned as she takes in our linked hands and his possessive stance. “How can I help you, sub?” His sharp tone takes me back a little as I glance from him to her.

“Sir, she’s a new sub and I wanted to make sure she was comfortable before she went any further.” Her worried eyes flick from him to me and then finally rest on him.

“Ah, I see.” His fingers move over the top of my hand in a reassuring circle as he tightens his grip on our clutched hands. “You needn’t worry, little one. I shall endeavor to prevail all things safe and consensual upon her.” It doesn’t escape my notice that he omitted the sane part of that clause.

Trinity shuffles a little and looks behind her as if searching for some sort of backup. When she faces us again, her expression morphs into one of acceptance and she gives a grim nod. I reach out to squeeze her arm gently, our eyes meeting. “It’s all right. I know the safe word and we’ll discuss everything in great detail before beginning a scene.” She nods and steps back to take her leave. “I’m okay, Trinity. Really.” She releases a heavy sigh and gives me a tight smile. “All right then.”

A slight tug pulls me back under his arm as he mounts the stairs. When we meet the large expanse of the upper level, my courage is momentarily tested as I take in the distinct sounds of sensual pleasure and purposeful pain coming from the rooms on either side of the hall.

“Don’t fret, little lamb. I have no intentions of breaking my new toy.” His deep chuckle sends a thrill of alarm down my spine, but I shrug it off as we make our way down the hall and past a DM. He raises his chin to Master X in acknowledgment.

Knowing that he’s out here in case I need him serves to settle my nerves a little.

* * *

“You look like a blue to me,” he comments idly as he takes me to a large black door and flips the sign on the handle from available over to occupied as we walk in. The soft click alerts me that we are now sealed off from everyone else. My heartbeat speeds up as adrenaline fuels the excitement churning through my veins.

The first thing I notice is the room’s deep blue walls and black tile floors.

He gently pulls my hand, silently commanding me to follow and my legs move of their own accord to a large sectional couch against the wall.

“Sit.” His curt command settles over my body like a comforting blanket, and I immediately obey.

His grin of approval is all the reassurance I need that I have done good and he will reward me. He pulls a small stool in front of me and takes a seat. Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees and looks me in the eye. “Let’s discuss what is about to take place.” He laces his fingers together and gives me an assessing stare.

I fight to contain the need to squirm beneath his intense gaze. I blink to regain focus.

“You will address me as Sir or Master at all times. No names shall be exchanged and unless you are blindfolded, my mask will remain in place. Anonymity is the theme tonight, little lamb. Do you understand and agree with everything so far?” he asks with a sardonic tone.

“Yes, Sir,” I respond automatically. No thought to the reply or what to address him as. It’s as if my body is hardwired into his subconscious and all it wants to do is please its Master. I’ve never before been so compelled to bend to the will of another.

A slight twitch of his mouth is the only sign of his approval. “Very well then. I have a mind to utilize three implements tonight.” He stands and walks toward a chest in which he removes his items of choice. When he turns around, my eyes go wide with trepidation.

“A flogger, a cane, and a crop are my tools of choice. I seek to bring you pleasure through pain. Do you understand what it is I speak of?”

“No, Sir.” I swallow the lump of sand quickly forming in my throat.

His uncovered eyebrow raises in contemplation and then he proceeds to explain. After a five-minute lecture regarding his various methods and the expected results, we come to an agreement that he’ll omit the cane from tonight's scene.

He asks me all manners of private questions. Have I been tested for STDs and am I clean? Am I on regular birth control? Have I ever received a blood transfusion or participated in blood play? I answer in quick succession. Yes, I’m clean. I was tested for everything when Derek and I decided to try to have a baby. Yes, I’m birth control. Because I couldn’t fathom having a child with any man other than Derek. And a definite NO to the final question. He seems satisfied with that, informing me that he is regularly tested and is clean as well.

It’s all very formal and a little unsettling. It’s like purchasing a car and running over all the specs and finance information before you sign the dotted line and drive it home.

I agree to be bound, blindfolded, whipped, denied my orgasm, and then fucked as a reward if I’m a good sub. He explains the various sex toys he has laid out to use on me to drive me to the very brink of breaking, only to bring me back down into a state of mind-numbing pleasure.

His words, not mine.

His explanations are very thorough and precise, and at the end of our talk, I’m feeling confident that what is about to transpire will deliver us both to a state of complete euphoria.

“Remember, your safe words are yellow and red. Use yellow if you’re uncomfortable and you would like me to slow down. Only use red if you would like to call an end to the scene. Red is when something is too much for you to handle. It’s the end all of safe words. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He smiles in approval and gently slides the tip of his finger over my cheekbone. Against my own will, I find myself leaning into his delicate touch. Seeking his approval in all things. It’s amazing how lightning fast my body and mind has jumped on board with the role of a submissive. I never thought it would come this naturally to me, but my reaction to him is almost instinctive. I would have thought it would be mildly unsettling but instead, the thought of allowing him to control all aspects of our time together completely captivates me.

He points to the two cameras mounted on opposing sides of the room. “Everything we do is under strict surveillance. Your safety is paramount. Be honest with me and use your safe words if you ever feel like it’s too much.” I nod. I’m a little overwhelmed, but also excited for what’s to come.

The reassurance that we are under surveillance by DMs in the security office, and the one in the hall, allow me to further relax and settle into the scene. He notices my body loosening up and gives an approving nod.

“Strip,” he says as he pulls his tender touch away from my cheek. The shifting of gears from patient teacher to controlling Dom happens in the blink of an eye.

He turns his back to me and strides over to a chair in the far corner of the room where he removes his suit jacket and drapes it over the arm. Then he unbuttons his cufflinks and rolls his sleeves to his elbows. While he’s doing this, I kick off my shoes and shimmy out of my dress, then remove my undergarments and any jewelry I have on. Carefully folding and stacking everything and putting it in a drawer in the nightstand beside the large bed.

With his back still facing me, he sets out his tools and prepares the toys for our play. The room is fitted with a bondage pole, a spanking horse, and a sex swing. Not to mention a chest full of toys. An entire wall is dedicated to a series of shelves and hooks full of various spreader bars, rope, whips, canes, and leather cuffs for binding and restraining movement. It’s a veritable treasure chest of BDSM toys and equipment.

“Sir, what was this room designed for?” My tone is soft and does little to hide the nervous tension coiling within.

“All of the rooms are pretty versatile and can serve a multitude of demands to pleasure its inhabitants. However...” He spins around to face me, his eyes going a shade darker as his excitement reaches a nearly palpable level. “I would say this room is fitted with the tools of a sadist to pleasure their masochist.” The look in his eyes causes me to step back a little. A movement that doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He sets down the crop and walks toward me. When he’s within reaching distance, he extends his hand for me to take.

It’s an offer, not a demand.

I chastise myself for allowing my cowardliness to ruin the moment and slowly place my trembling hand in his. His strong hand closes around mine and swiftly jerks my body flush with his, eliciting a tiny squeal of surprise from me. His free hand moves under my chin, forcing my head back so that his dark eyes peer into my frightened ones. “You need not fear me, little lamb. Just remember, you can always use your safe word if it’s too much.” At the mention of my safe word, my breathing evens out and my frazzled nerves settle a degree. I can stop this at any time. I can do this, I chant to myself.

“There you are. See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” I can’t shake my head because his fingers beneath my chin keep my face immobile.

“No, Sir,” I answer.

“That’s my brave sub. You have to trust me in all things. I can bring us both the pleasure we crave, but I’m going to test your limits in order to do so. You must free your mind and allow yourself to simply feel the moment.” He releases my chin and steps back. My hands fall to my sides as his gaze sweeps over my naked body.

I move to shield myself, but he raises a hand to stop me. “Do not hide yourself from me. Your body is mine to do with as I please tonight. This is the last warning you’ll receive. The next will garner a swift punishment. Now to the spanking horse, sub.”

I obediently follow his command, positioning myself over the large barrel-shaped beam and dangling my arms and legs beside the leather cuffs. His hands work swiftly to secure me. When he steps away, I struggle a little to see how much movement I have.

None.

The cuffs don’t budge and my body is unable to move an inch after he finishes with the last of the bindings. “This will enhance your experience,” he says as he lowers a black sleeping mask over my eyes, completing shutting out all light and leaving me momentarily panicked. My breathing ratchets up a notch until I feel his soothing touch glide down my spine and over my buttocks. His touch floats away on the air as it gently sweeps over the curve of my ass and then disappears. My thoughts no longer center on my nervousness but are now honed on to the desire coursing through my veins.

The shuffle of fabric alerts me to his movements as he glides across the room. A light crackle sounds throughout the room before a deep and rhythmic drumbeat comes out through the surround sound. I try to think if I’ve ever heard this before, but I can’t recollect ever listening to this type of music. The bass of a cello begins to play and then several higher pitched cellos tune into the rhythm and I find myself breathing in pace with it.

I feel his presence next to me just before his gentle touch caresses my cheek and his whispered words glide over the shell of my ear. “It begins, little lamb,” is all he says before I hear him move away.

I don’t hear it before I feel it, and even then, it takes my mind and body a minute to connect what has just happened as a string of fire licks across my ass. I yelp and struggle to move, but my bindings hold me down.

His firm hand massages my left cheek and soothes the pain away. It gently creeps to my other cheek and I feel him turn it over so his knuckles run the length of my crack and brush against my exposed sex. The tiny touch sends an electric current down the backs of my thighs and over my flexing calves.

He removes his hand and my body nearly sags with the need to feel his touch again. Then...crack. The flogger sends what feels like a trail of spiked tongues across my sensitive flesh. “Aaagh,” I yell out, unable to hold it back. Just as quickly, I feel two more strikes in rapid succession moving from the lower part of my ass to the upper portion of my thighs. “Oh, god,” I yelp as I struggle to contain my emotions and control my responses.

The feel of his warm hands rubbing my ass, working in small circles before expanding them into larger ones as he makes his way down the backside of my thighs, is like a shot of sensual bliss to my system.

I listen to his even breathing, tuning into the way his hands contract and relax over my tender skin, and then, they’re gone.

This time I hear the slight whir in the air as the flogger travels toward my backside and strikes with a resounding crack. The pain begins to lessen and the flogging continues. He rotates from swift, accurate strikes to soothing strokes of his hand and then back again. Just when I think I have a grip on it, he moves something around on the chest to my right.

Before I can come to terms with what I think is going to happen next, the flogger rains down on my thighs harder than ever. I scream from the biting pain as it radiates up my spine and curls like a fist over the back of my head. It’s too much. Oh, god. It’s too much.

I fight to pull through this, knowing that the result is going to set me free. I feel like a bird fluttering around in my gilded cage while bright blue skies await me to spread my wings and take flight. It’s there, lingering in the distance.

A tingling electrical current zips throughout my core and settles like a ball of heat between my legs. It reaches out...just waiting for him to send me over the edge. I’m so close.

“You do not come without my permission, sub. Do you understand me?”

“Please, Sir. Please,” I beg without shame.

The resounding crack of the flogger over my ass is enough to force it back. The pain swiftly overrides the pleasure. “If you come before given permission, the consequences will be dire. You will wait for my command. Do you hear me, little lamb?”

“Y..yyes, Sir,” I stutter out as my bottom lip begins to tremble, a single tear rolling down my cheek.

A sharp click and a gentle hum pulls me from my dazed stupor and then the cold, wet feeling of something lubed presses against a place I have never allowed anyone to venture before. “What are you doing?” I squeal as the cold vibrating object eases inside past the first ring of muscles.

The palm of his hand cracks down on my ass with lightning speed. The pain of which only serves to heighten my excitement and causes me to clench down on whatever he’s inserting into my ass.

“I’m putting a plug in your ass. It’ll heighten your pleasure. Relax your muscles and remember...this is my body to do with as I wish. One more word from you and I’ll silence your disobedient tongue with a ball gag. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” I groan as he pushes the plug through another ring of muscles until it slides in the rest of the way. Leaving me feeling full and bereft at the same time. All at once, the vibration stops and I moan its loss as my body winds tighter and tighter. My release looms within reach but never quite within my grasp.

I’m so caught up in worrying over the plug in my ass that I don’t even notice him shuffling around or hear the sounds of his undressing until I feel the warm press of his cock against my thigh.

The deep groan our contact inspires causes my body to shudder with the need to be filled. My pussy weeps for his touch. I feel no embarrassment at the visible proof of my desire as a heavy wetness coats the inside of my thighs.

He reaches between my legs and slides his thick finger through my wet folds and down the inside of my thighs. He streaks my need over my skin as if it were a badge of honor for me to wear in his presence. “Your pussy craves my cock. Do you feel how swollen and wet you are for me?” He slides his finger deep inside and I cry out with the pleasure it brings. He adds a second and then a third finger and begins to piston them in and out of my slick channel. My core clenches around him like a greedy whore begging for more.

Just when I think he’s going to give me what I need, he removes his fingers and slides into position behind me. I listen for a sign as to what’s coming next...nothing. The slow music plays on in the background, but I’m completely oblivious to it now.

Lost to his touch.

The plug clicks back on and I cry out as it goes from slow to fast. The strong currents hit a spot that I’m unable to control as I scream for the impending orgasm riding hard through my body. Just when I think the wave is about to crest and send me into a sea of bliss, the plug is turned off and the crack of the flogger across my oversensitive backside pushes all pleasure to the back and pulls the pain up front again. “Fuck!” I scream as my body fights for what it craves so badly. “Please, Master. Please let me come,” I beg. Pleading for a mercy that I know he’ll never give.

“What do you want, sub? Tell me what it is that only I can give you?”

I can’t think straight. My thoughts are reduced to one singular thing...need. I need so badly.

“Your cock, Sir. Please. Please fuck me. Fuck me hard, Sir. Fuck me so hard,” I cry out, not even knowing where the words come from but knowing that I mean every single syllable.

The plug turns back on and my body visibly trembles as my orgasm rises just beneath the surface again. The feel of his warm hand caressing my ass and squeezing my hips just before he plunges his tongue deep inside of me is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

“I’ve been dying to taste your sweet cream, little lamb.” He closes his mouth over my clit and sucks it into his mouth while flicking his tongue against my swelling flesh.

I’m on the edge, teetering so close to falling...so close. He pulls back and laps at my pussy then moves his tongue back to the vibrating plug. “I want to take you here so badly. But not tonight. You’re not ready.” His tongue glides back to my aching core and then he begins to fuck me with his mouth. Sucking and licking every crevice of my sex as if his very life depended on wringing every ounce of pleasure from my body he can get.

“Oh, god. Yes. Please, Sir. I’m so close.” I gasp out between each plunge of his tongue and gentle lapping over my clit.

My mind is awash with sensation. The painful burning on my rear and thighs and the strong vibration of the plug in my ass coupled with his mouth devouring my pussy push me to a limit I’ve never been pushed.

I’m overwhelmed...the pain, the pleasure, the need to make sense of it all. I can’t control my responses any longer. I yield control to him, pouring everything I have into this moment and siphoning pleasure from his complete domination.

He grunts as he quickly pulls his mouth away from me and slowly releases my arms from the cuffs.

“Brace yourself,” is all the warning I get before he plunges his thick length deep inside and begins to fuck me so hard that it momentarily knocks the breath out of me. He slides a wide band of leather up under my belly between thrusts and pulls it together at the small of my back. As his pace begins to pick up speed, it tightens around me. I realize that whatever it is, he’s using it like a tether to pull my body into his with enough force that I can feel him slamming deep into my womb.

Harder and harder. Faster and faster.

He pounds into me without mercy.

I cry out from the pain/pleasure his thrusts induce. “Take it. Take it all.” He pulls tighter on the band around my belly, lifting me up with each thrust and slamming me against the spanking horse with a bruising force.

“Oh, god,” I moan. The pain he’s delivering triggers something inside of me. It’s like freefalling from the highest peak. My body begins to tremble as his cock drives deep into my womb, sparking a heat inside my body that builds and builds to a cataclysmic strength.

“That’s it. Let go for me.” He pulls almost completely out and angles his hips so that the crown of his cock is brushing against my G-spot just as his thumb works tight circles over my clit.

He groans as he tweaks his hips and strikes my G-spot again and again, sending me spiraling over the edge as hot ribbons of pleasure cascade down my spine and wrap around my clenching thighs. Spots blossom behind my closed lids as my orgasm takes hold and wrings every last ounce of pleasure from my body.

My Master pumps fast and furious into me and I feel his cock beginning to thicken with his impending release. “Come again, sub. Come with me,” he pants. “Now,” he calls out to me, and my body responds. I moan as another orgasm crashes through my body. “Yes! Fuck, yes,” he growls as he finds his release, his taut muscles going slack as his cock jerks a final time deep inside of me.

Slowly, he leans forward and lays his head between my shoulder blades. The music stopped sometime during our scene and the only sound in the room is the two of us breathing heavily as we recover from the mind-blowing sex we just had.

I feel his arm move and then the plug shuts off. He shifts his weight from my back and gently removes the plug from my pulsing ass.

I whimper when he removes the leg cuffs. Too weak to stand on my own, he swiftly pulls me up into his arms and cradles my body against his chest, my head lying against his shoulder. My body is completely limp. I couldn’t move now if I wanted to.

“Shhh. I have you,” he coos gently to me. Until then, I didn’t even realize I had been groaning just under my breath.

He positions us on the bed so that he's leaning up against a mound of pillows and my body curls around his chest and stomach. I feel him shuffle around for something and then my mask is suddenly removed. I look up to find his face shielded by his mask.

He gives a knowing grin but continues to stroke my body. His warm and caring touch gently glides up and down my back as I slowly come down from the high of multiple orgasms.

Minutes turn into hours and I finally drift off into a deep sleep.

* * *

“It’s time to wake now, little lamb,” a sexy voice rumbles next to my ear.

I’m stirred from what was probably the best night of sleep I’ve had since Derek died. When I blink to clear the sleepy haze from my eyes, I’m met with the most stunning pair of onyx eyes gazing back at me. His face still shielded partially by his mask. I can’t believe he slept in that thing.

I stretch and yawn as I try to collect myself. He quickly slides out from under me and begins to get dressed.

Confused by his sudden change of mood, I stand to reach out and run my fingers down his back. His body instantly stiffens and pulls away, hastily pulling on his shirt and pants.

“Did I do something wrong, Sir?” I ask with an undertone of hurt in my voice.

“No. It’s just time to leave,” he says to me over his shoulder as he bends down and slides his shoes on.

I look down at my naked body, suddenly feeling a mix of shame and embarrassment at my nudity, and step over to the nightstand where I begin to get dressed as well. I flinch as I bend over to slide my heels back on. My body is sore in places I didn’t even know existed.

Before I can even right myself, the soft click of the door is my only signal that he’s left.

I stand there for a moment, mouth wide open in disbelief, and my chest constricting at the amount of pain his cold dismissal brings on. I can’t believe he just left like that. As if I were nothing to him.

The sudden realization that I was nothing to him hits me like a brick in the face, and I can’t hold back the flood of emotions it evokes. I’m such an idiot. I knew I couldn’t do this. I knew it would mean something more to me than just sex. I’m not cut out for this. My thoughts run amuck as I wipe the tears from my cheeks and finish gathering my things.

I make my way down the stairs and to the lockers where the doorman politely opens mine and hands me my purse and phone. His quizzical look causes me to avert my eyes. “Is everything all right, Madame? Did anyone hurt you?” His tone is sincere and I quickly assure him that everything is fine.

“I’m just a little emotional is all. I’m sorry. You’ll have to overlook me.” I give a pained grin, which doesn’t seem to fool him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely positive. I promise. I just need to go home and rest.” With that, I leave behind the best night of sex in my entire life, and the only man that I’ve ever let see a side of me I thought best to hide. How could the most sexually liberating experience I’ve ever had bring about the strongest sense of self-loathing I’ve ever felt?

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