A Gentle Christmas/Yvette Hines
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TEASE PUBLISHING LLC Quality Women’s Fiction and Literature www.teasepublishingllc.com
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Tease Publishing Book/E book A Gentle Christmas Copyright© 2011 Yvette Hines ISBN: 978-1-60767-152-7 Cover Artist: Kendra
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Tease Publishing LLC
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Tease and the T logo is Tease Publishing LLC. All rights reserved.
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Dedication To the commanding man in my life, thanks for all of the support, as always you are my rock. My heartfelt gratitude to Domino the “whip master” who helped me understand the beauty and elegance of the whip, much appreciation. SASSE Sheets readers, you all don’t know how much every email and encouraging word means to me. Amy thanks for the harassment and helping me to reach this deadline. To my writing sistahs here’s to another one… let’s keep them going. Lastly, to my editor, Gail, for being there over the years and working so hard on so many fronts ‘you’re the best’. To every reader, fellow author and friend who said, “I loved Holiday Fantasy, are you going to do a sequel?”…here you go. Enjoy!
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Chapter One Ridge heard the loud crack of the whip. The sound pierced through the electric guitar solo in the rock version of “Jingle Bells” that was blaring through the overhead speakers. Sitting on a bar stool in the middle of the club he allowed his gaze to travel the room, a big square. Swinging around in his seat, he finally located the Dom with the whip standing behind one of the five roped off daises in the dungeon. The man was on the raised platform with his sub cuffed spread eagle to hooks in the ceiling and floor. The whip was one of Ridge’s favorite toys to use and he enjoyed watching it being wielded by an expert. This Dom was an expert. A whip in the right hands became an extension of the person exerting it. Eyeing the man’s form, Ridge noted that the Dom used a style that would cause the whip to strike or bite deeply. The person who designed the dungeon did so with skill and knowledge of the lifestyle, because all of the scene areas were set-up in a way that allowed a side profile of Dom and sub to the viewers. For the whipping station it gave ample distance to allow the swing of the whip without fear of striking someone or something. From Ridge’s position he could see both frontal views of the sub and Dom. When the sound of the whip splintered the air again, Ridge became drawn to the face of the sub. A woman with dark brown straight hair falling forward and covering both her bare breasts. Under the overhead light her skin appeared flawless and pale, practically colorless. She didn’t look to be a great beauty, nothing striking or bold about her features. If someone asked him to describe her he may have used the word plain, for lack of a better word. However, what struck him about her was the fact she stood so relaxed. She appeared to be almost separated from the act being performed on her as well as the audience observing her. She did exhibit a flinch or moan as the Dom continued striking the upper part of her back, ass and thighs, but something was missing. His gaze continued to travel her form, looking for other clues and signs. Her stance allowed a clear view of her sex, hairless, like most of the woman in the lifestyle. Normally, subs that were in a scene became sexually aroused, some to the point of climax, where others may not, but usually either the object used on them or being on display in general was erotic to them. Not so for this woman. The lights allowed him to bear witness that her labia were neither swollen nor glistening with her own cream. Outwardly, it appeared as if she were getting no pleasure from the submission or the play at all. Why not? “That’s Delilah, one of Strong Blend’s resident pain-sluts,” Mike Raymond told him, finishing up locking his subs hands behind her back and slipping onto the barstool beside Ridge. Moments ago, Mike had made his sub slip-on a vibrating black pearl thong below her short red mini that matched the green holiday sweater she was wearing. The festive Rudolph with its’ light-up nose was a little out of place in the BDSM club, but it attracted people to her, which only aided Mike’s play for her. On the bar Mike placed a wireless remote to her panties before a sign that read ‘Press Me, Sir’ in plain sight for other Doms to access. Evidentially, Butterfly was in for quite a night. Mike was a friend of his from college and so was his roommate and co-Dom, Josh Clemson. The three of them hadn’t attended the same college, but had met doing intern jobs in the summer of their junior years. They’d all hit it off, stayed in contact and had been friends every since. Years after school Josh and Mike had come to visit him and he’d let the two of them in on his lifestyle and they’d both taken to it like ducks to water. Last years, blizzards in New York had convinced Ridge it was time for a new environment. For six months he’d worked on getting a transfer to Charlotte and it finally came through and a month later he was in his new house and office. With all of the hustle of moving, he hadn’t had a chance to join the club where Josh and Mike were both Dungeon Masters or engage in the lifestyle they all enjoyed, until tonight. Tonight was Strong Blends holiday play-party, so Doms and Domme had their subs and slaves dressed in various Christmas accoutrements. “Who?” Ridge inquired, not wanting to admit he’d been caught staring at the woman.
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“The white woman with the dark hair being whipped.” Mike chuckled, knowing him too well. “Hmm, you don’t say.” Leaning his back against the bar, Ridge glanced at his friend briefly then back at the woman. Something about the words his friend used to represent her and what Ridge was seeing in her posture were not in sync. Glancing at the Dom he took note of the other impact play instruments on the table, as well as the sweat pouring off the man Ridge could tell he’d been working at her a while in various forms. Shifting his gaze back to the woman, he clearly realized what appeared out of sorts. Her body reacted in the expected manner, arching and curving as her hands fisted and released and she rose on her toes. These were revealing signs every Dom was trained to look for in a sub. Mike referred to this woman, Delilah, as a pain-slut, however, her face told a different story from her body. Something the Dom behind her could not see. Instead of the corners of her mouth being tilted up in peace and joy, signifying her ascension into subspace, the opposite was happening. Staring more intently, Ridge could make out the droop at the sides of her lips, the arch at the start of both her eyebrows and her eyes looked towards the back wall away from people and her chin was tilted in the same direction--shame or guilt. Delilah didn’t appear to be a novice in the lifestyle. So where was her pleasure at the act of submission? If she didn’t want to be there she could have expressed that fact to the Dom. Why don’t you use your safeword? “He’ll tire before she will,” Mike’s words interrupted Ridge’s thoughts. “Is he her Dom?” “Hell, no. Delilah is an unattached submissive. She comes in every Friday night and allows a different Dom to scene with her. She’s smart enough not to submit to any newbies though.” “Their ignorance would injure her.” Ridge didn’t know her, but he would hate to see an inexperienced Dom ruin such flawless flesh. The woman had the perfect body for a sub. She had a slender waist and legs with thick thighs, nice round, high ass and excellent muscle tone. From what he could see of her breasts they were small, normally he preferred his women more endowed, but that didn’t detract from her appeal. Not at all. “Ahh…” Butterfly’s cry of pleasure drew both his and Mike’s attention. The medium brown hue of Butterfly’s body had a healthy sheen of sweat already beginning to coat her brow. Ridge could not help but compare the peace and pleasure in Butterfly’s features to the lack of them in the other woman. Butterfly had the look of a true submissive that took pleasure in being played with and cared for by her Dom or Doms in her case. She trusted her men with her heart, mind and body. It amazed Ridge how Mike and Josh made this relationship work so well with all three of them. Ridge had never been one to share. Maybe because he was the youngest child of five and the only boy, he was selfish by nature. His parents and older sisters had loved and doted on him all of his life. However, he admired the fact his two closest friends had found a woman that fit into every aspect of their lifestyle; Dom/sub and work. The three of them ran a business together from their home. He couldn’t believe it had been a year since he’d stood in Strong Blends, this very place, as a witness to their collaring ceremony. “We’re just getting started, Butterfly.” Mike reached up and stroked the side of her face with the back of his index finger. “You may not want to give in so easy.” She cut a look at him, her eyes pleading. Ridge wondered what she desired, for Mike to tell the line of Doms who waited for their turn at the remote to go away or for Mike to take her home and take care of her right now. The connection between Mike and Alesha made Ridge smile and tugged on his heart strings. He’d never wanted his own personal sub, but being around Ursus, Mustang and Butterfly made him entertain the thought. Mike chuckled and handed the Domme next in line the remote. Butterfly closed her eyes as if she were attempting to control her reaction or prepare herself for what was to come.
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“Oh, no, sweetheart. Open those eyes. Give Mistress Consuela the respect of watching your pleasure.” “Yes, Master Ursus,” she whispered and obeyed. “She’s always so lovely to watch, Ursus.” Consuela smiled at her. “I must say you and Mustang have trained her so well.” “A true sub.” Ridge commented, more to himself than speaking for Mike. “That she is.” Mike nodded. Drawn back to Delilah, Ridge glanced back towards the platform and noticed it was empty. There was only a dungeon attendant there cleaning the equipment and exchanging those tools that needed to go to the cleaning bay before the next use. Swiveling around on his chair, he tried to locate where Delilah and the Dom had gone. “They’re in the East aftercare area.” Mike pointed to one of the dimly lit corners where a love seat and a few plush wide chairs were located. Barely able to make out their silhouettes Ridge saw Delilah curled up in a chair and the Dom placing a blanket on her as he kneeled before her. If the Dom was good, he would be whispering in her ear comforting, prideful words. Ridge had no reason to think the man wasn’t capable. Why hadn’t she used her safe word? Either the dungeon word red or one that the Dom may have given her. That more than anything plagued him. Grabbing soda from the bar he took a healthy drink. At the moment he would have preferred something stronger, but Strong Blends served coffee and teas upstairs and only soda, juice and water downstairs. The owner Master Genuine liked to keep officials away from his establishment as much as possible. Serving alcohol brought inspectors too often and posed problems with play. This woman was not his concern. She would be a handful and she was someone else’s issue. If she had a Dom, but she didn’t. “She won’t stay long,” Mike said. Shocked Ridge turned and looked at his friend. “What?” “Who won’t stay long,” Josh approached them, finally having arrived from a meeting with a client. After speaking with them, he stepped to Butterfly and kissed her deeply as she climaxed for the second time as another Dom cranked up the remote in his hand. Josh swallowed her scream and held her trembling body against him, until he was sure, her legs would support her once again. “You look lovely, darlin’.” Ridge greeted Josh with a hand shake and clap on the back, once Josh stepped away from his sub. Nodding in the direction of the far corner, Mike informed Josh. “Delilah.” Staring for a moment in that direction, Josh confirmed his co-Dom’s words. “Not at all. She likes to come here, have an intense session and then minimal aftercare and leave.” “As far as I know, she’s never had a Dom or Master,” Mike added, drinking his own cola with lime. “Butterfly used to work with her and she’s told us Delilah pretty much is the same at the office. Efficient, but reserved.” Josh ordered a clear drink for himself and water for their sub. That bit of information made Ridge’s thoughts roll around in his head. Why would a woman keep herself isolated, but still routinely present herself at a popular dungeon that primary hosted a majority of the same people each week. Delilah was an enigma. Ridge liked puzzles. Not this one. His mind warned him not to get involved. “There she goes,” Mike proclaimed. Shifting on the stool, Ridge saw her strutting purposefully across the dungeon towards the back exit. “I think she’s ready to scene with us now.” Josh moved back to Butterfly as Mike rose from his seat taking the remote from the last man with it. “I’ll be right back.” Closer to the door, he could arrive there first. ~YH~
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Monica migrated her way through the crowd. It was close to midnight and more people had arrived at the dungeon than were there when she first started her session with Dom Rico. Veering off to the ladies restroom, she hung up the mink blanket she’d used to shield her body. It didn’t bother her to be naked during a scene, but afterwards once the high of the moment was over, she felt vulnerable and exposed. She didn’t like that feeling, it always brought emotions and memories to the forefront she preferred not to deal with. It was always best for her to play and leave before the avalanche she kept fortified with discipline, order and control of her life came tumbling. That would not do. Going to the small, narrow locker she rented, she removed her cashmere black dress from the inside hook. She sighed with relief as the soft material caressed her skin, stopping at her calves. Her back and ass were inflamed and throbbing. But, no more than what she expected, how she left every Friday night. She’d been doing this since she was nineteen. It was a part of her life. Who she was or had become. Her boots were next. It was cold outside. She hoped this winter would not be as bad as last year. Unlike others she didn’t wish for snow for Christmas. Taking her purse out she removed a band from the inside pocket. She pulled her hair up and twisted it until it was a ball at the back of her head and wrapped the band around it to hold it in place. In the mirror she appeared plain and conservative, just like she preferred. Normally, she wore make-up during the week to work, but in the club environment it would just run off with all the sweat. She shoved her panties and bra in her purse. There was no way she could stand having the confining material touching her skin. That was a reason she scened on Friday nights, she could rest all weekend in her apartment in light clothes and no undergarments. By Monday morning her skin was less tender and she would be healed by Thursday. The powerful, but expert strikes of an experienced Dom bruised the skin but didn’t break or mar it. Dom Pando had taught her well. Donning her grey trench coat last, she took a deep breath and released it. The night was over. A sub walked in wearing a small dress that revealed her large breasts, short legs and bare feet. Monica returned the woman’s friendly grin with a small smile. Lowering her gaze so that the woman would not engage in the normal female bathroom chatter, Monica rushed passed her and out the door. Making a beeline for the back entrance door, that led to the rear parking lot used Friday through Sunday by those who were members of Strong Blends afterhours dungeon. Quickly, ascending the stairs, she nodded at Kenmore, Master Genuine’s business partner and lover on her way out. Most nights, Kenmore was the one guarding the door and checking in members and their guest. She pushed through the door, anxious to get to her car and away from the noise and press of people and the music. The door clicked closed behind her, an announcement that she would soon be able to slip into solitude. “Excuse me, Delilah.” The deep timbre of the male voice calling her name caught her off guard. Swinging around, she clutched her purse and stared at the man leaning against the wall beside the door. So focused on getting out of the place, she’d missed him. Her body went on alarm. Rarely was she approached by men who wanted to continue to play away from the club, most had read her fact sheet. Usually the men took a simple no thank you for an answer, and always were men she felt she could handle. However, this man, tall with broad shoulders, impressive in build made her doubt she’d be able to fight him off if he pressed the issue. In traditional Dom grab, the man wore black jeans that hugged his muscular thighs and a buttoned down black shirt with his sleeves rolled up exposing his corded forearms--strength. The thought crossed her mind that if her body wasn’t already sore and well used she would have enjoyed having a scene with him. Maybe next week. “You’re new here.” She hadn’t intended to speak the words aloud. “Dom Steel.” He pushed away from the wall and moved towards her.
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“Dom Steel.” She inclined her head out of respect. “I’m sorry, but I’m done for the night.” She waved her hand in front of her, in a signal of good-by and giving him the brush off at the same time. He eyed her hand with an intense gaze. The light was bright behind the building, but not enough for her to tell what color his eyes were. “I’d say you were, too.” Frowning she wondered why he’d stopped her if he knew she’d already exceed her limit of play. “Then good night.” She turned and took a step to walk away. “If you don’t enjoy it, why do it?” She pivoted back towards him. “Excuse me?” Her voice was a little higher than it should have been speaking to a Dom, but his words had stunned her, besides they were outside of the club now and she was on her own time. Standing a few feet away from her, he tilted his head and observed her. She didn’t like the way he seemed to assess her. As if he were attempting to peel back the layers around her. That wasn’t going to happen. “Why submit yourself before a Dom in action if not heart.” What the hell did this man know about her heart? He had a nerve making assumptions about her. Who the hell was he, the BDSM police? “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, I’m none of your concern.” “You’re right, but I still can’t help be curious.” He took two steps towards her. Closer, but not so close she felt that he was invading her personal space. “Don’t be.” She folded her arms over her chest. “There are different levels to BDSM, Delilah.” Another step. Now, he was close enough, still not to touch her, but she could smell his cologne, a warm, earthy amber blend. The scent was both exotic and subtle, it almost seemed too gentle a scent for such a strong male, but at the same time it seemed perfect for him. “Yes, and mine is intense, done well and over quickly.” Preferably without the cuddle session afterwards, she kept that bit to herself. Most Doms at Strong Blends didn’t allow her to walk away without some time in aftercare. She’d learned how to pretend to relax and release the intense emotions surrounding a scene, then as soon as she could, get far away. “No, it isn’t,” he declared. What’s with this man? He took the final step and whispered, “That’s what you want people to believe.” Flinching back, away from the soft caress of his breath on her ear and his words she moved away. “What are you some kind of shrink, impersonating a Dom? Look, I don’t need to be psychoanalyzed. I’m a grown woman and I know what I want.” “There’s no doubt in my mind you’re a woman, a captivating woman. However, there’s more to the lifestyle and to you I believe.” Now, he was moving in a territory that wasn’t any of his business. He was too close, her mind screamed. “Thanks, but I have all I need, Sir.” Turning away quickly, she rushed away, but not before she heard his words that followed her. “I wonder if that’s true.” She needed to get home. There was something about this man, Dom Steel, which rocked her to her core. Steel was a good name for him, he’d been unmovable in his opinion about her. Nothing she’d said, none of her normal pat answers that had so easily got her by with other men seemed to work on him. Glad she didn’t hear his footsteps following her; she pulled her keys out of the side of her purse and unlocked her car. She slipped in behind the wheel and secured the door and took a breath. As she pulled out of the parking spot and steered her car toward the exit, she couldn’t help but peep in her review mirror. Dom Steel remained where she had left him watching her car pull away.
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Damn it, she didn’t need this. Hopefully, he was only present as a guest and would not be returning. She’d hate to have to find a new club and group. People knew her here and never asked for more than she was willing to give. This man could be a risk.
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Chapter Two Ridge leaned against the doorjamb and stared at the woman behind the desk for a moment. Unlike most people her desk was not decorated with picture frames. The top was cleared of everything, but her flat screen monitor and the papers she was working on. In her office was a simple credenza with a single potted plant that rested in the center. There was only one other chair in the room besides the one she sat in and that one sat against the opposite wall, not before her desk like most had theirs, inviting people to sit and chat. This woman preferred to be left alone. Her head was bowed as she worked diligently on some type of sheet comparing it to information on her computer, completely absorbed in her task--oblivious to everything around her. Occasionally, she would frown, scratch something off one of her columns then jotted down something else in its place. He almost hated to disturb her. But then that would defeat the purpose for even being here. “Excuse me, do you validate?” At the sound of his voice, the woman’s head lifted abruptly and she gazed at him for a moment, possibly expecting someone else, a co-worker perhaps. However, recognition of exactly who he was made her eyes shine bright with trepidation; she shot up from her seat. “Oh my God! What are you doing here?” she said in a harsh whisper. She twisted her body some and attempted to gaze around him into the hall, as if to see if someone, anyone else was around. He understood the apprehension of discovery to one’s personal lifestyle choices. A lot of people in the community lived a secret life, part of the reason for pseudonyms and such. Some people even wore a mask in an attempt to hide their identity even more. Not because of shame of their desires and needs, more because others who knew them, family and friends alike, would not understand. Would not even try to truly understand the lifestyle. Over the last few days he had thought about her and wondered how she was doing. Over a dozen times he’d pondered their brief conversation and re-scripted it with different outcomes. His mind continued to tell him that he shouldn’t be here, that it was best to leave well enough alone, but here he was. There was something about Delilah, a.k.a. Monica Lancing, that wouldn’t allow him to leave well enough alone. The name Monica fit her better, especially seeing her at work in her office. She was dressed in a conservative double breasted pale yellow jacket with a wide collar and dark wooden buttons that conformed to her small breasts and waist. The brown skirt played a perfect contrast and hugged her hips. Her desk blocked him from seeing the length and her shoes. Here she was no seductress of submission. This atmosphere appeared to be more of her true self than her persona in the club. “I wanted to discuss a matter with you.” Pushing away from the door, he took a couple of steps leading him deeper into the room. Rushing around her desk, Monica moved across the floor in taupe colored shoes, her three inch heels clicking on the tile as she passed him to shut the door. He couldn’t help but admire the way the dress fit snug from her hips to below her knees. In her current state of dress, no one would ever conceive that days ago she stood nude before a room full of people being flogged and whipped. The urge to check the bare skin of her ass and see if she had healed properly assailed him. He didn’t know what it was about this woman that made him care so much. “I can’t believe you came here. How did you know where I work? That information in my membership file is supposed to be confidential. I can’t believe Master Genuine would reveal--” Turning, he faced her as she stood there with her back pressed against the door. “Whoa, slow down. The owner did not break your confidence.” “Then how did you discover it. Have you been following me?” She folded her arms across her chest and eyed him suspiciously. He was coming to believe this was her protective stance. He took on the same posture. “Sweetling, I have never stalked nor followed a woman in my life and I won’t be starting with you.”
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Something clouded her eyes for a moment, but quickly went away before he could identify the emotion. Had he hurt her feelings? The urge to soothe her emotions caused him to continue, “I know an ex co-worker, Alesha Crenshaw. I’m good friends with her two Masters.” “Master Ursus and Master Mustang.” As she said their names, her arms lowered to her side and her voice slightly dropped, making her appear sub like. It was something about the shift in her mannerism as she spoke of them that didn’t sit well with him. He would not call it jealousy, he wasn’t the jealous type. He’d never wanted to place his mark or his claim on a sub. Over the years, he’d shared or exchanged subs with many Dom and Dommes, it never bothered him. Especially, where Mike and Josh were concerned. He never asked them if they’d topped her, it hadn’t seemed relevant when they’d met to watch a football game at his house on Sunday and he’d asked about her. However, now, standing there before her and knowing that there was a possible affection she had for one or both of them didn’t sit well inside of him. It was that gnawing ache in the pit of his stomach that made him uneasy, out of sorts. “They’re all like family to me,” he informed as he observed her reaction. “When I got here I asked someone in the hall where your office was and they directed me here.” A worried look shadowed her features. The look concerned him. Evidentially, keeping up a certain image was extremely important to her. She nodded her understanding, but remained silent. Not wanting to break the silence just yet, Ridge looked at her, taking in everything about her in her environment, attempting to see the real Monica or Delilah. Her straight dark brown hair was slicked back in an extremely tight, no nonsense bun. The other night, in the back of Strong Blends under the parking lamps glow she had appeared drained and washed out. Now, there was vibrancy to her look. Whether it was internal or caused by the fact she wore make-up today. His bet would be on the latter, because from what he’d seen of her and witnessed, now, was that Monica was so locked up inside that it would take a jackhammer to get into her emotional vault. Her façade was perfect. Flawlessly sculpted eyebrows, faultless make-up that accentuated her features; almond shaped eyes, narrow nose, high cheek bones and full lips painted a soft coffee brown. Her mouth made a man envision doing all sorts of naughty things to them, starting with a kiss that lasted hours. Standing close to her under the bright fluorescent lights he could even see a hint of dimples in both her cheeks, even though her face was unsmiling, stoic. He had the desire to make her smile. Monica was adorned with no jewelry except conservative gold balls in her ears. It amazed him that he had thought her plain at the club. She was anything, but ordinary. There was something about her, so many layers to her that he wanted to take his time and reveal them one by one. The smooth warm autumn appearance of her skin alone caused his body to react in a way that surprised him. He’d never been aroused by the sight of a woman, especially one that was fully clothed. But, Monica’s complexion reminded him of skin that had been kissed by the last ray of sun. There was just the slightest hint of tan there. As pale as she was, and no matter the bone straight strands of dark brown hair with natural highlights, he knew he’d just unraveled a layer, a secret, others had missed. “You are a beautiful black woman, Monica.” She gasped and her eye lids stretched wide. To say she was astonished by his revelation was an understatement. Lifting a hand, she smoothed her hair back as if she thought something had to be amiss with her appearance in order for him to draw the conclusion. “Are you shocked that I noticed?” “Most people don’t.” He knew she was correct. Even Mike had believed her to be a white woman and most around her probably did as well, because of her fair skin and long straight brown hair. He knew people easily forgot that Black people come in multiple shades. Monica’s look reminded him of the singer Mariah
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Carey, when the singer first emerged, without all the willowy curls. Ridge figured that most people around her at the club never really took the time to look at Monica and truly see her. In some aspects since she rarely allowed the same Dom to play with her twice, she kept them at the perfect distance. “Were you attempting to hide your heritage?” If she was ashamed of who she was, the nationality of her parents, that knowledge would not sit well with him. Helping her discover the inherent desire to serve was one thing, helping her fight demons of race was something he didn’t want to touch. “No. People see what they want to see and make assumptions about a person...” She lifted a single eyebrow and pointedly stared at him. He got the picture and allowed one side of his mouth to lift in a half smile. “Go on.” “I just don’t bother to correct them. It doesn’t change who I am.” True. “So who are you?” “Listen, Dom Steel--” “Ridge.” “Ridge?” Her brow wrinkled, showing her confusion. “My name is Ridge Nicholaus.” He informed her, if they were at an event or Strong Blends, Dom Steel would have been acceptable, but not in public. Just like Monica, he enjoyed keeping his private life private. However, he didn’t use it as a shield nor hide behind layers of deception. “Mr. Nich--” “Ridge,” he commanded. “Ridge.” She licked her lips as if her mouth had gone dry and continued. “I’m not sure why you’ve sought me out.” “Have lunch with me?” She stared at him for a moment then pushed away from the door. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He took hold of her as she strutted by him, stopping her. The feel of her soft wrist captivated him, but it came second to the electric shocks that went through his hand and up his arm at their touch. She inhaled quickly and her gaze met his. There was a smoldering heat simmering in the depth of her hazel eyes that he’d not seen before. She felt their connection too. The urge to drop her hand and lose the contact shocked him. He shouldn’t be afraid of a slight woman, of the emotions she stirred within him. He was a Dom, he was always in control, always had the upper hand, he affirmed to himself. Holding on to her, he felt the beat of her pulse increase beneath his fingertips. The thought of lifting her hand and placing his mouth gently at the pulse and feeling the rhythm of her heart against his lips made his blood heat up. Again the knowledge that he wanted her at such a carnal level made him clench his jaw. His best choice would have been to walk away from her. He stayed. “I want to get to know you.” Pulling her arm away, she stepped away from him, but not before he witnessed the fear in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I bring my lunch and I don’t like to be wasteful.” That was understandable. It was a sign of the times. But he refused to be brushed away. “Put it in the refrigerator for tomorrow.” He lowered his voice and said, “Lunch or dinner, Monica, one or the other.” Immediately, he noted her chin slightly lowering, not significantly, but just enough that he knew she recognized an authoritative command--the Dom in him. That was a good sign. She was a natural submissive, even though he was having his doubts from their first meeting. “Lunch,” she whispered, closing her eyes she inhaled and turned away from him. He could tell that part of her wanted to fight him, stand her ground, but a true submissive desired to obey more than anything else. “I’m only going, because I don’t want my co-workers to get suspicious of your presence here.” She said her back to him. “I don’t get visitors.”
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There was meaning behind that statement, he just didn’t know what. Maybe it was simply she didn’t allow her family and friends to come by her job; a lot of people were like that. However, his gut told him it was something else. Another layer. “I promise to have you back within the hour.” Moving to the other side of her desk she pulled a strapless brown purse out of a drawer. “I would appreciate it. I don’t like being late.” “Where’s the closest place to eat that you like?” “Sushi Me Tu about a block down. The food is excellent and they have an upper level that’s quiet and secluded.” Secluded worked for him and what he wanted to talk to her about. Pulling open the door, he waited for her get her coat from the hook beside it and followed her out. If she were his sub, even temporary, he would have placed his hand on the small of her back as he escorted her. It was a way to pass subtle cues, without saying anything. However, since she didn’t belong to him and Monica liked to remain reserved and unattached he didn’t touch her and just moved in matching strides down the hall towards the bank of elevators. One thing he noticed was that no one spoke to her when they passed, maybe a small polite smile here and there, but most ignored her, and Monica did the same. She moved with a smooth grace beside him and kept her chin held high, almost as if she wanted people to believe the two of them were not together. That pissed him off. He didn’t like being ignored and he sure as hell wasn’t going to allow her to keep him at a distance the way she did other Doms. Seeing a crowd of lunch goers around the bank of elevators, Ridge veered to the right. A few steps away from the elevator he side stepped and pushed open a door. “Let’s take the stairs.” Glancing to the side for a moment, she checked the corridor then shrugged. Stepping passed him she moved through the door. Once the door closed silently behind them, he moved quickly boxing her in with his arms, one on each side of her shoulders. “What are you doing?” Her voice rose slightly with alarm. He pressed his palms firm against the cool cement and leaned in towards her until his lips pressed along the shell of her ear, with her in heels they were practically the same height. “Monica, this wall of glass you’ve erected around you may work to keep others at a distance but I’m a Dom like you’ve never dealt with before.” Standing so close to her, he could smell the perfume that coated her skin. “Fresh, sweet and floral.” He grazed the side of her neck with the tip of his nose, tracing her scent. “Lavender.” Once he brushed against the collar of her jacket, he retraced his path up to her ear, saying, “It’s used to calm, remove stress and tension. What stresses you, Monica? What are you so worried people will find out about you?” “What do you want from me?” She asked instead of answering his questions as her body trembled against his. “You will find out soon enough.” Pushing back, he looked into her eyes and watched her orbs darken, almost a forest green as her pupils contracted. Stepping away, he led her down the stairs. Once they arrived at the lobby, he assisted her in putting on her long coat before they left the building. At that point, he placed his hand at the center of her back. For reasons lost to him, he needed the contact with her. Maybe because he didn’t want her to lose track of who she was with or discount him. He was pleased when she didn’t pull away, but settled her spine against his palm. Out front in the crisp December air, they walked a block to one of the local sushi bars. Inside, they both got in line at the counter and placed their orders then Ridge paid. He was happy to see that she not only got three different Nigiri style sushi, but also a bowl of miso soup. He didn’t expect her to have such a good appetite. They took a table in the back corner of the upstairs with only a few customers scattered around most preferred to eat downstairs or took their orders to go. “Why did you insist on taking me to lunch?” she asked midway through the meal.
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Instead of answering, he asked a question of his own. “What are your plans for the holiday?” She paused with her spoon before her mouth and stared at him for a moment then looked down and ate the soup. “Nothing.” “Not going home this weekend for Christmas?” He popped a mackerel wrap into his mouth. She continued to keep her head lowered, systematically spooning soup into her mouth. “No. It’s just another day to me.” That caught Ridge off guard. It was Christmas. Even if she didn’t believe in the Christian reason for the holiday, normally most people celebrated it or something equivalent in some fashion. “Why?” She took the time to eat her shrimp wrap, chewing slowly “I just don’t.” “Monica, look at me,” he commanded. Her gaze rose and met his. She sat across the table from him and waited. It was that instant obedience she displayed that caused his heart to race. “Has your family never celebrated Christmas?” “My parents passed away. I haven’t done anything for the holiday, any holiday, for too many years to count. Can we please just leave it at that?” There was sadness to her countenance and something else deeper, but he allowed the discussion of her family to drop. “The other night I observed you, as you well know.” “Yes.” For the essence of time, he decided to be straightforward with her. “I don’t think you’re a pain-slut at all.” “What?” Her eyes stretched wide with shock. “Of course, I am. I’ve been one for years.” She gave a slight chuckle and attempted to brush it off. “When is the last time you had an orgasm during a scene?” he countered her claim. “Not all submissives climax every time,” she declared, confidence in her answer radiated from her face. “True. When was the last time you were wet…during play?” In all honesty, a part of him had wanted to know if she was wet now. More than he cared about whether she was a pain-slut or not. Her being a true submissive was far more important to him, because a true submissive was turned on by any show of dominance around them. “Many times.” “You weren’t Friday night.” “How do you know? People show satisfaction in different ways. You were not the Dom with me on the platform.” She glanced away from him for a moment, began to pick up her salmon, then returned her hand back to her lap and met his gaze again, slowly. He leaned over the table, holding her stare as he lowered his voice, more for impact than the fear of anyone watching them. “I looked at your pussy. I observed the lips of your sex to see if they glistened, to see if those smooth bare labia of yours would swell and release your cream to coat your thighs. But, it never happened, Delilah.” He purposely used her scene name. “Oh, you gave a good show and took your punishment like a good girl, but something was missing.” “What?” she whispered, but her hazel eyes, now more brown than green, were large and full of fear as if he’d seen her inner dark secrets and would reveal them. “A true pain slut gets off on the pain itself, a sadist, who likes being beaten and bruised and revels in the discomfort the next day. Or they do it for the enjoyment and pleasure of serving a Master. Bending to his will, allowing a masochist liberty and they submit themselves in every way. In any case, they can separate their mind from the pain as they become one with it, not think of the act itself but the sheer divine honor of service.” He noticed her body once again was trembling. It shuddered so bad the chair tapped occasionally against the floor. “So, tell me, Delilah, since you’re not a sadist, and there’s no Master who you’re connecting with on a deeper level. You don’t allow yourself to submit to a Dom--” “I had a Master.” She forced the words out through clenched teeth.
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Ridge enjoyed seeing her spark of life come through. Anything besides the cool façade she always showed. “How long ago?” “S-seven years.” “Was he the one who trained you how to take the intense play?” “Yes.” Bastard! Ridge’s mind shouted. On this one thing his mind and his gut were in sync. For whatever reason some masochistic Dom had manipulated her mind into believe she was something she truly was not. Ridge couldn’t swear without a shadow of a doubt she wasn’t a pain-slut, because he didn’t know her very well. In fact had only seen her in play once. But, he would stack his twelve years of experience on the notion she wasn’t. Leading a submissive down the wrong path in the lifestyle could break them. Monica could have been easily broken, spiritually, causing her to walk away from BDSM with bad memories and a sour heart. However, he believed that it was only through her inner strength she’d survived this long. He wanted to tap into that part of her, the part of her, he surmised wanted to serve. Possibly the reason she went to the club religiously every Friday night, hoping that the right Dom would discover her. Look a little deeper, claiming her and marking her as his sub. He didn’t want to claim her. His mind told him, but he did want to help her find herself and her true nature. In the end maybe he could ensure she connected with the right Dom. Just not him. “What do you want from me?” It was the same question she’d asked him in the stairwell. Just like at the building she trembled and her gaze filled with fear. “What would you say if I told you I wanted to train you?” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When she opened them again her hazel eyes were clear, and emotionless, she’d regained her composure. “I’ve already been trained.” He disliked that look. Mostly, because he was pretty sure it was a false representation of who she was. “You have. But if you are a true sub you know there’s a benefit in experiencing something new.” “If I say yes then what would be the requirements?” Smart woman. “You’d be my submissive exclusively.” She lifted a hand and smoothed her palm back across her hair, as if she were afraid a strand had come out of place. “Next Friday?” “No. Away from the club.” Ridge could have worked with her at the club, but he believed that the crowd would only reinforce her present image, keeping the real Monica locked inside. “If not at the club then where?” She frowned. “My house.” She looked away, as if observing the customers present, most of whom had eaten and left and others had taken their place. “For how long?” “A week.” Monica quickly looked back at him. “I can’t do a week.” “Fine, since you have no plans for the holiday, how about until Christmas Day.” That was four days away. “We could start tomorrow.” “I don’t get off work until five. I’d still need to go home and change tomorrow and Friday, so shall we say eight to ten each night?” Leaning back in her seat she sighed, her body again calm as if she believed she’d out witted him. “Not good enough.” He locked gazes with her. “You go home and pack something tonight. I will meet you at my house at seven a.m. sharp and you will live with me until our deal is complete.” “I can’t stay for four days. It’s too late for me to put in a vacation request.” “There’s no need for you to do that. I have to work as well. Being the new guy I’m the one working the holiday. It doesn’t matter because my family and I get together every other year. So, I’ll keep the same hours as you.” “Why would you want this? Why do you even care at all?” Her voice sounded small, but her eyes searched his, looking for answers.
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“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. She only hesitated for a brief moment then simply said, “I’ll do it.” Nodding, he rose and grabbed their plates. She stood up as well. After the remains of their lunch were discarded they descended the stairs, Ridge stopped briefly to grab a mint for them both from the counter as they left the restaurant. The two of them remained silent on the way back to her job. Outside of her building, he stopped at the entrance. Pulling a business card out of his wallet and pen from inside his suit coat, he wrote his address and phone number on the back then handed it to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he commanded. “I’ll be there, Sir,” she confirmed. As he watched her walk into her workplace, Ridge wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
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Chapter Three Why did I say yes? Monica asked herself for the millionth time. She’d been at home for an hour and had done nothing except pace her bedroom before an open small suitcase in the center of her bed. She had not placed one thing inside the bag. If there had been a close friend in her life, a girl friend she could trust and confide in, then this would have been a time she would have called her. Shared her doubts and fears and that friend would have helped her make the right choice. But there were no friends, too much of a risk. Instead she only had herself, no one else. Her internal war had been on overdrive since Ridge told her what he wanted at the restaurant. For her to be his submissive for four days. Four days and nights. There’d be no place for her to run or hide. She should have told him no. Thanks, but no thanks. “I like my life just fine the way it is, Mr. Dominance Personified.” That’s how her mind portrayed him. Dom Steel was the perfect name. He hadn’t really touched her or forced her to do anything physically, but his very presence was formidable, unmovable. It was a great risk for her to place herself around him continuously, too great. She had secrets and shadows inside of her that she never looked at, because she knew what they were and what was hidden. She wanted them to stay right where they were. All the years, she’d feared that if someone got too close and saw who Monica Lancing really was, they’d look at her with pity and disappointment. She saw enough of that when she looked at herself in the mirror. She sure as hell didn’t need it reflected back at her through someone else’s eyes. Dom Pando knew some of the things she hid. He had been the closest to discovering, but even he had not looked further. No, he just brought her punishment for her crimes and trained her to be who she was now. Through each level of pain, as she tolerated more and more, she learned the beauty of burying it all inside--deep inside. Every time she submitted to the whip, each painful bite along her flesh drove more nails into the coffin she didn’t want opened; securing it for life. The more pain the better. She needed the pain. Ridge, Dom Steel, had to understand that. She had to make him understand it. Prove to him. “This is why I said yes.” Because she knew if she hadn’t his doubt would possibly mess up everything she’d established for her life at Strong Blends. It was possible his curiosity would lead others to question. Moving to her closet she grabbed the two suits she already had set aside for the work week. Picking out her clothes were just one of the meticulous things she did to keep order in her life. Order was important in maintaining ones secrets. One suit she placed on the hook outside her bathroom for tomorrow and the other she placed inside of a garment bag and laid it on the bed next to the suitcase. Moving swiftly, before she changed her mind again, she packed the small case with the matching purse and shoes for Friday’s outfit, including clothes to wear for Saturday and Sunday and something to sleep in and then added undergarments and toiletry items. Once she was finished, she set everything by the door so that she could easily take it to the car in the morning. Finally, she began her normal nightly routine of getting out of her work clothes and into a long satin nightshirt, removing her earrings and washing away her make-up. Once things were put away, she went to the kitchen to make dinner. As she crossed the living room of her apartment her steps faltered. In the center of her mantel above her fireplace, was the picture of her parents--their wedding picture. She drew closer to it and stood there, not touching it. They looked happy. The photograph had done a great job of capturing their joy and excitement of starting their new life. Just as she’d done many times before she stared at the broad, masculine smile of her father that brought life to his pale features, the same hue as her own. Her mother was a lovely dark skinned woman, with deep dimples that complimented her beautiful smile.
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Her heart questioned if maybe the reason she’d said yes was because Ridge had caught a glimpse of her true self in one glance. A beautiful black woman he’d called her. It was possible on some level she wanted to reveal herself, unburden her heart. There had been other pictures, ones she kept locked in a trunk in the closet of her spare room, images of her and her parents. But this was the way she liked to remember them. Before her. Before she had been born into their lives. No, there’d be no opening doors that should remain closed. Ridge would get what everyone else got, a chance to lay his tools along her back with as much force as she could take and nothing more. Then she’d walk away with the relief that the pain had once again sealed the box around her heart. ~YH~ “Did you sleep with her?” Ridge growled. He couldn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth as Josh opened the door that night. “Sleep with who?” Josh frowned, stepping back and allowing Ridge to enter the house. “Monica.” Ridge stood there in the foyer that also doubled as a reception area for Mike, Josh and Alesha’s home construction and design business, and waited. “Hell no.” Josh shut the front door. Ridge was offended, he was happy his friend hadn’t slept with Monica, but he also didn’t like the way Josh had said it, as if something was wrong with her, or couldn’t fathom why someone would want to bed her. “But, you’ve scened with her?” “Yes, I have and so have most of the Doms and Dommes at Strong Blends. Mike and I told you this on Sunday when you had us over for the game.” “How many times?” “I don’t know, Ridge, its sporadic. Delilah’s like that.” Shoving his hands in his back pocket, Ridge sighed. He knew this, but Monica was putting him in knots and they hadn’t even started yet. “Come on into the kitchen, and I’ll get you something to drink. You look like you need one.” Josh chuckled and led the way. Following behind his friend, Ridge hugged Alesha, who was dressed in her normal home apparel of a thigh length tunic and her collar, as she helped Mike cook. He’d only known her for a little over a year, but she’d become like a sister to him, just like Mike and Josh were like brothers to him. Ridge sat at the table and Josh joined him handing him a beer. “You know, Ridge, as far as I know she’s never slept with any of the Doms. She has a no intercourse rule in her permission sheet.” Josh added as he claimed the seat across from him. That piece of information made Ridge feel a little better. He didn’t like the protectiveness he was already having towards Monica and he could seriously do without the accompanying rage. “That’s good to know.” “Did you go and see her?” Mike asked, putting the layers of lasagna together while Alesha made a salad. “Yes.” Lifting his beer, Ridge drank some then said, “I decided to work with her.” “You mean do a scene with her at the club?” Josh took a swig from his own drink. “There’s also the option of NCBDSM and their annual Christmas munch on Saturday, I’m sure Bête will allow you to run the training session. Monica has attended one before.” Mike suggested. “No. She’s coming to my house.” Ridge took another drag of his drink as he watched the trio pass looks between each other. “How did you get her to agree to that?” Alesha was the first to speak. She was Mike and Josh’s sub, but she wasn’t their slave and generally she had the freedom to speak as long as they weren’t in play, or she wasn’t in trouble, which he noticed she occasionally did things to get herself disciplined by the two men she loved. Ridge had to be honest with himself that being around his two friends in their home with their sub made him a little envious at times. The bond, closeness and support they mutually shared was something stories were made of.
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Alesha continued, “I’ve known Monica for years and she doesn’t let anyone in. Not even at work did I ever see her talking to anyone unless it had to do with the job and she never socialized or attended functions.” “I saw some of that while I was there.” Ridge met Alesha’s gaze. “However, I asked and she accepted.” It hadn’t been cut and dry, but the outcome was still the same. “What day is she coming?” Mike placed the pasta dish into the oven. “Tomorrow morning and she will stay for four days with me.” Ridge informed them. “No shit?” Josh chuckled. “Oh my…” Alesha looked shocked as she placed the chopped vegetables into a large salad bowl. “Do you think that’s wise?” Mike asked washing his hands then drying them on a kitchen towel. “I don’t know what I think at the moment,” Ridge answered honestly. “Why not just use the club over the weekend?” Josh finished off his beer and Alesha came over and got the empty bottle from him and disposed of it. “Because I think the public environment allows her to keep that distance that we all keep speaking about.” Ridge leaned into the table and rolled his half empty beer between his palms. Alesha came back to the table. “Why Monica, Ridge? Why not just chose another sub if you want to break in your new room.” After buying his house in Charlotte, Ridge had hired his friend’s company to redesign the upper half of his house making his master bedroom and play room to his specifications, adding in wooden beams, multiple hooks in strategic places and bolting down his equipment before he moved in. “I could give you a list of subs that would be perfect and understand the no strings part of your life.” Josh drawled as he pulled Alesha onto his lap. She went without resistance and leaned back giving Josh a quick kiss as Mike sat in the seat on the side of the four person table placing him between Josh and Ridge. Glancing down at his hands and pondering the question for a moment, Ridge finally confessed, “There’s just something about her. I don’t know what it is. She’s got secrets, there’s no doubt about that and will probably be more work than I want to deal with. But, I can’t shake it.” Looking around the table, he continued, “I ask myself why not just allow Monica to have her privacy… it’s her right.” He sighed heavily and fell back against the chair. “But I look into her face and I find myself doing things…saying things.” The people around the table fell silent, leaving Ridge submerged in his own thoughts and confusion. Josh was the first to break the quiet. “I never would have conceived at any point in my life that I’d find myself sharing a sub, let alone a woman I love. But I did it and I’m happy.” He patted Alesha’s bare thigh. “Look, sometimes life throws us an unexpected curveball and we just have to catch it when it’s coming our way and figure out what to do with it later.” “Well said cowboy,” Mike joked with his co-Master. “Ridge, do what you feel is right and as long as you both consent, it’s safe and sane… then you won’t go wrong.” “That’s what I hope.” Ridge lifted his beer, gulped down a mouthful of the cool brew then said, “I’d like to meet the Dom that named her Delilah. They were so off it’s not even funny.” “Maybe she was given the name because she’s nice looking and alluring, drawing men to her but hiding her true self,” Alesha volunteered. “Maybe,” Ridge agreed. “I still don’t like it.” Mike got up to pull the food out of the oven and placed it on a cooling tray. “No matter the reason she got it, just don’t let her steal your strength in the end,” he said referring to the Biblical tale of Samson and Delilah. “Kiss my ass, Mike.” Ridge shook his head. “Nope, but I’d flog the hell out of it though if you bared it,” Mike responded. The kitchen exploded with laughter, breaking the tension of the discussion.
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Ridge snatched up the hand towel Mike left on the table and threw it towards his friend hitting him square in the shoulder. “Only if I get to whip yours in return.” “Hell, no.” Mike tossed the towel on the counter. “I’d pay to see that,” Alesha leaned back against Josh and winked at Ridge. “You just bought yourself time on the bench, Butterfly,” Mike declared pointing at Alesha. She pretended to pout, but Ridge noticed the bright gaze in her eyes as she stared at Mike. Again Ridge’s gut ached. Would he ever have this kind of closeness with a sub? You don’t need it, his mind countered. As each day passed, Ridge wasn’t so sure anymore what he wanted. “By the way, Monica’s black.” Ridge got up and tossed his bottle in the glass recycle tub under the sink. “No, shit?” Mike said. “Fooled the hell out of me.” “I don’t think anyone else realized it. Not that it would have made any difference to her acceptance in the community,” Josh added. Ridge knew Josh spoke the truth, the BDSM community was accepting of all types of people no matter color, size, shape or sexual orientation. As long as the rules of safe, sane and consensual were followed, nothing else really mattered. “Not all black women are as brown skinned as I am,” Alesha’s sassy comment was accompanied by stroking her arm as she smiled, taunting Mike. “That’s it, Butterfly, to the room,” Mike barked. Obeying, she quickly kissed Josh, then got up from his lap and headed out the kitchen her head bowed. “We’ll be back by the time the lasagna sets,” Mike said as he followed her out the room. Ridge shook his head and Josh laughed. “Come on, Ridge, I can show you the mock design for this house we’re expanding for a couple that just had triplets on their third go round.” “Yikes. Six kids, I couldn’t see it.” Exiting the kitchen, he and Josh went towards the office as Mike carried Alesha up the stairs to their play room already laying swats against her bare ass now revealed as her tunic dangled around her shoulders. “Neither could the couple, since their house currently only has three bedrooms.” Following Josh into the office, Ridge realized that just like getting married he’d never given much thought to having children either. It bothered him that he was starting to realize the solidarity of his life.
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Chapter Four Monica parked her car beside Ridge’s in his driveway, shutting off her car and used that last moment to collect herself. She’d slept fitfully last night, wondering if she should go through with this. At least twice she’d reached for the phone to call him and say she’d changed her mind, but she wasn’t a coward, rarely did she back down once she’d made a decision--good or bad. It was how she’d acquired a job she enjoyed working in the accounting department, but it had also gotten her into serious trouble in her teen years. Not wanting to go down that road of thought, especially in front of the man’s house who wanted her to reveal all. She gasped when she looked up, she hadn’t seen Ridge come out of his house, so seeing him standing at the edge of the walkway had startled her. He didn’t wave her out of the car, just stood there patiently while she got herself together. He was dressed similar to his attire yesterday at her job in a suit. Yesterday, it had been a gray suit; today it was black with burgundy pinstripes and burgundy tie complemented by a blue shirt. She’d always preferred to see men dressed in traditional Dom garb, but she had to admit that Ridge looked good in both. Mentally, she confessed he was a mouth watering treat with his short black hair and blue eyes, the five o’clock shadow, trimmed along his jaw made him appear mysterious and dangerous. Removing the key from the ignition, she grabbed her gray purse that matched her skirt suit and shoes and got out. “Good morning, Monica.” Ridge came around to the driver side door and met her. “I’m glad to see you didn’t decide to cancel.” “Honestly, I considered it.” They were more than a foot apart, but she could still pick up the hint of his warm, earthy scent. It was giving her mind images of things she hadn’t pondered or considered in years--nude bodies entangled in passion. “But, you’re here.” Reaching out, he stroked the side of her face with his finger. “Yes, I am.” Her body trembled and a slow heat began to simmer low in her belly. She wanted to step back, break the contact, but she was still in the doorway of the car and it would appear silly if she sat down in the seat. He broke the contact and moved to the back door. “Are these your only bags?” She exhaled a shaky breath. “I don’t require much for four days.” “My sisters used to pack so much stuff when we went on family trips my dad would have to rent a small cargo trailer.” He removed her garment bag and carry-on size luggage and led the way to his two story house. “You speak fondly of them.” That tugged at her heart, she didn’t have siblings. A few cousins, but that relationship was distant, to the point of none existent. “We’re close.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Are you upset not to be going home for the holiday?” “No.” he opened the front door wide and let her walk passed him. “I wouldn’t have put in vacation time anyway. My family only gets together every other year at my parents house. My sisters’ husbands’ lug in bags and the women drag in all the little ones.” “All? How many are there?” She asked, not know what it was like to have a big family gathering, even the thought of it was overwhelming to her. “My parents have nine grandchildren total from my sisters and their spouses.” In the living room he set her suitcase on the side of the couch and draped her clothes bag over the back of the couch. “Welcome to my home.” Glancing around, she noted the open spacing of downstairs. From where she stood she could clearly see all of the living room, into his spacious kitchen and dining room, all of them separated by columns and flooring styles. She liked the fact his house was clean and neat. She’d had horrible thoughts of having to come into his home cleaning. “It’s nice.”
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“I’ll give you a tour on the lower level first then we can take your things upstairs.” They walked through the living room and kitchen where they stepped out onto his deck that had a gas grill and a six person glass table. He told her how much he liked to grill no matter the season. Returning inside they went down a back hall where pictures of his family decorated the walls. There were two guest rooms decorated with only a bed and dresser in each, the only difference was that one had a brown comforter and the other green. “How many rooms are upstairs?” She asked as they headed up the stairs. “Two.” She couldn’t help but look up at the ceiling in wonder. Outside she had noticed that the top floor encompassed the entire upper part of the house. “How are the rooms?” Ridge smiled. “I’ll show you.” He grabbed her things and headed towards the stairs. At the top of the stairs there were two doors, one on each side of the wide landing, they went to the right. Ridge opened the door and they entered his master suite. It was larger, but only a little bigger than most new style rooms. There was a four poster king-size bed, with a bluish green and gold comforter that matched the color scheme of the room. Ridge set her things down, hanging her garment on the door of the walk-in closet. He led her into the bathroom to show her a waterfall shower and separate tub. On the other side of the bathroom was another door. She figured it was the other bedroom. She thought Ridge was a little old for a Jack and Jill type set up. However, it would work if he had a permanent sub, so that sub would be able to easily move in and out of his room without his guest being aware. Since he had placed her things in the first room, that she could tell by all is personal affects and clothing was his, she figured he’d sleep in the other bedroom. Crossing to the door, Ridge opened it and waited for her to join him. Once she walked through the door she clearly understood the reason for the connection. “It’s your playroom?” And what a playroom it was. The room was much larger than his master bedroom, taking up more than half of the top floor of the house. “Feel free to look around,” he instructed her. As she moved slowly around the room, she took in every aspect of it. A black leather bondage table sat in one area of the room. He had a St. Andrews cross mounted in one corner, its polished wood gleaming around leather padding and two different style benches, a horse and spanking bench. One corner of the room had two thick wood columns about four feet apart with hooks in it and a set of cuffs dangling on a chain hanging above the area. There was a wood cabinet taking up most of one wall. She could only imagine what things were in there. He had various tools of pleasure and pain around the wall--floggers and paddles of different sizes and lengths. On a pedestal beside the cross he had a long whip coiled on top of it in blue and black splendor. She knew the high-vaulted ceiling and open set up of the room would allow him the space to wield it. If just a simple touch from Ridge had turned her on, then being in this room with him, even fully clothed seeing all the lifestyle devices had her blood boiling in a way that she hadn’t experienced in years. “Having second thoughts now?” She turned to face him and discovered he was directly behind her. How that man managed to move so quietly confounded her. “Nothing in the lifestyle scares me, Dom Steel.” Not even you, she wanted to add, but held her tongue. “Let’s discuss some things.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What things don’t you like?” “I don’t care for sharp play; needle, knife and such. I’ve had a bad experience with fire play in the past. If you have a “shower” fetish, I’m the wrong girl to give or receive that type of thing.” “Not my taste. Did you bring your health record with you?” Monica knew the importance of the health record in the community. Strong Blends made all of their members present a new one every three to six months. Even at the safest of clubs, there was still
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blood and fluids that people could come in contact with, making sure nothing was spread was important. “In my bag.” “Perfect. I’ll show you mine as well.” That was a relief. “So, far, everything that I’ve seen in here I don’t have a problem with.” She glanced in the direction of his cabinet. There was no telling what he could have locked in there. He gazed in the same direction. “In my cabinet are ropes, oils, vibrators, anal plugs, dildos of various sizes and speeds, as well as a wax warmer, also cleaning supplies in the last cabinet.” “Those are fine.” However the thought of the dildo brought other things to mind. “Good.” As they started to leave the room, she asked, “So, what are the sleeping arrangements?” In the bedroom once again, he turned to look at her, frowning. “We will both sleep here?” “I’m sorry, but I don’t sleep with men.” “Would you prefer for me to get a Domme to be with you at night?” he threw back. “That’s not what I mean. On my fact sheet I specifically have no sex,” she informed him. “I know. However, this is not the club.” When she started to speak, he held a hand up, halting her. “Sweetling, I’m not going to place limitations on our time in this area. We are both adults and can agree that we will allow the mood of the situation to guide us.” “Okay,” was what she said out of her mouth, but her mind was yelling “no way”. She refused to listen to what her body wanted. Raising his arm, he pushed back his sleeve and glanced at his watch. “It’s about time for both of us to head to work.” “Then I’ll see you when I get in after work.” She started for the door. “Stop,” he commanded. Her feet froze instantly. Several years in the lifestyle had trained her body well. He crossed the carpet until he stood before her, close enough for her to feel the heat from his body through both of their clothes. “Just in case you were not sure, your submission to me began the moment you pulled in my driveway.” “Ridge, I--” Taking hold of her chin, he ensured their gazes met. “You will either call me Dom Steel or Sir. If others who are not in the lifestyle are around you may use Ridge.” When she began to speak again, the quick lifting of his left eyebrow silenced her. “I will drive and pick you up from work at exactly five fifteen. Is this going to be a problem?” “Sir, since I have my car here, can’t I drive? If you have plans of doing some type of scene in the car…” she swallowed. “I’d prefer not to be in pain while I’m at work. People would ask questions. That’s the reason I only go to the club on Friday.” His thumb brushed over her chin causing chills to dance along her skin below her suit. “There’s more to the lifestyle than pain.” But without pain the memories would overwhelm her, she almost said, but held her tongue. “The drive will give us a chance to talk.” Oh, God that was the last thing she wanted to do. Just whip me. I’d rather deal with that at work than my own emotions. “Okay, Sir,” she mumbled. “Can we please leave now?” She needed space from him, this house and the knowledge of what she may have gotten herself into. “Yes.” Lowering his hand, he stepped back. “Before we go, if you are wearing panties, remove them.” She caught herself before the word “what” came blurting out. Maybe she could tell him she wasn’t wearing any. Most likely he would discipline her. At least then she’d be in too much pain to “talk” in the car.
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“Don’t make me ask again, sweetling.” “Yes, Sir.” Turning, she began to head to the bathroom. “Here,” he demanded. Reaching down, she brought her skirt up her thighs, one inch at a time as Ridge’s gaze never wavered from her own. She was amazed that he didn’t look down to catch a quick peep of her sex. Being nude before a stranger didn’t bother her, having Ridge discover that her panties were wet, something that had not been the case for her in so long she forgotten the sensation, did. If she didn’t get herself together before she went to work, the feelings would only intensify throughout the day. Balancing in her heels from one foot to the other, she finally had her lace red cheeky panties off then pushed her pencil skirt back down to her knees. The heady scent of her arousal wafted between them. “Don’t plan on wearing any while you’re here.” Ridge instructed her to place the pair in her hand in a small empty laundry basket in the closet. “Let’s go,” he said once she’d come out and led the way down the steps. That’s it? Her mind screamed as she followed him. The shocking feel of the slick glide of her sex was only second to the experience of the frigid air of winter caressing her pussy with each step. Her body began to shiver, not from the cold, but from the naughty experience. The drive to work was filled with Ridge asking her mundane things like her favorite color and types of foods she liked, if she could cook and the last book she read. She told him she preferred poetry. She began to relax as they cruised down the highway once she realized he was not going to drill her about her past. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad. ~YH~ Ridge could hear Monica downstairs loading the dishwasher through the open door of his playroom. They had already eaten a dinner of pan seared chicken gnocchi with spinach and pine nuts, a meal they prepared together. She had insisted on cleaning the kitchen before they met in the room. He was sure, she was stalling for time, but he was okay with giving it to her. He needed time himself. Today, he’d found himself thinking of her at work without underwear. He knew the experience would make her uncomfortable, but he needed to keep her off balance. The only problem was it had done the same thing to him. When he arrived at her job to pick her up she’d been standing at the door waiting on him. He choose simple discussions each time they’d been together today and enjoyed seeing how her eyes lit up when she talked about things like how much she loved red velvet ice cream with chocolate whipped topping. She’d laughed when he told her about the time he’d eaten almost a carton of chocolate ice cream when he was younger on a dare and ended up throwing up on his sister’s date who’d come by to pick her up. Ridge had taken pleasure in the sound of her laughter. He’d never even seen her smile before so seeing the humorous side of her, made his day. The sexy dimples in her cheeks showed when she talked about loving Saturday morning cartoons and reading poetry and on occasion historical vampire books. Those things had shocked him, but he was pleased to know them. Get to know her. At the cabinet he removed the jute rope in red and placed it on the mat between the two wood columns. He could hear the creaking of the stairs and moments later Monica stood in the doorway, rubbing her hands together slowly. “I’m finished in the kitchen, Dom Steel.” “Come in and remove your shirt,” he instructed her. Once they had arrived home, they’d both showered, her in his bathroom, while he’d used the one by the guest rooms. He wore black lounge pants and no shirt. Following his orders, she entered the room and began unbuttoning her nightshirt. As the shirt fluttered to the ground he admired her body. Her skin was paler than his, but unblemished and smooth. Just as he had assumed Friday night, her breasts were small but her
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nipples were large and distended. He didn’t know if they were erect because she was aroused or the slight chill in the air. Moving to her, he walked around her body, touching an arm, brushing her hair off a shoulder, or running his knuckles over the warm, supple flesh of her abdomen. He was glad she took her hair down, the severe bun may work well for her at the office, but when she was around him he liked the softer, more vulnerable look. “You are a lovely woman, whose body was made to be adored and played with.” “Thank you, Sir,” she whispered. “Would you like me to go to the cross or the bench?” He could assume that she had chosen those pieces of equipment that were frequently used with her. The things best used for impact play; paddling, flogging and whipping. “Neither. Lie on the mat please.” Doing as she was told, she went to the mat and lay down. “Are you familiar with kinbaku or shibari?” He stood over her. “The art of binding a person’s body with knotted ropes? Yes, sir.” Squatting down beside her, he asked, “Tonight we will do a little of that. Are there any areas of your body, joints or muscles that are painful?” “No, Sir.” Reaching for the ropes, he guided her body to a sitting position and instructed her to raise her arms up, but not too high, because he needed her body relaxed, in its natural resting position. Ridge began the process of wrapping and knotting the ropes around her torso, from her waist up beneath her breasts. It looked like a bright red corset. He then carried it up between her breasts and around her shoulders to her back. The high binding caused her beautiful mauve colored nipples to push out even more as if on display. Adding more rope, he brought her arms behind her back, placing one forearm on top of each other and bound them together, wrapping her arms, but leaving her fingers accessible for circulation checks. “Bend your knees and place your feet flat on the floor.” Once she’d done so, he grasped her knees and spread them apart wide. He heard the catch in Monica’s breath as air rushed into her mouth. He winked at her and she gave him a nervous smile, that didn’t take away the apprehension clouding her eyes. He worked on first one leg, binding her calf to her thigh, ensuring it maintained its’ bent position and did the same to the other. Next he connected the rope from both legs to wraps on her arms, causing a counter pull that would keep her thighs apart. Eventually, he brought leads around front, lowered her upper body to the ground and then looped the ropes through a hook at the top of each wooden post. He pulled on them until once again her torso with raised off the ground. Not into a complete sitting position, but enough where she lounged back, but was able to see her body clearly without strain. The ropes supporting her. When the lines were all secured he stepped back and admired the erotic picture she made. She was on exhibit. Like an erotic treat, her pussy poised and open for his perusal and use. “No worries, sweetling, I do not plan to fuck you now that your all tied up.” Not that his cock didn’t want to slip into her slick heat, but there were more important things he needed to do tonight. Getting her to at least unlock her box of secrets. Relief was clearly etched in her features as the tension around her mouth and eyes disappeared. “If anything begins to hurt, tingle or go numb let me know.” “Yes, Sir.” He went to the cabinet and removed his only tool for the night. When he returned, he kneeled before her, her warm autumn complexion vibrantly displayed against the blue floor cushion. “Do you know what this is?” He held up the small device. She licked her lips then said, “A vibrator.”
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“A finger clitoral vibrator to be exact.” Ridge slipped the silicone bands over his middle finger and brushed his thumb over it, feeling the small pleasure nubs that covered the tiny bullet inside. “Tonight I will ask you questions. How you answer will depend on how much stimulation you get.” The worry was back in her eyes. “What if you ask me something I don’t care to answer, Dom Steel?” “Then I will not stop until you climax,” he responded. He wanted her to understand how serious this was for him. Some mystery information she had trapped in her heart was making her believe that pain was synonymous to who she was as a person. However, everything inside of him screamed that wasn’t the case. “But, I’m not completely unsympathetic. After every orgasm I will give you a reprieve and we can talk about anything you want to discuss.” Her pink tongue darted out and she moistened her lips. “Are you ready?”
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Chapter Five “Yes, Sir. I’m ready.” Ridge stared into her eyes, seeing her hazel depths darken in apprehension, yet and still she had agreed. Her bravery made him proud. Turning on the device with the remote in his other hand he moved the vibrator between her thighs as the humming began. Not yet touching her clit he asked his first question. “Who trained you to be a submissive?” “Dom Pando.” The words rushed out of her mouth as he lightly flicked her clit. The beauty of her position was the fact she could clearly see her sex and what his hand was doing. “Excellent.” Then he moved on with his next question. “How did you become his sub?” Her features tightened and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip. When he stroked the side of her clit she jumped, barely a millimeter away due to the ropes. She must have realized she was secured in place, very well, because she finally admitted, “I’d rather not say.” “Your choice.” He began gliding the vibrator along her wet slit. Her scent was rich and spicy. The lavender that normally clung to her skin was still there but now it was accompanied by her arousal and the dual scent made his cock stretch to an almost painful level. On, and on he stroked her until she cried out, tossing her head back she screamed. Fuck, she was sexy as hell when she came. All he wanted to do was to sink his dick in her pussy and make her come again. However, exhaling he reined himself in. Switching the device off, he removed his hand, now glistening with her cream. “If you could travel anywhere in the world where would you go?” She sat with her head bowed taking in deep breaths. For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to answer him then she finally raised her head and said, “Anywhere warm and tropical. I despise being cold.” “So, do I,” he admitted. “But, you’re from New York.” “The reason I moved down south,” he chuckled. Switching on the device, he met her gaze and began fondling her sex again. She bucked against his hand. “If you won’t tell me how you became his sub, then how long were you with him?” “Two years, Sir.” Moving his hand away for a moment, he allowed her a small break. “Why do you believe you’re a pain-slut?” His hand returned, this time he circled the opening, slipping the tip of his finger inside then pulling away and flicking her clit. “It took me awhile to adjust to the sting at first.” The words began to flow from her so he moved away from her sex and she sighed, then continued. “Dom Pando would become so frustrated with me. I owed him so much and I hated to see the disappointment. So, I started to tough it out. I started to notice that after an intense session had ended it was easier for me to focus on my physical pain than--” her words ended abruptly and she finished with “I began calling out that I wanted more, wanted it harder. Pando gave me what I asked for and in that I pleased him.” “Thank you for sharing that, but I know there’s something you didn’t tell me.” His hand hovered between her splayed legs as he gave her a chance to confess all. “Would you like to tell me what the physical pain kept you from thinking about?” Closing her eyes, she simple said, “I’d rather not say--” Her words became a moan as she attempted to scoot her ass back away from the titillating toy, to no avail. Circling her clit, Ridge didn’t give her mercy. She tried to bring her thighs together, but the ropes held her open. “Please, please, please, Sir, pleeeease…” Her body shook and reared up as she came a second time.
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This time when he switched the device off, he allowed her more time to collect herself. Her face was flushed and a sheen of sweat was making her body glow. Reaching up with his free hand, he brushed away the hairs that clung to the side of her face. “What do you like to eat for breakfast?” he asked. “Grillades and grits a Louisiana dish. But, I have not had it in years. Typically, I eat a bowl of oatmeal and toast.” “I don’t believe I’ve ever eaten grits,” he confessed. “I like bagels warm but plain.” They continued to talk about different breakfast items for a moment then Ridge asked his final question. “When’s the last time you had sex?” “I don’t see how that’s relevant--” This time he not only caressed her pussy, but Ridge leaned forward and captured one of her erect nipples in his mouth. Manipulating her sex with the vibrating gadget and suckling first one breast then the other, he pushed her towards completion. She moaned, whimpered and cried out incoherent words. Lowering his hand he began to stroke the seam of her ass, fondling the puckered ring. Feeling her push against his hand, chasing his touch he rotated his hand so that the bullet played along her clit once more, he pressed his thumb past the tight rim into her ass. Inside he stroked along the sensitive muscles as she fucked his hand. Her previous orgasms had made the third release harder for her to gain, but finally her body quivered as she whispered, “Five years.” If his head had not been so close to her, as he licked and flicked her nipples, he may not have heard her. Moving away, he slipped the vibrator off his finger and set it to the side, he’d clean it later. Standing he released the ropes from the hooks, lowering her body gently to the ground. Her eyes were closed, her breathing erratic as he worked at taking off the ropes. Working in reverse order, he started with her legs and straightened them out on the mat. He then rolled her to the side and released her arms, then her torso. After all the ropes sat in a discarded pile above her head, he began massaging her limbs as he whispered words of pride and admiration. Even though he knew she didn’t prefer aftercare, he didn’t allow her a choice and he touched and soothed her body. Maybe because she was too exhausted to fight him or pose an argument, she didn’t resist, she laid there before him. After a while, he picked her up and carried her into his bedroom. She curled her body against his and rested her head on his shoulder. The comforter was already turned down. Laying her in the center of the bed, she turned to her side and curled into a ball. Not permitting her to separate emotionally from him, he climbed in behind her and pulled the covers over them. He’d just close his eyes for a moment. Later he could get up and straighten up his playroom, but now he needed her in his arms for as long as she allowed it. “You did very well tonight, sweetling, now rest.” He rested his hand on her hip, making small circles. “Thank you, Dom Steel.” Moments later she dropped off to sleep. He wasn’t far behind, as he closed his eyes and for the first time he wondered what life would be like if every night he was able to go to sleep with her in his arms. ~YH~ Who was this man? Those were the words in Monica’s mind when she awakened in the bed, nude and lying on her side facing Ridge. She would have thought she would have been uncomfortable and slept fitfully in the bed with him, but it had been the sweetest night she had in years. Chalking it up to exhaustion and nothing more, she used the time to observe him while he was unaware that she did it. Asleep, he looked younger than his thirty-four years. That’s how old he’d told her he was when they drove into work, yesterday. His black hair was short and thick, waves of black ink, and she was tempted to run her fingers through it. Restraining herself, she shifted her gaze to his face, thick brows, an angular nose, nice lips that were not too thin and a chin that appeared to have a small cleft in it. She couldn’t see it clearly because of the five o’clock shadow he always wore and with it being early
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morning, it was even more hidden. She felt a strange desire to feel the prickly hair against her palm, stroke his jaw line and discover if it was as strong as it seemed. Ridge had a thick neck, as if he’d weight lifted or had wrestled at some point in the past. His broad shoulders were impressive and she remembered laying her head against them for a brief moment last night when he’d carried her. Only half of his muscular chest was revealed to her, now, but she had fond memories from last night of his well-defined chest, an image that would comfort her through the coming lonely years. “Do you like what you see?” His voice had a rich hoarse vibrato to it. Damn-it, she’d remained in the bed too long. Raising her gaze to meet his, she found herself captured by a set of dark blue eyes. She became aware of two things; that up close in the morning light his eyes were absolutely breathtaking and she was nude. “You’re awake…” Last night she’d known he’d been aroused and for a moment while he was lying behind her with his hard shaft imprinted against her backside, she thought he may try something with her. But, he hadn’t. However, this morning he would be full of energy and things could be different. “Good morning, beautiful.” One of his hands moved under the covers. She quickly scooted away, not sure what he’d planned to do. “I’m sorry. I need to get ready for work.” Flinging the covers off her body, she leaped from the bed and darted into the bathroom, no choice but to do it naked. Closing the door behind her, she sighed with relief when she didn’t hear any movements or sounds from the bed to indicate he was headed her way. She noticed her night shirt was hanging on the back of the other door that led to the playroom. At some point he must have left the bed. Opening the door she peeped inside and saw that the room had been put back to right. Shutting the door, she turned on the shower and got in. Once she was finished, she wrapped a towel around her and cautiously opened the door, Ridge was nowhere to be seen and the bed was made. One thing she liked was that he was as meticulous as her. Moving through the room, she stopped at the dresser and scanned the various items, seeing his personal effects; watches, tie tags and clips, a few cologne bottles. She picked them up and smelled the fragrances, when she came upon a donut-shaped glass container with Bijan on it she inhaled and instantly knew where Ridge’s amber scent came from. The cologne alone was wonderful, but nothing compared to how it smelled on Ridge--mysterious and compelling. Thirty-minutes later, she descended the stairs dressed and ready for work in a midnight blue long sleeve jacket and matching skirt that flared around her calves. “Breakfast is served,” he called to her when she got to the last step. She could see him moving around in the kitchen in his charcoal colored suit. Moving across the open space she went to the stove where he stood with a bowl in hand. “You made me oatmeal?” Touched at his consideration, she felt her throat becoming tight as she took the steaming bowl from him. No one had made her oatmeal since she was little. Even now she made instant packs. “I did. Can’t really take credit for having the oats in my cabinet, though. It was Alesha’s doing. She loves baking, so when they all come by she frequently brings in ingredients she may need at some point. I didn’t know what you liked in it, but you should find both brown and white sugar in the pantry.” She set the bowl on the table and turned away to go to the cupboard. “Alesha. Is she here often?” She tried to tamp down on the jealousy she felt rising. Ridge was not her Dom. This was a temporary arrangement. Sunday it would be all over and she’d be able to go back to her staid existence, where her emotions were easily controlled. “At least once or twice a week with Josh and Mike, especially since basketball season has kicked off.”
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Grabbing the brown sugar and a pack of dried cranberries, she returned to the table. “Do you scene with her?” Ridge placed his own bowl before the seat in front of hers, before she knew what was happening, he snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her body to his. She barely had enough time to take hold of his shoulders as his mouth lowered to hers. Holding her pressed against him, he kissed her. It started off as a gentle coaxing with light pecks and a few nips at her bottom lip. She had plenty of time to pull away or resist his advances, but the thought never crossed her mind. Opening up to him, her toes curled in her shoes as his tongue slid along hers as he entered her mouth. Ridge deepened the kiss, forcing her to receive his passion and demanded more. She didn’t know at what point her hands had slid behind his neck, clutching at him as if she were afraid he’d stop or let her go. When he palmed her ass and squeezed each cheek as he ground his cock against her aching sex, she whimpered. Slowly, he ended the kiss and lightly held her waist until the cloud of lust cleared from her mind. “Monica, you never have to worry about Alesha, she’s like a sister to me.” Letting her go, he moved to his seat. “Besides, she has enough Masters spanking her ass on a nightly basis, she doesn’t need anymore.” That was true. She recalled the night Alesha had chosen both men for herself. Both Dom Ursus and Dom Mustang had been good to her the times Monica had done a scene with them, always separate. To Monica, the thought of having two men dominate her was overwhelming, it was hard enough for her to keep her emotions under wraps with just one. “Now, that’s all settled, pass the brown sugar.” Ridge winked at her and smiled as if kissing and having breakfast with her were typical everyday events. Tentatively she smiled, and began to eat the best oatmeal she’d ever had. Not because of what was in the bowl, but because of being around Ridge. He had a way of making her feel as if she was normal. As if she could push aside her demons and have a regular life with a man. Her mind warned her not to believe it, and she heeded her own mental advice, but it just felt good to hope for a change. After breakfast, they gathered their things and headed to the door to grab her trench coat. “Lift up your skirt, sweetling,” he commanded. She knew what he wanted to see, proof that she’d followed his orders and had not put on panties. Bending over, she grabbed the hem of her skirt in both hands and pulled it up high above her waist proving she was sans undies. “Good girl.” He leaned in and kissed her lightly and patted her bare ass. Lowering her skirt, she allowed him to help her into her coat and then they exited the house, heading off to work. ~YH~ I’ll be there at 12 to get you for lunch. Monica stared at the text message on her phone. Her day had been going relatively well at work, and after two days she’d gotten used to walking around without panties on. It wasn’t something she planned to continue doing once Ridge was out of her life, but while she was with him she couldn’t help but admit she felt sexy and wicked doing it. A few times she hadn’t realized she’d been smiling as she walked through the halls of her work until she’d glanced over and someone would be smiling back at her. People didn’t smile at her, they rarely spoke to her, which before yesterday she would have said it was exactly how she liked it. She had to admit that even the accountants she worked for spoke differently to her when they came in to drop off spreadsheets they needed her to verify or load into the database. Normally, they’d walk in and drop things off in the box mounted on her wall, maybe say a few words of what they needed then zip out. Today, it seemed that everyone stood on the other side of her desk just a little longer, even once asked her opinion on a new form they were going to implement.
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Now, looking at the clock on her monitor she had fifteen minutes before Ridge would be there-like a date. She had told him the truth last night, it had been five years since she’d had sex with someone, but even longer than that since she actually tried dating. After Dom Pando and her relationship ended, she’d tried to live a normal life. Got a job, became a productive member of society and started dating, vanilla men. Black, White, Hispanic or Asian, it didn’t matter, it never worked out. The closer they tried to get to her, the more she pulled away and since most men outside of the lifestyle didn’t wield whips or floggers, things would go sour fast. In a fit of rage she’d begged her last boyfriend to spank her, he had. The pain had helped her deal, but he’d felt sick afterwards and the relationship had ended the same night. That’s when she’d started scouting BDSM clubs and came across Strong Blends, no sex, no attachments. Life had been perfect, or so she thought, then Steel walked into it. Grabbing her purse, she knew at some point she would regret giving him unrestricted access to her. However, at the moment she was willing to let things happen, without giving too much of her soul away. ~YH~ “How does your job here compare to New York?” she asked once they were seated at a back table in a bistro around the corner from her job. She took a bite of her grilled chicken and avocado sandwich. ‘I’m a human resource manager, so dealing with personnel and pay isn’t much different no matter where you go. But, it’s a lot smaller division here, which I like a little better. People are closer.” He popped a sweet potato fry in his mouth, after chewing and swallowing it, he continued, “For instance today we will shut down two hours early for a party and secret Santa exchange.” “Sounds like fun,” she muttered and ate some of her soup. “Is your office having a party?” he asked before taking a large bite of his burger. “Ours was last week, but I didn’t attend. I like to get all my work finished up before the weekend, so I can start Monday with a fresh plate.” The excuse sounded lame to her ears. Last week she hadn’t cared one fig about the holiday party, barely giving it a passing thought, but sitting with Ridge and seeing his excitement of his jobs coming event made her wish she’d at least shown up for her own. Ever perceptive, Ridge said, “Since you will be with me on Christmas. How about we have our own gift exchange.” “You don’t have to do that, Ridge, I’m long past the age of needing presents.” She looked around the restaurant and took in all the holiday decorations. “You may not, but I do. Remember me, the spoiled boy?” He used both of his fingers to point at himself. She tried to hide her laughter behind her hand, to no avail; it still came out making her sound like a giggly teenager. “Fine.” “Great. Tomorrow we will go early, hopefully beat the rush of the last minute shoppers. The deal is only one gift and it can’t be over twenty-five dollars.” “Only twenty-five at the mall?” She did most of her shopping on line, but unless the physical stores gave major discounts she knew it would be impossible to find a good gift at such a low cost. “I don’t think it is possible.” “Of course it is. You have to look to find something in the price range and perfect for the person.” He winked at her. “But that’s the fun of it.” Shaking her head, she said, “You’re going to wind up with nose hair clippers.” “Do I need them?” Leaning over the table he tilted his head back. This time when she laughed there was no holding it back. Once again she asked herself, what it was about this man.
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Chapter Six “Where do you want me, Dom Steel?” Ridge turned away from the table and looked at Monica as she stood a few steps in the doorway. He truly enjoyed hearing her say his name and seeing her in his playroom. Frequently over the last two days he’d had to remind himself that it was temporary. An arrangement. “On the table, sweetling.” He patted the dungeon table. “Yes, sir.” Once again in her night shirt, she padded barefoot across the room and climbed up on the table. “Remove your shirt and lie down,” he instructed as he went to the cabinet and pulled out a few items. Returning to the table he paused to marvel at the beauty of her body. Truly she was made for this lifestyle. Last night it had been hard for him not to make love to her after they’d finished the session. However, not as difficult as it had been that morning when he awoke to find her admiring his form. She looked so innocent and curious, it had turned him on. He’d wanted to show her exactly what his body was made of. When she had pulled away, he was both frustrated and relieved. If there was ever a sub that needed to be gentled, it was Monica. With the cuffs in his hands, he stepped to her. Wrapping a set around her wrist, he locked them together then raised her arms above her head and hooked them to one of the rings around the table. He took a moment to gather her hair off her shoulders so that it hung off the table and out of the way. Next were her legs. He parted them wide so that her ankles were at the edge of the table but not over it and cuffed them to their own rings. Slowly, he walked up the table, caressing one of legs as he went. His finger glided up the side of her calf and then the side of her knee. As his fingers danced along her inner thigh she began to squirm. He never allowed his gaze to shift away from her pretty hazel eyes. He cupped her sex, slipping a finger between her labia. She gasped. Her full lips parted invitingly. Stroking her once he removed his finger, now glistening with her arousal. “It pleases me to know that you are already wet, sweetling, and we haven’t even started to play.” Inserting his finger into his mouth, he tasted her juice, syrupy as a peach and spicy as cinnamon. Her body shuddered multiple times as if any moment she would climax. Never before had a woman been more responsive as Monica. He wondered how she’d restrained the natural passion that always seemed to be simmering at the edge. “Please, Sir…” she whispered. Leaning over her, he asked, attempting clarify what she wanted from him. “Please, what?” Rolling her bottom lip between her teeth she remained silent as a war of emotions waged across her face. Her need to be satisfied and pleasured was almost palpable. Closing her eyes, she shut him out and took in a shaky breath. He allowed her the momentary shield. Going to the wall he wheeled over a small pedestal with his warmer already heated, beside it a bottle of oil. Standing at the midway point of the table he brushed his knuckles across her hip to get her attention. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Have you ever done wax play?” He picked up the bottle of oil. “No, Sir. But I have seen it done to others.” Nodding, he began to pour it along her body. “Tonight, there will be no questions, I just want you to relax and enjoy.” She licked her lips and for a moment he thought he heard her sigh with relief as she said, “Yes, Sir.” “At any point if you are in pain or need to stop, your word is snow.” He watched the oil run down her body and pool in her navel and along the creases of her sex. “Repeat.” “Snow.”
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Smiling at her, he set the oil down and began to rub her body. Starting at her shoulders he massaged the slick lubricant into her skin. Creating a nice shiny glaze, he needed it to protect her skin from the hot wax, it also aided with easy removal. All day he had been looking forward to this moment, the freedom to touch every inch of her skin. Taking her breasts in his hands he kneaded them, squeezing each globe and pinching her nipples. As she writhed on the table, he could feel her heart beat against her fingers. Moving on, he rubbed her stomach and sides, discovering that she was ticklish along her waist. He didn’t linger at her sex as he smeared the oil over her puffy lips and folds, not trusting himself to forget the wax play and bring her to climax with his hand. The memories of last night were still clearly playing in his mind, but tonight would be different, he wanted to bring her to the brink but not take her over the edge. Once her legs were nice and greasy like the rest of her body, Ridge stepped to the pot of wax. Dipping his finger in it, he check the temperature, ensuring that it would be hot enough to sting and bring her body alive, but not sear. Determining that it was fine, he commanded, “You are not allowed to come.” Her brow tightened and confusion lit her eyes. He was sure she had possibly assumed that tonight would be the night of a million orgasms like the previous one, but it was not the case. “Do you understand?” “Yes, Sir.” Uncertainty was evident in her voice, but she had schooled her features to mask her emotions. “Then we shall begin.” Lifting the ladle, he drizzled the wax on her, leisurely, as he watched her for signs of discomfort. She made a hissing sound as the first droplet splashed on her, and arched away, but as more drops landed she relaxed. The only sign she was aware of the hot spatter was the fisting of her hands and the flexing of her feet. He saved her breasts and pussy for last. As the wax cooled and began to solidify, he fingered her nipples, playing with them. He enjoyed the small moans that escaped her parted lips. Once again he added more wax on top of the first layer, still not covering her most intimate places. After the second layer hardened then he dripped the liquid onto her nipples and breasts. Her back arched off the table and she cried out. He continued to add more until a heavy coat covered her and she settled back against the leather top of the table. Moving along the length of her body, he didn’t delay in dribbling a steady stream onto her pussy. On instinct her legs parted wider as she tried to escape the heated droplets which only opened her wider and allowed the liquid to funnel along her clit and down her slit. She was thrashing and bucking against the table as she begged and pleaded for mercy, but never used her safe word. He recalled that at the club she won’t use her safe word, either. However, unlike the club her body now trembled and shook, showing the exact same signs she had exhibited last night before she came. That knowledge, made him remind her, “Do not come, sweetling.” “Yellow!” she yelled. He pulled the wax away. At the club, that word meant a sub needed a moment to get their self together and not disappoint their Dom by either coming or giving up. The fact that Monica didn’t want to disappoint him caused his gut to clench and his heart to beat harder inside his chest. A sign he was walking on dangerous ground, if he wasn’t careful it would drop out from under his feet. “Are you ready to proceed?” “Ye-e-s, Sir.” Her voice quivered. Gingerly, he peeled off the wax from her breast and sex, leaving it on the rest of her body. Touching her breast he felt the warm, supple skin. Monica’s moans were evidence of how sensitive her flesh had become.
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Pulling away, he repeated the process of painting her nipples with drops of wax until it ran down and covered her breast completely. After they were done, he returned to her sex. “Ah,” she called out. This time she attempted to pull her thighs together to keep away the hot trickles, but with her ankles restrained it was to no avail, he still had unobstructed access. Ridge watched her twist and pull against her bonds as she begged for him to release her. Her own arousal was so heightened by the heat of the wax that he could almost taste it in the air he breathed. When he set down the wax his hands were shaking, he needed to call out “yellow” and get control of his own self. Knowing she was so close to climaxing only made things harder for him. His cock was so erect; it was ready to tear through his lounge pants. As a Dom for too many years to count, he’d never been this far out of control with another sub. It was why the Master that had trained him and taught him everything he knew had given him the name Steel, a sub would always break before Ridge would. That didn’t feel like the case tonight. Taking a few cleansing breaths, he regained his composure as best he could then began removing all the wax from her body. His plan was to get her cleaned up and send her off to bed while he straightened up the room. However, by the time he’d unhooked her cuffs and helped her to sit up on the side of the table everything changed. “Thank you, Sir.” Monica reached out and cupped his cheek. That simple touch was his undoing. Taking hold of her waist, he angled his head and kissed her. Took total authority over her luscious mouth as his tongue plunged inside and showed her how much he wanted her. Needed her. Wedging his way between her legs, he pulled her to the edge of the table, fitting his cock to her pussy. Just like that morning she palmed the back of his head and kissed him back. When they parted he stared in her eyes, saying, “If you don’t want this, sweetling, this would be the time to say so.” “I want this. I want you.” Her eyes were dark with passion and sincerity. That was all he needed to hear. Scooping her up, he carried her to the bedroom, giving kisses along the way. By the time they entered the room the passion between them was arcing like lightening across the sky. Laying her on the bed, he followed her down. He pulled away from her mouth and began licking a path down her neck to her breasts tasting her skin and the light traces of oil still on her. There he cupped them as he licked and suckled her nipple. She arched her back off the bed and wrapped her legs around his waist silently pleading for more. He nipped each tip with his teeth and felt her quiver beneath him. Unlinking her legs from behind his back, he continued down his path. He paused briefly to swirl his tongue around her navel and enjoyed hearing her sigh and wiggle against him. Once he arrived at the spot that had taunted and fascinated him the most, he took a moment to inhale her scent. There was nothing like the sweet, musky scent of a woman. The delicate, tangy aroma at the heart of her body that called to the instinct of a man, beckoned him to taste and come inside. In the lamp light, he parted her thighs wider, shouldering his way into an optimal position to please her. Ridge could see her swollen, wet lips parted invitingly shamelessly displaying her distended clit. He remembered the brief taste he’d had of her in the playroom, he wanted more. Leaning in, he flattened his tongue against her slit and slid up until he could stroke the firm nub of her pleasure, filling his mouth with her essence. He repeated the movement, savoring her flavor as he pressed his palms against her thighs keeping her open to his oral assault. When she began to shake and murmur words of satisfaction, he began a rapid tapping on the tip of her clit until she climaxed, screaming and thrashing on the bed. He didn’t let up, until she released again. No longer able to wait a moment longer, he rose above her, needing to be inside of her. Monica must have felt the same sense of urgency to have him within her, because both of them fought to get his pants off his hips and down his legs. Finally, he was able to kick them to the floor.
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Taking hold of his cock, he glided it along her sex, coating his tip in her cream. Burying his face in her neck, he slowly pressed inside of her, mindful of the fact it had been five years since she’d had sex. She was tight around his head, it took him a few strokes to even work his way halfway in. “Fuck,” he growled. The pleasure of being inside of her caused his dick to swell even more. Her nails dug into the small of his back as she urged him on. “Don’t stop, Ridge. Please, don’t stop.” Hearing her pleas ignited his lust, thrusting forward he drove himself deep. She cried out, but lifted her hips to meet him as she entangled her legs with his. Searching out her lips, he began kissing her as he worked his dick in and out of her snug, wet pussy. At that moment he knew that nothing in his life before that moment had ever felt as blissfully, outrageous as being inside Monica. Feeling her take all of him, giving back to him everything he gave, it was ecstasy personified. When his first release struck him, he had to grit his teeth and clutch the bed not to hold onto her, possibly squeezing her too tight and bruising her. But, he didn’t stop pumping. As soon as the first one began to wane he resumed his pace, pistoning his hips until he felt her body start to tremble beneath his. “Come with me, Monica,” he pleaded. He wanted to feel her pussy quake around his cock and have her walls gripping him, milking every drop from him. Answering his words, she came and pushed him over the cleft along with her. They lay connected for a moment, until their breathing had resumed. “Ridge…” she began. Lifting up, he placed a finger on her lips, silencing her. “Shh, it’s alright.” He pulled out of her, and rolled her to the side and fitted himself along her back. He didn’t want to chance the possibility that she would have spoken her doubts about what they had done. The only thing he wanted was to be in this moment, to hold her in his arms unhindered. It took more effort for him to shut off his own thoughts, his mind kept trying to intrude and warn him of the hazards to his heart. It was true that their love making had been so intense that he felt as if he had become one with her in mind and soul as well as body. But, he didn’t even attempt to dissect his thoughts. Instead he closed his eyes and inhaled, filling his lungs with the scent of lavender and sex. Soon, he drifted off to sleep. ~YH~ It was Monica’s turn to sneak out of bed in the night. Once she was sure Ridge was asleep, she got up as her tender body protested having to move. She went into the playroom and began to work at righting it. Just like pain, cleaning helped her to focus on something else, besides her thoughts, which at the moment were running around incessantly like a mouse in a maze chasing down cheese. Turning off the warmer, she pushed the pedestal back against the wall. Giving the wax time to cool some before she placed the lid on it. Why are you in here? Her mind taunted. Cleaning was what a sub was supposed to do, she told herself. She wasn’t in there returning everything to order because she was beginning to feel a part of the room, as if every piece of furniture and tool belong to her as much as Dom Steel. Nope, that was not it. Yesterday, she would have done the same thing, but he had already taken care of it. Picking things up and putting them away, just meant she was an efficient sub. That’s the reason she was here, at Ridge’s house, anyway, to prove to him that she knew what it was to be a sub to a Dom. She just chose not to be. However, she was afraid that every day she stayed in Ridge’s house it was becoming harder not to feel as if she needed or wanted a Dom over her, permanently. Not just any Dom, her heart declared. Steel. Groaning, silently. She checked the room to make sure she was done. The last thing she did was to reseal the wax, preserving it for the next use. Swiping her night shirt off the table where she’d set it,
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she went into the bathroom. She grabbed her body wash and then went downstairs to use the guest shower, ensuring she didn’t awaken Ridge. After she washed up, she slipped into her nightshirt, then returned to the bedroom where Ridge on his stomach, his arms buried under the pillow, slept soundly. She allowed her gaze to travel the strong lines of his body, taking in the muscles along his back and his tight firm ass and powerful thighs. Getting in bed, she pulled the covers over both of them then lay on her side facing away from him. She wanted to curl up around him, but she didn’t allow herself the luxury. Continuing to protect her secrets was a must. Her body relaxed into the mattress and as she drifted off to sleep, she thought about the fact that they were going to the mall the next day to shop. Nervous and excited about the plans, she didn’t even try to fight the smile that pulled up the corner of her lips as she fell asleep.
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Chapter Seven “I’ll meet you back here in the food court in two hours.” Ridge held Monica’s hand as they stood before the sub shop in the mall. “I have plans for us this afternoon and I don’t want to be delayed.” “Okay,” she said, apprehension clearly etched in her features as she looked around at all the people and stores, looking overwhelmed. Since they were Christmas shopping he couldn’t take her around with him, it would ruin her surprise. Instead, he pulled her in his arms and whispered in her ear, “Everything will be fine.” “I know. I’ve just never shopped for anyone before. I don’t even know where to go first.” “There’s no pressure in this. Just get me something you think I would like. Remember it’s the thought that counts.” She nodded and stepped away from him. “I better get started then.” “Two hours,” he reminded her. Smiling at him, she blended into the flow of the crowd. Ridge was enjoying seeing her smile come more easily, now. She didn’t always have a look in her eyes like she wanted to run. Last night he’d fallen into a deep sleep and had been upset with himself that he hadn’t taken care of the playroom. Leaving Monica in bed, he’d gone in the other room to clean it and noticed it had already been done. It was something that a sub would have done, cared for her Master’s equipment and derived pleasure out of making sure it all remained in serviceable condition. It was something no other sub had done for him. Primarily it was because all the subs he’d been with in the past he’d never allowed to stay the night. They would have a session, aftercare and maybe sex depending on the situation. Monica was reshaping his life. He’d taken a quick shower and put his longest whip, an all black ten-footer, in a slim pack he wore on his back specifically to carry it. He’d left the house for his two mile run to the park. This was his normal weekend activity. Two days a week he ran and enjoyed throwing his whip in the crisp morning air, maintaining his skill and condition. When he got back she’d been awake and dressed in a dark green tunic dress and high black boots, ready for their day. After he showered again, and dressed, they ate breakfast and left. Now, headed in the opposite direction, he began his search for the perfect gift for Monica. ~YH~ Ridge stood in the designated spot waiting on Monica. She was already over forty-five minutes passed their appointed time. In a little over an hour his friends would be bringing over a Christmas tree for them all to decorate. Normally, when he didn’t go to his parent’s house, he didn’t bother with a tree, but since this was Monica first Christmas since she was little, he really wanted to go all out even though there would only be two presents beneath it. Standing there, now, he was disappointed that Monica wasn’t mindful of the time he’d given her to return. It wasn’t that his friends wouldn’t use their key to get in and wait, but a sub needed to follow even the simplest of orders, so that their Dom would know they could trust them with greater ones. “I’m finished. We can head home now, Ridge.” She finally rounded the corner by the shop carrying a bag with an outlet stores logo. “You’re late,” he declared. She must have picked up on the serious notes in his tone, because she hesitant a little before she said, “Am I? I’m sorry, the lines were crazy and I really wanted to get your present wrapped.” He stepped to her, closing the gap between them, so that when he spoke it would be for her ears only. “When did I tell you to be back, sweetling?” She licked her lips, shifted her gaze away, then back to him. “Two hours.” “Look at your clock and tell me what time you should have returned.” He brushed a lock of her hair over her shoulder, he was glad she’d opted to wear it down; instead of putting it in the tight bun. Removing her cell phone from her purse, he watched as she calculated the time difference then said, “Fifty-two minutes ago.”
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Grasping her chin, he raised her head up so that he could look into her hazel eyes and she’d clearly understand his message. “When we get home I will get my minutes back.” “Y-yes, Sir.” There was no fear in her eyes, just a clear comprehension that she had disobeyed him and she would be punished for it. Nodding, he released her, taking her hand, they exited the mall. ~YH~ “F-F-Forty-nine,” Monica called out, her voice wavering. Her ass was on fire. Bent over the spanking bench, she received her punishment, still in her boots with her dress shoved up around her waist displaying her bare backside. She knew she had fucked up and deserved every contact of Ridge’s hand to her ass. Before they had split at the mall, she’d heard him tell her the time limit and that he didn’t want to be late for the next thing on their agenda. But, she’d got so involved in finding him the perfect gift she’d never checked her cell phone once. Not used to setting appointments or considering others outside of work, she didn’t manage her time well. She continued her count until she finally was able to scream fifty-two. Ridge landing the last blow and then help her to stand up. Gazing down at her, his blue eyes were filled with concern and pride. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she mumbled. “It’s okay. Next time, sweetling, a phone call could have saved you a lot of pain. A Dom likes to know that his sub is safe.” Reaching up, he caressed her cheek, wiping the tears away. Two things surprised her at that moment. One that she was crying, she never cried or showed emotions during a session. Years of practice had made her as removed from feelings as snow was to summer. The other thing was that she was aroused. Sure enough her sex was aching and wet. If she hadn’t concentrated on how she had disappointed him, there was no doubt in her mind that she would have come before the end of the session, earning herself more strikes. Now, she had the urge to beg him to make love to her, but instead she just confirmed she understood his words, “Yes, Dom Steel.” Pulling her against him, he wrapped his arms around her and stroked her ass lightly as he whispered words to her, telling her how proud he was of her for taking her correction and how rosy her ass looked. She had pleased him and at that moment standing in his arms she wanted to be nowhere else, with no one else. After fifteen minutes, he released her, helped her arrange her dress back in place then sent her into the bathroom to fix her make-up as he went downstairs to get things together. He’d told her on the ride home that Mike, Josh and Alesha were coming over for a couple of hours, the meeting he didn’t want to be late for. She was thankful that his friends had not already arrived at the house when they got there and went directly to the playroom. However, he had wanted to get some kabobs on the grill and ready by the time they had arrived. That was not the case and he was now downstairs preparing things. Hurrying, she washed her face and re-applied her make-up and left the bathroom to join him. When she got to the bottom steps she realized that their guests were already there. They had already set up a large Christmas tree in the corner of the living room and Alesha had three trays of cookies out and everyone already had glasses of eggnog. Evidently, by the looks of things the trio had come in while she was getting her spanking. Did they hear me screaming? Ridge was the first to see her, hanging back by the steps. “Sweetling, you have to try one of Alesha’s molasses reindeer, they’re my favorite.” He crossed the room with a cookie in hand. She took a breath, trying to stop the shivers that raced along her spine as he drew near. Her body was still tuned up and pulsing with unfulfilled desire. Passing her the cookie, he asked her, “You alright?” “Yes, I’m fine.” She forced a smile on her face, then bit into the cookie, instantly the smile became real as the delicious sugary treat hit her tongue. “Oh, my… they are good.”
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“Told you,” he said, leading the way back into the kitchen. When she got there, she received a hug and a kiss on the cheek from Alesha, who told her she was happy to see her again. Mike and Josh hugged her, too. None of them looked at her strange or questioned her about being there, they just all took it as fact and pulled her into the conversation. She helped Ridge skewer chicken pieces, tomatoes, peppers, pineapples and onions. Then they cut potatoes and wrapped asparagus with bacon and placed everything on a tray for the grill. All three men exited out the back door as the conversation migrated to who they thought was going to the super bowl and the coming basketball game on Christmas Day. “Come on let’s see if Ridge has Christmas music.” Alesha said as they went into the other room. Monica went along, not truly convinced they would find anything. Most people downloaded their music now. Once there, they began shuffling through Ridge’s CD collection, seeing everything from jazz to alternative rock. She glanced over at Alesha, another black woman, with beautiful brown skin. Monica envied her, coveting the fact Alesha never had to explain her heritage. “As close as you all are to Ridge, I’m sure you know why I’m here.” Monica kept her eyes focused on the music case in her hand. “You must think I’m crazy to agree.” “No more crazy than you thought I was at that munch when I left with two men.” Alesha lifted a questioning eyebrow at her. “You’ve got a point.” Smiling at the other woman, Monica said, “I don’t know how you do it. I could never see myself handling one Dom’s needs, let alone two.” Shrugging, Alesha confessed, “It works for us. I cared about both of them for years. I could never choose between them then and now, I know I can’t live without either of them.” A week ago, Alesha’s words would have seemed like gibberish to her, a foreign language she’d never understood and didn’t want to, but now she found herself comprehending not only the woman’s words, but the feelings associated with them. Ridge had become a part of her life and she was having a hard time with the knowledge that in a little more than a day it would all be over. “Bingo!” Alesha’s cheers broke into her thoughts. Waving a CD over her head, she said, “Everyone always has a copy, because Christmas music is timeless.” Just as they got the DVD player below the wall mounted plasma TV to play the music, the men came back in. They carried in the trays of cookies and the snack food from the grill, while Ridge carried a large box. “Now, it feels like Christmas in here,” Ridge’s face was as bright with joy as he started humming “Walking in a Winter Wonderland”. Monica couldn’t help but wondering if she’d always had someone around her with such an infectious spirit about the holidays if maybe things would have been different for her over the years. “Yes, it does.” Alesha said as she snagged a kabob off the plate that Josh held then kissed him soundly on the lips. Setting the box down by the tree, Ridge reached in and removed a gold bauble and handed it to her. “Why don’t you place the first ornament on your Christmas tree, sweetling.” Gently taking hold of the glass decoration, she stared at him, “You did this for me?” “Yup.” Stepping closer to her, he said, “I’d appreciate a thank you with a kiss for all my hard work.” Without considering what the others in the room might think, Monica leaned into him and gave him a kiss. She was grateful when he parted his lips and allowed her to take the lead. “If I’d have known, it would have been that kind of party I’d have brought my flogger.” Mike’s deep voice rang out. Feeling the heat fill her cheeks, Monica ended the kiss. “I love it when the cheeks on your face are just as red as those of your ass,” Ridge said. Everyone laughed, Monica blushed harder but join in on the merry moment as she hung the ornament on the tree. ~YH~
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“Do you trust me, sweetling?” Ridge was at the cabinet behind Monica where she was already cuffed spread-eagle between the wood frames. “I trust you, Dom Steel.” His gut clenched at hearing her words come out quick and clear. There was no hesitation to her voice. It proved to him that today had been significant in so many ways for them. Even though she had earned her first discipline session with him, she still willingly placed herself in his care. His friends had left over an hour ago, after they had finished decorating the tree. Mike and Josh had commented outside while he grilled that they noticed a change in Monica that they had never truly seen her smile before. At the club they said she’d only exhibited coy ones when she was attempting to lure a Dom into doing a scene with her, which usually never took much persuading. Coming to her, he held a blindfold in his hand, moving to the front of her body so that she could see what he held. Her gaze lowered to his hands then met his again. The only sign that she had concern with being blindfolded was the slight parting of her lips and a minor stretching to her lids. “Tonight we will be doing some impact play.” “Sir, it doesn’t bother me to see the instrument.” “This I know.” It was true apprehension was not an emotion she showed while she had been on the platform at Strong Blends. Monica had shown no emotions. “However, I’m not concerned with you knowing what I am using, I just need you to listen and feel.” “Yes, Sir.” There was the faith in him again, her hazel eyes were light in color and showed no doubt. Placing the blindfold over her eyes, he tied it in the back. “Sweetling, it is my thought that somewhere along the way you have begun to think of the whip as a toy of pain. That possibly most impact tools such as the flogger, paddle, cane and whips sole purpose are to bring pain.” “They are not, Dom Steel?” Her breath caressed his face. “No.” Securing the black cloth, he then cupped her face between his palms stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. Dropping his voice, he leaned in pressed his lips against her ear and spoke softly. “I want you to think about them as an extension of your Dom. His caress, his touch, his kiss.” Lowering his hands, he brushed lightly along her shoulders, to her breasts and encircled her waist gingerly and gasping her hips gently, barely allowing her to feel his touch as he continued to whisper, “A bullwhip in the hands of a skilled Master is a part of him, a reflection of his dominance, strength and control. Nothing pleases a Dom more than to see a sub relaxed and trusting, evidence of their true submission revealed by each bite of the whip bringing emotions to the surface and released--for Dom and sub are one at that point.” Her body had begun to quiver at his words and subtle touches. Palming her breast, he took her nipples between both thumbs and forefingers. “What you feel, I feel.” He pinched the distended points hard. As she rose on her toes and gasped, he inhaled sharply along with her. Repeating the act her body shuddered. Leaning fully into her, Ridge allowed her to feel his own body trembling with excitement at her response. Kissing her on the center of her brow, he released her and moved towards the pedestal where his six-foot black and blue bullwhip lay coiled and waiting. In his cabinet the tenfooter rested. He usually took it with him to outdoor events or clubs with proper spacing to wield it; like Strong Blends. He’d even chosen this house for the vaulted ceiling in the bonus room. It had been one of three upstairs rooms before he had Mike and Josh’s contractor knock out some walls. Tonight the one now in his hand was perfect. Normally, he would have started off with a smaller whip to prime her skin and build up to something with a bigger bite, however that would not be necessary tonight for he had no plans of striking her with it. If what he believed to be true about her was correct, Monica reacted to the impact of the whip on her skin, but a true submissive who enjoyed the whip for its capability in bringing them that pleasure/pain responded to it like Pavlov’s dog. The sight and sound of the whip aroused and excited them before it ever kissed their skin. That’s what he wanted for her--his swan.
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The leather warmed in his right palm as he grasped it along the top of the handle and placed his thumb along the top, he took his position behind Monica. Being masked her ears were more keen to the sound around her, he noticed her head shift from one side to the other as she attempted to follow his movements, anticipate the timing of the whip. “Relax, sweetling, take a few deep breaths for me,” he instructed. He talked to her, telling her when to inhale, and when to exhale, he continued leading her through the diaphragmatic technique for a few cycles watching the rise and fall of her back with each breath. As she bowed her head and filled her lungs with air, he threw the whip and allowed it to fly vertical in front of him as he executed a clean forward-crack. Her exhale came out as a strangled gasp as the tip of the whip cracked loudly above her head. Her hands fisted in the cuffs and she rose onto her toes expecting the bite. “Don’t try to anticipate the impact, just continue to breath,” he commanded as once again he swung his arm up, bring his hand above his head and flicked his wrist this time the sound explode by her right hip. On and on they continued as one as he varied the angle of his throws to permit the single tail to sound-off around her; beside her ear, side of her shoulder, around her hips and ass or between her splayed legs. Moving up behind her, he encircled her waist and felt her trembles and heard the shuddered breath escaping her mouth. His hand caressed her stomach as he placed his lips along the shell of her ear. Holding the whip at his side, he cracked it towards the ground and whispered how proud he was of her. He flicked it again. This time he kissed the base of her neck and murmured how he loved her skin. Another crack and he reached around with his free hand and cupped her breast, not squeezing just caressing her. The following pop he dragged his tongue down her spine at the small of her back he spoke softly about the beauty of her responsiveness and how much she pleased him. Repeatedly, he cracked his whip and accompanied it with a touch, lick or caress and all the while he continued to encourage her to feel, praise her for who she was and tell her of how she honored him in her submission and filled him with pride. No part of her backside was left untouched. He could smell the intensity of her arousal as it built more as the sound of the whip fractured the air over and over again. Circling around to the front of her body, he suckled her breast, flicked his whip as he flicked her nipple. Lowering his body, he covered her torso with light kisses as he began to throw wide away from her body, guaranteeing that the tip didn’t come back and nick her. He’d love the opportunity to mark her skin, but not tonight. Now on level with her wet pussy, evidence of her arousal. Leaning forward, he stroked her opening with his tongue then slid up her slit as he cracked his whip and felt her shudder against his mouth. Her sighs turned into moans, and those became whimpers as he spoke in an undertone as if he were gentling a wild animal, beseeching them to trust him. At that moment he knew it was what he wanted, what this whole arrangement had been about, getting Monica to trust him with her heart. No matter what he had told himself in the beginning when he saw her, she had grabbed a hold of his heart. He didn’t want to train her to submit to another Dom, he wanted her submission to him—fully, without hindrance or secrets. Something that did not come about by asking her questions, she had to freely give it, give of herself.
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Chapter Eight Monica knew she was crying, she didn’t know at what point the shield around her soul had split, but it did. With each crack of Ridge’s whip, one layer after another was peeled away and his words and touches seemed to caress the new skin beneath as it was revealed. Every emotion that she had suppressed and hid, the pain of the mistakes she had made rose to the surface. All the guilt and shame swelled like a river after a heavy rain storm and threatened to overtake her. Standing there in the room of a man who had cared enough for her to want to see her healed and whole. A man who saw the mask she showed the world and simply asked her to drop it. The walls she’d spent years erecting, a fortress she had believed she needed to survive and continue to live each day. But, now before Ridge, Dom Steel, she wanted to live--truly live and be free. Words she had never uttered to another living soul flooded her mind and her throat became tight and painful. “Sweetling, talk to me,” he requested, his words close to her, letting her know he was standing before her. Shaking her head, she fought against the need to confess all to him. She wanted him, desired him at a level of insanity, but she yearned to yield herself to him, but she didn’t want his touch to be hindered by knowing the ugliness of her past, the repellent truth of who she was. “Make love to me, please, Dom Steel.” More tears poured from her eyes as she pleaded, “Take me in your arms and make me hope and believe in the sunshine of tomorrow even if doesn’t come.” Without another word, he stooped down and released her feet and then rose and unlocked the cuffs to her wrists. No longer restricted, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and began kissing him, attempting to communicate the secret of her heart, hoping he understood her trust in him. Removing her blindfold, he returned her passion, his kiss fierce and demanding. She found herself lowered to the floor, feeling the cool cushion of the mat against her back. Ending the kiss, Ridge buried his fingers in her hair, cupping her scalp with one hand as he shoved his lounge pants down his hips and thighs and kicked them off his legs. Settling between her spread thighs, he stared down at her, his blue eyes dark with desire. Reaching between them, she took hold of his hard cock, stroked the long length and squeezing the broad crown. He groaned and excitement bubbled inside of her at the sound of his pleasure. Guiding the head to her sex, she lifted her hips and took him into her body. A single thrust from Ridge brought him deep inside, fully seating himself inside. Lifting her hand, she ran it along the side of his face, feeling the tickling of the ever present stubble against her fingertips. They stayed like that, silent, captured in each other gaze. Taking hold of her hands, he brought them above her head and laced their fingers together. He began in a slow steady pace, pulling out and slowly sliding back into her. His tempo never changed, his eyes never looked away. She mirrored every move he made as she slid her legs along the inside of his, her body as intertwined with his as her heart. For the first time in her life she felt connected to another person. She could feel the beating of his heart against her own where his chest was pressed to hers. She knew at that moment she loved him, had fallen in love with him somewhere along the way. When her orgasm claimed her, more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced, it took everything inside of her not to release those three words as she cried out her pleasure. Ridge’s climax followed shortly behind hers; bringing his lips down to hers he kissed her, sweeping around her mouth and caressing her tongue as his body quaked in completion. Eventually, the kiss ended and their breathing returned to normal. Moving away from her, he rose and helped her to her feet. She followed him into the room. Once he lay in the center of the mattress he opened his arms to her. Crawling across the bed, she snuggled up along his side and rested her head on his shoulder.
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“I need to tell you something,” she whispered, staring off into the dark, the only light in the room came from the moonlight bleeding into the room filling it with a celestial-type glow. He tightened his arms, squeezing her against his chest. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here to listen.” She knew there was no other reason for delay. The moment had arrived for confession--baring her soul. Taking in a breath, she held it and allowed the tightening of her chest and the burning of her lungs to increase before she let it out slowly and began, “I’m originally from New Orleans. My father and his side of the family are known as what is termed Creole of Color, his skin was just as white as yours, as mine. My mother was a beautiful brown-skinned African-American woman. The two of them loved each other tremendously. When I was little I remember them telling me stories about how they met and fell in love instantly. I could recall how they looked at each other with such care and joy. They were perfect.” “Were? What happened?” he prompted. “I happened.” He leaned up and looked down into her face. Glancing up, she could see the confusion in his gaze in the night light. Resting her head back down, she continued. “Since I take after my father, I recall when I was small people asking my mother if she were baby-sitting, because I looked exactly like my father and his family; pale skin, hazel eyes and straight hair. I used to get tired and angry about having to prove who I was, because other children thought I wasn’t Black enough. Whatever the hell that meant,” she inhaled, staving off the old hurts. “My parent’s love for each other spilled over to me and that should have been enough. But, I was a selfish child. Nothing was ever good enough.” She closed her eyes and thought back to those days that she had kept hidden in her mind. “I was stubborn and willful, just an angry child. I caused them so much grief.” “In what way?” A dry chuckle erupted from her mouth. “In every way. I talked back, didn’t listen. In middle school I started skipping school, when I wasn’t being suspended for disrespecting my teachers. Here I was from a good middle class family with parents who doted on me, but I wasn’t happy. I couldn’t tell you why.” She sighed. “I started hanging out with kids that were just as much trouble as I was. One night my parents grounded me for something I had done, I can’t even remember what it was now. I snuck out of the house anyway to go to a party. I met some guy there who promised me the world, so I called my parents and told them I wasn’t coming ho-me…” her voice faltered and her eyes began to burn with fresh tears. Ridge stroked her back, but remained silent. Finally, she was able to begin again. “When I had sobered up the next morning and realized the guy was a jerk, on parole and living in an apartment with nine other people, I went home. The cops were at my house waiting for me. You see, my mom and dad went out looking for me in the middle of the night and got into an accident with a drunk driver. He walked away, they didn’t.” She found herself pulled into a fierce embrace. Ridge wrapped both of his arms around her and just held her. The out pouring of tears that began made the ones she’d shed while restrained seem like a light drizzle. She gripped his back, clinging to him and released the cry she should have let out that day or at her parents funeral. “I never got to say good-bye…”cried harder, holding on to Ridge for dear life. When her cries finally turned to an occasional shudder or hiccup, she started again, “If I didn’t care before, I really let everything go then. Family tried to take me in, but I was so out of control that they passed me from one to the other. I dropped out of school and started hanging with people I thought were my friends, but once I blew through the insurance money most of them were gone. “When I was nineteen, a group of my cohorts convinced me we should break into a store. It was supposed to be an easy hit. Well, I did it. Trashed this store and stole. The man, who lived above the store, came down and caught us. We all got away, though. By this time, my emotions were all over the
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place and I was starting to have arguments and problems with the few people in my life. I guess all those things my parents had tried to teach me about respecting people finally started to sink in. Out of guilt I went to the store the next day.” “To do what?” She shrugged. “Make amends for our actions. Friends told me it was a bad move, you know the ‘never return to the scene of the crime’ thing.” “Did the man recognize you?” His hand was playing in her hair that hung down her back. “Not as in my face, but he saw through me. Recognized that I was headed down the wrong road.” Placing her chin on the back of her hand that rested on his chest, she looked at him. “He had been the only person who’d ever done that, until you.” “Who was he?” “Dom Pando. He was an older man, maybe in his forties at the time. He looked me directly in my eyes and told me that if I truly wanted to make restitution and perhaps change the course of my life he would show me how.” “Did he honor his word?” His voice was rough and intense, as if he discovered Pando had not made good on his words then he would track him down and make him answer for his crime. “Yes. He took me in and trained me to be a sub. Pushed me to go to night classes and get my diploma. The only thing was that I had so much guilt and shame inside of me, that it started surfacing and I didn’t know how to deal with it. So, I started to use impact play to forget. I’d purposely get into trouble to be disciplined. The more pain I got, the more I needed. Dom Pando took on another sub while he had me, a divorced woman; the two of them bonded and fell in love.” “He put you out?” The tone returned fiercer than the first time. “Not immediately, but soon, I pulled away, too many ghosts in the city around me and asked to be released. I took the rest of my savings, moved to Charlotte and went to community college and got an Associate in accounting, because I was always pretty good with numbers. As my life began to settle, I tried to date. Have a vanilla relationship, but as they progressed the demons from my past arose. It didn’t take me long to realize I needed to get back into the lifestyle. But, I didn’t want to risk another connection and lose anyone else.” “So, you became an unattached submissive.” He brought his hand to her face and caressed the dimple on her cheek. “Yes.” Placing her hand on the back of his, she held it to her face. “I didn’t lie when I told you I wasn’t ashamed of my heritage. People like to believe what they see in me and never asked for more.” “It also helped you to keep them at a distance.” She nodded. Until you. “Thank you for sharing this with me.” Leaning towards her, he kissed her. When the kiss ended she returned her head to his chest and stared out towards the window. When she grew up she always compared her life to the Emily Bronte’s poem ‘Hope’, because wishes and dreams had always seemed like an elusive goal that was always meant for others not her. Now, that Ridge had come into her life, she felt as if it was something attainable and she wondered how she would survive this time once their arrangement ended. ~YH~ Having a man loving her orally was a great way to wake up in the morning was Monica’s first thought when she greeted the day on the brink of her first orgasm. Ridge had planted himself between her legs, with his tongue buried in her sex and a slick finger lodged in her ass. She didn’t know if it was lubricated from her own cream or a gel, all she knew was that it all felt wicked and delicious. Today she felt free and uninhibited. She wasn’t fool enough to think that all of her emotional problems were over, but she at least had been brave enough to venture into the dark corners of her soul with Ridge’s help. Now, she just wanted to celebrate by loving him and giving herself to him fully.
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Before her orgasm was complete, she found Ridge over her and claiming her mouth in a kiss. She feasted on him, taking in her taste and scent and enjoying the combination of their combined aroma-spicy amber and lavender. “Good morning, beautiful,” he licked her bottom lip and nipped her chin. “It is that,” she sighed. Reaching over to the nightstand he poured lube in his palm then stroked his length, coating his cock from base to crown. “You think you can handle more?” Ridge pulled her legs up, resting her thighs on his shoulders as he lay above her. He rocked his cock along her slit, the slick glide of her cream and the gel made a frisson of heat race up into her clit. “Ooh,” she moaned. “I’m ready for whatever you have for me.” The head of his dick pressed against the tight ring of her ass. She trembled and for a moment wanted to take back her bold words. He must have noticed her trepidation, because he asked, “Are you sure?” Lifting up, she kissed his sexy lips. “I’m sure.” He pushed forward then pulled out only to return and work his thick length into her. There was a slight burning to his invasion, but it was overshadowed by the intense gratification of him stroking along her sensitive walls. By the time the base of his cock was surrounded by her ass, she was meeting each of his thrusts. Clutching the sheets in her hands, she cried out at the sheer pain/pleasure. Above her, he groaned, beads of sweat shining on his forehead. His thrusts became more demanding, pumping his hard shaft inside of her. “Harder,” she called out, unable to hold back her pleasure as she pleaded for more. As her orgasm grew, she reached between them and fondled her clit as she arched her hips. “Fuck!” he growled as he gazed at her fingers playing along her sex and pounded into her. Sparks ignited inside of her causing an explosion of ecstasy. After Ridge fell over the precipice of pleasure, he lowered her legs and disengaged from her body. Rolling to his back he carried her with him. Exhausted she collapsed onto his chest. Once they had recovered enough to move, Ridge led her into the shower. They played around in the water, decorating each other’s body with suds and laughing. Being with Ridge was proving to be one wonderful experience after another. Monica couldn’t help her feelings of sadness, knowing that after today it was over. ~YH~ “Will you come on, already,” Ridge yelled up the stairs to Monica. He had been waiting for her to finish blow drying her hair. He loved her long hair, but if he would have known how long it took for her to dry it, he would’ve never washed it for her in the shower. Not if it meant he was going to have to wait so long before they could open presents. “Were you always this impatient on Christmas, Sir?” She came out of the bedroom and stood on the top landing in a red tunic. They didn’t have any plans until later tonight. They were going to Josh, Mike and Alesha’s house for Christmas dinner and the basketball game. “Absolutely.” He smiled at her as she came down the stairs, she had changed in many ways since the first time he’d seen her at Strong Blends. Now, there was a ready smile to her lips, showing off her pretty dimples and there was a light in her hazel eyes, the shadows were gone. “You sure you don’t want to eat breakfast first?” she teased him, as she took the last step and stood before him. “No. Food can wait.” Taking her hand, he pulled her into the living room area and sat beside the tree, tugging her down with him. Leaning over to her, he kissed her then said, “Merry Christmas, Monica.” She blushed, but returned his sentiments. “Merry Christmas, Ridge.” Reaching underneath the tree, he picked up the small square box wrapped in red and gold paper. Holding the gift, he stared down at it for a moment. He could never remember being nervous before
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in his life. However, at that moment he could feel himself trembling inside. Not because he had doubts about giving her the gift, but when he had bought this gift for her it had been a simple expression of what he believed she was capable of becoming. Now, after last night, he knew it was who she was and that person was who he wanted in his life, not a temporary arrangement, but permanently. She appeared happy at this moment, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to remain with him. Plunging ahead, he gazed at her and said, “Sweetling, the first time I saw you, I found myself captivated by a woman I could see had a submissive heart, but needed to learn. It was my arrogance that made me seek you out, challenge you and refuse to take no for an answer.” He took one of her hands, with his free hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Then you called my bluff, trusted me and shared your pain with me. A Dom could never ask for more.” “I would never have learned who I was and the wonder of serving without you,” she said. Shaking his head, Ridge confessed, “Whether that is true or not, sweetling. I’m the one who learned. As I watched you blossom into a swan I realized I was just as guilt of keeping people at a distance.” She frowned. “How?” “Just like you didn’t want a Dom, because you didn’t want to get close to anyone. It had been years since I’ve had my own submissive, because I was a spoiled, selfish bastard. But now I know what I’ve been missing, what I’ve been waiting for…” He handed her the box. “What?” she asked. But, he didn’t answer until she had unwrapped her gift. “Oh, my, Sir, it’s beautiful.” She held the black and clear Swarovski crystal anklet with a silver swan charm dangling from it, a single clear crystal in it eye. “Amazingly, I did find this for under twenty-five bucks.” Taking it from her, he unclasped it as she unfolded her legs and presented him with the right one. “When I bought this I thought it would represent how you have grown and thrived, but I’d truly like it to be a symbol that you belong to me. You’re what I’ve been waiting for you.” Her striking eyes filled with water and he feared that she would refuse him. It was her right, but he knew it would kill him to watch her walk away from him and submit to another. “What do you say?” Getting the other box from under the tree, she handed it to him. The shirt box was wrapped in thick midnight blue and silver paper. Laying the anklet across his thigh, he tore the paper away wondering why he had to open it before she would give him an answer. When he removed the lid and peeled the tissue paper back, he pulled the item out. He noticed that they were a new pair of lounge pants like the ones he always wore when he worked in the playroom. When he opened the black pants wide he saw the embroidery that she had to have gotten added, etched into the top right side directly below the waistband Master Steel. “When I got this it was because I wanted to show you my appreciation for all you did for me.” “And now?” he asked. “You’ve yet to answer my question.” “Yes. Yes. Yes, Sir.” She threw herself at him, hugging him. “I want to be yours and submit to your care, body and heart and trust you to protect me.” He gathered her in his arms and buried his face in her neck inhaling her lavender scent--she was his peace, his serenity. “You’re my Swan.” Leaning back she stared at him, curiosity causing her voice to elevate. “Swan?” Collecting the piece of jewelry, he latched it around her ankle. “I never thought Delilah fit you. Swan seems perfect.” “It is.” “So are you.” Raising the foot in his hand, he planted a kiss on her ankle above the anklet. “As long as I’m perfect for you that’s all I care about.”
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“Let me show you just how perfect you are.” Ridge tumbled her back onto the carpet, loving the sound of her laughter and seeing the joy in her eyes. He’d always thought his life was good, but now that he had a new sub to care for, his life had just taken a turn for the better.
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Epilogue Ridge stood on the platform at Strong Blends with his beautiful wife before him cuffed to a wooden frame. Forty-five minutes ago they had just left their late afternoon reception. Even now his wife’s wedding dress hung on a hook inside of a garment bag in the woman’s bathroom. His tuxedo jacket, shirt, tie and cummerbund where in a locker in the men’s room. Their wedding had included a few of his co-workers, and hers, and the people they were close to in the BDSM community in Charlotte and his family, who had met Monica three months after they had official moved in together. His sub had been a little hesitant at first about being a part of a big family, but all of the Nicholaus clan had a way of pulling people into their joyous unit, Monica had been no different. Over the last six months he’d frequently caught her on the phone laughing with his mother about the antics of the multiple grandchildren. Everyone who attended the wedding believed that once he and Monica had gotten into the limo they were headed to the airport. However, he and his wife had wanted to mark their union with a whipping then they would head out to the airport for their late flight to Tahiti. It was early evening. However, the club already had quite a few people. Ursus, Mustang and Butterfly were the only people from the wedding in attendance. Clenching the top of his ten-foot whip, he eyed his wife/sub. Her long hair was parted out of the way and hung over her breasts, concealing them as always. The toned muscles and build of her bare body enticed him as her anklet and diamond wedding band, a match of his, winked at him. He’d always believe that she had the body built for submission and over the last nine months he’d enjoyed using every inch of it in impact play. His sub still enjoyed an intense session every now and then, but she no longer needed it to suppress her emotions. “Are you ready, Swan?” he asked. “Yes, Master Steel, my husband,” she answered as she wiggled her round ass at him. If they didn’t have a long flight ahead of them, he’d make her pay for being sassy, but as it was he’d only planned to give her twelve hits, the exact number of letters it would take for him to spell out I love you, Swan. “What’s your safeword?” “Snow.” Once he heard her announcement, he grasped the handle tight and wielded the whip, a precise flick of his wrist that ensured the single-tail kissed her gently in the center of her left butt cheek. He watched her fist clench and heard her sigh. The sound of her pain/pleasure caused his cock to harden. He couldn’t wait for the wedding night. With his suitcase packed with a few toys they were bound to have one hell of a time. ~Happy Holidays~
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About the Author I’m just Yvette Hines. An erotica author who loves pleasurable hours between the sheets, whether it is a blended tale of interracial lovers, the clandestine bite and wicked passion of a paranormal lover or the sting of a commanding whip against tender flesh. Even better, make my day and toss in two gorgeously decadent men who only want to pleasure their woman. Oooh, yeah, now we’re talking. I write erotica because I love it. I’m a Scorpio, so I’m sensual by nature and that just makes me naughty. I’ve been penning erotic tales since 2007, on the hedonistic side of the romance genre. I’m married to my best friend. A guy who makes me laugh till I can’t breathe. A man who steals my breath every time he walks into a room. I enjoy long walks on the beach… Well, I do, but really I love meeting readers, going to conferences, writing with my fellow authors in a coffee shop, attending BDSM events and Christmas. What do I write? Short and Sexy, Sensual Erotica. Yup, that’s me, SASSE Yvette Hines. Email:
[email protected] Website Address: http://yvettehines.com Myspace Address: http://www.myspace.com/yvettehines Newsletter: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/sassesheets/ Facebook Address: Author Yvette Hines Toyshop: http://www.sextoyfun.com/index.php?a=SASSE-Yvettes-Eroticshop Other Titles by Yvette Santa’s Helper Speed Dating The Marriage Clause One Reckless Night Holiday Affair Take This Man Golden Treasure Ho, Ho, Ho and a Dom Bet on a Mistletoe Making the Man Lady Justice Trusting St. Nick Shot at Love Internet Rebound Holiday Fantasy Timberon Cat Series Apprehension Series Designed for Love (Reignited Anthology) We Go Together (Summer Lovin’ Anthology) The Club
