Undone Rebel

Book one in the Undone Lovers series.

When amateur fetish model and rockabilly princess Adelita “Addie” Sanchez is

asked to model for an instructional BDSM book, she turns the offer down—she’s not a
porn star. Then she meets the three male Dominants behind the project, including Lane
Therres, who convinces her the book is more art than porn, and she’ll be safe in his
hands.

The rules of the photo sessions are clear—there’s no sex, and Addie can call a halt to

anything she’s uncomfortable with. But self-reliant, strong-willed Addie doesn’t count
on liking what the powerful Doms do to her body with their ropes, chains and toys.
Enjoying Emory’s touch after falling for Lane, Addie turns away from both men, scared
of what they’re making her feel. She’s worried that a relationship built on a BDSM
contract can never be anything but whips and chains.

Lane will exchange Dom leather for shining armor to prove to his rockabilly

princess that even the most gallant knights sometimes prefer dungeons.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Undone Rebel

ISBN 9781419936050

Edited by Jillian Bell

Cover art by Darrell King

Photography: Jason Stitt/Shutterstock.com

Electronic book publication January 2012

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NDONE

EBEL

Lila Dubois

Undone Rebel

Chapter One

There was nothing Addie Sanchez couldn’t fix with needle and thread or WD-40.

For more complex problems, rebel-red lipstick was her second line of defense.

Addie slid needle through fabric with the care and precision the vintage satin-and-

lace evening gown deserved, squinting at her stitches as she sat on the floor, too

engrossed to adjust the lamp. The black-and-taupe dress hugged the mannequin’s form,

tight but tailored, unlike modern clothes that relied on elastic.

“Hola, chica.”
She tied off the thread, smoothed the fabric and stuck her needle with its dangling

taupe strand in the pincushion strapped to her wrist. Addie looked up from the

hemline. Her friend and boss, though neither woman ever used the second term, stood

in the door separating the back room from the retail floor of the shop.

“Pretty in pink.” Addie stood and examined her friend’s dress with its sweetheart

neck and full skirt. The dress was bubble-gum pink with white piping along the breasts

and half-cup pockets. Lulu had paired it with leopard-print peep-toes and a matching

leopard barrette in her flaming-red hair. “Those shoes are killer. They make the outfit.”

Lulu kicked up her heel to examine her foot. “They are cute, aren’t they? But the

best part of this outfit is the dress—it’s an Addie original.”

Addie smiled and slipped on the canvas-and-cork wedges she’d kicked off to sit on

the floor. “That pattern looks good on everyone, especially someone with perky titties

like yours.”

Lulu simpered and petted her cleavage. “They are pretty girls, aren’t they? And

what are you wearing? Is this new?”

“Finished the top last night, what do you think?”
Lulu twirled her finger and Addie cocked her hip and swung around so her friend

could see the modified halter top she’d designed. The studded faux leather straps

crossed in the back to show off her shoulders. Glossy black buttons ran down the front

and complemented the black-and-white Dia de los Muertos print. Today she was rocking

it with tight, high-waisted jeans cuffed wide at midcalf.

“It’s seriously cute, but then everything you make is. Got a name for it?”
“Maybe the Muertos Mary Top? I haven’t figured out if I can mass-produce it yet.

The hidden side zipper takes forever.”

“If you can I know it will sell in the shop.”
The front doorbell chimed. It was 10:00 a.m. on Saturday, early for any of L.A.’s

laid-back rockabilly crew, most of whom were probably still recovering from a night

Lila Dubois

spent dancing, cruising or partying. It was not, however, too early for the tourists who

made up half of the store’s business.

Lulu nodded toward her office, a tiny hole off the sewing and stock room where

Addie also repaired vintage clothes in need of TLC, and Addie headed into the store.

As expected, a trio of tourists—middle-American parents plus teenager—had come

in and were staring around in awe. Addie slipped behind the counter and let them look,

propping one elbow on the glass, ass in the air.

Lulu L’amore was situated on a posh strip of white-fronted stores on Melrose in

Hollywood. They had a designer men’s shoe store on one side, a dog café and

“barkery” on the other. Walking into Lulu’s was like walking from an ultramodern loft

into the Mexican barrio in 1940s L.A. The walls were concrete gray and spray-painted

with street-art-style depictions of pinup girls, flowers, palm trees and cars in bold

colors. The floor was wood, tossed with leopard- and zebra-print rugs, the display

tables built from shiny chrome car parts mounted with glass. Racks of dresses, skirts

and shirts lined three of the walls, though in the back there was a small selection of

guys’ items, most of which were shirts, hats and wallet chains.

Addie knew she was as much a part of the decoration as anything on the walls. The

teenage boy tourist’s eyes got wide when he caught sight of her. She shifted her weight

to her other foot, making sure her ass rocked in her tight pants as she did.

He broke away from his parents, making a beeline for the counter. Picking up a

cigarette holder studded with crystals in a cherry-bunch pattern, he pretended to look

at it while ogling her breasts.

“Welcome to Lulu’s,” Addie said. “You like it old school?”
“Old school? Oh yea, I’m totally old school. Like Tupac.”
Addie laughed. “Sugar baby, that’s not old school. I’m talking about rock when

that’s what rebels knew.” She lowered her voice to a husky whisper. “I’m talking about

Glen Glenn, Big Sandy and the Fly Right Boys. The kind of music that you can dance

to.” Addie put her finger on the cigarette case, which the boy had been nervously

twirling. “When there’s a little jive in the air, a man holds out his hand and,” Addie

took the cigarette case from him and, with the barest touch to his forefinger, turned his

hand palm up, “a girl puts hers in it and lets him take her away.”

Two hats, a wallet chain, three CDs and a feathered headband for mom later, the

tourists walked out happy and Addie slipped the four-hundred-dollar credit card

receipt into the drawer.

Lulu came out from the back carrying a stack of mail and the cordless phone for the

private number in her office.

“I sold a few hats to a little boy who thought Tupac was old school,” Addie told

Lulu as she straightened the countertop displays. When her friend didn’t react she

looked up, concerned.

Undone Rebel

Lulu was standing there with a wild grin on her face. Her cream skin made her blue

eyes sparkle, her upswept and curled hair picking up the sunlight that flooded through

the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the shop.

“What is it?”
“I got a call on the business line for you—about you.”
“About me? What for?” The business line, separate from the shop’s line, was

supposed to be for vendors only. Addie was a shop clerk and seamstress—there would

be no reason for anyone to call her on that number.

“It’s for a modeling job.” Lulu clutched the phone as if it were an Oscar statue and

squealed in delight.

Addie blinked, blinked again, then snatched the phone from Lulu, who had broken

into an impromptu one-person Charleston. She hit the voicemail button.

“Hello, my name is Helen Renwald from C&C Productions. I’m looking for Adelita

Sanchez. We ran across her photos and are interested in her for a project we are putting

together. Please have her give us a call at—”

Addie threw herself across the counter, scrambling for a piece of paper and pen.

With the phone sandwiched between her ear and shoulder, she scribbled the number.

Lying over the counter, she hit the voicemail button again to check it.

“If I were a straight man I’d find this appealing.”
Addie looked over her shoulder to see Pissarro, the owner of the designer shoe

store next door. Pissarro, who went by one name like Cher and whose real name was

probably John or Bob, was thin, stylish and just edgy enough to be interesting—all the

things a gay man in L.A. had to be if he wanted to play in the lively, glittery waters of

West Hollywood.

“Guess, guess! Someone called about a modeling job for Addie.”
“You didn’t give me time to guess.” Pissarro leaned against the counter next to

Addie’s hip and pinched her thigh. “Oh, to be a woman and be accepted with fat

thighs.”

“Fuck you.” Addie wiggled off the counter. “I’ve got the number. Should I call?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t you?” Lulu demanded.
Addie looked at Pissarro, who reached up to smooth her Betty Page bangs down,

then touched her cheek with the back of his tanned finger.

“Did they say what photos they saw? What type of shoot they want you for?” he

asked.

“No.” Addie looked at the scrap of paper she held, creasing it with her deep-indigo

nail.

“Oh. Well, shit.” Lulu slipped around behind the counter and pulled out an eight-

by-ten portfolio—Addie’s portfolio.

Lila Dubois

When Lulu had opened an online store and needed models for the clothes, Addie

had been a natural fit, not only because she looked the part, but because many of the

exclusive pieces Lulu was selling had been designed by Addie. Between the two of

them they’d modeled all the clothes in the store. A photographer friend had taken the

photos in exchange for a few custom pieces and a bit of cash. That same friend had later

asked Addie if she’d be interested in modeling lingerie for a store in San Diego.

When modeling the lingerie had turned into recreating some of Betty Page’s most

famous photos—the hairbrush spankings, mock bondage and even one with a bit in her

mouth—Addie hadn’t blinked. The sexy, powerful photos had shown that even in the

ultra-feminine lingerie she was still tough, and Addie liked that.

What she hadn’t counted on was the flood of invitations to do pornography that

had come her way once the lingerie store’s ad campaign, which included a few national

magazines, came out.

Lulu flipped through the portfolio, past pictures of Addie modeling clothes they

sold in the store to the lingerie photos.

“You think they’re calling about porn?” Lulu asked.
“They didn’t say, but that’s all anyone ever calls me about.”
“I thought you set up a website for you Rocka-whatever modeling.”
“Rockabilly,” Lulu said, glaring at Pissaro. “Don’t get pissy. You know we attract

most of the foot traffic on this block.”

“I did set up a website, and it has the clothes pics instead of the lingerie ones, but

still, it seems suspicious,” Addie said, but Lulu and Pissarro talked over her.

“My eyeballs scream when they come into this flea market. There are motor vehicle

parts inside.”

“Going in to your store is like visiting my gyno. Oh wait, my gyno is more

interesting.”

Ignoring their bitching, Addie looked at the first photo.
The first was black and white except for the pale-pink-and-silver corset and

matching panties Addie wore and the baby-blue nightie of the girl she was spanking.

The other girl, a blonde whose face was away from the camera, had her forearms braced

on the wall, legs spread. In the photo, Addie was holding up the hem of the nightie

with her left hand, the right holding the wood back of a hairbrush against the blonde’s

bare ass.

Addie herself was in heels, stockings and a garter belt, along with the corset and

panties, which were the products they were trying to sell. In the photo, Addie wasn’t

looking at the girl’s ass. Instead, she appeared to be talking, her lips, which looked as

dark as her wavy hair, inches from the blonde’s ear.

There was only one way to find out what they wanted. Addie walked away from

the bickering pair and dialed.

Undone Rebel

* * * * *

Helen flipped to the next picture. “Here’s another photo from this same series. I

want you to remember that this is all just for a lingerie store.”

Now the dark-haired retro beauty was posed against a black-and-white patterned

wall. She wore a see-through black lace teddy with a black bra and panties underneath.

Her legs were spread, arms down but held away from her sides. Wide black ribbon

bound each wrist and disappeared into the edge of the photo.

Lane sucked in a breath, captivated by the look of defiance on her face. The

woman’s chin was lowered, her hair mussed and tangled, destroying some of her retro-

pinup-girl style. One corner of her mouth was drawn up in a fuck-you half-smile. But

her eyes, looking at the camera through her lashes, were vulnerable.

“Look at the tension she has on the restraints,” Emory, seated beside Lane at the

conference table, said.

“Those aren’t restraints. They’re ribbons, props.” Across from the other men, as far

away as he could get himself, was Master Alton.

Lane kept his eye roll to himself and looked at Helen. “Any more photos?”
“Of course.”
All three men sat forward when the next image popped on screen.
In this color photo, she knelt on a bed, her caramel skin dark against the ivory

sheets. She wore a blood-red teddy with lacings up the sides and a matching red leather

collar. Her hands were bound and positioned in front of her crotch, squeezing her

breasts together. A shiny silver bit between her teeth forced back red lips and showed

off pert white teeth.

“She’s gorgeous. She’s perfect,” Lane said.
“That’s what we think,” Helen replied. A plump woman in her mid-fifties, she

didn’t look as though she was the president of an erotic media empire, but she was. Her

latest project was an introduction to BDSM coffee-table book, complete with high-

quality erotic photos. Lane, Emory and Alton, all Doms from L.A.’s various BDSM

scenes and cultures, had been recruited to write the text of the book, each man offering

his unique perspective.

The writing was done, and now came the good part—generating the pictures to go

with all that text. Helen didn’t want a professional sub or an adult-entertainment

professional. The book would be marketed toward couples looking to spice up their sex

lives and people in the scene who wanted to watch a new sub’s introduction to the

culture through photos. There had been talk of creating a video, but that really was

porn and Lane, for one, would have opted out.

“Well, gentlemen, what do you think?”
“I say yes,” Lane answered immediately.
“Yes,” Emory added.

Lila Dubois

“Any woman can be trained to some degree. She’ll probably do fine,” Alton, who

insisted on being called Master Alton, said grudgingly.

“Delightful.” Helen looked relieved at having finally found someone all three of

them could agree on. She straightened the scarf draped over one shoulder. “Now all I

need to do is convince her. She’s stopping by in,” Helen checked her watch, “fifteen

minutes.”

“Does she know what the project is about?” Lane asked. He stood but didn’t leave

the conference room with the other Doms. The woman in the image fired his

imagination. The mix of defiance and grudging submission in a beautiful woman was

like waving a red flag in front of a bull for him.

“No, all we told her was that we were interested in having her model. I think it will

be easier if I can show her other books. We lost several promising candidates after I

failed to successfully explain what the project was.”

Lane could understand the women’s hesitation. He’d hesitated himself when he

was approached with the project. For him, BDSM was something he craved in the

bedroom, but he was far from rabid the way men like Alton were. He had a normal life,

a normal job, and wasn’t sure he wanted to risk that all for a porn book. It wasn’t until

he met with Helen and saw a prior book—one focused on foot fetishes—that he

understood that C&C’s projects really were informational and artistic more than porn.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t looking forward to introducing a beautiful woman to

the world of BDSM—he was, especially if it was the dark-haired Latina in the pictures.

Carrying her portfolio, dressed in her best retro suit complete with real stockings,

Addie entered the nondescript office building in North Hollywood. While it seemed

nice enough, with discreet name plaques beside doors, a security desk and potted

palms in the lobby, it was in the north part of North Hollywood. It wasn’t far from here

to Van Nuys, the porn capital of the world. The proximity was reawakening Addie’s

fears as to what exactly this modeling job was for.

Addie spotted a bathroom and stopped to check her appearance one last time.

She’d done her hair up in big rolls with Lulu’s help that morning so she looked both

professional and retro. While keeping her trademark red lipstick, she’d toned down the

cat-eye eyeliner, which made her brown eyes appear rounder and softer.

She checked the placement of the wide belt and then the cute little flares at the back

of her jacket to make sure they hadn’t creased in the car. With five minutes to her

meeting time, she struck a few test poses.

“You can do this, Addie.” She put her hand on her hip, tipped her chin and smiled.

“If it’s porn just walk out and all it cost you was gas.” Flipping to the other side, she put

her fingertips on her shoulders and thrust her chest out in a pose she’d seen in an old

pinup calendar.

Confident in her appearance if nothing else, Addie left the bathroom and headed

for Suite 1430, which said “C&C Productions” on the plaque beside the door.

Undone Rebel

She knocked softly, then opened the door. A small waiting room with six chairs was

just inside. Behind a reception desk, a hallway stretched to the left and right. A bell

chimed when she walked in, and Addie wasn’t surprised to see someone appear from

the left hallway seconds later.

The woman was heavyset and well dressed with a sharp haircut. If wouldn’t take

much for her to look frumpy, but she looked anything but, with her hand-painted silk

scarf and raw-silk suit jacket. Butterflies fluttered to life in Addie’s belly—it didn’t seem

likely that this woman was recruiting girls for porn, so maybe this was her chance at

another big modeling job. As much as Addie loved Lulu’s, the money she made there

was usually only enough to help her get by, not get ahead, and modeling income would

really help.

“Adelita?”
“Please, call me Addie.”
“I’m Helen, thank you for coming in.” Helen held out her hand and they shook. “If

you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to my office.”

Behind the reception desk, right turn, down the hall and then another right into a

well-appointed office. Addie perched on the edge of her chair with her portfolio on her

lap, her small, hard-sided cherry clutch on top of that.

“Addie, let me first start by once again thanking you for coming in.”
“I was excited to receive your phone call.”
“That’s good to hear. The second thing I want you to know is that the other models

involved in this project, who are also the writers, have agreed that you’re our missing

piece.”

“I’m flattered, but I have to ask…writers?” Addie hoped she wouldn’t be expected

to write anything. She hated writing.

Helen smiled. “Caught that, did you? If you do this, you’ll give those three a run for

their money.” Helen stood and pulled a large book off the shelves to the left of her desk.

She brought it back and placed it facedown on her blotter.

“What my company wants to produce is a book that is not only informative—hence

the writing—but beautiful. It’s not an instructional book, or a guide for morons, it’s an

art piece, maybe some would even call it a coffee-table book. It’s going to tell a story in

both pictures and words about a world most people would never dare to be a part of.”

The fluttering in Addie’s stomach had morphed from excitement back to vague

dread.

“And what is the subject of your book?” Addie asked slowly.
Their gazes met, held. “It’s BDSM.”
Addie’s breath released in a little rush and she looked own at her fingers, which

were gripping her clutch bag so tightly the individual rhinestones were making

impressions in the pads of her fingers.

“Do you know what that is?”

Lila Dubois

“Yes, it’s sex—porn—bondage, domination, uh, something else.”
“BDSM stands for bondage, domination, sadism and masochism.”
“Sadism?” Addie stood. She was trembling slightly, though she wasn’t sure if it was

from the shock of hearing the seemingly innocuous Helen talk about sadism or raw

anger that this was, as she expected, about porn. “Thank you very much for your time.

I’m sorry, but I’m not the right person for your shoot. The photos you saw that made

you call me were about lingerie. I’m not really into those things in the pictures. I’m

certainly not into sadism.”

Addie turned on her heel and left Helen’s office. If she’d looked back, she might

have seen Lane lurking just down the hall. If she’d waited in the lobby, she might have

overheard the conversation between Lane and Helen.

“How much of that did you hear?” Helen asked.
“Most of it,” Lane said. “She didn’t reject BDSM altogether. She just was frightened

by the sadism.”

“Who isn’t until they see it done right?” Helen shook her head. “I didn’t get to

show her the book. She called the project porn, and if that’s how she thinks of it there’s

no getting her on board now.”

“I don’t know.” Lane took the fetish book from Helen. “I’m going to talk to her.

Don’t start looking for a different girl until I call you.”

“She has to be willing, Lane.”
Lane snorted. “I’m not Alton. I won’t scare her off. I just want to explain it to her,

give her a chance to ask me some questions maybe.”

“Nothing related to BDSM itself—save that until there’s a camera around to capture

her reactions.”

“Fine, no specifics, but I am going to ask her what she thinks it is. Did you catch

that she said she wasn’t ‘really into those things’? That’s not a flat-out denial.”

“When you talk to her, make sure you explain that she’d be signing up for physical

contact and some pain, but that there’s no sex, no intimacy. And show her how much

we’d pay her.” Helen disappeared into her office and grabbed the modeling contract.

“Thanks.” Lane tapped the papers thoughtfully against his leg as a slow smile

stretched across his mouth. “I’m going to get the girl.”

Addie hung her jacket on its padded hanger before slipping off the matching skirt.

She carefully folded squares of tissue over the edges before clipping it to a hanger and

putting skirt and jacket in her overflowing closet.

Wearing her bra, panties, garter and stockings, she slipped on a white silk robe

painted with a stylized pinup doll on the back, a gift from an old boyfriend, and headed

into the living room.

Addie’s apartment was a chaotic mix of fabric and knickknacks. She’d given up on

a couch in order to make room for a craft table and sewing machines against the one

Undone Rebel

wall with a window, so she dropped into the extra-large chair positioned in front of her

TV. Lulu had given her the whole day off to meet with the modeling-job people.

“Modeling, my ass.” Addie picked up a vintage top from the basket beside her

chair and thumbed open the little bottle of beads she’d found to match the beading on

the shoulders. She’d cleaned and repaired the top, now all that was left was repairing

the beadwork. When it was done she’d sell it. She could use the money…plus it was too

small for her.

She was only ten beads in when there was a knock on the door. Figuring it was her

neighbor, Mrs. Gardener, who liked to keep track of Addie since Mrs. Gardener’s own

twenty-something grandkids were too far away for the old sweetheart to pester, Addie

didn’t bother to get dressed.

She opened the door, but it wasn’t Mrs. Gardener on the other side.
A six-foot blond in a black leather jacket was leaning against the wall just outside

her door.

Addie put her hand on the door, pulled it closed a little, prepared to shut it in his

face if the situation went south.

“Can I help you?”
“Adelita?”
“Depends who’s asking. What do you want?”
He pushed away from the wall and stood in the doorway, invading her space. “I

want to have a conversation with a pretty woman.”

“And I,” Addie put her finger in the center of his chest and pushed, “don’t trust

pretty boys.”

Addie closed the door, but the man slid his foot between the door and the jamb.

Addie jumped back, prepared to run for a phone and call 9-1-1 if he made a move she

didn’t like.

He pushed the door open again and held up one hand. “I’m not coming in, I just

thought you might like it if I didn’t say what I have to say through the door.”

Addie cocked her hip, felt the robe slide open a bit. “And what is it you have to

say?”

The blond’s gaze had dropped to her breasts and the lacy bra that was peeking out

from the widening slit in her robe.

“I’m working with C&C Productions.” He leaned against the doorjamb. A few locks

of hair fell across his forehead as he tipped his head down and smiled at her. He was

handsome, if a little too clean-cut for her taste. She liked her men to be tattooed retro

gentlemen who could refurbish a car as well as they danced. This guy was frat-boy

handsome all grown up and sexy, though if he was a porn star it was a clean-cut veneer

over skanky man-whore interior.

“Oh.” Addie pulled her robe closed. “I already told the lady I wasn’t interested.”
“I’m one of the other models. I thought we could talk about it.”

Lila Dubois

“Listen, porn star, I’m not interested.
“I’m not a porn star. I’m a systems engineer.”
“You’re what?”
“A computer geek. It’s true. Here.” He fished his wallet from his back pocket and

pulled out a business card.

Addie took a tentative step closer and accepted the card.

Lane Therres
Systems Development
AIFO Consulting

“This is really you?” She held the card up. “Lane.”
“Yep. Lane Therres. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You’re a geek consultant.” Addie was still examining the card. Everything felt out

of sync, as if she were dancing a half beat off the music. The blond—Lane—was a piece

that didn’t fit with the day’s admittedly strange happenings.

He laughed lightly. “That sums it up. Maybe I should have that on the cards.”
“If this is really you, what are you doing modeling for porn? I think your geek boss

will be upset.”

“I rarely interface with clients, I build systems on the back end. Plus, it’s not porn.

It’s art.”

“And there’s a stack of ‘art’ pictures guys conned women into taking that end up as

internet porn.”

“Can I show you something?”
“If you whip out your dick, I’m calling the cops.”
“No dick.” He looked over his shoulder. “I think.”
Addie lunged for her phone. “That’s it, alpha delta porno, I’m calling the cops.”
“Alpha what? There’s no need to call the cops.”
“The catchphrase of psycho porn stars everywhere, I’m sure. Deja.”
“Deja.” He rolled the word nicely. “That means ‘leave’, doesn’t it?”
“Very good. Buh-bye then.”
Lane ducked out of the doorway for a second and reappeared holding a book. “This

is all I want to show you.” It looked like the same book Helen had tried to show her.

“Strangely, you haven’t left.”
“Weird, isn’t it? Can I come in?” He didn’t wait for her answer but stepped in,

closing the door behind him. He made her happily cluttered apartment seem small.

Undone Rebel

Addie picked up a stone calavera—skull—decorated for Dia de los Muertos from the

shelf at her shoulder. It easily weighed five pounds. “Do you regularly force your way

into women’s apartments?”

“This is a first, actually.”
“I feel so special. It’s going to be even more special when I bash your head in.”
“With a sparkly skull? There’s some irony in there.”
Addie narrowed her eyes. “You’re making it hard to hate you.”
“I was socially inept until college, so thank you, it’s good to know the years of hard

work learning to talk to women have paid off.”

“I’m still going to hit you. I’ll try to avoid your pretty-boy face.”
“The fact that I’m holding a conversation with a woman whose robe has come

undone is even more amazing.”

Shit. Addie looked down and Lane jumped across the room, snatching the skull

from her. Her robe was still in place, though it had slipped to one side, exposing her left

breast in its leopard-and-cream lace bra. She pulled it in place and sighed. Lane was

tossing the skull in the air and grinning.

“You’re in. I’m unarmed. What do you want?”
“Just to talk, and to show you this.” He held up the book.
“Fine, we’ll talk. Put down my skull.”
He set the jeweled piece on a table behind him. He looked around her living room,

having the raised brow reaction most people did when they saw she had more sewing

supplies than furniture.

“Have a seat,” Addie said. She curled into her armchair, tucking her robe securely

under her legs so it wouldn’t slip, and motioned to the matching ottoman.

Lane sat then jumped up. “Fuck!” He picked up the beaded top she’d been working

on. The needle was sticking up out of the fabric and had, predictably, found its way into

his ass.

Addie’s lips twitched. “Pain in your ass?”
“Funny.” He set the sewing aside and swept his hand across the ottoman before

sitting. “Maybe we should start over.” He held out his hand. “I’m Lane Therres.”

“Addie Sanchez.” His handshake was firm and very warm.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Addie. I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“You mean fucking me, and it’s not going to happen. I’m not going to be part of

your little porn.”

“I wouldn’t do porn either. I’m a normal guy. Well, sort of. The project Helen wants

you for isn’t porn.”

“Then what is it?” Addie asked, exasperated.

Lila Dubois

“It’s probably easier to show you.” He held out the book. “This is the last project

C&C did. It’s an informational book of sorts. It’s got stories, explanations and most

importantly, photos.”

Addie flipped open the book.
Foot Fetish—The Sole of Devotion.
“This is a book about foot fetishes?”
“Yes. Don’t freak out, just turn the page.”
She raised a brow. “Do I look like the kind of woman who freaks out?”
“Fair point.”
Addie flipped the glossy page and skimmed the first few lines of text. It talked

about the history of foot fetishism, the beauty of the fetish, the variations that were

possible. “This makes it sound like the only way to show someone you love them is to,”

she skimmed the page, “lick their shoes.”

“That’s how some people feel.”
She skipped the next pages of text, stopping when she got to the first photo. It was a

full-page black-and-white image of a woman’s calf and foot. A glossy, black high heel

dangled from her toes.

The next image was the same woman’s foot, but now a man was kissing it. In the

next photo he licked the side of the shoe. Another flip and the man was licking the sole

of her bare foot.

The images were beautiful, well lit and composed, yet clearly sexual.
It wasn’t porn.
“This is all it is, pictures of men licking chicks’ feet?”
“Well, no, it gets more explicit than that.”
Lane reached over to flip the pages, his fingers brushing hers as he did. They both

looked up, gazes holding for a moment. His eyes were blue, and more intense than his

laid-back manner would have suggested.

Addie looked away first.
Sliding his thumb between the thick pages, he opened it near the back. The toe of a

woman’s glossy purple boot was balanced on the tensed swell of a man’s ass. The

spiked heel of the boot pressed into his balls.

“Oh.”
“Exactly.”
“Men like this?” Addie knew a little about foot fetish from pop culture, but this was

something entirely different.

“Some do.”
“Do you?”
“No, not my thing.”

Undone Rebel

“And BDSM is?” She couldn’t imagine this easygoing guy as some sort of sexual

dominant.

“Yes.”
“Sadism? Is this sadism?” She pointed to the about-to-be-impaled balls.
“Some would say it was. In this case it’s all part of the foot fetish.”
Addie slapped the book closed, shoved it into Lane’s lap and stood. “That’s fine

and I hope he’s happy living with one cojone, but I don’t know anything about this

freaky sex stuff.”

“Nothing?” Lane raised one eyebrow and half smiled. “No one knows nothing

about it.”

“Letting a boyfriend tie me up isn’t the same as that. And I’m not into sadism.”
“You just admitted you don’t even know what it means.”
“Exactly. You all saw those pictures and thought I was some little thing who liked

getting told what to do.” Addie put her hand on her hip and met Lane’s gaze. This time

she refused to look away. “I’m no submissive.”

Lane set the book down in the chair she’d vacated. “Can we back up a second?

First, will you agree that this isn’t porn?”

“Fine. It’s not porn. The photographs are beautiful.”
“Good. Would you like to know why Helen called you, when she knew—she did

check—that you weren’t active in the BDSM scene?”

“Yes, I would.”
Lane stretched out one leg, propped an elbow on the other. “The BDSM project is

going to follow one woman, beautiful and sexy of course, as she’s introduced to BDSM

and all its variations and ways to play.

“Helen called you because you aren’t a professional and because you don’t know

much about it. The photographer will capture your reactions as you’re introduced to

each new experience.”

What he was describing sounded strangely beautiful. It was a trap.
“But those photos would be of me having sex with a bunch of guys, I’m not—”
“No.” He raised his hand. “There would be no sex. No kissing. Physical contact,

definitely, and you would have to be naked and be touched sexually by the men, by

me.”

He held her gaze, letting that sink in. Addie looked at his hands. There were nice

hands, with neatly trimmed nails. She couldn’t believe she was actually considering

this…but she was.

“Physical contact…leaves you a lot of options. In my world, men respect and

treasure women, they don’t beat them up.”

Lila Dubois

“You wouldn’t be beat up here either. Spanked?” Lane looked her up and

down…slowly. The teasing, playful man who’d barged in was disappearing with each

breath. He was shedding the sheep’s clothing to reveal the wolf. “Possibly.”

“But that would hurt. Why would I agree to it?”
“You don’t seem like the kind of woman who’s afraid of a little pain, or who

doesn’t know how to see the beauty and pleasure in things other people find strange.”

He was right. She didn’t have to admit it though. “You know me now?”
“No.” Lane was off the ottoman and stalking toward her so fast Addie didn’t have

time to think about her reaction. She backed up, fight-or-flight responses engaged. Her

back hit the wall a split second before he was on her, looming over her.

He pinched the fabric of her robe between index finger and thumb and pulled it off

one shoulder. The silk slithered down, catching on the tie around her waist. Addie

gasped, the inhale causing her breasts to brush his chest. Addie, who prided herself on

always being in control of herself, had no control as Lane caged her with his body, his

presence.

Tracing the back of his hand down her bare arm, over the pool of fabric at her

elbow, he circled her wrist in his hand.

Inch by inch he lifted her arm, drawing it above her head and pressing the back of

her wrist against the wall. He studied her for a moment, eyes darkening.

“I don’t know you, Addie Sanchez.” He dipped his head, lips millimeters from the

corner of her mouth. “But I’d like to.”

And then he was gone.
Addie was ready for the kiss, waiting for it. When Lane backed away she could

only stare at him, stupefied. He wasn’t going to kiss her?

“The contract is in the back of the book. Goodbye, for now.”
With that, he let himself out of her apartment and was gone.

Undone Rebel

Chapter Two

For the hundredth time that hour, Addie considered turning back. The point of no

return had actually passed several days ago when she finished negotiating and then

signed the contract, but she’d told herself that she could walk out at any time.

Lulu had, surprisingly, thought this was a great idea. Addie had taken in the foot

fetish book and the contract and told her friend everything. After a moment of silence,

Lulu had said that if Addie wasn’t completely comfortable with it she shouldn’t do it,

but that Lulu didn’t think it was porn, and that it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

She’d called it a visitor’s pass to kinky-sex-land.

Hearing Lulu’s relaxed acceptance calmed Addie’s nerves. If the only question was

did Addie want to do this, then the answer was yes—it was frightening, edgy, different,

sexy.

All things Addie liked to think she herself was.
Her biggest concern had been what other people would think. The contract said

they could keep her real name out of it. The likelihood that anyone she knew would

ever pick up the book and recognize her was slim, so she wasn’t worried there.

It was Pissarro who had identified one of the other issues Addie hadn’t thought

about since she brought it up to Lane.

“You, as a submissive? If you were a lezzie you’d be the top, Adelita.”
“Probably,” Addie admitted, sitting on a bench in Pissarro’s store.
“So is it going to be fake, like NASCAR?”
“NASCAR is real, wrestling’s fake. And this will be real too.”
“I can’t keep track of straight-people things, you know that. But back to the

important point—they’re going to teach you to be a bottom?”

“A submissive, yes.”
“Oh, this is not going to work. Didn’t they meet you?”
“They did.” Addie didn’t tell Pissarro about the way she’d frozen under Lane’s

hands as he towered over her.

That was over a week ago. Now the contracts were signed, plans laid out, and

today was her first day on set.

Everything was happening on a sound stage in North Hollywood, not far from the

office building where she’d met with Helen. Addie pulled her restored and tricked-out

chrome-and-purple 1979 El Camino into the narrow parking lot at the back of the

building and parked it between a 7-Series BMW and an M-Class Mercedes.

Lila Dubois

“Maybe it pays to be kinky.” Addie tipped the rearview mirror to check her bangs,

making sure they were perfectly in place. “Or, you have to be rich to play.”

Sliding out of the car, she tip-tapped across the parking lot in her T-strap heels. One

of the things she’d negotiated for was to be in charge of her own wardrobe. They’d cite

Lulu’s store in the book. Hopefully that would drive traffic to the store and more people

would buy the clothes Addie designed and sewed. It increased the possibility Addie

would get recognized, but after seeing the foot fetish book and realizing how focused

the photos were, it seemed unlikely.

A plain metal door in the back wall had a piece of paper with “C&C” taped to it.

Addie rang the bell beside the door and waited.

Lane sat forward as the bell in the makeshift office rang. Emory, seated to his left,

finished tapping out an email on his phone before slipping it into the laptop bag on the

floor beside his chair. The thirty-something Dom wore a dove-gray business suit that set

off his light-brown skin. Alton was standing in the corner near the panel that controlled

the lighting, staring out the window that overlooked the floor of the soundstage. He

was roped in muscle, not an ounce of fat on his arms, which were displayed by the

sleeveless black leather vest he wore.

“I’ll get her.” SJ stood, the chair she’d been sitting in barely shifting under her slight

weight.

SJ Kim was their photographer. At barely five-foot, the Asian-American woman

was slight but not fragile. In the fetish and BDSM communities, she was considered a

world-class artist, known for both photography and painting. Lane planned to have at

least one of the photos taken during the project signed and framed.

“Are you looking forward to this?” Emory asked him. He’d steepled his fingers,

resting his chin against his thumbs.

Lane snorted. “Who wouldn’t be? Addie’s gorgeous.”
“Breaking a new slave can be a chore,” Alton said from the corner.
Lane hid his fist under the table. “She’s not a slave, she may not even be a true

submissive. She’s just here to be introduced to the lifestyle.”

“What the two of you do is hardly the lifestyle.”
Lane was half out of his chair when Emory put a hand on his arm and murmured,

“Leave it. She’ll be here soon. Listen.”

Settling back in his chair, Lane’s heartbeat slowly returned to normal. Now that he

wasn’t focused on beating the crap out of Alton, Lane could hear footsteps on the metal

stairs that led to the office, which was perched midway up one side of the large

soundstage.

He smoothed his expression into a smile as the door opened.

Undone Rebel

SJ was speaking quietly to Addie as she held the door open for the other woman.

Their distraction gave the men a moment to look Addie over before she turned her

attention to them.

Decked out in a skirt that hugged her body from high on her waist to her knee and

a buttoned white shirt with a little collar, she was a far cry from the loosely dressed

submissives Lane was used to. Her hair was a fall of even, glossy black waves, her

bangs a perfect curve across her forehead, her lips fire-engine red.

“Perfection,” Emory whispered, rubbing his fingers across his lips.
She was. Nothing about her appearance was overtly sexual but she was undeniably

sexy. She seemed supremely confident, but Lane saw the tremble in her fingers as she

put her hand on her hip, watched her tongue dart over her lips as she licked them

nervously.

When SJ motioned toward them and Addie’s attention switched from the

photographer to him, Lane rose. Emory did the same, and Alton stepped out of the

corner.

“Addie, it’s nice to see you again,” he said.
“Again?” Emory whispered under his breath.
“Thank you.” Her chin notched up, challenge radiating off every line of her body. “I

know you,” she pointed at Lane with a red-nailed finger, “but not you two.”

“I’m Emory Setter, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Her hand slid into Emory’s, their skin nearly the same color. Lane bit back an

unexpected flare of possessiveness and jealousy.

“Master Alton.” Alton nodded, but didn’t offer his hand.
“Master Alton?”
“That’s the proper way for a slave to address a Master.”
“Slave?” Addie’s hand slipped from her hip. She looked to Lane. He could see the

worry, and maybe a hint of fear, in her eyes. “I’m not sure about this.”

“Maybe we’d better talk about what each of us…specializes in.”
“Oh, so now you have sex superpowers?” Addie swept her gaze over them,

crossing her arms in front of her breasts. She pulled up her shields, the hint of fear gone.

“More areas of specialty,” Emory corrected smoothly, though one side of his mouth

kicked up.

“BDSM should be a lifestyle, though some choose to,” Alton looked at Lane, his lip

curled up, “dabble.”

“Gentlemen.” SJ’s quiet voice cut through the rising tension, capturing everyone’s

attention. “Let us sit. Then talk. Please.”

Lane jumped forward to hold out a chair for Addie, who sank gracefully into it,

crossing her ankles and tucking them under the chair.

Lila Dubois

“Adelita, the men represent different subcultures of an already hidden world.” SJ

spoke softly, her words painting an elegant, dark picture. “Each of them sees BDSM in a

different way, can make it beautiful in a different way.”

“Call me Addie. So I’ll take turns with them?” She bit her lower lip and looked

away. “This sounds so…”

“Hot?” Lane asked.
Addie looked up, their gazes met. She didn’t answer.
“Yes, you will have time with each of them. There are specific things considered

emblematic of the culture, which must be a part of the play. Beyond that, the gentlemen

will be responding to you.”

“Why?”
“Because,” Emory cut in before Lane could answer, “above all what a good Dom—

that’s short for Dominant—wants is to bring both himself and the submissive he’s with

to the absolute height of pleasure. Through BDSM you’ll find physical and emotional

pleasures so intense they border on pain.”

Addie licked her lower lip, breathing deep. “So when I’m with you, I’ll be—”
“Orgasming. Yes.”
“Oh.” She looked at her hands for a moment. “You mentioned specialties?”
“You’ll be mine first,” Lane said. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his

knees. “I’m the least…formal. I introduce you to the terms, the toys and light bondage.

For me, BDSM is something that stays in the bedroom, maybe in a club playroom, but

it’s about control in order to obtain the most pleasure for both of us.” Lane kept and

held her gaze as he spoke, lines of intensity whipping between them like electricity.

“You’ll come to me next.” Emory tapped his fingers on his knee. “I enjoy the

formality of a well-planned scene.”

“A scene?” Addie finally looked away from him to Emory. “I don’t understand.”
“The slave girl at auction is a classic, and one I always enjoy. The naughty

schoolgirl is another.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Ohhh.”
“When you’re done playing,” Alton sneered the word, rising from his chair to circle

around Addie, looming over her, “I’ll teach you what D/s really means.”

She took a deep breath, then asked, “How?”
Lane had to admire her courage. He wasn’t sure if, in her position, he’d have said

anything.

“When you’re with me, you’ll learn the freedom that comes from being entirely

under my control. Your pleasure, and your pain, will be mine.”

“That certainly sounds… interesting.” She scooted her chair back half a foot, forcing

Alton to stop circling, and crossed her legs. “I’m sure that will be an experience.”

Well played, gorgeous.

Undone Rebel

There was a muffled chuckle to Lane’s right. He looked over to see Emory pressing

his fist over his mouth.

“And will each of you be there the whole time?” Addie asked.
“Do you mean will we be watching each other’s sessions? Maybe, that depends on

what you’d prefer,” Lane answered.

She paused for a moment, examining each of them. “I’d like to keep the voyeurs to

a minimum.”

“Okay, then.” Lane didn’t think she realized that she hadn’t actually flat out told

them they couldn’t watch. One of the first things she was going to have to learn was

that specificity was key in this world.

“When do we start?” she asked, looking around the room.
Lane stood. “Now.”

Addie stood on the edge of a beautiful bedroom. A massive four-poster bed sat on a

platform on one side. There was a seating area in front of a gas fireplace and even a

small dining table set with a sturdy rectangular table. It looked like a million-dollar-a-

night suite in a swanky hotel—except it had only three walls and no roof.

“Welcome to my play place. What do you think?” Lane put his hand on her back.
When he applied pressure, Addie took a step up from the concrete floor of the

warehouse-like sound stage to the hardwood floor of the fake room.

“It’s nice, big.”
“We’ll need the space, to move around in.”
“It’s…PG.”
“Were you expecting whips and chain on the walls?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll have to wait for Alton’s space for that.”
“Oh.”
“You’ve said that a lot today. Do you need to take a step back?”
“No, I can handle this.”
“You’re going to enjoy this. You shouldn’t seem so grim.”
“I’m not grim.” Addie took a step away, Lane’s hand falling from her back. She

watched the photographer silently assemble and check several large cameras. “You’re

not videoing anything, right?”

“Still photography only,” SJ said. She held up a camera, snapped a photo of Addie’s

legs. She flipped the camera around, showed Addie the resulting image. The hem of her

skirt was barely visible at the top of the image, the swell of her calves the focus of the

image. The seam at the back of her stockings was just visible on her right leg.

Lila Dubois

“Gorgeous,” Lane said, his hand once more on the small of her back. “Are you

ready to start?”

“Do we need to take test shots or anything?” Addie asked. Her stomach was full of

butterflies, her fingers tingling. Though the dark sound stage and warm lighting in the

mock bedroom made it seem as if it was the middle of the night, she couldn’t stop

thinking about the fact that it was noon. Noon on a Tuesday seemed like a strange time

to start something as dark and kinky as a BDSM photo shoot.

“Nervous? Ready to back out?” Lane raised a brow.
“I’m not backing out.”
“It’s okay to be nervous.” Lane slid his hand along her neck, under her hair, his

thumb pressing behind her ear.

“I can handle anything.”
“This isn’t a battle.”
“Sex is always a battle.”
Lane leaned in, blew across her neck. A shiver racked her upper body. Her

discomfort with the fact that it was noon, that there was a woman with a camera only

two feet away, disappeared.

Lane had morphed from an easygoing guy into a wolf.
Addie put her hands on his chest, pushing him away, wanting space to breathe, to

think, to gain some composure and control. He caught both wrists in his free hand and

forced them down. Her hands were between their crotches and she could feel his

erection through his jeans.

“Why don’t we start with the basics?” Lane leaned away just enough to look into

her eyes. “The first of which is, once you walk into the bedroom, you’re mine. I touch

you when I want, how I want. You don’t push me away.”

“What about a…safe word?”
“You know more about BDSM than you admitted.”
“I did some research.”
“Smart and gorgeous. My favorite flavor. There’s not just a safe word, but a series

of safe words. Just like a traffic light the words are green, yellow and red.”

“Green means go?”
“Or ‘oh yes, please, Lane, I want more’.”
Addie giggled, she couldn’t help it. The laugh dispelled some of her tension, and

Lane let go of her hands. Had he been holding on to her because she was edgy? Would

he always let go if she relaxed?

“I thought you said this wasn’t porn?” she teased.
“It’s not, but you’ll be saying something like that.”
“Confident, aren’t we? So you’re sure that every time you ask I’ll say ‘green’?”

Undone Rebel

“I’ll only do safe word checks if I sense something is wrong. It’s up to you to use

your safe words if you’re uncomfortable or scared. Yellow means pause and reassess.

Red means full stop.”

“You’re trying to tell me that you’ll be able to sense when something’s wrong with

me?”

“Yes.” Lane cupped her elbow and led her to the seating area. He guided her to a

padded armchair.

“Men can’t do that.”
“A good lover should be able to tell when something’s not right in sex, and a Dom

must be able to. Failure to understand a submissive’s reactions to what’s happening,

sometimes better than she understands it herself, is unacceptable.”

“So a Dom is really the ultimate lover.”
“I like to think so.”
“And what about you? What do you get out of it? I mean, don’t you want to have

casual sex some of the time?”

“Of course. I date normally, and I have normal, vanilla sex with those women.”
“And you…hire professional submissives when you want to do this?” Addie

motioned around the faux bedroom.

“If you mean hookers, then no. I meet women who are also into BDSM through

clubs, chat rooms, forums. The relationships I have with them are sexual. I maybe take

them out to dinner to get to know them, but I’m not dating them.”

“There’s never any crossover?”
Lane went to a bar cart, cracked open a bottle of fizzy water and poured two glasses

“You mentioned a boyfriend tying you up. Did you think he was a Dom, part of the

BDSM world?”

“No, it was just a bedroom game.” She accepted the glass he handed her.
“That’s what I do with the women I date, if they seem willing. I’ll take them into the

shallow end of the pool, but I never seek out women to date with the intention of

making them submissives.”

“So you have women you date, and women you fuck. What are you going to do

when you fall in love and can’t have both anymore?”

“Love? That seems a little hearts and flowers for you, doesn’t it?”
Strangely, that comment centered Addie. The oh so confident Lane didn’t know her

as well as he thought he did. For Addie, love conquered all. Romance was the heart and

soul of L.A.’s laid-back rockabilly scene—it was what had first drawn her to the

subculture. Lane said he knew sex, but Addie knew love. “Maybe, but you didn’t

answer.”

“I’m only thirty-four, I have time to find the right one.”
The right one for what?

Lila Dubois

Addie took a sip, letting the bubbles fill her mouth. Lane had taken a seat on the

couch. He wore dark-wash jeans and a white button-down, open at the throat. The

leather jacket he’d been wearing when she first walked in was missing now, but the

scent of leather lingered around him.

“Stand up.”
Lost in her perusal of him, it took Addie a minute to process what he’d said, to

understand the shift in tension.

“Are we starting?”
“Yes. You’re free to speak whenever you want, but should be aware that most

Doms have a strict speak-when-spoken-to policy. Stand.” This time the word was

harder, harsher.

Addie set her glass on the table at her elbow with trembling fingers and rose. She

bit back every sassy comment that sprang to mind. Lane’s eyes were intense, dark.

Taunting him seemed…unwise.

“Unbutton your shirt.”
Addie put her fingers to the first button, took a breath, and slid it free. Lane leaned

forward, watching each movement with intense eyes. When she had the buttons

undone to the high waist of her pencil skirt, she stopped.

“Open your shirt, tuck it to the sides so I can see your breasts.”
Addie folded the fabric to the sides. She’d worn one of her favorite lingerie sets.

Made of leopard print and cinnamon lace, the bra, like so many of her clothes, was

modeled after a 1940s style and covered more of her than most modern bathing suits.

She’d thought it would help her feel less exposed when she reached this point, but

standing there with her shirt open, breasts on display, she felt more naked, more

vulnerable than she could ever remember feeling.

What had she gotten herself into?
“Sit.”
What?
“Sit, Addie.”
Confused, Addie lowered herself into the chair. As she did so, the edges of her shirt

slid back into place, covering her breasts.

“Fix your shirt. If I give you a command or ask you to do something you must

maintain that position or order until I change the command or tell you to stop.”

Addie tucked the edges of her shirt against her sides. SJ caught her attention. The

photographer was behind Lane, quietly taking photos, the lens focused on Addie’s

chest.

“You know the safe words. Now, some rules about your body.”
“My body?” Exactly how much control was she supposed to give over?

Undone Rebel

“A submissive should never cover herself. That doesn’t apply right now, as we’re

still undressing you, but once you’re naked, you’ll need to sit with your legs spread,

rather than crossed.”

Addie looked down at her legs, which she’d crossed at the ankle and tucked under

the chair—a proper lady’s pose. “That’s…obscene.”

“No, it’s sexual.”
“I assume men made up these rules. Sexy doesn’t have to be obvious.”
“It’s not about sexy. It’s about the sub and Dom both knowing that the Dom can

and will touch his sub’s pussy whenever and however he wants. Stand. Remove your

skirt.”

Addie did not want to take off her skirt. Not after what she’d just heard. It wasn’t

that she didn’t want Lane to touch her—that she was looking forward to. She didn’t like

the idea of sitting there with her legs spread like a bitch in heat or an ill-mannered

tramp. She placed her hands on the arms of the chair, ready to stand…but couldn’t do

it.

“Addie, stand up.”
She licked her lower lip, then shook her head. “I can’t.”
“You mean you don’t want to.”
She shook her head again. “But I do want to.”
Lane rose from the couch. When he was standing before her, he took her right wrist

in his hand and drew her up, holding her hand up by his shoulder. With his other hand,

he searched her waist for the zipper of her skirt, found it at her back and slid it down.

When the zipper cleared the swell of her ass, he released her and stepped back.

“Take it off.”
“Lane, please.”
“Please what?”
Addie looked down. He was wearing black shoes. Strange she hadn’t noticed that

before. She always noticed shoes.

“Adelita, what do you want?” He cracked the sentence like a whip.
“I want you to do it,” she shouted back, head coming up, breathing fast.
“But I won’t. Drop your skirt.”
Addie shoved her hands into her waistband and let the skirt fall to the floor.
“Now the shirt. Remove it.”
Undoing the final buttons, she shrugged it off, letting it fall to pool around her feet,

on top of her skirt. She was left in nothing but her leopard-and-cinnamon bra, panties

and garter set. Her stockings and shoes were still on, for what little protection they

offered. Addie looked at Lane, raising her chin. She wasn’t afraid of how she looked

naked. She had nice breasts and an ass to balance them out.

Lila Dubois

She was afraid, in that moment, of Lane. Not that he would hurt her—for all his

intensity she didn’t think he would actually cause her pain, he was too nice of a guy—

but she had this sinking feeling that her time with him might change how she felt about

sex, about men, and that was frightening.

“Pick up your clothes, fold them, and hand them to me. Good. Now sit down, and

remember what I told you.”

Addie lowered herself into the chair, sitting as far back as she could, and spread her

knees until her thighs touched the arms of the chair.

“Good girl.”
Lane rose, setting her clothes to the side. He took his glass to the bar cart and added

more ice. “How do you feel?”

“Not as vulgar as I thought.”
“Do you feel sexual?”
“Yes.”
“Are you aroused?”
Addie sucked in her lower lip, not wanting to admit that she was. He’d barely

touched her, hadn’t even kissed her, and her sex was tingling with arousal.

“Answer me or I’ll put my fingers in your pussy to check.”
“Yes. I am.”
“And what is it that’s arousing you?”
“I don’t know. All of it. The commands, the power.”
“Good. That means you will enjoy what’s to come.”
Lane moved behind her chair, brushing her hair aside with his hand. He set his cold

glass against her neck.

Addie gasped, her whole body tensing at the sudden shock. Instinctively, she

closed her legs.

“Legs apart.” He tugged her hair lightly in reprimand.
She spread her legs. This time he fished an ice cube from his glass and balanced it in

the hollow of her collarbone. When she sucked in a breath, it tumbled into her cleavage.

“That’s cold.”
“I imagine it is.” Plucking the ice from her cleavage, he slid it under the cup of her

bra. Addie looked up, her shocked gaze meeting his own. There was a wicked smile on

Lane’s face as he used his thumb to push the ice cube deep into the cup of her bra.

Moving around in front of her, he used his fingers on the outside of her bra to work

the ice cube into place directly over her nipple, dragging a cold, wet path along her

breast. When the ice made contact with her already beaded nipple, Addie shrieked, her

hands instinctively coming up to her breast.

Lane set his glass down, grabbed her wrists and forced them to the arms of the

chair. He wrapped her fingers around the wood. “Your hands stay here.”

Undone Rebel

“Please, it’s too much. It hurts.”
“Does it?” He grabbed the lump of the ice cube and lifted it, offering a moment of

relief before circling it around the nipple.

Addie whimpered and moaned.
Lane carefully repositioned it. “Are you aroused?”
“Yessss.” The intense sensation at the tip of her breast was fading as her skin

numbed. Addie couldn’t deny the flood of wetness in her sex it had caused, but she was

glad it was done.

Lane took another ice cube from his glass.
“No,” she whispered.
He rubbed it against her lips. Water trickled into her mouth, down her chin.
Lane pulled out the other bra cup and slid the ice cube in. She threw her head back,

panting. Her fists clenched around the chair arms, trembling as she forced them to

remain open.

Lane stroked the inside of her thigh with one hand as the other manipulated the ice

cube around her nipple. “Good girl.”

Ripples of sensation tracked up and down her arms, legs and back. Addie tipped

her head forward, meeting Lane’s gaze with her own. He was a port in her storm of

feeling. His big body radiated calm even as his eyes burned with intensity.

“Stand up,” he ordered, stepping back to give her space. “Now turn around and

bend over. Put your hands on the seat, elbows straight.”

Addie did as he ordered, her garters pressing into the backs of her thighs and her

ass as she did. The new position caused her breasts to shift, the melting ice not pressing

as intensely against her nipples.

He slid his hand high between her thighs, pinched her. “Remember what I said

about keeping your legs spread.”

This time she didn’t hesitate as she took a side step, spreading her legs. There was

the clink of ice against glass and then cold drops fell against her back.

Lane traced the ice over the right cheek of her ass, over the fabric of her panties.

“Have you been fucked anally?” The ice pressed the fabric of her panties between her

ass cheeks.

“Ah, um, no.” The ice bumped over the entrance to her ass, causing her to jump. It

felt strangely good.

“Have you had anything up your ass? Fingers, plug, vegetables?”
“Vegetables? Oh my god, no.”
“I like the idea of training you to take a nice thick cucumber up this pretty ass.”
“Can you do that?”
“I can, and will, do anything I want to you. You’re mine.”
A shiver that had nothing to do with ice racked Addie.

Lila Dubois

That’s not true. He can’t fuck you. He can’t kiss you. This is a job.
But it didn’t feel like a job as he lifted her panties at the waist and slid the ice cube

underneath. The cube settled into the crack of her ass, sliding down toward her pussy.

His fingers never touched her. All she felt was the silky material of her panties as he

manipulated the ice cube from the other side, as he’d done with her breasts. As it

passed over her anus there was a sudden pressure and the ring of her ass gave slightly.

For one terrifying, thrilling, moment, Addie thought he was going to force the ice cube

into her ass.

She cried out in fear, in excitement.
Lane reached around her, holding her belly, the contact calming her. “Don’t worry,

I’ll prep you more than that before I put anything up your sweet ass.”

The ice moved south, between the lips of her pussy. Addie screamed between

clenched teeth, coming up on her toes. She thought she heard SJ murmur “beautiful”

but then she couldn’t think as the ice rubbed against her clit. It was so cold it burned.

But the sensation against her aroused clit caused the muscles low in her belly to tighten,

her body to rocket closer to orgasm.

“I can’t, it’s too cold.”
“Can’t what?”
“Can’t come.”
“Did I give you permission to come?”
“Permission?” Addie panted. She twisted to look over her shoulder at Lane.
“A sub must have permission to orgasm.”
“That’s bullshit,” she spat.
Lane grabbed her hair, forcing her to face forward. The tension on her hair pulled

her head up.

“A submissive doesn’t know the Dom’s plan for her.” As he spoke, the ice cube left

her clit, moving toward the entrance to her body. “She must trust that her Dom will

care for her, pleasure her, if that is his wish and if she deserves it. She must also accept

that she might not always get orgasms exactly when she wants them. His plan may

include bigger, better orgasms later.”

Lane slid the half-melted ice cube into her sex.
“Oh, oh, oh.” Addie panted and thrashed. She clenched, trying to push the ice cube

out.

“No, relax. Let it slide into you.”
Lane hadn’t been kidding about knowing his sub’s body. Addie relaxed,

whimpering as the ice made its way inside her, causing a deep shiver to pass over her.

“Then again,” Lane went on, “there are times when a Dom just wants to see his sub

come until she screams his name.”

Undone Rebel

Lane slid his arms under her hips and carried her two steps to the couch, where he

flipped her over onto her back.

“Arms above your head, legs spread.”
Addie obeyed, quickly throwing one leg over the back of the couch, the other on the

floor. Lane loomed over her, one knee between her spread legs, his left arm braced on

the edge of the couch, his right hovering over her sex.

“Look at me. When you come, you thank me. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, who?”
“Yes, Lane.”
“Good.” Lane placed his index and middle finger on her clit, over her panties, and

rubbed. Pleasure rolled through her and Addie’s eyes fluttered closed.

“No, look at me.”
Her eyes popped open. “How am I, ohh yes, supposed to follow all these rules, ahh,

when you make me feel, mmmmmhmmm, like this?”

Lane just smiled. “You don’t have permission to come.” His fingers continued their

pattern of circles and vertical strokes.

“Then you better stop that, because I’m close,” Addie said. The orgasm was there,

coiled low in her belly, just waiting to be released.

Lane stopped.
Addie stared at him in shock. “I didn’t want you to actually stop!”
“I don’t think you fully understand that you’re not in control. And you need to

learn that.”

“I do understand that! I did everything you said.” She searched his face, but there

was no hint of teasing.

Lane stood and stepped back.
“Stand up. It’s time to get serious.”

Lane would have bet ten large that if there’d been a gun handy he’d be full of holes.

Addie looked ready to kill as she glared up at him. She was sex personified as she lay

spread open, her wet lingerie clinging to her distended nipples, the lips of her sex. Her

hair was mussed, her chest and cheeks flushed.

“Serious? What the fuck was this?” She jumped to her feet, hands balled into fists.
Sexual frustration was one of the worst sensations in the world. In his experience,

new subs handled it in one of two ways—tears or violence.

“This was an introduction.”
“To what an asshole you are?” Addie socked him in the shoulder and started

cussing in Spanish.

Lila Dubois

He’d pegged her for a violence kind of girl. Good to know he could still call ‘em.
Lane planted his shoulder in her waist and stood, Addie dangling over his back.

She punched his ass a few times and Lane was just glad she hadn’t gone for the

kidneys.

“Put me down.”
“No.”
“Fuck you.”
“Sadly, we can’t do that. But I’ll get as close as I can.”
He dropped her on the foot of the bed and then hauled her to sit on the edge. He

was vaguely aware of the click of the camera. Before she could figure out what he was

doing, he fastened a buckle cuff—already attached to a rope and pulley system

connected to the bedpost—around her left ankle.

“What’s that?” she stopped cursing long enough to look over the side of the bed at

her captured ankle. He took advantage of her distraction to cuff her right ankle. Then he

stepped back. He’d given her enough the-big-bad-man-forced-me free passes, now he

was going to make her do it the hard way.

“Stand at the foot of the bed and spread your legs.”
“Why should I?” she said, petulance dripping from every word. Her dark hair

tumbled over one shoulder, her eyes narrowed.

Lane wanted to grin and shout with joy. He loved women—everything about them.

They were complicated, beautiful and mystical. He’d gotten into BDSM hoping to

decode them—Doms always seemed to have all the answers. What he’d learned was the

best anyone could do was react to them, possibly map patterns of known actions and

satisfactory reactions. Learning to handle women sexually had morphed him into an

acceptable dating companion too, giving him the best of both worlds, and ample

opportunity to know what he liked in women. This woman was exactly what he liked—

she was like the strong, confident, slightly edgy women he usually dated, and he was

seeing hints of the naughty, playful, super-sexy women he liked to top.

Lane hid his delight in her and crossed his arms. “Stand up, spread your legs.”
“I would, if you weren’t such a cock tease.”
Lane raised a brow. “With a mouth like that, I think I want you gagged.”
“Fine.”
Damn. He hadn’t actually wanted to gag her. It would have to be something harsh,

so she’d do anything to avoid it in the future.

Lane’s personal toy collection, plus a few he’d had the production buy, was stashed

in a dresser and trunk on the other side of the bed. He opened the top drawer and

selected a studded black strap with a mouthpiece mounted on one side. Along with the

mouthpiece there was an inflatable ball gag. As it was pumped up the heavy rubber

balloon filled the sub’s mouth, pushing back her tongue and forcing the jaw open.

Straps around the back and top of the head held it in place.

Undone Rebel

As harsh as it was, Lane got hard thinking about using it on Addie, imagining her

eyes getting wide as he pumped the ball up inside her mouth.

Focusing on that image, he grabbed the accompanying pump and returned to the

sexually frustrated and petulant submissive-in-training.

Addie was already regretting not simply going along with Lane’s order to stand.

Now that she’d calmed down, logic said that if she did what he said it was likely that

he’d touch her again, and probably this time he’d let her orgasm.

The immediate frustration of not coming had faded and she had to admit that the

dull ache of her continued arousal felt somewhat good. Lane knew what he was talking

about, after all.

Despite this, she didn’t want to just say she was sorry and she’d changed her mind.

She had her pride; besides, she didn’t want him to think that petty little threats like gags

scared her. She’d had one shaped like a horse’s bit for the lingerie shoot. It had been

uncomfortable and a little weird, but not terrible.

Lane came back with a heavy oval of black leather with lots of dangling straps and

a little hand pump—the kind attached to blood pressure cuffs.

“Open your mouth.”
Addie parted her lips and let him fit the rubber mouthpiece around her teeth. It

held her teeth apart slightly and made her feel as if she were at the dentist. It was

attached to the oval of leather, which now pressed against her lips, cheeks and chin.

Lane fastened the straps around the back of her neck, under her hair, and then at

the top of her head.

With each tug against her face, Addie felt a little sizzle of panic—and arousal. She

looked up at Lane, who tipped her face up with a hand under her chin.

“I want you to remember that you asked for this.”
He took the pump and attached it to the piece over her face. With the first squeeze

something popped out of the mouthpiece and touched her tongue. Pump by pump it

expanded, filling her mouth.

Addie couldn’t believe it, that this thing in her mouth was filling her cheeks,

pushing her jaw down until the straps dug into her face. She tried to shake her head but

Lane held her jaw tight in his hands.

She brought up her hands to stop him but he barked, “Hands down,” and she

dropped them.

Lane’s face was a mask, emotionless and unreadable. She’d made a mistake, a

terrible mistake. She didn’t want this thing in her mouth. Tears filled her eyes.

Lane stopped and disconnected the pump. “You’ll remain gagged until I think

you’re ready to have it out. I would have preferred not to do this but, as your Dom,

what you need is my first priority, so if you need to be harshly gagged, I will do so.”

Lila Dubois

Was he really saying he’d done this for her? Addie looked up at him, trying to find

the mocking, the joke, but it wasn’t there. He was serious.

“Stand. Spread your legs.”
Shakily, Addie obeyed.
“Now lift your arms, keep your elbows bent, upper arms parallel with the floor.”
Addie held up her arms, in a position that made her feel as if she was being robbed,

as Lane attached cuffs to her wrists. The cuffs were attached to a loop of rope connected

to the top of the bedposts. Once they were attached, he grabbed the dangling end of the

rope and pulled, drawing up the slack.

“Try to drop your arms.”
When she relaxed, her arms dropped no more than an inch. Next, Lane knelt,

tapped the inside of her knee until she spread each leg another two inches, then drew

up the slack in those ropes.

He stepped back, arms hooked across his chest, and examined her. Addie saw SJ,

kneeling off to the right, a big-lensed camera pressed to her eye. Addie turned her face

away.

“I think it’s finally time to inspect my newest sub.”
Addie closed her eyes and focused on breathing, just breathing. She wanted this

gag out of her mouth. She hated it—hated that she couldn’t talk, hated that she couldn’t

not think about it.

Cold touched her shoulder. Addie opened her eyes to see the flat of a knife against

her upper arm. She jerked in her ropes, eyes wide. She looked to Lane and shook her

head. What was he doing with that?

Lane hooked a finger under the center of her bra, drawing it away from her

breastbone. With a flick of the knife, he cut the fabric. The cups of the bra clung to her

breasts until he sliced through the top of each cup, just below the little circle that

connected it to the straps.

Her bra fell away, leaving her bare to the waist.
Addie sucked in a breath, but Lane didn’t even look at her breasts. Instead, he

dropped to one knee, pulled her panties from her right hip and slit them. He repeated

the process at her left side, then pinched the crotch, fingers brushing her clit, and pulled

them out from under her garter belt, tossing them over his shoulder.

Dropping the knife, Lane looked up her body, gaze lingering on each breast, on her

beaded nipples. Addie’s breathing was coming quick and hard. She was sure that,

kneeling with his head at her crotch, Lane could smell her pussy, see how aroused she

was.

His gaze shifted from her breasts to her sex. He touched the strip of dark hair over

the top of her sex. “Did you do this in preparation, or do you keep it like this?”

She glared down at him, watched him smile as he remembered she couldn’t

answer. His gaze never left her sex.

Undone Rebel

“I guess I’ll have to wait to find out.”
Palms on her hipbones, he stroked the naked lips of her sex with his thumbs and

Addie nearly came. She was ready, so ready. The bondage, the hated gag, the knife-

removal of the clothes—if someone had told her about them she would have said they

were horrible, never guessing she’d enjoy them the way she was.

Lane parted the lips of her sex. Cold air touched her clit. “You have a beautiful

pussy, a beautiful clit. You’re very wet, very aroused. That means that everything I’ve

done to you, including denying you an orgasm earlier, has aroused you.”

He ducked lower between her legs, opening her farther. The tips of his thumbs slid

into the opening to her sex.

Addie arched forward, bumping her pussy into his head.
“That’s it, good girl.”
Lane stood, his fingers leaving her sex, and Addie started to scream through the

gag in frustration, but then his thumbs, wet with her own slick juices, rubbed her

nipples.

Addie arched her back, shocked by how acute the sensation was. Lane pinched a

nipple with each hand and pulled, the slick, wet buds sliding out of his grasp. He

repeated the motion, pinching harder, pulling harder, distending them farther before

they slipped away.

“You’ve been very good. You’re an exceptionally beautiful woman, and a gorgeous

submissive. Are you ready to be fucked?”

Addie nodded so hard the straps of the gag creaked.
“I’m not ready to fuck you yet.”
Tears sprang to Addie’s eyes. She was actually about to cry, she was so confused

and frustrated and ready.

“I’m going to clamp these pretty nipples, then I’ll fuck you with a glass cock. I wish

I could fuck you myself.”

Addie watched him walk away, to the dresser where he’d gotten the gag. He

grabbed a straight-backed chair from the dining set on his way back and positioned it in

front of her.

He dangled two slim clamps in front of her. They looked like tweezers with rubber

tips.

“See the circle of metal around the prongs? This allows me to tighten it. This can be

anything from,” he positioned the prongs on her right nipple, the little rubber pads

pressing in, “pressure to,” he slid the circle of metal up near the tips, forcing the prongs

closed, “pain.”

Addie shrieked through her gag as the clamp bit into her nipple. Lane lessened the

tension to simple pressure, then attached the second clamp to the other breast. The

chain connecting them dangled against her belly.

Lila Dubois

Lane touched something on the front of her gag. There was a hiss of air and the

horrible thing in her mouth started to deflate. He quickly released the straps. When he

pulled it away, Addie opened and closed her mouth, swallowing the spit that had

pooled. Finally, he released her wrists.

“Bend forward and put your hands on the chair.” He pointed to the straight chair

he’d brought over.

Carefully, Addie did as he’d ordered. The nipple clamps shifted, causing her to

moan in pleasure. She was afraid to move too fast, afraid she would fly apart into a

million pieces. She’d never been so aware of all the parts of her body—she could feel

her heartbeat in her clit.

“Arch your back, lock your elbows.” Lane touched her as he gave the orders,

pressing on the small of her back and tapping her elbows. “You’ll maintain the position

until I tell you to change or release it.”

“Yes, Lane.”
“Good girl.” He lifted the hair from the back of her neck and blew across her nape.
A shiver danced down Addie’s back. Lane released her hair. He brushed the back of

her thighs and ass, and when she looked over her shoulder, Addie saw he’d positioned

himself between her legs, one foot on the floor, the other knee on the bed.

He spent some time examining and playing with her exposed ass and sex. Fingers

danced over her ass, pulling the cheeks apart to examine her rear entrance. He repeated

his examination of her pussy, tracing the lips with his thumbs, opening her, blowing

across her clit.

Her belly and legs were trembling with arousal. Addie let her head dangle between

her arms as she panted, sure this was what it was like to be an animal in heat, focused

on nothing but sex.

Then his fingers were gone.
Something hard pressed against her clit. “That’s the tip of the dildo.”
Addie flexed her hips, rubbing her clit against it. “Oh, oh fuck ye—” she bit back

the words, not wanting him to stop, or to end up gagged.

“Why did you stop talking?”
“I don’t want you to gag me or not fuck me.”
“Hmm, you haven’t learned yet. What do you need before you can come?”
What was it? Oh.
“Lane, I need to come. I want to come. If you don’t fuck me, don’t make me come, I

think I’ll go insane. Please.” The words tumbled from her, one after the other.

Lane slid the dildo from her clit to the entrance to her sex. “You may come.” He

pushed the dildo into her with one firm thrust.

Undone Rebel

Addie was so tight, so aroused that she felt it open her, felt each glorious, blessed

inch filling her. She came up on her toes, almost tipped forward. Lane grabbed her

waist, held her in place as he drew the glass dildo out of body and thrust it in again.

“Oh, oh yes. Oh fuck!”
Addie was there, that first shock of fullness taking her to the precipice of orgasm.

Lane’s fingers dipped into her sex, circling the entrance to her body where the dildo

held her open, down to her clit. He circled her clit as he thrust the dildo in a third time

and Addie came.

She screamed, the sound echoing off the metal roof high above their heads.

SJ snapped a photo of the bent and naked, bound woman, metal dangling from her

nipples, a fully dressed Dom manipulating a dildo in her sex. “Beautiful.”

Lila Dubois

Chapter Three

Addie pushed the carrot sticks on her plate around with her finger.
“Did you want something else? I can go get you some fast food.” Lane touched the

back of her hand as he spoke, stilling her restless carrot play.

“No, I’m fine.” Addie wished she could toss off the comment, throw back her head

and smile at him as if what had just happened hadn’t affected her. She couldn’t. Instead

she whispered the words, staring at the edges of the black satin robe he’d given her to

wear.

They were on their lunch break, seated on white plastic folding chairs in a corner of

the sound stage sectioned off by pipe and drape. The lunch spread of sandwiches, fruit

and veggies was nice, but Addie couldn’t bring herself to eat anything more than a few

strawberries. She felt…vulnerable, as if Lane had stripped away more than her clothes.

Time and distance from him, this place, would help her get herself together and

remember who she was, what she could be. With Lane sitting next to her, his knee

touching hers, his body heat a tempting source of warmth in the chilly warehouse-like

sound stage, Addie couldn’t find that balance, couldn’t remake herself.

“You have to eat something.”
“I’m not very hungry.”
“You have to have more than a bit of fruit. Eat something.”
“Stop ordering me around.” Anger flooded her, burning away the powerlessness

that had filled her. Addie met Lane’s gaze with her own. “You may get to order me

around when we’re in your fakey bedroom, but outside of it, muchacho, you’re not my

father so back off.”

Lane nodded. “Okay, I was just worried about you. You were really quiet.”
Addie crossed her legs, taking her time so he had no choice but to watch her. Her

robe fell open to the top of her thigh, showing off the lace top of the stockings she still

wore. Lane smiled and shook his head.

“Thinking. I do that. You should try it. Though maybe not enough blood has

returned to your brain?” Addie looked to his crotch. She’d noticed—it would have been

hard not to—the raging hard-on he sported when he and SJ released her from the ropes

and helped her into the robe after their session.

“Kind of you to notice.” He winced in an exaggerated manner and adjusted his

jeans.

“You’re not going to take care of that?”
“Are you offering to help?”

Undone Rebel

Addie tipped her head to the side as if she were considering it. “Hmm.”
Lane’s eyes widened.
“Nope, I’m not.”
“Cold. That’s cold, woman.”
“Your right hand is sure to help you out.”
“I’m left-handed.”
“I wondered why that biceps was bigger.”
“Next time you’re quiet I’ll have to remember to let you stay quiet. You’ve got a

sassy mouth.” But he grinned as he said it.

“I think you like sassy, strong women.” Which, considering what he’d just done to

her, made no sense at all.

“As my grandpa would say, ‘Damn me for a fool,’ I do.”
Addie pressed her back against the chair, stretching. Muscles in her pussy and

along her inner thighs protested. “I need to use the restroom. Do you know where my

purse is?”

“It’s still in the office. The bathroom is right through there. I’ll get your purse for

you and set it outside the door.”

“Thank you.” Addie stood, adjusting the knee-length robe so it covered her.
“Addie?” Lane was standing at the edge of the food area, one big hand holding

back the heavy black drape that hid it from the rest of the sound stage.

“Yes.”
In an instant his manner went from teasing and relaxed to intense and serious.

“You should take off your garter and thigh-highs unless you want them cut off too.

When you come out of the bathroom, we start again.”

Addie sauntered into the bedroom set. She’d shed her garter and stockings,

refreshed her makeup and cleaned herself up in the bathroom.

“Let’s do this.”
Lane rose from the couch where he’d been waiting. There was no one else in sight.
Addie untied the robe and shrugged it off.
She saw the shock ripple across his face before his expression changed to intense

arousal. That moment of shock reinforced the conclusion she’d come to in the

bathroom—she was making this too easy for him. Sure, this was sexy and the orgasm

he’d given her was the kind of thing she thought happened only in movies, but she was

tougher than this. He should earn her respect, her trust.

She’d been so overwhelmed, so taken with the fact that he could command her

when few men ever managed it, that she’d let him in. Now her walls were up and she’d

fight…make the pretty boy earn her trust. He wouldn’t really hurt or punish her, he

liked her too much—he’d said so himself. Probably if she hadn’t taunted him he

Lila Dubois

wouldn’t have gagged her. She wouldn’t make that mistake again, but there were

plenty of other ways to goad him.

“Te comieron la lengua los ratones?”
“What’s that?”
“I asked if the mice ate your tongue.”
“No.” Lane moved to stand in front of her. He examined her, up and down. “Do

you want to talk about anything before we start?”

Addie tossed her head. “You’re good, boy, but nothing to write home to my mama

about.”

He circled behind her, scooped the hair off her shoulder. “You’ve had better.”
“You’re different. I don’t compare bananas and pineapples.”
He blew across the nape of her neck. “You can’t keep this up, you know,” he

whispered, lips fluttering against her neck, the movement almost a kiss. “When you’re

mine you can’t hide from me.”

“I’m naked. What could I hide?”
“I can’t wait to find out.”
Lane fisted his hand in her hair, using the firm grip to pull her head back so she

looked up at him. “Put your hands together, behind your back. Hold your left wrist

with your right hand. Then spread your legs. The rules for spread legs when sitting are

the same for standing. I’ll let it slide this time because I wasn’t explicit.”

Addie’s breath came in short pants, the backward arch of her body, the press of

Lane’s chest into her back making her hot, making her wet.

Damn it, no. I’m not going to give in this time.
She slid her hands behind her back, between their bodies—and found his erection

straining against her ass through his pants. He sucked in a breath as she traced her

fingers along the length. Addie felt his entire body go still as she snagged the zipper

and drew it down. When she slipped her fingers inside, Lane shuddered against her,

the hand in her hair going slack.

Gotcha.
He was wearing boxers, but she found the wet spot where the tip of his cock had

dampened them. She scratched the head of his dick with her nail and his hips bumped

against her ass. Now who was—?

Lane ripped her hands from his pants and pushed her away. Surprised, Addie

stumbled a step. She spun to see him fiddling with his fly. When he looked up, his eyes

glittered with anger.

Shit.
“What were you trying to get out of that?” he growled. “You knew I didn’t get to

fuck you, so you wanted to make it worse?”

Undone Rebel

“No, no I—” Addie took a breath, stopped herself from apologizing. She cocked her

hip, put a hand on it. “All in good fun, right? You play with mine, I play with yours.”

Lane pressed both palms against his temples, let out a harsh breath. “You’re angry,

worried, scared by how I made you feel.”

“No.” Addie held her hands up, as if to push the words away.
Lane walked across the room, grabbing her right wrist as he did to drag her along

with him. “You will obey me, trust me.”

“You will earn it.”
He stopped short and Addie slammed into him. Pinching her chin, he tilted her face

up so their gazes met. “I thought I had. What did I do that made you feel you couldn’t

trust me?”

Addie lowered her gaze to his lips, breathing heavily through her nose. There was

nothing to say—he hadn’t done anything wrong. But it had to be a mistake to give in so

readily to something—submission—that went against everything she was.

The silence held for another long beat and Lane pulled away, leaving her. Addie

looked at her bare toes, wondering if she’d made a tactical error. When a pile of rope

landed near her left foot, she still wasn’t sure.

“This is nylon rope.” Lane rubbed a loop of the rope, about as wide as a tube of

mascara, against her belly. “It’s smooth, meaning it won’t abrade your skin. Rope burn

isn’t just an expression.”

“Is this another rule, only use nylon rope?” she quipped, but the words came out a

little shaky.

“No, there’s no rule. When I play, I consider the fact that my subs have normal

lives, jobs, sometimes husbands or boyfriends who aren’t into BDSM. All those things

equal no lasting marks on wrists or ankles—hence nylon.” As he spoke, Lane loosely

wrapped three loops of rope around her right wrist. He fed the end under the loops,

against the top of her arm, and tied an elaborate knot. A long tether dangled from the

rope bracelet he’d just made. He repeated the process for her other wrist.

“You have sex with married women?”
“Some of them are.”
“And you’re okay with that, you think that’s what marriage is?”
“I think,” Lane made a large double loop of rope in his hand and tied another

complicated knot, “that a marriage is between two people, and if part of that marriage

involves the woman having a session with me, then I’m more than happy to help.” Lane

dropped the loop over her head. The knot rested against her breastbone. “And I never

said I had sex with them, that was you.”

“A noose?” Addie plucked at rope now dangling around her neck. “Charming.”

She tugged at the trailing end. It didn’t tighten.

“Did you really think I’d put a slipknot around your neck?”
She shrugged but didn’t answer.

Lila Dubois

Lane shook his head. “You’re pushing my buttons, girl.”
“Don’t like it when they aren’t just falling all over themselves to fuck you, boy?”

Addie raised a brow and smiled.

Lane dropped to his knees before her and created two more rope bracelets around

the top of her calves, just below her kneecaps. “I don’t like it when my subs won’t tell

me what’s really going on, what they’re really thinking and feeling.”

“Your subs…like a stable of horses.”
Lane rose, gathering the trailing ends of the five ropes. “Anything but, that’s not

how I see the women I share these experiences with.”

“I bet you thi—”
“Enough.” Lane pulled the rope attached to her right knee, buckling that leg. Addie

tumbled into him.

“Bastard,” she hissed against his shirt. He smelled like fabric softener, leather and

sweat.

“Though this whole experience was meant to be more of a sample than a true

introduction to being a submissive, I think you need some proper training. Follow me.”

Lane walked to the dining set. He was holding the ropes, giving Addie no choice

but to follow close behind him.

Addie couldn’t seem to center herself. One moment she was riding the fire of her

anger, her determination to stay strong in the face of his arrogant domination helping

her to ignore the arousal churning in her belly. In the next breath something he said

would throw her off beat, like his admitting to being with married women, and she’d

lose track of both her anger and arousal.

“Up. Up on the table.”
“What?” Addie’d been so lost in her own thoughts she hadn’t had time to second-

guess what was coming and plan her reactions. Now the chance was gone, because

Lane was looking at her with those steady, intense eyes.

“Addie, you’re trying my patience. Get up on the table.”
Addie pulled out a chair and used it as a step. She moved cautiously, very aware of

the leads he held. Surely he wouldn’t pull her leg out from under her as she stood three

feet off the ground. SJ was perched on the couch, camera snapping away. As Addie

looked at her, SJ whispered into her collar and a light high above came on, adding

another layer of illumination to the table area.

Addie felt more naked than she had on the floor, and crossed one arm over her

breasts, placing the other in front of her sex.

“You may not hide yourself from me. Arms down.” Lane pulled one of the ladder-

back chairs four feet back from the table, looping the ropes through the top crosspiece.

“It’s my body,” she hissed.

Undone Rebel

“When you enter the bedroom, you turn yourself over to me. In exchange for that

trust, you get pleasure and freedom.”

“Freedom? What American dream bullshit is that?”
“No bullshit.” Lane yanked the rope connected to her right wrist, forcing her hand

away from her breasts. “It’s the truth. With Doms, with me, there are no games, just

physical reality and emotions. I will never think less of you for being scared, excited,

pleasured, disinterested or aroused. It’s sex without pretenses.” He yanked the rope on

her left wrist.

Addie curled her hands into fists. “This is nothing but pretense. The toys, the

ropes.” Addie grabbed the ropes and whipped them, hoping to shake them loose.

Lane’s arm shot out, quick as a snake, and caught the waving nylon. The rope

pulled taut, the tension between them now a physical thing.

“They’re just tools. I use them to strip away the sexual mind games women have

been taught to play.”

“No, they’re just sex toys.”
“You’re not listening. You’re being a brat on purpose and it’s making me angry.”
“Now the truth comes out.” Addie jerked on the ropes, grunting when he didn’t

budge, “You don’t like it when a woman stands up to you.”

“Is that what you think, that I don’t respect or enjoy strong women?”
Lane tugged hard and Addie stumbled forward. She gasped as she rocked to a halt

less than six inches from the edge of the table. She met Lane’s gaze, her eyes wide with

shock.

He nearly pulled me off the table.
Lane pulled the ropes free of the chair and took a seat, wrapping them around his

left wrist. “Let’s begin. I want you to start by lacing your fingers together behind your

head and spreading your legs. This is the presentation position.” He added a bit of slack

to the ropes at her wrists.

“I-I won’t.” Her voice trembled.
“Addie, tell me what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling.” Lane’s tone was

coaxing, gentle.

“No.”
“Then do as instructed.” The command was harsh, almost frightening.
“No.”
“Five.”
The random number was so out of sync with everything that had come before it

that Addie blinked. “What?”

“Presentation position. You have fifteen seconds.”
“Why did you say five?”
Lane held her gaze for a long moment, then said, “Time’s up. Now it’s ten.”

Lila Dubois

Oh fuck.
“You mean punishment. A…spanking.” Addie slid her hand along her outer thigh,

drawing his attention to her ass.

“Don’t get your hopes up, a spanking for punishment is very different than one

meant to arouse.”

“I’m not hoping you’ll spank me,” she shot back.
“Really? Because everything about you says that you’re more aroused now than

you were before you figured out you have a spanking coming. Now, presentation

position. You do not want that number to go above ten.”

Addie licked her lip, looked away, and slowly raised her arms. She laced her fingers

behind her head, aware of her breasts lifting. A draft touched the soft skin where her

breasts attached to her rib cage and she shivered.

A tug at her right knee reminded her to spread her legs. Addie stepped wide. The

shock of cold as air hit her very wet sex made Addie flinch. She closed her eyes.

“Don’t hide from me. Whatever’s in you right now you need to share with me.”
“Sex, my body—fine. My thoughts are mine.” She ground the words between her

teeth as she opened her eyes.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Why does it matter?”
Lane sighed and tapped his foot, looking at the floor. When he raised his head his

face was impassive. “Next position is called knee up. I want you to drop to your knees,

spread them as wide as possible. Keep you upper body erect, arms behind your head.”

He gave her play and Addie took a step back before dropping to her knees. The

ropes pressed painfully into her, but she didn’t say anything. She absorbed the

discomfort, not even sure anymore why she was fighting him.

Lane stood and came to her. Dropping the ropes for her wrists behind her back, he

pulled them between her spread legs and then tied the ends to the table legs. He did the

same with the ropes attached to her knees, first wrapping each around her lower thigh a

few times before attaching it to the table legs also. He took a step back, seemingly to

check his work. Addie tried to shift, the ropes rubbing against the edge of the table. The

only thing she could do was lift her elbows, putting her hands farther down her back,

which raised her breasts higher.

Without any warning or preface, he pressed two fingers between the lips of her sex.

Addie gasped.

“That’s right, when you’re subbing, your Dom has the right to touch you when he

wants, how he wants. If you submit, if you let him into your mind, tell him what you’re

thinking and feeling, then in payment for access to, and control over, that beautiful

body, he’ll give you freedom.”

Lane’s fingers circled around her clit, not quite touching it. “Look at me, Addie,

look at me as I touch you, as I talk to you. Can you imagine the freedom of letting go for

Undone Rebel

a few hours? You don’t have to think, plan, worry. You trust that your Dom knows you

and your body so well that he will pleasure you. He’ll surprise you. He’ll take you to

dark,” Lane tucked the trailing end of the rope around her neck under her breast, then

looped it up over the top, tightening it until her breast stood away from the wall of her

chest, captured in the rope, “dangerous places.”

Addie’s gaze flickered from Lane to her breast, which was now flushing pink. “I

can’t, I can’t,” she whispered.

“Lift your hair off your neck for me.” When she did, Lane blew across her neck,

raising a shiver. “I know you can’t. Because you’re a strong woman, aren’t you? You’re

strong, but feminine. Every day you try to prove that you can be both.”

Yes.
Tears welled in Addie’s eyes. She tipped her head back to keep them from falling.

Lane’s fingers in her pussy now danced around the edges of her clit. She shuddered and

rocked forward.

“You liked giving control to me, but you feel as if you’ve betrayed who you are.”
Addie closed her eyes and nodded. A single tear rolled down each cheek. She felt

the wet tip of Lane’s tongue as he licked them away.

“I’ll tell you a secret.” Lane’s fingers closed in on her clit, rolling the bud in hard,

tight circles. “It’s the powerful women who are most in need.” Lane released the rope at

her breast and pinched the nipple, hard. The flood of returning blood combined with

the hard pinch had her screaming between clenched teeth. “And most deserving of a

chance to let go.”

Addie came, her whole body tensing into the ropes. Lane wanted to grab her,

absorb that power for himself, but he stepped back, keeping his fingers in her pussy to

prolong her orgasm, but giving her the space to ride the moment all on her own.

He slid his middle finger into her sex, the heel of his hand on her clit, and waited

for the pulses in her sex to stop. She’d held her position, though her shoulders were

bowed, her hair falling over her face. Lane took his hand from her pussy and licked her

taste from his finger. Now it was his turn to shudder. His cock was like steel in his

pants, the need to fuck her so strong that he shook with it.

Lane untied her and lifted her from the table, carrying her to the couch, which SJ

quickly vacated.

“Talk to me,” he whispered against the top of her head.
“Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?” He stroked her back with one hand, massaged a calf with the other.
“That it’s the strong women who need to let go, who need this time to not think.

Not play games.”

Lane doubted she knew it but her tone dripped with longing. “Yes, and they’re

always the most beautiful when they submit.”

Lila Dubois

“And after, are they…different?”
“No.” Lane chose his words carefully. “After, they’re whatever they want to be,

because the way I play means leaving it in the bedroom. The other Doms will have

other ideas, but that’s how I play.”

Addie sighed. They sat in peace for a moment, and Lane only wished he’d thought

to add a throw to the set dressing. Aftercare was always nice, though this was less than

comfortable as her ass was on his rock-hard dick.

“And a good Dom will know his sub, his girl,” Addie said.
“Yes, and he’ll use that knowledge to pleasure them both, and to challenge them

with new things. New tools.”

Addie smiled then, and he felt the last of the tension leaving her. The poor woman

had walked into the building less than eight hours ago and she’d already had her first

sub crisis. Usually it took several sessions over the course of a month to get there—then

again usually the Dom was training the girl for real.

Lane winced at the thought. It wasn’t fair to Addie to say this wasn’t real, when

what she was going through had all the markers of a real submissive experiencing her

first session.

The one thing none of them had considered was that they’d stumble on a model

who was a submissive, in desperate need of a Dom.

Well, Lane had never been a man to turn away from a good thing—and Addie was

a good thing. She might not know it yet, but she was going to be his submissive for a

little while, for her own sake as much as for his pleasure. When C&C’s project was over,

the no-fucking, no-kissing rules would no longer apply and then Lane could do what

he’d been thinking of since he first saw Addie’s photos—bending her over and fucking

her until neither of them could walk.

There was a lot of ground to cover between now and then, including Addie’s

sessions with Emory and Alton. At the thought of the other men touching her, Lane

growled, squeezing her.

“Lane?” she asked. Her eyes were still bright from the tears she’d shed. The perfect

mane of dark hair framed her oval face and Lane was sure he’d never seen anyone so

beautiful.

“Yes. There’s something we have to take care of.”
Maybe if he hadn’t just resolved to continue his D/s relationship with her he would

have dropped the promised spanking, but now he couldn’t. She wasn’t going to like

this, he was sure of that.

“What’s that?”
Lane cupped her neck and tipped her chin up by applying pressure under her jaw

with his thumb. “Your spanking.”

Undone Rebel

Addie couldn’t stop the shiver that racked her. She didn’t know what to say, so she

didn’t say anything.

“I’m guessing you’ve seen the famous Betty Page spanking photos, your hair is like

hers.”

“It’s called a Betty Page bang, and yes, I’ve seen them.”
“Then you’ll get your spanking with a hairbrush, across my knee.”
Lane shifted her to the side and Addie curled up on the couch. When Lane walked

away, she drew her knees up, resting her chin on them. She was post-orgasm mellow

and missing the heat of his body. It had felt good to be held by him, really good. When

he returned, she kept her knees up, but inched her feet apart, exposing her pussy.

“Perfect, beautiful,” he murmured, dropping to a knee to trace the insides of her

legs with two fingers.

Lane rolled to his feet and pulled one of the dining chairs in front of the fire. He

positioned a small ottoman to one side.

“That looks good,” SJ said from behind Addie. “The photos will be beautiful.”
Addie had almost forgotten about the photographer, and the knowledge that her

spanking would be captured on film…aroused her. With a moan, she buried her face

against her knees.

“Adelita, come here.” Lane’s voice was cold, harsh. The strong, gentle man who’d

promised her freedom if she let go was gone.

Addie slid from the couch, more embarrassed by her arousal than afraid. For all his

sudden harshness, she wasn’t expecting this to hurt. Lane liked her, he wanted to

pleasure her. She’d had a few boyfriends spank her during sex, and it had always

turned her on, though she’d never admitted how much.

Lane took a seat in the chair, the fireplace at his back. He sat at the edge of the chair,

his right leg forward, the left tucked to the side.

“Put your hips across my thigh. You may rest your face and shoulders here,” he

pulled the ottoman into position near his leg, “since it’s your first spanking. Next time

you’ll have to brace yourself on the floor.”

Addie bent her knees, resting her belly against his leg and then sliding her upper

body forward, the denim rough against her skin. Her shoulders and cheek lay on the

leather ottoman. She hugged the sides with her arms.

“Bend your knees, legs together. Put your toes on the floor.”
Addie could just see Lane out of the corner of her eye. He pulled a brush from his

waistband. It was a simple, square wood-backed hairbrush with black boar bristles.

The cool wood of the brush’s back rubbed over her right ass cheek. “Do you

remember what I said, that there’s a difference between a spanking for pleasure and one

for punishment?”

Lila Dubois

“Yes.” The words puffed against the ottoman. Addie’s pussy lips, pressed between

her closed thighs, were throbbing in need despite her recent orgasm. She couldn’t deny

that she liked it when he took that harsh, commanding tone with her.

“If this were for pleasure I would play with your pussy before, make sure you were

close to orgasm, maybe put a vibrating egg in that sweet little puss so you’d come while

I spanked you.”

Addie bit her lower lip. That sounded good, really good. Why wouldn’t he do it

already?

“But that’s not what this is. This is punishment, for disobeying and for hiding

yourself from me. Do you understand?” The hairbrush was now circling her left ass

cheek.

“Yes.”
Hurry up.
“After each spank you’ll count and thank me. Since this is a formal punishment

you’ll say, ‘One, thank you, Master Lane.’ Repeat it.”

“One, thank you,” Addie paused, licked her lip, “Master Lane.”
Smack.
The brush cracked down on her right ass cheek. Addie went still in shock. That hurt.

The sting of the slap on her skin was followed by a deeper throb in her ass muscle.

“Ouch! Are you insane?” Addie lifted her shoulders, elbows braced on the ottoman.

“That hurts.”

“You thought it wouldn’t?” Lane’s face was a cool mask, registering none of the

remorse or regret she expected.

“I mean, it really hurts.”
“It’s punishment.”
“You, you can’t do this.” Addie’s breath picked up speed. Now she was afraid.
“You were warned. You were told there would be physical contact during these

sessions.” Lane grabbed the back of her neck with his left hand and forced her down.

“Because you failed to count, we’re starting over.”

“Lane.”
He pressed the bristles into her ass cheek, a thousand sharp prods. “Yes?”
“You’re hurting me.” Her voice wavered a little.
“You thought I wouldn’t?”
When he said it out loud it sounded stupid that she’d banked on his liking her as a

means of escaping the punishment he’d promised.

“Addie, I may call this play, but it’s serious. You need to know that your actions

have consequences, and that my orders must be obeyed.” The stab of bristles

disappeared. “I’m starting again.”

Smack. He spanked her left ass cheek.

Undone Rebel

“One,” she took a shuddering breath, “thank you, Master Lane.”
Smack.
This blow landed on her right cheek, near the first strike. Addie whimpered and

shook, her whole body reacting to compounded pain. She turned her face into the

leather, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Adelita.”
“Two, thank you, Master Lane.” The words were muffled.
He landed the next four blows in rapid succession, by the end of the set she was

jumping and thrashing against him.

“It hurts. That hurt.” Tears spilled down her face as she turned her head to the side

to look at Lane.

He said nothing, merely pressed the bristles into her ass, a pointed, prickly

reminder.

“Three, four, five, six, thank you, Master Lane.”
“You’re taking this well.” Lane used the bristles to pull on her left ass cheek,

separating it from the right so cool air flowed over her anus. “Only four more.”

“I can’t, it hurts too much.” Each word came out as a small hiccupping sob.
“You earned ten, so you’ll get ten.”
Lane stroked a firm hand from her neck to the top of her ass and back. “Four more.”
He varied the last strikes, dropping them to the soft skin at the bottom of the cheeks

and directly across the crack. The fiery pain radiated up her ass and down her thighs.

Each blow jiggled her ass cheeks and pussy. The sharp sting of the slaps faded a

moment after each blow, but then the deeper heat spread.

By the time he was done, Addie was a thrashing, crying mess.
“I’m more than willing to start again,” Lane said, digging the bristles into the soft

skin off her upper thigh. “Your ass is gorgeous spanked, and it will only get prettier the

more I spank it.”

“Seven.” Addie stopped to catch her breath, try to control herself. “Eightnineten.

Thank you, Master Lane.”

“I’ll let that go, it was your first spanking.”
Lane helped her to stand, then made her turn so he could inspect her ass. He

pinched it softly and Addie jumped away.

“Come back here,” he ordered.
Looking over her shoulder, Addie took a step back. She stood there, shuddering

and shaking as he pinched and stroked her beaten ass.

“You look good this way. I can’t promise that I won’t want to spank you again, but

next time it won’t be so hard. Just enough to sting,” he spanked her ass lightly with his

hand and she whimpered.

Lila Dubois

Lane pulled her down so she was sitting on his lap and opened her legs, tucking

them outside his own. Addie laid her head back on Lane’s shoulder. His fingers traced

patterns along her belly and the lower swell of her breasts, staying away from her

nipples and sex. In minutes, Addie was lifting her hips, thrusting into the air.

“It turned you on when I spanked you, didn’t it?”
“Yes.” Addie turned her lips against his neck. She wanted to kiss him, bite him, lick

the sweat from his hairline.

“What turned you on?”
“I don’t know.”
“Not good enough, you have to think, you have to tell me.”
“That you didn’t stop, even when I said it hurt. That was…it’s bad, but I liked it.

And that you were so precise, the way you touched me, so stern.” Addie lifted her hips

as his hand drifted lower, toward her sex, but his fingers trailed north, toward her

breasts.

“Please, Lane, please.”
“What do you need?”
“To come.”
“I want something first.”
“What? What? You can have anything.”
“I want to fuck your ass.”

Undone Rebel

Chapter Four

Addie stilled, her abused ass falling back against Lane’s lap.
“I’ve never done that before.”
“I know, you told me. I want to be your first.”
“We can’t have sex.”
Lane grinned. She’d said can’t, as if she were blaming the contract for preventing

that. That boded well for his post-C&C project plans for her. Not that he’d fuck her ass

right out the gate anyway. He was a big guy.

“I can’t fuck you with my dick, but I can still use your ass.”
“Oh.”
He was really coming to like the way she said that.
“Up.” He tapped her hip until she stood and then took her hand, leading her to the

bed. “I want you in the middle of the bed on your hands and knees.” He watched her

climb onto the bed, which was covered by a silky cream sheet and nothing more. Her

skin seemed to glow like melted caramel against it, her hair like ebony.

You need to fuck her, you’re losing it.
“Spread your legs, now reach between them with one hand and use two fingers to

spread your pussy lips open.”

Aware of SJ and the constantly clicking camera, Lane folded his arms, wanting to

look the part of the in-control Dom. Really, he felt as if that control was ready to snap,

he was so strung out from the constant cycle of boner, semi-boner, raging-fucking-hard-

on.

He shifted to watch her fingers slide between the pink lips of her wet pussy. She

spread herself, revealing the pearly moisture within, the swollen bump of her clit and

the slit of her entrance. Just like that he was back to raging-fucking-hard-on.

“Good. Stay like that.” He barked the words, harsher than he meant them to be as

his own frustration raked him. Lane turned away as SJ positioned herself near the bed

and snapped pictures of Addie’s reddened ass and willing-to-be-fucked position. Lane

quietly unzipped his pants, adjusted his cock, and carefully zipped them again.

Opening the bottom drawer of the toy—or maybe he should say tool—dresser, he

took out a pair of gloves, a loop of thin cotton rope, lube, a narrow glass plug with

barely any flare, a short, fat plug with enough differentiation between the neck and the

internal bulb that it would easily stay in, and finally a small glass dildo.

Lila Dubois

Knowing he would be the first man to take her ass, even if it he was limited to his

fingers and the toys, filled him with savage satisfaction. No matter what happened, in a

small way she’d always belong to him.

He looked to SJ who nodded that she’d gotten the shot. She spoke quietly into her

radio and the lights focused on the bed brightened. Addie looked at him, her hair

pooled along her face, the rest of it falling in a slightly tangled black curtain. Gathering

his toys in one hand, he joined her on the bed.

“Take your fingers from your pussy and lick them clean.”
Addie’s fingers slid out of her puss, rubbing her clit as she did. Lane shook his

head.

Naughty girl.
He watched her delicately lick her fingers, her head twisted so she could watch him

as she did it.

“Put your hand down.”
He dropped the toys between her knees, except for the cotton rope, which he laid

across her back. Gathering her hair into a tail high on her head, he wrapped the rope

around it and tied it in place. He braided the trailing ends into her hair and tied it off.

When he was done, a thick, messy braid fell across her back, one long tether of the rope

falling off her side to curl on the bed.

Lane repositioned himself between her legs so he was looking at her beautiful ass.

There was something wonderful about fucking a well-spanked ass. He palmed the right

cheek, which was no longer hot, but she still sucked in a breath at the touch. He took

the trailing rope and tugged, forcing her to lift her chin, then looped it around his left

wrist in a slipknot, leaving slack so she wasn’t in danger of neck injury.

“Anal sex is more pleasant than most women expect. The anus is quite sensitive.”

Lane picked up the surgical gloves and put them on, careful not to move his left hand

too much. He flicked open the lube and tipped some onto the index and middle fingers

of his right hand before setting the bottle on her back, which made her twitch.

Rubbing the lube over his index finger until it was well coated, Lane placed the

heels of his hands near the seams of her ass and spread her open, parting her ass until

she gasped and shivered, opening her so wide that her anus itself started to open.

He bent his head and blew across the puckered entrance, watching it contract. With

his palms holding her firmly open, Lane rubbed his thumb over her rear entrance,

stroking the velvety flesh. A shudder rocked her and she tried to lower her head, only

to be brought up short by the rope he’d laced through her hair.

The tip of his index finger pressed against her anus. She clenched, trying to keep

him out.

“Relax.”
He felt her ring of muscle loosen and pushed his fingertip in.
“Oh, oh. Lane, this feels, I don’t know.”

Undone Rebel

“Does it hurt?”
“No,” she said. He pushed his index finger in to the first knuckle, then past that.

“Ah, maybe.”

“That’s just my finger, before we’re done you’re going to have a thick plug in this

pretty ass.” A shudder raced down her back, and Lane knew it wasn’t pain. This

woman definitely liked the hint of threat, being pushed…being mastered.

Lane withdrew his finger entirely, then pushed it in again, this time in one smooth

stroke. He started a steady rhythm, fucking her pretty ass with his finger, stopping once

to drip lube directly into her. The urge to add a second finger, to force her ass open so it

would take his cock, was pounding at the back of his skull.

With a force of will he didn’t know he possessed, Lane withdrew his finger and

picked up the thinner plug. “This is a thin plug, but I’m going to use it to fuck you.”

Without giving her a chance to think about that, Lane positioned the smooth, round

tip against her ass and slid it in. He watched her ass expand to take it until the bulge

slid in and her anus closed around it. Giving her a minute to absorb it, he untied the

rope from around his wrist and looped it around the base of the plug.

Climbing off the bed, he grabbed a set of nipple clamps—her breasts were too sexy,

he couldn’t resist playing with them—and a small vibe that fit over the tip of his finger.

When he looked back she was moving her head…stimulating herself with the plug.
My god, the woman is perfect.
Lane would have given anything for this whole stupid photo shoot to be done. He

didn’t want to play to the camera, didn’t want to stop himself from fucking her. He

wanted to take this woman to dinner, then bring her home and when they got to the

bedroom door order her to strip and get on her knees.

Whoa. Dinner?
That was mixing dating and BDSM and those two were things he tried to keep far

apart.

Clearly failure to ejaculate was starting to cause permanent brain damage.
Lane climbed back on the bed, loosened the rope, and pulled the plug halfway out.

As it exited her body, Addie moaned and arched her back, thrusting her ass up higher.

Lane slid the plug in again. Working it in a slow rhythm with one hand, he reached

beneath her to her gently swaying tits and attached the tweezer clamps, tightening

them a bit more than he had before lunch. Addie bared her teeth for a moment, her

breath hissing out as that first wave of pain hit her. Lane waited, carefully watching her

reaction, but when she shuddered and thrust her ass back to meet the plug, he left them

in place.

He pulled the slender plug from her, dropping it on the bed. “This is going to be

thicker, it will stretch you going in. It might hurt.” Lane lubed up the short, fat plug.

“Yes, yes, fuck me, hurt me.”
Ah, the battle cry of the submissive.

Lila Dubois

Holding her ass cheeks open with the fingers of his left hand, Lane positioned the

plug and applied pressure.

“Oh, that’s big. Lane, that’s big.”
“I know, but I want it up your ass, I want to fuck your pretty ass with it.”
“Yes, please.”
Her body gave, the plug sliding in, her sphincter clenching tight around the narrow

neck. Lane tugged on it, felt how securely she was holding it. Through the glass base he

could see the spread ring of her ass. Below that her pussy was glistening with wetness.

“Fuck it.” He snarled, unfastening his pants.
“Lane, what are you doing?” SJ’s question was cool, as if she were asking him to

pass the salt.

“I’m not going to fuck her.” He left his boxer briefs on. Positing his cock so it was

straight up against his belly but covered by his underwear, Lane put his hand on

Addie’s back. “Head down, ass up.”

Addie dropped her head and shoulders to the mattress.
Lane pressed the ridge of his cock into the crevice of her ass, the base of the plug.

He felt the wetness from her pussy soaking through his underwear against his balls.

Reaching around her leg, he flicked on the finger vibrator and pressed it to her clit.

“Lane, Lane, oh yes.”
Addie rocked back against him, her ass caressing the underside of his cock. It was

good, but not enough. Lane grabbed her hips, held her still, and thrust.

With each thrust he bumped the plug, shifting it in her ass as he simultaneously

used the vibrator on her clit.

They moved in tandem, Lane reading her body’s responses to each thrust, each

swirl of his finger, and using that information to build both their pleasures. When

Addie clawed at the sheet, screaming against the satin, Lane pressed the vibrator hard

against the root of her clit and jackhammered his hips against her ass.

With a guttural cry of his own, Lane came, spilling inside his underwear.
It felt good, but not good enough. Not as good as it would feel when he finally

fucked her for real.

Addie crossed her arms over her chest as she walked to her car, Lane at her side.
Her nipples were still hard, nearly an hour after the powerful orgasm she’d had.

Without her bra, the remains of which were in her purse on her shoulder, her nipples

were vulnerable to the night air and the scrape of her starched shirt.

It was almost ten, hours after she’d been told she’d be done for the day—not that

she was complaining. What she’d experienced at Lane’s hands was, without a doubt,

the best sex she’d ever had. And it hadn’t even been sex.

“It’s late. You must be hungry.”

Undone Rebel

“A little, mostly tired,” she said, and it was true. All she wanted to do was go home

and take a bath. It would be great if she had a big whirlpool Jacuzzi instead of a crappy

little tub.

“That’s sick. Is this yours?” Lane’s hand dropped from her back as he ran ahead to

trace his hands over her car’s quarter panels.

Just like that he’d gone from sex master to normal guy, completely distracted by a

pretty lady.

“What’s her name?” He crouched to look at the tires.
“She hasn’t told me yet. The rebuild was final three weeks ago. Which one’s

yours?” Addie looked over at the luxury cars in the lot.

“The Mercedes.” He didn’t look up from her much less expensive and

technologically advanced vehicle. “Who did it? It’s great. West Coast Customs?”

Addie laughed, “You know I work in a vintage store, right? I couldn’t afford that. I

did a lot of it myself.”

Lane popped up like a jack in the box. “You know cars too? You may be the hottest

girl on the planet.”

“Now you’re just trying to get into my panties. Oh wait, I don’t have any anymore.”

Addie raised a brow.

“I’ll get you new ones.”
“Cash will do. Men can’t pick out lingerie.”
“I’ve bought my share of lingerie,” he said, but his attention was still on the car. He

tried the door handle, then looked at her with a pleading expression. Addie fished out

her keys and gave them to him.

She couldn’t believe she was standing in a sketchy parking lot outside a sound

stage in North Hollywood having this conversation with a man who two hours ago had

whaled on her ass with a brush. The drive home would not be fun because of that

spanking. Even the brush of her skirt against her bare ass wasn’t pleasant.

“Was it black or red lace, crotchless, covered in straps?”
Lane’s head was in the car, stroking the seats, which she’d re-upholstered herself

after many broken sewing machine needles. When he didn’t respond, Addie swatted

his ass.

He jerked out, whipping around to face her. Their gazes met, held, and for a

moment Addie was afraid, but then he smiled, turned back around and wiggled his ass.

“Nice arm, hot stuff. And yes, it was mostly black lace. Sexy.”

“No, not sexy. Sexy should be subtle.”
Addie was glad to know he hadn’t been lying when he said the BDSM stayed in the

bedroom. She liked him, both the guy who was polishing the chrome on her dash with

his sleeve and the man who’d turned her over his knee and shoved a plug up her ass.

“Don’t drool, please.”

Lila Dubois

“Never, that might mess up her beauty.” With a sigh, Lane got out of her car and

gave her back the keys. “El Camino,” he drew the words out in an exaggerated way.

Addie rolled her eyes and sat in the driver’s seat, swinging her feet in.
“Good night, beautiful.”
“Me or the car?”
“The car.”
Addie rolled her eyes and started to close her door. Lane grabbed it, holding it

open.

“What is it with you and doors?” she asked.
“Good night, gorgeous. I just thought you should know you’re one of the most

beautiful women I’ve ever had the pleasure of being with, and I’m not just talking about

the way you look.”

Time stood still, the night drawing close around them as Addie looked into Lane’s

blue eyes, reading the truth of his words there.

“Thank you, for everything. I only wish—” Addie bit down on the words, pushing

the thought away.

Lane didn’t pry, he simply nodded. “It was my pleasure.”
“You’ll tell them I need a day? That I’m not coming back tomorrow?”
“I’ll call Emory and let him know to expect you Thursday.”
Addie chewed her lower lip and turned on her car, which purred to life. She didn’t

want to think about the next time she’d be back here, so she’d concentrate on getting

home and into that bath.

“Good night, Lane.”
“Good night, Addie.”

It was after midnight by the time Addie got out of the tub. Her fingers had turned

to prunes and she’d made herself orgasm four times. Her single day with Lane would

be the center of her fantasies for a very long time.

A single day with Lane.
With a sigh, Addie twisted her hair up in a towel and set her foot on the counter to

apply lotion. She’d met a guy who was nothing like her mental picture of the ideal

man—he wasn’t dark, wasn’t rockabilly, wasn’t a musician. He probably couldn’t

dance, he was a white-boy computer geek after all, but he was a good guy, a nice guy.

And he’d given her the best sex of her life without getting naked.
After all that, Addie didn’t even have the option of seeing him again, because the

only reason he’d had his hands on her was due to the contract they’d both signed. Now

that his section was done he was out of the picture, never to be seen again. During the

day she’d convinced herself he liked her, but the reality was he was just a nice guy.

Undone Rebel

He’d probably been with plenty of women who were prettier, skinnier and less trouble

than her.

“Get over it, Addie,” she said as she turned her back to the mirror and inspected

her ass. A few pale bruises had started to show. “Maybe the next guy, Emory, will rock

your world just as hard and then you can have a crush on him.”

The doorbell rang.
Addie jumped and looked at her phone on the bathroom counter. 12:24 a.m.
Pulling on her robe, she went to the door. Addie bent to look through the peephole,

which was inexplicably located in the middle of the door instead of eye level. A man’s

crotch in faded denim jeans was all she could see.

Her heart flip-flopped in her chest.
“Who’s there?”
“A sex fiend,” Lane said, voice considerately low.
Addie opened the door. “In that case.”
Lane held a pizza box and a pack of beer. “I hope you’re a pizza and beer kind of

girl.”

Addie stepped back to let him in. “What are you doing here?”
“Making sure you eat something. All you had today was some strawberries. That’s

not good.”

“So you brought me pizza and beer.” Addie didn’t know why, but tears welled up

in her eyes.

Lane looked from her to the food in his hands. “I can go find some champagne if

you want. It’s good pizza, I swear.”

Addie laughed. “No, this is perfect. Let me just put on some pjs.”
Addie closed the bedroom door behind her and blotted her eyes with the corner of

the towel on her head. It must be exhaustion that made the simple gesture seem like the

most chivalrous thing any man had ever done for her. Instead of a sexy nighty or

straight lingerie, Addie pulled on a pair of satin pj pants and a matching button-up top.

He’d already seen everything she had to offer, so now he could see her like this—plain

Addie.

She quickly brushed and braided her hair, pulling it over her right shoulder.
When she emerged from the bedroom, Lane was seated on the floor, a series of

paper towels spread out under the pizza box, his back against her chair. Addie grabbed

a pillow to sit on and sank down across from him. The smell of melted cheese was

making her stomach grumble.

“I am hungry,” she admitted.
Lane flipped the top of the box open. “Dig in. I didn’t know what you liked.”
Addie laughed as she looked at the pizza. Each slice had different toppings, as if it

were from a completely different pie. She took the Hawaiian slice and bit in, the tang of

Lila Dubois

pineapple and cream of good mozzarella exploding on her tongue. She closed her eyes

in bliss.

“Oh. Oh yes.”
“I do like it when you make that noise.”
Addie opened one eye. “I can’t deal with sex innuendo right now, I’m in pizza

heaven.”

Lane raised his hands. “Heard and understood.” He popped the top off a beer with

the opener on his key ring and placed it near her knee before taking a piece for himself.

They chewed and sipped in companionable silence. Despite the fact that she was

sitting on a pillow because he’d spanked her ass black and blue, Addie wasn’t nervous

or tense around Lane. She believed, because she’d seen it for herself, that he kept that

Dom part of himself separate from who he was now. She looked at her bedroom door

and wondered what would happen if she took him in there.

“Do you make all your clothes?” Lane asked when she tossed the crust from her

first piece back in the box. “And I can’t believe you don’t eat your crust.”

“Crust is a waste of calories. I make a lot of them. I also repair vintage clothes, old

clothes. Then I design some pieces that either I can produce quickly or that can be made

quickly and cheaply in town and Lulu—she owns the store I work at—sells them.”

“You sew, you fix cars, where did you learn all this?”
Addie picked up a second piece and told him about growing up in central

California to a homemaking traditional Mexican-American mother and a father who

thought her tomboy interest in cars was endearing. When the pizza was gone and the

final beers in the pack opened, they were on to Lane’s family, and how his social

ineptitude in high school and college had led to a mini research project on men who

understood and were successful with women, which eventually led him to BDSM.

They talked through the six-pack and a bottle of wine Addie had in her cupboard.

They talked until the first pale streaks of dawn cut across the floor.

When Lane stood outside her door, his hair haloed with dawn light, she did the

thing she’d been thinking about since he showed up—she wrapped her hands around

his neck, stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

He tasted like red wine and beer, like sex and power.
Lane wrapped a hand in her hair, the other at her back, pressing their bodies even

more firmly together. His lips slid against hers, his tongue touching her lips, her teeth,

urging her to open up so he could deepen the kiss. Addie tightened her arms around

his neck and nipped his lower lip, sucking it into her mouth. Maybe it was the wrong

thing to do, maybe she should have been passive, but in that moment all she could

think of was how right the kiss felt, how much she wanted him.

Rather than turn him off, her action seemed to set something off within him. Lane

pulled away only to attack her from a different angle, nibbling the corner of her mouth

and licking her lower lip.

Undone Rebel

He slid the hand roaming her back down, over her ass.
“Ow.” Addie broke the kiss and pressed her forehead into his shoulder, absorbing

the shock of pain as he grabbed her bruised bottom.

“Fuck.” Lane cupped her head in both hands. “I’m sorry, are you okay?”
“Just surprised me.” Addie kissed the corner of his mouth. “It’s late. Early, actually.

Probably better this way.”

Lane nodded but his eyes were dark. “I’ll call you later and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, why?”
“They’re not touching you without me there,” he growled.
Happiness flowered inside Addie. Hiding her smile, she cocked a hip, put a hand

on it. “I said no voyeurs.”

“And I said I’ll see you tomorrow.” Lane folded his arms across his chest, a hint of

Dom showing.

Addie stepped back and closed her apartment door. She looked through the

peephole in time to see him adjusting his dick in his pants before walking down the

hall.

Leaning back against the door, Addie laughed. He did like her. He’d brought her

pizza and beer.

Lila Dubois

Chapter Five

“Remove your clothing.”
Addie fell back at Emory’s sudden order. She’d barely stepped onto his section of

the sound stage. The three-sided room was bare except for some black drop-cloth-

covered lumps of furniture against the walls. The floor under her feet was wood

laminate and there were several large oval mirrors on the walls, hanging between black

curtains. Overall the space had the feel of a vampire’s unused ballroom or formal

parlor.

“Just like that?” she asked. “No preliminaries.”
“You understand this is a job, correct, and that the job you’ve been hired to do

involves your naked body?” Emory placed his hands on his hips and looked at her.

There was no exasperation or accusation in his voice.

“Oh, yes. I mean, I know that.” Thrown by his comment, Addie began untying her

outfit. Today she was in a simple wrap dress in a bold red fabric. When something

moved in the corner of the room she jumped, holding the edges of her dress closed. SJ

appeared, nearly invisible in her black clothing in the mostly black room. The

photographer was toying with her camera, detaching the lens and slipping it into a

pouch at her belt.

If she wasn’t bothering to photograph this it could only mean that Addie’s

undressing wasn’t even a part of whatever Emory had planned.

Calm down, Addie. This is a job, just a modeling job.
She had to stop thinking Emory was Lane. He wasn’t, he was into different things,

going to do different things to her. That was the whole point of having three different

men touch her.

Speaking of Lane, where was he? He said he’d be here, but wasn’t. She’d even

loitered in the parking lot waiting for him, but hadn’t seen his Mercedes. She didn’t

have time to figure it out now, or to have a breakdown about him lying to her. Right

now the only thing she should be thinking about was the man standing in front of her.

Emory was five foot ten, with black curly hair, a creamy brown completion and

exotic features that spoke of a mixed-race background. He wore a soft gray three-piece

suit with a white shirt and dark gray tie. He looked like a classy banker or high-end

lawyer. The impression was supported by his formal speaking patterns and calm

demeanor.

Addie peeled off her dress. She was about to drop it to the floor, but something

about Emory told her that he was not the type of man who appreciated a mess. Instead

she carefully folded it over her arm. Yesterday, after waking up at two in the afternoon,

Undone Rebel

she’d gone out and bought some cheap black lace lingerie. They were paying her five

figures for this project, but that didn’t mean she wanted to spend it on expensive,

vintage-inspired pieces for the Doms to destroy.

“Turn.”
Addie turned her back, letting him look her over.
“You were spanked?”
“Yes.”
“Does it still hurt?”
“A little.”
“Very well, we’ll work around that. Come here.”
Addie approached Emory, trepidation fluttering to life in her belly. He lifted the

dress off her arm. Pulling one of the black curtains away from the equally black wall, he

hung it on a hook. When the curtain fell back into place, her red dress, the only spot of

color, disappeared.

Emory reached out, selecting a lock of her hair. “Do you remember what my

specialty is?”

“Well-planned scenes,” Addie said from memory.
Emory smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a very attractive way. “Exactly.

The first thing I want to do is establish which scenes you have the most affinity for.”

“I’ve never done scenes before.”
Emory walked to the closest corner, threw back the drop cloth, and drew out a

sparkling white straight-backed chair. He brought it to the center of the room, placing it

precisely. “Please, take a seat. Your lack of familiarity with scenes is one of the reasons

you’re here, but you may have done some role play—that’s another term for what I do,

though it’s been corrupted by the comic book crowd—with past lovers?”

“Role play? Oh no, none of that.” She sat, the chair cold against her ass and back.
“You sound disgusted.”
“No,” Addie said, mentally wincing. She really didn’t want to piss this man off.

“It’s just not something I’ve ever thought about.”

“Isn’t the life you lead a type of role play, with your affected dress and personal

style?” Emory walked away, back toward the corner.

Addie straightened in the chair. “No, it’s my life. It’s who I am.” She bit off each

word. Now this guy was pissing her off. She caught another movement out of the corner

of her eye, near the edge of the set where the walls met air.

She glanced over to see Lane standing there. He wore dark jeans and a black leather

jacket. Happy butterflies fluttered to life in her belly. She started to smile but he shook

his head and pressed a finger to his lips. Addie took that to mean that Emory couldn’t

know he was there.

Lila Dubois

Looking over at the other Dom, she saw he was pulling a trunk out from under the

cloth. He flipped it open, hiked up the legs of his pants just above the knee, and

crouched to look inside.

“Everyone has at least one scene they’re drawn to, whether it’s because it’s one of

their darkest fantasies or because it’s an element from the genre of movie they prefer.”

He stood and returned to Addie, hands cupped in front of him. “It’s my job to discover

what scene will speak to you.”

“Why don’t you just ask me?”
“Because you’d lie, either to me or to yourself. Or you’d try to second-guess the

scene, selecting one based on what would be the most pleasurable.”

Fuck.
That was exactly what she’d planned to do.
“Please spread your legs. Submissives, when in the presence of a Dom, keep their

legs spread and breasts accessible.” Emory frowned. “I thought Lane would have

taught you some of this.”

Addie couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Lane, who’d moved deeper into the

shadows. He was glaring at her. Did that mean he actually wanted her showing off her

pussy to other men? Or was this because her failure to behave made him look bad, as if

she were a poorly trained dog?

“Fuck that,” she said aloud, glaring back at Lane.
“Excuse me?” Emory’s words were as cold as ice. He wrapped his fingers around

each knee and slowly spread her legs.

“No, I wasn’t—” talking to you. But she couldn’t say that. Addie looked into Emory’s

icy brown gaze and a little shiver raced down her spine. “I was just…frustrated. Lane

did teach me some rules, but I wasn’t sure if they were his rules or universal rules.”

Emory ran his hands up her thighs, his thumbs skirting the insides. He stopped just

short of her pussy. “Understandable, which is why you won’t be held accountable to

the standards of a sub, and punished accordingly. That being said, you will show

myself and this culture the respect they deserve. For the rest of the session you will not

speak unless spoken to. You will answer every question with ‘yes Sir’ or ‘no Sir’. Do

you understand?”

“Yes Sir.”
When Emory walked away, Addie followed him with her gaze, more than a little

worried about the rest of the day, and also more than a little turned-on.

Emory took one last thing from the box. This time Addie could clearly see what it

was when he brought it back. The silver dildo was short and thick, with a single long

white ostrich feather coming out of the end.

Addie opened her mouth to ask what that was for and where he was going to put it,

but snapped her mouth closed, remembering he’d ordered her not to speak.

Undone Rebel

“Well done. I know the inability to ask questions can be frustrating. I will tell you

what I feel it’s relevant for you to know. This,” he held the dildo out for her to inspect,

“is a tool used to gauge a submissive’s response to verbal stimuli. I’ll insert it into your

sex. I then list the possible scenes. Your body will react to the ones you find most

sexually appealing by contracting your pussy muscles. That will cause the feather to

jump, telling me that you’re interested.”

Addie was utterly speechless. It was a diabolical lie detector…that went in her

vagina.

“Let’s begin. Stand up, turn around, and place your left knee and hands on the seat.

Press your shoulders against the back of the chair.”

She wasn’t ready; this was too fast, like a date running out of control. But as Addie

got to her feet, wobbling slightly in her black heels, she couldn’t deny how wet she was,

how aroused. Getting into position, she looked at the floor over the back of the chair.

She didn’t feel as exposed in this position as she had in some of the bent-over stances

Lane had made her take.

Emory’s hands gripped her waist, his fingers slender and firm, if a little cold. Goose

bumps broke out over most of her body as he ran those fingers up and down her back,

adjusting her position. His hands returned to her waist and plucked the waistband of

her panties, pulling them down to dangle around her upper thighs.

“You have a nice figure, a beautiful ass.” He traced a pattern across it with his

fingers, and Addie wondered if he was outlining the faded bruises she’d been able to

see this morning in the mirror.

He separated her ass cheeks with his thumbs. Addie rocked forward with a little

hiss.

“Have you been used anally before?”
“Ah, yes. Lane.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes.”
A stinging slap landed on her right cheek, quickly followed by one to the left. The

skin-to-skin contact pricked and burned, but didn’t cause the throbbing pain of the

hairbrush. Addie looked over her shoulder to see that Emory had stripped off his coat

and was standing to one side, his palm raised to punish her. He spanked her ass in a

steady rhythm, until the surface burn felt like fire, until Addie was squeezing her eyes

closed, her hands white-knuckled around the chair. Why was he spanking her? She

hadn’t done anything wrong…

Shit.
“Sir! Yes Sir, I did enjoy it.”
The spanking ceased.

Lila Dubois

Addie sagged. Her entire ass throbbed with warm pain. She could feel the distinct

imprint of the last few swats. She felt bad, naughty…and even more turned-on than she

had before the spanking.

“I’m pleased you figured out your mistake.”
He cupped her upper thighs and turned his hands in, his thumbs just below her

pussy lips. She could feel that his right hand was now hot from spanking her.

“You’re aroused. I can feel the heat from your sex and see the liquid on your pussy

lips. Is it my domination of you, the spanking, or both, that have aroused you?”

“Both, Sir.” She whispered it, laying her cheek against the top of the chair.
“Were you aware, prior to this, that you had submissive tendencies?” Emory’s

thumb dipped between the folds of her sex and Addie moaned.

She was so ready, so aroused, that just his thumb felt unspeakably good. He placed

it against her clit and she rotated her hips, rubbing herself against him.

“Answer my question, please.”
“Could you repeat the question, Sir?”
“Were you aware that you had submissive and masochistic tendencies?”
Addie stopped moving. “I’m not submissive.”
Emory rubbed her clit, and she couldn’t hide the shudder that rocked her. “I’m only

referring to sex.”

“I like to be on top,” she paused, letting her defiance show, “Sir.”
“Very well, you’re not here to be trained, so I’ll let your beliefs stand.” His thumb

slid from her clit, between the slick folds of her sex, to her entrance. “But you might

consider exploring the BDSM community more fully. I’d be willing to train you.”

There was a crash and Addie started to rise from the chair.
“No, remain in position,” Emory barked, eyes narrowed. He twisted his hand in the

strap of her bra and used it to force her down.

SJ was speaking into her collar. “There was a crash on set, please check it out.”
The constriction around her ribs from Emory’s grip on her bra was making it hard

to breathe, and when he slid his thumb into her Addie stopped breathing altogether.

That single digit felt thick and filling she was so hungry for sensation, for something in

her.

His thumb withdrew and another finger, longer this time, pressed in. He curled it,

rubbing her G-spot as he slowly finger-fucked her. When she was thrusting her hips

back, another finger pressed in, stretching her to the point of sweet pleasure-pain.

“You’re very tight, the insertion of my feathered dildo might be uncomfortable.”

Emory twisted the two fingers he had in her as he spoke. He bumped against her G-

spot and Addie gasped in pleasure.

“Yes Sir,” was all she could answer.

Undone Rebel

His fingers withdrew and there was something thick and cold against her. Feeling

its breadth, Addie’s thrumming arousal cooled. It was big. Emory rubbed the dildo

between the lips of her sex, coating it in her body’s fluid before once more positioning it

at her entrance.

“Arch your back, relax your sex.”
He held her hips, applying pressure to the dildo. Addie bit her lip as it started to

slide in, stretching her, opening each inch of her channel. When it stopped moving she

held her breath, waiting for him to pull it out and thrust it in again. She wanted him to

fuck her with it. She closed her eyes and licked her lips, heart racing in anticipation.

Instead, Emory thumbed her clit. Her pussy contracted.
“Perfect, the feather clearly moved.” With that he was gone.
Hijo de mil putas. Yo cago en la leche de tu puta madre.
Addie cursed him with every vile phrase her father had let slip when working on

cars in the family’s makeshift garage.

Emory drew another plain chair from beneath the black drop cloth and brought it to

the center of the room. He placed it to her right and took a seat.

“Let’s begin. I’ll list a few potential scenes. For this conversation, you may speak

freely.”

Addie turned her head so she could see him, resting her cheek on the back of the

chair. He’d loosened his tie, thought his vest was still buttoned. There was no denying

that Emory was handsome, with an air of almost danger, as if he were a tamed exotic

beast.

“The first option is a naughty boarding school student.”
Addie raised an eyebrow. What was it with guys and Catholic schoolgirl outfits?

Emory was watching her ass, though his gaze flicked briefly to her face before he

nodded.

“Moving on. Interrogation. You’re a captured enemy spy or soldier, whom I will

interrogate—creatively, sexually—for information.”

Addie licked her lips and swallowed. She could see it—herself strapped to a chair,

no a table, as Emory cut off her clothes. She spit in his face when he traced a hand over

her breasts, pinching her nipple. He’d laugh at her defiance, force her legs apart and

lower his mouth to her pussy…

“A winner, I see.” Emory’s words brought her back to the present with a crash. He

was looking at her ass.

A flush crept up Addie’s face as she realized how hard she was gripping the dildo

with her pussy.

“Please,” he said, “don’t be embarrassed. An inability to enjoy our sexuality is the

greatest failing of our culture.”

Lila Dubois

“There are worse failings,” Addie said on a shaky breath, but she looked back to

Emory. He was right. She had nothing to be ashamed of, except maybe the silliness of a

fantasy in which torture included receiving oral sex.

“Another popular one is the slave girl at auction. You’d be inspected, your

capacities for pleasure and pain tested, the quality of your sex and ass tested, before

being sold to the highest bidder.”

A shiver rippled down Addie’s back as she imagined the calm, collected Emory

inspecting every inch of her, his fingers delving into her pussy and ass. Then he’d tell

the others what a perfect specimen she was, what an obedient and pleasurable sex slave

she’d be. The bidding would be fierce but when it was done, a blond, blue-eyed Viking

named Lane would emerge the winner. He’d haul her back to his ship and demand that

she prove she was worth the price he’d paid.

My god. The Feminist Majority was going to revoke her membership. What was

wrong with her?

“Another strong possibility.” Emory stood and circled her twice, running his hands

along her.

Addie wanted to scream at him to do something, anything. She couldn’t hold this

position any longer, couldn’t stand the fullness without motion in her pussy.

As if he’d heard her, Emory withdrew the dildo. The sudden loss left her feeling

empty. Addie thrust her hips back, hoping he’d slide it home again, fuck her with it,

give her something to feed the beast of arousal he’d woken within her.

“I’ve decided.”
Emory left without touching her again and Addie growled, actually growled,

though she kept the noise quiet so he wouldn’t hear. Out of the trunk came a towel,

which he spread out on the floor and placed the dildo on, a blindfold and some

handcuffs.

Emory pulled her panties back into place before helping her stand. He looped her

arm through his and walked her in a circle. “This will ease the stiffness in your legs.”

Addie nodded, as if she walked arm in arm with fully dressed men while wearing

nothing more than her underwear and throbbing with arousal every day.

When they stopped, he pulled her arms behind her back and attached the handcuffs

to her wrists. He slid a simple sleeping mask over her eyes. “I’m going to lead you off

the stage. You’ll hear some noises, that’s simply me preparing for our scene. When I

bring you back you’ll be an American spy who’s been kidnapped. You’ve hidden a map

that I want in Paris. France is your yellow-level safe word, Paris is red. Otherwise it is

your job to resist me and not give me any information.”

Emory started leading her off the stage. “You’re…you’re not really going to torture

me, are you?” The handcuffs around her wrists were all too real and, unlike with Lane,

Addie felt no assurance that Emory wouldn’t hurt her because he liked her. Of course,

that had turned out to be false with Lane—he did like her, but he’d still spanked her

until her ass was black and blue, but she’d felt safe. With Emory, she didn’t.

Undone Rebel

“There will be some pain, but it will be bound up in pleasure. There will be nothing

worse than the spanking I gave you, and probably much less than what Lane did,

considering the state of your ass. Step down.”

Addie took a step, the sound of her footsteps changing as she went from wood

flooring to concrete.

“Wait here, I will be back for you in ten minutes.”

Lane waited for Emory to return to the sound stage to step out of the shadows.

Addie looked nervous. She was twisting her blind face from side to side, shifting her

weight in the simple heels.

He snuck up behind her, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her back

against him. She gasped, whispered, “Lane?”

“Enjoying yourself?”
She cocked her hip, lifted her chin. “I am.”
Her posture said “I don’t care what you think” but her shoulders were tense. He

rubbed them until they relaxed. “Did you think I’d be upset that you like what Emory’s

doing to you?”

“You’re okay with him touching me? I thought you…”
She leaned away from him, shaking her head. Lane pulled her back, wrapping an

arm around her waist. Her back pressed against his front from shoulder to hips. He

rubbed his erection against her hands so she’d know how hot he was for her.

“You thought I wanted you, so I shouldn’t want anyone else to touch you, right?”
She nodded.
“That’s true, I want to rip Emory’s fucking face off for putting his hands on you,

because as far as I’m concerned you’re still mine.”

“Your turn with me is over,” she taunted. Her fingers closed around his cock

through his pants. Lane wanted to fuck this woman with an intensity that was starting

to feel like insanity.

“You and I are far from done, gorgeous.”
“So, after this?” Her hand stopped moving, her whole body stilling.
“But,” he said, ignoring her half-asked question to rub his free hand over her lace-

covered tits, “I also know that Emory’s good, really good, and what he’s doing to you is

hot. You’re full of sexual power, and Emory will draw that out of you in a different way

than I could. He can make you feel different things, and I can’t take that experience

away from you.”

“I wish I could see you, because that’s either total bullshit, or the most empowering

thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Addie’s voice trembled with what Lane could only assume was awe.

Lila Dubois

“It’s not bullshit. Though if he were going to fuck you it would be all over. I’d kill

him.”

“You’re not allowed to fuck me either.” Her fingers traced the length of his cock to

the head and scraped lightly.

Lane shuddered, his hand squeezing her breast. “I want my cock inside you so

much.”

“I want you too—”
The sound of footsteps interrupted their whispered conversation. Lane considered

killing Emory, then realized the bloodshed and subsequent arrest might interrupt his

long-term plans for Addie. Instead, he unwound his arms, grabbed her chin and kissed

her quick and hard.

“I’ll be watching.”
He melted back into the shadows of the vast warehouse.
Emory stepped out of his three-walled play space. The other Dom had his sleeves

rolled up, his tie off and collar unbuttoned. Lane watched as he admired Addie—the

curve of her waist, the swell of her hips and ass. There was no doubt in his mind that

Addie had real submissive tendencies. He hadn’t been surprised that Emory, who was

much more methodical that he was, had picked up on them in mere minutes.

He’d wanted to rip the other man apart when he offered to train her.
Emory circled his head, rolled his shoulders, and then grabbed Addie by the hair.

The movement was vicious, sharp. She gasped and stumbled, the cuffs clanking as she

tried to raise her hands to defend herself.

“Make this easy on yourself, tell me what I want to know.” Emory whispered in

Addie’s ear. His gaze roamed over her body, no doubt cataloguing what he’d do to her.

Addie licked her lip and then thrust her ass back, shoving Emory away. Emory lost

his hold on her and fell back a step. Whirling to face her “captor”, though she couldn’t

see him, Addie raised her chin, thrust out her breasts, and said, “I’ll never tell you, pig.”

Lane blinked in surprise. Whoa.
Emory grinned in real delight, but when he spoke, anger laced his tone. “I’ll enjoy

breaking you.” He grabbed Addie, throwing her over his shoulder, and carried her into

the scene.

Lane positioned himself in a pool of shadow near the corner where he could see the

tableau before him.

Addie blinked to adjust her vision as Emory plucked the blindfold from her face.

When she saw the transformation in the formerly empty black room she almost wished

the blindfold had stayed on. A metal box frame dripping in chains was in the spot of

honor. Beside it was a table, also metal, like something you’d expect to find in the

basement of a serial killer’s house. This was hard core—Addie respected that.

Undone Rebel

Emory danced his fingers up her spine, toyed with the clasp of her bra. “Tell me

now and I’ll leave you unmolested.”

Biting her lip, Addie shook her head.
There was a click and the cuffs fell from her wrists and clattered to the floor. Addie

thought about fighting, or running. It would fit the part she was supposed to be

playing, but she was too anxious to start, anxious to know what Emory would do to

her. The fear of the unknown, of the pain, was twining snakelike around her belly, and

she liked the feeling.

“Is it wrong that I like that I’m afraid?” she whispered.
“No.” Emory traced the path of her bra strap over her shoulder. “That’s perfect, and

it’s why you’ll enjoy this.”

He pushed her into the heart of the metal framework. Chains bumped over her

shoulder as if they were heavy cobwebs. She shied away from them, backing up with a

little hiccup of breath. Emory caught her right wrist, lifting it into the web of chain and

clicking it into a handcuff camouflaged there. Addie spun, left hand lifted and curled

into a claw. He caught her wrist, his head pulled back to avoid her scratching.

Dragging her by the wrist, he secured her other hand. Her arms were lifted and

spread. His hips pressed against her ass, nudging her lower body into place. The wool

of his suit pants was rough against her skin as he nudged her legs apart, then used his

wing tip to push her left foot across the floor. He traced his hands over her torso,

massaging his way down her leg before selecting a length of chain that lay coiled on the

floor, wrapping it twice around her ankle and slipping a padlock between the links.

Addie tried to balance on her left leg and kick him with her right, but her center of

gravity was off, and she fell, her body weight catching on her wrists.

“Fuck, that hurts,” she hissed.
Emory pinched her Achilles tendon and hauled her right leg to the side, forming

her body into an X. “You don’t know hurt yet, spy.” The second padlock clicked.

Lila Dubois

Chapter Six

Emory circled his thumbs around the bump of bone at the inside of her ankle.
He wrapped a hand around each leg, just above the chain, and slid them up. His

touch was firm, sure, like a masseuse’s. Thigh muscles fluttering, Addie caught her

breath. Then he was gone, leaving her there in her web of chain to stretch and pull,

testing the bondage. When Emory returned, he carried a heavy knife, one side curved

back to meet the straight edge in a wicked point.

“Tell me what I want to know, and I won’t hurt you.”
“I’ll never tell you, and besides, I don’t believe you.”
“Maybe you’re smarter than I thought.”
Emory cupped her breast with his left hand, rubbing the nipple through the lace,

the knife in his right hand down at his thigh. When the tip of her breast beaded up hard

and tight, tenting the black lace, he scraped it with his thumb, then pinched it with

thumb and forefinger, abrading it with the lace.

“You have pretty breasts, for a spy,” Emory said casually. “I’d like to see more of

them.”

Pinching the nipple, he pulled, hard. Her breast lifted away from her chest, her

nipple burning with sweet fire. Addie took tiny, sharp breaths, biting her tongue to

keep from crying out. Finally her nipple slipped from between his fingers, the last pinch

sending tiny shock waves up her arms. Emory was left holding a gather of black lace.

He lifted the knife, tracing the lower curve of her breast with it before slicing off the

gather of fabric. A ragged hole in the center of her bra exposed her red nipple. Emory

placed the cold flat of the blade against her and she shivered. Her areola drew up tight.

He repeated the process with the other breast, first pinching the nipple until it slid

from his fingers, then cutting away the fabric.

Out of his pocket, he drew a delicate bundle of silver chain with clamps dangling

from the ends.

“You’re going to tell me what I want to know, woman,” he said, shaking the chains

to straighten them. There were at least five lengths of chain, which met at a large silver

ring.

“Nothing you can do to me is worth the price of betrayal.”
“You think not?” Hooking his pinky through the ring, he let the chains dangle

except for one, which he looped around her waist. He fastened it to the ring, making a

belly chain. The ring, and the rest of the chains, dangled just above the band of her

panties.

Undone Rebel

“You think you’ll frighten me with…jewelry?” Addie cocked her hip to the side and

looked Emory up and down. “It’s going to take a bit more than that, comrade.”

Emory smiled, a wide grin that came and went, lightning fast. “Do I look Russian?”
Addie shrugged.
Then the moment was gone, and everything was frighteningly series. There was no

sound except their breathing, and the click of the camera.

“I think an American dog needs a collar.”
Emory moved out of sight, only to grab her hair, forcing her head back. Something

thick and cold slid around her neck. Addie swallowed as Emory tugged and pressed,

fastening it in place.

“Much better,” he said when he was in front of her.
The most frightening thing about the high collar was that now she couldn’t look

down. Addie tried to look at her body—her exposed nipples, the chain around her hips,

but her jaw hit the top edge of the collar. She licked her lips.

“You’re going to tell me what I want to know.” Emory put his hand in his pocket

and when he took it out and shook his fist there was a jingle of metal. He opened his

fingers to show her the little metal devices he held. “Do you know what these are?”

The oval-shaped pieces of worked metal and springs could be only one thing.

“Clamps.” She lifted her chin. “I’m not scared of clamps.”

“You should be.”
One by one he lifted the dangling chains, attaching the clamps to the end. Addie

caught her breath, expecting him to reach for her breasts, place them on her nipples, but

he didn’t. Instead he let the chains fall. The clamps swung between her legs, tapping her

ankles and calves.

Emory lifted the knife from the chair where he’d set it and slit her panties at each

hip. She was so wet that the fabric clung to her sex. He reversed the knife, running the

blunt end between the lips of her sex to push the lace against her clit. The handle

pushed against the entrance to her body, hovering there as if he would fuck her with it.

Then he turned and set the knife aside. Taking a wad of lace in his fingers, he

rubbed it against her clit, her labia, roughly stroking her with the fabric that seemed as

harsh as sandpaper against her sensitive flesh. Addie’s fingers were woven into the

chains that held her up. They clinked and jingled, a sound almost as delicate as wind

chimes as she thrust her hips forward and back, grinding down against his hand. With

her head thrown back, the collar dug into the base of her skull, her shoulders.

Emory stepped back. “You’ll tell me what I want to know.”
“I…I…” Addie could barely remember the game they were playing. Her body was

alive, on fire. She was bound, exposed, chained and collared. Her sex thrummed with

her heartbeat, her nipples ached with each stray draft.

She didn’t notice Emory had left until he reappeared, this time holding a small bowl

and a…paintbrush?

Lila Dubois

“What is that?”
“Something you might like, you look like you’d enjoy spicy food.” He dipped the

tiny paintbrush into the bowl and painted it along her lower lip. It tickled. Addie

started to draw in her lip, lick away whatever he’d put there, when the smell hit her.

She coughed.

“That’s chili oil, or jalapeño juice.” Each breath held a hint of fire and her eyes

watered slightly. It was strong, really strong. “No, not jalapeño, something stronger.”

Emory nodded. “Lick your lip, try it.”
It took everything Addie had not to lick her lip, which was tingling maddeningly.
“I can’t beat the information out of you,” Emory said, dipping the brush into the

bowl, “broken bones would lead to questions. I can’t drug you and make you tell me,

because the information might not be reliable.”

She could see the bristles glistening with oil as he pulled it out. The brush headed

for her left nipple. Addie shook her head, eyes wide. He wouldn’t.

With exquisite care he painted her entire nipple with oil, stroking the bristles over

every inch of flesh, pressing them into the center. The burn started a few breaths later.

As he dipped the brush into the oil, she gritted her teeth, body hunched in the chains.

“It burns,” she hissed, eyes closed.
“Tell me what I want to know.”
“No.”
“Then I will keep hurting you, tormenting you.”
“Yesss.”
Her other nipple received the same careful painting of chili oil. Soon Addie couldn’t

remain still. She was thrashing in her chains, desperate to brush her nipples against

something to alleviate the burn.

“Next I’m going to paint this on your pussy.”
Addie’s eyes flew open. Emory stood before her, tall and calm. With his sleeves

rolled up and shirt open at the throat he looked like a businessman at the end of a hard

day, or the model on a cover of a gentlemen’s magazine, trying to look casual, but too

elegant to ever really relax.

“No, please.” She didn’t think she could take this hot burning on her sex. When she

spoke her lips rubbed together, the oil he’d applied on her lower lip spreading to her

upper lip, creating a fresh sensation.

“You could tell me what I want. To stop this all you need do is tell me where it is.”
“It’s…” Did she want this to stop? “I’ll never tell you.”
With calm deliberation, Emory set down the oil, picked up two of the chains that

dangled from her waist and opened the clamps between his index fingers and thumbs.

“You shouldn’t taunt me like that. You’ll only make me punish you.”

Undone Rebel

She could just see the clamp where it hovered around her nipple, waiting to close

around the already screaming flesh. “Do your worst.”

He snapped the clamps into place. Addie screamed. It hurt, oh, it hurt, and yet her

pussy throbbed with a violent need to be filled. Emory grabbed her, holding her by the

waist and head, spearing his fingers through her hair.

“Look at me, no, don’t sink into sub space, I can’t take you there. Look at me.”

When she blinked and focused, Emory nodded. Energy radiated off him. He held on to

her as if he worried she would float away or shatter. “What do you need, tell me, don’t

think about it, just tell me.”

“More. And to finish, I want to come.”
“Good.”
Emory released her. His fingers played across her waist as he found another of the

chains. With his gaze still holding hers, Emory reached between them and spread her

pussy lips with two fingers.

“No,” she pleaded.
“Yes,” he commanded.
The clamp bit into her clit, gripping the swollen bud. Addie shuddered, hard. It was

almost enough to take her over, almost enough to release the ferocious ball of tension in

her belly. He attached a final clamp to one of the lips of her sex, just above her clit.

“Are your nipples burning?”
“Fuck you.” The fire had barely subsided. With each breath she was sure the

sensation would fade, but it didn’t.

Emory didn’t respond. Instead he picked up a little cat-o’-nine-tails.
“Y-you said you weren’t going to really t-torture me,” Addie stammered as she

looked at it. The handle was wood wrapped in strips of leather, the strands soft black.

“This is just to warm up your skin. The tails are velvet.” He trailed them across her

upraised arms so she could feel.

Velvet or not, when he drew his arm back and brought it against her thigh, she

screamed, more from fear than anything else. He struck her belly. The chains connected

to her nipple clamps caught on the velvet, jerking her nipples. Addie hissed and threw

back her head.

“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Obey me.”
“What…what do you want?”
“More than you can give.”
Emory worked her over with the cat. Her front and back, her already abused ass,

her legs and belly were all whipped. When she was panting, teetering on the brink of

Lila Dubois

something she couldn’t understand, Emory planted himself in front of her and brought

the whip up between her legs.

Addie screamed. Again and again he brought the soft strands up, brushing her

thighs, her pussy lips and sometimes, sometimes, her clit.

“Please, please,” she begged.
“What do you want?”
“More.”
“More of this.” There was a gentle hiss, and then he struck her pussy with the

flogger.

“Yes.”
“Beg for it, spy.”
“Hit—”
“Whip,” he corrected.
“Whip me, my pussy, whip my pussy.”
Emory tucked the flogger in his belt and quickly undid the chain around her belly.

Holding the ring that connected all the chains, he pulled, applying tension

simultaneously on her nipples, clit and pussy lip.

Addie took shallow breaths, watching him with wide eyes. He brought the flogger

up between her legs, striking her pussy. One tail of the flogger curled back against her

ass, many of them struck her thighs, but at least one licked her clit. Addie’s eyes

fluttered closed.

Again, then again he brought the soft strands of the flogger up to meet her delicate

flesh, balancing that sensation with the pain in her nipples, the tug of the clamp at her

clit.

Like a tiger uncurling from a nap, something inside her was waking, stretching. The

orgasm that he’d denied her for hours was prowling inside her, waiting for something

strong enough to let it out.

“Fuck me, please fuck me,” she begged. Addie no longer cared who he was or

where they were. All she wanted was to come. She was a creature of sensation and

longing, a sexual being as fragile as glass and as strong as steel.

“No.”
“Please.”
“Look at me.” Emory brought the cat up one last time in a hard blow, harder than

all the others, making her gasp and shiver. With their gazes locked, he ripped the

clamps off, all four of them at once.

Addie screamed through gritted teeth, the sensation—she no longer distinguished

pain from pleasure—was so acute that it was too much, too strong. Emory stepped into

the cage, pulled her body tight against his, and delved two fingers between her pussy

lips.

Undone Rebel

“I can’t, I can’t,” she chanted, shaking.
“You will.” Fingers circling her clit, he proved her wrong and himself right. Her

body high on the pleasure-pain he’d brought her, he forced her to orgasm with a few

strokes of his fingers.

And when she’d come once he didn’t stop. He fisted a hand in her hair, forced her

head back and kept playing with her. His fingers danced over her clit until she came a

second time, and then a third, her legs quaking so hard she fell off her high heels.

“No more, no more,” she begged.
“Your pussy and nipples deserve a rest,” he conceded, “but your ass is unmolested.

I’ll get what I want from you.”

“No more. I can’t. I really can’t.”
Addie didn’t want to do this anymore. She felt stripped raw, naked to her soul. His

grip on her hair loosened and Addie tipped her head forward to see SJ kneeling two

feet away, taking pictures of Emory holding open her pussy lips. As she watched, SJ

switched the focus up, to Addie’s breasts and her heavily abused nipples.

“Where is the map, spy?” Emory voice was soft, reminding her that if she was at

her limit she had a way out.

“Paris.”

Lila Dubois

Chapter Seven

She ignored the knock on the front door. Addie closed her eyes and sank down to

her chin in the bath, knees poking above the waterline. A tub full of minerals, Epsom

salts, and some supposedly healing oils was doing wonders for her body. Now if she

could just get her mind to shut down she’d be fine.

After a few minutes the knocking stopped. Not long after that her phone started to

vibrate. She’d left it on the closed lid of her toilet and the vibration echoed in the bowl,

the sound obnoxiously loud. Reaching over the edge of the tub, she dried her fingers on

the bath mat, plucked her phone off the toilet, and stuck it between two towels on the

shelf under the tiny window.

Her hair had fallen around her shoulders in wet clumps to float across the top of the

water like a spidery fringe. Gathering the wet strands, Addie rolled them into a bun at

the nape of her neck and settled back, her hair acting as a cushion.

With grim determination, Addie thought about anything but Lane and Emory and

what she’d just been through with both men. Instead she mentally sketched outfits,

made lists and imagined what she’d do with the money she made from this modeling

gig. Damn, now she was back to thinking about Lane and Emory, particularly Lane,

when she’d meant to contemplate how nice it would be to make a lump-sum payment

on her student loans.

When the water was cold and her fingers were shriveled, Addie climbed out,

wrapping herself in two towels and her hair in a third. Bundled up, she picked up her

phone, which showed a total of six missed calls, all from Lane.

In her bedroom, Addie dropped her towels and pulled on a pair of cotton leopard-

print shorts and a matching tank top. The set was old and faded, seams coming apart,

and not for the first time. She was too tired and sore to set her hair in foam rollers or rag

rolls, so she pulled off the towel and braided it.

Slipping her white silk pinup girl robe over her pjs, Addie padded into the kitchen.

A nice cheesy pupusa with vinegary cabbage and hot sauce was, amazingly, not waiting

in her nearly bare fridge. She stood for a moment, contemplating getting dressed and

going out for a pupusa—her favorite comfort food—but that was too much effort. She

settled for a yogurt.

Spoon in her mouth, Addie settled into her chair, fishing in her sewing basket for

something to keep her hands and mind occupied. She pulled out her knitting needles

and the long-neglected scarf that dangled off one of them. Draping it over the arm of

the chair, she plucked the spoon from her mouth and scooped up more yogurt.

Thump.

Undone Rebel

Addie’s heart leapt into her throat. Again, something hit her front door.
Bare knitting needle in hand, she turned off the lights and crept toward the door.

Where there should have been an unbroken line of light from the lamp in the corridor

there was a dark shadow.

An ass-sized shadow.
Addie dropped to her knees, slid the knitting needle under the gap, and thrust.
“Fuck! Damn, that hurt, Addie.” Lane’s voice was muffled through the door, but

she had no trouble discerning who was sitting in her hallway, thumping against her

door.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“I’m waiting.”
“For what?”
“For you.”
Why did that make her heart flutter? Addie slipped from her knees to her butt and

rubbed the heel of her hand first against her heart, then her temple.

“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why?” he was whispering now, but his voice sounded closer, as if he were

whispering against the crack in the door.

“Because…” Why? He’d come before and it had been fine, all light and fun.
That was before.
“I can’t,” she finally replied, not knowing what else to say.
“You can’t face me? Can’t understand what you’re feeling? Can’t face yourself in

the mirror right now?”

Get out of my head.
“Lane, just go away.”
“I won’t.”
“This isn’t part of your job. You had your day with me.”
“This isn’t about the job anymore. I thought I’d made that clear.”
“Then what is this? You going to take me dancing?”
There was a double thump, the door shuddering against her shoulder as he moved.

“Fuck, Addie—”

She knew what he was thinking. I don’t want to date you, I just want to fuck you. Can’t

we just keep this light? Open the door and let me in and we’ll talk about it, and by talk I mean

fuck.

Addie gritted her teeth as anger boiled inside her. He was playing her, and what

the hell had she expected? Considering the way they’d met, he’d never respect her, and

respect was one of the things that meant most to her. She’d been a fool to listen to his

talk of later.

Lila Dubois

“I can’t dance.”
“Huh?”
“I said I. Can’t. Dance. I’ll take you dancing but we’re both going to hate it.”
“You’ll take me dancing?”
He must have heard the tears that tightened the back of her throat, because his

voice was soft when he answered. “Of course I will.”

Addie stood and opened the door.
Lane was sitting in the hall, hands braced on her doormat, long legs stretching

almost to the opposite wall.

“You know that going dancing is a date?” she asked.
He grinned. “Are you asking me out?”
Addie started to slam the door, but he threw his upper body inside. The door

rebounded off his shoulder. Lane scrambled to his feet.

Stepped inside.
Closed the door.
“Bad choice of words.” Lane cupped her waist, looming over her. It was the second

time he’d invaded her cluttered little home, the second time he’d stripped away her

power with nothing more than his presence.

“Don’t tease me,” she warned, pleaded.
“Why?”
“I’m not going to answer that.”
“Then I’ll just tell you that I’ve never felt quite this way when I was with a woman

before, either a vanilla relationship or BDSM.”

Twin trickles of happiness and dread wound through Addie at that statement. If

she was smart she’d simply accept this, accept whatever he was offering and never tell

him…

“Why is it different with me?”
“I don’t know.” His hand on her waist flexed, squeezing her, pulling her closer

until her hips brushed the front of his chinos, until she felt his erection there. “But

something about you,” he frowned, searching her face as if he’d find the answer there.

“Something about you blurs the lines. You submit, but you don’t.”

“You still seem in control to me.” Tension radiated off him, but it was tightly

leashed, almost as if he’d been stitched into it.

He simply shook his head.
“I think I want to see you lose control.” Addie slid her palms up his chest, the soft

fabric of his t-shirt rumpling under her fingers. “I want to know what you’re like

without that armor on.”

Undone Rebel

“Addie. No.” He caught her wrist, pulled her hands away. “I’m a…big guy. My

control is necessary.”

“And the friendly frat-boy routine, is that armor necessary too?” Addie twisted her

wrists and his fingers fell away. She had no doubt that if he’d wanted to he could have

held her. If he really wanted to stop her.

“That’s, that’s not…” He swallowed, looked away.
Like a wave drawing back out to the ocean, the tide of power was shifting to her.

Had no woman ever seen that easygoing charm was as controlled and constructed as

his Dom mannerisms?

“That’s not armor? It is. Don’t lie to me, Lane.” Addie’s hands settled on his waist,

crumpling the fabric of his shirt until the pads of her fingers touched smooth, bare skin

stretched over tight muscle.

His eyebrows were lowered and drawn together over his nose. His eyes seemed

black under the shadow of his brow. His free hand settled on the other side of her waist,

sliding down to knead her hip as he pressed their pelvises together.

Addie tucked her fingers into the waistband of his pants, thumb toying with the

button.

“Tell me what you want,” she whispered, leaning in to breathe the words against

his neck.

“I want you.”
“How?”
“Any way. Every way.”
Addie pushed the button through the hole, rubbing the skin she’d exposed before

grasping the tab of his zipper. “And what if I told you to leave?” She leaned back just

enough to watch him under her lashes.

Lane drew in a breath, his nostrils flared. His eyes were full of fire, the muscles

along his jaw and down his neck working. “Don’t.” He wrapped his hand over hers and

together they lowered his zipper. Addie pushed his pants down over his ass. He was

naked underneath, his cock rigid and hot, so erect it nearly brushed his belly. “Please.”

She felt his eyes on her as she took a step back to examine him. After a long moment

Lane hastily shucked his shoes, socks and pants, leaving him naked from the waist

down. He was corded in muscles, wrapped in smooth cream skin that darkened to gold

on his lower legs. The dark-blond hair around his cock was trimmed short, doing

nothing to hide his heavy balls.

Addie touched his thigh, watched the pad of muscle flex as she stroked him with

light touches that gradually turned into scratches. When her nails reached the seam of

leg and torso, he moaned her name.

Addie caught his gaze with her own, waited until she was sure he was looking at

her face before wrapping her hand firmly around the base of his cock.

A shudder racked Lane. He inhaled, closed his eyes.

Lila Dubois

Addie added her other hand, wrapping it above the first, her thumb rubbing over

the tip of his cock.

Lane’s eyes popped open. “I can’t wait. I have to have you.”
Yes.
He pushed her robe open, growling when he saw what she wore underneath. Lane

grabbed the neckline of the tank top and yanked. The fragile seams ripped, the fabric

falling away to expose her breasts.

“Now I can touch you.” His gaze darted between her breasts and face.
“You touched me before.”
“Not like this.” One hand cupped her left breast, lifting it toward his mouth. Warm

lips enveloped the peak, drawing on the tip. Nerve endings down Addie’s back, along

her arms and between her legs sparked to life.

With a cry she tightened her hold on his cock, and in response Lane bit her nipple.
His other hand found her shorts, ripping them away. The fabric dug into her ass,

between the lips of her sex, as he pulled it free.

Then Lane’s fingers were there, clumsily fondling her sex with none of the precision

he’d shown before. His fingers were thick, his touch rough, frantic. Her robe, caught on

her arms, fluttered and danced around her legs.

“I can’t wait. I can’t.”
She barely heard him, but in the next breath Lane swept her legs out from under

her. For one horrible instant she was falling, all alone and falling, but then he was there,

arms around her ass and shoulders, bearing her down to the floor.

Lane pushed her legs apart and knelt between them. He looked like a Viking god—

especially when he pulled his shirt off, exposing a well-defined chest and belly.

“Look at me,” he demanded, coming down on top of her. “Hold me.” But now it

was a plea.

“Fuck me,” she demanded, looking into his eyes. “Kiss me.”
Addie took a fistful of his hair and pulled his lips down to hers. He ravaged her—

nipping her lips and neck, sucking her tongue and pushing his own deep into the well

of her mouth.

His free hand grabbed behind her knee, drawing her leg up and to the side, forcing

her sex open. He paused for a moment, grabbing a condom from his pants and

fumbling it on. She gasped against his neck when she felt the tip of his cock testing the

wet slit of her sex.

“I can’t wait.”
“I don’t want you to.”
The tip of his cock slid in, big enough to have her gasping, rethinking her bold

words. He was so big, they should go slow…

Undone Rebel

Lane slid home with one hard thrust. Addie cried out in mingled pleasure and pain.

He filled her, completed her, in ways she couldn’t explain.

“I need you.” His breath washed over her neck, stimulating the sensitive nerves

there. Addie felt alive and aware, as if she’d been struck by lightning.

“I need you too.” Nothing had ever been more true.
Addie wrapped her legs over his back and Lane hooked his hands under her

shoulders. He withdrew and thrust, the movement hard and powerful, jarring both of

them, Addie’s back and shoulders sliding across the floor from the power of it.

“I need to fuck you,” he whispered.
Addie nodded.
Lane withdrew and thrust, harder this time, so hard his balls slapped her ass. Again

he withdrew and thrust, fast, hard.

He fucked her, there on the floor, with a rough savagery that lacked finesse and

control. Lane growled at her when her legs slid down his back, bit her neck and

shoulders, groped her breasts and twisted her nipples.

Addie panted and begged, tucking her face into the hollow of Lane’s shoulder so

his collarbone wouldn’t knock her jaw as he thrust. She held on to him with her nails,

her legs tight around his back, and accepted every inch of his cock as he pounded into

her.

Savage satisfaction swept through her in waves. She wondered if it was an orgasm

or simply emotional pleasure that filled her, but she didn’t really care. This pleasure

was as different from the pleasure he’d given her the other day as slow, rolling thunder

was to a lightning strike. Both had their place, but she was tired of lightning—she

wanted thunder.

“Addie, Addie,” he chanted.
“Yes, yes, Lane.”
He jackhammered into her and then, with a guttural cry, collapsed on top of her.

First step, get off her. She probably can’t breathe.
Second step, apologize for being such a newbie.
Third step, don’t actually say newbie, she might realize you’re a geek along with being a

crappy vanilla lover.

Lane lifted himself off Addie. His semi-erect cock slid out of her, and that was

enough stimulation to have him thinking about round two. Which would never

happen.

Lane pulled his knees up and rested his elbows on them, scrubbing his fingers

through his hair.

“Addie, I’m really sorry.” He couldn’t bear to face her.
“Why?” A hand stroked his back, following his spine up to the nape of his neck.

Lila Dubois

“I lost control, I shouldn’t have.”
Addie laughed. Lane could only watch as she pushed her way between his hands

and legs, circling her arms around his neck.

“I wanted you to lose control.”
He frowned. “Did you want to be in control? That’s called a switch and it’s

something you organize.” The moment hadn’t read like a top jonesing for control, but

he was so off center he was lucky he’d remembered how to fuck her.

Addie cupped his cheeks with her palms, tilted his head until their gazes locked.
“I wanted to know that you wanted me so much that you would lose control. I

wanted to know that I was more than someone, something to be controlled.” She said it

almost shyly, and he realized she wasn’t as sure of herself as she seemed. If she realized

she was a one-in-a-million girl, a girl any guy would be lucky to get, never mind that

she was a sub any Dom would kill for, she’d run right out the door and find someone

better than him. Best not to tell her exactly how amazing she was.

“Of course you are, I told you that.” He pulled Addie to his chest, cuddling her

there. He tucked the robe she still wore around her breasts so he wouldn’t get

distracted. “I don’t think of you as a ‘something’. I tried to make that clear.”

Her gaze searched his face, looking for something there. “How was I supposed to

know if that was real, or just another part of the sub training?”

Lane opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Well…fuck. I’m really sorry.

This is complicated enough for me, and I know the rules of both games. I mean, vanilla

dating and Dom/sub relationships.”

“What is ‘this’?”
“Um, us. You know, seeing each other.”
“We haven’t actually done anything that would categorize this as ‘seeing each

other’.” Addie’s voice was cool, almost disinterested.

“We had vanilla sex.”
“That’s a one-night stand, actually it’s mid-one-night stand.”
“You’re going to teach me to dance.” Panic was building in Lane’s belly.
“Did I actually agree to that?”
“All right, lady.” Lane grabbed Addie by the upper arms and held her away from

him so he could look at her. He gave her a little shake to emphasize each point. “You’re

going to date me.” Shake. “You’re going to fuck me.” Shake. “You’re also going to be

my sub. Technically sub-in-training.” Shake. “Normally I don’t mix those two things

up, but with you…” He shook her one final time then released her. “With you I want

both.”

Addie nodded slowly, but her face was grave.
“What’s wrong, why aren’t you talking?”

Undone Rebel

“Lane, I think you’re funny and nice, and your body is—” She trailed off into a

spate of Spanish he didn’t catch but she was eyeing his abs. “And yes, I did like being

your sub. And that’s part of the problem.”

Addie scooted back so she was no longer touching him and belted her robe closed.

“I liked being Emory’s sub too.”

Her fingers were fisted around wads of robe, her head tipped down so he was

looking at the crown and the part in her hair. It took Lane a minute to realize that’s

what she was upset about.

“Addie, everything I told you before your scene with Emory was true. He’s a good

Dom, a good guy. He can give you different experiences, different kinds of pleasure,

than I could. I don’t begrudge you that.”

“How can you be so possessive and not care if another man touches me?”
“It’s not that… Fuck, this is hard to explain, and I’m not great with words. It’s like

this—a Dom’s priority should always be his sub’s well-being and pleasure.”

“Even if that includes other people?”
“Yes, if the Dom is there to watch over the sub. That’s why I made sure I was there.

I wanted to make sure you were okay, to learn what about your time with Emory riled

you up the most, and to let you know I was there.”

“And what if I don’t want to be a sub?” Her chin was raised, her eyes met his

fearlessly.

She was a beautiful sub, begging to be trained, even if she didn’t know it. Any Dom

worth his salt would pick up on it, as Emory had. She’d enjoy her time in bondage, her

time submitting. Together they would explore her sexuality, and his own, and find

pleasure they couldn’t dream of.

But only if she wanted to.
“If you don’t want to be a submissive then…I won’t ask that of you.”
“Would you still date me?”
“Yes.” He wanted this woman, no matter what.
“When you’re with me you can’t be with other women. You can’t have some slutty

submissive on the side. If you’re with me you’re mine.”

Lane wanted to punch the air in triumph. Fucking-A, this woman was perfect. Her

hands had curled into claws, as if she would scratch any other woman who tried to

touch him. He liked her ferocity.

“Agreed,” he said.
“And I would never be a live-in slave, like that Alton guy wants.”
Alton. There was no way he was letting him touch Addie. First thing in the morning

he’d have to go down to C&C. Emory was one thing. Alton was another.

“I don’t want that either. And I don’t want you doing a session with Alton.”
“I have a job contract to fulfill.”

Lila Dubois

“I’ll take care of it.”
Addie narrowed her eyes. “No, you’re not. I follow through on my commitments.”
Lane grabbed her hands. “I respect that, but I also want to keep introducing you to

BDSM without a day of Alton terrorizing you to work around.”

A hint of fear flickered in her eyes. “Terrorizing.”
“Alton has up to five naked slaves cleaning his house on any given day. They

consider themselves honored to lick his shoes.”

“Oh.” She paused, toying with her robe. “You’re really not mad that I liked what

Emory did?”

“No.”
She stared at him with an intensity that worried him.
“So other people are okay when it’s Dom-time, even fucking them?”
White-hot jealous rage flared in Lane. “You’re not fucking Emory. Ever. No one is

fucking you but me.”

The minute the words were out of his mouth he wanted to bite them back. Now he

sounded like some Neanderthal boyfriend instead of a Dom. Damn, this is why he tried

to keep these things separate.

Strangely, Addie didn’t look mad, she was smiling. “Okay.”
“Ah, good. I mean, maybe I’d invite him for a three-way,” Lane said, trying to save

the situation.

Her eyes got big, her mouth forming an O. Well, well, the pretty Adelita liked the

idea of a threesome. Lane had to bite back a grin. He added that to his mental to-do list.

He’d take her from the back, with a dildo in her ass as he fucked her pussy while

Emory fucked her mouth. This would be after they’d spend hours tormenting her and

making her come for them. She’d be so hot and primed she’d probably come the instant

he slid his cock in.

The mental picture had Lane’s cock rising again. From the direction of Addie’s gaze

he’d say she’d noticed.

“I owe you an orgasm,” Lane said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him.

Addie came willingly.

“No, I came. I think.”
“Not good enough. I want you screaming my name.”
“Ay, you’re arrogant.”
“Bed or on the floor again. You choose.”
“Uh, my bedroom is kind of a mess.”
“I’m going to fuck you from behind so unless you want rug burn on your knees

you’ll show me the bedroom.”

Undone Rebel

Chapter Eight

Lane knocked on the door to Helen’s office.
Alton opened it.
“Alton.”
“Lane.”
Lane looked over Alton’s shoulder at Helen. “Good morning, Helen.”
“Good morning, Lane. I’m in a meeting right now, can I talk to you later?”
“Actually, it’s probably better that I talk to both of you.”
Lane pushed past Alton. He felt the other man’s shock that he’d done it. As one of

the strictest and most feared men in L.A.’s BDSM community, Alton wasn’t used to

being treated with anything but the utmost respect.

“Is there a problem?” Helen asked, half rising from the chair to accept Lane’s

handshake.

“I don’t think so, but I’m worried I may have created one for you.”
Helen settled into her chair. “And what is that?”
“Addie won’t be coming back for her session with Alton.”
Helen raised a brow. She looked to Alton. Lane didn’t look at the other Dom. As far

as he was concerned, since Alton had no say in the situation, he just needed to know,

not to be consulted.

“Alton wrote part of the book. We need photos to go with it,” Helen said when the

silence had stretched.

“You’ll have to find someone else to model.”
“We had enough trouble finding—”
“You’re claiming her.” Alton’s low words cut through Helen’s casual distress.
Lane turned to him. “Yes.”
“If you intend to make her your slave—”
“I’m not going to make her anything. She’s submissive. I’m going to introduce her

to the lifestyle and yes, she’ll be my submissive.”

Alton shook his head. “You should send her to me. She’d be better for it.”
“No. She’s mine.” Lane turned back to Helen. “I’m sorry, I know this screws up the

plan for the book, but I saw both sessions, and it’s enough material. There’s probably

pictures in there that could be used for Alton’s section.”

“You ignored her wishes and watched her session with Emory?” Alton asked.
Lane looked over. “She’s mine. Of course I did.”

Lila Dubois

“And now you’re dating one of the guys.”
“Yep,” Addie mumbled and smiled. She couldn’t help it, thinking about Lane made

her smile. The pins she had between her lips shifted, stabbing her tongue. Wincing, she

dropped the hemline she was repairing and took the pins out of her mouth.

“So what’s going to happen if you don’t do the sexy shoot with the other scary strict

guy, Alter, do you have to give back a third of the money?”

“Alton, and I don’t know. Lane went to talk to them yesterday. I was going to go

but he says he’s known Helen for a long time and he’s hoping to convince her, as a

friend, to use the pictures they already have for the whole book. If they have to find

someone else I bet I will have to give the money back.”

“Well, it was worth it, either way, because you had some amazing sex and you met

a nice guy.”

“I didn’t actually have sex, remember? Well, not as part of the job. But I did meet an

amazing guy.”

“Here’s the important question, when do I get to meet him?”
“I told him to pick me up here at six, we’re going on a date.”
“Aww, how sweet, you’re dating, after he’s used you as a fetish sex toy for pictures

and you’ve fucked him all night long.”

Addie threw a scrap of fabric in Lulu’s general direction.
Lulu, looking adorable in a Lucy Ricardo-esque dress, checked the slim silver watch

on her wrist.

“We’d better get out there. It’s been busy lately, and with only one pair of eyes, I’ve

noticed an increase in missing inventory.”

“Lulu, I’m sorry.” Addie sat back, feeling awful. Lulu had a problem with younger

kids who wanted to break away from the suburban chain store stylings their parents

stuffed them in, but who didn’t have the money or were too embarrassed to buy cherry

barrettes, retro wallet chains and phone cases with pictures of burlesque dancers.

“Kids do what they have to do to express themselves.”
“Little shits.”
Together they made their way to the main floor of the shop, where Addie unlocked

and propped open the doors. Lulu switched on the music. Addie headed behind the

When Muskrat Ramble came on, Lulu broke into a solo Charleston between display

tables. Addie leaned on the counter and wolf-whistled as her friend picked up the edges

of her skirt and whipped it back and forth. They were both laughing as Lulu finished

her dance.

Someone clapped.

Undone Rebel

Addie twisted toward the door, salesclerk smile in place. Her smile dropped and

she straightened, very slowly.

Lulu, who had no idea who the man standing just inside the shop’s front doors was,

curtsied. “Thank you. Welcome to Lulu L’amore.”

Master Alton examined Lulu from head to toe. He was dressed simply enough in

dark jeans and a black button-down shirt open at the throat, but to Addie he seemed as

dangerous as if he’d walked in wearing leather and carrying a whip.

“Your store is very unique. I like it.” His voice rumbled through the space, low and

compelling.

Addie watched as her friend’s posture changed. The easy smile faded to a forced

one and her shoulder’s stiffened as Lulu picked up on the dangerous vibes radiating off

Alton.

“Thank you for that, we’re happy to offer both restored vintage pieces and one-of-a-

kind, retro-inspired designs. Is there something particular you’re looking for?”

Alton looked at Addie. “Yes.”
Addie curled her fingers around the edge of the counter. It wasn’t much protection,

but she’d take what she could get.

“What do you want, Alton?”
“Alton?” Lulu looked between them. “Oh!” Her gaze whipped back to him, her

eyes wide. Lulu examined Alton, as if looking for a tell that said “sexual Dom”.

“I came to see if what Lane said was true.” Alton’s attention was practically a

physical thing, pinning her in place.

Addie’s stomach clenched. “Yes. Whatever he said was true.”
“You’re his now.” Alton advanced toward the counter. “You’re his sub, collared

and claimed.”

Addie wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about, but she raised her chin. “Yes,

I am.”

Their gazes met and Alton’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t been taught anything.

You’re submissive, but he’ll handle you wrong.”

“And you think you’d handle me right?”
“Yes.”
The word hung there, full of promise and threat.
Addie took a breath, took a moment to think about her next words. “Maybe I don’t

know all the rules to this world, but you know what, Lane doesn’t know all the rules for

my world yet either.”

Alton’s eyes widened in surprise.
“It doesn’t matter what you think I should be, because I want to be with Lane. And

he wants to be with me. That’s what’s important in any relationship, that’s what’s

Lila Dubois

important to me, and Lane. I don’t care if I’d be the best submissive in the world if you

mind-fucked me into it.”

Alton looked down and his shoulders dipped a bit. Addie had the strangest feeling

that she’d hit a nerve.

He walked away.
Lulu looked at Addie, her eyes wide. Addie cocked a hip and dusted off her

shoulder. Damn right she’d sent the big bad Dom packing.

At the door, Alton turned back.
“I’m coming back.”
Addie stiffened.
“For her.”
Alton looked at Lulu. Her lips parted in a little O of shock. Alton dipped his head in

a slow nod, turned, and left.

“Here we are, ah, home sweet home.”
Addie hid a smile as Lane fumbled to get his key out of the deadbolt after opening

the door. All through dinner and the movie he’d been endearingly unsure of himself.

For a man who knew his way around a woman’s body, he treated a date like an

expedition to a foreign land where he didn’t speak the language or know the terrain.

He’d taken out four wineglasses for just the two of them.

“Thank you.” Addie stepped inside and twisted her shoulders to Lane, waiting for

him to take her coat. There was an awkward silence. “Lane, could you help me with my

coat?”

“Oh, right.”
There was a thump as the bag of dessert they’d picked up on the way to Lane’s

place hit the floor.

Addie slid her arms out of her coat. Lane turned her with his hands on her

shoulders.

“Have I told you yet how beautiful you are?”
“Yes, but only a stupid girl turns down hearing it again.”
“You’re stunning.”
Addie was wearing a form-fitting vamp-style dress in zebra print with purple

stilettos and a purple silk flower holding back one side of her hair. The dress left none

of her curves to the imagination, and the slit on the thigh meant that when they were

sitting in the theater, Lane had access to almost the entire length of her thigh. He’d

made good use of the access, and when he was touching her he was the easygoing, self-

assured guy she was used to.

The moment his hands were on her, Addie felt the tension leave him. It was as if he

didn’t know what to do unless he was touching her.

Undone Rebel

Addie lifted herself on tiptoe, one hand on Lane’s chest, her fingers inching under

his blazer.

Lane cupped her neck and brought their lips together. The kiss was slow and sweet,

with no movement or invasion of tongues.

Addie pulled back, tasting him on her lower lip. “Lane, I’m going to ask you

something.”

“Anything.”
“Are you always this awkward on dates?”
Lane rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes. “This was a disaster, wasn’t

it?”

“You were off your game.”
“I really, really suck at dating.”
Addie laughed. “Mr. Confident bad at dating? I wouldn’t have believed it if I

hadn’t lived it.”

“I told you I found BDSM after trying to resolve my issues with not being able to

talk to girls.”

“But you were fine when you came to my house with pizza. Coming to my house

with pizza and beer was probably one of the most romantic, sweetest things anyone

had ever done for me.”

“But it wasn’t a date.”
Addie laughed until Lane captured her lips in a kiss, muffling her amusement.
“How about we don’t do any more dates?” he whispered against her lips.
Addie pulled back, cupped his face and smiled. “No. If you want to be with me

you’ll behave like a proper gentleman. You’ll take me out on dates. I was promised

dancing.”

“Do you really want to go dancing with me? You see how I am on dates.” He spat

out the word.

“I’ll teach you.”
Lane dropped his chin to his chest. “I hate dating.”
Addie did a slow twirl out of his arms, taking her first good look at his apartment.

He was on the second floor of a three-story building in a much nicer part of town than

where she lived. His living room was dominated by two black leather couches and a

massive flat-screen TV. The walls were white, the carpet a standard pale gray. The

living room ceiling was two stories, with a skylight high above.

“Do I get the tour now?”
“Of course.” Lane offered his arm and Addie slid hers through it. “Here we have

my living room. Having seen yours I realize you may not understand what these things

are, but they’re known as couches.”

Lila Dubois

“Ha, ha. My living room says that I have hobbies and do interesting things. Yours

says that you haven’t changed the paint color since you moved in and that you watch

TV.”

“Change the paint color? Woman, be serious. Back here is the kitchen. Er.” Lane

hastily pushed a few plastic glasses and bowls off the counter into the sink. It was a

basic galley kitchen with mail stacked on the counters.

“Bigger than mine.”
“Down here,” Lane led her down a hallway, “are my bedroom and home office and

bathroom.” He quickly showed her the bathroom, which was boy-ugly in the extreme,

and his bedroom.

Addie was surprised to see there was no TV in his bedroom, no clutter of clothes on

the floor. The massive bed had a dark-gray cover and matching pillowcases on all four

pillows. The dressers on either wall matched the nightstands.

“I like this room.”
“I’m glad.”
Addie’s body, on a slow burn all night with Lane there, casually touching her, his

smell in her nostrils, went into high alert at the sight of the bed. She wanted to be naked

on the bed. Right now.

“Maybe you should give me a more detailed tour.” Addie curled her fingers in the

lapel of his jacket and tugged him into the room.

“Actually, there’s something else I want you to see.”
Addie blinked in surprise, trying to reorient herself from sex-now to we’re-still-

talking-about-stuff.

An opening off the hall revealed a set of stairs that led up to a bonus loft space.

Lane quickly explained as he led her up that he’d decided to take the apartment

because of this space. It was above the kitchen and bedrooms, and had originally been

meant for a massive master bedroom suite.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Lane unlocked the door with a key he took

from on top of the doorjamb. “After you,” he said, pushing the door open.

Addie’s belly was fluttering. She held Lane’s gaze. What she saw there reassured

her enough that she sauntered into the room, making sure to sashay past him so that

he’d look at her ass.

The loft was a BDSM wonderland/torture chamber. There was a tall twin bed with

what looked like a leather fitted sheet on it, a gymnast horse, a straight-backed wood

chair.

“So is this your BDSM room?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were into the BDSM lifestyle, I thought you kept it separate.” Addie

was surprised to see something like this in his house. “If this is your house, what does

someone like Alton’s house look like?”

Undone Rebel

“It is separate, it’s all the way up here. And I told you, C&C agreed, you don’t have

to do the session with Alton.”

“Well, he came by the shop today. He wanted to make sure I really did ‘belong’ to

you.”

“Alton came by?” Lane’s fists bunched. “I’ll talk to him.”
“No, it’s fine. I didn’t tell you because I need you to get all white knight. Though he

did say he would come back for Lulu. I assume he was joking.”

“He doesn’t joke.”
Addie shook her head. “Seriously? Now Lulu and I are supposed to be worried

about some crazy Dom?”

“Not crazy, just really hard core, and not someone I want touching you.”
Addie closed her eyes. This past week had been a roller-coaster ride fueled by sex

and adrenaline. As nice a guy as Lane was, she wasn’t sure she could deal with all this.

Seeing these things in his house brought home his involvement in this lifestyle, how

being with him would mean accepting this part of him even after the novelty wore off.

“Tell me.” His hands settled on her shoulders.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“We’ll take it slow.”
“Not the actual sex, but the rest of it, seeing you.”
“Because I’m into BDSM?”
Addie heard the hurt in his voice and turned to face him. “I know it’s not fair, but

I’m trying to be honest. How did your other girlfriends handle it?”

“I haven’t had that many, and they didn’t know.” Lane rubbed the heel of his hand

against his temple. “I shouldn’t have shown you this tonight.”

“We’ve been moving really fast, and it wasn’t until I saw this, a whole room

dedicated to it, that I realized what it would mean to date someone who was into this.

It’s not like dating someone who’s,” Addie spun one hand in the air as she struggled to

explain, “into cars, and you realize that you won’t see them during the day on the

weekends because that’s when they work on their ride, and that their hands always

look dirty.”

“I respect what you’re saying and how you’re feeling. But Addie,” Lane caught her

hips and pulled her close, swaying them side to side, “I’m not ready to let you walk

away.”

Addie laid her head on his shoulder and rocked with him.
“Come downstairs.”
Addie followed Lane downstairs and into his bedroom. She almost told him that

she wasn’t in the mood, that her stomach was in knots and she would rather curl up on

the couch and eat the mini Bundt cakes they’d bought.

Lila Dubois

But then Lane brushed the hair from her neck, kissed below her ear. His fingers

stroked down her upper arms into the crease of her elbow. Addie sighed and leaned

into him.

“Stay with me, if only for tonight.”
“Yes.”
Lane seduced her, as if he’d never touched her before. He kissed each inch of flesh

he exposed as he unzipped her dress, his touch on her skin light but demanding.

When her dress fell to the floor, Addie pulled the flower from her hair, letting the

soft waves fall against her face. She watched Lane watch her, felt his gaze trace the hair

that fell across the top of her bare breasts.

She stood before him, naked except for a pair of black-and-red panties that tied

closed at each hip, and her shoes.

Addie reached for Lane’s jacket. The moment her fingers touched the fabric he

shucked it, and together they pulled off his shirt and pants. When he was down to a

pair of black boxer briefs, he reached for her again.

“I like how you feel against me,” Lane said, rubbing their hips together. His

erection bumped her hip, her belly.

“I like how you feel.” Addie hugged him, her breasts pressing against his chest.
Their lips met in a kiss. The kiss quickly deepened, became something rich and

carnal. His tongue coaxed hers to dance until they were tasting each other.

Lane grabbed her ass, urging her up, and with a little hop Addie wrapped her legs

around his waist, her arms around his neck.

“I’ve always wanted to do this.” She was grinning as he carried her to the bed.
“I’ve been thinking about this all night.”
Lane tipped her back onto the bed. Addie landed with a little bounce, her hair

pooling around her head. She raised one knee, coyly tipping it across the other leg as

she slid her hands along the smooth duvet.

“Joining me?”
“You’re gorgeous.”
“So are you, guapo.”
Lane shed his boxers. His cock was already hard, already ready for her.
He came down on the bed, pushing her legs apart to kneel between them before

propping himself up on one elbow. He circled her left breast with two fingers, drawing

a spiraling circle focused on her nipple. Addie was vividly reminded of the ice he’d

slipped into her bra.

The memory brought a sharp spike of arousal. She gasped and Lane looked up, his

fingers going still.

“Tell me.”
“I was thinking of the ice.”

Undone Rebel

He made a noise that was half groan, half growl.
Lips closed around her nipple, his fingers holding the meat of her breast tightly so it

was plumped and ready for his attention, he licked and sucked the tender bud, pulling

gently with his lips before switching to the other breast.

Addie stretched out a hand for his cock but it was out of reach and his big body had

her pinned in place. She settled for kissing any part of him she could and running her

fingers over his back, shoulders and arms.

“Lane, now, I want you now.”
“Anything, anything you want.”
His fingers fumbled for the ties on her right hip, she undid the ones on her left.

When they were loose, Lane lifted himself off her so Addie could raise her hips and he

could slip the panties free.

She was wet and ready for him. When his fingers slid between the lips of her pussy

she felt swollen, desperate for him.

“You want me, your body is telling me.”
“My mouth is telling you too. Fuck me.”
Cock replaced fingers. Addie slid one hand down to his ass, felt the muscles flex as

he worked his cock into place.

He was slow, filling her inch by beautiful inch. She nipped his chin only to turn her

face away when he came in for the kiss, asking him to lick and nip the soft skin below

her ear instead.

Hands trailed up and down slowly heating flesh. Their chests were pressed

together, his elbows taking just enough of his weight off her.

He paused when he was fully seated, pressing forward in a few mini-thrusts before

starting to withdraw.

Together they moaned as her body clung to his, not wanting to let go. When he

thrust in again it wasn’t slow, wasn’t as gentle.

Lane took up a steady rhythm. There was nothing but them. Him looking down at

her, kissing her, holding her. Her looking up at him, cradling him, stroking him.

When Addie couldn’t stand it anymore she squeezed his arm. “My turn.”
Confusion fluttered across Lane’s face. Addie nudged him off. When he reluctantly

withdrew and lay back at her urging, she had to repress a smile. It had clearly been a

long time since Lane let anyone else be on top.

When Addie threw her leg across his hips, Lane’s eyes widened.
Reaching between them, she held his cock steady as she lowered herself. She had to

bite her lip to focus as she slid down, this position allowing his cock to caress different

parts of her than it had only moments ago.

“This is amazing.” Lane’s gaze was roaming over her, from her head to where their

bodies met.

Lila Dubois

Addie used two fingers to spread the lips of her pussy and leaned back, bracing her

free hand on his thigh behind her. Lane sucked in a breath.

As she’d expected, hoped, Lane reached for her pussy, burying a thumb in the lips

of her sex to rub her clit. A shudder racked Addie and she sat forward. Bracing one

hand on his chest, she started to ride him, rocking back and forth, her hips lifting ever

so slightly off his, the motion causing his cock to shift within her.

Her free hand roamed over her breasts, plucking at her own nipples in an

increasingly random pattern as she sped toward orgasm.

Lane’s eyes were dark as he watched her ride him. His thumb was between them,

rubbing her clit with each forward movement. His free hand rested on her thigh, his

grip growing ever tighter.

“I’m going to come.”
“Yes.”
“Oh fuck, Lane, I’m going to come.” Addie tipped her head back, swallowing hard.

Her lower belly was knotted, her toes tingling.

Addie grabbed his hand from her thigh and brought it to her breasts. He cupped

her right breast, pinching the nipple with finger and thumb.

“Look at me,” he demanded.
Addie met his gaze. She let him see her intensity, her arousal. Without the safety of

the BDSM trappings, she shared that precious vulnerability that most guarded with

their life.

With the next thrust she came.
Addie slammed her hips down on his, concentrating on how her body contracted

during orgasm. She knew the moment Lane himself orgasmed because both his hands

went to her thighs, his fingers digging in as he pressed his head back, his jaw clenched.

In the next breath, Addie was on her hands and knees on the bed and Lane was

fucking her from behind, demanding that their orgasm-high bodies maintain the wild

spikes of pleasure. Addie made a fist in the pillow and screamed between her teeth as a

second orgasm shook her.

“Fuck, yes, Addie!”
When they finally collapsed back onto the bed in a sweaty tangle of limbs, Addie

was hit with the feeling that it would be all right.

Undone Rebel

Chapter Nine

“Look at that one!”
Addie laughed, grabbing Lane’s outstretched arm. “Would you put your hand

down? You look like a tourist.”

“This is better than a car show.”
After Lane’s reaction to her car she should have known he’d behave like a kid if she

took him someplace like this. They were at an oceanfront parking lot north of Malibu.

There was no sand beach so families with their packs of paraphernalia didn’t clog up

the parking lot, leaving it free for surfers and members of L.A.’s rockabilly car

community. This had been a traditional weekend gathering spot for over twenty years.

It was where people came to show off their cars and women, to listen to music,

sometimes to dance and sometimes to fight.

The connection between rockabilly and car culture went way back, especially in the

Hispanic community. Addie had first seen pictures of tough-looking dark-haired pinup

girls in her uncle’s L.A. body shop where she worked summers for extra cash and to get

away from California’s oppressive Central Valley heat. That had sparked her interest,

and once she’d researched it she was hooked.

Addie had told Lane some of this on the drive out, which they’d made in her car. It

was at the end of the lot, with both doors open so the other people there could examine

the interior. She’d put business cards for her uncle’s shop, now run by her cousin, on

the dash, even though she’d done most of the work on it.

“You never finished your story,” Lane said as they walked between rows of cars, a

variety of music in a mix of English and Spanish drifting around them. “About how you

became a part of this community.”

“Oh.” Addie had assumed that he didn’t want to hear any more, now that they

were out here where there was plenty to do and see. “Well, my mother raised me to be

a good wife, a good woman. She taught me to sew and cook. Those were things she

knew how to do, things she did every day, so she taught me.

“But I liked fixing cars with my dad. When he was talking business, or when other

men came around, I wanted to be out there with him. I wanted to be tough like he was.

My father is a man that no one disrespects. Even when I was small I knew that, I could

tell by the way people spoke to him, men and women. And my dad, he’d talk to

anyone.

“Even though he had every reason to think people might discriminate against him,

a blue-collar Hispanic man, he would talk to anyone as if they were his equal. As if they

should respect him, so they did.”

Lila Dubois

The cars, the brightly dressed people, seemed to move slowly as Addie told her

story. It was something she rarely spoke about, and didn’t think about much anymore.

Her reasons for being who she was didn’t seem to matter anymore. She simply was.

“I thought the girls in the pictures, the pinups, would be girls who could have it

both ways—cooking and fixing cars, being good wives and being assertive. The more I

learned about the culture the more I liked it, the more I saw a chance for me to be both.”

“You didn’t have to become rockabilly to be both feminine and strong.”
“Maybe not for some people. For me I didn’t understand a way to do it until I saw,”

Addie scanned the crowd for a type of woman she knew would be there, “them.” She

motioned to a trio of women standing under an outdoor tent. They were dressed in

tight shorts that stopped just below their asses, cropped tops that left their bellies bare

but that had collars, pockets, buttons and ribbon edging. Each wore massive sunglasses

and sported a variety of tattoos.

“To me they were pretty, sexy and tough.”
Lane turned to her and circled her waist with her arms. “I think you’re sexy and

tough.”

“Not pretty.”
He shook his head. “You’re gorgeous.”
Addie raised a brow behind her own large sunglasses. “That’s cheesy.”
He grinned. “But you like it.”
She bumped her hips against his. “I do. And I don’t know why.”
“It’s because I’ve fucked you into submission.”
Addie snorted in shocked laughter. When Lane continued to grin, she devolved

into giggles. “You’re loco.”

“I know that word. It means he-of-the-massive-penis.”
“There is something deeply wrong with you.”
“Probably.”
“Then why do I like you so much?”
Lane tucked an arm around her waist and they started walking. “Because you too

are deeply fucked up.”

“We’re a matched set.” Addie said it without thinking, but once she did the words

seemed to hang there, as if she’d made some sort of pronouncement.

Lane looked at her. “Yes, we are.”
“Addie!”
She turned in Lane’s arms at her name. Positioned between two rat rod trucks with

exposed engines was a tent. A group of men and women were clustered in the shade

under it.

“Come on.” Addie pulled Lane over.

Undone Rebel

“You know them?”
“Yeah, it’s a custom shop my uncle worked with sometimes.”
She was greeted with hugs and comments that she hadn’t been around in a while.

Since it was all in Spanish she had to wait until everyone had gotten his or her hug to go

back and make introductions in English.

Once those were done one of the shop hands, a friend of her cousin’s, gave Lane a

slow once-over. He jerked his head in a gesture that roughly translated to “who the fuck

are you and what’s your deal?” Addie had no idea if it was universal man language, or

if it was unique to the men she’d grown up with. She squeezed Lane’s hand.

Lane gave an easy nod. “Gustavo, right?”
He nodded, folded his arms.
Addie glared at Gustavo. Under her glare he relented.
“You know anything about cars?” Gustavo asked Lane.
“Only enough to respect the work artists do on pieces like that.” Lane gestured to

one of the rat rods. “It’s a Ford Model T, right?”

“It was.” Gustavo gestured to the car. “Let me show you.”
Addie accepted a beer and a seat, and watched Lane charm his way into her world.

* * * * *

Addie leaned on Lane’s doorbell, a grin of anticipation on her face. Lane had

surprised her at her front door plenty of times. Now it was her turn.

There was the thud of footsteps and then Lane ripped open the door.
“That was fast, it’s—”
They stared at each other in shock.
Lane was naked except for a blue pair of boxer briefs and his hair was tousled. As if

someone had been running their hands through it.

Rage. Sheer rage roared to life in Addie.
“Addie, oh, hi. You’re here. And you brought wine. Just, uh, give me—”
“Who is she?”
“What?”
“Who do you have in there? Who are you in there fucking right now?”
“No one.”
Addie pushed her way inside, shoving the bottle of wine and grocery bag at Lane.

“You’re not fucking her? Maybe the way you didn’t fuck me that first day?”

“Addie.” Lane closed the door and carefully set the bottle and bag on the floor.

“Why are you so angry?”

“It’s because you haven’t gotten to tie me up and fuck me, isn’t it?” It had been

nearly a month and Lane had never again taken her into the room upstairs. He’d been

Lila Dubois

faithfully taking her out on dates. She’d taken him to a salsa club with predictably

disastrous results. They’d seen a play, a musical, the philharmonic at the Hollywood

Bowl. They’d hiked Griffith Park and ridden bikes on the beach. Lane had helped with

the summer sale at Lulu’s and installed shelves for sewing storage at her apartment.

But he hadn’t taken her to his BDSM room.
Sure, he’d tied her up, he’d spanked her, even gagged her with his tie after the play,

but there had been nothing as elaborate as what he and Emory had done to her those

first days.

And Addie was worried about it.
Now she knew why. Lane was dating her…but he was screwing around with some

slut sub on the side.

“I told you, I told you when we started this that I wouldn’t be the girl you dated

while you were fucking some other girl.”

“Is that what you think?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Well, that’s not what’s happening here, and I don’t know why that’s what you

think.”

“You tell me you’re working tonight and I come over to find you like this?”
Lane flinched and rubbed the back of his neck with his palm. Addie saw red. “I

knew it was bad that you were taking me to that loft. I knew it.”

“Addie, I’ve made a mistake tonight, but you need to get control of yourself. Now.”
“Fuck. You.”
Addie spun on her heel and ran for the hall. She wanted to see it for herself, she

wanted to see the other girl, see who he was cheating on her with.

She was about to take the stairs when she noticed the spill of light from his office.

She’d never gone in there, never had a reason to. She changed direction, wondering if

he’d lied to her about what that room was for too.

Computers covered the folding table set up along two walls to make a huge L-

shaped desk. The third wall had a massive TV. Positioned directly in front of the TV

was a battered armchair with cup holders. A headset and game controller sat on the

floor. The screen was frozen in four different scenes of a desert town that looked as if it

had been destroyed by war.

“What the hell.”
Lane pushed past her hand and picked up the headset. “Guys, I gotta bounce.

Personal problems. Next week.”

He picked up the headset and started clicking buttons.
“This is what you were doing, playing games?”
“Call of Duty.”
“So when you said you were working…”

Undone Rebel

“Yeah, I lied about that. I didn’t think you’d get it.” His words were tight, clipped,

and as her own anger faded Addie realized that Lane was angry. Shit.

“Lane, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“Please, look at me.”
“I’m not done saving my game.”
“It’s just a game.”
“Actually, it’s not.” Lane threw his controller down in the chair. “It’s one night a

week when I hang out with my college buddies who are all over the country, who I

never see. So, no, it’s not just a game.”

She had really fucked this up. Addie backed out of the room. She didn’t want to

leave, not until they talked about it. She knew in her gut that if she walked out that door

this relationship might end tonight.

A few minutes later, Lane came out. Addie rose from the couch.
“Lane, I’m sorry. I jumped to a conclusion I shouldn’t have.”
“I know I shouldn’t be angry with you, but I’m pissed. What the hell have I done to

make you not trust me?”

Addie bit the inside of her cheek, gathering her thoughts before speaking. “After

the way we met, and the first night you brought me here, I was expecting to have

nights, days, where I’d be your…” She felt stupid saying it in the middle of a fight.

“Submissive. My submissive.”
“Yes. Your submissive. But we haven’t done that. We’ve never gone upstairs. I

realize some of that is my fault, because I freaked out the first time you took me there.

I’ve been worried, thinking you either didn’t want me as a submissive anymore, or that

you were getting your…BDSM needs satisfied elsewhere.”

“So you’ve been worried I’ve been seeing a submissive to satisfy my Dom urges?”
“Yes.”
“And every time I’ve tied you up in bed, fucked your ass, spanked you, gagged

you?”

“Those were amazing. All the sex is amazing, but it’s not like that first time, that

day in the photo shoot, and I know that’s what you want.”

Lane put his hands on his hips and sighed, his shoulders heaving.
“Addie, when I’m with you I can barely think. I’ve never felt this way about a

woman, never had a woman affect me this way.” Lane’s head was bowed, the words

coming slowly. “I think about dominating you all the time. I plan scenes, the things I

would do to your sweet body…but then you walk in the door and all I can think about

is getting my hands on you. I want to touch you right then, not in ten minutes when the

scene is finally running.

Lila Dubois

100

“I want to make you laugh, hear about your day, see you smile at some stupid thing

I did.”

He looked up. Their gazes met.
“I’m in love with you.”
Addie’s breath caught. In the next heartbeat she was running. She threw herself on

to Lane, wrapping her arms and legs around him. He caught her. Held her.

“Lane, I love you too.”
“I’ve been scared to say it.”
“Me too.”
“We really are a pair.” He kissed her, spinning her around until he lost his balance

and they tumbled down onto the couch. “I should have told you why we weren’t doing

any BDSM play.”

“I should have asked.”
“I’ve got a very, very long list of very, very dirty, degrading things I’m going to do

to you as soon as I’m not punch-drunk in love with you.”

Addie raised a brow. “When you’re out of love with me?”
“No, I don’t think that could happen. I mean when I can think past ‘yay, girl boobs’

every time you get naked.”

“I’m so happy to know I bring out the twelve-year-old boy in you.” She snuggled

against him. “Dirty and degrading?”

“The instant you leave I’m usually kicking myself because I haven’t abused you

more thoroughly.”

“I’ve been happy with my abuse. We really are quite good at sex.”
“I like you on top.”
“I’d noticed. Maybe I should be the Dom.”
“You’ll be punished for that.”
“Promises, promises. I’m sorry I interrupted your time with your friends.”
“Sorry I lied about working. I just…”
“Didn’t want to tell me you had a video game date.”
“You called it a date. You’ve now ruined it. Forever.”
“Do you want to see what I brought you?”
“Wine?”
“And ice cream that’s probably melted. But I got something else.” Addie stood and

removed her coat. Under it she was wearing nothing but very brief pieces of red lace.

“Store-bought, you can rip to your heart’s content.”

“I like ripping. Come here.” He sat up, his cock tenting his boxers.
“Bossy.” She turned her back to Lane, crossed her feet at the ankles and bent over.

Undone Rebel

101

“This isn’t bossy. If I were bossy I’d tell you to strip. Because I want you naked,

want to inspect every inch of you.”

Addie straightened and turned, her movements slow. She stepped wide and bent

again, showing him her cleavage as she ran her hands up her legs. Lane was gripping

the edge of the couch as he watched her.

“Put your fingers in your pussy, taste yourself.”
“Make me.”
Smack. He turned her facedown over his lap and spanked her ass.
“I should haul you upstairs, tie you down and paddle your ass for making me want

you this much, for making me fall in love with you.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Fuck, I know, but I don’t care.”
Smack, smack, smack.
“Ohh, Lane!”
He slid two fingers between the lips of her pussy, then deep into her. Addie

moaned in pleasure. Yes, she did love this man, for all his contradictions, for the power

he tried so hard to hide.

He pushed his fingers into her mouth, forcing her to taste herself.
Lane tumbled her off his lap onto the couch then pulled both of them onto the floor.
“Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” she agreed, wrapping her legs around him. “Say you’re mine.”
Lane positioned himself, entered in one smooth thrust. “I’m yours.”