Angel in Leather
A book in the 1-800-DOM-help series
Brenna’s a Domme. No apologies. Confident. All attitude. The scent and sound of
leather have always turned her on, almost as much as hearing hard-bodied men beg her
for it. But a deft hand with a paddle doesn’t make up for lonely nights. She’s looking for
a lover, a man who’ll laugh at the comics with her when he’s not moaning with
pleasure.
Rick’s a surgeon without a god complex. Pain’s always made him hard, and being
spanked balances a psyche that makes daily life-and-death decisions for other people.
His best friend Malcolm suffers the same needs, and when they spot Brenna at a
prestigious BDSM club, they’re determined to make the seductive Domme their
exclusive mistress.
Inside Scoop: The Domme in our story, upon occasion, enjoys sharing more than tips
with other girls at the club and, though our three lovers share themselves and their
pleasure, only one man is going to take Brenna’s heart home in the end.
A Romantica® BDSM erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
A
NGEL IN
L
EATHER
Gwen Campbell
Dedication
To Mickey, with love. We were in pain when we rescued her. She rescued us right
back.
Angel in Leather
5
The Magic
The magic begins with the appearance of the business card. Sleek black print on a
pristine white background—unassuming in its appearance. Those brave enough to call
the number will begin a journey that will explore their greatest desires.
Once the call is made, the Operator goes to work. Somehow he knows just what
every caller needs, always able to find the answer the caller seeks.
Callers may be directed to Unfettered, a new club in town, one nobody has ever
heard of. It provides a safe haven for all who enter. Members are free to explore their
every desire…even those they weren’t aware of. Little do they know Unfettered will
disappear once those yearnings have eased.
Submissives who don’t know how to handle their Dominants. Masters looking for
the perfect sub. People who need just a little push to admit vanilla isn’t their favorite
flavor. The card finds them all.
And once you dial 1-800-DOM-help, anything can happen.
Gwen Campbell
6
Chapter One
The cuffs bit into Rick’s wrists, making his bones ache. The pain spread, built on
itself and warmed him from the inside out.
It was perverse and erotic but the strain in his shoulders as his arms were stretched
high over his head made him feel wholly sexual. There was only the pain and the
endorphins that let his body experience the sensations as pleasure. Breathing fast
ramped up his perception of sexual arousal.
Hard music drove through the club and the darkened space was lit up where hot
spotlights captured subs in bondage devices.
But something was missing and he couldn’t quite lose his head in the decadence of
the scene. A few feet away from him his friend, Malcolm, was trussed up like a
perverted birthday gift, his bare ass in the air and begging for more as a Domme
worked him over with a rubber-studded dildo. Tonight, Rick just couldn’t let go like
that.
Rick wanted the experience, had always relished scening, had always prided
himself on the courage and strength he found inside himself as his body processed the
pain his psyche craved as exquisite, delicious pleasure. But something about tonight—
this place, the vibe—took his head out of the place he wanted to be.
Ignoring that, perhaps stupidly, he concentrated on the individual sensations
crowding his mind. He focused on his wrists, then his shoulders, compartmentalizing
the feelings so they couldn’t multiply into an overwhelming front. Sure, there was a
small abrasion at the base of his scrotum but that was part of the high, wasn’t it? Part of
the kink and decadence.
The Domme was a deliciously wicked woman—that’s what had attracted them to
her—and the pull of the cuffs stretched Rick up straight and tall. That and the evil pole
she’d tied between his legs. He couldn’t stand on his toes forever and he had to put his
feet flat on the floor. That shoved the rough end of the long pole into his perineum. It
was an endless cycle of torment that made him sweat and moan. It should have been an
incredibly hot scene. It wasn’t. Blinking, Rick tried to focus on the latex-clad Domme.
Her generous breasts spilled over the bodice of her dress and her face was artfully
made up. As she worked Malcolm over there was a hunger in her eyes that made Rick
uncomfortable.
He moaned as the stick wedged itself between his legs. Sweat tickled his inner
thigh, right where his skin was rubbed raw, so he forced his aching arches to flex, lifting
him back onto his toes.
The sound he’d made hadn’t been a sexual one. It was pain, unguarded and let
loose of its own accord.
Angel in Leather
7
Malcolm moaned again and grinned like a demented fool, only his reactions were
obviously ones of pleasure. They’d known this Domme a few months now. They’d
never scened this intensely though and Rick’s unease rose. Trust was vital and, for him,
it grew because a Domme was monitoring his reactions, working with him so both their
needs were met.
He grabbed the chains above the handcuffs, tried to hoist his body away from the
torment, and failed.
Cream, he screamed inside his head then clamped his teeth together so the sound
wouldn’t escape. He’d never used his safeword before, had never felt out of control or
overwhelmed enough to be tempted. But he’d already passed the temptation stage and
the need to get out of this suspension was becoming an imperative. It was impossible to
lose himself in the ambient sounds and atmosphere of the BDSM club. Driving bass
lines boomed out of wall speakers and made the floor throb. Around him, people
groaned, yelled their pleasure, chatted about the price of gas. Sweat trailed between his
pecs and made him itch until he wanted to scream…and not in a good way.
The Domme turned away from Malcolm, Rick too for that matter, picked up a towel
and began wiping Malcolm’s sweat off her dress as if a dry cleaning bill would break
her heart. Rick saw Malcolm jerk against his bindings. Ever the pain slut, Malcolm was
probably trying to increase the hurt instead of testing the tightness. They were tight all
right, tight enough to rub a patch of skin off Malcolm’s leg. Rick watched the blood
swell out then soak into the rough, cheap, ill-considered rope the club had stocked.
“Lay off, Malcolm,” he said. “You’ve got a laceration below your left knee.”
“Huh?” Malcolm mumbled. His eyes were glassy, as if he was entering sub-space.
“Shit. Alison, Malcolm needs some direct pressure on that.” He saw her head dip as
if she’d heard him but her stance became determined, as if she was ignoring him.
“Alison,” he repeated, louder this time. “Malcolm’s cut—”
“You will address me as mistress,” she barked then shot him a cold look.
Rick appreciated a show of dominance far more than the average guy, but now was
so not the time. The cut wasn’t too bad, for now, but common sense, not to mention the
house rules, demanded the end to any scene that drew blood and for first aid to be
administered immediately.
When she picked up a flogger—the flogger she’d already used on Malcolm’s back—
and closed in on Rick, he’d had enough.
“Cream.” He enunciated the word deliberately. It only slowed Alison down.
“I will tell you when—”
“Cream,” Rick repeated. “Cream.” This time he said it loud enough heads turned.
The bartender and another staff member headed their way.
“Oh. Of course.” Alison blinked and, for a second, looked dazed. Maybe she’d gone
too deep into her role playing. Latex and whips aside, she really was a nice lady. She
reached for a stepladder so she could undo his cuffs.
Gwen Campbell
8
“Not me. Him.” Rick made an effort to smile. His disappointment made him angry
but it seemed prudent, maybe even polite, not to go off on her. He was pissed—at her
for neglecting her sub but mostly at himself for his lack of will or concentration or
whatever it was that had sucked the fun out of the evening. When his hands were free
he ripped off the duct tape holding the pole between his legs, grabbed the nearest first-
aid kit and snapped on the latex gloves with practiced ease.
“Nice road rash, buddy,” he said as he took hold of Malcolm’s leg. “Scraped
yourself off a couple layers of dermis. This might sting,” he said as he pressed a wad of
gauze to the abrasion.
“Fuuck,” Malcolm hissed, breathing disappointment and frustration, then stared up
at Alison with blank adoration.
* * * * *
“How can a guy as cute as you stink so much?”
Rick tried to look affronted. “Everything I am,” he pronounced, and ran a hand
through his short, dark, sweaty hair, “is due to grueling morning workouts.” He caught
the towel Janice tossed him then laughed when she made a show of waving her hand in
front of her face. She might be pushing fifty but she could make him laugh like a
schoolkid any time she chose. “Yeah, well, some Right Guard couldn’t hurt,” she
groused and moved so the reception counter was between them. The way the corner of
her mouth quirked up gave away how much fun she was having busting his chops.
“Your first patient will be here in fifteen minutes.”
“I recognize that smell.”
“Another country heard from.” He grinned as he made his way past the exam
rooms and down to the small bathroom at the back of their office suite. “And a good
morning to you too, Hanna.”
As usual, Dr. Hanna West was pressed and polished in anticipation of a full day of
patients. When he popped his head into her office she shook her head, crossed her
shapely legs and looked up from her desk. The eldest of the four partners in the
practice, she was the one Rick felt the most comfortable with.
“I swear we’re going to start billing you for air freshener. What, that fancy gym of
yours doesn’t have shower facilities?”
“Yes but my racquetball buddy’s car is in the shop today. I only had time to drive
him to work then grab a shower here.”
“Huh. Janice?” she called out.
“Yeah, boss.”
Funny, Janice was their nurse, all four of theirs, but Hanna was the only one she
called boss.
“Remind our handsome young Dr. Finley he probably now needs to have his car
interior detailed.”
Angel in Leather
9
“Right-o, boss.”
“Is Thursday the new gang up on Rick day? Guess I missed the memo.”
The corner of Hanna’s mouth twitched as if she was trying not to smile. “You’ll be
funnier after you shower. And next time you show up stinking, bring coffee. It’s the
least you can do.”
“Yes ma’am.” Rick saluted smartly and trotted the rest of the way down the hall.
As he lathered then rinsed, he thought about Hanna…about how much he liked
her. Too bad she was married. She was funny, talented and didn’t take shit from
anybody. The other partners were more conservative, maybe even a bit uptight,
although they were all very good at their specialties. As he toweled off and tugged on a
pair of sweatpants before making a dash for his office and the clean clothes he kept
there, he wished again he could meet somebody with a personality like Hanna’s.
A strong woman like that would make his life complete.
* * * * *
“I don’t need to be here.”
Early that afternoon, Rick was walking toward Exam Room Two when he
overheard the couple inside talking.
“It’s just a second opinion, Ted. You don’t have to be back to work this afternoon so
why don’t we use the time to decide on something fun to do the rest of the day.”
That was probably…Rick checked the name on the file hanging beside the
door…Mrs. Blair speaking.
“I don’t feel that bad.”
Rick heard a body moving around and a shoe scuff against the floor as if somebody
was picking it up to put it back on.
“Get back up there and sit, Ted Blair.”
The tone of Mrs. Blair’s voice made even Rick stand up straight.
“This surgeon’s going to take a look at you. We’re going to find out what’s wrong
and we’re going to get it fixed.”
“But I—”
“You do not get to argue with me about this.”
Damn. The power and control in that woman’s voice made Rick’s cock twitch. Why
hadn’t he been able to find a woman like that for himself? Maybe he’d attract one if he
ignored his health. He cleared his throat before he knocked and entered.
“Hi. I’m Dr. Finley.” Rick used his best, confident, professional voice. “Dr. West
wanted me to take a look at you before you left.” He snapped on a pair of latex gloves
and had Ted Blair lay back on the exam table.
Gwen Campbell
10
* * * * *
“I’m going to call Sunnybrook and schedule you for surgery tomorrow, Saturday at
the latest.”
Ted had that glazed, gray look patients got when they heard the big C diagnosis.
Then his mouth got tight and he started shaking his head.
He stopped when Mrs. Blair grabbed his hand and squeezed. She didn’t bother
wasting time asking Rick if he was sure. “I want him going to the best hospital in the
area for this. What about the Princess Margaret?”
“That’s the best cancer hospital, yes, but the general surgery department at
Sunnybrook is better. I’ve got privileges at both.” He put his hand on her shoulder. She
was shaking, just a little, but her gaze was firm and determined. Ted Blair’s survival
chances had just increased. He had someone who loved him enough to step up and take
charge. “The two of you can wait in my office. Janice will tell you as soon as we’ve
arranged admission.”
A little while later, after he’d fit in two more patients, he overheard Janice talking to
the Blairs in his office.
“Be there tomorrow morning by seven,” Janice was saying. “Here’s a list of pre-op
instructions.”
Rick stepped in to see if the Blairs had any questions. Who was he kidding? They’d
be so shell-shocked Janice would next ask if there was somebody who could drive them
home. That’s why she gave patients the information they’d need in writing. There was
no way they’d remember anything but the diagnosis Rick had given them. Standing in
the doorway, he looked the Blairs over. Ted Blair’s wedding band, in particular, had
been on his finger so long it looked as if the flesh had grown up around it. The man had
just been given the worst news of his life and Rick envied him. He was jealous of the
strong woman beside him, the way she squeezed her husband’s knee, asked the right
questions, wrote things down…even though her hand was shaking.
They stood up to leave.
“She says you’re good. Very good,” Mrs. Blair said in a firm, almost demanding
voice.
“I am.” The surety in Rick’s voice was learned. Nobody wanted to be cut by a
nervous surgeon. The surety was also earned truth.
“This man is everything to me. Don’t screw up.”
“No ma’am. I won’t.”
Damn. Too bad it was completely unethical to ask if she had a younger sister.
* * * * *
“Mass was removed from patient’s stomach. Invasion was substantial, requiring the
removal of two-fifths of the organ. Biopsy came back…” Rick turned over the next piece
Angel in Leather
11
of paper in the file, reread the lab results out of habit then switched his digital recorder
back on. “Positive. Patient experienced no postoperative complications and was
discharged March eight. Patient was referred to Princess Margaret Hospital for
chemotherapy. Recommend follow-up office visit two weeks post-discharge and again
one month after that.”
He switched off the recorder and scribbled a note on the pad near his elbow. Even
his own mother couldn’t read his writing so it was a damn good thing their nurse,
Janice, could. She’d pick up his notes in the morning, call the patients that needed
calling and email his recordings to the transcription service they used before his first
surgery was finished tomorrow morning.
Tomorrow morning. Squeezing his eyes shut, Rick leaned back heavily in his
leather chair, stretched out his legs then scrubbed his palm over his face. It seemed the
only thing he had to look forward to when he got out of bed was work, work and more
work.
It was late, he was still working but it didn’t matter. Nobody was waiting for him.
Looking out through the thin, metal window blinds, he saw the glow from the street
lights four stories below and the only face looking back at him was the moon.
He knew he shouldn’t complain. He’d wanted this life since he was a kid. Oh sure,
there’d been a seven-year-old’s fantasy of being a fireman but he hadn’t wavered since
then. Not through four years of university, four of medical school then five of residency.
And it was worth it. He looked down at the open file in front of him. Ted Blair had only
come into his office because Mrs. Blair had bitch-slapped him into it. The guy was fifty
pounds overweight but Rick still had no trouble palpating the mass in his abdomen.
Blair had been reluctant about any kind of surgery. Reluctant? Hell the guy had
practically wigged out. Rick had talked him into it because it was the right thing to do.
The only thing to do.
It was a fine balancing act, choosing between a patient’s postop quality of life and
giving them a chance at that life. Just in his forties, Ted Blair was now facing a future
with almost half his stomach gone. Rick wallowed in doubt for a moment. Had he taken
too much? Not enough? He stopped those thoughts and closed Ted’s file. Like he
always did, Rick had made the best decision he was capable of then lived with the self-
recrimination after. Who was he to play god with people’s guts? What made him so
special?
Exhaling slowly, Rick knew the answers to those questions already. He was a well-
trained and talented surgeon. The only thing he lacked was an inflated ego. Too bad.
That would make handling the aftermath of his decision-making easier.
Before he turned Ted Blair’s file over, he looked out the window again. There was
something else he was lacking…a woman in his life. Someone confident enough to give
him a shake when his doubts weighed him down. Someone waiting at home for him.
Someone with a pair of legs that went all the way up and who knew how to wield a
flogger and make his ass sting until his dick was hard enough to hammer nails.
Gwen Campbell
12
He turned his attention to the last two patient files on his desk. Whoever she was,
she was as elusive as absolute confidence in himself.
Rick turned the Blair file over and picked up the business card sitting between it
and the file beneath. 1-800-DOM-help. His brow furrowed. There was nothing on the
card but a phone number in clean, raised type. His mouth thinned. He was very careful
about keeping his private life separate from his professional one. Nobody he worked
with knew he was a sexual submissive. It didn’t exactly mesh with the god complex
surgeons were expected to have. He turned the card over.
Call the number, someone had written in elegant, sweeping script on the back.
Definitely a woman’s writing. It made him think of expensive perfume and the feel of
silk and soft suede. I’m out here, waiting for you.
He turned the card over and over. He didn’t recognize the handwriting. Did
somebody in the practice know about his…proclivities? Was this a joke? If it was, it was
a piss-poor one. His sense of anticipation, the tightening in his groin, vanished, leaving
anger in their wake. He threw the card into the trash and got back to work.
* * * * *
Later at home, Rick lifted a freezer entrée out of his microwave and set it down
beside his computer. Eating with a fork one-handed, barely paying attention to what he
was putting in his mouth, he checked out his bookmarked BDSM sites and chat rooms.
Like earlier, his anticipation fizzled quickly. It was the same old, same old. He didn’t
come across anyone who sparked his interest, anyone he connected with. Mostly it was
other lonely subs like him trolling for Dommes. Giving up after an hour, Rick switched
off the computer and went to bed.
As he pulled off his shirt, he felt something in the breast pocket. It was a business
card and he blinked when he saw the raised script on it. 1-800-DOM-help.
“What the hell?” he muttered, frowned and flipped the card into a garbage can with
more vehemence than necessary.
* * * * *
At two in the morning, Rick was staring up at the darkened ceiling above his bed.
His mind kept going back to that damn card and he hated the longing it had stirred in
him. He was thirty-five and he’d always thought he’d be married by now, or have a
girlfriend at least. With the crazy hours he worked and being a sub, it was hard to hook
up with anyone. In the few clubs he’d gone to there were always far more subs than
Dommes so competition was fierce. That coupled with the fact he didn’t put himself out
there like he should. He had a reputation and a practice to consider. Next to screwing
up and hurting someone, being outed for his sexual preferences was his biggest fear.
Rick got out of bed and walked into the living room.
Angel in Leather
13
From his high-rise condo, the lights of the city looked cold tonight. Traffic on the
Parkway snaked in a never-ending line through the big ravine below. He couldn’t
remember ever feeling this alone. What was wrong with him? He was a good-looking
guy, well mannered, worked out regularly and had a great job.
Standing naked in the moonlight, looking out over the Toronto skyline, Rick
reached for his cordless phone and wasn’t all that freaked to see a card sitting on the
table beside it. Maybe he’d been expecting it? Maybe he needed it. Maybe he was still
asleep and it was simply time. He punched in the number as he turned back to the big
floor-to-ceiling window.
The number on the other end rang three times and he was about to hang up,
disgusted with himself for being so pathetic, so desperate, when he heard a click, then
another. Then a woman answered.
“Hello.”
Her voice was like a soft hand on his cock. It was blatantly sexual yet somehow
professional at the same time. By rote, he stammered out a hello of his own then his
voice dried up.
“What’s your name?”
Again, that voice sent warm blood straight to his rod.
“Rick.”
“Hmm, Rick,” she murmured and he thought he heard paper shuffling in the
background. “Tell me, Dr. Rick Finley, what’s written on the back of your card.”
How the hell does she know my name?
Feeling as if he was fifteen again and being led around by the balls by someone just
because they had ovaries, he read off without giving himself a chance to think it
through, “I’m out here, waiting for you.”
“I’m pleased you called, Rick.”
Again her sexy-as-hell voice cut right into him but it was the control, the implied
power behind it that made his balls ache. Huh. Maybe she had caller ID? Then he got
worried. Had he just called a pay-for-sex number?
He was about to hang up when she asked, “What do you want?”
Her voice was quieter than before but more compelling because of it. It was deep,
sultry and echoed inside his head, giving him titillating mental pictures of a woman in a
fitted suit, the skirt riding high on her thighs, her sitting behind a massive wood desk
with one leg crossed over the other. A killer high-heeled shoe dangled from the end of
her stocking foot.
Giving himself a mental shake, he tried to remember what she’d said. Then it came
to him.
She spoke again. “I’m the Operator, Rick. We’re not in the business of playing
games and the only currency we exchange is trust. I will ask you one more time and one
more time only. What do you want?”
Gwen Campbell
14
Dropping his forehead on the cold window, Rick spilled his guts to this stranger
with the hypnotic voice. He told her about his longing for a lover, a sexually dominant
woman, a soul mate. He made life-and-death decisions every day, held people’s lives in
his hands, and being sexually dominated brought him balance and freedom from the
pressures of his work.
“Are you a simple masochist?”
“No,” he insisted. “At least I hope I’m not. I’ve heard about Dominant and
submissive relationships. I like being tied up and getting my ass spanked as much as
the next guy and I want to explore that, really get into it. I just can’t find the right
woman.”
It took a while for him to talk himself out.
There was a pause before she spoke again. “Write down an address, Rick.” While
he hurried over to his desk, she explained, “It’s a BDSM club. Very private. Very well
established and reputable. Tomorrow the club is holding a guest evening, by invitation
only. Your name will be on the guest list.”
Rick hesitated. “Is it safe? There’s discreet and then there’s discreet. In my position,
I—”
“Listen to your heart, Rick.” The whiskey-smooth voice that interrupted him was
firm and gentle at the same time. “Your head can make up all kinds of excuses, tell you
all kinds of lies but your heart knows the truth. It knows what you ache for, what rules
your dreams and keeps you awake at night.” She sighed quietly in his ear and the
sound raised gooseflesh down his back. “It is safe, dear Rick. No games. Only trust, and
that goes both ways.”
He wrote out the downtown address she’d given him.
“Be there at nine p.m.” she said. “Bring your friend.”
“What friend?”
“Don’t be deliberately obtuse, Rick,” she snapped and Rick bared his teeth as if
she’d just stung him with a single tail. “Your friend,” she repeated and although her
voice was again sultry, it also had an edge of command to it.
Aroused by her tone, Rick agreed, hung up, and decided to wait until the morning
to call his buddy Malcolm and tell him they were going to check out a new club.
Angel in Leather
15
Chapter Two
Brenna Darling walked through the club she’d been a member of since college. Eyes
followed her as she moved. She was a tall, stunning woman with long black hair and a
short leather dress that commanded attention. Popular with the subs, she didn’t take it
for granted when several of them tried to catch her eye, subtly inviting her to consider
playing with them tonight. Despite that, she didn’t single anyone out.
Tonight was an orientation night and, as a long-standing member, Brenna liked to
stay in the background, act as a guru of sorts. She enjoyed the opportunity to offer
information when appropriate, practical help when required. It was a privilege she
cherished.
Two attractive men were sitting at the bar and she took a seat near them. When she
crossed her legs, letting her black patent stiletto swing out slowly and rhythmically in
front of her, she saw their eyes zero in on her legs. Visitors, they were talking to each
other in hushed tones, discussing the various scenes taking place in the main room.
They seemed impressed by the variety of equipment and the quality of it. They should
be, she thought, considering what the annual dues were.
When they finally peeled their gaze away from her legs, they turned back to a
middle-aged couple making use of one of the bondage tables. The man was stretched
out on his back, naked. Padded leather restraints had been fastened around his ankles
and elbows, pulling them off the edge of the table. There was enough slack that he was
able to lift his knees a little and arch his back, presenting a pretty picture as he held his
weight up on his shoulders and buttocks. Even though the hair on his chest was gray,
he had nice muscle tone and his stomach wasn’t too round. His fully clothed partner,
who Brenna knew was his wife of almost thirty years, wrapped her slender fingers
around his balls and pulled until his testicles were a good three inches away from his
body before bringing the flat of her hand down on his bulging sac. His back jerked
higher off the table. His muscles popped as he pulled at his restraints, bared his teeth
and groaned. He also grinned like a bug-eyed fiend as his wife lightly and repeatedly
patted his balls.
By now the man’s cock was getting hard. His partner paused long enough to fasten
an acrylic cage over his penis, preventing it from getting any bigger, then wrapped her
fingers around his testicles to start all over again.
Out of the corner of her eye Brenna saw the male sub held both men’s rapt
attention. One of them spread his knees wide, as if he was imagining himself in the
sub’s position. The other leaned back on his stool, ran his tongue over his lower lip,
tensed his abdominals, perhaps in sympathy, every time the Domme gripped her sub’s
balls.
Gwen Campbell
16
Another man, a visitor Brenna had never seen before, stepped right up to the
scening couple and stared, wide-eyed. “Dude,” he groaned. “Damn.”
She started to slip off her stool to correct the stranger’s obtrusive behavior but
another member, one wearing the bright armband that identified him as one of the
club’s official Dungeon Masters for the evening, stepped in and put his hand on the
man’s shoulder.
“Please don’t interrupt a scene unless you’ve been invited to participate,” he told
the man quietly but firmly. He led him to a spot several feet away. “It’s perfectly okay
to watch, but do it from a respectful distance or you’ll mess up the atmosphere they’ve
created in their heads. I know you don’t mean to but you’ll wind up sucking all the
energy out of the scene. Come on. I’ll buy you a drink and we can watch from there.”
He led the visitor to the other end of the bar.
“Do you think she’d be interested in doing that to me?” The speaker was one of the
two attractive visitors sitting near Brenna. She glanced their way and saw they were still
watching the scening couple, who’d resumed playing.
“I thought you only went after younger women,” his friend replied.
“I wouldn’t care how old she is, so long as she’s willing to do that to me. Hell, I’d
suck on a woman’s geriatric hose-covered toes if she’d spank my nuts.”
Brenna couldn’t hold back her chuckle.
The men turned to her and grinned, realizing they’d been overheard.
She held out her hand. “My name’s Brenna. Welcome. This is your first visit, right?”
They both had short brown hair but the one sitting closest to her, his was a little
darker. He smiled and took her hand. “Yes. I’m Rick. This is Malcolm.”
When the second man took her hand and kissed the back of it, she arched her brow
in wry approval.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Rick asked and signaled the bartender. “Two scotch, neat,
and the lady will have?” He looked at Brenna and smiled.
The bartender opened his mouth but she silenced him by holding up a single finger.
“They serve nonalcoholic drinks here,” she told the two men, smiling warmly to take
any possible sting out of her words. “Pain receptors get muddled by alcohol. Subs can
let a scene go too far without realizing they’re getting hurt.”
“Hmm,” both men murmured at the same time.
“Sounds sensible,” Rick said and turned back to the bartender. “Three of whatever
the lady would like then.”
Brenna gave the bartender a nod and he filled three glasses with mango and
pineapple juice, added a spritz of soda water, ice and set them up on the bar.
“Thank you,” Brenna said, raising her glass to Rick and Malcolm and turning back
so she could look over the playroom.
Angel in Leather
17
Malcolm hissed quietly when the Domme pulled her sub’s balls even farther away
from his body. “I just changed my mind. There’s too many things that can do wrong
doing something like that.”
“True but Dorothy and Chris have been together a long time,” Brenna said quietly.
She slid over onto the empty stool next to the men. “She knows his limits. See, that’s the
hand signal he uses.” Brenna nodded in the couple’s direction. “When he holds up his
ring and pinky finger, she needs to back off. Which as you can see she’s doing.”
Both men nodded in understanding as they watched the Domme loosen her grip
and let her sub’s testicles rest closer to his body.
“They’ve got great communication and they’ve taken the time to educate
themselves. For example, he knows to call a halt to a scene if he feels a sharp pain deep
in his abdomen during cock-and-ball torture.”
The men nodded again and watched raptly as Dorothy bent over Chris, kissed his
mouth then cradled his balls in one hand while stroking them lovingly with the other.
“What about that cage she put on his cock?” Rick asked and leaned closer to
Brenna. “It looks painful.”
“It does, doesn’t it? It presents a powerful visual, the way his cock gets all purple
and pushes out between the ventilation gaps in the acrylic. In reality, because the
pressure is constant all over his organ, it frustrates far more than it hurts. Or so my subs
tell me.”
Both men’s eyes lit up as if she’d said a magic word.
Just then a new couple caught Brenna’s attention. She hadn’t seen them before. The
woman was leading the man by a leash fastened to a collar around his neck. That sort of
humiliation technique wasn’t to her taste but to each their own.
They stopped beside an unused bondage station and the woman bound her
partner’s ankles and wrists. Then she hooked him up to the restraints fastened to two
floor-to-ceiling poles. She tightened the chains until his arms and legs were nicely
spread—then had to untie him when they realized she hadn’t taken his clothes off.
Giggling, she finally got him naked, bound and spread-eagled again, produced a multi-
tailed flogger from a leather handbag and brought the tresses down over the middle of
his back.
“Excuse me,” Brenna said to the men she was sitting with and walked over to the
newly arrived couple. She winced mentally when the woman struck the man’s back
again. He did more than wince. He arched up high on his toes, his hips canted far to
one side. It looked as if he was trying to use the chains to lift himself up and away from
the blow.
“Hi. Is that one of the new floggers from French & Teddy?” Brenna asked when she
was standing beside the woman. “I’ve seen them advertised on their site and was
thinking of getting one.”
The woman blinked then looked up at Brenna. “I got this at a store out in
Etobicoke,” she said and offered the flogger to Brenna.
Gwen Campbell
18
“Hmm. Nice weight,” she said, holding the handle so the tresses hung down, then
let them swish in a slow, hypnotic rotation as she pivoted her wrist to the left then the
right. “My name’s Brenna, by the way. Sorry for intruding.”
“Oh. No problem. We’re new and we hardly know anybody. My name’s Tracy and
this is Kevin.”
“Hi,” Kevin said, craning his head over his shoulder so he could see her. “I’d shake
your hand but, um…” Grinning, he let his voice trail off.
The three of them chuckled.
“Listen,” Brenna said quietly, “I don’t mean to be a safety-Nazi but I’m thinking
you haven’t used one of these too often. Am I correct?”
Tracy’s shoulders slumped forward. “Yes,” she admitted. Likely in her early
thirties, Tracy had short, golden hair and a pert little nose. It was hard to judge with the
awkwardly high heels she was wearing but she was probably a couple of inches shorter
than Brenna’s five-seven. Tracy glanced around the room then whispered, “We’ve
played at tying each other up but wanted to get more into it. I just bought that thing
today and I’m scared to death of hurting him.”
Brenna nodded and kept up the slow, rhythmic swish of the flogger. She glanced
back at the handsome men at the bar. Malcolm was definitely a looker, and smooth, but
Rick’s intelligent, focused blue eyes kept drawing her back to him. They were the kind
of men she liked getting to know. But it was an orientation night, she’d come to help
newcomers to the lifestyle and, at that moment, Tracy and Kevin needed her attention
more than the two men did.
“You’re a couple, right?” she asked Tracy. “Married?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. Well, coming here’s a good place to start. I’ve been into the lifestyle since
college and I’m still learning things from the more experienced members.” She glanced
at the back of Kevin’s dark head. “First thing, keep physical contact with your sub.” She
lifted Tracy’s hand and held it so that the tips of the woman’s fingers grazed Kevin’s
shoulder, then the swell of his lat. A glance at the bar told her she also had Rick and
Malcolm’s full attention. “He will be comforted by your touch, reassured,” she
murmured and stood behind Tracy, so close that the front of her body grazed the other
woman’s back. Tracy’s breath caught. She trembled, once, then made a quiet sound that
was almost a purr. “He wants to feel pain, use it to attain sexual arousal, but within a
context of safety and trust.”
This time it was Kevin who made a soft sound and his hips rocked lightly. The men
at the bar watched her openmouthed. Malcolm adjusted his arousal as if he wasn’t
aware of what he was doing.
“If you stand where he cannot see you, keep your hand on him at all times. A light
touch will assure him of your focus, that you’re there to care for him while he’s
vulnerable.” She leaned forward and brushed her lower lip against Tracy’s ear. “Touch
him with your fingers,” Brenna suggested. “Lean your body into his. Kiss the back of
Angel in Leather
19
his neck. Whatever part of him captures your interest, reward it with your touch.” She
stood very close while Tracy ran her hands over her husband’s back, the line of his
thigh, the curve of his ass.
“Hmm. Very nice,” Brenna cooed then stepped back. “Now, when you use a flogger
such as this, let the weight do the work.” With the handle in one hand, she used the
other to hold the tips of the tresses. She pulled them back toward the middle of her
chest. “Hold then release,” she said, letting go of the leather strands. The potential
energy that had gathered in the flexible handle swung the tresses forward. “You know
your stroke is good if you hear this sound.” Extending her leg, Brenna pulled back on
the tresses again, released them and grinned when she heard the familiar frawp sound
as they hit her thigh. “Where you aim is just as important as how you hit,” she added,
tucking the flogger beneath her arm and turning back to Kevin. She kept her voice
deliberately quiet so no one would be tempted to approach, breaking the intimacy she’d
created between the three of them. “On the back, strike him here only,” she said,
outlining an oval that began at the top of a shoulder and extended down over his
shoulder blade. “Never hit his spine. Never hit across the small of his back or his sides.
Stay away from unpadded bones, areas with thin skin, and places where nerves are
close to the surface. The buttocks are perfect for flogging but be very gentle around the
tops of his thighs. Same for the backs of his legs in general. Would you like me to show
you?”
Kevin groaned his agreement but Brenna ignored him. “On you, I mean,” she
qualified and looked Tracy directly in the eye.
“H-how…?”
“How do I know you have submissive tendencies?” Brenna asked and brushed a
strand of short, golden hair back from Tracy’s face. “When I demonstrated the flogger,
you looked at my leg being hit, not at the hand doing the hitting. It’s a subtle tell I look
for. My guess is that your husband adores getting his ass whipped and he’s talked you
into doing it for him. Problem is, I think you’d like to be whipped too. With your
permission, I’ll introduce you to the flogger. We’ll see how you react to the reality of it.”
Tracy nodded dumbly and her wide, blue gaze fixed on Brenna’s lovely, oval face.
“Not good enough, Tracy,” Brenna cautioned her sternly. “Answer with a clear yes
or no. Remember, you’re giving me permission to do something that’s intended to
cause physical discomfort. The potential is there for me to hurt you. You must be clear,
for your sake and mine, about giving me that permission.” Reaching up, she began to
loosen the chains holding Kevin to the pillars.
“Yes. Absolutely,” Tracy answered enthusiastically. “I mean, this is why we came
here, right? To learn about this stuff. How else will I know what it feels like for you?”
she asked Kevin as she undid the bindings on his ankles. When he moved aside,
watching the two women with open titillation, his wife started to wrap one of the
leather bindings around her own ankle.
Gwen Campbell
20
“No restraints, Tracy,” Brenna said in her best Domme voice, filling it with quiet
conviction and confidence. “You don’t know me. Don’t give your trust away. Make me
earn it by proving my trustworthiness.”
“Oh. All right. What do I do then?”
“Stand here,” Brenna said, maneuvering the woman so she was facing one of the
posts. “You’ll lean forward a little, put your hands on the pillar and brace your weight
against it. Feet shoulder-width apart.”
“Okay. That’s easy enough.”
“Now, take your top off.” Brenna was watching Tracy’s face as she spoke, watching
for signs of alarm, embarrassment. Hesitancy she’d expect but outright skittishness was
a sign Tracy wasn’t ready for the public intimacies of the playroom. Bless her
heart…Tracy obviously had a touch of exhibitionist in her. Slowly, almost coyly, she
undid the large, flat buttons that ran down the front of the leather vest she was wearing.
As Brenna had expected, Tracy wasn’t wearing a bra underneath and her pretty little
breasts swayed when she handed her vest to her husband.
Brenna smiled her approval when Kevin held the garment up to his nose, inhaled
his wife’s scent then stepped back to watch.
Dressed in only a short black skirt, mesh stockings and high boots, Tracy leaned
forward, braced her hands on the pole and let her head drop forward.
“I’ll stand directly behind you,” Brenna said and rolled her wrist so the flogger
moved restlessly. The tresses sung quietly but could still be heard above the low techno
music throbbing through the club. “That will ensure my aim and that every stroke will
hit you with even force. What’s your safeword?”
“Umm…strawberry.”
With her fingers, Brenna caressed Tracy’s skin. “Hmm. Warm, soft,” she breathed
and stood close enough so her breasts and belly nuzzled the sub’s back. Passing her
nose over the crease behind Tracy’s ear, Brenna drew the braided leather handle of the
flogger down the side of Tracy’s body then teased the underside of her breasts with it.
She glanced back at the bar. As she’d hoped, she held the two new men’s attention.
Was she doing this only to help Tracy and Kevin? Brenna admitted to herself she was
also showing off for two subs.
“Are you ready to begin?”
“Gawd yes.”
Holding back her delighted laughter at the sub’s unguarded enthusiasm, Brenna
took a few steps back, angled her body so it was directly behind Tracy’s, pulled the
tresses forward and measured the distance between them and the sub’s back. Shuffling
just the tiniest bit closer, Brenna braced her feet, pulled the tresses back this time then
released them. Frawp. Tracy moaned quietly and her left leg trembled. Brenna pulled
the tresses back again.
Angel in Leather
21
Obeying a sudden compulsion, she again glanced at the men at the bar. With her
fingertips stroking Tracy’s shoulder, she watched them watching her. Malcolm was
staring at the flogger, entranced by the deliberate yet gentle swish of the tresses. He
licked his lower lip and it seemed unconscious and dead sexy because of it. Rick was
staring at her. She’d caught him looking at her legs but he made no sign of
embarrassment or even discomfort when she did. Instead, he let that intelligent, sensual
gaze move up, trace her curves then focus on her face as if nothing had ever captured
him so completely, and just might never again.
The man could heat up a room without even trying.
But it was Tracy who needed her attention and Brenna set up a slow, steady rhythm
with the flogger, with a count of five between each strike. Shoulder, shoulder, buttock,
buttock then she repeated the cycle. It was a sensual flogging, the strength of each blow
deliberately negligible. After each short round she stopped, touched Tracy’s skin
without rubbing it, judged the warmth of it and was pleased by its growing pinkness.
She found herself wondering if Rick’s skin would pink up just as nicely, or Malcolm’s.
Quickly she squashed those thoughts. A beautiful sub had graciously placed herself
under Brenna’s control and she would not lose sight of that.
“On a scale of one to ten, one being a tingle and ten it hurts so bad you can’t take
any more, tell me how much it hurts?”
“One. Maybe two.”
“Good. Always start very slow. A sub’s body needs time to acclimate, their head
needs adequate time to process the sensation as pleasure instead of pain. Build
gradually. Eventually, let the pain hover around seven. Never let it get above eight. Are
you ready for me to begin again?”
“Yes. Yes.” Tracy nodded fast then groaned when the tresses fell on her shoulder.
As hard as Brenna tried to focus…as much as she knew she had to focus…she
couldn’t shake her awareness of Rick’s attention. She finally gave up deluding herself
and admitted she was instructing Tracy and Kevin, yes, but she was also putting on a
show designed to entice the tall, dark-haired sub. But if she was reading them right,
Rick and Malcolm were a package deal. She didn’t think they were gay or even bi. Some
guys, maybe for the security factor or machismo or because there were so many more
subs than Dommes, liked to scene together. Men were visual creatures and the sharing
heightened their pleasure.
A package deal was okay. She’d participated in a few, to everybody’s satisfaction.
The trick was to always, always treat your subs equally. Hard experience had taught
her that. This time it might be a problem because she couldn’t keep her focus off Rick.
With a slowness that was almost as cruel as it was seductive, Brenna gradually
increased the force behind each strike. Between each short set, she stopped, caressed
Tracy’s arms or steadied her hips. She laid a hand on Tracy’s abdomen, judged the
tempo of her breathing, again asked her to rate the pain. When it crept up to four
Brenna began to ease off. Three cycles later she was back to a light, sensual flogging
Gwen Campbell
22
then stopped entirely. Turning Tracy around, she hugged her, stroked her hair, pressed
her cool palm to the hot spots on Tracy’s back.
Only then did she allow her focus to again drift away from the sub. Kevin was
standing to one side, watching raptly, his penis hard and pointing at the ceiling.
“Dress,” she ordered him in her most commanding voice. “Did I say I wanted to see
your cock?”
“N-no, Mistress,” he blurted out and glanced up at her with adoring puppy-dog
eyes as he scrambled to get his clothes on.
When Tracy’s breathing had returned to normal, when she took her weight back
onto her own legs instead of leaning on Brenna, Brenna released her and stepped back.
She picked up the other woman’s leather vest, slipped it on her and fastened the
buttons.
“But what about my seven?” Tracy blurted out. “I only got to four.”
Grinning, Brenna kissed each side of the sub’s face then released her. “That was
simply a lesson, not a real session. Go home and practice on each other. Save your
sevens for somebody you’re really into, not somebody who’s just got good whip
technique.”
By then Kevin was fully dressed and Brenna turned to face both of them. “If you’re
interested in pursuing membership here,” she said, “there are members—couples and
singles—who would enjoy talking to you about dominating you, either together or
separately, without sex. That part you’ll take care of yourselves once you get home,”
she added with a saucy wink and a deliberate glance at the prominent bulge in Kevin’s
pants. “If you’d like, I’ll add your names to the guest list for next Tuesday. I’ll ask a
Dom I think you’ll like to come in and chat with you. A little information, nothing
more,” she added quickly. “But if things progress, you can negotiate a scene.”
Tracy and Kevin agreed quickly and, after thanking Brenna and saying goodbye,
they packed up their flogger and hurried out of the club, hand in hand.
Smoothing her hands over her leather-clad hips, Brenna shook her hair behind her
shoulders and walked back to the two men at the bar. Her lips were parted and her
eyelids felt heavy. Her walk was predatory, seductive and she loved the feel of her hips
swaying, the strength of her thighs propelling her, the hard click of her heels on the
wood floor. She was a sexual being, confident and in her element.
When she slid onto the stool, let her skirt ride high up her legs then crossed them
slowly, she saw the two men watching her. Felt dozens of other eyes on her, male and
female, felt powerful, sensual, desired, lusted after. Flicking her gaze from one man to
the other, she picked up her drink and took a sip. Rick stepped off his stool, moved in
front of her and dropped to his knees. The angle of his body showed her the outline of a
hard, impressive cock straining against his pants.
Before he could say anything, she brushed her thumb over his mouth. His skin was
warm and smooth and she wasn’t sure if the sensual rush she felt was from the flogging
Angel in Leather
23
she’d just administered or if it was simply him. The eyes looking up at her were
intelligent and told her he wanted her, even more than that bulge he was sporting did.
The idea of playing with this man was definitely intriguing.
Denial, however, was one of the best weapons in a Domme’s arsenal and Brenna
wanted to make sure this fine specimen of manhood was serious about handing over
control. She finished her drink then set the glass on the bar. “It’s late and I’ve got a long
commute ahead of me. Goodnight. I hope you’ll come back next Tuesday. I’ll have your
names added to the guest list. Perhaps we can discuss a scene then, something safe,
gentle. Well, perhaps not too gentle,” she added, stood and let her hips roll as she
strolled away.
Gwen Campbell
24
Chapter Three
The following Tuesday, Rick arrived at the club promptly at nine p.m. He gave his
name to the doorman and was admitted without question. Like last week, low techno
music throbbed through the main playroom. The lighting was bright enough to see
everything yet low enough to be flattering. Also like last week, he asked himself if he
was nuts for coming to a place like this not wearing a mask.
But if he did, he’d be the only one. Various couples were already using some of the
equipment and hiding their identities seemed the last thing on their minds. The Domme
he’d met last week had intrigued him. Intrigued? Hell, he’d been on fire for her and had
jacked off twice—once in bed and once in the shower—before he could pull his pants on
for work the following morning. It had been a long time since a woman had turned him
on so thoroughly. She’d done it with no more than a look and the touch of a single
finger.
What she’d also done was relegate him to observer status, for which he was
grateful. He’d been ready to beg her to smack his ass, demonstrate to the whole room
that Rick Finley, fine, upstanding surgeon with the rock-solid reputation, liked it when
women beat him up.
But the best part was he’d had a whole week to find out this club really was
discreet. Nobody had contacted him. There’d been no phone calls or email solicitations.
No incriminating brochures had come in the mail. The woman who’d answered that 1-
800 number had assured him this place didn’t play games and dealt only in the
currency of trust. He’d believed her.
She’d been right.
Most of the people tonight stood back, talking quietly and watching from a discreet
distance. Again, the ratio of men to women was about sixty-forty. Rick thought he
recognized a judge, a couple of Bay Street big shots and, if he wasn’t mistaken, the head
of the Toronto Transit Commission union. If people like that were comfortable here, he
could be too. Spotting Malcolm sitting at the bar, Rick made his way over to him.
“Hey,” he said as he took a stool near Malcolm’s, greeted the bartender and ordered
a soda water with lime. “Find a good place to park?” They were in the heart of the
financial district, only a few blocks up from the lake. Parking, even at this time of night,
was never a sure thing.
“A block and a half away. I found out there’s underground parking here but that’s
for members only. That’ll save us some bucks if we join.”
Rick nodded and turned back to scan the room. His practice was midtown.
Malcolm’s was a little further north. They could have driven here together like last
week, but Rick knew why they hadn’t. Both of them were anxious to hook up with the
Angel in Leather
25
lovely Ms. Brenna and neither wanted to be stuck without a vehicle if the opportunity
to take her home presented itself.
Not that he could blame Malcolm. His own head had been full of Brenna for seven
days straight and his dick was actually raw from jacking off so much. The only thing
that had irked him was, as sexy and engaging as Brenna’s voice had been, she definitely
wasn’t the woman who’d answered that 1-800 number. The more he thought about it
though, the more he realized he liked Brenna’s voice more. He liked her more. He’d
never met a woman who’d captivated him so effortlessly and he guessed Malcolm
hadn’t either.
He and Malcolm had met in college then gone to the same medical school. Talking
over a few too many beers one night, they found out they were both interested in being
dominated by women and, with growing regularity, had shared women. It was safer,
kinkier and increased the odds of being dominated at all.
Good Dommes were hard to come by—and the one who’d had had his libido fired
up and red-hot all week had just walked into the club.
Walked wasn’t the right word, Rick thought as he adjusted himself and tried to find
a more comfortable perch on his barstool. She moved like a leopard—elegant,
confident—and those gorgeous blue eyes scanned the room as if she was searching for
her next meal. The corner of his mouth quirked up when that gaze settled on him and
stayed there as if nothing in the world could tear her focus from him.
Well, him and Malcolm, Rick acknowledged grudgingly and stood when she
reached the bar. She slid onto the empty stool between them. Before Malcolm could act,
before Rick lost his nerve, he dropped to his knees just like he had last week. Her
beautifully made-up eyes shone with approval and that lush, painted mouth parted in a
smile.
“Hurt me. Please,” he blurted out and felt like kicking himself. Smooth, Rick, real
smooth.
Brenna didn’t laugh at him like he expected. Instead she touched his cheek, ran her
fingertip over his jaw. “That’s a simplistic view of it but all right. Follow me,” she said.
Her voice was a subtle growl, dark and commanding, and Rick didn’t care anymore if
he looked like a wuss trailing after her with his tongue practically hanging out. His gaze
was glued to that round ass of hers. Her dress was as short as the one she’d worn last
week but this one was black latex. It hugged her every curve and the woman was
blessed with curves. There was a little kick pleat in the back of the skirt and he stared at
it, catching every revealed wink of her inner thighs as she strutted on those wicked high
heels. She stopped near the back wall and Rick stood close behind her, ran his fingers
down her bare arms, breathed in the scent of her hair.
“You should ask before you touch,” she said quietly, looking at him over her
shoulder. This close the blue of her eyes seemed to jump out at him.
He lifted his hands from her. “May I?” he whispered and liked the way his breath
stirred her hair. “Touch you?”
Gwen Campbell
26
“Yes. It would please me.”
Smiling, Rick resumed his slow caress of her arms. Even with heels she was still an
inch or so shorter than him. He liked her muscle tone, loved the softness of her skin. “I
like pleasing you,” he said, “but the caliber of D/s in this club is beyond my experience.
Somebody recently asked me if I was a simple masochist and my honest answer was I
hope not.”
She turned, looked at him with a focus that made him feel as if nothing but him
existed in her universe at that moment.
“What are you looking for?”
He grinned crookedly. “They pretty much asked that too. I know I want more. I like
being tied up during sex. I like to be whipped, punished but I also like making love and
treating a woman like a lady.”
“What about long walks on the beach and candlelit dinners?” Brenna asked with a
wry grin. She chuckled and it took any possible offense out of the cliché.
“Yeah. Them too. Only I hate sand in my shoes and I really hate my own cooking.”
He shrugged and touched her arm again. “The one thing I do know is I’m looking for a
woman, somebody special. Somebody who can flog my ass and love doing it as much
as I love feeling it.”
“Well, the flogging part I can take care of. As to the rest, my momma always told
me to make a man woo me before making up my mind about him. And to always wear
clean panties.”
Rick laughed. “Do you follow Momma’s advice? At least about the panties?”
“Who says I’m wearing panties?” Brenna taunted then released a pulley, lowering
two steel rings from the ceiling.
“I think I’m in love,” Rick murmured as he took a step forward and watched. The
mechanism was quite simple. The rings, though, were substantial and looked like the
ones gymnasts used. He glanced around the large playroom. “Um, I heard this place
has private rooms. How about we—”
“No.” The sharpness of her tone cut him off. “You’re going to ask a stranger to take
you someplace alone, tie you up and leave you vulnerable to anything. That’s foolish
and you don’t strike me as a foolish man.”
“Oh. Um. Put that way, I see your point.”
His acquiescence seemed to soften her ire. “In time perhaps, if we enjoy scening
together and I’ve proven you can trust me, you can ask me to dominate you in private.
Now, what shall I use?” she said thoughtfully. She tapped a lacquered nail against her
lower lip and walked over to a wall-mounted case several feet away.
He watched her but he also glanced around the room again. Malcolm, still sitting at
the bar, shot him a look, made a motion with his fist as if he was jacking off then
grinned, only it looked more like a snarl. Most likely he was pissed because Rick had
nabbed Brenna before he’d had a chance to.
Angel in Leather
27
Rick just grinned back and didn’t care if he looked goofy or not.
He also noticed other male subs watching him. None of them looked friendly.
When their eyes weren’t tracking Brenna, they were glaring at him. Oops. Looks as if
he’d stepped on some toes tonight, not that he cared. He returned his attention to
Brenna.
Standing beside the case now, she touched various toys as if she was considering
them. She also kept an eye on him and Rick got a sense she was looking for his
reactions. He liked that. He also felt comfortable because she exuded control while
definitely paying attention to what he wanted.
When she touched a strap-on dildo, he grimaced. Thankfully she moved her hand
away from it. Next she touched a delicate suede flogger. It looked a little lightweight for
his tastes and he shrugged. She moved on again. The next flogger was heavier than the
first and looked a lot like the one she’d used last week. Rick felt his eyes widen with
interest and when they did, she paused but then continued on.
When she touched a flat crop, the corner of his mouth tipped up and he licked his
lips. He felt his grin widen when she selected the crop, slapped her palm with it then
strolled back to him on those legs he couldn’t take his eyes off.
“Next time,” she said when she was standing in front of him, “bring your own toys.
The ones available here are always sterilized but it’s healthier if you use your own
things.”
“I will.” Rick nodded then paused. “What do I call you?”
“Explain.”
“Well, do you want me to call you Mistress like that guy last week did?”
“That decision is yours. During a scene, it might help get your head more into it if
you do call me Mistress or Mistress Brenna. You can call me baby, honey or sweet
cheeks for that matter,” she added with a grin. “I’m fine with anything so long as it isn’t
insulting or degrading. That I’m not into so if you like to be called names or be made to
crawl, I won’t do that for you.”
Rick nodded. This was definitely the kind of woman he liked…smart and a sense of
humor. “Works for me. So, I’m yours to command, Mistress,” he added with an
emphasis that made her smile. “What do you want me to do?”
“Relax. Enjoy,” she purred and moved around him slowly. “May I touch you?”
“Absolutely.” He inhaled with pleasure when she trailed her fingertips over his
shoulder then down to his hip. Her touch was light but deliberate. It raised gooseflesh
and made him shiver with anticipation. His first guy reaction was to hide his response
from her. Just one of the lady’s fine fingers on his body reduced him to a grunting
Neanderthal. Around her, his cool was nonexistent.
But then again, around her, he had zero desire to be cool. He wanted to let the
chemistry between them run wild.
Gwen Campbell
28
“Strip.” Her voice had that deep, commanding bite to it and his cock twitched in
response. Despite his reservations and earlier anxiety, his rod swelled at the idea of
baring himself for this beautiful woman. He wasn’t an exhibitionist but he was
confident about the way he looked. Getting naked in a roomful of strangers wouldn’t be
his first choice but he was really getting off on the idea of obeying Brenna. He also
noticed she’d maneuvered them so they were standing by the back wall, away from the
other players. His back was to the room so that was the only thing they’d see. As he
began unbuttoning his shirt, Rick realized he had no problem flashing his ass if this
woman asked him to.
There was a certain power, a freedom that came from obeying her sexually. He
hadn’t realized his shoulders had tightened up until they relaxed. His respiration rate
slowed.
As Brenna strolled back and forth in front of him, Rick kept his focus on her. She
kept her focus on him. Even when some other sub groaned loudly somewhere behind
them, her eyes never left him, although he glanced backward. When he’d pulled the
tails clear of his pants and his shirt was unbuttoned, she took it from him, folded it
carefully and set it on a chair. He undid his belt and the top button on his pants with
what he hoped was seductive slowness. Brenna rewarded him with a smile that made
him feel hot and cold all over at the same time.
She actually licked her lips when he lowered his zipper. After that he had no
patience for seduction and toed off his shoes and dropped his drawers faster than she
could gather them up. Like his shirt, she took care of his remaining clothing. Rick knew
he hadn’t really thought this through but he was glad luck was on his side. A woman
who’d fuss over somebody else’s socks had to be the kind of Domme who’d take care of
her sub. He thanked his lucky stars that, for tonight at least, that sub was him.
“Hmm, your body pleases me very much,” she murmured and, slowly, circled him.
Rick stood up straight, turned his head to follow her progress, dipped it to watch her
index finger slide down the thin line of hair arrowing down to his groin. When she
stopped before reaching his bush and grinned up at him, he groaned in
disappointment. Still smiling, she passed her palm over the ridges of his abdomen,
stroked the demarcation between chest and shoulder as if she was mesmerized by it,
pressed a long, soft kiss to his upper arm. The pleasure and anticipation it roused in
him made him shiver. When he saw the outline of her mouth branded in lipstick on his
skin he grinned as if he was drunk. Bearing Brenna’s mark, even if it was only in
lipstick, stirred him more than was probably healthy. He hissed when his cock
hardened fully and fast.
“Hang on to the rings,” she ordered in that same whiskey-dark voice. Rick
complied eagerly. The rings were low enough that his upper arms sat comfortably
parallel to the floor. His forearms turned up about ninety degrees from them. “Don’t let
go until I tell you you can. What’s your safeword?”
Angel in Leather
29
He usually used “cream” but with this woman he wanted something new,
something theirs alone. “Bulldog,” he blurted out then shook his head. “That sounds
like I’m trying too hard.”
“It sounds perfect,” Brenna corrected him gently. She massaged his biceps and
stood close enough that her slick vinyl dress nestled against him.
Her breasts felt wonderful pressing into him and they swelled over the scoop neck
of the dress. The sides of her shoes felt cool against his arches. She nudged his feet
apart.
“Feet shoulder width apart. Very good. I’m pleased. You please me,” she added
and when he dropped his mouth to hers, she stepped back and smacked the crop
handle against his hip.
Rick hissed but was more surprised than anything.
“Subs remember their manners and ask. They don’t take,” she said coolly then ran
the crop over the spot she’d smacked. It kept him aware of her control, the power he
wanted her to exert over him. They barely knew each other but he felt comfortable with
her, and realized he was relaxing into their scene without effort.
“In fact,” she continued, “I want to hear you talk, starting now. I’m not a mind
reader and you’ll be disappointed if you assume I am. Tell me if something’s working
for you, if you’d like me to vary what I’m doing or try something different.”
Rick swallowed then moistened his lips. “I want to kiss you. And I want you to turn
my ass red with that thing,” he said. He grinned when she laughed quietly.
“I’ll kiss you when I choose and only if you’ve earned it. As for turning your ass
red, hmm, let’s see…” Her voice trailed off seductively as she walked around him. At
all times, he felt her touch. Fingertip, palm, the brush of her thigh, the softness of her
arm moved over him in turn. It was erotic, loving, and over-the-top hot. She kept up a
stream of praise too. Everything heightened his comfort level and with that came
anticipation—sexual and sensual.
“Your back’s fantastic,” she murmured and he felt the tip of her nose, her breath on
his skin. “Broad shoulders, deep muscles…perfect for whipping.” Her hands circled his
waist lightly and she eased his body back into hers. “I love how strong you are and
your skin’s turning me on like crazy. The way you smell is making me wet.”
He grunted when his balls cramped with lust.
“Hmm, and your ass…your ass is so round and hard I can’t wait to get my hands
on it.”
“Please. Yeah,” he groaned and his head rocked backward. The chains above him
creaked when he pulled hard on the rings. She stepped in front of him, touched the flat
tip of the crop to his left pec then pulled back and slapped him very lightly with the
smooth leather again and again. Rick’s breath caught then came faster, deeper. The
accumulated strikes tingled then made the spot pink up as blood and warmth rushed to
the surface. The sight of his marked skin was erotic as hell. What was it about the smell
of leather, the sound of it hitting him that got him so hot it felt as if the skin on his cock
Gwen Campbell
30
was about to split? He moaned in protest when she stopped, admired her handiwork,
blew on his hot skin then laid the flat of the crop on the exact same spot on his right pec.
His hips punched forward when she started hitting him again.
She must have been keeping count because when she finished both sides of his
chest were equally pink. Brenna laid her cool hand on his skin but didn’t rub, which he
appreciated. Getting spanked was one thing but having somebody rub your road rash
afterward took all the fun out of it.
“Tell me how much it hurts on a scale of one to ten.”
Rick blinked. With his dick that hard, it wasn’t easy to focus on anything else.
Finally he remembered what she’d said to that female sub the week before. “Two,” he
answered then grinned when he remembered their scene. Being a guy, he loved girl-on-
girl action, even though he only got to watch. When Brenna walked behind him he
sucked in a breath and waited. The end of the crop touched his back, just above his
shoulder blade, and he groaned when he felt the first, light smack. Like last week, she
set a predictable pattern and Rick loved it. It was so easy to get into the flow of the
strikes, anticipate them, let the sting build and morph into pleasure. Everything about
Brenna’s technique was smooth and controlled. Even though he begged her to hit him
harder, she increased the strength behind her hits imperceptibly, let it build so slowly
he was sweating and groaning with frustrated need.
He was so completely in love.
Hanging on to the rings was a challenge. If he’d been bound like he was used to, it
wouldn’t be an issue. Having to hold on himself and concentrate required a mental
discipline that complemented the sensations peppering him. He breathed through the
discomfort and willed himself to hang on.
Each time Brenna paused— and she paused often— she touched his face with her
soft hand, caressed the center of his chest. She talked to him, made him answer obvious
questions as if she was checking his alertness, massaged his arms and asked if they
were falling asleep. Sometimes she just held him and it was all Rick could do to keep
hanging on to the rings like she’d demanded instead of wrapping his arms around her
and asking if she’d like to shack up with him for the rest of her life.
Frustration made him moan when she stepped back. His cock bobbed angrily,
blatantly asking her to come back and snuggle some more. The rhythm of the crop
remained constant as the force behind the hits increased imperceptibly. The sting
became a nagging throb, the throb an exquisite ache that sank into his muscles, the ache
turned to pain. His body wanted to jerk away but his head, lulled by the slow and
steady buildup of sensation, filled with the sweet tension of an endorphin rush. He felt
his lips pull back from his teeth in an animalistic smile. Pain and pleasure morphed into
an erotic high that surpassed the polar sensations. Behind him he heard Brenna
breathing, heard the physical strain she was exerting, and felt the head of his cock
smear his belly with precum as she worked him over.
Angel in Leather
31
When he rated the pain at five she let it hover there, then to his disappointment and
delight, began to back off. He wanted more of what this talented, careful woman had
given him…wanted more of her. But the denial was sweet and hardening himself
against the instinct to protest, complain even, gave him a sense of worth. That
validation was something he earned honestly. Although he’d never explained it to
anyone, it balanced the godlike way some people viewed him and his work.
At the end she tapped him with the crop so gently it made no sound. She set the
crop down. She was gorgeous. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed.
Expecting a rebuke, he nonetheless stared at the way her breasts rose and fell with the
speed of her breathing. A fine sheen of sweat made her arms and chest glisten. Rick
opened his mouth to ask if he could lick her all over.
“Let go of the rings,” she said softly and, again grinning drunkenly, Rick obeyed.
She stood very close and held him when he rolled his shoulders before hugging her
tight. The small hand on the back of his neck felt cool, perfect. His cock hurt more than
anything she’d done to him and it dug into the smooth vinyl of her dress, the soft
warmth of her belly beneath. She didn’t ask how he felt, just let him hang onto her in
silence, take what he needed from her closeness. Her touch comforted and reassured
him. That caught him off guard.
Rick wasn’t a needy guy. He was self-sufficient and proud of it. But this woman
gave him the freedom to let go of that for a while.
“What would you say if I told you I loved you?” he whispered and was surprised
when he heard the words out loud.
“I’d say I was flattered but you’re coming down from an endorphin high. That
doesn’t mean I don’t cherish hearing you say it though,” she added when he stiffened.
“Huh. And I thought you said you weren’t a mind reader.”
“Maybe for you I’ll make an exception.”
He lifted his head off her shoulder and leaned his forehead against hers. “I’d like
that kiss now, please.”
She seemed to hesitate then tipped her mouth up to his. “For you, yes.”
Her mouth was so soft. Gradually Rick tightened his hold on her, loving the
shifting weight of her breasts between them. The kiss felt more intimate than anything
else they’d done. Breathing her in, tasting her, let him consume part of her. And it felt as
if she was consuming him. She touched his arms then wrapped her hands around the
back of his neck, holding him to her with just enough pressure to make him feel
claimed, loved, safe. When she touched her tongue to his lips, Rick opened them with a
groan, tilted his head and took her mouth as if he was entitled to it. She didn’t rebuke
him and he moaned with pleasure. The few Dommes he’d been with hadn’t wanted
him to assert any needs over them. For them it had been about the control, as if they
refused to acknowledge he was bigger, stronger, horny as hell and wanted to express
that in a way that thanked them for dominating him.
Gwen Campbell
32
Brenna seemed to melt into him but she also kissed him just as hard and fervently
as he kissed her. She smelled wonderful, tasted even better and if those soft, sexy
sounds she was making were any indication, she was getting off on kissing him as
much as he was getting off on kissing her. This was a woman he could fall for.
“Come home with me,” he whispered against her mouth. “Let me make love to
you.”
She squirmed as if she wanted to crawl inside his skin then eased her body away
from his. “Not yet. I don’t know you well enough.”
“At least that’s not a no.”
“That’s not a no,” she acknowledged with a small nod. She kissed his jaw then
stepped away to retrieve a towel from the same cabinet that had held the crop.
Methodically, following the progress of the towel with soft kisses, she dabbed the sweat
from his body, taking extra care not to rub the spots she’d struck.
Rick held out his arms and let her pamper him, loving every indulgent moment of
it. She even handed him his clothing, piece by piece, and buttoned up his shirt and
fastened his pants for him. When he was dressed she stepped back and, without
comment, wiped his sweat off her dress. Most women he knew would have left him
alone to rush off to the ladies’ room to fix their makeup, and bitched about him messing
up their clothes. A woman who could beat his ass with style, offer no apologies for
enjoying it then make him feel he was the most important person in her universe was a
woman he definitely wanted to know better.
He shook his head to clear the last of the lethargy, turned and faced the room. It
surprised him that it was still full of people. As if somebody had just taken plugs out of
his ears, he heard quiet groans, the slap of leather against skin, muted conversation,
music and the creak of restraints. Yeah, there were other people in the world, he
thought wryly as Brenna led him back to the bar.
Malcolm greeted him with a begrudging smile and a cold drink. Rick swallowed it
down gratefully then ordered another. This time he watched Brenna over the rim as he
sipped. She’d never taken her eyes off him, still watched him as if he was the center of
the universe. Finally she grinned, picked up the drink Malcolm had ordered for her and
turned to watch the other people in the playroom.
Rick felt a little lonely, a little abandoned when she looked away but accepted it.
She wasn’t his even though he wouldn’t mind a shot at seeing how far things could
progress between them. When he’d come to this club he’d been looking for a Domme
who could fulfill his submissive needs—his and Malcolm’s. This woman was so much
more. That didn’t overwhelm him. He was too good at adapting, analyzing situations
and complications, to let a little thing like instant chemistry throw him. Brenna was
definitely something.
That said, he and Malcolm had been sharing Dommes since med school. It was safer
that way, increased the odds of actually attracting a Domme’s attention and,
admittedly, it was hotter when you got to experience and watch. Kind of a double-the-
Angel in Leather
33
thrill scenario. So he didn’t elbow his best friend aside when Malcolm leaned into
Brenna and touched her hand, although his inner Neanderthal wanted to.
“After you’ve had a moment, Mistress, would you show me what that St. Andrew’s
Cross feels like?”
A consensual scene between near strangers was no reason to get jealous but Rick
had to wipe an angry sneer off his face anyway. Bastard. Why was it Malcolm was
always so smooth with the ladies and Rick’s mouth tended to blurt out whatever
without his brain running interference?
“No.”
Rick perked up considerably at Brenna’s flat refusal.
“You weren’t brave enough to ask first,” she added. Her voice was authoritative
without being cold. “I want you to want it. There will be no sloppy seconds.” After
looking at her watch, she slipped off her stool.
“Next week then?” Malcolm asked hopefully.
“I’m afraid not. My company’s year end is coming up. The week after that, I’ll meet
you here if you wish. Both of you,” she added, and the look she flashed Rick was
straight-up sultry.
“Definitely,” Malcolm sighed, gave her one of those grins that always reeled the
ladies in and pissed Rick off to no end, kissed her hand and sighed again when she
walked away.
“Bastard,” Malcolm hissed when she was out of earshot, then slapped Rick’s chest
with the back of his hand.
It was probably no accident that he hit the exact spot Brenna had paddled. Twisting
his body away, Rick grunted. “Hey. Watch it. Asshole,” he said and actually sort of
meant it.
“I earned that after having to sit here with a hard-on that could drill concrete,
watching her spank somebody else, even if it was you.” Malcolm signaled for another
drink. He made a face after he took the first sip. “Damn but I could use the real thing
about now,” he muttered when the bartender moved away. “Just so you know, I wasn’t
the only one watching the lovely Ms. Brenna wield her magic on your saggy behind.”
“Hmm?” Rick didn’t even dignify the saggy remark with a rebuttal.
“Oh yeah.” Lifting his index finger away from his glass, Malcolm used it to point
out the entire room in a slow sweep. “Just about every male sub here, some of the
women too, were looking at you like they wanted to shove a knife in your back.”
Together, they turned to watch Brenna leave. She was stopped repeatedly by
singles and couples. Most of them she chatted with briefly. Some said things that made
her laugh with them. A few of them looked at her with an intensity that made Rick’s
hands draw up into fists, especially the men who stood too close, who leaned to
whisper in her ear.
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“You know I never want this kind of thing to be an issue between us,” Malcolm
said, “but I’m going to make a play for her right alongside you. If she wants both of us,
I’m good with that but if she shows even a hint of interest in stepping things up
between her and me, I’m going to jump all over that bodacious piece of womanhood.”
Rick raised his glass and touched the rim of it to Malcolm’s. “May the best man
win,” he pronounced, then grinned. “Good thing that’s going to be me.”
Angel in Leather
35
Chapter Four
When a blonde woman waved and bounced up on her toes to get Brenna’s attention
before she reached the exit, Brenna smiled. “Hey, Tracy, Kevin,” she greeted them and
hugged the excited blonde warmly. “I see you met Trevor. He’s so easy to talk to about
the whole scene, isn’t he?”
While Tracy and Kevin nodded and summarized their conversations, Brenna
glanced at the Dom. With heels, both she and Tracy were taller than him but with
Trevor, you never noticed. He had this calm, confident presence, didn’t talk much and
was a great listener. He always seemed bigger than he actually was. In his mid-forties,
he had short-cropped gray hair and dark, expressive eyes that were focused a little too
intently on Tracy. Brenna knew he loved to introduce new subs to the lifestyle and that
he had a thing for petite blondes. For him it wasn’t about the sex, although he wouldn’t
say no if somebody offered him an orgasm. No, he liked the domination, finding out
what a sub thought her limits were and challenging her with new and novel ways of
reaching past them. Good thing a few of the established Dommes owed him favors or
he might just find himself pissing off Kevin by focusing his considerable talents on the
man’s wife. With his contacts though, Trevor would make sure Kevin’s submissive
needs were taken care of too.
Brenna chatted with them for a few more minutes before moving on. Attending
orientation nights was a privilege but she had a two-hour drive each way to get here. A
smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Rick had tempted her to stay, more than she’d
expected. His reactions to pain were enthralling and he held himself with a grace and
power that awed her. Not many subs communicated as honestly as he did, especially at
first. They were all about the yes mistress, please mistress thing, trying to act like good
little subs and appease a potential Domme. Rick’s body communicated truth. She’d
heard it in his breathing, seen it in the way he held his head. He obviously liked the
carefully administered pain, but what he’d seemed to really got off on was entrusting
his pleasure to someone else. That kind of mutual fulfillment was hard to find and she
cherished it. His body and that fat erection had worked for her too. A girl’s ego couldn’t
help responding to that kind of total package.
She headed for the door and tried not to talk too long whenever she was stopped.
That plan flew out the window when Harlan Rhode stepped into her path. “When
are you going to tie me down and let me keep you in the lap of luxury, hmm?” He
winked at her and flashed that bright, beguiling smile of his.
“Hello, Harlan.” She sighed and tried not to look too put out by his intrusion.
“Hello, my Darling,” he said and gave her another wink. He loved the play on her
last name and she knew he thought it added intimacy to their conversations. As always,
Gwen Campbell
36
Harlan’s clothing was conservative, expensive and tailored to perfection. It should be.
Born into money, Harlan had a gift for investing it and was one of the darlings of Bay
Street—no pun intended. He wielded fortunes like most people wielded grocery lists
and part of his psyche demanded he be spanked down for it. A sexual submissive right
down to his blue-blooded corpuscles, he also couldn’t lay off topping from the bottom.
He loved it when a woman tied him up, made him beg, trussed up his balls and
clamped his nipples until they turned purple but he wanted it all on his terms. Oh, he
was subtle about it but he wanted what he wanted, when he wanted. There was no
intrigue playing with Harlan, no sense of pleasure in discovering his needs then
meeting them. For that reason, Brenna had limited contact with him and hadn’t scened
with him in well over a year. The fact he’d been divorced three times didn’t help his
cachet as a potential long-term partner either.
That didn’t stop him from asking though.
“I watched you tonight. You’re magnificent,” he growled in that deep, refined voice
of his. He kissed her hand then brushed his lips over her knuckles. “You’re always
magnificent. Just seeing you makes me hard.” He glanced around, made sure no one
was close enough to overhear, then touched her cheek. “The man you were with, he’s
younger than me. I wish…” His voice trailed off.
Brenna had played this game with Harlan too often to be sucked in by orchestrated
empathy. His eyes reflected uncertainty, perhaps even pain but she knew he was no
damsel in distress type, gender notwithstanding. He was just good at pushing a
Domme’s triggers. “You’re not old, Harlan, and you know it,” she said with enough
vehemence to make him drop the weepy-eye act. He was only fifty, in shape, and had
the kind of refined good looks that perked women’s interest. “We’ve done scenes and
you know our tastes aren’t compatible. Just because you’ve got a thing for my ass
doesn’t mean we can overlook everything else.”
“I’ve got a thing for more than just your ass,” he admitted quietly and Brenna felt it
was the first genuine thing he’d said to her that night.
She kissed his cheek then stepped back. “I believe you. And if we were compatible,
I’d do you in a heartbeat, even if you were ninety and didn’t have a pot to piss in,” she
assured him, said goodbye and walked away before he could stop her.
* * * * *
The next day at work, Brenna turned off the office security system and headed
straight for the coffeemaker. She’d gotten home around midnight and it wasn’t yet
seven a.m. Suppressing a yawn, she figured she’d go to bed early tonight.
When she’d started this company, she’d had to start early and work late because
she was her one and only employee. Working out of her basement in the evenings and
on weekends, she’d fiddled with a line of organic, boutique soaps. Aromatherapy was
popular and she’d focused her marketing on the environmentally friendly angle. It was
a stretch because soap was about the most un-environmentally friendly stuff out there.
Angel in Leather
37
Still, people wanted to be clean, there was a need for products that let oil mix with
water, and she knew marketing and image were everything.
That line of bar soap had grown to include liquid soap and body powder. She was
developing creams and spray-on body mists to go with them, available in each of the
company’s six signature fragrances.
Sucking down her coffee as fast as she could, Brenna swapped her sensible pumps
for steel-toed shoes, put on a hairnet and her lab coat and left the office area for the
production floor.
When her approach triggered a massive roll-up metal door, the sound from the
packing machines jumped. The scents of lavender and honey wrapped around her. By
this time tomorrow, the lines would switch over to vanilla-cinnamon, and lemon grass
two days after that.
She greeted the ladies on the line by name as she walked behind them, asked about
their kids if they had any, joked with them, shared quick one-armed hugs then moved
on. Back when she’d been an employee and not the owner, she’d never seen anybody in
upper management bother with the laborers. Brenna had decided that was just stupid.
These workers were here for the pay, sure, but they could also be vested enough to look
at what went on beyond their on-paper responsibilities. She cared about them and they
returned the favor by caring about what they were doing, suggesting ways to work
more safely and more efficiently, even helping out with the electric bill by setting the
packing machines to idle during product switch-overs.
“Hey, Margo,” she said as she walked up to the nightshift supervisor. Without
being asked, the forty-something woman handed Brenna the clipboard in her hand.
“Line two was down for about an hour,” Margo told her as Brenna scanned the
output numbers. The night before they’d run all seven packing lines. Orders were up
and business was booming. “There’s only a skid and a half of bottle caps left. The
afternoon shift will run out.”
“Hmm. There’s a shipment due in first thing today.”
“Cutting it kind of close, aren’t you, boss?”
“Yes. But if we have to we can send the workers on machines four and five over to
the powder room. Besides, it’s cost efficient to not have a lot of capital tied up in
packing materials that’re just sitting around. Thanks, Margo,” Brenna said, smiled and
handed back the clipboard. “Looks like your crew had a great shift.”
“Some of the ladies were asking how long we’re going to run this third shift.”
“At least another two weeks.” Almost all the people working the lines on nights
were from a temp agency. With Mother’s Day coming up, Brenna had ramped up
production to meet demand from the stores. After that they’d be back to two shifts and
these workers would have to find other jobs. But if things worked out, they’d be
shipping Oh My Darling soaps and powders to new customers in Western Canada and
the northeastern United States within three months. If that happened, they’d be running
three shifts, five days a week, permanently.
Gwen Campbell
38
“I’ll let them know,” Margo said. “They’ll be happy. They expected one week of
work and we’ve given them three already. Have a good one, boss,” she added with a
wave as she went back to work.
Brenna left the packaging room and walked into production.
It was quieter in here. The chug of the vacuum pumps that poured raw materials
into the massive, twenty-foot-high steel mixing vats hadn’t yet started up. The only
overt sound was Jim’s voice as he walked his day-shift mixing crew through the
morning’s production schedule. Jim had been the first employee she’d hired.
They’d worked together at a big chemical company in a nearby city. There Brenna
had been a frustrated entrepreneur daylighting as a chemist. Jim had been tired of
working for an impersonal multinational corporation and had been in the industry long
enough not to worry about the fact Brenna had only been able to offer him half the
salary he’d been earning back then. After sweating through the first, uncertain year
alongside her, he now earned a bit more than he had at his old job. If things kept
looking up, he’d get another raise by the third quarter. Jim waved and his lined face lit
up as he flashed her one of those broad smiles of his. Brenna waved back to him and his
crew and kept moving. The production room was in order, the floors had been washed
by yesterday’s afternoon shift, raw materials that should be stacked on the fire-hazard
racks were, and she had a meeting with the finance department in half an hour.
Back in the kitchen and stirring her second cup of the day, Brenna thought about
the night before and smiled. She’d liked Rick, a lot. He responded beautifully to pain,
held himself with grace and was open about sharing how his head and body were
processing the sensations. After dropping her spoon into the dishwasher, she headed
for her office and flexed her whip hand without realizing what she was doing. She had
a good life, a full life, but wanted someone to share it with. At thirty-one she was ready
to settle down with one sub, one lover. Maybe even get married if she was lucky. She
just hadn’t met the right guy.
Shaking her head to get rid of her residual tiredness, she thought about Rick once
more, and regretted that it would be another two weeks before she’d see him and his
friend Malcolm again. Then she grinned. Sometimes it was a good thing to make your
subs wait. Anticipation made them eager. Chuckling, she leaned forward in her chair
and got down to the day’s work.
* * * * *
Two weeks later Brenna walked into the downtown Toronto club. Tonight was the
last of four consecutive Tuesdays open to guests which explained the crowd. She said
hello to Tracy and Kevin, their new Dom Trevor, and one of the regular Dommes
Trevor had likely recruited to play with Kevin. A broadcast email from the membership
committee had already announced that Tracy and Kevin had bought memberships.
Brenna skirted most of the equipment and the clusters of male subs who’d positioned
themselves prominently in the center of the club.
Angel in Leather
39
She had a date to play with two men tonight and two weeks was a long time to
wait. The heels of her high boots clicked enticingly on the polished wood floor. She held
her head proudly and her long black hair was tied back with a cord of black suede.
Dressed to play and play hard, she strode up to the bar and held her shoulders back
when Rick and Malcolm slipped off their stools and stood before her.
For a moment, none of them said anything. She slid her hand around the back of
Rick’s head, then Malcolm’s. Fisting their short hair, staring at one then the other man
for a long, intense moment, she pulled Rick’s mouth down to hers.
He didn’t resist. Moaning softly, he settled his warm, wonderful lips against hers,
exhaled in short, sharp bursts as he slid his tongue into her mouth. He tasted and
smelled as wonderful as she remembered. A hint of good cologne but mostly lust-
warmed skin and pheromones. She pulled back before Malcolm had a chance to feel left
out.
Malcolm tasted different but he was no less eager. His kiss was gentler but then he
didn’t know what she liked or would allow. When she brought her teeth down on his
lower lip and bit hard enough to make him gasp, he grinned and tipped his head so she
could do it again.
Letting go of his hair, she squeezed his jaw between her thumb and forefinger.
“Who’s in charge here?” she purred with misleading sweetness and cocked an eyebrow.
“You are, Mistress,” Malcolm breathed, swallowed then stood up straight. “It’s no
excuse but I really liked it when you bit me.”
She couldn’t help but grin. “Well, you certainly don’t have a problem with
communicating,” she acknowledged wryly. “But in the future ask, don’t insist. I’ll
decide if you need what you ask for, or deserve it.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he said and stared at her mouth. Brenna rewarded him with
another kiss.
“Can I touch you, please?” It was Rick’s breath she felt on her neck. His body was
angled into the side of hers but he held himself back.
She broke the kiss just long enough to say, “Yes. I’d like that.” She wove her fingers
back into Malcolm’s hair to pull his mouth to hers. Still holding Rick’s hair, she made a
quiet sound of pleasure when his lips slid over the base of her neck. His mouth was
firm yet gentle and made her shiver. He moved behind her, pressed into her lightly,
sandwiched her body between his and Malcolm’s.
Swaying just a little, Brenna relished their heat and closeness, the intensity of their
kisses, the feel of Rick’s strong hands on her waist as his already hard cock nudged her
ass. After a moment she turned. “Touch me,” she ordered Malcolm before offering her
mouth to Rick.
Rick’s taste was going to drive her insane but Brenna knew she had to be careful
about showing partiality. These two men were friends, they came to scene together, and
it would be cruel and insensitive to pit them against each other. Despite that, she drove
her tongue in deep and murmured her approval when Rick came back at her with equal
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fervor. Malcolm mouthed her shoulder, nestled his cock against her ass, trailed his
hands over her hips. His touch was as arousing as Rick’s and she started breathing
faster.
Brenna needed to summon her discipline and summon it quick. If this kept up
she’d be in bed with them within the hour. As delicious as that sounded, they’d
negotiated a little D/s scene, nothing more. They might be willing but taking anything
more from them at this stage would be a misuse of their trust. She sighed and pulled
back. Sometimes personal honor could be a real pain.
“Hmm,” she murmured and licked her lower lip. “That was a very nice hello. I’m
pleased.”
Both men grinned with boyish enthusiasm.
“Now, show me what toys you brought this evening and we’ll get this party
started.” Practically humming with anticipation, she watched Rick pull a long leather
flogger out of a satchel. When he handed it to her she assessed the weight, the texture of
the tresses, the balance point of the handle then gave him a nod of approval. It was a
quality toy and looked and smelled new. It’d be a privilege to break it in.
She balked mentally when she saw Malcolm’s offering. It was a stainless steel cane,
whip thin and long. It was an implement designed for pain.
“Is there someone you wouldn’t want to see the marks?” she asked and, after a
second’s hesitation, took the cane from him. “Plan on stripping down at the gym over
the next week?”
“No. There’s nobody,” Malcolm answered with a shrug.
“Good. Because there’s no way I can hit you with this and not leave bruising. But
then you know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Malcolm answered. There was enough excitement in his voice to
make Rick grin and look away.
“Pain slut,” she muttered. Malcolm’s expression brightened even more. “This way,
gentlemen.” Striding away on her four-inch heels, Brenna moved into the main part of
the playroom. Giving playing couples a wide berth, she mentally considered then
rejected piece after piece of equipment. To keep things interesting and fresh, she tried to
inject some originality into each scene. This being her first time with both men, she
wanted to challenge all of them with simplicity. When she knew them better she could
tailor something to their—and not just her—whims.
Finally she found a quiet spot at the back of the room, away from most of the other
members. She sent the men to retrieve three high-backed chairs and kept an eye on
them as they carried out her order.
One of the other Dommes, a regular, approached her. “Two tonight, Brenna?
Greedy bitch.”
Brenna laughed. “You’re just jealous. I like those shoes,” she added, glancing down.
Sonia was one of her closest friends in the community. They’d exchanged emails,
Angel in Leather
41
discussed issues about subs over coffee, even got together to shop. The shorter, brown-
haired woman had a wicked sense of humor and played a mean game of golf. She liked
to keep her swing strong and wasn’t about just hitting golf clubs.
“Thanks,” Sonia said. “That outfit’s new, right?”
Brenna nodded.
“I like it,” Sonia said and watched Rick and Malcolm give a large, openly gay
Dom—identified by a too-liberal use of mascara and a deliberate, pouty stare at their
groins—a wide berth as they headed back to Brenna, chairs in hand.
Tonight Brenna was wearing a skirt and vest, both in black leather of course.
Someday she might try a different color when she was scening but hey, black worked
for her.
“So if one of your new sub boys is ever interested, I’d be willing to paddle either of
those choice asses. Just saying,” Sonia added, holding up her hands defensively when
Brenna turned to her and glared. “Maybe it’s for the best. With you out of the running,
the really cute subs are crawling for the rest of us as fast as they can. Well, gotta go,”
Sonia said and breathed kisses to both sides of Brenna’s faces. “Men to humiliate, asses
to spank, yadda, yadda.” With a wave, she disappeared back into the crowd.
Brenna had Rick and Malcolm place two chairs side by side, about four feet apart,
facing the room. The other chair she ordered placed closer to the wall, also facing the
room. This one she sat on. She crossed her legs leisurely, dangled the flogger and cane
from her fingers and looked at their bodies with open admiration.
“Strip,” she ordered in the calm, assertive voice she’d perfected over the years.
Malcolm started in on his shirt buttons immediately. Rick, as she’d expected, was a
little hesitant. But she held his gaze with hers, not letting him shy away or look around
to remind himself just how many people were in the playroom tonight. The music, the
sound of leather hitting flesh, the grunts and squeals of subs faded from Brenna’s
consciousness as she honed her concentration on the only two men who mattered at
that moment—the men who’d gifted her with their welfare and pleasure.
The control, the precision of dominating men had always gotten her off. Just like
she loved the exactness of science, she loved the balance between pain and pleasure,
loved orchestrating it, how her subs cherished her for it. Perhaps it was simple
narcissism but Brenna adored giving men what they craved, making them dance with
ecstasy at the end of her lash. Oddly, for her it brought peace and decorum to a world
that was full of hostility and plain, old-fashioned rudeness.
As her subs revealed more of their bodies, Brenna smiled. She already knew Rick
had a fantastic body. He was tall, athletic, a little more lean than muscular but she liked
her men that way. The depth of Malcolm’s pectorals was a delightful surprise. He
obviously liked to hit the weights and although his upper body was a little
disproportional to his lean lower body, he was still, as Sonia had put it, a choice piece.
Slowly, she rose out of her chair. “Stand up straight,” she ordered in her measured,
confident Domme voice. “Hands behind your heads. Feet shoulder width apart.”
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Despite the music and the ambient room sounds, her heels made a distinct click every
time she took a step. Methodically she circled the two men, ran a fingertip down a
spine, cupped the curve of an ass. She touched their arms, faces and the rise of their
pectorals. Both Rick and Malcolm were breathing raggedly when she finished.
Malcolm’s cock was already hard. Rick’s was well on its way.
“Presumptive man, getting a hard-on like that,” she purred and gave the swaying
head of Malcolm’s cock a pinch. He grunted but didn’t try to evade her touch. “What
makes you think you’ll get to use it, hmm?” She pinched him again, harder this time.
Malcolm grinned drunkenly then hissed when she used the back of her hand to tap his
balls, none too lightly.
“Please. Fuck. Yes,” he blurted out. His elbows punched forward then he regained
his stance.
“Unruly boy,” Brenna growled. “What’s your safeword?”
“Chestnut.”
“Chestnut,” Brenna repeated, nodded, then moved on to Rick. Standing straight
and proud, he was looking down at her with rapt adoration. She couldn’t help but
smile. “Have I your permission to play with you again tonight, Rick?” she asked, and
trailed the ends of his flogger over his shoulder, brushed his groin without touching his
cock.
He trembled and smiled at the same time. “Yes, Mistress Brenna.”
“Good. I’m pleased.” She caressed his chest, held one of his nipples between thumb
and forefinger, and squeezed until he bared his teeth. There was no protest. If there had
been Brenna would have quickly moved on to another tease-and-torment technique.
She held the pressure for a count of three then released it. Rick trembled as blood
flowed back into his abused flesh. Compared to its mate it was red and distended and
she was tempted to comfort it by licking it, perhaps suckling it gently. She held off
because that seemed too intimate. This was only their second scene…although she’d
love an opportunity to take things further between them.
Discovering he enjoyed nipple play opened up a world of possible delights though.
She took a step back. “If you agree,” she said, looking back and forth between the
two men, “I’m going to tie you to your chairs, flog your backsides just to the point of
pain, bring you back down then release you. Do you agree?”
“Yes, Mistress,” both men replied, grinned then straightened their backs even more.
“Very good,” she murmured. “Again, you’ve both pleased me. Hold your positions
while I gather up what I need.”
Trying her best to stay within their field of vision, Brenna took towels and lengths
of soft rope from one of the club’s supply cabinets. When she returned, she began with
Malcolm. Normally, when starting out with a sub, she enjoyed challenging them by
making them hold their body position without external restraints. It established her
dominance quickly, got them used to obeying when they were physically free not to, let
her get into their heads and make them want to obey. In return she gave them the pain
Angel in Leather
43
and domination they craved. Malcolm’s choice of a steel cane required restraint. It could
do real damage if he moved and her hit missed its mark. If she hit his legs it would
leave bruising that would make it difficult for him to walk for days.
“Malcolm,” she ordered, “step up to your chair. Feet on the outside of the chair’s
front legs. Lean forward, arms alongside the outermost back slats. Hold on to the slats
with your hands.” She started on his left ankle. Looping the rope around and around,
not too tight, she coiled it around his ankle and the chair leg, tied it off with a simple
reef knot then looked up at him. “Any numbness? Tingling? Wiggle your toes for me.”
“It’s good, Mistress,” Malcolm said. He flexed his foot then grinned. “You can make
the next one tighter.”
“You really are a pain slut, aren’t you?” she taunted but refused to bind his second
ankle tighter than the first. Next she looped rope around his lower arm and a back slat
of the chair, leaving just enough slack for him to flex. When his other arm was bound
she caressed his back, leaned forward so her face was in front of his. She kissed him
softly. Malcolm tried to deepen the kiss, growled his frustration when she refused to
oblige, then seemed to resign himself to the gentle, teasing sweep of her mouth across
his.
When she straightened, she looked directly into Rick’s gorgeous eyes. She knew
he’d been watching her with his friend. In fact, she’d positioned the chairs so they could
turn their heads and watch her punish the other. Men were such visual creatures. Rick
didn’t look jealous, which she took as a good sign, just hungry and expectant. There
was also a calm, mature vibe coming off him which she approved of. Brenna liked a
man who knew the value of a good tease, of holding off pleasure until the wanting
made him ache.
“I’m going to tie you up, my sweet sub,” she murmured and stepped toward him.
Circling him like she had earlier, she trailed a forefinger over his biceps. “Bind you with
rope so you have no choice but to submit, accept the sting of the lash, suffer because it
pleases me.”
“Yes, Mistress. Oh yes.”
Again he was breathing fast and his cock stood up straight and hard. She laid a
hand on his abdomen. “Slow your breathing,” she said quietly and smoothed her lips
over his jaw. “Hmm. You shaved for me. I approve,” she said, deliberately switching
his train of thought to take his mind off his arousal, giving him an opportunity to
refocus.
Rick grinned crookedly. “Of course, Mistress. I wanted to earn more of your kisses
tonight. It’d be selfish of me to repay that by giving you whisker burn. On your
beautiful face or anywhere else,” he added with a naughty grin.
With the flat of her hand Brenna smacked his ass sharply but she was grinning too.
“Presumptive sub. But I’m pleased by your thoughtfulness nonetheless.” She
stepped back after assuring herself his respiration rate had dropped, had him lean over
the seat of the chair like Malcolm, and tied him up exactly the same. It never paid to
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44
treat one sub differently than the other when you were playing with two at the same
time.
That only worked for people into humiliation, and humiliation wasn’t Brenna’s
thing.
Because she’d refused Malcolm two weeks ago, she began with him. Standing so
that her body was perpendicular to his, she stroked the curve of his ass with her hand,
kept an eye on his expression and wasn’t surprised when his eyes glazed over. She
teased him with the cane, bringing it down on her palm instead of him. He twitched
every time he heard the sound. His mouth fell open and he breathed deeper. Brenna
wanted to tease him, yes, but she also needed to get a feel for the cane’s bite. It truly
was a wicked implement and her hand stung like crazy, even from the gentlest smack.
Still perpendicular to him so the cane would land on him with even pressure from
left to right, she grazed the meaty curve of Malcolm’s ass with an upward swipe. With
hits so gentle they were mere brushes against his skin rather than strikes, she hit his left
cheek for a steady count of five, moved to his other side and swept that cheek five times
as well. He arched his back, trying to push his back end into the hits, trying to take
control of the scene.
Brenna stopped without apology or explanation. If he didn’t get the message and
tried again, she’d add verbal chastisement to the denial. To his credit, Malcolm sighed
and grinned. Yeah, this sub liked to test his boundaries and, apparently, was satisfied
when she wouldn’t let him get away with it.
She put down the cane and moved over to Rick. Standing behind him, she again
trailed the leather tresses over his back, his ass, even held them so she could tease his
inner thighs. He shivered lightly and the way his skin trembled enthralled her. The man
definitely had a thing for having his backside played with. How deep—Brenna grinned
at the unintentional pun—he wanted that play to go was something she’d have to work
with him to discover.
Pulling the tresses forward, she measured them, adjusted the distance between her
and him, pulled the tresses back with the lightest pressure possible and released them.
Frawp. Frawp, frawp. Rick held himself still, breathed through his mouth, eased his
grip on the chair back when the first, sensual strokes grazed the back of his right
shoulder. Brenna moved on to the left then, after a measured pause, his ass.
With his head tipped to the side, Malcolm watched raptly. His expression was
resigned, as if he knew that, by choosing a brutal toy, he’d receive far fewer hits than
his friend. The grin that spread across his face made her suspect he accepted it as a fair
tradeoff.
Rick’s lean muscles flexed, his lats spread beautifully as he gripped the back of the
chair. When she stopped and moved back to Malcolm, Rick dropped his head, made a
quiet sound of pleasure then pulled his head back up so he could track her movements
with his eyes.
Angel in Leather
45
To draw it out, especially for Malcolm, Brenna circled them, caressed their faces,
stroked their upper arms, pressed kisses to the backs of their thighs. When he could
reach, Rick turned his mouth toward her palm, kissed it then murmured, “Thank you,
Mistress.”
He seemed more attuned to her this time, more relaxed, like his trust in her had
grown. Malcolm kissed her palm like Rick had but she sensed that was only because
she’d been visibly pleased by Rick’s touch. Malcolm seemed a little stiffer but that was
to be expected. They’d never scened together, plus she could feel the impatience
beginning to hum though him. He had just enough training not to let it be obvious but
he seemed to be the kind of sub who liked the pain, the bondage, more than the
headspace of submission. So many of them did.
She moved back to Malcolm, resumed her position and, using the end of the cane,
tapped the meatiest part of his ass with even, parallel strokes. Swiping his skin with a
little more strength this time, she steadied Malcolm with a reassuring hand on his back
before she moved to his other side and caned that one too. This time when she was
done she stayed with him longer, massaged his thighs gently until they stopped
shaking, stroked his shoulders and fussed over his bindings…fussed over him.
“Tell me about the pain. Does it sting? Burn? Tingle?”
Malcolm licked his lips before answering. “Tingle moving into sting. Maybe a
three.”
“Good,” Brenna replied. She kissed the side of his neck. “Do you feel like leaning
into the cane or jerking away from it?”
“Leaning into it. Definitely.” Malcolm’s grin was boyish but distinctly naughty
despite that.
She stroked his head for a moment before moving back to Rick.
As she approached this new sub she’d found, Brenna knew she was partial to him.
“What do you like most, Rick?” she asked quietly, letting her breath stir the hair behind
his ear. “The submission or the pain?”
She saw him lick his lips, felt the hesitation in him before he replied as quietly as
she had, “The submission.”
Brenna smiled. They did indeed have similar tastes. It wasn’t just that though. She
loved the look in his eyes, the way he tracked her like he needed, revered her. He gave
himself up to her so guilelessly Brenna felt it was her he wanted, not just her technique
or her ability to dominate without apology.
When she walked in front of him Rick inhaled and the corners of his mouth quirked
up. She paused, let the tresses of the flogger hang down, swished them around in slow,
hypnotic circles close to his face, letting him soak in the scent and sound. Then she took
a step closer, trailed the flogger down her bare leg. Rick inhaled again, stared at her
then strained his neck forward. She tipped her knee toward him, brought her thigh
within reach of his mouth and smiled when he kissed her leg.
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Something about Rick satisfied her like few subs had. He seemed to bask in her
control and she loved having that control over a man. Not all the time but there was
such exquisite pleasure in watching her subs accept punishment, accept pain in order to
process it as pleasure. Then give that pleasure back to her as mature, considered
devotion—even though she’d spanked their ass until she was almost giddy from the
rush.
“Hmm. I’m pleased,” she murmured as his lips trailed over her thigh. He nipped
gently but it seemed he was trying to draw her back to him, not hurt her. “Very
pleased,” Brenna added. She stepped behind him, pulled back on the tresses and let the
weight of the flogger sting his right shoulder.
She alternated from man to man, questioned their reactions, increased the strength
behind her hits in tiny increments. She let Malcolm climb up to a five as planned, caned
him deliberately, held the metal against his skin after every hit to increase the hurt once
she’d taken him as far as she intended. He liked pain too much, was too willing to give
control away and because she didn’t know him, she wouldn’t trust him to rate his
discomfort honestly. Brenna knew she was right to stop increasing the strength behind
each strike when Malcolm was trembling, baring his teeth, grinning like he was high
and sweating all over even though he claimed he was only at a five. She’d already
brought Rick to a seven, let him hover there, loving the way he strained against the
ropes, loving the way he groaned yet held himself still for more, loving the way his cock
was so hard the head smeared precum on his belly after every lash.
Her body reacted to their endorphin highs with a rush of its own. Her thong was
wet with her juices and her breasts felt full, prominent and unnaturally sensitive.
Breathing hard heightened her arousal and she trembled from head to foot with
excitement before reining it in. Denial went both ways and she responded to a good
tease—especially if she was the one doing the teasing—just like her subs did.
Bringing them both back down slowly, Brenna continued to comfort her subs, talk
to them, praise and reassure them. In return they nuzzled her hand, looked up at her
with glazed adoration, moaned in protest when she untied them.
Malcolm was too busy twisting his head around, admiring the purple stripes across
his ass to notice Rick put his arms around her, touch her hair, press his mouth to hers
and kiss her deep and passionately. Spearing into her mouth, his tongue found hers,
wove around it, licked its length while he gradually increased the pressure of his arms
around her. He pulled her leather-clad body into his naked one, laid a hand on the
small of her back to bring her belly up tight against his rod.
She let her palm rest on the hot patch of skin high on his shoulder. The other one
rested on his ass. His skin was hot there too and knowing how pink it was excited her
tremendously. Knowing she shouldn’t, she squirmed against him anyway, letting her
belly rub against his hardness.
Rick growled, tore his mouth from hers, licked and nipped her earlobe. “Come
home with me. Don’t tell me no this time. Please.”
Angel in Leather
47
“No,” she said and smoothed her fingertips over his brow when he lifted his head
and scowled down at her. “Both you and Malcolm have agreed to sub for me.”
“And you’ve just scened with him for the first time,” Rick finished for her. He
frowned and exhaled deliberately. “All right. For now,” he added firmly. He kissed her
again then stepped back. His frown vanished when she began toweling the sweat off his
skin.
After she toweled Malcolm off, she got a tube of analgesic cream from the bartender
and dabbed it on his stripes. Malcolm watched her with obvious approval, submitted to
her every order as she maneuvered his body. She helped both men to dress. Like the
last time, she guided her subs back to the bar, made sure they had something cold to
drink, monitored them, praised them and, when they’d recovered fully, stood up to
leave.
Rick wove his fingers into hers and tugged gently. “We’re buying memberships
tonight. Right?” he added, looking at Malcolm pointedly.
“Oh hell yes,” Malcolm replied adamantly then gingerly shifted his weight from
one foot to the other as he leaned against the bar. With an ass as bright as his, it’d be a
miracle if he could sit in a car for the drive home.
Rick kissed Brenna lightly then released her. “Come this Saturday. At eight if you
can.”
When she nodded, Rick flashed her a beautiful smile.
“The three of us in a private room. Okay?”
“Yes,” she answered and didn’t try to hide her anticipation.
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Chapter Five
“This way, gentlemen.” The pretty woman wearing the Dungeon Master armband
led Rick and Malcolm through the main playroom soon after they’d arrived. Her curvy
ass moved nicely inside her fitted leather pants. Rick gave her a cursory glance,
appreciated the view but nothing more. As he followed in her wake, he scanned the
club for Brenna and was far more disappointed than he thought he’d be when he didn’t
spot her right away.
The woman had definitely gotten under his skin.
He and Malcolm nodded to a few of the subs they recognized from their previous
visits. The older guy with the gray hair Brenna had talked to briefly that first night
stepped into their path.
“Hi. Rick Finley, right?” He held out his hand and smiled.
Rick noticed that the guy’s smile didn’t extend to his eyes.
“Um, yes.” Rick shook the man’s hand perfunctorily. “Have we—”
“Met?” the older man interrupted smoothly. His smile was still broad. His eyes
were still cold. “No. I’m on the membership committee. Just wanted to say hello. I’m
Harlan, by the way.”
“Harlan,” Rick repeated, nodded politely then looked over at Malcolm. “And this
is—”
“Dr. Malcolm Nicholls. Good to meet you,” Harlan interrupted again.
Harlan and Malcolm shook hands as well. The hairs on the back of Rick’s neck were
standing up now. Something about this guy was giving him a bad vibe. Normally he
didn’t pay attention to foolishness of that kind but something about Harlan
felt…predatory. Like he’d been waiting to ambush them. Knew about them, who they
were, but gave out nothing about himself other than a first name, a penchant for
interrupting and a disdain that was seeping out around the edges of his careful civility.
He’d addressed Malcolm as “Doctor” but not Rick. That would irritate the hell out of
most physicians. It didn’t bother Rick because he just didn’t have that kind of ego.
“At least you don’t have to drive far to get here.” Harlan turned back to Rick after
he let go of Malcolm’s hand. “East York Medical Group, right? Your practice is, what,
maybe twenty minutes away? If you take the Parkway?”
“Yes.” Rick knew he’d given his work number as an emergency contact when he’d
joined the club. He’d also given his home address but didn’t remember giving them his
work address or the name of his clinic. It was a creepy how much this guy knew about
him. “And yourself?”
Angel in Leather
49
“Oh…” Harlan snorted dismissively then waved his hand. “I’m only a little farther
out. Well, enjoy yourselves, gentlemen. Always glad to meet new members.”
With another smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Harlan left.
Rick forgot about him quickly when the Dungeon Master led them into a back
hallway, up a flight of stairs then into a room marked Reserved. Inside, she turned, shot
them an imperious look then circled them as if they offended her.
“Your mistress has ordered that you be brought here,” she said in a harsh,
commanding tone.
The woman was pretty enough and her body would perk any man up. Despite that,
Rick knew he would have found a way to politely refuse if they’d met her instead of
Brenna that first night. Like some Dommes he’d met before, she seemed too dismissive
of him as a person. Him and Malcolm. Instinctively, he’d find it hard to trust a woman
like her to clamp his nuts in a vise—although Malcolm was getting a puppy-like look in
his eyes.
The Domme continued in that severe voice, “When your mistress arrives, you are to
be naked and standing ready for inspection.” Without another word, she turned and
left.
The room was roughly fifteen feet by twenty. The floors were polished wood and
the walls and ceiling were painted a red so dark it was almost black. Wall sconces and
dimmed pot lights lent sensuality to the atmosphere, saving it from gothic hyperbole.
Chains hung from the ceiling and walls, a far cabinet displayed floggers, paddles,
single-tail whips, padded cuffs, ball gags and blindfolds. There was a simple, padded
table pushed to one side of the room. Brass fasteners recessed into the middle of the
floor showed where it usually rested.
“What the hell’s inspection?” Malcolm asked as he unbuttoned his silk shirt.
“Maybe that hands-behind-the-head thing Brenna had us do Tuesday.” Near the
door, Rick found a small closet with hangers. He hung up his shirt and toed off his
shoes.
“Probably,” Malcolm agreed and took the other half of the closet. “But if we get it
wrong, maybe she’ll spank us harder.”
“You really are a pain slut, aren’t you?”
“Lightweight,” Malcolm tossed back with a grin. He ran his hands over his balls,
circled the room as of he was on edge then came to stand beside Rick a few paces back
from the door, feet shoulder width apart, hands on the back of his head.
“We didn’t tell her what we’d like to try and she didn’t ask,” Rick said with
dawning astonishment.
“Yeah, I know. But from what I’ve seen, the lady’s inventive. I like the idea of her
working on something special just for us.”
“Huh. You’re right. Now the suspense is killing me.”
They didn’t have to wait long.
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Brenna walked in less than two minutes later. Without saying anything she moved
toward them, touched their chests, their abdomens, then moved to the room’s heating
control and raised the temperature two degrees. She turned back to them.
The way she looked at them made Rick feel hot then cold in turn. Again. He loved
the way her face lit up when she saw how he was looking at her. Maybe Malcolm was
looking at her as if she was the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world too, but
he liked telling himself her eyes shone just a little brighter when she looked at him.
Over the past few days he’d contemplated cutting Malcolm out of these scenes with
Brenna. But that wasn’t how they operated. He and Malcolm had gotten into the scene
together. Well, they’d made tentative forays into it. They’d read a lot, talked about it,
but had always been just that little bit too nervous to do more than dabble. They scened
together because it felt safer, it upped the kink factor, and if he was being honest with
himself, sharing the experience with a peer kept them from feeling like freaks. Maybe
all that would have been different if they’d found the right Domme early on.
Maybe, just maybe, she was with them now.
Brenna circled them, touched their shoulders, caressed their navels, rubbed their
triceps and swept her tongue across their tailbones. His balls tightened every time her
heels clicked on the floor. Her expression, the soft, feminine sounds coming from the
back of her throat told Rick she liked what she saw, liked having the two of them at her
disposal. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Malcolm’s cock was getting hard too. He
hissed just like Malcolm did when she palmed their scrotums, pulled lightly but
deliberately on the testicles inside, eased them down and away from their bodies then
held them as if she was judging their weight.
Rick’s left knee trembled but he locked it in place and grinned like a kid at
Christmas when the first subtle twinge of discomfort registered alongside the anxiety.
Oh yeah. This woman owned him…big time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d
let a Domme pull on his nut sac, didn’t think he ever had. He trusted her with an idiotic
lack of reservation and didn’t even know her last name.
Malcolm growled in obvious frustration when Brenna released them gently.
“I’m pleased to see the two of you as well,” she said, then grinned and stepped
back. “What toys did you bring this time?”
Rick produced a paddle and a pair of butterfly clamps out of the pack he’d dropped
just inside the door. Last time they’d been together he’d gotten off on her pinching his
nipples, and was hoping she’d take him further. He watched Brenna’s face and her
quirky little grin when Malcolm opened his pack. Looking as if she was trying not to
roll her eyes, she watched Malcolm pull out that nasty metal cane, followed by a
studded cock ring, a box of clothespins, a flogger with rubber tresses and a full leather
mask with only one opening so he could breathe through his nose.
“You’re so lucky I’m not a psycho,” Brenna said. She shook her head and had them
lay their toys out on the padded bench. When they turned back to her she was standing
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very straight. Her eyes sparkled in the artificial light and she projected a confidence that
was as calm as it was intense.
It dawned on Rick she was learning their preferences and fantasies, maybe even
their dislikes, by making them provide their own toys. Looking at them objectively, the
toys said a lot about each man’s limits…or lack thereof. No Domme had impressed him
as much with attention to detail, attention to learning about him as Brenna did. It
wasn’t all about him, of course, but if a woman wanted the privilege of beating his ass
red, even his devotion, there had to be something in it for him. Denial worked, as
Brenna had so aptly demonstrated, and forcing him to be self-disciplined was another
thing that brought him back tonight. And to all that she brought beautiful blue eyes, a
body that made him so hard he couldn’t think about anything else and skin that
smelled more sensual than anything he’d known.
“Rick, stand here. Malcolm, here.” She positioned them in the middle of the room,
facing each other, perhaps four feet apart. Using the room’s pulley system, she lowered
two sets of chains from the ceiling, attached heavy leather restraints to each chain and
bound their wrists.
As his arms were raised over his head, the lambswool lining of the restraints felt
comfortable and warm against Rick’s skin. Malcolm’s look of satisfaction caught his eye
as his friend yanked on the chains, demonstrating their strength.
The next things Brenna pulled out of the cupboard were two metal spreader bars.
Rick held himself still as she fastened a leather strap around one ankle, then the other.
The bar forced his legs apart maybe two feet. As she bound him, Brenna’s hand strayed
to his calf. She stroked his skin, kissed the side of his knee. When his legs were secured,
she moved behind him and bit his ass with enough force to bring him up on his toes.
In front of him, Malcolm’s eyes got real big as he watched Rick’s reaction. Malcolm
grinned crookedly and licked his lips as if he couldn’t wait for his turn.
After that Rick stood still, letting the chains support the weight of his arms. He
breathed slow and deep, allowing his body to process the ache in his ass as pleasure.
When it did, his cock got rock hard, just like Malcolm’s did when Brenna secured a
spreader bar to his friend’s ankles. She moved behind Malcolm and he gasped. His
head fell back when he groaned—a low, reverberating sound that made Rick ache to see
what Brenna was doing. By the twitching of Malcolm’s hips, the demented pleasure on
his face and the dribble of precum oozing out the tip of his friend’s penis, Rick figured
she had to have her finger in his ass.
Rick groaned too and couldn’t help it. He loved the idea of having his ass played
with, loved the sensations but hadn’t met many Dommes who’d cultivated enough of
his trust to let them play with him there. Not a good thing in a sub and women had
dumped him for his unwillingness to give it up. They just didn’t get that submission
was a process, and nobody should demand he be okay with everything.
“Are you mine?” she murmured in that hot, sultry voice. Rick saw her pink tongue
dart out, rim Malcolm’s ear, dip inside in a steady rhythm. Malcolm’s hips rocked in
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time with the movements of her tongue. Again Rick groaned, sure now that she was
playing with his friend’s butt and crazy-hot to feel her do the same to him. “Is this ass
mine?
“Answer me,” she demanded and Malcolm hissed. His hips canted to one side.
Sweat broke out on his chest and upper lip.
“Yes, Mistress. Yours.” Despite his obvious discomfort, Malcolm grinned
drunkenly. “Touch me, please. It’s yours. I’m yours. Fuck,” he hissed again as his
abdominals relaxed.
“Hmm. Very good,” Brenna purred. She stepped around Malcolm, trailed her
fingertips over his triceps, his underarm, until he gasped, tried to arch away and made
a sound that was part pain, part hysteria. “Ticklish?” she taunted, and lifted her hand
from him then kissed his jaw. “We’ll have to explore that sometime. If you’re willing.”
She kissed Malcolm once more then turned to look at Rick.
His mouth opened as his respiration rate jumped.
Those sharp heels of hers clicked on the floor with unmistakable authority as she
moved to the bench. Rick’s mouth opened even wider when she picked up his butterfly
clamps. Mesmerizing, artfully made-up eyes held his as she prowled toward him. Her
hand felt cool and soft as she stroked his chest. She pinched his nipple between thumb
and forefinger, increased the pressure with slow, fiendish deliberation, pulled his
nipple out gently, fit the first clamp behind it and started to tighten the tiny screw.
Letting his head fall to the side, Rick concentrated on his breathing, inhaled through
his nose, exhaled through his mouth. At first the pressure was exquisite, then tingly,
then an ache that made him moan.
“Enough?” she asked and he felt her hand on the side of his neck.
“Oh god.” He had to shake his head to clear it. “Yes. No. Maybe another half turn.
Please,” he added and grinned foolishly. Brenna obliged. “Shit,” Rick barked. His gut
clenched at the hurt, the slow, creeping pain that was so intense and focused it felt
good. When she let go of the clamp, when the weight of the metal tugged his nipple
downward, he broke out in a sweat.
Malcolm’s low moan brought Rick’s head up. His friend was watching raptly,
alternately licking his lips then letting his mouth fall open at each painful reaction.
Yeah. Sometimes watching was almost as good as feeling. Sometimes. Almost.
Rick groaned when she stepped away from him. With her head tilted to one side,
she seemed to be admiring his distended nipple, the pull of the clamp. He wanted to be
touched and tormented, maybe even deluded into thinking she cared for him as more
than just a sub. It could be pathetic if he let it. Instead it was incredibly freeing, even
empowering, to hand control of his most basic instincts as a man to this woman, mostly
because she obviously cherished the trust he gave her.
Taking another, centering breath, Rick held on to the chains, let some of his weight
sag against them and willed himself to submit patiently.
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He felt his nostrils flare when Brenna picked up Malcolm’s mask. She stood
between them, turned the crafted leather over in her hands, stroked it, tested the
smoothness of the seams. Straining against his chains, Malcolm grunted.
“Ever the impatient one, hmm?” she cooed with what sounded like deceptive
sweetness. Reaching out with her free hand, she wrapped her thumb and forefinger
around Malcolm’s rod, squeezing just beneath the flared head until he hissed and
jerked his hips forward. “And you’re so hard already. That cock ring of yours will never
fit with you in this state now, will it?” When she glanced back at Rick her eyes were
gorgeous, blazing with unaffected yet unmistakable power. She turned back to
Malcolm. “Pity. We’ll have to put that toy away for another day.”
Holy hell yeah. She’d just promised them another play session. Well, technically
she’d promised Malcolm but there was no way Rick was going to let himself be left out.
He started breathing faster when she positioned the mask over Malcolm’s face. Leaning
to one side, Rick watched and was puzzled at first. She wasn’t actually putting the mask
on Malcolm, wasn’t tightening the laces that ran up the back. No, she was waiting for
something. It took a moment for the light bulb to go off in Rick’s head.
Malcolm liked his submission on the wild side of kinky. Always had. At times, next
to him, Rick felt vanilla…soft-core and missionary. He was convinced Malcolm would
someday find himself in an emergency ward with a knot of ginger shoved so far up his
colon a proctologist would have to go in through his mouth to fish it out.
Maybe Brenna, with her vigilant attention to what they were experiencing, had
figured out you had to be careful scening with Malcolm because he sure as hell wanted
his physical punishment to go beyond the light bruise and pinch stage.
A mask like the one hovering about two inches in front of Malcolm’s face would
probably make Rick wig out. Breath play made him nervous as hell and besides, he
liked to see what was going on. It ramped up the kink factor for him. But as he watched,
the rabid adoration on Malcolm’s face relaxed into what looked like calm anticipation.
Malcolm nodded and said, “Please, Mistress. I’m ready.”
She put the mask on him, but slowly. She was wearing another black leather dress
tonight. This one left most of her back exposed and he loved how her delicate muscles
shifted beneath her skin. When she moved behind Malcolm to tighten the laces on his
mask, she touched him constantly. Even Rick was reassured by the contact between her
body and Malcolm’s. She paused and laid her hand over Malcolm’s diaphragm. She
had to be checking his respiration rate. After another pause, she finished securing the
laces.
The clothespins were still on the table and she had to step away to get them. Even
before she broke physical contact with Malcolm, she was talking to him to fill the void.
“What other naughty toys have you brought, Malcolm? Clothespins? My, my, you
are a wicked sub, aren’t you?”
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Malcolm might have moaned a response. There was no way to know for sure.
Muffled behind leather, the sounds he made were indistinct, although Rick could see
his friend’s nostrils dilate.
“If you want me to stop hold up your fingers, Malcolm,” she said in that husky,
commanding tone that grabbed Rick’s balls and made them hum with pleasure. “You
can’t speak your safeword. Use your fingers instead. Understand?”
Malcolm nodded, spread all ten fingers, clenched them, spread them again then let
them relax.
“Very good,” she murmured, then closed her teeth over his nipple and bit down
until he quivered. After she released him she pinched him, high on his pec, not too hard
but long enough to make the spot pale. Then she secured a clothespin where her fingers
had been.
Everything about her technique was smooth and purposeful. Small steps with
pauses between each didn’t make Rick think of hesitation. They made him think of
considered intervals for her to evaluate her sub’s reactions.
Hot. Damn.
It took a while for her to fix a line of pegs down Malcolm’s body. By the time she
stopped there was a neat, even row from shoulder to groin. As she worked she talked to
Malcolm, whispered near his ear. She praised his body, the strength of his hard-on, the
texture of his skin. As a finishing touch she fished a length of string out of Malcolm’s
little bag of tricks and threaded it through the holes that had been conveniently drilled
into the ends of the clothespins, turning the string into a zip cord.
A final kiss to his throat, an assurance she would return, a brush of her lips against
Malcolm’s shoulder then she turned to Rick.
He started to shake and had to tamp down on the tingling building at the base of
his spine before he came. Jeez, what was he, nineteen again?
Tonight, his body felt like it.
His cock was so hard his skin felt like it was ready to split. She was a goddess, sex
incarnate as she strutted toward him. Those small, soft hands caressed his abdomen,
reached around to squeeze his ass, tug his cheeks apart then mold her palms to him.
Her breasts nuzzled his ribs and he exhaled raggedly when her soft skin tried to pop
out over the bodice of her dress. Grinning like a fool, he leaned down just a little so his
bare chest touched hers.
He’d never felt anything as intimate. He felt like she got him, even though she
hardly knew him. The connection was genuine though, the spark undeniable.
“Mistress…” he breathed and watched his words rustle her hair. He opened his
mouth to say something else, something witty and enticing. All that came out was air.
There was a pause as she looked up at him, at his eyes, his mouth. Her throat
moved as she swallowed. Then she raised herself up on her toes and kissed him.
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Rick felt the floor of his world drop out beneath him. There was only this moment,
the space around them, her lips against his. She was warm and the only solid thing in
the universe. The demands of his job, the pressures of life faded until everything felt
normal, equalized. With Brenna he was simply a man giving her what she wanted and
accepting the things he craved. Holding the chains above him so tightly they creaked,
Rick tasted the seam of her lips then pressed into the sweetness of her mouth. With
aching slowness, fingernails scored his back. The sensation made his hips rock forward
and his cock rubbed against the soft leather separating them. She held him to her before
releasing him.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She smiled until the lush, painted corners of her
mouth tipped up, then eased away from him.
Before he had a chance to mourn the loss of her body against his, she took hold of
the butterfly clamp attached to his nipple, lifted it then pulled gently. Then a little
harder, then hard enough to make him groan and rise up on the balls of his feet.
She might not be a mind reader but she had no problem reading his reactions.
“Your responses are so beautiful, my sweet sub,” she said and picked the second clamp
up off the bench. “You’ll be even more beautiful and, I think, even more responsive
after I twist this evil little toy onto your other nipple.”
Malcolm grunted and his hips flexed at her words, and he wasn’t even the one
being worked over at the moment.
Holding himself still, willing his breathing to settle, Rick watched the gorgeous
Domme pinch his nipple, pull it away from his chest and, when the pressure began to
dull the sensation, she fit the clamp just behind her fingers. Like its twin, the cool metal
tugged his flesh downward. She watched his face, not his chest, as she slowly tightened
the clamp.
When she stepped back to admire her handiwork Rick straightened, took a
fortifying breath then immediately regretted it. The movement made the clamps sway,
renewing the pinch and burn. He gasped but shook his head when she reached for the
little tightening screws.
“It’s okay,” he blurted, although his voice trembled. “Just…a little overwhelming
for a second. It’s better now.”
With her palm riding the rise and fall of his abdomen, she stared at him. Just
stared…watched his eyes, his forehead, his mouth. Finally she exhaled slowly and
stepped back.
Rick trembled again, but with frustration when she moved back to Malcolm. This
was his colleague, his best bud in the world, but his envy bordered on hatred as she
tended to the other sub, attached a second zip-lined row of clothespins down the other
side of Malcolm’s chest, moved behind him and did something to his ass that made him
cry out and jerk his hips forward and back, and had precum coming out the end of his
cock in an almost constant drizzle. Trembling with need, Rick was on the verge of
shouting his frustration but he held it together. There was grace in holding it together.
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A strength, an experienced Domme had told him a few years back, true submissives
had that the most talented Dominants never would.
Submissives took control of their reactions, let their psyches mold negative
sensations into the sublime. Rick straightened his back, held himself tall and let the ache
in his nipples flow through him. He let his body process the feeling as pleasure, build
on itself until his teeth clenched and his hips rolled with an inborn need to fuck. The
denial of anything to fuck wrung every wicked, delicious bit of sensation out of the
experience.
That denial and the exquisite frustration it brought was multiplied as he watched
Malcolm receive what he himself ached for.
He watched his mistress reach for Malcolm’s heavy flogger, heard the thumping
chatter of the rubber tresses. No soft, seductive swish for that brute of a tool. He could
tell by the way Brenna’s forearm bulged the thing was heavy but she pulled the tresses
back without complaint.
Behind his leather mask, Malcolm yelped when the rubber tips stung his back. His
torso twitched with every strike. Rick swore she timed her strokes to the beating of his
heart.
When she was finished Malcolm’s chest was gleaming with sweat and he was
breathing hard and fast through his nose. He was hanging on to his chains so hard his
knuckles were white but his fingers weren’t extended. In fact, it looked as if they were
clenched determinedly. Rick swore he could see the outline of a smile behind Malcolm’s
mask.
By now Rick’s cock was pointing straight at the ceiling. As she set Malcolm’s
flogger down and picked up the paddle Rick had brought, Brenna drew that pouty
lower lip of hers into her mouth, held it between her teeth and looked at his shaft as if
she was dying for a taste. He lifted his hips in her direction and grinned when she did.
When she touched him, when she ran those soft, cool fingertips down his length,
then cupped his balls hard enough to make him hiss, Rick thought he’d died and gone
to heaven. The feeling only got better when she ran her nails across the back of his
scrotum, across his perineum until he couldn’t stop grinding himself into her palm.
This close, he could see the light sheen of perspiration that made her skin glow. Her
eyes shone with a light that made him feel owned, loved even. The woman intoxicated
him.
He breathed harder—anything to distract himself from the need to come. By the
time she released him the tingling at the base of his balls had crossed over into the red
zone. Pursing his lips and exhaling slowly, Rick forced himself to relax as she stepped
behind him. He groaned quietly when she rubbed his ass with the flat of the paddle.
“Will you take the pain for me, Rick? Will you let it turn you on?” Her voice was
sultry and it wrapped around his chest like warm strands of wool that prickled just
enough to keep him on edge. “Will you do this because it pleases me?”
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“Y-yes,” he choked out, moistened his lips and swallowed before trying again.
“Yes, Brenna. For you. Anything. Anything you want.”
The scent of her filled his head. Her skin, her hair, the leather hugging her body.
When she breathed he felt the warm, moist air as it left her mouth and washed his
shoulder. Felt it binding with the sweat on his skin.
He groaned again as the paddle continued its light, steady, seductive rub. When she
lifted it away from him, when she angled her body beside but behind his, Rick tried not
to tense. Tensing only made it hurt worse and he didn’t know if he was ready for that.
Some weird, untried instinct told him he could trust her to give him what he needed,
and no more than he could handle.
It was a good way to get himself majorly fucked up by a sadist but he had zero
belief it would happen with this woman.
That brought a smile to his lips and his body relaxed into the chains and spreader
bar without conscious direction from his pleasure-addled brain.
Whack.
The first hit of the paddle made heat rush to the surface of his ass. The whistle as
the wood moved through the air, the sound of it hitting skin, made him hiss.
Malcolm moaned and thrashed against his bonds. He settled only after Brenna ran
her palm down and up the middle of his chest.
“Do you want me to remove your mask?” she asked him.
Even though his nostrils were flaring like a racehorse’s, Malcolm shook his head
violently. He grunted, mumbled something indecipherable, held tight to the chains
holding his arms up, but didn’t give his fingers-raised signal.
“Then it will stay in place.” Without warning, Brenna yanked one of the clothespins
off Malcolm’s chest. Held to the others by the zip cord, it bounced against his chest as
he thrashed and yelled in pain. “And you’ll stay there and learn the discipline of
patience until I’m good and ready to flog your hard ass some more.”
All traces of that sultry, seductive voice were gone. She spoke to Malcolm with utter
authority and a demanding tone bordering on harshness. Rick had to bite back his own
gasp of pleasure while his friend shook then lifted himself up straight and still.
“Better,” Brenna said softly. Her voice was another reward, another signal she was
pleased.
Rick’s jealously flared again because it wasn’t him pleasing her. The emotion faded
when she stepped up beside him again, positioned her body perpendicular to his and
swung the paddle.
Whack. Whack, whack. Three solid hits, dead center on the meaty part of his ass.
Light slaps really, although the sound was impressive. She moved to his other side,
raised her arm and swung again.
He breathed into the rhythm of her strikes. Warmth then tingling then a sting
zipped through his groin and hardened him even more. Each hit translated into
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sensation and the buildup was so slow his mind latched on to the feelings as pleasure.
More than pleasure. Sublime, erotic stimulation. His balls started to ache, adding to the
sensations. The sounds, the dungeon-like atmosphere, the way she breathed and the
bulging of the long muscles in her arm, the scents let the forbidden eroticism of what he
was doing, what he was feeling, flow through him, grab his gut and squeeze.
A drop of precum oozed out the tip of his penis. He watched it trail down his
veined shaft before it was joined by another drop, then another.
When Brenna stopped, when she laid her cool hand on his burning ass, Rick
shivered and cried out in frustration.
Malcolm’s chains rattled and his abdominals clenched but no sound came out of his
leather-covered mouth.
The paddle lightly tapping Brenna’s bare thigh preceded her predator-like stroll.
She moved into his line of sight, stood between him and Malcolm, looked him up and
down. She focused on his face, watched his breathing. Oh yeah. She owned him and
cared for him like a cherished possession.
“I’m good,” he said quietly. He licked his lips and felt one corner of his mouth
quirk up. “Any better and that gorgeous dress of yours would be dripping with my
cum.”
Something that sounded vaguely like “Mine too” came from behind Malcolm’s
mask. His head was bobbing in the universal sign of enthusiastic agreement.
Brenna’s laughter was soft and musical. Moving away from them, she set down
Rick’s paddle, retrieved Malcolm’s flogger and positioned herself behind him.
Now it was Rick’s turn to be strong as he listened to the hard thrump of rubber
hitting Malcolm’s back, his turn to again hold back his envy as his friend held himself
still, grunted under the impact of each hit. His turn to envy the potent arousal Brenna
gave the other sub.
Malcolm’s cock looked painfully hard. Flushed a deep purple, it bobbed after each
strike from the flogger, and drooled precum like a Pavlovian dog.
Brenna paused regularly, caressed Malcolm’s belly, smoothed her hands across his
hips and down his legs. She murmured sweet words of lusty praise, licked the sweat on
Malcolm’s neck, then stepped back and started all over again.
Groaning, arching into the strikes, Malcolm shook all over. His muffled cries
echoed through the room. Gripping the chains above him, his knuckles were so pale
they practically fluoresced in the dim lighting. Sweat poured down his chest as his cock
swelled and curved back toward his belly.
Rick didn’t need to be a doctor to recognize the signs of an impending climax,
especially when Malcolm’s nuts drew up tight into his body.
Grunting in time with the jerking of his cock, Malcolm shot streams of cum onto his
chest and belly. He screamed behind his mask when Brenna reached around him,
grabbed the first zip cord and ripped the pegs off one side of his body. Despite the
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noises he made and the flailing of his body, the intensity of Malcolm’s orgasm
increased, witnessed by the jerking of his cock and the distance his splashes of ejaculate
now reached.
When she ripped the other zip line off, Malcolm screamed louder.
Rick’s cock jerked as Brenna quickly moved behind Malcolm, when he caught a
glimpse of her raised hand then heard the leather flogger hit his friend’s shoulder.
It felt like forever but couldn’t be that long because Rick’s shoulders were only
tingling with tension, not aching with fatigue when Malcolm’s groans grew quieter.
Whimpering replaced them and his head dropped to the side. Glistening with sweat,
his chest began to rise and fall in a deep, steady rhythm. The sound of Brenna’s strikes
grew softer, slowed until they were no more than a rustle and whisper.
Finally they stopped altogether. Rick caught a glimpse of her forearm then the back
of a hand as she loosened the laces of Malcolm’s mask. When she eased it off, Malcolm’s
face was red but eerily peaceful. His breathing slowed, the gasping relaxing into a deep,
regular rhythm. With his lips parted, he looked…peaceful. A wreck, but a completely
zenned-out, peaceful one.
“Fly,” Brenna whispered in Malcolm’s ear, caressed his chest, nuzzled her body into
the side of his. She was probably also stroking his ass. “Stay there, my magnificent sub.”
When she turned to Rick, he swallowed, hard, and locked his shaking knees,
wishing her hand was on his ass.
Instead she was rapping her palm with his paddle. He didn’t remember her picking
it up but the sight made his dick even harder. It wasn’t just the erotic promise she
presented, it was her too. Brenna made his heart beat faster and that humbled him.
Again he glanced at Malcolm, in awe of his friend’s ability to let go of every
inhibition so fear and pain peaked into the ultimate endorphin high.
Damn. How was he supposed to compete with that? It was selfish and stupid but
he wanted her to want him more than his best friend.
“Don’t look at him,” Brenna murmured. She touched his face, kissed his jaw, took
hold of the clamps on his nipples and tugged ever so gently. “Look at me.” His gaze
snapped to hers. “Think about me. Give me your pain, your pleasure. Let it go.”
Nodding jerkily, Rick tipped his head down to hers. She kissed him readily this
time, without hesitation, without coyness, and the feeling was better than great. Her
tongue parted his lips and her taste made him sigh before he claimed her mouth.
She let him. Rick felt his strength, his primal identity as a man, surge. It was
counterintuitive but being stripped of his chest-thumping, alpha shell let what he
thought of as the real man inside him free. His lips were firm and compressed her soft
ones. Ripe and warm, everything about her called to him and honed his lust. Shaping
her mouth, filling her with his tongue let him share that lust with her, thank her, tell her
he wanted more.
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No begging. No posturing. At that moment, between them, there was only an
honest need let out by the trust she’d established between them.
When she finally leaned away from him, her eyes sparkled in a way that made his
chest swell and precum smear her tight leather dress. The gentle creak of it and the
scent made his balls ache. Again.
Damn things would probably be blue for days.
“Finish it. Please,” he groaned. He didn’t want to control the scene and had been
given some harsh lessons about that in the past. But Rick knew she’d respect and
respond when he communicated his need.
Stepping away, she lifted her chin, nodded once then moved behind him. As
always, she kept constant contact between her body and his. The brush of her breast
against his lats. A graze of her leather high heels against the side of his bare foot.
For the first time Rick let himself wallow in the sublime eroticism of being naked
while she was fully clothed. Shivering with pleasure, he felt exposed way past his skin,
relished the bare honesty she brought out in him and stood tall.
The first thing he felt was the sting and burn as she paddled his ass cheek. It took a
second for his jacked brain to process the sound but when it did, it layered the sensory
input onto the discomfort. Next came the clip of her heel on the hardwood floor, the
sound of chains rattling, a gasp as he sucked in air, the soft chafe of the leather band
securing his ankles as his leg jerked. When he breathed again the nipple clamps swung,
adding another dimension of sensation to rock his world.
Whack. Whack, whack.
Controlling his breathing, letting the pain roll through him and build into a
pleasure so sublime all he could do was tremble, he locked his knees, held his ass still
and let this beautiful, phenomenal woman beat him until he couldn’t hold back a howl
of ecstasy.
“Rate the pain,” she commanded sharply.
Rick shook his head. She wanted him to speak? To think? No way. He only wanted
to experience, to let the feelings run hot and crazy fast through him.
When she tugged on one of the nipple clamps, giving him pain his body found
impossible to experience as anything close to pleasure, she got his attention.
“Six,” he blurted out, and hissed when she brought the paddle down on his other
cheek. “More, please more. No. No more. Yes.”
Whack. Whack, whack.
“Seven,” he hissed, clamped his teeth together and sucked in air through his nose.
“Seven,” he repeated sharply. It was getting hard not to pant. “Eig…” Maybe it was an
eight now. Maybe not. It hurt. God, it hurt but his body craved the sensation now. He
no longer cared that his ass was starting to feel like pounded chuck, that his skin felt
brittle and on the verge of splitting.
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She hit him again only softer this time. After a pause of three heartbeats, she hit him
yet again, then a pause of five. “Don’t,” he gasped, writhing in his restraints. “Stop.
Don’t. God.”
Somewhere inside his forebrain, he heard the word “bulldog”. That was the magic
word. It would make this all stop. He shook his head, gritted his teeth and moaned
when the next hit came…light, slow and lingering. Like a sexual magician, she paddled
his ass in a rhythm as steady as the tide. One side then the other. Pause. Breathe. The
next round was gentler and more drawn-out. Above his right shoulder blade, his skin
warmed as she paddled then cooled it when she stopped to lay her hand on him. The
left shoulder was treated to the same gentling, soothing strikes. The endorphins his
body had jacked itself up on began to disperse, leaving a growing, mellow lightness in
their wake.
He didn’t want the scene to stop but he needed it to. Sighing, he trembled as sweat
trickled down his body. This woman took decisions out of his hands, gave him the
freedom to simply experience. She listened to his most vulnerable, honest needs when
he was too fucked up to think rationally.
“I love you,” he breathed then relaxed, letting the restraints take some of his
weight.
“I know,” she whispered in response. She stepped around him and snuggled that
warm, curvy body into his.
She could have gloated, even busted his chops for his un-butch devotion to her. But
not Brenna.
His Brenna.
Rick liked the sound of that. Too much, actually, considering they were only
casually acquainted with little more in common than a mutual interest in D/s. Well, as
far as he knew anyway. Still, he wanted her close so he laid his head on hers instead of
withdrawing behind that stoic guy façade he could usually pull off so well.
“Ready?”
The sound of her voice made him blink, brought him back to the moment and drew
his gaze down to hers. Her slender fingers were wrapped around the decorative base of
one of the butterfly clamps.
Did he or didn’t he want her to?
Oh hell yeah.
Taking a deep breath, he nodded, gritted his teeth, and watched her tug sharply
with one hand. The clamp slid off his distended nipple smoothly. His flesh was left
misshapen, pale white at the base, ruby at the tip. Rick blinked and waited. Without
warning, pain streaked through his chest. His nipple felt as if it was on fire as blood
finally flowed into his tortured flesh, letting his nerve endings juice up and fire at will.
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Hot damn but that ached like a son of a bitch. There was no way his brain could
process it as pleasure so he sucked up the pain, internalized it, got off on it in that
perverse way that always freaked him out, even as it thrilled the hell out of him.
The only thing better was the look of power and pleasure on Brenna’s face. She
obviously had a streak of sick and sadistic that complemented his, er, proclivities.
Hallelujah.
Leaning forward, trying to master his breathing so he wouldn’t huff all over the
side of her face, he teased the edge of her earlobe with his teeth. “Do the other one, and
pull hard this time.”
Her smile matched his just before she pulled, and a second scream erupted from his
throat.
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Chapter Six
Rubbing his wrists absently, Rick watched Brenna help Malcolm curl up on the
padded bench. She’d laid a blanket beneath Malcolm’s naked body to shield him from
the cool leather and her ability to think ahead earned Rick’s approval. What he didn’t
approve of was the way she fussed over his friend, stroked his hair, covered him up
with a second blanket and murmured something low and comforting in his ear.
Just what the hell did he expect? She was a Domme, experienced and in tune with
her subs. Of course she’d make sure Malcolm was comfortable as he came down from
sub-space, tend to him and give him time to recover.
Next time Rick looked up, Brenna was standing in front of him holding a damp
washcloth in one hand and a towel in the other.
“I didn’t give you what Malcolm did,” Rick whispered and hated the neediness that
came out along with the words he hadn’t wanted to let out in the first place.
Her gaze met his then, with an efficiency that was anything but detached, she began
sponging the sweat from his body. “Reaching sub-space is about the individual.” She
spoke quietly, as if she didn’t want to disturb Malcolm.
Bastard.
“Most people,” she continued, “take a while to let that kind of deep, sometimes
subconscious trust build up.”
“I trust you,” he blurted out. Great. Not only was he pathetic, he was a whiner.
“I know you do and I cherish that. Your friend is all about the pain.” She shrugged
lightly and pressed the warm cloth to his shoulder, his upper arm. “I’ve got some skills.
He’s hard-wired to respond to that. You, I think…” After dabbing the water away with
the towel, she walked back to the recessed cupboard that held a small sink. Rick
followed. “Need a deeper connection with your Domme to really let yourself go.” After
rinsing the cloth, she sponged his chest, let droplets of water trickle over his nipple
then, ever so gently, licked them away.
Hissing with a pleasure that was too great to contain, Rick steadied himself by
laying his hands on her shoulders.
“Ultimately,” she continued in that low, feminine voice of hers, “that’s the kind of
trust I most want.”
A smile quirked the edges of his mouth. The fine Ms. Brenna had, in a roundabout
way, just said she’d like to see him again. And keep seeing him. Hopefully.
“I’d like to take you to dinner next Saturday.”
When he spoke, that warm cloth and those soft hands that had just started sponging
his still semi-hard cock, paused. Her lips parted just a little as she looked up at him.
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“A real date, before we come here. Flowers, candlelight, something overpriced and
loaded with chocolate for dessert.”
She grinned just before her teeth sank into her lower lip.
“Well?”
“Yes.”
Rick hadn’t expected his breath to catch. Hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted
her to say yes.
“Good. Just one question though.”
“Hmm?”
His hips rocked forward as she rolled her wrist to rub his shaft with the warm,
damp, nubby terrycloth. “What’s your last name?”
* * * * *
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Rick turned his back to the cold spring wind
whipping down Avenue Road. He’d made the reservation for seven and had arrived
early.
Brenna Darling…damn, but he still got a kick out of her name…lived north of
Peterborough so she could only estimate how long the drive would take on any given
day.
He didn’t want to leave her waiting.
A stream of partiers marched out of the nearby subway entrance. He made room
for them by moving closer to a building hunched up against the sidewalk. Morton’s was
the best steakhouse in Yorkville. Getting a reservation for a Saturday night on short
notice had proved impossible until his nurse reminded him he’d removed the sous
chef’s gallbladder a few years back.
Manning up and telling Malcolm he’d asked Brenna out on a date had been easier,
and uncomfortable. He replayed the phone call in his head.
“Listen, Malcolm, about this Saturday…”
“You backing out?” Malcolm had cleared his throat and when he spoke next there
wasn’t as much glee in his voice. “I mean, you’re still coming, right?”
“Of course. But I, um, I asked Brenna out to dinner. We’re meeting up before we go
to the club.”
“Oh. Oh.” Around then was when the uncomfortable pauses started. “Dinner, huh?
Like dinner, dinner or a date dinner?”
“Date dinner.”
“Huh.”
Pause.
“And you’re telling me because…?”
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65
Pause.
“Because I didn’t want to go there behind your back. Because I really like this
woman and want…more.” Shorter pause. “Like you said, I don’t want this to come
between us.”
“So if I want to, I can ask to join you.”
Long enough pause that Rick felt guilty about it.
“Yes.”
Malcolm had sighed. “I can’t. I’m on the schedule for this Saturday so I won’t get
out of the clinic until after seven.”
“Would you have come? If you weren’t working?”
Longest pause so far.
“Maybe not. I mean, I really get off on Brenna, obviously.” Malcolm had lowered
his voice. “But I’m so into her as a Domme I’m not sure I’d want to sit in a restaurant
with her as an equal. It might mess with the fantasy.”
“Huh.” There was another long pause as Rick processed that. “Okay. But if you can
change shifts, we’re meeting at Morton’s at seven.”
The phone call had ended soon after. Returning to the present, Rick looked at his
watch. Ten minutes to go and… The wind catching the hem of a long, pale-pink coat
grabbed his attention. Another gust, this one from the subway, tugged at an unbuttoned
placket. It shifted, forming an exquisite backdrop for a pair of long, stunning legs.
Simple, no-nonsense, killer stilettos ate up the concrete sidewalk with a grace and
confidence that made his nut sac tighten.
Brenna had seen him first and her glossy lips were parted in a smile. In a move
worthy of his barbarian ancestors, Rick looked her up and down, taking in her tailored,
so short it should be illegal linen dress, the seductive roll of her hips, the tilt of her head
as the wind pulled her long, unbound hair back.
Two guys in leather jackets and worsted slacks were walking down the sidewalk
toward her. Rick caught the slight stutter in their steps, saw their heads move as if they
were liking the view a whole lot.
Pushing off from the side of the building, he cruised past them, stepped into his
woman’s path, cupped the back of her neck and kissed her.
Even the clotted Toronto air couldn’t dim her scent. He inhaled greedily, stepped
into her so her breasts touched his chest and drove his tongue into her mouth until he
remembered they were on a crowded, public street.
“I’m happy to see you too.” There was amusement and pleasure in her voice as she
took the hand he offered and followed him into the restaurant.
He watched her watching him over the rim of her wineglass. They’d ordered one
glass each. The New York cut was far too good to be eaten without a sip of burgundy
between bites.
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“So I visited your website.” Rick pushed his last baby carrot around his otherwise
now-empty plate. “It was on your business card.” Curious was okay but, jeez, would
she think he was a stalker? “I’m actually familiar with your company. My mother’s
crazy for that lemon grass stuff you produce.” He flashed Brenna a grin. “I wanted to
give her cruise tickets for Christmas but she wanted your holiday gift set. Everywhere I
went it was sold out.”
“You should have told me. I would have brought some samples from our summer
line.”
“Now you tell me.” He snorted and liked the way she chuckled in response. “I
drove myself crazy hunting around until I hired a personal shopper to find one for me.”
“So did you find a set for her? For Christmas?”
“The shopper did, yeah. She cost me more than the gift set.” He pierced the carrot
with his fork, brought it to his mouth and chewed. “I didn’t want to tell my mother that,
so I bought her the cruise tickets anyway and snuck them into her stocking. Them I
bought without help so I didn’t feel totally neglectful.”
“Do you see her often?” Brenna already knew Rick’s father had passed a few years
earlier.
“A couple times a month. That woman’s got a bigger social life than a supermodel.”
They chuckled together.
Rick continued, “She cooks me dinner or I take her out somewhere. ‘Course, we’re
getting caught up now. The cruise was in February and she used the companion ticket
to take one of her girlfriends along. Turns out the cruise she chose was themed around
watercolor painting and the two of them came back with dozens of pictures they’d
drawn of naked guys.”
“She sounds like my kind of woman.”
Grinning, Rick nodded in wry agreement. Then he froze. “This isn’t turning you off,
is it? I mean, me talking about my mother on our first date. You’re not planning on
running for the door, are you?”
“No.”
The surety and the amusement in her voice made him relax.
“It’s reassuring, actually, to know you’re a good son. It tells me you know how to
treat a woman. I worry sometimes.” It was Brenna’s turn to sound hesitant. “The
lifestyle isn’t risk free, and I mean heart-risk. I want to be more than a leather dress and
good technique.”
“Great technique,” Rick amended and earned a smile and a wry tilt of her head in
response.
They fell silent for a moment but it was a comfortable silence as Brenna finished the
last bit of steak on her plate.
Rick was the first to break the silence. “Change of subject but I’m glad you said yes.
Dating, for me…isn’t easy.”
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Her brow rose and he saw the question in her eyes. Did she always communicate
this clearly without words? Or was it something special between them? With him?
It was way too early in their relationship but he sure as hell hoped so.
“I pride myself on being honest.” Rick spoke quietly. “But most women don’t
expect a man to ask them to spank his ass as foreplay.” He chuckled but, to him, it
sounded forced. “They expect full-frontal assertiveness and when I don’t deliver, some
of them freak and ask if I think they’re a hooker or something.”
Brenna watched him with a thoughtful expression. His shoulders twitched in
anticipation of a slap down, which was fucked up as hell but he’d met some brutal
women. Especially the non-Dommes. Then he straightened and lifted his chin. He
trusted Brenna and that included admitting his shortcomings.
When she reached across the table and rested her fingertips on his hand, he exhaled
and felt the corners of his mouth turn up.
“We’re well matched.” Her voice was soft as her skin and full-on sultry. “I’m really
glad you asked me out. I’ve done vanilla relationships but how far can you take that
when you’ll never be well matched in bed?”
Rick nodded and shifted in his chair to ease the pressure of his pant leg on his
hardening cock.
Brenna continued, “We all deserve fulfilling sex lives. Some of us ride an edge of
kink that makes others run. But it’s what makes you happy. What makes us happy.”
She drew slow, light circles across the back of his hand. “Men with tastes compatible to
mine, I pride myself on finding out what they like, what they need, and they love me
for giving it to them. But here,” she tapped the middle of her chest, “there’s no
guarantee we’ll mesh. I want more too.” After a final, light squeeze, she released his
hand and took a sip of wine. “It’s complicated. Getting your ass spanked,” she lowered
her voice even more, “is only part of your whole. Doing the spanking isn’t anywhere
near all of me.”
“It’s a helluva place to start.” Grinning, he touched the rim of his glass to hers.
He kept his smug smile internal and thanked their waiter when he stepped up and
asked if they’d like to see the dessert menu.
Just as Rick was answering, “Yes,” a plump man wearing a white smock and
checkered pants stopped by their table.
“Julian.” Rick greeted him warmly, stood and held out his hand. “Thanks for
finding a table for us. This is Brenna.” He heard the sappiness in his voice as he
introduced his date but wasn’t embarrassed by it.
“I’m utterly charmed,” the chef said with that barely discernible Québécois accent
of his. He let go of Rick’s hand to kiss Brenna’s. “Were the steaks to your liking? And
the julienne beans? Good, non?”
“Delicious. Everything was delicious.”
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“You’re looking good, Julian,” Rick said. “Looks like you’ve dropped a pound or
two.”
Julian stood tall, stuck out his chest, sucked in his gut. “Seven last year and I
haven’t put on a pound this year. Like you said, doc, take it slow and don’t gain it
back.”
“Atta boy, Julian. Well done. You’re looking good.”
“My wife says that too.” He chuckled then dropped one of his meaty hands on
Rick’s shoulder. “Just wanted to say hello. You should come by more often. This place
needs more beautiful women,” he added and raised Brenna’s hand to his lips one more
time, then straightened. “Call me anytime you want a table, Dr. Finley.” With a final
wave, he left.
When he turned back to her, one of Brenna’s eyebrows rose. “Dr. Finley?”
“Yes.” He gave her his best, self-effacing smile. “General surgery. Good hands,” he
added in a low, intimate tone.
“Amen to that,” she purred, lifted her glass to him and leaned back so the waiter
could set the dessert menu on the table in front of her.
* * * * *
Rick’s groan of frustration made the corners of Brenna’s mouth quirk up.
Frustration and, if she wasn’t mistaken, impatience. She felt his eyes on her as she
raised the fat, squat candle, let it hover over Malcolm’s bare chest then dribbled a line of
hot wax between his pecs and down his abdomen.
Shaking, straining against the handcuffs that held his arms taut above his head,
Malcolm made a pretty picture stretched out on the padded table. She’d booked the
private play room with the long bondage table and was glad she had. With his feet
braced against the far end, Malcolm arched his torso closer to the candle then jerked
back when another drizzle of hot wax pooled in the indentations around his
abdominals. He hissed then those beautiful, brown eyes of his focused on her with an
adoration that made her pulse leap.
Off to her side she heard the chair Rick was tied to creak and skitter against the
floor. Righting the candle and using her free hand to stroke Malcolm’s thigh, she
glanced over at her other sub. Naked, Rick looked as frustrated as he’d sounded. His
eyes reflected lust and a heady need that made her pussy clench. Her panties were
already damp and they’d just started.
Something about Rick…maybe it was the clarity and trust in his expression. Maybe
it was just how flat-out sexy his eyes were. Before him, dating subs had never worked
out. Some were just depressing. They couldn’t or wouldn’t separate Brenna the woman
from Brenna the Domme. She wanted a man who could think for himself. She didn’t
want to think for him, let alone have to give him permission to use the washroom like
that lawyer from Hamilton.
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Yeesh.
But Rick? She liked him, a lot. She had to be careful about showing partiality,
though, when they were scening with Malcolm. That was tonight’s deal and she was
honor bound to stick to it. Sharing the experience with each other was obviously
important and fulfilling to both of them. It was a privilege to do that for them.
But after tonight…if things between her and Rick progressed, the three of them
would have to have a talk.
The corner of her mouth quirked up as she stroked Malcolm’s cock. Well, the parts
of it she could touch as it strained against the confines of its steel-mesh and leather cage.
The need in Rick’s eyes flared as he watched. God, those eyes.
With his arms and legs bound so they kept his ass firmly in the chair, there was
nothing else Rick could do, although his hard, thick cock spoke volumes about his need
and the discomfort it caused.
“More, Brenna. Fuck,” Malcolm hissed. Despite the cage, his rod bobbed anxiously.
“Burn me up with that shit.”
Brenna knew better than to oblige him, although this time she let the candle hover
eight inches over his chest instead of ten as she drizzled more melted wax onto his skin.
He panted then grunted with what could only be pleasure. Grinning insanely, with his
brow deeply furrowed, he watched her pick up his metal cane with her free hand,
stroke him from chin to knee with it, then tap his thighs until he shook. Precum
dribbled out through the mesh caging his cock.
By the time the candle had burned down a good inch Malcolm’s eyes were glazed,
he was making odd humming noises and he was huffing more than breathing. Finally
blowing the candle out and setting the cane aside, she released his handcuffs and began
gently peeling back the wax on his torso. The thin layer of massage oil she’d applied to
his skin made the job easier. That and the fact she hadn’t poured wax on the narrow line
of hair below his navel, or onto his pubic hair. A sub like Malcolm probably would have
screamed and loved every minute of it if she’d tugged out a few of his short and curlies
in the process of cleaning him up, but she just wasn’t that kind of sadist.
She’d prepared a bowl of ice water and wrung out the washcloth soaking in it.
Dabbing lightly, she cooled the patches of reddened skin on his body. “Too cold?” she
asked and grinned wryly when he angled his torso so the cool cloth would brush his
nipple. That part of him hadn’t been subjected to her wax play. With reason. He liked
pain too much and would probably let himself get burned on purpose.
“Please,” he murmured.
Brenna didn’t have the heart to refuse. Picking up a piece of ice, she wrapped it in
the cloth and pressed the wet material to his nipple, pulled back, blew gently on the
spot then reapplied the cloth.
With a hiss, Malcolm laid his head back and stroked her arm in a gesture that spoke
encouragement and appreciation. When the ice melted and his breathing rate slowed
she released the leather straps holding his cock cage in place, then fished out a blanket
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to cover him up with and another to slip under his head as a pillow. He rolled onto his
side and his mouth formed a smile against hers when she kissed him.
“You gonna do Rick now?” he mumbled. His eyelids looked heavy and his broad
shoulders relaxed.
Lifting her head, she looked over Malcolm’s reclining form until her gaze met
Rick’s. “Oh yeah,” she breathed. She licked her lips and straightened.
Rick’s chest rose and fell fast as she walked toward him. Like he had outside the
restaurant, he looked her up and down boldly and without apology.
He made her feel sexy as hell.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Malcolm’s head tip just a little. Enough so he
could watch everything she was about to subject his buddy to.
With deliberate slowness, she inched the hem of her dress higher and higher. Rick’s
gaze seemed torn between her face and the baring of her thighs. When the dress was
high enough, she straddled his legs and sat down facing him. This time it was
obviously no contest as Rick focused on what he could see of the panty-covered pussy
hovering over his lap. It was also no accident the thin, white panties she’d chosen
tonight were sheer enough to expose almost as much as they hid. She let his thighs take
her weight as she draped her arms around his neck.
“Can I tease you, Rick?” she breathed. His legs felt strong as they supported her
weight. Running her tongue around the shell of his ear made him tremble. She liked
making strong men tremble. “Hmm?”
He shook his head as if he’d forgotten the question. Then those delicious lips of his
parted in a smile. “Yes, Mistress. Tease me. Anything you want. Anything…for you,”
he added in a whisper.
Capturing that oh so agreeable mouth with hers made heat spark in her extremities.
When she ran her fingers through his hair then held on, holding him to her, the skin
between each digit actually tingled. The heat tracing through her felt like electricity.
This sub was something special. His needs complemented hers in ways she’d never
experienced.
The man behind those needs intrigued her almost to the point of obsession. When
she realized that, Brenna inhaled sharply. She was falling fast and hard.
When she drove her tongue into his mouth, slow and deliberate, he captured it with
his, swirled and sucked. With a gasp, Brenna pulled back. Not because she wanted to
but because she knew Rick would find more pleasure in denial. None too soon either.
Her toes had actually curled, one shoe hung precariously from her foot and she’d
mashed her breasts into his chest. Hmm, and what a nice chest it was. She studied the
indentation her fingernail made as she scraped his skin. Leaving pale lines in her wake,
she tested the firmness of his pecs, the rise of his shoulders, the undulations of his abs
and liked it. Liked every inch of him.
Most of all she liked his occasional hiss or growl when she pressed hard, and the
whispery sound as she scraped the soft hairs peppering his chest.
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No wax for this delectable stretch of real estate. Manscaping had its attractions but
on this man, natural worked just fine.
When she circled his nipple, Rick looked at her, hissed once more then nodded. His
hiss morphed into a groan when she took hold of him between thumb and forefinger,
rubbed delicately then squeezed. And squeezed. And squeezed.
Panting, he rocked his head back and forth then stopped. Brenna’s panties were wet
and she felt perspiration dew her skin. Scening with Malcolm had been incredibly hot
but hadn’t turned her on like this.
She watched him breathing in through his nose and exhaling hard through his
mouth as he mastered the discomfort, accepted it then willed his body to process it as
pleasure.
“Very good,” she murmured as she let go, only to run the pad of her forefinger
around and around his other nipple. “I’m impressed. And not many men impress me.”
He was still grinning when she began to squeeze.
She kept up the torture, alternating from one side of his chest to the other until his
nipples were dark, engorged with blood, and Rick’s controlled breathing began to slip
back into panting. When she kissed his nipples they felt hot against her lips. Tracing
them gently with the tip of her tongue made him sigh and his taut shoulders relax
visibly. Then she leaned back and trailed her hand down his body.
Rick actually jerked when she grabbed his cock. He did more than jerk when she
gave the head a few rough pulls. “Does that feel good?” she cooed.
“God yes. Mistress, please.”
“Well, I better stop then,” she said with feigned nonchalance.
He trembled and looked up at her with pleading eyes when she let go. Oh, those
eyes. They were eloquent and if they hadn’t been scening, she’d have taken him any
way he wanted, pleasured him every way she could. But that kind of lovemaking
wasn’t why they were here. She couldn’t remember being so disappointed.
When he inhaled, it was ragged and he bared his teeth.
“You look so fierce when you’re denied sexual release. It’s…beautiful.”
His gaze met hers and she knew her feelings showed plainly. She desired him and
he…he was one of the most sensual men she’d ever met.
For a moment they simply sat there, looking at each other. Dominant and
submissive. She should have felt weakened by her growing emotional attachment to
Rick but she wasn’t. Instead, she felt strong and it was a quiet, effortless strength. And,
she realized, his submission was infinitely more powerful than her domination.
In this, they were matched. Mastering whatever demons hounded him required
pain and subjugation. Brenna understood this. She also knew, for her, there was no
more sublime satisfaction than meting out that pain and, through it, gaining an equal
portion of pleasure.
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Yet with Rick it was always more than that basic bond between Domme and sub. It
was the man himself and she hoped, really, really hoped, something more would grow
between them.
Breathing slow and even, she held his gaze and cupped his balls. As she adjusted
her grip he tensed and there was a feral intensity in his eyes as he watched her lick her
lips. Brenna paused. Her sub must have an opportunity to use his safeword, to decide if
he was ready to let her torture his cock and balls. Talking the fantasy through together
was one thing. Reality was another. She gave him a minute, then one more, all the while
sliding his testicles from one palm to the other, keeping her movements small and
smooth, weighing his reactions and his balls.
After a while, she realized Rick was getting off on the anticipation, maybe even
more than he was getting off on being touched. His respiration rate increased.
Perspiration dotted his upper lip and made his chest shimmer. Leaning forward, she
licked his shoulder, gathering up his taste and rolling it around her mouth with obvious
pleasure.
Rick grunted and precum slid down the head of his cock.
Oh yeah. She was so looking forward to this.
She’d gotten the idea watching Dorothy and her husband Chris a few weeks back.
Both Brenna’s subs had been mesmerized that first night as they’d watched the older
couple. Brenna wanted to re-create that for them—while putting her own stamp on the
scene.
With slow, steady pressure, she pulled Rick’s testicles away from his body.
Groaning openly, he threw his head back then rocked it forward to watch. Brenna
paused, watching his taut abdominals roll in time with his harsh breathing, but he
didn’t protest. She pulled again. Slowly. Carefully. Alert for any signs of panic. If he so
much as twitched an eye, she’d stop immediately. Rick held it together. He even spread
his legs a little more, despite the fact she was sitting on his lap. Watching his face
intently, she growled with pleasure when his balls were pulled out far enough to rub
her panty-covered slit.
Rick thought he was going to lose it—completely lose it—when his shiny-stretched
scrotum actually touched the silky material covering Brenna’s pussy. Being this close to
her was heaven and hell combined and watching made it unbearably good.
Off to the side, he heard Malcolm grunt with what had to be longing then tuned
him out.
Wet. Rick groaned when he realized she was as turned-on as him. That her panties
were soaked and her wetness was licking his sac. Wet…and hot. Grunting with the
effort it took to not jerk forward and drive his package into the beautiful woman spread
on his lap, he smiled drunkenly as her heat transferred to him.
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His next grunt wasn’t from pleasure. Brenna moved her hand closer to his body,
easing the stretch on his scrotum, levering it away from all that sweet honey then,
without warning, began tapping his nut sac with her free hand.
Hissing and groaning, he tried to jerk his hips back. The bindings and her sitting on
his thighs made it impossible to move. When she didn’t stop, he opened his mouth. The
word bulldog was on his lips but he made himself hold it in, just for two more seconds.
Focusing on what he was actually feeling, not his fear and the instinctive urge to keep
anybody from hitting him there, Rick realized she was patting him lightly. Not too fast
and not too slow. The strength behind each strike was imperceptible, although the
moisture dewing his sac did make for an impressive, slapping sound.
Off beside them, Malcolm grunted again.
Breathing in deep then expelling the air slowly, Rick made himself relax. He trusted
this woman. She’d demonstrated time and again she had skills and was one hell of an
imaginative Domme. Brenna wasn’t just about the pain.
Although what she did dole out, he reminded himself, was pretty damn fantastic.
When he looked up, he found her focused on him. He loved her when she did that.
He’d told her that, told her he loved her. Like she’d said at the time, it was a
compliment but it was also a response to his endorphin high. Now? Now he wanted to
ask her out again, get to know her as a woman because he could see himself spending
the rest of his life with someone like her.
She watched his eyes, the furrow he felt between them, the tension around his
mouth. Taking another breath, he relaxed his face, his entire body, then nodded. “I’m
okay,” he said quietly. “I trust you.”
Her lower lip trembled, once, and her expression softened. She kissed him and it
was warm and intimate and tasted like passion. Her hand, the one not holding his nut
sac, cupped the back of his neck. Gently, her fingers manipulated his muscles, teased
the ends of his short hair, held him close while he breathed in her scent.
By the time she let go they were both breathing hard and he knew his cheeks had to
be as flushed as hers were.
Then that spicy light came back into her eyes. The look that made his gut clench
and his dick hard enough to smash glass. She sat up straight and proud, letting her
breasts swell above the confines of her dress. Licking his lips, Rick stared at the soft
mounds lifting to him in time with her breathing. Damn, it made him hot, knowing he’d
be denied the pleasure of kissing those breasts. He licked his lips anyway, aching for a
taste.
She let him stare all he wanted without rebuke. When she started pulling on his
testicles again, he shivered and gasped.
Rick thought he’d go insane from the cruel, seductive rhythm she established.
Pulling on his nuts almost to the point of pain, rubbing them against the warm, wet silk
standing between him and paradise, then easing off and slapping him. Gentle at first,
then her strikes came harder, then a little harder still. He didn’t know what was worse,
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feeling or watching. All he knew was he ached for release, wanted it so bad his teeth
chattered, was so close to it precum dewed the back of Brenna’s fingers, but was denied
even the briefest swipe and cock-squeeze to send him over the edge.
When the strength behind her slaps faded, he groaned in frustration. Some part of
his brain was still functioning because he knew it was time to stop. He’d lost control of
his breathing awhile back, his balls ached so bad he was moaning and he was sweating
up a storm.
Good thing he did cardio because any more and his heart would seize up.
Panting, he watched her stand, smooth her skirt then draw down two of those
gymnast rings. Huh. The club had to buy them by the gross. Them and the pulleys
hanging everywhere from the ceilings.
Rick felt his eyes widen when Brenna grabbed the rings. It probably wasn’t by
accident she’d positioned his chair directly beneath them. As always, the woman
demonstrated her gift for thinking ahead. He held his breath and cringed mentally
when she placed one of those sexy stiletto shoes on the chair between his legs. More
nervous than before, he felt his anxiety ramp back when he realized she was looking at
his face. It felt as if she was gauging his wariness. Maybe even waiting for a go-ahead
signal from him.
What the hell. It was only his unborn children he was messing around with. He
managed a “Yes” but it felt stiff and forced.
Pulling herself up with the rings, Brenna stood on the chair on one foot. Rick
relaxed a little when he realized how coordinated she was. This wasn’t turning out so
bad. There was only the implied threat of that sexy, spiky shoe sitting a few inches from
his favorite body parts. Until she lifted her other foot and pressed the sole against his
cock.
Rick wanted to jerk away but knew better. That raised heel was hovering over his
balls and nothing he’d experienced had quite put the fear of God into him like Brenna at
that moment. Still watching him, still balanced and relaxed, she used the sole of her
shoe to squeeze the length of his rod against his belly. Then squeeze a little harder.
“Fuck,” he hissed then inhaled sharply. He had to master his fear. He had to. No
Domme had ever taken him this far and she wasn’t even hurting him. It felt as if she
was pushing every button he had, as a man and as a sub. She’d earned his trust,
deserved it and he wanted nothing more than to please her. Swallowing, he forced
himself to relax, to think past his anxiety, show her she could trust him as much as he
trusted her.
When he did relax, when his breathing leveled out, the pressure on his cock
increased. She pressed harder, just a little at first. The sole of her shoe was rigid,
unforgiving and just rough enough to add an edgy thrill to the feeling. She didn’t rub
the shoe against him. That would be barbaric. Rick let go of his fear of being ground up.
Some of that must have registered in his muscles or face because Brenna smiled at
him. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered then lowered her heel onto his scrotum.
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Rick gasped and couldn’t help it. He felt the oh so small, hard rubber tip of her shoe
press into his sensitive skin, separating his balls. They rolled out of the way as if they
knew what was good for them. A little more pressure, then a little more. The hurt
started so slowly he wasn’t aware of it at first. If she’d asked, he’d rate it as a one, then a
two. He puffed out his cheeks, exhaled fast and did it again. This wasn’t about pain. It
was about giving up control, giving himself over to Brenna, trusting her to take him on
the hottest thrill ride of his life then bring him back home safe, intact, and so horny he’d
never stop coming.
If she ever let him come, that is.
Grinning inappropriately, he fought back the fear narrowing his vision, breathed
through the anxiety and laughed out loud when, finally, he realized he’d met her
challenge and mastered it.
Looking up, he fell in love with the way she smiled at him.
Needing to thank her, he leaned forward, just a little. The ropes didn’t allow him
much wiggle room but her pussy was hovering only a few inches in front of his face.
Still looking up at her, still holding her gaze, he leaned forward some more until there
was no way she could mistake his intent. Parting his lips, he waited.
When Brenna nodded, he closed the distance between them. Openmouthed, he
pressed a slow, soulful kiss to her mound. His lips felt the heat of her body bleed
through her dress and his eyes fluttered shut as he absorbed the feel of her. It was so
intimate it took his breath away.
With his heart swelling, finally he leaned back. An odd euphoria filled him. There
was a beautiful woman with her shoe on his junk, her other foot between his legs, and
all he felt was warm and exactly where he wanted to be.
Malcolm grunted again and this time it was so loud Rick and Brenna looked at him.
The other sub was sitting up on the bench, legs spread, fist wrapped around his rod and
pumping as streams of cum splashed his chest and belly. His head was thrown back,
teeth bared, body and face taut.
That fiery light came back into Brenna’s eyes but when she turned back to Rick that
look was tempered.
“Malcolm,” she said in the confident, authoritative tone that made Rick’s psyche
buzz with anticipation, “stay where you are. And you’re not to clean yourself up until I
give you permission.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Malcolm said. He looked sheepish but sounded just as excited by
her tone as Rick felt.
Slow and deliberate, Brenna moved her feet away from Rick, stepped down onto
the floor then untied him. He sighed and nodded his appreciation when she massaged
his ankles, his wrists and forearms. She kissed his mouth, nuzzled the side of his face,
stroked his chest then, with a seductiveness that made him clench his teeth, stood and
strolled over to Malcolm.
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Picking up that nasty metal cane of his, she circled the bondage table. “Bad,
presumptive sub,” she growled. Rick heard the slap of the cane against her palm. “On
your hands and knees, bad boy. Look at you, covered in spunk. Did I give you
permission to come?”
“N-no, Mistress.”
“Nasty thief, stealing an orgasm from me.” She slapped his ass with her hand, hard,
then continued circling the table. “Your pleasure is mine to give or withhold as I see fit.
When we’re together, each and every orgasm you have or are denied is mine.
Understood?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Rubbing his wrists absently, Rick watched the tableau playing out in front of him
with rising interest. He leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. Well, he
leaned forward as much as he could without bending his rock-hard cock in half.
“Lift your ass in the air,” Brenna commanded.
When she used that voice, she sounded so completely hot Rick almost obeyed
himself. Instead he watched Malcolm lower his shoulders, spread his knees and muzzle
the sick grin on his face.
She held the back of Malcolm’s neck, but not like she’d held Rick’s. She was pinning
Malcolm in place, keeping his torso where it was before sliding the cane across his ass
with cruel, seductive slowness.
Rick held his breath as he watched her angle her body, raise her arm and bring the
cane down across Malcolm’s upturned ass.
The other sub shook then groaned. She hit him once more, then again.
“Are you sorry for stealing from me? Are you willing to apologize? To accept my
punishment?”
“Yes. Please yes.”
Malcolm was sweating openly now, breathing hard through his mouth. His eyes
were glazed and his face flushed.
“Two more hits will satisfy me, sub. Two more hits and your transgression is
forgiven like it never happened.” The cane rose then came down. The sound it made as
it moved through the air filled Rick with anticipation, dread and lust. Three thin, red
lines now stood out sharply against the unnatural paleness of Malcolm’s skin, as if all
his blood was pooling in a too-late too-little effort to soothe his wounds. The cane rose
again, for the last time. Rick held his breath then cried out in warning when Malcolm
lurched. It was Rick’s turn to be too late when he saw his buddy lift up on his toes and
jerk into the final hit, throwing Brenna’s aim to hell and back.
Malcolm didn’t moan this time, he cried out. The welt at the base of his back, just
above the swell of his glute, was red and ugly. Before Rick had time to react Brenna
dropped the cane. She took hold of Malcolm’s hips and guided them down onto the
table.
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“Breathe,” she said. That same confidence was in her voice, only now it was quiet
and persuasive. Calming. “Lie on your belly. Relax your muscles.” She touched his
shoulder. “I’m not leaving you,” she said as she stepped away. “I’m just getting
something to make that feel better.”
Moving quickly, she jerked open the room’s back cupboard, revealing the tiny sink
and the drawers she’d taken the ropes from earlier that evening. And she kept talking.
“You’re bleeding just a little so I’ll put some antiseptic on you. Some ice too to ease the
bruising.”
That soft, reassuring voice rose and fell as she turned and moved. Rick watched
critically as she snapped on a pair of sterile gloves, but she wasn’t doing anything he
wouldn’t. Wasn’t going to use anything he wouldn’t. He might have gone to medical
school but she was in control and capable.
Brenna applied squares of sterile gauze to Malcolm’s back, drizzled some water
onto them then added a row of ice cubes. “This will feel cold.” She covered up
Malcolm’s legs with one of the blankets then kissed his shoulder. “Relax. Let the ice do
its thing.” Strong, slender fingers massaged the backs of Malcolm’s arms, his upper
back. “That cane sure can pack a wallop, huh?”
Even Malcolm grinned at the tease in her voice. “I bet you say that to all your pain
sluts.”
“Only the really handsome ones,” she replied. She kissed his shoulder again then
dabbed around the melting ice before it trailed down the sides of his body.
As she tended to his buddy, Rick realized Brenna hadn’t said a word of
condemnation. It was Malcolm’s fault the cane had split the top few layers of his
epidermis. Brenna had held Malcolm down by pressing on the back of his neck but,
despite her height, there was no way her strength could contain his. Surely Malcolm
had known that.
Stupid bugger.
Finally Malcolm confirmed that his skin was numb. When Brenna removed the
gauze, Rick looked to make sure the bleeding had stopped. It had so he kept his mouth
shut as she dabbed antiseptic cream onto Malcolm’s stripes, taking extra care with the
shallow cut across his lower back, which was actually quite minor. He’d seen worse
scratches from a cat.
Brenna kissed Malcolm, helped him off the table, even brought his clothes over to
him and helped him dress.
“Your punishment is over. Your transgression is in the past and forgotten,” she said
as she zipped Malcolm up then caressed the outline of his cock through his pants.
As she spoke, the tension around Malcolm’s mouth eased and an enviable
contentment shone in his eyes.
Holding his tongue, Rick rolled his shoulders then retrieved his own clothing.
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“Tonic water and cranberry juice.”
“Make that two.”
Rick turned to the tallish man standing beside him. Nodding in greeting, the man
leaned an elbow on the bar then scanned the public playroom. “Harlan, isn’t it?” Rick
asked.
“Yes. Good memory,” the older man complimented him casually. “How are you
liking the club so far, Rick?”
“The facilities are the best I’ve seen.” Like the guy standing beside him, Rick turned
his back to the bar to scan the Saturday-night crowd. The place was hopping. There
didn’t seem to be a piece of equipment not in use and the sounds of leather hitting flesh,
moans and grunts made his tender balls throb with lust.
He checked his watch. Brenna had gone to the ladies’ to freshen up and he wanted
to spend more time with her before she left. Malcolm was in the club’s first-aid room,
getting a couple of small butterfly bandages for his back. Rick supposed he should have
tended to his friend’s wound but Malcolm had seemed more than happy to follow a
little Domme with a red armband and a big smile when she ordered him to.
Mostly he wanted them to hurry up so he could turn his back to the crowd. It was
irrational but he practically wigged out at the idea of somebody he knew recognizing
him.
“You and Brenna seem to have hit it off,” Harlan said. His voice said he was just
making conversation but the set of his shoulders and the tension in his body said
otherwise.
“She’s a helluva lady.”
“We agree on that.” When the bartender set up their drinks, Harlan raised his glass.
“To Brenna.”
As they drank, Rick felt Harlan’s eyes on him.
“She’s a great ambassador for the club,” Harlan continued. “She takes new subs
under her wing their first few visits before handing them off to one of the other
Dommes. She’s shown you some of the rooms, right? Some of what the club has to
offer?”
“Um…” Rick let his voice trail off. Whatever this guy’s agenda was, Rick was sure
he didn’t want to be part of it.
“She’s one of the members who makes this place terrific. Makes sure new members
are comfortable before letting them loose in general population—so to speak.” He
laughed at his own joke.
Rick couldn’t discern any genuine humor in the sounds Harlan made.
“Of course, I’ve known her for years. I love how…invigorated she is when she
comes back after showing a new member the ropes.”
To keep from saying something harsh, Rick swallowed the last of his drink. Harlan
was delusional, or a passive-aggressive punk, despite his age. Either way, it hadn’t been
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him Brenna had accepted a date with tonight and she sure hadn’t given any indicators
she was interested in playing with anybody other than Rick.
Well, him and Malcolm.
Whatever. Harlan wasn’t worth Rick’s time. He figured by the way Harlan’s mouth
thinned, the man could read Rick’s reaction.
Rick nodded, set his glass down, ordered three more and turned his attention back
to the playroom. “Like I said. She’s a helluva lady.”
When the bartender set out three fresh drinks, Harlan’s brow furrowed. “Thirsty?”
he asked with a not-so-subtle touch of derision.
“For me…” Rick nodded toward the back of the playroom, “and my friends.” He
felt a broad smile shape his face when he spotted Brenna heading for him. Malcolm
came out another hallway and quickly caught up to her.
“Brenna. My darling.” Harlan stepped forward and intercepted her. “You look
beautiful tonight.”
Rick had to hand it to the guy. He was quick. Harlan took Brenna’s hand and kissed
it. He might be a charmer but he hadn’t put the color in Brenna’s cheeks, or that
lightning flash of lustiness in her eyes.
“Harlan.” Her greeting was polite and nothing more. Then her face lit up. “Oh,
you’re wonderful,” she gushed as she sidestepped Harlan and headed straight for
Rick…and the drink he was holding out to her.
The annoyance on Harlan’s face showed for only a split second as he turned and
watched her walk past, but it showed long enough to satisfy Rick on a primitive level.
Malcolm looked just as grateful to be offered something cold to drink but his
reaction didn’t turn Rick on like Brenna’s had.
“So I was wondering if you’d like to come back to my place.” As he spoke, Rick
stroked her bare arm with the backs of his fingers, mesmerized, as always, by her
softness. “We didn’t get coffee after dinner. How about I make you some?”
They hadn’t had time for coffee because they’d spent more time talking than eating.
Blinking, Brenna seemed to hesitate for a moment. Harlan fumed visibly.
“You and Malcolm,” Rick added. He flashed her his best nice-guy smile.
“Coffee would be great,” Brenna answered, then flashed him a grin of her own that
made his cock twitch and kept her focus on him as she finished her drink.
When the three of them stepped away from the bar, Harlan didn’t even bother to
hide the contemptuous look he shot Rick.
They only made it halfway to the door.
“Brenna.” It was the petite blonde Brenna had flogged that first night. Tracy waved,
bounced up in her high heels then hugged Brenna effusively once they made their way
over. “You remember Kevin.”
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Brenna introduced Tracy and her husband to Rick and Malcolm. “So? How are you
liking the club?” Brenna asked.
“It’s terrific. You know I’m really getting the hang of this whipping stuff. At least
Kevin says so.”
“Works for me,” her husband piped up, and grinned.
As the others chatted about the music and the Maple Leafs, Rick noticed two male
subs walking past. They looked at Brenna with undisguised longing. Rick got that. He
also got the hard looks they shot him and Malcolm.
Rick didn’t have too long to contemplate those looks because somebody shoved
their shoulder into his back.
“Sorry, buddy.”
Rick turned around. The guy was about his age, a bit shorter but built like a
linebacker. The sneer on his face and the disdain in his voice told their own story.
“Yeah. No problem,” Rick said. He grabbed the guy’s thumb and angled it just so.
“See you around,” he added but didn’t let go.
“Why you…”
“Denny.” Brenna spoke quietly but there was no mistaking the displeasure in her
voice.
“It’s okay, Brenna,” Rick said and applied just a bit more pressure to Denny’s
thumb. Enough to make the man pale and his knees bend awkwardly before he righted
himself. “Denny and I understand each other. Right?” He glanced at Denny’s thumb,
which was turning purple.
“Yeah. My bad.” Denny exhaled raggedly when Rick finally let go. “Sorry, man. My
apologies, Mistress,” he added to Brenna before hurrying away.
She cocked an eyebrow at Rick.
“Judo lessons when I was a kid.” Rick shrugged. He settled his hand on the small of
her back, said goodbye to Tracy and Kevin and led the way to the door.
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Chapter Seven
Rick dropped a filter into his coffee machine then fished the scoop out of the tin of
grounds. Soft jazz, muted conversation and Brenna’s gentle laughter drifted into the
kitchen from the living room.
The radio station had been Malcolm’s doing. Malcolm was smooth with the ladies
and the tunes set an intimate mood. When Rick listened to the radio it was usually in
the car and he picked the all-news station or country music…and he sometimes had
trouble remembering which button that was.
Malcolm probably had all the make-out music stations memorized.
After adding the water and flipping the switch, Rick hurried back to the living
room before Malcolm scored any more solo points.
“So he says ‘that’s not my girlfriend’s, it belongs to the cat’.”
Brenna’s eyes shone as she laughed. Rick shook his head. He’d heard that joke
dozens of times. In fact, he’d been listening to Malcolm’s pick-ups since college, and
had reaped the co-benefits more often than not. This was the first time he’d resented his
buddy’s gift for charming the ladies.
“So tell me how you got into cosmetics?” Rick asked as soon as the laughter died
down. He claimed the available spot on the sofa beside Brenna.
“Do you sell them?” Malcolm asked.
Yesss. Fumble from the twit who liked his women below his income bracket. Way
below.
“I do. In a sense,” Brenna answered. “I started off in the quality-testing lab of a
chemical manufacturer.”
The furrow in Malcolm’s brow telegraphed a WTF. Leaning back into Rick’s leather
sectional, Brenna ran her fingers over the buttery-soft upholstery. Unable to resist
touching her any longer, Rick picked up her hand, smoothed his lips across her
knuckles then let their lightly entwined fingers drift back down to the cushion.
Brenna continued, “A job opportunity came up after I’d finished my master’s.” One
corner of her mouth quirked up. “By then I’d racked up enough student debt to keep
me awake at night so I figured I’d work for eighteen months, pay down my debt, then
seek admission to a PhD program.”
“Best-laid plans, huh?” Rick prompted gently.
She nodded, glanced down at their hands then back up at him. “The job turned out
to be one of those right-time right-place opportunities. I moved up the ranks at the lab
until my supervisor said he wanted to submit my name for a job at the head facility in
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the States. He said there were going to be a couple of retirements in product
development down there in a year, and wanted to know if I was interested.”
“I hear that’s where the big money is,” Malcolm interjected.
When Brenna turned to look at his buddy, when she flashed him a smile, Rick told
himself to get over his adolescent jealousy. His libido didn’t listen.
“It can be. Depending on performance, my salary was going to eventually include
percentage-of-sale bonuses.”
“Why didn’t you stay?” Rick asked, curious now.
“I’ve always been too independent for my own good. I figured if they were willing
to pay to ship me to the States to dream stuff up, why couldn’t I do it here? On my
own.”
Her fingers flexed gently and Rick liked the feel of her skin against his.
“I had a year before the job would open up anyway, so I spent weekends and most
evenings in a makeshift lab in my basement. I hung out at the mall, checking out which
stores were busiest and what products were moving.”
She was talking faster now, as if her enthusiasm for her work was energizing her.
Her free hand moved through the air, punctuating her words. For Rick, it was a contact
high.
“A couple of my friends from college were working in marketing and I picked their
brains endlessly. I’m surprised they still talk to me. Anyway, aromatherapy was
starting to come into its own and I had the know-how to design a line of upscale
personal-care products around that. Once I got the formulas stable and harmonized the
color palate between product lines, it was all about presentation and image marketing.”
She grinned wryly. “Bored out of your skull yet?”
“No,” Rick answered quickly. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I liked my
chemistry courses in college. Frankly, I’m in awe when someone’s able to realize a
dream to start their own company.”
Malcolm’s expression said he thought Rick was being a suck-up. Rick didn’t care.
“So what does your company make?” Malcolm asked, drawing her attention back
to him.
“Oh My Darling soaps and body powders.”
“No shit! My wife loves that stuff.”
“Your wife?” Brenna repeated. Her tone was cold and she leaned away from
Malcolm.
“Ex-wife,” he corrected himself quickly. “She left me over a year ago and the
divorce came through this winter.” He shrugged. “She never could get into scening like
me. In fairness, I should have told her I liked pain before marrying her.”
“You think?” Brenna asked, shook her head then touched Malcolm’s cheek in a
conciliatory gesture.
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“She tried Doming me. I’ll give her that. Finally, she said it was too weird for her.
Neither of us contested the divorce. Huh. Irreconcilable differences. Now there’s an
understatement.”
Rick held his tongue. Cheryl was a beautiful woman who’d gone to college to earn
her Mrs. degree. Maybe that was harsh but, honestly, what else was she doing studying
art history with a minor in phys ed? Planning on outrunning other bidders at an
auction? He and Malcolm had been in their last year of med school when Cheryl came
into their lives. She was fun to hang out with and had a great sense of humor. Still did
as far as he knew. But only three months after they’d finished their residency, Malcolm
was sneaking out to BDSM clubs and talking Rick into coming along as his wingman.
He would have mourned the breakdown of his buddy’s marriage with him but
Malcolm seemed more at peace with himself now.
“What about you?” Malcolm asked, changing the subject. He brushed a lock of
Brenna’s hair over her shoulder. “Ever married?”
“No. Maybe someday I’ll meet a man who deserves me but until then, I like being
single just fine.”
“Speaking of fine…” Letting his voice drop a tone or two, Malcolm slid closer, laid
his hand on her waist and kissed her gently. “Hmm. I like the way you taste.”
“That’s certainly a change of subject.” Although Brenna’s voice was dry, humor
and, if Rick wasn’t mistaken, interest resonated in her tone.
He decided now was a good time to lay his cards down. “I’d like to make love to
you, Brenna.” That brought her attention back around to him, fast. Malcolm’s too,
although his buddy turned gingerly, as if he didn’t want to rub his back against the
sofa. “Some Dommes I’ve met though, they’re all about the power and the pain. With
you, I don’t get a sense you’d feel diminished by engaging in some hot, old-fashioned,
do it ‘til we drop coitus.” Oh yeah. That was definitely interest sparkling in those baby
blues of hers. “I hope I’m not wrong.”
Collectively, they held their breath and it felt a lot longer than the few seconds it
probably took Brenna to answer. Rick would have preferred to have Brenna to himself.
What guy with a working dick wouldn’t? But Malcolm and him, they shared. They
always had. At times, the co-dependency was weird and sometimes, it felt old. But now
was not the time to change the status quo. Not with the beautiful Brenna between them,
warm and—hopefully—willing. The potential kink factor was giving him an off-the-
charts erection.
“You’re not wrong. Just don’t make me take a long walk on the beach tonight.”
“No problem.” Rick grinned and touched his lips to her throat. “Seeing as we’ve
already done dinner, I vote for getting straight to the sex.”
“Seconded,” Malcolm growled and Rick felt Brenna’s body shift just a little, as if
Malcolm had pulled her shoulder into him. “But just because I didn’t make you buy me
dinner first doesn’t mean I’m easy.”
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Her laughter stirred Rick’s hair. Her breath was warm and tickled and felt good,
especially for a guy who spent a lot more time getting spanked than snuggled.
Still holding her hand, he stood. A gentle tug brought Brenna to her feet. The coffee
would have to wait. Malcolm followed without being prompted and Rick led their
naughty conga line down the hallway to his bedroom.
Brenna liked the smell of Rick’s bedroom immediately. It smelled like fabric
softener with a hint of sandalwood, much like that light, woodsy cologne he wore. He
flicked on two bedside lights, bathing the room in a soft glow that reflected off the floor-
to-ceiling windows. The room was decorated in shades of cream and black and his bed
was more than big enough for three. Far below the lights of hundreds of cars lit up the
Parkway like a ribbon within the ravine.
She felt her shoulders relax when Rick touched a wall switch and a bank of room-
darkening shades began to unfold themselves down to the floor. Although she admired
the lack of inhibition of exhibitionists, she didn’t know who might be watching from the
far side of the ravine and didn’t want to wind up on YouTube.
“Thank you,” she said and cleared her throat. “Usually I’m not self-conscious.” Her
voice wavered and she cleared her throat again.
“I’m a bit nervous too,” Rick admitted. He looked away from the shades and
watched her face. “I like you. A lot. I can be as big a horndog as any guy but you’re
something special. You being here with me…us…is far more intimate than anything
we’ve done before.” He sucked in a deep breath, as if he was trying to cut off a building
ramble. “I don’t want to screw things up by rushing. Damn, I can’t believe I said out
loud we should think about slowing down.”
Brenna chuckled and with it, felt her neck relax. Malcolm remained silent. He didn’t
look or act nervous and, she realized, she didn’t expect him to. Although as complex as
any individual’s, Malcolm’s current needs were simpler than hers. Perhaps Rick’s too.
She envied Malcolm’s patience as he watched and waited.
“I think,” she said, “we have been taking it slow. It’s taken awhile for us to get to
this point. I don’t actually sleep with my subs unless we’re in a relationship.” Tipping
her head, she watched Rick for his reaction.
He nodded slowly. “I never thought we weren’t. In a relationship.”
Stepping up to her, Malcolm brushed her hair aside, kissed her neck, her shoulder.
He’d be the wildcard or, rather, what he wanted out of tonight remained to be seen.
Brenna spoke up. “The three of us…our communication’s always been great. That
shouldn’t stop now. I’m turned-on like crazy by the idea of being with two handsome,
built, intelligent men, but I want to make love, not role play.”
Malcolm’s lips stopped moving on her skin. “Yes, Mistress.”
Smiling, she again offered her mouth to him.
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“May I?” Malcolm murmured as he brushed her hair over her shoulder. She felt his
fingertips on her back, resting on the top of her zipper.
“Please.” Angling her arms behind her, she rested her fingertips on Malcolm’s hips
as he began to slowly unzip her dress. At the club she’d changed out of the linen dress
she’d worn to dinner into the fitted leather number she was now wearing. Looking up,
she met Rick’s gaze. Those firm, expressive lips of his were parted. His eyes twinkled in
the artificial light. The focus and need in his expression made her pussy clench. When
he touched his mouth to hers, he inhaled sharply as if he liked her scent.
Brenna wanted to believe it was more than a trained sub’s reaction to the smell of
leather.
Scent aside, there was no doubt the man enjoyed kissing her. Long, strong fingers
slid into her hair, holding her in place. His tongue stroked hers. No more tentative
forays for Rick. He filled her mouth, tasted her fully, retreated with a tease that made
her nipples harden…and lured her to explore his taste in return.
In the right atmosphere he might embrace his submissive tendencies but Rick was
also a confident lover. A confident man.
Jackpot.
When she let go of Malcolm to wrap her arms around Rick’s neck and pull him
closer, Rick groaned in obvious appreciation.
She shuddered delicately. Malcolm had unzipped her dress and was pressing
warm, wet kisses to her bare back. Equally nice, he was also holding her waist and
rocking his hips just enough for her to feel his impressive hard-on.
In the beginning it had been vital she treat her subs equally. Tonight would change
that and both men seemed okay with that. They obviously liked sharing women and
she would not upset the friendship and symbiosis they shared. They were offering her a
night of crazy-hot loving. What girl in her right mind would turn that down?
For a moment or two they stood in a clutch with Rick kissing her with a sensuality
that made her belly clench in anticipation and Malcolm making soft love to the skin on
her back. She shivered when he kissed her neck then scored her shoulder with his teeth.
“My turn,” he whispered and spun her.
Obviously unhappy about giving up her mouth, Rick followed, pressing stinging
kisses to the corners of her lips. He conceded only when Malcolm nudged Rick’s face
aside with his own.
Malcolm’s kiss was tender but no less enthusiastic. His warm breath washed her
cheek, his hands cupped her face, gathered up her hair and held it without demand. She
liked his taste, loved his verve. When she reached for his shirt buttons and began
undoing them slowly, he grinned against her mouth and leaned back to give her room
to work.
Rick didn’t show signs of being knocked out of the game. He made her tremble
when he slid her dress off her shoulders, eased it down and off. Brenna’s nipples
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hardened against the cool air. Now wearing nothing but silk panties and stilettos, she
shivered, and shivered again when Rick steadied her, helped her to step out of the dress
and kissed the backs of her thighs before he draped the black leather over a chair.
Before he returned to her he angled his body beside hers and Malcolm’s and, out of
the corner of her eye, she watched him slowly unbutton his shirt. He was beautiful and
sexy and everything she’d ever dreamed of in a sub.
In a lover.
In a man.
By now Malcolm’s shirt was hanging loose. For the moment she was going to treat
them equally. In the morning though, they were definitely having a talk.
Gathering up the tails and pulling them free of Malcolm’s waistband, she licked her
lips and watched Rick. Beneath her palms, Malcolm’s waist and chest were smooth.
Carefully, she tested the still-pink marks the wax had left on his skin. His only reaction
to her touch was pleasure so she caressed him freely. She kissed his nipple, drew circles
around it with her tongue, and felt her eyelids grow heavy as Rick revealed his broad
chest. Aching to run her fingers through the soft curls peppering his skin, she held out
her hand.
With the corner of his mouth quirked up, he just smiled at her with those dark-blue
eyes of his, stepped back, slid his shirt off and laid it over her dress.
Tease.
Oh yeah, this was definitely promising to be a good night. She might be a little
nervous, maybe even awkward as she explored the logistics of what they were doing,
but both men were obviously doing their best to arouse her interest.
She inhaled sharply then sighed when Malcolm trailed his mouth across her jaw,
pressing light, stinging kisses to her skin before moving down her throat. Stopping, he
stood in her arms with his head bent. She felt his eyes on her breasts, felt her nipples
grow prominent, liked how beautiful he made her feel.
Rick’s approach was more aggressive and she loved him for it. He stepped behind
her, caressed her waist, buried his nose in her hair and inhaled until his chest swelled
and bumped her back. Then he slid his hands forward and cupped her breasts.
Sighing with pleasure, she let her head drop back on his shoulder. Rick simply held
her for a moment and she was enthralled by the contrast between her pale skin and his.
When he squeezed gently, when his thumbs passed over her nipples, she grabbed onto
his hip with one hand, the back of Malcolm’s neck with the other.
As he plumped her flesh, Rick dipped his head, bit her shoulder with just enough
force to sting, then stood still. She felt his eyes on her—his and Malcolm’s—and her
back arched when Rick pinched her nipples and rolled them lightly between thumb and
forefinger. It was wonderful and erotic. They made her feel cared for, sheltered, even
adored. Bracketed between their hard bodies, their shared warmth helped her relax into
the delicious feel of Rick’s hands on her breasts.
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When Malcolm finally stepped back his gaze was glued to her. Licking his lips, he
pulled off his clothes, let them fall wherever, then dropped to his knees in front of her.
He looked up at her and she saw the hesitancy in his expression. As much as she
adored Malcolm, she realized his submissive’s heart would find true pleasure only
when ordered around by a sexually dominant partner. He obviously preferred being
dommed to straight-up sex, and despite that was meeting her more than halfway. That
willingness to give should go both ways.
“Touch me.” She spoke quietly but with enough authority Malcolm nodded
happily, bowed his head for an instant then kissed her thighs.
With his hands still plumping her breasts, Rick dipped his head beside hers and
nuzzled her cheek until she offered him her mouth. The fervor of his kiss overwhelmed
her for a moment. Rick was all male—hard bodied and lust driven—and being held by
him was exciting as hell. His touch contrasted so beautifully with the gentle pursing of
Malcolm’s lips, the smooth warmth as he drew his mouth up and down her thighs.
Through the barrier of his wool pants, Rick rubbed his erection against the small of
her back. “I want you,” he said against her mouth. His voice was deep and gravelly and
made her shiver with excitement. Letting go of her breast, his hand skated down her
belly. Just rough enough to be arousing, his skin felt warm and dry against hers. He
caressed her with broad sweeps of his palm then slipped his fingers between her legs.
Cupping her pussy, he squeezed gently, deliberately and rhythmically.
Her knee buckled and she had to grab onto Malcolm’s shoulder. When he looked
up at them, arousal shone in his eyes. With his face hovering inches away from her
mound, he licked his lips again and stared. “Please, Mistress. I need to taste you.”
How could any woman with a heart refuse such a beautifully phrased request?
“Yes,” she breathed.
The excitement in Malcolm’s eyes doubled.
Chuckling, Rick ended their kiss, took her hand and led her to his bed. Set
prominently in the middle of the room, it was covered with a black duvet. Pulling it
back, Rick revealed cream-colored linen sheets. He sat her on the end of the bed,
crouched in front of her and drew off one of her shoes. She threw her head back and
gasped with pleasure when he kissed her foot, massaged her insole then reached for her
other shoe. Straightening, he threaded his fingers into her panties and didn’t ask before
he started to tug.
Leaning back on her elbows, Brenna lifted her hips obligingly. Being with them felt
so comfortable now. Rick had given that to her. Given her a sheltered, nurtured
environment to explore her sensuality with two men. It was the first time a man, let
alone a sub, had taken the time to discern her unspoken needs and meet them.
Arousal shone on Rick’s face as he removed the last of her clothing. He touched her
mound, the thin pelt of dark curls adorning it. His fingertips traced her bare nether lips.
He kissed her, swept his tongue along her slit then stood.
She growled in frustration.
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Cocking an eyebrow, he looked down at her brazenly then reached for his belt
buckle. It was Brenna’s turn to lick her lips in unconscious anticipation.
Brenna palmed her breast then pinched her nipple as she watched him slowly undo
his pants. Each tooth of his zipper opened with sharp, metallic promise. With his feet
planted apart, he let his slacks and briefs drop inch after tantalizing inch. The hard cut
and veins of his groin seemed to pop out. The thin line of hair below his shallow navel
drew her eyes and had her grinning in anticipation. She caught a glimpse of his dark-
brown bush before his thick cock sprang into view. When he palmed it, when he
stroked it roughly with his gaze locked on hers, Brenna shivered with need and reached
for him.
Again he stepped back. Again she growled with frustration. She wasn’t used to
being denied by any man. Teasing, it turned out, could be fun no matter which side you
were on.
“All yours, buddy.” Rick directed his voice to Malcolm, who was still kneeling in
the middle of the room. “You won’t be disappointed,” he added and licked his lower
lip. “She’s delicious.”
Malcolm crawled to her, kissed her inner thighs, raised her knees and trailed his
tongue over her trimmed curls.
She jerked then gasped when he kissed one side of her cleft then the other, then
lapped at the wetness dewing the mouth of her core. Having spent the night in a state of
arousal, Brenna wanted to lock her heels over his shoulders, pull him in and ride his
face for hours. But there was no way she was going to touch his back or his ass. He
seemed to be moving okay but she’d laid a pretty harsh beating on him earlier. That
he’d liked but she was one-hundred percent sure he wouldn’t like having his road rash
rubbed.
Willing herself to be patient, she stretched out and encouraged him with soft gasps,
murmurs and the pressure of her fingers on his head.
Malcolm’s response delighted her. When the mattress beside her dipped, when Rick
knelt beside her, cock in hand, Malcolm lifted her knees, circled her anus with his
tongue then moved up to her clit. She groaned and smiled wantonly when he licked her
little pearl up and down then flicked it side to side. Lucky her…both men were skilled
in bed. It was a wonder they were still single. Maybe they’d been waiting for the right
woman.
The mattress shifted again. Moaning with what could only be interpreted as
pleasure, Rick plumped her breast then closed his mouth over the tip. With his eyes
closed, he suckled her with a devotion that brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them
away then inhaled sharply. His tongue laved her, circled her, rubbed her nipple then
flattened against it as he hollowed his cheeks and drew on her with a focus that made
her tremble. When he’d thoroughly loved her breast, he moved to its mate.
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Brenna shivered with pleasure. The things they were doing to her, the things they
were making her feel were beyond incredible. Her whole body felt sensitized and
hungry for more. Her mind too.
The speed of Malcolm’s tongue working her clit increased. She wasn’t sure which
man was responsible for her gasp of pleasure. With one hand on Malcolm’s head, the
other on Rick’s, she relaxed into the sensations coursing through her. Need built in her
chest and made her belly clench. Soft, sexy music drifted into the room, almost too quiet
to really hear but it set the perfect backdrop for the wet sounds of Malcolm’s loving.
The murmurs of pleasure as Rick suckled her.
When Rick levered himself up, when he placed a final warm and moist kiss to each
breast, Brenna tried to pull him back to her. Despite the unsubtle hold she had on his
hair, Rick straightened. Opening her eyes, she saw the broad plum-shaped head of his
cock. Holding it out to her, Rick rubbed the smooth head against her lower lip. The tip
of his organ got glossy and red as her lipstick transferred. She breathed in his scent—
warm musk with a hint of sandalwood—and traced the cap with the tip of her tongue
until he groaned.
Looking up, she found him watching her, his chest rising and falling fast, his cheeks
bright with color. He was so beautiful…all hard, confident male, and the way he looked
at her made her heart beat faster.
This was what making love was meant to be. Scening had its virtues—hallelujah—
but this equal expression, sharing and meeting of needs was what the other side of her
psyche had always needed. Had fantasized about in the dark late at night, but hadn’t
dared hope for. Women like her attracted men like Malcolm. Hell, they clogged the
queue for her like drooling yes-men. They needed her.
She needed them, but she needed more too.
Holding his shaft in his fist, Rick moved it in a tight, erotic-as-hell circle, rubbing
his glossy skin over her tongue. He pressed the head to her mouth until she opened
even more, slid inside until her lips closed behind his broad glans, then pulled out
slowly. In and out, he fucked her mouth sweetly, rolled across her tongue, bared his
teeth with pleasure when she licked and swirled around him. Making a sound that was
part groan, part hum, he exposed his teeth when she sealed her lips around him and
suckled.
Despite the fat rod in her mouth, Brenna gasped. Malcolm was licking her pussy
faster and he slid two fingers into her, turned his wrist, pumped gently then repeated
the movement over and over. With her eyes wide open, she saw Rick look down her
body, saw desire widen his eyes as he watched his friend arouse her.
When Rick finally returned his focus to her face, he grinned, cocked a finger and
leaned some of his weight back on his heels. Brenna was glad to take the hint. Propping
herself up on one elbow caused Malcolm to lose his rhythm but he recovered quickly
and swirled his tongue around her clit hard enough to make her tremble. It felt
wonderful. Arousal poured through her and she took hold of Rick’s cock, brought it to
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her mouth, swallowed half of it and hollowed her cheeks. She felt his hand on the side
of her face, another on her breast as he began to rock against her.
Taking him in, swallowing the claustrophobia and gag reflex when he touched the
back of her throat, Brenna let her teeth scrape his length when Rick withdrew. He
hissed and looked at her with unmistakable adoration. Reaching around him, she held
on to his ass, hard, and let her fingertip scrape his anus when he pushed into her mouth
again.
His body jerked but after that initial sign of shock, he placed his hand over hers and
held it in place. It could also be interpreted as a brake.
“I’ll stop if that makes you uncomfortable.” After easing his cock out of her mouth,
she looked up at him.
He hesitated, as if he was weighing his answer. “I’m actually surprised I’m not
uncomfortable. Dommes—most Dommes—expect a sub to give up their ass and get all
pissy if you don’t. I just…” His voice trailed off.
“You need to build up some trust first. I get that. If you like how it feels, I’ll keep
going.” The corner of her mouth quirked up as she grazed his anus. He shuddered and
his hips rocked in response. “You hold on to my hand and stop me whenever you want.
We can always try again some other time, if you like.”
“While you’re waiting,” Malcolm quipped, “you can play with my ass any time you
like, Mistress.”
Rick hissed and held her hand tighter. “I like,” he moaned and pressed his cock
against her lips.
The rhythm they set wasn’t smooth but was erotic because of it. Malcolm’s tongue
stroked her eagerly. Her pussy felt swollen and wet as it bore down on his fingers. And
Rick…Rick used her mouth gently and without apology. He set his own pace, sank as
deep into her throat as he pleased, but withdrew long before her lungs burned for air. It
was difficult to time her breathing with the undulation of three bodies but the
uncertainty just made it more exciting. She was used to being in control, or at least
having the illusion of it. Subs always controlled scenes, even those who didn’t realize it
or refused to recognize it. A thinking Domme pushed her sub’s limits in increments, but
always in the context of the scene the submissive had allowed. Subs had the power to
stop whenever they wished. Tonight though Brenna was just a woman, nervous and
excited as she and the two wonderful, hard-bodied men with her dove into this new
experience.
Need gathered in her belly, made her pussy clench, and when it did Malcolm sped
up the hard flicks of his tongue. His fingers, driving in and out of her, made an erotic,
wet, slapping sound. Her fingers curled up and she started breathing hard. He might be
a submissive through and through but he knew how to touch a woman, how to be
tender and loving and give more than he was getting.
Sweat broke out on her chest and her hips lifted to him, needing more. Straining
toward him, Brenna gasped around Rick’s cock, drew her mouth away and flung her
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head back. Every muscle in her body felt tight as her back arched. Hot pulses of ecstasy
drove through her. They made her sob as release, white-hot and inexorable, racked her.
The pleasure was exquisite as it tightened its hold on her, made heat spark down her
nerves, made her cry out. When it finally eased she grabbed Rick’s cock with more
strength than discretion, drew it into her mouth and sucked hard enough to make him
shake and roll his hips into her.
He swore lustily when she pulled away and slid out of Malcolm’s gasp.
“Come here,” she ordered the man still kneeling at the foot of the bed. Without
question and wearing a titillated expression, he stretched out on Rick’s bed. “Can you
handle lying on your back?” Brenna asked. “Is your backside too sore?”
“A bit,” Malcolm answered, then grinned. He lay down and didn’t move after that.
“But I like it that way.”
She kissed his mouth and grinned crookedly. “I know. Stay there until I tell you
differently.”
She turned to Rick. “Condoms?” she asked and was impressed by how quickly he
dove for his night table.
Taking a condom from Rick, she tore it open with her teeth, then rolled the thin,
lubricated latex onto his jutting cock. She pushed on his shoulders until he was laid out
for her. Malcolm’s expression told her he wasn’t happy about doing all the work only to
have his buddy reap the pleasure. Perversely, it also told her he was getting off on the
denial.
That he liked.
She settled herself over Rick’s loins, took hold of his shaft and angled it, and gasped
when the head parted her folds. Sliding her hands up her body, she squeezed her
breasts, rolled her nipples between her fingers, licked her lips and focused on Rick’s
handsome, tortured face as he watched her tremble and gasp as she forced his heavy
cock into her slit.
It felt so good, taking Rick inside her. His bare skin, where it touched hers, was
warm and smooth. The room was quiet, except for their harsh breathing and the muted
jazz, and the smell of his skin and Malcolm’s filled her head.
Malcolm touched her waist, her hips, but did it as if he was expecting to be refuted.
Rick lay still, letting her control their lovemaking. Let her use his body to pleasure hers.
She gasped again and pulled on her nipples. The slight bite of pain was exquisite and
drove her pleasure higher. “You’re big,” she managed then felt her brow furrow as she
lowered herself another inch. Panting helped her adjust to his size. It had been a long
time since she’d taken a lover and judging from the twisted grin on Rick’s face, he liked
the tight squeeze just fine. She began moving up and down slowly, letting her juices
lubricate him. The tug on her outer folds made her head spin. Captivated, she
immersed herself in that first, exquisite penetration…the foreign but very welcome
feeling of being stretched and filled. After that, lowering herself onto him came easier.
When he was finally buried in her to the hilt, he shuddered and rolled his torso.
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“You’re so beautiful,” Malcolm said hoarsely and looked at where they were joined.
“Can I touch you, Mistress?”
She took his hand, kissed the pads of his fingers then slid them between her legs.
“Yes. Rub my clit until I come.”
Grinning like an ecstatic madman, Malcolm did as he was told.
Moaning quietly, Rick gathered up her hair, stroked it, and held her to him with a
strength that was as unshakable as it was restrained. She felt possessed. She felt like the
possessor. When she’d first thought about this, she’d imagined an over the top hot
scenario. What she hadn’t imagined, what she hadn’t hoped for was the aching,
breathless intimacy she felt with him. The growing comfort she had in her own skin as
the boundaries and roles blurred, shifted, and became more erotic because of it.
Beside her, Malcolm began making incoherent sounds of pleasure. His fingers were
wet and worked her clit in a determined, circular motion. Brenna felt powerful as her
thighs drove her down onto Rick, again and again. She saw his eyes on her, felt them
touch her lips and breasts with lust, watched him bare his teeth as they rocked against
each other.
The sight of his arousal, the scent and taste of his need drove her over the edge.
Heat and release poured through her, made white light flash behind her eyelids, drew
her nipples so tight they hurt. Grunting in time with the pulses of her orgasm, Rick
curled his torso upward, squeezed his eyes shut, grabbed onto her waist and held tight.
She gasped as she felt his cock throb, knew from the heat inside her he was filling the
condom with cum. He grunted once more, trembled then lay back slowly. His lips
pulled back from his teeth but that quickly morphed into a crooked grin. As his muscles
relaxed visibly, he brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed them tenderly.
In the wake of her orgasm, Malcolm’s hand had slowed. Now it caressed her gently
and the movement communicated a sensitivity toward her needs. She hoped, someday,
he’d find the woman he deserved. She just couldn’t be that for him.
When she lifted her body clear of Rick’s, as they both sighed with pleasure and
disappointment, he used his free hand to hold the base of the condom in place.
The side of the mattress dipped, drawing their attention.
“You’re so beautiful when you come,” Malcolm said, touched her cheek and
stretched out beside her while Rick walked to the bathroom.
His cock was hard and precum glistened on the tip. But he made no move to touch
himself or move closer to her. Brenna was now certain denial laid at the heart of his
submissive soul and while he might steal an orgasm now and then when they were
scening, he liked being left to suffer in sexual agony.
Malcolm got up on his knees and rested his palms on his knees in a classic
submissive pose. “How about we make you come again?”
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Chapter Eight
“Shit.”
Startled out of sleep, Brenna lifted her head, looked around the strange room
through bleary eyes and, despite the dimness, saw Malcolm roll out of bed. She caught
sight of his striped ass just before it disappeared beneath his shorts. Yanking on his
pants, he hopped in place as if the floor was cold.
“Whasamader?” Beside her, Rick rubbed his face and mumbled. Daylight
brightened the edges of his bedroom shades.
“Sorry. I gotta go.” Malcolm grabbed his watch off the night table then reached for
the shirt he’d discarded last evening. Leaning over her, he touched her hair, kissed her,
then kissed her again. “I’ve got a racquetball game this morning. I should have canceled
it last night. It’s too late to call off now.”
“Go,” she prompted gently and laid her head back down. “Last night was fun. We
should do it again sometime.” It was stupid, considering what they’d done last night,
but she felt nervous. Her casual attitude was feigned. Had she ruined a perfectly
satisfying D/s relationship by adding sex to the mix? Had she ruined everything by
liking Rick more than Malcolm?
Inwardly, she grimaced as she gave herself permission to admit it.
“How do I say this without sounding like a jerk?” Malcolm paused in his flurry,
laid his forehead on her cheek then stood up straight. “You’re fantastic and everything I
fantasized about in a Domme.”
“But…” Brenna prodded quietly.
“You heard there’s a but in there, huh?”
“Uh huh.” Brenna waited, giving Malcom the time he needed to express himself.
Rick, she noticed, was doing the same thing. He’d had his say about what he wanted
last night. Her too. She liked the respect his silence was giving his buddy.
Malcolm gathered his thoughts visibly. “The things you do…the fantasies my head
builds around you are more than I ever hoped for and I’m…” His voice drifted off.
“Maybe I’m not ready for more than this phenomenal D/s relationship we have.
Making love to you, well, that makes us equals. I don’t want to be your equal. I want to
be your sub.” Malcolm licked his lips as he stared at her mouth then roused himself
visibly. “Rick’s got my number. Let me know when you’re going to the club again.”
Like he was happier now he had that off his chest, his attitude slipped into casual
and comfortable, only she got a sense his was real. On the surface Malcolm was
uncomplicated and loveable. There had to be more beneath that but their relationship,
as it stood, seemed to satisfy him just fine.
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Maybe, ultimately, it did for her too.
The mattress shifted subtly and she heard Rick get up and follow Malcolm down
the hall. A door opened, the two exchanged a muted goodbye, then the door was shut
and locked. Rolling onto her back, she stretched and smiled as Rick, gloriously naked
and rumpled, came back into the bedroom.
He lay down beside her, stroked her hip through the duvet and nuzzled her temple.
Brenna said, “Malcolm left before we could talk.”
In the dimness, she saw Rick’s expression become wary.
“A talk. Oh.” After puffing out his cheeks, he exhaled slowly. “I’m sure I’m not
going to like this but go ahead.”
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to tell me ‘hey, baby, last night was terrific but stop treating me
like a normal woman. I’m your Domme, dammit’,“ he added in what Brenna thought
was a pretty good imitation of her voice, “‘so get back on your knees and beg for me.’”
She blinked. “Um, no.”
She might have been mistaken but she swore his expression perked up…a lot.
“What I was going to say was I like Malcolm, a lot. He’s witty, a trained and
enthusiastic sub. He’s inventive and challenges me to be more so.”
“But…” Rick drawled.
“You heard that but in there, huh?” She held back a wry grin.
He nodded.
“But I like Domming him. I like scening with him. Sex with him would be terrific
but it would be just that—sex. I…I like you. As a man and as a lover. It’s not fair to me
or either of you to hide that anymore. I understand the two of you go way back and
you’re a package deal but if we’re going to do this,” she pressed, waving a hand
between the two of them. “If we’re going to be lovers…be more. I want you.”
Rick’s smile lit up his face in a way sunlight never could. “Please tell me you don’t
have a racquetball game scheduled. Or anything else for that matter.”
She felt the corner of her mouth quirk up. “Nope. You?”
“Nope.” Sliding his arm under the covers, he cupped her breast and smiled.
“Malcolm will understand. He’s dated women without including me. He got married
and I never so much as high-fived Cheryl. What I want is to see where this new side of
our relationship goes.” Still grinning, he kissed each of her eyelids in turn. “How about
you and I hang out today? Have some breakfast, maybe get out and do something, take
a nap, make love.” His voice trailed off with a sensuality that perked Brenna’s interest.
When his fingers moved lower, when they teased the curls on her mound then slipped
between her legs, she sighed with pleasure and kicked off the covers.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Rick murmured. He drew her nipple into his
mouth and teased her nether lips.
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She caressed his arm, rubbed her palm over his shoulder. Rick’s body was gorgeous
in the early sunlight. His skin was taut, warm and the muscles beneath were
wonderfully hard. When he drew harder on her breast then laved her with his tongue,
she trembled. It wasn’t just what he was doing. It was the easy intimacy she felt
between them. They were simply two lovers enjoying the morning without props or
role playing.
Brenna enjoyed those things as much as the next Domme but, sometimes, just being
a woman lying with her man was all she wanted.
She also enjoyed the slow rise of her arousal as Rick licked and teased her body.
Wanting to return some of that feeling, she reached between them to run her fingers
over his morning wood. Laying his hand on hers, he stopped her.
“Let me do this for you,” he said and kissed her throat. “Whenever we’ve been
together you work your ass off to meet my needs. Physical and mental. My turn to
pleasure you is overdue.”
“But what about your pleasure?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I don’t think we have to worry about that.”
He kissed her shoulder, grazed her with his teeth. “There’s going to be more than
enough pleasure to go around this morning.” He shifted and his cock grazed her thigh.
“So you’d like me to simply lie here in hedonistic anticipation?” she teased.
“Absolutely. Doctor’s orders.” When his eyes brightened with humor, she laughed
then pinched her lower lip between her teeth. Rick was now tracing the mouth of her
sheath. His fingers moved in her wetness and the feeling made her legs shift restlessly.
One digit then another slid into her, then withdrew only to slide in again. When his
other hand moved down her body, when he used two fingers to spread her gently so he
could tease her clit with the tip of his tongue, she trembled with need.
He loved her like that for what felt like forever. His tongue moved slowly, teased
until she couldn’t stand it then licked her with long, deliberate strokes. Strong, thick
fingers invaded her, retreated, spread her wetness so he could lap it up.
Finally, when she was shaking, when her skin shimmered with sweat and she could
barely keep from twitching and grabbing him, Rick retrieved a condom, sheathed
himself quickly then urged her to sit up. “On your knees, Brenna,” he whispered then
nipped her ear. “Please, baby. I want to watch my cock sink into you.”
Oh hell yeah.
Without a second’s delay, she positioned herself on all fours and rolled her hips in
anticipation.
Rick chuckled softly then ran his fingers over her slit. “I love your enthusiasm.”
Bending over her, he kissed her shoulder blades then straightened, fit himself to her
crease and pushed.
The breath left her lungs. In this position he was able to squeeze into her without
impediment and, like last night, his girth caught her off guard. It felt good though and
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Rick took his time filling her. Inch by slow inch, he worked his way into her, stopped to
lightly rub her clit, then withdrew, spreading her moisture in his wake. With one hand
on her hip, the other between her legs, he fucked her leisurely, as if they had all the time
in the world.
A fine beginning to a Sunday morning.
Gasping with pleasure, she rocked back into him but not too hard. Rick wanted to
orchestrate this lovemaking and she had no problem with that, especially since he was
doing such an outstanding job. Her earlier nervousness fled, replaced by a feeling of
rightness. She belonged here, with this man in his bed because he wanted her—wanted
her as much as she wanted him.
Pleasure began to spike and roil in her. It squeezed her belly, made her breathe
hard and tense up only to tremble and relax as the things he made her feel built in
successive waves. He shifted his knees, just a little, and it changed his angle of
penetration. Brenna groaned with delight, and this time when she rocked back into him
she didn’t hold back. She ached to come.
Rick didn’t deny her. Rubbing her clit in tight little circles, he drove into her harder,
let his balls slap her, rolled his hips until she gasped and started to shake.
“Yeah, baby. Come on,” he growled, tightened his hold on her and fucked her fast
and deep.
“Now. Please,” Brenna moaned and tossed her head when ecstasy poured through
her, held her taut and hypersensitive. She felt every grind and slide of his cock, tipped
her pelvis so his fingers could rub harder. Pulses of release gripped and twisted her
insides and Rick grunted each time her body bore down on his. She could feel her pussy
squeeze his length, trying to draw him deep and keep him there. Her breasts fell full
and heavy and her nipples were so swollen they ached.
The sounds he made grew louder and the hand on her hip tightened until it hurt.
Then he was pounding into her. Short, deep thrusts in time with the throbbing pulse of
his cock.
With a sigh, he slowed, gentled his touch, leaned over her and laid his forehead on
her sweaty back. He licked her skin then made a glutted, smacking sound. “You taste
good. Brenna a la orgasm.” She chuckled at that. “If I could figure out how to bottle it,
I’d be a millionaire. Of course,” he added as he straightened and eased out of her. “I’d
never sell any because I’d keep it all to myself.” He bit her ass gently, rubbed the spot
then eased her onto her side. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said and disappeared into the
bathroom.
She heard the toilet flush then the sound of running water.
“So what do you want for breakfast?” he asked when he came back. He smelled like
soap and male musk. He felt warm and strong when he slid into bed beside her,
wrapped his arms around her and laid her head on his shoulder. Making love to Rick
was phenomenal. Unbelievably, cuddling afterward was almost as good. He did it so
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casually, as if her being here with him was his idea of a perfect morning. He made her
feel warm, welcome and loved.
“You offering to cook?” she asked.
“I’m offering to order in. Trust me, you don’t want to taste my cooking.”
“Order in? Breakfast?” She looked up at him. “I thought this was a condominium,
not a hotel.”
“It is.” Reaching over her, he picked up the phone on the night table, punched in
three digits and kissed her forehead while he waited for someone to answer.
“Hi,” he said. “This is Dr. Finley in unit 905. I’d like to order a delivery from the
deli. Do you have a Sunday breakfast special?” He listened then nodded. “I’ll take two
of those, a liter of fresh orange juice and a liter of milk. How long will that take?”
After he hung up, he ran his hand over her arm. “We’ve got enough time for a
shower. Why don’t you go first and I’ll get the coffee started. Again.”
“That’s what you promised me last night and look where we wound up,” she
teased as she slipped out of his embrace.
“True,” he said as he caressed her hip. “Guess I’m smarter than I thought I was.”
“More coffee?” Rick asked and held up the carafe.
Brenna nodded then turned to the second page of the business section. She smiled
at him when he topped up her cup. They were sitting at his dining table. Spring
sunlight filled the room and warmed her back. She was wearing one of his shirts and
nothing else. While she’d showered, he’d taken the elevator down to the lobby and the
shops on the ground level. Her linen dress was being steamed and pressed and he’d
grabbed a copy of the morning paper.
“I could so get used to a guy like you,” she sighed after another satisfying sip of
coffee.
Grinning, he winked at her over the top of the newspaper. “Damn straight.” He
flipped to the first page of the sports section. “Leafs lost last night,” he said then cut into
the stack of pancakes on his plate. Forking up a bit of sausage, he put the lot in his
mouth and chewed absently. “What else is new,” he muttered after he swallowed.
Brenna cut up the wedge of fresh melon on her plate. “Dollar’s down which means
I’ll get more on the exchange when I start selling my products in the States next
month.”
“You’re expanding?” he asked and lowered the edge of the paper so he could see
her.
“Four months earlier than forecast.” She felt her chin go up. “All that market
research I did before I launched Oh My Darling is paying off.”
“Huh.” Grinning, he held up his cup to her. “My girlfriend’s a tycoon.”
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Brenna blinked. “Am I your girlfriend?” She didn’t like the neediness in her voice
but part of her needed to hear the words out loud. Rick was definitely the kind of man
she could fall for. If he didn’t feel the same way about her, as much as she’d hate it, a
strategic retreat now would prevent her from getting hurt down the road.
His brow furrowed as if her question puzzled him. “Yes. Absolutely. You’re still my
Domme and I love that about you, but we can’t walk around in leather and chains all
the time. Actually,” his eyes skated away from hers, “I’m kind of paranoid about
anybody finding out I’m a sub.” His eyes returned to hers. “We’ve got real lives and I’d
like a chance to make you part of mine. I assumed you wanted the same thing. I should
have been more specific when he talked about this earlier.” He set down his cup. “Was I
wrong?”
“No,” she answered quickly and felt her shoulders relax. She touched his hand then
added a few more strawberries to his plate. “You’re not wrong.”
“Riverdale Zoo’s not far from here,” Rick said. “We could walk or take the
streetcar.” He watched her walk down the hallway from his bedroom. Bare and
shoeless, her legs looked more gorgeous than ever. The cleaner downstairs had
delivered her dress and she sat on the footstool in front of him. Without saying
anything, she turned so her back was to him and gathered up her long dark hair. The
invitation told him how comfortable she was with him, and how much she trusted the
communication between them. Grinning, he kissed her spine before he zipped her up.
Rick had always wanted a woman like her—smart, sexy and independent. That didn’t
mean he didn’t want to play the hero now and then, even if it was just helping her
dress.
They’d finished eating maybe fifteen minutes ago. The table was cleared and the
dishwasher was running. They’d only made it halfway through the paper though and
when she sat down on the sofa near him he turned, stretched out on his back, put his
head on her lap, his feet up on the arm and opened the entertainment section.
“I went there a couple of times as a kid,” she said.
He liked the feel of her fingers combing his hair.
“We went on school trips,” she added then folded her section of the paper so she
could read it one-handed. “I enjoyed it.”
Rick continued to scan the notices. “There’s an art showing down at Harbourfront.
Or we could go to Ontario Place for lunch. It says here the mini-putt’s open for the
season.”
“Aren’t all doctors supposed to play golf? You know, the full-sized version?”
“Only the really old ones who had schedules light enough to fit in a free afternoon
every week.”
“Poor overworked baby,” she teased. She took hold of his hand and kissed his
fingers before letting go.
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“Yeah, yeah,” he groused without any real venom and returned to scanning the
paper. It felt weird being so unguarded around someone he barely knew. In the past,
whenever he met a woman, he took things deliberately slow. His life was too busy to
add a high-maintenance relationship to the mix so he let women into his life gradually.
That way he had time to judge their character and they had time to judge his before
they got serious.
It had always worked well in the past but with Brenna he just wanted to spend time
with her. Being with her relaxed him yet he was totally aware of her. The firm length of
her thigh under his head, the warmth of her abdomen next to his ear, the cadence of her
breathing and the scent of her skin filled him with contentment colored with desire.
She was sweet and delicious and he only wanted to keep her close. Taking hold of
her hand, he kissed it like she’d kissed his, then laid it on his chest. He exhaled happily
when she kept it there and stroked him gently.
“So the zoo then?” Rick asked as he reached into his front closet. Bringing out her
light woolen coat, he held it up for her to slip her arms into. It was now pushing eleven
a.m. They’d taken their time going through the paper and had finished off a full carafe
of coffee between them.
“I’d like that.”
“You know what I’d like?” He stepped in front of her and took hold of her waist.
“Hmm. Let me guess.” Brenna tapped a fingernail against her lower lip. “To
discover a cure for the common cold, not have to file taxes and a free afternoon to play
golf now and then.”
Grinning, he kissed her and tightened his hold until her body nuzzled his. “Okay.
You got me. Only I wouldn’t spend my afternoon playing golf.” He kissed her again,
trailed his lips across her cheek, nuzzled her ear.
“Hmm, that feels good. So what would you do, Dr. Finley?”
“I’d spend my afternoon with you.”
“Can’t get enough spanking, hmm?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But most of the time, I think I’d just like to be with
you.”
Leaning back, she touched his face. Emotion lit her eyes. He hoped it was dawning
love, even though that was nuts and way too early. Maybe seriously in like was the
most he should hope for.
Her breath washed his chin when she said, “That’s perhaps the nicest thing
anyone’s ever said to me.”
“It’s true. And best of all here we are, about to spend a whole day together.”
Reaching out, he undid the deadbolt and eased his door open.
“Sounds like a plan.” She drew his mouth back to hers and kissed him, let her
tongue swirl around his.
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“A good plan,” Rick whispered against her lips. He stroked her back then her hips.
He pulled them forward so they cradled his groin.
“A great plan.” She mumbled as if she wasn’t paying attention to what she was
saying. Her chest rose and fell against his and she touched his throat, the exposed skin
above the V-neck of his cashmere sweater.
Rick deepened the kiss, held on to her tight, rubbed his growing erection against
her belly. Without being told he elbowed the door shut, relocked it, slipped her coat off
her shoulders, unzipped her dress and led her back to the sofa.
* * * * *
“Janice,” Rick called out as he walked up the corridor of their medical offices. “I
thought I was finished for the day.” Brenna was driving down and they had plans for
the evening. He didn’t want to make her wait.
There was a patient file hanging in the rack beside a closed exam room door. The
file held just one piece of paper—a patient intake form.
Their nurse popped her head into the corridor. “New referral. Asked for you by
name.”
“Huh,” he muttered to himself as he opened the exam room door. “Hi. I’m Dr.
Finley. What can we do…” His voice trailed off. Blinking, he looked down at the name
on the chart. “Harlan. Rhode.” Swallowing, he forced his face into his professional smile
for the impeccably dressed, gray-haired man. “What can we do for you today?” he
finished.
“Hi, Rick.”
Again no doctor before his name. At work, omitting that courtesy rankled but Rick
didn’t let on.
“I’ve heard good things about you. My doctor’s gearing his practice down for
retirement so I’m in the market for a replacement.”
Another glance at Harlan’s chart showed the referring physician’s name. Dr. Avi
Gold was an older GP with a practice downtown and a good reputation.
Rick grabbed a blood-pressure cuff. “Since we’re here I can record your vitals but
I’m not a GP.” He kept his tone light and conversational. “My partners are and I’m sure
one of them will be a good match for you.”
“I’m sure they will be.”
Okay, so it didn’t surprise Harlan he’d come to a surgeon for a routine checkup.
The guy really was all about agendas. Trouble was, Rick wasn’t keen on finding out
what…not here and not now.
“Saw Brenna and you at the club last Saturday. She looked good, as always,”
Mentally, Rick winced when Harlan started talking louder. He resisted the urge to
check that the door was shut.
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“The committee voted to order a new St. Andrew’s Cross. Did you see it?”
While Harlan rambled on, getting a little louder with each passing minute, about
BDSM equipment and his preferences, Rick rushed through listening to the man’s heart,
recording his pulse and looking into his ears so fast Harlan could be harboring illegal
aliens in there and Rick wouldn’t have noticed.
After he scribbled the last notation Rick closed the file and put his hand on the
doorknob. “Your vitals are normal,” he said with forced brightness. “The practice is
pretty full right now so you might not be happy with the wait times for an appointment
if you choose us for your primary health-care providers.”
That was bullshit. Sure, they were busy but not that busy.
Problem was, Rick had never been a good liar. He saw the sly twist to Harlan’s
mouth as clear as he’d seen the haze of a faint and way-too-early to think about
addressing cataract in the guy’s right eye. If he’d wanted to throw Harlan off his game,
Rick should have engaged in some sort of conversation about the lifestyle.
Instead he’d listened silently. Stupid. As Harlan stood and reached for his shirt,
Rick knew the older sub knew Rick worried about being outed.
“Thanks for letting me know, Rick.” Harlan’s tone was so satisfied it was creepy.
“A guy my age wants to get in to see his doctor when he needs to. Great to hear you’re
successful though.” With a nod and a handshake, Harlan left.
As he sat down on a stool and scrubbed his hand over his face, Rick heard Harlan
call out a greeting to Janice, exchange some friendly banter, tease a couple of laughs out
of her. What he didn’t hear was Harlan referencing Rick’s proclivities.
Still, the turkey sandwich Rick had eaten at lunch started churning uncomfortably.
* * * * *
“Quick pinch.”
Brenna breathed slowly and looked away as Rick slid the thin needle into the skin
in front of her elbow. Getting stuck with a needle was the only thing guaranteed to
unnerve her. That was annoying as hell. “How come I sometimes get a metallic taste in
my mouth when somebody draws my blood?” She didn’t really care why, she just
didn’t want to think about the fact she was now bleeding into a tube.
Jeesh, she was such a wuss.
“Some people do,” he answered. “You aren’t on any medications that would cause
that side effect. Some of your old fillings may need to be replaced, but it’s probably just
nerves. Getting your blood drawn is nothing to worry about,” he added casually.
Easy for him to say. He liked pain.
Concentrating on her breathing and the French carnival poster on the wall in front
of her, she forced herself to relax when he loosened the length of rubber tubing around
her upper arm. They’d been dating for almost two months now and this was the first
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time she’d seen Rick in full doctor mode. Actually, he looked hot in a George Clooney
sort of way with his khakis and Lacoste polo shirt.
“Press on this.”
Brenna looked at him in astonishment before she realized he wanted her to hold a
little cotton ball soaked in disinfectant over her little puncture site. He was finished and
she hadn’t even felt the needle come out. Picking up the two labeled vials of her blood,
he buzzed a kiss to her forehead.
“Thank you for not kicking me in the shin.” Grinning, he put the vials in a small
basket, along with a lab requisition form.
“Do patients actually do that? I barely felt anything.”
“Kids do sometimes. Mostly the redheaded ones. Weird but true,” he assured her.
“You learn to stand beside and not in front. Although I prefer being kicked to being
hurled on, and not just because I’m a sub,” he added with a quiet chuckle and kissed
her.
“Rick, do you have time to look over Mrs. Gordon’s MRI before…oh. Sorry. I didn’t
know you were with someone.” A woman in her mid-fifties stuck her head into the
room then blinked when they stepped back from each other.
Rick looked up nervously, like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t be. That
was ridiculous. Then Brenna remembered Rick mentioned he was scared about being
outed and had been talking about being a sub. He swallowed visibly and composed his
features.
“Hanna, this is Brenna. Brenna Darling, Dr. Hanna West. She’s one of my partners
here in the practice.”
The shorter woman stepped into the room and held out her hand. “Oh my gosh.
You’re Oh My Darling. Rick’s mentioned you. I’m crazy about your lavender-honey
soap. Use it in every bathroom at home.”
Brenna smiled broadly as she shook the woman’s hand. Hanna had warm brown
eyes, chin-length blonde hair and the kind of cut and dye job that screamed upscale
salon. Her grip was firm. “I’m always glad to meet a customer. That scent comes in a
body powder too. In fact…” Her voice trailed off as she reached for her oversized bag.
“We’re launching new products this summer. This is a sampler kit I had made up for
one of the new fragrances. Pomegranate and white cranberry. There’s liquid soap—
you’re familiar with that—but there’s also a hand cream, body powder, spray-on body
mist and a body wash.”
“You’re making hand creams?” Hanna sighed and ran her fingers over the see-
through, zippered travel pouch that displayed the tester-sized bottles. “Rick, don’t you
dare even think about breaking up with this woman.”
“My mother made me promise the same thing, only she’s addicted to the lemon
grass.” He turned to Brenna and said with mock seriousness, “You put crack in that
stuff?”
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“Hmmph. Men,” Hanna huffed dismissively. “This is terrific, Brenna. I can’t wait to
get home and try these out. Cranberry, hmm? Did you think about making it the same
color as regular cranberries and selling it around Christmas?”
“If this medical thing doesn’t work out for you, you should come work for me.
You’ve got an eye for marketing.”
Hanna grinned and opened the pouch so she could sniff the contents.
“Actually,” Brenna said, “you wouldn’t like it if we made the soap a deep red.
There would be so much dye in the formula you wouldn’t get enough lather. And the
product would stain your clothes.”
Hanna nodded sagely. “Didn’t think of that.” She sniffed the body mist and sighed
happily.
“Try that as a room freshener too,” Brenna suggested. “I didn’t design the product
for that but the scents are subtle enough they make great purse-size spritzers.”
“I will. Only I don’t know how I’m going to be able to hide this stuff from my
daughter.”
“You mentioned Mrs. Gordon’s MRI?” Rick prompted gently.
“Hmm? Oh. Yes, her latest tests are back. You’re operating on her next week?”
“Tuesday. Brenna’s my last patient of the day. I’ll review those results before I leave
for the weekend.”
“Surgeons,” Hanna muttered and tucked the pouch into her lab coat pocket. “They
don’t have to do a general office rotation on weekends.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Hanna glanced down at the vials of blood Rick had drawn. “STD tests?”
Brenna felt her cheeks color, which was odd. She wasn’t a bashful person but
Hanna’s straight-to-the-point comment caught her off guard.
“Smart couple,” Hanna continued. “Too many people today get a few months into a
relationship and because they’re monogamous, stop using condoms without getting
tested. Who’s drawing your blood, Rick?”
“Um…”
Hanna exhaled with obvious impatience. “It’s a blessing you’re a damn good
surgeon. You’d suck at event planning. Hold out your arm,” she said and snapped on a
pair of sterile gloves.
She had Rick’s blood drawn in half the time he’d taken Brenna’s, mostly because
she wasn’t nearly as gentle with him. And she talked all the way through the
procedure. “Janice says we got a letter from Kingston Medical Associates today.”
“Really?” Rick looked intrigued then he turned to Brenna. “They’re a medical-
practice umbrella group. They buy into small offices like ours and pump cash into them
for on-site equipment we can’t afford. Things like EKG machines and portable X-rays.”
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He sat up a little straighter. “From what I’ve heard, they only pick offices with top-
notch personnel.”
“Done,” Hanna pronounced. She rolled off her gloves and dropped them in a
medical waste container. “If they do buy into our group, it’ll mean a bigger bottom line
for us partners.” Straightening, she turned to Brenna. “It was a great pleasure meeting
you, Brenna. Rick—you take good care of this woman, and not just because I’ll be
expecting a gift sampler from you this Christmas.” She squeezed his shoulder, waved
goodbye to Brenna and hustled out of the room faster than someone that short should
be able to.
“Huh,” Rick said as he took the cotton ball from Brenna and taped a bandage over
her puncture, which he then kissed. “Kingston Medical only buys up three or four
practices in Canada a year. You know what this might mean? My girlfriend might be a
tycoon but your boyfriend’s going to be one rich dude.”
With a growing expression of contentment, he watched her put a bandage on his
puncture. “Speaking of which, how about we plan a trip together this winter? Maybe
the Bahamas for a week?”
She smiled up at him. “I’d like that. And speaking of vacations, if you’re not
working this Victoria Day weekend, how about you come up to my place?”
“I’d love to, but wouldn’t you like to go to a resort? Something like the Deerhurst
Inn?”
“Deerhurst is great and I love their prime rib, but my place is on a lake too. I’ve got
a Jet Ski and a fishing boat…and a little dungeon I’ve been putting together over the
past year. I haven’t been serious enough about anybody before now to invite someone
to share.”
Rick’s face lit up with unmistakable excitement. “Baby, I’m so your man.” He
picked up the specimen baskets. “And how come you never told me you lived on a
lake?” he blurted out as he held the door for her.
“It never came up.” Brenna shrugged. “I like coming to the city during the winter,
and not just because we can get breakfast delivered.” She winked, shot him a
provocative look, then headed for his office to wait while he finished up work for the
day.
* * * * *
“So we’re still going to the club tomorrow night, right?” Malcolm was having
dinner with them at Morton’s.
Brenna liked hanging out with them. Their friendship was old and established and
it was fun being included in that. The three of them had sex that once, and that history,
instead of being uncomfortable, had added depth to their times together. It was a little
weird but it worked.
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Malcolm forked a bite of his butternut squash and asiago ravioli appetizer into his
mouth. “I mean, I know you two are dating so I assumed I wouldn’t be invited back to
your place after.” He glanced around the restaurant and kept his voice quiet. “Can she
still Domme me?”
Malcolm had posed the question directly to Rick.
Rick toyed with his sweet-potato poutine as if he was thinking through his answer.
He also scanned the room anxiously, confirming no one was close enough to overhear.
“Haven’t you been scening with Sonia?”
Sonia was Brenna’s friend from the club.
“Yes. She’s a great lady and everything but we’re, I don’t know, there’s no romantic
spark there. Don’t get me wrong. I love scening with her but it’s just that. She takes care
of me as well as Brenna but we talked about it and we’re not going to be exclusive. I
guess I don’t want to take up all her time. She should be able to meet other subs. You
know—maybe meet the one.” He forked up more of his appetizer and waved it in the
air in Rick’s direction. “You’re a lucky bastard, you know that?”
Rick nodded, picked up Brenna’s hand and kissed it. The expression on his face
melted her heart. If he kept on being this wonderful, she just might fall for the guy.
If she hadn’t already.
“Yes I am…very lucky indeed,” Rick answered with quiet surety. “Actually, Brenna
and I talked about you.” He lowered his voice even more and they’d had to lean in to
hear him. “I asked her if she’d consider scening with the two of us. Sometimes.” That
titillated grin of his made her keenly aware of the lushness of her pussy, the moisture
dewing her outer lips. “Like she pointed out, I’m a visual creature. As much as I love
feeling what she does to me, I like the suspense of watching her dole the same
punishment out to you.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t like watching her do that to
any other guy though. Same as she’s drawn a line about bringing another woman into
our relationship. You were there at the beginning with us, same as you and I learned
about BDSM together. I guess what I’m trying to say is I feel safe including you in our
scenes.” He leaned in closer and whispered, “It makes it even hotter.” Then he grew
serious. “Despite that, I want her to myself most of the time. Can you accept joining us
sometimes only?”
Malcolm took a sip of his wine, then another before setting the glass down.
“Sometimes works for me. That’s a privilege, Mistress. Thank you.” There was a pause
then Malcolm turned to Rick. “Heard through the grapevine your practice was going to
be picked up by Kingston Medical Associates.”
“Nothing’s concrete yet but they did approach us to talk details.”
Lifting his glass, Malcolm said, “Congratulations, buddy. You’ve made it into the
big leagues. If they ask, tell them you know about another great practice your best
friend just happens to be a partner in.”
“Consider it done,” Rick assured him.
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* * * * *
With her heels hitting the hardwood floor with sharp authority, Brenna circled the
private play room. She loved to make her subs squirm with anticipation.
Rick and Malcolm were spread out equally. On their backs, with their wrists cuffed
above their heads and their ankles cuffed below, they were laid side by side on raised
benches, but lying in opposite directions so, by turning their heads, each would be able
to see what she was doing to the other. Rick might be her number one squeeze but he
got off on scening beside Malcolm so much, they remained a more than happy duo in
the dungeon. So to speak.
Tonight it was to be bastinado. Foot torture. Malcolm had suggested it. Rick had
agreed. Malcolm was the more adventurous of the two and Rick openly admitted his
appreciation for his friend’s creativity. Left to his own devices, Rick would probably
settle into a regular pinch and tickle pattern, with nothing novel to challenge or
heighten his experiences. It wasn’t that Rick was unimaginative. He just spent more
time focusing on work, and now Brenna.
Without saying anything, she’d decided to make a project of introducing him to
new and interesting scenarios. The creative side of her thrilled to the challenge.
Brenna walked slowly between the two raised benches, ran her fingers across their
bodies as she moved. Her subs were so beautiful, stretched out, naked and waiting with
an anticipation she could taste on her lips. Rick’s chest swelled when she got close, as if
he was breathing in the scent of the leather she was wearing, her skin. Leaning down,
she wove her fingers into his hair, held on hard and kissed his mouth.
His torso surged off the bench, as if he was aching to get closer to her. His tongue
stroked hers boldly and he grumbled with frustration when she pulled away. When she
turned to Malcolm, when she positioned her body so Rick could have an unimpeded
view, he stared, openly mesmerized as she lapped Malcolm’s nipple, drew it between
her teeth and worried it until Malcolm shook and gasped with pleasure. With her gaze
solidly on Rick, she traced the hard contours of Malcolm’s smooth chest and bit his
abdomen until drops of precum wept from the head of his cock.
She picked up a small cane, slapped it against her palm so her subs could hear its
sting. The cane was light and short and as she circled her subs again, in her mind she
ran over the structure of the human foot. Caressing Rick’s toes, she pictured the tiny,
vulnerable bones, the places where nerves and blood vessels sat near the surface of his
skin. He’d helped her that afternoon by showing her diagrams from his medical school
texts. Bastinado was nothing new to her but she didn’t do it often, and there were many
points on the foot that could be damaged.
When she stepped away from her lover, when she ran the tip of the cane over
Malcolm’s toes, Rick huffed in frustration.
He didn’t fool her though. She knew he liked a tease, a slow buildup, and she was
happy to oblige.
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Laying the cane against Malcolm’s heel, she began hitting him. Fast yet soft strokes.
A sting instead of a thud. She started off gently…so gently she could barely hear the
impact…then did the same thing to his arch. Malcolm jerked, hissed then settled back
on the bench. Malcolm had wanted this, had been the one to suggest it. He was ticklish
and anything involving his feet gave him an extra thrill.
“Very good, Malcolm,” she said quietly when he exhaled deliberately, puffed out
his cheeks then inhaled through his nose. “I’m pleased.” He was good at controlling his
breathing, almost as good as Rick. It helped him center himself, accept the pain, relish it
and allow his body to process it as pleasure. She continued to hit him. Quick and light,
she worked the same line across his arch, again and again. In this form of torture,
precision was everything. His skin began to pink up and when the line was a subtle
rose, she moved on to his toes. She didn’t hit the tops. The flesh between skin and bone
was far too thin there. Instead she hit the fleshy underpads with smooth upward
strokes. Holding his foot to ensure her aim, she began. With Malcolm she’d learned
through hard experience to position him so that if he jerked, he could only move out of
the path of her strikes. His thighs bulged deliciously as he strained against his
restraints.
Rick made a low sound of need. Stopping, she met her lover’s gaze, took in the hard
rise and fall of his chest and drew her tongue across the top of Malcolm’s foot until Rick
groaned again.
Straightening, she slid the cane ‘round and ‘round Malcolm’s foot, took aim at the
ball of his foot and began all over again.
Slowly the effect of so many strikes built up until he was gasping and dewed with
sweat. “Rate the pain,” she demanded quietly.
“A two. No. Three. Mistress, please.”
With Malcolm, three usually meant five. She’d learned that about him too. Still, he
seemed eager for more and she was willing to oblige. She began to hit him just a tiny bit
harder.
When his balls jerked in their sac then pulled up close to his body, she stopped. His
moan of frustration, the way he clenched his teeth, was so very satisfying.
Brenna stepped away deliberately and moved to Rick. “Please,” he said and licked
his lips. “Don’t make me wait any longer, Mistress.”
She’d gotten good at reading his responses and knew he was now primed and
ready. Without delay she set Malcolm’s small cane down, picked up the one on Rick’s
bench and ran it over his foot. The canes were identical, thin with just a bit of whip, and
it satisfied her to treat them the same even in this.
Rick’s entire body twitched when she started hitting his insole, fast and soft, just
like she’d done to Malcolm. Grabbing onto the chains holding his handcuffs made the
muscles in his arms strain, and his pecs swelled and flushed with color.
One foot. She focused on one foot only, increasing the force behind each strike with
the barest of increments, letting the sting build and smolder. Rick bared his teeth, jerked
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against his restraints, lost control of his breathing then, with visible effort, mastered it.
His lids grew heavy.
As always, the sight of his body took her breath away. Gleaming with sweat, his
muscles taut and his cock straining, Rick pleased her in ways no other sub had. Those
blue eyes of his pleaded with her. The way his lips moved, as if he was on the verge of
begging for more, drew her to him and she kissed him until her toes curled inside her
patent shoes.
Admitting to herself she was falling in love with the delicious Dr. Rick Finley,
Brenna softened her kiss, swept her lower lip across his then stepped back so she could
amp up his arousal through denial.
Oh yeah. This man did so rock her world.
Grinning and feeling a little wild, she turned back to Malcolm. She started in on his
other foot. Light, fast hits to his heel, then insole, then the ball of his foot. Groaning,
gasping at times, he strained against his bonds, lifted his hips to her, begged.
“Please, Mistress. I need it. I need you. Don’t stop.” When she asked, he rated the
pain at six, then seven. Brenna was about to ease off when the vein in his neck began to
pulse less harshly, his breathing rate slowed. His lips parted in an odd smile and his
body began to relax. He looked…peaceful.
“Fly, sweet sub,” she whispered as she eased off on the intensity of her strikes.
When they were no more than gentle swipes against his skin she stopped entirely,
uncuffed his hands and feet, covered him with a blanket and pressed a chaste kiss to his
forehead before turning back to Rick.
The first thing she noticed was his erection had flagged.
“Are you all right?” she asked, keeping her voice gentle. She combing his dark hair
back with her fingertips and watched his face.
Rick nodded jerkily. “Yeah.” He swallowed and smiled but it looked forced.
“Just…anxious.”
Tipping her head to the side, she considered calling a halt to the scene. After two
months with this man, she knew he wasn’t lying. He just wasn’t being forthright about
why he was anxious. But Rick had proved time and again she could take his word when
they were scening, so she did.
Picking up his small cane, she started in on his other foot. She built on the soft,
stinging hits, aimed precisely, kept a careful watch on his reactions. Jerking against his
bonds and sweating, Rick hissed when she moved from the sole of his foot to the pads
of his toes. His cock got fully hard again, he punched his hips into the air regularly but
his breathing didn’t settle. His brow furrowed as if he was trying hard, but he started
gasping more than taking air deep into his lungs. Without asking, she began to back off.
“Bulldog. Bulldog,” he blurted out, loud enough that Malcolm stirred, lifted his
head and scanned Rick’s body with what could only be called professional focus.
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Dropping the cane on the floor, Brenna hurried over to a small cupboard, got some
ice out of out the mini-refrigerator, wrapped it in a towel and held it to the bottom of
Rick’s foot. Malcolm got up, undid his buddy’s cuffs and asked, “Can you sit up?”
Rick nodded and waved Malcolm’s hand away as he levered himself upright. He
flashed Brenna a thin smile of thanks when she resumed icing his feet. He did the same
thing when she massaged his wrists and ankles.
“Brenna, I…” he started to say but his voice dried up.
“No explanation is necessary,” she said with a firmness belied by her gentle tone.
“You’ve never done this before. You didn’t know how you’d react. Subs are most
definitely allowed to say yes or no. Especially my sub.”
Nodding, he quirked up the corner of his mouth, stepped down gingerly then
walked over to his clothes without obvious discomfort. Malcolm hobbled a bit as he
followed but looked happier than a sane man had a right to be.
* * * * *
That night, naked and pressed up against Rick in the dark, Brenna smoothed her
palm over his chest. They’d showered and he smelled like soap with subtle notes of
sweet, male musk. “Are you ready to tell me why tonight didn’t work for you?” He
hadn’t said more than two words to the few friends he’d cultivated at the club and he’d
been quiet during the drive back to his place. “As your Domme, I need to know if you
don’t like something and why so I can know whether to push you or lay off.”
He sighed, trailed a hand down her arm then dropped his head back into the
pillow. “It felt good at the start. New. I was getting off on the novelty, the challenge of
processing something I’d never experienced before. Then…”
Holding her tongue, Brenna waited.
“Then you made Malcolm fly.”
“Ah.” Again, she willed herself not to say anything else until he was finished.
“I’ve never given you that. He’s flown for you, what, five times? I trust you without
reservation. Hell, I think I may be falling in love with you. I’ve flown for other Dommes
after only a handful of sessions but for you…”
He stopped talking and didn’t start again.
“Don’t think of it in terms of not being able to get it up for me.” She stroked his ribs
gently. “And may I add you’ve never, ever failed to satisfy me in that department.”
When she touched his cheek, she felt the pull of his muscles and knew he was grinning.
“Subs have told me it’s the right combination of atmosphere, feeling safe and protected
and experiencing the pain in just the right way. Having your Domme use just the right
technique on that given day. We’ll work it out, Rick. Between us, we’ll come up with
the right combination. In the meantime, we’ll just have a lot of fun figuring out what
works best for you.”
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“Maybe. Yeah,” he agreed grudgingly, then wrapped his arms around her and held
on until she fell asleep.
The ring tone was jarring and Rick swore as his head popped up from his pillow.
Grabbing for the receiver, he fumbled and almost dropped it before getting it to the side
of his head. “Yes,” he mumbled.
“Rick?”
When he recognized Malcolm’s voice, he sat up. Brenna grumbled at being
disturbed but she rolled aside so he could lift his arm out from beneath her.
“Sorry to disturb you, buddy, but I need a huge favor.”
“Yeah. Sure. What is it?”
“Um, I’m kind of stuck on my bedroom floor. I got up to take a leak, forgot what
we’d been doing last night and as soon as I stood up my feet buckled. Are you laughing
at me?”
Rick held his hand over his nose and mouth and tried not to blow his eardrums as
he held his laughter back.
“You were saying?” he prompted when he was able, then cleared his throat. He
thought he heard Malcolm mutter “asshole” but didn’t hear any vehemence in his
buddy’s tone.
“Look I need a hand, all right? I managed to crawl to the toilet and back but there’s
no way I can do anything else.”
“Okay. We’ll be there in twenty minutes. Oh and, you know, relax and stay where
you are.” Rick hung up but not before he started laughing.
It was a good thing Rick had keys to Malcolm’s building. The doorman knew him
but Rick didn’t want to raise red flags by showing up with his medical bag and asking
for entry.
Sure enough, after they let themselves in, they found Malcolm sitting on his
bedroom floor, his back propped up against his bed, a pillow under his ass, naked as
the day he was born.
Trying not to grin too much, Rick told hold of one of Malcolm’s arms. Brenna took
the other. “Up you get, buddy,” he said as they helped Malcolm lift his butt back into
bed. Rick had him lie down so he could lift his feet and examine them.
“Well, nothing’s broken and there’s no nerve damage as far as I can tell. They’re
swollen as hell though.” He rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a prescription
pad. “I’ll write out a script for some anti-inflammatories. Brenna, there’s a twenty-four-
hour pharmacy on Woodbine.” He reached into his pocket. “Here are my car keys. Use
the GPS to get directions. Twenty dollars should be more than enough but take forty
out of my wallet just in case.”
“I’ll be back soon,” she promised, then kissed Malcolm’s forehead and left.
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“What do you think?” Malcolm asked as soon as she was gone. “NSAIDs and some
ice? Jeez I feel like such a pussy.”
“I’d inject you with an anesthetic but on the chance something’s really wrong in
there, I don’t want you walking around pain free and causing more damage.”
“Yeah. Agreed.”
When Brenna let herself back into Malcolm’s apartment she found Rick and him
propped up in Malcolm’s bed, watching the fishing channel. Malcolm was dressed
haphazardly in a t-shirt and sweats. His feet were wrapped up in towels and she
spotted a bag of frozen corn taped against the sole of one foot and a bag of frozen peas
on the other. She held up two paper sacks.
“Drugs for our sad friend and breakfast for his stomach.”
“Egg McMuffins?” Malcolm said hopefully as he sniffed the air. “You’re too good
to be true.” He patted the empty space beside him and, after she grabbed juice out of
the refrigerator and figured out how to work his coffeemaker, the three of them sat up
in Malcolm’s bed, eating breakfast.
“So,” she said without condemnation during a commercial break. “Are you going to
lie to me again when I ask you to rate pain?” She set aside the newspaper she’d picked
up at the drugstore.
Malcolm’s hand, holding a hash-brown patty on its way to his mouth, froze. “What
gave me away?” he deadpanned. When her brow shot up, he relented. “Yes. You’re
right. I’ve always been kind of a pain slut.”
“I’m more than willing to give you as much pain as you can safely handle but
this…” She waved in the direction of his feet. “Do it again and it’ll be the last time I
Domme you.” Despite her anger—at him and herself—she spoke calmly.
He nodded slowly. “Yes, Mistress.”
After that, they sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Kind of a pain slut?” Rick repeated, then snorted.
Malcolm used the back of his hand to slap Rick’s belly. “Lightweight,” he shot back
then asked Brenna for the sports section.
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Chapter Nine
Rick pulled his Jag into a parking spot marked Visitor and killed the ignition. The
head office of Oh My Darling Organic Soaps wasn’t what he’d expected. Sure, the place
was in an industrial area with ready access to the 115, but it looked more like a
botanical center than a manufacturing plant.
A brick walkway divided so he could pick a path through rows of lavender, roses,
honeysuckle, even his mother’s favorite lemon grass. Helpful little decorative iron
signposts identified the plants.
Down at the back, beyond the wide drive at the side of the building where he’d
parked, he could make out a row of greenhouses.
The front of the building itself was covered in brick. The sides were industrial
concrete block. Off to the left, visible through a bank of windows, was a lab. Beside that
was what looked like a lunchroom. The other half of the front looked like office space.
He walked into the foyer and, like Brenna had told him, picked up the phone and
dialed her extension.
“Brenna Darling.” She answered quickly and sounded distracted.
“Well hello, Ms. Darling. Your date’s here.”
“Rick. Ohmygawd, is that the time?”
He heard the phone being dropped, then nothing. Alone in the small lobby with a
few upholstered chairs and a display case of her company’s products, he stared blankly
at the silent receiver in his hand. A big, obviously industrial door whooshed open and
Brenna stepped through. Rick blinked. She was wearing a plain white smock coat
bearing a patch embroidered with the Oh My Darling logo on one side, the name
Brenna on the other. Her beautiful black hair was tucked up under a hairnet, she was
wearing a serviceable pair of tan pants and a button-down blue Oxford shirt. And, if he
wasn’t mistaken, a pair of black steel-toed shoes.
She’d never looked so gorgeous.
She must have noticed the direction of his gaze because her hand went to her head.
“I don’t even have any lipstick on,” she muttered as she tugged the hairnet off.
“That’s okay,” he said, then stepped up to her and pulled her arms around his neck.
“I’d just kiss it off anyway.”
He’d just started reacquainting himself with her taste when someone behind them
cleared their throat.
“Either the boss lady’s got a new boyfriend or she really, really wants the account.”
A man in his early sixties grinned as he edged past them. He smelled good, like vanilla
frosting, which caught Rick off guard.
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“Rick, this is Jim. He’s my compounding manager.”
They shook hands. “Glad to meet you, Rick. Have a good weekend, Brenna. See you
Tuesday.” With a wave, he left.
Rick couldn’t help but sniff the air in the man’s wake.
“We were running vanilla-cinnamon body mist and soap today,” she said before
Rick could ask. “Some scents cling to clothing more than others. Come on in. I’ll be
ready to leave in just a minute.” She led the way to what he assumed was her office,
closed the door, grabbed a brush out of her purse and started running it through her
hair. “Lines two and six broke down today. Maintenance just got them up and running
an hour ago. Of course that means I’ll have to pay the day shift overtime to stay so we
meet the production quota for Tuesday’s shipments.
“It’s a long weekend so nobody wants to come in tomorrow.” Muttering to herself,
she put her brush away, took off her smock and hung it behind the door. “A national
store chain wants to sell our products, but their pricing structure and wacko delivery
demands make me want to pull my hair out and—” She stopped talking, quite
suddenly, walked up to him and dropped her forehead on his chest. “And it’s Friday.”
When she exhaled, her breath warmed his neck. “It’s a long weekend and a very
handsome, wonderful man battled cottage-country traffic to spend three days with me.”
She lifted her head and smiled at him. “How about I start over? Hi, Rick,” she said with
enough warmth to ease the two-hour bumper-to-bumper driving tension that had
settled between his shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here. Wanna come home with me so I
can lick you all over?”
He laughed. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
* * * * *
The gravel drive curved through the woods and he lost sight of Brenna’s SUV for a
moment. When it reappeared, his jaw dropped. Her cottage was a gracious, incredibly
inviting farmhouse. Two stories high with dormer windows, white clapboards and
what looked like a foot-high fieldstone foundation, the house had broad patios and lots
of flowers in planters.
He got out of his car, grabbed his suitcase from the trunk and was still staring at
Brenna’s home when she walked up to him and looped her arm around his waist.
“You own this place?” he asked.
“Yep. The land belonged to my parents. They had a little two-room cottage. It
wasn’t winterized but at least it had indoor plumbing. Spent every summer here as a
kid,” she said as she led him to a side door and produced a set of keys. “When they
passed I inherited the cottage and their house in Peterborough. Selling that earned me
just about enough money to cover the construction of this place.”
The mudroom they entered led into a nicely proportioned kitchen and living area.
Granite countertops, braided rugs, broad pine board floors and a fieldstone fireplace
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put the house solidly into happy-guy territory. He smelled something delicious in the
kitchen.
Brenna lifted the lid on a slow cooker, releasing more of that great smell. “Ham
chowder,” she said as she stirred. “I didn’t know what time we’d get here so…” Her
voice trailed off meaningfully. She held up a spoonful of whatever was in the pot, blew
on it then offered it to Rick.
It tasted so good he actually groaned. “Where did you get that? Whatever it is, I’m
stocking up at home.”
Her brow arched. “I made it. Myself.”
“You’ve been holding out on me, woman,” he said. He took the spoon from her, set
it on the counter and pulled her into his arms.
Brenna set the patio table with tossed salad and rolls to round out the meal. They
ate overlooking the lake and by the time they were finished the sun was setting in
shades of magenta, blue and rose. Looking out over the water, listening to crickets,
robins and the occasional fish jumping, Rick leaned back and drank the last of his beer.
He reached for Brenna’s hand, put his feet up on an empty chair and couldn’t
remember the last time he’d felt this peaceful.
After a few more minutes of quiet zoned-out time beside her, he got up and did the
polite guest thing by carrying the dishes into the house.
With the dishwasher running and the counters wiped down, he let her take his
hand and lead him upstairs.
Brenna’s bedroom was as inviting as the rest of the house. The walls were a restful
blue. The wood furniture looked antique and solid. Her bedframe intrigued him so
much he ran his hands over the intricate swirls and lines of the ironwork.
“That’s new,” she said and opened up an empty drawer and section of the closet.
“The minute I saw it, I knew I had to tie you to it.”
His cock twitched. Ignoring his unopened suitcase just inside the door, he turned to
her and began unbuttoning her shirt. It didn’t take them long to get naked and when
they were, Brenna pulled back the sheets instead of hauling out some rope.
That worked fine for him. He liked the soft look in her eyes when he laid her down
on the cool, sweet-smelling sheets. The feel of her lush curves and warm skin against
his body when he settled over her made him grin foolishly. He kissed the corners of her
mouth then nuzzled her cheek so he could breathe her in.
The fading light only emphasized her beauty. By touch, he explored the now-
familiar lines of her body. The sweep of her collarbone, the curve of her breast, the swell
of her nipple demanded he linger and pay homage to her sweetness. He smoothed his
mouth over her stomach, licked the firm rise of her ribs, covered her thighs with kisses.
With his hands on her breasts, he made himself comfortable between her legs and drew
his tongue over her damp cleft. Her taste and scent were familiar, welcoming, and as
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big a turn-on as ever. She gasped and squirmed when he stroked her clit. Squirmed
even more when he returned to her sheath and made love to it with his mouth.
He’d waited five whole days to taste her again. Five days of nothing but work,
stressing over the buy-in and missing his woman. Breathing in deep and slow, Rick felt
his lips quirk up in a smile as he swallowed the tangy richness of her cream.
She got wet for him. The truth of that resonated in his head as he rolled his tongue
around her bud. Fitting two fingers to her, he pushed in slow and easy. Brenna was
always so tight and even though it thrilled the hell out of him, he always made sure he
was gentle when he took her. Her buying a headboard practically tailored for rope play
made his balls ache. Knowing somewhere in the basement there was a dungeon with
his name on it made the sub in him ache to roll over and bare his ass.
But just now, at this moment, he wanted to make love to his woman.
Kissing her pussy one more time, he mouthed a path up her body and suckled her
breast until her breathing faltered and she held him to her. Using his hand to guide
himself, he slid his cock up and down her slit, settled against her core and bared his
teeth in pleasure when her swollen folds cradled him with warmth and wetness.
When she lifted her knees it made it easier to sink into her. He hissed as ring after
ring of muscle resisted then parted for him. The feminine strength of her arms pulled
his torso down to hers. She rocked against him, slid a hand down his body so she could
squeeze his ass, gasped and sighed as he filled her.
Looking at her, he fell in love with the way passion shaped her face. Her eyes were
shut tight, her mouth bowed as she breathed deep and fast. Fading sunlight
emphasized her cheekbones and he caressed her soft face. Against her white pillowcase,
her hair looked like an endless, dark cloud and he breathed in its scent greedily.
Being inside her, bare flesh against flesh, was more pleasure than a man deserved.
She was slick and warm and gilded him with her wetness. Their test results had come
back negative but he hadn’t needed to see hers to know that. Brenna had told him she
was clean. He’d believed her.
And although he’d had a fantasy or two about making babies with her, she was on
the Pill.
Leaning back, balancing his weight between knees and elbows, Rick withdrew, just
a little. He loved those quiet, impatient cries coming from the back of her throat. Loved
her low moan of need when he pressed deep into her. Brenna’s body was the sweetest
vise and the way she squeezed down on him made him want to fill her hard and
completely.
It felt as if they’d waited a lifetime to be together again. They had time, just the two
of them, and nothing between them this weekend had to be rushed.
Gradually he increased the tempo of his loving. Her body held his so tight it felt as
if she didn’t want to let go. So wet now she spilled cream between them until it smeared
his balls. Her breasts were swollen and their soft weight compressed beneath his chest
every time he filled her.
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That familiar tingling grew at the base of his spine. He forced his arousal back
ruthlessly. No way was he going to come first. No way was he going to miss a second of
Brenna’s cries and gasps as she came for him.
She opened her mouth and he thrust into her with reckless determination. The
tautness in her pussy had eased and it felt as if he was sinking into a liquid vise instead
of battering his way in. When she groaned and arched her neck, he relished the sting of
her nails on his back. Wet with sweat, their bodies slid against each other with a primal
urgency. The sound they made together was hotter than leather on skin.
He bared his teeth and snarled with anticipation when she inhaled sharply. Her
core tightened then began to throb around him. Hard, rhythmic squeezes made it
difficult to thrust but he wouldn’t be denied the feeling of his Brenna coming around
him. Making incoherent sounds of pleasure, she trembled and held on while her pussy
gripped him with the pulses of her release.
When she started to relax, when he couldn’t take any more of the insane pleasure of
being buried inside her, he thrust fast, deep, and held himself there as his balls drew up
tight and hard. When he came, the first, powerful spasm was so good it was almost
painful. Pleasure racked his body, made his hips punch forward and stay there, made
him gasp and squeeze his eyes shut against the beautiful pain of ecstasy.
When the last pulse ceded a final dollop of cum inside her, he rolled his hips gently.
Their combined wetness made it so sweet and easier to move. He wallowed in the
intimacy and unbelievable pleasure making love to this woman brought him.
What finally roused him was the labored rise and fall of her rib cage beneath his.
The sound of disappointment she made echoed his when he slid out of her.
“The bathroom’s in there,” she mumbled as she laid her head on his shoulder and
pointed a thumb toward an open doorway. “We should clean up.”
“We should,” Rick agreed as he drew her leg over his and urged her closer so her
breasts nuzzled the side of his body.
“We should,” she repeated lazily, then sighed.
He felt her lips form a smile against his chest and relished it for roughly two
seconds before falling asleep.
* * * * *
“So how do you keep this place looking so good when you work so many hours?”
Wearing shorts and a t-shirt, Rick walked barefoot across Brenna’s lawn. The trimmed
grass felt good as it brushed the beach sand off his soles.
“There’s a local handyman who tends the grounds for me. He puts the dock in in
the spring, arranges to have my septic tank pumped out when it needs it—that sort of
thing. His wife comes by once a week and cleans the house. She does a terrific job.”
Inside felt cool after the morning sunshine, especially since they’d spent the time in
lounge chairs on Brenna’s little stretch of beach, reading the Saturday Star.
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Mail and the newspaper, she’d told him, were about the only things she could get
delivered out here.
“Remind me we need to put on sunblock before we go back out,” she said as she
put the newspaper in her recycling bin.
“Oh yeah. I always forget about that.”
She gaped at him. “You’re a doctor. That should be second nature.”
“And since when has anybody in my profession practiced everything we preach?”
He snorted. “Hmmph. I love a bacon cheeseburger as much as the next guy, especially
with a draft beer. Besides,” he added in that deep, sensual tone that always perked her
nipples right up. He pulled her into his body until the hard tips nestled into his chest.
“I’ve got you to take care of me.”
“Flatterer,” she taunted. “Do me a favor? Bring in a cushion from one of the
loungers on the deck.”
“Sure.” Rick’s brow furrowed a little but he did as she asked.
When he came back in, she was filling a bowl with ice and water. Setting it aside,
she pulled a big piece of ginger out of a bag.
“Are we having Chinese for dinner?” Rick asked.
“We’re having steak. Nice, fat-marbled, cholesterol-shocking steaks on the
barbeque, along with baked potatoes and corn on the cob.”
“Damn,” he sighed. “I’ve died and gone to redneck heaven.”
Chuckling, Brenna took the long cushion from him and laid it on the counter that
separated the kitchen from the living area. She turned to face him, put her fists on her
hips, lowered her head and said one word. “Strip.”
Rick felt his jaw drop.
“I said…” She brought out a wooden spoon and smacked it against her thigh as if it
was a riding crop. “Strip.”
Swallowing and grinning crookedly, he obeyed without further delay. His cock was
already semi-hard and bobbing by the time he was naked.
“Sit there,” she pointed to one of the stools set in front of the counter, “and watch.”
Fascinated, Rick watched Brenna as she carefully cut the full hand of ginger in two
at the base. One piece, the one with a big, single finger, she ran under the tap then
slowly, methodically, she began to cut away at the brown rind. Inside the ginger was a
pale yellow, almost cream colored. She didn’t say anything and as she worked his cock
just kept getting harder. Rinsing then peeling off small sections at a time, eventually the
ginger root was clean. Then she carefully carved out a half-inch groove around the base
of the finger, between it and the big knot of a root.
The delicate scent of ginger filled the room. She smoothed the finger and rounded
off the top by whittling off tiny pieces then tested it with her thumb until it slid over the
root easily.
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The clean, shaped ginger root was dropped into the ice water, the paring knife in
the dishwasher, then she washed her hands thoroughly with soap and water.
“Climb up here,” she ordered, pointing to the counter. “And lie on your back.”
Swallowing his nerves, Rick did what she asked. His nerves turned to anticipation
as he watched her fish out lengths of rope from a drawer. Controlling his breathing, he
held himself in place when she lifted one of his knees high so she could lay his forearm
along the inside of his calf. It felt a bit strange and took some concentration, but it was
worth it when Brenna coiled loop after loop of soft rope around his forearm and leg,
binding them together. She finished it off with a pretty knot and tucked the ends up out
of sight.
The other leg and forearm were easier. He simply lay on his back with his knees in
the air, angled back toward his chest. When she eased his limbs farther apart he felt
exposed, vulnerable—and hard as steel.
Without prelude, she touched a wet finger to his anus and rubbed gently.
“I know you’re sensitive here,” she murmured. “The idea of being touched here
intrigues and arouses you, although you’re reticent.”
After licking his suddenly dry lips, Rick nodded jerkily.
“I’m hoping you’re ready to let me touch you. I’ve delayed asking because I want to
be certain you’re ready.”
“I am,” he answered quickly. Excited didn’t begin to describe how he felt. It was as
if a long-held fantasy was coming true. Being turned-on and a little scared ramped up
his arousal like crazy. There wasn’t another woman alive who could rivet him like
Brenna.
“Have you ever heard of figging?” she asked and there was a sultriness in her
voice, in her expression, that made his breath catch.
“Yes. Sort of.”
She smiled and that smile made his cock twitch. “It was popular with the
Victorians. Odd how a society that was so sexually repressed would embrace a
technique so…fiendishly sensual.”
Swallowing hard, Rick was enthralled by her. When she wet her finger again and
gently spread the moisture around his backside, he couldn’t hold back a moan of
anticipation.
“I’m told,” she continued, “once inserted in the anus, the effect of ginger root isn’t
immediate. It builds slowly. But once it does build it becomes a burning sensation that’s
aphrodisiac heaven.” She lifted her gaze to his. “May I fig your ass, Rick?”
Like there was a chance he’d say no. Not after that terrific buildup. She had to be
nuts to ask. Hell, he was almost ready to come now, and she hadn’t even touched him.
“Yes, Mistress. Please,” he managed to blurt out without tripping over his tongue with
excitement.
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Wearing a quiet, sexy smile, Brenna positioned the bowl so he could watch her
withdraw the ginger. Fully understanding what she intended to do with it, the shape
took on a whole new erotic meaning. Exhaling shakily, he tried to relax then realized
something.
“Aren’t you going to use lube?” he asked.
“No,” she said in that sultry voice that got him off every time. “Wet, the ginger is
very slick, almost like it produces its own lube.” She ran her finger up and down the
root, illustrating her point. “Using anything artificial would act as a sealant. And we
don’t want you to miss any of the sensations this delicious little treat is going to give
you, hmm?”
“N-no, Mistress,” he stammered. He wouldn’t give in to the trepidation stealing
through him. The tip of the finger felt cool but was so slick it slid inside his ass with
little resistance, mostly because of his exposed and spread position. Using gentle, slow
strokes, she eased it in a little deeper, paused, pulled back then pressed forward again.
Rick breathed slowly and absorbed the slight stretching sensation. He liked ass
play, and a Domme as tuned into him as Brenna let him shed his inhibitions. It was, he
realized, plain stupid to be uncomfortable with something that turned him on so much.
But he was who he was. Thank his lucky stars Brenna got that about him, and respected
it. After several gliding pushes the root was inside him up to the broad bottom. His
sphincter closed over the retention ring at the base, holding the finger firmly inside.
He watched in disbelief as Brenna moved to the sink, again washed her hands
thoroughly, then walked over to an armchair, positioned it so she’d have a clear view of
him, sat down, picked up a book and started to read.
Rick’s first inclination was to blurt out, “What the hell?” Then he remembered how
much he trusted this Domme. How much he trusted Brenna. She’d said this was going
to be good and he had no reason to doubt her.
Even if it did seem to be taking a long time getting there.
Then, quite subtly, he felt a warmth around his anus, right where it was clenched
around the ginger. Exhaling, he lay back as best he could and enjoyed the feeling. The
house was so quiet he could hear his lover turn a page. Outside birds were singing, two
loons called out to each other, and he could hear leaves rustling in the wind. He
measured the beating of his heart against the ticking of the clock on the mantel.
The warmth grew. In the tiniest of increments, it stepped up. It was comfortable,
comforting, and he relaxed into it. Warm, then a little warmer still. Long minutes
passed and the sensation grew so subtly it took him unawares when he realized the
warmth was now heat. Delicious heat. It slithered into his ass, made his balls tight and
his dick hard. Still good, the feeling moved from soothing to arousing.
The heat sank into him, made his abdomen tense as he relished the feeling of being
bound while his ass was being toyed with.
Heat grew, spread, built until it slowly morphed into a burn that licked at his anus
and made it clench down. When he did, the burning flared into an intense sensation
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that made his cock drool precum. The burn, erotic and determined, licked his balls until
they ached, made his cock so hard it bent back and tried to nail his navel.
“Brenna, please,” he gasped. He strained against the ropes holding him, felt sweat
trickle down his temple.
She stood, walked toward him slowly, nuzzled his earlobe and pinched his nipple
at the same time. Crying out, Rick trembled. “It burns,” he hissed. “Please, let me come.
I have to come.”
“Soon, my love.” She stroked his clenched abdomen, pinched the head of his cock
until he bellowed something incomprehensible, then stopped.
“Don’t stop. Don’t,” he begged. Sweat was pouring off him now. Heat licked over
every inch of his sex, inside and out. He’d never been this hard in his life. Half out of his
mind with the need to fuck, Rick writhed and would have pitched off the counter if
Brenna hadn’t steadied him.
“Be still,” she commanded, and held on to his hips. “Be still or we stop.”
As fucked up as it was, Rick didn’t want the burning to end. It was one of the most
erotic things he’d ever experienced and the pleasure rolled through him in wave after
wave. He wanted to come, ached to come, but the denial, the way this incredible body
rush of sensation sustained him on the edge of ecstasy, was way too good to stop.
In fact, she just might kill him if she pulled the damn thing out. Instead, she just
tortured him some more.
“Squeeze your ass tight,” she commanded in what he thought of as her best
Domme voice.
Holding his breath, he complied and her eyes flared as she watched his sphincter
contract. Rick howled as the burning intensified. She made him squeeze while she
counted to ten, gave him a reprieve, then ordered him to squeeze again.
Minute after exquisite, aching minute, the ginger burned into him and ratcheted his
arousal. Then, just as slowly as it had built, the sensation began to diminish. The sweat
on his body evaporated and he shivered.
Brenna was beside him instantly. With gentle, cool fingers, she turned the ginger
carefully, drizzled water over his tortured ass, then began to withdraw the root with a
slow corkscrew motion. When it was out Rick couldn’t do anything more than pant.
Quickly she untied his arms and legs, asked him if anything felt numb, then climbed
onto the counter.
He hadn’t noticed she’d taken her clothes off, which was pretty damn unusual for
him. Straddling him, she positioned his cock against her opening and slid down onto
him. She was wet. Rick wasn’t sure but this was probably the wettest she’d ever been—
and he hadn’t even touched her. Humbled because Domming him had made her so hot,
Rick grabbed her thighs, punched his hips up and grinned fiercely when she cried out.
He felt harder than iron. As if he was almost too hard to come, if such a thing was
possible. He held on tight as she rode him into the counter. He’d never seen anything as
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erotic as her breasts swaying with each thrust. Slick cream coated his groin and balls,
soothing the residual fire in them, making him shake as ecstasy shot through him,
claiming him and making him grunt like an animal.
Brenna hadn’t come yet but he couldn’t hold back. Didn’t want to hold back. In
desperation, he grabbed her waist and drove into her hard and fast as ecstasy
overwhelmed him. Unbelievably, after his cock softened a little, it started to get hard
again. He hadn’t been able to do anything like that since he’d been a teenager. Feeling
his face split in a wide grin, Rick slowed his pace, slid a hand between their bodies and
rubbed his thumb over her clit.
Leaning back, Brenna gasped. She grabbed his wrist, holding him right where he
was. The long muscles in her thighs powered her until they both shook. This time Rick
managed to hold back just long enough for her to come first. Her soft sobs, the way her
back arched, driving her onto him, took his breath away. If he hadn’t loved this woman
before, he sure as hell loved her now. Her sheath contracted, over and over, fisting him
with her wet heat. Then, incredibly, Rick felt a tingle build at the base of his spine. His
hips shot up and he was coming, spraying the mouth of her womb with his seed,
wallowing in the feel of her loving him.
Finally she simply collapsed on top of him and it was a toss-up to decide who was
breathing harder. Rick wrapped his arms around her, brushed her hair back and lost
himself in the quiet surrounding them and the rhythm of her breathing.
Blinking and regaining his equilibrium, Rick noticed the untouched half of the
ginger root. “Seems a shame to throw that out,” he said.
“I’m not going to. Apparently ginger gets stronger after it’s been stored. I’m going
to seal it in plastic, put it in the refrigerator and in about two days, fig your ass again.”
Just the idea alone turned him on so much his heart rate picked up.
They fell silent for a while until, out of the blue, Brenna said, “I think the lounge
cushion is going to need hosing off.”
For no good reason other than he felt incredibly happy, Rick broke out in laughter.
The rest of the day passed too quickly. After they showered and dressed—again—
Rick pulled a piece of paper out of his wallet. “Pleasure craft operator’s card,” he
announced proudly. “Took the test online last week. How about you show me how to
drive a Jet Ski?”
“The lake’s still pretty cold.”
“I figured as much, so I bought myself a wetsuit. The salesclerk said I looked sexy
in it.”
“Huh. And was he good looking?”
“Nowhere as good looking as you.” That made her grin.
Brenna took him down to her boathouse. “I’m really jazzed about the meeting
we’ve got Tuesday morning with a rep from Kingston Medical Associates,” he said.
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“All four of us are. Kingston’s drawn up contracts and if we like their offer, which I’m
sure we will, we’ll be rolling in enough cash to set ourselves up as a premiere, full-
service medical center. Tests that we have to send patients to specialized clinics for
because we don’t have the right equipment…we’ll be able to perform and bill for
ourselves. We were talking about hiring more nurses and one, maybe two doctors.”
His enthusiasm lit up his face and his hands moved animatedly. Once inside the
boathouse, Rick looked around the interior and frowned. “What, no canoe?” he asked
then scratched his head. “That’s practically un-Canadian.”
“You know how to paddle a canoe?”
“My parents sent me to camp every summer when I was a kid. I can shoot rapids
with the best of them.”
“If you want you can rent one from the marina. Maybe when you come up next
weekend.” Her eyes twinkled as she smiled at him.
“Next weekend, huh? Is that an invitation, Mistress?”
“Definitely.”
Still smiling, she showed him how to operate the strap winch…which gave him
ideas for later…that cradled the Jet Ski above the water for storage. The hardest thing to
remember was, at idle, he had no steering. It was more fun than he’d anticipated
though, racing through a light chop with the sun blazing overhead, and Brenna
snugged up tight behind him with her arms around his waist. She directed him to the
lock at Young’s Point. He dragged her to the chip truck for lunch. Just hanging out with
her, looking at the falls and asking the fishermen lining the pier about good spots on the
lake was more relaxing than anything he’d done in years.
He made her promise to set the alarm so they could get up early the next morning
and fish. Rick sprang for the worms. And when she told him he’d need a fishing license,
he pulled another piece of paper out of his wallet.
“Way ahead of you, babe. You know, I could get used to this waterfront lifestyle.”
“You sure came prepared.”
“You ain’t seen nothin’,” he taunted then nuzzled her temple. “Wait’ll you see the
toys I packed in the bottom of my suitcase,” he added in a whisper. He kissed her
soundly, then asked her to take him to the Shell station so he could gas up the Jet Ski.
* * * * *
After dinner—steaks, as promised—he built a fire in Brenna’s modest, steel-rimmed
pit on the beach. Leaning back comfortably on padded chairs, they held hands and
watched the light fade from the sky.
“You can fish off the dock if you like,” she suggested, pointing. “Now’s a good time
to catch trout close to shore.”
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“Tomorrow,” he said with a sure nod. “Tonight, I was hoping you’d consider
christening your dungeon. Mistress.” Lifting her hand, he kissed her knuckles gently
and held his breath as he waited for her answer.
He got it when a sultry smile lifted the corners of her mouth.
“Put the fire out,” she ordered in that tone that always got him hard. He obeyed
quickly, using a little plastic bucket to pour the water. The inefficiency made him
anxious and eager.
“Follow me,” she commanded.
Rick wiped his hands off on his jeans and followed her up the incline to the house—
with his eyes glued to her ass every step of the way.
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Chapter Ten
The first thing she did was send him upstairs to retrieve the toys he’d brought.
Then she led him down to the basement. On one side the stairs opened onto a finished
rec room with Berber carpet, a small bar, comfortable sofas and a flat screen. That,
apparently, had been her original lab and where Oh My Darling Organic Soap had been
created.
The room was big enough to hold a pool table and Rick had to stop himself from
mentally accessorizing a house that wasn’t his.
The door on the other side of the stairs was closed. Brenna unlocked it and invited
him in.
“Wow,” he breathed and looked around. Like so many rooms at the club, the walls
were dark red, almost black. The floor was a wood laminate. Aesthetically that
wouldn’t have been his first choice but considering this was a basement, it was a
practical one. He ran his hand over the raised padded bench and a length of chain
hanging from a ceiling-mounted pulley. Brenna also had a spider web—rope literally
interwoven in the shape of a web. He nodded his approval. It was a compact bondage
device, perfect for a private dungeon like this, and the weave of the rope created any
number of points to tie a sub to.
Lucky him.
“Place your toys here,” she said and indicated a narrow table set along one wall.
With anticipation building throughout his body, Rick laid out his flogger, crop and
two paraffin-wax candles.
She picked up the candle and examined it. “I’d have to shave you before I used
this.”
“I know.”
“That would be a pity,” she said, touched his chest then moved over to a tall
cupboard. “Perhaps later. But for now…” Opening the cupboard, she revealed three
black outfits. “What to wear?” She spoke quietly, as if she was talking to herself, but as
she trailed her fingertips down one outfit, then another, Rick realized she was watching
him out of the corner of her eye.
Niiice. He’d never been allowed input on what she wore when she Dommed him.
But since she was asking, the latex sheath dress was his favorite. When she touched it,
he licked his lips and nodded subtly.
Wearing a seductive smile, she chose the latex and walked toward the door. “I’ll be
back in a few minutes. I expect you naked and standing at attention when I return.”
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It was a struggle getting his briefs off over his hard-on. That voice of Brenna’s did it
to him every time.
She didn’t make him wait long. When she strolled back into the room wearing those
sexy as hell shiny black boots and her latex dress, Rick felt his eyes widen and his
mouth open. She was so beautiful, so awesome, he couldn’t stop staring. Despite that,
he held his position. Feet shoulder width apart, standing up straight, hands behind his
head.
Being alone with her—really alone—made it so easy to get his head into the
atmosphere and she hadn’t even laid a hand on him yet. Like their first time together,
she walked slowly past the toys, letting her fingers linger over each one as she watched
his reactions.
The crop. Definitely the crop. It was the first implement she’d used on him and it
seemed fitting to use it here, now. When he nodded, just a little, and licked his lips, she
picked up the crop, slapped her palm with it, then stood close enough that he could
smell her skin, the leather and latex, and feel her hair brush his back.
“Your body is so beautiful,” she whispered as she circled him.
His breath caught at the earnestness in her voice. It caught again when she slid the
tip of the crop across his chest, his raised arms, his balls.
“I don’t tell you often enough,” she said. The leather grazed him, sensitizing his
skin. “The trust you give me, the strength you show when you trust me with your
pleasure, it’s…humbling.”
Leaning down slowly, asking without words, he lowered his mouth to hers. With
her free hand Brenna touched his cheek then wove her fingers in his hair before lifting
her mouth to his. Her lips were warm, and soft as always. She tasted like desire with a
hint of the wine they’d drank with dinner. When her breasts crushed into his chest he
inhaled sharply, as if he couldn’t take in enough of her to satisfy the many levels he
adored this woman on.
As if by mutual agreement, they pulled apart. Rick lifted his chin, held himself tall
and proud for her inspection, and Brenna circled him slowly. Fingertips and the flat of
the crop grazed his skin, stroked his ass, moved up his leg.
“Hmm. You please me. You may relax and come here,” she ordered and Rick
followed her to the spider web. She had him stand facing it. When she cuffed his wrists
and attached them to ropes at the same height as his head, stretching his arms away
from his body, he pulled hard and was delighted when the ropes held. She used leather
cuffs padded with lambswool around his ankles and spread his legs just far enough to
make him feel vulnerable yet not off balance.
He loved how she’d taken the time to learn what he needed to be comfortable
enough to really get into a scene and did everything she could to get his head into the
right place.
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Facing away from her, with his hard cock poking out the other side of the web, he
felt her move behind him, felt the tips of her fingers. When he was bound, Brenna never
left him feeling alone and he relaxed into her touch.
The flat of the crop moved in a small, light circle on the right side of his back, above
the jut of his shoulder blade. Breathing deep and even, he waited eagerly.
The first hit was negligible, more sound than sting. The crop came down on him
again, on the same spot, in the same way, again and again. Rick’s cock got a little
harder. His skin felt warm but not abused so when she moved to his other side, when
she began striking his other shoulder, he had to fight his frustration. The hits weren’t
hits at all and he wasn’t a lightweight.
“Be still,” she said. Her voice was quiet and close and utterly persuasive. “Accept
your punishment as I choose to give it. You are not in control here, I am.” Her fingers
trailed over his arm, then his belly where they rode the cadence of his breathing. “Your
only responsibility is to simply be, and to accept the pain.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Nodding, Rick held on to the cuffs binding him to the rope. With
his arms outstretched, she’d taken away his ability to fight, to move. His only option
was to submit. When he realized that, he felt incredibly free. Even in this position, his
shoulders managed to relax so much the feeling was novel.
Perhaps his breathing had changed or perhaps she saw his new stance. It might
have been both. Brenna always focused on him as if he was the center of her world. She
moved beside him, touched the tip of the crop to the left side of his butt then smacked
him lightly. Breathing with it, accepting it and giving up responsibility for his own
pleasure became Rick’s focus. When she moved to the other side his skin was warm and
primed. Eager for her return.
Again she frustrated him by returning to his back but now the frustration was itself
arousing. Denial required discipline and hurt in a different way. And he did so love it
when she disciplined him.
The next round of hits fell a little harder. They left his skin warmer. Endless rounds
with a short pause between each. His lover touched him, let him feel the brush of her
bare shoulder, her breath. Shutting his eyes, Rick focused on the scents in the room and
his growing sensitivity. Belowground, no sounds penetrated except for the ventilation
fan and even that quickly faded into ambient noise. He heard his breathing, the rustle of
her dress but mostly he felt the rhythm of her strikes as he slid deeper into them.
She hit him harder now. Renewing his grip on the handcuff chains, Rick had to
force himself not to flinch. Warmth had morphed into heat that streaked across his
back. He’d started to gasp without realizing it and concentrated, hard, on regulating his
breathing. The crop was whistling now and the sound made his lips pull back from his
teeth in a demented smile. That sound became his lifeline and his curse as the precursor
of each and every hit.
Behind him, Brenna was breathing hard now. In it, he heard the effort this cost her
and her determination to give him the most perverse of pleasures. As he dwelled on
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that, as he struggled to process the sensations, he shuddered. The heat had tripped over
into pain. He struggled to keep his head within the rhythm of her strikes. Shoulder,
shoulder. Ass, ass. Over and over, harder and harder, the heat, sounds and sensations
built on themselves. His hips canted to the side and he couldn’t stop it. The sting of the
crop was overwhelming. Rick groaned loud enough to shatter his headspace and
whatever composure he’d managed to hang on to. There was only inescapable pain and
gasps of air.
The crop whistled and struck but, oddly, the pain was muted. He felt every hit but
instead of wrecking him, it sparked a sexual need. As his breathing slowed and
deepened, he stopped gasping and his head felt heavy. He tried to hold it up, tried to
stand tall and proud for Brenna, but the weight became too much and his head dropped
forward. Aware of the handcuffs cutting into his wrists and the sting of the crop, he
could no longer feel the pain of them. Tranquility flowed through him like a high-grade
opiate, relaxing his muscles and leaving his mouth lax. Vaguely, he was aware of
Brenna’s soft voice but couldn’t comprehend the words. He was no help when she
unlocked the cuffs holding him in place and felt only euphoria when she laid his arm
over her shoulder and led him to the padded bench.
The blanket she settled over him was warm and soft…exactly like his brain felt
right then. He felt her gentle lips on his forehead, her hand on his hair.
Floating in some primordial dimension, he looked at her beautiful eyes and knew
he was exactly where he needed to be.
* * * * *
On Tuesday morning Rick unlocked the clinic door and walked in like a man on top
of the world. He’d flown for Brenna over the weekend, twice. The atmosphere at the
club was phenomenal but, in her home, their scenes blew him away. They’d talked it
over and concluded he needed peace and privacy to let go with her. Maybe it was
thinking about the other subs’ jealousy that held him back. Or his chronic fear of being
recognized. All he knew was he’d given his Domme her due.
He’d spent the night at Brenna’s and when the alarm had woken them sometime
around the crack of stupid, he’d made love to her. It had been terrific, like it always
was, but bittersweet too. He had to drive back to the city and wouldn’t see her again
until Friday. Greeting Janice, their nurse, and handing her the second cup of Tim
Hortons coffee he was carrying, he headed straight for the lunchroom.
“Hi, Hanna,” he said as he strode in.
She looked up from the files in front of her, rubbed her eyes and scowled. “You
look obnoxiously happy. Good weekend?”
“The best,” he said. He grinned to himself and tackled the messages on his iPhone
while they waited for the others.
Soon Mac and Peter, the other two partners, joined them.
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“So when’s this rep supposed to get here?” Mac asked and checked his watch. Dr.
Mac Sanderson was one of the older physician in their practice. His traditional button-
down shirt and conservative tie reflected his personality perfectly. He was a good
doctor though and his patients liked his confident, serious vibe.
“Any minute now,” Peter answered for the rest of them. “I checked out the price of
an EKG machine online over the weekend.” He rubbed his hands together. “Couldn’t
help myself.” Rick could see how jacked up Peter was about the proposed buy-in. Only
a year older than him, Peter was normally the quiet one in the bunch. Peter was a
worrier and always fretting about some possible catastrophe or other.
Outside, they heard Janice talking to a man with a deep, measured voice.
Something he said made her laugh. As their voices drew closer Rick put his phone
away and Hanna closed up her files.
A tallish, gray-haired man stepped into the room. He was meticulously groomed
and Rick’s jaw dropped at the sight of him. “Harlan?” he said and felt a shiver of
foreboding crawl up his back.
“Hello, Rick.”
“What…?” he stammered.
“I work as a consultant for Kingston Medical Associates,” Brenna’s former sub
explained. “They vet the practices we’re considering on a medical basis, of course, but
I’m their, well, let’s just say I’m their moneyman.” His smile was broad, unnaturally
white and came nowhere near his cold, blue eyes.
Rick managed to regain enough of his composure to introduce his colleagues.
“Dr. West,” Harlan said and clasped Hanna’s hand in his. “I’ve heard good things
about you. You do most of the pediatric work here if I’m not mistaken? The fellas at
Kingston were keen to have someone with your reputation on board.” Harlan’s gaze
moved around the table as Rick introduced the others. “Dr. Sanderson. Dr. Vincent,” he
said.
When Harlan sat and pulled a file out of his case, the others fell silent and watched
expectantly.
“Thank you for meeting me at this hour. I know your first appointments of the day
are in about twenty minutes so I’ll get right to it. Kingston Medical Associates likes
your practice and the patient base you’ve built, and your quality of care ranks with the
best in the city. They’re excited by the possibility of buying in, and would like to invest
five million dollars in your practice.” While the others gaped at him in astonishment,
Harlan opened the file in front of him, handed out copies of a contract and kept one for
himself.
He continued talking while they read. “Kingston Medical will invest in your
practice on condition the money be used to buy equipment and increase your support
staff as needed. In return, they ask for eight percent of the practice’s gross per year. We
forecast that, within a decade, we’ll have recouped our initial investment.”
“Why are you asking for so little?” Hanna asked.
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129
“We see health care as a long-term investment. In the meantime, our investment in
you will be a tax deduction and we can all use more of those.” He laughed, revealing
those too-perfect teeth again and the others laughed along with him. “I won’t get into
too many details but the associates will want copies of all equipment invoices sent to
them, and will send an auditor around once a year. They’ll make sure the facility is still
up to snuff and, of course, that you’re all still here.” His voice dropped a tone or two.
“What we’re really investing in is you. We’re coattail riders and you’re the kind of
talented group we want to invest in.”
It was almost too good to be true. Everything Rick and his partners had envisioned
was within their grasp. Still, that shiver of foreboding hadn’t gone away.
Harlan checked his watch. “I’ll leave you to discuss the offer. Please have your
lawyers read over the contracts. Just to let you know though, after ten business days,
the offer expires and we’ll assume you’re not interested. Sorry to rush you but there are
three other practices we’re looking at in Toronto. We’d much prefer to invest in yours
but until we’ve got signed contracts, that investment money is just sitting there, not
working for us.” He closed up his folder and sat back in his chair. “There’s just one
more thing.”
Rick’s chest got tight. That foreboding wasn’t a shiver anymore, it was a panic
storm waiting to be unleashed.
“There is a morality clause. Kingston Medical Associates is the most respected
group of our kind in the country. We believe in investing in the kind of work doctors
like you do, but we also have a reputation to uphold.” He looked at everyone at the
table, except for Rick. “Rick is a member of a sex club here in the city. It caters to
practitioners of bondage and sadomasochism. The associates have decided it wouldn’t
serve their image to invest in a medical group that has an open practitioner of
masochism as a standing partner. This offer will be retracted unless the three of you are
the only partners. I’m sorry, Rick,” he added.
His voice dripped insincerity.
Gathering up his things, Harlan said goodbye and left.
The four of them sat around the table, speechless. The others glanced at Rick then
looked away quickly. Probably because the rage he was feeling was written on his face.
He stood up so fast his chair toppled over. The only thing that kept him from running
after Harlan and beating the snot out of him was the sound of the bell over the outer
door, announcing the arrival of the day’s first patient.
Besides, what would be the point? He’d been played, masterfully and coldly. The
one thing he’d been terrified of had happened. What was there to do?
He breathed in, slowly and deliberately. “Now we know,” he said, more to himself
than the others. “I’ll leave you to discuss the proposal. If you accept it, I’ll resign.” He
made himself smile and, oddly, felt some of the tension in his chest ease. “I’ll
understand. Really. And in case you’re wondering if Harlan was just jerking me
around, he wasn’t.” Rick shrugged. “I like getting my ass spanked.”
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130
Chapter Eleven
Rick spent the next two days not doing much more than working and thinking. His
colleagues were polite, of course, and didn’t pressure him for details or even ask if he
would stop going to the club Harlan had referenced.
Their discretion made him want to scream.
His feelings about Brenna were, for the first time, clouded. He left his phone on
voicemail so she couldn’t reach him and walked around in a stupor of pain and anger.
She wasn’t the cause of his troubles. In his heart he knew that but he couldn’t help
thinking if she’d never taken him on as a sub, if he’d never gone to that damn club in
the first place, he’d be tripping through his life like the happy camper he used to be.
Sitting alone in the evenings, at home in the dark, Rick looked out over the ravine
and drank too much scotch. Grabbing his wallet, he pulled out the 1-800-DOM-help
card. He traced the feminine, scrolling handwriting on the back. Problem was, thinking
about a life without Brenna made him hurt even more, if that was possible.
In the mornings, on his postsurgical rounds at Sunnybrook Hospital, he felt as if
everyone was watching him, talking behind his back when he knew it wasn’t true. As
he scrubbed in for his first surgeries of the day, he couldn’t bring himself to join in the
usual banter between the anesthesiologist and nurses.
Walking to his car on Thursday, long after everyone else had left, he nearly jumped
out of his skin when a man stepped into his path.
“Malcolm. Shit. You scared the hell out of me.”
“What’s with you, buddy? You haven’t returned my calls. Brenna’s pulling her hair
out because she can’t reach you. Did something happen between you two? If it did,
she’d like to know.”
“Never mind,” Rick muttered. “Hey,” he blurted out when Malcolm snatched his
keys out of his hand.
“I’m driving. We’re having dinner at the David Duncan House. You’re paying.”
Depressing the key fob, Malcolm unlocked the doors and slid in on the driver’s side.
“Something wrong with your car?” Rick asked dryly.
“Yeah. It’s a Buick. I’m the one with alimony payments, remember?” When Rick got
in, Malcolm was touching the leather-wrapped steering wheel with a focus that
bordered on sexual. “Sweet,” was all he said before he pressed the starter button,
revved the engine and dropped the car in gear.
* * * * *
Angel in Leather
131
“He told them what?” Malcolm practically spit his soup out.
“That I’m a public pervert. They’ll pull the investment money unless I give up my
partnership in the practice.” While Malcolm mopped his chin, Rick shook his head. “I
can’t keep working with them. It’s just me but every minute at work I feel exposed in
ways that shrivel my nuts. Some things should be private and I don’t think I’m wired to
get past that.
“They’re stand-up people and I’m sure they’ll tell Harlan where he can shove his
money. Problem is, they might look at me five, ten years down the road, thinking about
where they might be, what kind of medicine they’d be practicing if they’d booted me
out and taken the investment back when.”
“I wish I could help you, buddy. Hell, my partners would sign you up like that.”
He snapped his fingers loud enough to make heads turn. “But we’re just a general
clinic. We’ve never structured ourselves around the kind of comprehensive, proactive
care your practice does. You could always work at Sunnybrook fulltime. They’d be nuts
not to offer you a helluva contract.”
Nodding his head, Rick stabbed his fork into his tiger shrimp appetizer, feeling as if
he didn’t have the energy for anything else.
* * * * *
Friday afternoon, after the last patient left the clinic, Rick called his partners into the
lunchroom. Mac closed the door and exchanged looks with the other two.
“Okay, here’s the thing,” Rick started. He paced the room slowly. “I’ve got a new
girlfriend. We’re into Domination and submission.” He exhaled so hard his cheeks
puffed out. “I met her at a private club downtown. The same club Harlan Rhode is a
member of.”
Mac grunted. “Thought it might be something like that. That attack on you was
personal. Anybody else notice he addressed us all as doctor and Rick was just Rick?”
Blinking, Rick stared at his ultraconservative partner.
Hanna spoke up. “I’ve met Brenna. She’s fantastic. Hell, I’d let her spank my ass
and I’m straight.”
The others chuckled, which Rick appreciated.
“I called Kingston Medical’s director,” Mac said. “Asked them if that morality cause
was standard. Asked them if it was written in stone that us squeezing you out was the
only way they’d invest in us.” He leaned back in his chair. “Turns out the answer to
both questions was no. There’s wiggle room. You only have to stop engaging in public
acts of lewdity—their words, not mine. Your skill and reputation are big motivators in
their interest in us. They want you in. They also want to protect their corporate asses.”
“I’m sorry my personal life has infringed on my professional one. In my defense I
can only say I didn’t bring it in here. I’ve always been totally discreet. I respect all of
you to be anything but.”
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132
The others nodded and Rick felt buoyed by their quiet support.
“Harlan used to be one of Brenna’s, um, well, they used to date. I knew he was
jealous but I never expected he’d find a way into my business and dump inappropriate
information on my colleagues.”
“So he likes getting his ass spanked too,” Hanna said in that serious,
straightforward way of hers, “and he’s trying to intimidate you into leaving her.”
“Maybe. I’m not privy to the workings of the guy’s mind.”
They fell silent after that. Rick could practically smell the hard thinking the others
were doing.
“What if we went to the bank?” Mac’s steady, modulated voice brought their
attention back around to him. “If Kingston Medical Associates thinks we’re good
enough to invest in, why don’t we do it ourselves? With interest rates the way they are,
I know we’d get a better rate than eight percent.”
The other two started nodding as if they were mulling the idea over and liking it.
“I’m in,” Peter said. “I always expected the Kingston deal to fall through anyway. It
was too good to be true. Investing in ourselves is something I wouldn’t worry about.”
* * * * *
When he pulled up to Brenna’s house later that evening and killed the ignition, Rick
exhaled and dropped his head back. The sound of footsteps on gravel made him open
his eyes.
Getting out of the car, he stood for a moment, gauging the set of her mouth, the
anger in her eyes. He didn’t know if she’d send him right back the way he came or if
she’d listen to his explanation.
“I’ve been ducking you this week,” he admitted. “That buy-in I was so excited
about? Turns out they have a morality cause and wanted me out of the picture.”
Her brow furrowed and stayed that way for a moment. “How would they know?”
she asked slowly.
Rick considered telling her it didn’t matter, then realized Harlan Rhode was a
manipulative bastard and an acquaintance of hers. She needed to know the truth about
him. He said one word. “Harlan.”
“Harlan Rhode?” she exclaimed. Her mouth fell open then shut slowly. He watched
her nod a little, as if the balls were dropping into place in her head. Then she scowled,
stepped up to him and grabbed the front of his polo shirt. “The next time something
bad happens, don’t you dare shut me out, Rick.” She let go of him as if he disgusted
her.
“Brenna, I’m sorry. I—”
“Don’t,” she barked and held her hands up as if she was blocking the sound of his
voice. “I’m very displeased. You will be punished for this but that’ll be all. I’ll still love
Angel in Leather
133
you and you’ll still love me, only you’ll be rid of this guilty stink you’re carrying.
Understood?”
He felt the corners of his mouth quirk up. “You love me?”
Her only answer was to cross her arms over her chest, cock an eyebrow at him and
flash him a look that said he was the biggest idiot she’d come across that week.
“I love you too.”
“I know.” Her voice wasn’t as icy as he’d expected, and the look in her eyes
softened.
“Yes, Mistress,” he answered and tried to sound remorseful, despite the smile
threatening to take over his face. Grabbing his suitcase out of the trunk, he followed her
to the house.
“And when you leave Monday morning,” she ordered, “leave your things here.
You will keep clothing and other belongings here at all times.”
“Yes, Mistress.” As he followed her, he breathed in the clear air, listened to the
birds and heard a raccoon screaming at them from a tree somewhere. “You know, I’d
like to check out some boat dealers tomorrow. I think I’ll buy a canoe.”
* * * * *
Harlan Rhode marched into the private BDSM club he’d been a member of since his
early twenties. There were no members here during the middle of the afternoon on a
weekday, and the expensive sound system was silent. Clutching a letter in his hand, he
walked past the gleaming oak paneling his investment strategies on the club’s behalf
had helped restore. He raced up the side stairs with a speed that belied his age and
didn’t even bother knocking on the door marked Office.
“What the hell is this supposed to mean?” he bellowed.
The club’s managing director, Jack, seated behind an impressive, wooden desk,
glared at him. So did the other five people in the room. The board of directors was in
attendance, plus one.
Brenna Darling.
She sat in a high-backed leather chair, crossed her legs with seductive slowness and
shot him a look calculated to make a man’s nuts shrivel.
“You’re a smart guy,” Jack said. “It should be obvious. Your membership has been
revoked.”
Harlan grabbed the refund check that had accompanied the letter and tore it up. His
face got progressively redder. “Unacceptable.”
“This club has always followed one basic precept. Trust. Our members, and I
include those of us sitting in this room in that count, come here to practice Domination
and submission and sadomasochism in private, with other like-minded practitioners.
We vet potential members with the greatest of care. We indulge our fetishes out of the
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134
public eye. You’ve made a mockery of that trust by outing Dr. Finley in front of his
colleagues.”
Jack stood, walked to the door and held it open. “You’ve lost my trust and the trust
of every member of this club. Thanks to you we’re now facing a legal nightmare. Before
you interrupted us, we were drafting a confidentiality contract we’ve now got to ask
every member to sign.” He waved his hand in the direction of the open door. “You’re
not a member so get out. And if you refuse, I’ll call the police and have you charged
with trespassing.”
Harlan laughed. “You’re bluffing. Calling the police would be rather public, don’t
you think?”
“Don’t forget who some of our members are. We’ve got two deputy police chiefs on
the roster. How do you think they’d react if they found out you were a threat to them
and their wives? Add to that a handful of judges and some of the big movers and
shakers on Bay Street and I wouldn’t bet a wooden nickel on you not being run out of
town by sundown.”
Harlan opened his mouth, shut it, then stormed out the door. “You can’t kick me
out,” he yelled.
“Sure I can. Check the charter. It says anyone who acts counter to the best interests
of the club and its members will have their membership rescinded immediately. You
should know. You helped write the thing.” With a jerk of his thumb, Jack sent their
youngest, most muscular member off in Harlan’s wake. “Make sure the door hits him in
the ass on the way out.”
* * * * *
The first Monday in August, Rick lifted his face to the hot sun, smiled and dangled
his bare legs off the end of the dock. A motorboat cruised by and he waved at Brenna’s
neighbors who owned the cottage three lots down from hers.
“You did a great job.” Brenna sat beside him, handed him a glass of lemonade and
rubbed at the smear of paint on his arm. With his free hand he held the glass against his
forehead, enjoying the clinking sound of the ice inside. “I don’t think the chairs will
even need a second coat of paint.”
Together they looked over the two wooden Muskoka chairs. Sheets of newspaper
protected the dock from the freshly painted legs.
“It’s hot today,” she pressed. “You should pace yourself. I know we’ve got three
weeks of vacation but still.”
“I want to put a second coat on,” he said and sighed with pleasure as he swallowed
his first sip of cold lemonade. “It’ll protect them better and maybe I can get away
without painting them again for another couple of seasons.”
“Speaking of that,” Brenna said with what sounded like nervousness.
He tipped his head and watched her expectantly.
Angel in Leather
135
“We haven’t talked about the future much. I’m sorry you left your practice. If I
hadn’t—”
“What?” he interrupted her gently. “If you hadn’t taken up with me, Harlan never
would have outed me and I could still be where I was? Fighting Toronto traffic every
day, breathing in polluted air and living in a high-rise where I was completely removed
from everything and everyone? Sad-ass lonely and eating frozen dinners.” He shook his
head. “Yeah, that would have been so much better.” Rick leaned his shoulder into hers.
“My partners are great people. It’s me who gets bent out of shape because they know
what you and I do in private. They never said anything,” he added quickly, answering
the unspoken question he could see hovering behind those blue eyes of hers. “And they
don’t treat me differently. But things had changed for me and getting out was the only
way I could live my life with any illusion of dignity.”
“All right. I accept that. We’ve already agreed we’ll still go to the club maybe once a
month. If we didn’t, I think Malcolm would threaten to beat us over the head,” she
added with a crooked grin. “Not to change the subject but how did you get on the guest
list at the club anyway? People only hear about it by discreet word of mouth. Neither
you nor Malcolm ever mentioned a friend who introduced you.”
“Somebody slipped me a card with their 1-800 number on it.” He reached for his
wallet.
“There is no 1-800 number.”
“Sure there is. There was a message written on the back in a woman’s handwriting.
At first I thought it was yours but it doesn’t match.” He hunted around for the card and
frowned. He knew it was in there. He’d seen it just the other day. Suddenly, something
told him he’d never see the card again. That wasn’t a bad thing. He just hoped it would
find its way into the hands of somebody who needed it as much as he had.
“Seriously, Rick, there’s no 1-800 number.”
“Huh. Must have been magic then.”
“Must have been,” she said as if she was mollifying a mental patient, then grew
serious again. “But back to your work, you’re too good at what you do to give it up.”
“That and I’ve got a mortgage and a car lease,” he added wryly. He took another
sip of lemonade then set the glass down beside himself.
She grinned. “I don’t want to put you on the spot or anything but have you
considered moving up here? We could spend more time together, the commute’s easier,
Peterborough’s got two hospitals and they’re desperate for more doctors, we could
spend more time together…”
Careful not to get paint on her, he looped his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t
know,” he hedged. “I mean I love you and all but I think the only way I’d let you talk
me into it was if you were asking me to live here. With you. If you were willing to make
an honest man out of me, maybe, but—”
“Stop toying with me,” she blurted out.
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136
“All right.” He nodded sharply. “Will you marry me?”
He liked the expression on her face. It told him he’d just shocked the hell out of her.
“Yes.” Her voice was soft and full of the kind of love he’d given up hope of finding
for himself at one time.
“Good. That means I can give you the ring I’ve got hidden in the back of the closet.”
She hugged him, spilled most of her drink and kissed him with enough passion his
cock started to lengthen. “But what about a job?” she asked suddenly.
Tightening his hold on her body, he dropped his forehead to hers. “Yeah. About
that. I’ve got an interview tomorrow with the chief of staff at Peterborough Regional
Health Centre.” He dragged his fingernail across a drop of paint on his shin. “I’ll need
to clean up before I go but if I’m lucky, a lovely lady with great hands will help me with
that.”
“With pleasure. Although you’ve earned a punishment for keeping secrets from
me.”
Rick stood, smiled down at her, took her hand and led her back up to the house. “I
was kind of counting on that.”
About Gwen Campbell
Gwen Campbell lives in Canada and got her start in the magazine industry, writing
everything from news stories to obituaries. A life-long believer in romance, she’s
combined her two passions and now focuses on romantic fiction. Gwen is married and
she and her husband contribute the success of their relationship to making a point of
saying “I love you” at least once a day, sometimes saying “yes, dear” just because, and
making sure the toilet paper always comes over the top of the roll.
Gwen claims that her best sticky-plot resolutions come to her while dog walking.
Gwen welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email
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Angel in Leather
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Angel in Leather Copyright © 2013 Gwen Campbell
Edited by Ann Leveille
Cover design and photography by Syneca
Additional cover photography Elisanthe/Shutterstock.com
Electronic book Publication May 2013
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