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

NGEL IN

EATHER

Gwen Campbell

Dedication

To Mickey, with love. We were in pain when we rescued her. She rescued us right

back.

Angel in Leather

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

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

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

“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

“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

* * * * *

“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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“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

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

“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

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

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

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

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

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

“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

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

“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

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

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

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

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

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.

Gwen Campbell

“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

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

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

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

“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

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

Gwen Campbell

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

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.”

Gwen Campbell

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

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

Gwen Campbell

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

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.

Gwen Campbell

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

“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.

Gwen Campbell

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

“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.

Gwen Campbell

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

Angel in Leather

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

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

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?”

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

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.

Gwen Campbell

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?”

Angel in Leather

“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

Gwen Campbell

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

Angel in Leather

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.

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

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.

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

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.

Gwen Campbell

“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…?”

Angel in Leather

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.

Gwen Campbell

“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.”

Angel in Leather

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.”

Gwen Campbell

“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.

Angel in Leather

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

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

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.

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

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,

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

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.

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

“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.

Gwen Campbell

“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

Angel in Leather

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.”

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

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

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

“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.”

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

“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

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

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.

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

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

Gwen Campbell

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

Angel in Leather

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.

Gwen Campbell

“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?”

Angel in Leather

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.

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

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

Gwen Campbell

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

Angel in Leather

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.”

Gwen Campbell

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.

Angel in Leather

“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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101

“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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102

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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103

“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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104

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.

Angel in Leather

105

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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112

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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114

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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115

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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116

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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“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.”

Gwen Campbell

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.”

Gwen Campbell

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

Gwen Campbell

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.

Gwen Campbell

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

addresses on her

author bio page

www.ellorascave.com

Tell Us What You Think

We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email

the author

directly or you can email us at

Service@ellorascave.com

(when contacting Customer

Service, be sure to state the book title and author).

Also by

Gwen Campbell

Final Justice

Seduced by Silver

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Angel in Leather

ISBN 9781419935886

Edited by Ann Leveille

Cover design and photography by Syneca

Additional cover photography Elisanthe/Shutterstock.com

Electronic book Publication May 2013

The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in

part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing,

Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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