Allie shrugged. “At least he was good eye candy while he performed his masterful repertoire. He’s definitely got a killer bod. He has a complex workout regime that I got to hear about in excruciating detail.”
Lauren wrinkled her nose in sympathy. “The really hot ones can be a little too into themselves, right? But if he’s a real Dom, you can overlook it. I mean”—she hugged herself and closed her eyes, her expression wistful—”I’d give anything to meet Mister Right. I mean Master Right.”
She opened her eyes, her expression once more earnestly beseeching. “That’s why I want to go to this play party tomorrow night. Martin Haller is going to be there. I heard through the grapevine he broke up with that Lisa chick, and I’ll be there, ready and willing to be his rebound sub girl. You should definitely go. You never know, your Master Right could be there, too, waiting to sweep you off your feet and into his dungeon.”
“Oh, right,” Allie said, letting sarcasm drip through her words. “Like Master Right is really going to be waiting for me at a private dungeon in Newton, Massachusetts. I probably have a better chance to win the lottery.”
It was Lauren’s turn to shrug. “Hey, you know what they say. You gotta be in it to win it.”
Allie blew out a sigh of defeat, though she couldn’t help but smile at her friend. “Okay, okay, Lauren. I’ll go with you.”
Allie sat at the juice bar of Spanked, already wishing she hadn’t come. She knew she was sending off leave me alone vibes, which had to be why no one had approached her in the half hour or so she’d been brooding at the bar.
Lauren, of course, had immediately gravitated to Martin Haller, whom she’d spotted the moment they’d entered the party. She was now happily ensconced in a private scene room with the guy, no doubt having a blast. Allie envied Lauren, who seemed to sail happily from relationship to relationship, always remaining good friends with prior lovers when she invariably broke up with them.
When Allie had first discovered BDSM in her early twenties, she had been excited to explore the passion of erotic submission. At first she’d been certain she’d finally found that missing link—the thing that would allow her to truly connect with another human being. And while she’d come to crave the intensity and release of erotic suffering and submissive sex, the thick wall of ice around her heart had never fully thawed. Secretly she worried she was broken—incapable of love, destined to remain alone.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Allie looked up to see a guy of around fifty with a craggy face and deep-set, very blue eyes. He was dressed in the requisite black leather vest and pants, a rather unattractive bulge of fat showing below the vest, which wasn’t quite long enough or large enough to hide it. Even though it was a size too small, Allie recognized the quality of the leather and the workmanship. The heavy, gold watch on his wrist probably cost more than she earned in a month.
“Oh, thanks, that’s okay. I have one.” She held up the clear plastic cup of orange juice over ice. No liquor was allowed at this particular BDSM play party, which was probably good practice, though Allie would have loved a double scotch on the rocks about now.
Unperturbed, the man slid onto the stool beside her and dropped his gear bag at his feet. He gestured to the bartender, a forty-something woman dressed in a sheer black lace dress that clearly revealed her heavy, bare breasts beneath it. “I’ll have a tonic with lime, please,” he said. Turning back toward Allie, he smiled broadly. “Bob’s the name. Master Bob to those lucky few. What’s your name, pretty girl?”
“Allie,” Allie replied, resisting the urge to tell the guy she wasn’t interested. She had come to this party, after all. It wasn’t his fault she would rather be home watching the latest episode of Ray Donovan. She managed a return smile.
The bartender set Bob’s drink on the bar, took his money and turned away. Bob glanced furtively around the room, then reached into his bag and pulled out a small silver flask. He unscrewed the lid and brought his cup below bar level. With quick efficiency, he poured a healthy amount into the tonic.
Still keeping the flask below the bar, he held it out in Allie’s direction. “Want to add a little zip to that OJ? Tanqueray gin.”
Allie started automatically to refuse, but then hesitated. She had already decided she wasn’t in the mood to hook up with anyone tonight, and one drink wouldn’t hurt while she waited for Lauren to finish her scene. “Sure.” She brought her cup below the bar. “Thanks.”
Bob poured a few jiggers of the liquor into her cup, resealed the flask and slipped it back into his bag. He lifted his plastic cup in the air. “Cheers.”
They touched cups and each took a swallow. The orange juice now packed a powerful punch and was, Allie had to admit, a definite improvement. She took another swallow. “Thanks.”
Bob nodded. “No problem.” He swiveled his stool so he was facing her. “So, tell me, Allie. You been in the scene long?”
“A couple of years,” Allie said noncommittally. “How about you?”
Bob sat straighter and puffed out his chest. “Twenty-five plus. I’m a very experienced Dom. I have my own fully equipped dungeon in my basement.”
“Impressive,” Allie replied, stifling a yawn.
Bob nodded, his expression suddenly eager. “Want to blow this Popsicle stand and come see? I sense you’re a submissive. I don’t see a collar, so I’m assuming you’re footloose and fancy free. I’d dearly love to send you flying. No strings, no sex unless you want it. What do you say?”
Allie had to laugh as she shook her head. “You don’t waste any time, huh, Bob? You just cut right to the chase.”
“I believe in being direct. Life’s short, you know? No time like the present. Seize the day. All that good stuff. So?” He touched her arm. His fingers were damp.
She resisted the urge to pull away, not wanting to hurt the guy’s feelings. “I’m sorry. I’m with someone. They’re engaged in a scene right now, but we came together. Maybe another time, Bob.”
She’d left the gender of whom she was with purposely vague, hoping Bob would assume it was a guy. It appeared he did, because he frowned and said, “What kind of idiot would leave a hot girl like you at the bar while he scened with someone else?”
When Allie didn’t reply, he added, “Okay, fine. Let’s you and me go into a private scene room then, okay?” He hoisted his gear bag onto his lap. “What are you into? Whipping? Candle wax? Doctor/patient role-play? Whatever you want, babe, I’ll give it to you. Master Bob will make all your fantasies come true.”
She had to give the guy an A for effort. She shouldn’t have let Lauren talk her into this. She needed to learn to say no. She would start practicing right now. “I’m sorry, Bob. Not tonight.”
Bob blew out a breath, reached for his gin and tonic and downed the remainder of it in one long gulp. “Fine, fine. I get it. You’re just not interested. Can’t blame a guy for trying, right?”
Allie smiled. “Thanks for understanding. It’s not you, it’s me.” God, how many times had she said that in her life? The sad thing was, it was true more often than not. “My head’s just not in the right place tonight.”
“I get it.” Bob gestured toward the bartender and nodded at his glass. She appeared in front of him a moment later and poured more tonic into his cup, adding a slice of lime. Once she had gone, Bob performed his operation below the bar again, pouring gin into his drink. He held out the flask toward Allie, who shook her head no.
Bob put his elbows on the bar and stared moodily into space. “You should be with a younger guy anyhow,” he said, after downing nearly half of his second drink. “I’m probably old enough to be your dad. What are you, twenty-five? Twenty-six?”
“Thirty last week,” Allie said, still a little stunned to realize she’d hit thirty and was still alone.
“And you’re here with a guy who scenes with other women?” Bob queried, his bushy eyebrows raised.
“A girl,” Allie admitted. “My friend, Lauren. She needed a ride.�
��
“Ah, I see,” Bob said. “That makes more sense, then. Though I can’t for the life of me understand why someone so beautiful is unattached.”
Allie smiled. “Well, thanks. I guess I just haven’t found the right guy.”
“The right Master,” Bob said.
Allie nodded. “Yeah, that too.”
“Hard to meet folks at these parties and those lame munches, am I right? You end up getting hit on by old dudes like me.” Bob laughed.
Allie smiled ruefully. “It is hard. Boston’s a huge city, but the BDSM community is pretty small. Pretty insular.”
“Agreed. Hey, you know what you should do?” Bob turned toward her once more, his face animated.
“What’s that?” Was he going to try another come-on line? God, she hoped not.
“You should try the internet.”
Allie laughed. “The internet? That’s the worst place to meet guys. They’re all liars and scammers. Players.”
“I hear ya. But I’m not talking about the free sites. I’m talking about a particular site I think would meet your needs. It’s a hundred dollars for the first month, and then thirty dollars a month after that. I admit, kind of steep, but ultimately that’s a good thing, because it weeds out the riff-raff, the players, you know?”
Allie opened her mouth to dismiss Bob’s idea out of hand, but he stopped her with a hand over hers. “No, wait. Hear me out. It’s a relatively new site, and, I don’t mind admitting, it’s one of my pet projects. I hired the best tech guys to make it a reality, and there’s a full-time moderator to keep the place real. The site has really taken off since it went live three months ago. A young woman like you would have her pick of Doms from all over the country, I guarantee.”
He pulled a small card out of his back pocket and placed it on the bar in front of Allie. It read BDSMConnections – a discreet site for discerning individuals serious about the scene and listed a website address. Allie glanced from the card to Bob. Had his whole spiel to this point been nothing more than a sales pitch? Still, she had to admit, the idea of a legit BDSM site appealed to her.
Allie was silent as she thought about what a hundred dollars would buy her—groceries for two weeks, part of a car payment, part of her credit card bill, which had somehow gotten away from her over the past few months. As much as she hated to admit it, a hundred bucks—maybe nothing to a guy like Bob—was a lot of money to someone like her.
She pushed the card back toward Bob. “That’s a lot of money for something like that.”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t envy you young people, trying to make it in this world. Things were a lot easier back in my day.” He reached down and pulled something out of his bag. Allie saw it was a pen, heavy and fine, like his watch. He put his hand over the card and brought it toward him. Flipping it over, he scrawled something on the other side. He pushed the card back in her direction.
“I just gave you a free access code. You’ll see where to enter the information when you sign up. It will allow you to use the site free for a month, and decide if it’s for you or not. No strings. You don’t like it, you just let it expire. There’s no automatic renewal or any of that bullshit other sites try to pull.”
He swiveled his stool away from the bar and stood, pulling his too-small vest down over his belly. He turned to Allie with a smile and extended his hand, which she took automatically.
“It was nice to meet you, Allie. I wish you all the luck in the world. My sign-on at the site is Master underscore Bob.” He grinned, dropping her hand. “Yeah, I know. Real original, right? But it gets the message across. Keep it simple, I always say. I hope I’ll see you at BDSMConnections. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see a lovely lady sitting alone at that table over there.” Grabbing his gear bag from the floor, he tipped a nonexistent hat and walked away.
Allie turned back to the bar and looked again at the card. She closed her hand over it, smiled and shrugged. Why not?
~*~
Liam Byrne opened the link for BDSMConnections and scrolled through the new female members. He still couldn’t quite believe he was bothering, but reminded himself it was just for fun. No expectations, no emotional investment, no big deal. Just reaching out into the void to see what he might find.
The place did seem to attract a higher quality of clientele than the usual BDSM hookup sites, so many of which were just fronts for escort services and players. A photo was required, as well as a detailed profile. No random shots of disembodied genitalia were permitted. In the month he’d been on the site, he’d made a few nice connections, had a number of mildly stimulating sex chats and exchanged some thought provoking emails with women who had potential, if and when he ever decided he was ready to meet them face-to-face. If nothing else, the site had provided a few hours of pleasant distraction, of getting out of his own head. That was certainly worth something.
He clicked on a photo that caught his eye—a decent quality headshot of an attractive thirty-something woman. She was very pretty, with long, blond hair cut nicely around an oval face, her dark eyes and complexion probably an indication that blond wasn’t her natural color.
Then he read her profile tag line: BrattySexKitten – I’ve been a very bad girl. I need a strong Master to put me in my place. He shook his head. No thank you. Not his style. He wasn’t interested in playful slap and tickle as a form of foreplay. He wanted more. He needed more.
When he found the right woman, she would kneel before him and offer herself completely, without reservation. The connection had to be real. It had to be a true exchange of power. She would give him the gift of her total sensual submission, and he, in return, would cherish and nurture that gift.
Liam grinned at himself and shook his head. He could almost hear Matt’s chuckle. “Dude, you’re not going to find the love of your life on some hookup site, no matter how pricey the monthly fee. You’ve got to get out there, man. You’ve got to take risks. Life isn’t a dress rehearsal. This is all we got. You, of all people, should know it can be snatched away at any moment.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Liam said aloud, as if Matt were actually beside him. Absently, he leaned down to massage the pain in his left leg as he scanned the screen for something more promising.
Then he saw her.
He stared for a long time at the image of a young woman with a tumble of coppery hair that fell around her shoulders. She had sparkling blue eyes and a cute little nose, but it was the smile that drew him in and held him fast.
It wasn’t just the beautiful, sensual line of her pouty lips lifting up to reveal white, even teeth, or the deep dimple in her left cheek. For the first time in his life, he understood on a gut level what people meant when they said a smile lit up an entire face. She radiated a kind of innocent joy, coupled with saucy sweetness. Yet, in those deep, sky-blue eyes, he also saw shyness, or maybe it was sadness? Whatever it was, the combination of emotions playing over her lovely face worked somehow to make his stomach flip and his heart ache.
He held his breath as he read her tag line. Sub Allie - seeking intensity of experience with an experienced, honest Dom who understands the power and grace of total sensual submission.
Holy shit.
He clicked on the icon that allowed him access to her profile. He was able to view the number of people who had already contacted her since she’d signed up two days before. Shit—forty-seven guys had already poked, winked at and/or emailed her. Should he even bother?
He knew even as the question floated through his mind that of course he would bother. He would get in line with the rest of them and beg for a chance to say hi. Jesus, was he pathetic or what?
Stop it. You’re just exploring. Reaching out. Remember: no expectations. No big deal.
She was two years younger than he and single. She was from Massachusetts—the other side of the country. That was okay—it wasn’t like he planned to meet her in real life any time soon. She had extensive experience in the scene—that was good. Liam wasn’t up for training a vi
rgin sub. Been there, done that.
He scanned the checklist of desires and turn-offs. She had checked off virtually every category of BDSM play, including bondage, erotic torture, sensory deprivation, whipping, spanking, and even needle, knife and blood play. Under the category of hard limits she had written: no scat, no bestiality, no children. Other than that, I trust my Master to take me where I need to go.
Was she real?
Liam’s cock hardened as he imagined Allie—a terrific name that perfectly matched that smile—bound and suspended from the beams in his dungeon basement, her naked body slowly spinning as he caressed her flesh with a whip and painted dark red welts across her skin.
He pulled the keyboard closer and positioned his fingers over the keys.
From: Liam B.
To: Sub Allie
Subject: Your profile
Hi Allie,
I saw your profile and wanted to introduce myself. My name is Liam Byrne. I am thirty-two and single, never married. I am sexually dominant with a passion for all things BDSM. I, too, have had extensive experience in the lifestyle. I have lived with two different women also into the scene, and while the BDSM connection with each was intense and satisfying as far as it went, the relationships eventually ran their course and we parted ways.
Liam paused and reread what he wrote. Too much information? It sounded like he couldn’t sustain a relationship; like he’d been dumped. Which was actually true, at least with Lila, though she hadn’t left him because he wasn’t a good Dom. She left him because— Stop. You don’t dwell on that shit, remember? The past is the past.
He deleted what he’d written and started again.
Hi Allie,
I was struck by the poetry and passion of your profile. It is refreshing to discover a kindred spirit. I hope you will take the time to read my profile to determine if you agree there is potential between us. I look forward to hearing from you.
Regards, Liam
He stared at what he’d written and nodded, satisfied. Short and sweet. If she was interested enough to click on his profile link, she’d learn what she needed to know about his status, likes and dislikes. The headshot was from before the accident, but he still looked the same, if perhaps a little less carefree and clueless.
Five Stars (Desire Island Series Book 5) Page 13