My Liege of Dark Haven

by Cherise Sinclair

  Not like her father. “Bitch. Slut. You’re a whore.” She closed her eyes. Why was Dad’s voice so pervasive today? Because she was still unsettled from last night?

  “Maybe if you’d been willing to be more adventurous, we wouldn’t have broken up.” Nathan took a sip from his cup and rose. This time when he looked at her, his control chilled her.

  “I know.” Their last date had been the final straw for him. Those ghastly handcuffs. She’d tried—she had. He’d cuffed one wrist, and she’d panicked. Again. The thought of being so helpless with him was just…just…no.

  He was smart, charming, gorgeous, and polite. A renowned professor of anthropology respected enough to get invited to lecture at another university for the summer semester. They communicated well. Aside from his predilection for kink, the sex was pretty good—except for last time, when her refusal to be restrained had had a…deflating effect on him.

  He’d gone so cold that she’d known she’d lost him, even before he said the words.

  She turned her head away. So how in the world had she let Xavier restrain her and not Nathan? “I’m sorry. Some of that stuff makes me really uncomfortable.”

  “It wasn’t all about you, Abby. Sometimes it needed to be about me and my needs. You pampered those mangy mutts more than you did your so-called lover.”

  That’s not true. She bit back the retort. Her fingers were cold as she laced her other shoe, then crossed the room to get her purse and car keys.

  Could she change enough to enjoy bondage and pain and stuff? If she was different when he returned in August, would he be interested again?

  He held the door open, and as she walked through, he pulled her close. “I’m going to miss what we had, my pretty girl. My sweet slut. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

  His sensual lips touched hers, but she’d stepped outside her body and was watching from a distance. Evaluating how he held her, how his voice sounded.

  “I’m sorry too.” Ice formed on her skin, encasing her, buffering her from the pain.

  Chapter Four

  The second night at Dark Haven went much smoother. Abby enjoyed her time behind the desk, checking membership card photos, answering questions, handing out applications. Who knew a kinky place would be so popular?

  Whenever she had a few quiet minutes, she filled out the limit list Xavier had given her. Anal sex…hard beatings, soft beatings. Asphyxiation—was that for real? Face slapping…injections…piercings…mummification. Each item had one check box beside it for no, indicating she absolutely wouldn’t permit it.

  Why didn’t he have a list like the ones she’d seen online that offered a box for maybe? Or in her case, an option saying, I might be willing after a lot of discussion and time and several margaritas. She frowned at the paper. If she marked no to everything that made her uneasy, Xavier might kick her out of the club for being a fake.

  Eventually she checked only the items that would make her run screaming for the police. Asphyxiation. No way in the world. And surely a smart woman would mark no to something called orgasm denial. What a horrible concept.

  After the traumatic questionnaire, she found it a relief to file membership applications and straighten the desk. She labeled a paper tray with MY LIEGE for a place to put Xavier’s messages. How did he get such a strange title? Although it did fit him well. His self-confidence seemed so integral to his nature he could well have been born a ruler.

  As people came and went, she jotted down research observations in her own version of a code—shorthand Latin. She’d planned to compare the social network to a tribe or a family, but more complicated relationships kept appearing. Like the bisexual guy who told her he was submissive to a male Dom, but topped women when he visited the club. And smiled at her.

  What was the proper response to that kind of flirtation?

  A flurry of activity at the door grabbed her attention, and she checked in a lesbian couple, then a man with a human puppy on a leash. A minute later a blonde woman around forty walked in, followed by Simon.

  Simon smiled. “Abby. You came back for another night. Excellent.”

  Did the man have to be so gorgeous? Maybe he had some silver in his hair, but like Xavier, he was even hotter than a younger guy.

  He put his arm around the blonde. “This is my wife. Rona, this is Abby, Xavier’s new receptionist, who will hopefully survive longer than the last one.”

  Rona held her hand out to shake. “Hi, Abby. Has Xavier terrified you yet?”

  “Not…completely.” Kind of. Unable to help herself, Abby gave a quick glance toward the club room door. Just to make sure he hadn’t entered.

  “But some, eh?” Simon’s grin transformed his face to devastating. “Your receptionist time is over in a few minutes. Will Nathan show you around?”

  “No. He’s teaching in Maine for the summer.” Thank heavens.

  “Ah. Then join us when you’re off, and I’ll help you find someone nice to play with.”

  Play with? Her breath caught as if snagged on one of her ribs. By the time she finished coughing, the couple had already entered the main room.

  Abby managed to smile at the next three men waiting at the desk. Hunky, but from the spiked collars around two necks with leashes to the third guy, she knew none of them played on her side of the street. Sometimes sexual orientation wasn’t obvious—although it certainly had been with Xavier. Simply from the way he’d touched her, she knew he really, really liked playing with breasts. The thought sent a flash of heat to her lower half.

  The guys ran their membership cards through the reader and held them up for her to check the photos. “Thank you. Have a wonderful night.” As they disappeared into the club, she jotted down some notes.

  “Hi.” The leather-clad Dom wasn’t far past twenty-one—at least five years younger than she was. After swiping his ID card, he leaned an arm on her desk.

  “Can I help you?” Abby asked.

  The young man grinned. “Give me an hour and I’ll show you.” Then he noted her collar, and his smile turned rueful. “If the Master of the house permits.”

  She laughed as he sauntered into the club. Not that she wanted him, but he was cute, and the well holding her ego had needed filling. After all, she sure wasn’t a beauty like some of the women here. Not even close.

  The angel who assigned bodies had obviously been in a bad mood when Abby was born. Her stepsister had received long, thick brown hair to match her dark eyes and golden skin. Abby got blonde hair that she wore short because the strands were so fine that her ponytail was no thicker than a cotton swab. Dark eyes? Nope. She had weird gray ones, not even bright enough to be called blue.

  Tall and slender like Janae? Nope. Abby was a pear—a nice, healthy shape as long as you liked a fat butt. She had nightmares of someone tagging her ass with a WIDE LOAD sign. Shudder.

  The angel hadn’t been completely evil, though. I got breasts. And tonight they were showcased in a black corset. Her black leather skirt showed off her shapely legs but was long enough to cover her bumpy upper thighs.

  Last month she’d read that a man’s connective tissue aligned horizontally with the skin, whereas a female’s went perpendicular—which was why women got lumpy cellulite and men didn’t. And doesn’t that totally prove that God is male?

  She frowned upward to where God dwelled with his parsimonious angel. “You should be ashamed. Both of you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  At the sound of the deep, deep voice, she started, and her pen made a suicide dive to the floor. She bent, wrapped her fingers around it, and gulped as two oversize black boots moved into her view. After straightening up, she plastered on a smile. “Good evening, my liege.”

  “Abby.” He studied her for a minute. “You’re wearing glasses.”

  She’d forgotten how he affected her. Her heart was pounding like a five-year-old with a new drum set. “I’m not used to being up late, and my eyes had a tantrum when I tried to put in my contacts.”

&n
bsp; “I see. The glasses are quite beguiling.”

  “Oh please. I look like a nerd.” Or so Nathan had always said.

  “I like the combination of fetish and studious.” His gaze lingered on her cleavage. “You look like a librarian who wants to go back in the stacks and fuck.”

  As her mouth dropped open, he picked up her limits list from the desk and glanced over it.

  Warmth flowed into her face as she remembered the disconcerting list of erotic choices. Maybe she should have checked no to them all.

  He set it down without speaking. When he grasped her wrist, the zing was so loud that her ears rang, like hearing door chimes on amphetamines.

  Apparently he didn’t hear them. He turned her forearm over to check the line of black dots. “Good. No reaction to anything.”

  “Nope.” As his thumb made circles on her wrist, shivers climbed her arm. Heavens, how could being touched do this to her?

  His dark eyes crinkled before he released her and gestured with his fingers. Stand up.

  “Uh. Yes, sir.” She stood.

  As he looked at her, his black brows pulled together into a frown that chilled her. Compared to him, the most intimidating professor at the university seemed like a lamb.

  “Sir?”

  “Did I mention less clothes?”

  Her chin rose. “This skirt is shorter.”

  His hand closed on her shoulder. “I obviously confused you. So. Let me clarify. If you wear something that covers your breasts and stomach, then I expect nothing more concealing than a thong on your lower half. If you wear a skirt or pants, your breast may be covered with only chains or a set of nipple clamps.”

  Only a thong? With her butt? Did he have no clue about women’s insecurities at all? She gave him the stare she reserved for students playing games on their cell phones.

  When his eyes filled with obvious amusement, she wanted to hit him, right on that oversize, muscled chest. Even as her lips pressed together, a shiver of excitement ran down her spine and set her lower half to tingling. What would he do to her if she defied him?

  He bent, his mouth less than an inch from her ear, his breath ruffling her hair. “Don’t push me, little fluff.”

  Even as she stepped away, she caught his exotic masculine scent, and her toes curled under.

  The inner door opened, making Abby drop back down in the chair.

  The late-night receptionist stepped into the room and halted at the sight of Xavier. Lindsey’s streaky, shoulder-length hair was tangled, and marks from a gag remained on her cheeks. Her gaze dropped. “My liege.”

  “Are you prepared to take the desk?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She smiled at Abby. “You got anything I need to know?”

  Abby kicked her brain into gear. “I put filled-out applications in the red folder. Questions and messages for Xa—uh, my liege—are in the MY LIEGE tray.”

  “You’re purely amazing.” Lindsey turned to Xavier. Although she had to be around thirty, her grin made her appear like a mischievous teenager. “Sir, it’s not my place to butt in, but please keep her? Pretty please?”

  Xavier chuckled. “I’ll consider your request, pet.” He crooked his fingers at Abby.

  One part of her mind wailed, He’s going to mess up my fieldwork time. The other part was dancing with anticipation. What is he going to do with me? Shoulders back, she walked around the desk to him.

  He curled his hand over the back of her neck, covering her collar, and steered her into the club.

  “Do you need me for a demonstration?” The thought started her heart tapping like a woodpecker in a termite colony. He mustn’t use her; she had research to do. Yet her breasts kept replaying the way his fingers had felt. Her nipples jutted hard against the thankfully stiff corset top.

  “There’s a Dom I want you to meet.” He didn’t wait for an answer but guided her downstairs to where a sandy-haired man about her age stood in front of a Saint Andrew’s cross.

  “Seth, this is Abby. She’s the new receptionist and also new to the lifestyle. Since she doesn’t have a Dom to play with, I thought she might be a good choice for you to start with.”

  Wait. She stared at Xavier. “I’m not here for—”

  “Your time as receptionist is up.” Xavier’s eyes narrowed. “You joined the club to learn about BDSM, correct? I mentioned last night that this isn’t a place for voyeurs. If you merely want to watch someone having sex, there are better places for you.”

  Oh no. She needed Dark Haven. “No, I’m here to…learn.” Good word. “I’m just nervous.” And that was the full truth.

  “That’s normal,” Seth said. “Come on. Let’s talk awhile and work on what kind of a scene you’d like. I’ll ease you in gently.”

  “Very good.” Xavier gave her a nod and walked away.

  He’s leaving me here? She managed to refrain from running. Instead she squared her shoulders and smiled at Seth. He had nice eyes. Gentle. “Well, what happens now?”

  FEELING AS IF he’d abandoned an orphan, Xavier asked Angela, the late-night dungeon monitor, to keep an eye on Seth and Abby.

  If he’d stayed, she would look to him rather than Seth. Even worse, with those big gray eyes on him, he’d have had a hard time staying out of the scene. She was very appealing. Intelligent and submissive, with a hint of vulnerability.

  But aside from demonstrations, he refrained from playing with his staff members. He’d discovered too many submissives expected that club play would lead to a D/s relationship. In his case, it wouldn’t.

  To avoid temptation, he crossed to the other side of the room and took a seat to watch Simon lightly flogging his submissive. Rona wore only a golden necklace—her collar. She was a charming, self-possessed woman, and intelligent enough to keep Simon on his toes. His friend had needed someone like her for a long time.

  At one point Simon stopped the flogging. He slid a rabbit vibrator into Rona’s cunt and strapped it in place. “There you go, lass. That should keep you awake.”

  Her arms were chained to the low ceiling beam, or she’d have punched him. Instead she muttered something, her eyes sparking.

  Simon flipped the switch, and her back arched. “I don’t mind if you come, Rona, but if you make any noise whatsoever, I’m going to be unhappy.”

  Xavier grinned. Simon knew his sub well.

  Her mouth pressed closed as she tried to muffle her moans. Simon resumed the flogging, stopping frequently to change the vibrator settings. Soon Rona was almost purple as she teetered on the edge of an orgasm.

  With a low laugh, Simon flicked the ends of the flogger over her breasts. She lost the battle and climaxed with a satisfying wail.

  Nice session. Smiling, Xavier rose. Time to check on Abby.

  “My liege.” An uncollared submissive knelt in his path. “May I serve you in any way?”

  He didn’t know the pretty brunette. Although Dark Haven was private, new members constantly cycled in from the classes and recommendations. New or not, she needed to learn manners. “Look at me.”

  When she lifted her face, triumph accompanied the hope in her eyes.

  “In this club a Dom approaches a submissive, not the other way around. The choice is up to the Dom. The offer comes from the Dom. Kneeling and offering might work for you elsewhere. Here, it will not. Do I make myself clear?”

  She dropped her gaze and cringed. “Yes, my liege.”

  “Excellent.” He softened his voice. “If you’d like to meet someone or if you have problems, you may request to speak with me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you know anyone here?”

  She nodded, and her flush increased.

  His irritation grew. “You’re here with a Dom? Your Dom?”

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered.

  He was tempted to toss her right out of his club. The disloyal beauty was apparently used to manipulating the men around her. “Take me to him.” When she started to stand, he shook his head. “You weren’t given per
mission to rise.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Move.”

  Unlike many Doms, he didn’t often make a submissive crawl, but in her case… She made her way across the room to kneel beside a man watching a scene.

  Xavier recognized him. A longtime Dom, not strict, more into sex than dominance, and rich, which explained his lovely, young submissive.

  Johnston glanced at her. “Tisha, what are—” He saw Xavier and rose. “Xavier. Is there a problem?”

  “I’m afraid so. Your submissive offered to serve me.”

  Face darkening, Johnston stared down at her. “You said you needed the restroom.”

  “I…I just thought…”

  No, she hadn’t thought. Xavier took a step back.

  “Do you want anything done?” Johnston asked him.

  “I’m sure you’ll deal with her appropriately.” As Xavier walked away, he heard a squeak behind him. Johnston might not normally be hardhanded, but that wouldn’t help the girl this evening.

  Dismissing the annoyance from his thoughts, Xavier strolled through his domain. The energy in the dungeon was almost palpable. Some evenings were better than others. Sometimes, whether due to a bad scene or a bad mixture of play, the ambience could feel disjointed. But tonight the cries and moans and rhythms flowed from one side of the room to the other until scenes took on an added resonance.

  But not all scenes. Apparently he’d done a poor job matching the receptionist and Seth.

  Off to one side, the dungeon monitor watched with a frown. When Xavier nodded a greeting, Angela jerked her chin at the scene. “The bottom isn’t engaged at all.”

  “I see that.”

  Although fairly new, Seth also realized he wasn’t reaching Abby, and his frustration showed. He hadn’t bound her but had her gripping the cross as he lightly flogged her ass.

  Xavier put his hands behind his back and considered. True, he’d pushed her into doing a scene with Seth, but she’d joined the club to learn. Had volunteered to be a receptionist so she wouldn’t have to wait. But she wasn’t even trying to be part of this session.

  He’d topped submissives who’d needed to be pulled into engagement, but Abby was not only distant; her head wasn’t anywhere in the area. He followed her gaze to where a switch was topping a younger couple under the supervision of her Dom.