DangerousLust

by Lila Dubois

  “No, I’d love to.” As much as I wanted to lie down in bed I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts.

  I fought to hide my pain when I sat in the passenger seat of his car. Taking the tote from him I rummaged through it. My bathing suit, a towel and a sundress were packed in there, along with some condoms. Clearly my roommates approved of Brad.

  I closed my eyes as we drove. The silence was calm rather than awkward. When we pulled into one of the pay parking lots on Venice Beach, Brad helped me out of the car.

  “What do you feel like, seafood or Italian?” He pointed to the restaurants along the beach path.

  I turned and looked out at the endless gray-blue of the pacific. The water looked cold and dark.

  “Can we go out to the water?” I asked.

  “Sure. Want to change first?”

  “Yeah.”

  I slid into one of the stalls in the beach bathroom. My leggings were stuck to my ass and getting them off brought tears to my eyes. I wanted to skip the bikini bottoms, but I didn’t want to go commando. The thick swimsuit material was smooth enough that it didn’t hurt the way my leggings had.

  Stuffing my clothes into the tote and pulling on the sundress as a cover-up, I shuffled out to where Brad was. I hoped my sunglasses hid the fact that I’d been crying.

  He took my hand as we slogged through the sand. There weren’t many people on this section of the beach. Most people preferred to sun themselves on the sand of Santa Monica beach a mile north of here.

  Brad dropped down into the sand and tugged on my hand, but I pulled my fingers free. I smiled softly at him and walked for the water. I didn’t stop as the waves washed my feet. I kept walking, the water now at my knees. The sand dropped down sharply and with the next step I was up to my waist, the cold water against my beaten ass a relief so sharp that I tipped my head up and let out a happy little laugh.

  Bending my knees, I dropped, sinking under the water. It was cold and dark behind my closed eyes. I stayed there, letting the cold ocean leach all the emotion from my body.

  Hands grabbed me under the arms and jerked me up. I gasped for breath.

  “Leona.” Brad was there, his gold-green eyes examining me. “Leona, say something.” I could see how worried he was, and wondered how long I’d been under the water. He guided me toward the shore until we were knee-deep in the water.

  “I’m sorry.” Tears filled my eyes.

  He’d come out into the ocean to rescue me—a beachside Prince Charming. As I’d hung by my wrists in Master Clay’s playroom I’d realized something. What I really wanted was someone like Brad, but what I deserved was Master Clay. I wasn’t the princess in the story, I was, as Master Clay had said, the courtesan, the handsome prince’s mistress. There to serve him sexually, but not the girl who got taken to the ball.

  “I’m so sorry, Brad. I’m an awful person.”

  He didn’t say anything but his face hardened. Without saying anything he reached for the hem of my wet sundress. I should have stopped him as he pulled it up and off, but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure why he did it, but I knew that the fastest way to drive him away would be for him to see what I really was.

  I took the soggy fabric from him, hugging it to my chest, and turned my back to him.

  He touched my upper thigh, just below where it hurt.

  I waited for him to say something, but he was silent.

  The need to cry made my throat tight. I walked out of the water. Uncaring of who else saw me, I grabbed my towel from the tote and stuffed my wet dress in. With the towel wrapped around me, tote bag in hand, I started walking. I didn’t look back to see if Brad had followed me. I kept walking until sand turned into concrete. I stopped at the first bus stop I saw and got on, ignoring the bus driver’s stare.

  As we pulled away from the beach I let myself cry. This time it wasn’t from fear or pain. I was mourning the loss of my Prince Charming. By the time I’d made my way back to campus I’d accepted what I was and what my life would be. Two weeks ago I’d been so sure that BDSM would make me happy, would give me what I wanted.

  I’d been wrong—it turns out what I’d always wanted was the boyfriend and romance—but I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t have him.

  * * * * *

  The car was barely in park before Brad Marshall was out. He pounded on the mansion’s white front door, his anger barely restrained.

  Wayne Clayton opened the door. “Brad? This is unexpected.”

  Brad pushed his way into the elegant foyer. He was familiar with the house from the six months he’d spent working for Wayne. Brad had developed a real estate app for Wayne’s firm, which was one of the biggest and most powerful in Los Angeles. The app had put them on the cutting edge of real estate marketing and sales. Brad and Wayne had both made a mint on the project and become friends of a sort.

  Friends enough that Brad knew Wayne wasn’t always Wayne. There were times when he went by a shortened version of his last name—Clay.

  “How could you do that to her?” Brad demanded.

  Wayne calmly closed the front door. “Do what to whom?”

  “Leona. Leona Thies.”

  Wayne raised a brow. “I thought I saw you dancing with her last night.”

  “Dancing with her? She was my date.I met her working on the app for LACMA. The job you recommended me for.”

  Wayne shook his head and headed for his office. “Were you aware that she was a submissive?”

  Brad followed him. “I suspected something like that. She reacted when I grabbed her and gave her an order.” Brad’s anger was fading in the face of Wayne’s utter calm. “But I knew for sure when I saw her ass.”

  “This afternoon?”

  “Yes. How could you do that to her? She’s back and blue and there are welts.”

  “She spoke to me at the gala last night. Called me Clay.”

  Brad winced. “Okay, that wasn’t great, but you hurt her, really hurt her.”

  “Brad, I assume you remember enough about my practices to know that I do not take punishment lightly.”

  “She didn’t deserve that.”

  “She did.”

  “No, she didn’t, because she’s not really submissive.”

  Wayne smiled slightly. “I assure you she is.”

  The vision of Wayne using Leona rose in Brad’s mind and he had to fight the urge to beat the other man bloody.

  “What she is, is scared. She’s scared of getting her heart broken again, so she went looking for a relationship with rules.”

  “A woman who was not submissive would not have responded the way she did. While she needs to be trained to see her submission as more than an opportunity to be pleasured—I could tell she was frustrated when I did not pay attention to her—she will be an elegant submissive.”

  “Goddamn it, no. She won’t. You’re not going to touch her again.”

  Wayne paused in the middle of pouring himself a glass of Scotch and looked over his shoulder. “Brad, I’m sorry, but Leona is a rare find, and one I won’t give up easily.”

  Brad gritted his teeth. “I won’t give up on her either, Wayne. I love her. I’m falling in love with her.”

  “That is unfortunate.” Wayne took a small sip.

  “I can make her happy. Really happy.”

  “Submission will also make her happy.”

  “Not the way I can make her happy.”

  “Brad, I would hate to see you get your heart broken.” Wayne tapped his fingers on the top of his desk. “Why don’t you join me when I next use her? I think that when you see how submissive she is you’ll understand that she’s not the right girl for you. That is, unless you’ve decided to explore your dominant side? I said before, I think as you age you’ll come to appreciate a submissive.”

  Wayne had invited him to a small garden cocktail party that featured submissives posed throughout the garden in elaborate bondage. It had opened Brad’s eyes to a world of kink that he hadn’t seen outside of porn, and he’d spen
t one memorable weekend with two submissive women in Wayne’s playroom.

  As much fun as that had been, Brad couldn’t imagine having a relationship with a woman who never spoke unless she was spoken to. Boring.

  Brad wanted to beat the other man until he swore he’d never touch Leona again, but that wouldn’t solve the problem. There’d been a darkness in Leona’s eyes that worried him.

  “Wayne, I need her.”

  “Hold on just a moment.” Wayne went to his computer. After a moment he looked up. “What’s your phone number?”

  Confused, Brad rattled off his cell phone number.

  Wayne checked something on his monitor and nodded once. “Join us tomorrow.”

  Chapter Seven

  I popped four painkillers in my mouth and swallowed them, tucking the pills and bottle of water into my drawer in the dressing room. My ass still hurt, the redness from yesterday having morphed to long black-and-blue bruises. Sitting was a study in agony, yet here I was again.

  The white and gold corset was back. Instead of panties there was a white thong, which left my abused ass cheeks completely exposed. I could only assume the lingerie was a sign that he wasn’t angry anymore.

  As I got dressed I tried to feel something. Ever since the beach yesterday I’d been unable to shake the emotional numbness that gripped me. It was almost as if I were in shock, my heart going numb rather than letting me feel the pain my choices had caused.

  I told myself to be grateful that Master Clay wanted to see me again so soon, considering how angry he’d been with me. He was right, it had been stupid of me to talk to him at the gala. If I’d just kept my mouth shut maybe right now I’d be with Brad, curled up watching a movie, or eating pizza—something normal. If I’d woken up to Brad coming to take me out to lunch would I have abandoned my foray into submission in favor of the cute boy and normal things?

  I stepped into the Marquis’ Quarters, my head bowed submissively. The door opened and I heard footsteps.

  “Hello, Leona. Please turn and let me see your ass.”

  I turned my back to the room. Master Clay’s fingers ran over my abused cheeks and I couldn’t stop a moan of pain.

  “I’m very pleased with the way you accepted your punishment. I can tell that it helped you understand your place.”

  No, it made me realize that I’m too fucked up to be with someone like Brad.

  I didn’t respond.

  Something slid over my face, pulling tight around my head.

  “Today you’ll remain blindfolded. After yesterday’s punishment I have a treat for you.”

  I wanted to find his words arousing but there was nothing. I only hoped that he did or said something that aroused me before he touched my pussy and realized I was dry.

  With a hand on my back, Master Clay guided me across the floor. The blindfold was molded and stiff. Because it curved along my nose and cheeks I couldn’t see anything.

  “Step up.”

  I tentatively took a step, realizing when he helped position me that I was standing on the platform surrounded by couches. I sighed in resignation.

  “Arms up and behind your head.”

  Though Master Clay’s voice had come from beside me I heard a door open and footsteps coming toward me. My heartbeat started going double-time and I felt the first flutters of nervous excitement.

  “We have a guest. In your checklist you indicated you were willing to try multiple partners. Our visitor today is an excellent top, though he is not a participant in the lifestyle.”

  I held myself perfectly still as I absorbed the words, forcing myself to understand that I was about to be shared. Here was another fucked-up thing that a normal girl wouldn’t do, yet I was standing here, waiting for it to happen not with horror but with muted interest.

  Master Clay’s hand stroked my leg from hip to knee and back to my waist. His fingers slipped under my thong. I heard the other Dom start to say something, then stop.

  “Hmm,” Master Clay’s fingers left my dry pussy. “It’s understandable that you’re not yet aroused today. Until you learn to associate a punishment with being a good submissive it’s natural for you to react this way.”

  “Yes, Master Clay.”

  A warm hand circled my ankle. My skin tingled. I sucked in a breath as the hand slid up my leg. This Dom’s touch was totally different than Master Clay’s. It was like fire melting the ice that coated me.

  “Leona, can you tell the difference between my touch and his?”

  “Y-yes, Master Clay.” My words trembled, but not from fear. I was shivering, reacting to this new man’s touch in a wholly unexpected way. Maybe it was because I didn’t associate him with pain the way I now associated Master Clay with yesterday’s beating.

  When this Dom’s fingers stroked the fabric of the thong I couldn’t help myself from thrusting my hips against his hand.

  “Well, well,” Master Clay said.

  The new Dom’s hands guided me down off the platform. I could feel the heat from his body and I swayed toward him, wanting to lean into his heat.

  “Here,” Master Clay said.

  A collar slid around my neck. Once it was in place, fingers traced my collarbones down to the swells of my breasts. I lifted up onto tiptoe, wanting more.

  “Leona, tell him what I’ve done to you.”

  Leather creaked, and from the angle of his voice it sounded like Master Clay had taken a seat. The other Dom’s hands settled on my hips, holding me still. Though the touch was hardly sexual my pussy was throbbing.

  “I’m not sure what you mean, Master Clay.” I didn’t want to talk, I wanted this other man to rip off my corset and touch me.

  “Tell my friend what I’ve done to you.”

  “Oh, um, Master Clay put me on the cross, the St. Andrew’s Cross. And he put me in the stocks and spanked me.”

  “And I’ve used plugs on you, haven’t I?”

  “Yes, Master. And I used one on myself while you watched.”

  The other Dom’s hands fell away, leaving me cold and alone. I wished he would say something.

  “I want to talk about that.” Master Clay was back, guiding me to kneel on the platform. There was the rattle of chain as he attached a leash to the front of the collar before I heard him take a seat again. I imagined them sitting there watching me, Master Clay cool and elegant, the other man warm and enticing. In my imagination he had gold hair and sparkling green eyes. Shit, I needed to stop thinking like that.

  “Remove the corset, Leona.”

  I reached for the hidden front closures.

  “Don’t.” The other Dom growled the word, surprising me. I froze, caught between their orders.

  “Leona.” Master Clay barked my name, a hint of anger in his voice.

  I whimpered. I didn’t want to make him angry or give him a reason to punish me. I fumbled to unfasten the corset, then carefully set it aside before lifting my arms once more.

  I heard the other Dom take a deep breath.

  “You see why I’m reluctant to let her go.” Master Clay tugged casually on the leash. “Leona, tell my friend about how you used the toys I gave you on yourself.”

  I cleared my throat. “Master Clay gave me a bag with a webcam, nipple clamps and a plug. I used the webcam to show him when I put the plug in and put on the nipple clamps.”

  “And how long did you have to keep the plug in?”

  “One hour, Master Clay.”

  “And what else were you doing?”

  I swallowed, suddenly nervous. “I was working on a paper.”

  “And?”

  I licked my lips. I’d been texting Brad, but he couldn’t know that.

  I heard Master Clay shift and then something struck my breast. I yelped and ducked my head. It must have been the crop because it didn’t hurt too much, the sound more alarming than anything.

  I caught snippets of voices as the Doms whispered to each other. Whatever the other man said must have made Master Clay angry, because he replie
d, “Do not forget who she belongs to. If I wish I can make sure that you never put your hands on her.”

  That was the second strange thing he’d said. Earlier he’d mentioned being reluctant to let me go. What was going on?

  “She needs assistance remembering her place,” Master Clay continued. “If it disturbs you to see me crop her then I can use other means. I’ll leave the choice up to you.”

  I didn’t hear the other man reply, but someone got up. A moment later Master Clay’s hands cupped my bare breasts. His fingers plucked and pinched my nipples. I wasn’t surprised when clamps bit down on the tender buds.

  “Lovely, isn’t she? I’ve considered what she’d look like with piercings, both in her nipples and in her cunt.”

  The other Dom’s hand cupped my breast, his thumb caressing the clamped nipple. I leaned into his hand as a wave of pleasure washed over me.

  “Now, Leona. Tell my friend what else you were doing that night. You were working on your paper and…?”

  “Texting.” Maybe Master Clay had heard the noise my phone made when I sent a message.

  “Texting whom?”

  “My friend.”

  “Tell me his name.”

  “No.”

  “Excuse me?” Master Clay’s voice dripped warning.

  I didn’t care. Brad was mine. I wouldn’t share him here. “I’m sorry, Master, but he has nothing to do with this.”

  “I beg to differ. I was looking at your pussy, and I could tell you were getting wetter. When you showed me your face I could see your phone, see the number you were texting.”

  I felt sick. “You…saw his number? Please don’t do anything, Master.”

  “You don’t want him to know you’re submissive?”

  “I don’t want him to think…” I didn’t want him to think badly of me, but after he’d seen my ass yesterday he had to assume that I was in some messed-up abusive relationship. Maybe that was actually better than admitting I had these screwed-up sexual urges. “It doesn’t matter. He hates me now.”

  “So you won’t care if I contact him to ask what you were talking about?”

  “Please, no, Master.”

  “There’s a price for that.”