by Anya Summers
Mrs. Stewart appeared from the kitchen with Sherry in tow. Sherry began clearing dinner plates, tossing Tyler an invitation with her baby blue eyes. He acknowledged her carnal offering while declining the invite. She huffed, turning back to her work as Mrs. Stewart served slices of German chocolate cake.
"Mrs. Stewart, I must say, if you ever want to leave Declan and move to the States, you have a place at my ranch any day of the week."
The matronly woman preened and flushed under his praise. "Thank you. But I'll not be leaving; I'm too old for such things."
"Well it was worth a shot, ma'am." He nodded, knowing that his own housekeeper would throw a fit three ways to Sunday if he brought in competition. Mrs. Beecham ruled the roost at Jenson Ranch, Hope Frontier, with an iron fist, and she never let him forget it.
After Mrs. Stewart and Sherry had left the room, Declan addressed Elise.
"Elise, Zoey mentioned to me that you were interested in a provisional membership in the Dungeon Fantasy Club."
Elise stiffened and shot a gaze around the room, passing over Tyler before she shifted her attention to Declan. "That's correct. I know it may be—"
Declan cut her off, raising a hand to silence her. "I'm willing to grant it but there are some provisions that you will need to adhere to in order for me to grant you the membership."
"All right. What are the provisions?" She fidgeted in her seat. Her foot was tapping against the floor—with anxiety or excitement, Tyler couldn't tell.
"As I understand it, you are new to the lifestyle." Declan pushed the file folder over to her. "There is a non-disclosure agreement that you must sign, along with a packet of instructions for submissives that you must familiarize yourself with."
"That's no problem. I can certainly do that. As I mentioned to Zoey, I'm not sure if it is for me, and just want the chance to explore."
"I get that. And we pride ourselves on safe, sane and consensual, making the club a great place for people in the lifestyle to enjoy themselves. That being said, for admittance, you will be required to be instructed by a Dom in what is required of you."
Tyler barely moved, his gaze and energy all trained on the woman he hoped would be his new sub—only to train of course.
"Who?" She shivered, her hands in a white-knuckled grip. Her body, the energy Tyler had felt with a wallop when he'd first spied her in the room, seemed to amplify and pulse in her anxiety.
"Me," Tyler interjected, letting the chips fall where they may.
Her head swiveled and her moss eyes went wide. "You?"
Declan replied, "Tyler is one of the founding members and one of the best Doms I know. This is a non-negotiable condition for admittance. If you can't accept it, Elise, then I will be forced to decline an invite for you."
A myriad of emotions flickered through her haunting eyes as she turned away from Tyler. He held his breath as he waited to hear her response. An air of expectancy swirled in the room. Would she back out and concede defeat, or would she take that first flying leap into the lifestyle?
"I accept your conditions," Elise murmured.
A warm rush of exuberance flooded his system, and desire coiled in his gut at her words. She was so tightly wound, the thought of her instruction and introduction into the lifestyle, to watch her come undone under his hands, made his gut clench in heady anticipation. It made him hard just thinking about having her bound and gagged before him, pushing her body's limits and making her come so hard she was keening his name.
"Good. Zoey and I will leave you two alone to get acquainted. Come, love." Declan stood from the table and held his hand out to Zoey, who moved at her Dom's request with a small smile playing around her lips. She nodded at both Tyler and Elise. He responded in kind, liking his friend's fiancée more and more.
The happy couple left him alone with his new submissive. She'd not moved from her seat, just sat there, clenching her hands in her lap and staring at the file folder Declan had shoved in front of her.
"Elise, look at me please," he ordered. The instruction would begin now.
At his command, her gaze shot toward his and held. The was a fierce storm brewing in her eyes, like the Kansas skies before a tornado formed, as she stared back with a frankness that challenged his authority as a Dom—and more, importantly, her Dom—for the time being, anyway.
"You object to Declan's conditions." He leaned back in his chair, giving the appearance of a casual air when he felt anything but. She could still turn down the conditions Declan had set forth. It was up to him to convince her that it would be worth her while. He studied her, attempting to see inside her small enticing little body to know what made her tick, how he could gain her trust and make her realize he could open a world of pleasure unlike anything she'd ever known.
"Whether I do or not, doesn't really matter now, does it? If I want the chance to explore, I don't have a choice, do I?"
"No, you don't. At least not with the Dungeon Fantasy Club," he responded, and she flinched. "Is it me you object to?" he asked, unused to women not wanting him. It wasn't arrogance on his part, but he never had women turn away from the chance to be his sub for a night. There was typically a line at any of the clubs he visited. Granted, it may have something to do with his pocketbook, but he had more than his fair share of willing women. If she wasn't interested in him, or did object to him, he'd have to up his game a bit.
"Um, well, not really. I don't know you, and that makes me uncomfortable given the nature of the club. It's more that I wasn't expecting to have my choice taken from me. I thought I would be given the option to choose who I wanted to explore the lifestyle with. This is why I'm not sure it's for me to have my choice unceremoniously taken in this manner." She twisted her hands in her lap.
He read between the lines. It was him—partially, anyhow. He didn't know why, but that little fact made her the most interesting challenge he'd had in ages. Part of his disquiet of late was because everything in his life had gotten too easy, too predictable. She'd all but tossed down a gauntlet with her response. She was refreshing, like parched land finally receiving long sought-after rain. Make no mistake, he would win her surrender, and have her writhing beneath him screaming his name. Challenge accepted, darlin'. "I see. You do understand that part of a relationship between a Dominant and submissive is that a submissive is willing to cede control over to the Dominant."
The minx rolled her eyes at him with a 'well, duh!' gesture. "I'm aware, hence my need to test the waters."
He hid his grin at her flippant response. That was something they'd have to work on. He didn't take kindly to sarcasm. Shooting straight for the heart of the matter, he pressed her. "What about the lifestyle interests you? Maybe I can answer your questions right here, right now, and then you don't even have to explore."
A panicked look entered her eyes at his offer. Gotcha! He schooled his features so as not to show his pleasure over her alarm. She must indeed be curious, and more than a little emotionally ready to enter the lifestyle, for her to show any anxiety at having the offer rescinded.
When she didn't answer, he continued, "For me to even consider taking you on, you need to understand that I expect complete honesty from you. Now, if you will please answer the question."
"The scenes. They made me…" She broke off as pink suffused her face and she bit her bottom lip.
His chest swelled and his dick twitched at her flush. Would her skin take on that rosy sheen when she had a cock buried inside her tight heat? He followed the trail of her blush as it disappeared under her blouse and noticed her nipples had pebbled into tight points beneath. He contained his groan as he asked, "They made you what? I need for you to spell it out for me."
"They turned me on." She broke eye contact with him and stared down at her hands, but not before he noticed the flash of hunger mingled with fury in her gaze.
His body responded to her magnetic, sensual pull. It had been a long time since he had met a woman who had no idea of the full power of her sensuality. She remind
ed him of the mares back home, of catching a wild mustang mare and teaching her to trust him. It made his cock pulse and twitch with desire.
He stood and approached her, watching her body tense as he neared. Going out on a limb, he cupped her chin, turning her face up toward his. "Darlin', there's no shame in feeling desire or liking sex that's on the kinky side. Not everyone can be vanilla when it comes to sex, and it is purely natural to experience desire watching others having sex. I enjoy watching couples in a scene myself, so there's nothing to feel ashamed of. We have more to discuss, but first you need to read through everything Declan gave you. Take it to your room and fill it out. I will meet you there in an hour and we can discuss the contents of your responses in private, as well as what my expectations are and any concerns you may have before we proceed to the Dungeon. Understood?"
God, her face felt like the softest silk, and he couldn't stop himself from stroking his thumb over her lower lip. Her felt her indrawn gasp and her pupils dilated as he learned the contours of that pouty bottom lip. She was a sweet piece that he was going to delight in unraveling.
"Yes." Her response was breathy and low as she fought her attraction.
"Good. And from here on out, Elise, you will address me as 'Master' or 'Sir'. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
He caressed her check as he released her chin. He wanted more, wanted to taste her pouty bottom lip, claim her mouth—and still more. But just like with any wild horse, he knew if he pushed too hard, too fast, she would spook. Tabling his own desires, he commanded, "I will meet you in your room in an hour. Make sure you are properly attired for my inspection."
She nodded, not meeting his gaze again and sat rigidly still. Her breaths came out in shallow pants. "Yes… Sir."
"I will see you then." He left her. The hour would give her time to either fully accept the terms of the membership, or decline and back out. As it was, his prospective sub was battling internally with herself over her desire to explore the lifestyle and having him be the one to show her. He'd seen hunger in her eyes, an unexpected desire that had confused her. Tyler could tell she was not a woman who shared her body frequently. She came across as a little reserved and uncertain, which made his own hunger to sample her charms that much more potent.
The lifestyle wasn't for everyone. There was no shame in that. But he suspected that Elise had the heart of a submissive, even if it was only sexual in nature. The telltale inferno of need he'd spied when she mentioned the scenes at the club in Manhattan was more than enough to convince him.
The hour was for both of them, so he could retrieve his toy bag and change into more appropriate gear. The only question that remained was: which part of the warring factions inside Elise would win?
Chapter 3
Sweet baby Jesus!
Elise laid her forehead against the dining table and gulped cool air into her lungs. She took a few steadying breaths, like she did in her yoga classes, drawing the oxygen deep inside, hoping it would calm her nerves. Her hands shook. And then she inhaled a few more times before finding the strength to raise her head and stand up. Her legs trembled and she instantly reached for her Tums, popping one in her mouth without much thought other than relief.
She'd walked right into this blunder. And it was a huge, life-altering mistake on her part. Why the hell couldn't she seem to get the business of living right? She should have a warning label on her forehead that read 'constant foot in mouth disease, please disregard any obtuse comments'. Elise needed one thing to go right in her life, just one that she could hold on to. As it was, she had already scorched the hell out of the rope she clung to by sheer stubbornness.
Ultimatums made her twitchy. She appreciated Zoey going out on a limb with her fiancé and getting her the provisional invitation to the club. Except something told Elise—call it a sixth sense or what have you—that Declan didn't want her as a member, and had baited her with Tyler in the hopes that she would renege.
Then there was the man of the hour, Tyler, who was all lip-smacking-yummy goodness that made her stomach clench and her girly bits break out the streamers and balloons. The man oozed sex. Not the tame, with the lights off, under the covers and over in under ten minutes kind. Oh no, he exuded a magnetic sexual pull that made you know in all of two seconds, at a mere glance at his sky blue eyes which crinkled at the corners when he smiled, that he was down and dirty, liked his sex a bit rough, and could go all night. Just the thought of having that attitude and attention focused on her for a night was enough to make her knees turn to jelly. Would she even survive a night under his tutelage?
It was not that she didn't find Tyler good looking. He of the 'melt your panties off' smile and his simmering undercurrent of know-how had all but steamrolled Elise into a quivering mess with a look. Had she ever met a man so self-assured and deep in the bone confident that his orders would be followed without question?
No, not that she could ever recall.
The wicked gleam in Tyler's eyes after Declan had delivered the ultimate blow to her sensibilities, damn near handing her over on a silver platter to this; this stranger, this unknown man, this Dom, had nearly sent her over the edge, scurrying for cover and her bottle of Tums. He was the epitome of her wildest fantasies brought to earth-shattering life. He remind Elise of the guys she'd grown up with, the boy-next-door type with boyish good looks that sharpened into delicious rough planes in manhood. Even walking the streets of Manhattan with some of the most attractive men in the world, she'd never lost her love of cowboys. Tyler was rugged from a lifetime spent outdoors, with a head full of thick black hair that was a little longer, and looked like he ran his hand through it when he was thinking. All of his muscles, the ones she'd spied rippling in his forearms and long sturdy legs covered in jeans, were hewn from manual labor, not a gym membership. Elise had noticed callouses on his hand as he'd cupped her cheek and scraped his thumb over her lower lip. His touch had shot electric currents into a swirling mass in her belly. With his tall rangy build, she could actually envision him wearing a Stetson with his Levi's, and mounting a horse.
She'd be lying to herself if she said that image didn't make her hotter than a Fourth of July cookout in Kentucky. She fanned herself with the file. Had she been that blind at the club in Manhattan? Too inundated and stunned perhaps with the multitude of flesh and sex on display to truly let it sink it what she had gotten herself into with exploring the BDSM lifestyle. Had her physical reaction to it just been because it had been two years since she'd had a man in her bed, and the visual had overstimulated her already exacerbated—and, let's face it, starved—sex drive?
Elise wasn't sure.
Huffing out a frustrated breath, without further ado, she departed the dining room, carrying the thick folder up to her room. She shut the door and trudged over to the couch where she did a bit of a swan dive onto the cushions. She rolled onto her back; the file clutched to her chest, and stared at the ceiling.
What was she thinking, putting her career at stake like this? Would Declan and Zoey renege on the contract for the wedding gown if she backed out now? Her contract was rock solid, but Declan also likely had a team of lawyers who, at a snap of his fingers, could wriggle out of the contract, and then where would she be but neck deep in a pile of manure?
Did she really want to experience what it meant to enter the lifestyle and allow Tyler to instruct her in the ways of BDSM? Did she even have what it took to be a submissive? Just because she was sex starved, didn't necessarily mean that she was a submissive. Maybe she just needed sex. Really good, multiple orgasmy type of sex. Not that she'd ever had that before. She'd only ever found it in the pages of the romance novels she hoarded like other women did shoes.
Elise envisioned herself in a scene with Tyler at the club: like one of the ones she had witnessed in Manhattan, where she'd be naked and bound for his pleasure, with everyone watching as he drove her body to orgasm with nothing more than his hands. An unexpected rush of lust swamped her body at the thought of
his hands caressing her flesh, perking her nipples into tight peaks, and the walls of her pussy quaked and fluttered. Dammit, her body seemed to say—yes, it was her brain that needed convincing. If she didn't like it, she could always back out, couldn't she? When Tyler arrived, she'd have to ask him. If she could retain the control and walk away from it if she chose, then maybe she could try it.
At the thought of Tyler, she sat up abruptly. Shit, she had less than forty minutes to read through and fill out the forms for Declan, plus get herself appropriately attired. Whatever the hell that meant.
Elise flipped open the file and started with the non-disclosure agreement, all ten pages of it. This thing made sure that, if she so much as whispered a hint about the club to anyone not on the approved list—which she would apparently be provided with upon acceptance of her membership into the club—she could not only lose the membership, but possibly find herself slapped with a hefty civil suit. Using the ballpoint pen Declan had clipped to the file, she signed it and shivered.
Step one, sign over my rights to say blip about anything that happens to me in Scotland, check. Step two. Read through the second packet of information, which was part instruction book, part rules and regulations of the club, along with a very detailed and thorough checklist of her interests. There were things on it that she'd never heard of, and found herself Googling on her phone.
She was surprised by how much she ended up checking yes. Granted, there were a few 'no way in hell that's going to happen's and a couple of ews, but other than that, everything seemed to be in order. By the time she'd finished her packet of information, she had less than ten minutes to raid her wardrobe for proper attire—which, by all indications of the information packet, widely varied depending upon the Dom. So basically, she had no idea whether what she was going to put on would be pleasing and acceptable for Tyler.