Master of Hearts: A Domination And Submission Romance Anthology

by Erika Masten

  “You were out of it there at the end. I didn’t think you heard me.”

  He shifted on the bed, letting me rest my head and shoulders on his chest, my sensitive nipples safe from accidently brushes and touches.

  “Do you need anything, Abby?” Jake’s voice was soft, his breath stirring my hair.

  “Maybe later. Something for my backside.” I closed my eyes. “Right now I’m sleepy.”

  “Then rest. We can talk later, when you’re ready.” He moved away, coming back to cover me with a blanket, tucking a pillow beneath my head. The soft warmth enveloped me and I was instantly asleep.

  The room was darker when I woke up. I was disoriented, the bed unfamiliar beneath me, the blanket not one from my own bed. Then I remembered; the tower room.

  There was a light coming from behind me. I sat up, wincing as my tender skin came in contact with the bed.

  “Ouch. Shit.” I muttered to myself. There was a chuckle from somewhere. I turned, startled. Jake was sitting in an arm chair in the corner, reading a book, a floor lamp casting a circle of yellow light around him. He set the book on a small table next to the chair.

  “How do you feel?” He stood, coming to stand by the edge of the bed. He was wearing a pair of well-loved jeans, faded and worn with a few holes evident here and there, and a clean white t-shirt. I had the impression he’d had a shower. He smelled clean and looked refreshed.

  “I’m sore.” I got up on my knees, which seemed to be the most comfortable position at the moment. I noticed the collar and nipple clamps were gone.

  “I have something that will help.” Jake went to the cabinet. I was struck again by his grace; just watching him walk across the room was a sensual experience.

  He came back, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Lay down on your stomach.”

  I peered at what he had in his hand. He held it out, showing me the label. It was a tube of arnica gel.

  “We should have done this right away, but you were out and I really didn’t want to wake you up by rubbing your ass.” He laughed suddenly, a deep rich sound.

  “Actually, waking you up by rubbing your ass would be something I’d really enjoy. But on a different day.”

  I giggled. “I’d probably like that, but, yeah, not tonight.” I settled on my stomach. “What time is it?”

  “It’s after ten. You’ve been asleep for about three hours or so.”

  “Holy cow. Really?” I felt his hands skimming over my skin, the gel cool and soothing, the smell vaguely green and organic.

  “It’s not as red as it was earlier; this will help keep it from bruising.”

  His hands were gentle, moving over my skin. My mind went back to our first time together, the massage he’d given me in front of the fire. I relaxed, letting my body sink into the bed.

  “Is there anything you want to talk about, Abby? Anything that confused your or you didn’t understand?”

  “Well, it’s all a bit vague and distant at the moment.” He’d stopped rubbing the arnica on my skin. I rolled onto my side, leaning on the pillow.

  “Did you enjoy punishing me?”

  Jake seemed started by my question; I got the impression it wasn’t what he expected. He was quiet for a moment, as if sorting through a complex puzzle.

  “Yes and no.” He looked at me, serious and earnest.

  “I have to admit that seeing you bent over the table…” I cringed, remembering my own image of what I looked like, none of them flattering. “…I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I got hard, really hard, really fast. If we hadn’t been in a session, I would have fucked you then and there.” He stopped for a breath.

  His face was flushed, his eyes bright. I waited, my heart fluttering in my chest. I hadn’t expected this. I really didn’t know what I expected.

  “But I knew, being in session, I couldn’t do that. I needed to remain in control, to follow through with what I’d said I was going to do. I respect you enough not to be capricious with this; if I say I’m going to do something, I’m going to follow through.

  “When I started talking, explaining to you this was punishment, any pleasure I felt went away, instantly. I didn’t enjoy punishing you. It hurt.”

  His eyes had grown dark. I reached out for him and he climbed up on the bed, lying down next to me. We held each other for a long time.

  Jake’s hands began moving over my body, gently exploring as if for the first time. He leaned down, kissing me softly, his lips moving over my mouth, his tongue feather-soft against my lips. Pulling away, he looked down at me in the dim light the lamp cast on the bed.

  “Can I touch you here?” He traced a finger over my breasts, sliding it down toward one nipple.

  “Yes, but not hard.” They were still sensitive, not painful, but every brush of the blanket…or now, Jake’s fingers…sent little waves of heat through my body.

  Slowly he touched me everywhere, his fingers sliding over my skin, lingering here and there, stroking softly. I was moaning against his mouth, relishing the slow gentle touches, so different from this afternoon’s session.

  I’d reached down, undoing the buttons on his jeans, running my hands over his cock. He sighed, burying his face in my neck.

  “Oh, god, Abby. It’s impossible to resist you.”

  “Why would you want to?” I’d never thought Jake wanted to resist me.

  He lifted his head. “I don’t really. But sometimes I think I cross the line from our agreed relationship into something more, something I know neither of us wants.” He kissed me, something urgent and passionate in his kiss.

  Was this really as complicated as it seemed? Did it need to be? I was beginning to feel I was the one in control here, sometimes more than Jake.

  “Don’t resist, Jake, give in. It’s not going change things for me.” I kissed him, pulling him down to me.

  “Think of it as after care.”

  ***

  We made love for a long time, slowly, Jake taking his time, holding me gently. There were no loud cries, no bucking and thrashing. I was carried away on a gentle current, my orgasm feeling like the stretch at the end of a yoga work out; my muscles relaxed, pliant, my body and mind at peace.

  Jake came with a low moan, his face buried in my neck. I felt him shudder briefly, holding himself still inside me, then a flooding warmth. He exhaled, slowly, pulling me against him, curling his body around mine.

  ***

  I woke a long time later, shivering in the chill air. The room was dark; Jake was lying next to me, his arm loosely flung across my waist. I watched him sleep for a long time, his face just visible in the light from one partially covered window.

  There was no reason for me to leave. I pulled the blanket back over my shoulder, jostling Jake in the process. I felt him stir next to me.

  “Go back to sleep,” I whispered in the dark. And he did, tightening his hold around my waist, pulling me back against his body.

  ***

  Jake fed me breakfast, insisting that I eat before I went home. I’d taken a long hot shower, methodically working through a vast array of scented shampoos, soaps, scrubs and other products I’d found in the bathroom in the tower. For a small bathroom in a guest wing, it was remarkably well-stocked.

  I took the confusing maze of hallways back to the main house rather than walking outside, making only one wrong turn on the way. The scent of food was as good as GPS though and I found Jake in the kitchen making French toast. I took a seat at the kitchen counter and a plate was placed in front of me, complete with fresh strawberries, and a dollop of what I believed was homemade whipped cream. I dove in, realizing I was famished.

  “Oh, my god, Jake. Where did you learn to cook?” He was leaning on the other side of the counter, watching me with amusement.

  “Living alone and getting tired of take-out and fast food. I’d had enough of instant noodles in college. As soon as I had my first apartment, I invested in a set of chef quality knives and cast iron cookware. And lea
rned how to use them.”

  I was too busy chewing to do more than nod. Jake poured coffee for both of us, setting mine in front of me and coming around the end of the counter with his, and a plate piled high with French toast, to sit next to me.

  We ate in silence. I resisted the urge to lick my plate clean, instead using the last pieces of French toast to clean up the syrup and whipped cream. I sat back, sighing, relaxed and content.

  “Abby, there’s something I wanted to ask you.” Jake pushed his empty plate away, looking at me.

  “Okay. What is it?” There was hesitancy in his eyes, not quite the confident Jake I had grown use to.

  “I’d like us to go to a BDSM club. There’s one in Houston; I think it would be good for us to see how other doms and subs interact, maybe learn something.”

  He turned toward me, taking my hand. “I’m asking you…not demanding that you go. But I think it would be a good idea.”

  I thought about this for a minute. There didn’t seem to be a down-side. We’d get a different perspective, see how others acted. I nodded.

  “I think it’s a good idea. We’re kind of in our own little bubble here. Seeing others… meeting others…yeah. I think it would be good.”

  Jake’s face relaxed, a broad smile on his face. “Good. I’m glad. I’ll make the arrangements. From what I’ve heard about of the club, you need an invitation. I’ll take care of it and let you know when we can go.”

  ***

  Jake and I fell into a routine over the next couple weeks, while we waited for an invitation to the club. We’d have dinner during the week, spend the evening at Jake’s, in the bed in the tower room, and he’d drive me home later. During the week the bed was dressed in soft linens and blankets and pillows, a stark contrast from the plain black sheet of the weekend.

  ***

  It was during one of these dinners that Jake presented me with an elegantly wrapped box. We weren’t in session so I was free to oh and ah as much as I wanted…and to question what it was.

  “Open it, Abby.” Jake was patiently waiting for me to untie the cream colored satin ribbon. The black wrapping paper fell away from a black velvet box. I opened it cautiously, peering beneath the cover.

  “It’s not going to bite you, Abby.” Jake was laughing at my trepidation. “It’s not alive.”

  The box held a necklace, a length of interlocking rings that looked like a miniature piece of chainmail. It was beautifully constructed, weighty and solid as I held it in my hand, but sinuous and sensual as it flowed over my fingers.

  “Jake, it’s beautiful.” I looked at him. He appeared to be waiting for me to say something else.

  “Thank you.” After a beat of silence he took the chain, turning it in my hands until the clasp faced me. I looked closely; it was a tiny pair of interlocked handcuffs.

  “It’s a slave necklace. I thought it would be more comfortable—and prettier—to wear on a daily basis than the leather collar. We’ll save that for sessions.”

  I looked down at the necklace, and all that it represented, the weight it carried, not just in its solid silver links but between Jake and I. I closed my eyes for a moment. While this wasn’t a traditional relationship, the necklace seemed to represent a commitment of some kind. Did I want that commitment, and that responsibility?

  I looked up at Jake. There were so many emotions playing across his face, but the biggest one was something akin to fear. I held his gaze for a moment and then held the necklace out to him. He almost flinched away from me, but took the chain.

  “Would you put it on for me?” I turned on the banquette, lifting the hair from my neck. After a moment, I felt the cool silver against my skin, the weight settle on my neck. There was a tiny click as Jake fastened the clasp, a soft sound but it seemed to echo through the restaurant.

  I turned back to Jake. The look of relief on his face was so palpable, I would have laughed. But I didn’t think that was the right thing to do at the moment. Instead I leaned forward, kissing him gently, brushing my lips over his, my tongue catching a hint of the bourbon he’d had before dinner.

  Jake was attentive and gentle that night in the tower room, the sex long and slow. He approached me almost in an attitude of gratitude. I wasn’t sure, afterward, lying in the dark, if the necklace was really for me, or for him in some way. I fingered the silver, counting the links with my fingers, almost like a tiny set of prayer beads. Or worry beads.

  ***

  “We’ve got an invitation to the club.” Jake’s voice on the phone was excited. “A week from Saturday. We’ll be guests of the club’s owner, Chase Thomas.”

  Even though I was expecting the news, my heart did a little stutter-step. A bondage club had never entered my mind until Jake suggested it. But I was also very excited at the prospect of going. And, as usual, I panicked over what to wear.

  “Relax. Chase said there’s no real dress code; you’re not required to wear latex or anything. Just be comfortable.” Latex?

  “Although, if you’re going to be a sub and join in any party-play, you’d probably want something appropriate…you know, sexy and with easy access. Then again, pretty much anything you wear looks sexy, but I’m biased.”

  “What are you wearing?” I tried the typical girl turn-around; ask someone else what they are wearing to the party. It didn’t work.

  “I’d like to choose an outfit for you, Abby. I can, as your Dom, do that. You will be in submissive role and I’d like you to be in something of my choosing. It would be my pleasure.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice; almost see the glint in his eyes as he contemplated me in various types of bondage gear. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

  “You want to take me shopping?” I detest shopping.

  “No, there’s no need for that. I’ll have a selection sent to your apartment and then you can decide. And surprise me.” There was a definite lascivious tone to his voice.

  “Fine. I’ll agree to that…Master.” There was a laugh from the other end.

  “I know you’re nervous; I am too. But it’ll be fine. If nothing else, you’ll end up with a new wardrobe for session play and we’ll come away with some good stories. But I think it’ll be good for both of us.”

  There was a large box waiting at my apartment door when I got home from work the next evening. It was appropriately wrapped in plain brown paper. I dragged it into my bedroom, gingerly opening the box, not quite sure what to expect.

  And I was unprepared for what was inside; some of it leather, all of it black. Much of it, as I looked at it lying on my bed, made no sense; there were straps and buckles and widgets. Nothing seemed remotely like something a human body would wear.

  But then I saw it, an outfit I could…would wear. It was a black leather corset that laced up the back, with a zipper up the front. Easy access, Jake. You’ve got it. And it fit. I put it on.

  There was a short black skirt, something shiny, very short. I cringed but put that on as well. It had a zipper that went from hem to waistband. I thought about it for a minute; I wasn’t sure if the zipper went in the front or the back. But then I realized it didn’t matter. Either way would have the desired effect. I put it on with the zipper at the back.

  There were at least a dozen pairs of thigh-high stockings in the box: fishnets, lace, sheer…all black. I found a garter, figured out the straps and clips, added a pair of lace-patterned stockings.

  My own shoe fetish provided a pair of black heels, ‘fuck-me pumps’ as Leslie was fond of calling them. They added at least four inches to my height and gave me the illusion of having longer, thinner legs… or I hoped they did.

  I stood in front of the full-length mirror, something I rarely did. But now, I almost couldn’t walk away.

  It was me, only it was more me…and in a good way. The corset pulled me in and pushed me up and out, giving the curves I had more definition. The skirt hugged my hips and ass, and somehow didn’t make them look huge.

  And yes, the shoes
did make my legs look miles long. Covered in the black lace, they looked pretty damn good.

  I wanted to call Jake and tell him, but I really wanted him to be surprised. While I was putting away the assortment of items I was confused about, the phone rang.

  “Did you get the box? Did you find something you like?” Jake’s voice was Christmas-morning excited.

  “Yes, Jake. I did. And I’m not telling you what I picked out. You’ll have to be surprised.” I was actually going to enjoy this.

  “Alright. I guess I’ll have to be patient.” There was a pause, and what sounded like a resigned sigh. “I have a bit of bad news though. My board of directors has scheduled a shareholders’ meeting for next week. I’ll be out of town until early Saturday morning…the morning of our club date.”

  My heart sank. “Oh.” Crap.

  “I’m going to miss you, Abby, miss our dinners and talking with you.”

  Miss just dinners and talking? Not miss our sessions?

  “I’ll miss you too, Jake. And I’ll miss our sessions.”

  “Yes, I’ll miss our sessions too. I had all kinds of devious things planned for you. But, they’ll just have to wait until after our club date.”

  “When are you leaving? Can’t we have a session this weekend?” I detected a hint of panic in my voice. Where was this coming from?

  “I’ll have to spend the weekend here, or at the office, prepping for the meetings. There’s some policy changes at the local and state level that’s gotten the shareholders nervous. But I don’t want to bore you with the details. It just means I’m not going to be around before the club date, except by phone.”

  “Oh.” There was nothing else I could think to say. My heart was tripping along in my chest, a funny syncopated beat.

  “Abby? Are you okay?” There was concern in Jake’s voice.

  “Well, yes…no, I’m not sure. This is…whatever I’m feeling is a bit scary. I’m not sure how to explain it.” And I didn’t think I could explain it to myself at the moment.