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Chapter 1
Skylar’s body thrummed with edgy pleasure, heat building inside her with each well-placed stroke of the flogger. She gasped, reveling in the pleasure and the pain as the soft, stinging leather struck her ass, shoulders and back. Sweat slicked her skin, her breath rapidly escalating to a pant. She leaned heavily against the snug grip of the wrists cuffs secured to the chain overhead, a moan escaping her lips as the flogger took her closer to where she desperately needed to go.
Take me there, she silently begged. Take me to that special place.
The man behind her had become nothing more than a whip arm with a flogger. She was turned inward now, focused on the powerful, faceless Master who took her to that secret place in her soul, the place she could only get to when the erotic pain was just right.
“Please, Sir,” she gasped, speaking to her fantasy Master. “Don’t stop. I need this. I need you…”
The world fell away, the breathy cries of erotic pain and feigned ecstasy that created the backdrop of sound in the BDSM club fading to a murmur. She was close. So close…
All at once, the lovely, slapping leather ceased, leaving her skin tingling with need, her heart pounding with frustration. “You belong to me, wench,” the man behind her announced in a booming, theatrical voice. “I own your body. I possess your soul.”
Fuck. She’d been so close. Skylar’s eyes flew open in dismay. Wench? Was this guy for real? And, sorry, no. Nobody owned Skylar Moran.
“Don’t talk,” she pleaded. “Just do it.”
“How dare you command me,” the guy barked. “I decide, not you. It’s time you got on your knees to serve me properly, wench.”
He pressed his leather-clad body against her, his hard-on poking insistently against her lower back. He smelled of cheap cologne and stale cigarettes. Reaching around her, he slid his big hands into her bustier. He groped and squeezed her breasts as if they were rubber exercise balls.
“Scene’s over,” Skylar announced abruptly, turning her body as she tried to get away from him.
Ignoring her words, he pinched her nipples, twisting hard as he leaned down to bite the side of her neck in an annoying way. Maybe he hadn’t heard her.
“I said the scene is over,” Skylar repeated, louder this time. She tried to pull away from him as he continued to maul her breasts and rut against her ass. “Apple,” she yelled, jerking against him. “That’s my safeword, buddy. The scene is fucking over. Let me down. Now.”
To her relief, his hands fell away. He appeared in front of her, his eyebrows furrowed, his mouth downturned. He was a good-looking guy, tall and well-built, though his handsome face was now twisted into an ugly snarl. “What the hell?” he demanded, glaring at her. “I’m the Master, you’re the sub. You don’t get to end the scene. It’s over when I say it’s over.”
“Is there a problem here?” Pete, one of the club owners, appeared suddenly beside them. Thank goodness.
“No,” the idiot snapped, not looking at Pete. “Everything’s under control.”
“Yes,” Skylar said at the same time. “This asshole is ignoring basic club protocol. We agreed to a flogging only—no physical contact. I said my safeword, but he won’t let me down.”
“Fucking prick tease,” the jerk snarled under his breath. Turning to Pete, he said, “I didn’t realize this club was full of posers and wannabes. I’ll take my business elsewhere.” In a huff, he grabbed his gear bag and stalked away.
“Keep going,” Pete called after him. “Right out the door.”
He turned his attention back to Skylar. “Sorry about that,” he said as he reached up to release her cuffs. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Skylar said. She adjusted her bustier to cover herself. “Thanks for stepping in.”
“No problem. He won’t be bothering you anymore. As you know, we have zero tolerance for bullies.” He looked her over. “You sure you’re all right? Do you need some aftercare?”
Skylar shook her head. “No permanent harm done. He was actually pretty good with the flogger.” She grinned ruefully. “Too bad he thinks that by calling himself Lord Evil and carrying a whip, he has carte blanche to do whatever he wants. Though I don’t know why I’m surprised.” She sighed. “There are all too many Lord Evils out there pretending to be Doms.”
Pete grinned and shook his head. “Ain’t it the truth? Though there are lots of good people dedicated to safe, sane, consensual play, we still get our share of bullies dressed up in leather, with no real clue what they’re doing.”
He glanced at the large gold watch on his wrist. “It’s about time for the raffle drawing. You bought a ticket, right?”
Skylar bent down to retrieve her black leather miniskirt. She pulled it on over her thong panties and reached back to zip it up. “I did,” she replied as she hoisted her gear bag onto her shoulder. “It sounds amazing. Is that place for real?”
“Oh, yeah,” Pete said as they walked together toward the juice bar. “I don’t think they’ve even been open a full year, but there’s already a waiting list a mile long. “They’re the real deal—professional Doms and subs who will make your darkest, sexiest BDSM fantasies come true. It’s pricy, but from what I hear, worth every penny.”
There had been a lot of buzz in the Charlotte BDSM scene about the new resort, located on a private island in North Carolina’s Outer Banks. A paradise for those in the lifestyle—with luxury vacation packages that were customized to your particular kink. “It sounds fantastic,” Skylar agreed as she slipped onto a barstool. “Not that I ever win anything.”
As a pharmaceutical sales rep, Skylar made decent money. But lately the job had become a grind, the competition between the reps fierce because of the boss’s particular, obnoxious habit of pitting them against each other for bonuses. Eight years out of college, Skylar was still driving a crappy used car, paying off student loans and pouring money into a landlord’s pocket for her nice but overpriced apartment. Her boss was a total dick who called her “little lady” and gave all the best leads to her male counterparts. She was definitely burning out, but she had no idea what else she might do.
“Greetings, fellow kinksters,” Pete said into a microphone. He had taken his place on the small, raised stage near the bar. “It’s nearly time for the Desire Island free vacation contest. We’re going to do the drawing in five minutes, so it’s not too late to get your ticket. Desire Island has donated this amazing packet as a way to spread the word within the North Carolina BDSM community about their fabulous new resort. All proceeds from the ticket sales will go to local shelters for abused women and children. So even if you don’t want to spend a week enjoying a luxury vacation on a secluded island specially designed to meet your every kinky need, you’ll still be donating to a very worthy cause. If you haven’t bought a ticket yet, see Melanie at the juice bar.”
Several people crowded at the bar, holding out their ten-dollar bills as Melanie handed out more raffle tickets. Rhianna, Skylar’s best friend, slid onto the barstool next to her. “Did you get your ticket? Master James bought ten of them just for me. He says he’s going to send me for a tune-up whether we win this raffle or not. I hear the training is out of this world. I’m so psyched!”
Skylar looked over at her friend, who was perching on the edge of the stool, her bottom barely touching it. “What’s wrong?” Skylar asked. “Why are you sitting funny?”
“Ooo,” Rhianna cooed, her face lighting up. “You haven’t seen it yet. It’s healed enough to take off the bandages but it’s still tender. Look! It’s so amazing.”
“You had it done without telling m
e?” Skylar frowned. “I thought you guys were still deciding.”
“Don’t be mad. I wanted to surprise you,” Rhianna replied with a pretty pout. She rose and pivoted. She was wearing a black bustier with garters attached that held up fishnet stockings. Her thong panties didn’t cover her ample bottom, which she angled toward Skylar.
Skylar bent to peer closer at the brand, which was red and ridged against Rhianna’s fair skin. About the size of a half dollar, it depicted a pair of handcuffs with James’ initials artfully woven through the design.
“Wow,” Skylar breathed, both horrified and awed that her friend would undergo such a painful expression of her submission. She never would have considered a brand for herself, yet something tugged inside her as she admired it. Imagine having the courage to undergo an actual branding in order to please your Master.
Skylar envied Rhianna the deep sense of peace and serenity that seemed to shimmer around her like an aura. A part of her longed for what her friends shared. Would she ever find a love like that?
She picked up one of the glossy brochures that had been placed on the bar in anticipation of the raffle.
“Are you looking for the BDSM experience of a lifetime?
Desire Island – Bring your darkest secret fantasies to life.”
A beautiful brunette lay on a lounge chair by an infinity pool, a white-sand beach with blue-green waves sparkling in the background. A young man wearing a Speedo and a slave collar was offering her a cocktail with a slice of pineapple and a tiny umbrella on its rim as she smiled up at him.
Skylar opened the brochure and caught her breath. A gorgeous Dom stood in a BDSM dungeon, dressed in black leather pants that molded perfectly to long, gorgeous legs. His broad chest was bare, a heavy flogger in his hand. He was tan, with sun-streaked blond hair and a chiseled jaw. A petite woman with long red hair stared up adoringly at him from her position on her knees. Skylar’s cunt moistened, her nipples hardening. She could totally get into a scene with that guy.
She read on the caption below the picture.
Desire Island is a private island located in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Bring your deepest held fantasies to life with one of our professionally-trained Dominants or submissives. We cater to all orientations and BDSM lifestyles, from casual play to a 24/7 intensive Master/slave connection. How far you go is up to you.
With your first step off the boat, the fantasy begins…
Imagine if she actually won. Serious play with an authentic Dom would be a welcome change from the amateurs she scened with at the clubs. She wouldn’t have to fend off assholes like Lord Evil. And all that against the backdrop of a luxury resort on a private beach. Why hadn’t someone come up with this idea sooner?
The back of the brochure had a pricing schedule. Her fantasy of a dream BDSM vacation receded fast. She couldn’t afford even the cheapest option, which cost more than she grossed in a month.
But if she won…
“Melanie,” Pete called from the stage. “It’s time. Bring the basket, please.”
“Wait,” Skylar cried. Though she knew she shouldn’t, she reached into her gear bag and pulled out another ten-dollar bill. “I’ll take one more ticket.”
Melanie took her money and handed Skylar the stub to the ticket and then dropped the final ticket into the raffle basket. “Good luck,” Melanie said as she carried the basket to the stage and handed it up to Pete.
A lot of people had gathered around the stage to watch the drawing, though just as many continued to scene at various stations around the large, dimly-lit club. Skylar stayed where she was at the bar. Master James had joined Rhianna. He stood behind her stool, his hands proprietarily on her shoulders.
“Ooo, I’m so excited,” Rhianna giggled nervously.
Skylar said nothing. She placed her two tickets on the bar, barely able to breathe. She closed her eyes, willing herself to let go. She couldn’t let the BDSM gods know how much she wanted this. They were sadists, after all, who would take great delight in dangling the prize in front of her, only to snatch it away…
“And the winner is”—Pete made a show of rummaging in the basket, tossing the tickets like a salad with his fingers—“Ticket number one-oh-six-seven-eight-three.”
Skylar stared down at her tickets. The first ticket was nowhere close. But the ticket she’d just purchased was… No. No way! No fucking way. What had he said? Her entire body went hot and cold at once. She had to have misheard.
“That’s one-oh-six-seven-eight-three,” Pete repeated. “Do we have a winner?”
Skylar picked up the ticket, her heart thudding in her chest. “Yes,” she squeaked, waving the ticket in the air. “It’s me. I won! I won! Oh, my god, I won!”
Chapter 2
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
RE: Congratulations from Desire Island
Dear Skylar,
Congratulations on winning a free one-week, all-inclusive BDSM vacation on Desire Island. We received the copy of your physical indicating you are in good health and have no limits on physical activity. That’s terrific news, since it means you qualify for any of our featured vacation packages.
These range in intensity level from an introduction to the sensuality of BDSM, all the way to a 24/7 Master/slave full-immersion experience. Please click on the link below to review the package details and determine which one is right for you. You will be sent a detailed questionnaire based on the option you choose. Please complete the questionnaire and return it at your earliest convenience. We will tailor a dream BDSM vacation designed just for you.
Looking forward to hearing from you. Let the fantasy begin…
Regards, Mistress Ella
“Desire Island? Is that one of our clients?”
Skylar quickly clicked out of the personal email, heat licking her cheeks and throat. She should have waited until she was out of the office to open the damn thing, but it had been too tempting to wait.
Swiveling in her desk chair to face her boss, she prayed her blush wasn’t too obvious. Hopefully, he’d only had time to read the subject line and no more. “No, Mr. Connor. Just some junk mail. How are you this morning?”
“Just dandy doodle,” he replied annoyingly. “I got your email about taking two weeks of vacation.” He paused for a dramatic frown. “You sure you want to take that kind of time off right now? I was just reviewing the new client numbers. Bob and Mike are killing it. You need to get out there and hump it, little lady.”
Skylar had no desire to hump anything. She didn’t care if Bob and Mike were beating her in the new client ratings. They could have them all, as far as she was concerned.
She had prepared for his objections. “Marie in HR said I have to use my remaining vacation time by the end of August or lose it. And August is a slow month, so I figured it made sense to use the time. Then I could return refreshed, ready to hit the road, pound the pavement and make some tracks.” She tried hard to keep a straight face as she parroted the trite phrases that were standards in the boss’s rah-rah-team weekly pep talks to “the troops.”
Mr. Connor pursed his thin lips and rubbed his weak chin, as if making up his mind on whether she was worthy. He damn well better approve the vacation, because she was going to take it, no matter what. As she stared him down, she realized a part of her hoped he would refuse. It would give her the push she needed to simply walk away.
Just the thought of being free forever from this odious man and this tedious, stressful job left her breathless. She tried to shake it away. She was stuck at this place until she could figure out something new.
Finally, he dropped the contemplative posturing. “All right, little lady. If vacation is more important to you than a sales bonus, have at it. Make sure you arrange for coverage of your existing clients with Bob and Mike. I’m sure they’ll welcome the extra business.”
“Thanks,” she managed, letting only a hint of sarcasm escape in her tone. “I really appr
eciate it.”
Master James wasn’t due back from work until later that evening. Rhianna had invited Skylar to dinner, which had been delicious as always, every bit of it made from scratch. Rhianna was a terrific cook. No microwave meals in her house, thank you.
Now the two girls sat together at Rhianna’s kitchen table, Skylar’s laptop between them. “I’m thinking about this one. It looks like fun.” Skylar pointed to the vacation package on the Desire Island website called BDSM Club Adventure. It was categorized in their intensity ranking system as a mid-level BDSM experience.
“Enjoy the beach and luxury spa by day, revel in a state-of-the-art BDSM club by night. Scene with trained Dominants and submissives and other Desire Island guests in a classic BDSM dungeon. Participate in a slave auction, informative impact play demonstrations and themed parties that will test your limits and leave you breathless.”
“I don’t know,” Rhianna said slowly, wrinkling her nose. “That sounds like what you already do here in Charlotte. It might test the limits of the BDSM-curious, but I would think you’d want something to push the envelope a little more. Master James and I have been talking about this. We both agree that this could be your chance to really delve into the lifestyle, instead of the slap and tickle you engage in at the clubs.”
Skylar bristled. “Slap and tickle? Come on, Rhi. I may not live the life 24/7 but I do a lot more than slap and tickle.”
“I remember the first time we met,” Rhianna said, a small smile playing over her rosebud mouth. “It was at that impact toy demo at The Loft. Remember that? You were with that guy. What was his name? Sir Whipsalot?”
Skylar laughed. “Sir Lashalot. His real name was Dwayne something-or-other. That was our one and only so-called date. He was an idiot.”
“Exactly,” Rhianna replied. “That’s my point. In the three years we’ve known you, how many idiots, posers and wannabes have you scened with?”
One True Master: Desire Island Series - Book 1 Page 1