For Love & Torture_A Submissives’ Secrets Novel

by Michelle Love

  I’ve dropped various cards in conspicuous areas of his home and offices. Cards for psychiatrists, therapists, doctors of all kinds, and even spiritual advisors and psychics. But he’s never called even one of them.

  I should stop trying. I should stop loving him. But I can’t seem to do that. No matter how much it hurts when I hear he’s been with a woman in a private room, doing only God knows what with her, it hurts. But I still love the man.

  Maybe it’s me who needs to see a therapist.

  I’m sure I need one too. Maybe he’ll agree to go to a therapist if he thinks he’s going for me and not himself.

  A knock on my office door jolts me out of my internal thoughts, and I get up to answer it. Pulling the door open, I see a tall, handsome man standing there. His eyes go up and down my body as he ogles me. “Hello, I’m Bartholomew Mason the third. You can call me Bart.”

  “Can I?” I step back to allow the newcomer into my office and leave the door open, gesturing to the leather chairs in front of my desk. “You may call me Isabel. And how can I be of help to you this evening Bart?”

  Taking a seat, he watches every move I make as I sit back down in my chair. “I’d like to join this fine establishment. How can I go about doing that?”

  “I can help you with that. First, you should know that we do a financial background check.” I pull out the sheet he’ll need to fill out and push it across my desk toward him. “Our dues are quite high, and we have to make sure our members have the ability to pay them before we let them do anything else.”

  His large hand moves over the paper as he pulls it to him and looks at it, then back at me. “I understand that. And how long does this financial background check take? I’m hungering to get myself a submissive partner to play with. Are you available?” His lips pull up to one side as his dark eyes dance.

  Chuckling a bit, I shake my head. “I work here. I’m not allowed to even go out onto the main floor by myself. And I can have that check done by tomorrow at five.”

  “Pity.” He gives his attention to the paper, filling it out then pushing it back to me. “There you go.” Propping his elbows on my desktop, he knits his long fingers together and rests his chin on them. “How long have you been here, Isabel?”

  “Since the beginning.” I wiggle my finger, the one with the dragon ring on it. “The owners treat me as if I’m one of them. I was an essential part of the planning of this establishment.”

  “Do you belong to a Dom already?” His eyes burn into mine and he can’t seem to stop trying to size me up.

  He’s not an ugly man, quite the opposite. He’s stunning, but there’s a darkness to him. I’ve seen it in some of our members before. Bart’s features are chiseled, hard, unforgiving.

  Everything about the man is dark. His shoulder-length black hair is kept back with a rubber band. His dark beard is kept immaculately, accentuating his high cheekbones. The dark eyes round out his dominating and somewhat evil appearance.

  The black tuxedo fits his muscular body perfectly. He looks like the real deal, Bart Mason. And I know he’ll have to be handled carefully by the trainers, as his machismo is on the overwhelming side.

  His question rings in my ears. Do I belong to a Dom?

  In my heart, I belong to Grant. No matter what he says. But I can’t go around saying that. “No, I don’t belong to anyone.”

  His brows arch as he looks surprised. “No one at all? Not even a boyfriend?”

  Shaking my head, I put the paper away. I can’t work on the background check until tomorrow. “No, not even that. If you’ll come with me, I can show you around. I just have to let my assistant, Betty, know I won’t be in my office” I get up and move out from behind the desk.

  Bart rises and walks a step behind me, his hand touches the small of my back, and it sends a chill through me. Not the good kind, either.

  Walking across the hallway, I peek into my assistant’s office. “Oh, hi Isabel.” She jumps up and comes to greet me and her eyes are immediately drawn to Bart. “And who do we have here?”

  “This is…”

  I have to shut up as Bart’s hand moves up my back and his hand clamps down on my shoulder. “I’ve got this. I’m Bart, Betty. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Betty reaches out to shake his hand, and he moves his off my shoulder to shake hers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” She pulls a small, Lone Ranger type of mask out of her pocket. The girl is always prepared. “If you’ll allow me to put this on for you, it’ll help you to not be recognized by anyone here.” She glances at me. “Did you tell him about introducing himself to the others yet?”

  “Not yet.” I watch his hand as it snakes by me, reaching out to take the mask from her outstretched hand.

  He stupefies me as he hands it to me. “Put this on for me.” An order, not a request.

  Taking the slip of fabric, I shoot a look at Betty, whose mouth is hanging ajar. No one talks to me this way, but this man isn’t aware of that just yet.

  I have to balance on my tippy toes to reach his face to place the blindfold on him. He might be lacking in manners, but he isn’t lacking in height. “Our members introduce themselves as mister and whatever the first letter of their last name is. So I’ll be introducing you as Mr. M.” With the blindfold tied, I step back and look at Betty. “You get to cover my office while I’m gone, Betty.”

  “Not a problem, Isabel. I was out on the main floor a little while ago. It’s a packed house tonight.” She winks at me. “Mr. J. will be surprised to see you out there.”

  “Yes, he will.” I turn to walk out of her office. “But this is part of my job, showing around new prospects.”

  Bart’s hand moves back to rest on the small of my back and I can feel his warm breath against my ear as he leans in close. “Is this Mr. J. enamored with you, Isabel?”

  “He’s my boss, sir. He doesn’t like me to be out on the floor. He likes to keep me up on a pedestal, a place where men don’t get any ideas about me.” I walk down the long hallway with the man right at my side and push open the door to the main room.

  A gust of cool air hits me as the door opens into the den of iniquity we’ve built together. “My, my. Now, this is exactly what I thought it would be like in here.” His hand moves off me as he rubs his palms together. “I don’t get to play yet, do I?”

  “Not yet, sir.” I take one step forward and find his hand on my arm, holding me back.

  I look at him, finding that his brows have knitted together as he frowns at me. “Sir? Have you so quickly forgotten my name?”

  “Not at all. It’s our practice here to call all men sir. And if you recall, you’re not going to be giving out your full name to anyone. Not yet, Mr. M.” Giving him a smile to cool his temper, I hope he won’t give me any trouble.

  We don’t often get new members as we filled up rather quickly during the first few months of opening. I’ve only taken a handful of men around to show them the club. But this one is the most daunting by far.

  “I see. Carry on then.” He lets me go, but that hand goes to my back once more. “Have you dabbled in this scene, even though you have no Dom?”

  “Of course I have. I worked with one of the owners to write the rules that all of our members have to follow. And I’ve studied the different types of play extensively. I had to, it’s my job.” Making my way through the thick cluster of people, all of whom are clad in masks, I see the huge banner that was put up earlier this afternoon. I point it out to Bart. “At the end of this month, we’re having a Halloween Ball. It’ll be the first of what will become a yearly event. There’s going to be a slave auction that night, and many of our couples will be doing scenes. It’s sure to be a fun time.”

  “It’s been years since I did anything for Halloween. That sounds like fun. I too have studied many forms of play. What are your favorites?” He takes my hand in his, stopping me once more to make me look at him and answer a question he shouldn’t be asking me.

  “I haven’t
done any type of play in about a year. That’s behind me.” I give him a curt smile and move on, making him let go of my hand. “Would you care for a drink? It’s on the house.”

  “Only if you’ll join me.” With a fluid move, his arm is suddenly around my waist, and he pulls me to sit at the bar with him.

  Mike, the bartender, comes straight to me. “Well, hello. Fancy seeing you here.” He gives me a smile and nods at Bart. “Name your poison, sir.”

  “Tom Collins, make that two of them.” Bart takes a seat next to the one he sat me on. His dark eyes roam the room as he sits backward on his stool and leans his back against the bar. “This is truly something else, Isabel. Like something out of a dream.”

  Mike places our drinks on the bar in front of us and gives me a wink as he nods his head in Bart’s direction. I just shake my head slightly. I can see he thinks the man is keen on me—which I know he is, but I’m not available.

  Sipping my drink, I look out at the crowd I so seldom get to see. Men in tuxedos, women in various styles of dress—from fancy gowns to barely anything. Some are on leashes, some are on their hands and knees as their Doms or Masters carry on conversations as if they’re not even there. “A dream you say? I think it’s more like a nightmare.” I was enamored with the club at first. But since I’ve been cooped up in my office, it’s no longer fun to me. It’s all work and no play.

  Bart’s fingertips run over my hand as he takes the glass out of it, setting it on the bar. “Nightmares, like scary movies, can be fun. You should allow me to train on you, Isabel. I want to become the best, and I think I can be that with your help. I can see it in your eyes—you yearn to feel the tightness of the rope around your wrists and ankles. You ache to feel the thud of a paddle on your ass.”

  It’s true, I do have yearnings. But only one man can do those things to me and make me like them. Shaking my head, I say, “I’m not available for that. I can help you pick a female that will love all the same things you do. That’s what I do here. Nothing more than help the members find compatible partners to explore this world with.”

  “Then why do I see the need in your eyes?” he pushes me further.

  Before I can conjure an answer, I feel a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Looking up, I find Grant eyeing Bart. “Hi, I’m Mr. J., one of the owners. I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before, mister…?”

  “M,” Bart answers then looks back at me, daring to run one finger over my chin.

  Grant’s hand on my shoulder tightens. “He’d like to become a member of your club, Mr. J.” I lean back, so Bart’s finger drops away from my face. “I’m showing him around the place. Are there any scenes coming up?”

  Grant reaches past me, picking up my drink and taking a sip of it, taking it over. It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t want me to lose control with Bart.

  Jealousy… Maybe that’s the key to making Grant deal with how he really feels about me.

  Chapter 15

  Grant

  Troy, Blyss, and I chat away as the lights go down, and everyone becomes quiet, eager to watch what’s about to happen on stage. Classical music drifts through the room, sounding ghostly, haunting me already.

  The month is October, and at the end of this month, we’ll be having our first annual Halloween Ball. Our patrons will all be wearing costumes, and many will be putting on scenes. It’s a thing Isabel and I came up with last month, and everyone seems excited about it.

  Taking in a scene with my friend Troy and his sub, Blyss, I try not to think about anything but what’s going on onstage. Blyss is sitting between Troy and I, and she smiles as she says, “This seems so surreal.”

  I’m sure it does to the young woman. She was a virgin when she came here. Troy won one of the most sought-after women we’ve ever had here. I haven’t said a word to him, but I can tell they’re headed for more of a romance than just a BDSM relationship.

  Troy had told me that Blyss asked him if they could come up with a scene to play out in front of the other club members. He’s against it, still worried about how fragile she is, even though she keeps assuring the man she isn’t as breakable as he thinks she is. Troy doesn’t seem to be taking any chances with the adorable young woman.

  The spotlight comes on, focusing on a crystal vase full of lilacs that sit on a table in the center of the stage. Placing my glass of Scotch on the table, I lean back in my seat. Looking at Blyss, I let her and Troy in on something I’ve heard about the woman who will be in the scene. “The sub who’s in this has asked about me, several times. She’s been what I call a hopper, going from Dom to Dom. I’m interested in her, only to try to tame her to stop her endless roving from person to person. I’d love it if you could see if you can get a bead on her, to let me know if that would even be possible, Blyss.”

  “I can try.” She smiles and pats my hand. “Maybe she will be the one for you. You’re a sub hopper, yourself. Perhaps you could tame each other.”

  Troy is quick to correct his sub. “Blyss, it’s okay for a Dom to take as many subs as he wants to. Don’t refer to Mr. J. as a hopper.”

  “I apologize, Mr. J.” Blyss offers a genuine apology, then turns her attention to her Dom. “As for you, your hopping days are through.”

  Troy chuckles instead of getting angry with her. “Blyss, we’ll talk later about how you speak to me. Now, get quiet and watch the show.”

  With a nod, she bows her head with respect. “Yes, Master.”

  With a kiss to the side of her head, Troy whispers, “Good girl.”

  I know I seem like a hopper to most people in the club. I know what it looks like. The thing is, I may have practiced certain types of play with the women in this club, but my cock has never gone into anyone—other than Isabel—since the club opened.

  Not that I’ve been holding out for her, because I haven’t. Merely because none of the women I’ve played with make my cock ache to be inside of them the way it does whenever I’m around Isabel, that doesn’t mean I’m pining after her.

  If I was a whole man, a man without demons, perhaps then I would try to make something with the woman who loves me. I fear I’ll never become the person she deserves. Nothing has changed in me in the last year though, and I doubt anything ever will.

  The spotlight pulls out, and now we see someone is on the stage. The sub sits with a book in her lap. A baby blue dress that looks as if it’s from the nineteen fifties covers her body. A white pair of heels and a string of pearls complete the old-time look. She even has a pair of reading glasses on.

  Smoke begins to wisp out from the side of the stage. The sub is unaware of the smoke. The sound of a creaking door comes from the speakers. The Dom enters the stage, opposite the side where smoke is still moving in wispy ropes.

  His suit is old and worn as he portrays the other half of the old-time couple. His hat is tossed, landing on the table near the vase of flowers. “Is dinner ready, Pet?”

  The sub looks up from the book without a care in the word and not a single clue that there’s a fire right on the other side of her. “I have no idea. I got lost in this story.”

  The Dom is well aware of the smoke and shouts, “There’s a fire in the kitchen!” He tears across the stage, while the sub just sits there.

  Oh, this will not be good for the foolish sub.

  Placing the book that was on her lap on the table to join the flowers and the hat, she sighs and waits. I fight the urge to shout at her to get up and help her Dom.

  On cue, the Dom comes back to her, red-faced and clearly upset with the poor foolish woman. “That’s the fourth time this week you’ve burned supper and nearly burned down our home, Pet. We’ll be having cold bologna sandwiches yet again, thanks to your errant ways. What am I to do with you to get you to remember what your job is, here at our home?”

  “I don’t know.” Finally, she stands up and wraps her arms around him. “We don’t have to eat sandwiches again, Sir. We can go out for a nice meal. Wouldn’t that be nice?”


  The angry growl coming from the Dom should be a warning to his sub that things aren’t going to go well for her. “Pet, you have a mess to clean up in the kitchen. Not only do the burnt remains of the meal in the oven need to be cleaned out, but you also haven’t cleaned any of the dishes you used while making the now-charred meal. And I will not be rewarding your behavior. As a matter of fact, I think you need to be punished.”

  Now she’s getting it.

  “Punished?” she asks, as if she had no clue that outcome was on the cards for her.

  Taking her hand, he takes her back to the chair. Pulling back, she tries to get away from him. But he’s not having it. “Pet, do you realize that the food you keep burning is costing us money?”

  She bats her lashes, trying to lure him into what she wants. A meal out instead of a spanking and a kitchen clean-up. “It’s not that much, please don’t punish me, Sir.”

  Her Dom isn’t falling for it. “Do you not think I work hard for our money, Pet? I have to stay on bended knee all day long, selling shoes. And for that hard work, you take the food we buy and ruin it. So far, this week alone, I calculate you’ve cost us fifty dollars. That’s three days’ work for me. With all we’ve been put out, do you still think that you don’t need to be punished to make you remember you are to be cooking, not reading or doing anything other than making our evening meal?”

  Now she’s moved on to the begging. “I’ll remember from now on. You don’t have to punish me. I promise I’ll remember. And I’ll go clean the kitchen right now. No, I’ll bring you a sandwich, and even a pickle slice first, then I’ll clean the kitchen. Oh! And how about a nice big glass of Scotch? I’ll go fetch that real quick while you relax. You’ve had a terrible day, I’ll make it all better. You’ll see. Just let me go and put this silly punishment stuff to the side.”

  Her Dom is not about to let her off the hook so easily. “The time for all that has passed. You should’ve met me at the door with a drink. You should’ve kissed my cheek and led me to this chair. You should’ve rubbed my shoulders to loosen my sore muscles. Muscles I will now have to use to administer your punishment.” With a growl, he pulls her to lay face-first on his lap.