“Isabel, at your service, Mr. Cantrell.” My call is answered by a happy sounding feminine voice.
“Hello, Isabel. And how are you doing this fine Saturday afternoon?” I run my pencil over the paper I’ve written my list of necessary items on, giving it one more look before I finalize the order.
“More than fine, sir. How can I help you?”
“As you’re aware, I’m sure, I’ve rented an apartment at the club again for the summer. A place to keep my purchase in. I need to turn in my list of what I want in it. Can you take this order for me?”
“I can. I’m ready when you are.”
Picking up my list, I rattle it off. “I need a set of bondage mitts, one bondage harness, and a new bondage belt. To go with that, I need a bondage hood.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Isabel cuts in.
“Yes?”
“Do you have a color preference?”
“Red. Everything in red, please,” I clarify. “Let’s get some bandage tape, just in case. And I want a monoglove. Now onto the gags. I’m thinking a mouth guard gag and a muzzle gag. That should start me out. I’ll be bringing my favorite masks, blindfolds, and satin bags to put over her head.”
“That sounds great. I see you’ve filled out everything else. You’re all set, Mr. Cantrell. We can’t wait to see you in two weeks.”
“I wanted to ask about a new young lady who’s appeared on the site. Petra Bakari. Can you tell me anything about her?”
There’s some tapping as she looks her up on the computer, then she says, “Oh, yes. Here she is. It looks like she’s receiving some training from another young lady who she goes to college with. Petra is in school to become a teacher, kindergarten through fifth grade. Her list of what she’ll do isn’t long.”
Tapping my pencil on my kitchen table, I ask, “Can you let her know she has an interested buyer?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Let her know what my interests are. I want to make sure she knows about arm binding, as I’m not into being touched. I like to keep my bottoms gagged and masked. Sometimes I even put silk bags over their heads and lightly tie them closed at their necks. Legs are generally cuffed and held in place in various positions. The bottom must only speak when asked a question. I don’t care about what she wants. She’s my purchase and that’s it. I’m not into any types of hitting. I’m only into confinement. I love keeping my woman all to myself and love leaving them alone for extended periods of time, because she’s so happy to see me when I return. Not that she’ll ever see me. I don’t allow that. Make that, ‘she’s happy when I return to her,’ instead.”
“I can do that for you. I’ll just send her an email. I’m sure she’ll be over the moon about you being interested, Mr. Cantrell.”
Her use of my name worries me, so I add, “Isabel, I don’t want her to know my name. Just let her know she has someone who’s interested in her and nothing more than what I like. Okay?”
“Sir, anonymity is always the number one rule in the Dungeon of Decorum. You have nothing to worry about, except the fact that two others have already made calls to me about this young beauty. You should also pick out a few more, in case this one gets taken by another.”
My blood begins to boil as I think about anyone else having her. “No!” I say sternly. The tip of my pencil breaks as I press it too hard on the list I made for us. “I won’t be bidding on anyone but Petra Bakari. She’s the only one this year who is of any interest to me. If I don’t get her, then I guess I’ll go without.”
“Sir, there are always a lot of women available on a day to day basis if that happens. You have nothing to worry about. But I really do think you should consider picking out a few more girls. It’s just a smart thing to do.”
“I know that. I’ve done that in previous years. But there’s something about this one that makes my cock thump, you know?”
“I see. Well, good luck then. I wish you all the best. You can rest assured that your apartment will have all you’ve ordered and that it’s being all taken care of as we speak. The place is yours, whether you win Miss Bakari or not. At the very least, you’ll, have a place to take women if you so desire. Here at The Dungeon of Decorum we always make it our business to please our members. Our entire staff will be at your disposal. Have a great weekend and we look forward to seeing you. If there’s nothing else, I’ll bid you good day.”
“There’s nothing more that I need. Only to win her. Goodbye.” I end the call and put my phone down. Drumming my fingers on the tabletop, I can’t stop thinking about someone else winning her and how mad it makes me.
This has never happened to me before. I can’t say that I like it. But I can’t say that I hate it either.
Already this woman is bringing more out in me than anyone ever has and we’ve yet to even meet. Pulling up her picture on the site again, I tap the button and print it out. The sound of the printer in my office that’s just off the kitchen buzzes and I hear it bringing the woman I can’t stop thinking about a bit more to life for me.
Two weeks seems like an eternity to find out if I can bid higher than the others who are interested in her. I have to win her.
I have to!
To be Continued
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Savage SEAL’s Virgin
A Submissives’ Secrets Novel
By Michelle Love
Dangerous missions, death-defying escapes, and mortal combats are child’s play compared to taking a virgin …
Dark nights, strange forest creatures, ropes, cuffs, paddles, and a whip should’ve been more than enough to tame one little virgin.
Blyss wasn’t your typical virgin!
I’d won her in a bidding war. She was pure as the driven snow. Every Dom wanted her.
It was me who was supposed to rule her, but she stole my heart before I knew what was happening. Every part of her was virgin territory, yearning to be explored. She was primal, and I took her that way.
A blast from my past forced me to accept a fake marriage, just so I could see my daughter, who’d been kept a secret.
Just as it was all coming together, my SEAL team needed me.
War is hell, and it gets even harder when you have to leave the ones you love at home.
Would I see the smiling faces of my girls again? Or would an enemy prison camp become my new home?
Our happily ever after was in jeopardy. Could I save it?
Part 1
Blyss
BDSM stands for Bondage, Discipline, Domination/Submission, and Sadism/Masochism. They were a bunch of frightening words, that was for sure. And it just so happened that I was planning to write my master’s thesis on that taboo topic. As a psychology major and a virgin, I was in for a drastic change in my sheltered world. I knew that going into my summer project; If I had parents to answer to, then perhaps I wouldn’t have chosen this subject to explore thoroughly. But I didn’t have a family at all.
My story was one of those sad ones. I was dropped at a fire station as a newborn and sent to an orphanage. I wasn’t as lucky as most babies. I was born addicted to all kinds of drugs and alcohol. My mother must’ve had a genuine love for all things that were bad. I was her complete opposite. Most likely, the violent withdrawals as a tiny baby had become part of my permanent makeup and had been stored in my cell-memory bank. Liquor didn’t appeal to me and I’d had not so much as an aspirin all the way up to my early twenties.
Then I decided that my life needed to be shaken up a bit. There’d been no one who had sheltered me. I’d done that to myself, burying myself in books since I had learned to read at the tender age of five. I’d found companionship in stories and knowledge in textbooks. I loved to read so much so that I hardly ever stopped reading. As they say, too much of anything, even a good thing, is bad for you. I was more than an avid reader. I was an addicted reader, which kept me from experiencing many things, including friendships. I’d never made o
ne friend in all my years of growing up.
There was no need to make friends. Books were my world and these characters were my only friends, until I began college. My roommates weren’t about to leave me alone with my books. Finally, I learned how to let people in while not letting them take me over. I liked it. I liked opening up to people and listening to their ideas, life stories, and daily drama.
I had no drama in my life. It was as sterile as the environment I lived in. I kept everything in perfect order. White was my favorite color and everything I owned was that color, or lack thereof. My wardrobe consisted of lab coats, which I wore on a daily basis. I had slacks that matched them, and even my undergarments were as plain as I could find.
The dark world of BDSM was ancient. The basics of the lifestyle seemed to be bred into us all. Man ruled over his women, which whittled down to one woman in many societies. He used anything he had to keep her in line. Brutality was necessary back in those caveman days. Males had to be brutal to maintain their mates. Not only did they have to fight off other males who tried to rob them of their women, but they also had to fight their women on occasion.
On occasion, females tried to run off. Others didn’t want to give up their sexual favors to the males who’d taken them from their father’s cave. Males resorted to the only thing that was hardwired into them; hold her down and do it anyway. Procreation had to occur, whether females understood that or not. Time moved on and we all evolved. That caveman mentality became unacceptable, and that was for the good of all. Things progressed and polite society looked down on rough sexual activity. But some of the naughtier individuals still played rough behind closed doors and in dark places where others wouldn’t see them.
It was that darkness that lured me in. I wasn’t vanilla. I was far worse than that. I was an untouched specimen. I needed an experienced Dom to take over me. My mind was set; I would hand myself over to him with no qualms. Everything we did, how I felt about it all, and how I felt about the man who’d done those things to me were to be noted. Then I’d make charts and sub-charts about the whole thing and write my thesis once summer was over.
I could’ve researched different men. I could’ve asked around to find things out. But I wanted a clean slate when I began my research. I wanted to go into an auction and to allow the right man to find me. The thing that made it all okay in my mind was the fact that my emotions were left out of everything. That was the stipulation of many Dom/Sub contracts. Once it was over, the two people would walk away from one another with no hard feelings. Love wasn’t a thing that was supposed to occur.
I was happy about that. I wasn’t looking for love. I was looking for an experience that I could write about and learn from—and that would make an excellent how I lost my virginity story.
Not many women would have the story I’d have.
Only a couple of weeks stood in my way. I’d done no research on anything that had to do with actual BDSM kinks. That way, I’d be able to accept whatever the man who bought me would want. Whatever he wanted to do to me, I wanted him to do. I was a blank slate and more than ready to be changed. My body had never experienced anything sexual. I’d never masturbated. No orgasm had ever filled me. I had no idea what that would feel like or if I’d even experience one.
The men I knew jokingly called me a robot. I was fine with that. Not all women climax, from what I’d read about human sexuality. I did realize that I wasn’t normal. One doesn’t go through life, living in another world that’s alongside the real one and not see that she’s different. The truth was, I was tired of being different. I wanted to be normal, but knew I had no clue how to become that. So I could be something else other than normal. I could be a Submissive. I could belong to someone. I’d never belonged to anyone in my entire life. It was time I let that happen.
I’d do it for the summer, and if I found I liked it, then I’d sign up for another auction and give myself to more and more Doms, until the right one bought me and wanted to keep me. No one had ever wanted to keep me. Not ever. Putting myself up for sale was risky. But so was living my life the way I had. I had deprived myself of so many things. All that was about to change. I was about to let loose and let go of all the things I’d clung to so desperately.
Once upon a time, my mother put me outside of a fire station. From what I was told, I had on no clothes, nor was I wrapped in a blanket. I was placed in a box and a storm was raging. No one was sure just how long I’d been outside. It was a miracle I hadn’t drowned or died from exposure. In my mind, if my newborn body could handle all that, my adult body was capable of even more. I was about to test limits I knew nothing about and hoped the Dom who’d buy me, would.
Troy
The sun was setting behind me as I drove my Jeep out of NAS Point Loma in San Diego, California. I was currently a master drill sergeant career Navy man. I had the summer months free and a much-needed extended vacation was calling my name, as was the Dungeon of Decorum in Portland, Oregon. I’d been a member of the BDSM club for the last three years. The lifestyle worked wonders for me. I could take on a Sub, who I’d win in an auction, for any length of time I wanted. Since it was summer, I had three months off and planned to make up a contract for the entire time.
Being a Dom was something I was good at. I knew how to think about what would work for entire groups of people. My experience working hands on with other people had given me more knowledge than most started out with. Not only was I acutely aware of what the human body could take and perform, I knew the inner workings of the human mind. It was capable of handling things most thought impossible.
As a SEAL, I’d done things and seen things others might’ve gone insane over. I was tough, built like a tank, and mentally capable of doing anything I set my mind to. And I do mean anything. What others saw as insurmountable challenges, I saw as opportunities to push myself to the max. And I enjoyed teaching women, my Subs, how to do that too.
At the end of our time together, my Subs left a hell of a lot safer than when I got them. They could take pain and morph it in their minds into things that not only didn’t hurt them, but could also be transformed into pleasure. I’d seen amazing transformations in the last three years with the women I’d taken on, and I was looking forward to getting my hands on a new recruit.
The club had a website where I could get a gander at the women who’d be in the summer auction that year. I didn’t want to look them over. I wanted to pick one out based on instant attraction. I was looking to work from the ground up with someone. I preferred a BDSM virgin.
I’d had women who’d been in that lifestyle and they were great. But I wanted a newbie—a fresh woman who knew next to nothing about BDSM. Showing someone things they could never imagine was what I was looking for. Watching her face as she found out just how high I could take her, using only some ropes, a paddle, and my cock was a thing that had my thighs tingling.
I had to make a stop at my family’s estate in Napa Valley, then I’d be on my way. My grandfather had started a winery when he was young and it had taken off. My mother had inherited it, as she was his only child. Her mother had died early on, so it was just mom and her father to grow the budding company. Time and patience had Succulent Winery blossoming into a giant company that my father and brothers loved. I wasn’t like them. I thought wine was okay. I preferred beer and whiskey. And I also preferred to work a bit harder than any of them did.
As heir to the fortune the winery gave us, I didn’t have to work a day in my life if I didn’t want to. But I hated to be idle. Both in mind and body, I liked to stay active. The cool thing about being a billionaire in the armed forces was that I could take the money I earned in the Navy and give every bit of it to various charities. I was also known to hand over large amounts of money as gifts for people who I found in need. I did those things anonymously, though. I didn’t want any recognition for anything like that. It was money. I had a lot of it and they didn’t. End of story.
Life could’ve been easy for me, but I p
referred to make it at least a little hard. I liked to work hard for what I had. Having something to show for all that hard work was what I lived for. While some might’ve seen taking on a Sub as a selfish thing to do, I saw it as an opportunity to help a fellow human being grow into something that they never thought possible before they had met me.
I didn’t leave my subs with just an education of the mind and body, I also left them with enormous chunks of money to let them live the rest of their lives any way they wanted to. Along with their newfound freedom to explore their minds and bodies in ways others condemned, the financial freedom I gave them allowed them to live life on their own terms. So far, every Sub I’d bought was happy with what she’d received from me.
We’d end our contract with smiles, handshakes, quick hugs, and maybe a kiss if the chemistry was there. The truth was, I hadn’t found intense chemistry with any of the subs I’d had. I’d found nothing to hang on to in the dating department, either. But I wasn’t freaking out over that just yet. I was still young, at only thirty years old. I had time to meet a woman, marry her, have a family, and all that jazz.
I wanted those things someday. I had faith the right woman and I would cross paths and both know we were meant to be together. I never told a soul about my secret thoughts. I didn’t like to be made fun of, and if I spouted off that crap, I’d be ridiculed, there was no doubt in my mind. Until that time, though, I would take my vacations in Portland, making memories that would last me a lifetime. I wasn’t sure I’d ever tell the woman I eventually fell for about my little secret. How many wives want to hear that their husbands were Doms, once upon a time? How many kids want to think that way about their daddies? Not many, I thought. When I found Mrs. Right, my Dom days would be over. I was all right with that. I could put that all behind me. I could be normal.
For Love & Torture_A Submissives’ Secrets Novel Page 45