Doms of Dark Haven

by Cartwright, Sierra

  A contest? Great. Unless he planned something intellectual, she'd surely lose. She hesitated.

  A hand closed on her arm, and she looked up at the gray-haired dom beside her.

  Michael frowned at her. “Simon might have said 'please,' but it wasn't a request, sub; it was an order.” He pulled her across the room to Master Simon.

  “She wanted to think it over before obeying,” Michael said and let her go.

  “Really.” Master Simon's eyes darkened with displeasure.

  Oh Crom. “I don't like contests. I lose,” she said hurriedly. Why did his disapproval make her chest tighten and her stomach sink? She looked down.

  “I see.” He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Unfortunately, your opinion doesn't count, does it.”

  He hadn't really asked a question, but she answered anyway. “No.”

  His fingers flexed on her chin just enough to remind her of her manners.

  “No, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir.”

  “Much better.” He released her. “Join the others.”

  As she took her place at the end of the line, he said, “This submissive contest is for general friendliness and service.” He grasped the first sub by her nape and asked the crowd, “If this pretty elf either gave you her name or served you in any way, please raise your hand.”

  Seven hands lifted, mostly dommes'.

  Rona bit her lip as uneasiness twisted her insides. Concentrated on getting her bearings, she'd spoken casually with a few doms but hadn't introduced herself.

  Soon she realized the other elves had stayed very busy, serving drinks and food, giving back rubs, foot rubs, or playing with a dom as requested. Very few hadn't done much; unfortunately, she was one of them.

  Master Simon gripped the back of her neck firmly, pulling her a step closer to him. She shivered as his hard chest brushed against her shoulder and his warm, rich scent surrounded her. He asked the crowd, “And this sub?”

  Only Michael lifted his hand.

  “Ah. Well, she is just in training, after all. Please help her out and put her to work, gentlemen.” His hand dropped away. “All elves who earned more than five raised hands, you've done well. You're dismissed. The rest of you slackers, remove one article of clothing and leave it on the table there.”

  When three-quarters of the subs dispersed, Rona sighed in relief. At least she wasn't the only slacker. Remove something. Well, she hated wearing hats anyway. Her hand had just touched the fuzzy cap when Master Simon added casually, “I should mention that if I find an elf without an elf cap, I will toss her out on the street…naked.”

  Rona snatched her hand away and heard him chuckle. Crom, she didn't have much to choose from. Maybe she could remove her bra in the powder room?

  “You have ten seconds, and then we'll all help.”

  Maybe she didn't like Master Simon after all.

  “Ten. Nine—”

  Jaw clenched, Rona unbuckled and pulled her belt off.

  “One.”

  She tossed the belt on the table. Lacking buttons, her Santa coat fell open, displaying her very skimpy bra and thong. She'd have to hold it shut all night. That jerk.

  Looking around, she saw one elf must have waited too long. Three doms had surrounded her and were stripping her of clothing. Rona bit her lip, trying to decide if she'd find that exciting or frightening. She rubbed her chilled hands on her coat.

  “Rona,” Master Simon said.

  “Sir?”

  “Please take a filled tray from the kitchen and serve drinks until it's empty.”

  Cool. Something active to do. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  He grinned.

  In the kitchen, when she picked up the tray, she understood his amusement. Holding the tray required both hands, and now she couldn't hold her coat shut. “You bastard,” she muttered.

  “Excuse me?”

  She whirled so suddenly that the drinks sloshed.

  “Did I mention the rule about speaking without permission?” His eyes glinted with laughter.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He smiled slowly. “You're penalized one ribbon.” Reaching over her tray of drinks, he tugged on the ribbon serving as the left strap for her bra. The bow came undone, and he pulled the ribbon out of the grommets.

  Held up on only one side, her bra sagged, exposing her left breast.

  Still holding the tray, she looked up at him.

  “I like that helpless look,” he murmured and ran his fingers down her neck to her bared breast.

  Her attempt at retreat only backed her into the kitchen island. Trapped between it and him, she stared over his shoulder as he stroked her breast, circling the peak with one finger. She could feel her nipple pebbling under his confident touch. How it ached.

  A gentle pinch made her jump; the glasses chimed on the tray. Her eyes jerked up, and he held her gaze as his fingers teased her nipple. When he squeezed the tip, a hot sizzle shot straight to her groin. Her fingers locked on the tray as he increased the pressure—as her excitement skyrocketed.

  His eyes crinkled. “We need to get you into a scene before you explode,” he said softly. He brushed his lips over hers and stepped back. “Go serve, lass. If you find someone you'd like to top you, I'll release you from your duty.”

  As she walked through the rooms, everyone greeted her politely. Some took a glass; some ignored the drinks and made themselves free with her body, running their hands over any exposed skin. The air around her grew increasingly warm.

  In the living room, she spotted Michael talking to two tough-looking doms in black leathers. A redheaded sub knelt on the floor between their chairs.

  “Rona.” Michael waved her closer. “This is Logan”—he nodded toward the dom with steel blue eyes and dark brown hair—“his sub, Rebecca, and his brother, Jake.”

  Jake looked as hard and lean as his brother but had a nasty scar across his tanned forehead that his thick hair couldn't hide. He considered her for a long moment, then cocked a brow. “That's a nice elf costume, blondie.”

  Uncertain as to how she should address them, she said, “I'm pleased to meet you, Sirs.”

  “Your arrival is timely.” Michael grinned. “We're arguing about where a woman's legs are the most sensitive. I think it's behind the knee. Jake says just below the ass.”

  Rona frowned. Did he expect her to offer her opinion?

  Michael rose and set her tray on an empty chair, then pushed her to one end of the coffee table. “Bend over, sub. We're going to conduct an experiment.”

  No way. If she bent over, they'd—

  All three doms frowned at her hesitation. Oh Crom. She obeyed and tried to reassure herself that Michael wouldn't do anything horrible. I want Master Simon here.

  “Hands flat on the coffee table, Rona.”

  She did, all too aware of how her coat didn't cover her butt. But at least she stood sideways to the two men in the chairs; they wouldn't see it. She dropped her head and closed her eyes. Now what?

  “Look at Logan and Jake,” Michael said.

  Okay. Both men watched her with that focused dom look.

  “Now don't move, sub.” Michael swept his hands up and down her legs. Then his fingers brushed behind her knees, tickling until she wiggled. He laughed and moved his hand up to the tender skin just below her bottom, caressing it. Not a tickle now. Her lips compressed as pleasure ran through her.

  “Jake wins,” Logan announced, and a grin flashed in his leathery face.

  “My turn.” Jake stood, tall and muscular. As Michael seated himself, the other dom walked behind her. God, looking right at her butt, dimples and—

  His hand caressed the crease below her bottom, touching and grazing until she could feel her thong turn damp. When he slid his hand down to stroke behind her knee, she sighed in relief.

  “Sorry, Michael. That's two for two,” Logan said. “Looks like, on this sub at least, below the ass beats the knee area.”

  “In my opinion, that spot wins eve
ry time.” Jake slapped her bare butt lightly, startling her, and took his seat again.

  Were they done? Could she move now?

  “There's one more theory to consider.” The rich timbre of the voice from just behind Rona made every muscle in her body contract. Master Simon.

  She turned her head, trying to see him, and got a stinging swat on her bottom. “Don't move, sub.”

  Her jaw clenched, and yet heat seemed to stream off her as if from a raging forest fire.

  “And what's your theory, Simon?” Logan asked.

  “That with the right dom, a touch anywhere is erotic.”

  The men grinned at each other. Michael said, “Perhaps you should demonstrate.”

  Rona strained her ears. Nothing.

  “Now, lass.” His voice seemed to caress her, despite the stern authority in it. “Don't move. Keep your eyes on the other doms.

  A quiver ran through her, and she forced herself to stay still. A moment passed. Another. He stood right behind her. She could feel his warmth and his gaze on her exposed bottom.

  His fingers grazed over her ankle. She pulled in a ragged breath at the sensation and the knowledge that this was Simon's touch. A moment later, his hard hand closed around her calf and squeezed, and somehow the warmth of his skin and the slight scrape of his callous fingers sent electricity sizzling straight to her clit so fast that she had to force down a moan.

  The doms burst out laughing.

  Jake shook his head. “Always some bastard screwing up a good experiment.”

  A low chuckle sounded behind her, and Rona stiffened. What was he going to do?

  “But I have to say, Jake,” Master Simon said, “I also prefer the just-below-the-ass spot.” A pause and then his hand traced the crease between her thigh and bottom with one…deliberate…stroke. Warm, rough, firm.

  No longer under her control at all, her hips pressed back against his touch.

  Master Simon's laugh was deep and masculine. “Up you come, lass. Experiment's over.” He gripped her arm and helped her stand. With a shock, she realized his other hand hadn't moved and now cupped her buttock. He squeezed slightly.

  Her legs shook as she looked up at him, feeling the strength in the ruthless grip on her arm, keeping her right beside him so he could touch her as he pleased. His fingers stroked over her bottom, slowly, and each movement increased her arousal.

  When he finally released her, satisfaction glimmered in his eyes. He touched her cheek gently. “Do you know how lovely you are when you're aroused, sweetheart?”

  He tilted his head at the other doms. “Thank you, gentlemen, for allowing me to participate,” he said and strode away.

  As Rona tried to get her breathing under control, the doms exchanged glances. “Well, that seemed clear enough,” Jake drawled. “You ever see Simon get territorial before?”

  “Should be an interesting evening.” Logan pulled his fair-skinned sub between his knees, and the pretty sub's eyes closed in pleasure as he played with her hair. A wistful envy ran through Rona. What would it be like to sit at a man's feet, to feel his—Master Simon's—hands on her?

  “Not for me, apparently,” Michael grumbled.

  Rona frowned. Had she missed something?

  Michael handed over her tray of drinks and smiled at her. “Off you go, pet.”

  By the time she'd emptied the drink tray, she'd grown—almost—used to being on display. The excitement that Master Simon had roused hadn't dissipated at all. The sights and sounds of people making love, of floggers and groans and whimpers, kept her in a pure state of need. Three doms had asked her to play, all interesting and pleasant men, so why had she said no?

  Because she'd gotten fixated on Master Simon. Just like now, each time she spotted him, her whole body seemed to jump up and down, screaming, Him, him, him.

  She set the tray down and leaned against the living-room wall. After all the lectures she'd given herself, and the goals she'd posted on the bulletin board, she was still being stupid about a man.

  Chapter Six

  Ah, there she was. Simon spotted his little sub leaning against the wall just outside the kitchen. He'd kept an eye on her—she continued to refuse other doms. Good. Watching her with someone else would hurt like hell. He wanted to be the one to show her more, to bring her to orgasm. He wanted her trust…and more.

  Gently, though. She'd take flight too easily.

  First the bait. He set his bag beside the high recliner-style table, one of his favorites, with extra width and leather padding. One by one, he pulled the vacuum cups out of his bag and lined them up on a paper towel on a nearby coffee table.

  The sub he'd commandeered in the kitchen set down a pan of bleach water. “Ooooh, Master Simon, you're going to do cupping?”

  He nodded. When he turned, he saw Rona join the people gathering around the table. If she wanted variety and exploration, he'd be happy to fulfill that need. He captured her gaze. “Come here, lass.”

  A shaking started in Rona's stomach at the smoky growl of Master Simon's voice. Then the words registered. “Come here.”

  “Me?” Her voice squeaked.

  “You.” He rolled up one sleeve, looked over at her, and frowned. “Now.”

  Oh no. She needed to think, but her feet moved her forward. Her hands went numb, and yet desire sizzled through her with each step closer. Her skin felt sensitive, the brush of her Santa coat like sandpaper. When she met his intent, measuring eyes, her chest squeezed as if he had her ribs between his big hands.

  She stopped in front of him.

  “Good girl.” He cupped her chin in one hard hand. “Such big eyes.” He brushed his mouth across hers and released her.

  “I-I…” What had she planned to say?

  “Remember the rules about speaking, little sub.” He patted the table. “I want you on here—without the coat.”

  The people. She didn't have anything on but that skimpy bra and thong. Her eyes met his.

  “You've watched all night but haven't played…and you want to, Rona.” He ran a finger down her cheek, his smile just for her. “I'll go slowly, little one.”

  A tremor ran through her. I want to do this. And I want to do this with him.

  He waited patiently, but his confident posture said he already knew her answer. How could that feel so reassuring?

  She pulled off her coat and handed it to him, shivering at the feeling of air—and eyes—against her skin.

  “Good girl.” The approval in his dark eyes warmed her. He grasped her around the waist and set her on the countertop-high table, then swung her legs up.

  The slick leather chilled her bottom, and she clenched her hands in her lap.

  “Now, tell me. Do you want to watch or just feel?”

  She bit her lip and stared at the clear glass cups, which suddenly seemed a little ominous. “Watch.”

  “All right.” He adjusted the table to lean her back in a reclining position. Before she could object, he tugged open the ribbons on her bra and pulled it off.

  Great. Baby-chewed breasts with white stretch marks. She forced her hands to stay in her lap and not cover them.

  To her surprise, his eyes held only appreciation as he looked at her for a long, long moment. When his callous hands finally cupped her breasts, her back arched. Somehow she felt as if she'd been waiting for his touch all night. His thumbs traced circles around her nipples, and heat pooled in her pelvis.

  “I can see I won't have to warm you up very much,” he murmured. He leaned down and took her mouth, even as his hands moved over her breasts, teasing and playing until the world rippled around her. He pulled back to smile at her. “I don't know when I've enjoyed kissing someone so much. You give everything you have, sweetheart.”

  And he kissed her again, a sweet kiss that turned forceful, his tongue taking complete possession.

  When he stopped, she couldn't move, could only stare up into his intent gaze. Why did surrendering to this man feel so right?

  After stud
ying her, he nodded and said softly, “That's my sub.” And the utter assurance in his claim terrified her when she couldn't find any disagreement inside her.

  He picked up a strap and buckled it just below her breasts. A softly lined cuff went on each wrist, and he secured them to the top of the table over her head. Then he walked to the foot of the table.

  She eyed him nervously, again aware of the people watching. “What are—”

  His stern glance strangled the words in her throat. Silence. Don't talk. But…

  Her knees bent as he pushed her feet upward toward her butt. Then he restrained her ankles to the edges of the table, the position far too like the one her gynecologist used, only even more spread open—the width of Simon's table was twice that of a medical one.

  She pulled on her arms and legs, suddenly feeling frighteningly helpless.

  “Ah, lass.” He walked back and held her face between his hands. She looked into his eyes. Calm and confident.

  “Nothing will happen that you won't enjoy, Rona. If you become too scared, you can use your safe word. Tell me what it is.”

  She swallowed. His thumbs stroked her cheeks as he waited for her answer.

  “Houston. It's Houston.”

  “That's right, my lass.” He held her head between his hands as he enjoyed her mouth in a leisurely kiss, as if he had all night, as if people weren't waiting for him.

  When he let her go, her resistance had melted away. The knowledge that right now she'd submit to anything he wanted chilled her a little. Master Simon knew exactly what he was doing, and she wasn't sure if she resented or admired his power.

  He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Thinking again?”

  She watched him walk toward the end of the table, and every one of those eased muscles started to tighten again. When he undid the laces of her thong and pulled it off, a sizzle of excitement shot through her system. Her moan almost sounded like a whimper.

  His eyes crinkled. He didn't touch her, though, and she was glad—really—although everything down there throbbed in need.

  “Let's start with your nipples,” he said. He picked up a small glass, bell-shaped cup and set it against her left breast. The coolness drew her nipple tighter. Shaking his head, he chose another size and fastened something that looked like a caulking gun with a gauge to the pointed end of the glass.