by Sophie Stern
Dark Heart of the Dragon
Sophie Stern
Copyright © 2017 by Sophie Stern
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Renee has been on her own for a long time. As the resident Dragon Domme at The Dungeon, she's used to getting her own way, being her own boss, and commanding respect from anyone she meets, but when Dean comes to The Dungeon, everything changes.
Suddenly, Renee isn't the badass she's always felt like. Suddenly, she's not quite so in control, but does that have to be a bad thing?
Maybe it's time she relied on someone other than herself.
Maybe it's time she learned to trust.
After his divorce, Dean didn't think he'd ever find love again, but when he agrees to teach classes at The Dungeon as a favor to Anthony, he meets Renee. The hot-tempered Domme is a firecracker when it comes to her subs, but he has a feeling there's more beneath the surface than Renee lets on.
The Domme of the Dungeon is fierce and brave, but Dean suspects she's been wounded before.
Will they be able to overcome their pasts and learn to trust once more?
Will they be able to learn that sometimes, surrender comes in the most unlikely of circumstances?
Inside the dragon
Beats his lonely heart
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Contents
Dark Heart of the Dragon
Mailing List
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
About the Author
Red: Into the Dark
Prologue
1.
1
The Dungeon was dark when Renee entered, but that wasn’t anything unusual. The Dungeon was always dark on Dragon Isle. Even during the busiest nights, unless there was some sort of fire-play scene, the rooms would be dimly lit.
“Mood lighting,” Anthony called it, but Renee thought he was really just a cheap dragon who didn’t want an outrageous electricity bill. Not that she blamed him. Running your own dungeon was costly. Cutting corners had to be done even at the best of times.
If a dark room was the cost for getting to play with whips and chains, though, Renee would gladly put up with it. Besides, the dark didn’t affect her too much. As a dragon-shifter, she was able to see almost perfectly in the dark. It was the humans who frequented the club that she was worried about. Their eyesight wasn’t as good and if they got hurt, all hell would break loose.
Well, if they got hurt in a way they didn’t want to.
Renee entered the main room, which was eerily silent, as promised. Anthony and Gabriel were busy punishing their sub at home for some minor indiscretion, which Renee knew was really just an excuse to spend the day having sex.
Good for them.
An ordinary relationship wasn’t easy at the best of times.
Managing a ménage had to be even more challenging.
Anthony told her she could practice for her upcoming scene with Ava. She was one of the shifter submissives who frequented the club. Renee had never played with her before, and although the two of them had talked about what they wanted to try on Friday night, Renee wanted to get a feel for the space and the equipment she’d be using ahead of time.
Now, as she walked through the wide open space, she was filled with a newfound appreciation for Anthony and the club he’d created. He’d managed to create an incredible space where humans and shifters alike could come and explore some of their darker, wilder fantasies. He’d created a place where they could be themselves, where they could be safe, where they could play without worrying about anyone judging them or thinking they were weird.
He’d done a lovely job.
She made her way past two of the stages and went over to the bar. She poured herself a whiskey neat, then brought it with her to the stage where she’d be playing with Ava. It was one of the side stages: a smaller space, but it was also a bit more private than the main stage.
Since it was their first time playing together, Renee and Ava both wanted an audience. Having an audience meant there would be safeguards in place for both of them and they would be less likely to encounter any communication problems.
Renee considered herself an experienced Domme, but anyone could have unexpected issues arise during a scene. When she was playing with a new sub, Renee thought the more eyes, the better. Even if she missed a cue that Ava was struggling to say her safe word or was getting nervous, one of the other Doms or Dommes would be more than willing to step in and help her out.
She liked that.
She liked knowing her sub would be in good hands no matter how the night went. Renee doubted she’d make a mistake during the scene, but she wanted her partner’s safety and pleasure to come before all else.
Renee sipped her drink as she eyed the stage. At least twenty people would be able to crowd around and watch. Maybe more. It was a good spot to have a new scene. It was a good place to play together for the first time.
The stage itself was made of wood and elevated. People could sit or stand in the audience and watch what was happening. Most people would stand and paw on their own partners as the scene progressed. One of the most exciting things for Renee, as a Domme, was when the audience got turned on by what she was doing.
Usually, she was so focused on her sub that she didn’t notice the audience, but sometimes she did. Sometimes she noticed exactly how turned on they were. Once, a man started blowing his partner right in the front row.
That had probably been the highlight of her Domming days.
There was a spanking bench in the middle of the stage and a pole. Those would be enough for the scene. Ava was still new to the lifestyle and this was their first scene together, after all. Renee’s goal was to build trust between the two of them and to give Ava an orgasm – or several orgasms – she wouldn’t soon forget.
It was a good goal, she thought, a fair goal. It was a decent objective and one she’d be able to accomplish with a little bit of planning and a little bit of preparation. It wouldn’t take her too long to walk through the scene, and then she could go home.
She tasted her whiskey as she looked around. She wouldn’t be drinking during the performance, but she could enjoy a drink or two now. She was alone, and there was no one here, and she could afford to let loose a little bit.
There was a small stereo by the stage that was only ever used for classes and practice scenes. On club nights, louder music was played through the club’s speakers. Sometimes there would even be a DJ. The music would play so loudly it would be difficult to hear people talking.
Tonight, Renee turned on some music and cranked the volume. A song came on that she liked, and she started to dance a little bit. It wasn’t often she got to unwind and relax like this. She had flown here in her dragon form, so she was naked. Oh, there were plenty of clothes around the mansion that Anthony’s club was housed in, but she didn’t care to find anything to wear right now. She was in her element, and she was comfortable, and no one was here to see, anyway.
The music switched and a song came on.
Her song.
The one that made her feel like a fucking princess.
The one that made her feel like a dirty Dominatrix about to let loose on an unsuspect
ing sub.
The one that made her feel like she could fly.
She started to dance faster. She shouldn’t, really. She wasn’t a particularly good dancer or a skilled dancer, but the mood was right and she felt at ease. The whiskey was working its way through her, and as she danced, she moved across the stage.
She imagined where Ava would be first: on the pole. Should she be blindfolded? Maybe not. It was their first time, after all. Maybe a blindfold would be better once they got to know each other. Then again, it could be a good way to help calm Ava’s fears if she began to feel any stage fright.
She’d think about it.
Renee set the idea aside for later and began to move through her routine. She would tie Ava to the pole. Her hands would be above her head and she would be facing out. She’d feel helpless, nervous, and aroused.
Oh, she’d be so aroused.
Renee would kneel in front of her and tease her, lick her, touch her. She’d play with every part of her body and then she’d touch her even more. She would heighten Ava’s senses and make her aware of every inch of her skin.
Then she’d put some pretty clamps on her nipples.
Then she’d eat her pussy.
Renee was going to tease her little sub. She was going to tempt her, taunt her, play with her. She was going to wind Ava up like a little toy and she was going to make her come alive.
She was going to make her moan.
She was going to make her fucking sing.
Renee could hardly wait.
2
Dean watched the dragoness dance.
He’d never seen anything quite as beautiful, quite as lovely. She was perfect, he thought. She was petite, for a dragon, but still curvy. Dean was no small man and compared to him, the woman looked positively tiny. She must have been 5’6” or 5’7.” Most female dragons were tall. They were almost always closer to six feet.
Not this little darling.
She was perfect, sweet.
Tiny.
She was like a little pixie, and he could watch her forever. She sang as she danced, holding her whiskey close. He wondered what she was doing. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was planning a scene, but he’d never seen anyone walk through a scene like this before.
When Dean planned what he would do with a sub, he liked to do it in silence. He liked to walk around and consider different angles and options and think about anything that could possibly go wrong.
This woman wasn’t doing that.
She was horny, judging by the sweet scent that filled the air, and she was obviously a dragon shifter. He could smell her, and it made him hard.
He shouldn’t be hard for her. Not now. Not just yet. He didn’t know anything about this woman. He didn’t know her name or her status at the club or what she liked in bed. He didn’t know if she was funny or serious or if she could be both at the same time.
But she was gorgeous.
And she intrigued him.
He watched from the shadows. He shouldn’t. He knew that. He should leave. He should leave or announce that he was here so she didn’t think he was being creepy. He should, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to keep watching.
If he left, he would be giving up the most interesting thing that had happened to him all month, perhaps all year. He’d been a Dom for a long time and it was rare he met anyone – sub or Domme – who intrigued him the way this woman did.
She finished her whiskey and set the glass down.
“You look beautiful,” she said, staring at the pole. He knew she was thinking of her partner. A woman, perhaps? Was this beautiful dragon going to play with another woman? Was she going to touch someone’s breasts? Was she going to lick them? Bite them? Play with them?
He wanted to know.
“But even beautiful girls can be naughty,” the woman said, answering Dean’s unspoken question. “And I think you, Ava, have been very, very naughty.”
So she was a Domme, then. Interesting. Dean bet she was a switch. The woman had a certain grace about her, a certain strength that meant she would be a remarkable Domme for the right partner, but he bet she could really flourish as a submissive, too.
He wanted to find out.
Wasn’t that odd?
He wanted to see how she would look when she was able to relax, to let go. He wanted to see how she would react when he was touching her, stroking her body. Would she melt beneath his hands? Would she moan for him? Would she cry out as he played with her?
Would she beg him to stop or keep going?
Dean fucked plenty of women. It was one of the perks of being a Dominant at clubs like this. While he didn’t sleep with all of his partners, he slept with enough of them to know that sadly, many submissives were interchangeable. Some people just wanted to come to a sex club for the thrill. Some wanted to be kinky for a night or go a little wild. Few wanted anything more.
Few wanted to offer anything more.
Was this woman different?
She was pouring time and effort into planning a scene for her sub. That counted for something. Dean felt like he was thoughtful when it came to planning a performance or a session with a submissive, but many people weren’t. Many wanted to get their thrills and go home. They didn’t actually care about their partner.
But she did.
That was new.
It was interesting.
It made him curious.
For Dean, curiosity about a woman was a strange feeling. Ever since his divorce, he’d distanced himself from romantic relationships. Oh, he had plenty of sex, but he didn’t date. He didn’t get emotionally involved. He didn’t offer up parts of himself to anyone.
Maybe it was time for that to change.
Maybe it was time for things to be different.
The woman moved. Her long blonde hair reached to her waist, and he liked the way it looked against her skin. When she turned around, he got a lovely view of her breasts, and he thought he would like to taste them.
She would taste good.
He could tell.
She moved – glided, really – across the stage until she reached the center. Then she looked out into the empty room and began to touch herself. Dean stepped back into the shadows. She wouldn’t notice him or see him from his position in the corner. Not unless she looked right at him, which she wouldn’t.
She didn’t know he was here.
Oh, she could scent him if she tried. There was no way to hide his arousal after watching her move, after seeing her dance. He just hoped the music was too loud, the whiskey too strong for her to pay attention to him.
Now as she touched herself, Dean realized she was going to make herself come. She was going to finish her run-through of the scene with an orgasm and he was going to get to see it. It might make him weird or creepy, but at that moment, he couldn’t make himself care.
He had to see it.
He had to see her come undone.
The princess looked like she was always in control of herself, always on top of any situation. She looked like she was always careful about how she handled herself. She looked like she was always prepared for anything.
What if she wasn’t?
What would she do?
What if she was the sub instead of the Domme?
What if she was the beloved instead of the lover?
What would she look like then?
Dean wanted to find out. He wanted to touch her, play with her, make her fly. He wanted to be the one she could lean on for a little while. He wanted to be the one who opened up new doors for her to explore. He wanted to show her how beautiful submission could be, how special it could feel.
He wanted to do that with her.
But she was a stranger, and he was a man without a plan.
He was supposed to be in The Dungeon exploring. He was supposed to be getting a feel for the layout of the space, supposed to be finding his way around. Anthony had asked him here to teach classes: not to lurk in the darkness touching himself.
That’s what he was doing, though.
Lurking.
Touching.
Stroking.
He wasn’t sure when he undid his pants, but his cock was in his hands and he was watching the little vixen with all the intensity in the world. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t make himself. Didn’t want to.
She pinched her nipples and stroked her body, then she got on her knees. Her legs were spread and even from across the room, Dean could see her wetness glistening. She was perfect, beautiful.
She was his.
The thought shouldn’t have crossed his mind, shouldn’t have made itself present in his head, but it did, and suddenly, it didn’t seem as scary as it ought to. He wanted her to be his, to be his darling, to be his queen.
He didn’t know anything about her except that he craved her, and that in itself was a dangerous thing. Dean didn’t like entanglements. They never did anyone any favors. Falling for a woman at the club was a bad idea. Falling for a woman on Dragon Isle was even worse.
Until recently, Dean had lived far away. He had lived in a place where shifters didn’t wander around openly, in a place where shifter-human relations were still strained, and he wasn’t sure he’d be good for someone who wasn’t used to that. He wasn’t sure he’d be good for someone who was as calm and content as this woman seemed to be because he himself was always on edge.
He had to be.
He always had to be cautious, careful.
He always had to be controlled.
Anthony had promised Dean that Dragon Isle was different. He promised him that Dragon Isle was a haven and so far, Dean thought he was right. He could spread his wings, he could breathe fire, and he could fly. He could do anything. He could be himself.
There was no hiding.
Dean had only been on the island for a short time and he hadn’t planned on staying forever, but suddenly, he didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to walk away from this paradise. He didn’t want to go back to a place where he had to hide who he was because this woman looked beautiful. She was unrestrained and uncontrolled and perfect.