Temporary Dom

by Holly S. Roberts

  “No, I took a cab.”

  I stood, placed two bills on the table, and put my hand out. “I have a driver. I’ll drop you at your office, and we can finish this conversation privately on the way.”

  Her smaller fingers fit perfectly in my larger hand.

  Machala Winters was mine.

  Chapter Three

  Machala

  Present day…

  My entire body trembled and Luke had noticed. Since the day I met him, little escaped his attention. So shook up by what just happened, I was unaware that Danny entered the room until he spoke.

  “Are you okay, Machala?”

  He was my best friend and I owed him honesty. “No, Danny, I don’t think I’m okay.”

  His arms came around my shoulders, offering comfort as they always had. He didn’t understand my sexual preferences, but he didn’t judge them either. His girlfriend was a little bit of a thing and he treated her like a precious jewel. I didn’t believe there was a man out there who could fulfill my craving for pain on one hand and treat me as Danny did Becky on the other.

  I managed to hold back tears, which made me realize things were slightly better than they were the first few months post-Luke Isaak. I gently shifted out of Danny’s arms. “He asked me for a date.”

  “And you told him no?” There was a touch of censure in Danny’s words, but it didn’t bother me because he’d picked up the pieces when I walked away from Luke.

  “Yes,” I smiled, “I told him no.”

  He gave a relieved sigh. “You want that drink now?”

  “I do. Why don’t you call Becky and have her meet us?” Even her name was sweet, and they were the perfect couple.

  With concern written across his face, he gave me the, this could be a long night look. “She’d like that, but we need to talk about this first.”

  “I’m fine.” I assured him with another quick smile. “I told Luke Isaak no and that’s cause for celebration.”

  He finally grinned. “I’m proud of you.” He looked down and I knew what was coming. “When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep, Machala?”

  Damn him. I loved him and he should have left this alone.

  “Don’t go there, Danny. I have it under control.” I used self-imposed insomnia, so when I did sleep, it was the sleep of the dead. I didn’t tell him how bad it still was because he couldn’t help. I didn’t want my sleepless nights upsetting him. Cold compresses on my eyes each morning and an extra layer of makeup helped me hide the evidence of how bad things were. The world saw only what I wanted it to see.

  Danny’s lips tightened and his fingers traveled through his short brown hair. “I’m sorry. I worry about you.” He looked up and a slight smile had me expelling the breath I’d held. “Are you sure you said no?”

  I laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “I still want to race out the door, chase him down, and throw myself at his feet.” God, where I belonged. I wanted to submit to Luke so bad it hurt.

  Danny’s laugh was short. “That’s why you have me. I will completely guilt you out of any and all thoughts of doing just that. Let’s go.”

  Relief swamped through me because Danny didn’t pry further. I couldn’t deal with his questions and Luke’s visit all in the same day. I squared my shoulders and walked out of the building, saying goodnight to my employees on my way. Looking at me, they had no idea how shook up I was or that I had enough mental problems to sink a ship. They saw exactly what I wanted them to see. Not even Danny knew everything. And then there was Luke. He saw through the pretend me and my fucked up life. He experienced what I hid from the world firsthand and now he wanted to go on a date. I wasn’t normal. Luke couldn’t understand that some things needed to stay buried.

  Becky met us at Jolly’s Bar and Grill. Against all odds, we managed a booth. I watched Danny greet Becky with a short but thorough kiss. Watching them, I continued to feel the burn of Luke’s lips clear to my toes. A straight shot of tequila helped replace those feelings with a different type of burn, but it wasn’t enough.

  “Another.” I banged the shot glass on the table.

  Becky watched me closely while holding back her questions.

  “The asshole came to the office today,” Danny informed her.

  Becky’s cute pixie face changed. Her eyes grew hard and I wanted to laugh. Neither Danny nor I could kick Luke’s ass, but Becky, with attitude, might have a shot. She was aware of some of the dynamics of the relationship I had with Luke but not all. Unless Danny told her everything and, if so, I didn’t want to know. Becky was just too damn sweet and innocent. My sexual depravity could only blacken her soul.

  Danny stood, took my shot glass and made his way to the bar. He knew me too well. Knew I needed alcohol to boost my determination.

  Becky’s face had grown red with her anger. “Why did he come to your office?”

  I didn’t want to discuss this, but Becky was… well, Becky and she meant well. “To ask me on a date.”

  “Seriously?” She sounded as shocked as I did when Danny said Luke waited in my outer office.

  “It’s okay, Beck, I said no.”

  She leaned across the table and took my hand. “I’m so sorry, Machala. You were so far over that jerk and now this.”

  Too sweet and innocent. How could I explain to her that I would never get over the man who broke my heart? Even though I left him, I was weak when it came to Luke Isaak. I knew it. Danny knew it. And Luke knew it. But Luke hadn’t pushed very hard to gain my cooperation, which was the opposite of the Luke I remembered, and I didn’t know why. What I did know was that I needed to find a Dom to relieve my pent up need. I wondered if Damian would arrange it for me. Half the country away, but he kept his finger on the kink community around the country. He’d offered his services to Luke and procured submissives for him. Why not sadists for me?

  I downed another shot then switched to water. I decided to take care of my problem and give myself some relief so I could clear my mind and move forward. For the next hour, the three of us spoke about several of our breakthrough authors, Becky’s postgraduate classes, and anything but Luke Isaak.

  “You good, Machala?” Danny asked after kissing my cheek before he took Becky home.

  Now that I’d decided to find some relief, I could answer the question honestly. “I’m good.”

  I almost directed the cab to a kink club I’d visited a time or two, but I’d found no satisfaction there post-Luke. I was calling Damian this time and maybe he could find someone who would work out for longer than one scene. I needed someone like Kyle, a regular at Damian’s club, to be here in Los Angeles—someone who didn’t require an ongoing full or part-time relationship and could meet my needs. I’d been unable to find that perfect someone and Luke didn’t count. Luke tried to go beyond what I could give.

  I didn’t have even a small buzz when the cab dropped me at my townhome. My realtor found this place after I made my first few million. It represented my achievement. The expensive homeowner’s dues included the use of a shared town car and driver. He had to be scheduled, but I’d never had a problem and I liked the luxury of having a driver on call. The community consisted of wealthy entrepreneurs, doctors, and lawyers with a few Hollywood moguls thrown in.

  The interior of my home housed classic American art and showed no sign of my poor childhood in India. My mother and I had lived on the streets for years when my American father eventually located us. He and my mother met when he was stationed with the U.S. Air Force in Delhi as a training officer. My mom cleaned his rooms and one thing led to another. He returned to the states and after he left, she found out she was pregnant. By the time the letter reached him, her parents had thrown her out.

  Some of my earliest memories were standing at my mom’s feet begging. Wrapped into those memories were the constant hunger and the secret I never spoke of. That wall would stay intact forever.

  I was six years old when my father tracked us down in Gujurat. How he found us was a
miracle, or at least my mother thought so. He brought us to the U.S. and set us up in a rundown apartment. He then went back to his wife, who he’d married after leaving my mom. They had been expecting their first child and we were his secret. From what my mother told me, he never cheated on his wife, but he took care of his obligations. Our apartment was so many steps up from living on the streets in India that it never bothered my mom. But it bothered me. Our secret consumed me.

  I took my cell from my purse and looked through my contacts for Damian’s office number. I didn’t expect him to answer, so his deep voice startled me.

  “Damian here.”

  “Oh, hi. This is Machala Winters.”

  “Are you okay?” He sounded concerned, most likely because I didn’t usually call during the evening when he worked out in his club.

  “Yes, Sir.” Damian had never been my Sir, but I had no problem addressing him with the title. He wreaked dominance even over the phone. He was a partner in my business and I had no trouble talking to him about business-related matters. But now I was nervous and I reverted to what made me comfortable. The D/s fell easily into place. “Well, I uh.” Shit, this was so unlike me. “I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll start over.”

  “Take your time, Machala. How may I help you?” The smooth whiskey sound of his voice calmed me.

  “I have need of a Top, but the few I’ve used here in California didn’t quite meet my needs.” A little rushed but I got it out.

  “Did Luke meet your needs?”

  Crap. “Yes, but things didn’t work out in other ways.”

  “I heard you were no longer together. Let me see what I can do. Can I reach you at this number?”

  Of course he’d heard. He probably set up a line of subs to take my place. Jealous anyone? “Yes, thank you,” I said, proud of myself for keeping my tone even.

  “Have your needs changed?”

  “No.” I didn’t think my need for pain and humiliation would ever change.

  “You must be honest with me, Machala. Are you in any type of distress at the moment?”

  I took a short breath and gave him what he asked. “A little physically, a lot mental, but I’m not a danger to myself or others if that answers your question.”

  His husky laugh sent chills through my body. What was it about a Master Dom like Damian that did it with just the sound of his voice?

  “That’s exactly what I’m asking. I’ll call you back in an hour.”

  “Thank you, Damian, Sir.”

  “Take a long bath. Light a few candles and relax. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The line went dead.

  Oh my hell. I thought I’d hear back in a few days maybe a week. Was I ready for someone to beat the shit out of me tonight?

  My body tingled.

  Yes, I fucking was.

  Chapter Four

  Luke

  I was in the middle of a bitch beater when the shrill sound of my cell phone weaseled through the pounding of drums. I should have turned it down or off. I ignored it and continued. The wood in my hands rolled through my fingers. I flipped with my left playing backstick. Sweat rolled from my hairline down my face and dripped down my torso. This wasn’t music—it was rage and drums were the only way, at the moment, that I could process the burn and clear it from my system.

  The phone stopped its noise for a few moments then started ringing again.

  Fuck.

  I rotated on my stool and picked up my cell after I saw the name on the caller ID.

  “You owe me,” said the familiar voice.

  A burst of laughter escaped. “A million times over. So what’s new, Damian?”

  ***

  An hour later, I was on the road with damp, just-washed hair, my toy bag in the trunk, and my heart thumping a heavier beat than my drum kit had earlier. Damian promised he would persuade Machala to accept a strange man coming to her home. And I would add some extra emphasis with my special wood so it never happened again. Fuck me, she was crazy. Even with Damian’s assurance, she had too much to lose, and then there was the danger factor.

  Plaid.

  I would do a plaid design on her ass just for the satisfaction of seeing it.

  I’d only been to her place once before. It was a month after she left me, though she never knew. After watching her turn off the lights, I’d sat and observed the dark interior throughout the night. She slept while I scrutinized our relationship and asked myself what the hell I was doing sitting outside her townhome like a stalker.

  This time, I walked to the ornately carved door. She didn’t have a camera system, but she did have a peephole. This was the tricky part. She had to let me in. I placed my bag beside my foot and knocked.

  The doorknob rattled slightly, but the door didn’t open. Several long moments passed and I knew she was aware I was waiting. Finally, the knob turned.

  She stood in a black silk robe, barefoot, hair down. Minus the robe, it was exactly how I wanted her.

  Anger sizzled in her eyes. “What are you doing here, Luke?”

  I bent slightly and grabbed my bag. I took a step to the side and forward to go around her.

  Her arm came out to block me. “No, Luke, you can’t come in. I’m expecting company.”

  I grasped her arm and tossed my bag into the foyer. With my other hand, I grabbed the hair at the nape of her neck. “You’re expecting me, girl.”

  She took a quick breath of air. I wasn’t sure if she would scream, so my other hand came up and covered her mouth. I turned us both into the small foyer while pushing the door closed with my foot. With the solid thud, I finally saw panic replace the anger.

  Good.

  She started struggling which made one of my darker fantasies came into play. I had no problem with a rape scene. Her problems with it were not even in the picture—she’d invited a complete stranger into her home and who knew what could have happened. I let go of her hair and turned her away from me circling my arm around her chest while keeping my other hand over her mouth.

  I felt her teeth, though they didn’t find good purchase, just made me press my fingers more firmly against her lips. “You’ll pay for that. Do you really want it worse than what I have planned?”

  We were both breathing hard by now. Her foot swung back and connected with my shin. It fucking hurt. Unlike the first time we met, this time I was keeping track of each infraction. I pushed my bag with my foot. It slid across the foyer floor as I moved forward. I didn’t want to put her down on the hard floor with carpet in my direct line of sight. Not that I minded causing her pain, but if she continued struggling, the floor could cause serious injury and that I wouldn’t do.

  I swung her around so she landed face first on the rug. It wasn’t as soft as it looked. She tried going to her knees, so I pressed one of mine into her back. I managed to reach my bag and pull out the ball gag. Straddling her with the gag wrapped in my fingers, I pulled her hair with the same hand. Slowly, I released her mouth, my lips at her ear.

  “Do you have something you want to say before we begin?” I whispered.

  She struggled uselessly again. “You bastard. What the fuck are you doing?”

  I forced the ball between her lips, pulling back on her hair when she clenched her teeth together. “I guarantee you won’t like most of what I do tonight. But then you don’t want to like it do you? You’re now going past pain and into agony. We’ve been there before and I know you can take it. I just don’t think you want to cross that final line into lasting scars. Now open your fucking beautiful mouth.” My fingers tightened in her hair even farther.

  She screamed. Coming from anyone else it would be terror, but with her, it was quasi-submission. Not complete. She’d never gone there completely with me. Her body relaxed and I let up on some of the pressure against her spine as I worked the gag past her teeth and buckled it at the back of her head.

  “I know you don’t like being gagged and you know that doesn’t bother me at all. In a short time
you’ll be screaming and I don’t want your neighbors calling the cops.” My lips were still against her ear and I could smell her arousal. Holy fuck could I smell it. Add a touch of fear to her already wet-fucking-dream scent and my cock needed a hole to ram. Machala had a way of turning me into an uncontrolled teenage boy. I took a deep breath, but her scent didn’t help my aching dick.

  I unbuckled my belt with one hand and slid it out of the belt loops then used it to secure her arms behind her. “Don’t fucking move.” I released her and stood quickly then took a step back. It had been too long. I’d dreamed about this too often. I watched her for several minutes. It also gave her time to calm down and think about how much she needed this. Her robe was trussed up, the tops of her thighs bare. She was naked beneath. I’d discovered that when she struggled against me. God, I needed to fuck her until neither of us could walk.

  I pulled my fingers through my hair. Love, romance, and the vanilla things that went with it were not part of our dynamic. Had never been a part of my sex life, but she brought out a side to me that I didn’t know existed. Not tonight, though. Machala wanted punishment and I was just the sadist to give her exactly what she needed.

  “Up.” I lifted her by her upper arms, turning her so I looked straight into her angry eyes. “Shake your head up and down if you’ve stopped struggling. If not, I have no problem cutting this robe off you.” She hesitated and I had to fight a smile. She never gave in easily.

  Slowly her head moved up and down. I reached around and unfastened the belt from around her arms, watching her closely. Without giving her a chance to do more than breathe, I pulled off the robe. Her eyes immediately closed.

  “Look at me, girl.” Again, it took her a moment to do as I said. “You’re not getting out of the punishment for thinking you could let a strange man come here and fuck you. I don’t give a damn if Damian recommended him or not. You always meet in a safe place first. You will not risk this body with stupidity. You can, however, get out of what I have planned after your punishment. This is your only chance. Do you understand?”