by Lynne, Donya
But while he had removed her blindfold, he had put his mask back on, still hiding his face from her.
“You’ll sleep here tonight.” He spoke softly, nuzzling her hair.
She was in no shape to argue, already on the verge of slumber.
“Are you ever going to let me see your face?” she asked drowsily.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“When I feel like you’ve earned it.” It was what he’d told her earlier. At least he was consistent.
He kissed the top of her ear. “I have to have something to dangle over you to keep you coming back.”
She shifted in his embrace and nestled against him. “You don’t have to worry about that. After what you did to me tonight, you couldn’t keep me away with a fence fifty feet tall made of barbed wire and broken glass.”
He chuckled, using his fingers to brush back her hair so he could kiss her temple. “You enjoyed yourself then?”
She nodded, draping her arm over his stomach. “Couldn’t you tell?”
“Mm-hmm.” Reaching behind her leg, he pulled it across his lap as if he couldn’t hold her close enough. “Now you understand the appeal of genital clamps.”
“Pleasure from pain?”
“The greater the pain, the greater the pleasure,” he answered. “And you did seem to experience a great deal of pleasure.” An impressed, tongue-in-cheek droll colored his tone.
It hadn’t just been the genital clamps. Sure, that had been the strongest influence on her climactic outflow, but it had been a combination of things that sent her so far over the deep end. The clamps, the flogging, the feather, what she’d seen in the dungeon, the sounds of sex, a month of incredible phone calls. His voice. The night at the Met. Her own fear, panic, and anxiety, as well as the fact that she’d been keyed up about tonight for days.
She was like a kid with a new favorite toy. For the next several days . . . maybe the next few weeks . . . her new toy would be all she would be able to think about. And she would want to play with it every chance she got.
Eventually, though, she would grow used to it, and her exciting new toy would become more of a faithful companion. Something she could count on to bring her comfort, no matter what other toys she added to her toy box.
And like that new toy, her relationship with Warren would grow more comfortable too. After a few weeks had passed, their time together probably wouldn’t be as intense as it had been tonight, but she couldn’t wait to see how it transformed from where it had begun in these past few hours to where it would inevitably end up, say, a year from now.
Hopefully, Warren would still want to be her Dom a year from now, because right now, she wanted to keep him forever.
“That’s never happened to me before,” she said. “I’ve never come like that. I couldn’t stop. At some point, my body just kind of . . . took over, and the orgasms just kept coming.”
“That’s good, right?”
She nodded, tilting her head so she could kiss the side of his neck. “It was very good.” She kissed him again, letting her lips linger. “I wouldn’t mind seeing if you can replicate the experience in the future.”
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he reclined more deeply into the chaise. “I guess I’ll have to up my game if I’m going to top that, huh?”
“You won’t hear any complaints from me.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I do love a challenge.”
Jenna must have dozed off after that, because the next thing she knew, she was being carried down the hall.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked sleepily.
“To your bedroom.”
“My bedroom?”
“Yes, yours.”
How about that? She had her own room in a multimillion-dollar mansion.
He pushed open another door and carried her into a room with light-gray hardwood floors, pale-lavender walls, a white dresser with a decorative vase of fresh flowers on top, and a bed dressed in a white-and-purple comforter with a light-gray fabric headboard. A cream-colored quilted bench sat at the foot of the bed, and sheer white curtains covered the floor-to-ceiling windows.
He set her on the edge of the bed and pulled down the sheets.
“Bathroom is over there,” he said, pointing to a door in the corner, “and I’m right down the hall if you need anything. My door will be open.”
She nodded, crawling under the covers. Her head sank into the softest, plushest pillow it had ever met.
After tucking her in, he sat down and brushed his fingers over her cheek. “I want you to come back next weekend.”
She smiled and closed her eyes, leaning into his hand as he cupped her face.
“Do you want to come back?” he asked.
She nodded and smiled as his soft, warm palm cradled her cheek.
“Are you going to follow my rules?”
She opened her eyes and lifted her head, meeting his gaze and nodding again. “Yes.” Then she deliberately added, “Sir.” She wanted him to know that she was more than ready to take the next step as his submissive.
“And if you don’t follow the rules, you know what I’ll do to you, right?”
Her smile widened. If punishments led to so much pleasure, she could see why a submissive might intentionally disobey her Dom. “Yes, sir.”
“And don’t research me on the internet. Do you understand?”
He had told her earlier not to Google him, but his reminder imparted the importance of his mandate and drove the point home.
Honestly, the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. But after she had returned home, she was sure it would have, and she would have been tempted.
“Do you understand, Jenna?” he repeated.
“Yes, Sir.”
He relaxed. “Good, because I want to show you my face when it will be special for both of us.”
In other words, if she wanted to see him without his mask on, she had to obey all the rules, follow his orders, and please him. The longer she couldn’t do those three things, the longer it would be before he unmasked himself. But when he did, he would make it an event. Like a rite of passage or a reward marking a transition in her training.
He bent forward and kissed her forehead. “I was very pleased with you tonight,” he whispered against her skin.
“I was pretty pleased with myself.” Her gaze met his. “I didn’t think I was capable of that.”
A spark of pride flashed in his eyes. “Then I’m glad I could help you on your path of discovery.”
“Me too.”
His fingers caressed the side of her face. “Sleep well, Jenna.” He rose to his full height and, with one last glance, turned off the light on the nightstand and left the room, shutting the door behind him.
She blinked up at the dark ceiling. It was hard to believe this was really happening.
But there was one thing she knew for sure. She was writing a genital clamp scene into her next book.
Chapter Thirteen
Back in Dr. O’s Office . . .
“That was over a month ago,” Jenna says.
“And you still haven’t seen his face?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “He told me not to Google him, and I haven’t.” She laughs softly, as if to herself. “It’s the one order he’s given me that I haven’t disobeyed, and it’s over the one thing I want more than anything else. To know what he looks like.” She shakes her head as if she can’t believe she hasn’t peeked yet. “You would think this would be the one time I would disobey.”
One would think so. Or perhaps she hasn’t broken this one special rule because he simply means that much to her, and she doesn’t want to risk ruining the good thing she’s found. Or maybe she really wants that reward badly enough to do anything to receive it. Because a reward like that is worth working for and will feel so much better if she earns it. Jenna is smart enough to understand that cheating herself out of that moment would cheapen their bond.
“So, he’s
still wearing masks when you’re together?” I ask, making a note on my legal pad.
“Only when I’m not wearing a blindfold. We’ve been together five more times since that first night, and he always wears a mask until he blindfolds me. Then he takes it off.” She obediently looks down at her lap as if Warren were standing behind me commanding her not to look at him. “All I can do is feel what he looks like.” She glances toward the window, then turns a serene smile back at me. “But I’ve seen enough to know that I like what I see.”
I know there’s more to a relationship than looks, and based on everything she’s said, it’s clear Jenna doesn’t need to see his face to know she wants to keep dating him and might already be falling in love. But her curiosity is only natural. And knowing she has no control over the situation probably eats her up inside.
“Has he given you any indication about when he’ll give you the big reveal?”
She casually leans to one side, crossing her legs. “No, but I’m seeing him again Saturday night, and I’m feeling good about it.” She shrugs, her expression growing hopeful. “I’ve been good, following his rules and doing what I’m supposed to. And yesterday when I talked to him, he expressed how pleased he’s been with me, so . . .” She sighs and her cheeks lift buoyantly. “Maybe I’ve finally earned that reward.”
In the world of BDSM, everything is about punishments and rewards.
“How has all this affected your writing?” I ask.
She brushes her hair off her shoulders. “It’s certainly given me a new perspective.”
“Has it made it easier to craft your stories?”
“God yes.” She laughs “It’s given me a lot of new inspiration. So much so that the words are just pouring out of me and I’ve outlined concepts for three more stories that weren’t even on my radar a month ago.”
“What about the parties?” I ask. “Are they always held at his place in Greenwich Village?”
“No. Various members of the club host the parties on a rotating basis. I’ve been to two. The one at Warren’s house and one other at a mansion north of the city a couple of weeks ago where he almost had sex with me in the back of the room while a scene was playing out in the front. Hardly anyone was watching us, but he didn’t end up fucking me, anyway, so . . .”
“What happened?”
“He ended up fingering me instead.”
“And . . .?”
“Omigod, I came so hard.” She rolls her eyes. “Not as hard as when he does fuck me, and definitely not as hard as I came that first night, but for my first time in public, it proved that it wasn’t just the idea of being watched that excites me. I really want to be watched.” She gestured to her right. “There was a submissive chained inside a cage beside us, and when I made eye contact with him as Warren pulled the bodice of my dress aside to expose my breast, my orgasm unleashed so hard that Warren had to hold me up. My knees literally went out from under me.”
“Impressive.”
She nods. “Warren was so excited when I told him what happened, he arranged for two other couples to join us in his dungeon last weekend. Up until then, he’d been keeping me mostly to himself, working with me one-on-one so we could get used to each other before going public. But last week, he worked me over in front of those two couples. A full scene. A short one, yes, but a scene. My first. In front of my first real audience. And I loved it.” She struggles to hide her delighted smile. “I never knew just how much of an exhibitionist I was.”
I can’t help but wonder if I could be that bold. I’ve heard other interview subjects talk about the thrill of being watched while they’re having sex, and I have to admit the idea turns me on. I’m just not sure if I would still be turned on or if I would freeze up if I were faced with such a scenario myself.
Jenna answers a few more of my questions, filling in the last remaining blanks in my notes, then I walk her to the door.
“Thank you for your story,” I say, truly grateful that I made an exception to open a slot for her. I think her story will serve as an umbrella for a whole chapter in my book. Not only for its strong emphasis on trust and the power of mind games to enhance sexual response, but also for how both highlight the relationship between pain and pleasure.
I also like how her story reinforces the message of letting go, releasing control, and being open to chance. The universe will always bring us exactly what we need when we’re ready, especially when we’re not even looking for it.
The way Jenna and Warren met, for example. If he hadn’t misdialed Jenna’s number, and if she hadn’t answered her phone, they might never have met. As it turns out, he did misdial, and she did answer, and now she’s traveling along a new path that will not only take her personal life into a more satisfying and fulfilling direction, but also her novels to new heights—and possibly fast-track her to the bestseller lists.
Who knows, maybe Warren will even collar Jenna someday and make their relationship official in more ways than one by marrying her. It certainly sounds like the two of them are already well along that path with each other.
And isn’t that what we’re all after? Happily ever after? In our own way, and however it looks, happily ever after is the endgame.
And mine is out there somewhere too. It just hasn’t found me yet. Then again, maybe I’m not ready for it to find me. Until I am, I’ll live vicariously through my interview subjects.
Epilogue
The table smelled like leather. It felt like the kind of leather saddles were made of. Heavy and hard. Smooth from use and polish.
She knew he was near. She could feel his presence. He gave off a powerful energy. One that felt alive and swirled around her like an erotic breeze, raising the tiny hairs on her arms and tingling her skin from head to toe.
What sounded like a metal chain rattled behind her.
“Extend your arms over your head,” he said.
She did as he instructed, and he wrapped a thick leather cuff around her right wrist, securing it. Metal jangled as he manipulated the leather through what must have been some kind of buckle. The cuff tightened, then he shackled her left wrist in the same manner.
His fingers brushed over her forearms. “Is that comfortable?”
She nodded. The cuffs were lined with fur, so the leather didn’t bite into her skin.
“Say the words, Jenna. That way I know for sure.”
“Yes, sir, I’m comfortable.”
The room was warm, but not too warm. A subtle breeze whirled past her as his footsteps carried him from the head of the table to her feet.
She had gotten used to the blindfold by now. After a month of wearing it, her other senses had sharpened enough that she could almost see in her mind’s eye what was happening around her. She knew the sound of his footsteps, the cadence of his gait. She could taste the mild but zesty scent of his aftershave on the tip of her tongue and could feel the unique bend of the air around him as he moved.
Warren emanated a distinct energy that had its own shape and form, both irresistible and menacing, seductive and formidable. She was drawn to it, but also feared it, in her way. He was a feather on one side and a barbed whip on the other. He was cool water and scorching fire. She knew that if she disobeyed him, he would burn her, but oh how sublime the blisters would be.
She tested the restraints around her wrists. She was locked in tight, only able to move her arms a few inches in any direction.
His fingertips lightly caressed her bare ankle. “You always wear such lovely shoes.”
What a wicked man, with his silent smile caressing her ears.
“Thank you, sir.”
He had bought her “lovely shoes.” Red to match the red dress he’d sent for her to wear tonight. The red dress that now lay discarded on her bed upstairs.
After a light dinner, he had helped her out of the dress and her undergarments before wrapping her in a luxurious two-toned, cream-and-honey-colored silk robe he had bought for her—more wrapping paper—and then he’d taken he
r to the basement.
Lying back on the table, she was still wearing the robe, and nothing more, other than the fire-engine red Jimmy Choos adorning her feet. She had known to leave those on for him before taking her position on the table. They were the tantalizing bow for him to take off before unwrapping her.
Right on cue, he gently removed them, letting his fingertips trail over the top of each foot.
It was just the two of them tonight. No audience. No other club members watching them. Next week would be her debut at the club, so this was the last time they would play for only each other before he officially presented her as his submissive.
His fingers gently bent her toes. She knew he was inspecting her pearl-white pedicure. The seconds ticked by. Was he pleased with the simple, virginal color she had chosen especially for tonight? With how smooth the pedicurist had made the skin of her feet and ankles?
“White,” he said without emotion, as if he were stating a simple fact and nothing more.
“Yes, sir.” She held her breath for his verdict.
He released her big toe and caressed the tops of both feet again. “I like it.”
She exhaled in relief, forcing herself not to smile. “Thank you, sir.”
His fingers slowly trailed up her leg as he strolled the length of the table toward her shackled wrists. “The color of innocence. Perfect for tonight, don’t you think?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
When he spoke again, his whispered voice came from right beside her ear. “I want you to wear white next week for your debut.”
She licked her lips and took a shaky breath. He had already made it clear with those ever-changing and made-up rules of his that he wanted her appearance to be impeccable next week.
“Do you understand?” he said, his mouth was still next to her ear.
“Yes, sir.”
He lightly palmed her breast, making her nipple stand at attention. “Good.” He had straightened, his voice no longer coming from only inches away. “I’m going to make sure you have something special to wear. Something that will make the other Doms envious of the prize I’ve found in you.”