Decadent Master

by Tawny Taylor

  “I’m not sure.” That was the truth.

  “Close your eyes.” He whispered in her ear. “Imagine I’m sitting on the couch and you’re bent over my knees.”

  That was an image all too easily conjured up. It did warm her up a little. “Okay.”

  “You’ve been bad, not terribly bad, just naughty enough to warrant a spanking. So I’ll use my hand, not a paddle. The first blow stings. You flinch. Heat radiates out from where my hand strikes you. Good heat. I do it again. Again. You thank me for each one, grateful for the fact that I care enough about you to punish you. The warmth on your ass travels down between your legs to your pussy. I stroke you there and your juices coat my fingers.”

  Wow, she could almost feel everything he was describing. Her pussy was really warm now, her blood racing through her body, her heart thumping heavily in her chest.

  “Are you wet?” he whispered, standing so close she could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

  “Yes.” Definitely not a lie.

  “Good.” He moved away and she almost stumbled, tripping over her underpants, still tangled around her ankles. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll give you some books to read, a questionnaire to fill out, and a contract. I’ll let you know my decision later today. If I do accept you, I will let you know when I would like you to come back. Oh, one last question. Do you orgasm on command?”

  “I’ve…never tried.” She stooped down, yanked up her panties, and tripped and teetered herself back into her jeans, and then, feeling a little confused and used, she accepted the things he handed her and left.

  Wow, that was one strange, nerve-racking, and intense experience. She wasn’t sure whether she hoped he would accept her or not.

  The next evening, after a long day at work, Wynne glanced at the Arby’s and considered heading in for a quick sandwich and fries before diving into the glory of the used bookstore next door. But her raging hunger for books forced her to set aside the need for physical sustenance in favor of mental. It was late already, well past her usual dinner hour. The bookstore wouldn’t be open much longer. She would rather wait another hour to eat than miss out on getting a new book. Besides, she’d rather take her meal home and settle down to eat with a good book, rather than sit in a fast food restaurant by herself and feel like a loser.

  Ready to replenish her dwindled to-be-read pile, she headed into the bookstore.

  Ahhhh, home. The store smelled of dust and books and incense.

  After greeting the store’s owner, a friendly woman of sixty-some-odd years, she made a beeline for the paranormal romance section in the back, hoping she’d find something she hadn’t read already. Not far away, a man was browsing the fantasy fiction section, his back turned to her. After a quick glance around, she concluded they were the only two customers in the store.

  Back to the hunt.

  She just loved book shopping. It was, she guessed, her way of exorcising a subconscious drive to search and hunt and claim. Her distant relatives, a zillion years ago, might have had to search for food, hunt for prey, conquer the land. The best she could do was hunt down the perfect book, search for a new author, or perhaps wander into a new genre. By the time she left, she would be adrift in a wave of adrenaline, feeling jittery in a very good way, a hefty bag of books in her arms.

  She felt herself frowning as she checked the first shelf. Nothing new. Nothing interesting. After skimming the other two shelves in the section, she turned around…and saw him.

  It was Dierk, from the dungeon.

  And he most obviously recognized her.

  “Hello, Wynne,” he said, his voice a low hum. He held a paperback novel in his hands, sort of sandwiched between them.

  “Hello back, Dierk.” She nodded toward the book. “Looks like you’re having better luck than me today. I’m empty handed yet.”

  “Yeah?” He lifted the book, letting her read the cover. “It’s a first edition. I’ve been looking for a copy for months. I never expected to find one signed by the author for less than thirty dollars.”

  “Really?” She reached for the book. “May I?”

  “Certainly.” He handed it to her. “Are you familiar with James Clemens?”

  “Not at all. Is he good?”

  “Excellent. I have everything he’s written, both under his Clemens pseudonym and his Rollins pen name.”

  “Rollins?” Not really paying attention—how could she with Dierk standing there looking all amazing and talking books?—she skimmed the back cover copy. From what she did comprehend, the premise sounded pretty interesting, sort of the typical fantasy “evil versus good” theme. “That name sounds familiar.”

  “Subterranean, Ice Hunt, Sandstorm, Map of Bones—”

  “Yes! Map of Bones. I read that book. I liked it!” She handed the book back to him.

  Their fingertips grazed.

  Their gazes locked.

  Some kind of electricity buzzed between them, and her insides fluttered.

  “It was about religious relics, right?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He extended his arm. “If you liked Map of Bones, I think you’ll like this, too.”

  “But, it’s the book you’ve been looking for—”

  “It’s okay. I’ll buy it from you once you’re finished, if you’ll sell it to me.”

  “Of course I will. But I feel bad. You were so happy to have found it. What if I lose it or something?”

  “Don’t worry about it. My life’s not over if I don’t get it back. Besides, all it was going to do was sit on a shelf with the other books in the series. I’d much rather it be read than collect dust. Now, if it was a first edition, first issue of one of the first three volumes of the Lord of the Rings, then I might not be so generous.”

  “O-okay. If you aren’t going to be upset.” She tucked the book under her arm and touched the back of his hand with her fingertip. “Thank you.” It was only a gentle graze, hardly a touch at all, but the effect on her body was absolutely mind-blowing.

  A bolt of heat shot up her arm, and her face became instantly hot, like someone had smacked it. Blind reflex had her jerking her hand back before she realized what she’d done.

  If he noticed her reaction, he showed no outward sign. “Maybe you can tell me what you think after you’ve had a chance to read it.”

  “I will.” She tightened her hold on the book. “Although you might not want to hear my opinion if it isn’t good. I tend to be pretty picky about books—”

  A fingertip pressed to her lips cut off the rest of her sentence.

  It wasn’t her fingertip.

  Her eyes snapped to his again, and it felt like every molecule of oxygen was sucked from the room.

  He had the most amazing eyes. Dark, piercing, probing. As he stood there silent, strong, and utterly dominant, it almost felt like he was trying to invade her mind, delve into her soul. “I want to know what you think, regardless.”

  “Okay.” Her lips brushed against his finger as she spoke, and every nerve in her skin sizzled. A tense second of silence passed between them. One magical, incredible second. Then he snatched his hand away, the abrupt way he moved making her wonder if he was feeling as overwhelmed—and giddy and nervous and happy—as she was.

  He turned slightly, presenting a partial profile. He glanced at his wristwatch. “Hmmm. Gotta get back to work.”

  “Okay. Thanks again for the book.” She waved it at him.

  They exchanged smiles. Another strange, awkward, tense moment. A few seconds later, he was gone and she was dizzy. She leaned back, letting the tall, substantial bookshelf behind her support her for a few moments.

  An inhalation. Exhalation. Two more. Finally, she was feeling more like herself.

  Wow, that was…just wow.

  If she’d thought her attraction to the mysterious Master Dierk had been because of the dungeon, she was mistaken. Even in the middle of a bookstore, with the most unflattering lighting known to mankind, he made her head spin.

 
; After picking up a couple more romance novels—she was suddenly in the mood to read a hot love story—she headed for the checkout. Even after her earlier intimate exchange with his brother Rolf, the entire time she was in the store her thoughts revolved around Dierk. Every description of a novel’s hero she read reminded her of him. The image of his face, those eyes, flashed through her head, over and over and over. And when she lifted her hand to her face, she caught just the slightest smell of his cologne on her fingertips. Again and again, she inhaled, drawing the tangy scent into her nose. It was masculine and spicy and intoxicating. She had to find out what it was.

  “You’re all set,” the shop owner said, thrusting a slightly wrinkled bag at her.

  Confused, she glanced down at her purse, still hanging from her shoulder, zipped shut. “Huh? I didn’t pay yet.”

  “Your friend paid.”

  “Oh. He did?”

  “Yes. Hang on.” She signed a wide, short piece of paper and slipped it into an envelope. “Here you go. He gave me more than you needed, asked me to give you a gift certificate in the amount of the remaining money if any was left.”

  “Wow, how…thoughtful.” She accepted the proffered envelope and tucked it into her purse. “Thanks.”

  “Thank you and enjoy your books.”

  Slightly off balance, she headed for her car. Once inside, she ripped open the envelope and pulled out the gift certificate.

  “Oh no.” It was too much.

  It was too sweet. Thoughtful. Kind.

  Unexpected.

  She folded the ninety-dollar gift certificate and placed it in her wallet.

  Somehow, she would repay his thoughtfulness.

  If only she could find a first edition, first issue of the Lord of the Rings. And if only she had some spare cash lying around. She had a sneaking suspicion that a first edition of Lord of the Rings would cost a whole lot more than she had in her piddly savings account.

  6

  “Hey.” Kristy greeted Wynne as she casually strolled into their apartment. Sitting on the couch, legs crossed at the ankle, feet resting on the coffee table, and a Snuggie wrapped around her, Kristy looked nothing like the leather-clad seductress she’d been only yesterday.

  “Hey,” Wynne echoed.

  Kristy hadn’t asked for details yet, but Wynne knew she wouldn’t be able to resist for long. She wasn’t going to volunteer any information if she didn’t have to, partly because she wasn’t sure how to vocalize her feelings. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling about what happened tonight. There were good emotions and not-so-great ones twisting and churning inside, though it seemed like the good ones outnumbered the bad.

  The first thing Wynne did was kick off her shoes and curl her toes into the soft, plush carpet. “What’re you watching?”

  “Tough Love. I’m in love with the matchmaker dude. He cracks me up. But I hate the chicks. They are all so clueless. If only they’d listen to him.” After a beat, she added, “If he wasn’t out in Hollyweird, I’d hire him to find me a match.”

  “What for? I thought you were in a semiserious relationship.”

  “Yeah, well…” Kristy pulled the Snuggie tighter around her shoulders, and suddenly Wynne realized she’d been totally blind the last couple of days. Kristy had probably been so focused on Wynne’s personal life because her own had fallen apart. And Wynne had been too busy trying to deflect her attention to realize it.

  She quickly abandoned all thoughts of a long, hot shower, and plopped onto the couch next to her hurting friend, and threw an arm over Kristy’s shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Okay.” Wynne gave her friend’s shoulder a squeeze and then, feeling like she was invading Kristy’s personal space, she pulled away a little to settle a comfortable distance away, but still close enough to let Kristy know she was there for her.

  In silence, they watched the rest of the program. One girl decided a perfectly nice—though a smidge boring—guy wasn’t the right match for her. A second woman overreacted when her date asked why she was still single at thirty-nine, and a third pitched a hissy fit after the host told her acting slutty was going to put her in danger someday.

  Finally, with the program putting an end to their distraction, they looked at each other, and Wynne knew this was it.

  “How was your session with Master Rolf?” Kristy asked.

  “I guess it was…okay.”

  “Okay? That’s it? Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “At first, I felt so out of place I just wanted to turn around and run out of there. And making matters worse, he took me to watch two men. It was like driving a knife into my gut.”

  Kristy grimaced. “Oh honey, I’m sorry. But you didn’t want me to tell him the truth.”

  “No, I didn’t, so that’s the price I paid for keeping the truth from him. He didn’t know. But right away he caught on to my reaction and asked me what I was doing there.”

  Kristy’s brows rose. She bent her legs, crossing them on the couch. “Did you tell him the truth?”

  “No.”

  Kristy looked like she was about to jump out of her skin. “Then what happened?”

  “Well…” A few images flashed through Wynne’s head and her face warmed.

  Kristy keyed into her reaction right away. “Wynnie?”

  “He has this way of looking at me, of touching me. And, my gosh, the way he kisses…” She swallowed a sigh and giggled nervously, meeting Kristy’s wide-eyed gaze.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Before I realized it, I was in his private suite.”

  Kristy leaned closer. “And…?”

  “And I’ll admit, it wasn’t as scary as I thought. We didn’t really do much but talk, but what we did was really…intimate.”

  “I knew it!” Kristy gave her shoulder a smack. “You’re a natural submissive. That’s why you and Johnny didn’t work out. He needs a partner who is more dominant.”

  It hurt hearing that name, especially in this context. But for the first time, Wynne felt like she had a little glimmer of understanding about what had happened between them. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t something she’d done or failed to do. And maybe she wasn’t not-good-enough for him like she’d let herself believe all this time.

  She simply wasn’t right.

  More important, after today she could say for the first time that he probably wasn’t right for her either.

  “Are you going back?” Kristy asked, giving her a nudge, both mental and physical.

  Feeling a little better, all the way around, Wynne scooped up a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest. “He left a message on my phone, accepting me and asking me to come back again tomorrow.”

  “And what are you going to do? Did you call him back yet?”

  “I’m still thinking about it.” She dropped her chin onto the pillow. “I’ve been thinking about it all the way home. And now here, with you, talking is helping.”

  Kristy dipped down, placing her face directly in front of hers. “Well?”

  “I’m thinking…I might…I will.”

  Kristy literally bounded to her feet and pumped her arms up and down. “Yessssss!”

  Wynne broke into a hearty laugh. “Sheesh, girl! Don’t get too excited.”

  “How could I not? This is a magical moment. At least, it’s made me forget about my problems for a while.”

  “Well, in that case, good. Go ahead, jump up and down, do a happy dance, whatever you want.”

  “Beats sitting around by myself eating a whole half-gallon of chocolate moose tracks ice cream.”

  “Yes, it is a crime eating a whole half-gallon by yourself. But with me helping you, it’s totally okay.” Wynne headed for the freezer, returning a minute later with the carton and not one but two spoons. She handed one spoon to Kristy, flipped the container’s top open, and plunged her spoon into the center. “Let the celebrating begin.”

  7

  Wynne p
ulled on the bottom of her borrowed skirt, hoping but doubting it was covering her ass. Her purse was slung over her shoulder, the completed questionnaire and contract clutched in her fist. She’d worn exactly what Master Rolf had told her to. She was beyond uncomfortable, nervous as hell, and unsure what she was supposed to do when she arrived at the dungeon.

  She checked in at the front desk and was told Master Rolf had asked her to meet him in the main dungeon. She hoped he would be in clear view. The thought of wandering around in that room looking for him had her feeling a little nauseous.

  For the bazillionth time, she questioned her sanity. And for the bazillionth time, she reminded herself she wasn’t doing anything dangerous and if things got out of control, she had a safe word and safe gesture and she was free to use them whenever she needed.

  Making an effort not to look like a nervous newbie, she headed into the dungeon, completely distracted by the thought that her butt was hanging out of her skirt. She checked it again, brushing her hand down the back to make sure it hadn’t flipped up. It hadn’t.

  She scanned the area. There were close to a dozen people scattered around the room. No Master Rolf.

  Somebody tapped her shoulder. Hoping it was Rolf, she turned around.

  Nope, not Rolf.

  A cute brunette who was a carbon copy of Bettie Page handed her a folded piece of paper, then hurried away before Wynne could even thank her. Curious, and assuming it was an apology for being late or a request to reschedule, Wynne moved off to one side, unfolded the paper, and read it.

  Your master will join you after you strip off every piece of clothing you’re wearing and lay prostrate in the center of the dungeon. Failure to meet your master’s demands will result in the rescinding of his offer.

  There was no signature.

  Strip? Naked? This was crazy. She glanced around the room. Nobody seemed to notice her practically cowering in a corner. They were all busy doing whatever they were doing: whipping, paddling, chaining, writhing. Perhaps they were accustomed to this sort of thing and would completely ignore her?