Nobody's Perfect

by Kallypso Masters

  And sadomasochism? Not long before she'd come to Denver, she'd accidentally tuned into an episode of a popular network crime show where a sadomasochism ring kidnapped women, broke them down in every degrading way possible, and sold them against their will as sexual slaves to the highest bidder—to rich men like her father who had more money than morals. She'd turned the television off as soon as she'd realized what was happening to the women, but had had nightmares for days.

  She'd been enslaved like that much of her early life. To return to that kind of existence was unfathomable. She'd never put herself at risk of that happening again.

  How could someone as gentle as Damián want to be involved in degrading and overpowering women like that?

  "I can see you're trying to sort this out in that pretty little head, but don't assume you know what we do just because of a label."

  He was only teasing her. She was too boyish to be pretty. She'd fought hard to keep her body as thin as she could; even her breasts had shrunk to almost non-existent after she'd stopped breastfeeding. Having men look at her sexually always creeped her out, but she'd found most didn't notice her if she kept her body as thin as a young boy's.

  But Damián noticed. She squirmed inside her skin. The smoldering looks he gave her when he didn't think she'd catch him, and the way he'd touched her breast a little while ago, stirred feelings she'd kept tamped down for so very long. She wasn't ready to remove the lid on the box where she'd kept those feelings hidden.

  "Savita, your experience with BDSM wasn't consensual. What we do at the club is always with the consent of both parties. Tell me, what questions do you have?"

  She wondered what special techniques he was referring to.

  "Go ahead. Ask me."

  He read her like an open book. She captured her lower lip between her teeth until she noticed Damián's gaze zoning in on her mouth, then she turned her lip loose. She didn't want to send him any sexual signals.

  Why was she so morbidly fascinated by this subject? She was no doormat. She was a strong-willed, independent woman. Maybe he'd taken her vulnerable state these past couple months as a sign she was submissive, but that was so far from who she was. She'd never succumb to a domineering man again.

  "Questions, Savi."

  She sighed. "You're co-owner of an S&M club. I can't get past that."

  "Not just an SM club. We prefer to call it a kink or BDSM club. There's a whole spectrum of kink that our members and their guests are interested in. Bondage, discipline, dominance, submission, Master, slave, and sadomasochism, fetishes. Only a small number of the membership is into hardcore SM."

  "You keep saying SM. I've always heard it called S&M."

  "To most in the lifestyle, it's just SM."

  Just SM. Wow. "There's a lifestyle?"

  He nodded. "For some. Most just role-play in their homes or when they come to clubs, but others live their Dominant and submissive roles twenty-four/seven—not just with sex and role-playing, but within all aspects of their lives."

  "That sounds like slavery."

  "There are submissives who relinquish total control to a Dom or Master, and they are referred to as slaves in the scene. Most Masters still honor a slave's hard limits. Just depends on their agreement."

  Willing slaves? Was he serious?

  "But no matter the intensity or duration—lifelong or for an evening—participants negotiate very specific boundaries in their power exchange."

  "How long have you been doing…this?"

  He thought a moment. "Actively, almost five years, I guess. I trained with a whip master west of here for a couple years prior to opening the club, but much more since we opened."

  "Why haven't you been going to the club these last two months?" She pulled away again. "Or have you?"

  He shook his head. "I told Dad I was taking a break while you two were here."

  She'd kept him away from something he loved. Now, he wanted to coax her to join him there. She didn't want to share that part of his life. "I'm not a submissive."

  "What makes you so sure?"

  She opened her eyes wider. "I've got a career. I don't bow down to any man."

  "You'd be surprised who the submissives are—nurses, housewives, teachers, business executives. You wouldn't recognize most Doms or subs on the street as being in the lifestyle. In our society, they have to keep this part of themselves hidden so they don't lose their jobs, custody of their kids, and such. People outside the scene don't understand this subculture."

  No shit, Sherlock.

  "Savi, I think submitting to a Dom can give you a sense of control you don't feel right now."

  She hadn't been in control since Lyle had broken into her house. No, in reality, she'd only had the illusion of control even before then. She hadn't been in control of her world or her life for a very long time—since she was eight. She tensed, not comfortable thinking about that time in her life.

  What was Damián offering her? Should she find out more? Could it help her?

  He rubbed some of the rapidly vanishing heat back into her arms. "Look, I know you've had some bad experiences with men who took what they wanted without your consent."

  Having him believe and validate her helped some, but didn't make the pain go away.

  "What I'm proposing is an experience where you would have total control. You'd consent to give your submission to me before each scene—as a gift, if you will."

  Controlled surrender. Sounded like an oxymoron. "I'd have to have a tendency toward submission in order to give you that gift—and I don't."

  "Let's try an experiment."

  Savi narrowed her eyes. "What kind of experiment? I'm not a guinea pig or some kind of sacrificial lamb."

  He grinned. "Not that kind of experiment." He indicated that she should get up and helped her to her feet, then he followed to stand in front of her. "Turn around."

  He guided her until her back was to him. The heat from his body surrounded her and made her feel warm. Safe. She waited on tenterhooks, not knowing what he planned to do. After what seemed an incredibly long time, he placed his hands at the back of her neck and over her shoulders. Her knees buckled.

  Savi gasped, but he caught her before she fell. She wrenched around in his arms to stare at him. When his hands had touched her like that, she'd lost all control of her body. If he hadn't caught her, she'd be puddled at his feet.

  Like a doormat.

  "One more test."

  "No. I don't want to be tested any further." Not after obviously failing the first one. Or had she passed? Depended on who you asked—her or him.

  "Humor me. Hold your hands up like this is a robbery, palms toward me, hands open."

  "I don't think…"

  "Shhh, bebé. Just do it."

  Something inside her stomach flipflopped. How could she resist him when he looked at her like that? She raised her hands, as he'd instructed.

  He took a step back and stared intently into her eyes. She stared back, not wanting to back down or show submission. Something unfamiliar heated in her core. The place where he'd touched her a moment ago, behind her neck, prickled with awareness. After an interminable pause, he raised his hands and pressed them against her forearms. Rather than push him away, or back up, her body nearly melted toward him.

  Realizing by his grin that was exactly the response he wanted, what he'd expected, she finally had the wherewithal to push back. Too late. She'd failed both tests. What was he doing to her body? She could take down a man his size if she'd been threatened in any way, but she hadn't taken him down. She hadn't felt threatened at all. He'd played her like a puppet. Had he hypnotized her or something?

  He smiled and nodded. "There's a good chance you'd respond well to submission."

  "I told you, I won't let anyone to tie me up."

  "There are lots of ways to submit to someone without being restrained, if that's what you're most afraid of."

  She raised her chin, cringing when she felt it quiver. "I'm not afraid."r />
  He tweaked her nose. "Too bad. A little fear in a submissive is attractive as hell to a Dom."

  But I don't want to be attractive to any man, Dominant or not.

  Not even you, Damián.

  Feeling the once-firm grip on her control slipping away, she took a step back, but his hands on her arms locked her in place.

  "Please hear me out, Savi."

  Damián doesn't want to hurt you. He wants to help.

  Why couldn't he see that no one could fix what was wrong with her? Her therapist had tried for so many years. She'd helped some, getting Savi to where she could at least function as a mother, and as a therapist in her own right. But Savi hadn't wanted to tackle the issues revolving around sex. There'd been no point. She wasn't looking for a sexual relationship with anyone ever again.

  Then Damián had touched her.

  She'd only come to him seeking protection for Mari. She didn't want to rekindle some long-dead physical attraction between them.

  But she'd learned today that the feelings weren't dead. Something long dormant had stirred back to life a little while ago in his bed. Oh, dear lord, she didn't want to feel anything—but she had.

  Still, she couldn't afford to tick him off. There was nowhere else she and Mari could turn. What exactly did he want in exchange for sheltering and protecting them? Could Savi pay the price if it were too high?

  The silence became uncomfortable. A surreptitious glance told her he was watching her. Her heart began to beat more rapidly.

  Damián's firm hand released her left arm and he moved closer, stroking her back. Her throat and lungs constricted. Panic clawed at her and she tried to wrest herself away.

  "Breathe slowly, querida. Don't fight me."

  Savi swung her hand at him, hoping to push him away, but he wouldn't let go. She pushed harder and he released her. Escape. She started toward the door, but before she reached it, Damián commanded, "Savi, stop. Now."

  Her chest heaved as she fought to fill her lungs, but her feet obeyed him. No! She needed to get away. Heat from Damián's body alerted her that he was standing close behind her, but still she couldn't move.

  "I'm not going to hurt you, Savi. I need you to stop running before you hurt yourself."

  Savi began to shake. What was happening? She wrapped her arms around her midsection trying to comfort herself, but it didn't help. Then Damián's strong arms covered hers and he pulled her against himself, snuggling his face into the hollow of her neck.

  "Don't worry, mi sueño. No one will ever hurt you again. I won't allow it."

  How could he make such a promise? Savi tried to pull away from him, but he only held her tighter. Smothering. She began to fight him, elbowing him in the upper arm, kicking his shin with her heel; he only grunted and held on tighter.

  "I can't breathe."

  "Yes, you can. Inhale, Savi."

  She shook her head frantically at the same time she filled her lungs with a shaky breath. Why was her body responding to his commands like this?

  "You're hurting me." Her plaintive cry sounded like a weak little girl's. She didn't want to feel pain. She didn't want to feel anything. Why was he forcing her to feel?

  "Shhh. I have you. You're safe, mi sueño. I won't harm you."

  She'd never be able to put all these feelings he'd resurrected back inside their hidden box where they belonged. "But you already have," she whispered.

  Damián let her go as if she'd become red hot—or ice cold, more accurately—and she had to reach out to grab the doorjamb to keep from falling. The loss of his arms around her left a void in the pit of her stomach. She should be relieved to have his hands off her; instead, she felt the loss in the most intense way. What had he done to her?

  He made vulnerable. Weak.

  She leaned forward until her forehead touched the cold door. Damián's warm hands brushed lightly from her shoulders to her upper arms and back again. "Savi, it's going to be okay. We'll work on this together."

  Savi shook her head. "It will never be okay. I will never be okay. I'm too broken."

  "Nobody's perfect, Savi. Hell, look at me. But you'll always be perfect to me."

  Chapter Nine

  Hearing the hopelessness in her voice crushed something in Damián. How could she think she was broken? She was fucking perfection. She had been from the moment he first saw her across the restaurant at the hotel. Hell, he was the broken one.

  He reached up to brush a hank of hair from her shoulder and resisted the desire to press his lips against her neck. "So perfect, mi mariposa. Don't ever let me hear you call yourself broken again. Do you hear me?"

  "You know nothing about me. About what I am."

  "I know all that is important."

  Savi caught him by surprise when she turned around and looked up at him. Her anguished face tore at his gut. So tiny, petite. He hated that men had taken advantage of her just because they were bigger, more powerful, than she was. Maybe he should take her to the downstairs gym at the club and help her gain confidence and strength by working out, so that no one would intimidate her again.

  Hell, he couldn't do that. She'd freak out if she went anywhere near the club. Besides, the dungeon lay just beyond the weight room. He huffed to himself at the ridiculous thought. Yeah, if she caught sight of that, it would certainly allay her fears about how honorable his intentions were.

  He stared at her eyelashes brushing against her cheeks, then she opened her eyes and he was drawn into the sparkling blue depths. The mixture of vulnerability and defiance only made her more irresistible to him.

  "I'm scared, Damián."

  He brushed her check with his thumb. "What are you afraid of, mi sueño?"

  "Everything. Everyone. My father. You."

  Damián flinched and pulled his hand back. How could she compare him to her father? The bastard had raped and abused his own daughter. Damián might be sadist himself now, but only in consensual situations. He would never harm her to get his rocks off.

  Did Savi suspect what he'd become? If she did, why didn't she run away from him. He didn't know of any sadist who would stoop to the level of depravity her father and her handler at the hotel had. Damián would never take a sub farther than she needed to go.

  After what she'd experienced at the hands of those sadistic clients in the penthouse, he didn't picture her submitting to another sadist in this lifetime.

  Best to remember that the next time he got the urge to go all carnal with her.

  But the trembling in her body beckoned. He wanted her to tremble for him. How could he get her to put open herself to him?

  Unfortunately, he only knew of one way.

  "Close your eyes, Savi."

  She looked up at him, furrowing her brows.

  "Trust me. I won't harm you. I just want to help relax you."

  "I can't relax with you this close."

  Damián wished she meant that in a different way, but knew the fear was still talking.

  "Close your eyes, Savita."

  * * *

  Savi's heart rate ramped up as his intense gaze bore into her. She felt so…

  Before she could name the elusive emotion, he lowered his head to hers. She placed her hands on his chest to push him away, but he just held onto them as if to steady himself and continued to move closer.

  "I don't want you to kiss me."

  "This isn't a kiss."

  The words had barely left his mouth when he pressed his lips against hers. If this wasn't a kiss, then what was it? His left hand released hers and caged her chin, opening her mouth totally to his will. His lips came down gently, but firmly, against hers. He didn't move, but applied steady pressure, closing off the airway. Even though she could breathe through her nose, panic set in. She clenched his hair and tried to push him away. His response to her distress was to draw her breath from her lungs with his mouth, making her panic even more.

  Then he pushed the breath back into her mouth.

  What on earth…?

&nb
sp; Again he drew her breath into his mouth and lungs, and then repeated the process. A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she slumped against him. Damián pressed her harder against the wall, sandwiching her between his unyielding body and the hard wall, the only reason she could remain standing.

  The tension and anxiety she'd been experiencing released, and she floated in his arms. Her focus became riveted to the back-and-forth play of their breathing. He pressed even harder against her body, depriving her chest of any room to expand on its own. Her breathing was controlled totally by Damián.

  Giving up control of something so very basic—and vital—to life should have terrified her. But it didn't. She was able to gain the oxygen she needed through her nose, but a large amount of carbon dioxide was going straight to her head.

  He pulled back. "Take several deep breaths."

  They each filled their lungs several times, his breath warm and moist against her face. Then his hand went to her nose and pinched off her airway as he lowered his mouth again.

  "No, wait! I’m not…"

  Ready.

  The sensation of having both airways completely obstructed sent panic through her and she pushed harder against him, but he filled her lungs with another breath. She inhaled his breath deeply into her lungs, needing more. Needing…him.

  Damián's penis pressed against her lower abdomen, sending warning bells clanging. His thumb brushed her jaw, and her fear receded a tiny bit.

  Relax. Don't fight him. You'll only make it worse.

  Only this feeling wasn't bad, as much as she expected it to be. Having him take control of her freed her mind and body in a way she'd never experienced before. She didn't want him to stop. The dizziness increased and she allowed herself to float, drift away.

  * * *

  Damián felt her body relax and laid his free thumb against the pulse in her throat, gauging her body's response. Just a little while longer and she'd be in subspace, if she wasn't already there. He just wanted to feel her body pressed against his a little longer before he pulled away. He breathed into her mouth again, feeling her breasts push against his chest as he filled her lungs with his breath.