Boss

by Sierra Cartwright

  His cell phone rang, and he checked the screen. “It’s Connor. I’ll take it in my office.” He answered the call as he walked to his office and closed the door.

  She stared after him, sure of only one thing. There was no way she was going to make it that long without an orgasm.

  Chapter Fifteen

  For the rest of the day, he drove her mad.

  Even though they shared an office suite, he texted repeatedly, reminding her not to masturbate. The more she tried not to think about it, the more consuming the idea became.

  After work, he took her to a Vietnamese restaurant. When she excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, he told her to behave. It hadn’t occurred to her to play with herself until he’d forbidden the action.

  Despite what he’d said earlier in the day, he’d selected a movie theater where the armrests could be lifted so that he could wrap his arm around her and absently stroke the side of her breast.

  When he dropped her off, she expected passion. Instead, he gave her a chaste peck that left her even more frustrated. He reminded her to shave her pussy and be ready to go at seven-thirty the next evening. After soliciting a promise that she would obey all of his orders, he wished her sweet dreams then left her.

  She tossed and turned that night in bed then woke up exhausted and set out to find a coffee shop with the largest cup available.

  Because she’d gotten up so early, Saturday morning and the afternoon crawled past, no matter how busy she tried to keep herself.

  Thankfully, the massage he’d booked for her was magical, and she all but melted into the bathtub when she arrived back home. She soaked for at least thirty delicious moments and took her time shaving her pussy. Her fingers brushed her clit, though, reigniting her.

  When she was done, she still had almost two hours before he arrived, so she poured a glass of wine and sipped it while blow-drying and styling her hair then applying makeup.

  At seven, she lubed the plug and inserted it before dressing then checking her appearance in the mirror. The boots made the outfit and everything fit fine, but hot nerves still assailed her, so she swiped on a coat of confidence-giving red lipstick.

  She paced the floor, from window to the kitchen and back again, burning off energy and killing time.

  At seven-twenty-five, a few minutes early, there was a knock on the door.

  Her heart stuttered.

  Remembering Gwyneth’s advice to own the outfit, Kelsey forced down the impulse to adjust her halter top and instead straightened her spine.

  The second knock was more forceful.

  She opened the door, and the sight of him standing there in black leather pants, boots, a form-fitting T-shirt and his bomber jacket stole her breath. Tonight, he had a sexy shadow on his face, one she knew was deliberate and manicured.

  He was every bit the Dom she’d spent months fantasizing about.

  Then she noticed he was holding a yellow rose. The man undid her.

  “You look even more perfect than I’d imagined,” Nathan said. “And I’ve been imagining plenty.”

  Air whooshed from her lungs at his approval. “I… Come in. Thank you.” She took a step back and he entered, closing the door behind him.

  The room seemed to shrink and spin, and she wondered if he would always have this kind of vertigo-inducing effect on her.

  “For you.” He extended the blossom.

  She’d only received flowers a couple of times in her life, and then, only on her birthday. His thoughtfulness touched her. “It’s beautiful.” She accepted the tight bud and inhaled the fragrance. “Let me put this in some water.” She walked toward the kitchen, and he propped his hips on the back of the couch, waiting for her.

  “Come here,” he said, when she turned back around.

  Her boots echoing off the floor, she went to him.

  He captured her face between his hands and kissed her hard, ruining her lipstick and making her feel utterly desired. His skilled touch calmed her. How was it that he always seemed to know what she needed?

  When she was limp and breathless, he released her.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded.

  “Something you’d like to show me first?”

  “Sir?” By measures, understanding dawned. “Of course.”

  “I want your legs as far apart as you can make them,” he said. “Are you physically able to grab your ankles?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let me inspect you.”

  Slowly she turned away from him and assumed the correct position.

  He flipped up her skirt, moved aside the wisp of fabric that he’d considered underwear then ran his fingers over her pussy and between her labia. His thorough touch made her jerk, and she had to struggle to keep her legs spread.

  “Nice job,” he told her. “In the future, though, I may want to do it for you.”

  She wasn’t sure she could bear it. “Yes, Sir.”

  He gave the base of the plug several quick pulls, and she tensed in reaction.

  Then he spanked each ass cheek hard. She bit back a scream as she fought for balance. Her anus and her pussy both felt inflamed.

  “Now you’re ready. You may stand.”

  She gulped some air as she stood. “That’s cruel and unusual, Sir,” she protested.

  “I could make you travel with the purple vibrator inside you if you’d like, make you fight off your orgasm,” he suggested.

  Horrified, she shook her head.

  “Then let’s go.”

  He helped her into a lightweight jacket, then she grabbed her purse before they stepped out into the hallway.

  Mr. Martinez, in his red robe, froze at the sight of her in her boots and short skirt.

  “Good evening,” she said to him.

  With a huff, he scooped up Sinbad and the ball, mid-roll.

  “Good thing I had a jacket over part of it,” she said as her neighbor slammed the door.

  “It’s the boots,” Nathan said. “They make mincemeat out of a man’s brain. I know how he feels.”

  “You chose them,” she reminded him as they walked down the stairs.

  “Did I?”

  “You rejected the shoes.” Then she relented. “Okay, maybe I fell in love with them.”

  He helped her into the car then headed for the loop.

  The drive through town then south to exurban Houston took forty-five minutes, and her heart rate seemed to increase with each minute.

  After exiting the highway, he drove for miles. Homes got farther apart, the land less manicured.

  He turned onto another road, heading farther west, and she saw a wrought-iron fence with a decorative but wicked spiked top. Behind it was a row of oleanders.

  She was surprised when he was stopped by a security guard at a checkpoint.

  After the man verified their IDs, they were waved through.

  The driveway seemed to meander forever, flanked by huge hedges.

  Eventually what appeared to be a mansion came into view. It wasn’t anything she imagined a BDSM club might look like.

  He pulled up into a long driveway, and valets opened their doors.

  Nathan came around to her side. His bag was slung over his left shoulder. He cupped his right hand beneath her elbow and guided her up the stairs.

  Instead of going inside, he drew her to the far side of the wraparound porch where they’d have some privacy. “Before we go in.” He put down the bag and lifted out her collar. “I didn’t ask you to wear it before now. It’s probably a good thing. We scared Mr. Martinez plenty.”

  She gave a laugh that she knew revealed her skittishness.

  “Please lift your hair.”

  Within thirty seconds, he had her collared.

  “Damn. You’re even more appealing now.” He looped his finger into the D-ring and pulled her close enough for a tender kiss. “You’re going to be fine,” he told her.

  “I trust you.”

  “That’s my perfect sub.”
r />   Inside, they were met by a hostess wearing a dark suit and friendly smile.

  “Mr. Donovan,” the woman said. “And Ms. Lane. Welcome to Deviation.”

  Kelsey realized then that the security guard had probably radioed ahead. Classy.

  She’d expected something dark and maybe shadowy, but this more closely resembled a fine restaurant or boutique hotel. The entryway had a stunning, geometric pattern in the wood flooring, and the club’s logo was inlaid. A couch-height table was made from cherrywood, and it was flanked by two elegant Queen Anne chairs. Potted palms provided the area with privacy. An unusual waterfall seemed to run perpendicular to a wall, and lights danced off the splashing drops.

  She heard music and voices, but both were surprisingly muted.

  “Have a seat, and we’ll get the details taken care of.”

  While the woman took her place behind the desk, Kelsey and Nathan sat in the chairs that were angled toward each other.

  “Ms. Lane, I need you to sign the disclaimer and agree to club rules.” A pen and the appropriate paperwork were already waiting.

  Kelsey scanned the agreement that included the standard legalese but also indicated that Nathan had sponsored her, and since she was a guest, she agreed to remain with him for the rest of the evening. People drinking at the bar were unable to scene afterward. It also indicated that the club’s safe word was red. Club Monitors wore black blazers and watched all the happenings and had the authority to stop scenes. Members and guests were encouraged to talk to a CM before intruding on someone else’s scene.

  The final rules for the common areas were underlined. No sex. No bare genitalia. And women were not allowed to have exposed nipples.

  Feeling as if she’d entered a foreign country, she signed her name.

  “May I take your jackets?” the hostess asked.

  The perfect gentleman, Nathan helped Kelsey before shrugging out of his and turning both over for a claim check.

  Nathan placed his hand just above her buttocks and guided her past the plants. As she approached the waterfall, the angle shifted. She stopped to look at it. Then she realized she could see through it as if it weren’t there.

  “It’s a hologram,” he explained.

  “Wow.”

  He put his palm on a pad on the wall in front of them.

  Like something out of a sci-fi movie, an opening appeared.

  They walked through, and her senses were assailed.

  Music thumped in a primal beat.

  Women danced sensually in cages seemingly suspended in air. She had to look twice, unsure whether or not they were real. They appeared lifelike, but…

  The area was open, with only a few benches scattered around. She didn’t see any windows, and the back wall changed colors while she watched, from purple to green to red, seething in time to the music.

  Floors were crafted from rich wood, so dark they appeared black. The room had stunning architectural features—chandeliers and elegant, Grecian-looking pillars that should have been incongruent with the stark equipment, but somehow it worked.

  From her online research, she recognized the St. Andrew’s crosses, but they looked bigger, more structurally sound than the ones she’d seen. In a couple of places, people were being bound with colorful ropes. There were a number of sturdy suspension hooks hanging from the ceiling. In the middle of it all was a round pole that had to be at least eight or nine feet tall. Most of it was covered in black vinyl, but the top was glossy wood.

  Courage fled, and she stood rooted in place, staring.

  Obviously sensing her distress, he guided her to the right, toward a large, private area with chairs, a couple of couches and rows of small, elegant lockers. The top ones had brass nameplates, the others appeared to be available to anyone. Right now, they were the only people in the alcove.

  “It can be overwhelming,” he said.

  She was glad for the reprieve.

  While he dropped his bag onto a chair, she studied the surroundings, seeing a cozy, elegant bar off to the left, with waitresses clad in flowing goth-looking dresses.

  “We’ll have a walk around. Let you get comfortable.”

  Over here, the music was somewhat muted, and she was able to talk to him conversationally. “I’m not sure whether I can go through with that pole thing.”

  “There are a couple of others in more private spaces.”

  “That’s not reassuring.”

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You have a safe word, and I’ll be watching you.”

  She knew that was true.

  Pulling out her leash, he asked, “Are you brave enough for this?”

  Ice dripped down her spine.

  She forced herself to remain calm so she could think. A part of her found it to be a humiliating idea, but she realized she’d be close to him. Then she remembered the way it had looked the other day. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  “Fuck. Kelsey. Kelsey, my Kelsey.” He clipped it onto the D-ring, and she curled her fingers around it. “You okay?”

  “I think so.” Slowly she dropped her hand. “Yes.”

  “We’ll move at whatever speed you’re comfortable with.”

  She drew a steadying breath.

  “I’m going to leave the flogger here. We can come back for it later.”

  Knowing he didn’t expect her to scene immediately reassured her.

  “Ready? We can have a soft drink at the bar, if you want. Or we can walk around. Your choice.”

  “Walk around,” she said, curiosity overcoming apprehension, at least temporarily.

  He looped the leash around his hand a couple of times, ensuring she was close.

  “So fucking proud to be with you, Kelsey.”

  He made her heart soar.

  When they entered the main area, she was surprised that no one seemed to notice them.

  She thought, with the way she was on display and a leash, everyone would look at her, but most people were occupied with their own scenes and conversations.

  A short woman walked past, followed by a tall blond man, wearing tight shorts and a top that was nothing more than a leather X. There was a leash attached. Another man, wearing only a pouch of sorts, crawled behind his Dom.

  What she might have thought was unusual seemed to be the norm.

  They walked past a Dom who was flogging a sub attached to a St. Andrew’s cross, while a female stood in front of her, a vibrator pressed hard against her pussy. The woman was screaming, her head tossed back.

  A Club Monitor strolled over and offered a scarf, presumably to stuff in the poor sub’s mouth.

  No one stared at any of the scenes. If they were watching, it was from a distance, and there was nothing overt about it. In a strange way, it was like being at any other club.

  They passed one of the women dancing in a cage. Kelsey couldn’t help but reach up. Her hand went through the image.

  “It looks real,” he said.

  “Eerily so.”

  “Bonds is part owner,” he said against her ear. “He’s got a division dedicated to perfecting holograms, believes they’ll change the world. Not just prerecorded projections, but real-time ones, meaning he could appear to be in a London meeting, sitting in a chair, or holding court, while he’s holed up in California.”

  While he’d been talking to her, his intimate tone and the heat from his breath made her feel undeniably feminine. “I had no idea,” she said. “Having seen your watch, it makes sense.”

  Nathan led her from the main part of the club and down a hallway to another small, more private space.

  Music here was much different, more solemn, a chant of some kind. There were fewer people. There was a pole and a spanking bench. One was occupied by a gray-haired woman in a plaid miniskirt, tight white top, bobby socks and saddle shoes being spanked by a man wielding a wooden ruler.

  While they stood there, separated by the scant foot or so of slack that Nathan allowed in the leash, they watche
d a male Dom approach the pole with his male sub walking in front of him. The sub cleaned the post then moved toward it with no hesitation.

  In that instant, she was humbled.

  The man got into position and his Dom secured him, as if they’d done it a dozen times. And maybe they had, she realized.

  Nathan drew her to a nearby bench where they could watch without disturbing the scene.

  The two were in tune with each other, evidently unconcerned with anyone else.

  The Dom’s stunning black flogger fell again and again, and his sub appeared to absorb the blows rather than fighting them. The Dom spoke, even though she couldn’t make out the words, not that it mattered because it seemed the couple had their own form of communication.

  Viewing a flogging was like seeing poetry come to life. She was captivated.

  “What’s it like for you?” she asked, leaning close to him. The guy on the pole looked relaxed, and the Dom’s motions were rhythmically effortless. He occasionally touched the sub to check on him.

  “There’s not much I enjoy more than sceneing with you. Whether with my hand or belt, and definitely the flogger. I’m watching you, anticipating what you want, what you can need. I’m feeling your reactions. Your pleasure, your pain, your willingness to take it for me… There’s an emotional component that’s hard to convey, but it’s there. An intimacy no one else can share.”

  She nodded, not sure she understood him exactly.

  “Tell me,” he said in return. “What’s it like for you?”

  She glanced back at the man on the Punishment Pole. “I haven’t really thought about it much.” To her, it was all wrapped up in her feelings for Nathan. Their personal and work relationships were so intertwined that they had become impossible to separate. And the sex… She’d told him early on that she had trouble orgasming with a man. With him, that had never been the case. In fact, she was almost constantly on the edge, something she’d never experienced until the last few days.

  The floggings, spankings and the mind fuck that came from them had transformed her.

  She realized she had needed a man who understood her, who was as passionate as Nathan and willing to give her what she hadn’t known she’d needed.