by Anya Summers
“I see. And yet, forgive me, but you have followed my orders as if you were a submissive,” he pointed out, attempting to peer into her soul.
She rolled her eyes. “Only because I need this job.” She refrained from calling her boss a few choice names and continued her diatribe. “Jared, I know what it’s like to have your choices forcibly taken away from you. It’s not a good place to be in and one I never want to return to. It’s living without any hope, which in my book, is a far worse fate than death. Besides, don’t Doms have rules with limits on how far you will push a sub and when it crosses a line, you pull back? This is mine, and I’m asking you to let me adjust in my own time. I will. But not like this.” Otherwise she couldn’t be responsible for her actions, like flinging herself bodily at him.
“I will consider it. But I want your word that you will work at it. What are you going to do if you walk in on a scene in one of the villas? What will you do if you come in to clean my penthouse and I’m fucking a sub on my couch?”
Probably cry was her initial knee-jerk reaction. The thought of him with any other woman besides her left her feeling bereft. She wouldn’t like it one iota. And not for the reason he inferred. It shouldn’t matter to her whom he had sexual relations with, as that was none of her business. He was her boss. It was time she remembered that instead of practically drooling on him. He didn’t belong to her and could have sex with whoever consented to sleep with him.
“I would leave your penthouse and then return later once you had finished with the submissive,” Naomi replied, straightening her shoulders. Her lie sounded convincing enough that she almost believed it herself.
Then Jared braced his hands on either side of her on the mattress and pierced her with his green gaze, his face perilously close to hers as he said, “What if I said that would not be an option? That you would be required to stay and watch so that you could clean up after I was finished fucking her?”
If she leaned forward two inches, she could press her lips to his and discover if his mouth tasted as sinful as his voice. Her sex throbbed. Naomi needed to escape this insanity before she acted on her desires. Like sucking his bottom lip between hers or testing the firmness of his shoulders.
“Little one? I’d like an answer.”
She stuttered, “I-I-I… um, I…”
Overwhelmed by his nearness, by the sandalwood scent that mingled with his body chemistry and emanated off him to tease her senses, by the sheer naked masculine glory of Jared, Naomi erased the gap between them and planted her lips against his. Jared was stunned motionless for all of two seconds as Naomi caressed his bottom lip with her tongue before both his hands cupped her face and he took control of the exchange. Jared angled her head back for deeper access as he plunged his tongue inside her mouth and dominated her with his kiss.
And boy, did the man know how to kiss. He seduced as he slid his tongue against hers. He explored her depths in caressing, teasing strokes. And then he stole her ability to think as she was surrounded in him, enveloped in his warmth as he drew her further under his control.
Arousal battered Naomi with each stroke of his tongue as it delved inside her mouth to tangle with hers. Her hands went to his chest and she whimpered. Touching him sparked flames that rose up through her arms like a livewire being zapped with extra wattage. Desire hummed in her system. The way Jared kissed made her head spin. The rest of the world dropped away. The only thing that mattered was his potently addictive mouth as it possessed hers, driving all doubts, all worries, all thoughts away. She was surrounded in him, cocooned within the warmth of his embrace as he eliminated the distance between her body and his.
In her barely-there maid’s uniform, the flimsy cotton material was hardly a barrier. Her nipples pebbled against his chest, and moisture flooded her apex. And then Jared pressed his erection against her covered sex. Scores of lightning bolts raced through her body at the contact. He rubbed his cock against her covered folds.
His calloused hands teased the flesh along her waistband. Alarm bells went off in her mind. What was she doing? This couldn’t happen between them—now or ever.
With every measure of strength left in her bones, she ripped her mouth away from his and scrambled to the other side of the bed. Gulping in air, she leapt off the bed as her pulse raced. Then she glanced at Jared with the bed between them. They stared at one another like two boxers on opposite sides of the ring. Lust dominated his visage, his jaw was clenched, and the hunger in his eyes made her knees tremble. Naomi had been wrong. He did want her. He was breathing just as heavily as she was and her gaze zeroed in on his erection. The full rigid length of him bobbed almost like it was saluting her, attempting to entice her back across the bed. And by god did she want to toss all her cares to the wind and explore his body like it was her own personal amusement park.
It took everything inside Naomi not to crawl back across the bed and let him have her. But he was her boss. She couldn’t sleep with him. Especially not on her first day. She needed the sanctuary this place would provide, not the potential earth-shattering orgasms the owner could gift her.
One of Jared’s large hands fisted around his cock and began stroking his erection. She bit back a moan. He was jerking off in front of her. Pleasure spiraled and rose to new blistering heights. Naomi stood frozen to the spot, unable to tear herself away from the heady experience of Jared masturbating.
Jared snarled a command. “Either disrobe and get in the fucking bed on your hands and knees ready to receive me, or get the hell out.”
Naomi knew instantly that if she did climb into his bed, he would fuck her senseless. She groaned internally at the thought.
“I’ll be in the kitchen and will finish after you leave.” She scurried from the room, closing the door behind her. The image of Jared fondling his cock, holding it out for her like an offering, would stick with her for a long time to come.
How could she look at her boss after this?
Chapter 4
Naomi entered the club that night dressed in the required attire. For her duties in the club, since it was a place where people went to get their freak on, the uniform for working was a French maid costume. Silly, frivolous, and wholly wrong for doing a job, but the pay for working at the club was triple what she made elsewhere on the island. If that meant looking like a sex kitten, then she could deal with it—even if a few of her scars were visible along her midriff. Normally she didn’t like to show them, but she would have to add half a foot of material to the top to have it cover her properly.
And, to be honest, after her actions that morning, she didn’t want to do something that would piss Jared off. She’d heard him finish himself off in the bedroom, climaxing with a guttural shout which had stirred a deep ache inside her. Then he’d come waltzing out a half hour later, dressed in tailored slacks, and left her alone to finish her job in his penthouse. Seeing the proof, the stream of cum on the bed where he’d ejaculated, had made her knees tremble.
Naomi still wasn’t certain what her response to Jared should be after her blunder earlier in the day. It never should have happened. She knew that, and he likely did, too. She hadn’t spotted him yet and hoped to avoid him tonight as much as possible.
Sherry was running around delivering drinks but two of the Doms were pestering her. Patrick Manning, one of the dungeon monitors, who had a surfer dude look with his shoulder-length beach blond hair, wearing leather assless chaps and nothing else; and Nick Santos, whom she’d met in the pool area as she passed by with her cart today. Gone were the board shorts and in their place were leather pants and a black tank top which complemented his mocha skin. She’d been informed by Sherry earlier that Nick and Patrick enjoyed topping women together. In fact, there were a few Doms on the island who preferred it that way. The way Sherry had talked about Nick and Patrick though, as she showed Naomi how the villas should be cleaned, made Naomi wonder how much more was going on than Sherry mentioned.
The men’s expressions reminded Naomi of two pre
dators zeroing in on their prey as they spotted Sherry, with her statuesque Viking goddess figure garbed in an itty bitty French maid costume. Naomi pondered whether Sherry realized that the two Doms wanted to top her. Victor, the blond-haired, blue-eyed, forty-something Master who was more ripped than most twenty year olds, and his sub, Jo Ellen, were in the medical play alcove. It shouldn’t surprise Naomi that she had literally seen everything about Jo Ellen now that her legs were wide open as Victor performed a medical exam on her. Naomi didn’t understand how that could turn someone on—she hated going to her gynecologist. But to each their own.
Master Owen Kyrios and his submissive Pepper were getting hot and heavy on one of the couches. Not that she blamed Pepper in the slightest. Owen resembled a Greek god, with a perfect head of thick dark hair and an accent that could melt the panties off any woman within a twenty-five-foot radius when he spoke.
There were a few couples she hadn’t been introduced to yet that had arrived for their stay on the ferry today, who were occupying some of the other alcoves. It was still early, but some of the employees were already filtering into the club.
Naomi was waiting in the wings for Victor and Jo Ellen to finish when the room quieted until the only sounds she heard were strains from Enya over the loud speaker and moans from some of the alcoves. Jared stalked to the dais in the center with a submissive behind him. It was the waitress, Jenna, from the restaurant. The petite blonde sub was naked, a collar on her neck, with Jared holding the chain attached to it, and cuffs on her wrists.
Jared appeared larger than life, striding purposefully through the crowd with a rigid, stern demeanor. Seeing him again for the first time since this morning, Naomi thought he looked more like a fallen archangel in his slicked-on leather pants and shit-kicker boots than the owner of a premier island getaway. He’d left the incredible expanse of his chest bare and Naomi found herself licking her lips.
What was he going to do to Jenna? She watched the scene unfold as if in a trance as he fastened Jenna’s wrists and collar to the horse, turning it into a stockade restraint. The way he positioned her, Jenna’s rear was presented to everyone in the club. Then he spread her legs apart and fastened Velcro cuffs around her ankles.
Anticipation tingled along Naomi’s spine as he withdrew a black leather flogger from his back pocket. He said something to Jenna that only she could hear, then with a flick of his wrist, struck her ass with the flogger. The leather straps snapped and cracked against her skin. Jenna cried out at the blow.
Naomi winced. This was barbaric. How could he hurt her like that? It called forth every beating and backhand she’d received from her ex-husband. She wanted to believe all men weren’t like her abusive ex but now she was witnessing her new boss beating a woman publicly. Shaking, with tears threatening, Naomi decided she needed to do something—anything—to help Jenna. Then Jared swatted her three more times in rapid succession, and this time Jenna’s cry was not one of pain, more of a garbled, high-pitched moan.
Dismayed by the spectacle, Naomi was uncertain of the actions to take. Was he hurting the blonde? The more blows he struck against her ass cheeks, the louder her wails became. They were a mixture of pain and pleasure so pronounced Naomi couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized by the interaction.
This was a punishment, of sorts, but Naomi found herself revising her initial revulsion to one of marvel. Could pain feel good in a sexual way? Her ex had always used punches and slaps, things that were intended to hurt, and she had never considered there could be pleasure to be had by it. Then again, he’d had such a difficult time getting and maintaining an erection that would last for more than a minute or so, he had never allowed any type of foreplay when they had sex. She remembered that, toward the end, she would lie there and think about leaving as he pumped his hips and limp dick inside her. The one time she’d told him he was a lousy lay after a few glasses of wine, he’d made her regret her words a thousand times over. The scars on her lower back and belly burned in remembrance. She’d not had another drink around her ex for fear that it would lower her guard and she would speak her mind—never a good thing with Jon.
Poor Jenna’s butt was a blistering red but her cries were ones of supreme ecstasy as Jared continued lashing her backside. Had Naomi ever felt such potent passion that the rest of the world receded and that was all there was? Yes, with Jared that morning. And if that didn’t just shift her entire paradigm. Was there a part of Naomi that wished she was in Jenna’s position? Maybe not being whipped with the flogger but experiencing the monumental bliss she was presently feeling? God, yes. And especially if it was being administered by Jared. Thinking about their kiss earlier made her skin seem to shrink and her blood heat, her nipples pebbled, and her sex throbbed.
How could she want a man she barely knew so desperately that she ached for his touch? Why had she told him no earlier? It wasn’t like she was a virgin or had religious aspirations to become a nun. The sight of him stroking his big, thick erection, seeing the drop of pre-cum glistening on his crest had been so utterly erotic that even the memory of it fueled her desire. She craved his taste, had wanted to swipe her tongue across his crown to catch his cum. She’d never wanted to taste a man that way. Her ex-husband had forced her to give him head, turning it into a task and duty to keep the peace between them, one she’d never cared for or enjoyed. His impotence would kick in and Jon would go soft in her mouth, then he would blame her for his dick malfunctioning. But Jared’s thick, bulbous cock had beckoned her and yet she’d turned away from what she wanted. For so long, Naomi had denied herself and for the life of her she couldn’t remember why, exactly.
The flogging reached a crescendo and Jenna screamed, her body shaking and straining from what appeared to Naomi to be the mother of all orgasms. Jared shoved his flogger in his back pocket, took a blanket from Sherry, who was standing nearby, and gently began undoing Jenna’s restraints. He wrapped the woman up in the blanket and hefted her in his arms, carting her over to a nearby couch. Naomi’s heart melted to see that he was taking care of Jenna and wondered if she was his submissive.
He shot a glance her way and indicated to the sawhorse. While Jared’s expression had been almost aloof with Jenna, when he stared at Naomi there was a blazing inferno inside his green eyes that turned them almost black. After the scene she had witnessed, this morning’s lapse in judgement, and now his incendiary glance, Naomi was all tangled up. She shouldn’t want him, but she did.
She tried ignoring him, but it was damn near impossible. The only chance she had of not paying attention to Jared would be if she was off-planet. She was too cognizant, too aware of his masculinity, too aware of the dominant energy that flowed off him in spades and made her knees weak.
She yearned to feel that talented mouth of his, with the scruffy stubble grazing her cheeks and chin, as he made her forget where she was and could only focus on his incredible kiss. Then she caught Jared stroking a gentle hand down Jenna’s blanket covered back and wanted to kick herself.
Wake up, girl. He doesn’t want you. Why would he play with her, when he had such willing offerings?
As Naomi wiped down the leather and set the area back to rights for the next couple waiting to use it, Jared did something wholly unexpected.
“Do you understand, Jenna? The rest of your punishment will be to serve Master Carter for the next week as his submissive.” He prayed she would agree. He didn’t have time for a disobedient sub, not with the plans he wanted implemented. And he didn’t want to do the job himself. Carter was the offended Dom, but it was Jared’s rules that he decided on the punishment for the subs in his employ.
Jenna nodded her head, her long golden curls swaying. Her baby blue eyes were bright with moisture. Tears dried on her cheeks. Her pretty rosebud mouth with her top heavy upper lip stayed compressed in a thin line as she responded, “Yes, Sir.”
“Carter, you will let me know if there are any problems with her discipline,” Jared addressed the six-foot-six cowboy who opted for
jeans instead of leather pants, and a black Stetson.
“That I will. Come on now, darlin’, let’s go get ourselves acquainted.” Carter helped Jenna up off Jared’s lap, then swooped her up into his arms when she wobbled on her feet, blanket and all, and carted her out of the club.
Thankfully, that was one problem off Jared’s hands. Jenna had been acting out lately, pulling pranks and just being a bit of a shit stirrer. She wore the cuffs of a submissive but refused to toe the line and had offended a smattering of Doms at the dock today, including her new Master for the week, Carter. Jared liked Carter, had met him at a club in Denver when he’d been visiting Tyler a few years back. He was a damn good Dom and not a half bad cowboy. Jared had invited Carter to test the waters of letting in outsiders who were not part of the Dungeon Fantasy Club. Carter belonged to the exclusive Spurs and Cuffs Club in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.
There would be a vetting process with the other clubs. Jared was adamant about the safety of the submissives on the island. He had witnessed the lingering effects of the damage a bad Dom could perpetrate.
So he had offered Carter a week-long stay on the island, free of charge, hoping this would be the beginning of a new partnership with Carter’s club—only to have Jenna mouth off and play a prank. The only way he’d kept Carter from turning around and boarding a boat back to Nassau was to offer him the misbehaving sub for the week—after Jared publicly punished her, of course. If there was one thing Carter was, it was a stickler for rules, and he ran a tight operation in the States.
Hopefully, a week with Carter would make Jenna a better submissive, otherwise Jared might have to restrict her access to the club or let her go entirely. He couldn’t have a submissive interfere with what he hoped would be an expanding, thriving business.