Filthy Commitments: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel

by Michelle Love

  Down the stairs we went and into the main ballroom. Isabel gasped as we saw the room full of masked men and women, clad in gorgeous dresses and tuxedos. “Grant, it’s like a scene out of Dante’s Inferno.” She looked up at me. “Have we created a hell right here on Earth?”

  Had we?

  She was right. The scene was one of intense darkness. A thrill ran through me as I sighed and looked out at the crowd I’d help to procure. “Hell? No, Isabel. This isn’t hell. This is what freedom looks like. Freedom to do what others condemn. Freedom to test our limits and to take our bodies and minds to levels that have been deemed dangerous. Shall we adjourn to the dressing room to change for our scene? It’s time to show our members how to put on a show.”

  She gave me a nod, and we headed off to get ready for the scene we’d practiced until we had it down perfectly.

  Isabel and I would begin what would come to be the highlight of The Dungeon of Decorum—spectacular sexual scenes that would serve to entice even the demurest of individuals.

  Let the games begin …

  Isabel

  The night was electric with so many people in the club. Grant and I would be the first act. I was nervous, no matter how much we’d prepared. We’d never done the scene in front of anyone.

  I was a mess.

  But Grant seemed calm as a cucumber. And damn, he was looking sexy as hell.

  Nothing but black pajama-like bottoms adorned him. A simple black mask hid his identity. His blue eyes shone out from under the mask. His salt and pepper hair hung in loose waves. Grant was the epic Dom.

  I was tied in the middle of the stage, my feet not touching the ground. A rope that had been hung over one of the beams was wrapped around me as if I was a fly a spider had trapped.

  It was dark as we got set up behind the red curtain that closed us off from the people in the main ballroom. Grant came to me just before the curtain was raised. “You okay?”

  I gulped. “No.”

  Soft fingertips ran over my lips. “Will you be okay?”

  His touch soothed me immediately, just like it always did. “With you, I will.”

  “Good girl. You can trust me.” His lips touched mine for only a moment. It sent sparks shooting through me, just like it always did.

  He and I had practiced a lot in the months before the club opened. We had watched tons of videos to learn techniques and all kinds of kinks. There were tons of them.

  I created a website and questionnaire for our members to use to be able to find the people who were right for them. It was a painstaking process. But so far, financially, it had been worth all that hard work.

  The money that was in my account was far beyond any amount I had ever dreamed I’d see in it. My business degree was paying off in spades. Grant had paid off my student loans. I had graduated a month before the club opened and he had given me a crazy huge amount of money as a graduation gift.

  I had invited him to the graduation party my parents threw for me, but in true Grant Jamison fashion, he’d declined the invitation. I wasn’t shocked or upset that he didn’t want to come and meet my family and friends.

  That wasn’t Grant.

  It never would be, from what I could see.

  Grant’s demons ran deep. He had fallen asleep just once after one of our sessions. He’d woken, screaming, sitting straight up in bed. Then he’d left me without so much as a word.

  I hadn’t tried to comfort him or ask him what was wrong. I knew better than to do that. Things like that only made him mad.

  Complicated didn’t even begin to describe Grant. He was indescribable in more ways than one.

  The way he made me feel was out of this world. I wanted more with the man, but I would never push him for it. I worried that one day I’d lose him to another woman. Not that I had him, but I was the only woman he saw fit to fuck. I hoped, one day, that would turn into something more.

  For the time being, though, I was content with what we had.

  The curtain began to rise, and Grant walked away from me to take his place, center stage. I watched as the audience began to murmur as they turned their attention to the stage.

  Grant opened his arms. “Good evening.”

  A few of the men shouted out greetings in return. I was mesmerized by all the people—people who’d soon be watching me get beaten and fucked.

  What the hell was I doing?

  Grant’s hands went to his sides. “Welcome to The Dungeon of Decorum, a place where anything is possible.”

  Thunderous applause filled the large room. I could feel the vibration through the rope that held me. The energy was already filtering from the audience to me. It was absolutely astonishing.

  With a gesture to me, Grant went on. “We’re here tonight to show you how a scene is played out. I know we had some videos for you all to watch on our website, but we thought a real scene would be in order to get the ball rolling. We hope you all find it enticing and that it motivates you to create your own scenes that you can play out for your fellow club members. The idea is for you all to gain some of our energy and turn it into your own. And one day you will be on the stage, lending us some of your energy.” He turned to look at me. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  With a nod to the audience, Grant moved on. “Then let us begin. Music and lights, please.”

  The lights over the audience dimmed, and the spotlight that was on Grant did too. Dark, thumping music filled the large room, making it seem even more ominous than it had been.

  Chills ran through me as if I hadn’t acted out the scene twenty or so times before. It was as if I had no idea what was about to happen, even though I did know and knew I could trust Grant.

  The white spotlight turned to red as Grant pulled the whip off the wall. He popped it a few times toward the audience, then he turned and popped it around me. It was so close, I could feel the tiny bursts of wind from the tail of it.

  All around me, he popped that whip, as if showing me that he could hit me if he wanted to. I was helpless to defend myself. I was trapped, vulnerable, and at his mercy.

  The rope was wound around my body, from my ankles to my throat. Grant left just enough room for me to breathe comfortably. That was until I began to get pumped up and began to breathe harder.

  My chest felt tight as it swelled and the rope felt as if it was smothering me, choking me much like a giant snake. Just as I was about to shout out our word for distress without stopping it heal—the word yellow—he came to me.

  His eyes danced as he pulled a giant, sharp knife out of the holster on his hip. He used it to cut the rope from my throat to my ankles, and caught me before I could hit the ground.

  Taking in deep breaths as the audience cheered, I whispered, “Thank you, sir.”

  Our lips met and my body went limp in his strong arms. I was his for the taking once more.

  Grant

  Isabel and I threw in a little of everything, as if it was a BDSM buffet. A little paddling, a little flogging, and a little dildo action. Nipple clamps were used, demonstrating that technique as well. All in all, we were giving our new members not only a great show, but tweaking their creativity.

  The final part of our scene was at hand. The part where I got to release. Isabel had already had five orgasms. It was important to show that the Dom must get his release as well. All give and no take becomes boring.

  I placed her head and hands in the stockade so she was in a standing position but leaning over, giving me access to her backside. The corset she wore exposed her ass cheeks. They were red from the paddle I’d used last. I gave her one good whack with my hand, but she couldn’t cry out. I’d put a ball-gag in her mouth and blindfolded her as well.

  She’d asked for the blindfold, not wanting to watch the audience watching her get fucked. I understood and even liked the way she reacted more when she was deprived of sight.

  The setup was that I stood behind her. It shielded the audience from seeing everything. There had to b
e an air of wonder. Was I really fucking her or merely faking it?

  But I was about to do it. I’d used the dildo, my mouth, and even a feather to make her climax before. Now I’d use my cock. As I entered her, she moaned. She liked my cock inside of her. Isabel liked that more than she liked getting off any other way.

  I smacked her ass again to remind her that she was to be quiet. As much as I liked to hear that sexy moan of hers, it stirred feelings in me I didn’t want to explore.

  Feelings of wanting more with her—something I wasn’t about to get into.

  Moving into her with a slow thrust, I looked down, watching my cock vanish into her pristine ass. My body surged with satisfaction. I ran my hands in circles over her ass as I moved back and forth.

  Her ass was cherry red from the paddle. I popped it every so often to keep it stinging. She liked it that way. Her ass on fire as her cunt was fucked.

  The music was loud and the beat was hard. I began to move with the beat, in and out, in and out. Holding her by the waist, I closed my eyes and fucked her hard.

  Some of the men shouted encouragement. “Fuck her! Take her like you own her!”

  Did I own Isabel?

  I didn’t claim to. But I did wonder if I’d be bothered if another man took her. It was then that I felt an urgency to show them all that the woman would never be satisfied by any of their cocks.

  But would I ever call her my own?

  As I thrust into her mercilessly, I felt my balls fill. I wasn’t sure that I’d ever make her mine, but I’d sure as fuck let everyone know that she’d never be satisfied by any other man.

  I reached around her, unleashing the gag. “You can make all the noise you want.”

  She moaned loudly. “Yes! Yes!”

  I leaned over, humping her hard and deep as I held her by the shoulders. “You like the way I fuck you?”

  “Yes! Oh, God, yes!”

  Knowing other men were watching us, salivating over her, spurred me on. “Do you ever want another cock inside of you?”

  “No! Please, no!”

  I smiled in spite of the fact that I wasn’t about to make any kind of a commitment to her. “Would you like me to make you all mine?” I gave her a hard thrust.

  “Yes!”

  It was enough for me. The men knew she wanted to be mine. That was enough for me. I wore a cocky grin as I stood back up and finished fucking her. When she came, I did too. It sent a chill through me. We’d become so well adapted to each other’s bodies.

  The curtain closed and I pulled out of her, then released her from the stockade and took off the blindfold. She was breathing hard as she looked at me. “Grant, did you mean what you said?”

  Without answering her, I took her to the dressing room so I could clean us both up and massage her body. My silence had her being quiet too.

  Isabel wasn’t the type to ask anything more than once. She knew what my answer was without me saying a word.

  The shower in the dressing room was large, made for two people. I pulled her corset off her. Dropping my pants, I led her inside the tiled walls to wash away the sweat and other bodily fluids. Neither of us would want to walk around smelling like that the rest of the night.

  She was limp as I washed her body. I never asked her to wash mine. I didn’t want her hands all over me. “Get out, dry off, and go lay on the bed so I can massage you.”

  She nodded and got out. I could feel the sadness she had and knew I didn’t want to deal with it. But the after-care was part of it all. I had to deal with it.

  After I’d cleaned myself up, I threw a towel around my waist and went out to find her lying on her stomach on the small bed. I began the massage at her feet without saying a word to her.

  Her sigh let me know she wasn’t feeling so great about things, so it was my responsibility to see to her emotional well-being too. “Was there any part of that you need to talk about, Isabel?”

  “And if there was?” She tried to roll over to face me, but I wouldn’t let her.

  “You talk. I’m getting these calves and thighs.” I went to work on them. I’d rather deal with her body than her mind any day, but I had no choice in the matter.

  “Why did you say that, Grant?”

  “Say what?” I knew I was acting stupid and that it wouldn’t get me out of the awkward conversation, but I had to try.

  “The part about whether I’d like for you to make me all yours. Why did you say that?”

  “I didn’t say it to hurt you.” I wasn’t sure what to say to her about it.

  “Okay,” she said, then rolled over as I finished the massage, ending with her shoulders. She looked at me with those dark, soulful eyes. “Grant, I’m not sure where you and I stand. Saying things like that, even during an act, is confusing to me.”

  “I know. I’ll refrain from doing that again. It wasn’t fair to you.” I ran my hands up and down her arms to loosen them up. Our faces were close. My lips tingled, wanting to kiss hers.

  “Did you say it because you want that? Do you want to make me yours? Are you afraid I’ll turn you down? I wouldn’t turn you down, Grant. I’d give you anything you want. I want you to know that.”

  “I don’t want you to give me any more than you already are.” I had to be honest with her. I demanded honesty out of her, and she deserved for me to give her the same. “When I realized that all those men were looking at you as a sex object, a thing they might like to toy with, it hit me that I needed to make sure that never happened. So I said what I said.”

  “Oh. So what you’re telling me is that you don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me.” She looked off to one side.

  What was I supposed to say to that? She was right. But I didn’t want to admit that. “I want you when I want you. And I don’t want to see you with anyone else. I know that makes me an asshole.”

  “Yes, it does.” She looked at me right in the eyes. “But I consider you my asshole. And the fact is, I don’t want to see you with other women either. So what are we going to do about this?”

  She wanted to be exclusive, and in a way, so did I. That would lead to more and more, until she and I were lawfully wedded, raising a family, and living happily ever after.

  Only I knew there are no happy endings. At least not in my family.

  “I think you and I have spent too much time together. We’re starting to feel as if we own one another. I didn’t take you on as a Sub. I’m not your Dom or your boyfriend. Hell, I’m not even your fuck-buddy, Isabel.”

  “Fuck you, Grant Jamison!” The slap she gave me hurt far worse than anything ever had. It shook me all the way to my core. She pulled back to give me another, which I did deserve, but I caught her by the wrist.

  “No more.” I let her hand go and walked away from her.

  I’d gone too far with her, and now we’d both leave hurt because of it. I vowed from then on that I’d not spend more than one session with any woman.

  I couldn’t.

  And I could never be with Isabel again. Somehow our hearts had gotten into it, and that wasn’t supposed to happen.

  Putting my tux back on, I ignored the glare she was giving me. She got off the bed and put her dress back on, then walked to the door, ready far faster than I could be.

  Before she left, she turned to look at me. “No one needs to know about this. I won’t talk badly about you, and you don’t talk badly about me. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “I’ll treat you the same way and I expect you to treat me the same way as before. I don’t want gossip going around about us. We work together. I’ll get over you. In time.” She took a deep breath as she gathered herself, then walked out the door.

  My body sagged after she left. I was a complete jackass. It felt awful to know that about myself.

  At least I wasn’t lying to anyone. Not myself or Isabel. Whatever we had, it was over.

  I didn’t know I could miss her, but I already did.

  Damn, it felt like shit.
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  Isabel

  It was hard to believe that just as the club opened, Grant and I ended. We’d been together for a few months. It was never something I thought would happen to us. Okay, we weren’t a couple, but we spent a ton of time together. We got along great, and we had mind-blowing sex too.

  In my head, I had always thought that he and I would end up together. I understood his needs. All of them. His sexual and mental needs.

  He and I were perfect together.

  He nor I wanted to see us with other people. So why did he do it? Why did he end it all?

  After our breakup, I went to my office. In the large bottom drawer on the left of my desk was a bottle of Macallan eighteen-year-old Scotch. I’d bought it to give to Grant after the doors closed that night.

  Instead of giving it to him, I opened the expensive bottle and poured myself a glass of it. The first sip burned like fire as it slipped down my throat. I knew the numbness it would bring would outweigh the pain.

  All the pain. The pain in my body, in my head, and in my heart. It was everywhere. And I had to push it all down. I had to act as if nothing had happened.

  Opening night was supposed to be a celebration. We’d all worked so damn hard to get the club up and going. The show Grant and I had put on was supposed to be the pinnacle of one great night, a night that I thought would be beyond belief.

  I guess it was. I felt pain that was beyond belief.

  It was after that third sip of Scotch that I knew I loved Grant. I loved that sorry son of a bitch more than I’d ever loved any man.

  But he wasn’t capable of loving me back.

  I had the comfort of knowing he’d most likely never be capable of loving anyone. At least I had that.

  But I’d have to see the man all the damn time. That would be difficult. But I’d figure out how to deal with it. The money I was making wasn’t something anyone could walk away from. Plus, I had a five-year contract that forbade it.

  Another sip of Scotch and the numbness was setting in. I could do it. I could get through the night, one glass of Scotch at a time.