Truly Helpless: A Nature of Desire Series Novel

by Joey W. Hill

  “You can use your teeth to pull off the straps holding the hooves in place,” she said, pointing to them. “Wipe down the platform with the sterile wipes under the sink. There are detailed instructions there for cleaning the other tack. Be sure and use the proper cleaning agents with those instructions. Put everything back where it belongs, and then get dressed and leave. You have forty-five minutes to do all that and drive out the gate before I set the alarm.”

  “I—”

  She shook her head. “No. You don’t get to talk. Just nod if you’ll obey, or leave. Before you think about being a smart-ass, remember the lesson I taught you when you were taking off your clothes. I have no interest in game playing. So nod if you’ll do as you’re told.”

  He could cheerfully tell her to fuck off, that all of it was game playing and who the hell was she to act as if he couldn’t do exactly what the hell he wanted? But in a weird way, him acting out right now would mean she had won. She’d pulled something over on him. He just couldn’t figure out exactly how she’d done it and he needed to think it through. He could exercise control. Even if he thought she smelled like cinnamon rolls.

  “Are you…” He shut his mouth. She cocked her head.

  “I’ll allow one question. Am I what?”

  “Are you wearing cinnamon?”

  “I have a skin dust flavored with cinnamon. Yes. Is your real name Duncan?”

  Duncan Marius Walczak.

  Fuck. Tal, the big Oz asshole, had used his first name. He’d forgotten that, but she hadn’t. The way it sounded on her full, glossy lips…he remembered a lullaby, a call to dinner, a harsh cry.

  “That’s two questions,” he said carelessly. “I’d answer, but I’d hate to see you break your own rules, Mistress. Especially since you’ve worked so hard to put me in my place tonight, playing horsey.”

  She glanced at the slim watch she’d put on her wrist. “Very well. You have ten minutes to get out of here before you’ll set off an alarm. Better put your clothes on and get to your car.”

  “No need to get pissy. I can clean up—”

  “Go home, Marius,” she said shortly. She was moving, striding down the wide corridor of the barn and toward the arched opening. She paused only to shut off the lights, leaving dim emergency lamps to illuminate his space.

  He watched her head toward the building where they’d parked. Wearing her jeans and tank, she was a cock-hardening, deep-into-temptation play of feminine curves.

  It must be the lingering sense of the horse, because for a single moment, those wild instincts took over. He’d chase after her, shove her to the ground and take her the way she’d taken him, with such ruthless lust and need. He’d make her come the way she should have allowed him to do it.

  He trembled with the rage, and it was a close thing. What would she do? Would she fight him? Would he like that?

  His hands bunched into harder fists inside the hoof mitts. She didn’t toss him even one backwards look. The distant sound of the clubhouse door shutting echoed in an inexplicably hollow place inside him.

  Fine. Using his teeth, he removed the straps to take off the first “hoof,” and then yanked the other free. He pulled on his jeans and shrugged into the shirt, not buttoning it. He dug out his car keys, but paused. He didn’t like leaving the space like this, the strap-on, the crop, the saddle and other tack, none of it properly cared for and put away. It felt wrong, irritating him. They’d had a good time. Why couldn’t she handle a little mouthing off? She’d ruined it.

  Yeah, right, she’d ruined it. That was total crap. Looking bleakly around at the wreckage of their pleasure, thinking about how he could have cleaned it all, hung it up and won a look of approval from her…

  “You know what?” he muttered. “Fuck it.” So she’d set the alarm and lock him in here. The cops might come. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d been on their bad side.

  It took him thirty-eight minutes. He cleaned everything the way she’d directed. He had to do some switching around to remember exactly where everything went, but he thought he got it right. He’d have to pay closer attention next time. She was apparently the type of Mistress who liked to give quizzes.

  He put the horse masks side by side in the cabinet after carefully wiping them down. His fingers lingered on the long, slim nose of her mask. “You are beautiful,” he said quietly, thinking of all he’d imagined doing to her while she was wearing it. And while she wasn’t. Then he closed the doors, and turned the latch.

  When he walked to his car, hers was still there, and there was a light on in the clubhouse. It looked like she might have the TV on and was drinking a cocktail. But if he knocked, it’d be like he was begging. She hadn’t invited him anyway. Hell, she’d told him to have his ass out of here thirty minutes ago. For all he knew, she’d coded the alarm as she’d threatened and he’d set it off when he left.

  He got into his car and drove away, because that was all he knew how to do. When he reached the gate to the property, he hit the buzzer to exit, bracing himself for a shrieking alarm blast. Instead, the intercom near the gate emitted a short crackle of static before her voice came over it.

  “Be at Safe Word tomorrow night,” she said. “Nine p.m.”

  Swallowing a million different responses, he went with the only one he really wanted to say.

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  Chapter Five

  Would he show? Regina figured it was a fifty-fifty bet. He’d been rattled by the whole pony play scene. After having time to think, he’d be all kinds of conflicted about it, tangled up with a bunch of rationalizations about his behavior and hers.

  It was a decently active night at Safe Word, for a week day. The club was not as upscale as The Zone, but safe, clean, and with enough amenities to cater to middle-class BDSM lifestylers. An enthusiastic group of mostly naked subs were being directed through various line dances on the small dance floor, and cheerfully punished by a trio of patrolling Dominants when they had missteps.

  The DJ was playing Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffet’s duet of “It’s Five O’ Clock Somewhere,” so as she went by, she hooked her thumbs in an imaginary belt and did a decent two-step and twirl. It made Mistress Zoe, one of the Dommes directing the action, grin and do a little pirouette in sisterly response. When she invited Regina to join them, Regina shook her head and gave her a friendly wave, letting her know she had other plans tonight.

  About half of the handful of private rooms were occupied, while other Masters, Mistresses and subs enjoyed the equipment in the public dungeon. Her destination was the lounge and bar area, where there were scattered couches and comfortable chairs, seating areas for people to socialize. One of the things Regina looked for in the BDSM clubs she chose was evidence that the long-term membership used it as much for a social gathering spot as a place to get their kink on.

  Case in point: Kristoff and Janice, Master and sub, both in street clothes, were relaxing in one set of facing chairs, playing a card game. Janice had her bare foot propped on her Master’s knee, her casual heels tumbled on the floor. When they both suddenly lunged forward and tried to slap the card on the table, Regina grinned, realizing they were playing Slapjack. Janice won, laughing, while Kristoff gave her a mock scowl and they started again.

  Though they were in an environment where they could make it about more than a card game, they might or might not. Lifestylers often hung out at their favorite club the way other people went to their favorite bar or coffee shop. It was their place, their people. While The Zone was her first choice for serious play, Regina had always liked the energy here as a good runner-up. Since Marius was currently banned from The Zone, this was the best option for what she had in mind. She’d left his name up front as her guest, so they’d let him in. If he decided to show.

  She glanced at her watch. 8:55. He was cutting it close. So yeah, he’d fucked his head up over the other night. If he showed tonight, he’d be spoiling for a fight. Fine. She’d position herself accordingly. The Throne corner was
available.

  The tall wooden chair placed there had earned the name with its carved floral back and velvet seat and arm rests. A center board and cushion could be removed to reveal a strategically placed hole beneath the Mistress, if she wanted her sub to eat her pussy or tongue her ass while she was in the chair.

  The Throne was flanked by two shorter stools, which could serve as seating for bottoms or a prop to do other things to them. One night, she’d put a sub over each one while she took the center seat. Both men had donned thin body suits lined with metallic thread. The suits had an opening that allowed their cocks to hang free, and she’d ordered both to don a seven-ring gates of hell to contain their erect shafts until their queen allowed them to climax.

  As she enjoyed holding court that night with Mistresses who visited her for the fun of joining in the role play, she idly stroked the men’s bodies with her scepter, a violet wand that crackled electric energy over their flesh. Thanks to the metallic thread, the enhanced sensation sent hard shudders through them. When she applied it to the rings around their hard and needy cocks, the response was particularly volatile. But her favorite part had been running the wand over the stretched fabric around their testicles. Leaned over the bench, legs spread, arms braced on the floor as they faced outward, they never knew when to expect that.

  Speak of the devil. One of those subs, Rob, was here tonight. He was at the bar, chatting with the bartender, but when he saw her, his eyes lighted with pleasure. Before she’d had her gradual shift toward problem subs, he’d been a favorite hook-up for her.

  Rob was married to a woman he adored, but who had no interest in BDSM. He’d brought her once when they were engaged, but not to see if he could change her mind. They’d already tried that route. Regina thought favorably of Rob, but her regard increased that night, for both him and Thea. Rob’s intent in bringing her was to introduce her to the Mistresses whom he might seek out for play, and say in front of each one: “My fiancée has given me permission to pursue those interests here.” None of that “she knows about this, but hey, you don’t get to ask her directly because I’m lying my ass off” bullshit that so many men tried to pull.

  In the BDSM world, people didn’t pass judgment, but Regina had no interest in playing with attached people who were lying to their other half about it. Didn’t matter if sex happened or not; everyone knew BDSM play had a vital sexual core, so if she was playing with a man or woman who hadn’t told a committed partner about this part of their life, and she found out about it, that was it. It didn’t sit right with her, so she passed on future sessions with them.

  Rob had cleared the purpose of the visit with his Mistresses ahead of time, so they’d been surreptitiously watching him make the rounds with his wife as soon as they arrived. Thea was a little thing with a powerful presence. Lots of curly red hair and big brown eyes. Her clothes were well chosen for her slightly plump figure, neat and fashionable.

  At first, she’d been quiet and watchful, but by the time Rob introduced her to Regina, the acceptance and friendly nature of his other three regular Mistresses had relaxed her enough to show her feelings more openly.

  “And he won’t be playing at any other club,” she added to Rob’s declaration. “Outside of Safe Word, he belongs to me.” Regina saw a trace of vulnerability in her expression, but the set to her chin was steady. Rob had his hand on the small of her back, his body pressed close to her, a reminder of love and support. He sent Regina a half-smile, though his eyes conveyed his worry, which told Regina that coming here had been Thea’s idea. Another point in the woman’s favor.

  Though Regina was almost half a foot taller and far more physically imposing than his bride-to-be, Rob rallied enough to give Regina a meaningful head-to-toe look. “Don’t make my future wife kick your ass to prove it, Mistress. She’s a dispatcher with city sanitation. I’ve seen her keep those guys in line in ways that would make your knees shake.”

  “I believe it.” Regina grinned and took Thea’s hand for a firm shake. “Deal. And no problem. We all know he’s a pain in the ass when he’s not gagged or tied up. So out there, he’s all yours. If you ever need any tips on how to give him a good beating, let me know.”

  Then, more seriously, she’d squeezed the woman’s hand. “We’ll take good care of him. And if ever you’re not comfortable with this, you don’t need to worry. He loves you more than what happens here.”

  “I know.” Thea met her gaze squarely, showing her a woman who did know her man, who didn’t need another woman to tell her any damn thing about him. “He was going to give it up for me. That was why he was gone for a couple months. It took me a while to understand. But I know…when he comes home from this, he’s more relaxed, more attentive, more…him. I trust him. I trust his love.” She’d looked up at him and caressed his jaw. As she did, Rob dipped his head and kissed her palm.

  Regina came back to the present as Rob approached. Taking her friendly, casual nod as a cue that he shouldn’t kneel and enter a more formal sub protocol, he came to her as an equal. But he was dressed for play in a utilitarian collar and a pair of jeans only, hanging low on his slim hips so she knew he wore nothing under them. He wasn’t built like Marius, but Rob took good care of himself. He was a jogger who worked out at the gym several times a week.

  “What’s Thea up to tonight?” she asked.

  “Girl movie with her friends. She’s going to come home ready to jump me because she’ll have been ogling some half-dressed movie star for a couple hours.”

  “Well, fair’s fair.” Regina grinned. “How many times do you come home from here and ravish her until she can’t walk because we hardly ever let you come? Our thanks to her for her donation to our cause.”

  He flushed a little, though he grinned. “You’re right, Mistress. On that note…” He lowered his gaze. “Is there any way I can serve you tonight?”

  “It depends. I was waiting for someone.” A glance at her watch showed it was one minute after nine. Well, then. “He’s late, so he’s missed his chance. But he may show. If he does, I want to be involved with someone. If you’ve no objection to me shamelessly using you to prove a point, I promise to pay for your and Thea’s next dinner out as thanks.”

  Rob lifted his head, giving her a speculative look, but properly refrained from asking more penetrating questions. “No need for that. I’m happy to serve. What do you have in mind?”

  Her gaze coursed over him. “I want you wearing a lot less. And Rob…” She paused until he met her gaze, another equal-to-equal communication. “This could get ugly, but it’s between me and him. If things escalate, I need you to step back and trust my lead. No testosterone displays. That’s a red flag to this bull. I’m not trying to placate him. I’m trying to teach him something, and that requires me to have total control over all reactions to his behavior, mine or yours. Understood? You can still back out, if you’re not comfortable.”

  Rob considered that. “Sounds interesting. Short of him throwing a punch at you, I think I can sit on my powder keg of testosterone.”

  She chuckled, appreciating him. “Great. Well then?” She put a hand on her hip and quirked an imperious brow, feeling the pleasure of her Mistress side taking the upper hand as Rob picked up on it. He immediately stripped, set aside the clothes and dropped to one knee before her. Then all the way to his elbows as she propped a high heel on his back and applied pressure. She’d worn skin-tight thin leggings under a micro skirt that clung to her ass, and a snug, crisp button-down shirt loose over it. Schoolmistress meets school girl. The slick red heels added a touch of blatant sex to the ensemble.

  She heard the little catch in his breath when she dug one of the sharp stiletto points into his side. She loved her challenges, but Goddess, a willing sub was like a free piece of birthday cake. Nothing anyone with brain cells would pass up the chance to eat.

  She bent and ran a hand over his thick, sandy blond hair. “Go kneel before the throne. I need a footrest.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”


  He showed at 9:40. One of the first things she noticed was he hadn’t shaved, because the shadow of his beard was dark on his jutting jaw. He wore jeans and a snug white T-shirt that had no embellishment except the impressive muscle beneath it. Given the cut and fit of the jeans, he also intended a Mistress to know exactly what she could have. If she played his game.

  She’d slipped off her shoes some time ago and had her soles pressed against Rob, one on his side, the other on the curve of his ass because he knelt before her in profile. Thanks to Marius being so late, she’d had time to entertain herself. Rob was currently stroking his cock in time to the music coming over the speakers. He’d almost gone over the edge with a couple faster pieces, but the ballads disrupted him, earning her amusement and his affable frustration. But he was a pleasure to watch. So obedient and sexy at once, his cock hard and thick in his hand, his buttock and side flexing under her foot. He was breathing fast now, so close.

  She lifted her gaze to Marius only when he approached and stood on the other side of Rob, so that his tempting lower body molded by denim was in her line of sight. He could have seen that she was engaged and blown her off right then, but he would have had to leave, since he was here as her guest. She expected he would have done it, regardless. He would have let her see him, then left the club as if it didn’t mean a damn thing to him, with his lips curled in that sneer. But he hadn’t.

  Though she didn’t expect tonight was going to be a smooth road, she took that as a step in the right direction. When her attention moved to his face, his expression suggested he was about to unwisely toss off some smart assed quip.

  He showed a modicum of good sense and suppressed it. Instead, he stood still and stared at her defiantly, waiting to be acknowledged. Thanks to the past forty minutes, during which Rob had eased her deep into that liquid pool where she could feel every ripple through the waters from her chosen submissive, the vibrations of energy off Marius were as detailed to her as a polygraph.