BDSM Mega Boxed Set

by Anita Lawless, C. J. Sneere, Roxxy Meyer

  He stops me with a hand snaked around my shoulder. “It’s a sex club and resort franchise. My buddy only owns the one club, but he knows some of the major shareholders. The richest of rich come to play at the main resort, Sanctuary. Or so I’m told. I’ve never been there.”

  I simply nod and swallow hard as my gaze takes in the playroom and its contents.

  I don’t know a ton about BDSM, but I know enough from the erotic romance I’ve read, and some of Jeanie’s dirty magazines, to know a spanking bench when I see one. There’s also a rack that reminds me of medieval torture devices. A cross with shackles for wrists and ankles. And stocks. Glass cases line the walls and these are filled with whips, collars, handcuffs. He explains more about the room’s contents as he leads me around.

  “Pick your pleasure,” he says, stopping in front of me.

  The heat from his body makes the tiny hairs on mine stand on end. I try to breathe normally, act cool. This is just practice after all. Not the real thing.

  Still, I stall for time. “Why do you need to practice anyway? How can someone be a failure dominant?” I regret the last sentence the moment it leaves my lips.

  He glares at me, purses his lips, then his face becomes an aloof mask, but I can still sense the anger simmering under the surface. “Some of my clients feel I’ve been too soft on them. I need to learn not to hold back. To respond to my submissive’s wants and needs by observing their cues and better communication. Failure is not an option.”

  He sounds like Arnold Schwarnehager in a bad sci-fi movie, but I don’t tell him that. I have the good sense to bite my tongue this time. However, I can’t help but ask, “What happens if you do fail?”

  He looks annoyed, but he holds the mask of aloof calm, control. “Then I’m out a job, or I go back to tending bar at this place. And this job pays better than the bar tending. So you’re helping me as much as I’m helping you. See?”

  The arm around my shoulder slides to my waist, raising tiny goose pimples down my back as it does. I suck air between my teeth.

  “Who’s paying my salary then?” I’m curious, but I also still don’t quite trust him.

  He can tell, and little wrinkles form at the bridge of his nose as his frown deepens. “My buddy. He’s investing in me. Let’s put it that way. Let’s get started.”

  I cast him a dubious look, but his stony face says more questions are not welcome. His elusive buddy makes me suspicious, but I decide if payment is late or anything goes wrong, I’m out of here and out of this job faster than you can say chocolate and peanut butter. I have the weekend off from both my other jobs—wonder of wonders—but I haven’t given my notice yet, just in case things don’t work out. Like I said, never trust a bad boy.

  He crosses his nicely defined arms over his chest. “Have you decided?” Pins me with an intimidating stare.

  My decision is based on my last assignment for my historical law class. I point to the stocks, hoping they’ll be the least harmful and compromising instrument of torture.

  He nods and, taking my hand, leads me to it.

  My heart does a double-time beat in my ears. “What am I suppose to do as your practice sub?”

  He opens up the polished, pine stocks and gestured for me to get in. “I’m going to read your response and ask you how it feels. What you like and don’t like. What you want more of and what you don’t. We’ll have safe words you can use should you become uncomfortable with anything. Remember the ones I included in the contract?”

  Vaguely, I do. We go over them again as I gingerly place my head in the cool bevel at the center of the wood then drape my wrists within the smaller notches. The stocks lower over my neck and I try not to panic as the hinges give a tiny squeak and he snicks the lock shut.

  Breathe deep. In and out. Relax, I tell myself.

  “And now you’re going to … spank me?” I hate how meek I sound, but I admit the feeling of vulnerability that rushes over me at being bound this way is oddly enjoyable.

  He crouches in front of me, takes my chin in his hand, grins as he gazes into my eyes. “You bet I am.”

  “So what’re you taking in college?” he asks as he walks toward a wall full of glass cases.

  “Law,” I simply say, not trusting my voice to get out much else.

  He turns back to me, holding a paddle that reminds me of ping pong games played with my sister. “A lawyer, huh? I might have to spank you twice as hard.”

  My cheeks flush with heat at his threat. “Haha. Like I haven’t heard a hundred or more lawyer jokes by now.”

  He just gives a sexy grin as he shows me the paddle and then walks behind me. Every click of his boots makes my stomach tighten and my mouth a little drier.

  Through my jeans, I feel the surface of the paddle skim over my butt. First one cheek and then he slides it across the other. My stomach grows tighter still and that traitorous thing between my legs tingles with more heat. I bite my bottom lip then clench and unclench my hands.

  “You ready, sweetie?” His voice is a sexy drawl that makes my nipples stiffen.

  “Ready,” I croak, thinking, as I’ll ever be.

  The paddle skims up my back, charging my skin with electric energy as it slides across my thin t-shirt. He slips it down over my sides, down my hips. As he does so, one big leg nudges between mine. Our knees touch and then our thighs rub against each other. My sex screams to be touched. My nipples are aching. I bite my lip harder, wondering when the first whack will happen, when—

  Smack!

  The paddle whistles through the air before it slams into my ass. A sharp sting radiates out from where it hits, and I cry out “Ouch!” He asks if I’m still comfortable with continuing and I say yes. The pain intrigues me, stirs my darker sexual fantasies I’ve never confessed to anyone. Not Ethan, not one of the bad boys I’ve dated.

  He traces the paddle from my inner knee up my thigh and I tense. He promised no sex and no touching naughty bits. I fist my hands, waiting, wondering if he’ll break my rule and what I’ll do then. But just as the paddle sweeps to the mid-thigh of my jeans, he pulls it away and then swirls circles at the base of my spine.

  “How’s this feel so far?” he asks, his voice husky enough to do things to me. “Tell me what it’s like for you.”

  I take three deep breaths before I dare speak. “It’s … interesting. I expected to hate the pain, be afraid of it, but I don’t and I’m not. I thought the vulnerability would be freaky, but it isn’t. I kind of like it.”

  He chuckles low in his throat and the paddle slips down one butt cheek. “Are you turned on?”

  I lick my lips, think about my reply. “That’s what you want, right?” Realizing how my question sounds, I quickly add, “For your clients to be turned on, I mean.”

  The paddle touches a band of flesh poking out from beneath my t-shirt and I feel like my skin has been seared there.

  “That’s what I want.” He places his free hand at the small of my back and his heat melts through me.

  I have to take my time replying or I know my voice will once more betray me. “Then, yeah.” Swallow. “I can see how this would be a turn on.”

  “Good.”

  The paddle leaves my butt again and I tense, waiting for what I know will follow. Almost looking forward to it. I squeeze my eyes shut and—

  Slap!

  It lands even harder this time. It burns and smarts and my panties are so wet now. I have to chase traitorous fantasies of Rider from my mind. Him and I in my apartment. Me tied to my headboard as he kisses and licks his way down my body.

  Smack!

  This time I gasp in response and my eyes fly open. I never thought pain could be so pleasurable. Oh, it hurts, make no mistake, but somehow the pain, the total surrender of my control to another, also makes me incredibly horny.

  And conflicted. I’m a independent woman, and a few of my relationships in the past ended because my partner would try to control me too much. No one tells me what to do and when to do it. On
e guy even tried to cut me off from my mother, and he was jealous of the time I spent with my family. So controlling, dominant males tend to make me leery. One of the reasons for my swearing off bad boys. But with Rider, like this, I don’t feel threatened. I feel free and way too turned on for my own good!

  Suddenly the stocks click open and cool air rushes over my skin as I’m set free. Rider stands beside me, offering me his hand.

  “That’s it?” I blurt.

  He gives a small laugh. “You want me to spank you more?”

  The blush burns from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. “Umm, no! No, of course not. I just wondered if we were finished for today.” I can’t meet his eyes as I get out of the stocks. He’ll see I’m lying about the spanking. I just know it.

  “I just want to ask you a couple more things, but other than that, yeah, we’re done.”

  “Wow, less than four hours of work for great pay. I finally luck out.”

  He stands on the other side of the stocks and I have to brush against him to get by. I feel that undeniable electricity again when we touch. The intense attraction I’m trying so hard to deny.

  He touches my arm, running his thumb from my elbow up, stopping me. “You can always work overtime, you know? I’d be happy to spank you longer.”

  This guy is far too male and far too sexy. I think about kissing him, rising up on my tiptoes and claiming those soft, sensuous lips, but I know exactly where that’ll lead. Instead, I follow him to a table where we sit and discuss what we’ll practice next time. When I leave, I find those damn butterflies are back, and this time they’re all about anticipation.

  ***

  Back at the apartment, I’m thrilled to find Jeanie isn’t home from her classes yet. This means I can break out my rabbit vibrator and get off to sweet, sexy fantasies about Rider. I finish the one I started while he had me in the stocks. The vision where he ties me to the headboard, dips his head and takes a hard nipple between his teeth… I come hard around the thrumming toy, clutching the bed sheets as I do. Then I take a look at the clock to see if I can go one more round with Mr. Sex Toy before my roommate gets home. Seeing I have fifteen minutes, I decide to let the rabbit do its things and get off again.

  When I’m done, I patter into the kitchen and treat myself to the biggest chocolate brownie from the pan I just baked. I’m humming as I eat it, and I think this level of joy can’t be good. It means I like my new boss way too much.

  I push the worry out of my head as Jeanie walks in, kicks off her high heels, starts pulling pins from her hair. With a wide smile, she almost runs toward me. “So, how’d it go? Did you crack and sleep with him?”

  I giggle-snort. “No, I did not crack and sleep with him.”

  She pouts as she plunks down on the couch opposite me. “Too bad.” Then she digs in the shopping bag she brought in and tosses me a chocolate bar she pulls out.

  “Ooh, Caramilk.” I tear into the wrapper even though I’ve just finished off a brownie. I need the double helping of chocolate today, I reason. “Thanks.”

  “I figured the occasion called for chocolate.” She pulls a Mars bar out for herself. “Now, dish. I’ve been dying to know how your first day went.”

  I take my time swallowing the chocolate I chew. “Well… he spanked me.”

  Jeanie flutters her hands and squeals as if I just told her Zachary Quinto is waiting in her bedroom to ravish her. “So, did you like it, hmmm?”

  I shrug, try to appear nonchalant. “It was … different.”

  She wears a smug smile as she chews on chocolate. “You liked it. I can tell by how red your face is.”

  I laugh and throw a pillow at her.

  “Rider Sykes.” She shakes her head. “Who’d have thought he’d end up—” Her mouth snaps shut, eyes go wide. “Hey, you know, we need some wine with this chocolate.”

  Jeanie jumps up off the couch and practically sprints to the kitchen. I frown after her retreating, skirt-clad backside. Something’s up. She’s obviously trying to hide something. I follow her into the kitchen.

  “How well do you know Rider?” I ask as I watch her dig to the back of the fridge for a bottle of the cheap wine we keep there.

  “Not too well. I only met him that night at Felicia’s bachelorette.” Her eyes are too wide when she looks at me, and her eyebrows always raise up way too high when she lies.

  “How long has Ron known him?”

  She turns toward the sink and starts rifling through cupboards until she finds the corkscrew. “Ohh, he met him college. I think he’s in Ron’s Political Science class or something.”

  “Do you know anything about the friend who owns the club he works at?” I put a hand on her shoulder and make her turn to face me while she sticks the corkscrew into the bottle.

  “Yeesh, what’s with the interrogation, Christy?” Her voice rises a little and she’s way too defensive. “I don’t know anything about him, but do you really think Felicia or I would let you work for someone who would put you in danger? We’ve been your best friends since Grade 3.”

  Something is definitely up. Jeanie never gets that defensive unless she’s hiding something. Or maybe I’m just being paranoid and ungrateful. I decide to let it go, but a tiny worm of doubt gnaws at the back of my brain.

  ***

  “What’re you doing here?”

  Rider looks livid as he glares down at me while I wipe one of the outside tables at Your Daily Cup.

  “You’re twenty minutes late.” His big fingers encircle my wrist and stop the swishing rag. “I finally decided to come looking for you. I thought you quit this place.”

  I calmly try to pry his hand off me, but he isn’t budging. “I haven’t given my notice yet.”

  “Why not?” His nostrils flare.

  I stand tall—all five foot five inches of me—and put my hands on my hips. “You don’t own me, you know! I can work wherever I want.” I’m having second thoughts about this bad boy dominant—being his practice submissive.

  “Are you saying you’re quitting on me?” He crosses his arms over his chest, clad today in a white tank top that almost makes me drool.

  “I …” I try not to stare too long at his impossibly gorgeous self, lest my resolve weaken. “I don’t know.”

  He snares my hand. “Then let me help you decide.” Rider leads me into the coffee shop.

  Jonas looks up, adjusts his hipster glasses. His gaze ping pongs between me and Rider. “Tell your boss Christy doesn’t work here anymore.” He slams a generous tip down on the counter. “Thanks.”

  Jonas wrinkles his nose. “But, she can’t quit! Who will cover when I’m sick?” He pockets the cash before Rider guides me out of the place.

  I call over my shoulder, telling Jonas not to worry and not to tell Cassie, our boss, that I’ve quit.

  Rider stops me near his Harley. “You might as well let him. I’ll just keep coming in here and giving your resignation.” His bottom jaw works as his teeth clench and unclench.

  “You’ve got some nerve!” I poke him in the chest. “Maybe I’d rather serve coffee than be spanked by a jerk like you!”

  He smirks at this. “I doubt it.” Then he turns away and throws a leg over his bike. “Get on. Let’s go.”

  I want to turn away and hurl curses at him, want to tell this pompous biker badass where he can shove his job, but then I remember he paid me in cash after our last practice, and that cash paid my half of the rent and bought a crapload of groceries.

  Gritting my teeth and saying nothing, I climb onto the back of the bike and wrap my arms around his waist. I’ll be glued against him the whole ride there, but I don’t want to admit how thrilling that prospect really is.

  ***

  “So why weren’t you going to show up for work today? What’s up? You wouldn’t be wimping out on me, would you?”

  We’re in the same playroom today, and after the ride here on the back of his motorcycle I’m acutely aware of every inch of my body. The black mini-ski
rt I often wear to work feels too short now. The silky white blouse feels too sheer as his eyes rake all over me.

  “I have questions.” I cross my arms over my tingling nipples, hoping to hide my obvious nipple hard on, and stare right back at him. “I think they’re valid.”

  He grabs a chair from one of the tables, turns it around, and straddles it. Placing his arms over the back, he props his chin on one and shrugs. “Ask away.”

  “Who is this friend of yours who owns the club and pays me?”

  His face tenses, but only for a moment. “I can’t tell you that. I promised I’d keep his identity a secret.”

  I tap the toe of my high heel, narrow my eyes at him. “Fine then. How do you know Ron?”

  “I met him in college. I was in a couple of his classes before I dropped out to work here.”

  A college dropout with secrets. “You haven’t known him long then. Why’d you leave school?”

  He gives me a look that shows his exasperation. “No, I knew him before. He and I were neighbors growing up. And I left school because,” he lifts his arms, gives a smarmy smile and glances around, “I had the chance to work here. The pay is amazing and I get to work with beautiful women. I think that says it all.”

  Is he indirectly calling me beautiful? I consider all this and wonder if I am overreacting, not being trusting enough. But that little worm of doubt doesn’t die easily.

  “Now, if you’re finished with the interrogation, let’s get to work. We’re already an hour late starting.”

  “Are you going to punish me for being a bad employee?” I quip, but almost regret it when I see the wicked smile that curls his lips. Anticipation warms my stomach too, and those conflicted desires surge forth again.

  “Only if you want me to. This is practice, not the real thing. Do you think you could handle the real thing, Christy?”

  In three long strides, he stands in front of me and his hand snakes up to hold my chin. I hold his stare, not backing down from his challenge.