BDSM Mega Boxed Set

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

  ***

  Surrender To His Game

  My cell phone chirps, ripping me from a dream where I was doing naughty things with a beefcake on a beach. Who the hell is that at 4 am? I think, after I peer at the clock with one eye open. It can’t be Terry, my best friend and lab partner for my biological anthropology course. She said she was going camping this weekend with her boyfriend Jeremy and she wasn’t taking her cell phone. Gran never calls this early, because with her lifestyle (she’s a Madame who owns a saloon style brothel) she’s lucky to be home at this time.

  “Hello?” I mumble into the speaker after my second attempt to hit the TALK button is successful.

  “Can’t talk long.”

  “Who is this?” It takes me a few seconds to recognize the whisper rasp that belongs to my sister. We haven’t talked in over a year.

  “Opie, it’s me.” The use of my much hated nickname confirms the speaker is Sasha. “Need you to call Damien. I’ve been kidnapped.”

  This jolts me awake and makes me sit up straight in bed. “Kidnapped? Sasha, where are you? If this is a joke, you and Damien are shitheads. And I will get even.”

  “No joke. I need your help. I think he’s going to kill—”

  Then the line goes dead and the insistent drone of a dial tone taunts me. I hit END and throw the phone down as worry and anger speed up my breathing and my heart.

  Sasha and I have been estranged, you could say. It all happened over an argument I had with her boyfriend, Damien Walters. The very man she wants me to contact. My sister, you see, is a highly successful sex worker within an exclusive sex resort and club franchise known as Surrender Inc. So is Damien. Last time we spoke, the two of them were doing regular dom / sub routines for a rich guy who liked to watch but wasn’t big on participation.

  No, that’s not entirely true. Last time we talked Damien offered to do an introductory BDSM scene with me, where he’d act as the dom and I the sub. When I expressed my outrage to my sister, she said:

  “I’d be fine with that. If you want to experiment with BDSM, Damien is an excellent dom to work with.”

  I just blinked at her at first, not knowing how to respond. Shock robbed me of words, then I went ballistic. A huge fight ensued, I left, and we haven’t spoken since.

  Now I have to call the very man I detest in order to help my supposedly kidnapped sister.

  This has to be a setup concocted by the two of them. I just know it. Probably a ruse to get us talking again, and then I’m supposed to laugh and let it go. Well, I’m not falling for it.

  I scoop up my cell and call my sister’s home phone. The last number she gave me before we quit speaking, anyway. It rings, and rings, and rings. That fear and worry ooze back into my heart and stomach. Finally her voice mail kicks in and I notice it’s the standard mechanical greeting. Not the message she and Damien had recorded when they moved in together.

  “Sasha,” I say after the beep. “This isn’t funny. If you want to talk to me, just talk. No games. Pick up now.”

  I wait, but no one answers. The mechanical voice asks me to press numbers to return to the main menu. Slowly I lower the phone from my ear.

  Maybe this isn’t a joke after all.

  I bite my lip, stare at the phone. No way in hell do I want to call Damien Walters, but it looks like I have no choice if I want to find out where my sister is. Why isn’t he at their apartment? Are they working with their rich benefactor? Perhaps putting on a late night / early morning show?

  “Only one way to find out.” I sigh and try to remember Damien’s cell number. After rifling through a drawer in my nightstand, I find my address book and what I need. I grind my teeth as I punch in the digits.

  The phone rings once, twice, and then a sleepy, “Hello,” drifts through.

  “Damien, it’s Ophelia.”

  He laughs. Actually laughs! “The last person I expected to hear from.”

  I ignore his mockery. “Is Sasha with you? I just got a strange phone call…”

  “No, I haven’t seen her in a few days.” He yawns, as if talking to me bores him.

  Haven’t seen her in a few days. I frown and wonder if they’ve broken up. Now the anger leaves me and my worry begins to turn to fear.

  “She just called me and said she’s been kidnapped.” I jump out of bed and pull some clothes from my dresser. “Someone’s going to … kill her. She told me to call you. Please tell me this is a sick joke you two dreamed up.”

  “No, no joke.” His voice is clipped and laced with a controlled fear. “Your sister and I broke up six months ago. But I do know what this is about.” A deep sigh, then, “Meet me at the club. Do you remember where it is?”

  I ask him for the address of the sex club where he and my sister used to work before they took the job with their Surrender benefactor. I wonder why he wants to meet there, considering they haven’t worked at the place in over a year. But it’s a fleeting thought, because my sister’s well being dominates my mind.

  ***

  The club is closed when I arrive and Damien unlocks the front entrance to let me in.

  “What’re we doing here?” I ask, trying not to notice how his piercing sapphire eyes stare into mine.

  “I live above the club now,” he says. “Actually, I own it.”

  He’s half dressed in only a tight black t-shirt and clingy boxer briefs that leave little to the imagination. My eyes want to betray me and check out his bulge, but I force myself to focus on his face instead.

  It’s a handsome face, even though he wears a perpetually smug expression. Damien is built for his job. He makes his living off his body so he has to keep in shape, and I’ve never seen this much of his flesh exposed before. But I remind myself I’m here for more important things than ogling his model-perfect body, and I also remind myself I hate the man.

  “You own the club?” I ask as I sit at a table he indicates.

  He nods. “Morris died and left everything to me and Sasha. Part of my inheritance was the club.”

  Morris was their rich benefactor. I mutter I’m sorry and wonder just how much has changed since last I spoke with Damien or Sasha.

  “Don’t be,” Damien says in response to my sympathy. “Morris was ready to go. He said Sasha and I made him happy, so he wanted to make us happy back.”

  I remembered that Morris had no children or other immediate family either. I suppose my sister and Damien became his surrogate family and he lavished his wealth on them. My head swirls and I think of Sasha’s phone call. Kidnapped. Danger. Possibly death. The stream of images that invade my mind make me shiver.

  “So someone has kidnapped her over this inheritance? Is that it?”

  Damien strokes his full bottom lip and frowns. “It could be, but there’s more than one potential captor. Your sister and I discovered something recently that put us both at risk.”

  When he takes a while to continue, I prod him. “And?”

  He smirks his ever smug smirk, but then his face grows somber as he continues. “We found out someone was embezzling funds from a Surrender resort Morris owned. Before he died, Sasha went in undercover to investigate. The resort was to be hers as part of the inheritance. I received a phone message from her three days ago, saying she’d discovered who was taking the money, and she had all the evidence we’d need to prove it. That’s the last I heard from her.”

  “So what now? How do we get her back? We need to call the police.”

  Damien stares at me a long time, rubbing his sharp chin as he does so. “No police. Not yet. I know a private investigator who owes me a favor and she’s very good at what she does, but I also have a proposal for you.” He reaches over the tabletop and brushes his fingers over my knuckles.

  I pull away as if I’ve been scalded. “What kind of proposal?” My eyes narrow as I return his bold gaze.

  He sits back in his chair, eyes never leaving mine, and laces his fingers together. “Go undercover with me inside the resort. Pose as my sub. We’ll investig
ate from the inside while my contact works from the outside.”

  “No way,” I blurt, pushing my chair away from the table and bolting from the seat. “This is a setup after all, isn’t it? Just an excuse to get me into your dungeon, or whatever they call it.”

  The mocking smile returns. “Don’t flatter yourself. You want your sister freed and so do I. To catch her captor, we need information we’re only going to find inside that resort.”

  “Before I agree to anything, who do you think did this?” I cross my arms over my chest.

  He considers my question. “Sasha and I had narrowed it down to two possibilities. Drake Morton, who was a former board member of Surrender Inc., but he was voted out when his behavior toward the submissives became abusive and erratic. That didn’t sit well with him, and rumor has it he’s been trying to get even with Surrender Inc. ever since. The other is a former dom who had multiple conflicts of interest going on. Name’s David Senoa. He was trying to steal sex workers from Surrender for his own sex club operation, and when the board found out they fired him and barred his entrance from any Surrender establishment. Sasha was the one who nailed him. He approached her about leaving Surrender to work for him. He’s held a grudge against her ever since.”

  I’m not convinced yet. “How can I help you with this? If we go in together, won’t that be a bit obvious?”

  “We won’t go in together. You’ll go in first, posing as a new submissive. I’ll arrive at the resort shortly after and hire you for the weekend. We can leave tomorrow.”

  I hold up a hand. “I can’t let this affect school. I’m not about to jeopardize my career for you.”

  He fans his fingers out and shrugs. “No worries. We’ll work on weekends, as I said. Your weekdays are all yours. And you’re not doing this for me. You’re doing it for your sister, remember?”

  I scowl at him, hating that he has me backed into a corner. I’m worried sick about my sister and will do anything to make sure she’s safe. Despite our differences, she’s my sister and we’ve always been close. I admire Sasha for her sexual confidence, for her strong opinions on the sex trade industry and a woman’s sexual freedom. She’s a sex positive feminist who rallies for the legalization of prostitution, which she believes would give greater power to women and men in the field to control their careers. Her theory is it would help cut down on a lot of the violence sex workers endure from unscrupulous pimps by legislating sex worker rights. She and others have even set up an informal sex workers’ union to help provide medical and dental benefits.

  “Fine. I’ll do it,” I say, hating that I have to give in to this man, no matter how handsome he is.

  “Perfect.” He almost purrs the word in satisfaction. “I’ll make some calls tonight and set things up with my contacts. And I’ll send someone around to pick you up tomorrow at 8 am.”

  “One more thing,” I say as I get up to leave. “I want to meet this private investigator you’re hiring, too.”

  He shrugs. “That can be arranged.” Then smirks again, and I wish I could slap the look right off his face. “Still don’t trust me, Ophelia? Like I said, don’t flatter yourself. This is strictly about your sister.”

  “Right,” I snap back. “I still get the feeling you’re enjoying having me at your mercy like this.”

  He gets up from his chair, calmly begins to walk away. “Oh, I intend to.”

  His parting sentence makes a chill run up my spine. I feel like a rabbit trapped in a snare—doomed with nowhere to hide.

  ***

  While packing my clothes that night, I’m reminded once again how different I am from my sister. My underwear drawer, for instance, is filled with sensible cotton panties and bras. I never take a chance, even with lingerie. I always follow the controlled, safe path, particularly when it comes to sex. Unlike Sasha, I’ve always been terrified to sacrifice the control that can be lost when one gets swept up in strong passion.

  Sasha tried to encourage me after I confessed my curiosity over the BDSM subculture I knew she was involved in. But I could never let myself go like she could. I was too afraid I’d been consumed by my desires, too afraid to push my boundaries. I admired the risks my sister took.

  Now, whether I like it or not, I’m about to be exposed to those risks. And with a man I detest, even though I am attracted to him. Pretty hard not to be attracted to Damien Walters, though. He looks like one of those male sex gods you see in amateur bachelorette party porn.

  Okay, so I’ve secretly watched some of those. I admit it. Hey, I might be too afraid to engage but it doesn’t mean I can’t be a voyeur, right?

  But I can handle this. I can keep myself, my attraction to the arrogant dom, under control. Of course I can, I reason. Part of me wonders if I’m going to be able to keep that promise. Will my barrier of control slip inside Surrender walls? I’m praying it doesn’t.

  A car arrives at the dorm promptly at 8 am. I’m taken to Damien’s office downtown, where I meet the P.I. he’s hired to take the case—a Gina Sparks—and I’m finally convinced the danger my sister is in is for real.

  Then I head to the resort alone, and my stomach ties in enough knots to make a macramé plant hanger.

  Before I left, Damien and Gina filled me in on how I would be going undercover inside this resort. The staff there think I’m being transferred from another Surrender establishment, and they have no idea I’m not truly a part of the sex geared corporation. We need to keep my true identity low key, because we really don’t know who we can trust inside this place. The whole resort is being investigated, and Damien informs me one of the top board members, a Dmitri Nichvalodov, is helping to head the operation to expose the embezzler / kidnapper.

  The car pulls up to looming wrought iron gates that part to give us entry. Through the tinted back windows, I gape at the sprawling 50 acre resort grounds. The driver stops near a fountain that marks the center of a circular, cobblestone driveway and lets me out.

  I’m ushered inside a gothic stone mansion that reminds me of something out of an old horror film, only less gloomy. Once inside, a smiling man in a double breasted blazer leads me to an office where I wait.

  A woman with a pile of chestnut curls enters and greets me.

  “Hello.” She extends a hand, which I shake. “I’m Wanda Ellerton. Please have a seat.”

  I choose one of the two lush red chairs placed on the opposite side of her glass desk.

  “Well, Mistress O, it seems your reputation precedes you. We already have a client interested in contracting you.”

  Mistress O is my undercover name, and I already know who the client is that she refers to. My throat tightens and I hope I look calmer than I feel.

  “That’s wonderful,” I say, trying not to choke on the words. “I’m anxious to meet my potential employer.”

  She slides some paperwork closer to me and I scan documents detailing what will be expected of me and a personality profile for Damien Walters.

  “He used to work for Surrender,” Wanda tells me. “Damien has an excellent record with us. He was in high demand as a dom before he signed an exclusive deal with one of our prior clients.”

  I nod and pretend to be interested in this information I already know. Time is ticking away and the true test of my acting abilities is yet to come.

  “I’ve no complaints about anything I see here,” I say, pointing to the papers. “I’d love to meet him.”

  “I’ll tell Rhonda to send him in.” She gives her secretary the go ahead and the knots in my stomach tighten more. Dread leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

  The door opens moments later and in walks Damien, all swagger and sophistication in a slate grey suit that molds to his body perfectly. His black hair is slicked back and he has that dangerous look that makes me swallow hard and breathe a little too fast.

  He greets Wanda first, then turns his eyes on me. I don’t miss how they boldly rake over my hip hugging black slacks and red blouse. My face heats and my temper starts to simmer.
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br />   “Mistress O.” He extends his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard many stories about your talents.”

  He brings my hand to his lips, sweeping a kiss across my knuckles. Then he flicks his tongue out over the top of my fingers, tasting my flesh and making me inhale sharply. Damn the impudent bastard!

  “Thank you,” I say, trying to keep my irritation out of my voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Master Damien. I’ve looked over your contract and I find your terms suitable.”

  He grins a Cheshire grin that gives me an odd kind of ache right in the center of my chest.

  “I’m pleased. But before we sign anything I’d like to look you over.” He clasps his hands behind his back and continues to pin me with that smug, confident stare.

  I want to slap his face, but that would spoil the ruse. And he is in his rights, damn him, to demand this. It’s part of the contract, much to my chagrin. All I can do is relent.

  “Of course.” I try to sound confident and experienced in this situation.

  Wanda sits down and watches us.

  She’s going to stay in the room while he inspects me like a side of beef? My pulse now rushes in my ears. My face is so hot from a combination of embarrassment and anger I’m sure I’m the color of a tomato.

  “Please remove everything but your bra, panties, and stockings.” He grabs the other office chair and positions it at the side of Wanda’s desk. Then he sits back in it, props his ankle on a knee, and waits for me to strip.

  I bite the side of my cheek to keep from screaming curses at him. Then I try to remain calm as his eyes feast on me while I unbutton my blouse, though I can’t rid my fingers of a slight shake.

  An artificial breeze from the air exchange system skims over my skin, raising tiny bumps. My instinct is to cross my arms over my breasts, which spill over the top of my lacy bra cups, but from what I know of the BDSM lifestyle I don’t think an experienced sub would do that. So I resist the temptation to cover up and avoid his scrutiny. To make matters worse, Wanda regards me like I’m an oil painting hanging in a museum. To say I’m embarrassed is putting it mildly.