eXcessica publishing
Essential Master © May 2013 by Dakota Trace
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
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First Edition May 2013
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Disclaimer:
Certain items and events in this book are copyrighted and owned by the following:
Kindle – Amazon.com
Chevy Tahoe – General Motors
Honda Civic – Honda Motor Company
Firefly Series – Mutant Energy Productions
Serenity – Universal Studios Inc
Dedication:
A special thanks goes out to not only my lovely editors, Gloria and Sheri, but also all of the wonderful women who’ve taken the time out off their busy schedule to beta read this story. Without you ladies, I wouldn’t be able to do what I do.
Prologue
Los Angeles, California
“Tarquinio, you’re not welcome here anymore. I won’t tolerate your kind in my establishment.”
When Master Nicholaus Tarquinio and his sometimes submissive lover, Stephanie McKeown, approached the front of the club, the last thing either had expected was the owner to block their progress. Wrapping an arm around Stephanie protectively, Nicholaus tucked her into his side. She had been his heart for the past ten years, ever since his publishing company had hired her as his security during a previous book tour. His instincts demanded he place her safety above all others, even if she protested his caveman tactics more than once.
“This seems pretty sudden, Sam.” He would try diplomacy first. Maybe something had happened with their credit card again. “Both Steph and I’ve been members for the past five years. Can I ask what brought this on?”
Lean with thinning blond hair, Samuel Kitchner crossed his arms over his narrow chest. “Rumor has it you and your sub are looking for a third.” His beady eyes darted to Stephanie, taking in her lush body with an undisguised hunger. Not that Stephanie had ever shown the slightest inclination in the club owner.
“And what of it? We wouldn’t be the only ménage the club has. I don’t see how that makes me unfit to grace The Darkside.” It took some doing, but Nicholaus was able to keep his voice even. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach why Sam was throwing him out of the club. Dammit, why did he have to lust after both women and men? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been kicked to the curb because of it. It amazed him at times how intolerant some of the people in the lifestyle could be.
“It does when you want to suck cock. The Darkside isn’t a leather boy bar. If you want to find some dick, go find one somewhere else. You’ll not find what you’re looking for here.”
“Fine. We won’t bother you again.” He turned to leave, but as he suspected, Steph wasn’t going to let it go. She dug her heels in, tugging against his grip. He released her reluctantly.
“No, it’s not fine, Nicky.” Her hands went to her svelte hips as she tossed her head, her violet hair brushing her cheeks, anger in her gaze. “Not only do we have stuff in our locker, but we’ve paid our dues for this month. Either he lets us in to get our stuff and gives us a refund on our remaining dues, or he’s stuck with us until the end of the month.”
“And who’s going to make me?” Sam spat, glaring at them.
Nicholaus was suddenly glad that her leather get-up didn’t allow her to carry her weapon. As hot as his sub was at the moment, she might just pistol-whip the other man. He knew he was right when a saccharine-sweet smile crossed her face, and she went to nose to nose with the owner.
“Me. Won’t your wife’s voters be interested to know the night club you own happens to be a BDSM club where you see your whores?”
The color ran from Sam’s face. It was true, Eleanore Kitchner’s career would suffer if her constituents found out her husband had extramarital affairs on the side. Not that the woman minded. All persons at the club knew the owner’s marriage was nothing more than one of convenience. Eleanore, a closet lesbian, got a husband for her conservative voters, and Sam got a healthy allowance every month, rumored to be nearly twenty-five grand. All she asked in return for her money was that her husband be discrete - hence the Darkside. In fact, they’d even signed a privacy contract when they’d become members. The idea Steph was threatening to go to the press with Sam’s dirty little secret was an indication how pissed she was.
The expression on Sam’s face was comical. His mouth opened and shut before he finally sputtered. “I have a contract. You wouldn’t! You happen to like Eleanore. You wouldn’t ruin her career over this.”
Steph narrowed her eyes. “Just like you wouldn’t take our money - then deny us access to the club.” She poked him in the chest with one finger. “It’s simple, either you let us stay until the end of the month, and we leave quietly, or you refund us our money and let us retrieve our things. Your third choice is for me to call up the papers and give them a story they won’t forget.”
“I’ll sue…”
She shrugged her slender shoulders. “Which will only drag your wife’s name further through the mud. It’s your choice, Sammy-boy. So what’s it gonna be?”
The muscles in Sam’s jaw clenched. ‘Fine, you can stay out the month, but if even one whiff of fag boy’s desire gets around to the rest of the members, kicking you out will be the least of your worries.” He turned and stomped back into the club.
Steph turned into his arms, her face nestled in the hollow of his throat. He loved how tall she was, especially at times like these. “I’m sorry, Master. He’s an ass, a narrow minded bigot who couldn’t find his dick in the dark.” She looked up at him. “You want me to go medieval on him?”
He threaded his hands through her hair before pressing a kiss against her upturned lips. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, sweetheart, but I thank the heavens above you’re mine.”
A cheeky grin crossed her face. “You bet your ass. Just try to get rid of me.” She burrowed back into his arms. “I love you - kink and all.”
* * * *
Napa Valley, California
“So how’s my favorite patient doing this afternoon?”
Looking up from the cooking magazine cradled on his lap, Zebadiah Pellegrino tried to smile at the bubbly blonde nurse. Her name was Ashley, Amanda, or something else that started with an ‘A’. Today was the first day he’d been lucid for more than a few minutes at a time since the attack at New Begi
nnings. The last clear thing he’d remembered was talking to Ethan Tremaine, the owner of the club, and being carted away in an ambulance. “Sore, ma’am.”
She sighed. “Haven’t I told you not to call me ma’am?” She winked at him. “Makes me feel like I’m old. But honestly, Zebadiah, how do you feel? Do you feel up to a visit or two?” She chewed on her lower lip nervously. “You have several friends waiting outside who’ve been pouring in here ever since you got out of surgery.”
The word surgery had him curious. The nurse who’d responded to his call when he’d first awoken had told him the doctor would be coming by later to talk to him. So far however the only person he’d seen was her and…he spied the name on her tag as she moved closer…Angela. “Surgery?”
She nodded. “Yes. You have a remarkable set of friends. Not only have they been stopping by, but also the nurse’s station phone has been flooded with them. Including a man claiming to be your boss. The majority of the phone messages have been from him.” She reached into the pocket of her smock and pulled out a stack of pink message slips.
Remaining calm wasn’t easy but he tried as he accepted the messages. Thumbing through them, he cringed as each one became progressively more hostile. As the junior dessert chef at one of Napa Valley’s many eateries, he considered himself lucky to land the job right out of culinary school, and his stupid decision to submit to the wrong woman had endangered his job once again. The message wasn’t promising. But before he called, he needed to know what to tell his boss. “Any idea on the ETA of the doctor? I need to know what’s going on before I call my workplace.”
“I understand.” She picked up his chart and flipped it open. “Let me check in at the nurses’ station. While I’m doing that, would you like some company? There are several of your friends who just showed up.”
He nodded. “Sure, why not?” It’d give him something to do other than worry about his job. Leaning back against the pillows, he closed his eyes. He didn’t know what he was gonna do if he lost his job. He had a small nest egg he’d been saving in the hopes of opening his own bakery, but if his boss, Harmond, fired him it would dwindle quickly. And heaven forbid his parents find out about his stupidity. They’d wash their hands of him for sure. If he didn’t ache all over, he’d kick his own ass for allowing his sexual needs to land him in this situation.
The opening of the door drew him out of his dark thoughts. Opening his eyes, he gave a halfhearted smile as Ethan Tremaine and Davis Clayton, the co-owners of New Beginnings walked into the room. Both men were uber-masculine but at opposite ends of the spectrum physically and in attitude. Slender, but well-muscled and quiet, Ethan personified the epitome of his Asian ancestry, while the tall, massive and loud-mouthed Davis was like one of the California Redwoods, in whose forests Zebadiah had grown up. However, both men were his good friends.
“Hey, guys. Come to see a battered-up sub?”
Ethan moved towards the window, setting down a beautiful peace lily before turning around to face him, while Davis brought over a bouquet of colorful ‘Get Well Soon’ balloons. Just the sight of the massive man carrying around such a whimsical gift made Zebadiah smile.
“A still alive sub, Zebadiah.” Ethan came over to the bedside, his alert eyes taking in every inch of his appearance, until Zebadiah felt like he should be in a petri dish under a microscope.
“Yeah, I must be.” He winced as Ethan lightly traced the bandages around his knee. “I’m in too much pain not to be.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Ethan pulled his hand back.
Zebadiah shrugged. “Even breathing hurts at the moment.”
“Has the doctor come in yet?” Davis asked as he looped the balloons around the bedside railing.
“Not yet. Hopefully soon. My boss wants to know when I’m gonna be back to work. He’s already pissed I’m going to miss a couple days if his last messages are any indication.”
Davis’s brow furrowed. “He’s harassing you?”
Zebadiah looked away. “Don’t worry about it, Master Davis. I’ll deal with him.”
Crossing his arms across his huge chest, Davis arched a brow. “You’ll come to me if he gives you any guff about this. You’ve worked for him for over two years, and are eligible for the Family Medical Leave Act. If he violates your rights, I’ll take his ass to the cleaners.”
And as an attorney with a near perfect record for winning, Zebadiah didn’t doubt for a moment Davis could do as he boasted. He opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by the entry of his doctor, a pretty brunette woman carrying what obviously was his chart.
“Mr. Pellegrino? I’m Dr. Standerton. I apologize for the delay in getting to you today. I had an emergency surgery. How are you feeling?” She set down his chart on the foot of the bed.
“Really sore, but the pain is tolerable.”
She nodded. “I need to check your knee. Would you like your friends to leave?”
He shook his head as Ethan and Davis moved to the head of the bed on either side of him. “No, they can stay.”
Dr Standerton nodded. “Okay, I’ll be as gentle as I can, but I need to check the incisions on either side of your knee.” Then she began to unwrap the bandage. Even as gentle as she was, each brush of her fingers sent fresh agony up his leg to settle at his spine. When a long moan slipped free, she looked up. “Have you been using the morphine drip?”
Clenching his teeth, he shook his head. “I hate the way it makes me feel. It feels like I’m melting into the bed.”
A disgruntled sound passed the doctor’s lips. “Mr. Pellegrino, how are you supposed to heal if you refuse to take the meds I’ve prescribed to you? You’re already looking at six weeks off because of the surgery you underwent last night to repair your torn ACL. Of course, if you’re wanting to undergo another reconstructive surgery, and more time off along with a possible limp, keep refusing to take your meds.” She sighed and softly continued. “A body can’t heal, Zebadiah, if you’re in pain and fighting it. If the morphine makes you feel sick, we’ll switch your pain meds to something with less severe side effects.”
“Okay.” He fought tears of both pain and frustration. “Are you sure it’s gonna take six weeks?”
She nodded. “And that’s being optimistic about your therapy going well.”
He sighed. He was sooo screwed. Looking up at Davis, he wet his lips before speaking. “I may just be taking you up on your offer, Davis. Harmond is going to shit pink kittens when he finds out I’m out for six weeks minimum.”
Chapter One
Napa Valley, Six months later
“I’m not helpless, dammit! It’s been months since I’ve been laid. And your hovering is running off any potential partners I might find.” Zebadiah placed his hands on his slender hips as he stared down one of the two men who’d stuck by his side since the accident. Whether it was through fighting with his boss about his FMLA, or as he’d gone through the most agonizing therapy he’d ever experienced, Ethan and Davis hadn’t been far from his side. Davis had gone to bat for him with Harmond, while Ethan had taken time off from his busy psychology practice to go to his rehabilitative therapy. He honestly appreciated it, but a sub had to draw a line in the sand. Enough was enough.
Especially after they whisked me out of the room when Master Nicholaus had been on the verge of approaching me. His dick which had been half-hard at the mere thought of being under the large dominating man, but it hadn’t had the opportunity to do more than raise its head before Davis had jerked him out of the main playroom, then dragged him to the security office where Ethan was waiting before disappearing back into the main area of the club. It was enough to make him want to tear his hair out in frustration.
Ethan continued to stare at him thoughtfully, looking at ease in the traditional garb of his Asian homeland. It drove Zebadiah nuts when the other man did that. It seemed as if nothing bothered the man, or got under his skin, other than his submissive Bella. He almost wished the woman was here, but k
new she’d more than likely take her Master’s side.
“I never said you were helpless, Zebadiah. But you came to both Davis and I and asked for our guidance as you got back on your feet. Neither of us believe you’re ready to take on a master such as Master Nicholaus or his submissive, Stephanie. They’re good people but they’re going to demand more than you’re ready for.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he strove for patience. “It’s been six months. How long am I supposed to go without feeling the touch of a flogger against my skin, or experience the pleasure that comes from serving another?”
“I know it’s frustrating. And we’ve found several masters who were willing to scene with you - who understand your limitations.” Ethan tucked one of his dreadlocks, the only outward sign of his mixed heritage of Asian and black, behind his ear.
“Sure you have. You’ve found men who’ll take it easy on me because you’ve told them the sordid story of my stupidity with Allison.”
Ethan sighed. “Communication is a must, Zebadiah. If you go into a scene and don’t disclose your past, bad things could happen…”
Zebadiah wanted to scream. “I’m not going to have a flashback! I know the difference between him and Allison. He’s a man, not a woman who could viciously hurt me. I’ll be fine under his control. In fact, I haven’t had a nightmare about that night in weeks. I feel like I’m ready to burst out of my skin. Something has got to give before I go nuts.” He raked his hand through his light colored hair. “I knew I should’ve moved out after I got back on my feet. I feel like I’m trapped, unable to go back - but unable to go forward either.”
For the first time since he’d come into the room, Ethan actually flinched. “I wasn’t aware you viewed yourself as a prisoner. If that’s the way you truly feel about it, I’ll have Bella pack up your belongings, and you may return to your previous life. You’ll be able to do as you wish, and neither Davis nor I will interfere in your choices - you’ll be alone in your decisions.”
Essential Master (Doms of Napa Valley) Page 1