Time ticked by faster than she realized, and the skin on her fingertips started to prune. Finally turning off the water and stepping out of the shower into the warmth of a fluffy bathrobe, a mixture of anticipation and excitement roiled in her belly. When she finally stood in front of her floor-length mirror, she felt more like herself in that moment than she had in longer than she could remember. Soft, dark chocolate ringlets cascaded down her back, pinned only at the crown of her head for added body and to keep them out of her eyes. Soft natural makeup accentuated by a strong, deep-red lip color brought attention to her best facial feature. While none of this situation seemed to scream, “Look at me! I have sound judgment !” it would be dangerous to leave the house in just the corset and stockings. With that in mind, she carefully dressed in the beautiful garments she’d received and paired them with a short-sleeved black wrap dress that just covered the tops of the stockings but fit snugly enough to show off her curves. Topping off the outfit were a pair of black four-inch patent leather stilettos with an ankle strap.
A spritz of Chanel Mademoiselle across her collar bone, and she smiled. The corset hugged her like a custom glove, and the slight pressure of the boning helped center her mind. God she’ d missed this. Pulling her coat on over her dress, she switched her oversized tote for a smaller clutch, packing her cell phone, lipstick, keys, credit card, id, and a small can of mace, just in case. One more pass in front of the mirror and a mental pep talk, she heard the buzz of the building door man informing her that the car service had arrived.
“Thank you, Randall . I will be right down.” Letting go of the intercom button, she took one more deep breath and stepped out of her comfort zone, leaving the safety of her apartment and her loneliness behind. Mumbling to herself as she stepped into the elevator, “Myles, you better not let me down now , ” she knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to her . But the element of danger present from stepping into something unknown only increased the furor gnawing at her belly.
Chapter Six
The cool, crisp autumn air nipped at the end of her nose, the wind blew her hair around behind her, but the warmth that had settled low in her stomach and between her thighs kept her from really even noticing. A very well mannered, sharp-dressed older man stepped out of the sleek black town car that waited just outside for her to open her door. He didn’t say a word, just gave her a nod before closing her in the car and driving away. He easily maneuvered the busy streets of downtown through the darkness, and for the first time in a long time, she watched the people she shared the city with but saw them differently. Couples wrapped around each other, caught up in nothing more than their significant other’s company — so easy. She missed that. But then again, her life with Deacon had never been easy. Instead of seeing the couples wrapped in their own little worlds as something from her past, she began to picture herself in them. Her arms wrapped around the waist of a lover, her head resting on his chest; she began to see what life, and love, could be like for her again.
Never mind all of that. The past was best left in the past, and this, this chance, this risk she was taking was a chance at a new beginning in her life. A life where she could indulge the part of herself that she’d denied so long to be with the man she’d loved , but who’d thrown it all aw ay for nothing. Righting herself in the seat, she looked confused when the car came to a stop at a small shop just on the outer limits of the city. Neat white letters against a black backdrop read Leather and Lace, and the storefront windows displayed beautiful one-of-a-kind pieces of lingerie.
Her confusion grew even more when the driver opened her door and gestured for her to step into the shop. After thanking him for the ride, she hesitantly stepped into the store, the scent of sandalwood and roses calming whatever confusion she’d felt before. Sandalwood had always been a scent that relaxed her — yet aroused her even more. That heady aroma mixed with her anxious desire made her thighs feel damp, and her nipples strained against the satin of the corset. Abraded with every step that shifted the corset against her skin, her nipples begged to be soothed by the skillful mouth of a man. Her skin burned , and Rissa couldn’t help shake the feeling that whatever she’d decided to take a chance on tonight would change her life forever. Not wanting to appear overly eager, she took a moment to sift through some of the finer pieces in the store. Delicate lace teddies, studded leather halters, stockings in dozens of patterns; each piece was more stunning and artistic than the last. Wide paths between the racks allowed her to move without feeling cramped, but the anticipation of what awaited her was quickly becoming more than she could stand. Tired of walking around the small shop, she needed to know if she was in the right place, and if not, she needed to find a ride home — stat.
“Excuse me, I’m supposed to be meeting someone, but I don’t see anyone else here. Was there someone here earlier? Or is there posssibly a bar nearby or something?” Rissa’s breath hitched when the attendant caught a glimpse of the black satin and gold threading of her corset peeking over the top of her dress and smiled like the cat that ate the canary.
“You’re right on time . And he was right — you are gorgeous.” The tall, leggy, busty blonde winked, and Rissa could have sworn there was a twinkle of mischief in the woman’s green eyes as she turned and beckoned her to follow along. Back past the dressing rooms and the racks and racks of black leather, she stopped at a door in the back of a storage room. She knocked three times, paused and knocked twice more. Rissa heard a series of locks from the other side before it opened and the blonde store clerk gestured for her to follow the winding staircase down.
“Um, you do know this screams creeper with a dungeon… right?” Rissa said. The blonde just laughed and nodded. “Yes, I know. I thought the same thing
the first time I stood here looking down. That was two years ago, and now I’m there every night. The club is called The Devil’s Boudoir. It’s invitation only, and the members list is beyond exclusive. You’ll be ok . If the black and gold scheme going on under your dress is any indication, you’ll be way more than fine, sweetie. The bar’s all the way down and to the left. Order a drink and wait there. Anybody asks, just flash them a glimpse of tha t corset you’re rocking , and they’ll understand. Now go, before you’re late.”
One last chance to turn around and run, but her feet wouldn’t move backwards… only forwards and down the first step. The cool gold handrail offered an anchor as she descended the winding staircase to the bottom. BDSM and swinging clubs were not new to Rissa Trent — not by a long shot — but this was by far the most luxurious club she’d ever imagined. Sumptuous fabrics draped from the ceilings. Plush sofas and chaise lounges in leather, some upholstered in velvet, segmented the open space into intimate settings. The whole room was decorated in jewel tones and gold. Polished marble flooring seemed to shimmer from the flecks of gold imbedded in the finish. Low lights and candles, people milling about made the club seem like little more than a vanilla bar she’d find downtown, but if someone knew what to look for, they’ d see the BDSM influence. A saw horse here, a St. Andrew’s against the wall, a restraint table double d as a coffee table; all familiar and further calming to Rissa’s edginess.
Walking over to the bar, she ordered a vodka and cranberry and looked past the end of the bar as the warm, smooth drink slid down her throat. A couple, obviously a committed Dom/sub, were beginning a scene in a room just through a glass window. In a traditionally submissive pose; on her slightly parted knees, head down, her hands behind her back, she looked calm, completely relaxed as her Dom walked in a circle around her, inspecting his bare submissive. The way the tall blonde man’s hand caressed the pale cheek of his partner, brushing her auburn hair from her cheek and over her shoulder, showed his approval of her gift. To Rissa, it was like watching a well-choreographed dance, each giving and taking, the Dom guiding his sub through the steps. Kneeling behind his woman, a length of crimson rope in his hand, Rissa watched, enraptured, as he threaded it between her arms behind her back, weaving and laci
ng the braided strands into an intricate latticework down both her arms from shoulder to wrist.
Rissa’ s concentration was only broken by the now familiar scent of subtle cologne only a moment before she felt strong, firm hands slide up and down her arms. Warm breath and smooth skin nuzzled the side of her neck. The unmistakable thickness of a man pressed against her lower back, pinning her lightly against the bar and making her shiver. Her skin tingled and burned with desire, feeling stretched too thin, like without it she’d melt into a quiver ing puddle of hormones and desperation. She didn’t say a word, just listened and soaked up the warmth of his touch.
“They are beautiful, aren’t they? The way she submits so fully, her trust, her body, her very soul handed over to him — the way he obviously cherishes her gift the way a man should. ” His strong hand wrapped around her arm and gently turned her around. Without instruction, her eyes lowered as he turned her, and she waited for permission to look up into his face. What she could see through lowered lashes was expensive leather dress shoes, jet-black slacks and a matching suit jacket. The deep red dress cuffs that peeked out from beneath his suit jacket matched the deep rouge of her lipstick, but it was the ring on his right ring finger that caught her attention. Something in her responded to that ring. The Celtic filigree embossed on the gold band matched the pattern on the cards she’d re ceived from this mystery Dom. But it was more than that. The realization of why she’d kept the letters i n the first place and why she was standing here right now finally dawned. She had met him before when she was with Myles at the grand opening of his club. Before she could remember his name, one thick finger crooked beneath her chin and tilted her face to meet his.
“Evan Daniels…” His name came easily the moment she saw his face. Chiseled features, smooth skin, dark hair the same chocolate brown as hers fell in waves to his shoulders, framing his handsome face. He was massive, muscled and bulged in all the right places — even beneath his well-tailored suit. His name on her lips clearly had the same impact on him that it did on her, and he smiled.
“Yes. Evan Daniels. We met years ago when you were new to the lifestyle and learning under Myles. The moment I met you I knew your submission was all I’d crave ; that has never changed. You lowered your eyes when we met as you’d been trained to do, but your posture defied the submissive gesture. A strong woman shined through, but the desire to please and be pleased in return shone brighter. I knew you’d felt it too in that moment.”
His voice lowered, and he leaned in close enough for his breath to dance across her bare collarbone. “Your body spoke what you would never dare tell. The heaving of your chest in that deep emerald strapless dress stopped, you held your breath. I held mine.” Moving back from her to give her space, she realized she hadn’t been breathing now either.
“There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by when you didn’t haunt my thoughts or a ni ght when you didn’t submit to me in my dreams. When I ran into Myles a few weeks ago, he told me you were single again, and I knew if I let another moment pass without telling, no, showing you how I feel that I’d never forgive myself. Myles gave me the r un down on where I might find you, but please don’t be angry with him. I don’t know what it is, I can’t explain it, but right here, this moment, with you in my arms, I cannot imagine why I let you walk out of the club that night so long ago, or why I have n’t come to you since, but I would be a fool to let you walk out that door again without this…”
His words were a jumbled mess in her head as his hand tucked her hair behind her ear and cupped her jaw before his lips brushed against hers. His lips pressed firmly against hers, teasing her lips apart. The feel and taste of his tongue as he slowly explored the sweet cavern of her mouth, tasting every inch until they were both breathless and panting, had her silently begging for more by the time he pulled
Chapter Seven
“Evan Daniels.” All she could do for a moment was repeat his name. If there was one person everyone in the lifestyle knew, it was this man. A Dom in its truest form, but more than that, he was a man; honorable, chivalrous and decent. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I’d imagined all kinds of people in my head from stalker, to creeper, to Don Juan of the BDSM world, but I never imagined it could have been you who sent me those notes or the amazing gift, which fit perfectly, I mig ht add.” Her skin flushed red when the next words just tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “You’ve had a starring role in every fantasy I’ve had since that night in Myles ’ club, but I never dreamed in a million years I’d actually be standing here with you this way. In my mind you always deserved some professional submissive, not…well… not me. I am flattered.” He was right; she did stop breathing that first night they ’d met. There’d been s o much strength in a gentle touch when he’d taken her hand and brus hed his lips across the back of her knuckles. Any man who could take her breath away like that warranted remembering.
“Rissa, I’ve spent more than a decade surrounded by professional submissives, and not one of them ever tempted me to look twice. You, however, I doubt I’d ever get enough of. There is a purity about you, a naturally submissive nature that begs to be nurtured, not exploited or hidden. If you’ll let me, I’d like to be the man who lets you truly embrace that side of yourself.”
His reassu ring hand firmly at her back, she knew now why she’d felt like that first step down the stairs was like stepping into a new life. To truly embrace her submissive nature, and with a man, a Dom as pure as the one standing before her offering his hand, meant a new life — one with endless possibilities for pleasure and happiness.
“I do have one question. The letter I received at work today,” a deep blush crawled up her cheeks, and she looked anywhere but at the man in front of her. “How did you know? I mean, what I did the last two nights?”
“You mean that you’d pleasured yourself and come for a fantasy? Honestly? I didn’t. I’d hoped you had, because even though you didn’t know who it was specifically, I’d hoped the mere idea of me would be enough to entic e you into pleasure. I meant what I said though, that I want to be the one who satisfies you and makes you happy, and even though I wasn’t there, it seems, judging by the blush on your cheeks, I did.” He answered her honestly, which was more than she’d b een able to say of most of the men she’d been with , and it was a breath of fresh air. “Please, give me a chance to show you how much I want to be that man for you.”
She gave him only a tentative nod. As he held his hand out for hers, she slipped her much smaller hand inside of his and gave him a soft smile behind lowered lashes. Her simple agreement to let him guide her at least for the night, and the approving smile he gave her in return was a reward in and of itself. The bartender took her empty glass, her coat, and her clutch and promised to have them delivered to Mr. Daniel’s private room. Hyper aware of every tingle and every nerve ending in her body, especially those centered in her breasts and her now slick thighs, she followed a step behind him, her hand firmly planted in his as he gave her the grand tour of the club.
“The Devil’s Boudoir is my club. I own and run it, but I have not yet had the pleasure of the company of a submissive in my private room here. I meant it when I said yours was t he only submission I’ve craved since that moment we first met. There are a number of clubs in and around the city, though most of them are frequented by amateurs, or they lack the ambience conducive to the passion I personally look for in an exchange. I wanted to create a safe, comfortable environment for people to explore and embrace not only their predilections for what the vanilla world considers perverse, but for passion and love to be nurtured and to flourish. Single Doms and subs are not welcome here, only those who are permanently attached. The couple you were watching has been married for 12 years and is more in love today than they were the day they married. Each couple here is proof that true love and soul mates do exist, that fairy tales and love stories still happen, even today.”
Evan stopped just before another couple and pulled her into his s
ide, whispering low. The woman was bound to a St. Andrew’s cross, while her Dom wielded soft, worn lambskin cat-o-nines in a tribal rhythm up and down her body with firm flicks of his wrists. She looked more asleep than anything else, but Evan’s explanation helped Rissa understand more about the scene she was fortunate enough to be allowed to observe.
“His name is Timothy, and that’s his wife , Janice. They lost their five week old baby to SIDS a couple of months ago. He isn’t hurting her of course, they’ve just found it’s the only way either of them can get away from their pain and let their minds and hearts rest. For him, it gives him back a sense of control over his world, and believe me, that woman is his entire world. For her, the steady rhythm gives her consistency, certainty. She looks at peace because she is.” He stood and with a firm hand at her lower back, escorted her back over to the bar. “Everyone here is here for a reason. They’ve found something here that they need to complete themselves, or heal. We’ve all become a sort of family.”
Not normally one to be left speechless, Rissa didn’t know what to say. The Doms she’ d known in the past dominated sexually, focused on carnal pleasure, but Evan seemed to be concerned with far more than just sexual satisfaction. To submit physically is to be free of the conventional norms and stresses of the day, but to submit more than just your body — your heart, your soul — what this man before her offered was more than just physical pleasure and freedom but total soaring, being completely and utterly free of EVERYTHING. Wait, no — he offered more than just freedom — he was giving her the chance to be whole again. That thought in and of itself was an unparalleled aphrodisiac.
In the split second it took her to realize what submitting to this man could mean, she realized how empty she’ d been in denying a side of herself that she’d only just learned to accept and embrace so many years ago. How much it had hurt to have the man she ’d loved be unable and worse, unwilling, to accept all of who she really was, and how desperately she’d desired nothing more than to have someone accept her unconditionally. When Deacon had discovered her desire to be dominated — to be told what to do; restrained, bound, even hurt a little —he’d been disgusted. He’d told her it made her weak if she needed someone to dominate her, made her a doormat to be walked on. He’d been clear tha t liking a little pain made her a freak, and so she’d tamped down those desires, l ocked up that side of her, but those words had always resonated in her mind every time he left their bed satisfied, leaving her unfulfilled.
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