Borderline
Page 1
Suncoast Society
Borderline
Bob discovered the joys of serving a dominant woman in college. Later, he felt adrift and alone, until he started seeing Mistress Cardinal. For three years, he faithfully followed her rules, secretly in love with her, thinking he’d never be more than her client.
Until the day he realized he was more, and Tilly opened a little of her heart to him. Happiness had literally been within his grasp, until Tilly’s ex, Cris, and his Master, Landry, entered her life and swept her away. Despite the pain, Bob still loved her, and jumped at any chance to play or serve her. Even submitting to Landry, the man who became her husband.
But what happens when a tricky sadist has a sneaky plan of his own? What happens when Bob has a chance to cross that borderline from plaything to pet? Can he accept Landry’s terms, or will he have to walk away from the only woman he’s ever really loved?
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 49,900 words
BORDERLINE
Suncoast Society
Tymber Dalton

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
BORDERLINE
Copyright © 2017 by Tymber Dalton
ISBN: 978-1-64010-557-7
First Publication: August 2017
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2017 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
DEDICATION
For Hubby and Sir. Always.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tymber Dalton is the wild-child alter-ego of author Lesli Richardson. She lives in the Tampa Bay region of Florida with her husband (aka “The World’s Best Husband™”) and too many pets. Active in the BDSM lifestyle, the two-time EPIC award winner is also the bestselling author of over one hundred books, including The Reluctant Dom, The Denim Dom, Cardinal’s Rule, the Suncoast Society series, the Love Slave for Two series, the Triple Trouble series, the Coffeeshop Coven series, the Good Will Ghost Hunting series, the Drunk Monkeys series, and many more.
She loves to hear from readers! Please feel free to drop by her website and sign up for updates to keep abreast of the latest news, views, snarkage, and releases. You can also find all of her Siren-BookStrand releases under all four of her pen names on her author page on the BookStrand site.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
Bob was first introduced in Cardinal’s Rule. He pops up from time to time, and made another major appearance in See You Sometime. This book overlaps most of the series and toward the end takes place around the timing of See You Sometime.
Tilly, Landry, and Cris show up a lot, but their focus books are Cardinal’s Rule, Click, Impact, and Happy Valenkink’s Day.
While all the books in the Suncoast Society series are standalone works which may be read independently of each other, the recommended reading order to avoid spoilers and to not miss any backstory information or inside jokes is as follows:
1. Safe Harbor
2. Cardinal’s Rule
3. Domme by Default
4. The Reluctant Dom
5. The Denim Dom
6. Pinch Me
7. Broken Toy
8. A Clean Sweep
9. A Roll of the Dice
10. His Canvas
11. A Lovely Shade of Ouch
12. Crafty Bastards
13. A Merry Little Kinkmas
14. Sapiosexual
15. A Very Kinky Valentine’s Day
16. Things Made Right
17. Click
18. Spank or Treat
19. A Turn of the Screwed
20. Chains
21. Kinko de Mayo
22. Broken Arrow
23. Out of the Spotlight
24. Friends Like These
25. Vicious Carousel
26. Hot Sauce
27. Open Doors
28. One Ring
29. Vulnerable
30. The Strength of the Pack
31. Initiative
32. Impact
33. Liability
34. Switchy
35. Rhymes With Orange
36. Beware Falling Ice
37. Beware Falling Rocks
38. Dangerous Curves Ahead
39. Two Against Nature
40. Home at Last
41. A Kinkmas Carol
42. Ask DNA
43. Time Out of Mind
44. Happy Valenkink’s Day
45. Splendid Isolation
46. Similar to Rain
47. Happy Spank Patrick’s Day
48. Fire in the Hole
49. Pretzel Logic
50. This Moody Bastard
51. Walk Between the Raindrops
52. Rub Me Raw
53. Any World That I’m Welcome To
54. Heartache Spoken Here
55. Roll With the Punches
56. See You Sometime
57. Borderline
Some of the characters in this book appear in or are featured in previous books in the Suncoast Society series. All titles available from Siren-BookStrand.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
About the Author
Author's Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Landmarks
BORDERLINE
Suncoast Society
TYMBER DALTON
Copyright © 2017
Chapter One
Revisiting the past and days of Mistress Cardinal…
Bob knelt in front of Mistress Cardinal the way he’d been taught by her. She had exacting standards and he desperately hated disappointing her in any way.
He didn’t care he was paying for these sessions. In this case, the customer was never right unless Mistress Cardinal said he was.
That was a damned difficult level of satisfaction to ac
complish in the first place.
The only thing he cared about was making Her happy. Pleasing Her.
Earning those two words from her that could melt him in a heartbeat and take him from wanting to safeword to begging to take deeper levels of pain and hell to hear her say them again.
Good boy.
These periods with her were the only time he could fully shut down his brain and stop thinking about the rest of the world. He could lay everything aside and…
Breathe.
His soul at ease in a way it never could be any other time or with any other person.
He’d even gotten rid of his anxiety meds, much to the consternation of his doctor. When the doctor had asked Bob what he was doing differently now, he’d simply smiled and said, “Guided meditation.”
Technically not a lie, although he damn sure wasn’t going to tell the truth.
The doctor likely wouldn’t understand.
The last thing Bob needed was word getting out that he saw a professional Dominatrix to help him relax and de-stress from life’s troubles, and had been seeing her for almost three years now. He never went longer than every two weeks without a session. Sometimes more often, if his schedule and hers allowed it.
If he let more time than that pass, he always noticed the tension in his neck, frequent migraines, a jittery, anxious feeling building inside him.
All of that dissolved when he stepped through her front door.
Every time.
Cheaper than medication, and better for his body in the long run. Nothing but good side effects. Well worth the expense.
Once they’d had their initial consultation when he’d first started seeing her as a client, he’d turned their interactions over to her completely. She was the one who probed and peeled back his mental layers, seeing what it was that he needed, directing their sessions.
He wasn’t a fan of pain, but he enjoyed taking it for her.
If she ordered him to clean, he would.
Kneeling for an hour and doing slave positions?
Okey dokey.
Whatever she wanted.
He refused to top from the bottom. Over time, the better she got to know him, the more finely tuned their play became. He appreciated that every few sessions she included a debriefing at the beginning to talk to him about what they’d been doing and to get feedback from him.
He never lied to her. That would totally defeat the purpose of this.
Now, they’d reached a level of rapport where she could drop him into subspace in seconds without using anything but her voice. Her low, calm, even tones whispered in his ear, him holding his breath so he didn’t miss a word she said.
She’d even ordered a custom collar for him to wear one year after he’d started seeing her. A hand-tooled leather collar, not some cheap dog collar. A collar she only used on him. In fact, he got to take it home with him.
He hadn’t asked her to do that, either. In fact, he hadn’t realized she’d done it until the day she had him kneel and buckled that collar on him instead of the plain leather collar she’d used on him before that.
He wore it at home all the time.
Not because she ordered him to, because she didn’t.
But because, to him, it was Her. An extension of her.
It gave him comfort.
Periodically, she had him come to her house when she interviewed a new client, just as a safety precaution and to set a tone. On those occasions, he always wore a leather hood that completely disguised his identity as well as made him look intimidating, and she had him park his car in her garage so it wouldn’t be seen.
So far, no one he’d known, fortunately.
He would stand there during the first meeting, silent, brooding, inherently threatening because of the hood without needing to do anything. Once she finished with their session, he would then get his session with her.
Because he was her good boy.
And she didn’t charge him for those sessions, either, although he’d offered to pay.
He knew he was in love with her, not that he’d ever dare admit it aloud. One of her ironclad rules was that he could never proposition her for any kind of relationship beyond what they had, never ask for sex. If he did, she would immediately end their arrangement.
Therefore, he obeyed. Because he needed Mistress Cardinal.
He didn’t need sex. Sure, sex was great, but he had a perfectly good right hand for those occasions. Dating was…
A lot of damn work. Mental energy he frequently didn’t have at the end of a work day. Even attempting to date “dominant” women was a pain in the ass. So far, he hadn’t found a single one who wasn’t trying to pick up professional customers, or who wasn’t a gold-digging bitch, or who apparently thought being a dominant woman meant treating a man like shit. It would seem the good ones were taken, or…
They were Mistress Cardinal. And while he’d never seen a sign of a man at Mistress Cardinal’s house, he didn’t know if she was single or not.
He didn’t ask.
He had no interest in wasting time or energy dating anymore. Not when he had Mistress Cardinal.
Six months into their sessions, she’d pleasantly shocked him one day when she’d let him kiss her feet at the end of the session.
Then another month later, she let him kiss her hand.
Now, it was every session. Not anything salacious. Just a quick press of lips to flesh, a gesture of respect on his part.
She did tell him that he was one of very few who ever got to touch her in any way.
That honored him, that she trusted him that much.
He got it. Beyond the trappings of their business arrangement, she had to be careful not to violate any laws. Then there was her safety to consider.
Today’s session hadn’t involved any impact play. She’d had him do a few simple, easy chores, then worked with him on poses, his full attention on her as he followed her instructions.
He’d been holding this one for five minutes now. No matter how much his knees hurt or his feet went numb, he’d hold it until she told him to move.
“Good boy,” she softly said. She walked over, standing directly in front of him, and leaned in to ruffle his hair.
He wanted to wag his ass in joy like a puppy over the praise, but he maintained the pose.
“Relax,” she said. “At ease.”
Only then did he shift position, smiling up at her.
She had short, copper-colored hair that she spiked up with gel. It added a few years to her features, but it wasn’t his place to say he thought she’d look prettier, younger even, with a different style and color. Maybe let it grow out, a darker reddish auburn color.
Good boys didn’t say that, though. Not when they hadn’t been asked.
From how she bordered on the gauntly thin side, he suspected the room that served as her home gym received a lot of use. Although he couldn’t claim to be an expert in her health, he didn’t think she had an eating disorder. Her fridge was always packed with normal food and rotated contents on a fairly regular basis.
Considering one of his frequent chores was to wipe out her fridge, he would know.
She squatted in front of him, her hazel gaze boring into his. “You’ve been a very good boy for me today, Bob. Would you like to go to the club with me tomorrow night? Not for business, but for fun.”
He eagerly nodded, even though he knew he’d awaken Sunday morning in massive pain and barely able to move. “Yes, Mistress. Please!”
A playful smirk curved her lips. “Such a good boy for me,” she whispered.
His cock throbbed, pulsing. That, at least, he didn’t worry about. Because, as she’d said, it was her choice to have him be naked since it was within his stated hard limits, and she knew it meant he might get hard.
He was responsible for cleaning up any messes he made.
The first time he’d grown hard in front of her, it had mortified him until she’d smiled and reassured him it was an easy barometer for her
to use. She had offered to let him wear a jock if it bothered him, but he’d declined.
She liked looking at his ass, or so she’d volunteered a little over three months into their arrangement.
That meant he’d never hide himself from her.
She never berated or humiliated him, either. It wasn’t his kink, and was, in fact, a turn-off for him, although he hadn’t specifically excluded it in his hard limits.
That she didn’t go there, even though she could, meant a lot to him.
She actually listened.
Mistress Cardinal wasn’t the first Dominatrix he’d seen, but she was the best by far. He could tell when one was only in it for the money and not truly someone involved in the BDSM lifestyle. He didn’t know all of Mistress Cardinal’s history, only what little she’d told him, but he suspected she’d spent time as a bottom or submissive before becoming a Domme.
If he ever won the lotto, he knew what his dream would be—to offer her his slave services full-time, whatever price she wanted. Even if it was just to stand there behind her and observe other sessions to give her peace of mind.
I’m a dumbass, is what I am.
He was in love with a woman he knew damn well never would or could reciprocate.
And he didn’t care.
It made him happy.
It was about the only thing in his life that did make him happy.
Chapter Two
Present, past (perfect?)…
Bob knelt in front of Landry and waited. In retrospect, Bob now knew exactly where Tilly had received her training to be a Domme. She’d been Cris’ slave, and Cris was Landry’s slave.
Every movement, every gesture Mistress Cardinal had ever made, much of what and how she said it, was so much like Landry that Bob could almost overlay onto the sadist his past scenes with her, from before her world shifted hard on its axis when Landry walked into her life.