Dark Xanadu Book One

by Sindra van Yssel

  “You don’t want that.”

  “No. I want a partner that doesn’t need it, and can stand on her own two feet, and I want the pleasure of watching her do so. Someone who is my equal in every way, but will still enjoy taking the submissive role in the bedroom.”

  Angela smiled. She’d wondered about that, and although his go-slow approach at the club had eased her worries somewhat, they hadn’t disappeared entirely. She found the possibilities of submitting to Kent incredibly exciting, but she wasn’t looking for someone to run her life, or to fix it as if it were broken. It wasn’t broken, but it needed something extra. Or someone. She was beginning to suspect that Kent was that someone.

  She thought about Edward and how different he was from Kent. She had loved him so much, and yet she didn’t have to compare the two men, or decide which way was better. She realized she had been thinking that to invite Kent into her life was to reject what Edward was, and she didn’t want to do that. She didn’t have to do that. Each was wonderful in his own way.

  Over dinner she did find one thing that Edward and Kent had in common—a love of hockey. She wasn’t sure how the conversation got there, exactly, but she had dropped a comment that she thought the Capital’s Alexander Ovechkin was sexy, and would be more so if he had all his teeth. She wanted to see how he reacted, and rather than worrying about the competition, he argued that Sidney Crosby was better looking and a better player. She had picked up something of the game from watching with Edward and had been a fan ever since, and not for a moment did Kent treat her as anything but an equal in their little back and forth. Most men assumed that she needed to have things like sports explained to her. It was a refreshing change.

  “So, what now?” she asked as the plates were cleared away, and he tucked his credit card into the folder the waiter had brought.

  He grinned. “Well, my little angel, I was thinking we’d go back to my place, or yours if you’d feel more comfortable there, and have some private fun.”

  She raised her eyebrows, trying not to notice the quickening of her heart as he called her his little angel. “You were, were you?” she asked.

  He nodded. “And I’ll point out that my place has more toys. But we can play anywhere.”

  Play. What a nice little euphemism that was for kinky sex. “Yes.”

  He watched her, waiting for her to choose a place, perhaps. Sweat broke out on her forehead. “Yes, Master.” It might not be what he was waiting for, but it was what she felt like saying. “Wherever you wish.”

  He grinned. “I’ll pick you up at your place on Friday, so I’m not missing out, and we’ll play at the club tonight. We’ll have the place to ourselves for several hours. Charles likes to come in during the wee hours and work on things, but he won’t be there ‘til nearly midnight, and the rest I’ve warned away. I have a piece of equipment there I’ve been imagining you on.”

  He’d been imagining her, hmm? That sounded good, and a little bit scary. But that was why she was here with him, right? To learn?

  “As my Master wishes.” She wondered why she got such a charge out of saying that.

  * * * * *

  Kent took a moment to breathe as he slid in behind the steering wheel of his Lexus. She wanted to have her own wheels, so she was following him in her car.

  He’d heard a lot of women say “Yes, Sir” to him, and even “Yes, Master” before. Partly it was play acting, but often there was a real yearning there. Always before he felt as if he was going through the motions, showing them what the scene was like but staying a bit aloof emotionally. Why was this little angel any different?

  He’d never considered being quick to use a safe word to be a very desirable quality in a submissive, but he’d only seen her on two, now three, occasions, and she’d used a safe word twice. No, it wasn’t that she was quick to stop a scene; it was that she was quick to stand up for herself. She wasn’t trying to be anyone else, or live up to anyone’s ideal, and that was a real rarity in the scene. When she said “yes” or “Master,” it really meant something to him.

  Whoa. I only agreed to show her the ropes, so to speak. She’s letting me know she’s willing, but I shouldn’t get carried away. I’m her teacher, not her lover.

  He pulled out of his parking space, waited for a gap big enough for both their cars, and got onto the road. Concentrating on driving pushed the ambiguity of their relationship to the side for the moment. But when they arrived at the parking lot behind the warehouse, and she smiled at him and placed her hand in his, he was lost again. She was the loveliest creature he’d ever seen.

  “Come, little angel.” His made his voice sound gruff to cover up how he was feeling. He was going to explore her body until he knew every inch of it tonight. He unlocked the door and led her through the unmanned coat room, past the black X of the St. Andrew’s cross and the red leather on the spanking bench. Both were nice, but for what he had in mind, he wanted access to all of her.

  They paused at last underneath the bondage frame. Two tall wooden posts held up a beam that ran parallel to the ground, about seven feet off the ground. D rings were set into the both the supports and the crossbar, for a wide variety of attachment points. He only intended to use one tonight.

  Angela looked up at the frame, and back at him, obviously not sure what to make of it all. He smiled at her. If he was just teaching her, he should tell her exactly what he was going to do, and why, before he did it. He opened his mouth, but those words weren’t the ones that came out. Instead he said, “Trust me.”

  “I do.” Her voice was barely audible.

  He lifted her sweater over her head, and she raised her arms to help. A lacy red bra held the most delicious looking breasts he’d ever seen, their hard points visible against the lace. He hadn’t intended to do anything but simply undress her, but he found himself bending to suck a tender peak into his mouth. Angela’s moan reminded him that he was getting off track. Still, he indulged himself at the other nipple, unzipping Angela’s skirt in the back at the same time, letting it fall to the floor.

  He stepped back. His cock was as hard as a steel rod. “Take off the bra, Angela. And take your time.”

  “Take my time?”

  “Take it off slowly. Feel the act of undressing.”

  She nodded, smiling uncertainly. She reached behind her to unclasp the bra, and then cupped it to her breasts before very slowly letting it fall to the side. She watched him watching her. He loved that she wanted to see his every reaction. As a Dom, he sure as hell wanted to see all of hers. Heck, as a man he wanted to see it all. He almost wished she had panties on so she could slowly shimmy them down her legs. Almost.

  “Shoes too?”

  He shook his head. The heels she wore would make what he had in mind easier on the rest of her body. “The shoes can stay,” he said. Deftly, he took a pair of cuffs from next to the post where he’d stashed them the afternoon before and fastened them around her willingly presented wrists. They were made of soft, padded nylon and fastened by Velcro, but they were more than secure enough for their purposes.

  She looked at him. “If I let you attach those, I’ll be truly helpless. I don’t know.”

  He smiled. “I won’t move forward without your permission.” He didn’t want to remind her that alone and naked in a warehouse too far from any neighbors to hear her scream, she was already helpless. Nor did he tell her that she was completely safe with him. She had to come to her own conclusions. He waited.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “I’m going to attach them by this chain—” he said as he jingled its two foot length in his hands, “to the beam above you. It will be folded over, so that will hold your hands at least six inches above your head. And then, I’m going to do what I want to do with you. I’ll explore your naked body, touching you anywhere I choose, making your nerves all come alive.”

  She hesitated a moment, and then put her hands over her head. In moments, he did as he had told her he would. She shivered. He’d cran
ked the heat up; he knew it wasn’t from the cold.

  He wanted to be inside her, but that would have to wait. He started by sliding his finger down her sides, touching lightly, watching her. Her eyes went wide as he went below the ribcage, and he felt her tense. She’s ticklish there. He didn’t poke, but kept moving on down until his fingers dance over her hips, and he saw her relax.

  On the way up he felt the silkiness of the tops of her thighs, moving his hands to the sides again to avoid her breasts. This time she didn’t tense when he passed over her ticklish ribs.

  He walked around behind her. There wasn’t really anything to stop her from turning to face him. She’d just end up twisting the chain a bit. But she seemed to understand she wasn’t to move without his command. He stroked her shoulders and all the way up her arms. He felt the warmth of her hands, and made note of it. The only sound was their breathing.

  He felt her back, memorizing the contours of her shoulder blades, sliding along the crease of her spine. He felt her relax against him as his thumbs found tight muscles and worked them into softness. She purred.

  Her skin was so silky and smooth. He moved his hands lower, feeling her squeezable ass as it gave to his fingers. She made a little sound, short and almost inaudible, like a shortened “oh!” as she felt his hands there. She spread her legs, encouraging him. It would put a tiny bit more pressure on wrists, he knew, to do that, but he’d given her enough chain. Nonetheless he declined the unspoken invitation, avoiding her weeping cleft to slide his hands along her inner thighs instead.

  Then he kissed her neck. Bound as she was, she could move a great deal, but she couldn’t move her hands. She had no choice but to focus on the feeling of his hands and his lips and the little wet touches of the tip of his tongue.

  He stopped, stepping back and around, wanting to see her eyes again. “It’s so much,” she murmured to him. He noticed she didn’t say it was too much. He pulled a blindfold from his pocket and put it on her, making sure it was snug behind her head. Then he touched her hands briefly, to assure himself they weren’t cooling down. He smiled at their warmth. Her circulation was working fine, despite the elevation of her hands and the clear evidence that her heart was pumping extra blood elsewhere. The lips of her pussy were swollen, her nipples hard pebbles, and her back flushed from the deep rubbing he had given her. He loved watching her body respond.

  His hands danced over her body, still avoiding breasts and pussy, but touching and feeling everywhere else. He knew it was much more intense with the blindfold. If the club had been its usual noisy self, he might have added something to cover her ears, but as it was it was very quiet, the loudest sound the moans that Angela was making.

  “Kent. Please.”

  Kent smiled. “Please what?”

  “Touch me.”

  He resisted the urge to tell her that he was touching her. Instead he slipped his hand between her legs, feeling the hardness of her swollen clit, dipping his fingers inside her to sample her wetness. He bent over and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. From the sounds she was making, he was doing the right thing. Her breathing was fast and ragged. Sensing that she was close, he fucked her with his fingers, using the pad of his thumb to massage her clit.

  Moments later she came, losing her footing in her thrashing. He supported her with a strong arm under her bottom. He loved the look on her face and the way she screamed when she came. There wasn’t any doubt about the depth of her pleasure. She was so responsive, and so open. He’d never met anyone quite like her.

  He needed to get her out of the cuffs, though. She was leaning on him, but the downward pull would put pressure on her wrists and cut off her circulation. One of the nice things about Velcro was that it came off quick. Two rips and she was down. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her toward the nearest couch.

  “Your turn,” she said, reaching a hand down to cup the bulge in his pants. He’d been ignoring it as best he could, but her touch brought the throbbing in his cock to the forefront again.

  “One moment,” he said. He sat down with her on his lap and took her blindfold off. Then he felt her fingers. They were a little cool. He massaged them while she watched, working the circulation back into them. The downside of any position in which the hands were over the head was that it was a lot of work for a heart to pump blood up there for an extended time. Her hands were far from dangerously cold, but a massage to get them going was a sensible safety precaution. His cock could wait.

  She smiled at him. “That feels heavenly.”

  He grinned at her.

  She pulled her hands away and slipped off his lap and onto the rug in front of him. She unzipped the zipper of his pants. “I see the ‘no underwear’ rule applies to more than just me.” She grinned and pulled his cock out.

  At the first touch of her warm mouth over his shaft, he shuddered. Some subs were passive, waiting for instructions. Others looked for a way to please. It didn’t get much more pleasing than this. He’d been slow and deliberate with her, drawing things out, teasing until she asked. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d returned the favor with interest, but she didn’t. Her mouth bobbed greedily over his cock, sucking hard, her tongue laving the underside. He wouldn’t last a minute like that, and he told her so.

  The only effect was to make her go faster. He could have stopped her, but he wanted her to taste him. Some primitive desire to mark his territory made him want his flavor on her tongue. What had made him so possessive, he didn’t know. He’d been around a long time to settle for just one woman, and he knew that to possess Angela would mean letting her possess him back.

  He came so hard he felt as if his cock were exploding in her mouth. She held him deep against her throat, swallowing down all he offered. And then, when he at last subsided, she licked him clean, let his cock drop and grinned at him.

  She adopted the kneeling position Genna had taught her and looked up at him. “How was that, Master?” She knew how that was, he was sure. She was smiling like a woman in full knowledge of her power.

  “It was fantastic,” he told her.

  “You were really ready to go, Master. You must have been enjoying what you were doing to me.”

  “Little angel, whatever I choose to do to you, I’m enjoying it. You can count on that and never worry that I might not be.”

  Angela took a little breath, and nodded. “That’s so freeing. Knowing you’ll do exactly as you please and not having to worry about it. It’s strange, because having my hands tied like that—I wanted to touch you back, and I couldn’t, but I also didn’t have to worry about it. I could just feel.”

  “That’s the idea. That was a very light introduction to bondage. You could still move a lot of your body; it can get much more restrictive, and then you have to worry about even less. We’ll find what level you like over time.”

  Angela smiled. “So you wouldn’t mind tying me up some more?”

  “Nope. All part of the service.”

  “I thought I was serving you.”

  He chuckled. “In a good BDSM relationship—no, in a good relationship, period—both partners look for each other’s pleasure. BDSM is no different. It’s a matter of liking one person in charge, not making one person do all the caring.”

  She smiled at him. “I want to fall asleep in your lap.”

  Sounded good to him. “Then climb up here.”

  “So tempting. But tomorrow’s a work day. I should be getting home instead.”

  Kent mentally kicked himself. He glanced at the clock; it was already after eleven. I should have thought of that. Still, she didn’t move. “You may rise,” he told her. “And get your clothes on.” As much as he wanted to hold her all night, or at least the part of the night, he wasn’t making love to her. He had to let her go.

  She’d barely gotten them back on when Charles appeared at the door. A blush appeared on Angela’s cheeks, no doubt thinking of how close Charles had been to walking in on them. She might enjoy playing in
public some day, thought Kent, but that day was still in the future.

  “Let me pick you up at your place on Friday?” asked Kent. So far, she hadn’t told him where she lived, and he was ready for her to say no. But if he’d earned a bit of her trust there, he wanted to know it.

  She hesitated only a moment. “Sure. Let me give you the address.”

  He recorded it in his cell phone, and then walked her to her car. “Friday, then.”

  Angela nodded. “Looking forward to it.”

  He kissed her through the open window of her car. He remembered when he was a teenager, holding a goodbye kiss for as long as possible, not wanting the sensation that he was actually kissing a real, live girl to end. But she did have to go to work in the morning. He reluctantly drew back.

  Kent watched Angela’s Malibu drive off into the distance, waiting until it was out of sight to head back to the club. Cute car. Cute girl.

  There was a man standing at the door to the warehouse, leaning back at the side of it like a hooker looking for business. A glowing cigarette was held idly in his fingers. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth once, and then put it down, but he didn’t blow any smoke, nor did the end flare into brightness. For a moment, though, his face was illuminated, dark and vaguely familiar. Kent didn’t think he’d seen him in the club, though. So where else? The club had absorbed almost all his attention since moving east.

  It took him three more steps until he recollected where he’d seen the man before. By then he was a few feet away, having climbed the concrete steps to the entrance. Mario. From Los Angeles. No wonder there hadn’t been any smoke coming from his cigarette. He hadn’t been breathing at all. Mario had been involved in the kidnappings. He had thought Mario had been in the house he burned down, full of vampires, but the light had been bad and he’d been in a hurry. Apparently he’d been wrong.

  “Hello Kent.” Mario’s name may have fit in with the barrio, but he wasn’t any more Hispanic than Kent was, and neither was his accent. The offspring of Italian immigrants, Kent guessed.