Seven's Diary
Copyright 2014 Dawn Robertson
First Edition
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of these publications may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Formatting and cover by ShoutLines Design
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Copyright
A Letter from Seven
College Graduation
Sinners & Swingers
Master Robert
An Unconventional Love for the Ages
The Corporate Ladder
Death
Making Seven Fuckin' James
The Trouble with Star
When Trouble Brews
A Closing Letter from Seven
About the Author
Books By Dawn
Preview of "The Position" by Dahlia Salvatore
DEDICATION
Seven’s Diary is dedicated to all the Hers Series fans.
All the women who want to be Seven James.
All the men who want to be inside Seven James.
To the supporters, and the haters.
And to Seven James for teaching me so much about myself.
-DR
With His coming so soon, and so many unanswered questions after Hers. I thought I would force Dawn to share a private diary I recently wrote. I haven’t always been the best at keeping track of the shit I do in life, but long ago a therapist of mine thought it would be a good idea for me to get my thoughts down on paper. So, I am finally making an effort.
It started as a way to purge the negative in my mind.
Then it became a way for me to remember those memorable men that came into my life. The ones I would have loved to keep, but instead pushed away due to my one night rule. And the one man who changed my life forever. Taught me how to feel, and who Seven James could really be with a little help. A little encouragement. Just a little bit of love.
Why am I sharing these experiences with you now, you ask? Because it is necessary for you to understand the shit storm that is brewing. The hurricane that is going to rock the shit out of my next book, His. Problems, drama, and all of these issues are what I created with my reckless past. My husband very well may become the collateral damage for my past ways.
It isn’t fair, but life rarely is.
I can only hope in the end, these men aren’t what drive Levi away from me for good.
Don’t hold my past against me. We all have one.
Don’t hurt me anymore than I already have been. I can’t break again.
Understand that there are reasons for the person I have become today,
and they all focus around one person.
I never thought I could do it. Fuckin’ graduate college, and four years of long hard work finally came to an end. Being the first person from my entire family to hold that kind of an accomplishment was nothing short of exhilarating, I was flying high on life in every sense of the word.
Me.
Seven James.
College fuckin’ graduate.
A college graduate that had a job on top of it! 'Take that mom and dad and your fucking shitbag lifestyle that you forced on us without any damn choice. Take that everyone who told me I would never amount to anything more than an addict whore like my mother.’ I knew exactly what not to turn out like, and the memories of my childhood were what drove me toward success every time I felt like I wanted to give up.
I think back to all the bumps I have had in my road, mainly one in particular, Daniel Alexander, and how I almost let him ruin this for me. How stupid could I have been to let a man screw with my future? A weak excuse for a bimbo, and so wrapped up in a man that I would let him impact my future forever. Ha! Maybe the old broken Seven, but not me, not now, not ever, and God did it feel good to say that. Write it down. Get that shit on the record!
Ruin my own future over his image issues? Fuck him and his image. If people could have only seen the real Daniel Alexander they wouldn’t think him or his family were the picture of high class perfection that is for sure. Lies, they all live lies and sit on thrones of lies!
That day I had packed up the last couple boxes of shit in my studio apartment. The apartment I lived in comfortably for the six years I had been in New York City. The place I made home for the first time in my life. It hurt to leave, because it was the only bit of constant I had in my life for as long as I could remember. However, I had found a comfortable spot closer to the subway and my new job. Oh, and it actually had a bedroom. Upgrade from my studio!
New job. Damn, that had felt so good to say, so good that I actually had said it out loud a couple times. I was sure I was probably losing my mind, sitting there talking to myself in my almost empty apartment, but whatever. There was no one there to see me lose it. We all knew I was never really wrapped all that tight anyway.
Star came back from California a couple days later to help me get settled in to the new apartment, and we went to check out a new club her boss got us into. Swingers something. It was elite or some shit, and how she got us in was a mystery, but I didn’t question her, or any of the sketchy shit she was involved with. I worried about her, more than I probably should have. We had been through a lot together in our lives, shit no kids should ever have had to deal with. I remember that time we came home from school, and by home I mean to the parked bus we were living in at the time. We opened the door to find our parents all fucking each other in what we considered to be the living room. Naked and not even trying to conceal what they were doing.
I will never forget the look on her father’s face as he continued to pump into my mom from behind while her mother rode my dad like a rodeo bull. Just thinking about it all makes me want to fucking vomit. Fucking gross.
I think that is why I have such fucked up habits when it comes to sex. I didn’t exactly have perfect, healthy role models to demonstrate normal sex.
Star to me is more than a friend. She is like a sister, but we’ve crossed the line too many times to think of each other in that way. If I didn’t love dick as much as I do, I could happily live my life with her. I just wish that I could ever be enough for her. But I won’t even let myself go there. I won’t even think about anything more than just havin’ a good time, because I am just not cut out for your typical relationship. The whole happily ever after is just for Princesses in Disney movies. Not for your everyday woman like me. I’ve figured that out the hard way.
After Daniel, I set a couple ground rules that would keep me from getting hurt.
1. Only give them one night. Any more than that, shit gets messy. Confusing. Feelings start to get involved and no good ever comes from that shit.
2. Protection always. I’ve learned this lesson from Star mainly. Daniel and I fucked like rabbits without thinking about condoms but one STD scare with Star set us all straight. Not to mention it would save me a trip to the abortion clinic. Yeah, I know that sounds crude, but I’m only being honest.
3. Control. I must always be in control. I don’t know if this is some kind of fucked up need for dominance because of the life I led in the past, but I know that unless I am making the calls, nothing is happening.
I’m fucked up. I know this. It is nothing new, and if you lived the way I have, and continue to… you would be just as fucked up as me.
What’s the difference between me and everyone else in society? I own my fucked up-ness. I know I have a problem and I don’t make any excuses or apologies for it. I am who I am and if you don’t like it, fuck you.
I’m not out to impress you. I’m not out to care what anyone thinks of me.
I am out to take over the world, and make a life for myself. One far away from the nomads that raised me in the mountains of New York state.
I am Seven Fucking James and I am going to make Manhattan my bitch.
I would be lying to myself and everyone around me if I said I felt like I belonged. I’ve never fit in anywhere in life. My hair has always been too dark, or too long, my skin too pale, or my makeup just too dark. Walking into my office the first day of my brand new job I stuck out like a sore thumb. My clothes covered up all the tattoos, but I knew from the looks of my co-workers that they could pick out the kind of person I was without seeing the artwork. Even if the bitch two cubicles down had on the same exact pencil skirt I know she bought at Forever 21.
These are the same people who walk down the street and judge you, because they know you are different. Cast their stones when they live in a very thin, sheeted glass house. The truth is most of them are far more fucked up than either of us. But don’t tell them that, it would burst the poor little bubble they live in. But it doesn’t bother me, because I like being different. I don’t like living inside their fucked up box. I don’t need society’s standards to tell me who I should be. I don’t want to be in that cookie cutter mold.
But for the first time in my entire life, I had finally found someplace I could fit in. Some place I could be exactly who I am without worrying about people judging me. Women and men fall at my feet when I walk into the room and the thrill it gives me is nothing short of intoxicating. I am the queen of the kinky underworld. Something society’s standards would thumb their nose at. But I don’t care because I finally fucking fit in!
Sinners and Swingers is a kink club. Whatever the fuck that means, I am still trying to figure out. Star’s boss got us some kind of lifetime membership, but I’m not complaining at all because there is no way I would ever shell out my hard earned money to get into a club where I can get laid. I have no problem getting laid without shelling out cash that is for damn sure.
It is hard to describe the club and how shit works. Then again I am still so new I didn’t even understand myself. You get a membership which I am assuming people pay for. You sign some privacy paperwork saying you won’t tell non-members what goes on inside the club and you respect the privacy of the members, and boom! You can have sex with any willing partner right there in the club. Seems like it would be incredibly illegal, I know. I said the same thing right off the bat. But something about shit being consensual and only exchanging money to be a “member” of the club has a hang up.
Star’s boss picked up the tab, and honestly I really don’t want to know how much this shit cost.
I guess it kind of sounds like one of those seedy Vegas strip clubs where you can get a happy ending in the back room, but it really isn’t like that. By all appearances it looks just like a bar. Some evenings there is live music, and other evenings there are live shows. Kink shows, showcasing different fetishes. Teaching the willing members what it is like to engage in rope play or bondage methods.
I just sit in the shadows and take everything in. Each night I watch and go home to get myself off while thinking about what I witnessed. Women bound by tight ropes, loving every second of their play, or men bowing at a Domme’s feet, blindfolded and waiting for her next move. Just thinking about it makes me want to rub my cunt in the worst way possible.
I want to be those people.
I want to dive in head first to everything they enjoy.
I want to know what the ropes would feel like bound around my tits, or what the crack of a flogger would feel like against the pale skin of my ass.
But instead I sit in the shadows and patiently wait.
Waiting to figure out what I like the most.
See what interests me.
Learn what my biggest turn ons and turn offs are.
Acquire knowledge of what the lifestyle is about.
Figure out what my hard limits are.
I mean, before I even came to this club I knew there was no way I would ever step across the line of blood play, or any bodily fluids, period. Come is one thing, piss is a whole different, nasty ass ballgame. How can people even think anything about that would be sexy? God I wanna vomit.
It seems like a full time job, but it is something I am more than willing to take on. I want to know everything I can about the fetish scene I am slowly becoming a part of.
Men, women, Doms, subs, Switches, whoever they are, and whatever they are, I want to know it and be a part of it.
Tonight I was approached for the first time. He was tall and handsome. Extremely muscular which never really has been my type, but he exuded this confidence that made him impossible to ignore. His blue eyes caught my attention, and pulled me in. His messy dark hair hung around the edges of his face, and the stubble on his jaw made me wanna feel it all over my body. He was perfection for an older man, and I hung on his every word as he spoke when he asked me to spend an hour with him in a private room. No strings attached. Talking. Privately.
“What’s your name, love?”
I sat there like a fucking idiot with my mouth hanging open in shock. Shock, that someone in this place finally noticed me sneaking around in the shadows, especially a man of his caliber.
“Seven.” I answered him, without thinking about using a fake name. A “scene name” as so many called it, hiding their real identities like everyone else in this place did. No one went by their own names. It was about safety and keeping their kink under wraps in the real world. Because everything that took place behind these doors wasn’t the real world. It was a fantasy world of sex play. Nothing more.
And when you walk out of the club, back onto the streets of Manhattan…everything is left behind.
“First mistake, my love. Come with me, and I will teach you everything you need to know tonight.” I followed him without any questions asked. The hardcore front I put on was lost in his commanding tone. I never stood a chance against him or what he wanted.
“You may call me Master Robert, Seven.” I wanted to sass him back. I wanted to defy him. Everything inside me screamed at me to tell him to fuck off in some not so nice way. But I couldn’t. For the first time in my life someone else had rendered me speechless. And submissive.
I could only nod in reply to him.
“You may speak, Seven.”
“Please, do not call me Seven.” I didn’t want my name used in this place. I fucked up big time by speaking it within the walls of Sinners and Swingers, and if anyone ever connected me to my job from here, it would be the end of me. The end of my career; the end of the future I worked so carefully constructing. Fuck!
“I know who you are Seven James. But, if you would like to be called by something else, please pick something now or I will continue to address you in the manner you introduced yourself. You don’t get second chances with me, love.” His words snapped me out of the submissive blackout I had been in, and back to reality. I should have walked out of that door and never stepped foot back inside this club. But, I couldn’t leave the one place I finally felt as though I belonged, without feeling such a huge sense of regret.
“How do you know my name?” I responded to him, and I am lucky he didn’t punish me right then and there. I didn’t know how respect worked in these clubs. My tone was audacious, and disrespectful. But he let it slide for some unknown reason.
“Seven James, I will tell you this once, and once only. Listening?”
I just nodded and watched him with the wonderment of a child.
“My real name is James White, and I own White-Woods Global. I believe you are new in my office, correct?” My heart dropped when he spoke his name. James White. The notorious businessman who owne
d not only half of Manhattan, but the company I just joined. My boss. Well, not my direct boss, but my boss’, boss’ boss. It felt as though the rug was being pulled out from under me. The future I worked so hard to construct was out of reach again.
“You are a promising young woman in more ways than one,” his tongue ran across his plump bottom lip while his blue eyes never broke contact with mine. “You come to my company with an impressive resume, and finding you in this club was just an added bonus to me. But, I don’t want to make you a play thing of mine because frankly love, you aren’t my type.” He lets out a chuckle and my blood runs cold. “Of course you are gorgeous, your body is luscious in all the right places, but I prefer men most times.” I feel the slightest bit of relief wash over me, but I am beyond confused now.
“I don’t understand?”
“I don’t expect you to, Seven. Listen carefully.” He paused, only to take a few steps in my direction and instruct me to sit on my knees. Everything about the submissive position I had been put in bothered me. My body screamed to get up and stand up to him. But I knew my career hung in the balance, and not just my membership in the one place I finally felt whole.
“I need someone to walk in my footsteps. Someone to please me in the private ways I need. Someone who will stand beside me and learn everything I have to teach. Not just here in the walls of this club, but inside my company. I don’t have any children to pass it down to. But I’ve been watching you since you stepped foot in this club, and my office. You have it Seven James. You are the female version of me, so many years ago. Before these clubs existed.”
He rounded my kneeling body, taunting me with each step.
“Get up, I can tell you are uncomfortable in the submissive role which is one of the things I like about you Seven. You don’t take shit from anyone, but you so willingly followed me in here. Will you learn from me? Walk in my footsteps? Will you become my female prodigy, Seven?”
Seven's Diary: A Novella (Hers) Page 1