Doms of Dark Haven 2: Western Night

by Sierra Cartwright, Belinda McBride,

  “Gorgeous,” he said. And she was. She’d painted her fingernails a striking red. The sight of the bold color nails against her gorgeous olive skin made his cock throb. He hadn’t had a sub, or any woman, in months. Suddenly he wanted to take her fast and hard, possess her, claim her, mark her as his. “Stand up slowly and turn to face me.”

  She complied, taking her time. Her motions had a bit more elegance to them. She learned quickly. Beautiful.

  “Look at me,” he told her.

  She did, but then she instinctively looked down.

  Good. “When I give you an instruction, it supersedes previous direction.” Quietly he repeated, “Look at me, Shelby.”

  She did. Maybe he’d ask her to do that more often. Her green eyes were lovely, wide, unblinking, no pretence, no artifice. “I want to make a few things clear, Shelby. You are free to leave anytime you wish over the next week. I don’t keep submissives against their will. Just say the word and I’ll have a driver at your disposal. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said.

  “But if you’re curious, if you want to experience more, you’ll need to push yourself, and you’ll need to trust me. That will take time, but I have the patience, if you do. I will take you past every inhibition, every fear. At the end of the week, you’ll feel no more embarrassment, and you’ll respond perfectly to my commands. By freeing yourself, you’ll find out what you really enjoy, what you really want. It’s up to you, Shelby. You came to San Francisco for a reason. Go for it, and you may get everything out of your trip that you hope to.”

  “I…” She trailed off and frowned.

  She might be innocent, but she knew at least the basics, whether she normally practiced them or not. “Permission to speak,” he said.

  “I want it.” She licked her lower lip. “I want to have this experience.”

  He had an image of her tongue against the tip of his cock. His pulse throbbed. He’d told her he had patience. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure. “Even if it means you’ll be punished as part of your training?”

  “Yes. I’m just nervous.”

  “Nerves, we can work with,” he told her. “Lies, lying to yourself, lying to me, won’t be tolerated.”

  She nodded.

  “How do you normally deal with fear?”

  She exhaled. “By jumping in with both feet, Sir. Like getting in a swimming pool where the water is too cold. I plug my nose and jump.”

  He appreciated her answer. “We’re going to move to one of the punishment rooms.” The room had a spanking horse. Definitely fitting for the club’s Western night theme. Master Xavier and his team really did think of all details when they put together these events. “You’ll follow me there, staying approximately three feet behind me. I want your gaze downcast, but I want you paying complete attention to what I do. If I stop, you stop, staying three feet back. If I point to the floor, I want you to instantly kneel with your knees approximately shoulder-width apart. If I walk faster, you speed up. Any questions?”

  She shook her head.

  “When I ask a question, Shelby, I expect an answer, unless you are gagged or otherwise instructed not to speak. I demand honest and immediate answers.”

  A beautiful blush highlighted her cheekbones.

  “No questions, Sir.”

  “Follow me.” He led the way to the door and out into a common area of the club. A few curious people turned their direction, and he wondered how his new sub would behave. He probably should have requested a leash and collar for her.

  She did well, keeping her eyes downcast and staying behind him.

  He stopped once, as a test.

  She immediately stopped.

  When he pointed to the floor, she knelt.

  He left her there, kneeling, for at least thirty seconds before slowly walking around her. Other people walked past and one domme gave Shelby an appreciative glance. He didn’t blame the woman. Honestly, he had a difficult time keeping his gaze off her. She was an enchanting woman, with striking outfit and the mass of riotous black hair framing her face and falling over her shoulders.

  The next week had definite potential.

  She kept her gaze downcast, just like a perfect sub.

  “Stand,” he told her.

  With a lovely elegance, she did.

  His cock hardened. Playing with her would be torture for him.

  He entered the punishment room, and she followed at exactly the right distance. That shouldn’t have pleased him as much as it did.

  The punishment horse dominated the space, and he noticed her gaze fixate on it. And no wonder. It was a fierce looking device. It had a tall, thin center beam and two other beams, one on each side, so a sub’s knees would be supported, something he appreciated since he enjoyed long scenes.

  Red vinyl covered the horse, and it was artfully decorated with two dozen metal rings. There was no limit to the ways a sub could be secured to the contraption.

  He pointed to the floor, and she slowly knelt. “Knees farther apart. And clasp your hands at the small of your back.”

  While he closed the door, she did as he instructed.

  “You’re going to be punished,” he said.

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  He was just trying to decide whether or not to have her completely naked before starting. Generally Trevor preferred his subs to be nude when he punished them. Often he had them disrobe symbolically.

  He liked that, when naked, his women were unable to hide from him. He didn’t want any skin off-limits to his touch. If he wanted to make a point by landing a stroke against the inside of a thigh, he didn’t want fabric minimizing his blow.

  Mostly he just loved the sight of a woman’s body with its tantalizing skin and soft curves. But this vixen, in white leather chaps and hot little boots was making him rethink his strategy.

  He stopped behind her and said, “Tell me why you’re going to be punished.”

  “Sir, because I didn’t keep my gaze downcast in the poker room.”

  “No,” he said. “If you’d been my sub at the time, you’d have been punished swiftly while we were in the poker room. But I would have made my expectations clear beforehand. It’s doubtful you’d have even attempted that kind of disobedience.”

  He moved around to stand in front of her. He saw the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “It was Master David’s right and responsibility to ensure your proper behavior before you agreed to submit to me. If he chose not to correct you, that doesn’t concern me.” He crouched. He placed a finger beneath her chin and tipped her head so that she looked at him.

  Her eyes were wide, unblinking.

  “Tell me why I would choose to punish you.”

  “Because you can,” she whispered.

  “Sometimes,” he agreed. He traced the pad of his thumb across her upper lip, taking his time, making sure she was as aware of him as he was of her. He admired his own restraint. He wanted to see her strapped to the horse, her body trembling in anticipation. “Keep going. Why else are you being punished?”

  “Because it took me so long to grab my ankles when you told me to.”

  “And?”

  “Because I hesitated before…”

  “No embarrassment,” he reminded her.

  “I hesitated before I spread my ass cheeks.”

  “It’s more about the fact you hesitated at all, no matter what the order. Since you’re unaccustomed to dealing with a dom who has uncompromising expectations, this punishment will be lenient as far as punishments go…simply a taste of my lash, more instructive than punitive. But make the same mistake a second time and I promise you will not enjoy the experience.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Tell me your understanding of the differences between punishment and discipline.”

  “I…” She licked her lower lip. “I’m not sure I know.”

  “Punishment is generally swift and in direct proportion to the nature of the infraction.”

  “I see
.”

  “Discipline is something I’ll engage in to ensure your continued good behavior. I’ll guarantee you’ll never climax from my punishments.”

  “And from your discipline?”

  Cheeky sub. With his thumb he stroked her cheekbone. “Almost always.” He released her chin. He stood and folded his arms across his chest. “Stand. I’m going to cut off your panties.”

  Her eyes opened wide. He wondered for a moment if she’d argue with him, but finally she complied, even though her movements were slow and a little jerky. They’d work on that over the next week. He watched and waited with infinite patience. This may have been the best bet he’d ever won.

  From a hook on the wall, he grabbed a pair of safety scissors, like the type carried by EMTs. Master Xavier equipped his club well. “Put your hands behind your neck,” he told Shelby.

  “The panties…they’re new.”

  “And?”

  “Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

  She stood still while he crouched to snip the scrap of fabric from her hips.

  “Lovely,” he said as the ruined thong dropped to the wooden floor.

  She closed her legs. Then, without being instructed, she parted them again.

  Quick learner.

  Trevor allowed himself the pleasure of looking at her, from top to bottom.

  Her unruly hair fell over the feminine curve of her shoulders. She had a lovely, kissable neck, and the concha from her bolo tie lay alluringly against her throat. He liked the looks of her in anything that resembled a collar.

  The vest, even though it wasn’t fastened, covered far too much, especially since she’d also worn a bra. If she were his sub, he wouldn’t allow her to wear so damn many clothes. Still, he appreciated the tantalizing hint of midriff.

  His gaze continued lower, and he appreciated the well-groomed thatch of her pubic hair. “Lovely,” he said. But he’d ceremoniously remove it later, as a sign of his dominance. “Now remove everything from the waist up.” She could leave the chaps in place, he decided. The white leather against her dark skin looked beautiful, and he particularly liked the way the boot heels emphasized her calf muscles. Naked, he was learning, wasn’t always best.

  She shrugged out of the vest and held it by her side.

  Her nipples, dark and hardened, peeked out above the lace of her shelf bra.

  What the hell had he been thinking choosing celibacy for the past few months?

  He took the vest from her and hung it on a peg on the wall.

  She took off the bolo, then shook her head. He wanted to have his hands in the riotous mess of her hair, holding her captive while he fucked her from behind. “I’ll take that,” he said, extending his hand for the metal tie.

  She handed over the bolo, and he placed it around his wrist. Her breasts spilled out over the top of the shelf bra’s lacy cups. Although her breasts weren’t large, they were firm, beautiful, touchable, and kissable. “Now remove your bra,” he instructed.

  Silently she reached back and unfastened the clasp.

  “Wait. I changed my mind.” He wanted to touch her, to feel the silkiness of her skin. “I’ll do that.” He drew the bra off her body. Until he’d said that, he hadn’t realized how hungry he was to touch her skin. He might be a dom, but he was a man first.

  He skimmed his fingers across her chest. Her skin felt delicate in contrast to his work-roughened fingertips. He stroked the tips of her breasts, watching as her nipples hardened. Her breaths became even more shallow, and her lips were slightly parted. God. She was absolutely lovely in her responses.

  After mentally reminding himself that he was responsible for this scene going well, for it being everything she hoped it would be, he turned away long enough to hang the bra on the same hook as her vest. “Offer your breasts to me,” he said when he returned to her.

  “I…” She blinked. “I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

  “Do your best,” he told her.

  She cupped her breasts and lifted them up.

  “Perfect,” he said. His cock pressed against his zipper. “Squeeze your nipples.”

  She did, and she let out a little moan.

  “Again,” he said.

  As she squeezed those taut brown tips, her hips jerked a little.

  “Is your pussy damp, little sub?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You like having your nipples played with?”

  “Yes, Sir. I do.”

  “Show me.”

  She released one of her breasts and trailed her fingertips between her legs. Then she held up her fingers.

  In the overhead light, he saw the glisten of her feminine juices. “You are responsive.”

  “To you, Sir.”

  He captured Shelby’s hand, his fingers around her wrist. He raised her hand to his mouth and licked the juices off her fingers.

  She gasped. “Permission to speak, Sir?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was hot.”

  “Glad you approve.” He’d suspected having her as his sub for a week would be good. He hadn’t known how good. He reluctantly let go of her wrist and said, “You may release your nipple, Shelby, then your breast.”

  She did, then allowed her arms to dangle at her sides.

  “You wanted to feel my belt?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, as if it were a deep, dark secret.

  And maybe, he realized, to her, it was. If David hadn’t pushed her, chances were she still had a lot of unexplored territory. He looked forward to uncovering it with her. “Remove it from me.”

  Her hands were shaking as she fumbled with the buckle. Finally she managed to get it apart, and she pulled it through the denim loops. “I look forward to you becoming more proficient at that.”

  She offered the length of leather to him.

  “Kiss it,” he told her.

  She gulped, but she did as he instructed. If she continued to be so obedient, he’d have to leave the room and jack off. It had been a long time since he’d been so aroused by being with a woman.

  After several seconds, he accepted the belt from her. He held the buckle in one hand and allowed the leather to dangle from his grip.

  She remained where she was, and she twisted her hands in front of her while her gaze seemed riveted on the belt.

  “In the absence of other instruction, always clasp your hands behind your back.” When she did, he said, “Nice. I like the way that forces your breasts out.” He saw that telltale blush again. “Do you have a safe word?”

  “Tangerine.”

  “Tangerine? You’ll actually remember it during a scene?”

  “I hate tangerines,” she said. “I never forget them during a scene.”

  He laughed. “You don’t get to use the word just because you hate something.”

  “Oh.”

  “You know that, right?”

  “I… Uhm. No. That hasn’t been the way it’s worked in the past.”

  “Master David allowed you to stop a scene anytime you wanted?”

  “Of course.”

  “Never pushed your boundaries?”

  “Not unless we talked about it beforehand.”

  “I see.” Each dom had his own style, but even given that, the man was too relaxed. No wonder she’d been all over the place in the poker room. “Master David is the only one you’ve explored BDSM with?”

  “Everything else was strictly vanilla. Strictly boring.”

  “You obviously didn’t like that.”

  “My job can be intense,” she said. She hesitated, as if contemplating how much to reveal before continuing. “I’m a mediator. I walk, I run, go to the gym, swim, try to avoid too much alcohol. But nothing takes away my stress like sex. Good sex.”

  “Define good sex.”

  “It’s where I can let go and surrender. There’s…” She exhaled. “Pain involved.”

  “You’re a masochist.”

  “Mayb
e a little.”

  “But you still like to be in charge.”

  “I don’t really see it that way.”

  Of course she didn’t; she was a born negotiator. “You want to choose the implement, the time, the place, and, if I don’t miss my guess, decide when you go home.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s being in charge,” he said. Slowly he wrapped the belt around his wrist, making sure her gaze was on it. “Telling your dom how to dominate you isn’t supposed to be how it works. And you know that too, otherwise you’d have taken the out when Master Xavier offered it.” Trevor studied her. When he spoke, he dropped his voice. “That’s what you want. That’s why you haven’t bolted, isn’t it? You don’t want to be in charge. You already know I’m not the kind of man who will tolerate any nonsense from you. Things that are definitely outside your comfort zone, we will discuss. And know this, Shelby, I will push your boundaries; I’ll push them hard. And my guess is, you’ll like it.” He looked her in the eye. “Overuse your safe word and I’ll put you on a plane myself. Do you understand?”

  Her eyes were wide. She glanced, not at all subtly, over her shoulder at the door.

  “Run, little sub. Run like your life depends on it, and run now. Either that or stand up, walk over to that horse, and get on it like a good girl. I want you at the end, not the middle. I want your hot ass sticking up and out. Then ask me to tie you to it.” She’d confessed to being a little bit of a pain slut. He suspected she liked to be told what to do and how to do it, until she balked. Having her ask him, beg him, to punish her was likely out of her comfort zone…a place, as he’d told her, that he intended to keep her.

  He left his belt on a small table and grabbed restraints from the wall while she hesitated.

  She looked from the door to the horse. She stood slowly.

  If he was sure of one thing, it was that she wouldn’t run. She was scared all right, but as he’d said, she knew, deep down, that she didn’t want to be in charge.

  “Uhm…do you want me to remove the boots and chaps, Sir?”

  “Hell no. The chaps make your ass stick out.”

  “For punishment,” she said.

  “Because it looks hot,” he corrected. “You’ve got a nice ass, Shelby. And those chaps frame it perfectly. And you know it.”