Caught by the Master

by Caught by the Master (lit)

  * * * *

  “Cousin, do you need a vacation?” Jenna Carter asked.

  Taurus Green paused in the middle of opening two beers to stare at the woman. She was his cousin, business partner, and closest friend. She was also the only person who could ask such a question and expect an answer.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Something’s going on with you lately. You’re working all the time. I’m told the subs are feeling neglected since you haven’t used a private room in weeks. Last night you didn’t blink when Dane put Sloan up on the bar so he and Merlin could play, and you never let anyone play on your bar. What’s going on?”

  Taurus listened but didn’t try to defend his change in behavior. If he couldn’t explain it to himself, how could he explain to Jenna that he needed something else, something more? Being co-owner, manager, and bartender of a BDSM club had fulfilled his sexual needs until recently. Lately, though, he could barely drag himself out of bed in time to open the bar and couldn’t wait to go back upstairs and crawl back into bed. He needed something new, something different. Problem was he didn’t know what that something should be.

  He had spent time with all the uncollared subs in the place and helped other masters with most of the collared ones as well. Lately, nothing seemed to give him the perpetual hard-on he had lived with in the beginning.

  He couldn’t even pinpoint when this strange ennui had begun. All he knew was he needed a change.

  Leaving town was out of the question. His roots had sunk here. After growing up an Army brat and then spending six years in the Marines, he found stability here and liked having a home that would always be his. He liked being able to come home to the same place every night. He liked not living out of boxes.

  Maybe he did just need a vacation. A week or three away might do him a world of good. But where to go? Where could he find solitude and relaxation without a flock of women chasing after him? A monastery? A male-only retreat? Most people wanted to meet people on vacation. All he wanted was to get away from them.

  “You’re right. I’ve been a workaholic prick-in-the-mud. Happy? I admit it.” Taurus turned away to deal with a gay couple who were charter members. He fixed two ginger ales with two cherries each without asking.

  When he turned back, he wasn’t surprised that Jenna had not moved away. She patiently watched him with one arm around Antony, who nuzzled his cheek between her breasts with his arms looped around her. Her limitless patience and laser-like focus made her a great Domme but proved hellish when pointed in his direction.

  All he wanted tonight was to finish his shift, go upstairs for a long, hot shower and a tall, cold beer before curling up in his bigger-than-king-size bed. Alone. Again. For a single man that was a sad way to spend a Saturday night. For a sex club owner it was just pathetic.

  Grabbing a clean bar towel, he wiped down the already spotless bar, but Jenna did not take the hint. She continued to watch his every move.

  His patience shredded fast. Tossing the towel in the sink, he turned to face her. “What?”

  “Is it a special woman or the lack of one that’s got you all tied up in knots?”

  Taurus gritted his teeth to keep from growling. Her guess was too close to the truth. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he shrugged. How could he explain he was still thinking about a woman he saw three days before? The memory of her sexy backside still had the ability to get him hard.

  “I’m not sure, but now is not the time to talk about it.”

  “When?” One thing that had to be said about Jenna, she was damned persistent.

  “Later, when I’m not working.” Taurus allowed a little growl to color his words as his eyes automatically scanned the room, checking for trouble.

  Whatever Jenna said next was lost on him. A strange stillness across the way caught his attention. A woman was staring at him in the most delicious way. He hadn’t seen her face, but he would swear that this pretty little thing was Kim’s protégé, the little mouse. But what the hell was she doing in his sex club full of alley cats?

  Thick black hair was pulled back from her face. She looked thin but still curvy in all the right places. Something about her reached deep down in his gut and twisted his insides in a knot. She was not a club member, which meant she was trespassing, but he didn’t care, not when his cock twitched with interest for anything for the first time in weeks.

  “Jason, watch the bar,” he said to the other bartender as he grabbed a pair of wrist cuffs as well as the only key hanging on the private room key board. Looking at it, he saw it was the key to the playroom, the perfect room to introduce a little mouse to sex and punishment. “Antony, please find Mason and ask him to fill in for me.”

  “Sure, Taurus,” Jenna’s sub answered easily. With a nod of permission from his mistress, he took off to find Mason.

  “What’s going on?” Jenna asked as Taurus stepped from behind the bar.

  “I’m taking the rest of the night off,” he said in a low voice as he passed her. “I’m going to catch myself a mouse.”

  His eyes never left the woman across the room. She had dropped her gaze from his, but he saw she looked back at him several times as she slipped through the crowd around the St. Andrew’s cross.

  Each time she looked his way, his smile grew as he met her gaze. She was a brave little submissive, even if she did not realize it yet. He circled the long way around the room, pausing several times to answer questions. He also checked with various dungeon monitors, wandering the room to make sure everything was running smoothly. But always his attention remained on the woman in gray. By the time he closed in, his cock was hard as steel, reminding him that it had been too long since he had been with a woman.

  Chapter 2

  Whitney watched the bartender as he circled the room. She continued moving forward, wanting to keep him from getting too close, but the crowd seemed to build wherever she went, and she grew claustrophobic around all the naked people. Finally, she found a couch in an empty niche, partly shielded by an arrangement of plants. She admitted she might have made a mistake by coming.

  But she could not leave without getting a story. Closing her eyes, she tried to think, but her brain refused to move past all the shocking and exciting things she had seen since entering the club.

  * * * *

  Taurus watched her step into one of the more secluded conversation areas. Ignoring several people who called out greetings, he closed in. He did not stop until he stood right behind her. Then he stepped even closer. Wrapping his arms around her, he trapped her arms against her sides. He crossed his arms over her chest and cupped his hands over the opposite breasts and pulled her to lean back against his body.

  She stiffened but did not fight him or scream in surprise. Had she been expecting him?

  He swallowed a groan of pleasure when the scent of her sweet arousal wrapped around him. She smelled womanly and sexy and spoke to something in him that no other had ever touched. Could this be the woman he had been searching for since learning that girls were different than boys?

  When she relaxed against him, he bent his head until his lips were millimeters from her ear. “Little mouse, you’ve been caught. Now you belong to me.”

  She stiffened as he licked his way down the outer shell of her ear before sucking the lobe with its stud earring between his teeth.

  * * * *

  Whitney fought an urge to run when she felt someone move in close behind her. A tremor started low in her pelvis. It was the bartender. It had to be. No one else in the place looked twice in her direction except for two subs who begged to serve her.

  She was shocked when instead of dragging her from the club, he stepped behind her and wrapped his long, muscular arms around her. Warm palms covered her breasts. He pulled her off balance just enough that she had to lean against him or fall on her ass. She took a breath to stay calm, to keep from fighting his hold. She was smaller, weaker, and in the wrong. But what would he do to her?

&n
bsp; Lust shot through her hard and fast. She ground her teeth together to keep from moaning. Who was this man who could turn her on with a simple touch?

  When he whispered in her ear, the dark, hard-as-steel edge to his voice and his words of assumed ownership sent a thrill rocketing from her chest to her toes and back again

  Wait a minute, she wasn’t into kinky stuff, was she? Or was a little kink what was missing from her pathetically sad love life?

  At the first nip of teeth on her earlobe, her knees weakened and her pussy gushed hot cream. Thank goodness his arms remained tight around her. Hot palms rubbing back and forth over her erect nipples distracted her. She had to concentrate in order to make sense of his next words.

  “You have a choice. I can call the cops and you will be arrested for trespassing. Or you can stay and learn something about yourself.”

  She swallowed hard and licked her lips before whispering, “For how long?”

  “As long as I decide.”

  His deep whiskey voice held an unspoken promise. For a second, Whitney did not know which frightened her more—dealing with him or facing the police, her parents, and her boss.

  Being honest with herself, she admitted she wanted to stay, and not just for the sex slave story. She wanted to figure out why her research into kink had turned her on so much, why she felt something was lacking in her life.

  She had made it to her twenty-third year having experienced only the basics of sex, a little kissing and petting before her partner fucked her and got off. She never had an orgasm during sex with a man. She did not even know what an orgasm during sex felt like. The really sad thing was the men she had been with had not cared whether or not she found pleasure. As long as they got off, they seemed happy.

  By staying, maybe she could discover why she only found sexual pleasure with the toys hidden at the bottom of her sweater drawer. Was she defective? Or did she need more than “vanilla” sex could offer?

  “I’ll stay,” she whispered as a shiver worked its way through her.

  * * * *

  Taurus clenched his jaw, fighting for control. He pushed down the urge to strip them both and take her where she stood. His cock throbbed as she trembled in his arms. She was untried and would not enjoy sex in the middle of the club’s main room, but she made the decision to stay.

  “Good girl.” He brushed a kiss on the side of her neck.

  Taking her nipples between first fingers and thumbs, he began to play. “What’s your name, little mouse?”

  She did not answer at first, but he expected her hesitation. If anyone else snuck into the club, they would find themselves handcuffed and waiting in the foyer for the police. But with this pretty woman he did not want anyone else talking to her, touching her, but him.

  He tightened his fingers on her nipples until she gasped. “If I have to repeat myself the punishment increases,” he whispered. “I also punish subs harshly for lying.”

  He felt her chest heave before she whispered, “Whitney. My name is Whitney Elliott.”

  So, she was Kim’s little reporter from the newspaper. How very interesting.

  “Very good, Whitney Elliott. In a few minutes, we will go upstairs, but first…” He trailed off as he began to unbutton her blouse. She stiffened as he moved quickly to the second and then third buttons. He was impressed that she did not fight him but instead stood passively as he undressed her.

  “Take off your shoes.”

  * * * *

  Something in the man’s voice made her want to do whatever he requested. She did not know if it was because of the situation, the man himself, or the fact that she was so spineless anyone could boss her around. Wasn’t that why she still lived at home with her mother?

  The one thing she did know was that her body burned with a need she could not define. A hunger she had never felt before.

  As she toed off her shoes, she swallowed hard. “May I ask questions?”

  “Until I tell you differently, you may speak. I may not answer, but you can ask.”

  His nimble fingers unbuttoned her blouse, then pulled the snap on her jeans and drew the zipper down. “Turn around and take them off,” he ordered as he released her.

  Whitney turned and looked up. And up. And up to find herself looking at the bartender up close. When he lifted one eyebrow and looked down at her body, she shrugged out of the shirt and dropped it on top of her shoes. Then she pushed her jeans down and off as well. Thankfully, she’d worn a bright orange teddy that covered her completely.

  Straightening, she met his smoldering, emerald green gaze.

  “Very good, little mouse. You had a question?” he asked as he looked her up and down. His expression remained blank, but his eyes glowed with green heat.

  Whitney lifted her hands to cover herself, but he caught her hands and returned them to her sides in silent command. “What’s your name? What do I call you?”

  “My name is Master T. Until you feel you can trust me enough to call me Master, you may call me Sir.”

  She watched as he flagged down a man wearing a leather thong and wrist cuffs. “Take those clothes to the foyer and check them in under my name.”

  “Yes, Master T.” The sub gathered the clothes and hurried away.

  “Come along, mouse.” Sir took her hand and laced their fingers together. “It’s time to go upstairs.”

  * * * *

  It wasn’t until Sir clicked the lock into place that Whitney questioned her decision not to be arrested for trespassing. Alone and behind a locked door, he could do anything to her and no one could stop him. She began to tremble when he refused to release her hand when she tried to pull free from his grasp.

  Looking around the room intrigued her, yet at the same time sent shivers of lust and fear through her.

  It was unlike any room she had ever been in before. The wall to her left was mirrored floor to ceiling.

  What was it about this guy and mirrors?

  The wall to the right held a single open door that led to a bathroom. The wall in front of her was partly covered with shelves that held neatly labeled baskets. Next to the shelves was a St. Andrew’s cross similar to the ones downstairs, only on a smaller scale.

  Turning her head, she found a rather large collection of whips, canes, and other instruments of pain displayed on the fourth wall. She’d read about some of them in her research, but others she didn’t recognize. In the center of the room was a padded leather-covered table. There were a number of large eyebolts screwed around the sides of the top as well as at intervals down the legs. There were other pieces of furniture around the perimeter of the room. The only other one she recognized was a straight back chair in one corner.

  She turned to Sir when he released her hand. He held out one large hand, palm up.

  “Give me your wrists,” he said. His voice was soft but threaded with steel.

  Without a thought, Whitney laid both wrists into his palm. In seconds he secured a padded leather cuff around each one.

  “Good little mouse,” he murmured.

  Wrapping one hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her close for a kiss.

  Chapter 3

  He meant for the kiss to be a simple brushing of lips, an introduction of sorts. Something to relax her and give her a small taste of reward. But the moment his skin touched hers, a bolt of electricity shot between them, short-circuiting his brain. He could not stop himself from what happened next. He needed more. So much more.

  Angling his head farther to the right, he traced the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue. When her lips parted on gentle sigh, he pushed deeper. He had to taste his little mouse. Had to know if she tasted as sweet and innocent as she looked.

  Wrapping his arms fully around her, he tensed when she moved. Instead of pushing him away, her fingers traced the waistband of his leathers. Long, cool fingers slipped inside the back of his pants and pressed into his lower spine.

  At that, his tongue went exploring, sliding over her teeth then b
etween them. His tongue dueled with hers while imprinting her taste on his brain. Her kiss was sweet and spicy with a sharper, darker undertone that made his cock pulse with need. God, she smelled good enough that he wanted to spend the rest of the night licking his way from head to toe.

  But the submissive little reporter needed instruction on what happened when little mice came into his club without an invitation.

  Pulling back, he fought down a satisfied smile when he heard a soft murmur of disappointment. She truly was submissive, though no one had ever tapped into that before.

  Until now.

  This time together would tell a lot about the possibility of a future for them. Would she allow him to take her under command? Or would it be a battle for supremacy? Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he stepped back, forcing her hands from his body. Then he turned away so she could not see his expression.

  “Strip,” he ordered.

  * * * *

  Whitney was so blown away by Sir’s kiss that it took a moment to process the single word order he issued. It took all she had in her not to follow him as he crossed the room to one of the shelving units.

  When the order penetrated the lust haze that fogged her brain, a shiver snaked through her. “Excuse me?”

  “Take off your teddy and hang it on the hook by the bathroom door. Whenever we are alone you will be naked unless I say otherwise.”

  He met her eyes with an expression that brought to mind a predator who had finally run his prey to ground and was preparing for the kill.

  “It also makes for more interesting rewards and punishments if I can get to all of you.”

  Whitney blinked, then met his eyes for a few more seconds before dropping her gaze. She read serious intention in his eyes, though his expression was otherwise blank.

  Looking at the floor with her face burning for the umpteenth time since entering the building, she reached between her legs and pulled open the snaps that secured the crotch of the teddy. Closing her eyes, she crossed her arms, grabbed material, and quickly pulled it up over her head and off her body. After turning the scrap of imitation satin and lace right side out, she crossed the room and hung it from the hook Sir indicated.