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by Desiree Holt

  “Very good. Bend over the desk now. Hold on to the edges.”

  As the woman obeyed, the stranger opened a drawer to extract a two-foot wooden ruler. He flipped the woman’s skirt up over her back, displaying her plain white undergarment.

  “I am doing this for your own good, Miss Roberts.” He peeled the fabric down, to reveal the pale, rounded globes beneath. “There’s nothing like a painful application of the ruler to correct the lasciviousness of youth.” Leaving the panties bunched between the girl’s thighs, he fondled her buttocks. The girl struggled to remain still. “I can tell from the dampness of your panties that you’re greatly in need of correction.”

  Snap! With no further warning, the schoolmaster brought the flexible strip of wood down full force on one cheek.

  “Ow!”

  Maya flinched along with the girl. A rectangle of pink bloomed where the ruler had landed.

  “Ouch!” Marks appeared on the opposite cheek.

  “I imagine that hurts, Miss Roberts.”

  “Um—ah—ow! Ow! Yes—ow!—Yes, sir.”

  The dominant smacked the girl’s bum, one side and then the other, back and forth. The sound of the wood connecting with the girl’s ripe flesh made Maya squirm, despite her best efforts.

  Technique. That was what was important. Focus on his technique. The stranger was left-handed, she noticed as he thrashed his pupil’s exposed butt. The ruler moved faster. The Dom pushed the sub higher. More of his strokes landed on the sensitive, exquisitely painful spot where the buttocks met the thighs. Maya had no doubt this was deliberate. The stranger paused to yank the panties lower so he could have unimpeded access to the tender, as yet unmarked backs of the woman’s legs. Maya’s nipples knotted into aching peaks, knowing only too well the effects of that sort of blow.

  The newcomer had dropped the mask of the dutiful schoolteacher, administering only the discipline necessary to teach his student a lesson. He loved every minute of this scene—that was obvious in the way he flourished his weapon, in his sparking eyes and manic smile. The sub lay facing the blackboard, so she couldn’t see her tormenter’s expression. Maya suspected that he could slip back into his role in an instant. For someone so young, the guy showed considerable skill.

  The sound of the ruler connecting with its target mingled with the girl’s sobs. The appreciative audience kept silent. “Are you sorry then, Miss Roberts?” The Dom ceased his strokes to check on the sub’s condition.

  “Yes! Oh, yes, sir.”

  “Hmm. I’m not so sure…” Without warning he plunged two fingers into the crevice between the girl’s thighs. She yelped and clamped her legs together. Even from the back of the room, Maya could see the moisture glistening on the Dom’s hand when he withdrew. She became all the more aware of her own state of lubrication.

  “Just as I suspected. You’re soaked. You’re not sorry at all. You think this is all a game.” It was all a game, of course, but the schoolmaster’s threatening tone still sent chills down Maya’s spine.

  “No, no… I swear I’m sorry…”

  “Looks like you need the strap after all.”

  “Oh, no! Please…! It hurts so much already…”

  “And I’ll obviously have to bind you, to make sure you don’t touch yourself while I’m flogging you.”

  “No… Oh… Oh…”

  The blonde squirmed against the desk, clearly seeking to stimulate herself. The dominant didn’t stop her, or make good on his threat of restraint. Instead, he pulled a vicious-looking leather tawse from the drawer and laid into the woman’s ass with fresh fury.

  Sweat gathered on Maya’s brow. Waves of heat swept over her. The strap accelerated, pulling moans of pain from the sub’s throat. Blood pulsed in Maya’s temples, her nipples, her clit. How could the sub stand it?

  The schoolmaster tore open the student’s blouse and lashed her back, leaving broad red streaks. The girl writhed under his blows, grinding her pelvis against the hard edge of the desk. Her grunts suggested she was close to release.

  A keening wail split the air. The woman’s body snapped into a tense arc, relaxed, then tensed again. All the while the Dom continued to whip her. He ceased only when his victim slumped onto the desk, spent. She would have slid off, onto the floor, if he hadn’t grasped her around the waist and pulled her limp form against his chest.

  “There, there, Miss Roberts,” he murmured into her ear, cupping a pert breast with one hand and her sex with the other. “It’s over now. I hope that you’ll behave yourself from now on.” His finger dabbled in the sub’s dripping pussy and she moaned in delight. “Otherwise, I’ll have to cane you.”

  A second climax shook the girl’s body. The Dom grinned like the devil he was. And on the woman’s face Maya saw a look of such total bliss that she almost came herself, in sympathy.

  Enough of this. I’ve got to get home. As unobtrusively as she could, Maya tiptoed out of the door. She leaned against the wall, working to quiet her own visceral reactions to the scene.

  She felt hot, sticky and horny as hell, despite her recent orgasm. He’s got the magic, she thought. He knows how to get into people’s heads. Even people who are just watching. Impressive. Remembering her training, she closed her eyes and tried to centre herself. She summoned her personal vision of peace, an image she’d once seen of the Arctic—pure white snow and crystalline sky, vast, deserted and silent. A dominant cannot afford to let emotion rule, Master Riordan had taught her. Before you can master others, you must control yourself.

  She breathed deeply, releasing more tension with each exhalation. Her heartbeat slowed. The sweat and the pussy juice both dried. Exhausted, but herself again, Maya finally opened her eyes.

  “Maya! I’m glad you’re still here. I want to introduce you to my old friend Shark. He’s just arrived in Boston.”

  Tom’s booming voice matched his burly form. He dwarfed the wiry young stranger.

  Calm. Calm. She flashed back to the pinnacles of ice for an instant. Then she accepted the new Dom’s outstretched hand. “Master Shark?” Her eyebrows arched and she allowed a hint of laughter into her voice. “A pleasure. Welcome to Club Inferno.”

  “Please, call me Stephen.” He kept hold of her hand several seconds longer than protocol demanded. She noted that he stood only a few inches taller than she, that he smelt of female musk and cured leather, and that he was somewhat older than she’d guessed from a distance—closer to thirty than twenty. “I’m only Shark to my subs.”

  “I can see how you earned the name.” Maya gestured towards the schoolroom door, where clots of Doms and subs were now emerging. “You’re as voracious and implacable as your namesake.” Her hand still tingled from his grip. She ignored the sensation.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” The stranger chuckled. “You’re no fount of mercy yourself—if I may say so.” He raked her with his eyes, deliberately assessing her physical charms. Maya kept her face impassive, even as her pussy moistened. “Your caning—well, it was magnificent!”

  Genuine admiration rang in his voice, though his bold stare suggested there were limits to his respect.

  “Long years of training, Master Shark—as well as skilled teachers.” She skewered him with what she hoped was an intimidating look. “And who taught you, young man?” The emphasis on ‘young’ was subtle but unmistakeable. “Where are you from?”

  “San Francisco. I studied with Mistress Sylvia and Master Blade.”

  “Ah, I know them well.” That partially explained his expertise. Sylvia and Blade both enjoyed stellar reputations in the kink community. “Though I haven’t played on the West Coast for many years.”

  “I’m sure I would have noticed you if you had.” He looked as though he wanted to say more, but Maya cut him short.

  “Nice to meet you, Stephen. But I’ve got to get home.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  The suggestion was so unexpected that Maya, at first, barely noticed its rudeness.

  “W
hat? What do you mean?” Even she recognised the shock in her voice.

  “I’d really like to get to know you better. You fascinate me.”

  His frankness unnerved her. “Sorry, but I never take anyone home with me.” Maya tilted her head in Tom’s direction. “I’m surprised Master Thomas didn’t tell you.”

  “Oh, I did!” Her long-time associate grinned at his companion. “He’s just the stubborn type. Won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Not a desirable trait in a dominant,” Maya observed, covering her discomfort with disapproval. “When a bottom says no, that means no.” She shook her head, edging away from the pair. “But, then, you’re still young and inexperienced.”

  Shark’s arm shot out. He seized her wrist, preventing her from leaving. “I’m not that young.” The dark edge in his voice sent a scary thrill straight to her sex. “I just know what I want. And I’m used to getting it.”

  Maya pulled herself to her full height. “Arrogance is an even worse liability.” She laced her voice with scorn, staring pointedly at the hand restraining her. Shark released his grip, looking somewhat chastened.

  “Sorry—ma’am.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Was the little popinjay mocking her?

  “Really, I apologise. I was totally out of line.”

  “You were. I don’t know how things are in San Francisco, but here in the northeast we take SSC—Safe, Sane and Consensual—pretty seriously. And I definitely did not consent to you grabbing me.”

  Even though you liked it, the imp in her head taunted. She couldn’t deny it. But she certainly wasn’t about to admit that to this cocky stranger.

  “I know, I know. You’re right. Will you forgive me?” The hardness had vanished from his speech and his manner. He appeared as eager and harmless as a puppy.

  “I don’t know.” She took another step backward, deeply confused by her mixed reactions. “Perhaps I should make you kneel and kiss my feet,” she added, thinking to inject some humour into the situation.

  “Whatever it takes…” Stephen began to comply. Tom hauled him back to his feet.

  “She’s just kidding.”

  “Really? Because I wasn’t…”

  “I was teasing you, Master Shark. I accept your apology. But I do hope you’ll work on your manners, if you’re going to be hanging around the Inferno.”

  “Yes, Mistress Maya. I expect I’ll be around quite a lot.”

  As she bade them goodnight, she wondered whether that was a threat or a promise.

  Chapter Three

  The Friday munch was better attended than usual. Nearly two dozen members of the kink community clustered around the long table in the back room of Café des Artes, picking at the remains of omelettes, salade Niçoise and croques-monsieur, chatting as though they hadn’t seen each other in months.

  Stephen surveyed the assembly, many of whom had turned out especially to meet him. People who’d been present at Club Inferno the previous Saturday, people who’d been absent but who’d heard about his schoolmaster scene—everyone was curious about the new Dom.

  If you met these folks on the street, Stephen mused, you’d never guess they were into sadomasochism, bondage and discipline, dominance and submission. Nobody wore fetish gear—most were dressed for work. Twenty-three-year-old Louisa Roberts, seated to his left, was probably the youngest. The oldest were easily in their sixties. Some people were skinny. Some were overweight. There were no imposing, powerful giants. At five feet eleven inches, Stephen was the tallest in the group other than Tom, and his friend looked more like a giant teddy bear than the Incredible Hulk.

  Someone in the scene might be able to tell the tops from the bottoms. There were subtle clues—an attitude of command or deference, a pair of leather gloves, a piece of jewellery worn with particular pride—but if you were vanilla you’d miss these signs completely.

  “I’ve gotta go,” Louisa told him, squeezing his arm as she stood up and gathered her coat. “My boss is a real Nazi.”

  “You must like that,” he joked. The diminutive blonde had latched on to him the moment he’d arrived at the restaurant. Clearly, she’d been deeply affected by their schoolroom scene.

  “Come on! You know what I mean.” Bundled against the autumn chill, she gazed down at him in something like adoration. “Will you be at the club this weekend?”

  “Maybe. Probably.” Stephen had enjoyed playing with her, but he didn’t want to lead her on. She wasn’t the reason he’d come to the munch.

  “Oh good! I’ll see you there, okay?” She squeezed his hand. He couldn’t help returning the affectionate gesture.

  “Very well. But, in the interim, I hope you’ll behave yourself, Miss Roberts.” She giggled and waved on her way out. Stephen wondered idly if she’d masturbate when she got back to her office.

  Other members of the group were excusing themselves and exchanging warm goodbyes. Stephen had told his boss he was taking the afternoon off to look for an apartment.

  “Guess she’s not coming.” Tom clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry. She’s pretty regular. Something must have come up.”

  “Maybe she was afraid I’d be here. Maybe she’s avoiding me.”

  Tom chuckled. “The Ice Queen? Not a chance. You don’t know this lady, Stephen. She’s formidable.”

  “I can see that. If I were a bottom, I’d find her both terrifying and irresistible. Still, there was something about the way she spoke to me… As though I’d offended her somehow, just by being alive.”

  “You were pretty rude. But don’t read too much into her behaviour. That’s just how she is. I told you, she’s a bit prickly on the outside.”

  “I’ll bet she has a soft centre,” Stephen muttered.

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing. Thanks for inviting me to the munch, Tom, and introducing me to everyone. I feel at home already.”

  “Hey, you belong here—with the rest of us perverts.” Tom grabbed his attaché case and jacket. “I’ve got to run—got a two o’clock appointment. See you tomorrow night?”

  “Yeah, sure. Definitely. See you, Tom.”

  Stephen sat brooding amidst the remains of the luncheon. The staff didn’t bother him—the Boston munch had been meeting at the café for nearly a decade, and the group had dropped a good chunk of change during that time.

  How could he get some time with Mistress Maya? Could he repair the damage he’d done with his impetuous attempt to claim her?

  After her virtuoso performance with the submissive James, Stephen had followed her. Hidden in the shadowy corridor, peering into the lit ladies’ room, he’d watched, transfixed, as she’d brought herself off. The contrast between her private passion and her public reserve had haunted him ever since. He wanted to be the one to free her from the shackles of excessive self-control. He wanted to make her writhe and scream the way she had that night. His Dom instincts told him she needed to surrender herself in order to be truly fulfilled—and he was just the person to give her what she needed.

  He’d tried to distract himself with the lovely and compliant Miss Roberts. He’d failed miserably, although the sub herself—and the audience, apparently—had been more than satisfied. The instant Maya had entered the schoolroom, he’d been aware of her presence. The whole scene had been played for her benefit.

  Oh, he’d been careful with Louisa. He knew better than to let his attention wander during a beating. But he hadn’t given the girl the hundred per cent she deserved.

  And then, when he’d finally had the chance to meet Maya, he’d blown it, acting like a cocky adolescent instead of an adult.

  If only he could have another opportunity…

  A bell tinkled and a blast of chilly air rifled through the restaurant. Stephen looked up to see Maya, clad in a forest-green overcoat and lugging a heavy satchel, heading for the back table.

  “Oh, damn, I’m really late, aren’t I?” She dumped her case on the upholstered bench and shuffled out of her coat. Underneath she wore a conse
rvative charcoal suit tailored to accentuate her curves. “I was in court, and the judge just would not call a recess!”

  Flushed from the cold, her jet locks tumbled around her face by the November wind, she looked younger than she had at the Inferno—but no less gorgeous. Stephen sent a stern message to his surging cock. This time, he was determined to make a favourable impression.

  She glanced at a menu, then summoned the waiter to order a tuna baguette and espresso. “Everyone’s left already, I gather.”

  Stephen shrugged. “That’s the trouble with working. Not enough time to play.”

  Maya sighed, brushing a non-existent piece of lint from her suit. “Too true! But what about you? Tom told me you’d moved here for some high-powered research job. Why aren’t you at work?”

  Because I was waiting for you, Stephen thought. “Officially, I’m apartment-hunting. Actually, they’re still getting my lab set up. I won’t really be able to start for a couple of weeks. But I thought I’d come out a bit early and meet some people.”

  “You’re a chemist, right?”

  “Molecular biologist. I’ll be leading the new HIV vaccine programme at Pharmazyme.”

  “Hmm.” Her coffee arrived and she paused to add half a teaspoon of sugar. “You seem pretty young to be in a position like that.”

  Stephen flushed. He caught the subtext—‘You’re pretty young to be playing the big, bad Dom.’ “I’ll be twenty-nine in January. Finished my doctorate four years ago. After that I did a post-doc at Langley Porter. I thought it was time to move on.”

  “Don’t you think Boston’s going to be a bit…staid…after San Francisco?” She bit into her sandwich with obvious relish. “God, I’m famished! That judge… Anyway, I imagine you’ll find our Puritanical little city a far cry from the Sodom and Gomorrah of the West Coast.”

  “Actually, I’m impressed so far.” Be nice. Polite. Adult. “The Inferno’s as well run—and well equipped—as any kink club I know in the Bay area.” Stephen swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “And the people—actually, the people seem even friendlier and more genuine than what I’m used to.”