by Leigh, Mara
“Eleanor Rigby?” Deana rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”
The woman wasn’t fazed. “If you’ll take a seat, Deana”—she gestured to a chair in front of her desk—“I’d be happy to address your concerns.”
“You know who I am?”
“I make it a point to know something about all of our clients. How can I help you?” The woman smiled and placed her perfectly manicured hands on the desk. This woman looked more like she’d fit into the high society of some big east coast city—in the 1950’s—rather than running a sex service in Vegas.
Deana sat on the edge of the chair and cleared her throat. “I wasn’t satisfied with the, um, service I received.”
Eleanor nodded. “I was very sorry to hear that. But it’s my understanding that you used your safe word. Our fantasy facilitators are required to stop in that situation. The last thing we want is for any of our clients to feel unsafe.”
Damn. Jake had already spoken to his boss. Of course he had. “Your employee wouldn’t do what I wanted. I’m the customer. Shouldn’t I be in control?” As she was saying the words, Deana realized how ridiculous she’d been. But to talk herself into going through with the dare in the first place, she’d had to visualize the fantasy. She’d gone over it so many times she’d become convinced that her version was the only possible way it should or could go. Just an hour ago, insisting that she be the one to direct the encounter had seemed reasonable. Now it didn’t.
“I’ll refund everything except your deposit,” Eleanor said.
“Thank you.” Deana suddenly felt very small. The contract she’d signed clearly stated that once she said, ‘Let’s proceed,’ she was obligated for the entire fee. Especially given the way things had ended, Eleanor was being very generous.
What was she going to tell Adam and Gwen? She felt her cheeks flush, even thinking about lying to them. She didn’t have a poker face—at all. Especially not with those two.
At least she had today off and she wouldn’t have to face them tonight. If one of them called, she wouldn’t pick up.
But more than the embarrassment, she realized how incredibly disappointed she was that Jake had shut her fantasy down. Thinking about him now—what he’d done to her, what he might have done if she hadn’t used that damn safe word—she was wet all over again. And as hard as it had been to yield any control, the idea was beyond titillating. It was all she could think about.
She shifted on the chair. “Instead of refunding the fee”—her cheeks heated—“would it be possible to continue the fantasy? A do-over of sorts?”
Eleanor nodded. “Certainly.” She pulled out a keyboard and after hitting a few keystrokes, she swiveled her computer monitor to face them both. “Here are the facilitators who are best suited to your fantasy. As soon as you select one, we can set up a time and get things moving for you again.”
“There’s no need,” Deana said. “Jake will be fine. I realize he was only trying to do his job. I was a bit, um, difficult.”
“I’m sorry,” Eleanor said. “But Jake is no longer available.”
“You didn’t fire him, did you?” Deana felt like her stomach dropped to her toes.
“No, I didn’t fire him.”
Relief flooded in. “Then, I’d like to have Jake again.” Memories of his voice, his hands, and his scent, heated her entire body. And then there was his cock. She hadn’t even had the chance to touch it. She’d barely had a good look before the blindfold.
“Unfortunately,” Eleanor said, “Jake is not available, but”—she looked at the screen—“Luke has a very similar physique. I’m sure you’ll find that he’s more than able to satisfy your fantasy’s requirements.”
Deana shook her head, shocked at how disappointed she felt. She’d marched into this room wanting Jake’s head on a stick, and now the thought of not seeing him again, of not completing what they’d started . . .
“Is it a matter of the fee?” she asked. “Because I’ll pay extra.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“Or if he’s angry, I’ll apologize. You can tell him that I won’t be so difficult this time. I’ll do what he says. I’ll let him do whatever he wants. I’ll crawl across the floor. I’ll lick his boots.” That was the kind of thing submissives did, wasn’t it?
“Dear.” Eleanor reached across the table. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood. It’s not personal. Jake is simply unavailable.”
“I can wait.”
“He won’t become available.”
“Why?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer without violating his privacy.”
Deana sat back in the chair, feeling deflated and tired. “Can I still get a refund?”
“Of course,” Eleanor said. “Whatever you prefer.”
Deana stared at her hands. The idea of losing control with any other man made her nauseated. She knew that was crazy—she barely knew Jake—but she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she was going to go through with this, it had to be with him. She couldn’t possibly do it any other way. Backing out on the dare seemed preferable, even if Adam and Gwen would never let her forget it.
“Can I let you know?” she asked.
“As you wish,” Eleanor replied. “Take your time. We’re here for you, whenever you need us.”
***
Rex leaned back in his chair and stretched out his shoulders. Quitting his job was something he’d been planning to do soon, anyway. He should feel happy and free, but try as he might, he couldn’t concentrate on the software code for the app he was writing. Every time he got started, he’d see Deana’s soft skin, hear her defiant comebacks.
His class assignment wasn’t due for a week, but he wanted to get through coding this section today. Four more credits and he’d graduate from UNLV with his BSc. Now that he could go to school full time, it would only take a semester.
His phone rang. It was Austin. “Hey.”
“You quit?” Austin said. “You asshole. What happened?”
Word in the Fantasies Unleashed world traveled fast. “It’s time,” Rex replied. “Time for me to get a job where I don’t use my dick. One where I can, you know, keep my clothes on.”
“Ha. What fun is that?” Austin, who went by the name Luke at work, liked his job better than any of the guys. “What did Eleanor say when you told her?”
“She understood.” In fact, it had hurt how easily she’d accepted the news. “I’d already told her I was done with BDSM jobs.”
“Yeah, but quitting altogether?”
Rex moved from his table to the leather recliner in the corner. “I didn’t plan to quit yet, but it felt right.” He had enough cash stored away, even if it took him three years to land a good job after graduating. It was time.
“Was the client a real cow?” Austin asked.
“No. Kind of the opposite.”
“Are you planning to see her? Outside of work?” Austin’s voice was tainted, more with teasing than accusation. “Is Mr. Plays-By-the-Rules the bad boy now?”
“It’s nothing like that.” In truth, he’d love to see Deana again and finish what they’d started, but the facilitators had no access to client files. And, even if he could find her, based on the contracts he’d signed with Eleanor, he’d be in some serious shit.
It might be worth the risk.
“So what are you going to do now?” Austin asked.
“Finish school.”
“That’s it?”
“I can take a full load next term.”
“Until then, I can get you some shifts at the Ranch.”
“Nah.”
“Come on, you can dance. I’ve seen you.”
“Oh, I know I can dance. But if I took a job there, you’d stop getting tips.”
“Dream on.” Austin laughed. “You’re chicken. No need to make up crazy fantasies.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Rex grinned. Truth was he did enjoy dancing, but in a club as a customer, not on stage without any clothes. Austin could have th
at.
“Well, if you change your mind . . . The pay’s good, we get monster tips, and it’s easier to make a living than fulfilling some of those crazy fantasies.”
“You thinking of quitting too?” It was the first time he’d heard any hint of dissatisfaction from Austin.
“No way! We get paid to have sex. Sometimes really hot sex. You’re nuts to quit.”
“That’s not what you were saying the day that couple covered you in peanut butter and licked it all off—with the help of their poodle.”
“I’d forgotten about that.” Austin groaned. “Thanks for reminding me, asshole.”
“The job’s not all roses and good fucks.”
“So today’s client was a dog.”
“Maybe.” Rex closed his eyes for a moment and all he could see, hear and taste was Deana. His dick started to harden.
“What’s her name?” Austin asked. “If she rebooks, I’ll be busy that day.”
“You know that I’m not going to tell you.”
“Come on, Mr. Do-Right. You don’t even work there anymore. The ice queen can’t fire you for breaking the rules.”
Rex’s phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen. Eleanor. What could she possibly want? Probably something about his vacation pay or some other admin detail. “I’ve got another call.”
“Okay,” Austin said. “Let’s grab a drink—soon.”
“You bet.” He hung up on Austin and took Eleanor’s call.
Chapter Three
* * *
Rex stepped into the hotel room, seriously questioning his sanity. Somehow Eleanor had talked him into doing one last job.
Who was he kidding? He hadn’t been hard to convince. He’d actually gotten hard the instant Eleanor told him how Deana had burst into her office, demanding that he finish her fantasy.
He wished he didn’t find this client so damned sexy. She was a mystery to him, and for the first time since he’d started this job, he had no idea what to do to make his client happy. Before they’d begun, he’d been sure he’d known what she wanted, but clearly he’d been wrong. And why would someone who so clearly liked to be in control want this particular fantasy?
Whatever her reasons, he couldn’t forget how turned on he’d been trying to figure her out.
When he glanced around the main room, everything looked in order. Seems they’d replaced the screen he’d knocked down, and he was grateful that Eleanor didn’t dock the fantasy facilitators’ paychecks for collateral damage.
He’d enjoyed working for Eleanor these past few years. Enjoyed fulfilling the vast majority of the fantasies he’d taken on. But as much as he’d enjoyed it, he’d always been able to keep detached. Until Deana.
With her, it was the first time it hadn’t felt like acting. The first time he’d lost track of his objective. And it was the first time a client had used her safe word to end it. Deana had destroyed his perfect record.
He checked the back room, testing the pulley system above the fur-covered table and making sure that the techs had set up everything according to spec.
He took a selection of sterilized dildos, butt plugs, nipple clamps, and leather crops from the drawers under the rolling table nearby. Holding one particularly thick and realistic-looking dildo in his hand, he ran it between the thumb and forefinger of his other, imagining sliding it into Deana.
He slapped it against his palm. Things would be different today. He’d keep it all business. He’d give this woman what she wanted and be done with this job forever. If only he could figure out exactly what it was that she wanted.
Reading even slightly between the lines of the ridiculously counterproductive script she’d provided, her fantasy fit the profile of most BDSM-curious assignments. But she’d seemed genuinely defiant.
Maybe he hadn’t been forceful enough? If that was what she wanted, he could go one-hundred-and-fifty shades on her.
One thing was certain. This time, once they started, he’d stay in control. He wouldn’t break character or let himself be amused by her comebacks. He would ignore his cock and get the job done.
Today, he was the dom and he would make her submit.
***
Rex didn’t think it was possible, but Deana was even sexier today. The instant she walked through the door, she said the magic words and proceeded behind the screen to change. He’d barely had time to undress before she reappeared.
As he strode toward her, his best look of intimidation was wasted as she stared at his cock, which hardened with every step he took. By the time he reached her, it was directed up toward his belly.
Her eyes on his cock, a hungry smile captured her lips. Oh, how he’d like to feel those lips around his dick.
Forcing her to her knees would show dominance, but there was no chance that he could dominate Deana with his dick in her mouth. There was no way she could be dominated unless she was fully restrained.
“Before we begin,” Rex said, “I need to be sure you understand—”
“I understand,” she replied. “You’re in control. You can do whatever you want. I’m ready.” Her gaze dropped back down to his dick.
“Whatever I want?” He turned her around and pinched her nipples—hard. “Answer me!”
“Yes,” she said on a hard exhale. “Whatever you want.”
He parted her legs with his thigh. She was showing all the physical signs of arousal—what woman could possibly walk in that beaded thong without getting wet?—but the fierce chemistry and her defiance were all but gone. Just as well. As long as she wasn’t afraid to ask him to stop.
He couldn’t risk really hurting her. Did she hate the light spanking as much as she’d claimed? He pushed his leg up, driving the beads into her pussy. “Is that okay?”
“I don’t want to complain,” she said, grinding on his thigh, “or be accused of directing you, but you’ve completely gone out of character.”
“I don’t want a repeat of yesterday.”
“Don’t worry. Please proceed.”
He turned her so he could see into her eyes. “Remember, any time you want me to decrease the intensity, you say pudding.”
She made a face. “I picked such silly words.”
“They’re only words.” He fought a grin. “Use them if you need to.”
She shrugged.
He took her face in his hands. “I need to know that you will.”
“Don’t worry, I will.” The defiance was returning to her voice. Or was it merely annoyance?
“One more question,” he said, “just so I understand your tolerance. When I slapped your ass, after the initial sting, did it feel good?”
“Good isn’t the word I’d choose.” Her cheeks flared red. He could tell that she wanted to look away, but they stayed locked in a staring contest. She wasn’t going to back down. Neither would he.
Through her silence he could almost hear an inner struggle. She’d liked the pain. She wanted him to do the same things to her again, and more—why else would she demand to continue?—but she didn’t want to admit it.
“The script you gave me included a little rough play and bondage, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then trust me, Deana. Twinges of pain will heighten your pleasure, help you forget where you are, help you give up control.” He smacked her ass. She tried to step back from him, but he wouldn’t let her.
“I liked it when you slapped my—the other place, better.”
He grinned and lowered his lips to her ear. “As you wish.” He slipped the blindfold over her eyes and led her to the other room. She was way more relaxed than yesterday but still wasn’t showing any signs of yielding control.
He realized his mistake. Even if she were letting him guide things, if he followed yesterday’s actions too closely, this wouldn’t work. She shouldn’t know what was coming next.
He stopped. “Down on your knees.”
Her shoulders hitched, but she knelt.
“On all fours.”
She
did that too, her back arching slightly and her lush ass sticking up. He slapped it. She yelped, but pushed her ass higher. He spanked her again and again, until her skin was warm and pink and so inviting he wanted to lick it until she was soothed.
He grabbed a leather leash and clipped it to the back of her thong.
He paused, watching her anticipation and discomfort grow. She turned her blindfolded head as if that might help her figure out his next move. Then, when she started to relax her back, he tugged up on the leash, pulling the thong’s beads hard against her.
A gasp escaped her lips. He spanked her, then he tugged on the leash again, nearly pulling her up off the floor. Worried he was hurting her, he released the pressure, but she circled her hips, clearly wanting more.
He pulled again, hard enough to force her to crawl. He circled the room, tugging different directions to keep her off her guard. Her cheeks were bright pink—both her face and her ass—by the time he led her through the double doors and into the other room.
“On your feet,” he commanded, doing his best to sound intimidating.
She did as she was told, and he winced when he saw that her knees were rug-burned. He hadn’t meant for that to happen.
Her lips parted slightly, and it was all he could do not to capture them in a kiss.
Nearly panting, he moved behind her, then yanked on the leash. She fell against him, and he hissed as her lush, hot ass landed against his dick. He’d come back today for the wrong reasons.
He lifted her onto the table and restrained her with ease. She wasn’t fighting back—at all—yet even though she could barely move, even though her legs were splayed with her pussy and ass exposed, it still felt like she was the one in control. That had to end.
He flicked her sex with a leather strap. She bucked.
Then, choosing a long feather, he drew it up and down and over her torso. He circled it around her breasts, trailing it over her neck, teasing it through the hair of her bush, the folds of her cunt. She sucked in a ragged breath. He flicked her pussy with the leather again, and she choked back a moan, pushing her pelvis up in blatant invitation. Her pussy was slick, bright pink with arousal and no doubt burning from the leather strap. Trying to focus, he adjusted her restraints, splaying her legs wider, farther back—enough so she’d feel stretched, exposed, vulnerable, but not to the point of pain. He pressed a kiss into her inner thigh, then lightly bit into the soft flesh. Her body went taut.