Her Devil's Kiss

by Linzi Basset

  “And so, your torture has come to an end.”

  Blade Runner cleaned his knife one final time and exited the building as quietly as he'd entered.

  Chapter Six

  “Master Razor wants to see you in his office, Mistress Pam.”

  Pamela wasn't surprised at the instruction delivered in such a curt and disapproving fashion by Club Devil's Cove Manager, Wade Moore. She'd been in a foul mood for weeks, and in retrospect, she should've stayed away. Taking out her concern and now, frustrations with Alex, on the poor trainee subs was inexcusable. Something she had no doubt Rhone Greer; the Master Dom owner was about to reprimand her for. She rapped her knuckles briefly on the door and pushed through at the brusque instruction.

  “Enter.”

  She stopped in her tracks as her eyes got caught by the disengaged glance of the man who had been hounding her every waking hour. He didn't seem perturbed by her arrival and slouched lower in the deep leather bucket chair he occupied.

  “You wanted to see me, Rhone.” Pamela squared her shoulders. She refused to be intimidated by the two men.

  Rhone finished pouring the drinks he'd been busy with. “Take a seat, Pamela,” he said without turning around. He waited until she sat down before he handed over their drinks. He took a chair opposite her next to Alex.

  “We are faced with a conundrum, Mistress Pam.”

  The moment he switched to her Domme title, she knew all niceties were over. Her shoulders straightened as she prepared for his attack. All the Masters at the club were very strict on how the subs were treated, especially the trainees that had joined the training program to learn how to become the perfect submissive. She pressed her lips tighter together and waited. She was used to tension in the courtroom, and as a highly revered attorney, knew when to talk and when to keep quiet.

  Rhone's lips twitched in reaction. He could see the effort it took the formidable Domme in her to keep mum.

  “You do know what I’m referring to, correct?” he prodded with one eyebrow curved in a bow.

  “Yes, Master Razor, I do and I apologize for my behavior tonight. I will make it up to them.”

  “Hmm, indeed you will but that doesn't solve the problem.”

  Pamela looked at him questioningly. Somehow, she didn’t think they were completely on the same page.

  “Had you acknowledged your mistakes yourself and acted accordingly, all would've been fine. However, two of the trainees came to us in tears. Samantha and Lauren are still battling to calm them down. They're adamant to leave the program because of your callous treatment as of late. That in itself is a huge problem and would flag the Club with the BDSM forum. I don't suppose I need to tell you what that means?”

  Pamela was aware of Alex watching her unflinchingly throughout, but she refused to glance in his direction. She was holding onto a thin thread as it was and couldn't afford to let him see just how badly his rejection of her love had been affecting her.

  “There’s no more I can say, Rhone. I fucked up. I know it, and I will make it right. I don't know what else you expect from me.”

  Rhone glanced at Alex. He shrugged his shoulders at the unasked question. He'd been unanimously selected by all the Masters to be the one to attend to Pamela's indiscretions over the past couple of weeks. He wasn't happy about it, but he'd do what needed to be done to ensure the Club maintained its good standing with the BDSM forum and by default, Ruark Greer. Even though he was Rhone’s brother, he was also the Chairman of the forum and had the power to close their doors if he felt they didn’t take the matter seriously enough.

  “You wrote the rules, Pamela. Not just for membership applications but also what happens should a Dominant not adhere to our code of conduct.”

  Pamela's eyes widened. “You're not serious? I'm a shareholder in the club, Rhone. Surely—”

  “And because of that, your conduct should be above reproach at all times,” Alex intoned deadpan. “The rules don't exclude anyone, Pamela, owners and shareholders alike.”

  Pamela shifted under his cold stare. The repercussion of his presence slowly penetrated her numb mind. She returned her attention to Rhone.

  “In other words, I’m to undergo Domme training.”

  Rhone shot a quick glance at Alex and then back to her. “No, Pamela. You're going to be trained as a submissive.”

  “What? You can't be serious! This is absolutely preposterous, Rhone, and you know it.” She swung her furious gaze to Alex. “It's you, isn't it? You're the one who suggested it.”

  “No, Pamela, it wasn't Alex. The Senior Masters had a meeting and discussed it in detail. Surely, you're aware that tonight wasn't the only complaints we've received? You've been impossible for the past four weeks.”

  Rhone held up his hand when she opened her mouth to defend herself. Her jaw clamped shut. “Everyone is in agreement. You need to fully understand the state of mind of a submissive, and yes, I know you've gone through the training as part of becoming a Domme, but it’s evident that you've forgotten the basic principles of receiving the honor given by a submissive to dominate them, even those in training. It's time you're on the other side of the whip, so to speak.”

  He gestured to Alex. “We're not going to force you to join the trainee program, but you will become Alex's trainee sub.”

  She dragged in a deep, calming breath.

  “We're not doing this to humiliate or belittle you as a Domme, Pamela, but everyone knows the rules and if we don't adhere to them, we might just as well close the doors ourselves.”

  “I'm aware of that, Rhone, but I'd much rather join the training group,” she asserted with a chilled voice.

  “I'm afraid it's not up to you. Alex was elected by the group. He's the only one who has the knowledge of dealing and training switches.”

  “I'm not a switch,” she snapped in automatic defense. No one but Alex was aware that she used to be a submissive … and she suspected it still hadn’t changed, just been suppressed. She’d joined Club Devil’s Cove when it opened as a Domme. Her eyes shot daggers at the two men.

  “Aren't you?” Alex's dry voice mocked her—taunted her to deny the claim.

  Pamela simmered with anger. Her eyes flashed. “I still prefer to join the group.”

  “Not an option. Your training will be different to theirs. More intense and focused on the principles you've forgotten.” Alex was unapproachable.

  “And if I refuse?”

  Rhone studied her silently. “You know the answer to that, Pamela. I don't need to voice it.”

  Pamela did know. She'd drawn up all the documentation when they opened the club. If she refused, she'd be banned from the club and most probably from all other reputable BDSM clubs in the US.

  Rhone gestured to the file on the low coffee table in front of her. “I've used your template and drew up a trainee agreement between you and Alex. He will discuss your limit list with you. I urge you to pay attention to his demands, seeing as they are directly associated with your conduct over the past couple of weeks.” He got up and his piercing gaze pinned her in place, a warning in itself. “I expect the signed copies on my desk when I return. I'll leave you two to finalize the agreement.”

  Pamela watched Rhone leave. The silence that followed was oppressing and threatened to swallow her whole. She turned her gaze to the Entertainment Room, visible through the two-way wall of windows. She dreaded what was coming. Alex wouldn't be kind to her ... anything but. He had too much anger in him. It would be the perfect opportunity to make her pay for the years she'd shunned him. Worse, he knew deep down, she was a true submissive and it wouldn't take too much for him to tap into it again.

  It was what she feared the most. The vulnerability it would leave her with because no matter how formidable a Domme she was, Alex was twice as powerful a Dom.

  “Everything is in that file,” Alex rasped in a deep voice, his gaze lowered to indicate the blue folder on the coffee table, separating the space between them. “I've already indicated eve
rything on the list I intend to use as part of your training. I don't need you to do anything other than indicate the impact level.”

  Pamela picked up the file.

  “That's not exactly giving the sub the power, is it?”

  “The circumstances, unfortunately, are of your own making and you’re not a rookie, so don't even try sidestepping any of them. I happen to know what you would or wouldn't do as a sub and apart from two, nothing should come as a surprise.”

  Her eyes narrowed on him. “Which two?”

  Alex didn't respond and her gaze dropped to the papers on her lap. She read through the agreement, initialed each page and signed her name in full on the last one. She skimmed through the limit list. He did know her well and there was nothing wrong with his memory. Her breathing slowed down as she flipped the page. She'd never had anal sex. When they were together they had been working up to it. Since him, she’d never had the desire for it, nor had she been in a threesome or any kind of ménage, not even with female subs. He'd indicated anal sex as well as three and foursomes. Her skin tingled. She had never wanted him to share her with anyone in the past and he'd been happy to abide by her desires. Not anymore. Alex clearly intended to push her limits—something the last item on the list blazoned across. She turned a glacial look on him.

  “No. I'll agree to the ménages but not ... no, Alex. I refuse to be on display in a public orgy.”

  His one eyebrow rose cynically … a move indicating icy reproach. “Somewhat like the trainee sub who begged you not to last night?”

  Pamela paled at the reminder. She didn't even remember the entire incident, apart from the fact that it was the night after Alex had chased her out of his house.

  “That was ... I shouldn't have—”

  “No, you shouldn't have and that's exactly why you will feel what she did ... whether you like to or not.”

  His dark voice warned her it was one thing he wouldn’t budge on. She was already struggling against the submissive his dominant voice and powerful visage toggled loose deep inside her.

  “Sign that list as well as the other two copies of the agreement.”

  He waited until she was done, took the file from her and added his signature. He got up and handed her one set before he placed the folder on Rhone's desk.

  “Go home, Pamela.”

  She stood up and glanced at the clock against the wall. It was barely nine.

  “It’s too early and besides, I don't want to go …”

  Her voice trailed off as he came to stand so close, she could feel the heat of his body penetrate her skin. She swallowed as she looked up; his cold stare cut her to the bone.

  “From this moment, I’m your Dom and your only purpose in this club is to please me and submit to my wishes, within the boundaries of the limit list you just signed. Is that understood?”

  Pamela couldn't associate the chilled look in his eyes with the warmth she remembered during their scenes all those years ago. She nodded.

  Crack! Crack!

  “Fuck! Alex!”

  Crack! Crack!

  Pamela jumped out of reach of his large palm before he could land another stinging slap against her already burning thighs. She glowered at him.

  “You know better, sub. A nod isn't a response to a question from your Dom. From now on, it’s best you remember, to you in here, I'm either Sir or Master Rage. Do you understand?”

  Pamela's hands moved behind her back in an unconscious submissive stance.

  “Yes ... Sir,” she mumbled irritably.

  Alex wasn't moved by her glowering countenance.

  “Your training will commence on Tuesday. Be here at eight-thirty. If you're one minute late, your session will start with punishment.”

  Pamela stubbornly kept her lips clamped shut. He didn't ask a question and she wasn't going to make her own life any more difficult by eliciting another flash of his anger.

  “Now ... come over here and kiss your Master goodnight.”

  Like hell I will!

  The words still echoed inside her mind when she found herself standing in front of him. She’d forgotten how easily his Dom voice penetrated and coaxed the submissive inside her to subjugation. Her lips pursed in an annoyed pout as she watched his mouth curl into a broad smile. He leaned closer.

  “Or are you now too disgusted by my looks to touch me, sub?”

  Her lips smacked against his, hard and demanding … completely unsub-like but she didn’t care, too angry that once again, he brought himself down. He didn’t move, rather allowed her to take charge. She realized her mistake when she broke the kiss and stood back. His eyes gleamed with evil intent.

  “I see we have a lot of work to do.” He smiled acerbically. “It’s going to be a pleasure to tame the Domme in you, my pet.”

  Pamela simmered in silence. His eyes darkened as they swept over her body.

  “Now, you may leave.” He waited until she reached for the door handle.

  “Be sure to phone me to let me know you arrived safely at home.”

  “I don't see the need ... Sir. Your responsibility toward me ends the moment I leave the Club.”

  Alex’s discontent rumbled toward her. “It seems you never completely adapted to the role of a true dominant, Pamela. If you did, you'd know that a Dom will always protect and care for his submissive. No matter where or when.”

  Thoroughly chastised and with her ears burning in anger, she stomped through the door. It gave her the utmost pleasure to defy him once she got home—by sending him only a curt one-worded text message. All typed in capital letters.

  HOME.

  “Sending me home before nine. Who the devil does he think he is?”

  Pamela woke up in a foul mood on Sunday morning. The thought of being Alex’s submissive after he’d shunned her declaration of love, had kept her tossing and turning the entire night long. She was on edge, especially as she’d been unable to expunge the two-week long build-up of sexual energy the previous night at the club.

  Strangely, she wasn’t concerned that she’d be ridiculed in the new role as a trainee submissive. It happened in the community on the odd occasion, especially when a Dominant expressed the interest to turn into a full-time switch. Pamela didn’t have that desire. She’d become a Domme with only one purpose—to keep Master Rage away from her. It had worked but only because Alex had allowed her the space. If he had continued to pursue her as a Dom, he would have had her capitulating to him without much effort.

  She sighed heavily as she got up and shuffled tiredly downstairs to the kitchen for some much-needed liquid energy. It had become more and more difficult to keep up the pretense. She wasn’t a natural sexual Dominant and she had to dig deep at times to keep up the front at the club. Still, she couldn’t stay away. At least being a shareholder with the legal advisor portfolio as well as a member at Club Devil’s Cove, gave her the opportunity to be close to Alex.

  “And you fooled everyone but yourself,” she muttered as she set the coffee to brew.

  Pamela craved to be dominated sexually. It had become like a constant throb deep inside her soul, demanding to be let free. She had to be on top of everything on a daily basis. Every aspect of her day was planned in advance, she ruled her private practice with an strict hand. In court, she was the iron lady. Always prepared. Always in charge. She loved the challenges her job and living alone demanded from her. But that’s where her need to be in control ended. She didn’t want to be the one in control in bed … or sexually at the club. She wanted to relax and let someone else take charge of her body and mind for those blissful hours, where she didn’t have to think … just feel. Where she could allow her deepest desires free reign and become the woman she’d kept forcibly hidden from the world.

  No one knew deep down there was a vulnerable Pamela. One who doubted every step she took in life. Every decision she’d made since Kieran’s death, had been underlined by indecisiveness, concern about how it would affect others. She might portray confidence and s
uccess to the world out there but once the door closed behind her when she arrived home, she turned into a shell of the vibrant, happy and outgoing woman she used to be before Kieran began to break her down.

  “Alex was right. I’ve been hiding behind my guilt and for what? A false sense of having done Kieran in? Just because I stuck it out in our marriage to be his emotional punching bag?”

  The aroma of the rich coffee wafted heavily through the apartment, piercing the final vestige of the foggy veil of sleep with its smooth, decadent scent of roasted beans. The invigorating odor bridged the gap of her retrospection and drew her attention back to the present. She filled a cup, added some cream and sugar and went to curl into the sofa in front of the large window facing the Potomac River. She’d bought the house in West Langley, bordering on Langley Oaks Park, for its tranquility and because it was miles away from Mason Neck, where Alex lived.

  “Exercise. That’s what I need to clear my mind.”

  Her mind made up, Pamela quickly gobbled down a bowl of cereal and ran back upstairs to change. She hummed a cheerful tune as she dressed in a black and bright pink kayaking dry suit with matching water shoes. The outfit had been an investment in her opinion and perfect to wear in the cold weather. She wasn’t one for jogging or spending hours in a gym, but she loved to be out on the water and had taken up kayaking when she’d bought the house, which had its own little dock on the bank of the river.

  Armed with a paddling life jacket, pink cap, a light lunch, and energy bars, water, and a small first aid kit, she jogged toward the shack next to the wooden dock where she kept her bright pink and black kayak with its pink paddles. It had specifically been painted with her two favorite colors to ensure it was bright enough to be visible on the water.