“I’ll be waiting.”
Ian nodded, then opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him again. Cassandra was kneeling on the floor, her head bowed, her ass on the heels of her feet, and her hands palms up, on her thighs. While her positioning wasn’t perfect, it was pretty close. He walked around her, waiting to see if she’d look up at him, which she didn’t. She was definitely a submissive and had the instincts of a good one, but that was only the start.
After a moment, he gently set his hand on the crown of her head and felt a shiver course through her. “Sit up straight, subbie.”
She sat up a little higher, pushing her shoulders back, which thrust her breasts forward.
“Good girl.”
The playroom contained several custom-made pieces of BDSM apparatus, implements used to inflict pain and/or pleasure, and several cabinets used to store anything a Dom might need during a scene. The one thing missing in this particular playroom was a bed, and it was one of the reasons Ian had selected it. While he hoped he’d be playing with the sub in a little while and coaxing an orgasm or two from her, he wouldn’t be having sex with her at all. That wasn’t the point of this session. He’d take care of himself later.
In one corner of the room, there was a comfortable, red, leather chair, and he pulled it over, placing it right in front of Cassandra. He removed several folded papers from the back pocket of his brown leathers, then took a seat, setting one boot-covered ankle on top of the opposite knee. “Now, it’s time we had a little talk, subbie. Eyes on me.”
Cassandra gulped, then slowly lifted her chin until her gaze met Master Ian’s. Her heart pounded as fear coursed through her—not of him, exactly, but of the unknown. Ever since he’d ordered her to come to this playroom, she’d been racking her brain, trying to figure out what she’d done wrong. Was she going to be fired or otherwise punished for some reason? Either way, she was worried.
She knew from chatting with the club’s submissives and other employees, that Ian, Devon, and Mitch Sawyer were highly-respected Doms—meaning they would never harm a submissive, physically, emotionally, or psychologically. Now, hurting a sub, safely, sanely, and consensually was a different story. On many nights, she’d witnessed the three unattached club owners play with different submissives. In fact, it was often the submissives who requested to scene with the Doms. She’d observed public scenes, where they had their submissives begging for release and, when the Dom allowed it, screaming as their orgasms crashed over them. How Cassandra wished she could be one of them, but she was afraid it would never happen.
When she’d first heard about the waitstaff position at the year-old BDSM club through a friend of hers who was in the lifestyle, she’d been thrilled to learn it came with access to the club at a significant reduction in dues as a perk. She could work off her membership fee, still make some extra money, and explore the lifestyle to her content. So far, two out of three was all she’d managed. She’d gone through the basic submissive course, learning the protocols and simple types of play. She’d been spanked by a Dom-in-training, experienced some mild sensation play, and even had Master Marco demonstrate on her how to warm up a submissive’s skin with a flogger in preparation for a more intense scene. But none of that had included any sexual play—in other words, no one had drawn a climax from her, not that she’d expected them to be able to.
At twenty-four years old, Cassandra had never had an orgasm before, and it wasn’t for lack of trying. She’d had several boyfriends over the years and had been sexually active since the age of eighteen, but she’d never experienced what made a woman scream out her lover’s name and have her body quake with sheer pleasure. She’d read numerous romance novels over the years, but that was as close to the big “O” as she’d ever gotten. After her first two boyfriends had complained she was unresponsive during sex, just lying there, she’d learned how to fake it. She’d found some websites that had romantic porn for women and studied their movements. She’d practiced in bed with her vibrator, which had always made her feel good but had never given her a real, mind-shattering orgasm. Her few boyfriends after that had apparently never known the difference when she bounced and squirmed and screamed their names at what seemed to be the appropriate time.
Six months ago, Cassandra had come across a new book by her favorite author, Kristen Anders. All the woman’s previous books had been “vanilla”—a word Cassandra had been accustomed to in the romance genre—but this new one had centered around the BDSM lifestyle. She didn’t know why, but she’d been drawn to it almost immediately. At first, she’d just thought it was a fantasy world—it had been fiction after all—but during a conversation about the book with her friend Erica, Cassandra found out the lifestyle was real. Erica had explained that she and her longtime boyfriend had been in a D/s relationship for three years. She’d given Cassandra the links to several websites to check out and taken her to a munch, where newbies and those interested in learning more about the lifestyle could get answers to their questions from experienced Doms and subs. It was there Cassandra had heard about the waitstaff position she now held. Between her research and time at the club, she’d learned a lot, but she was still afraid to venture into any play that would become an embarrassment when the Dom she was with found out she couldn’t orgasm.
“From what Master Mitch told me, during your job interview, you expressed a desire to immerse yourself into the lifestyle. This is your limit list.” He held up the familiar looking papers then scanned through them. “Nothing here too out of the ordinary. So, I’m curious why you haven’t accepted any scenes the Doms have approached you with. I know there have been plenty who have asked, offering a wide variety of play, but you’ve turned them all down. I could see if you wanted to avoid the sadists or the baby Doms, but it seems that everyone in between is not to your liking either. According to your list, you’re into men and no women, so it’s not that the wrong gender has been approaching you. So . . .” He let the pages fall to the floor next to him, then crossed his arms. “Tell me why you haven’t played yet.”
Cassandra’s mouth was dry. She didn’t know what to say, but was worried if she didn’t respond at all, she would be fired. “I-I don’t know, Sir.”
Oh, yeah, that was a great answer, Cass. That won’t get you in trouble at all. At least you’re remembering to call him Sir.
“Eyes on me, sub. Look away again, without my permission, and there will be consequences.”
She hadn’t realized she was now staring at the toe of his one boot that remained on the floor, and she forced her gaze to return to his face. His chiseled jaw was covered with a scruffy shadow that only added to his good looks. He and his brothers had gotten their black hair and piercing blue eyes from their Irish ancestry. At six foot two, and in his mid to late thirties, Master Ian was a wall of solid muscle, and it was easy to imagine him in his days as a Navy SEAL with his honed physique. He was usually a very nice boss—strict though—but, right now, as he gave her a Dom scowl that’d caused many submissives to quake in their stocking feet, Cassandra shivered under his scrutiny. “I-I’m so-sorry, Sir. Please don’t fire me.”
Her eyes welled up, and she was embarrassed when the tears streaked down her face. She was reacting like a small child, and that wasn’t a normal response for her. Outside the club, she was confident and determined, but once she crossed the threshold into The Covenant, that all changed. She was surprised to see Master Ian’s glare soften as he stood and placed both hands on her shoulders. “Breathe, little one. Take a deep breath and let it out. Do it now . . . good. Again.” His fingers tapped against her upper back, emphasizing his command.
She complied, then licked the salty tears from her lips.
“Good, girl. And I can assure you, you’re not being fired. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.” Sitting back down, he resumed his earlier position. “Now, I want you to yell your safeword—red.”
Her still-wet eyes narrowed in confusion. “Sir?”
“Ye
ll your safeword,” he prompted.
She had no idea why he wanted her to say it but did as she was told. “Red.”
Master Ian rolled his eyes and dropped his elevated foot the floor with a resounding thump. “Louder, subbie.”
“Red.”
“Louder!” He leaned toward her, resting his forearms on his knees. “I’m doing something you don’t want me to do and you want everyone in club to know it. Your safeword, yell it! Now!”
“Red!” she screamed.
The door to the hallway flew open, and there stood Master Marco, one of tonight’s dungeon monitors. In addition to his black leather pants and boots, he wore a gold vest. His penetrating gaze zeroed in on her, clearly assessing the situation. “Are you okay, little subbie?”
Cassandra glanced back and forth between the two men, bewildered about what was going on. “I-I think so, S-Sir. I-I don’t—”
Master Ian reached out and gently cupped her jaw, cutting off her words and bringing her attention back to him. “Master Marco will be outside the door the entire time you and I are in here. He’s there for one reason and one reason only. If you scream your safeword during our time together, he will burst in here, like he just did, and everything stops. You will not be in trouble at all for using your safeword. Understood?”
“Y-yes . . . I mean, no, S-Sir.” She inhaled deeply and then tried to express herself better. “I mean, yes, I understand if I yell my safeword, Master Marco will come back in, but I still don’t understand why. I mean, why am I in here . . . with you?” She knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t help it. She really had no clue what was happening.
Leaning back in the chair, Master Ian gave the other Dom a nod of his head. Master Marco stepped outside the door and shut it again.
Master Ian’s gaze grew more intense as it pinned Cassandra in place. “Because, unless you say your safeword, we’re going to play, little subbie.”
4
Cassandra gulped. “P-play?”
Master Ian ignored her question. “I assume you’ve had some sexual experiences before now, correct?”
She stiffened, like a deer caught in headlights. Really? Did he just ask if I’m a virgin or am I imagining things?
“I won’t repeat myself, subbie. If you can’t stay focused on my questions and provide me with a prompt, intelligent answer, I’ll start tallying up your offenses for a punishment later.”
Oh, shit! “Um, sorry, Sir. I was caught off guard.” When he just raised his eyebrows and glared at her, she hurried to continue. “I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking, Sir.”
“Tell me about your experiences.”
What? She shook her head. “Um, I’m sorry, but what exactly do you want to know, Sir?”
“You’ve had what? One long-term relationship, several boyfriends, a bunch of one-night stands, or a combination of all three?”
She fought the urge to look away from his intense gaze—he was serious about those punishments. “A combination, I guess, but only one one-night stand. None of my relationships ever worked out.”
“And why is that?”
Her shoulders hitched up to her ears. “I-I don’t know, Sir. We just weren’t compatible.”
His head tilted as he studied her, and then his voice softened. “Were you ever sexually assaulted, Cassandra?”
“No, Sir.” Her response had been immediate. Thankfully, that was one issue she’d never had to deal with, although, she knew several women who’d gone through the horror of being sexually assaulted or harassed.
“Good, I’m glad to hear that.”
He paused, and the sudden silence in the room unsettled her. Several moments passed before he asked, “Have you ever had an orgasm, Cassandra?”
Oh, God, she didn’t want to talk about that. It was so embarrassing. There she was, in a private room, dressed in a skimpy outfit, with a gorgeous Dom, and he wanted her to admit she’d never come in her life?
“Eyes on me, sub. That’s five.”
Her gaze flew to his. She hadn’t even realized it’d shifted again until he’d mentioned it. Her lip quivered, and tears flowed down her cheeks again. She sniffled and inwardly cursed. All her life, she’d been an ugly crier, and she could only imagine what the Dom thought of her right now. “I-I’m sorry, Sir. I-I can’t talk about this.”
Instead of responding, Master Ian stood and strode over to one of the cabinets. When he returned, he had a dark red scarf in his hands. Stepping behind her, he placed the material over her eyes and tied the ends behind her head. She startled when she felt him kneel behind her and straddle her calves. His hands grasped her shoulders and gently pulled until her back impacted his hard chest.
“Shh, little one.” His low, sexy voice sent shivers down her spine. “Relax.”
His hands caressed her arms down to her wrists and back up to her shoulders before repeating the motions. Goosebumps peppered her skin as it warmed under his touch. He pushed her long, blonde hair out of his way, and his lips found the soft column of her neck. He kissed his way upward. Cassandra inhaled sharply as a stirring started in her core. While it was something she’d felt many times before, nothing ever became of it. But this time it was different. This time it was with a Dom who could do all the things she’d dreamed of, if only she was bold enough to let him.
Master Ian’s heated breath teased her ear. “There are no right or wrong answers to my questions, Cassandra. I’m trying to help you, but I can’t do that if you refuse to answer me. Normally, I’d be adding to the punishment, but I don’t think that’s what you need. You’re a beautiful woman, and any Dom would be lucky to win your heart. That Dom isn’t me, but I’m willing to help you get past whatever it is that’s holding you back. If we stay like this and talk, will you have the courage to answer me?”
With her sight gone, her other senses were on high alert. Her skin tingled with anticipation. What would Master Ian do next? She knew the reason he’d said he wasn’t the Dom who would win her heart—many D/s relationships had nothing to do with love, and he didn’t want her thinking he was offering more than he was willing to give. By not being able to see him, though, it was making it easier to talk to him. For some reason, her fear was ebbing—in fact, she was getting seriously turned on. “I-I think so, Sir.”
“Good girl.” He nipped her ear, and her clit began to throb in time with her elevated heart rate. “Now, I asked you a question earlier, subbie, and this time I expect a truthful answer. Have you ever had an orgasm?”
“Not really, Sir.”
She felt him smile against her neck. “That means no. Your boyfriends were very selfish if they never took the time to pleasure you.”
“Th-they tried, Sir. I don’t think it was their fault. Most of them, at least. Some of them told me I was a cold fish in bed.” He growled against her skin—clearly, he didn’t like hearing that. “But maybe I am, because I’m definitely not the wildcat they apparently wanted. I guess I’m just incapable of having orgasms.”
“I highly doubt that’s true, and I’d like the opportunity to prove you and them wrong. Will you let me?”
Would she? Part of her wanted to take him up on his offer, while the other part was afraid this would be her last chance to feel like a normal woman. If she failed to orgasm this time, she’d probably spend the rest of her life not knowing what it was like to fly into utter bliss. Should she turn over her mind and body to this sensual Dom whose tongue, lips, and teeth were currently grazing against her shoulder, making her want to beg for more? “I’m scared to, Sir.”
“You may be scared, Cassandra, but you’re also turned on. I can smell your intoxicating scent from here.”
Well, damn, she’d been hoping he hadn’t noticed that.
His hands ran slowly down her arms to her sides until they stopped at her hips. He clutched her flesh, digging his fingertips into her. It didn’t hurt, but, instead, it made her feel restrained in a way. Her breathing increased, and a soft moan escaped her.
/> “Will you let me pleasure you? There will be no intercourse—I want nothing from you but the opportunity to make you come.”
Damn, his words alone were bringing her close to the edge. Could this work? Could she finally experience what the other female submissives had at the hands of their Doms? There was only one way to find out. “Yes, Sir.”
“Yes, Sir, what?”
She licked her lips and swallowed hard. “Yes, Sir, please make me come.”
His lips brushed against her temple. “It will be my honor. But tell me something first. What scenes turn you on the most when you’re walking around the club?”
That was easy. “The ones where the submissives are restrained, Sir.”
Her hair was moved from one shoulder to the other, and his mouth gave the newly exposed flesh the same treatment the other side had gotten. “That’s a broad range. Have you ever been restrained, to the point you couldn’t move at all and you were completely at someone’s mercy?”
Nope, she hadn’t been. She’d asked a few boyfriends she’d trusted to tie her up, but she’d never given them complete control over her—she could’ve easily gotten out of the scarves she’d had them use to restrain her wrists. In all her recent fantasies, however, she was tied down—legs, arms, and torso—to the point she couldn’t move and had to take whatever her Dom gave her. Even now, the thought was making her wetter than she’d been a few moments ago. Never had she come this close to begging a man to fuck her into oblivion, and all they’d done, so far, was just talk. “No, Sir.”
“Is that a green for tonight’s play? Restraining you until you can’t move at all—until you can’t stop me from doing whatever I want unless you say your safeword?” When she hesitated, he added, “Remember, Master Marco is still right outside that door. You’re safe with me. If you yell red, I’ll immediately stop and untie you, and then we’ll talk about what went wrong. But if you don’t, I’m going to do everything in my power to make you shatter under my touch.”
Knot a Chance: Doms of The Covenant Book 3 Page 3
