“Most of all, Esme, I expect honesty and will give you the same. Truthful answers, candid responses, and honest emotion. Anything less and we’ll have a problem. No stiff upper lips and suffering in silence; that’s for the Brits. We Irish live in the moment, and that’s what I’ll help you do, lass. You’ve spent a lot of time trapped by the tragedy in your past, and sure as certain, your husband, who as you say loved you very much, wouldn’t have wanted that. It’s time to look forward and live to the fullest all the moments of your future.”
He hadn’t let up, and her bottom was on fire, but that wasn’t what broke her.
Exhausted from trying to deny what she needed for so long, a strident cry erupted from her throat and echoed off the bare floor. It didn’t deter him or slow him a fraction—what a disappointment if it had. Because finally the damn burst and the deluge of tears she’d held back for so long surged forth. She lost count, not that she’d really kept track since he’d started, and he covered every inch of both cheeks the uppermost aspect of her thighs with his extra-large paddle-like hand. When he stopped, she lay as limp as a noodle over his thigh, breathing hard between her sobs, and while the stinging tenderness in her backside captured most of her attention, the ache in her pussy could not to be ignored, especially with him gently rubbing the skin he’d just set on fire.
After several minutes of these soothing caresses, when her hitching sobs had nearly subsided, he lifted her, perched her tenderized butt on his lap, and enfolded her in his arms. Then he simply held her. Even more than the spanking which had brought forth a Vesuvius-like eruption of tears, this tapped into what her submissive nature needed more than anything and missed so desperately, strong arms surrounding her, an understanding shoulder to lean on, and intimacy—not the sexual kind.
This prompted another wave of tears.
“Hush now,” Master Finn murmured, as he cupped her chin, his thumb sweeping over her wet cheeks once more. “Or did I stop too soon?”
“No, sir! My butt is on fire.”
“That isn’t what I meant, Esme, and you know it. How do you really feel?”
“Like a weight has been lifted from my chest. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. I’ve been a dominant for a while and have learned the healing effects of a good cry. Some submissives can’t get there without a little help.”
She shifted, hissing when her hot flesh stuck to his leather pants. “I think your help was more than a little, sir.”
He rolled her body toward him, his hand moving in soothing strokes again, which felt really nice and she sighed.
Amused, he chuckled. “It has been a while for you because I went easy. I’d consider that not much more than a warmup.”
She sniffed, but not from tears, this time. “Easy for you, maybe.”
“I’m not a sadist, but it’s a rare dominant who doesn’t enjoy smacking a sweet subbie ass, and yours, lass, is one of the sweetest ever. If it’s for play and we both take pleasure from it, even better. But when the intent is to bring about a response from a lass who’s learned to suppress her emotions and to lock away the pain from a trauma in her past, it’s a tool that serves a purpose. I see using it as part of my job as a Dom, but not one that’s ever easy.”
Esme stiffened, afraid she’d offended him, and more than that appalled she was so transparent.
He nudged up her chin and wiped the new round of tears from her cheeks.
“I think you’ve had enough for tonight. Let’s get you dressed and headed on home.”
“What? That’s it?”
“You were expecting I’d shackle you to the wall and beat you, perhaps?”
She glanced around the dungeon and the half-dozen pieces of equipment they hadn’t used not to mention the wall covered in implements. “Yes.”
“Sorry, lass, while I am that kind of dominant when the occasion calls for it, it doesn’t with you tonight, not the first time out of the gate. We’ll get to know each other first.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
His eyes snapped to hers, fire blazing in their mossy depths.
“There’s an Irish expression you should learn and right quickly when dealing with me. Beware the anger of a patient man. If you see it, you know things are serious!”
She swallowed, hard. “I apologize for getting snippy, but don’t you want to, um…” How did she put this tactfully? “I’m naked,” she blurted out.
“I’m well aware, lass, since I’ve been holding you, nigh on two hours what with the spanking, the crying, and the cuddling.”
“No way!”
This time when his eyes snapped to her, they gleamed with amusement. Still, he angled his head, and stared at her, patiently waiting.
“No way, sir,” she amended. “How is it possible we’ve been up here so long?”
“Five years is a long time to bottle things up and go without cuddling.” When her face flooded with color, he grinned. “I can see I’m not wrong. Unfortunately, others have the room reserved after us. I’m surprised they’re not beating on the door already.”
His arms tightened around her, then she found herself on her feet. He moved around the room as she watched in a daze, truly shocked about how this evening had turned out. Returning, he handed over her discarded clothes just as a knock sounded at the door.
“Hurry and dress.”
Not needing to, because he hadn’t so much as popped a button, he went to the door while Esme did as she was told. She managed her bra and panties while listening to his deep voice intertwine with another, while conversing at the door. Thankful for the thong as she pulled it over her still warm ass cheeks, her snug linen skirt wasn’t nearly as pleasant. She was buttoning her blouse when he came back to her.
“There she is, a little flushed, a tad mussed,” he finger combed her hair, tucking several wayward strands behind her ear, “but none the worse for wear. I’m not free again until Tuesday. Meet me in the lounge at seven and we’ll further our acquaintance.”
Finn dipped his head as though he would kiss her but paused a short distance away. She blinked up at him dazedly.
“You’re free on Tuesday, I assume?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent.” He bent the rest of the way and claimed her lips in a kiss that involved lots of tongue while his hands slid down to her backside, molding over her still warm cheeks.
When he let her up for air, she blinked up at him and whispered dazedly, “I’ve never met a Master like you, sir, who completely bypasses the libidos and genitalia.”
He laughed. “Have you missed the erection digging into your hip, lass?” Fortunately, he didn’t make her answer that. “You didn’t need sex tonight; you needed the good Dom who knew when to push, when to stop, and had your best interest at heart. I pride myself on being my own man. I enjoy the trappings of BDSM as much as anyone else in the lifestyle, but my rules are my own, and I’ll handle a submissive how I choose, not how protocol dictates. And while I’ve had my fair share of scenes and one-night stands with subs who have been looking for that, you, sweet Esme, are not that kind of submissive.”
“You barely know me. How can you know what kind of sub I am?”
“I mentioned I’ve been at this a while. I’ve developed good instincts in that time. I also watched you and read your file, which didn’t contain much other than a limit list, though that filled in a few of the blanks. You’ll tell me the rest over drinks in the lounge on Tuesday.”
Vaguely, she nodded. Other than snuggle time with Phinny, her evenings were always free.
His eyes glinted suddenly. “I can read faces fairly well, and yours is telling me you’re stubborn. Didn’t you say you haven’t cried since college? Yet after meeting me twice, you poured out five years of suppressed grief with a few swats of my hand. Something else we’ll explore as we move forward. I learned you like moderate pain—despite your protests over a few mild swats—as well as being physically controlled by a man, whether being subdued by his
strength, which I did here tonight, or with restraints. You marked strict bondage with cuffs, rope, and leather binders as something you enjoy, and blindfolds, but not gags, because you can’t catch your breath. I will help you overcome that issue. Paddles, leather straps, and a good cropping were all in the yes, sir, please may I have another column, but you ruled out intense implements such as a knotted cat, canes, and whips as hard limits. Which is a pity since I have an affinity for a well-crafted black snake, shot loaded, tightly braided, and perfectly balanced in my hand.”
Esme shivered at the thought of a whip wielded by this powerful man.
He saw, and added, “You shudder, lass. Is it from experience? A scene gone bad, perhaps?” His eyes trailed down her body. “I saw no scars.”
“No, sir, I’ve never— It’s just too intense and scary.”
“A little fear is good, Esme, a whip’s power should be respected. But in the right Master’s hand, one who possesses both skill and finesse, who knows how to make the leather dance across your body, whether in a soft caress from the tips, or with the snake’s fiery bite, you’ll realize your reluctance is more from anxiety, the fear of the unknown. Once you get a taste, sweet lass, trust me, you’ll crave it.”
A skilled Master, Finn had spanked her to tears, bringing about the cathartic release she desperately needed, and at the same time roused her body to a quivering aching ball of desire. Then there were his kisses that made her melt in his arms, ready to forget she had any limits. Her mouth opened on a softly indrawn breath as a hunger to experience the sensations he spoke of consumed her.
Was she insane for considering it?
Heaven above, after what he’d done to her so far, things she wouldn’t have thought possible a week ago, she believed he could do just about anything.
He smiled, while stroking her cheek lightly. “Fear not, a stór. We’ll work up to it.”
Seeing the resolve to make his prediction come true gleaming in his eyes, her tongue came out to lick lips gone suddenly dry.
“We enjoy many of the same things, which is why Master Eric arranged this little introductory session.” Nudging her chin up, he kissed her, no more than a whisper soft brush of lips, then he took her hand and pulled her along to the door. “Unfortunately, we’ll have to continue this, next time. Tristan has the room next and I expect he’ll try to eject us bodily if we don’t give it up soon.”
The couple waiting had made good use of their time. He had her pressed against the wall, hands clamped in one fist above her head, while he devoured her mouth.
Master Finn’s, it’s all yours, didn’t get a glimmer of a response.
He led her down the rear steps and navigated the always-packed Friday night dungeon, then through the gothic doors to the lounge. “You drove tonight, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, breathless from trying to keep up with his long legs and much longer stride.
“We’ll skip a nightcap, then.”
Once outside the dungeon, he retrieved her shoes from the attendant. The no shoes for subs rule in play areas seemed bizarre at first, but as she slipped on her work pumps, she didn’t mind so much now. Hours spent in club-appropriate four and five-inch fuck-me shoes was its own brand of torture. At the short hall to the women’s locker room he arched a brow in silent question, but she shook her head, pulling her keys from her jacket pocket.
Before she knew it, they were outside, the coolness of the pleasant late summer evening welcomed after the heat of the crowded club.
“I’ll walk you to your car. And before you argue, I’ll warn you, I may like to turn a naughty sub’s bottom rosy red, bind her in lewd and creative ways, and while I enjoy sticking slippery vibrating things into a variety of orifices, my mother raised a gentleman. At dinner, I stand for the ladies, I always hold doors and let them enter first, and when I’m with a woman, I see her safely to her door, even if it’s a car door, at the end of the night.”
This prompted a laugh. “That sounds counterintuitive, but I get it.”
“That’s because you’re warped like me, sweet Esme.”
“Considering we’re standing outside Club Decadence, I have to ask, aren’t we all, sir?”
“Touché.” He said with a grin and offered his arm. “Lead on.”
At her car, he took her keys from her hand and opened her door, but before she slid in, he took her in his arms, plastered his front to hers, and kissed her thoroughly. His hands roved intimately, one cupping a breast while the other curved around and grabbed an ass cheek, and she could feel the proof of his desire pressed long and hard against her lower belly.
Despite him sending her away, she knew he wanted her.
A plea for him to take what he wanted was on the tip of her tongue, at the same time a vivid image flashed in her head of him bending her over the hood and fucking her hard right there in the parking lot. But before either happened, he eased away.
“Goodnight, lass. Drive safe.”
He waited while she buckled up, taking a few tries with trembling fingers before it finally clicked. Before he closed the door, he leaned in. “Next time, no black leather. Pink would suit you, and clingy, and lace would be a nice touch. But no panties in the club, lass. Master’s orders.”
When she stared back at him, nodding dazedly at his orders, he grinned.
“Drive safe,” were his last words before he shut the door.
As she drove home, she puzzled over his uncommon approach of no sex at a sex club, as she replayed the unusual evening over and over in her head.
Chapter 10
Even though she’d spent most of the weekend in bed, she didn’t feel the least bit rested. She placed the blame solely at Master Finn’s feet who on Friday, left her well spanked, thoroughly kissed, but humming with a burning, unfulfilled need. She’d gone home, dumped dry food in Phin’s bowl, then went to the garage and dug through several storage boxes to find her vibrator. Batteries were the next search since the little pink bullet had sat mostly unused ever since her disappointing forays to the public clubs in search of a new Dom a few years back. After that, she’d sublimated her need for sex with work something which had been surprisingly easy.
Evidently, with some women, the libido was like a light switch which, once turned off, stayed off, until something jolted it back on.
In Esme’s case, the jolt was Pax dragging her to Decadence and the amazing sensual kinky world inside. After her long stretch of dormancy, it was like blasting into sexual overdrive. And following her session Friday night, breaking her dry spell with Finn was all she could think of. She’d pretty much worn out her little pocket buddy vibe by the time Monday morning rolled around.
While seated at her desk, she couldn’t detect any lingering effects on her bottom, no color, heat, or the tiniest ache, although other adjacent parts didn’t fare so well. That the cause came from self-induced pleasure was disappointing. Good thing her batteries were nearly dead, and she had two days for her clit to recover until she saw him again.
Pushing all of that to the back of her mind, she booted up her computer, but a fluorescent green sticky note dead center of the screen made her frown.
Morales brief past due. Get it done.
The attorney she worked for reminded her of the absent-minded professor. She’d laid the file on his desk along with three others before he’d come into the office and turned it upside down on Friday.
Shortly after moving to LA, she’d received a job offer from Shoemaker, Reinhart, and Associates. She’d been thrilled to find something so quickly, especially if she got to work with an experienced litigator with over thirty years in private practice. Rather than an overbearing arrogant stereotype, Robert Shoemaker, the senior partner she interviewed with, was a friendly, fatherly type, who loved to teach, Esme had jumped at the chance, but shortly after joining the firm, he’d retired due to health issues.
This left her reporting to Gerald Reinhart.
In his mid-forties, Gerald was still a fit, goo
d-looking man. He knew it too and used it to his advantage with the ladies which had led him down the path to divorce, twice. His ex-wives, according to him had taken him to the cleaners. Esme felt this was justice, but she kept her opinion to herself. He didn’t bother her, and in the time she’d worked at the firm, she’d never heard of any monkey business going on with any of the staff. For the most part, he was all business at the office.
Mr. Shoemaker wouldn’t have put up with it and was no doubt the reason Gerald kept it in his pants at work. She worried that would change with him gone. If so, she’d be out of there.
At least, that’s what she told herself, but she had more autonomy here then she would in a lot of places, and she was on the upper end of the pay scale. Starting over somewhere new would mean taking a hit financially.
Things had changed in recent months, for the worse. Gerald had gone from a rational, business-minded, motivated boss to a high-strung, often ill-tempered, unpredictable mess. And his behavior had become increasingly more erratic in the past few weeks. He was jumpy, arriving later and later each day, if he came in at all. When he deigned to make an appearance, he’d hibernate in his office insisting he not be disturbed for hours on end. A few times, after hiding out half the day, he’d rush out in an even more agitated state, not speaking a word to anyone.
Whatever was going on with him was taking a physical toll. He wasn’t getting any younger, and his face seemed red every time she saw him lately, as though his blood pressure was up. She’d asked about it, but he’d attributed his flush to a family tree full of ruddy-faced German ancestors. But the gray at his temples was showing, past due for an appointment at his salon which he never missed, and no matter how finely tailored, his suits couldn’t conceal his growing paunch which meant he’d curtailed his gym visits, another thing he rarely missed until lately.
In the mornings, she’d find a pile of work dumped on her desk. According to the state of California, she had to work under the supervision of a licensed attorney with a fancy diploma hanging on the wall, which left Bradley, a junior associate who just passed the bar six months earlier, to sign off on all her work.
Dare to Love Again Page 11
