by Roxy Sloane
viewing rooms to watch the couple inside.
I draw the curtains back on the two-way mirror and survey the scene. A pretty brunette woman is laying on her belly on the bed as her dom wraps red, silken ropes around her ankles and hands, pulling them tight. They’re practicing Shibari, an exquisite form of rope bondage that originated in Japan. She’s silent as her master ties intricate knots in the ropes and tightens her bonds.
It’s beautiful and very sexy. But even though they’re putting on a good show, I can’t help but envision Isabelle there on that bed. Ropes striping her delicate flesh. A gag in her mouth, obedient and totally compliant. Eager to heed my every command.
My cocks stirs but the heat dies quickly. It will never happen.
Despite what Isabelle said, despite what she thinks she wants, her lust will turn to revulsion once she realizes what she was really asking for. She isn’t like the women I meet here at the club—she’s pure. And I know I’ll see the disgust in her eyes the next time she looks at me.
God, I never should have shown her that room. But a part of me wondered what would happen, if she could see it all and understand. The darkness and need that have always existed in me, the cravings that are my only release. What was I thinking?
I wish things were different. That she hadn’t been damaged by her experience here with Brent. If I had been the one to introduce her to the club, it would all be so different. I could show her a new side of herself. Strip away all of her fake charm and bullshit, the defenses she’s clearly had to learn just to get by in life.
I would show her how beautiful she really is. How she doesn’t need the games and makeup and fancy clothes, that she’s perfect just the way she is.
The scene continues in front of me, but I know it’s no use. I leave the room and keep walking, but moving through the Underground’s dim corridors, I realize that Isabelle’s the only woman I want kneeling and supplicant beneath my hand, my whip.
Nobody else will do now. Not even close.
I don’t expect her to be waiting for me when I get home tonight.
A part of me knows it’s for the best. I need her to be as far away from me as possible, to remove every last wicked temptation from my life. Still, knowing she won’t be there to greet me leaves me hollow inside from the loss of something I never even had.
And now I never will.
ELEVEN: ISABELLE
Cam told me to leave. I should pack my things and go check into a hotel, but I refuse to just walk away. I don’t understand why he’s still shutting me out. I was right there with him upstairs in his secret playroom; I didn’t flinch or run from his confessions, so why is he acting like I can’t handle the truth?
I decide to stay, and see what he says in the morning. I change into my nightclothes, and try to get some rest in the guest room. The luxurious bed is super soft and comfortable, but I toss and turn, unable to sink into sleep. I can’t stop thinking about Cam and everything he’s been hiding upstairs. Those shiny, elaborate toys and all the accessories of pain and punishment.
But it’s not punishment, is it? I ask myself. It’s something more: sensual, liberating, respectful. I’ve never known much about sub/dom relationships, but what he described doesn’t sound scary at all. The trust, the surrender…it sounds exciting.
Beautiful.
I imagine myself up there with him. Kneeling on those crimson silk sheets, awaiting his command. I imagine the sound of Cam’s voice as he instructs me to give myself to him in total submission, all the things he would ask me to do.
I saw that look in his eyes when he put the dog collar on me, that electric flash of raw desire. I want him to look at me like that again. To give him every part of me, and see the real man he’s been hiding in exchange.
I twist in the sheets, breathless at the thought of it. I’ve never felt this way before. My whole life, I knew I could never trust anyone to take care of me but myself. Even with Brent, it wasn’t about me: I was infatuated with him for sure, but even then, I was the one tending to his needs, running myself ragged to keep him happy, keep his temper in check.
But Cam…he’s different. Just days with him, and he’s already shown me more compassion and attention than any man before. Rescuing me from the club, offering me a place to stay, tending to my bruised wrists and washing my hair like I was the most important person in the world. He even cooked me breakfast. Cam is thoughtful and kind—with a dark edge that drives me crazy with desire. At his side at the fundraiser, I felt special. Cared for.
Cherished.
Maybe other women would feel weaker, having someone take care of them like this, but I feel stronger for it. It’s like he can see past all my pretense, all my elaborate charades, to the real person underneath. The Isabelle I keep hidden from everyone: the broken, imperfect girl who’s been running from her past so long she’s sick of trying. With Cam, all that fades away. He strips me bare, until I’m nothing but pure, raw desire.
I know that if I gave myself to him, he would be true to his word. He would never push me further than I was ready to go.
But the world he could show me…
It’s dizzyingly erotic.
My phone rings, loud in the dark, silent room. I snatch it up eagerly, hoping it’s Cam, but instead, I hear Brent’s voice blaring, drunk and angry on the line.
“I’ve had enough of your fucking games!” he yells, slurring his words. “Get your ass back home right now. What the fuck do you think you’re playing at? Are you trying to make me mad?”
My body clenches with fear. Why won’t he just leave me alone? There was a time I would’ve done anything to please him. I needed him. His approval and attention meant everything to me.
But that was before he broke my trust forever. And then I met Cam, and discovered what it felt like to really want someone. To not feel used for my money or affection, but to be cared for and protected.
I know what it’s like to be valued now. And I’m not going to let Brent push me around anymore.
I brace myself. “Stop it!” I bark. Brent falls silent in shock. “I’m not coming back. At least not as long as you’re there, in my apartment,” I add. “I’m the one paying rent, remember? So you might not want to sit there yelling and screaming at me, since I’m the one who’s keeping you afloat.”
“Bullshit,” he slurs. “You owe me.”
“For what?”
His laugh turns cruel. “For keeping your dirty little secret.”
I freeze.
“How would you like me to call up Dad’s right hand douchebag, Cam, and tell him everything? Yeah, I know where you’ve been hiding,” he adds. “You little slut, spreading your legs for the first guy to look your way. Does he like what I’ve taught you?” he demands.
Bile rises in my throat. I fight back the tears. “You can tell him anything you want,” I vow. “He already knows about our relationship.”
.
“You think this is about us?” Brent’s voice is low and menacing. “That’s not what I’m talking about, little sister. Remember, I know all of your secrets. Every last, dirty lie.”
Oh, God!
I sit up in bed, my heart pounding. “You don’t mean…” I whisper, fear suddenly like ice in my veins.
“What? That dear, sweet little Isabelle Ashcroft isn’t as innocent as she looks?” I can hear the satisfaction in Brent’s voice. It chills me to the core, but I fight to stay strong. He thinks he’s got me cornered, and the thought gives me the strength to call his bluff.
“So what happens next?” I demand, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fact that I’m shaking with fear. “I’m the only thing keeping you from being totally broke, remember? Your trust fund was stripped away—you have nothing, but I still do.”
There’s a long pause. I’m betting everything on Brent’s greed right now, and I can only pray it’s enough to keep him from doing something stupid.
“What do I get for keeping quiet?” his voice finally comes.
I exhale in re
lief. “I won’t kick you out of the apartment—for now,” I tell him. “But you have to leave me alone. It’s over, Brent, I’m not putting up with your bullshit anymore.”
“You’ll stick around until I say otherwise.” Brent gives me a final threat, and then hangs up.
I catch my breath, hugging my covers tight around myself.
Stupid, stupid girl. I can’t believe I ever trusted him—but I’m paying for it now. All my awful secrets come flooding back. The shame and guilt that’s haunted me for years. I thought I’d left that life behind forever, but it’s shadowed me every day since then.
Will I ever be free from the past?
My phone beeps with a text.
I want 10k in my account—or I’ll tell him everything.
I throw my phone down in anger.
Brent thinks he can control me with threats, as if I were still the same naïve, trusting girl he manipulated all those years ago. But that’s not who I am anymore, and I won’t bend to him again.
I’m my own woman now, and this time, I’m finally going after what I want.
TWELVE: CAM
It’s almost 2 am by the time I pick a woman at the bar to try and block out thoughts of Isabelle for good. She’s a lithe, short-haired brunette wearing a cropped, latex body suit: a club regular I’ve seen around the floor before, but never invited to scene with me.
She’s completely different from Isabelle, but maybe something different is just what I need to wash this taste of desperate longing from my mouth.
I lead her to a private room. We don’t exchange names
