by Lily Freeman
“What about him? He’s got to be what, six three? And those shoulders, I’m loving those shoulders.” Ash, one of the other new subs’ face held a certain kind of awe as she eyed up a Dom standing in a small group beside them. He did have a dishevelled charm about him, but he wasn’t Master Adam.
“Look at that one, what does that much leather say?” India grinned, running a sharp purple fingernail down Ash’s arm.
“Dungeons, whip, male, we’re safe.”
Safe wasn’t a word PJ would’ve chosen to describe how she was feeling, in fact it was the complete opposite. People were staring at her, not even attempting to hide their interest. She wasn’t blind or stupid, she realised she was dressed like a hooker, granted, a high-class, quirky, Alice in Wonderland inspired hooker, but a hooker all the same. It was part of the game, and maybe that was her problem. She still wasn’t sure she wanted to play. The only reason she had actually agreed to come back tonight after changing her mind repeatedly throughout the week, was because Indy had refused to let the Adam thing go. Every time PJ had wavered, Indy had been waiting with the ‘What if you never meet another man like him?’ and ‘What if he’s the man of your dreams?’ or ‘What if you don’t go back and he’s waiting? What if? What if ….?
What if Indy was wrong and PJ was about to make an absolute fool of herself?
She could always leave, fake a headache and go back to the pub. It was tempting, but she just couldn’t, not yet. She’d give it at least half an hour.
As Luke moved to the far end of the bar, he watched the little group of subs huddle together. Several of the Doms he knew well had approached, introducing themselves and engaging them in conversation. There was one who hadn’t, although he very much looked like he wanted to. Trey stood off to the side, watching the blonde.
Luke didn’t know the man, he barely spoke, didn’t engage often with the subs and never did public scenes, and while he hadn’t heard anything unsavoury about him, he was still too close. With a snap of his fingers Luke summoned the barmaid.
“What can I get for you, Sir?”
“Port, thank you, Victoria. Taylor Fladgate, second on the left.”
The short crystal tumbler appeared a second later, its contents glowing blood red as the recessed lighting behind the bar shone through it. Slowly Luke undid his waistcoat, exposing his shirt. What he really wanted was to drink the port, but that wasn’t going to be happening any time soon. Instead he picked it up, assessing the weight in his hand.
Already he could see the tension leaving Polly Jayne’s body as he stepped closer, cautiously moving through the crowd until he was only a few feet away. Her soft little laugh was captivating, a little bit huskier than he’d have expected. It made him smile, but not as much as the way she moved her hands. She was extremely animated as she talked, her fingers playing through her hair, trying to tame the runaway curls. He took another step closer then another, moving up right behind her.
The sweet sound of her laughter spilled over him again a second before his drink did, her elbow jerking back as she went to cover her mouth.
Music boomed, voices too, then the sharp crack of a whip cut through the room, but in Luke’s world everything was silent. All he could hear was his own heartbeat and hers as she spun around, staring up at him with the most mesmerizing, golden brown eyes he’d ever seen. Her hand came up to cover her plump, glossy lips, just as his curled back into a grin.
Chapter 7
“Oh shit!”
Searching for a serviette, a bar towel, anything, PJ was stopped short as a hand shot out, capturing her wrist.
The impeccably ironed white shirt in front of her was covered in something bright red and it was bleeding, seeping wider and wider by the second. Her gaze rose up, up over a loosened black tie, up over heavy shoulders, a corded neck to a perfectly square jaw, firm, full lips and a long straight nose. His eyes were blue, dark and clear like the Arctic Ocean, his long tawny lashes highlighting their exquisite shape.
“I’m so—sorry.” As her gaze roamed over his face, her mind filtering through images from television, magazines, movies, of the same casually styled hair, a little blond, a little brown and high cheekbones. The man in front of her was a dead-ringer for that Australian actor Simon, something, Baxter, Barber— Fuck, she couldn’t remember, not that it mattered because she’d completely ruined his shirt.
“I’m sorry, can I—?”
“What’s your name, Darling?” His voice was low and gravelly with a faint cockney twang.
“PJ, Sir.”
“First night, huh?”
She nodded, words evading her. He leaned closer, placing the now empty glass on the bar, and that’s when his scent hit her. Clean and masculine with a hint of something sweet, it sent her spinning in a heady mix of fear, apprehension and arousal. But just as she was about to step back, he reached for her, his big hands landing on her shoulders, stroking before they meandered down to capture her wrists.
Too scared to look away, PJ stared at him while he idly plucked the colored bands she’d been given. His hands were graceful, his fingers long and thick, yet when he stopped, abruptly jerking her arms higher, there was something about the gesture that had her heart pounding. Hooking one of the little bands, he pulled it forward, his gaze narrowed on the red latex stretching tight against her wrist.
“Well, PJ, I’m Master Luke and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
It wasn’t Master Adam standing in front of PJ with a devastatingly sweet smile on his face, but she’d always known that was never going to happen. This man however was, and he was gorgeous, yet she couldn’t help feeling like she was about to play out the conversation she’d recently had with Indy. She’d been in the club less than five minutes and already she was in the arms of another man.
“You too, Sir.”
“You’re a Kiwi, huh? Cute accent.”
PJ smiled, it was the best she could do. “I’m so sorry about your shirt.”
“Yes, about my shirt. What do you think we should do?”
She was pretty sure finding a washing machine wasn’t going to be an option. “I’m not sure, Sir, what would you like to do?”
Very slowly he pulled her wrists forward until her palms rested on the wet fabric. It was sticky to the touch and incredibly warm.
“I think,” he pressed her hands harder, forcing her fingers apart, “I’d like to take it off.”
A second later her fingers were in his mouth being sucked and nipped, his tongue curling around the tips till she groaned.
“And, I’d really like you to help since technically you made the mess. Then of course there’s the little issue of a punishment.”
This time he bit her, not hard, but with enough pressure that she gasped.
“Yes … Sir.” Oh Christ, this was suddenly becoming very real and moving fast.
“That would be Master, Darling.”
“Yes, Master.”
“So what’s your safe word then?”
One hand continued to hold her wrists, the other caressed her cheek, gently sweeping the curls back from her face. Her heart was racing so fucking fast, she couldn’t think. Images of fruit, household objects, cleaning products, television characters, all of them popped into her head and all of them were ridiculous. Her lips opened, closed, opened again just as a kiss whispered across her cheek, his face remaining incredibly close to hers.
“Do you need some help?”
“No, Master Luke, it’s—,” ‘Luke … I’m your father.’ “Vader.”
His smile was devastating. “As in Darth?”
Fuck, she was so lame. “Yes … Master.”
“That’s brilliant. So, you’ve got a safe word and you’ve earned your first punishment. Would you like to play?” Reaching behind him, Master Luke retrieved a set of black leather handcuffs, soft white fur lining the inside.
She nodded, no longer trusting herself to speak, but the raised brow she received had the words tumbling from her lips. “Yes
, Master.” Oh shit—shit. Her stomach revolted, churning repeatedly as a sense of utter panic took over.
“That’s my girl.”
With a teasing finger, he traced a line down her cheek and under her chin, lifting her face up to meet his. His smile was genuine, reaching his eyes, which were watching everything, especially when he slowly cuffed her wrists, one at a time. With a sweep of his finger, he tested the snugness before her hands were clipped together.
“Master Luke, I see you’ve met some of our new subs, I take it you’re not scaring the young lady?”
The immaculately cut black suit of the man beside Master Luke spoke of nothing but authority and power. Not a thread was out of place, not a hair on his head, the silver and black strands styled artfully above his piercing hazel eyes.
“Evening, Gabe, I’ve met one of them and I don’t think I’m scaring her too much.”
As Master Luke pivoted into the light, the stark white of his shirt contrasted shockingly with the stain now covering it.
“You appear to be wearing your drink, Luke, her fault or yours?”
PJ’s wrists were raised again, scrutinized, the same red band singled out before the two men glanced at each other.
“Just a well timed accident. But now we have a reason to get to know each other, don’t we, Darling?”
Darling? That was her. “Yes, Master.”
The infamous owner of Bond Street who she’d heard so much about at the intro night gave her a smile, Luke a nod, then he moved on, approaching a Dom loitering at the bar.
“Shall we?”
Risking a quick look over her shoulder, PJ’s gaze met India’s. Her grin was massive in a ‘you’re going to thank me later’, kind of way. PJ wasn’t quite feeling it. She’d read that the anticipation of not knowing what was going to happen could be like an aphrodisiac, but all she felt was fear, trepidation and an unnerving loss of control. Especially when Master Luke led her around the dance floor to a set of large black double doors at the far end of the room. He waited as she stepped through, the door shutting with a small click. With barely enough light to see three feet in front of her, PJ took a step then stopped, unsure where to go.
“Master …?” His breath touched her first, tickling her cheeks as he pressed up hard against her back, his damp shirt hitting her bare skin. The scent of hot man and sweet port was heavy in the air.
“I’m going to give you a choice, should we go left or right?”
How was she supposed to know? PJ had never made it this far into the club, but in his defense, Master Luke didn’t know that, he hadn’t been at the intro night.
“Umm, left, Master.”
“Good girl.”
His warmth retreated before her wrists were gently tugged forward, one step, two, then a turn to the left where a door stood open. One more nudge and she was through. Light spilled down from above illuminating the large room. With her bound hands trembling against her thighs, PJ gazed around. The ornate four-poster bed in the center of the room was the only piece of furniture, but unlike the one she had just purchased, this one had chains dangling from numerous points and metal hooks screwed into the wooden surrounds.
She turned, then instantly regretted it. Running along the wall beside her were all kinds of wicked objects. Floggers, whips, paddles, masks as well as gags and some other objects she’d honestly never seen before and hopefully never would again.
Before her fear could completely suffocate her, Master Luke stepped forward, unclipping her cuffs. Casually he shook off his waistcoat then he just stood there, staring at her with an intensity that had her looking down, to the left, right, anywhere.
“Look at me, Darling.”
Reluctantly she did and he rewarded her with an incredibly beautiful smile.
“Good girl. Now, I’d like you to take this shirt off.”
That, PJ could do. He stood perfectly still as she moved forward, reaching for the little white buttons. Her hands were trembling so much it took forever to undo the first three, but with each one, more of his exquisite body was revealed to her. His shoulders were wide, heavy with muscle, all of them bulging as he shrugged, his shirt falling behind him with a wet slap. Peeking up, PJ found nothing but a sweet smile and dimples.
“Your turn now.”
What? Did she want that, to be naked in front of a total stranger? What if he didn’t like her body? What if … no, no, no, she was not going down that road. Until Sam, and to a degree, Derrick had annihilated her self-esteem, she’d had absolutely no issues with her body, her face, her personality, any of it, but over the last year, all that had changed. Indy was right, Sam had done a real number on her and the worst thing was, she was only just starting to realise it. While she battled against her emotional scars, Master Luke had moved forward, his hands slowly gliding over her thighs before disappearing under her dress. The stiff black taffeta rustled as he worked the bow at the back then all she felt was cool air. One more tug of the ties at her nape and her dress fell to the floor.
Miss PJ Lester was absolutely fucking glorious as she stood trembling in front of Luke wearing an elaborate array of white lacy lingerie. But his poor little girl looked like she was about to collapse, she was so pale and that just wouldn’t do.
He needed to give her some rules so she had something to focus on that wasn’t her mounting anxiety.
“I’d like you to kneel, right here by the bed.”
Taking a step back, Luke sat down on the edge with his thighs spread, his feet to either side of the little Persian rug which sat on the floor. With every step she took the blush in her cheeks darkened, until she sank gracefully to her knees before him. How many times over the last week had he dreamed of this exact moment? And yet the reality was so much better.
“Relax. I just want to get to know you better before we play.”
“Yes, Master.”
The way she whispered those words had his cock pulsing with a need he could no longer deny. “Is this your first time in a club?”
“It’s my first real time, yes.”
She couldn’t have worded that statement better. Any lingering doubts that Luke had regarding her reaction to Adam Mackenzie, up and vanished. Clearly he was little more than a distant memory, one that in the next ten minutes would soon be replaced by some of him.
“That pleases me very much. I can’t tell you how honored I am to be the one to introduce you to this.”
Her gaze shot to the wall, her body tensing. He could see she was terrified, yet she wore red. Still, she wouldn’t be the first new sub to tick all the boxes without understanding the repercussions of that decision.
“Have you ever been spanked or struck with anything?”
“No, Master … never.”
He heard the stutter, saw her rapidly beating pulse, the flush of her cheeks.
Something in his chest clenched tight, with guilt perhaps, that he wanted someone so innocent when his own needs were not. He might be able to curb them temporarily, but Gabe was right. Luke was a sadist; his pleasure came from inflicting pain, mentally or physically, either way it satisfied him. Whether it would satisfy her was still up for debate.
“Oh, Baby, you’re going to be fine, just trust me.”
Her beautiful eyes latched onto him, watching as he caught a stray curl, twisting it around his finger till the ends wove together. Slowly, leaning close, he tickled her cheek until she smiled, trying to wiggle away from him.
“Uh uh. Did I say you could move?”
“No, Master.”
Hooking a finger under her bra strap, Luke slipped the fine silk off her shoulder, revealing one glorious breast before he released the other. Her little rosy nipples drew tight, begging him to touch and to taste, so he did, sucking her into his mouth and swirling his tongue until she moaned in delight. Did she really want pain with her pleasure or pleasure with her pain? He didn’t mind which way it happened, but he desperately wanted to know if it would.
Glancing up, he found her g
aze, holding it for longer than she would probably have liked, then he bit her, catching her nipple hard between his teeth. Her eyes fluttered shut, her back arched, pushing her breast harder against his lips.
“Open your eyes.”
She responded instantly, her eyes locking on his face as he cupped her breast, raising it before he sucked her rock-hard nipple back between his teeth.
“Ahhh.”
Oh fuck, fuck … fuck!
PJ’s nipples were throbbing so fucking hard as she was gently lifted to her feet. Her stay-ups were peeled down, her knickers too then both were thrown carelessly behind her, along with her shoes. He left her, standing naked while he picked up two large pillows, returning to place them over the footboard. Then with a little tug Master Luke pulled a thick silver chain down from the crossbeam, and dropped it in the center of the bed.
“Has anyone ever restrained you, Darling?”
Sam had, only once and he’d been drunk, falling asleep halfway through making love to her. “Not really.”
Master Luke quirked a brow at that. “Well, we’ll start off with your arms and see how we go.”
“Okay.” She could cope with that.
“Good girl. Now, I want you standing right at the end, hips against the pillows then offer me your wrists.”
One step, that’s all PJ had to take and then what? She simply gave herself to this man, let him do whatever he wanted?
She froze, literally went rigid on the spot. Who was he? She knew nothing about him other than the name he’d chosen to give her, which given the location of their introduction, could have been like her dress, something he’d picked out for the evening. He could be a criminal, although she doubted it, he was far too clean cut, but he could be married, his wife out in the main bar happily chatting away while he played with someone else.
PJ glanced up, taking in the graceful curve of his hands as he waited. She couldn’t see the tell tale signs of a wedding ring, and she couldn’t procrastinate any longer either. He’d said trust, the one word that should have reassured her. It didn’t. If anything it frightened her more than the implements of torture hanging on the wall.
