by Jenna Jacob
My eyelids drooped shut as if cast under a hypnotic spell. The chaos dancing in my mind began to settle, then still.
“Good girl.” The pride lacing his words sent a shiver through me. “I want you to clear your mind. Forget about this place. The dungeon. Your fears. Your insecurities. All of it, and focus only on the sound of my voice.”
After brushing a sweet kiss over each of my eyelids and one to my forehead, Sam continued. “Think back on all the times we’ve made love. Feel my hands, my lips, my tongue nibbling and sucking on your milk-chocolate skin. Feel my fingers and cock stretching and filling your silky, hot pussy, stretching past the tight rim of your heavenly ass. Can you feel me…feel me driving deep inside your sinful body?”
His enticing words sent nectar spilling over my folds. “Yes,” I whispered.
“Listen…you can hear your panted whimpers and moans filling the air. I hear them, too…all the time. I can see you writhing beneath me clinging so desperately to that orgasm blazing inside you. Can you see us, hear us, smell us, Cin?”
The erotic images he painted filled my mind. Every cell in my body ignited.
“Yes,” I breathlessly whispered.
“Feel my hand wrapped around your wrists, pinning your arms above your head. You’re flying high and hard. Fighting your own need…your own desire as you struggle and wait for my command. You’d do anything to hold back that sweet release for me because I asked you to. Helplessly you wait for me to say that one word. Knowing you’re at my mercy…and that I’ll grant your permission in my own time feels almost freeing, doesn’t it? It feels as if I’ve taken the world off your shoulders. And you ache to release all responsibility…bask in a feeling of completeness like you’ve never known before. Am I right, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” I groaned.
“And when I tell you to hold back for me, it’s not simply because I want to shatter with you, explode to the heavens as your hot, tight cunt sucks the come from my balls. I tell you to wait because it feeds every dark, dirty fantasy crawling around inside me. But it’s not just about me…it’s always about you. The reason you fight that natural-born compulsion to come—because you want to please me. And that fills you with a sense of empowerment, doesn’t it?”
His moist breath spilled over my lips as Sam brought every sinful sensation to life. My skin felt hot and alive, and I could almost feel his strong, naked body pressed to mine. Feel his thick cock stretching and thrusting inside my pussy…pressing past the tender rim of my ass. I could even smell the scent of our blending musk—thick and heady—as it filled the air, permeated my senses, and made me dizzy. But of all the imagery coloring my mind, I fixated on Sam’s uncompromising fist, wrapped tight around my wrists and holding me in place.
“Yes,” I whimpered pitifully.
“Giving me that control turns you inside out. I know, because I watch you…feel you clutch me tight inside you, hear you scream, and savor every fucking orgasm. You never knew giving me all that power had a name. It’s called submission. You’ve been doing just that from the very start.”
“Oh, god,” I whimpered.
“Have you ever wondered what makes the connection between us so powerful? It’s because you find the missing pieces of your soul when you submit to me.”
My eyes flew open wide. My mouth gaped in shock. A wave of dread slammed through me. I wanted to call him a liar…force him to take back his words. But I couldn’t, because everything he said was true. The spine-tingling pleasures Sam elicited when he turned all alpha in bed blew my mind.
Still, just because I enjoyed the things he did, didn’t mean I was some lap dog who rolled over so he could get his dominant rocks off.
I was not a submissive!
At that moment, I wanted to take back every moan, scream, and orgasm he’d dragged out of me to prove that point. But the past was over. I couldn’t go back and change my reactions.
And dammit, I felt as if he’d played me to the hilt.
A rolling blaze of resentment thundered through me. Fury spiked, right along with my blood pressure, as I shot him an angry glare.
“Don’t you dare go there, Allisinda,” he snarled. His jaw ticked, his nostrils flared, and his lips flattened to a thin, tight line.
The only time Sam called me by my given name was when he was buried balls deep inside me. But I’d never heard him say it in such a savage tone. Usually he called my name in a strained, husky, or reverently soft timbre.
Every muscle in my body tensed.
“Don’t do this to me or our relationship. Everything I feel for you is real. Every kiss, lick, nibble, and caress I slide up and down your body turns you into an uninhibited dream. Everything I do to you is from my heart. Don’t start painting me as some kind of villain.”
Sam’s cool, controlled veneer had cracked. Seeing this unfamiliar side of him should have frightened me, but it didn’t. I found it sexy as hell—in a weird erotic way.
You are fucked up beyond repair, my conscience inwardly chided.
I didn’t know what to say to the man. The logical part of my brain was mired in lust; everything else was swirling in a cyclone of indignation mixed with denial. I couldn’t form a single syllable.
“Do you honestly think I’m playing some kind of game with you?” Sam asked incredulously.
Yes, my brain implored.
No, replied the embers of reckless hope smoldering in my heart.
“I’m not,” he spat, then sucked in a deep breath. “I’m simply trying to open your eyes, expand your mind, and prove that, deep down inside, you crave my Dominance.”
Did I? I had no idea. Sam had pried open a door inside me…a door I never knew existed. Questions spilled into my head in a deluge.
Why did I become so excited when he pinned my arms above my head? Was the chemistry between us so potent because I secretly craved his control? Or was it nothing more than pure animal instinct, some rogue genome that had failed to fully mutate over the millennia?
I needed facts…logic to disprove Sam’s claims. Obviously trying to convince him that I didn’t possess the DNA to morph into a spineless, robotic doormat was futile. And why should I have to convince him of anything? I didn’t owe him anything. And I certainly didn’t need to compromise my morals or beliefs to satisfy any man. Not even Sam.
The clouds of confusion parted, revealing an angry red sky. Either he accepted me the way I was—competent, strong, and totally kink-free—or not at all.
As I leveled him with a caustic glare, a part of me hoped he would turn to ash, like a vampire exposed to sun. When that didn’t happen, I sucked in a deep breath and lifted my chin. “Listen, Sam. You may need a lifestyle where slavery holds some twisted, exalted meaning, but I have no desire to be strung up, tied, or chained to your bed and certainly not any of that weird furniture out there.” I jerked my head toward the archway. “I won’t ever let you strip me of my self-worth, or play victim to your kinky perversions.”
A wicked smirk curled his lips. “I’ve already tied you up a million times in my mind. But I’d walk the fuck away from you before I tried to force you to do anything you didn’t want to.” An arctic expression lined his face. “Just so we both have our facts straight. Every time we made love, it was one hundred and ten percent consensual. I might be a pervert in your eyes, but I’ve never forced a woman to do anything she didn’t want to, including you. Are we clear on that?”
His sharp, defensive tone told me I’d hit a button—a big hot one.
The dream of our break-up remaining civil flew out the window. This was going to turn downright nasty. That fact filled me with sadness. I didn’t want this to end with some big, ugly fight. I had to work with the man, for crying out loud. Animosity would be obvious, and Dr. Dipshit would have the perfect excuse to fire my incompetent ass.
Things had been so perfect with Sam, but now it had all taken a disastrous turn.
“I said, are we clear?” he repeated.
I issued a tiny no
d. Sam eased back, then cupped my elbow once again. As he led me toward the back door, I let out an inward sigh. Finally. We were actually leaving this horrific place. Near the blessed exit, Sam turned into an alcove and began ushering me up a flight of stairs. Freedom fizzled out like a faulty bottle rocket.
Clearly, he wasn’t done convincing me of my submissive tendencies.
Wonderful.
I had to give the man credit, he was as stubborn and obstinate as me. Surely he didn’t think I’d be receptive to his persuasion tactics, did he? Evidently, because Sam didn’t blink an eye as he opened an ornately carved wooden door and walked into a normal-looking office. There wasn’t a stick of barbaric furniture in sight.
“We have some time alone until Mika comes up to keep an eye on the private rooms,” Sam stated as he nodded toward a wall covered in monitors. Most were blank, but a few fed images from outside the building.
Sam led me across the room, past a wide mahogany desk, to a leather couch situated in front of a wall of windows. Before I sat down, I peered through the glass. Below was the room with the weird furniture and torture devices on the walls. I noticed people had begun spilling into the room from behind a long red curtain. I assumed that must be the front of the club.
“You’re looking at what we call the dungeon.” Sam’s calm, patient tone had returned. “I know you have a million questions. Let’s sit down so you can ask them. I don’t want there to be any misconceptions about me or what is done here.”
Taking a seat beside him on the couch, I didn’t think I had any misconceptions, but there were far more than a million questions rolling through my head. Of course, only one mattered to me.
“Is this where you and Destiny hook up?”
Sam frowned. “Not for sex, but yes. We meet here at the club.”
“So, since you claim you two aren’t fucking, what exactly is it that you do?” I couldn’t mask the hurt in my tone.
“I help fulfill her submissive needs.”
“Oh, I bet you do,” I scoffed. “Without fucking her? Is that what you want me to believe?”
“I can’t force you to believe anything, Cin. I can only tell you the truth. I don’t have sex with Destiny. In fact, sex has nothing at all to do with this lifestyle. BDSM is an exchange of power. Submissives willingly hand over their control. They crave the boundaries, a known set of rules, a path they aren’t allowed to deviate from. It makes them feel safe. Protected. Secure. A Dominant shoulders the responsibility for the sub’s power—a duty not taken lightly, by the way. The Dom evaluates the sub’s needs and finds individual ways to push their limits. Some can be as simple as giving them a list of chores to accomplish each day, some subs may have their free time and diet regimented. And sometimes Doms incorporate a sexual element to their exchange, like controlling orgasms. In a way, that’s what I do with you.”
“You don’t control my orgasms,” I countered with a humorless laugh. “I always come when we have sex.”
“Yes, but you don’t come until I tell you to, do you?” He smirked.
I opened my mouth to refute him, but there was no snappy comeback to be had. I was lost in visions of Sam controlling Destiny’s orgasms, too. My head was a swarm of jealous wasps. There was no place to hide from the stings of betrayal.
“I’m sure Destiny enjoys the hell out of that,” I drawled derisively.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never touched her in a sexual way, and I never will. I’ve not cheated on you, Cin. I only Top her because it’s what she needs.”
“Oh, how gracious of you,” I replied dryly. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what Top her even means.”
“It means that while I’m not in a Master/slave relationship with her, I provide the dominance in order for her to achieve her submissive needs.”
“And her submissive needs don’t include an orgasm? Right.”
“No, hers don’t. I’m simply a facilitator of stress relief for the girl.”
A ripple of revulsion rolled through me. “You make it sound sterile and impersonal. What exactly is it that you do to her?”
“Destiny is what we, in the lifestyle, refer to as a pain slut. Through pain, she finds a sense of inner peace. Sometimes I use a crop, or dragon tongue, but most times I use the whip…depending on how far she needs to go.”
Sam…my gentle, loving, compassionate Sam, beat women? My stomach pitched in disgust. How? How could he purposely inflict pain on a woman? Did he like doing it? He must: he’d just fucking confessed. Bile rose in the back of my throat. Everything I thought I knew about the man had been wrong…way wrong.
He was nothing but a fake…a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“Everything we do here is consensual. There are rules that every member must adhere to. Safe words are always respected, and there are DM’s—Dungeon Monitors—who make sure each scene is done in a safe, sane, and consensual manner. I’m not a monster, Cin. I’ve never taken a sub past their limit.”
“How do you decide what their limit is?” I asked, managing to push the words past the bitterness in my throat.
“Before I begin a session, or a scene—you’ll see some of those shortly—I talk to the sub, negotiate with them. Find out their hard limits, what they need. With Destiny, I determine if she’s under more stress than usual, and plan my scene accordingly to ensure she purges the pent-up tension inside her.”
“If she’s so stressed that she needs you to beat it out of her, why doesn’t she get a prescription for valium or something?”
He chuckled softly. “I suppose she could, but she’d rather decompress through submission. Drink in the rush of endorphins, dopamine, and serotonin released through pain than obtain relief with pharmaceuticals.”
“So, you beat her in order to make her feel better?” I scoffed. “That’s…that’s messed up. I know a good psychologist. His name’s Tony Delvaggio. He’d have a field day with that.”
Sam tensed, then quickly relaxed, and I realized I’d insulted him. I’d all but called him mentally unstable and in need of a shrink. Oh, well, since I’d already stuck my foot in my mouth, there was no reason to stop now.
“How do you do it, Sam? How do you go from saving women and babies to inflicting pain here as a Dom? Do you have a split personality disorder or something? I mean, those are two extreme personalities. How do you balance them, or do you?”
“First of all, I don’t beat women. I’m not an abusive prick,” he railed before pausing to exhale slowly. “Believe it or not, my personal and professional lives are one and the same.”
I flashed him a look of doubt. “They can’t be. Your reputation would have taken more than a few hits if you were secretly chaining up your patients and smacking them on the ass.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Give me a break, Cin. You know I do nothing of the kind. Patients come to me so that I can make them better. It’s the same with submissives. While my methods are on opposite ends of the spectrum, the end results are actually quite similar. I help them, both physically and mentally.”
“Okay, so assuming you’re not having sex with Destiny, what if she wanted it? Would you give it to her in order to help her release her stress?”
Sam grinned. “My, my. I never knew my little chocolate drop had such a jealous streak.”
I shot him a bitter sneer, at which he simply laughed.
“No. I wouldn’t have sex with her even if she needed it. I’d discuss the situation with Mika and he would find a Dom who could accommodate her needs. But I doubt that will ever happen because cuddling and coddling isn’t what she—”
“Hold up,” I interrupted. “Are you telling me that you Doms just pass her around like she’s a plate of hors d’oeuvres?”
“No. Destiny is a free sub.” I wrinkled my brow in confusion. “She’s not formally owned or under the protection of any specific Dominant. As owner of the club, he pairs the free subs with Dominants he feels can provide guidance for their individual needs, just like he asked me to help Destiny
achieve hers.”
“But why you? Why can’t Mika or some other Dom beat her ass? Why do you have to be the one?”
“I don’t have to do anything, Cin. Neither do you, or anyone else here. I help her because as a Dom I have a responsibility to the free subs and Mika. I’ve also been in the lifestyle a long time and have the skills needed to deliver the kind of pain Destiny needs, without fear of injuring her.”
The idea of Sam being skilled at something so violent sent a chill up my spine.
“So you’re not only a skilled surgeon but a skilled ass whipper as well. That’s good to know,” I drawled sarcastically. “So how does Mika pair you up with pain sluts? Do they have to fill out a questionnaire, like Kink-Match.com or something?”
It was unimaginable to me that someone actually needed pain inflicted on them. I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of handing over my body to be beaten, degraded, or god knows what else.
Sam tossed back his head and laughed. The deep, rich timbre slid over me like sweet molasses and kicked-started sparks low in my belly. Damn him. Why did he always stir such a visceral reaction in me? I wanted to stay mad at the big oaf.
“You do have a wicked green-eyed monster lurking beneath those sexy brown eyes of yours.”
“Stop dodging the subject,” I scolded.
“I’m not trying to dodge anything,” he murmured before brushing a kiss to my lips.
Sam was certainly doing his best to whittle away my defenses. Unfortunately for me, it was working.
Shit.
With a placid smile he trailed a finger down my cheek. “There isn’t any magic formula or a bunch of yes-or no-questions. Mika simply uses his good judgment when aligning unowned subs to Dominants. Personally, I wouldn’t want his job. There are a lot of free subs in the club.”
“How many do you…do things to?” I stammered.
“Only Destiny, but I need to be honest with you, sweetheart. If Mika decided that another sub needed my Dominance to help her grow, I’d have to take his request under serious consideration.”
Well, fuck. That wasn’t at all what I wanted to hear. My heart sank. Not only was I in competition for Sam’s attention with Destiny but a whole horde of needy subs as well. At least he was honest. Though his honesty did nothing but drive another nail into our relationship coffin.
