UndoneDiva

by Lila Dubois

  Emory took a moment to compose himself before turning his attention back to her. She’d taken a seat in the chair across from him. She was wearing her jacket and her face was a cool mask, only her eyes showing inner turmoil.

  Emory smiled blandly—his client smile—and pulled his notepad and pen toward himself. “Perhaps we could be more honest about the situation surrounding this video and the extortion attempt.”

  “You seem to know a lot about it.”

  “About the video? No, all I have is supposition.”

  “Not about the video. About…me.”

  Emory steepled his fingers, pressing his thumbs into his lower lip. He studied her for a moment, then said, “Though I don’t normally discuss my personal life with clients, in this case I think it’s only fair. I am an active player in the BDSM community. I’m a Dom.”

  Sasha licked her lower lip, then leaned back in her chair to study him. “I can see it. You as a Dom.”

  “I tell you only because it seems fair that you understand where my knowledge base comes from.”

  “Is that how you talk when you’re topping? All studious and boring.”

  “That’s not relevant to this conversation.”

  “It’s not? You just got me on my knees, I think I’m entitled to be a little more personal.”

  “My apologies for that. I needed to confirm my understanding of the situation.”

  “And what is your,” she crossed her legs, dark eyes flashing, “understanding of the situation?”

  “You’re a high-profile woman. Your sexual needs are the antithesis of your actor’s brand. I can only assume that in order to meet your sexual needs you’ve been seeking out professional Dominants, or men you trust not to betray your secret. Since that trust has been betrayed, I further assume you put your faith in the wrong man, or that he realized there was more money to be had through blackmail rather than merely the payment you gave him for services rendered.”

  “I didn’t hire a hooker.” Sasha snarled the words. “You think I need to pay for my needs?”

  “It might be safer to have involved a professional. If you didn’t hire a sex professional, then how did you meet the man in the video?”

  She uncrossed her legs and sighed. For a moment her fierce expression slipped and she looked tired and a little scared. Emory blinked in surprise. It was the first time he’d really thought of her or seen her as a person, rather than a client. Unexpectedly, his heart clenched for her.

  “I found him on a message board. I never told him my real name, I had Sean run a background check on him before I went out to meet him.”

  “Why Columbus?”

  “That’s where he is. I lied and said I lived nearby. I always leave the state. Usually people will say that I remind them of someone, but no one has ever figured out who I am. Until now.”

  “We’ll put aside how dangerous it is to meet men out of state, without your bodyguards, and focus on this instance.” Emory made a quick note of what she’d told him so far, then said, “What concerns me is what may be out there besides the tape itself.”

  Sasha’s brows drew together in confusion for a moment, then her eyes widened. “Oh fuck.”

  Emory nodded grimly. “You signed a BDSM contract, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I did. I thought I was being smart.”

  “It’s the responsible thing to do.”

  “Until you get blackmailed. Fuck!” Sasha smacked her hands on the arms of the chair and pushed to her feet. Anger radiated off her.

  “Do you have your copy of the contract?”

  “No, I threw it away. I assumed I was done with it.”

  “We can assume he retained his. Did you fill it out by hand?”

  “No, we negotiated the contract and the contents of the session online. But I signed it.”

  “With your real name.”

  “No. You might not believe it, but I’m not stupid.”

  “I would think you’re stupid if you hadn’t negotiated or signed the contract. What concerns me is that even if you signed a false name it will be possible to match your handwriting. If this were to go public someone would go to the trouble of matching your handwriting, were he to sell not only the video but also the contract.”

  “It’s not just the contract. I also signed a Risk-Aware Consensual Kink form.”

  “Appropriate.”

  “Stupid. God, how could I be so dumb!”

  She pressed her fists to her forehead and paced.

  “Sasha, please remain calm.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Tell me about the man in the video.”

  “His name is Don, Donald Sawatsky. He’s been part of the scene in Columbus for ten years. I emailed one of his regular subs, who said he was a good Dom. Like I said, I had Sean do a background check. He’s an insurance broker or insurance adjuster. Something boring.”

  “Did he give any indication of knowing you when you were with him?”

  “No.”

  “How was the blackmail threat delivered?”

  “It came to Sean’s office. He said it just came in the mail.”

  “So he identified you, then found the address for your manager.”

  “Yes. There was the flash drive and a demand for $100,000. He said I had three days to pay and he wanted the money transferred to his account.”

  “An offshore account?”

  “No idea. It was…ten digits I think. I stared at it plenty.”

  “I’ll get it from Sean, but that sounds like a domestic account. I don’t think this man is a professional blackmailer who intentionally sought you out.”

  “And again, fuck. I never even thought of that. If that were true, it would mean that people knew, that people could find out…” Her voice trailed off.

  “There’s no need to panic, as it seems that it’s not the case here. It sounds like a case of someone being opportunistic.”

  Sasha braced her hands on the back of the chair she’d been sitting in and bent at the waist, bowing her head. Her position was vaguely reminiscent of how she’d been in the video—bent, ready to be used. Emory wanted her like that. He wanted her.

  “This problem is solvable.” Emory already had a few ideas of how to make this go away. All of them legal, none of them ethical.

  “It is?”

  “Yes. I’ll need everything Sean has, but I anticipate that we can take care of this. Please do not worry.”

  “Right. That’ll be easy to do. My whole life hangs in the balance, and your advice is to relax.”

  “There’s nothing you can do. You came to me. I’ll take care of it now. As your attorney, I’m advising you to have no contact with,” Emory checked his notes, “Mr. Sawatsky.”

  Sasha met his gaze. There was a tense moment when he could see she was battling against her fear and anger, then she nodded and dropped into the chair.

  “I’ll keep my distance.” She picked up her glasses from the other chair where they rested with her hat and fiddled with them. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Emory glanced back to his computer screen and the frozen grainy image of her naked body. He closed the paused video and faced Sasha once more. “I have another piece of advice, which you’re not going to like.”

  She raised a brow.

  “You cannot have BDSM sessions anymore.”

  Sasha tensed. “I’ll be more careful.”

  “No. It’s too risky. You’re lucky you haven’t faced this issue earlier. If this video were made public, I can only assume that anyone else you’ve been with, especially if they remarked on your resemblance to the actress Sasha Brazil, would come out of the woodwork, looking for their moment in the sun.”

  “If you’re really in the scene then you know I can’t just…put away my feelings, my needs.”

  “I completely understand, but unless you have the luxury of living the lifestyle full time, you need to protect your vanilla life. For you, the only foolproof way of protecting
Sasha Brazil is to keep the needs of Sasha,” he had to search his mind for a moment for her real last name, “Menezes as secret as possible.”

  “I have no desire to be some full-time house slave.” She sneered the words.

  “That’s your choice, but not the point I was trying to make.”

  “I know your point. You think I have to be some kind of nun.”

  “No. I’m saying you need to find someone trustworthy, maybe a full-time partner—”

  “No,” she shouted the word, nearly coming out of her chair. For a moment Emory was sure he could see fear in her eyes. “I won’t do that a—”

  She cut herself off, turning her face away, but Emory was sure she’d been about to say “again”. Perhaps she’d had a bad experience with a regular partner, or in mixing a relationship with BDSM play.

  “There are several men in L.A.’s BDSM community I know and trust. I could introduce you.”

  “No. I don’t play in L.A.”

  Interesting. He’d have to find out more about her past.

  “Sasha, you need to understand—”

  “I do understand, I’m the one being blackmailed. You don’t seem to understand.” She threw her glasses against the wall where they fell to the ground, broken.

  Slowly, Emory rose. “Control yourself, Sasha.”

  She glanced toward him. There was only a moment of contact, but in that meeting of gazes Emory saw her need and knew what she wanted.

  She was going to throw a tantrum, let out the anger and fear she was feeling. She was going to do it so he’d have a reason to punish her.

  This sub needed, wanted, a spanking.

  Chapter Two

  Sasha whipped around, need, anger and fear all roiling and bubbling inside her in a chaotic mix. The past few days had been a nightmare and she had nowhere to put those feelings. She wanted, needed to be touched, to be dominated. And right now she wouldn’t settle for just anyone. She wanted her sexy lawyer’s hands on her.

  It was quite the coincidence that her lawyer, whom she’d never even met before today, was a Dom. But then again, if there was one thing Hollywood had taught her, it was that people were always darker and more fucked up than they pretended to be. Everyone had a secret, and hers was in jeopardy.

  “Control yourself, Sasha.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do. You work for me.” She was taunting him, hoping to goad him into giving her a way of letting out these terrible feelings.

  “No, I don’t work for you. I’m your attorney, not your housekeeper.” He was standing in front of his desk, hands casually in his pockets, the sides of his jacket pulled back to reveal his waistcoat. He was buttoned up, so prim and proper, but he looked good enough to eat. His shoulders were broad, his waist trim.

  “Well then, do your fucking job.”

  “Sasha, enough.”

  “No, not enough.” Sasha stalked toward him. She hoped he couldn’t see that inside she was scared. All she wanted him to see was the anger, the brattiness she couldn’t seem to help.

  “Sasha, if you need something—”

  “What I need, is for you to do what I pay you for, and not just stand there telling me how to run my life.”

  Her face was inches from his. She could see the ring of darker blue around the outside of his irises. He smelled good, a cologne she couldn’t place on top of the smell of man.

  “Don’t raise your voice to me.”

  “Or what?” Sasha raised one hand, prepared to shove him.

  She never got the chance.

  Emory grabbed her wrist. Stepping away from the desk, he jerked her forward. Sasha grunted at she stumbled, but Emory turned her arm, pulling it up behind her back. His other hand went around her waist. He pulled her close and whispered in her ear, “You’re getting a spanking.”

  In the next breath he’d forced her down over his desk. He grabbed her other wrist and pulled it to the small of her back, shackling both wrists with one hand. The wood was smooth and cold against her cheek. Sasha closed her eyes when he reached under her and undid her pants. A voice in her head said she should protest, she should push him away and fight a bit to mask how great her need really was. But she didn’t want to fight, she wanted to be dominated.

  He jerked her pants off her ass, pushing them down around her thighs where they bound her legs together. Sasha jumped when Emory touched her bare bottom. His fingers skimmed along the edge of her panties, which looked modest, but were cut high in the back to show off her ass. Then he explored the seam down the middle, running his fingers back and forth along the crease of her ass. His fingers paused to stroke the rosette of her anus through the fabric, rubbing her until she was trembling with arousal.

  “Yes, please,” she whispered.

  He jerked her panties, pressing the fabric hard against her sex, then roughly pulled each side of her panties to the center, exposing the cheeks of her ass and tucking the fabric between her buttocks.

  “You will thank me after each strike.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “You will not move from this position.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “We begin.”

  The first spank landed, the slap loud and sharp in the otherwise quiet office. Sasha exhaled as the tingling pain spread through her bottom. Oh yes, this is what she needed, wanted.

  “One, thank you, Sir.”

  The second, third and fourth blows landed. Her ass filled with heat. Each breath she took smelled of paper, furniture polish and man. She licked her lips, her cheek rubbing against the polished wood of the desk. Her “thank you”s fell from her lips in quiet puffs of air.

  After the tenth spank, he rested his hand against her ass.

  “I’m going to touch you, intimately. Because we don’t have an understanding or a contract, I want to ensure that you’re amenable to being touched this way.”

  Sasha smiled to herself, amused that she’d been right—he did talk all prim and proper when he was topping. But the thought, and the amusement, were fleeting. The more important feeling was that her emotions had morphed from a frenetic need to be dominated to belly-deep sexual arousal.

  “Yes, I’m…amenable.”

  “Very well.” He released her wrists. “Reach up and grab the edge of the desk. You’re not to let go.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  Sasha grabbed the edge of the desk, her stiff shoulders groaning. He pulled her panties down around her thighs, the fabric dragging over her abused skin. Emory switched to her other side, his right hand resting on the small of her back. His left hand rubbed her thigh, her ass. Grumbling with frustration, Sasha arched her back, pressing her belly into the desk and tilting her hips, trying to entice him to touch her wet, needy core.

  He didn’t take the bait, didn’t obey her. His fingers continued their slow exploration of her exposed ass. Only when it seemed that she’d go mad from her need did he give her what she wanted.

  His hand skimmed the inside of her thigh, up to her sex. Two fingers slipped between the lips of her sex, then pushed deep into her. Sasha moaned in pleasure, her body arching. His fingers were buried in her, his thumb stretched up to rest in the cleft of her ass, pressing on her anus while the knuckle of his ring finger rubbed her clit.

  He pulled his fingers out, then thrust them deep.

  “Yes, please. Yes,” she begged.

  He worked his fingers in and out of her. Pleasure slithered and twined in Sasha’s belly. She was gripping the desk so hard her fingers hurt. She couldn’t hold still, she didn’t even try.

  Smack.

  He slapped her quivering ass as he finger-fucked her. The small, sharp blows filled the air with the sound of flesh-on-flesh contact, the sounds barely louder than her gasps of pleasure. That bit of pain pushed her over the edge.

  Sasha pushed up on her elbows, hands curled into claws against the wood as a deep orgasm shuddered through her. He kept pumping, his knuckle now rubbing her clit in quick circles. It kept her on the edge of orgasm, dancing
that point between pleasure and ecstasy.

  When there was no more in her, she collapsed on the desk, panting heavily.

  “Beautiful.”

  Emory worked his fingers in and out of her a few more times, though he stayed away from her too-sensitive clit. The reminder that he could do with her body as he pleased sent a fresh shudder of pleasure through her.

  Finally, Emory withdrew his fingers. He pulled her panties up over her ass.

  “You may dress.”

  Sasha took a moment to gather herself before pushing off the desk. She turned her back on him, not wanting to face him. She pulled up and fastened her pants, hissing between her teeth when the fabric touched her abused ass.

  She was sweaty and sticking to her clothes. She shed her jacket and folded it over the back of one of his guest chairs, tracing the stitching in the leather with two fingers as she forced her sub deep down inside where she kept her hidden. It always took her some time to come back to her public persona after a session, even one as brief as this. Uncomfortable moments like this, when she was neither movie-star Sasha Brazil nor needy sub Sasha, were scary for her.

  “Sasha.”

  “I need a moment,” she whispered.

  “No. Face me.”

  Sasha wavered, still caught between her need to obey a Dom and her need to tell her lawyer to go fuck himself.

  Choosing the easy path, she turned to face him, gaze lowered.

  “You’re a beautiful submissive.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Until I’ve taken care of the issue you brought me today, I’d like you to be as discreet as possible.”

  Sasha’s lips twisted with distaste at his words, but he wasn’t done.

  “That’s why I’d like you to come to me.”

  She looked up for a moment. Their gazes met and held.

  “Come to you…as a sub.”

  “Yes. I believe we would enjoy each other, and it would protect you from another situation like the one you’re in.”

  Sasha blinked, not sure how to feel. Sexually, she wanted him to touch her again, but the cold-blooded proposal was off-putting.

  “Thank you but I will be more careful.”