by Mimi Tulane
Jocelyn resolved that maybe one day she too would have that elusive mystery called true love…but only on her terms. For now she would be content to rule her small kingdom with a firm but careful hand. As her eyes scanned tonight’s crowd, she spied a small group of lifers that were attempting to engage in public play that was better suited for a playroom. She motioned to Rasheed, bringing his attention to them. “Rasheed, will you kindly offer that group use of a playroom and remind them of the house rules? All public scenes in the Velvet Fantasy must obtain prior authorization and only after a consultation with management.”
“I’m on it,” he said, then strolled over to where they had gathered to relay and enforce her orders.
The Dominant of the group approached the dais and offered his apologies to her, accepting her invite to use one of her playrooms. Respect between Doms was fostered at the Velvet Fantasy, and proper courtesy was just plain good etiquette. She inclined her head in regal fashion and offered the assistance of one of the house switches as well. It was always good business to keep one of her own in close proximity of any private scenes that were sanctioned but not necessarily scheduled through her club.
His acceptance of her offer showed her his intentions were not to offend but to enjoy the atmosphere her club offered. Truly that was what she strived to provide. A safe, sane, and consensual environment where those that subscribed to the lifestyle could come and indulge their needs and take advantage of the support systems she had in place. She had enough of bad scenes and untrained individuals attempting to engage in a lifestyle they had no knowledge or experience within. That was how injuries and, heaven forbid, deaths occurred. Her mind swung back to her earlier run-in with Mark and it reaffirmed her stance—not in her house and not on her watch.
With the matter at hand settled, she returned to surveying the crowd. She noticed that Carmen was wading her way through the melee, looking lovely as always with her hair pulled back tightly, clad in a form-fitting latex catsuit and wearing the house collar. All submissives that worked at the Velvet Fantasy were fully collared and trained. She and Rasheed made sure of it and the process for working there at her establishment was rigorous. Carmen wore her collar with pride—as well she should—for she had earned it.
“Excuse me, Mistress Lady J, Mr. Dupree has arrived. Shall I show him to your parlor?” The parlor was where Jocelyn conducted all her consultations. Carmen’s head was bowed while she awaited instructions with her hands at “parade rest” behind her at the small of her back, which was the preferred form at her club among her staff.
“Yes, Carmen, you may proceed and offer him libations.”
“Thank you, Mistress Lady J, my service is my honor.” Carmen offered a bow before leaving to escort Mr. Dupree to the parlor. Jocelyn had placed Carmen over the house submissives and enlisted her help with all new-hire training for their department. She exemplified the highest form when serving, a testament of the high standards the Velvet Fantasy was well known for.
Rasheed had returned, reporting the group was settled in the Vampire’s Lair. Along with private, themed rooms, the Velvet Fantasy had two dungeons, The Vampire’s Lair and her private dungeon that only she and Rasheed were allowed to use. The dungeons were strictly for private play between seasoned lifers because of the toys and equipment provided there. Rasheed was assured of the proficiency of the visiting Dom and thought as a show of goodwill—and to lessen the sting of the reminder of the house rules—the Dominant might prefer use of a fully equipped dungeon. Jocelyn agreed.
“Ahmad Dupree has arrived. Take over, Cub, until I have returned.” Rising from her seat, she headed for the parlor, leaving Rasheed to look after the club in her absence.
* * * *
Ahmad had arrived early for his consultation and it was a good thing. The line to the entrance was quite long. Security personnel were sharp, something he’d already known from his own reports, His own bodyguard would be there, but he’d instructed him to mingle once they got inside. Per the instructions on the Velvet Fantasy website he could circumvent the long line by providing his name and confirmation number at the secondary entrance that was used for scheduled appointments. That line wasn’t a fraction as long and he and his man were inside within short order. He had his man check his sidearm with the head of security there and was dually impressed with the staff’s cordial and efficient demeanor.
A lovely, pale-skinned beauty with catlike green eyes and auburn hair approached. The latex getup she wore left nothing to the imagination, and her sleek, sensuous curves were uniquely being displayed. He didn’t find it very hard imagining what Jocelyn—Mistress Lady J—might look like wearing a similar outfit.
“Greetings, sir, my name is Carmen and it is my pleasure to serve. May I have your confirmation number please?” Ahmad handed her the printed-out form that had his number and information on it. He waited while she fastened the form to the clipboard she had in her hands. She was looking over it, making notes here and there with a red pen. “Sir, your consultation is with the Mistress Lady J and she will receive you in her parlor. Please follow me.” He found it quite easy to do as she requested—following those curves was quite the treat.
She took him down a maze of ornate corridors. The décor and furnishings he passed along the way spoke of decadence and sensuality. Nude plaster statues sat in niches depicting various submissive postures. The carpeting was plush and the walls were lined with a brocade-style wallpaper. It struck him that it gave off an old-world bordello feel, classy but not trashy. She stopped before two double doors then swung them open and stood off to the side to allow him to enter.
This is some parlor. Ahmad took in the lush room that was definitely befitting the head Mistress in charge. It was nothing short of high-style design. Carmen led him to a high-back chair that sat across from a sofa that he had no doubts had been custom made. Truly fit for a queen. He took his seat, hitching his tailored slacks as he sat, impressed by what he had seen so far.
“May I offer you libations?” She gestured to the ornate bar cart that held an assortment of refreshments.
“I don’t suppose you could whip up a martini?” He was trying to lighten the mood but found his request was taken quite literally and seriously as the young woman headed to the cart and proceeded to mix his request. Returning, she handed him his drink and he nodded his head in thanks. He took one sip and smiled. It was one of the best damn martinis he’d had the pleasure of imbibing. “You know you make a pretty mean drink, my dear, excellent in fact. My compliments.”
“I must agree with you, Mr. Dupree, Carmen is quite talented at many things.”
The voice that purred from behind him sent his cock leaping within his slacks. He turned and rose from his seat, his glass still in hand. His mouth went dry from the sight of her despite the fact he’d just taken a sip of his drink a moment ago. Stunning was not quite enough of a word to describe how she appeared. She was definitely dressed for work. He took in the black leather corset she wore over the sheer silk blouse. Tight leather leggings and thigh-high pirate boots completed her look. No jewelry of any type, save for a ring on her pinky finger. Her nails were colored blood red, set off by the dusky complexion of her skin. Her face held a neutral expression but her eyes regarded him intensely.
“Please, remain seated, Mr. Dupree. Thank you, Carmen, for showing in our guest, that will be all for now.” As he took his seat once more, he watched the young woman bow to Jocelyn—Mistress Lady J—before taking her leave, and was struck again with how regal things appeared. Once they were alone, Mistress Lady J walked over to the credenza and picked up the clipboard Carmen had left behind. She remained standing as she went over his form, then addressed him directly. “Mr. Dupree, you have indicated a desire to experience the BDSM lifestyle. May I ask you why?”
Although she asked in a polite if not somewhat formal tone, she expected him to answer her, as if it was her right to know and his requirement to supply her with the information. Given the circumstances
it really was.
“Mistress Lady J, my knowledge is purely what I’ve gathered from personal research of the lifestyle. I have no prior experience with anything kinkier than a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold, purely in the vanilla sense I will admit. I want to experience something deeper and I’d like to experience that with you.” He had done some research, cursory net surfing at best, but he wanted to find out more firsthand from her, what this “lifestyle” was all about. He wanted to get to know the woman he’d fallen in love with from afar, and the only way he figured he was going to get the chance to do that was to submit. He would keep an open mind. He was willing to go the distance and to be whatever she needed—so long as that meant he could ultimately have her in his life forever.
However, he was back to square one, wondering if now was the time to tell her who he was and what she’d done for him. It had occurred to him several times since crashing the party that she might not want to have anything at all to do with him—that her kindness had been just that of a bystander, stopping in aid of a stranger. What if his revelation caused her to reject him? After all these years, she believed he had died at the hospital the very same day she came to see him. The lie had been a necessary one, one he had regretted from the start.
He decided that no matter what, he was not walking away now that he was no longer dreaming about being in her presence. He was finally here, in her parlor, sitting before her with a now empty martini glass in his hand. Her scrutiny was causing him to want another martini but he continued to project a self-assured posture. He’d faced down sudden danger several times in his life, dealt with unscrupulous criminals and nearly lost his life had it not been for the woman standing in front of him. Surely he could face her without the aid of a second martini.
* * * *
Jocelyn was trying her best to give the man sitting in front of her a very cool regard. She was failing miserably but kept her poker face intact. Inside she was a bundle of nerve endings. He smelled wonderful and looked sinfully delicious. The suit he wore, the cut of the fabric was tailor-made to fit his large dimensions. No way he walked into an off-the-rack haberdashery to buy that. They just didn’t make off-the-rack in that size! He had to be at least six foot six. Even seated she could tell. Yet it was the pure, raw, sex appeal he exuded that made him seem larger than life. No wonder Rasheed had been impressed.
Ahmad Dupree was smoldering. His rich mocha skin was so smooth her fingertips ached to stroke his face. He sported a well-manicured goatee, and his closely cropped hair was faded to perfection. Her eyes lingered briefly on his lips, full, sensual, and oh-so-kissable. Her nipples puckered beneath her blouse, coming to stinging points of need. What a delight it would be to order him to his knees and lean over his upturned face, allowing that gorgeous mouth of his to tease and suckle her breast. She finally saw what all the commotion had been about, why the females of her family had been animated into action, wanting to know who this man was.
Reining in her wayward thoughts, she continued to question him. “So it’s purely curiosity that has you seeking out a Dominatrix?” She walked toward her sofa and sat down, slowly crossing her legs, and felt a bit of satisfaction when his eyes followed her every move. It would appear he was checking her out as much as she was checking him out. Interesting…
“I find myself caught between two opinions, Mistress Lady J,” he responded, his brow furrowed.
“Is that so, Mr. Dupree?” She could wait him out. She was rather enjoying the rich baritone of his voice. Her gut was telling her that Ahmad Dupree was not thrill-seeking in the slightest, yet it remained to be seen exactly what he was seeking. She hoped he’d be forthcoming because she had already made up her mind to accept him as a client. If she had her way, he’d become a regular.
“I’m wondering if I should keep up the pretense of wanting to seek out your professional merits, or just come right out and tell you that we’ve met before.”
Jocelyn’s lips pursed. His answer was not what she was expecting to hear! She was used to nervous clients, those first-time kinksters wanting a bit of a thrill. She could weed out the bad apples without much deliberation and prided herself on being a damn good judge of character. Had she let his fine exterior block any warning signals? Her feelings from before were coming to the fore. She knew at the engagement party there was something about the man and she hadn’t even gotten a good look at him. Her initial suspicion seemed to be warranted, and by his own admission!
“Well you have me at a bit of a disadvantage, Mr. Dupree. I would think I would remember a man as…striking as yourself, had we crossed paths previously.” She would play the cat-and-mouse game with him if that was his deal, because he seriously had her needing to know more. “I will warn you now, I don’t take kindly to being made a fool of, so please do refresh my memory.”
She watched him sit his glass down on the side table near him and steeple his fingers as his eyes met hers. She couldn’t help but admire the way he held her gaze, unflinchingly, despite her disposition having become a bit frosty.
“Fair enough. I do have an ulterior motive in coming to see you. But will you indulge me a bit longer. The truth of the matter needs a bit of explaining and I’d like you to hear all of it before you make up your mind about me.”
Jocelyn rose from her seat and retrieved the empty martini glass Ahmad had set on the table. Then she headed to the bar cart, making him a second drink and pouring herself a glass of sherry.
“I love a good tale, so please, share with me how we met.” When she handed him his glass his long fingers brushed against her hand, sending a tinge of longing through her. She could not believe how she was responding to this man, and it galled her to know a stranger was having this sort of effect upon her. Then again he said they’d met before. Was that it? She had some link to him? She searched her memory and came up blank. She’d never laid eyes on him before today—he had to be mistaken. Taking her seat once more and crossing her ankles, she waited for him to begin his tale.
Chapter 6
Ahmad’s eyes grew haunted and unfocused as he recalled that night all those years ago. He sipped his martini and gathered his thoughts. “I’d been undercover working for the FBI. We had finally gotten the lead on a cartel that was running a sexual slave ring here in the US. I’d infiltrated and was able to get the evidence needed to put some really bad people away for good.” He saw that he had Jocelyn’s rapt attention. “I had a contact within the department who I made my call to, and was going to meet him at a specific rendezvous point to hand over the evidence. Once that happened we’d be able to obtain the warrants we needed for the bust to officially go down.”
“But there was a leak in the department. I waited for my contact to show and when he didn’t, everything in me told me I’d been made. Taking the evidence with me I managed to get the hell outta town before the shit really hit the fan.” “The bust did eventually go down but not without casualties. Before the leak was discovered, I was due to testify in court. On our way from the airport I noticed we were being followed. My driver was just a rookie, new and on his first assignment. We were ambushed. All hell broke loose, the car opened up fire. I shouted for the rookie to keep driving, shot out the back window and returned fire. I took several hits and after that it got murky. The rookie was hit, lost control of the car. We slammed into a guard railing—all that to keep me from testifying. I remained in the car, slumped as if I were dead. It must have fooled them or they were in a hurry because they didn’t bother to check to be sure they’d finished the job. I still remember the sound of their tires peeling off. Afterward, I dragged myself out and hid down in a ditch, praying, actually, that the sons of bitches were gone. When I attempted to call for help I realized my phone was still in the car. I thought that I’d finally run out of time. I was going to die in a ditch alone…until a Good Samaritan found me.”
He pegged her with an intense stare, noting the first inkling of awareness cross her lovely face. “I would have died, Jocelyn, if yo
u had not been there. I really thought I was dead when I heard the voice of an angel telling me to hold on, that help was on the way.” His voice had deepened. “I had no way of knowing if the gunmen would return and suddenly my greatest fear was no longer for my own life , but for the life of an innocent angel of mercy.”
Ahmad rose from his seat, leaving his martini behind. He kneeled before her. “I couldn’t see you but your voice kept me from letting go. I forgot about the pain I was in or how close my ass came to buying it. All I knew was that a roadside angel was there and I’d do my damndest to remain alive to thank her for saving my life.” He never moved a muscle. He couldn’t tell if the shock of his confession had rendered her speechless or not. She wasn’t saying a word, only staring at him like he was an apparition materializing before her.
“Mistress, my life and the lives of others were in danger, including yours. We didn’t know who else was involved. Our safest bet was to fake my death. If the ones responsible thought I was dead then no further harm could come to those involved. I wouldn’t have lived with myself if I’d been the cause of you getting hurt. So the doctor was told to tell anyone that inquired that I had died. It was the only way.” He finished and felt the weight lift from his shoulders. He wanted her, needed her, but feared she’d reject him now that she knew.
His life was no longer as complicated. With the last case of his career behind him, he’d left the FBI and was now running his own security firm. Yet for all he’d been through and all he had accomplished, he couldn’t get Jocelyn from his system. Not one day went by that she hadn’t been on his mind, and in his dreams. He walked away from his career as an agent, but as far as he was concerned this woman—his woman—was one thing he was refusing to walk away from.
He’d spent five years untangling his life to ensure it would be safe to pursue her. He’d never be able to fully go out unarmed or without security but the criminals he put away were safely behind bars for life. He wanted a chance with her now to get to know her. Her lifestyle he knew may be a challenge to him but it wasn’t deterring him. He knew the difference between the slavery he’d encountered as a federal agent and what being bound to a Mistress fully meant. He hoped that after he revealed it all to her, his confession wouldn’t deter her from considering him as her willing pupil and submissive. He had come too far to turn back. Not now, not ever.
