The Domme Who Wasn't [Club Esoteria 14] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Cooper McKenzie

  “Just call me Mistress Gypsy,” she said softly.

  “Verra pleased ta meet ye, Mistress Gypsy,” the man said, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips where he placed a kiss in the center of her palm. “How about we go somewhere and talk.”

  Something in his expression told her that he knew something. Had he guessed her secret? Did he know she was not really a Domme?

  “Why?” she asked as her heart began to pound in fear.

  His grin turned wolfish as he bent his head and leaned close enough for his lips to brush against her ear. “Because, lass, ye’ve got a secret, I ken what it is, and we need ta discuss what we’re goin’ ta do abou’ it.”

  His thick Scottish accent entranced Calliope, turning the burner up on the arousal she had not felt toward any other man in the club. Then the threat in his words sank in, and her thumping heart began to speed up. Yep, it was well past time to go home.

  Without a word of response, Calliope slid off the far side of her stool and hurried toward the front of the club.

  Chapter 2

  Roane frowned as he watched the woman teeter across the room faster than was safe in those high-heeled boots she wore. Before he could follow to make sure she made it to her car in one piece, Toby stepped in front of him, blocking his path. The young man was now dressed in a pair of black boxers, cape, mask, and black cat’s ears with his still bare feet.

  “Sir, may I speak with you a moment?”

  The submissive sounded relaxed and happy after his encounter with the lovely Mistress Gypsy, but his expression was one of concern. Roane looked the man up and down but could not put a name on the costume.

  “What are ye supposed ta be, boy?” he asked.

  “I’m Cat Man,” the submissive replied with a sassy grin as he struck a pose to show off the gloves he wore with long red artificial nails attached at the tip of each finger.

  Roane looked him over again and nodded. “Uh-huh. And what was it ye wanted ta speak ta me about?”

  “It’s about Mistress Calliope. She’s not…um, well…she’s not…”

  “She’s no’ what she seems ta be?” Roane finished when it appeared the man was having a hard time constructing a sentence.

  Toby nodded. “Yes, Sir. That’s probably the best way to put things. She believes she is, but I think that’s because she’s never truly experienced the other side of things. She believes that because she has to be so strong out in there that she has to be just as strong in here.”

  Roane nodded. “Thank ye, boy, fer yer thoughts. Speak ta no one about what ye’ve jes’ told me, else I’ll be turnin’ ye over ta Mistress Jenna ta punish ye for spreading tales.”

  Toby paled at the threat before effusively nodding. “Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir.”

  “Good, now get outta me way. I’ve got ta catch meself a gypsy before she gets away.”

  “She drives an oversized purple truck,” Toby said as he hurried away.

  * * * *

  Though it was January, as soon as Calliope stepped out the front door, she stopped and pulled off the boots. She sighed with relief as the chill of the asphalt eased the pain in her feet from wearing the ridiculously high boots. Looking across the well-lit parking lot, she spied her truck and headed toward it. All she could hear in the silence of the late night was her heart pounding in her ears. When someone laid a large warm hand on her shoulder, she screamed.

  “Hush, callie-girl, I’ll keep ye safe,” a deep male voice said as a hand waved over her shoulder to the two guards at the parking lot entrance who had turned their way.

  Large, warm hands slid around her chest and then up to cover her breasts before pulling her off-balance to lean back against a tall, broad, solid body. Warmth enveloped her, along with the scent of fresh clean soap and healthy male. Her skin goose bumped, reminding her that, in her haste to escape Roane’s presence, she had left her jacket behind.

  Shafts of sexual fire shot from the points where his body touched hers through her body and straight to her sex. In turn, her pussy responded by growing hot and wet. That she actually had a sexual reaction to any other member of the club shocked her almost as much as the man grabbing her had. She had never reacted so instantly or strongly to any man.

  “Wh–who are you?” she asked as she struggled in his hold though she had a real good idea.

  His hands tightened on her breasts, easily holding her in place so she stared across the parking lot at her truck a mere dozen yards away. “Ye, sweet lassie, may call me Sir,” he whispered, as his lips ghosted up the side of her neck to her ear, which only added to her unexpected arousal. “Now, why don’t we go back inside where ’tis warmer and have a talk.”

  By his deep voice and strong accent, her suspicions were confirmed. Her assailant was Roane McKenzie, the kilted Dom who had hinted that not only did she have a secret, but he knew what it was. He obviously did not take rejection well.

  She opened her mouth to inform him that she had finished playing at the club for the evening. Before she could make a sound, he turned her around to face him, took a step back, bent, and hefted her onto one shoulder.

  It took a second for her to overcome the shock of his actions and reconcile the fact that she really was dangling over his shoulder just like a sack of potatoes. “What are you doing? Put me down,” she demanded.

  She kept her voice low, not wanting to cause a commotion though the club had no close neighbors who would be bothered by one woman screaming. But the security guards working the front gate would come running, and she did not want to have to explain what was going on. It was too embarrassing.

  “I don’t know who you think you are, but you cannot do this to me.”

  She was stunned speechless when the man chuckled as one hand patted her ass in a too-friendly manner. “I ken exactly who I am, lassie. I’m the man who is goin’ ta help ye discover yer true nature.”

  “And what do you think my true nature is?” Calliope asked, trying to call forth her indignant Domme. Too bad she had just fled the scene so her words came out sounding as nervous as those of a lost little girl instead.

  The man did not answer, but she felt the arm wrapped around the back of her thighs tighten. Then warm air surrounded them. Turning her head, she saw they were back inside the building. He said something she did not catch, and a moment later, hands pulled her boots from her hands.

  “Hey, give those back,” she squeaked.

  The boot-stealer just giggled and walked away instead. Trepidation grew into fear as Roane started forward again. Another few steps and they were back in the main room of the club. Growing dizzy from hanging upside down, Calliope closed her eyes and buried her face in the leather vest covering Roane’s broad, powerful back as he continued walking. Maybe, if she was very, very lucky, no one would recognize her.

  “Roane? What the hell are you doing with Calliope hanging over your shoulder?”

  The voice was female, and she thought it might be Mistress Jenna but did not want to look to confirm the thought. She was not close to any of the club members outside the walls of the club. Even when visiting, she did not socialize with the other dominants. She had always been too fearful of someone seeing past her Domme’s veneer to the truth. It had been easier to come in, play a scene with an uncollared male submissive, and leave soon afterward.

  She never got off during a scene but always made sure the man she used had his happy ending. Then she would go home and spend the rest of the night trying to relieve her own stressed-out horniness. Sometimes she even succeeded.

  But this Roane person wanted to discuss what he thought was her secret? Yeah, right. His deep rumbling voice pulled her from thoughts that were growing more distressing by the minute.

  “I’m dealing with the problem ye pointed out earlier. Are any of the private rooms free?”

  “The library just freed up,” one of the bartenders said. “Do you want your bag?”

  “No, I won’ be needin’ it tonight. Thanks,” Roane rumbled be
fore he turned and they were off again.

  Tilting her head back on her neck, she could see the carpet pass beneath them but not much else. Watching for a few seconds made her queasy.

  Closing her eyes again, she relaxed and dropped her head back down so it rested on his back. Except for calling for help from one of the club’s volunteer monitors, she was in no position to fight for her freedom. Doing that would just add to her embarrassment as her secret would certainly come out then. Better to wait until they were alone, hear what the man thought her secret would be, deny it, and then she would go home. She forced herself to take deep breaths as the fiery acid ball of fear continued to grow low in her belly.

  The light changed once more. Roane stopped, turned, and the sounds of pain, arousal, and sex she had come to associate with the club’s main room went silent. She knew from past experience that the theme rooms on the second floor were nearly soundproof but never thought that a bad thing until now.

  She was so lost in thought, she was not prepared when the man bent forward and set her on her feet. He released her and straightened, leaving her fighting for balance. As she wobbled and regained her equilibrium, he wrapped his hands around her rib cage to keep her upright as the blood rushed away from her head.

  Her cunt and other sex organs throbbed with a need that seemed familiar yet strange at the same time. Like a song she knew the tune to but could not recall the words.

  Once she felt like she would not fall down, Calliope stepped back out of his hold before turning her back on the man who seemed to have seen behind the personality veil she fought so hard to keep in place. She could not meet his pale blue-gray eyes. They read her secrets too easily.

  Taking a deep breath, she tried for the imperial Domme tone that worked so well with Toby and the other subs she had played with. “What is so important you felt the need to kidnap me?” Unfortunately, her words came out soft and hesitant without an ounce of grit to them.

  Looking around, she found that the room did indeed appear to be a library. Walking to the far wall, which held floor to ceiling bookshelves, she skimmed the titles on one shelf. She was not surprised to see they all pertained to sex in some form or other. A lower shelf held several wicker baskets. One held condoms with the club’s logo on the plastic wrappers. Another was filled with small packets of lubes, and others contained what appeared to be a variety of toys, all ready and waiting to be used.

  Roane remained silent as she trailed a finger along the spines of a shelf of nonfiction BDSM books. Turning, she looked over the rest of the room. The other walls were wood-paneled with several brass sconces to provide light. The floor was dark wood as well, adding to the feel of an old-world European library. The only real furniture in the room were two oversized leather club chairs with a small reading table between in one corner and a wooden table with two hard-backed wooden chairs in the opposite corner. Through an open door, she saw the theme had been carried into the bathroom as well with wood and brass and a big enamel claw-foot bathtub.

  The silence extended as she continued to the far side of the room from her captor before turning to face him. He had not moved from where he had put her down. He stood with his legs planted wide, and his arms crossed over his chest, drawing her attention to the width and power to be found there. This was not the body of a man who sat behind a desk to earn a living. This man worked for a living.

  He watched her with a slight upturn of his lips as if amused by her. Dropping her gaze, Calliope saw he was more than just intellectually interested in her. What appeared to be an unbound erection pushed the sporran he wore to an almost horizontal position. It also pulled the hem of his kilt several inches higher, exposing the sexiest pair of male knees Calliope had ever seen.

  He remained silent, but as he continued to smirk at her, fear drained away and anger slid in to take its place. “Well?” she demanded in her most Mistress-like tone. “What is it you want from me?”

  “I’m wantin’ to ken if ye think I should spank ye before or after we talk,” he said, his expression never changing.

  He sounded so assured that Calliope would meekly go along with the idea that she could only gawk at him. When his smirk expanded, growing to a full-on sexy grin, her nipples beaded and pussy clenched, causing her to gasp at the strength of the strong, instant arousal that filled her like helium filling a balloon to bursting in one whooshing second.

  Planting her feet shoulder-width apart, she set her hands on her hips and glared at this overconfident male. “And why the hell do you think I’d allow you to spank me? I am a dominant of this club, and when I play, I do the spanking.”

  Her words were barely out when Roane began to chuckle as he shook his head. “I’m no’ sure why Taurus and Jenna allow ye ta delude yerself like tha’, but tha’s neither here nor there. From here on out, callie-girl, ye’ll admit the truth, ta yerself and ta me, that yer as submissive as they come.”

  His words only lit the fuse on her temper, and she exploded. “I. Am. Not. Submissive. And stop calling me callie-girl. My name is Mistress Calliope. Or, in your case, I believe I would prefer Miss Smith since it’s obvious we will never be on a first name basis. Now, I would like to leave.”

  As she moved to the door to the balcony, he blocked her path. “Nae, lass. Yer no’ goin’ ta leave ’til ye admit yer no Domme.”

  Chapter 3

  Roane knew hearing the cold, hard truth would be shocking for the woman, but she had to have already figured out she was playing on the wrong side of the flogger. He watched and waited as she thought over all he had said. It took half a minute before she took a breath and everything in her seemed to relax.

  “I thought I was doing so well,” she whispered.

  “Come here, callie-girl,” he said in a gentle tone as he extended one arm with his palm up and open. Then he waited.

  It was another handful of seconds before she took one step, then another and another in his direction. He held his breath until she laid her hand in his.

  “Good, lass,” he said as he gently closed his fingers around her.

  With a gentle tug, he pulled her along with him as he moved to one of the club chairs and sat down. Then he lifted her and positioned her so she sat across his thighs. His cock jerked in reaction to the slight weight of her pressing on it as well as her scent of lavender and vanilla that seemed to radiate from her like an aura.

  “Now, to answer yer question. Wasna hard ta tell yer no almighty powerful Domme. None of the other dominant ladies I know would be caught dead in the club kneeling on the floor before a submissive. Ye carry an air like yer perfume, soft flowers and baked goods. Yer jes’ no’ the leather-wearing, whip-wielding boss lady. I’m jes’ wonderin’, how long have ye ken the truth and why have ye no’ told someone so they could assist ye ta change sides, so ta speak?”

  His cock throbbed with need as she dropped her head and studied her fingers while turning over his words. He had planned to use one of the uncollared submissives hard tonight, needing a good release after a hard week of keeping his cousins, their woman, sons, and multimillion-dollar business safe. Instead, here he sat helping a sweet armful of fluffy hair and curves out the reality of her sexual nature.

  Finally, she lifted her gaze to look at him, her deep-violet eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I thought I was dominant, could be the boss, and bend a man to my will. The longer I try, the harder it becomes. So, I end up having scenes like the one tonight, where I play and give the man I’m with pleasure.”

  “And when yer done with a scene, how do ye feel?” Roane asked as he soothed a hand down her arm and gently eased her closer until she rested against his chest. He was shocked when the raging Dom in him quieted as he petted and talked to this woman. What magic did she hold to make his dominant male want to curl up and purr like one of Suz’s damned barn cats?

  “I am happy that I could get him off.”

  “But ye walk away still horny and all wound up yerself?”

  Instead of answering verba
lly, her head moved up and down against the shoulder where it rested.

  “Now the million-pound question,” he said, his hand continuing to stroke down her arm in an almost hypnotizing manner.

  “I hope I have a million-pound answer for you,” she responded softly as she melted even further into his embrace.

  “Would ye be willin’ ta play a scene with me, right here, right now?”

  * * * *

  The thought of Roane beating on her as she had seen other dominants beat on their submissives had Calliope’s heart racing even faster than before. She was not into pain, and the thought of being hurt had her breathing speed up and grow shallow. Red spots began to float before her eyes. She knew from a lifetime of experience that she was on the verge of a panic attack. Her muscles began to twitch and stiffen. If she kept this up, she would be flailing on the floor as if having a seizure.

  “Shhh, lass. Relax.” Roane’s voice crooned gentle orders that somehow broke through the white noise that fogged her brain, making it hard to think past the panicky feeling that was growing like bread dough made with too much yeast.

  “Breathe with me, callie-girl. In. Out. In. Out.” His words continued to be soft and gentle as his hands soothed her, rubbing down her side to her legs then began cup again. “That’s it. Now a little deeper. In. Out.”

  Her heartbeat slowed. The panic retreated. Soon Calliope was able to think again.

  Her muscles remained stiff as she shifted to prepare to climb from his lap. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to Jenna about cancelling my membership, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

  Problem was, Roane did not seem willing to release her. His arms tightened around her and held firm. Finally, she stopped struggling and stared at him.

  “Nae, lass. Ye’ll no’ cancel anythin’ fer now. What ye’ll do is tell me what troublin’ thought crossed yer mind ta throw ye into such a tizzy.”

  Calliope dropped her gaze so he could not see her fear. But apparently he read it in her muscles that remained clenched so tight they trembled.