by Brynley Bush
I arch a brow at him quizzically. “Domliest?”
“That’s Rachel’s word, not mine.”
“Marrying that girl has changed you. I’m not sure who’s the actual Dominant in that relationship anymore.”
Logan just smiles. “Love will do that to you, man. You should try it.” He glances over at me, and his smile fades. “Shit. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean it like that.”
I hold up my hand, stopping him. “I know. Forget it.”
“It’s just…maybe it’s time for you to look for something more than an endless string of impersonal scenes with a rotating stable of nameless submissives at the club.”
I grimace at his words. The truth is I’m getting tired of the club scene and the girls who inevitably think that me topping them or fucking them once or twice means I want a relationship.
“You’re right. Not about falling in love,” I quickly amend. “I’m not cut out for love. Not after what happened. But I’ve been thinking I should find a sub, someone permanent I can fuck on a regular basis who won’t expect anything more than what our contract stipulates.”
Logan studies me intently for a long moment, and then he gets that look in his eye that I know all too well. It’s the same look he got before we took on an entire bar of angry bikers our senior year at Stanford, and the same look that preceded a particularly interesting and unforgettable weekend in Tijuana.
“You should go on the show,” he suggests.
“Fuck. You’re insane,” I say dismissively, turning back to the monitor.
The man who just flogged his sub to orgasm has finished and moved off the stage, and a new couple has come on. I lean forward in the chair in Logan’s suite, my eye caught by the flash of pale skin and a familiar riotous tumble of long dark hair. It’s the girl from the pool. Unlike the other subs so far who’ve donned an assortment of fetish wear for their auditions, from corsets to black leather miniskirts, she’s dressed casually in a pair of white crochet shorts and a sleeveless light-blue T-shirt, although the arms are cut just low enough to show a tantalizing side glimpse of the swell of her small breasts. My lips twitch. She looks like she’s going for a sail instead of auditioning for a kinky pay-per-view show.
“Who is she?” I ask, nodding toward the screen.
Logan consults his spreadsheet. “Avalon Summers. Twenty-two years old, recently graduated from NYU with a degree in marketing and design, lives in New York City. She’s here auditioning with her Dom, Emmett Stone. That’s him.” He gestures to the copper-skinned, tattooed, muscular guy with close-cropped hair standing on the stage next to her.
“If that guy’s her Dom, I’m a fucking submissive,” I say skeptically.
The Dom leads her through the traditional slave poses, and I watch mesmerized as she kneels with her legs slightly parted, revealing a creamy expanse of slim, feminine thighs, and then stands, her arms clasped behind her back, causing her pert breasts to jut out. When she bends over at the waist, grasping her ankles, I can feel my cock strain against the fly of my pants.
She clearly knows the positions, but her movements are stilted and awkward and completely lacking any fluidity or grace. I’ve never personally been into utilizing the slave positions, but if I were, I’d sure as hell make certain my sub could execute them seamlessly, and if she didn’t, I’d find some creative ways to…encourage her. Her Dom, on the other hand, seems inordinately pleased with her, even patting her arm comfortingly when she hesitates before lowering herself onto her back and grasping her ankles.
“Hmmm, you’re right,” Logan says thoughtfully. He turns to me. “How did you know he wasn’t her Dom?”
“I saw them at the pool yesterday. He’s very protective of her, but he’s definitely not her Dom. There’s no sense of authority. In fact, if anything, he lets her take the lead.” I look back at the screen. “I may have pissed him off a bit at the pool,” I add casually.
Logan turns to me, his eyes dancing with laughter. “What did you do?”
“She was burning. I helped her with her sunscreen.”
“Knowing you, I’m assuming that means you gave her a lecture about being irresponsible, intimidated her into giving you the sunscreen, and then took it upon yourself to make sure it went on evenly over that beautiful, fair skin.”
I shrug. “Something like that. She’s lucky I didn’t turn her over my knee.”
“I’ll be damned,” he says softly. “You like her.”
“I’m intrigued by her,” I correct. She’s a study in contrasts, and if I’m honest with myself, it bothers me that I can’t quite figure her out. Her demeanor is controlled and aloof, but there’s an enticing hint of vulnerability about her. And despite the air of almost awkward innocence about her, there’s a bruised and world-weary look in her eyes. I want to peel back the layers and find out who she really is behind that mask of cool composure.
We both turn back to the monitor where the girl has moved to all fours, stretching forward so her forearms rest on the ground and her ass sticks up in the air tantalizingly. I’m suddenly wondering exactly why I’ve never been a fan of the slave positions, and my cock is harder than it’s been since I can remember.
“I want her,” I say decisively.
I can see the hint of a smile on Logan’s face as he makes a note on his spreadsheet. “Then go on the show. I’ll move them both through to the finals, but it’ll be up to you to win her at the auction if you want her. Don’t think I’m going to do you any favors because of who you are.” He’s trying to keep his face impassive, but he’s not doing a very good job of it. The smug look in his eyes gives him away.
“I don’t need favors,” I say indignantly. “I’m the Domliest Dom here. Just ask your wife.”
Although the look Logan shoots me has reduced many a sub to tears, I merely laugh.
“I have nothing to worry about where you’re concerned,” he says dismissively. “Your sadistic side kind of scares her.”
“It should. It takes a certain kind of woman who’s able, and willing, to give me what I need.” I wonder if the dark-haired beauty on the screen might be that woman. I gesture at the monitor where the couple is leaving the stage. “What about the Dom she came with?”
“I’ll split them up. There’s a clause in the contract that states there’s no guarantee that a Dom and a sub who sign up together will compete together on the show. Other than these two and a married couple who were disqualified because the woman has an unresolved cutting issue, there aren’t any other preformed Dom/sub teams in the running. I think it will work out best for the show if all the teams are on even footing anyway. And of course, that will undoubtedly work out best for you as well.”
“Indeed it will, although I have a feeling neither one of them is going to like that.”
“Oh, I know they’re not going to like it. But as you pointed out, he’s not the right Dom for her. It’ll be better for both of them to be split up.”
* * * *
The next day, I’m in Logan’s suite helping him put together the auction details when the girl shows up at his door. I emerge from the bathroom just in time to hear her voice in the next room. It’s soft, precise, and slightly melodic, like the woman herself.
“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake,” she states matter-of-factly. “I got this note saying that I’ve been selected as a finalist and that I should appear for the auction on Friday, but I already have a Dom. I’m here with Emmett Stone.”
“Yes, I’m aware that you and Mr. Stone signed up together, Ms. Summers,” Logan says conversationally. “But since you are the only preformed couple to make it through to the finals, we’ve decided it’s in the best interest of the show for both of you to compete independently. The contract, which you both signed, clearly states that a Dom and sub who sign up for the show together may be split up.”
“But you can’t do this! Emmett and I are a package deal!” Her protest is tinged with a hint of desperation.
I figure it’s best to le
t Logan deal with her on his own, so I stop in the bedroom doorway, watching unobserved as she proceeds to rip Logan a new one. For all of her seemingly shy reserve, she’s a spitfire when she’s mad!
Logan listens to her rant and then says evenly, “Ms. Summers, it’s quite clear that you are not Mr. Stone’s submissive.”
Her eyes fly to his, and I wonder why Logan stating the obvious creates the panic I see in their green depths.
“I am!” she protests stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest. “He’s my Dom, and I’m his submissive.”
She stammers over the word and blushes. Fascinating! I feel my cock stir again.
Logan smiles. “Well, you’re clearly submissive, but you’re certainly not his submissive.”
She looks so blindsided that I almost feel sorry for her. Logan must too, because he adds more kindly, “If you really care about him, and it appears that you do, you’ll give him, and yourself, a fighting chance to win this competition. I can assure you that if you compete together, you won’t last a week. But my decision is final. It’s up to you, Ms. Summers, whether you accept it or not. If you no longer wish to compete in the games, you are free to withdraw from the competition and go home.”
A hundred emotions flit across her face, and then they’re gone, replaced by that mask of composure that seems to be her default, although there’s a hint of steely resolve in those gorgeous green eyes.
“Fine!” she says, her voice calm. “We’ll compete separately.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding as she turns on her heel and walks out the door, her head held high and her spine rigid.
Oh, yes. I’m going to enjoy stripping down her defenses and peeling away that composure she works so hard to maintain until she gives me everything. I want to see that control she holds on to so tightly crumble. I will own her. I will possess her body, her mind, and her soul until she’s bared to me. Until she’s mine.
For the first time in two years, I find myself looking forward to tomorrow.
* * * *
The next day, the fourteen submissive finalists are treated to a day at the Helix’s full-service spa while the Doms compete in a series of games and challenges that will earn us points. Those points will be used at the auction tomorrow to purchase the subs who will be our partners for the show. Obviously, the Dom with the most points will have his choice of subs, and I’m determined that Dom will be me. I have no intention of allowing anyone else to purchase the beautiful and mysterious Avalon Summers. But as I’d told Logan, I don’t need any favors to dominate in the competitions. The games include a series of physical challenges such as an obstacle course, a timed run, and a game of flag football as well as a written test that assesses each Dom’s knowledge of BDSM, safety, and consent, which I sail through. There’s also an interview that is televised so the viewers can vote for their favorite Doms. That’s the only challenge where I don’t take the lead, coming in second to none other than Avalon’s alleged Dom, Emmett.
I have to admit he’s a pretty likable guy, and if nothing else, I respect him for the effort he puts forth to actually give me a run for my money. I can’t figure out why Avalon wouldn’t respond to his authority; he’s clearly a gifted Dom. Yet another layer to uncover with the enigmatic Avalon Summers.
The final event is a game of Texas Hold ’Em, held in the hotel’s casino, with each chip worth a point. By the end of the evening, I’ve earned more than a thousand points, enough to buy any girl I want at the auction. Enough to buy her.
Chapter Three
Ava
“I think I’m going to puke.”
Tessa grabs my hand and squeezes. “Me too. At least we’re up early in the auction.”
“That’s a good thing?” I ask with a strangled laugh, my voice tinged with a touch of hysteria.
When I’d stormed into Logan’s suite two days ago, I’d never imagined I would be standing here waiting to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. I’d assumed he’d made a mistake, and that Emmett and I would be competing as a team like we’d planned. But Logan had totally seen through our ruse and insisted we compete in the games independently or not at all. He’d sealed the deal by pointing out, probably correctly, that I’d bring Emmett down and ruin his chances of winning. I’d finally talked Emmett out of bidding on me at the auction, despite his protests. I doubt I’ll last long on my own, although somehow Logan did at least seem to believe I’m submissive, but Emmett could go all the way. I want him to reap the benefits the exposure would give his acting career, even if it means I won’t be on the show long enough to truly damage my stepfather’s reputation. However, that means I’m now standing in a small conference room at the Helix with the other thirteen women, waiting for my name to be called, not knowing who I’ll be partnered with. I know Emmett made it through since we were still sharing a suite when the finalists were notified, but the women and men have been separated since then, so I have no idea who else made it. I’m just relieved that Tessa made it through too. It’s comforting to have a friend, even if it’s one I’ve only known for four days.
Tessa’s name is called, and she gives my hand a final squeeze before following Rachel to the suite where she’ll be prepared for the auction. I look around the room at the remaining submissives. I can’t remember all of them, but I recognize several from the spa yesterday, including a former Playboy model named Desiree who knows exactly how to use her body to her advantage, a haughty blonde named Rebecca who reminds me of every mean girl I ever knew in high school, and a wickedly funny girl named Rose whom I’d shared the sauna with, and who’d made me laugh so hard describing her first time getting a Brazilian that it had eased the pain of my own an hour later. Having hair ripped from your most private parts isn’t for the fainthearted!
Although it’s probably been twenty minutes since Tessa’s name was called, it feels like only seconds when Rachel appears back in the doorway, calling my name. Oh, God. I’m not ready for this. With my knees shaking slightly, I follow her down the marbled hallway to a closed door, where she stops and knocks. It’s opened by a man I’ve never seen before. He’s older than Logan, the show’s host who’s probably in his late twenties, but he has the same commanding presence. He’s handsome in a rugged sort of way, but his face is all hard planes and unsmiling eyes. After the man at the pool, he’s the most intimidating person I’ve ever met.
“Master Collin will take care of you from here,” Rachel says.
I hesitate in the doorway, and Rachel touches my arm. “Avalon?”
“It’s Ava,” I say automatically, turning back to her.
She opens her mouth to say something, but her gaze darts to the man inside the door and she closes it again. “Good luck,” she says softly, and then I’m alone with Master Collin.
“Come inside,” he says gruffly. “I won’t bite. At least not this time.”
I think he’s joking, but he doesn’t smile. I jump a little as he shuts the door behind me. The room looks a lot like the suite where I’ve spent the past week, but without the bedroom. Instead, it appears to be just a sitting area—albeit an opulent one—with several couches, an armchair, a fireplace, and a full-length mirror, with a small half bathroom off to one side and a large closet on the other.
“As Rachel told you, I’m Master Collin. I’ll prepare you for the auction and then escort you to the Diamond Lounge where the auction will be held. I will introduce you and remain on the stage with you throughout the bidding. After the bidding is complete, I’ll hand you over to the Dom who wins you. Do you have any questions?”
My mind is screaming with dozens of questions, but I just shake my head mutely.
“Excellent,” he says. “You may remove your clothing now. I’ll see that everything is returned to your room.”
He stares at me expectantly, making no attempt to leave or even turn his back to give me any privacy. “Should I just go into the bathroom?” I finally ask hesitantly.
He raises a brow. “No.
Here is fine.”
“Um, right.” I turn my back to him and slip off my heels, then slowly peel off the body-hugging black dress I’d put on for the auction. Apparently I overthought my outfit. I fold the dress and place it on the nearby sofa before I turn back to him, folding my arms protectively over the black lace of my bra. He takes a step closer, grabs my hands, and gently lowers my arms to my sides. I look down at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.
“Damn, you’re a sweet one,” he says, his voice low. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you command the highest price of the night. There’s something appealing about a shy little submissive.”
His fingers trail up my arm to the strap of my bra, and he tugs, pulling the lacy cup down so my breast spills out. My gaze flies to his, my embarrassment forgotten. “What are you doing?” I demand angrily, batting his hand away.
He catches my wrist easily in his large hand, imprisoning it. “Ah! There’s a little fire in you as well. Even better.” He grins. “You are to wear nothing but your panties for the auction. Be grateful you’re allowed that. If Rachel hadn’t talked Logan out of it, the submissives would have been completely naked for the auction.”
“Oh,” I squeak.
“You know the rules of the show, right?” he asks kindly. “Surely you didn’t expect to spend your entire time here fully clothed.” A half smile is playing across his lips, and his eyes are dancing, transforming the hard features of his face.
“Well, no,” I protest. “I just didn’t think it would be this soon.”
“The show starts tonight, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m sure you’ve done this before. Maybe not with an audience, but it’s not all that different.”
“Right,” I lie, willing myself to stay still as he lowers the other strap, exposing my other breast. I can feel my nipples pucker at the blast of cool air from the air-conditioned room, and I’m grateful when he turns me away from him before unhooking the clasp of my bra and slowly removing it. Out of the corner of my eye I see him carefully fold my bra and place it on top of my dress.
