Master of Hearts: A Domination And Submission Romance Anthology

by Erika Masten

  “Listen, Jake. It’s fine…I’m fine. It just took me off guard. And sometimes I don’t respond to change very well.” I forced a smile into my voice.

  “I’ll be fine,” I repeated. “I’ll just play dress up with all these new clothes, spank myself and think of you.” There was a brief silence and a subdued laugh on the line.

  “You have a really unusual way of putting things into perspective, Abby.”

  After he hung up, I sat down among the welter of leather and fishnet and Pleather. My panicky feelings had subsided somewhat. I tried to decide just what I was feeling. Normally, when some guy said he couldn’t see me, I took it as rejection, he didn’t like me anymore, and I’d have cried myself to sleep. But with Jake, that wasn’t it. I believed him when he said he’d be working and I had no doubt he’d be back.

  It was something deeper. I was going to miss him; our routine had become something stable in my life, our dinners and sessions something I looked forward to.

  I shook my head. Maybe it’s the submissive in me. Was I going to miss Jake as my dominant? Was that the reason hearing about his absence sent me into a tailspin?

  This was more than I cared to think about at the moment. I finished packing up the box of clothes and tucked it into my closet. I hung the skirt, corset and stockings on a hanger, leaving it hanging on my closet door, where I could look at it. And I did want to look at it; it was a really erotic outfit. And I was going to be wearing it.

  I curled up on the bed with the cat, trying to rekindle my dampened enthusiasm. I really was going to miss Jake. A week seemed like an eternity.

  ***

  On the Saturday of our club date, I was beyond excited. I’d booked a facial, waxing session, and pedicure and manicure. After all that attention, I felt sexy and confident, actually pretty. I wasn’t sure this feeling would carry me through the whole night, but starting out on a positive note couldn’t hurt.

  Looking in the mirror, I deemed myself ready. I’d used far more make-up than I usually wore, playing with dramatic eye make-up and red lipstick. Even though it was over the top, it looked pretty good with the new outfit. It may end up all over my face at some point, but at least I’d look good in the beginning.

  Jake came to pick me up at ten o’clock. I’d had a nap in the afternoon and managed to eat a meal, even though my nerves had destroyed my appetite. I’d even put out an extra bowl of cat food for the cat, just in case things ran late. When I answered the door, I was breathless, both from nerves and because I hadn’t seen Jake in over a week.

  I had a glimpse of him, in a tight black t-shirt and dark jeans, looking understated but enormously sex. But he had me in his arms before the door was even closed, his kiss full of the same longing I had felt all week. I melted against his body, letting him claim my mouth with his, settling some of the butterflies in my stomach.

  It was a long time before we came up for air. Jake held me, looking down into my eyes, running his fingers through my hair.

  “I’ve missed you, Abby.” And then his eyes slid lower, widening a bit. He held me at arm’s length, his eyes taking in my outfit, turning me in a slow circle.

  “Wow.” The word was barely audible, more exhaled than spoken.

  “At a loss for words, Jake? That doesn’t happen very often.”

  I smiled up at him. “I take it you approve of my choice?”

  “I approve very much. You look amazing, Abby.” His hands had started roaming over my body, trying to pull the various zippers up and down. I slapped his hands.

  “No, no…not for you, or not now. This is for later.”

  He laughed, pulling me close again. “Are you topping from the bottom again, or do you want to switch roles?” He tried kissing me, but I ducked out of his arms.

  “We need to go, Jake. Seriously. But first I need your help with this.” I picked up the slave necklace Jake had given me, holding it out to him.

  “Please put it on me, Master.” I watched his face, his expression changing from his excitement at seeing me to the realization that I was now in my submissive role. I briefly wondered if that was disobedience, but I didn’t think so. Apparently Jake didn’t either.

  “Turn around, Abby.” I obeyed. Jake’s voice had taken on that tone he used in our sessions, the velvet-over-fire tone that affected me deeply. I felt my heart skip a beat and knew from now on, I was in charge. There was something highly erotic in knowing that, along with a profound sense of comfort. It felt right.

  The club was a short drive from my apartment, in a mixed neighborhood made up of industrial buildings, small stores and offices and the occasional apartment building. Overall, the area was almost deserted this late at night.

  Jake pulled up in front of one of the industrial buildings. It looked abandoned and I glanced up the façade, not seeing any lights in the windows. But as I was standing on the sidewalk gaping upward, I heard Jake talking. I turned to see him handing his keys to a large man, who got into the car, driving down the street.

  “Valet parking.” Jake was unusually laconic. He took my arm just before we reached the large door to the building.

  “Remember what we talked about yesterday. You’re with me, as my submissive. You are not someone else’s sub. If someone touches you that you do not want to touch you, or I haven’t agreed can touch you, tell me. You won’t be disobeying if that happens.”

  I nodded. Jake had spent a long time explaining that nothing would happen to me that I didn’t want, including any scenes with him that I felt uncomfortable doing in public. He’d also mentioned that he might want to share me with another Dom, possibly Chase Thomas.

  “Is that typical? I mean, do Doms do that?” It had never occurred to me that Jake would want to share me, with anyone. But the idea had definite appeal to me. Being with another Dom, one with more experience, could only be a good thing, something that would help our relationship.

  “Yes, in the context of the club or parties, it can happen. But it’s something everyone agrees on. You’re not passed around from Dom to Dom. It’s all consensual.”

  Jake had gone on. “I’ve talked to Chase Thomas a few times over the last few days. He’s offered, if I’m willing and you are, to have a scene with you. It could be private if you like, or public.”

  I had said at the time I would make up my mind in the club, unless he demanded a decision right then and there. But Jake had said that it was up to me, he would abide by my final decision.

  But standing on the sidewalk in front of the club, my mind was racing. “May I speak, Master?” I was trying hard to stay in my role, but there was just too much in my head right now.

  “Yes, of course.” Jake was looking at me, but his face in shadow. The streetlights on this block seemed few and far between.

  “Okay. So no one touches me unless it’s okay with you, or with me.” Jake nodded. My voice dropped.

  “And if you want to share me, it’s still okay? I mean, with you?” This part of our conversation had left me slightly confused. I knew how I felt, but I still had this lingering sense Jake was less sure if this was something he was comfortable with. There seemed to be something lurking beneath his desire to share me. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t get a read on him on this issue. I hadn’t really given him an answer, couldn’t until I’d seen the club, gotten my feet wet, so to speak.

  “Yes, it’s still okay with me. Are you up for it?” There was a forced quality to Jake’s voice. But we’d always agreed on honest communication; if he was telling me it was okay, then it was okay.

  “Yes. I am. I’m fine with it…now.” Jake nodded, taking my arm, leading me toward the large door.

  “Unless he’s ugly and has snaggle teeth.” I felt a bit giddy and a small fit of giggles escaped me.

  Jake looked down at me, his face now illuminated by the overhead light of the door. I saw him smile, shake his head.

  “Abby. What am I going to do with you?”

  But I didn’t need to worry about Chase Thomas bein
g ugly or having snaggle teeth. After the doorman had verified Jake and I were on the guest list, he’d lead us to a small room off of what appeared to be a large lounge. There had been small groups of people, some couples, standing or sittings, talking quietly. Music was playing somewhere deep inside the club, but the atmosphere here was relaxed and fairly quiet.

  The man sitting behind a small desk was anything but ugly. And his smile was on the dazzling side; not a snaggle tooth in evidence. I hadn’t been sure what to expect, but this really wasn’t it.

  Chase Thomas was dressed very much like Jake, in a black buttoned shirt and dark jeans. But while they may have dressed the same, that’s where the similarity ended. Chase was solidly built, the broad expanse of his chest stretching his t-shirt tight. His jeans hugged his body, accentuating his muscular thighs and, as he came around the desk, the curve of his ass. His easy smile lit up his brown eyes, making him seem open and friendly. I had a hard time reconciling this image with knowing he was the owner of a BDSM club. Somehow I expected some dark and brooding figure, skulking around, lurking in the shadows.

  The men shook hands. “Jake, nice to finally meet you. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to my club.” He turned to me, his gaze resting on my face, his expression sincere.

  Jake spoke. “Chase, this is Abby, my sub.”

  Chase extended his hand, which I shook. I nodded my head in greeting, a compromise between speaking and doing nothing. His deep brown eyes locked with mine for a moment. There was a curiosity there, that openness that drew me in. I had the strong sense this man never dealt in bullshit, regardless of the outcome. And somehow, in the context of this situation, I found that comforting.

  “Welcome Abby. It’s a pleasure to have you here as well.”

  He turned to Jake. “Let’s take a quick tour of the club. You can get the lay of the land, so to speak, and start to feel comfortable. Sometimes first visits can be overwhelming.”

  Chase ushered us through the lounge area. “Something to drink? We have an excellent selection of imported mineral waters, sodas, and juices here in our lounge. No alcohol, but you already knew that.”

  I didn’t, but I didn’t say anything. I declined Chase’s offer; I was too nervous, but Jake took a club soda. As we moved out of the room, I could feel the gazes of the men in the lounge sliding over me, along with looks from some of the women. It made me self-conscious for a moment, until I saw one of the men look at me and smile, briefly nodding his head. I turned back to listen Chase.

  “People usually start out here, or gravitate back here after playing. There’s no nudity in this area; people use it kind of like a quiet zone, a decompression chamber or just a place to meet friends, see who’s here.”

  Chase took us through a curtained archway and down a narrow hall. The sounds of music grew louder, along with other sounds; voices, some raised, a single muffled scream and then, much closer, the distinct sound of bare flesh being struck. A chill went through me, a brief flash of Jake’s punishment coming back, not a pleasant memory. I pushed it aside.

  We passed another archway leading to a dance floor. There was a DJ spinning on a raised platform, and a fairly sizeable group of people dancing. The room was almost pitch black, the only lighting coming from the DJ platform and the flickering light from a few candles in glass holders on tables scattered along the edge of the room.

  “Another popular place, although it usually is far more crowed later on. Again, no nudity in the dance area, but there’s a lot that goes on in the dark. Some members like to dance before to raise some energy; some are keyed up after a scene and like to dance to relax.”

  The hallway took a turn and we moved down it past a series of doors, most with groups and couples gathered around them, some covered by curtains. Chase stopped in front of the first open door. The small group gathered moved aside for us.

  “This is one of our scene rooms. If the curtains are back, it’s public. If they’re drawn as they are in some of the rooms down the hall, then it’s a private scene.”

  I peered into the room, which was much larger than I imagined from the hall. And then I gasped.

  There was a naked woman bent over a padded bench, her arms held out to her sides, tied to supports. A man dressed in completely in black leather was using a cane on her ass, striking her over and over, her ass bright red. As I watched, the man raised the cane again, bring it down across the woman’s ass.

  She cried out, not in pain, but in pure pleasure. I caught a glance of her face. She looked like she was in rapture, her face wearing a blissful expression. I knew I was staring, but I was powerless to look away. The man was getting ready to strike her again when I felt Jake take my elbow.

  “Come on, Abby.” Jake’s voice was low in my ear. I glanced at his face. In the dim light, I wasn’t sure if he was enjoying this or not. There was something unreadable in his expression.

  But then Chase was leading us down the hall, past other rooms, some open, some curtained. I heard a variety of sounds, moans and gasps, stray words, Master or Sir among them. Behind one curtained arch I heard the distinctive grunts of a man fucking a woman…or maybe another man. I took a deep breath, concentrated on Jake’s hand on the small of my back and followed Chase further down the hall.

  He took us to a one of the small rooms, pulling the curtain aside, gesturing for us to enter.

  “Have you decided what you’d like to experience? We talked about me doing a scene with Abby….” He voice trailed off, his eyes fixed on Jake. I looked at Jake as well. It seemed surreal to know that these men had been talking about me, about this, without me being there.

  Jake met my gaze, an unspoken question on his face. I nodded. If he wanted to share me, I was willing.

  “Abby is fine with doing a scene with you, and with me watching.” Jake’s voice was neutral but his body was tense.

  “Good.” Chase turned to me, that same easy smile on his face. “I’d like to do some rope play with you.”

  My heart thudded, remembering the pictures I’d seen online of the intricate knots involved in rope bondage. I was excited to experience this, only a moment of panic intruding.

  Chase explained briefly what he’d like to do in the scene: tie me with hemp ropes, in a symmetrical manner to a table, restraining me in such a way that allowed him to penetrate me, if that was the outcome of the scene.

  “Sex isn’t always the outcome of a scene, although it can be. But with rope bondage, sometimes the goal is aesthetic, not sexual.”

  His brown eyes swept over me. There was nothing hidden in that look at all; if Chase had his way, and I believed he would, there would be sex at the end of the scene.

  “You can undress, put your clothes in the cabinet over there.” Chase was moving around the room, taking out ropes, placing them on a small table. Jake was standing in one corner of the room, watching intently.

  The curtain at the door was still pulled back and I’d noticed one or two people looking in, curious expressions on their faces. I hesitated briefly, debating whether I wanted this to be public or private. It was my choice although no one had actually asked me.

  But I remembered my brief walk through the lounge and the frankly admiring glances of the men, and women. They found me attractive; they found me pleasant to look at. There was nothing I needed to be ashamed of. I decided the scene would be public.

  I undid the zippers on my skirt and corset, peeling them away from my body. I undid the clasps on the garter, slowly removing my stockings, tucking everything away into the cabinet.

  Chase was done arranging the ropes. I stood off to the side, eyes lowered, waiting for instructions. He came to stand in front of me.

  “I know you have a safe word you use with your Master, but for tonight we’re going to use green, yellow and red. I’ll ask you for a color, and if you’re fine, say green. If something bothers you, at any time, you may say yellow and tell me what it is. And if you want to stop, for any reason, any at all, you say red, any time you need to
. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Master.” It felt distinctly odd, but also strangely arousing, to call someone other than Jake Master. I glanced over at him but he didn’t return my look.

  A smile played across Chase’s lips. He looked very pleased with himself, and with me. With a jolt, I realized I wanted him to say ‘good girl’, like Jake did. But he went on.

  “Good. I’ll ask you periodically if you’re okay, if something’s too tight or if your arms or legs are getting numb or cold. Rope play has its risks. Be honest and tell me exactly what you feel. Ropes can cut off circulation or pinch nerves. If anything starts feeling unsafe, speak up. Say the color word or just tell me what’s happening. I’ve never had anyone be hurt in my club, and you’re not going to be the first. I take this very seriously and your safety is my responsibility. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Good. Let’s get started then.” His smile deepened, lighting up his eyes.

  There was a waist-high table in the center of the room and Chase guided me to it, helping me up to sit on the end. The table was narrow, with two extensions on either side near the other end, making it look somewhat like a cross. I shifted my weight and suddenly had the panicky feeling I was going to fall off the table.

  “Breathe, Abby. You’re fine.” Chase was looking down at me, still smiling. I managed a smile in return.

  I heard him moving around behind me. He reappeared holding a white rope, doubled, in his hands.

  “Okay. I’m going to start with your waist.” He wrapped the rope around me, gently straightening the rope, making it lay flat against my body. He wound the rope round my waist and up my torso several times, eventually tying it in front of me in a complicated looking knot. He ran the rope up my body, making more wraps beneath my breasts and then above them. From the back he ran one strand down either side of my shoulders, threading them beneath the ropes that ran around my chest.

  The sensation of his warm hands contrasted with the slightly scratchy feeling of the rope. His fingers brushed against my breasts periodically, sending little frissons of pleasure coursing through my body.