by Qwillia Rain
A solemn expression filled his face. He held her gaze for a long moment before answering. “That’s a difficult request, hon. Making you afraid while keeping you safe without damaging what’s between us.”
Triss didn’t voice any inane reassurances. She could have added that she knew he could do it or that they could take it in steps the way he’d suggested earlier in the tub. Instead, she simply nodded. “I know.”
Vince returned her nod with one of his own before pulling her close and settling into the pillows. “Let me think about it.”
She didn’t speak, only nodded and snuggled into him. His hold tightened then relaxed, a quick hug of reassurance and acceptance. If only she could be sure she could be as accepting of what she’d asked for from him.
Chapter Eleven
Triss glanced up from her plate to find Jynn staring at her. There was no doubt in her mind that her friend wasn’t staring at a smear of ketchup or mustard, but she wiped at her cheeks and chin anyway. “What?”
“Your apartment is spotless, Triss.”
Inside, Triss cringed. As a leading comment that was, perhaps, the worst thing Jynn could have said. She finished the bite of burger in her mouth and nodded. “Even did some ironing.”
Jynn’s eyes went wide. She pushed away from the table and left to check out the walk in closet in the bedroom. “Holy fuck. You ironed your sheets!”
Tearing back to the table, Jyn dropped into her chair and leaned forward. “Did you hear something from home? Are Aunt Jo and Uncle Carl okay?”
Triss shook her head. “Everyone is fine. Mama and Daddy talked to me last week before they left on that cruise they were taking.”
“Then it’s one of the boys. Bart? Ray? Randy? Kurt?”
“No. Like I said, everyone is fine.” She took another bite of her burger to avoid saying anything else for a few minutes.
Jynn leaned back in her chair and chomped on one of her French fries while she glared at Triss. “Something is wrong. You do not clean your house from top to bottom and iron your clothes, when everything is okay.”
“You make it sound like I’m a slob, Jynn.”
“You ironed the fucking sheets, Triss. I don’t know what is going on, but you better start talking.”
How to start? What was she supposed to say? “I like bondage.” Well, that’s as good a place as any.
“So. I like Tom Jones and the Rat Pack.”
Triss had to laugh. “Trust you to turn my moment of confession into a contest of bad taste.”
“Nuh uh. You can’t insult Tom and the Boys. You were the one who made me listen to them when we were kids. And who said bondage was bad?”
Triss poked at the splotch of ketchup with a French fry. “Everyone.”
“If everyone thought it was bad, then no one would be doing it. There wouldn’t be books flying off the shelves with BDSM themes. And there wouldn’t be thousands, hundreds of thousands of websites talking about it.”
Triss shoved the French fry in her mouth and grumbled around it. “Don’t use logic on me, right now, Jynn.”
Jynn tilted her head and watched Triss closely. “This is about Mr. Yummy. Isn’t it?”
She pushed back her chair and picked her plate up from the table. Motioning toward Jynn’s she asked, “Are you done?”
Jynn nodded.
Carrying the plates to the kitchen, she scraped the remains of their lunch into the garbage then rinsed the plates and loaded them into her small dishwasher. “Vince. His name is Vince, not Mr. Yummy.”
“Was it good?”
Triss laughed, but there was no way Jynn was going to think she was happy. She leaned back against the kitchen counter and kept her voice low when she answered. She was pretty sure her flushed cheeks were convincing enough. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific. But if you mean the sex, yes, it was good.”
Jynn resembled a cat who’d jumped head-first into the cream but wasn’t quite sure what to do next. “Oh, I figured it had to be good from the way you were walking and winced when you sat down.”
The warmth spread down Triss’s throat and into her chest. “If it’s not the sex you want to know about, then what?”
“Does he make you call him ‘Sir’? Has he tied you up yet?”
Triss shrugged. “I call him Master. And yes, he’s tied me up.”
Her friend moaned. Her expression bordering on blissful. “How did it feel?”
Triss felt uncomfortable telling Jynn more than a few minor details, but at the same time she needed her friend to understand what had her so conflicted. “Jynn, this isn’t only about sex.”
Jynn took a moment before answering. “Much as I’d love every intimate detail, Triss. I want you to tell me you’re okay. I worry, you know.”
Embarrassed but touched by her friend’s concern, Triss nodded. “I know. It’s just -- I’m still trying to figure it all out myself.”
“At least tell me if you liked it.”
“It?”
“Submitting. Letting him order you around, controlling you.”
“I’m not sure.”
The perplexed expression on Jynn’s face was probably a mirror image of her own baffled look. “Not sure?” Jynn asked. “I would think you’d know whether or not what he’s doing turns you on.”
Triss stared down at the floor before looking back at Jynn. “It turns me on, but is it what I should be doing? How I should be enjoying myself with him?”
A wicked grin lifted Jynn’s lips. “Why not? You have cooked up ideas and played kidnap and capture games all your life.”
“When I was a kid, yes. But I’m an adult now. Independent, rational, educated. I shouldn’t think about, let alone write stories about women being subjugated by men.”
“Oh for God’s sake. You’re so full of shit. It’s sex, Triss. Role playing. Fantasy. You’re making excuses.”
Triss responded, spurred on by the confusing mix of self-disgust, guilt, and curiosity. Admittedly the self-disgust and guilt weren’t as intense now as they were before she started talking to Jynn, but they were still there.
Determined to examine the situation from every possible angle, Triss used the argument that seemed the most rational. “It makes perfect sense, Jynn. Tell me what self-respecting woman, who’s fought hard to be recognized as an equal to her male co-workers wants to surrender her independence and take orders from a man or another woman in order to achieve arousal?”
“Hundreds. Thousands of them. You and myself included,” Jynn snapped back.
That was the problem. Triss wanted to scream. To tear her hair out. This wasn’t helping. Her own mind was so jumbled and spinning with ideas and confusing emotions, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to choose what was right. “Okay, so tell me. If you saw a picture of a woman kneeling in front of a man with some kind of statement about a woman’s place. What would your reaction be?
“Go off. Sexist stuff like that would be a death knell to my ever buying something made by that company.”
“Exactly. And if some guy made a comment about a woman not having a head for business?”
“If it was someone I was working with or for, I’d make sure to report him for discrimination. At the very least.” Jynn’s look showed her gaining comprehension of what was bothering Triss. “You’re looking at it wrong.”
“How? Yes, the sex is amazing. The things he’s shown me and the way he touches me makes my bones melt at the thought of him. But is that enough of a reason for me to accept a passive role in the bedroom?”
“Who says it’s a passive role?”
“I’m not making any decisions on what he wants to do…”
Jynn’s brow furrowed. “He doesn’t give you a choice?”
Triss shrugged. “Well, yes, he gives me the option to say no. And if something he does makes me uncomfortable I can stop.”
“That sounds like you have more than a passive role in the bedroom, hon.”
“Am I supposed to really en
joy it this much? How can I justify submitting to him when everything around me says I should take control.”
Jynn sighed. “Do you want to take control?”
Triss tried to visualize it. Her clad in black leather, a whip in one hand and the end of a long leash in the other. At the opposite end of the lead, Vince wore a collar around his neck. The visual didn’t feel right. The soft rub of leather became a phantom sensation around her throat and the cool grip of manacles chilled her wrists. Her breathing slowed. Her body grew warm. The crease between her thighs dampened her panties.
“Triss?”
Startled from her thoughts Triss shook her head. “No, I don’t want to take control. But, what role do you think a woman should take if she was going to try BDSM?”
Jynn shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever one she thinks might appeal to her. The one that might help her get her rocks off.”
Triss returned to her seat at the table and sipped her soda. “What role would you choose?”
“Triss, this isn’t about me.”
The good girl in her wanted the obnoxiously determined, obstinate bad girl deep within to see that the role of submissive was the wrong choice. While the bad girl was equally intent upon proving that submission was perfect for Triss. “I know this isn’t about you, Jynn, but I need this clarified. I’ve been thinking. I really want your opinion. You are a confident, sexually active woman. You run your own business, own your home, and aren’t afraid to argue with the contractors you hire to work on your house or in your business. If you could choose between being a dominant or a submissive, which would you choose?”
Jynn waited several seconds before responding. “I would want to be a submissive.”
That surprised Triss, but not too much. Not after the time she’d spent with Vince. “Why?”
“Because of all the things you just said. I’ve been in control of everything. I have to manage all the little things going on in my world. And there are days when that just sucks.”
All along Triss had wondered if she was alone in that particular feeling. “Really?”
Jynn snorted and flopped back against her chair. “You’re as independent as I am, Triss. You run your writing business and work temp cleaning jobs to have a reason to get you out of your house. You may not own your home, but you pay your bills and you don’t answer to anyone about the decisions you’re making with your life. Tell me there aren’t days when you wish there was someone you could hand everything over to and say ‘handle it’ and walk away.”
“There are. Lots of times.”
“Think about it. As a submissive, you don’t have to make the decisions. You don’t have to tell someone what to do or how to do it. You can let him handle everything. You’re just along for the ride. At least that’s how I see it.”
Triss nodded.
“So, why all the sudden introspection?”
Triss handed her the journal Vince had given her that morning. She’d read the fantasy she’d written almost a year ago. Remembered vividly the emotions stirred by the vivid scene. The thought that he was willing to act it out with her was arousing. It was the where that had her trembling.
Jynn’s cheeks were pink, her green eyes sparkling with anticipation. She held up the sheet of paper tucked into the pages, marking the spot. “The note says he wants you at his condo at eight tonight.”
“I know.”
“What about his rule about going to his place?”
Triss shrugged, but she didn’t feel unsure or indifferent about the instruction. That single line was the most frightening part of the whole thing. “If I go, it means I’m committing myself to being his submissive. To starting a relationship. With him.”
Jynn tucked the paper back into the journal and set it on the table between them. “And if you don’t go?”
“It’s over. He won’t call me or bother me about seeing him ever again.”
Her friend slouched in her seat. “That sucks.”
Flopping back against her chair, Triss gave a gusty sigh. “Yeah. It does.”
“So what are you gonna do?”
She wished she knew. Shaking her head, Triss confessed. “I don’t know.”
Chapter Twelve
Right up until she hit the send button, Triss wasn’t sure if texting Jynn was the best way to tell her friend her decision. All she knew is she didn’t want Jynn sitting on her doorstep with melting vanilla ice cream and Godiva liqueur, while she was playing out one of her fantasies with Vince.
The door in front of her swung open, startling Triss into dropping her phone. While she knelt to pick it up, she could feel Vince watching her, but she didn’t look at him until she was standing.
He leaned against the doorframe, the door half-open, the area behind him nothing but shadows. His gaze moved from the top of her head where she’d pulled her hair up into a long ponytail, to her face, before taking in the tee-shirt, denim mini skirt, and heels she wore. “In or out?”
The butterflies danced in her stomach. The blood rushed through her veins. Her breath froze in her lungs. And the urge to run made her legs shake. “In.”
He didn’t say anything, just pushed the door wider and let her step inside.
A shiver trickled down her spine at the soft snick of the deadbolt falling into place. She could feel the damp coating of her cream smearing the insides of her thighs. Per his instructions she’d gone without a bra or panties. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of his home. Beneath the shut bedroom door, she could see a sliver of light, but it was the only illumination. The curtains and blinds were closed over the sliding glass doors leading onto the balcony.
His body was like a furnace against her back. Behind the faded denim of his jeans, the hot length of his erection tucked into the curve of her lower back, his arms wrapped around her waist and settled over her stomach. “Scared?”
Triss placed her hands over his and rested her head against his chest. She couldn’t lie to him. “Terrified.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
His lips caressed her ear. “The scene?”
Triss shook her head. “No.”
“Us?”
A tingle traveled up her spine and raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Scared as she felt, that prickle was all the reassurance she needed to know that she’d made the right choice. “Yes.”
His arms squeezed her tighter, pulling her into his body. “I won’t lie and promise you forever, Triss. But I swear, for as long as you want us to be, I’ll give you all the roller coasters and haunted houses your kinky little heart can handle.”
Triss couldn’t hold back the giggle his promise stirred. If he was leaving how long their relationship lasted up to her, he better be prepared to wield a whip from his walker. A sharp smack on her bottom made her jump and squeak.
A black strap with a red rubber ball in the center dangled in front of her. “Open your mouth.”
Her knees grew wobbly and her breasts ached as she clamped her lips closed and slowly shook her head. The red ball dangled closer. Instead of the smell of rubber and plastic, Triss detected the scent of cinnamon and cloves. The rattle of the buckle made goose bumps rise on skin.
His breath stirred the loose tendrils of hair beside her ear. “Refusing?”
Triss nodded but stayed silent.
“Ah, just what I wanted. I guess I’ll have to make you open up. I suggest you run, pet. When I get you, the gag goes on.” From behind his back he pulled out a length of silk rope. “And this.”
Triss’s body buzzed with anticipation “And if I say no?”
He allowed her to turn and face him. The gleam in his eyes and the look on his face were evidence enough, but he confirmed his intent with a smile. “Begging, tears, and saying no aren’t an option. They won’t matter. I catch you before we get to the bedroom, I’ll fuck you where you fall.”
Exactly like her fantasy. Excitement shivered through her as she took a step back and spun away from hi
m. She knew she was fast and it wasn’t far to that closed room. She could have kicked off her heels and made it to the bedroom without ever letting him touch her.
But where was the fun in that?
Having four brothers had taught Triss many things. How to kick a man to keep him down. How to nail a fastball down the third base line. And most important of all, how to take a fall without bitching about skinned knees or broken fingernails.
Half-way between the foyer and the bedroom, Triss made sure to trip.
The End
About the Author
Qwillia Rain grew up in Las Vegas, Nevada. She spent more time indulging her imagination and playing in the open desert that was her front yard than worrying about what she would be when she grew up.
After living in Nevada, Alaska, and Montana, she ended up in North Carolina in 2006. She's worked as a convenience store clerk, casino change person, bill collector, video store clerk, and a teacher. Between 1998 and 2007, she earned a Bachelor's degree in Elementary Education and a Master's degree in Educational Technology but throughout all of it, she's always written her stories.
In 2007, she sold her first romance novel to Loose Id, LLC and never looked back. Writing has always been her favorite past time, and now that she's able to indulge her story telling, she doesn't see it ending any time soon.
Other Books by Qwillia Rain
Available through Loose Id, LLC
Meeting A Neighbor's Needs
A Neighbor's Ultimatum
An Invitation: Ariel's Pet
Diablo Blanco Club: Unfair Advantage
Diablo Blanco Club: Under Control
Diablo Blanco Club: Rite of First Claim
Santa's Elf (A Diablo Blanco Club book)
