by Amy Valenti
She initiated the next kiss.
J>I don't understand something.
T>What do you not understand?
J>Don't take this the wrong way because I'm so not complaining, but I expected more roughness and pain.
T>Do you require those?
J>I'm really not fond of pain. I think the switch was probably about all I could handle, but I'm surprised it coincidentally worked out.
T>I don't provide a typical “dungeon” scene to weed out those who really aren't interested in the lifestyle. And I think it's a rebellion against any strict definition. You (general) tell me a Dom has to be one way, and I will do the opposite until it resembles something else entirely. So long as it's consensual. I tend not to plan, and I try to meet the needs of the woman who requires what I provide. I'm a fan of baby steps. It's something that should be evolving constantly. The Dom intuiting the needs of his lover and doing his best to provide what she needs. Whether it's rope and a flogger, or complete sense deprivation. I'm up for most things, but if my lover doesn't require those things, then I adapt. The same way a sub would.
She didn't message me back for nearly a half an hour, but I wasn't concerned. Everything I said, I stood behind. I would give her all the time in the world for her to be ready to reveal herself to me. At this point, it was almost silly. She could pretend she was anonymous, and there was safety in that. But, she needed to see she was safe without the blindfold. And when she revealed herself to me, I would tell her everything I should have told her years ago.
J>I appreciate you explaining that. It's a relief to me that you want to take this slowly. I was worried when I first felt the switch, and thought I would disappoint you if I was too afraid of the pain, but you never gave me more than I could handle.
T>Sometimes if I think you might need it, I might use a firmer hand, but not more than a switch on anyplace too sensitive. I really wanted to use a paddle when you were holding the chain, but the feather was too tempting. You may learn sometimes pleasure is worse than pain.
J>Don't I know it. If I had the option for a paddle, but an orgasm, I would have chose the paddle. This is far more nuanced than I thought.
T>Yes. Which is why it's so hard to define as a whole.
J>So, we'll just see what fits us?
T>Right. But you already knew that.
J>;)
Chapter Eight.
She was perched on the side of the bed fully dressed with the scarf tied around her eyes. It seemed symbolic that she wanted me to undress her, to strip her bare, but it could've been that I hadn't given her any instructions the night before except to get the key from Miranda.
Still. It would be my pleasure.
I was nervous as I walked up to her and pulled her to her feet and stood in front of her, but it didn't stop me from taking the scarf from her eyes, and smiling at her. “Hi.”
Her face transformed and not happily. “Tyrone Parker.” She looked utterly betrayed, and I didn't understand. Not at all.
“Juliet. Hey.” I moved my hand to the side of her face to comfort her. She backed away.
My heart fell out of my chest. “I thought you knew. How could you not know?”
She shook her head.
“Oh.” My arms were limp at my side. I felt like I was having a stroke.
“I'm sorry. I can't‒”
I watched as she grabbed her bag. When she left, I sat heavily on the bed. She was lying. She had to be lying. There could be no other explanation.
A little later, I sat at the bar. I had told Miranda it was an ex she had hooked me up with, but it was someone I regretted leaving.
“She denied knowing it was you, even though that was very improbable?” Miranda asked, handing me a beer.
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Why eliminate the blindfold pretense if it was going to make her freak out?” Miranda seemed to ponder the question for quite a while.
“I really don't know.” I was pouting. I wanted to go home and eat tacos, get drunk, but not masturbate. I was going to ignore my dick for a while. Bastard was nothing but trouble. Maybe I should try to find a boyfriend. I've never been interested in cock, but as a man, it seemed like there was sex all day, all night. Just no pussies.
No pussies. That made me sad. I downed half my beer.
“It's brilliant though. What are the odds of something like that happening? Are you sure she's not got a hidden camera?” Miranda was really thinking this one out. I would let her.
“I don't know where she would've hidden one. When I had her legs spread, I didn't see anything flashing back at me from her snatch. And if I had, I'd be thinking extraterrestrial rather than surveillance.”
Miranda choked back a laugh. “Jesus. You're making it hard not to laugh. I'm supposed to be Ms. Badass. Here.” She pulled a bottle out from underneath the bar. “Not that I don't want you here, but your comedic genius will keep me from working my magic tonight.” She placed the bottle in front of me. “This is Balcones Single Malt. Best fucking whisky in Texas. You'll find God after a few shots of this. And probably be too drunk to do anything but pass out.”
I was okay with that. “Will God put out, though?”
Miranda choked back another laugh. “If he does, please do let me know. I'll take calls at all hours for that.”
I took my bottle of whisky and poured it neat with a couple of tacos. I was indeed very good. My poor poor liver. I wasn't going to get shit-faced, even though that's what I wanted. I wouldn't admit it, but I think I wanted to be sober if Juliet contacted me.
Chapter Nine.
T> Is there anything else I can say?
It was fucking midnight when the banging started. It was raining quite hard with high winds, so I assumed it was the screen door detaching. I opened the door, and instead of an errant screen, an errant ex soaked to the bone was standing there.
“I did know it was you. I did.” It was raining and she was crying and the raining and the crying together, and it was like something out of a movie with that one not very handsome 'Hey Girl' guy.
Wait. Was I meant to be that guy? I think I might need to lay off the booze.
“I just panicked. I freaked out at the last minute and ran before you could break my heart again, but it was already too late. I'd already fallen again‒God, it's so fucking easy to fall for you‒because I've tried with others. I've tried so hard, and I'm not hard to please, and these last weeks have been so perfect. When I could pretend not to know. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to run‒”
I pulled her in the door and into the bathroom. It was a summer rain, so while she was shivering, she would be fine. “I'm sorry if this...isn't good.” Her teeth clanged together.
I pulled her dress off and wrapped a towel around her. I held her to me. “It's fine.” It wasn't fine. I was still hurt, but I think it was my pride more than anything else.
I was trying to parse through what she'd said, but I wasn't going to hold her to any of it right now. It brought me hope, but I was cautious.
She pulled away and looked up at me. She was still shivering, but she was there. Coherent and exhausted. She pulled me down for a kiss and I let her. I sighed into her mouth, and held her as if she'd break.
I pulled away after a moment. “Why are you here? I mean, this late and horrible weather.”
She pressed her face to my chest and shook her head. “I just wanted to be here with you.”
I thought there might be more, but it was what she was ready to share with me. She lifted her head again, and pulled me down to kiss her again. I kept my head high, but lifted her, gripped her bottom, and slammed her against the door. “You don't get to do that. You can't. Unless...unless...”
I carried her to my bed and dropped her on it. She was in her wet bra and panties and I was only in my underwear. They were still on as I found my way easily inside her somehow, and the sounds she made curled my fucking toes.
She managed to get her bra off, or maybe I just pulled it down with my teeth, but I sucked every b
it of her I could fit in my mouth. “Tyrone, please.”
“What is it you need?” I was fully accommodating. “Anything.”
She started to cry. “I don't know. I just want you everywhere. I need you fucking everywhere.”
“I'm in your pussy now. Did you want to taste yourself? Did you want me in your mouth?” She gave me a strangled moan, and I pulled out and straddled her chest as fast as I could. Before I could thrust in her mouth, she was already meeting me halfway there.
She moaned around my cock, and I wracked my brain to remember how she behaved before. We'd had a good sex life, but she was never this eager. Maybe this had been more about her exploring depravity‒
Fuck! “I'm going to have to stop, or I'll wind up suffocating you. Because I want to come down your throat so bad right now. I'm going to have to eat you for a while.” I pulled out of her mouth and slipped back between her legs. I planned on settling in for a bit.
“No!” She turned over onto her belly quickly and raised up on her hands and knees. “Please. Just as hard as you can. I need you hard. Please make it hurt.”
I licked my lips. Alright then. I was going to make it hurt. I pushed back into her pussy, slowly, but thoroughly, and watched as she tried to free whatever demon that made her crave such pain. I could make her hurt, but I didn't want her to be ashamed after. But, I would do it for her. I would do anything for her. “I'm sorry, Juliet. But, I'm about to hurt you really bad. I'll need to cover your mouth.”
Her breaths turned less frantic. “Yes, please,” she whispered.
“Fall to your side.” She did. “Very good.” I spooned up behind her and slid in easily. You could still hear how wet she was. I rolled halfway on top of her back and used my left hand to cover her mouth. “You won't be able to tell me to stop with my hand covering your mouth.”
She nodded.
I nodded to myself. I pressed my forehead against the back of her neck and pulled out of her pussy.
Then I split her ass in two. I didn't let her acclimate to the pain, and honestly, I wasn't sure if I was able. There was only so much battering I could do before I emptied inside her ass, and once I came down from that, I barely had the coherency to check if she was alright.
“Shit!” I pulled out gingerly. “Oh fuck. Are you okay?”
“Mmhm. My butt hurts, though.”
I laughed incredulously. “Of course it hurts. Do you want me to check? You might need stitches.” I really wanted to look. I wanted to puff my chest out at the damage.
She snorted. “I'm fairly certain I won't need stitches.”
I was dubious. I kissed both cheeks. I'd be able to check damages on me. “I'm going to the bathroom.”
“Mmmm.” She didn't look like she was going to move any time soon.
The first thing I noticed when I turned on the light was all the scratch marks. I hadn't felt any of it. On my chest and down my arms. I turned to see a few on my back.
There wasn't any blood, so I could rest a little easier. I cleaned myself up and went to bed. Where she was already asleep.
She was going to be a challenge to learn, but I really couldn't fucking wait.
I woke to her head on my chest. “I lied to you last night. Wait. I didn't lie, I just didn't finish my sentence.”
Jesus. I hadn't even yawned or stretched. I scratched my balls and tried to ignore my boner. She didn't ignore my boner. I was inside of her and thrusting upwards before I could form a coherent thought.
I palmed her breasts as she built a steady rhythm. “I did want to be here with you. What I failed to say was I didn't ever want to leave. Don't make me leave again.”
It was dark in the room, so I didn't know if she could see my smile. “I guess that saves me from keeping you tied to my bed. But, I think I might want to do that anyway.”
Other stories by Arden
Ancient Hunger: A Modern Mythos Part 1
Which includes the episodes:
Incubare, Cruentare, Vorare, Devovere
Lunacy: A Modern Mythos Part 2 (coming Jan '15)
Tame (Apprivoisé Trio)
Which includes the novels:
Club Dishabille
Morphoses
Force Majeure
Short Story
Idol Worship
Control: Masters of the Sanctuary
About Control
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Follow me on Twitter: @elsadayna
***
He wants complete control. Can she obey?
It was just supposed to be another news story. Journalist Amy Cryan snuck into The Sanctuary to write an article for her job at the local newspaper. It was only supposed to be one night. That's it. Nothing serious.
But when Amy steps into The Sanctuary, all of her plans fall apart. She runs into trouble in the club, and only one man comes to save her. Master J.
J is the hot, rich, and demanding owner of The Sanctuary. He's willing to give Amy a second chance if she does just one thing: give him complete and total control over her for seven days.
***
This romance is the first book in the "Masters of the Sanctuary" series. It is a standalone story where J teaches Amy all about domination and submission.
Book One: Control
Chapter 1
"I guess I'll see you around," Tom said.
He carried a heavy box, brimming with office supplies and cheap journalists' notebooks. Amy looked around. Tom's desk was barren, no pictures, papers, nothing. His desk wasn't the only one. It seemed like every week they were adding new empty desks to the roster.
"Don't get blindsided like I did," Tom said. He shook his head as he started to walk away. "I never saw it coming."
Amy's heart started to race. Sure, she saw the signs, but it never seemed like a big deal. When the other journalists left, Amy chalked it up to their laziness. She never liked Richard or Kathryn anyway. But Tom had been at the paper for ten years longer than she had. He knew his beat better than anyone else.
If they were kicking out people like him, how long could she last? Amy needed to do something. Something big. And she needed to do it quick.
Amy opened up her web browser. Something BIG. Her eyes scanned the stories. Shoot out at a night club. Copper stolen from a church. Corrupt local government officials. Not bad stories, but not what she was looking for.
Then she saw it. There was no information, just a picture. That strange old house on the edge of town. It looked like a huge Victorian mansion. The sort of thing you'd expect to find in a horror movie. Not the kind of house that you'd normally find right outside of a modern city. Maybe this was it.
"Hey Robin," Amy said.
Her desk neighbor swirled around.
"What's up? Sad about losing Tom?"
"Yeah, but, I wanted to see if you knew anything about a story I'm planning," Amy said. "You know anything about that creepy mansion outside of town?"
"Oh yeah, that place? What kind of story would you do about that?" Robin asked. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "That place is pretty weird. I hear they call it The Sanctuary."
"Why's that?"
"Hell if I know, but rumor has it that it's a sex club. You know, one of those places where guys go to put women in chains and whip them while they have sex or something. But really, the security is so tight that no one knows what goes on in there. It could be a granny's knitting circle for all I know."
A secluded, secretive, sex club? That sounded like the kind of story that would get people talking. Amy smiled to herself. But how would she get in there?
Amy turned back to her computer. She spent the next few hours searching for anything and everything related to The Sanctuary, but there was nothing. All she found were a few dumb Facebook posts saying that it was actually a haunted house. Yeah, right. Amy believed in sex clubs, not ghosts.
Finally, there was something. On a nearly blank page, there was just one sentence.
That was it. No mention of who this "J" was, what they would do with the information, or why it was necessary. But this was all Amy had.
"Hey, I've never asked for a favor before, right?" Amy said.
Robin turned to face her with her eyebrows raised.
"No...Why?"
"Well, I need you to help me forge a reference for this sex club."
Robin nearly spurted out her coffee, but she agreed to do it.
"This isn't for you, you know. I just want to know what the hell goes on in there."
Together, they created the whole story. Amy was Ms. Shirley H. Lopez. She had been a part of the lifestyle for years but just moved to the city and wanted to find a new club to join. Robin vouched for her as Mr. Walter Clark. They even made a fake phone number and email address for their new identities.
It was a long shot, but Amy needed to take a risk. If she didn't, who knew how long it would be before she was walking out of the office with a big box just like Tom?
Her finger shook as she clicked "send." Now all she could do was wait.
Every day after the email Amy's thoughts were full of The Sanctuary. Her mind spun stories of naked women kneeling while sexy men stung them with leather whips. She imagined the mansion being full to the brim with an ever expanding orgy, hundreds of men and women with their bodies covered in sweat and who knows what else.
Amy's face blushed, but she couldn't help it. Even during the staff meetings, she couldn't keep the thoughts away. They haunted her.
Each time another of her colleagues packed up, her mind turned to that mysterious "J." Amy crossed her fingers. Please. I need this.
