Nathan was scheduled for tomorrow, Sunday.
Frankly, she needed the break from work. It’d turned out to be a crazy shift from the start, the evening crowd rushing in for everything from a mild cold to a suspected heart attack that had to be immediately rerouted to the nearby emergency room via ambulance.
But the light at the end of the tunnel was her appointment with Nathan.
She tapped on the keyboard, suppressing the thrill surging through her body at the anticipation.
He was her favorite.
Technically, she shouldn’t have favorites. Technically they were all the same and all deserved to be treated the same—but Nathan held a special place in her heart for some reason, and she looked forward to their appointments with a bit more enthusiasm than the others.
She knew it was wrong, in a way. The rules said not to develop any attachment to a client. But Wendy had made it clear there also had to be some sort of connection there between Domme and submissive, some emotional link. Otherwise, there’d be nothing more there than a mechanical response to a need. It was a tricky line to toe, and Wendy noted many of Hooded Pleasures’ employees didn’t last more than a year.
It wasn’t as if Jen didn’t have a social life.
Every few weeks, she went to Boots ’n’ Chains, a local BDSM club, to clear her head from both jobs. It cost a mint to keep her membership up, but it was a good place, a safe place where she could let her hair down and relax with her peers.
She rarely hooked up with anyone for more than a single session since beginning her work for HP, choosing to sit at the bar and chat with the other members for most of her visits. Once in a while she’d help with a new arrival, try to make him or her comfortable while they figured out what was going on around them and how much they wanted to participate. Or not.
Sometimes a Domme would bring over her latest toy for Jen to play with, letting the submissive have the pleasure of two women disciplining him in public.
It was fun, and in the end, the Domme would take her man off to the back room to finish off the night, leaving Jen at the bar.
She didn’t mind.
Jen enjoyed seeing connections made and couples forming on and off the dance floor. Once in a while, a sub would offer himself to her, but she usually turned him down with a smile and a pat on the ass to send him off to another Domme.
She loved the public scenes.
She’d been there the night Kate brought Alex out to the St. Andrew’s cross.
A delicious shiver tickled her spine at the memory.
It had been glorious to behold. Alex had looked so strong, so handsome strapped to the polished wood, and Kate—
Perfect.
That was the only word Jen could find to describe the two of them together at their first public scene. They’d done others since, but none had set off such an emotional explosion as the first time.
She remembered seeing tears in the eyes of the other Doms and Dommes at the bar, their submissives barely breathing as they watched Kate and Alex.
Jen only hoped she’d find such love, such a perfect match at some point in her life. She hadn’t found it at the club through her infrequent hookups with the lovely men there. She hadn’t found it the few times she’d met someone outside of the club despite Colleen’s best efforts to set her up.
She just hadn’t clicked with anyone yet.
But Nathan—
She shut off that line of thinking as a clipboard landed atop the counter, dangerously close to her head.
“I filled this out.” The tall man sniffled and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve, leaving a green mucus smear. “Can I see the doctor now?”
* * * * *
Nathan knelt in the living room, trying hard not to smile. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he enjoyed these sessions with Danielle much more than he ever had with Kate.
Danielle and he just…clicked. There wasn’t any other way to explain it. He knew it was a paid service and she wasn’t supposed to get any more into the scene than she needed to fulfill his needs.
Still—
The door opened, and he forgot everything other than the need to serve his Mistress.
He heard the soft thud of the door and the rat-a-tat of her heels on the floor, approaching him.
Her feet appeared in his range of sight, the black stilettos a welcome sight.
The raincoat fell around her feet in a black puddle.
He looked up at the faux police uniform and smirked.
Danielle reached down and tapped him on the chin, a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re making eye contact. That’s going to cost you.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
So worth it.
He gritted his teeth as the flogger landed on his back, the single rhinestone studded strand among the leather ones pounding the skin. This particular flogger left marks that would take days to fade.
She’d used it for that exact reason.
The next stroke snaked up between his legs and snapped against his balls.
He gasped and twisted around in surprise, the cuffs holding him in place.
The heated whisper in his ear almost pushed him over the edge. “I said that would cost you.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” he gasped. His cock rubbed against the cool varnished wood. He’d installed the whipping post in one corner of his playroom, the thick pillar allowing him to stretch his arms up for bondage and punishment. It was expensive, but he had few other vices to spend his money on, and without anyone else sharing the house, it allowed him to imagine he was at one of the clubs.
Right now it was serving its purpose and doing it well. She’d worked him over for a good hour, flogging the hell out of his back and ass with paddles and floggers, the last one specifically created to leave marks he could see in the bathroom mirror. It had a special tail woven into the others, the shiny squares leaving a vibrant imprint on his skin. The skin was raised but not broken—just the way he liked it. Every once in a while, she’d pause to let him recover, just long enough to catch his breath, and then she’d start again with a different flogger or paddle. The variety kept him constantly on the edge.
No matter how often they went through this routine, it was always different, some aspect changing just slightly to keep it fresh in his mind. She’d switch up the floggers, bring harder or softer paddles, focus solely on his shoulders or on his ass, whipping the back of his legs until he couldn’t take any more.
He never got bored, never knew what to expect.
Nathan groaned as she dug her nails into his ass.
He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the urge to come.
“You like that,” she murmured in his ear. “Good. I love seeing you fight to keep control.”
The hot whisper made it even harder.
In every sense of the word.
Danielle stepped back, and Nathan tensed up, knowing what was next.
One last burst of flogging, his back and shoulders aching as his hips bucked forward instinctively to get away from the pain and rubbing against the post.
He ground his teeth together, reaching for that last shred of self-control.
It wasn’t as if he was a young man afraid of coming in his pants the first time a woman brushed her hand against his cock. He was a man and in full control of his urges, full command of his body and ruler of his domain.
But even the best rulers had to deal with rebellions.
He forced himself to remember the first visit he’d had with Kate, struggling with the urge to come.
She had pushed him to his limit right from the start and threatened not only to stop immediately if he came, but to make him clean the mess up with a toothbrush.
The threat should have helped him keep control.
It’d had the reverse effect.
Kate sat there on
the couch in front of him, raincoat buttoned up to the top to hide every bit of her beautiful outfit, and played with her cell phone while he scrubbed three square feet of the hardwood floor clean with the toothbrush she’d brought for such an occasion.
Every few minutes, she’d trickle water over Nathan’s lowered head to create a small puddle for him to work with. Eventually she let him finish up with a washcloth tucked between his teeth, making him polish the floor.
It’d sucked up more than half of his appointment, but the lesson had been well learned.
But right here, right now, with Danielle slapping his ass and every stroke flashing straight to his cock and balls—
He gritted his teeth so hard, he could have sworn he heard a crown pop off.
I’m going to—
She stopped.
Nathan slumped against the post, mentally and physically exhausted.
“Lovely. Just Lovely.” She murmured other compliments as he hung there, sweat dribbling down his chest.
So close.
Nathan pushed his breath out through clenched teeth, pulling back from the edge.
She caressed his ass. “Hands up. Let’s take it over to the couch.”
He grunted as her hands drew over his arms and reached up to unlock the cuffs. They were good leather, secure enough to take his thrashing as he twisted back and forth. He’d ordered them special from the same place that had provided the whipping post, and they remained chained to the thick wood despite his best attempts to pull them free.
He’d ordered them after Kate’s first visit when she’d used her own, getting a referral from her as to what would suit her needs best. She’d been impressed but cautious, pointing out he didn’t have to purchase anything—HP Dommes brought everything they needed.
Nathan had placed the order for the whipping post with the same company not long after that, dipping into his savings.
Mine.
Every time he went into the basement, he saw it and knew it was a part of him, a cherished piece of his soul he could no longer deny.
He loved when Danielle bound him to the post.
She drew the strap through the buckles slowly before flipping them away from his aching wrists. The insides were felt lined so there wouldn’t be any visible bruises despite his twisting and turning.
There was only so much he could pass off at work as exercise-related injuries.
Nathan winced as he straightened, feeling his back muscles protest. His left shoulder ached, and not in a good way. He rolled it back and forth with a pained grunt.
“Are you okay?” She was at his ear in a second, stroking his shoulder.
“I’m good.” He bent back and heard his spine pop like he’d stepped on a roll of bubble wrap.
Oh yeah.
He staggered the handful of steps to the couch where she was waiting, part of him glad the session was over and the other part wishing he could have her for the entire day.
And night.
Danielle laid out the two cans of energy drink along with a small open packet of chocolates and two granola bars, all from Nathan’s pre-stocked cooler set beside the couch.
After all she did for him, the least he could do was supply the treats.
Sometimes she added her own goodies to the stash, like the raspberry hard candies he adored. She’d never told him where she bought them, despite his best efforts to wheedle the information out of her.
Nathan sighed as he half sat, half fell onto the light brown cushions next to her.
Danielle moved closer and drew the blanket over him. She pulled him into a tight hug and stroked his arms.
“You were wonderful.”
Nathan nuzzled her neck and smelled her unique sweet scent, heightened by their mutual sweat. “So were you.”
Danielle tapped the ring at the front of his collar with a disapproving pout.
“Mistress,” he added with a grin.
She smiled and offered him two chocolates that melted in his mouth, giving him a fast sugar rush.
He licked his lips, letting the endorphins ease out of his system. The brief rush into subspace was glorious, as it always was, but coming down sucked big-time.
The rush was so worth it, however.
“It’s time.” The wistful tone in her words washed away the last of his euphoria. She reached for the small key on the table. A few seconds later, the collar was off and sat on the table, waiting until their next session. It was the last official act of her visit, and now there was nothing left than the rest and recovery for them both.
Danielle reached for her phone and tapped in her code, signaling the end of the session. Nathan knew and approved of the safety features, another reason why he liked Hooded Pleasures.
He blinked as she froze, her eyes wide as she studied the screen.
Nathan tensed.
Something was off.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She put the phone down and reached for the drink. She took a deep swig before handing it to him.
“Bullshit.” He enjoyed the flash of surprise in her eyes at his curse. “Something upset you. What is it?”
“Nothing,” Danielle repeated. “I’m fine.” She entwined her fingers and placed her hands on one knee.
He saw the tension in her muscles and the trace of a tremble.
Hell, no.
Nathan drained the can and crushed it in his hand as he tried to quell his rising temper. “Damn it, I’m a cop. I know when someone’s upset. Your body language tells me as much as mine tells you when you’re dominating me.” He deposited the mangled can on the table. “I know you’re upset. Something freaked you the fuck out, and I want to do whatever I can to not have that happen.”
She flinched at his strong language.
Nathan hid a smile. He tried never to swear unless the situation called for it, and this was the first and second time she’d heard curse words from him.
“Look.” He took her hands in his. “I know I’m pushing my limits here, but I care about you.”
Way more than I should.
“I saw your eyes. I saw your reaction. Whatever it is, you don’t need to carry this weight alone. I don’t want you to if I can possibly help it.”
Danielle bit down on her lower lip, gnawing on the delicate skin.
He saw the emotional shell begin to crack, pulling apart under his gentle interrogation.
“Please.” Nathan ran a finger along her cheekbone, turning her to face him. “Please let me help you if I can.”
Her lips parted, and for a second, he thought about moving in to kiss her, push away the fear with the raw emotion he felt for her.
“I’m fi—” The stoic response started.
She stopped.
She sighed, giving up the battle. “I’m not fine.”
He felt a surge of relief at her confession. “What I can do?” Nathan picked up an energy bar and bit off a small part before offering her the rest. “There’s got to be some way I can help.”
She took the bar and nibbled on the edge.
He waited, not wanting to push her.
When you’re ready, I’ll be here.
They sat in silence for a full minute.
Nathan didn’t hold his breath but he didn’t move, afraid anything he did or said would tip her over the edge one way or another.
Danielle pressed her lips into a straight line. “I’m not sure if it’s against the rules or not.” She finished off the energy bar and balled the wrapper in one hand. “Technically, I guess it’s on the line.”
“I won’t tell,” Nathan offered. He drew an X on his bare chest. “Cross my heart.” He gave her a flirty wink. “You know I can keep a secret.”
She tilted her head to one side and laughed.
Nathan felt the t
ension ease away, as much as she was prepared to give and he was willing to take.
Gotcha.
She rubbed the back of her neck. “Okay. I guess you’re the right person to talk to this about because you’re a policeman.”
“I’m not fixing your parking tickets,” Nathan deadpanned, keeping the smile on her face. “And don’t ask me about concert tickets. I’ve got no pull in that department.”
She cleared her throat as her cheeks turned a light red. “I guess if we’re doing this, I have to be honest with you. My name isn’t Danielle. I mean, it is, but only when I’m on HP business.”
Oh.
He wasn’t surprised at the revelation. In his line of work, people switched names all the time. Work names, play names, street names. Didn’t matter which side of the fence you were on, whatever name people knew you by carried power.
Telling someone your real name was like giving away a small piece of yourself.
Honesty was a gift no matter where and who you were.
Nathan felt like a very lucky man.
He smiled. “You don’t look like a Danielle anyway.”
Jen felt better even though she hadn’t done anything yet other than reveal she’d been using a stage name.
In this area, Hooded Pleasures left it up to the individual, letting her decide what worked best. Some people liked having an alias, claiming it made it easier to divide their professional and personal lives.
Some liked it because it added another dimension of naughtiness to the fun. It was like wearing a mask or a hood, a wig or maybe different colored contact lenses to allow them to slip into the Domme persona easier. There were those who created entire wardrobes and personas to put on when they went out—not so different from anyone else headed for a club.
In her case, it was easier to work as Danielle and go back to Jennifer when she was in scrubs and at work. It was her way of keeping the two worlds separate.
She wasn’t embarrassed of what she did. It was simply a case of keeping the files apart in her mind, not mixing the two. She enjoyed her time at the club as a Domme and her appointments with her HP clients as Danielle, and when she went home and took off her clothes, her persona went with it. Nothing confusing about it.
Strictly Yours: Hooded Pleasures, Book 3 Page 5
