Decadent Master

by Tawny Taylor

  “No, I don’t have ‘a thing’ for her. You know I don’t get emotionally involved with submissives.”

  Rolf mumbled something.

  “What was that?” Dierk asked.

  “Um, just making a comment about the weather, is all.”

  “Yeah, and I’m Napoleon.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to comment on that one.” Rolf stood and gave him a pointed look. “The fact is, Wynne is an adult. She’s free to make her own decisions. And she has a right to scene with whomever she likes. I’m not going to discourage her. Not when there’s no reason to step in the way. Now, if that bastard steps outta line, I’ll be the first to move in. But not before.” Rolf headed toward the door. “Since you don’t get emotional about submissives, I don’t see any reason for you to stop her either.” He yanked open the office door, forcing Dierk to bite back an expletive.

  He would not let his staff see him lose control.

  He counted to five, took several deep breaths, and then, after the door was shut, kicked his desk a couple of times.

  There was no getting around it: he’d have to watch her scene with that sonofabitch, Zane. Warranted or not, he didn’t trust him, not with any new submissive, and particularly not with Wynne. She was so delicate, fragile.

  To see her spirit broken…he couldn’t think of it.

  Standing in Twilight’s lobby, a black duffle bag at his feet, Rolf greeted Wynne with a smile. “There’s another Dom who would like to scene with you today. Would you be interested?”

  Rolf’s words made Wynne’s heart hop in her chest. Could the other Dom be his brother Dierk? “Can you tell me who it is?”

  Rolf considered her question for a moment before responding. “I would rather take you to him and let him introduce himself.”

  That wasn’t the response she was hoping for. “Does he understand I’m new?”

  “Yes. He is most definitely aware of that fact.”

  Hmmm, the way Rolf had worded the answer to her first question had suggested it was a Dom she hadn’t met before. But the emphasis he placed on the second response made her think it could be Dierk. It was too soon to break into a happy dance, but she couldn’t help getting a little giddy. “Um, I’ll meet him and see where it goes from there.” She tried to hide her excitement, feeling it was a bit of an insult if she acted too excited. Like Rolf wasn’t good enough for her.

  He was plenty good enough. That wasn’t the issue. She simply couldn’t explain her attraction to Dierk. It was different, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Magical.

  “If you’re feeling guilty, or afraid you’ll hurt my feelings, you won’t.” Rolf lifted the duffle. “I want to encourage you to experiment, try new Doms. You may find another Dom’s style fits you better than mine.”

  Her respect for Rolf couldn’t be greater. “That’s very understanding.”

  He handed her the bag. “I hope you’ll accept this.”

  “What is it?” Unsure how to respond, she took it from him.

  “I know you don’t own any gear yet, so I bought you the basics to get you started.”

  “Wow, that is so generous.” That deserved a hug, which she was happy to deliver. “Thank you, Rolf.”

  He gave her shoulders a pat and released her. “Now that that’s settled, I’ll take you to the other Dom.” Rolf led her through the main dungeon to the back hall, where all the private suites were located. He stopped in front of a door that was only a short distance from his and knocked.

  The door opened.

  It wasn’t Dierk.

  She tried to hide her disappointment.

  “Master Zane, this is Wynne.” Rolf took Wynne’s hand and set it on Zane’s, then stepped back. “Good-bye, Wynne.”

  “G-good-bye.” Now really nervous, she gave Master Zane a quick up and down glance. He was big, dressed all in black. Very masculine and intimidating. Very…Dom.

  Master Zane released her hand, took her duffle from her, and turned and walked into his private suite, leaving her to follow. Like she’d been taught by Master Rolf, she stood in the center of the room, doing her best to hold the position he’d taught her to present. Head down, arms pressed to her sides, hands clasped. Chest out, spine arched.

  He unzipped her bag and inspected the contents. “I’ve read your profile, and I see you’ve had no pain tolerance training, sensory deprivation, or restraint.”

  “No, Master, I haven’t. I wasn’t really looking for any intense pain play.”

  “Pain tolerance training is generally part of a submissive’s instruction.”

  Warning bells went off. “Um, I agreed to come and meet you, but I don’t think this is the right situation….” She started toward the door, but Master Zane stepped in front of her and gave her a menacing look.

  He wasn’t going to let her leave?

  About to freak out, she shuffled backward until her rear end hit something.

  Rolf had assured her that all the Doms at Twilight followed the rules. He wouldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t trick her. No way. Granted, she hadn’t known Rolf very long, but she felt he possessed a very strong sense of honor and morals.

  “You must trust me.” Zane circled her slowly, his gaze sweeping up and down her body.

  Easy for him to say.

  “I approve of your clothing. Master Rolf has been training you well.” When he stopped directly in front of her, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not accustomed to selling myself to a submissive, but I will tell you this: I have a great deal of experience and I am fully capable of reading a submissive’s body language. I will know, before you speak a word, whether or not I’ve pushed you too far.”

  She wanted to believe him. She kind of did, but not because he inspired her trust by any word or deed. He sounded, looked, and acted tough. Inflexible. Rather, it was because Rolf had arranged for her to scene with him and she felt she could trust Rolf.

  Rolf knew she was inexperienced.

  Rolf knew she was unsure.

  Rolf knew she had absolutely no tolerance to pain.

  He had to know something she didn’t, or he wouldn’t have encouraged her to scene with this Dom.

  She took a few deep breaths. “Okay.”

  “If you need me to stop completely, for any reason, you will use the word ‘red.’ If you would like me to slow down or ease up, you will use the word ‘yellow,’ and if you would like me to increase the intensity, you will use the word ‘green.’”

  “Yes, Master. Red. Yellow. Green.”

  He gave her a curt nod. “Very well. Kneel.”

  She knelt.

  He went to the metal cabinet in the room’s corner, which she assumed served the same purpose as Rolf’s armoire. Sure enough, when he opened the doors she saw all kinds of ropes, chains, whips, floggers, crops, paddles, and who knew what else. It was one well-stocked bondage closet.

  “I will use pieces from your kit today. You’re lacking some things, but that’s to be expected.” He pulled on surgical gloves.

  Ack. He was going to wear latex gloves? What the heck was he going to do to her?

  Her heart halted then kick-started into a wild beat. All kinds of terrifying images flashed through her mind, making her wish she didn’t have such a vivid imagination.

  He pulled a black mask out of her bag, walked around her, and placed it over her eyes.

  The world went dark.

  Hands clenched tightly, fingernails digging into her palms, she kept reminding herself that Rolf wouldn’t put her in danger. And there were the cameras, thank God. Somebody would be watching.

  Somebody.

  Dierk?

  “Undress, but leave on the corset and a G-string.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  It wasn’t exactly easy breezy getting herself out of the borrowed übertight latex miniskirt while blindfolded, but she managed, and within moments she was back on her knees again.

  Her heart rate still hadn’t slowed. If anything, it was gallo
ping at a quicker pace.

  “My focus as a Dom is not on the sexual gratification of my submissives, so do not expect any kind of penetration, not by any part of my body or even a toy.”

  “Yes, Master.” That was actually a relief. She found she could breathe a little easier, though she did wonder, then, what his focus was. She would soon find out, that was for sure. But in the interim, she was left to wait, wonder, imagine all sorts of shocking possibilities.

  This was where she was having the biggest problem in all this. So much of the excitement of BDSM was built up by waiting, anticipating. But she’d never been fond of facing the unknown. She tended to drive the same route to places, even if a shorter one was discovered. Tended to shop at the same stores. Tended to live by her routine.

  Waiting, anticipating, wondering. Those weren’t activities she willingly embraced.

  Which was why she had surprised herself by not only enjoying her first encounter with Rolf as much as she had, but also agreeing to scene with another Dom, whose identity had been kept from her.

  Her temporary master helped her to her feet and steered her toward a piece of furniture, a kneeler of some kind. He helped her get herself positioned on it: bent over a raised support, her butt up, legs wide apart. A minute later, her wrists were shackled to the supports, down near the floor.

  Talk about feeling completely out of control, utterly vulnerable.

  It was pretty frightening. Her spine was tight, her heart pounding with anticipation. But her pussy was also clenching as erotic heat gathered between her legs. She’d never guessed she would react this way to being tied up by a stranger. Never in a million years.

  And here she’d thought she knew herself so well.

  Something touched her butt. A soft something.

  Totally driven by instinct, she tightened up her muscles and tucked her rear end down.

  “No.” His voice was harsh. The little sting of pain that followed his reprimand wasn’t exactly friendly either. It took her completely by surprise, making her jerk up, yanking against her restraints.

  Assuming he’d struck her—with what, she had no clue, but it hadn’t hurt bad, more caught her off guard—because she’d tipped her hips down, she rocked them back, lifting her butt up again.

  The touch returned, and this time, she focused on holding her position. She did okay, it seemed, that time, but then she lost it when he touched a spot that was very ticklish.

  She jerked.

  A deep, “No,” followed, along with another whack on her buttocks.

  The sting quickly turned to heat. And that heat radiated through her body in soft, slow, undulating waves. It was the most bizarre and unexpected sensation.

  This time when he touched her ticklish spot again, she didn’t try so hard to keep still, and, as she expected, she was punished. Once again, the punishment was more pleasurable than painful.

  She was starting to feel a little giddy.

  She heard Master Zane walk away, listened to the clank of metal. She counted every single heavy footstep as he returned to her.

  Another touch. This one right at the small of her back. One of her worst tickle spots. She bit her lip. There was no way she could avoid tightening her spine. Her hips rocked back, lifting her butt up higher.

  There was a grunt of satisfaction. “That’s not what I was expecting, either, but I like it.”

  Another sting. This one hurt a tiny bit, but the pain quickly turned to warmth. And that heat spread through her body again. Her breath quickened. Her heart hammered against her breastbone. A moan slipped from between her lips.

  A hard slap came next, and it did hurt, and she yelped. It wasn’t so bad that she would have cried or anything, but it did get her attention. That sensation she would rather avoid in the future.

  But then a moment later a strange rush zoomed through her body, wild and shocking. It almost felt like she’d swallowed a pill of some kind. She felt energetic and strong and buzzed, like she’d downed a half-dozen shots of tequilla.

  “Ohhhh,” she heard herself moan.

  Master Zane struck her again, with whatever fiendish toy he held. And again. Over and over. And each impact produced a tad more pain, but with it came a bigger and bigger rush, until she was chanting, “Green, greengreengreen!”

  The sensations blurred, and she felt herself sinking, as if her soul was detaching from her mind and floating through her body. Now she could appreciate why people sought out pain. Now she had discovered a part of herself she might never have uncovered, if it wasn’t for Master Zane and his wicked whip.

  When he stopped, he coaxed her back to the outside world with a soft voice. She felt as if she’d traveled into the deepest parts of herself. As she made her way to the surface, she was only vaguely aware of him unfastening her wrists and easing her into his arms.

  They were strong arms, steel sheathed in velvet. Capable. Protective.

  She sagged against him. Her butt was still hot, but she didn’t care. She cried and laughed, for reasons she couldn’t really sort out. He held her until she quieted.

  “It wasn’t what I thought it would be,” she admitted.

  “You are remarkable, Wynne.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled.

  “No, thank you, for turning over your trust and allowing me to bring you to a new place.”

  Still giddy from the intense experience she’d just gone through, she giggled. “That you did.” She gazed up, looked deep into his eyes. “Will you let me do it again sometime?”

  “Whenever you wish.” He showed her the whip he’d used on her. It looked pretty darn scary, with the wood handle, braided wrist strap, and narrow, knotted tails. She put it into her bag, along with the restraints and blindfold, thanked him again, and left.

  She had found peace.

  Her mind was still.

  Her body was still.

  Her soul was still.

  It was heaven.

  9

  Wynne thought about the dungeon all week. She had dreams of Doms, shirtless, their heavily muscled shoulders and chests oiled, thickly corded limbs flexing, muscles bulging, as they climbed over her on hands and knees. It was like watching Playgirl movies all night long. She awoke feeling pleasantly tense, her pussy thrumming, her blood simmering.

  She was changing; she felt it. Like a caterpillar closed in its protective cocoon. Instead of literal body parts shedding, changing, old beliefs and fears were being replaced by new ones.

  She couldn’t wait to go back to Twilight, to see Rolf, Zane, and, more than anyone else, Dierk. She could talk of nothing else with Kristy. She asked lots of questions and listened, sitting on the proverbial edge of her seat, absorbing every word her friend told her. Kristy talked about her kit, how to care for each item properly. She told her about the basic rules of bondage and submission, sadomasochism, as well as a little of the history of the BDSM culture. The difference between a 24/7 Master-slave relationship and casual BDSM playing. By the time Friday night had arrived, she comprehended a lot more about the world she had wandered into. And she also had a better understanding of herself and what she was looking for at Twilight.

  This wasn’t about understanding John anymore; it was about understanding Wynne. She still had a lot of insight to gain.

  Once again, she groomed herself from the soles of her feet to the top of her head, and she borrowed a sexy fetish outfit from Kristy. This week, she went with a short black latex skirt and black corset. The borrowed matching shoes had five-inch heels and were überchallenging to walk in.

  Unlike last time, she didn’t bother with underwear.

  Her heart pounded as she drove to the dungeon. Her nerves pricked. Her hands trembled.

  What would happen tonight?

  She was scheduled to have a session with Rolf—assuming no other Doms had requested a session with her. Would he bring her to a bone-melting climax again? How many times and how? Or would he tie her up and paddle her with her new whip? Those little strips of knott
ed goatskin did wonderful things to her. The tails’ nips were like sexy little love bites.

  She’d never experienced anything like that before.

  Of course, her thoughts also turned to Dierk. She hadn’t seen him in a while and still her feelings about him hadn’t faded. She was just as fascinated with him as she’d been the very first time she’d seen him, even though she was 95 percent positive he didn’t feel the same thing for her. She’d been there before—on the painful side of a one-sided crush—so that was nothing new.

  By the time she pulled into the parking lot outside of Twilight, she was edgy and excited, nervous and hopeful all at the same time. One big bundle of tight nerves and tense muscle, wrapped in black latex.

  She clacked into the building, teetering dangerously on those ridiculous high heels, and signed in at the front desk. The receptionist told her Rolf would meet her out in the lobby, so she did her best to pull the diminutive skirt down over her butt, took a seat in one of the nearby chairs, and waited.

  “Wynne.”

  That sounded like Rolf, but it didn’t. She turned to glance over her shoulder.

  Dierk.

  Her insides did a little happy dance. She beamed at him.

  He frowned.

  The happy dance came to an abrupt halt.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked, looking puzzled.

  “I was told to wait here for Rolf.”

  He nodded, crossed his arms over his chest. Those were really nice arms.

  She wished she could thank him for wearing short sleeves. It was mighty kind of him.

  “Hmmm,” he said.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No.” He stepped back. “I thought Rolf said he wouldn’t be coming to the club tonight. I must have misunderstood.”

  “Oh.” She stared at his lips then checked out the rest of his features. Gorgeous. Perfect. Really fine.

  Was there nothing on the man that wasn’t perfectly amazing?

  “I’ll give him a call.” He moved toward the door she assumed led to his office. “Be back in a minute.”