Back Cover Copy
Fantasies become reality at the threshold of Le Club d'Esclavage.
Dani Miller is the kind of girl who does her best to make everyone happy. She helps her parents out at their diner, she helps remind her friends to laugh, and she’s always ready to take orders from her customers.
When it’s her turn to give the orders, the hunky bouncer at Le Club d’Esclavage is just the man to follow her.
From a distance, Mike Ranger watches the pint-sized Mistress build confidence in her power to give commands, while the Dominant in him waits for the perfect opportunity to reveal himself.
When the two discover passion that creates the perfect bonds, the orders given by the right man can be the sweetest treat to savor.
Content Warning: this title contains the following: graphic language, explicit sex, bondage, mastery, the use of sex toys, and nontraditional sexuality.
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“Friday night,” Dani said hoarsely, and bent her weak knees.
When her face was aligned with his mid-abdomen, she stuck out her tongue and leaned forward. Dipping the tip into the indent of Mike’s belly button, she began to rise slowly, pressing the flat of her tongue against him. Up the center of his body she traveled, savoring the salty taste of his flesh and the trembling of his big frame. On her tiptoes, she stretched to catch a trickle of sweat racing down the divot below his Adam’s apple.
Though feeling far from sated, she took a step backward and licked her lips. Fire burned in Mike’s brown eyes as he stared at her. At the sides of his muscled physique his right hand gripped the towel he’d been using to sop up perspiration, and in the left he’d crushed an empty plastic water bottle.
“Friday night, nothing will stop me from finishing what I start with you.” The promise was clear in her steady voice. She fought the urge to cheer in triumph when a grin began to curl his full lips.
“Until then, my Mistress,” was all he said.
Yes, My Mistress
978-1-61650-113-6
Copyright © 2009, Jennifer Cole
Edited by Pamela Tyner
Book design by Brian Hunter
Cover Art by Renee Rocco
First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: January, 2010
Lyrical Press, Incorporated
17 Ludlow Street
Staten Island, New York 10312
http://www.lyricalpress.com
eBooks are not transferable. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
Published in the United States of America by Lyrical Press, Incorporated
Table of Contents
Back Cover Copy
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Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
About Jennifer Cole
About the Le Club d’Esclavage Series
More From Lyrical Press
Dedication
For lovers of make believe.
Prologue
A morning breeze drifted in the open patio door, causing the sheer drapery to move like gentle waves washing against a sandy shoreline. In the soft wind the subtle fragrance of annuals in the planters adorning the balcony carried the scents of springtime into the apartment. The only sound in the kitchenette—the faint wisp of turning pages.
Seated on a barstool with her legs outstretched, ankles crossed, Dani Miller sipped a spicy Chai tea while a half-eaten chocolate chip scone sat abandoned on a plate beside her teacup.
She placed the copy of In the Know on the breakfast nook to her right. Her cheeks began to heat. The tingling between her legs sent a chill up her spine. She shivered as her arousal gained in momentum. Her mind conjured up images of the vibrator hiding in the top drawer of the nightstand beside her bed, and moisture pooled at the juncture of her thighs. She giggled into the emptiness of her apartment. That toy was going to make her late for work.
A year earlier the magazine In the Know was the only print media to be given an exclusive by Le Club d’Esclavage. They’d dedicated over half the edition to the upcoming opening of the club. Natalie Buchanan, one of Dani’s best friends, held the position of copy editor with the magazine, and gave her an advance copy of the edition.
Le Club d’Esclavage had been the newest sensation to hit their city. Roughly translated as “The Club of Slavery,” it turned the entire community on its ear when its grand opening attracted record numbers of patrons from the surrounding areas. Le Club d’Esclavage was a scrupulously monitored establishment catering to adults interested in the BDSM scene. Whether you were a novice interested in participating in a little ‘slap and tickle,’ or a ‘whip me, beat me, call me trash’ hardcore enthusiast, Le Club d’Esclavage offered something to whet any appetite.
The owner of the club remained a mystery. His or her identity had never been revealed, and all media correspondence regarding the popular establishment was conducted through its manager, Troy Simon. Troy, a vigilant observer, demanded all guests and employees follow strict guidelines while patronizing the club. First and foremost all arrangements of play were to be consensual, no bestiality, no pain infliction for the sake of inflicting pain, no blood play, all engaging partners must practice safe play at all times. And above all else, have a great fucking time! It’s just sex, after all.
During the grand opening, Troy was quoted as saying, “The owner would like to make one thing very clear. When you cross the threshold into Le Club d’Esclavage, it is your desire to participate completely in our manner of play, and such will be expected of you.”
Within the glossy pages of the magazine Dani found herself more than curious about what went on inside the walls of the club. Each time she read the article, she couldn’t control her body’s response to the words and pictures on the pages. Never before had her body reacted with such fierce sexual need. To say she was intrigued would be an understatement.
Scooping up the magazine, she flipped to the article once again and smiled. She’d read it so many times the corners of the pages were dog-eared.
“You know what, Lady Godiva,” she said to the fat calico cat, lazily sauntering through the open sliding door. “I think I want a piece of that lifestyle.”
Chapter 1
Sweat poured off Mike Ranger’s body as he finished the last set of presses. After placing the barbell in the holder, he sat up and reached for the water bottle at his feet. Each morning his day began by spending two hours in the employees’ exercise room. What he would have preferred was to start the days by getting sweaty beneath his bed sheets with a vivacious brunette with big, brown eyes.
A curvy brunette was Mike’s biggest weakness.
It had been some time since he’d had the privilege of sharing the warmth of a woman’s body. Three long years. Regardless of the fact he worked in the hottest BDSM club with
in a hundred mile radius, every night Mike crawled into his king-size bed alone.
The door to the gym opened and Max Renfrew, the club’s owner, entered. Mike glanced over, then rose to his feet.
“Hey,” Max said in greeting. “How are you?”
“Great,” Mike replied. “You ready to run?”
Max nodded on his way across the room toward the state of the art sound system. “You bet.” He slipped AC/DC’s Black Ice CD into the carousel, and cranked up the volume. “Five miles work for you today?”
“Let’s make it ten.” Mike walked toward one of the four treadmills set up along one wall. “I’ve got some tension to work off.”
Max stepped onto the machine beside Mike and grinned. “Running isn’t going to burn off that kind of tension, my friend.”
“Yeah, well, it’s all I got right now.”
Max chuckled and keyed in his settings. “Don’t sweat it, big man. I may have something in the works that just might help you out.”
Mike grimaced while he programmed the computer of the machine he was using. “No, no, no. Don’t bother setting me up with somebody’s sister, or a friend of a friend. I’ve got a hard-on, yes, but I’m not hard up.”
Max reached over and punched the ‘start’ signal on Mike’s treadmill, catching him off guard. With a curse, he stumbled half a dozen steps before regaining his balance.
“Asshole,” Mike bit out before settling into a stride.
In silence the two men ran their ten miles before parting ways. After a hot shower in his apartment on the premises, Mike strolled into the main room of the club. Being mid-afternoon the club was empty. Bright fluorescent lights overhead illuminated the vast open space.
Deirdre, the head of the bartending staff, was taking stock before opening for the night. The woman was most men’s wet dream come to life. Long blond curls, luscious curves, infectious laugh and personality, blessed with the body of a swimsuit model. The bombshell exuded sexual appeal at its premium. And there wasn’t a man on the planet who stood a snowball’s chance in hell of getting into her pants. In her opinion the only thing men were good for was to deposit a load of sperm into a Dixie cup for women to use to artificially inseminate themselves. That and to annihilate “icky, creepy, crawly bugs with lots of legs.”
“Hey there, Dee,” Mike said as he slid onto a stool in front of the marble topped bar. “You’re in early.”
“Hiya, Mikey.”
Deirdre was one of the few people permitted to call him ‘Mikey.’ Actually, Mike never had the nerve to correct her. Despite her five-feet-nothing frame Deirdre wasn’t someone to be messed with. One time in particular he recalled the petite fireball throwing some brute out on his ear after she caught him slipping ruffies into a woman’s drink while she boogied with friends on the dance floor. Mike was appreciative that when others were around Deirdre used plain old ‘Mike’ to address him.
“My new guy closed last night, and I’m checking to make sure he did everything I’d asked,” she said.
At the end of the hall leading to the employee suites the deadbolt lock tripped and the heavy steel door swung open. Two men approached the bar, Troy Simon, the club manager, along with his lover, Ransom Seager.
“Afternoon, Deirdre. Mike,” Troy said.
“Hi guys,” Ransom greeted as well.
Small talk was exchanged among the quartet as a half hour passed. The front door swung open, and the sounds of cars whizzing up and down the street out front filled the emptiness of the club. The casual conversation the co-workers shared stopped as a voluptuous brunette sashayed through the door. The seductive sway of her hips produced a groan from deep within Mike’s chest.
“Mmm, I’d like a piece of that,” Deirdre uttered just loud enough for the three men to hear. “By the way, sorry boss. I didn’t the lock the door after I came in.”
“It’s all right, Deirdre,” Troy assured her.
Inch by delectable inch Mike’s eyes scaled the woman’s lush frame. The monster between his legs raged, demanding he toss her over his shoulder and cart her up to his suite. He wanted to tie her spread eagle atop his bed and with his tongue worship every molecule that made up her body.
“Hands off,” Mike growled. The possession he heard in his tone made him straighten on the stool.
Deirdre snickered and went back to counting the bottles of booze lining the counter.
Troy stood and, with a confident stride, approached the gorgeous woman who’d entered. “I’m sorry, miss, but we’re not open to the public for another couple of hours.”
“Actually, Mr. Simon, I was hoping for a moment of your time,” she said. Although she spoke to Troy, her big brown eyes focused on Mike. “May we speak in private?”
With a nod Troy led the woman toward the back of the club. Mike clenched his fists on his thighs, watching the two disappear down the hall to the office.
* * * *
Dani was escorted down a long hallway. Step by step her mind raced with naughty thoughts of the man seated at the bar. Though there were two men sitting side by side, her focus had been on the largest.
The man was huge while seated, and she wondered how intimidating he would be when standing. His broad shoulders had to span four feet across at least, and the black t-shirt he wore served only to enhance the bulge of muscle beneath. Dark, untamed waves had her fingertips itching to run through them. To fist her fingers in his hair while she held him to her breast, or better yet, lower. His brown eyes had roamed up and down her small body. Well, she wasn’t particularly “small.” Standing around five-one, her breasts were a little too big for her frame, her hips were on the wide side, as was her butt, but she did have a tiny waist. The man’s expression had been one of hunger as he appeared to undress her with his eyes.
Perhaps she should have been appalled at the way he’d blatantly ogled her, but Dani was anything but. Hell, she’d been ogling right back. Visions of straddling his powerful thighs played in her mind’s eye. Due to his incredible size she wondered what sort of monster he was packing in those blue jeans. What kind of lover would he be? Would the touch of his large hands be rough and demanding, or gentle and persuasive?
As she imagined the stroke of his fingers, a shiver raced through her body from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. What would his full lips feel like pressed against her flesh? Suckling her breasts? Sampling her pussy? The sudden tightening of her nipples stole her breath. She envisioned the wet slide of his tongue in all the right places. How would he feel about experimenting, trying different positions, using implements? Would he allow her to tie him up and make him submit to her newfound cravings?
The bundle of nerves between her legs swelled, creating a delightfully agonizing friction with every step she took. Would he tie her up, and make her submit to him? The response of her body to the thoughts alone was almost enough to make her stop walking, lean against the wall for support, and come right there.
“Here we are.” The man behind her interrupted her x-rated thoughts as they arrived at a closed door at the end of the corridor. He reached for the knob and opened the door.
Dani stepped through the doorway into a room larger than her entire apartment. The simple furnishings depicted a lounge area as opposed to an office. The atmosphere inside was one hundred percent alpha male.
To her immediate right were three black, leather sofas. Two facing each other, the third facing a large gas fireplace built into the wall. The centerpiece of the square setup was an octagon-shaped glass coffee table.
In the middle of the room a pool table displayed the remains of a game left abandoned. A dozen or so balls, an equal number of solids and stripes, littered the felt surface, and a cue leaned against one of the polished wooden sides.
A small wet bar, similar to the one in the main area of the club, sat in one corner, and in the opposite corner stood a tiny, beat-up, old desk cluttered with paper. Behind the tattered piece of furniture were several black filing cabinets. Not a single pic
ture hung on any of the four windowless walls.
“Please, have a seat,” Troy said, motioning to one of the sofas. “May I offer you something to drink?”
“Uh, no, thank you,” she replied. “I’m fine.”
Taking a seat in the middle of the closest couch, Dani sat with her legs closed tight, hands folded on her lap. For the first time since deciding to pay Mr. Simon a visit, she found herself nervous.
Across from her Troy sat down in one corner, crossed his left ankle over his right knee, and rested his arms along the back and side of the big, comfy couch. Dark gray eyes studied her, his expression controlled and unreadable. Troy Simon was handsome. There was no question about that. He exuded dominance, and power, and Dani had little doubt women would submit to him with nothing more than a look.
“What can I do for you, Miss...”
Dani cleared her throat before answering. She wondered if she still had a voice as his gaze appeared to be seeking out her deepest, darkest secrets.
“Danielle Miller,” she replied. “My friends call me Dani. I’m sorry, up until a minute ago I was feeling pretty confident about meeting with you. Now I’m embarrassed to admit I’m nervous.”
“There’s no reason to be nervous, Dani,” Troy said smoothly. A slight grin curled his lips on one side. “I don’t bite.”
She wasn’t so sure about that.
“Now tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“Well, I read the article published in the magazine, In the Know,” she began. “And I’m intrigued.”
Troy nodded, his eyes remained focused.
Again, she cleared her throat, and then continued. “It’s more than a curiosity, Mr. Simon—”
“Call me Troy.”
Butterflies filled her belly, and she felt her cheeks heat. “Thank you. Troy,” she repeated. “When I read the article, or when I’m doing a little research on the BDSM scene my body reacts in ways I’ve never felt before, and—”
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