The tautness eased and Mistress Jasmine moved around front of Kylie. She slipped two fingers under the leather strap and tugged, testing it. “Comfortable?”
Kylie’s eyes flitted away from hers. “Fine. It’s good.”
The dominatrix gently raised her chin. “If you feel a trigger coming on, use your safe word.”
Kylie nodded. She’s been unsure of what words to choose to indicate her stress or comfort levels. Mistress Jasmine had suggested some BDSM standards—red for stop, amber for proceed with caution, and green for go. They were straightforward and clear, so Kylie decided to go with them.
Mistress Jasmine walked behind her and attached the leash to the metal D-ring. Nervous energy flared low in Kylie’s belly. It tightened her chest, but she willed herself to breathe regular, and she pushed the fear down deep.
“Follow,” Mistress Jasmine said, as she strutted forward. “Unless I instruct you otherwise, remain behind me at all times.” She glanced over her shoulder at Kylie as she strutted past. “Head down.”
“Never jerk hard on the leash,” Mistress Jasmine said, as she walked Kylie around the room. “You could injure your sub’s neck or throat.”
Kylie listened dutifully. She noticed how the leash forced her to focus on her own movements and the movements of her mistress. She had to develop a rhythm that matched Mistress Jasmine’s. It reminded her of ballet classes she’d taken as a young girl. Each step required concentration. Her timing was calculated with that of the domme’s.
Mistress Jasmine moved like a sensuous dancer, the way her hips and buttocks rolled. Her back was erect and head held high as her heels clicked out a staccato on the hardwood. Kylie felt proud to follow her, to be under her command, and she could see how a submissive found their role comforting, secure, when under the care of a skilled dominatrix. She wanted to make her future subs feel the same way.
“No sudden jerks either,” Mistress Jasmine said. “Use your dominant hand to walk your sub. Apply firm pressure downward on the leash to make your sub kneel.”
The collar tugged at her throat. Kylie stiffened and stared, wide eyed, at Mistress Jasmine.
Another firm downward tug from the mistress. “Kneel.”
Kylie swallowed. A fear unfurled from deep inside her and black spots swam across her vision. Mistress Jasmine morphed into her sister, glaring at her in reproach. Her hands shook and they fluttered up, hovering close to the collar.
“Do you need to use your safe word?” Mistress Jasmine’s firm tone snapped her out of this neurotic daze.
“No, Mistress.”
Kylie reminded herself this was not about humiliation. This training would help her become the femdom she desired to be. She chased her sister’s image from her mind and, on wobbly legs, descended. When her forehead touched the cool floor, she let out a tiny sigh of relief.
“Good.” Mistress Jasmine’s hand nestled in the crook between her shoulder blades. Warm comfort flooded Kylie, and the knot in her stomach loosened.
“Firm pressure upward commands your sub rise.” Mistress Jasmine tugged up on the leash.
Nervous tension fluttered anew in the center of Kylie’s abdomen, but she breathed through it, told herself to relax, and she rose with grace. When she glanced at her domme, she gave Kylie a smile of approval.
“Well done.”
They worked through some more commands then Mistress Jasmine removed the leash and collar. “Now it’s time for you to take the reins.”
A surge of anticipation swelled inside of Kylie. Excitement thrummed through her. She’d been waiting for this moment for so long. Now it had arrived, she felt overcome, but she composed herself and thanked the dominatrix.
Mistress Jasmine left the playroom for a few minutes. When she returned, the guy who’d been working the front desk the other day accompanied her.
“Kylie, this is Antoine.” Mistress Jasmine introduced the tall handsome man. “He’ll be your practice submissive.”
He looked at her under dark lashes and flashed a shy yet dazzling smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.” Kylie offered her hand to shake, but when Antoine took it he knelt before her and brushed his soft lips over her fingers.
“I’m here to serve you, Mistress.”
His touch, his total submission, took Kylie off guard. Power surged through her, but also doubt. Could she do this? Could she lead this man at her feet? Could she exert her will so that it brought them both pleasure? Once more, she lost her confidence for a moment and froze.
When she faltered, Mistress Jasmine gave Antoine the command, “Stand.”
With elegance, he rose to his feet.
“I thought you worked the front desk?” Kylie stammered.
“Yes, he does,” Mistress Jasmine answered for him. “But Antoine is also a professional submissive.” She wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulder. “We go way back.”
His lush eyelashes fluttered and that cute, crooked smile returned. “Mistress Jasmine saved me. When I was in a bad place, she took me out of hell.”
“We’re all family here,” Mistress Jasmine said.“Kylie, select a collar and leash. Let’s get started.”
Kylie wondered what Antoine’s story was, and how the mistress had saved him. He adored her. That was obvious. Once again, she found herself longing for that same admiration.
Based on what the dominatrix had told her, Kylie made her selections. She chose a leash long enough for her sub to remain two feet behind her. The chain was wrapped in strong leather. A medium weight tether that wouldn’t strain his neck, but strong enough she could give it a tug and not break it.
Mistress Jasmine inspected Kylie’s selections and indicated her approval. “Now, collar your sub.”
Kylie looked at Antoine and her heart squeezed tight in her chest. This was it. Her hands trembled slightly as she took a deep breath. “Come.”
He walked over and knelt at her feet, keeping his head up so she could wreathe his neck with the shiny black restraint.
Kylie slipped it over his throat. Her hands brushed his warm, smooth skin as she wrapped the collar around his neck and moved behind him to secure it. A shiver of sensation rippled through her hands and up her arms. Her body tingled from this rush of excitement. The heady dose of power spread warmth between her legs.
Her fingers fumbled on the buckle and she gave a silent curse. Reminding herself to keep cool, she tried again, but her fingers were slickened from sweat and the prong missed the hole. She licked her lips and aimed again. Success this time, and the knot tightening in her gut loosened. The prong slid in and she eased the end of the strap through the other side of the buckle.
As Mistress Jasmine had shown her, she tested the collar for the sub’s comfort. Her small fingers glided beneath the soft leather and she tugged, ensuring he had enough room to breathe and the leather wouldn’t chafe. Then she stepped back, admiring her handiwork.
Though her mind seized up. She lost it again. What next?
“Make him stand,” Mistress Jasmine commanded.
Kylie applied upward pressure and Antoine stood.
“Make him walk. Remember, don’t move too quickly. As much as your sub must be aware of your movements, so must you of his. Develop a pace you’re both comfortable with.”
What was the command? Kylie’s throat closed up and she searched her mind. She drew in shaky breath. Then it came to her. She gave the leash a quick tug toward her, being careful not to jerk the lead too sharp or sudden.
Antoine walked.
“Take him around the room,” Mistress Jasmine said. “Then make him heel and kneel at your feet.”
An easy enough task, or at least it seemed it would be, but when Kylie navigated around some of the obstacles the room held, she realized just how much concentration the task demanded. She was no expert on walking in high heels to begin with, and she wobbled as she maneuvered around a spanking bench. Near a wooden horse, her ankle turned and she almost went down. Wit
h a gasp, she righted herself and continued.
When she’d made the rotation, she returned to where Mistress Jasmine waited and gave Antoine the command to heel.
He refused to obey. Instead he gave her a bold stare and continued to walk.
“Resistance.” Mistress Jasmine’s lips tilted in a smug smile. “How will you handle a naughty sub?”
Heat crept into her cheeks. Anger smoldered low in her belly. Kylie knew not to use this irritation when handling her submissive. She controlled it and gave the command to heel again.
Antoine disobeyed. The length of the leash between domme and sub grew taut.
***
If you enjoyed this excerpt, be sure to pick up Her Bad Boys Protector: Bad Boys of BDSM Vol. 5, Bad Boy Alphas: Bad Boys of BDSM Vol. 4, Bad Boy Biker: Bad Boys of BDSM Volume 3, Claimed by the Bad Boy: Bad Boys of BDSM Volume 2 and Bad Boy Werewolf: Bad Boys of BDSM Volume 1. Or get two novellas in one collection for less money: Werewolves & Tattoos and Wicked Alphas. For more information on all our titles and our authors, visit: http://wildlawlesswriters.blogspot.com/
***
Read and excerpt filled with hot shifter man love from C.J. Sneere! Bad Boy Alphas: Bad Boys of BDSM Volume 4 is a man love ménage romance. Now available at all our outlets.
Bad Boy Alphas
Bad Boys of BDSM Volume 4
By C.J. Sneere
Supernaturals came out of the closet over 100 years ago, at the turn of the 20th century. Werewolves and all manner of shifters, vampires, ghouls, fairies and trolls—every monster unknown to humans became known. No longer were they the stuff of legends and folklore.
Over those years, they’d seen many atrocities and triumphs. In WWI, supernaturals became allies to the humans, helping them fight their way to victory. During WWII, Hitler persecuted supernaturals alongside innocent Jews in his effort to cleanse the world of what he saw as imperfection. But, in the end, humans and supernaturals won this fight, too.
Though supernaturals had often worked beside humans for the greater good, that didn’t mean all humans now accepted them. Xenophobia still thrived in certain close minded sectors. The supernaturals also had their prejudiced population, who hated humans and wished monsters had never revealed themselves to what they thought of as ‘rigid flesh suits.’
Peter wondered if the battles would ever end, if they would ever find peace among the masses. He pondered this as he and Xavier drove to Stanley Park to meet up with Detective Reels, a ghoul who also worked in SPD’s homicide division.
“Heard you found a hand at Port Metro,” Frank Reels said earlier that day, when he’d phoned Peter and Xavier on their day off. “You think ghouls are involved.”
“Evidence points to that, but…” Peter didn’t want to give Reels too much information. The ghoul was a skilled cop, but he was also known for being sleazy and having loose lips.
“You have your doubts.”
The tiny hairs on the back of Peter’s neck had stood up. “Could say that.” How did Reels know he doubted this was a ghoul attack? He and Xavier hadn’t shared their hunch with anyone.
“Meet me at Stanley Park in an hour. I got some information that might interest you.”
So here they were, driving toward Stanley Park on their Saturday off. Not that this was anything new for Peter and Xavier. Working in homicide meant they often sacrificed days off to finish up paperwork, follow up on a lead, whatever the job demanded.
They met up with Reels along the Seawall. He munched on a sandwich filled with meat going green around the edges. Peter tried not to think about what Reels’ lunch contained.
Reels nodded at Peter and Xavier as they took a seat on either side of him on the bench.
“So what’s this information?” Peter said, once he made sure no one lingered nearby. It was early April, and though many Vancouverites bustled along the Seawall, the place wasn’t as busy as it would be during summer tourist season.
“The hand you found … belonged to a supernatural, right?” Reels’ needly yellow teeth tore another bite from his sandwich. He brushed crumbs from his thin mustache. Considering how little body hair most ghouls had, it was a wonder he could grow one at all.
Xavier looked at Peter and gave a nod. An indication they’d have to give a little to get a little. Peter trusted his partner’s instincts.
“A vampire,” Xavier told Reels. “Female. Newly turned.”
“Definitely not a ghoul then. We don’t eat supernaturals.”
Xavier and Peter knew that. Ghouls considered this an act of cannibalism.
“And we don’t eat fresh meat,” Reels said. ‘Definitely not a ghoul.” He shook his head.
“So what’s your theory then?” Peter prodded. “Fill us in.”
Reels milky blue eyes darted from Peter to Xavier and back again. He brushed his moonlight-pale hands on his brown pants and stared at the Seawall a moment. “You know the Arkham clan?”
Xavier nodded. “They live in Mountain View Cemetery.”
“Yeah, near the Princess Sophia Wreck.”
Reels referenced a section of the cemetery where 60 people were buried. They died back in 1918 when a horrific storm dashed the steamer upon the reef. Many different clans of ghouls lived in the larger cemeteries, like Mountain View, and each clan would pick a certain section as their territory.
“Some of their kids have been going missing. Teenagers mostly.”
Those tiny hairs stood up again as Peter thought of the missing homeless humans.
“One of those kids turned up recently. Parents brought him to see me. Said he’d got in with something real bad,” Reels continued. “They suspected drugs. Kid barely made sense when he talked, but I did get something outta him.” Reels paused to sip his coffee.
Peter lost patience. “Spill it, Reels. This is our day off.”
Reels held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, sheesh. Don’t rush an old ghoul.” He wiped his mouth with his tie. “Kid told me he was abducted by the Polidori clan. That they were pumping him full of something and getting him to kill supernaturals. Like some sorta zombie hitman.”
Dread unfurled in Peter. It trickled down his back like cold water and pooled in his guts.
“Polidori clan. We’re talking rock star vampires,” Xavier said.
And he was right. Polidoris were connected, just like Peter’s family. They were the upper crust of supernatural society. The Polidori clan and the Briggs clan, who Peter shared DNA with, were tight. And from his time spent in that upper class world, Peter knew all too well it was rancid with corruption.
“Why were they getting him to kill supernaturals?”
Reels shrugged at Peter. “Kid didn’t make much sense. Whatever he was on, it messed up his brain bad. I don’t even know how much of this you can believe, but I thought you’d find it interesting.”
Xavier gave an exasperated sigh. “So, humor us. Why would Polidori clan want to murder supernaturals? And why are they kidnapping ghouls to do their dirty work.”
“The kid claims they send out the ghouls to keep their hands clean. As for why… well, if he’s telling the truth, we got a big conspiracy on our hands.”
“Spill.”
Reels gave Peter a wary look. “They’re using the DNA from the dead supernaturals to create some sort of serum.” He cleared his throat, took another sip of coffee. “A serum that, the kid claims, will turn humans into supernaturals.”
“We need to talk to this kid,” Peter said. “Can you hook us up, Reels?”
“Love to, but the kid went missing again. Two days ago. No one’s seen him since.”
Reels finished filling them in and promised to contact them if the kid showed up again, or if any of the missing ghoul teenagers showed up. Reels also made his home in Mountain View Cemetery, so he’d know, through his ghoul networks, the moment any of the teens came home.
They parted ways and Peter and Xavier headed back to their car.
***
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s excerpt, be sure to pick up Her Bad Boys Protector: Bad Boys of BDSM Vol. 5, Bad Boy Alphas: Bad Boys of BDSM Vol. 4, Bad Boy Biker: Bad Boys of BDSM Volume 3, Claimed by the Bad Boy: Bad Boys of BDSM Volume 2 and Bad Boy Werewolf: Bad Boys of BDSM Volume 1. Or get two novellas in one collection for less money: Werewolves & Tattoos and Wicked Alphas. For more information on all our titles and our authors, visit: http://wildlawlesswriters.blogspot.com/
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