Fully dressed again in T-shirt and shorts, Carmen sat at the kitchen table, a mug of warm, creamed coffee between her hands.
She took a sip to cover her smile as she watched a bare-assed Carl bend over to search through the refrigerator, much of his upper body hidden by the door.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“I’m starving.” That word certainly held more meaning for her at the moment.
“Do you like melons?”
She liked the view of his backside better. “Mmm hmm.”
“Then, how about a fruit salad?”
How could she be thinking of sex so soon after...? She lowered her gaze to stare at the coffee he’d made for her. She should be conjuring up a plan to send Carl back to Katriona, not plotting to tie him to the bed for an all-day orgy of two.
Katriona. Mierda.
Why was it that she kept forgetting he belonged to someone else?
“Mistress?”
Carmen blinked, looked up, and found Carl eyeing her, the island now strategically placed to block her view of...
“Umm. What was the question?”
He began slicing a melon. “Fruit salad? Is that okay for breakfast?”
She dropped her gaze to the coffee again. “Sure. Whatever’s fine.”
Katriona obviously cared for her slave if her reaction this morning was any indication. And why wouldn’t she? The man was perfect. An excellent cook, an even better lover, and the man had marvelous, talented hands.
So, why had Kat let him go with her today?
Carl set a bowl of fresh fruit and a side dish of cubed cheese in front of her, then retrieved a juice glass and poured her a small amount of orange juice. His nudity didn’t seem to faze him as he moved around the kitchen, but it was a big distraction to her.
“Carl.” She pointed at the chair to her left. “Sit. Eat.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a rather cocky grin. He made up a second serving and sat as ordered.
While he ate, she stared and let her mind ponder what had been bugging her since bumping into Katriona that morning. Now that her emotions were back under control, now that she had time to think about what happened, some things just didn’t add up.
“What’s the deal between you and Katriona?”
He swallowed the bite he’d been chewing. “The deal?”
“Don’t be dense. You know what I mean. If you were mine, I’d...” No she couldn’t say that. Keeping him in her bed day and night was no more possible than stopping the passage of time.
His gaze snapped to hers. “You’d what?”
“I would never let you ride off to points unknown with a woman I met only two days before.”
He shrugged and stuffed another bite in his mouth, his gaze returning to his meal.
She leaned her forearms on the table. “Why did she let you go with me? It doesn’t make any sense. From what Olivia’s told me, there are different kinds of subs. She lives with her ‘owner husbands’ 24/7, and she’s just a pet. You’re Kat’s slave, but only while on the clock? Your mistress lives with another Dom while you’re left to your own devices at Incognito. Look at me, will you?”
He took a deep breath, sat a little straighter in his chair, and met her gaze head‑on.
“Tell me. What gives?”
“Katriona is my boss, the club’s head mistress.”
She gave him a scowl, the type that usually made her former housekeeping staff at the hotel wary. “None of which answers my question, so there’s gotta be a but in there somewhere.”
His jaw ticked, and he dropped his gaze to the food on his plate. “But...she’s not really my mistress.”
Carmen widened her eyes. “You aren’t really a slave?” He could’ve fooled her.
“No, I’m not. I mean, I am a submissive lover; I’m just not her sub, at least...not intimately.”
“You mean to tell me you’ve never had sex with her? Made out? Kissed?”
He appeared very uneasy, but she didn’t withdraw her question. She wanted answers because, as much as she found him fascinating and enjoyed her first dip into the BDSM lifestyle, she drew the line at taking another woman’s man.
“We performed a scene once in the main room at Incognito. I masturbated her to orgasm. It was all a big misunderstanding and should’ve never happened. That was the first and last time I’ve ever touched her that way.”
“So it’s like a role you play...when you act as her slave at the club.” More sure of her grasp of the situation, her words were more statement than question.
“Yes. As founder of the club, she needed a domineering persona and the only way to prove she was a mistress that dominant members would listen to and respect was to have a slave. I filled that position.”
She sat back in her chair, mug in hand, and eyed him over the rim. He isn’t really Katriona’s. Her thoughts kept coming back to that one fact.
“What do you get out of the deal?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve pretended to be a slave for years. I can see why Katriona wouldn’t want a club full of Doms eyeing her, but what about you? If you’re a sub, like you say, then why accept such a superficial existence? Did you not want a real relationship with a mistress, whether full or part time?”
He shrugged, took another bite of cantaloupe, and chased it down with a healthy swallow of two-percent milk.
Had he never really submitted to a woman before? As she watched him stuff another bite in his mouth, his gaze never lifting from the tabletop, Carmen became suspicious. It’s all been a game to him, years of sexual playtime without any real commitment.
“You’re a fake,” she accused, which got his attention real quick. She had to fight to keep her facial expression impassive. The urge to smile was strong.
“Excuse me?” He’d dropped the “mistress” talk, but she didn’t call him on it. Not, yet.
“I haven’t been trained as a Domme, although I’ve learned a lot about my nature from talking and listening to Olivia.” She leaned forward. “I spent years catering to total strangers, first as a maid, and eventually as the head of housekeeping at a five-star hotel. I hated it, but I did it because it was my job. Although I never really understood what it was that bothered me until Olivia moved here and opened a window into the world of BDSM. But you...”
“What about me?” His question came out like a challenge.
Had her remark pricked a nerve to his male pride?
“You say you’re a sub, yet you control everything.” She lifted her mug and took a sip. “You’re a very good actor, but I doubt any Domme has ever truly affected you—ever succeeded in gaining your real subjugation. Your submission is all just a giant puzzle of smoke and mirrors, a game you play with others who are unaware they’re even on a chessboard.”
He scoffed, but his bowed head was telling. His apparent inability to meet her gaze was not the result of submissiveness. No, he couldn’t look her in the eye because she was right. He ducked his head to avoid giving away his real thoughts. She sensed it. Felt it. Believed it.
“And I suppose you’re woman enough to do what you say all of the other Dommes couldn’t?” Yes, that was undoubtedly a challenge in his tone.
She gave a short bark of laughter. “I’m still new to all of this. I wouldn’t dare be so bold as to claim an ability to take on someone—like yourself—who is experienced in the ways of role‑playing.”
He pushed a few pieces of fruit around on his plate but didn’t say anything, so she let silence reign for several minutes. She hadn’t lied about being a novice at D/s protocol. She was following instinct more than training. But it didn’t take a brain surgeon to realize the man seated before her had tossed out that challenge on purpose. The trick now was to accept it without giving the game away.
Lowering her voice to ensure he had to listen carefully to catch her words, she said, “But I would like to learn from you.” That brought his gaze back to hers, if only for a moment.
“Learn?”
“Yes. You’ve been trained in dominance and submission techniques, haven’t you?”
“Yes....”
“You could teach me how to be a good dominatrix, couldn’t you? Show me what’s important to a sub?” When he looked up at her again, she forked a cube of fruit into her mouth and chewed. She didn’t look away and tried like hell to keep her expression hopeful and innocent. “The Montgomerys are gone for a while. We could conduct the training here, whenever you have free time away from the club. I don’t want to keep you from your work.”
After a suspended pause, he finally said, “I guess I could show you a few things, if that is your wish, Mistress.”
She smiled at him. “Thank you...Carl.”
“And if you’ll answer me one question?”
She studied his face. He certainly didn’t have a problem looking her in the eye now. “What’s that?”
“What do you hope to do with this knowledge?”
His question held just a hint of suspicion—enough that she decided to answer truthfully, but with caution. She wasn’t so foolish to announce her hopes that the tutor and student relationship might lead to something stronger between them.
“All my adult life, I’ve tried to find a man who cared about me more than himself. That might seem selfish to you but, after a lifetime spent catering to the whims and demands of spoiled, wealthy hotel guests, I’d like my personal life to be different, not more of the same.”
Now it was her turn to push food around on her plate. How much should she share with him? When he just sat there waiting for her to continue, she took a fortifying breath, but shook her head. Carl’s hand reached across the table to cover hers. The sympathetic look he gave her made her want to open up, to tell him everything. But she couldn’t. Not now. Not yet. She stared at his hand, turned hers over, and laced their fingers together.
“I don’t expect to be pampered 24/7. I’m not looking for a slave, but I’ve been on the receiving end of a selfish, domineering personality. As a Domme, I don’t want to make that kind of mistake with a sub who trusts me to do it right.”
His fingers squeezed hers, drawing her gaze back to his. He smiled. “You’re already halfway there.”
“What do you mean?”
“Trust. You’ve already identified one of the most important foundations on which a BDSM relationship is based.”
She sighed. “Yeah, well, trust is essential for any relationship, if you ask me.” She released his hand and turned her focus to the rest of her meal, which was surprisingly tasty and filling.
Carl watched her facial expression take on a melancholy shadow and suspected he’d only heard part of the story. Carmen had been betrayed somehow, although he didn’t believe she’d welcome any more probing questions from him right now, so he finished his breakfast in silence. After a while, he pushed away from the table and began clearing the dishes. She got up and helped him, stopping only once to challenge him with a raised eyebrow when he paused for a second to stare at her.
When they were done, he took her hand and without a word guided her out of the kitchen and dining room. He wasn’t all that certain how to handle her so-called training, but at least he knew where he could begin.
“Where exactly are we going?”
“To our classroom,” he said, tossing her a wink over his shoulder.
He’d been in the Montgomery home numerous times over the years for various events, so he knew where much of the bondage gadgets were stashed, like those in the arbor outside. But he didn’t take her there. Instead, he led her up the sweeping staircase that split to curve up both sides of the mansion’s elegant round vestibule. At the top of the stairs, he turned toward the double doors of the master suite, a room he’d seen only one time before during a party hosted by Dylan and Ryan. The brothers had just received a multi-functional, custom-made bed and showed it off to Katriona as a possible furniture option for the fetish club.
“Uh...” She tugged on her arm, seemingly reluctant to enter the room once their destination became obvious.
He stopped, turned, and released her hand. “Mistress?”
“That’s a bedroom.”
“Yes, Mistress.” He smiled.
“I mean, that’s their bedroom.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “Did they instruct that any room was off-limits during your stay here?”
“Well, no. They said I was to make myself at home.”
Carl let his smile turn into a full-blown grin. He held out his hand toward her. “Come on, Mistress. I promise to behave.”
She took his hand, but her grumbled, “That’s what I’m afraid of,” made him laugh.
He brought her to the foot of the enormous four-poster bed, which was the centerpiece of the large room. Intricate ironwork of ivy and grapevines decorated the four massive columns of the bed that supported an iron canopy and sheer lace curtains.
He faced her, both of her hands held in his. “Do you trust me, Carmen?” he asked, using her name on purpose to emphasize the importance of the question.
“Yes.” Her answer came quick, which both surprised and pleased him.
“To learn how to treat a sub, one must understand the needs and desires of a sub.”
“That makes sense,” she said, looking up at him.
He let his thumbs caress the back of her hands. “One of the best ways to do that is to experience submission firsthand.”
“You mean...”
He nodded. “Those being trained in the ways of BDSM often switch places to learn to see things from the other side. Some do it initially to determine which avenue best suits them. Are they Doms or subs? Sometimes a Dom might temporarily submit for one scene to experience things only a sub does—”
“Such as?”
“Subspace.”
She looked dumbfounded, so he added, “It’s when submissives lose themselves to their arousal—a heightened state of awareness and sensation often caused by excessive stimulation through genital masturbation or endorphins induced through various forms of punishment.”
He’d heard of it, witnessed it, and could recite the definition verbatim, but had never succumbed enough to truly experience it himself. Such an experience would require more of him than he’d ever been willing to give to those he’d played with at the club. But he mentioned it now because she should know if she were to become a great dominatrix.
“That’s one example. Others want to know what it feels like to be bound and punished so that they can better relate to their subs when administering discipline.”
“Take a walk in another’s shoes.” She worried her bottom lip, the brief glimpses of straight white teeth tantalizing to his senses.
He nodded. “Exactly. Are you still interested in being trained?” Please, let her say yes! He wanted nothing more at the moment than to train her to be his mistress. The idea of ever finding a woman willing to seek his advice on how to treat him as a sub had never crossed his mind—not that she’d said he was the sub she had in mind. Regardless, she’d given him a golden opportunity that he didn’t want to pass up.
“Yes.” She licked her lip, and he had the strongest urge to kiss her.
Without releasing her hands, he moved them around behind her and pulled her into a quick, hard embrace. He heard her breath catch in her throat, saw her lips part, her eyes widen. “Spontaneity is one goal of a good Dom,” he said while lowering his mouth to hover just over hers. “Repetition can dull the senses.” He nipped her bottom lip with his teeth hard enough to sting and heard her hiss. “But the unexpected can stir the emotions and keep things interesting.”
He kissed her, a quick and thorough mating of mouths. Then he pulled back in a sudden release and noted the rapid pulse in her wrists, which he still held clasped at the small of her back.
“I could’ve said, ‘Let the scene begin’, but that would’ve been rather dull, don’t you think?”
She ran her own tongue over where he’d bit her and held his gaze. “Mm
m. I would have to agree with that.”
“Your heart rate is up. Your speech is breathy. All signs of arousal. A good Dom is always aware of physical signs that can provide clues to a sub’s thoughts, desires, and needs.”
“Oh, yeah?” she began with a smile. “What am I thinking right now, then?”
He grinned. She was too brazen to ever be truly submissive. God, I love a brazen nature in a woman. “That you’re more than ready for a nice, hard fucking. But that only brings us to another responsibility of a good Dom.”
She lifted onto her toes, the front of her clothed body offering the sweetest friction against him. “Is that so?” Her voice was that of a siren’s song, a temptation he struggled to ignore.
“To ensure his own pleasures and that of his sub’s by enforcing patience despite all seduction or urgings to act in haste.” Though his words spoke of patience, his body reacted with haste. His cock hardened. His heart raced. And his lungs labored for calm.
Her lips formed a moue. Damn! He wanted to kiss her again—keep kissing her until his every breath was but a memory.
He cradled her face and looked into her soul. “As a Domme, you will be entrusted with power over another, but with that comes a heavy burden of responsibility. Not only is a sub’s physical pleasure at stake, but so is the sub’s daily needs, both physical and emotional. Whether to submit and to whom is a sub’s choice. That submission, the ultimate trust of a sub, is a gift not to be taken lightly, because it all too often involves the heart.”
Her eyes had started to glisten until she closed them tightly. He shook his head at his own comments. Although they were true, he had the sudden urge to backtrack—to clarify... He released her and took a step back.
“That’s just something to keep in mind,” he said once he’d gained some distance between them. “For when you find an available sub you want to collar. Subs can be rather needy, especially the ones new to BDSM. If you’re not careful, you can hurt them in more ways than one.”
She blinked at him, silent and still.
“Ready for your next lesson in dominatrix school?” He felt like an awkward schoolboy on his first date. This wasn’t as easy as it seemed—to prepare her to be the perfect Domme for him without giving up too much control.
Anna Leigh Keaton & Madison Layle - Incognito 06 - Charming Carmen Page 7
