The Dani Collins Erotic Romance Collection: Mastering Her RolePlaying the Master

by Dani Collins

  “Did I not mention your pretty figure? Seduce him into helping you.” Her tone was gently patronizing. That annoyed her. “Actually, don’t sleep with him. That would annoy me. And holding back is a better way to manipulate a man anyway.”

  “He would have to be interested in me. He’s not,” she reminded, irritated to be a toy that had merely found its way into the hands of a new possessor.

  “You haven’t shown yourself to him, have you? Men, even hardheaded ones like Porter, think with their cock. Take it in hand—and I mean that quite literally—and you can persuade them to anything.”

  The idea of holding Porter’s…

  No, Eloisa was being less than honest in painting him as easy to manipulate. He’d brushed aside Eloisa’s advances the other night, and if Ann had learned nothing else about this woman, it was that she knew how to use her body as a means to an end. Porter would not be any woman’s plaything. Despite a few light fantasies, Ann wasn’t ready to be intimate with any man, especially one as formidable and dangerous as Porter seemed.

  “I wouldn’t know how,” she dismissed.

  “So go home and let your stepfather sell you.”

  Ann frowned, rejecting the passive route now that other paths had been revealed, no matter how outrageous they sounded. A hint of rebellion flickered in her. A fantasy where she decided her own destiny, even had the means to obliterate Cain. But how did one get there?

  Eloisa smiled and rose like Aphrodite, foaming bubbles trailing down her shiny breasts and toasted-almond stomach. Her burgundy nipples stood out as she took a device from the tray and spoke into it. “Robes, Tsitsi.” With another glance at Ann she added, “And a facecloth.”

  * * *

  A few minutes later, Ann stared wide-eyed around a shop like she’d never seen. Trips to the mall had been for necessary items like sanitary pads and new underwear. She’d never had reason to enter upscale dress shops and never, ever had she stood next to a mannequin dressed in such suggestive clothing.

  As Eloisa directed her to try on a dress, she reminded herself that it wasn’t wise to trust her. What did she know about her except that her relationship to Porter seemed both intimate and vaguely hostile? Ann was convinced a third player had entered this game, but she was still the pawn.

  She tried on the dress because Tsitsi stole her robe again and she didn’t have anything else to wear. Fashion images abounded online and she’d whiled away many an afternoon like other woman, dreaming of wearing designer clothes as she walked freely down city streets. Foreign programs had been heavily cut, but she knew what a cocktail dress was and this might have qualified if there’d been more to it.

  “Um…” She tugged at the skirt that hugged across her hips and ended in a cuff under her buttocks. The purple jersey had been sewn in stripes of equal width like horizontal bandages that circled up to cut across the slopes of her breasts. Two vertical strips over her shoulders held it up. As Tsitsi closed the zipper, the fabric pulled tight against the curve of her hips, emphasizing the narrowness of her waist while flaring over her rib cage and breasts.

  “Take down your hair,” Eloisa prompted.

  Since it would veil her bruises, Ann complied. The steam of the bath had prompted tiny curls to form at her hairline and now the heavy waves fell in a soft ripple that she fanned out to blanket her exposed skin.

  “Fuck me,” Eloisa murmured. “How long have you been growing it?”

  Ann shrugged, recalling that her mother had cut it a couple of times when she’d been little, probably to get a tangle out of it. There was a light tug on her scalp and the pressure of a touch at her tailbone.

  “Wrap this around his cock and you’ll have him.”

  If women spoke like this amongst themselves in the Kingdom, she’d never heard it. “You make it sound like men walk around with their things hanging out all the time.”

  “They do around me, especially here. You need makeup.”

  Her face was clean for a change, pale and glowing with the scrubbing she’d given it. Tsitsi stroked soft brushes over her eyelids and cheeks, directed by Eloisa, then Tsitsi helped her mistress with her own preparations while Ann stared at herself in the mirror. The reflection wasn’t entirely a stranger. It was the friend she saw when she was alone, the one who wore a comfortably thin baby-doll nightgown and sang into a hairbrush while swaying her hips to the beat of a rock song. Her eyes had never looked so attention grabbing, however, or her mouth so ripe and shiny, like she’d licked her lips in readiness to say something.

  As she took in this amplified vision of herself, she wondered what here was. Eloisa had mentioned her club last night. They’d arrived at this shop through a long hallway with security camera bubbles on its ceiling. Each of the doors along the way had touch-pad panels, but had only been numbered, not labeled to indicate what was behind them.

  “What…” It felt strange to break silence and ask a question. She’d only ever done it with her mother or Raina. If she couldn’t find out something on her own, she generally resigned herself to waiting for revelation or accepting a mystery. “What is this place?” she risked.

  “Trust is a two-way street, Ann. Until I know that you’ll keep my secrets as securely as I’ll keep yours, we’ll just call this a visit to the spa. For most people, that’s all they ever see. Try these, do they fit?”

  The shoes were ridiculously tall spikes under a stair-like curved platform. A delicate chain hooked over her second toe then connected to a circle around her ankle. Fragile ends dangled down the inside of her heel, tickling as she took a few hesitant steps.

  “I don’t think I can walk in these.”

  “It’s not far.” Eloisa wore a dark brown bolero over a gold corset.

  To where? Ann thought fretfully, wondering if Eloisa’s evasiveness was part of her punishment. Not knowing what to expect was a form of torture Ann had been living for years, however. She knew how to watch and wait.

  Eloisa was busy ensuring her tight chamois pants were tucked perfectly into brown boots that came to her knees. After Tsitsi fastened her jacket, Eloisa said to the woman, “You’re not to touch yourself while you wait for me, but I want you to write down each time you think about doing so and what thoughts and fantasies provoke the urge.”

  An involuntary pulse of sexy intrigue went through Ann as she overheard the order, pouring illicit warmth into the unshielded place between her thighs.

  Eloisa smiled knowingly as they moved through a different door. “You see? Seduction is a mental game as much as physical. Your nipples are hard. It’s pretty.”

  Another rush of dampness made her self-consciously aware that Eloisa hadn’t given her underwear. Arousal had never simmered in her like this before. It made her mind reel so she didn’t realize until she was well into the restaurant that it was not a women-only establishment.

  She hadn’t considered the possibility of men and women mingling. It was outside her norm to visit such a place. If she did, the women were covered and the men dressed with equal conservatism, wearing a ghutra, long sleeves and minimal jewelry.

  The sight here stunned her into halting. Men wore their shirts open to expose a stretch of throat or gold chains against hairless breastbones. Some wore only sleeveless gym shirts that revealed more than they concealed. Many sat with their legs sprawled open, displaying their manly wares in their hide-nothing tight jeans.

  Women had come to her engagement party in long gowns with plunging necklines, which had fascinated her, but here they wore dresses shorter than her own. Some were backless to the cleavage of their buttocks and others had cutouts that displayed the skin of their waist. Hair was styled into modern twists and flips. Impossibly high shoes competed with aggressive boots for attention.

  Everyone turned to look at them as they made their way through the upscale bar—yes, a bar. Ann highly doubted all those iced drinks and wineglasses held soda and fruit juice. It was yet another culture shock that disconcerted her into following along like a trained poodle, b
reath held in anticipation of the next surprise.

  As she trailed Eloisa’s path between the full tables, they were stopped constantly. Patrons greeted Eloisa with outstretched hands and affectionate kisses. She put them off with promises to say a proper hello later.

  As much as Ann tried to be invisible, however, she wasn’t. Men and women alike took an eyeful of her naked legs, her prickling breasts and her loose flowing hair.

  This was her punishment for hiding in a closet, she supposed. Enduring a high degree of exposure.

  “New trainee?” she heard someone ask in a subtle undertone and recalled Eloisa’s phrase about Tsitsi. Training as a submissive. Her stomach knotted with anxious incomprehension. She had to start asking more questions.

  “Something like that,” was Eloisa’s reply, and she continued them toward a flight of stairs that led to an upper level. “I’ll come back. We’re meeting a friend.”

  A friend? Ann glanced up to the balcony and the sharp stare of her fiancé fell onto her like a golden lasso that looped and tightened in one swift flick.

  Chapter Three

  Porter didn’t wait for anyone, even a woman as genuinely busy and in demand as Eloisa. She knew that, so he allowed her a five-minute grace period while he relaxed into the leather sofa and sipped hundred-year-old scotch he wouldn’t have to pay for.

  It was barely eight o’clock so the Member’s Lounge was fairly quiet. Only two barstools were occupied, one by a woman in a black trench coat, the other by one of the service providers. The member was receiving tips on the safe and effective use of an electric shock device. Both ignored the man in the suit—an ambassador, if Porter wasn’t mistaken—kneeling with his head hanging. His hands were tied behind his back with the belt from the member’s coat. She sat facing the provider with her legs crossed, revealing fishnet stockings that disappeared into thigh-high dominatrix boots.

  “I’ll think about that while I finish my wine,” the Dominatrix said. “Put him in the marquis room if it’s available?”

  “Of course.” The male provider waited politely for the leash to be handed to him. “Did you have any further requests you would like me to fulfill?”

  “Remind him that he’s being punished because he’s a selfish pig. He left me waiting ten minutes. Keep him on his knees and cut his clothing off. Bind him to the pipe behind the toilet.”

  “Of course,” the provider assured her and led the sub away.

  Humiliation fantasies. Porter didn’t pass judgment. He recognized and accepted there were all kinds in this world and some were sexually stimulated by degradation. Witnessing it abraded him tonight, however. As he thumbed through his emails, he tried not to think of why.

  Tomas leapt to the forefront of his mind regardless. The way his brother had seemed to come back from the dead today was still unsettling him. When the green, active light of Tomas’s profile had appeared on the household network, Porter might as well have been shot, he’d been so paralyzed and gripped by pain.

  The intense emotions returned now, making him shift restlessly as he tried to muffle the reaction before he lost his composure in public. Against his will, his eyes stung and his lungs compressed. He searched for the twine of anger, wanting to grasp at the fury that had engulfed him this afternoon, as he’d anticipated hunting down and tasting the blood of whoever had taunted him with his own grief.

  It had only been Ann. A ghost in her own way, but a harmless one.

  He’d quickly switched her to a new profile and deleted Tomas’s for good, hating himself for erasing one more footprint of his brother’s walk on this earth, but he never wanted that heart-stopping moment to happen again. Afterward, he’d been so shaken that, like an addict backsliding, he’d picked up his phone and dialed the club. He’d sought escape. Distraction. Something to utterly consume his concentration.

  Tomas had never understood his immersion in this world. He could still picture his brother’s eyes, like dull, hammered silver, glossy with incomprehension. Why do you go there? Why do you like it? Don’t you know how much they hate you for it?

  Their parents had made their impatience and disgust more than clear. That had been part of the draw, Porter acknowledged with a grim smile. The rest, well, there were rules here. Inside these walls, pain was delivered with control and purpose, often with affection and sometimes even with compassion and tenderness, not with cruelty and a desire to harm.

  Tomas, being naturally submissive, had instinctively understood he would be put under a great deal of both pain and control in a place like this. His gentle nature had been under too much stress as it was. Porter wouldn’t have let him step foot in here for exactly that reason.

  Which said everything about how Tomas had come to die on him, he supposed. He’d assumed with his natural arrogance that he held more sway over his brother than he’d really had. That he’d somehow compensated enough for the contempt and rejection delivered by their parents. That he could command his brother not to hurt himself and Tomas wouldn’t.

  Self-loathing sat heavily in the pit of his gut, not finding an outlet.

  The third provider of the evening approached. Her uniform of black miniskirt and black vest closed over a nude torso hugged her voluptuous figure perfectly. The emerald stones in her armband told him she was open to any and all requests. She coupled a biddable tilt of her head with a hero-worshipping smile.

  “I realize we’re not supposed to be so forward, but I’d be honored if you wished to make demands of me.” Her approach was a light, well executed overstep that invited—almost required—punishment. He could see by the sparkle in her eye it was as much about his celebrity status as a Master with a whip as a desire for the sting of one. She wanted the distinction of being punished by Navarro.

  There were times he could be persuaded to deliver for such superficial reasons. Intense scenes and mind-numbing sex full of debaucheries was usually the reason he came here, but memories of Tomas were reminding him of his reasons for pursuing a marriage he didn’t really want. Despite the prickling tension in him demanding expression, he suddenly felt a need to channel his energy elsewhere. Ann didn’t interest him sexually in the least, but he found himself wondering about her, now they’d had a conversation of sorts. Cain had made her sound touched in the head, but maybe she was simply terribly shy. Like Tomas. Too sensitive for the real world.

  “Tell your boss I had business elsewhere,” he said decisively, wishing he hadn’t come here.

  The minute he’d left a message for Eloisa telling her he would stop by, he’d begun to second-guess the impulse. He wasn’t sure why he’d bothered to show up, given his ambivalence. Guilt, he supposed. As much as he was irritated by her attempts to manipulate him—and she was always up to something—he also felt a certain loyalty to Eloisa. Responsibility might be the better word. He couldn’t let her take advantage of that weight on him, but he couldn’t ignore that he’d once saved her life. He felt obliged to check in periodically and ensure she was still using said life wisely.

  She was surviving just fine, he concluded as he rose from the sofa to throw back the last of his drink. The hookup lounge downstairs with its overpriced drinks and flashy bartenders earned a small fortune on its own. She didn’t need the spa that catered to the most strict or discerning tastes when it came to waxing and piercing, or the fitness gym with its exclusive trainers, or the hot yoga studio with its scented oil massages. Nevertheless, she had them all in this renovated bank of town houses and they all filled the coffers very legitimately.

  And then she had the dungeon.

  Not that it was dank, cold or made of stone. It wasn’t even underground, physically or legally. She had a very discreet team of accountants and business managers who ensured she paid taxes while catering to her exclusive clientele’s every predilection. Porter might not have amused himself in every nook and cranny of this establishment, but he’d visited dozens of similar places in the past. She consulted him from time to time on new features, tapping into the fact
he was a connoisseur. He possessed a Master Member’s access card to use at will here.

  Unfortunately, this week was too important to lose his focus. He shook off his grief and reminded himself he needed his father to believe his sole motive was keeping the family empire on top and expanding. He needed to appear serious and capable of falling in line with the old man’s dictates. He needed to demonstrate that he deserved more control over the day to day running of things.

  Tucking his phone in the pocket of his suit jacket, he was stopped from leaving when the provider, who had moved to the bar, touched her ear and lifted a finger to request he delay his departure. “Eloisa is below. She’ll be here in a moment.”

  So much for a clean getaway. Was she at the stairs or still glad-handling her way across the floor? He’d meet her at the bottom and make his excuses.

  Shifting to the rail, he glanced down to the gatekeeper, a tanker truck of a man with chocolate skin and a firm grasp on who could move past the golden chain he controlled. He was reaching for the clip, gaze hooked on Eloisa who was extricating herself from reaching hands and directing someone toward the stairs—

  Holy fuck.

  As if she heard the words, the brunette lifted her gaze and delivered him the sweetest kick in the cock he’d ever received.

  Heat radiated from the pressure in his crotch as he studied the way her hair fell back from her features. Her heavily darkened eyes were a combination of vulnerable sweetness and deliberate seduction. Her mouth, full as a plum, was drawn into an appealing pout. Her limbs were slender, her breasts just heavy enough to lend curves to her lithe frame. He immediately and rather desperately wanted to shove the top of her dress down and take possession of those braless breasts, pinch and lick her nipples and feel her arch and wriggle under him.