Dominant Persuasions Anthology: 12 Tales of D/s, Where Mastery Meets Passion

by Anthology

  Another light caress swept through her hair. Pleasure bloomed and spread through her body, a warm, golden glow. Aching for more, she fought the burn in her legs and concentrated on the pleasure she felt elsewhere. Her scalp. Her breasts. The arousal coursing through her and pooling in her womb.

  “Stand up. Put the hood on.” The sudden command made her pause. She took a brief moment to gather her wits and prayed her legs cooperated. She eased off the ottoman and stood in place, continuing to face away from him. She slipped on the hood and waited.

  “Remove the robe. I want to see all of you.” Her shoulders rose as she took a deep breath then dropped. She slid the silk back from one shoulder then repeated the process with the other. The knot in the belt slipped loose almost too easily as it came apart in her hands.

  “Don’t drop it. Hold on to it.” The rough pads of his hand lightly rubbed over one shoulder, pushing her hair over to the opposite side. A single finger slid down her spine, stopping just above the cleft of her bared ass. Equally aroused and self-conscious, she stared ahead at the painting on the wall.

  “Fold the robe, bend over, knees straight, and place it on the floor.” She did as instructed straightening and folding the robe as best as the flimsy material would allow and bent over. At his command, she’d put her full ass on display. Heat bloomed low in her belly and spread.

  “Stop right there.” She froze.

  * * *

  “Put your palms flat on the footstool and spread your legs wide.” She complied and he wiped a hand over his mouth. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a sexier sight. “Wider. Show me your pussy.”

  Graceful, even in her awkward position, she widened her stance and bent further, nearly bringing her chest to the ottoman. Her profile said she enjoyed yoga—maybe that’s where her elegance came from? The long, fluid curve of her spine pointed to the sweetest ass in existence. And her pussy? Sheer perfection. The seam of her sex gave him the barest hint of hidden folds making his semi-hard cock turn to steel. The gorgeous curves of her ass met the tops of pale, smooth thighs that trailed down to toned, long legs.

  His loose slacks grew unbearably uncomfortable as his cock refused to settle. He wondered if they didn’t have sex, would she want to come back to him? He shook his head at the question. It didn’t matter, it was only a one-night experience. As long as they met each other’s needs for the night, her motivations shouldn’t matter.

  The thoughts lurked in the back of his mind, casting a dark pall over his mood. She didn’t deserve his foul temper. “Are you looking for subspace or just a hard and dirty fuck?” His harsh words left his mouth before he could call them back. She’d done nothing to warrant the question, yet it slipped out on its own.

  “Subspace, sir. I’m yours to command.” He thought he heard a slight tremor of uncertainty in her voice, but her stance never wavered.

  He picked up the crop from the couch. “Don’t move.”

  “Yes, sir.” She did as he instructed and kept her legs straight and ass high.

  Damn, but she was beautiful, and he hadn’t even seen her face.

  She turned her lovely body and her needs over to him for the night. He needed to get his act together before he ruined it for them both. She’d come into their meeting as blind as he had. He especially didn’t want to disappoint her.

  He flicked his wrist. Snap! The leather lashed one cheek, leaving a fine, pink line. She sucked in a quick breath. Snapping the crop again, he marked the same cheek just above the first line. Then he laid three rapid lashes across the unmarked cheek.

  “I don’t know your limits well yet. Tell me if it gets to be too much.”

  Her knees wobbled. They had to be sore from the awkward positions he’d kept her in. Could she really be so disciplined? Or was she just stubborn? “Don’t forget to breathe.”

  “Yes, sir.” Her voice went soft and breathy. His groin tightened painfully, and his cock bucked. He landed another lash on the same cheek and then two more on the opposite side.

  The blood had to be rushing to her head, and her ass had to be on fire. Wondering, he flicked his wrist and struck a line across both cheeks at once, then another.

  Her legs quivered for the briefest moment before she steadied them.

  It hit him then. She was both. She had self-control and stubbornness in spades. She’d stand there until he ordered her to move or until she passed out.

  Just the sight of the cream and red flesh of her ass made his sac draw up tight. It couldn’t be as soft as it looked, could it?

  He set the crop down and lightly palmed one cheek. Hot, decadent silk filled his hand. He longed to split her wide and explore every millimeter of her pussy and ass. He put his hands at her waist. “Stand up before you pass out.” Knowing what was coming, he kept a firm grip on her and waited.

  She righted herself and, when the blood in her head rushed back down to her deprived body, she wobbled. He guided her toward the couch. “Can you make it to the bed?”

  She nodded but, before she could form words, he swept her up into his arms, bypassed the couch, and carried her into the bedroom. He set her on the edge, watching to make sure she wouldn’t faceplant into the floor. “Lay on your stomach.”

  She eased onto her abdomen and the brief view he caught of her bare breasts was enough to make him forget his good intentions. He made a piss-poor attempt at shaking away his lust-fueled fog and removed a bottle of massage oil from his bag. Sweeping the mass of curls over her shoulder, he marveled at the long waves.

  Doing his best to ignore the raging cockstand in his pants, he warmed a palmful of oil in his hand and, starting at her shoulders, worked his way down her back. Her smooth, supple curves, defined feminine beauty.

  A limp, boneless heap, his sub did little more than release a weak sigh as his hands made their way to the marked skin of her ass. He added a generous amount of oil, warmed it and carefully massaged it into the tender flesh. His thumbs traced the line between her cheeks. He’d love nothing more than to bend her over again and then sink his cock into the sweet heat of her pussy.

  He applied pressure to the inside of her inner thighs and she complied with his silent order, spreading her legs wider. Using his thumbs, he worked the muscles there. He brushed the seams where her legs met her pussy and traced the soft flesh, aching for more. She’d let him in, of that he had no doubt, but something held him back.

  Tending to the backs of her thighs, he wondered what brought her to this point. Was her life so stressful that submission became the only way she could flee its demands? Or had she simply shouldered the burden for too long?

  “Sub?”

  Her only response was the gentle silence of sleep. She’d been beyond exhausted.

  Their original agreement stated that she would leave when they finished for the night, but he’d heard the fatigue in her voice. He couldn’t bear to wake her. Standing, he took in her sleeping form.

  He’d leave her in peace. And never see her again. Packing up his things he ignored the heavy weight in his heart. He found an extra blanket and covered her. Unable to resist, he fingered a wild curl. Softer than the finest silk. Releasing it, he flicked the corner of the keycard in his pocket with his thumb. He wouldn’t need it to get back in. Once he walked out that door, he wouldn’t be back.

  Slowly, so as not to wake her, he raised the hood. The fabric was light as air and breathable, but he told himself he couldn’t leave without ensuring her safety.

  It had nothing to do with wanting to see her face.

  The fabric rose above her pink mouth, then her nose. And odd feeling of anticipation and astonishment swirled in his gut. He took a deep breath and finished removing the hood.

  Son. Of. A. Bitch.

  He’d just cropped the hell out of his college crush’s—Ember Ross’s—ass. Dr. Ember Ross.

  3

  With a mug of soup for dinner, she sat at her desk to check her email and pay bills. She hadn’t been so tired since her first year of residency. Every
bed in the intensive care unit was occupied, and they’d had two patients go into cardiac arrest a mere hour apart. Dr. Jones had a family emergency so Ember agreed to take an extra shift for him. In the past three days, she’d barely found time to breathe, let alone attend to any personal business.

  Opening her email account, she saw an email from Passion-Match and winced. Dated three days ago, she received the letter one day after the meeting with her Dom. As part of the match process, the site required each member fill out a brief survey after a date or meeting. Beth assured her it was truly necessary and easy. Ember promised her friend that she would give the experience its full due, including the follow up.

  She sipped her soup and opened the email. Three questions greeted her. Ember relaxed and reminded herself that Passion-Match was Beth’s brainchild. Beth both knew her stuff and wouldn’t lie or even exaggerate. She was indeed in good hands.

  She read the first question.

  Did any problems or safety issues arise during your meeting?

  The answer box gave a simple yes or no option with the addition of a comment box. She marked the No box and moved onto the second question.

  Were there any compatibility issues with your Match? She again marked No and moved to the next question.

  Are you interested in meeting your Match again?

  Well, she hadn’t expected it to be possible. Did she want to meet him again? He’d asked for a one-night experience and she’d agreed. Yet she couldn’t forget the peace she’d felt or the feel of his strong hands working her flesh. The night might not have gone the way she’d expected, but had she been satisfied? The answer came easily.

  She clicked on the box for yes.

  Besides, it wouldn’t make a difference because he hadn’t been interested in more than one night.

  She’d awoken the morning after in the hotel’s bed from the longest, deepest sleep she had in what felt like forever. After she’d cleared the sleep hangover free, and remembered where she was, she’d rolled over and stretched, feeling the slight burn from where he’d used the crop on her.

  The subtle pain offered an oddly pleasurable reminder of the prior night. Even the lingering soreness in her muscles brought her a little joy throughout her day. She’d stayed on cloud nine until her return to work on Monday. Then, all too soon, she’d been pulled back into the daily grind and her Dom was nothing more than a fantasy.

  And what a fantasy!

  His tall, shadowy form lurked in the back of her consciousness, seemingly always there in the corner of her mind, but never visible, just like that night. What did she truly know about him? He was a tall, large man and she assumed he was fairly fit, judging by the strength in his hands. His shoulders seemed broad and his waist narrower, so she figured his body to be in fair shape. But dear god, that voice of his? Composed of pure, concentrated, decadent sin, it resonated in the deepest parts of her body and soul. It might sound corny, but she’d be damned if it wasn’t true.

  She looked at the time and sighed. Her eyelids drooped, and she fought to keep them open just a little longer. The exhaustion wouldn’t free it’s ugly grip, just like the night she’d spent with him.

  She must have passed out just a few minutes after he’d carried her to bed. The last thing she’d remembered, he’d been working oil into her sore muscles. What a waste! He’d had those large, strong, capable hands all over her, and she’d fallen asleep. Pathetic.

  Truthfully, she only had herself to blame. She let the life she lived every day drain her dry. Maybe she needed to make some changes, but how could she? Her patients, her department—they needed her. She’d sworn an oath.

  But it didn’t mean giving every single piece of her life to her profession, did it?

  No, or at least it didn’t have to.

  * * *

  Royce closed his briefcase and waited for everyone to leave the conference room—everyone except Max. His friend sat across from him with an innocent expression, as if he had nothing to do with Beth’s little matchmaking scheme.

  Royce knew better.

  The last person, his assistant, waved from the door. Royce nodded and gestured for him to close the door on his way out. The moment the door snicked shut, he pinned Max with a glare hot enough to scorch. Max responded with a shit-eating grin and silence.

  “So, you don’t have anything to say about my date the other night?” Royce crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

  “What do you want me to say? I hope you had a nice time. Did you have a nice time? Then again, I’m not sure how that would be possible considering you were working at the time.” Max looked at him as if he was the biggest idiot on the planet.

  Maybe he had been, but it wasn’t for taking a few minutes to look over three pages of a report. He’d done right by his sub. He’d been an idiot for trusting Max not to do something sneaky.

  Two can play at this game. “We had a nice enough time. Even if I might have been a little rough with my sub.”

  Max lost his grin. “What do you mean, a little rough? Royce?” Max stretched his name into several syllables, like a parent questioning a mischievous child.

  “Nothing. I’m sure she’s fine.” He knew she was fine. He’d worked her tight muscles until they’d turned to jelly, and he’d bribed the hotel’s desk clerk to watch for her departure. For two large bills, the kid had been happy to notify him if she left late or didn’t seem well. The clerk had been so pleased by the bribe, he’d used his phone to snap a picture of Ember on the sly. Royce lost track of how many times he’d looked at her soft, dreamy smile as she walked across the lobby on her way out.

  “Was she pretty? How did you two get along?” Suspicion colored Max’s voice.

  “Pretty? I can’t say. Her body was nice enough, but I never saw her face. I kept her in a hood the entire time.” Royce probably got way too much pleasure from watching the color drain from Max’s face. “We got along okay, though she was awfully quiet. But I won’t get another opportunity since we agreed to meet only once.” Royce fought to keep his own smile under wraps as he stood and left a stunned Max in his dust.

  He’d be meeting Ember again, but it wouldn’t be through the match service where his friends could watch his every move. He’d do things his way.

  Dr. Ember Ross needed a keeper.

  * * *

  She removed her sterile gloves and put them in the trash. The central line she’d inserted into the patient would make IV access easier on the patient and nursing staff. Before leaving the room, she looked at the monitor displaying her patient’s vitals. Satisfied there’d been no change, she moved onto her next task. She washed her hands, dried them, and found a quiet corner to work on her charting.

  The electronic charting system had just come online when her cell buzzed at her hip. She unclipped her phone from her waist, wondering what new emergency awaited her. Her heart stopped with a sudden, excited, lurch when she saw the notification. Even knowing the sight of that number well, she blinked and looked at it two more times. He didn’t have a name in her contacts because she didn’t know what to call him.

  Sir? Dom? Master?

  That would be a fun one to explain if any of the many nurses and assorted staff happened across the glow of her phone’s screen.

  But, there was no question that his number glowed on the screen of her phone. Forget butterflies—an entire flock of geese took flight in her belly.

  They’d exchanged numbers, but only communicated through email before their encounter. Since that night, almost a week ago, she hadn’t heard a single word from him and, considering their agreement, that’s what she’d expected. Nothing.

  She opened the message filled with ten kinds of curiosity.

  Meet me tonight at 7pm.

  In a second line, he’d provided a new address. She looked at the time. A little after four. If she hurried, she’d have time to run home first, shower and find something a little more presentable than scrubs to wear.

  Saying no never crossed he
r mind. She smiled as she opened her patient’s chart and got to work.

  * * *

  She gave her name to the doorman, who welcomed her inside one of the most exclusive buildings in the city. With a gracious smile, he acted as though he’d expected her. He gave her precise directions and, after following them, she found herself standing outside the penthouse suite. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

  Jittery nerves rioted in her belly as she stared at a familiar white envelope attached to the door. She removed it and wondered what the night held for her. The heavy paper infused her with a heavy, irresistible sense of anticipation.

  The hallway behind her waited empty and silent, but as she read his instructions, she heard his voice as though he spoke right into her ear. It reminded her of the first time she heard it. Come inside and leave your things on the chair. The silent order resonated deep and, like a moth to a flame, she followed temptation.

  Breathless, tingling from head to toe, she turned the doorknob and eased the door open. An enormous, opulent, great room with high ceilings awaited her. A wall of windows overlooked the city and, just like the hallway, the room sat still. Soft strains of music whispered through the room, blocking out the silence. And a few scattered candles and low lighting chased away the chill.

  Waiting in the chair was another envelope and her hood. Just the sight of the fine material warmed her. Her body tightened and, heaven help her, her pussy grew damp with arousal. She sat her bag in the chair and opened the instructions.

  Strip yourself bare, don your hood, and wait for me in front of the window. Watch the city lights and don’t move.

  Something about the words “your hood” did odd things beneath her sternum. A bright bubble swelled, taking up space in her heart. Silly? Absolutely, but the feeling remained. The hood was hers, no one else’s. Was she placing too much importance on her Dom choosing one word over another? Likely, but she couldn’t shake the sense of belonging.