Knocked Up by the Dom: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  “I asked you a question,” he says, somewhat firmly.

  I’m startled by how direct he is. “A bathroom,” I say breathlessly. “I have to pee.”

  His eyes take me in slowly, deliberately. I shift under his scrutiny. No man has ever looked at me like he’s looking at me. He’s appraising me like he might inspect something he just purchased, or something he already owns. The realization sends an unexpected thrill of excitement through me. I feel my core heat and my nipples harden.

  “You can use mine,” he says, gesturing to the bathroom he just stepped out of.

  I look down at the floor, nodding my thanks as I try to slip past him into the bathroom, but he doesn’t budge, forcing me to brush against his hard body. A wave of chills passes over me. In the brief instant we touched, I could feel the heat radiating from his skin and imagine what it would be like to run my hands down his smooth muscles and to have his hands on me.

  I close the bathroom door behind me, giving me a merciful break from the intensity of his presence. I press my back to the door, sucking in heavy breaths like I just ran a mile. Men don’t have that effect on me. Years of fruitless sexual encounters and failed relationships have pretty much made me numb to attractiveness or sexual fantasies. But just looking at him and feeling his dominating presence actually has my core clenching from need.

  I step through the steamy bathroom, admiring the huge shower with multiple faucets and trying not to picture him naked, bathed in hot, steaming water. I step past a discarded suit, slacks, and a pair of black briefs thrown on the ground. I guiltily look at the briefs, licking my lips.

  I quickly use the bathroom and step back out into the room. I find him half-dressed. He’s wearing a pair of unbuttoned slacks without a shirt.

  I avert my eyes, my mouth is suddenly dry. “Are you Mr. Steele?” I ask.

  He half-turns, giving me just a glimpse of the rounded muscle of his chest. “Yes,” he says simply. “Are you an intern? I don’t recognize you.”

  My stomach clenches. “Yes,” I say quickly. “I just started.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. For a moment, I’m afraid he’s going to ask for more details, but he lets it pass.

  “Right,” I say nervously. “Well, I’m going to go back…” I turn to leave, but he stops me with a hand on my shoulder, making me turn to face him. The warmth of his hand seeps into me, sending my mind to dark places with even darker images of him bending me over the bed, having his way with me. Dominating me. I feel a chill at the thought. Is that what I want?

  “Your dress,” he says, stepping closer to me and wrapping his arms around me to reach to my lower back. His bare chest presses into me, making my breath catch. “You’re unzipped.” His face is inches from mine and having those piercing eyes just inches from mine is almost too much. I could kiss him if I just leaned forward…

  But he zips me up and then steps back, turning away as if there was nothing to the gesture.

  “Thank you,” I say quietly. I don’t want to walk out of the room. I know a man like this would never normally look twice at me. Every woman in the city probably throws herself at him. The need to extend the moment pushes me to say something. Anything. “It’s beautiful,” I say.

  I see a hint of laughter in his eyes when he turns to look at me.

  “The house!” I say quickly, shielding my eyes in embarrassment. “The house is beautiful, I mean. Not that you aren’t, of cour--” I clamp my mouth shut before I can do any more damage.

  He finally slides a tight black shirt on that hugs his muscles. The shirt does less to dull the throb of need between my legs than I was hoping. The sleeves stretch tight over his biceps and…

  He steps closer and looks at me appraisingly, placing a finger on his perfect chin. “Tell me your name,” he says. It’s not a question. He doesn’t strike me as the type to do a whole lot of questioning. Statements and demands are this man’s way, and I find myself liking the idea of that very much.

  “Emmaline,” I breathe.

  “Emmaline,” he says slowly. I’ve never heard my name sound so romantic or sweet from anyone else’s lips. “You need to get back to the party. Your colleagues are probably wondering where you went.”

  He knows I don’t work for him. I stammer out something and rush from the room, finally feeling like I can breathe when I’m back in the hallway. Wow. When Scarlett said he was hot I didn’t think he was going to be that hot. I’ve never met a man quite like him. I hurry down the stairs, head still spinning as I descend back into the thrum of music and writhing bodies.

  When I finally find Scarlett she’s breathless and has lost the coat she was wearing when we came in. Her skin glistens with sweat and she’s wearing a perpetual smile. The smile falters a little when she sees the look on my face. “You okay?” she asks as we slip outside into the cool night air beside the pool and find chairs.

  “I met Mr. Steele,” I say.

  “You met him?” she asks.

  “I walked into his master bedroom as he was coming out of the shower in nothing but a towel.” The look on Scarlett’s face makes me laugh. “Nothing happened! I mean, he did zip up my dress…”

  Scarlett’s jaw drops and she’s looking at me like she’s seeing me for the first time. “Shut up! He did not!”

  I bite my lip, grinning. “He did.”

  “Why the hell was your dress unzipped?”

  I finish telling her what little else there was to the encounter as the night grows colder and the intensity of the party burns down to embers. We laugh and talk about nothing, and for at least a little while, my mind moves away from the debt and the problems in my immediate future. I’ll be talking to Scarlett’s contact at Club Crave tomorrow morning and possibly starting soon. But that’s a worry for tomorrow. Tonight, I’m perfectly fine with Mr. Steel dominating my thoughts. I just wish he was dominating more than that.

  23

  Logan

  My driver parks behind Club Crave’s private entrance. I step out of the car, slipping on the simple leather mask that covers my eyes and the top of my nose. Even before I had a desire to protect my identity, I always chose to wear a mask here. The thrill of anonymity and the extra degree of control always gave another layer to my enjoyment. Control. It’s what drives me. It’s what I thrive on.

  Dean is already waiting for me. Club Crave is a simple building from the outside. Unassuming. Red brick, blacked out windows, and nothing to mark it as a favorite spot of the filthy rich and filthy minded. Dean wears a mask similar to mine, but I would recognize what little I can see of his face anywhere. He smirks at me and claps me on the shoulder.

  “Logan Steele is back on the prowl. Women beware,” says Dean. “How does it feel?” he asks. Something in his tone irks me. It’s a little patronizing, maybe, but I can’t be bothered right now. I have other things on my mind.

  I straighten my jacket and tie, fixing him with a hard glare. I’m not in a mood to joke or banter. I’ve waited too long for this. My body hums with energy, cock already hard and pulsing. I have to grit my teeth to hold back the anticipation, the burning need to dominate. I push past Dean, leaving him at the entrance.

  The club is full, doms and subs on full display even in the lobby. The walls are deep black polished stone marbled with white. Flickering red candlelight illuminates the room, casting everything in a sensual scarlet color. I move past security, flashing the pin on my lapel that marks me as a member. I’ve still been paying the exorbitant membership fee all these years, despite not knowing if I would ever come back. Canceling my membership would have felt too permanent, and I think I always knew I would come back.

  A dom in an expensive suit and leather mask walks by, dragging his sub by the diamond-encrusted collar wrapped around her neck. She follows, hands folded in front of her submissively. Her dress is nearly transparent, and she wears only a thin black thong. Another dom is reclining while a sub rubs her small hand up his thigh and squeezes his cock. A blonde stands and watches them wit
h a look of irritation. My guess is he’s punishing her for something, but the sub is doing a poor job of hiding how much her punishment is turning her on.

  I breathe in deeply through my nose. All the old heat and energy of this place seeps into me. Whether I find a sub or not tonight, just being back is good. I’ve repressed this for too long. I need it.

  I see Dean passing through the lobby of the club, toward a pretty young redhead wearing a sleek dress with deep cuts up the sides that don’t leave anything to the imagination. He leans in close, speaking to her softly as she nods her head obediently. When he walks back to me, she follows closely behind him, keeping her eyes downcast.

  “New sub?” I ask him.

  He nods. “Ava has a habit of misbehaving. We were just establishing the newer, more strict rules for tonight. I was very clear about the consequences, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she says meekly.

  Dean favors her with a light dragging of his fingertip down her jawline. The corner of her mouth pulls up in a satisfied smile, and Dean hisses in a quick breath. “Your ass is mine for that later.”

  Her cheeks redden and she bites her lip.

  Dean sighs, shaking his head, but not completely hiding the grin on his mouth. “Training this one hasn’t been easy.”

  I nod distractedly, eyes scanning the room. I still remember when I was first introduced to the lifestyle. I learned early the most important element of a dominant and submissive relationship is communication of desires. The line between enjoyment and abuse is an easy one to cross, and it’s a line I don’t take lightly. I’ve always been careful, which gave me all the more reason to be pissed when Lana claimed I had abused her.

  What a bunch of bullshit.

  I’ve never found enjoyment in causing pain. When I punish a sub, it’s not her pain that turns me on. I’m driven by the complete trust required for a healthy relationship between a dominant and his submissive. When a woman gives complete trust and control to me, the power is like a drug. All I want to do with the power is explore her limits and bring her to new levels of pleasure she’s never found. That’s what it is for me. Just like I enjoy pushing myself to the absolute limit in my business, I like to bring women to theirs in the bedroom. I like to watch them learn what they’re capable of and love every second of it.

  I move away from Dean and his sub, drawn toward a young woman near the edge of the lobby, where a dark hallway leads to some of the public pleasure rooms. I can tell from her outfit she’s new and uncomfortable. Fresh. The thought sends a burst of predatory excitement through me.

  She’s talking to Madam Montpierre and nodding her head obediently as the Madam explains something in her slow, elegant way. I slowly move closer, ears straining to hear the conversation.

  “...will under no circumstances do anything to damage the atmosphere. No matter who you are out there, here you play a role. You are a submissive. They say, you do.” Madam Montpierre pulls a white set of dangling earrings from her bag and hands them to the girl, who takes them questioningly. “Put these on. They make it clear to our members what you are and aren’t comfortable with. White means you’re new to BDSM and aren’t interested in any hard bondage, scat, bloodplay, or most of the other more exotic tastes some of our clients may have.”

  The girl swallows, turning slightly and giving me the first clear glimpse of her face. Emmaline? It’s the same woman from my party who wandered into my bedroom. Fuck. My already hard cock twitches. I wanted her from the moment I set eyes on her. Having her just a few feet away from my play room was almost too much temptation. But if she was an employee like she said, I wasn’t going to risk getting involved, no matter how badly I may have wanted to, even though I was fairly sure she was bullshitting me.

  She wore a relatively modest dress at the party, only giving me the slightest glimpse of her cleavage and the smooth curve of her hips. Her clothes tonight are equally modest, and are bordering on offensively conservative in this setting. She wears a red dress that’s entirely opaque and only dips slightly in the chest. The dress ends a few inches above her knees.

  “I thought I was just here for show,” says Emmaline. The way her voice is full of hesitation and fear makes me want to reach out and put her at ease. “You make it sound like…”

  Madam Montpierre tilts her head slightly. “Our clientele is not accustomed to the concept of something being out of reach. Our guests typically bring their own partners and will leave you alone unless you are out of line. Cases of guests wanting more from employees are… rare, but not unheard of.”

  Emmaline nods, but her chest is heaving. I love the way she gets breathless so easily. If I had her in my play room, I would blindfold her, lay her out naked, and bind her to my bed. I can imagine how her chest would heave with anticipation as I teased and tempted her, the way her nipples would harden into nubs for me. Fuck. I have to have her.

  “What if I’m not comfortable. I mean, what if one of them wants to do something with me and I don’t want to?” asks Emmaline.

  The Madam smiles reassuringly. “You’re always in control. Remember that. But keep in mind, we’re selling the fantasy that you’re not. Do your best to go along with whatever a guest wants to the best of your ability. That’s all I ask.”

  Emmaline nods, licking her lips. I watch her little pink tongue flick over her lush lips and almost can’t contain myself. I need to have her.

  “What did you mean when you said they would leave me alone unless I got out of line?” asks Emmaline.

  “Like I said earlier, avoid eye contact. Do not move too close to members. Assume submissive posture. Only speak when spoken to. All guests should be addressed as Sir or Ma'am unless they instruct you otherwise.”

  “Right,” says Emmaline.

  “You’ll be fine, honey. Just remember, you’re here for atmosphere primarily. Circulate the room. Be responsive when guests engage with you, and relax. Oh, and don’t dress so modestly. You can grab something from the back for tonight. That dress won’t do.”

  Emmaline looks down in confusion. I love the way her forehead wrinkes with worry. She tucks her silky black hair over her shoulder and licks her lips nervously. “Okay…”

  I watch as Madam Montpierre leads Emmaline through the hallway and toward a back room. I realize Dean has slid up beside me.

  “I know that look,” he says. His sub is a foot behind him, eyes down and hands clasped in front of her.

  “It’s her first day,” I say.

  He whistles appreciatively. “She’s sexy in an innocent sort of way too. You may want to move fast before someone else breaks her in.”

  I growl under my breath.

  I try to keep my mind open for the next hour. I let Dean talk me into watching a public scene in one of the play rooms. A thin, willowy woman with blonde hair lets two masked men strap her to the ceiling by her wrists and ankles. They take turns with her, drawing out her pleasure inch by inch, making her shake with anticipation before they finally plunge inside her. My mind is elsewhere though, and threesomes never interested me. I’m drawn to the intensity that can only exist between two people. Two minds locked in the delicate play of domination and submission, pushing and pulling to reach the perfect balance where pleasure, fear, and pain all become one.

  The woman is moaning loudly when I see a flash of gold pass by the hallway outside. I’m up and following before Dean can say anything to stop me. I step into the hallway, feeling my breath hitch when I see her. Emmaline. She’s wearing a sequined gold dress with a transparent cutout that goes wide from her shoulder blades to a narrow point just beneath where the crease of her perfect ass begins. My cock hardens immediately, already aching painfully from so much pent up desire and no release. I move behind her, evaluating how she’s holding her head too high and her back too straight. Too confident. Her eyes wander the room boldly, begging for someone to pull her aside and punish her.

  She stops just inside the lobby and turns, eyes meeting mine directly.


  Someone needs to teach her a lesson.

  24

  Emmaline

  A masked man in a grey suit and black undershirt stands in the hallway, watching me. He wears a half mask that covers his eyes and part of his nose, but I can tell from the little of his face I can see that he’s breathtaking. The suit fits him unbelievably well, emphasizing the lines and form of his masculine frame. His eyes bore into mine and I realize a split second too late that I was staring. Do not make eye contact or a guest may deem it appropriate to punish you. My hands clench at my sides and I slowly turn, trying to walk away before he has time to decide to punish me for my boldness.

  I’ve only taken two steps when a strong hand grips my arm, turning me around.

  He’s standing inches from me, looking down with an unreadable expression. “Come,” he says simply.

  You may refuse any request that makes you uncomfortable. Madam Montpierre was very clear about that, but I find my curiosity overpowering my fear. There’s a power to the moment. A power to him. It’s something tangible and thick. It’s undeniable and as irresistible as ice cold lemonade on a hot day.

  So for once in my life, I don’t resist. I let the current take me. I let him take me.

  He leads me by the arm down the dark hallway to the back and up the stairs. Toward the private rooms. My throat goes dry. What is he planning? I know there is security stationed throughout the building, and nothing can happen to me I don’t want, but the knowledge doesn’t stop fear and panic from rippling through me.

  He says nothing until we’ve reached a private room and stepped inside. He closes the door behind me and I’m left with nothing to do but take in the scene. Leather straps dangle from a hook in the ceiling. There’s a table that looks like it came from a chiropractor’s office, a rack of whips, paddles, chains, handcuffs, and silk ties on one wall. Another wall displays butt plugs, clamps, spreaders, and other devices I can’t begin to guess what they are used for.