Bowles, Jan - Master of Submission [Masters of Submission 1] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Jan Bowles

  “Here, let me help you,” he said calmly. He scooped her into his arms and started to carry her toward the house. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then you can tell me everything. And I mean everything.” He walked up the steps. “Hang on.”

  Emma clung to him like her life depended on it. Her head rested against his chest as he keyed in the four-digit code, and the impressive front door clicked open. With her still nestled in his arms, he headed for the kitchen at the back of the house. He flicked a switch, flooding the room with light, and then gently placed her on top of the black granite work surface. “Stay right here, and I’ll get you cleaned up,” he commanded.

  “You’re not Orion are you?” she whispered, looking embarrassed.

  Zane leaned down and grabbed the first aid kit from the bottom drawer of the cupboard. “Just who or what the hell is Orion, Emma?” Her winter coat was unbuttoned and it fell open, revealing the soft, womanly flesh beneath. Fucking hell, you’re beautiful. He wondered if she knew how attractive she looked, with the telltale signs of distress plastered all over her face.

  “Tell me about Chloe. Why do you think I should know where she is?” He took an antiseptic swab from a pack and dabbed the drying blood on her leg. “Let me know if it stings, baby.”

  “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Try at the beginning.”

  “My best friend is missing. I just know something terrible has happened to her.”

  Zane carefully removed the ruined stiletto from her perfect, tiny foot, and then tossed it aside. He then gently manipulated her ankle, checking out how much movement she had. Emma bit down on her bottom lip, but didn’t cry out. “I think you’ve just sprained it, baby.” He took a bandage from the first aid box. “So, this missing woman is called Chloe?”

  “Yes. I’ve lodged a missing person’s report with the police. It’s on the FBI database, but there’s nothing more they can do. They’re not treating her disappearance as important.”

  “So what has Club Submission got to do with Chloe?” he asked, as he carefully began bandaging her foot and ankle.

  “She met a man there. He calls himself Orion. I think he’s the guy she went away with for a long weekend of debauchery.” She couldn’t help but giggle. He guessed it was at her choice of words. Debauchery? How English.

  “There, that should do it.” He tied the bandage off securely, and released her foot.

  “Thank you. That feels so much better.”

  “So how do you know she met this guy? What’s his name again?”

  “He’s called Orion. He sent her e-mails asking to meet up at Club Submission. She’s been missing for over a week now.” Emma looked right at him. He saw teardrops welling in her eyes, ready to flow down her cheeks. “I know something bad has happened to her. I just know it.”

  Zane squeezed her delicate hand, trying to reassure her. “Maybe I can help? Do you have a picture of your friend?”

  Emma rifled through her purse and produced a small photograph. “This was taken two years ago. It’s of us both. We were enjoying a lovely holiday in Cannes together.” She handed it to him.

  Zane studied the picture of the two smiling women, arm in arm. The azure-colored Mediterranean Sea filled the background, while the wind blew through their hair. His gut twisted. He knew the woman with the short dark hair. He tapped the photograph. “That’s Giselle.”

  Emma looked stunned. “Giselle, you say? You think you know someone, but…” She sighed resignedly. “When did you last see her?”

  “A couple of months ago. Maybe a little longer. I can’t say I really knew her that well.”

  “I see.” Emma paused. “So was she your sub?”

  “Briefly.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Jesus, Emma, so many questions. What are you, a cop?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I’m a lawyer. I know when there’s more to tell.”

  Zane nodded. So Emma was a lawyer. It figured. “Look, after a couple of weeks or so it became obvious we weren’t compatible. We decided to call a halt. Both of us saw our D/s relationship was going nowhere.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t think so. You’re not experienced enough at present.”

  He studied Emma for a moment. For a woman who was so obviously distressed only a short time ago, she now appeared remarkably composed. Only the streaks of mascara still covering her beautiful porcelain cheeks gave the game away.

  The question still burning in his mind just had to be asked. “Why did you run away from me at the club?”

  Her lips parted, as she looked at him through hooded eyes. Her bright blue irises flashed with uncertainty. “I was scared, Zane.”

  “Scared of me, or scared of yourself?”

  “Both.”

  At least she was being honest. He stroked his hand down her cheek, feeling a sense of satisfaction that she didn’t pull away. “How do you feel now?”

  “A little better. I’d feel a lot better if I knew more about you.”

  Zane felt the sexual tension between them mounting by the second, and he knew she felt it, too. He could imagine the inner turmoil going on in her head. She knew he could do things for her that no other man could. He saw it in her lovely, kind face as she studied him. Yet he was well aware that he frightened her, too. “Let’s go into the living room. We can relax, have a drink, and discuss things far more freely.”

  She seemed unsure of herself, again. “I really should be going.”

  He gripped her upper arm, not hard enough to frighten her, but just enough to let her know who was in charge. “You’re not going anywhere. You’ve strained your ankle. You’re not capable of driving home. Wherever home is.”

  “Boston, at the moment. But I’m minded to fly back to England soon. I don’t seem to be making any headway, trying to find Chloe.”

  Chapter Eight

  Emma stretched, making herself more comfortable on Zane’s luxurious black leather sofa. He’d arranged a bag of crushed ice around her ankle to reduce the swelling, and the pain had already diminished considerably. As she looked around his wonderful home, she realized it was far more than she deserved. She’d acted like a complete fool.

  A large Adam chimneypiece dominated one wall, and several more comfy sofas were positioned to take advantage of the soothing warmth coming from the fire. All the walls were painted a wonderful, calming green. It reminded her of summer meadows on a bright, sunny day. Almost completely filling another wall stood a massive bookcase. It overflowed with a large selection of books slotted haphazardly into place. Their cracked spines showing evidence of use.

  He handed her a glass. “I’ve poured you a bourbon. You look like you need a stiff one.”

  She immediately recognized the double entendre, but decided to let it pass. “Thank you. My days are usually filled with boring stuff like court appearances and filing reports. It’s not every day I think I’m about to be murdered.” She took a sip of the golden liquor. A burning sensation spread like wildfire into her stomach. “Gosh, that’s strong.” She placed the glass on a side table. “It would be wise to drink that slowly.”

  Zane sat on the leather armchair next to her. He’d removed his jacket, and loosened the top two buttons of his shirt. Dressed differently from when he was at the club, he looked like an executive winding down for the night, but she knew differently. This man was heavily into domination and submission. Her panties moistened with desire as she wondered how he would master her, if she ever gave him the chance. “So what exactly do you do, Zane? What’s your full name?”

  He took another swig of bourbon before answering. “Curious, aren’t you, baby? Well, for the record, my name’s Zane Anders. I run an import export business. I deal mainly in gemstones, like diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. I also deal in precious metals, such as gold, silver, and platinum. I’m forty years old, and divorced. I have no children.” He smiled. “Does that satisfy you?”

  “Yes. I feel better now I kn
ow a little more about you.” She reached across and fleetingly touched his hand. “I’d like to apologize for my erratic behavior. I’m usually far more controlled.”

  Zane smiled, and she knew he was thinking about their time together at the club, when she was anything but controlled. “So tell me about yourself, Emma. I’m intrigued. An Englishwoman in Boston. Sounds interesting.”

  “Okay, fair enough, Zane. You’ve told me about yourself, so now I suppose it’s my turn.” She took a sip of bourbon to give her confidence. “I’m thirty, and as I already said, I’m a lawyer. I’ve come to Boston to start a law firm with my best friend, Chloe.” She sighed. “Hmm, I suppose that’s unlikely to happen now.”

  He stretched out his hand. “Good to meet you, Emma. I’m Zane.”

  Emma placed her hand in his, and smiled. “Good to meet you, too, Zane.” A jolt of electricity sped up her arm as he caressed his thumb across her palm.

  “There was no need to run off like that,” he said, letting her hand slip from his. She could still feel his sensual touch as he leaned back in his leather chair. He took another large slug of bourbon and placed the empty glass on the table. Looking right at her, he said, “It would have been better if we’d discussed what made you feel so uncomfortable.”

  She shrugged her shoulders, and relaxed into the sofa. Away from the intimidating sights and sounds of the club, she felt far more confident. The fact that Zane had made her climax for the first time in two years made it appear they’d known each other far longer than they actually had.

  “I’m not used to giving up control. I felt shattered. I climaxed far too easily. It scared me.”

  “But that’s a good thing, surely? Not a bad thing.”

  Emma forced an unconvincing smile. Zane didn’t know the half of it. “Not when you’ve spent the last few years avoiding men because you think you’re frigid.”

  He looked surprised. “Well you’re clearly not frigid, Emma. You’re a woman, most of your sexual desire is right here.” Zane tapped an index finger to his forehead. “Men need visual as well as mental stimulation to make them fully aroused. Women enjoy sex on a more emotional level. But being a woman, you already know that.”

  “Of course I do, but to have it so bluntly demonstrated rather unnerved me. I left partly because of that, but mainly because it wasn’t the reason I came to the club. I need to find out what happened to Chloe. This not knowing, is just eating me up inside.”

  “Maybe I can help. Matthew and Ethan are the owners of Submission. They’re good friends of mine. Perhaps, with their help, we may be able to find out what happened to Giselle”—Zane waved a hand in the air as he corrected himself—“I mean Chloe. I’m sure if some sick bastard is using Club Submission to lure women against their will, they’d want to know about it.”

  An inner calm began to flow through her. If she had some inside help it could only improve her chances of finding Chloe. “You’d do that for me? Even after I followed you here, and then accused you of some truly awful things?” Guilt overwhelmed her. “I virtually said you’d murdered her. I’m so sorry, Zane. I acted out of character. I’m a lawyer. I should know better than to accuse anyone without firm evidence. I hope you can forgive me.”

  He smiled, and her stomach quivered at the way he looked at her. “Sure I forgive you. It’s forgotten already.”

  She blushed. “Thanks. But I don’t deserve your kindness.”

  “I really like you, Emma. But deep down you know you need a man’s guidance…my guidance.”

  Her womb contracted at the way he said the word guidance. How did he manage to make a simple, innocuous word sound so sexy? How exactly would Zane guide her? He could certainly show her how to enjoy sex. The thought excited her. He was clearly into domination. What would he do to her? Tie her up, spank her, who knew what?

  “Shall we go to bed, Emma?”

  His sultry, provocative words hung in the air, refusing to disappear. She could barely breathe.

  He laughed and gently patted her hand. “My, my, you look just like a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights. I’ve several spare bedrooms upstairs, so you can take your pick or…you can sleep with me.”

  A warm feeling spread into her pussy. She liked Zane—a lot. “I’m not sure.” Emma squeezed her fingers to her forehead. “Christ, I’m a thirty-year-old woman, but I sound like a fucking virgin.”

  Zane came and knelt beside her. He placed his hands on hers, and slowly pulled her fingers away from her throbbing temples. He cupped her chin, and tilted her face to his. “In my world, that’s exactly what you are. A young virgin sub, waiting for her Master to guide and protect her.” He placed his finger to her lips when she made to protest. “Shhh, I can teach you things about yourself, Emma, but only if you’ll allow me to. I won’t force you to do anything against your will.”

  She stared into his riveting blue eyes. Her heart beat like a tiny bird caught in the mouth of a predator. Zane seriously turned her on, but he frightened her, too.

  “I know you’re scared, and aroused at the same time. That’s your dilemma.” He smiled and stared at her lips. “Shall I make a suggestion? Why don’t I show you a spare room where you can change and have a shower?” He then raised his gaze to hers. “Then if you feel more confident, my room is just across the hallway.”

  Nervous energy coiled deep within her, twisting her guts into a series of tight knots. Even though he appeared calm and measured on the outside, just staring into his all-knowing eyes, she could tell he wanted her. His gaze held the look a hawk gives its prey, dominant and merciless. It was frightening and incredibly exciting. Emma cautiously nodded, grateful he’d given her the time to make a decision.

  Zane took her in his arms and carried up the stairs two at a time. He pushed open a door with his foot, and she peered into a luxurious bedroom. A curved bay window complemented beautiful French doors, which opened out onto a wonderful terrace. She was sure in the morning light, the pale blue room with its white gossamer curtains would be a wonderful tranquil place to wake up. It was so light and airy.

  He placed her gently on the lush carpet. “Easy now, baby. Don’t put too much weight on that ankle for a day or two.”

  “Thank you. I promise I won’t.”

  He opened a wardrobe and pulled out one of his shirts. “Here, if you feel the need to cover your modesty, you can slip this on.”

  “Thanks, I will. I am English, after all.”

  Zane laughed. “The bathroom is through there.” He pulled her into his arms and delivered a kiss that was as devastating as the one they’d shared at the club. “Don’t forget, I’m just across the hall if you need me.” He angled her face to his, holding her gaze. “There’s one thing you need to remember though, Emma. If you do come to my room, you won’t be leaving until morning. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Zane. I fully understand.”

  “Excellent. Then understand this also, a D/s relationship is a power exchange. You hand over your control to me, and I’ll give you all the orgasms you could ever want.”

  Discussing sex so openly made the breath hitch in her throat. Back home in England she’d had a conservative upbringing. No one ever spoke of such things, least of all her parents and boyfriends.

  “I don’t give up control very easily,” she told him haughtily. If he thought she’d fall at his feet, he had another thing coming.

  “I know. But in my opinion all this feminist bullshit is killing the country.”

  Emma folded her arms defensively across her chest. “You must be a male chauvinist, if you think woman aren’t equal to men?”

  “On the contrary, women are equal to men in almost every way. They can run countries for Christ’s sake, but when it comes to the bedroom, they need to relinquish control, and hand it back to the male of the species, just as nature intended. Why do you think there are so many unhappy women across America right now?”

  “Money worries?”

  “Wrong.” He pulled her into his
arms and whispered close to her ear. “They’re unhappy because they need a good fucking from someone who knows what they’re doing. They want to be spread open and devoured as though they’re the last woman on the planet.” Heat flooded her cheeks at his colorful description.

  Zane smiled at her obvious embarrassment, and smoothed a thumb over her lips. “It would be my pleasure to introduce you to my world, pretty lady.” With a quick affectionate tap to her nose he began walking away.

  She watched his tall, broad frame retreat through the bedroom door. I get the feeling this man is playing with me. He’s so full of ego. He thinks I’m going come to his room and fall at his feet. Emma went into the bathroom. Well he can’t possibly know what I’m going to do, because I don’t even know myself.

  During a long hot shower, the same insistent image kept filling her mind—Zane—beautiful, handsome, Zane. She just couldn’t shake his face from her mind. He was so charismatic and so fucking sexy, too. She was sure he could deliver on his promises and more besides. Should she walk across the hall and go to his room? Did she trust him enough?

  Chapter Nine

  Two hours later

  Unable to sleep, Emma lay on top of the bed, staring at the ceiling. Her mind kept coming back to Zane. Was he waiting for her across the hallway? Tonight at the club he’d opened up the possibilities of a new way of life. He’d shown her something she’d never known was possible. Freedom to explore her sexual fantasies. All she had to do was trust him. If you dare.

  “Sod it,” she mumbled out loud, as she rose from the bed. Her ankle still felt weak, but it wasn’t as painful as it had been. She hobbled from her room, and stood breathlessly outside his bedroom door. When she raised her hand to knock, she saw her arm visibly shaking. Not daring to move, she stayed staring at the door. It was now or never.

  On a deep sigh, she rapped softly on the light oak panel.

  At first she thought he hadn’t heard, and must be asleep, because she stood waiting in the hall, listening to her own heavy breathing. She felt like a naughty schoolgirl, standing outside the headmaster’s office, waiting for him to call her in, and discipline her. Just on the point of returning to her room, she watched mesmerized as the ornate handle slowly started to turn. The door suddenly swung wide open.