Not Your Damn Dom (Denial Book 2)

by Amy Valenti

  A wave of love crashed into my chest, almost stealing my breath. The way Spencer related to the kids in his charge just made me appreciate him more. No matter what his opinion of himself sometimes, or his sadistic impulses, he was a good man. He was physically capable of hurting someone badly, but I knew that mentally, he didn’t have the urge to do more than cause pleasurable pain to a submissive.

  “These kids are lucky to have a mentor like you. And I’m lucky to have you as a Dom.”

  He glanced up sharply at my last words, and I rolled my eyes. “I know, I know. You’re not my damn Dom…but until this weekend is over, that’s how I’m thinking of you.”

  “Until this weekend is over. No longer than that,” he said.

  I pushed down my sadness and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

  The heat in his expression made me want to pull the takeout menu out of his hands and kneel at his feet, but I knew he’d be hungry.

  “I got a call from Owen earlier, telling me I got the part in the BDSM movie. He wasn’t happy that I turned it down,” I said, to distract myself.

  “Owen?” Spencer’s expression was suddenly guarded. “Owen who?”

  “Owen Hayward, the director.”

  He gave a short, sharp laugh. “I’m not surprised. He’ll have been looking for new submissives as well as actresses who can play the part. Was he all over you?”

  Remembering my strange audition, I twisted my fingers together in my lap. “Not ‘all over’, but he definitely gave me a vibe of…Domness.”

  “Was there another guy with him? Tall, blond?”

  Remembering Jay, I nodded. Spencer shook his head as though he found their behaviour shameless. “They share women all the time. I never thought they’d stoop as low as having an audition to find a new sub, though.” He fixed me with a possessive look. “If Owen tries anything else, you tell him you’re mine, you hear?”

  A delicious shiver went down my spine. There was something about being told that I was without a doubt his that made me a little tingly. “Am I yours?”

  He cupped a hand to the back of my neck, squeezing firmly as he stared into my eyes. “Damn right, you are. You’ve been mine from the moment you walked into my gym, you understand that?”

  I just about melted under the intense attention. “Yes, Sir.”

  He kissed me hard, and everything else ceased to matter but his lips on mine. Before we could get too distracted, though, my stomach rumbled, shattering the moment as we both laughed.

  “Food first, pretty girl.”

  After the meal, I asked, “Do you have lots of devious and sinful things you want to try on me?”

  He growled against my neck, “You have no fucking idea how many.”

  “Gonna tell me some of them?”

  “No, because I don’t have your checklist yet, and I need to know your limits before I know what I can do.”

  Spoilsport. “Yeah, but you haven’t given me the checklist yet. Tell me something you really, really want to do to me.”

  He was silent for a few seconds. I’d all but resigned myself to the conversation being over when he said, “I want to chain you down and use a vibrator on your clit, then leave you there just as you’re at the point of coming…”

  Chains? I hadn’t ever thought about chains before, but already my imagination was racing ahead, wondering if chains were much different from rope restraints, whether it would feel more intense or permanent or scary to be in chains. “I want you to,” I whispered.

  “But now I’ve spoiled the element of surprise,” he told me, drawing back to look at me. “Part of me wants to see how you react to things you were hardly even expecting, so that fantasy might not happen on Saturday now.”

  I wondered if he was being purposely difficult. If we only had one night for a full scene, why would he tease me with things like this and then say he wouldn’t do them? “Take me to bed?” I asked softly. “Do bad things to me?”

  He pulled me to my feet as though I were a ragdoll, in need of support. I loved it when he showed his strength like this, and I had a suspicion did it on purpose. “Got no chains in the bedroom, I’m afraid…”

  “But you do own some?”

  “You’ll see on Saturday.”

  “Tease.” I let him carry me down the hall, unable to stop myself from smiling. No matter how complicated things were about to get, I loved being around this man. I just plain loved him.

  * * * *

  Alex

  I stared down at the checklist Spencer had given me, the options fuelling my imagination as the red highlighter in my hand shook. I was having trouble focusing on the task I was actually meant to be doing, daydreaming away about nipple clamps and vampire gloves when yesterday, I’d barely even known what those things were.

  Spencer had given me the printout the night before, and I’d had to do some Internet research around some of the options. Some of them definitely didn’t appeal, especially the ‘anal hook’ one. I knew the hook wasn’t actually sharp, but the mental image—and the photographs I’d seen—made me squirm, and not in a good way.

  Other options were extremely attractive, though. Including one or two of the ones Spencer had ruled out as his own hard limits—he’d said he wouldn’t roleplay. Being tied up and interrogated by an ‘enemy spy’ or having to placate my ‘angry boss’ after an office administration disaster sounded hot, but I set aside the ideas wistfully. I wouldn’t want to have the anal hook in me under any circumstances, so I made the decision to respect his aversion to roleplay in return.

  Berating myself for my lack of focus, I scanned down the list again. I was pretty sure I’d marked all my hard limits with the red pen, so I took the green highlighter and began to mark the things I was happy to have done to me.

  Spencer had told me not to mark anything in green that I was on the fence about, so I had to leave a few things out, but after a while I ended up with a list that was mostly green—the things that I knew I liked or was enthusiastic to try. About two thirds of the remaining options were yellow—things that I was kind of scared of but would trust Spencer to try with me in time if he really wanted to do them—and the rest were red.

  I held the page at arm’s length to look at the ratio and snorted to myself. “Does this make me a sexual deviant?”

  Tobias popped his head around the door. “Does what…? Oh.” He took the checklist from me, made a face and handed it back. “That’s more than enough information about your sexual preferences, thank you!”

  I grinned and scanned the page one more time, making sure I was confident of my choices. Then I sent a text to Spencer, as he’d ordered. Finished my checklist, Sir.

  His response was swift. Good girl. Bring it with you tomorrow.

  I shivered lightly. This was… I didn’t even know how to describe it. I only knew that I had to make it as good for Spencer as he made it for me, so he couldn’t deny that he wanted more D/s in his life and we could go on to face his demons together.

  Was I turning into one of those women? The ones who tried to change their men, despite the fact that the men were happy with who they were? I really hoped not. I could tell by the change in Spencer that he’d been happier these past few days, since he’d stopped hiding his Dom self from me. He loved the lifestyle, and he loved controlling me just as much as I loved his control. It wasn’t wishful thinking. I could see it.

  Another text message came through from him. Tomorrow, bring everything you’ll need to make yourself ready for your Dom. You’ll be taking a bath and getting ready for the scene here.

  I smiled dreamily down at my screen. I’d never thought before this week that being ordered to take a bath and prepare myself for a sexual encounter would be a turn-on, but I was learning all sorts of new stuff about myself recently.

  Thank you, Sir. I will.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Alex

  Spencer answered the door in… Oh, wow. Seeing him in jeans or workout clothing was hard enough on my libido, but shirtless
and barefoot, wearing leather pants and nothing else? Holy fuck. I didn’t even try to hide my stare.

  “It’s rude to stare, pretty painslut.”

  I dragged my gaze from the flattering cut of the pants to his face with difficulty. “I’m sorry, Sir. You just look completely fuckable in those pants.”

  He dragged me across the threshold into his territory and claimed my lips hard. I slid my hands around to cup his ass immediately, because hello? Leather fucking pants?

  He dragged my head back by the hair, breaking the kiss. “You have something I want.”

  “Just one thing, Sir?” I teased.

  Amused, he tugged my hair to make his point. “Many things, but at this moment I’m asking you to give me what I asked for.”

  And sadly, that wasn’t a blow job. I pulled the checklist out of my jacket pocket and handed it over.

  He gave it a quick glance—I assumed to check I’d completed it to his satisfaction—then kissed my forehead before releasing me. “Go take a bubble bath and get ready for me. Take as long as you need, not as long as you want.”

  I thanked him and watched him walk off down the hallway. God, those pants really were something…

  With a strange mix of anticipation and comfort at the familiarity of the surroundings, I ran a bubble bath, glad I’d thought to bring a small bottle of my favourite bath foam with me. Then, dimming the lights for atmosphere but not enough that I couldn’t see where I was shaving, I soaked, scrubbed, washed my hair and made sure everywhere was shaved to my satisfaction—generally everything I did when I was expecting a special night of sex, but with even more care. Knowing I’d been ordered to carry out this routine made it almost as if Spencer were in the room with me.

  As the water drained from the bathtub, I blow-dried my hair using the portable dryer I’d stuffed into my overnight bag, slipped into my sexiest bra and thong set, then pondered my makeup case. Should I wear makeup, or not?

  I decided to just put on a little rather than risk overdoing it and ending up with cosmetics smeared all over my face as the scene progressed. I wasn’t sure if the kiss-proof lipstick was going to stand up to this, but here was hoping…

  Finally, conscious that I was dallying out of nervousness as much as taking time I genuinely needed, I gave myself a last glance in the mirror and headed for the door. I got one foot out into the hallway before Spencer’s voice carried across to me. “Drop down to your knees and crawl to the bedroom, pretty girl.”

  Immediately, I did as I was told, glancing up as I reached the bedroom doorway to pinpoint my destination.

  Spencer was standing by the window, looking out at the light rain that was falling into the sunset. His shirt was still off, and I couldn’t wait to get into those leather pants…

  “Kneel where you are. Hands behind your back, knees apart, shoulders back.”

  I murmured a ‘yes, Sir’ and obeyed, keeping my gaze down now. As much as I wanted to ogle my man, the need to show my submission was stronger.

  Spencer moved towards me slowly. “I’ve been reading your list, pretty painslut. Very illuminating. I’m going to have fun with you tonight…”

  He stroked the top of my head as he walked past, and then I heard something scrape against something else. I couldn’t quite tell what was going on.

  Something jangled, then his feet moved back into my line of sight. “Stand up.”

  I rose as quickly as I could without falling over.

  “Give me your hand.” He took it when I obeyed, and guided my palm to rest over his heart. Its strong, rhythmic pulse against my skin made me smile.

  Spencer buckled a sturdy leather cuff around my wrist, then allowed me to drop my arm back to my side. “Other hand.”

  Once the cuffs had been buckled, he grinned before issuing a challenge. “Now give me your foot.”

  By stepping back a little, I was able to hook my toes over the top of his waistband, relishing the feel of the leather against the sole of my foot while he fastened a slightly larger cuff around my ankle. My toe-hold helped me to keep my balance, even when he brushed his fingertips up the back of my calf to the sensitive spot behind my knee.

  “Other foot.”

  This time, I managed to rub my toes over his hardening cock before gaining a grip on his waistband. He fastened the final cuff around my ankle before pushing my leg away and closing the distance between us to give me a forceful, way too short kiss.

  Releasing me, he tilted up my chin to look into my face. “Let me see…”

  I met his eyes as he perused me, loving the appreciation I saw there.

  “Very pretty.” He swiped his finger across my bottom lip, then examined his skin. “Kiss-proof? Good. I plan to kiss you plenty of times tonight. It’d be a shame if I ended up wearing the makeup.”

  I couldn’t help but smile against his hand. That would kind of ruin his dominant credibility.

  “Hope that mascara’s waterproof, because I have been known to hurt painsluts until they cry and beg for mercy.” He took a moment to watch the awareness dawn in my expression before adding, “Mercy isn’t a safeword, by the way. Remember yours?”

  I gave him both words—yellow and red—and he moved on, satisfied.

  “Push out those beautiful breasts a little more. Can you do that for me?”

  I made sure my shoulders were as far back as I could get them, presenting my breasts for his inspection. He watched for a moment, then smiled. “Take off the bra. Use your hands and offer them to me.”

  Uncharacteristically self-conscious, I unclasped the garment and let it drop from my arms, then pushed up my boobs the way the cleavage-enhancing bra had done, making sure my nipples weren’t obscured by my fingers. Spencer nodded approvingly and ran his fingertip over one taut peak, then the other.

  “Fuck, I want to bite these.”

  If I’d been the swooning type, I probably would have ended up on the floor at the darkness of his tone. “Anything you want, Sir.”

  He smiled. “Oh, I already know. These are mine.”

  Before I could process that, he ducked his head to draw one of my nipples between his teeth. After a sharp pain that made me jolt and cry out, he soothed the hurt by sucking and soothing the skin with his tongue. Every pull of suction made my clit tingle, but I kept absolutely still, holding my breasts up for him to sample, loving the fuck out of every second.

  Then he drew back and fastened something to the abused nub of flesh, and I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut at the uncompromising pinch of the nipple clamp.

  “Hope you don’t mind me going straight for the clover clamps,” he said, stroking the large metal clamp gently. “You react so beautifully to pain that anything milder would just disappoint us both.”

  The other clamp was just as difficult to acclimatise to, and the pain curled my toes…but then began to lessen just as Spencer kissed me again, full on the lips.

  “How are you feeling, pretty painslut?”

  I took a deep breath, testing how the movement of my chest would affect the clamps. Not too bad. “I’m good, Sir.”

  He slipped his fingers between my thighs and gave a low growl at the wet heat he found there. “Good might be underestimating things a little, pretty girl. You feel ready to be fucked to me…”

  I so was, and any other night I’d just have begged him to take me. But not tonight. I needed more than just his cock. I kept quiet.

  “Come with me.” Before I could say anything, he attached a chain to one clamp, then the other, each nudge as he clipped it on making me jolt with dull pain. Then he tugged on the chain and—oh, shit—stepped backwards, making it plain he was leading me somewhere. By the clamps.

  That was hot.

  The nipple clamps ached whenever I let him get too far ahead, so I walked quickly to keep pace, my breath coming fast and lightly.

  At the bottom of the stairs, just next to the door that led out into the gym, there was a door I’d always assumed led to some storage space or a cloakroom. I’d never
been curious enough to try the door, and I saw now that it wouldn’t have done any good. It was locked, and Spencer pulled the key from his pocket and gave it to me.

  “I’ll let you do the honours.”

  I took the key, warm with his body heat, from his hand and stepped up to the door, anticipation making my hand shake. What was in here, exactly? This must be where he kept the chains.

  The lock was well maintained and clicked open smoothly. I handed the key back to Spencer and hesitantly put my hand on the doorknob, looking to him for approval. He nodded, and I opened the door.

  “Wow.” I hadn’t planned to speak, but the word came from my lips anyway. “This is…amazing. I had no idea you had all this stuff!”

  Spencer walked into the room after me and closed the door behind him. There was a bolt on the inside of the door that he used to ensure no one from the outside could open it. It confused me for a second, but then I realised it was probably for safety. Having the door locked and the key elsewhere if you wanted to get out wasn’t something that would inspire confidence in a new sub like me.

  All thoughts of the door fled my mind as Spencer took hold of the chain connecting my nipple clamps again and tugged me into the middle of the dungeon. The floor was made of the same slightly squishy material as the floor of the sparring hall, but Spencer pointed to a small, circular black rug on top of it. “Kneel there.”

  I knelt on the rug, which was fluffy and comfortable on my knees. Spencer stood in front of me, and I looked up at him, waiting for more.

  “How are you feeling?”

  I almost wished he’d stop asking, but then again, he’d just led me into a dungeon wonderland and I had to admit, it was a little daunting. “Surprised, Sir. But in a good way, I think.”

  “Do you know what any of this equipment is for?” he asked.

  I glanced around. “Sexy pain and all the good stuff?” There was something that looked like it might be for kneeling on, something else that might be for standing up against…and there was one of those St. Andrew’s cross things.