Sugar Dust
Page 16
She clawed the duvet. Bucked her hips. “Yes, yes, please—”
Ecstasy reached a painful peak. Every inch of skin fizzed like a shaken champagne bottle, set to explode the moment the cork popped free.
“No.” At the last possible moment Dan leaned back and dropped a chaste kiss at the top of her pubic bone. “Go get us some breakfast.” He leapt to his feet.
The order made no sense. Through the mist of pleasure teetering on the edge, she blinked and tried to work it out. “Wait, what?”
“Cereal and tea please.”
The promise of paradise faded. Her body ached, riding the ebbing waves until they settled down to nothing. Air seared through her lungs as she sat up, panting. “Tease!”
“Yep—toast if they have it. Chop chop. Check out is at ten.”
Check out. She’d forgotten about the world beyond the walls of Sugar Dust. It seemed like the cage beneath the bed, condoms on demand, and porn on every channel was the real world, while PhDs, bills, and irritating family worries were the dream.
“I don’t want to leave. It’s great here.”
“We’ll come back.”
“When? Can it be soon?”
“If I start looking now, maybe in time for Halloween or Christmas.”
Karen grinned. “Imagine being here for your birthday. Tinsel. Holly. Mistletoe. We could invite Rebecca or Hannah, or both.”
“I thought you didn’t like the Library.”
She chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t, but I do. I like having playmates, I just don’t want to spend all of our time with them.”
“That seems fair.”
“Can we talk about it more at home?”
“Of course we can. Now go get breakfast.”
Grinning, Karen bound to her feet. She tugged on her rumbled pajamas and hurried down to the Ball Room.
The large area bristled with bodies and chatter. So close to check out time, there were no demos or displays, but some people still wore kink and fetish clothing. The majority had returned to their causal daywear and Karen saw jeans, skirts, and even suits among the crowd.
She snatched a tray and started to pile things onto it, head still in the clouds. In the middle of choosing between Cornflakes and Weetabix, she noticed the volume of surrounding conversation rise to an unusual volume. Unlike the day before, many tables were empty. Instead guests clustered around the stack of shelves holding the day’s offering of newspapers, broadsheets and glossy magazines. She moved closer, trying to decipher the excited snippets of conversation.
“It would have been worse,” one man said.
“I know.” The woman beside him frowned at the colorful pages of a magazine. “No pictures, which is good. No names. But easy to figure it out, if you know them.”
Karen inched closer, leaving the tray on a table. She reached the newspaper rails and snagged the last paper from the shortest stack. A man to her left tutted and slouched away. She frowned after him. “What’s all the fuss about?”
“No idea.” Henrietta stood close by, munching on a slice of toast. “Mind if I join you to find out?”
She smiled. “Sure.”
They sat at an empty table.
Several others, thwarted in their attempts to get a copy, hurried nearer to peer over her shoulder.
“It’s in the cultural magazine,” said one woman. “Somewhere in the middle.”
“What is?”
“An article on kink, BDSM and polygamy.”
Karen rolled her eyes. “Not another one.”
“No, no,” the woman reached over and began flipping pages. “Someone came here under cover. They’ve been ‘living as a sub’ for about six weeks to figure out what it’s all about. Like method acting.”
Henrietta drummed his long nails on the table. “What sort of woman would do something like that? It’s not easy if you’re not into it.”
“That’s just it.” The woman gave a sage nod. “It wasn’t a woman.”
“Seriously?” Karen helped to turn the pages.
“There.” She stabbed the paper with one finger. “There, see, that’s his picture. No one recognizes him, but he must have been here. He’s written about the rope workshop and needles demo.”
Karen waited for the woman to move her finger then looked at the picture herself. It took every scrap of control she had not to shriek out loud.
Henrietta gasped. “Isn’t that—”
She kicked him in the shin. When he looked her way she gave him a discrete shake of the head.
“Do you mind if I read it?” The nosy woman leaned in again, her hand curling around the magazine.
Karen shoved her hand away. “Do you mind?” She skimmed a couple of paragraphs and felt her stomach clench. With every word she read, the knots grew worse until all thoughts of eating left her mind utterly. She’d never be able to swallow a bite, let alone keep it down.
“Shit. I’m really sorry, Henrietta. I need to show Dan.”
“Of course. See you later.”
With a quick nod, she rolled up the magazine, leapt to her feet, and ran.
Back in the room, she found Dan flipping through news channels. “I hate Sunday TV,” he said. “Cartoons or politics. Does anybody watch this stuff?”
She waved the magazine. “Paul wrote an exposé about you and Beth.”
“Excuse me?”
“Look. That’s his picture. And here, ‘My Life as a Submissive Sex Slave.’ It’s all about him and Beth and you.”
Dan widened his eyes. “Really?”
“Read it.”
Dan’s bewildered look rapidly became one of shock as he read the article. Karen watched his eyes flick back and forth inwardly berating herself for not reading the pages more thoroughly. Each twist of his mouth or flick of his eyebrow made her insides squirm like a bucket of live mealworms.
“How?” Dan didn’t look up from the pages. “I don’t understand how he did this.”
“You said he disappeared yesterday.”
“Beth said he had a work deadline.”
“It must have been this. The finishing touches of his article. It’s not all about you, but look, here, near the middle. He talks about ‘a black-clad brute with a feline pet.’”
“Every Dom here wears black. It’s like a uniform.”
“Dan, this isn’t a joke, it’s you! Keep reading. The ‘green haired banshee’? The ‘ghost of a rough past rising to haunt new relationships’? He even mentioned coming on to me.”
Dan waved her into silence and kept reading. Two minutes later he looked up. “Did you read this all the way through?”
“No, some woman kept trying to steal it.”
He smiled. “Seems he’s been doing a series on gender identity, sexuality and the social perceptions of BDSM. This is the last one, but it suggests he’s done a lot of research.”
Karen fought the urge to grind her teeth. “Who cares about research? He’s talking about you in a national newspaper. This is way bigger than telling Pete. What if someone from work sees it? Or your parents? What if they figure out it’s you?”
Dan shrugged. “I don’t see how. He doesn’t use any names. Not even online tags. Just vague descriptions. It could be anybody. Though the ‘woman too honest and loyal to her Dom to even consider my offer,’ has to be you.”
“He really said that?” Some of the nervous energy flittered away. She stopped, surprised to realize she had been pacing the room.
“Yep.” He laid the paper on the end of the bed and strode over to her. “It’s a very sympathetic article. I’m surprised the editor let it run since this rag usually prints shitty, opinionated, fear-inducing crap. Paul made us out to be normal, loving and respectful people who happen to have interesting sex lives.”
“You’re sure? Let me read it.”
“Not now.”
“But Dan—” She stopped when he laid a hand over her mouth.
“It’s fine. Stop panicking. Let’s get some breakfast.”
Karen took a de
ep breath. She let it whistle through her teeth and forced some of the tension out of her shoulders. If he wasn’t worried, then surely there was no reason for her to get worked up over it.
“Sorry, I left the tray.”
“We’ll get another one.”
As Dan took her hand and led her out of the room, Karen thought more about Paul’s words. She remembered his rough hands and cold sneer. The calculating look in his eye when Dan explained about permission and the delight during her showdown with Beth at the breakfast table. She smiled. By the time they got back to the Ball Room, the crowds had largely dispersed. Those who remained, talked loudly about the article.
Denise and Henrietta caught up to them at their table. In place of dresses, both men wore dark pants and plain, boring shoes. Neither wore wigs, but Denise, surprisingly, had a long mane of silver-grey hair curling down his back in a thick ponytail. Henrietta had a shiny bald patch and looked oddly butch without his make-up.
“I told you I knew his face,” Denise spoke under his breath. “I’ve been following this series and I was really looking forward to today’s piece. I knew he was going to cover BDSM but I had no idea how he meant to do it. Imagine going under cover.”
“Dedicated,” Henrietta added.
“I’d say so. Are you two okay?” Denise swept his gaze over the pair of them, lingering particularly on Karen.
She nodded. “Have you read it properly? Dan says it’s not that bad. No names.”
“There is one name.” Denise rocked back and forth on his heels. A hint of a smile played over his mouth. “He talks about his mistress, Lady Bee, and how her views don’t seem to match those of everyone else he’s talked to. Not unkind, you understand, just pointing out that everyone has a different style.”
“He came here to prove we’re all like Beth,” Karen bit her lip. “He wanted to show that it’s just about hitting people and having sex whenever you want.”
“Well it’s not.” Dan rubbed the back of her neck. “And he now knows that.”
Denise stuck out his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you both, but we have to go. Our train leaves early.”
Instead of taking his hand, Karen held out her arms. He nodded and she dived at him, squeezing his ribs until he grunted and pulled back. She did the same with Henrietta. “You’ve been great this weekend. Stay in touch?”
“Of course, sweetheart. I assume we’ll find you on Kink4Life?”
“Yep, Kaz Kitten and Spanx.”
“We’ll find you. Bye Dan.”
Karen watched Dan shake hands with the other two men and smiled even wider. As they walked away, she pushed up to her tiptoes to press a gentle kiss on his lips. He put his arm around her shoulders.
A loud cry from the other end of the room interrupted the tender moment. Beth, dressed in simple jeans and a plain black t-shirt, stared at a copy of the magazine. Her eyes grew wide as she skimmed farther down and her body began to shake. Seconds later, she ripped the pages out and shredded them into tiny pieces with her shiny green nails.
“Lying fuck!” she roared, ignoring the excited whispers around her. “Lying, filthy, scum-bag!” She stomped out of the room without a backward glance and in her wake the room’s conversation volume leapt several decibels.
Karen watched her go then closed her eyes, storing the image in her mind for retrieval later. She pressed her lips together, but the smile kept breaking through. “I guess she’s read it.”
Dan took her hand and kissed the fingers, a tender and loving touch. In that moment, Karen treasured quiet, social worker Dan just as much as she adored Dan “The Dom”. She smiled at him and cupped his cheek, content in the knowledge that she had a firm claim to both.
Dan “The Social Worker” tugged her in the direction of the food tables. “I’m hungry. What about you?”
“I’m starving.” Squeezing his fingers, Karen bounded after him.
If you enjoyed reading Sugar Dust, you may enjoy these other Breathless Press titles:
CAPTIVATED: THE FETISH CLUB, BOOK 1
DOMINATED: THE FETISH CLUB, BOOK 2
ELLE’S SEDUCTION
ENOUGH TO GO AROUND
THE STRENGTH TO SUBMIT
TO PLAY OR OBEY: PECKERWOOD SERIES, BOOK 1
Available at Breathless Press
www.breathlesspress.com
Biography
Thirty-*mumbles* year old Raven ShadowHawk lives in Leicester (UK) with her twin sons (Sprog1 and Sprog2), her partner (The Funk Master) and a stubbornly barren dwarf lemon tree.
She turned to writing erotica when she realized that many of the stories told by her friends were just too good not to share (and after realizing, after seven years, that working in finance was far too boring and far too comfortable a career to maintain forever).
Raven’s unique humor, sauciness, well-observed realism, and unforgiving sass, gives her a brand of erotica she calls Smut With Brains.
Under the series title Meeting Each Other, Raven has released a mini series of six short stories through her imprint Little Vamp Press. Future projects include fantasy and/or horror based collaborative efforts with her “other half” Ileandra Young.
Find details of Raven’s other works on her website (http://ravenshadowhawk.wordpress.com) and for monthly updates and regular freebies, join her mailing list (http://eepurl.com/0yKNj). If you fancy a chat, find her lurking on Facebook, (http://www.facebook.com/illyandraven) or Twitter (http://twitter.com/ileandraXraven) sharing—or arguing—with her other half.