Highest Bidder Collection

by Lauren Landish

  “Why yes he is, Master,” I answer playfully. I’m not supposed to call him Master in public. Only at home or at Club X. But fuck it, I can’t help it. He shouldn’t be so fucking hot, and then there’d be no issue.

  Isaac smirks at me, looking to his left and to his right, wary of any employees as the dogs bark in the background. He needn’t worry. They’re all in the back. “Are you looking to be punished, kitten?” he says threateningly under his breath.

  I return his smirk as I say, “Maybe I am.”

  Isaac

  “Please, Master,” Katia begs me from the bed as I walk to the dresser.

  She’s heaving for air and her fingers are digging into her thighs to keep herself from taking over.

  She wants more. She always wants more. I’m going to have to take a fucking Viagra just to keep up with her.

  Fuck, she feels so good. I’ll never get enough of her. I could fuck her all day and still not be sated. All I want to do is give her unmatched pleasure.

  Not today though. We’re helping her cousin move into Katia’s old apartment. Lyssa's excited to be moving to the big city, and Katia’s happy to have her close.

  In fact, she’s been wanting to see her family more and more. Especially her mother. It’s about time she opened up to her. She doesn’t talk about the depraved aspects of our relationship. But she tells her mother everything else. She’s honest and open. She’s raw and vulnerable. She’s not afraid to share her pain, because she knows with that there’s healing. For all of them. Katia and her family.

  She’s finally accepted that.

  I’ve never seen her happier and more confident. She’s a beautiful woman, inside and out.

  How I got suckered into helping her cousin move, I have no idea. Well, the movers I hired will be doing most of the work, but still.

  I have to admit, it’s nice being included. There wasn’t even a question as to whether or not I’d be there. They all just assumed I would be. If it were anything else, I’d be irritated. But it’s Katia’s family. She says they’re my family too, and I may one day feel that they are. But not yet.

  Just like Katia, we need time.

  I’ll have more of it to dedicate to her now that I’m not taking new clients for the security firm.

  I don’t see the point. I don’t want to be the man I saw in myself when I pushed Katia away.

  I want to be the man she sees. She keeps telling me every night what a Master means to her.

  And I promise I’ll be that man. I’ll make every effort to be the perfect Master for her.

  As I open the dresser drawer to pick out what toys I’m going to use on her, I see the black velvet box in the corner of the drawer.

  Her family is having a dinner to celebrate Lyssa’s departure into her independence, or so Katia thinks. Her entire family already knows that I’ll be proposing. I promised them she’ll forever be surrounded by love. She deserves it.

  Her mother cried when I told them, and even her father got teary eyed. I feel an odd sense of family with them. Something similar to what I had with my Aunt Maureen before she passed.

  With time it will grow, and I’ll make sure Katia is there, front and center, surrounded by love and family.

  “Master, may I touch myself?” Katia begs me, her voice desperate but respectful.

  I pluck the vibrat from the drawer.

  “No, you may not.” I’m stern with her, and she nods her head in recognition. My kitten is needy. “On your back,” I command her. “And hold onto your knees. ”

  My kitten instantly obeys, falling backward and gripping the inside of her knees. Her pussy is glistening and clenching around nothing. She glances at me as I click the switch to turn on the vibrator and the gentle hum fills the room. Her head falls against the bed, and a lusty moan spills from her lips.

  “Please hurry,” she begs me, and it forces a chuckle to rise up my chest. She makes it hard sometimes to stay in this Master mode.

  One truth I’ll never deny is this:

  I’m more of a Slave to her than she ever was, or will be, to me.

  Continue on for Book 3, Owned.

  Owned. Book 3

  Prologue

  Joseph

  I’m quiet as I walk into my bedroom, hoping to get a look at Lilly without her knowing. But those doe-eyed baby blues are shining back at me the second I enter.

  Hating me. They pierce into me, giving me a look that could kill a lesser man.

  I’ve been given more hateful glares. From deadly men who intended on killing me, who despise me and my very existence. I’ve never been effected.

  But the look in her eyes guts me.

  Because I know she’s hiding pain behind the hate.

  “Let me out,” she says in a low voice as she wraps her fingers around the silver steel bars. Her voice lacking the strength and conviction she’d rather I hear. She adjusts slightly and as she does she winces. My eyes follow her movements, the grates of the cage have left an imprint on her knees. It’s only been a few hours since she’s been given her punishment. And I’m already regretting it.

  I have to remind myself that this is for her own good. She’s being punished for a reason.

  She wanted this.

  She asked for this.

  And now she wants to leave?

  I won’t allow it.

  My hands ball into fists as I stalk forward, my bare feet sinking into the lush carpet with each heavy step. The cage is large, much taller than her own height and she rises to meet me although she’s still on her knees.

  Here’s a side to her I’ve never seen. The fierce woman who was always there, hiding behind the facade of obedient eyes.

  She liked to play the submissive. She thought this was a game.

  She thought wrong.

  Lilly looks back at me with daggers in her eyes as I crouch lower, leveling my gaze with hers. Even with the anger swirling in her blue eyes, piercing into me, she gives off an air of purity, or innocence. She’s so delicate, so sweet. My flower.

  Her rage only makes me want her more.

  “Are you ready to obey?” I ask her, tilting my head slightly. My words piss her off. And I fucking love it. The comprehension of her predicament making her eyes narrow for a moment. I watch as her hands attempt to ball into fists, but she corrects herself, warring with what she craves to do and what she feels she’s expected to do.

  She clenches her teeth, but her eyes water. Tears forming in her eyes as her lush lips part, but then quickly close without a sound being uttered.

  I question everything in that small moment.

  “Fuck you,” she finally responds in a sneer, but then instantly lowers her gaze. She’s strong, courageous even, but she’s a true submissive. I have yet to earn that side of her. But I will.

  “You want to,” I answer with a sharp smirk that curves my lips up and that brings her glare back. It’s a tit for tat. If she’d give in, so would I, but she’s fighting it.

  She didn’t realize how intense this would be when she signed that contract. Giving her freedom over to me. Neither did I.

  She doesn’t respond but I see her thighs clench ever so slightly. The small action makes my dick instantly harden with desire. She loves what I do to her. She still wants me, even when she hates me.

  “All you need to do is obey, my flower.” I restore my strict composure, waiting for her answer.

  My nickname for her makes her lips part just the tiniest bit with lust. It makes me lean into her that much closer. Wanting more. My fingers wrap around the bars just above hers, barely touching her, but feeling the heated tingle I always do when I’m with her.

  She knew I wasn’t a good man.

  That’s part of what drew her to me. I know it is.

  “Fine,” she says in merely a whisper. I cock a brow at her answer, daring her to continue with that disrespectful attitude.

  Our days are numbered and if I let her, she may leave me the moment she can and never look back.

 
; But she craved this for a reason. The same darkness that drives my desires is in her. Stirring low in the pit of her stomach, fueling her hatred for me, but making her want me so much more.

  “You know that’s not the way I’d like you to address me.”

  “Yes, sir.” She says obediently, her voice the proper tone as she squares her shoulders. She’s still eye level with me, there’s still a fierceness to her, but she’s willing to play. That’s just how I want her.

  I’ll show her how good this can be.

  But first, she needs to be truly punished. The cage door opens slightly with a gentle creak. I need to leave a lasting impression.

  She may be angry with me, but she’s still mine.

  I own her. And I’m not letting her go.

  Chapter 1

  Lilly

  “What in the f’n hell?” I slam the romance paperback, Playback, I’d been reading close with an angry growl. My blood boiling like an evil witch’s cauldron.

  “How could it end….like that?” I grit my teeth, shaking my head at the gall of whoever’s written this. I fell in love with this storyline and totally felt the heartache and brutal pain the hero and heroine went through. I was rooting for Liam and Tilda. Their story gripped my heart from the very first page, and I was quickly drawn into their struggles to overcome the heart-breaking obstacles keeping them apart.

  I’d read each page breathlessly, flipping through the pages like a hungry wolf in search of his next meal, practically dying to find out how it all ended and then…I gulp as my throat constricts into a ball of tight anger, unable to understand how someone could be so cruel. I’d invested so much of myself into the story, hoping to be rewarded with a satisfying conclusion to such a tragic relationship.

  Then it ended. Just like that. No happily ever after. No resolve. A tragic heartbreak that left me feeling raw. I can’t believe how invested I was in the book, feeling like I was part of the character’s lives, only to be shafted at the very end.

  Burning up with anger, I turn the book over and peer at the binding, determined to commit the author’s name to memory so I can make sure to stay clear of reading anymore of the their future work. Lauren Winters. “More like Slutty Winters,” I mutter angrily, feeling thoroughly cheated.

  I know it’s fiction and it’s not real, but I hate when I get invested into characters and then something like this happens. It makes me feel absolutely cheated.

  I groan my frustration, tossing the book on the end table. My eyes are drawn to the roaring flames of the marble fireplace that I’m seated in front of. The heat of the fire pricks my already heated cheeks and I relax slightly as I’m enveloped by cozy warmth. Despite my sour moment, I love this.

  It’s one of my favorite past times during the cold winter months, sitting in front of the roaring fire with a hot mug of coffee and burying my nose into an engrossing romance novel. I just like it better when it’s a book that doesn’t leave me feeling like my heart’s been ripped out of my chest and stomped on in front of me.

  “I need something more mindless and smutty after that,” I mutter, picking up my cup of coffee and taking a sip. I’m calm now, but I still have the slight urge to toss the book into the flames. I must admit the author did a good job with everything else. I just didn’t like her ending.

  I just wish I hadn’t stepped on my kindle. I had like 50 awesome books piled up on my to-be-read list.

  Sighing, I get up from my cushioned recliner with the book in my hands and stretch out my limbs, several of my bones popping. But if feels so good, I hold the position, letting my limbs come back to life.

  My eyes take in my living room and my mood lifts slightly again. It feels so homey in my new townhouse, especially with how cold it is outside. I’ve decorated it with warm, earthen colors that makes me feel right at home. The walls are lined with decorative shelves that are filled with books. I’ve read every single one of these books. A few of them are even autographed.

  I love my new bookends too. They’re pale blue mice made of stone on each end. They look like they’re holding the books up, and just seeing them makes me smile.

  This room is completely mine and finally feels like a home. I still have the rest of the rented townhouse to put my stamp on, but this one room is just perfect. I walk to the large paned window across the room to open the curtains and let the evening light in. I can feel the cold from the winter coming through.

  Outside, I can still see the confetti lining the streets from the New Year’s Parade as I place my hand against the window. It’s a few days past the first of January and a few pieces are still blowing along the edges of the building.

  I grin as I take it all in, the ending of the book quickly forgotten. I could write a romance that would leave me with feelings that would brighten my day. It’s okay to make my heart hurt a little, but I don’t want it broken. That’s not why I read romance novels.

  I’ve actually had a very good year, albeit a long one. I just finished my next-to-last semester at North University and I’ve passed all my classes with a B or better. I even managed to get a B+ in advanced calculus, something that's always been a struggle for me, all while working hard as a guidance counselor with troubled students at a local High School. I will never understand why psychology students have to know calculus. At this point, I just want to graduate and start giving back and helping make a brighter future for others as a teaching counselor in the youth detention center. It’s their last chance before their delinquency sends them beyond public schools and straight to jail. It’s not a job I take lightly.

  I can’t handle the high school kids though. That’s for damn sure. For this past paid counseling internship, the program threw me in a classroom with twenty students. I’m only 24 and I’m petite and even on my best days, I hardly look over 21. To say the students didn’t take me seriously, doesn’t even begin to cover it. I cannot handle working with older teenagers. At all. Sure as hell not twenty of them at once.

  Some of those kids got under my skin so bad that I thought I was about to have a stroke. It takes a lot to get me worked up and thinking negatively. But I found it difficult to stay positive as the semester progressed. I still managed to persevere though; a few students showed so much improvement and I know I made a positive difference in their life. In the end, that’s all that matters.

  That internship is over, thank God. Next year, I’ll be in a middle school and that’s where I really want to work. I feel like I could do the most help there.

  And now I have the entire winter break to catch up on all the romance books I’ve neglected as reward for my hard work.

  I glare balefully at the book in my hand, thinking, I just need to make sure I don’t read anymore disasters like this one.

  Huffing out another small sigh, I walk over to my bookshelf and pause before I slip the book back into it’s spot. I really should toss the damn thing into the fire. I’ll probably never read it again. In fact, I know I won’t. But I can’t bring myself to do it. Books are like the holy grail to me. Even ones I don’t love. They keep me sane and positive. They give me hope.

  It’s time to get dressed and move on. I love my book boyfriends and getting lost in romances, but I have other plans tonight.

  My body crackling with excitement, I put the book back into its place and make my way to my bedroom. I’m going to Club X tonight, a place that literally embodies the BDSM fantasy elements I love reading about.

  Except it’s a fantasy come to life and I freaking love it. It’s been my secret pleasure for a while now and I’m having a blast just showing up and observing the BDSM lifestyle. The rich, powerful men, the beautiful, willing sex slaves, the hot and heavy playrooms with the wild, untamed sex. I suck in a breath as heat burns my cheeks and my nipples pebble at the thought. The experience has been so much more liberating and intoxicating than I thought it would be. Even if I haven’t participated yet.

  It’s exactly the place I need to be to research the themes that I’m putting in m
y romance novel that I’ve been writing on my off time while at school. The book isn’t anything I’m taking too seriously and I don’t expect for it to ever be published or seen by anyone’s eyes but me. I just love writing the stories that come to me. It’s a stress-relieving outlet that I enjoy indulging in, especially when I’ve had a particularly bad day.

  I walk into my bedroom, tingling with excitement, and dig out a beautiful red night gown out of my closet. I bought it just for tonight. There’s a PJ theme tonight at Club-X and I don’t want to be sent home for breaking club protocols. I set it down onto the bed, running my fingers along the soft, silk fabric, thrilling at how luxurious it feels.

  My skin pricks as I stare at it. I hope I’ll look beautiful in this tonight. Just thinking about the looks I’ll get from one of those powerful, handsome masked men, causes my breath to quicken and my pussy to clench. A fiery blush comes to my cheeks, a little bit ashamed at how turned on I am. I don’t engage with them though. I stick to the safety of the trainers. I’m not ready for this to truly be real.

  I can’t imagine how the people at school would react if they knew I was attending a place like Club X. A twinge of worry pricks my chest at the thought. I don’t want anyone finding out and I’m filled with anxiety every time I show up at school after a night at Club X. I worry that someone will recognize me and out me. But with how strict the rules are at the club and the non-disclosure agreements that have to be signed just to get through the doors, I let the worry slip by.

  I’m still slightly shocked about how I found out about it. Or rather who told me about it. One of the teachers at the high school I work at, Mrs. Nicole Flite, mentioned the place to me after she saw me with my nose stuck in an erotic romance novel over lunch break. She was cautious at first, probably scared that I would look down at her or rat her out to the principal when she told me about the darker elements of the club. But when she saw how intrigued I was by the whole thing, she let loose, filling me in on all the exotic details.