“Okay, Kendra. Let’s get going.”
She turned on the ignition and lowered the music which blasted through the radio. Her GPS guided her out of the café parking lot. Ten minutes later, she was driving through a country road, leafless trees lining it. The GPS indicated she should turn right at the next street. She did and stumbled onto a bumpy dirt path.
“Where does this guy live?”
Another ten minutes later, she slowed her vehicle and stared in awe. Thomas lived in a wooden house, a cabin more than anything, with a deck and a beautiful porch. It was the kind of place she’d only ever dreamed of living at—not that her luxurious apartment in the city was bad, but she’d always preferred the countryside. Unfortunately, work had forced her to stay in the city, but she’d never even considered this area. She parked her car next to his. Thomas rushed to open her door.
“Welcome to my humble home, Kendra Williams.”
Chapter Eleven
Thomas took Kendra in. Her eyes twinkled with childlike glee.
“This is gorgeous,” she said.
“Thanks. I bought the property as soon as I could afford it. It gives me the peace I need to be creative while at the same time not being too far away from the city and the opportunities there. Follow me, I’ll show you around.”
Thomas started toward the house. He’d loved this place the moment he’d seen the listing. “When I first bought it, it was a bit rundown, but I fixed it up.”
“So not only are you a photographer you’re also a DIY guy?”
“I can be. I like doing things with my hands. It soothes me.”
Kendra sniggered.
Thomas glanced at her.
“Sorry, my mind went down the gutter.”
His lips quirked. “Care to share?”
She shrugged. “It’s just when people say they like doing things with their hands I imagine a hand job.”
Thomas laughed. “I definitely enjoy being on the receiving end of one of those, though given the choice, I prefer a mouth or a hot pussy around my dick.”
He grinned at the sight of Kendra’s cheeks blooming.
“These pictures are really nice,” she said, pointing to a photograph he’d taken of horses out on the pasture.
“That was at the beginning of my career. I started out taking pictures of animals.”
“They seem so majestic.”
“They were. It had just rained, and they’d gone out to graze. Suddenly, there was a loud clap. I can’t say if it was thunder or simply a heavy door closing, but they all looked up and it’s when I snapped the picture.”
“Do you still take pictures of animals?”
“Occasionally, though the last animal pic I took was of a couple obsessed with pony play.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Harness, tail, seat, everything.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, but let me show you the house. We’ve been standing in the entrance far too long and though it’s nice, there’s more to see.”
“Great. Show me the way.”
“Follow me. This is the living room.” They stepped into an ample space with floor-to-ceiling windows which opened out onto his plot of land, wooden floors, and a gray couch with a matching rug. On the walls, he’d framed pictures of nature in darker wood. Thomas went to the fireplace and clicked it on. The room became bathed in a warm glow.
“Nice,” Kendra commented.
“Thanks. The kitchen is through there, and so is the dining room. If you take the hallway to your right, you’ll end up in the master bedroom. But the best part of this house is my studio.”
“Studio?”
“Yes.” Thomas waved his hand, indicating for Kendra to follow him. He took the stairs to the loft and reveled in the sound of Kendra’s gasp as they reached the top.
“It’s amazing,” she murmured.
“Thanks. I figured if I was going to make a living out of photography, I’d turn my home into a proper workspace. This whole upstairs area is my office. I have there the backdrops, lighting, props. Through that door is my office, where I sit at the computer to work through the digital images and print them. There’s also a decent-sized bathroom with a shower adjoining the office.”
“It’s incredible.” Kendra turned in a three-sixty, taking in the space. Abruptly, she stopped. “I actually recognize that piece of furniture,” she said, walking up to the corner chair and running her fingertips across the polished wood. “It was in one of my favorite shoots. The woman in the photograph was sitting on the chair, hands tied to the back and feet strapped to the bottom, with a ball gag in her mouth, and her Dom was standing behind, holding on to her shoulders. You could almost feel the connection between them, her absolute trust in him and his power.”
Thomas moved closer to Kendra. His hands itched to be on her skin, showing her what a real power exchange meant, but he had to take things slow if he didn’t want her to bolt.
“Brenda and Gabe,” he said. I remember them. She was nervous, but he kept her grounded throughout the whole shoot. Initially, it was supposed to be only for them, but the results were so good I asked Gabe if I could publish the pictures and he agreed.” Thomas cocked his head.
Kendra hadn’t released the piece of furniture, her manicured nails grasping the wood and her hip resting against it. The desire unspoken, but present, nonetheless.
“Now, it’s your turn to sit on the chair.”
Chapter Twelve
Kendra’s pulse skipped and her stomach flipped. Her hold on the chair tightened. Had she heard Thomas correctly?
“What?” she whispered.
“I said it’s your turn to sit on it.” He paused and stared at her almost as if he were gauging her reaction. She licked her lips, feeling the sweat gathering at the top of her mouth and the familiar tingle of arousal coursing through her body. She shifted her weight and forced her fingers to pry open.
“I meant for the closeup of your face sans makeup,” Thomas explained. “It just occurred to me it’d be a good shot. The contrast between the BDSM chair and your natural beauty.”
Kendra swallowed drily. “Oh,” she said, sounding breathless to her ears.
“Unless,” he said, “you were thinking of something else, Kendra.”
The innuendo was clear. Something else meant submission. Kneeling. Giving in to him. Kendra hesitated. She was attracted to him, but did she want to take things in that direction? Did she want to submit to him?
“No,” she finally said. “I wasn’t.”
Thomas nodded. She ducked her head, trying to hide her face and hoping he wouldn’t see her uncertainty, though she had the impression he already knew all about it.
“Well, let me show you the bathroom where you can take off your makeup.”
“Are you sure about this? I’m not certain people will recognize me without it.”
“They will.” Thomas smiled. “And they’ll be appalled by how beautiful you are without makeup.”
Kendra took in a deep breath.
“Besides, remember, if you’re not happy with the result, I won’t publish it.”
She nodded. “All right.”
She followed Thomas into his office and stopped at the door.
“That’s me,” she whispered. She stared at the collage of pictures covering the wall. Her pulse rushed in her ears as she tried to make sense of it.
“Yes.” Thomas stood behind her, so close she could feel the heat emanating from him, both enticing and warning her.
“Why?”
“I’m your number-one fan, remember? I’ve been following you for years, Kendra. You inspire me. For the last decade, you’ve been my muse.”
“That’s crazy.”
Thomas shrugged. “Why? All artists have their muses.”
“But you didn’t know me.”
“Neither did I need to. I had your image to feed my creativity. It inspired me to do more, dig deeper, to find the beauty behind the erotic.”
“Y
ou have me on a pedestal,” she murmured. “It’s not real.”
“Quite the contrary. Your inability or unwillingness to kneel, to be vulnerable before the camera has made me crave it even more. I want to see what’s beneath the mask, Kendra. In a way, you inspired my project.”
“It’s crazy. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel.” She hugged her stomach. She was aware of being used as inspiration in her line of work, but she’d never been confronted with such intensity.
“Look at me,” Thomas said. His tone was quiet, barely a gruff whisper, but it made the hairs on her neck stand.
She slowly spun. Thomas’s blue gaze had darkened, and the lines of his face had hardened.
“You don’t need to feel a certain way, Kendra. I understand it must be strange, perhaps even alarming. Take your time to process what I’ve said. But for now, why don’t we get the shoot done? Getting back to work will help distract you.”
She nodded. He was right. Work was the refuge she needed at this moment. It was another shoot, another job. “Thank you,” she said.
“You don’t need to thank me. The bathroom is through that door. There’s makeup remover in the first drawer under the sink. I’m going to set up the lights and the camera. Come out when you’re ready.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Giving her a brief nod, Thomas turned and returned to the studio. Kendra approached her pictures. Her gaze roved over each one, memories of each set crowding her mind. Some of them had been great fun, others had been long and tireless. Kendra gasped. “How did he get this one?”
Trembling slightly, she touched the old image. The paper had turned yellow with time even though Thomas had carefully framed it behind glass. In the photograph, she was leaning back, dressed in a black bodysuit with thigh-high stockings and matching garter belt and wearing killer black boots. Antonio had given her those boots as a gift for her second photographic session. The magazine that published the pictures had gone bankrupt a year later as the owner had been embezzling funds. She’d thought all those photographs had been lost. Clearly, she’d been wrong.
She glanced back at the studio. Thomas had his back to her and continued to work on setting up the equipment. Her heart picked up its pulse. She could go home now. Pretend this had never happened, that they’d never met. Sure, he had the interview, her voice recorded, and she had given him all the information he needed, but he couldn’t do anything without her consent. Thomas placed his hands on his hips and stared at the set before him. Kendra bit her lip. It was a power pose, one which made her knees go weak. Did she really want to leave?
No.
Resolute, she headed into the bathroom and located the makeup remover. She began to wipe her face and stopped. Her green eyes stared back at her wide, fearful.
“Keep it together, Kendra,” she whispered.
She hadn’t taken a picture without any makeup on since she was a child, but deep down, what truly unsettled her was the fact it was Thomas taking the photograph. She knew his work. He was good at drawing out the emotion in people, which meant she would be entirely on display. The man would be able to see her desire, her nerves, her submission. When he did, she’d be lost. She’d give herself to him and lose everything in the same way she’d done with Antonio. Men like Thomas were the reason she only played superficially. She’d pretend to submit, enjoy the mix of pleasure and pain, get off, have a good time, but in the end, everything became another scene, another performance. Nothing was ever real.
“And neither is this,” she murmured. “It’s just another job. Just because you’re not wearing any makeup doesn’t make it any different.” She continued to take off the paint. She was too pale, too drab. Her brows knitted and the creases on her eyes were visible along with the splotches of red on her cheeks.
“It’s just a job.”
Taking a deep breath, she tore her gaze from her reflection and headed out of the room. She said she’d do this, and she’d see it through, even if at the end she decided not to publish the images. It was a challenge. Something new she could tick off the list of things Antonio’s selfishness had ruined for her.
Catching sight of Thomas working on the camera made the butterflies in her stomach swarm in flight. She glanced at the chair. Her pussy clenched. What would it be like to be tied at his mercy? To really let go? To have him stand at her side, hands on her shoulder, giving her silent strength so she’d be able to be vulnerable and truly show herself? Could she do it? A shiver ran down her spine. Sitting on the chair would change her world. Did she want to do it?
“Ready, Kendra?”
Chapter Thirteen
Thomas observed Kendra. Her shoulders were squared but there was no missing the slight tremble to her frame. She strode to the chair like a woman on a mission and sat stiffly. Her legs wound around the bottom and she placed her hands on her lap, then, she looked at him. His breath left his lungs in a swoosh. He’d always considered her beautiful. It was, after all, impossible not to, but seeing her without makeup, the vulnerability in her features displayed to him, made his whole body burn with a fire that lit him like lightning. It was more than attraction. It was the insatiable desire to help her find herself. She was lost, he realized. Without her makeup, her poses, her smiles, and her façade, Kendra was very much afraid.
“Kendra,” he said softly. “Relax.”
She gave him a shaky smile.
“I’m nervous,” she admitted. “I don’t usually take pictures like this.” She gestured to her face.
“You’re as beautiful as always, even more so.”
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“You don’t believe me?”
“My experience with most men is they prefer the dolled-up me.”
“Even in previous relationships?”
Her smile was sad. “Yes. The few times I dared go without, they weren’t pleased.” She shrugged. “I aim to please.”
“It pleases me to see you like this.”
Her eyes sparkled, her gaze dipping then raising. “Thanks.”
“I’m going to snap a few pictures, okay? Just warm up a bit. Talk to me. Tell me about the last time you didn’t wear the model façade.”
Her eyes widened. Thomas stepped behind the camera and focused the lens on her face. “Speak, Kendra,” he ordered.
She jumped slightly. “Well, gosh, I don’t even remember.”
He peeked up from the lens. “Don’t lie to me, girl.” The words came out harsher than he intended, and her cheeks bloomed.
“Sorry, Sir,” she murmured.
His cock twitched and he swallowed. If her blush hadn’t blazed across her forehead, he would have thought she was poking fun at him. Instead, he remained quiet, watching her for another reaction.
“Speak,” he said again, more gently.
“Yes, well, I obviously take my makeup off at night. You know, it’s bad for the skin.”
“I’m not talking makeup.”
She shifted in her seat, her gaze dipping to her entwined fingers. “Yeah. I thought as much.” She remained silent for a few minutes.
Thomas waited. He didn’t want to rush her or scare her. Patience was all she required and he would give it to her.
“I don’t think I know what it’s like to really be me,” she finally said.
“Go on.”
She bit her lip in what seemed to Thomas like an unconscious gesture and not one made to arouse or entice. He snapped a few pictures.
“I’m always on display. Whatever I do, I’m Kendra the model. I have to look pretty, I have to perform, I have to maintain a reputation.”
“Surely, that must be exhausting.”
She sighed and her shoulders sagged slightly.
“Yeah, it is. In a way, it’s why I’ve avoided relationships. I don’t know how to not act. If I’m with someone, I feel compelled to put on a show.”
“Are you putting on a show for me now?” he asked.
Her lips parted and she took in a breath that sh
ook her frame.
“I’m trying not to.” She let out a nervous titter. “My hands are clammy, and my stomach is in knots. It’s been a while since I’d felt like this.”
“When was the last time?”
Her lips drooped. “With Antonio.”
“Your Dom.”
“From day one, I was drawn to him like a magnet. I didn’t know what was happening, all I knew was I liked him, and I wanted to please him.”
“Do you want to please me, Kendra?”
Thomas held his breath, waiting for her response. His heart beat so erratically he was convinced she could hear it. He kept his finger on the camera, afraid any small movement would shut her off from him.
“Yes,” she said.
Chapter Fourteen
A shudder coursed through Kendra. She was nervous but a sense of calm also wrapped her up in its embrace. The truth was out. She was attracted to Thomas’s quiet leadership and she wanted him to take control so she could let go and please him. His blue eyes were wide, his lips tilting slightly in triumph at her confession. Embarrassed, she looked away.
“Don’t,” Thomas said. “Keep your eyes on me.” He spoke softly, compelling her even more to do as he asked. “Are you sure about it, Kendra? Do you really feel bound to do as I say?”
“Yes,” she found herself saying. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.” She shook her head. “I’m drawn to you. I don’t know what it is, but I haven’t felt anything like it in years. I’ve played with other men, submitted to them, but there’s something different with you.”
Thomas let out a long audible breath. He stepped from behind the camera and clasped his hands in front of his face.
“Yes, but I’m not going to ask you to submit.”
“You’re not?”
Thomas extended his palms toward her. “I’m not. If we take this path, I’m going to ask you to surrender, Kendra.”
Kneel Page 4
