Blue Desire

Blue Desire

Copyright © March 2013 by
Sindra
van
Yssel

All rights reserved. This copy is
intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book
may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form
without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate
in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's
rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

eISBN
9781623002206

Editor: Jana Armstrong

Cover Artist: Valerie
Tibbs

Published in the United States of
America

Loose Id LLC

PO Box 809

San Francisco CA 94104-0809

www.loose-id.com

This e-book is a work of fiction. While
reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the
names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.

Warning

This e-book contains sexually explicit
scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers.
Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of
the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely,
where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

* * * *

DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new
sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles
without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor
its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting
from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

Katrina
Razetti
sauntered into Le Petit Mort like she owned
the place, even though she’d never been there before. Years of copping an
attitude onstage made it easy for her to feign confidence. Feigning was
definitely what she was doing, strolling into a BDSM club three thousand miles
from home. Still, she’d rather look like a predator than
prey,
at least until she found a
dom
who would give her
what she wanted.

There
was a curvy redhead sitting behind the front desk, her boobs pushed up and
almost over her tight emerald-green corset. Since it was a hot summer night,
Kat didn’t have a coat to check, so she breezed on by. The only way forward was
through a couple of black curtains, so Kat headed for them, hoping her
nervousness didn’t show.

“Um,
ma’am?” said the redhead.

Kat
was halfway through the curtains before she decided whether to stop or not.
“Huh?”
Oh, very smooth.

“You
need to pay the cover.”

Yeah, of course.
Kat knew a BDSM club didn’t pay for
itself
, and it couldn’t make that much money off drinks.
Even if there was alcohol served, the serious players rarely drank much, nor
would they play with anyone who did. It had been over a year since she’d been
in a place like this, but the economic realities weren’t likely to change. If
she hadn’t been so concerned about appearing not to be nervous, she would have
stopped and asked. She walked back.

“How much?”

“Twenty.”

Kat
fished in the pocket of her black jeans and pulled out her wallet. She’d given
up on purses long ago. Her mother thought she should carry one. That had been
reason enough not to, once upon a time. Her mother thought her auburn hair was
lovely long, so she’d cut it and bleached it the platinum that had become her
trademark. Her mother thought Angus was trouble, so they’d formed a punk rock
band together and made enough to travel the country, playing at sold-out clubs.
Kat had done pretty well for herself, flouting her mother. Although her mom
been right about Angus in the end.

Her
hair wasn’t platinum now. It was dyed black—all part of her disguise—not that
she was famous, but every so often, someone recognized her on the street.
Actually, dyed hair pretty much
was
her disguise, that and a less garish shade of lipstick and a cream-colored silk
blouse she’d normally not be caught dead in. It felt soft, feminine. She wasn’t
sure she liked that. She liked being a woman, but she’d grown addicted to her
hard edge. Soft was certainly an interesting feeling, and her mother would
approve. That thought didn’t bother her as much as it used to.

Her
mother definitely wouldn’t approve of her going into a BDSM club. But after
three days in a hotel, she needed to get out. She’d never been a quiet person.
She’d been going to clubs, usually places where the music was played loud and
fast and the dancing was entirely free-form, with a fake ID since she was
sixteen.
Now and then, when she ventured into a fetish place.
After she and Angus weren’t a couple anymore, she’d gone once a month to a
bondage club on Santa Monica Boulevard when she was tired of having no sex
life. When Angus had found out, he’d made such a scene that neither of them
were
welcome anymore. She’d thought of finding a new place
to go for kink, but even if Angus wasn’t her boyfriend anymore, he had still
been her guitarist, and she’d wanted to keep the band together more than she
had wanted her fun. In the end, she’d accomplished neither.

The
name of this club had amused her. She’d written a song called “My Little
Death,” which some of her fans probably thought was horribly violent. She liked
to think most of them figured out she was talking about an orgasm. Either way,
they got what they wanted out of the song.

Now
her days with
Kradle
were over. It was
her
band, dammit. The name of it was a
pun on
her own
name. But they’d kicked her out over a
miscommunication about where to show up for a gig. It wasn’t her fault. She
suspected Angus had deliberately given her the wrong information after she’d
turned down yet another of his sexual advances. They hadn’t been lovers for
years. Kat had thought they could still be
bandmates
.
Obviously, she was wrong, and somehow Angus had twisted it around so that Clyde
and Devious Dave thought she was trying to show them all up.

“Ma’am?”
prompted the redhead.

Kat
handed her a twenty.

“Do
you want to check your blouse?”

Kat
chuckled. That would certainly be a look more suited to her
Kradle
persona.
Bra and black jeans.
Take that, prudes
. Breasts were not just soft and squishy; they
could also be a weapon. But taking her shirt off would make her look more like
Kat, the punk rocker, and that would increase the chance someone might
recognize her. She didn’t want to deal with that. Besides, she didn’t know this
place. It was one thing to wear an outfit like that onstage while she screamed
the hard-edged lyrics she’d written, but another to wander around a strange
club in a strange town half naked. “Not this time,” she said.

“Okay,”
said the redhead.

Kat
walked through the curtains. Inside was a big open area, a lot bigger than she
had expected from the plain black door set in a row of industrial buildings.
There were vendors, play stations, couches. The place looked like it had been a
warehouse at one time with its tall ceilings. Her attention was drawn
immediately to a bound woman suspended fifteen feet over the floor. The woman
was in a leather harness, which crossed between her breasts and left them and
her shaved pussy bare. Stout-looking ropes extended to the ceiling, which was
so high up that she couldn’t make out the nature of the bolts the ropes must
have been attached to. Or maybe they were on pulleys, because there was a big
rope that dangled down behind her. That would explain how she’d been lifted up.
If the object had been to give everyone a good view, it had certainly been met.

Kat
hoped whoever had rigged it knew what they were doing, but she wasn’t here to
give anyone a safety lecture. She wondered what it was like to be that woman
and realized she felt jealous.
Which made no sense at all.
She didn’t like heights, although she wasn’t too scared of them to ride a
roller coaster now and then. She liked attracting a few lustful looks, but she
never wanted to be that exposed. And nothing was happening to the suspended
woman: no touching, no spanking, nothing. In fact, she was literally out of
reach of her
dom
, wherever
he was. Kat assumed a
dom
was involved somehow, someone the woman trusted deeply. She turned away, not at
all comfortable with the yearning she felt and not wanting to examine it.

The
rules were posted in white-on-black script on a nearby wall, and she took a
look. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, nothing she hadn’t seen in the
BDSM clubs she’d been in before. She noted the club safe word.
Red.
Pretty common choice.
Hopefully she wouldn’t have to use it, but there were jerks everywhere, as well
as occasional misunderstandings.

A
number of people were gathered around a spanking horse. A brown-skinned girl
Kat guessed was Latina knelt on the horse, her body over the saddle and her
knees and hands on the padded black cushions on the sides. She had bright
purple hair. It was a vibrant color, and for a few seconds, Kat admired the
woman’s hair. If there had been such a thing as naturally purple hair, it would
look like hers, with just the right amount of variation and highlight.

With
her was a tall man, shirtless, with an athletic body.
Good-looking
guy, although Kat liked ’
em
bigger, with rippling
muscles.
The woman was naked but unbound. The man was spanking her with
his bare hand, and a pink glow was starting to show on her bottom.

“I
promise not to do that again,” the purple-haired woman said. Her face was
turned away from her
dom
,
but Kat could see it well enough. She was smirking. She’d probably wanted to
provoke this exact response. Kat wondered if the man knew it.
The things a woman has to do to get a
spanking
.
Doms
, like most men, were easy to
manipulate.

Not
that she’d had any success lately; Angus had done all the manipulating. But
maybe tonight her luck would change. One night was all she wanted. Then she’d
try to face the mess she’d run away from, see if she could get a new band
together, get on the path toward signing a new record contract. Challenge Angus
and
Kradle
straight up and find out who the fans had
been coming to see for the last four years. A little kinky fun at the hands of
a man who thought he was in charge would take the edge off and help her get her
groove back. She’d always gotten a good crowd reaction in DC. Most people
didn’t think the city had much to offer musically, but go-go music had started
here, and so had
emocore
. Okay, neither had exactly
set the musical world on fire, but they’d spread from here, and people in DC
were open to innovation. She’d make an album with some of the stuff Angus and
the others had rejected, mostly because it hadn’t sounded enough like The Clash
or Offspring. Washington was a good place for a new start.