Decadent Master (8 page)

Master Zane struck her again, with whatever fiendish toy he held. And again. Over and over. And each impact produced a tad more pain, but with it came a bigger and bigger rush, until she was chanting, “Green, greengreengreen!”

The sensations blurred, and she felt herself sinking, as if her soul was detaching from her mind and floating through her body. Now she could appreciate why people sought out pain. Now she had discovered a part of herself she might never have uncovered, if it wasn’t for Master Zane and his wicked whip.

When he stopped, he coaxed her back to the outside world with a soft voice. She felt as if she’d traveled into the deepest parts of herself. As she made her way to the surface, she was only vaguely aware of him unfastening her wrists and easing her into his arms.

They were strong arms, steel sheathed in velvet. Capable. Protective.

She sagged against him. Her butt was still hot, but she didn’t care. She cried and laughed, for reasons she couldn’t really sort out. He held her until she quieted.

“It wasn’t what I thought it would be,” she admitted.

“You are remarkable, Wynne.”

“Thank you.” She smiled.

“No, thank you, for turning over your trust and allowing me to bring you to a new place.”

Still giddy from the intense experience she’d just gone through, she giggled. “That you did.” She gazed up, looked deep into his eyes. “Will you let me do it again sometime?”

“Whenever you wish.” He showed her the whip he’d used on her. It looked pretty darn scary, with the wood handle, braided wrist strap, and narrow, knotted tails. She put it into her bag, along with the restraints and blindfold, thanked him again, and left.

She had found peace.

Her mind was still.

Her body was still.

Her soul was still.

It was heaven.

W
ynne thought about the dungeon all week. She had dreams of Doms, shirtless, their heavily muscled shoulders and chests oiled, thickly corded limbs flexing, muscles bulging, as they climbed over her on hands and knees. It was like watching Playgirl movies all night long. She awoke feeling pleasantly tense, her pussy thrumming, her blood simmering.

She was changing; she felt it. Like a caterpillar closed in its protective cocoon. Instead of literal body parts shedding, changing, old beliefs and fears were being replaced by new ones.

She couldn’t wait to go back to Twilight, to see Rolf, Zane, and, more than anyone else, Dierk. She could talk of nothing else with Kristy. She asked lots of questions and listened, sitting on the proverbial edge of her seat, absorbing every word her friend told her. Kristy talked about her kit, how to care for each item properly. She told her about the basic rules of bondage and submission, sadomasochism, as well as a little of the history of the BDSM culture. The difference between a 24/7 Master-slave relationship and casual BDSM playing. By the time Friday night had arrived, she comprehended a lot more about the world she had wandered into. And she also had a better understanding of herself and what she was looking for at Twilight.

This wasn’t about understanding John anymore; it was about understanding
Wynne
. She still had a lot of insight to gain.

Once again, she groomed herself from the soles of her feet to the top of her head, and she borrowed a sexy fetish outfit from Kristy. This week, she went with a short black latex skirt and black corset. The borrowed matching shoes had five-inch heels and were überchallenging to walk in.

Unlike last time, she didn’t bother with underwear.

Her heart pounded as she drove to the dungeon. Her nerves pricked. Her hands trembled.

What would happen tonight?

She was scheduled to have a session with Rolf—assuming no other Doms had requested a session with her. Would he bring her to a bone-melting climax again? How many times and how? Or would he tie her up and paddle her with her new whip? Those little strips of knotted goatskin did wonderful things to her. The tails’ nips were like sexy little love bites.

She’d never experienced anything like that before.

Of course, her thoughts also turned to Dierk. She hadn’t seen him in a while and still her feelings about him hadn’t faded. She was just as fascinated with him as she’d been the very first time she’d seen him, even though she was 95 percent positive he didn’t feel the same thing for her. She’d been there before—on the painful side of a one-sided crush—so that was nothing new.

By the time she pulled into the parking lot outside of Twilight, she was edgy and excited, nervous and hopeful all at the same time. One big bundle of tight nerves and tense muscle, wrapped in black latex.

She clacked into the building, teetering dangerously on those ridiculous high heels, and signed in at the front desk. The receptionist told her Rolf would meet her out in the lobby, so she did her best to pull the diminutive skirt down over her butt, took a seat in one of the nearby chairs, and waited.

“Wynne.”

That sounded like Rolf, but it didn’t. She turned to glance over her shoulder.

Dierk.

Her insides did a little happy dance. She beamed at him.

He frowned.

The happy dance came to an abrupt halt.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, looking puzzled.

“I was told to wait here for Rolf.”

He nodded, crossed his arms over his chest. Those were really nice arms.

She wished she could thank him for wearing short sleeves. It was mighty kind of him.

“Hmmm,” he said.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” He stepped back. “I thought Rolf said he wouldn’t be coming to the club tonight. I must have misunderstood.”

“Oh.” She stared at his lips then checked out the rest of his features. Gorgeous. Perfect. Really fine.

Was there nothing on the man that wasn’t perfectly amazing?

“I’ll give him a call.” He moved toward the door she assumed led to his office. “Be back in a minute.”

“Sure. Thank you.”

Perched on the edge of the seat, she clenched her hands in her lap. Wasn’t this just her luck? She’d been so excited about tonight, and things were falling apart.

She dug into her purse for her cell. If Rolf wasn’t going to make it, was there any rule against her approaching a Dom and asking him if he would train her?

A Dom like…Dierk?

She decided to call Kristy now, so that she’d be prepared when Dierk returned. Just in case.

A subby had to take advantage of an opportunity as it arose. Right?

She scrolled down to Kristy’s name and hit the call button. To her relief, Kristy answered on the second ring.

“Hey, girl,” Kristy said. “What’s up? Didn’t you go to Twilight tonight?”

“I’m here now.” Wynne walked over to the lobby’s corner, farthest from Dierk’s door, and turned to face the wall, hoping nobody would overhear her conversation.

“And you’re on the phone with me?” Kristy’s voice clearly communicated her confusion.

“Yeah, there might be a problem, so I wanted to ask you about protocol.”

“Okay.”

“Specifically, I wanted to know how a submissive approaches a Dom, to ask if he would be willing to have a session with her?”

“Hmmm. Okay. My suggestion would be to present yourself, as you would for Rolf, and wait for the Dom to take the lead. If he doesn’t, then the meaning is clear.”

“Okay. Got it.”

“Good luck, sweetie.”

“Thanks.” No sooner did she end the call than Dierk was back.

Her heart kicked into overdrive, thumping along at a pace that would make a hummingbird’s look sluggish. She took her position, gaze lowered, arms pressed to her sides, hands clasped behind her back.

“I’m sorry, but there was a misunderstanding,” Dierk told her.

She said nothing. Instead, she remained perfectly still, silent.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. For ten seconds. Thirty. A full minute.

This was agony.

Was she doing this right? Would he understand her message? And if so, would he accept her invitation or reject it?

A heavy silence fell over her. Staring hard at the floor, she didn’t hear Dierk leave the room, but because she couldn’t see him, not even his feet, she couldn’t be sure he was still there either.

Still nothing.

Oh God, tell me I haven’t made an idiot of myself.

The softest stream of air brushed across her shoulder and her nape prickled. Goose bumps erupted over her arms.

Another gust tickled her neck. More goose bumps covered her chest.

She shuddered.

“This way,” he said, his voice husky.

He said yes! Yesyesyes! She just barely managed to swallow down the wha-hooo of glee that shot up her throat.

Keeping her gaze lowered and her arms snug against her sides, she followed Dierk down the hall, through a couple of doors and finally down a familiar corridor. They went to the very last room. He stepped inside first, and she followed, taking her place in the center of the room. She set her kit at her feet.

This was it, the moment she’d been waiting for since the first time she’d seen Dierk. She was so excited, she could hardly keep still.

It wasn’t easy to keep from grinning like a total dork either.

He made her wait a long, long time before he said a word. It was pure torture. Keeping her gaze lowered, her head still, she glanced around the room. His private suite was larger than Rolf’s. What it lacked in design, it made up for in function. Every inch seemed to have been well planned, the bondage furniture placed to make optimum use of the space.

“You must understand we can do this only once. I don’t take members as submissives. It isn’t in the club’s best interest. Nor is it in mine,” he said.

She wondered, if he didn’t take club members as submissives, why did he need such a large, well-stocked bondage suite at the club? “I understand, Master.”

“You will have no expectations outside of this one session?”

“No, Master. I promise.”

“Very well, then.” He left the room, exiting through a different door than the one they’d entered through. When he returned, his face was hidden by a mask. She was slightly disappointed, but of course she kept her discontent to herself.

His face was something to behold. She would have liked to study it for the next hour.

Perhaps that was exactly why he’d hidden it?

“Come here,” he commanded.

She walked to him, struggling to keep her gaze lowered. Her hands were literally trembling. She was shaking all over, actually, and not because she was scared like she had been with Master Zane, and not because she was feeling unsure like she had been with Rolf, but because she had been waiting for this chance for so long. She wanted it to be absolutely perfect.

“Undress.”

She started with the corset first. Looking down at his feet, but not really seeing anything, she unfastened each hook. In her mind’s eye, she imagined him watching her, his dark eyes stormy, filled with raw male hunger. Once she had it off, she let it slip from her fingertips, letting it fall to the floor.

He said nothing, so she moved on to the skirt. It took just as much effort to work her way out of it as it did to get her in it. Adding an extra level of danger to the task, she was teetering on heels. She wasn’t big on wearing high-heeled shoes on a daily basis, not even a moderate two inches, so she wasn’t very steady on her feet. Twice he caught her at the waist and helped steady her. Twice she said a little prayer of thanks. Not because he’d saved her from injury but because of the sheer pleasure of receiving his touch.

But as soon as she had righted herself, he removed his hands. It scared her how much she longed for them to return to her.

Now she understood.

This was what drove a submissive to such ends to pleasure her Master. She got it. Yes. She understood at last. The excruciating longing and overwhelming wish to please were enough to make her do almost anything. The reward: the ecstasy of a touch.

She stood nude before him now. She didn’t know whether he was looking at her or not, but she felt something, like a current of electrically charged air drifting over her skin. Down her back, around the side, and up from the floor, up her thighs, to her stomach, chest, head.

She couldn’t help it, she looked at him. Their gazes locked. She stopped breathing. The world fell away, and nothing existed but the dark spirits she saw swirling in his eyes. What was it she saw? What ghosts haunted his soul?

How she wished she could learn more about this man, find out why he was possessed by such darkness.

“Do not look at me,” he warned.

It wasn’t easy, but she tore her gaze away. “I’m sorry, Master.”

He snatched her kit up, plunked it on a nearby table and unzipped it. What toy would he choose, and what would he do with it? Anxious to get started, she listened to him searching through the contents.

“I didn’t wish to start our session with a punishment, but you’ve forced me to.”

“Yes, Master.”

“The wall.”

She lifted her gaze enough to see where he was directing her to go. Bolted to one wall were four chains. At the end of each chain were leather straps.

Oh yes! He was going to chain her up. Her pussy thrumming, she went to the wall and turned to face him.

He stopped her with a firm, “No.”

Slightly disappointed, but not surprised, she turned around, spread her legs a little, and extended her arms out to the sides. He fastened a cuff around each of her limbs and then, without giving her a bit of warning, struck her with a whip.

The pain shot down her spine like an electrical charge, but unlike the first time she’d been whipped, she held almost perfectly still. Then the heat followed, a stinging burn, on her right shoulder blade. The second time, he struck her on the opposite shoulder blade. She curled her fingers into tight fists and braced herself for a third blow, but it didn’t come.

Seconds ticked by.

She felt the endorphins charging through her body, sweeping away the pain and replacing it with a deep, urgent carnal hunger.

Would he touch her? Please? She ached for him so badly, she wanted to cry.

Still, he did nothing. He didn’t release her. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t speak.

Her need started to ease. Her muscles gradually softened. Her lungs slowly re-inflated. She inhaled deeply then exhaled.

She heard him mutter something under his breath but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Was he still angry with her? Had she done something wrong?

In any other situation, she would have turned around and simply asked him. But she couldn’t. Not in this context. It was frustrating enough to make her grit her teeth.

Right now, she would pay any price to read his mind. What would happen next?

He couldn’t do this.

Dierk unfurled his fingers, letting the flogger drop to the floor.

What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he feel the pain when those tails struck that smooth ivory skin? And why did his heart ache when he looked into Wynne’s eyes?

Never had he reacted this way to a woman. He had no idea what to say, what to do. He felt like he wasn’t himself any longer and that his mind, heart, and spirit had been stolen away and replaced by someone else’s. Everything he’d known about himself was suddenly a lie.

What the hell?

He’d known it was going to be tough, even before he’d brought her back to his suite. But he hadn’t guessed how difficult it would be to remain detached, remote, or how strong the compulsion to take her as his own would be. Not until he’d closed the door.

Now, it was too late.

He was on the verge of losing a battle. If he touched her again, if even a single fingertip came into contact with her body anywhere, he would lose the fight. He would haul her against him and wrap his arms around her little body, press her sweet cheek against his chest, and bury his nose in her hair. He would whisper sweet words in her ear, promises.