Little Rainbows
A Totally Bound Publication
Little Rainbows
ISBN #
978-1-78430-458-4
©Copyright Helena Stone 2015
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright February 2015
Edited by Jennifer Douglas
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing,
Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
heat rating
of
Totally Burning
and a
Sexometer
of
2.
LITTLE RAINBOWS
Helena Stone
When an experienced Dom loses his drive, can an old flame reignite his fire?
When Jason Hudson and Heather Staunton first met, they were young and sure they were wrong for each other. As a result they spent a summer admiring each other from a safe distance.
Twenty years later, Heather is coming out of mourning, having lost her husband and Dom eighteen months earlier. Jason, now the owner of an exclusive sex resort on the west coast of Ireland, is struggling with the loss of his desire to dominate.
Jason’s resort is about to celebrate its first anniversary and party planner Heather has been hired to create the perfect celebration. Their reunion comes as a big surprise to both of them and is the start of an unexpected sequence of events.
Old and familiar attractions battle with new and conflicting emotions as Jason and Heather work together to organize the ultimate BDSM event.
Overcoming the issues between them isn’t the only obstacle Jason and Heather face. In the background lurks a threat both to Heather’s independence and Jason’s livelihood.
Dedication
For Dermot, who stayed with me when even I wanted to leave me behind. You are my heart and soul.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Beetle: Volkswagen Group
Fly Me to the Moon
: Frank Sinatra
Range Rover: Jaguar Land Rover
Skype: Microsoft Corporation
Prologue
“What do you need, sub?”
The young woman’s panting reverberated through the room. The fine sheen of sweat covering her body reflected the lights shining down from the ceiling, making her glow and sparkle. Wearing nothing except her high heels, her feet held apart with a spreader-bar and her upper body tied to the spanking bench, the beautiful blonde was a picture of vulnerability. Arousal wafted from her, strong and enticing—and it left him cold. He had no desire to touch. Hell, he didn’t even want to be here.
“Do you think you’ve earned your orgasm, my dear?”
So far the only response he’d been able to get from her were moans. And they both knew he’d do nothing to release her need unless she asked him—no, begged him for it.
You can’t blame the girl for being incoherent
, he thought. The clamps on her nipples were as tight as he could make them, exerting the kind of pain she craved. Her arse and upper thighs were a glorious shade of red, courtesy of his hands and the black leather flogger. He knew all it would take to make her come was the lightest of touches to her clit. But he wouldn’t touch her again until she begged him for it. He knew it and she knew it. It was a crucial part of their play. He had mastered the game over the years and played it very well, even if the enjoyment he used to derive from it was gone.
“Please, Sir, please.”
He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “You know that isn’t enough. You have to tell me what you want. You won’t get it unless you name it. Tell me what you need.”
The young woman groaned and shook her head, the tips of her long blonde hair stroking his face. He grabbed a handful of the soft locks and pulled her head backwards.
“Tell me!”
“Please, Sir, I need to come. Please make me come, Sir.”
“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
He moved his hand between her legs and found exactly what he’d expected, a soaking wet pussy. For a moment the memories of the pleasure he used to derive from these shows guided his actions. He indulged himself and teased her, stroking his fingers through her wetness, between her folds, managing to miss her clit on every pass. He changed direction and pinched her hard little bud between his thumb and index finger before stroking it with purpose.
He’d been right. It only took a few seconds before her body tensed and started to shake. Her groans turned to screams as her orgasm took hold of her body and mind. He prolonged her release with his finger’s continued pressure on her clit. When she at last started to come down from her high, he freed her from the bench and helped her up. He caught her when her legs, still kept apart by the bar, gave way. With a look to his left, he summoned one of the many dungeon assistants. The young man released the sub’s legs and picked her up, carrying her to a couch where he wrapped her in a soft blanket and enveloped her in a tight embrace.
Satisfied his aftercare instructions were being followed to the letter, Jason left the stage and made his way to the exit. He accepted compliments and greetings on the way but didn’t stop to talk to anyone. The show was over and he needed to get away from the scene. He stalked through the resort he’d opened less than a year ago with high hopes and expectations, not seeing anything or anyone. He was blind to the guests making their way to private rooms, impatient to alleviate the sexual tension he’d ignited in them with his show. He pretended he didn’t see the worried expression on his best friend’s face as he exited the BDSM area and he ignored the vanilla guests taking advantage of the facilities in the more innocent part of his club. Waiting for the elevator would take too long and give others an opportunity to approach him, so he took the stairs two at a time, impatient to be alone and in his own environment.
He slammed the door to his apartment.
What the fuck’s wrong with me
? This wasn’t, had never been, just a job. This was his life. He’d been born to play this role, to be this man. He’d finally reached the stage where his life resembled everything he’d dreamed about and the feeling was gone. Why had it been months since he’d felt the need to bed one of his subs? Why was the portrayal of his dominance, their willing submission to his will, not enough for him anymore? Why had these exhibitions started to feel like a chore rather than a welcome side benefit to his chosen profession? He had to find out—and soon. In just over a month’s time the elite of the Irish BDSM community would be meeting here, in his club, for its first anniversary. His reluctance was growing so fast he feared it wouldn’t be long before he’d find himself incapable of putting up a believable performance.
He groaned out loud while he poured himself a large whiskey. His anger made him restless and he ignored the comfortable large couch and chairs. The walls of his spacious and bright apartment seemed to be closing in on him. A need for fresh air brought him to the glass wall opening onto a building-wide balcony. The clear night sky combined with the distant sound of waves hitting the shore went some way toward settling his edginess.
He forced himself to be honest. It wasn’t just about being believable. He felt as if he’d lost himself. He’d always known he was dominant from his first, clumsy, sexual experience. Opening his club in Ireland, the country he’d grown up in and had always seen as home, had allowed him to turn his desires into an income while giving other people the opportunity to discover everything sex had to offer in a safe environment. Sure, he could still earn a comfortable living and offer that service without ever rediscovering his inner Dom. He just didn’t know who he was without that need. His sense of self had disappeared as his dominant side receded and he didn’t know what to do about finding it again or how to go about discovering who he was without it.
The star-filled sky, the moon and the sea watched but didn’t provide answers as he struggled with his inner demons.
Chapter One
There it was, her opportunity to kick-start her life again. And, as restarts went, it made quite an impression. The hotel or club—she wasn’t quite sure how to label the building—looked rather grand at the end of the long drive. The Atlantic Ocean, throwing up a spray in the distance, only enhanced the picture. Even on this bright summer’s day she could see small rainbows in the watery mist the waves were producing. It would be easy to confuse this place with any of the up-market tourist traps the west coast of Ireland was peppered with. This could be any other posh resort catering to Americans trying to find their roots and golfers looking for an opportunity to try the links courses littered along the coastline. The heavy gate blocking the entrance told a different story. She knew too much about this place, its purpose and what happened behind those gates to confuse it for anything except what it was, a dream from the past and—if everything went according to plan—the start of the rest of her life.
