Master of Submission [Masters of Submission 1] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (7 page)

“Of course I do, but to have it so bluntly demonstrated rather unnerved me. I left partly because of that, but mainly because it wasn’t the reason I came to the club. I need to find out what happened to Chloe. This not knowing, is just eating me up inside.”

“Maybe I can help. Matthew and Ethan are the owners of Submission. They’re good friends of mine. Perhaps, with their help, we may be able to find out what happened to Giselle”—Zane waved a hand in the air as he corrected himself—“I mean Chloe. I’m sure if some sick bastard is using Club Submission to lure women against their will, they’d want to know about it.”

An inner calm began to flow through her. If she had some inside help it could only improve her chances of finding Chloe. “You’d do that for me? Even after I followed you here, and then accused you of some truly awful things?” Guilt overwhelmed her. “I virtually said you’d murdered her. I’m so sorry, Zane. I acted out of character. I’m a lawyer. I should know better than to accuse anyone without firm evidence. I hope you can forgive me.”

He smiled, and her stomach quivered at the way he looked at her. “Sure I forgive you. It’s forgotten already.”

She blushed. “Thanks. But I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“I really like you, Emma. But deep down you know you need a man’s guidance…my guidance.”

Her womb contracted at the way he said the word
guidance
. How did he manage to make a simple, innocuous word sound so sexy? How exactly would Zane guide her? He could certainly show her how to enjoy sex. The thought excited her. He was clearly into domination. What would he do to her? Tie her up, spank her, who knew what?

“Shall we go to bed, Emma?”

His sultry, provocative words hung in the air, refusing to disappear. She could barely breathe.

He laughed and gently patted her hand. “My, my, you look just like a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights. I’ve several spare bedrooms upstairs, so you can take your pick or…you can sleep with me.”

A warm feeling spread into her pussy. She liked Zane—a lot. “I’m not sure.” Emma squeezed her fingers to her forehead. “Christ, I’m a thirty-year-old woman, but I sound like a fucking virgin.”

Zane came and knelt beside her. He placed his hands on hers, and slowly pulled her fingers away from her throbbing temples. He cupped her chin, and tilted her face to his. “In my world, that’s exactly what you are. A young virgin sub, waiting for her Master to guide and protect her.” He placed his finger to her lips when she made to protest. “Shhh, I can teach you things about yourself, Emma, but only if you’ll allow me to. I won’t force you to do anything against your will.”

She stared into his riveting blue eyes. Her heart beat like a tiny bird caught in the mouth of a predator. Zane seriously turned her on, but he frightened her, too.

“I know you’re scared, and aroused at the same time. That’s your dilemma.” He smiled and stared at her lips. “Shall I make a suggestion? Why don’t I show you a spare room where you can change and have a shower?” He then raised his gaze to hers. “Then if you feel more confident, my room is just across the hallway.”

Nervous energy coiled deep within her, twisting her guts into a series of tight knots. Even though he appeared calm and measured on the outside, just staring into his all-knowing eyes, she could tell he wanted her. His gaze held the look a hawk gives its prey, dominant and merciless. It was frightening and incredibly exciting. Emma cautiously nodded, grateful he’d given her the time to make a decision.

Zane took her in his arms and carried up the stairs two at a time. He pushed open a door with his foot, and she peered into a luxurious bedroom. A curved bay window complemented beautiful French doors, which opened out onto a wonderful terrace. She was sure in the morning light, the pale blue room with its white gossamer curtains would be a wonderful tranquil place to wake up. It was so light and airy.

He placed her gently on the lush carpet. “Easy now, baby. Don’t put too much weight on that ankle for a day or two.”

“Thank you. I promise I won’t.”

He opened a wardrobe and pulled out one of his shirts. “Here, if you feel the need to cover your modesty, you can slip this on.”

“Thanks, I will. I am English, after all.”

Zane laughed. “The bathroom is through there.” He pulled her into his arms and delivered a kiss that was as devastating as the one they’d shared at the club. “Don’t forget, I’m just across the hall if you need me.” He angled her face to his, holding her gaze. “There’s one thing you need to remember though, Emma. If you do come to my room, you won’t be leaving until morning. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Zane. I fully understand.”

“Excellent. Then understand this also, a D/s relationship is a power exchange. You hand over your control to me, and I’ll give you all the orgasms you could ever want.”

Discussing sex so openly made the breath hitch in her throat. Back home in England she’d had a conservative upbringing. No one ever spoke of such things, least of all her parents and boyfriends.

“I don’t give up control very easily,” she told him haughtily. If he thought she’d fall at his feet, he had another thing coming.

“I know. But in my opinion all this feminist bullshit is killing the country.”

Emma folded her arms defensively across her chest. “You must be a male chauvinist, if you think woman aren’t equal to men?”

“On the contrary, women are equal to men in almost every way. They can run countries for Christ’s sake, but when it comes to the bedroom, they need to relinquish control, and hand it back to the male of the species, just as nature intended. Why do you think there are so many unhappy women across America right now?”

“Money worries?”

“Wrong.” He pulled her into his arms and whispered close to her ear. “They’re unhappy because they need a good fucking from someone who knows what they’re doing. They want to be spread open and devoured as though they’re the last woman on the planet.” Heat flooded her cheeks at his colorful description.

Zane smiled at her obvious embarrassment, and smoothed a thumb over her lips. “It would be my pleasure to introduce you to my world, pretty lady.” With a quick affectionate tap to her nose he began walking away.

She watched his tall, broad frame retreat through the bedroom door.
I get the feeling this man is playing with me. He’s so full of ego. He thinks I’m going come to his room and fall at his feet.
Emma went into the bathroom.
Well he can’t possibly know what I’m going to do, because I don’t even know myself.

During a long hot shower, the same insistent image kept filling her mind—Zane—beautiful, handsome, Zane. She just couldn’t shake his face from her mind. He was so charismatic and so fucking sexy, too. She was sure he could deliver on his promises and more besides. Should she walk across the hall and go to his room? Did she trust him enough?

Two hours later

Unable to sleep, Emma lay on top of the bed, staring at the ceiling. Her mind kept coming back to Zane. Was he waiting for her across the hallway? Tonight at the club he’d opened up the possibilities of a new way of life. He’d shown her something she’d never known was possible. Freedom to explore her sexual fantasies. All she had to do was trust him.
If you dare
.

“Sod it,” she mumbled out loud, as she rose from the bed. Her ankle still felt weak, but it wasn’t as painful as it had been. She hobbled from her room, and stood breathlessly outside his bedroom door. When she raised her hand to knock, she saw her arm visibly shaking. Not daring to move, she stayed staring at the door. It was now or never.

On a deep sigh, she rapped softly on the light oak panel.

At first she thought he hadn’t heard, and must be asleep, because she stood waiting in the hall, listening to her own heavy breathing. She felt like a naughty schoolgirl, standing outside the headmaster’s office, waiting for him to call her in, and discipline her. Just on the point of returning to her room, she watched mesmerized as the ornate handle slowly started to turn. The door suddenly swung wide open.

Zane stood there in all his masculine glory. Wearing just a pair of sweatpants, his broad chest was bare. He looked like he’d just jumped from the shower, because his hair was all damp and spiky. He smiled. “Well, well, my pretty English Rose. Your presence pleases me.” He then ushered her inside.

In stark contrast to the rest of the house, the dimly lit room was dark and brooding. Deepest red colored the walls, and chunky mahogany furniture enhanced his masculine persona. She couldn’t take her gaze from the massive four-poster bed, which dominated the entire room. Knowing she would soon be lying on it with Zane made her heart beat faster.

When she heard the door lock behind her, her head snapped to attention, and she watched him remove the key. She knew he was doing it for effect. He most probably just wanted to see her reaction.

He held it up. “Just in case you were thinking of changing your mind. There’s no escape now, Emma.” He opened a dresser drawer and tossed it in, before removing what looked to her like a coiled leather belt. He placed the item on top of the dresser, and then turned back to her. She felt so small and vulnerable standing next to him. He simply towered over her. Feeling in awe of the man, she couldn’t help but blush.

“I can see you’re scared, so I’ll be extra gentle with you.” Without asking her permission, he slowly began undoing the buttons of her shirt. Already he was taking control, and making decisions for her, and she liked it. He peeled the overlarge shirt from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

“Aw, baby, you have such a beautiful body,” he murmured, letting his gaze travel the whole length of her. “I shall really enjoy discovering what makes you tick. You belong to me now.”

“I’m my own woman, Zane.”

“Not when you’re here with me and the door is locked.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“No, not a threat, a promise.” Emma felt her body stiffen. Just what had she let herself in for? She hoped she wouldn’t regret her actions. She wasn’t naturally adventurous, so she was acting out of character by being here at all. When she looked at Zane, her senses became acutely aroused, her smell, her hearing, her touch. Everything seemed heightened in his presence, even her sense of self-preservation.

“Shhh,” he soothed, gently massaging her shoulders. “You carry so much tension in your body. The consequence of being a sexually repressed Englishwoman, I guess.”

Emma smiled at his words knowing how very true they were. She enjoyed his tender touch. “I’m here to learn, Zane. I’m sick and tired of being uptight all the time.”

“You’ve made the right decision by coming to me, Emma.” Zane stroked his fingers down her arms and then pressed her hands tightly together. Before she knew what was happening he’d bound her wrists with a set of leather handcuffs.

Emma took a deep breath. “Zane, is this strictly necessary?” She tried to squirm away, but it was no use, his grip was too strong. She studied the leather restraint more closely. It was thick, covering about two inches of her wrists and forearms. The ornate leather was decorated with two sturdy metal rings.

“You need to learn that
I
decide what is strictly necessary.” She realized from the tone of his voice that he didn’t appreciate her questioning his actions. “Remember what I told you earlier.” He pointed to his eyes. “I get to witness your vulnerability and you”—he touched her temple—“you get to experience it in here. It’s the perfect trade-off. I’m going to give you a safeword. Do you know what a safeword is?”

“Yes,” she said, in barely a whisper. She’d learned a lot about the BDSM scene from the Internet. “If I use it, then you stop what you’re doing. Is that right?”

“Absolutely, right.” He cupped her chin, and she slowly raised her eyes to his. “If you use it, we’ll discuss what you’re unhappy with, and if you still feel the same way, then I’ll stop whatever I’m doing. Everything has to be consensual. So would you like to choose your own safeword? Or shall I choose one for you?”

“You choose, I can barely think straight at the moment.”

“Then I give you the word red. Red means stop.”

Emma nodded. “Yes, of course, the traffic light system.” Of all the words, she realized that would be the easiest to remember.

He stroked a hand down her face. “No need to be worried, I’ll look after you.”

“Will you?” she asked, drawing in a long, skittish breath.

“Yes, like right now. Hook your arms around my neck, and I’ll carry you over to the bed. I normally start training a sub in the standing position, but since you’ve hurt your ankle, I’m feeling particularly benevolent tonight.”

“Thank you. Should I call you Master or Zane? I’ve read that Doms like being called Master.”

“Hmmm, I think I prefer a combination of them both. I’ll allow you to call me Master Zane when we’re being formal.”

“Master Zane it is, then.” She knew she was feeding his power trip. Zane clearly had a large ego to service.

Emma hooked her arms over his head. He cupped her buttocks and lifted her from the floor. Her legs automatically wrapped around his taut, muscular thighs, sending her arousal off the scale. Completely naked, her pussy opened and pressed deliciously against the obvious erection filling his sweatpants. His bare torso felt wonderful and warm as it feathered against her breasts. As he carried her to the bed, she felt her hardened nipples chaffing on the smattering of dark, masculine hair that covered his chest. Zane carefully laid her on the bed as though she was the most precious object he’d ever handled. The soft, luxurious feel of the damask quilt teased her naked back and butt causing a deep sigh to leave her lips. He lifted her bound arms from around his neck, and raised them high above her head. Two hooks hung from the headboard, and he immediately attached them to the metal rings of her leather restraint.