SummerSins

Summer Sins

Kathy Kulig

Master Adrian Cayne knows how to bring exquisite pain or
pleasure to a woman’s body. Before he’ll take on an inexperienced submissive,
he expects her to pass a series of seductive tests of increasing intensity to
see if she’s receptive to his unique and dark skills. Under his command and
relentless determination, she’ll relinquish control to him.

Emma is known to thoroughly research her articles for the
tabloid magazine
Scandal
.Her latest assignment to write about
Dark Odyssey, a new BDSM club, is her chance to indulge in her taboo desires
for the sex she craves as a submissive. With her job and future career on the
line, she has to write a lurid, gossip story. But her heart isn’t in it because
she’s falling for Adrian.

Raw and hot passion draws them past guarded limits, but when
secrets are revealed, trust will be the final test for true love.

Inside Scoop
: Emma’s journey includes public sex
scenes and watching a scene with a sadist and masochist.

A
Romantica®
BDSM erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

The dress was way too short and the heels were meant for
fucking not walking, but she wasn’t backing out now. Parked across from the
entrance of the exclusive sex club TropiX, Emma Fallon watched another car pull
up and the driver hand the invitation to the guard. The wrought-iron gate
slowly swung to the side and the car went up the drive.

Her invitation stuck out of her small purse. It took her
weeks to get it. If she chickened out, she might never get another chance. Not
to mention her boss would be pissed if she missed her deadline for
Scandal
magazine
.

Emma believed the best stories were ones thoroughly
researched. When given an assignment to write about the hazards of bungee
jumping, she went to the Royal Gorge Suspension Bridge in Colorado and jumped off.
Another investigating the recent cavern scuba diving deaths initiated her scuba
certification and a dive into the Devil’s Eye in central Florida. Rock
climbing, boat racing, running with the bulls, she preferred hands-on research.
That’s what gave her stories the edge and juice her readers and boss craved.
Those details would get her the hell up and out of the tabloid rag. Her dream
job would be to work at
USA Today
,
New York Times
or
Sports
Illustrated
. All her articles at
Scandal
had to have scandalous
twists to them. As she stared at the entrance of the exclusive club, she
clutched the invitation in her hands. Could she convince those in the BDSM
lifestyle she was a newbie and curious, instead of a reporter?

She’d been told to come early for a tour before all the
guests arrived. Pulling her car up to the gate, she handed her invitation to
the guard. He checked her name.

“Good evening, Ms. Fallon. First time at TropiX, I see.” The
body-building muscles strained to burst out of his black T-shirt. An insignia
on the upper left was of a pink palm tree and the word TropiX scripted at the
bottom.

“How did you know?” Her hands tightened around the steering
wheel.

He smiled. “By the color of the invitation.” He made a mark
on the clipboard and handed back her invitation. “When you get inside ask for
Daniel at the bar, he’s the assistant manager. He can find someone to give you
a tour and explain the rules.”

Emma felt heat rise to her face. The curse of being a
redhead. She blushed too damn easily. “Thank you. I’m meeting friends, but if I
don’t see them I’ll check with Daniel.”

“If you tell me your friends’ names I can tell you if
they’ve arrived.”

“Cynthia Everett and Carter Bosworth. I understand they’re
regulars.”

His eyes widened. “Yes, they practically run the place.
They’re here. I’m sure they’ll show you around. Enjoy your evening.”

“Thanks, I intend to.”

He opened the gate then bent down and whispered, “Just relax
and keep an open mind. No pressure to do anything. You can always be a voyeur.”

While Emma waited for the gate to swing wide enough for her
car to pass through, her heartbeat kicked up until she could feel the pulse in
her neck.
Relax, deep breath.

She drove along an exquisitely landscaped lawn of tropical
plants and palm trees. The two-story Spanish-style villa had pink stucco walls
and red terra cotta-tiled roof. She parked and walked to the entrance. In the
summer, Florida heat and humidity didn’t ease up even at ten at night. The
sticky salt air from the ocean behind the mansion instantly coated her skin.

Another guard took her hand, helped her up the stairs and
opened the door. He was hot and dressed all in black with the same T-shirt and
pink palm tree. If she had to participate as part of her research, this guy
wouldn’t be bad. How far was she willing to go for a good article?

Taking a breath, she stepped inside TropiX. “Have fun
tonight.” The hottie smiled and squeezed her hand before letting it go.

“Thanks.”

The mansion was magnificent. The Spanish influence carried
inside with the tile, high walls, arched doorways and wrought-iron sconces and
chandeliers. There was a modern flair to the huge central room and it continued
to the back of the house with two-story high windows offering a view of an
in-ground pool, patio, more landscaping, sand dunes and beyond to the Atlantic
Ocean. “Wow,” she said. Too bad she couldn’t bring her camera. She was tempted
to take out her cell phone, but photography was strictly forbidden in the club.

The room wasn’t crowded. People were mingling with drinks,
sitting on several burnished leather sofas and chairs, standing by the bar or
outside in and around the pool. The men were dressed in casual clothes as at
any club, but the women wore all kinds of slinky, sexy outfits. Emma felt
overdressed in her simple green sheath. It showed some cleavage and was short
but she could’ve worn it at any nightclub in South Florida.

Resisting the urge to turn around and run out, Emma strode
straight to the bar and found an empty seat. “Chardonnay, please?” she asked
the male bartender.

“First time?” he asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

“You have that lost, panicked look in your eyes as if you’re
not sure if you want to stay or run the hell out.”

“That’s not good,” she said. “No one will want to talk to a
newbie.”

He laughed. “People are very friendly and you’re beautiful,
meeting people won’t be your problem. I’ll start you off with a Virgin Shirley
though. Save the alcohol for later. Trust me.” He made the nonalcoholic drink
in a cocktail glass and slid it over to her.

“Thank you. I guess you’re Daniel?” She told him her name.

He nodded. “What brought you here alone for the first time?
Usually women come together or with a date.”

Her stomach flipped over. She knew if she told him she
worked for
Scandal
he’d probably have one of the muscle guys with the
black tees throw her out. “I met a couple on the Tri-Rail, two pilots, who told
me about the club. I got curious.”

“Carter and Cynthia?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Everyone knows them. They’ve been here since the place
opened. They’re upstairs checking out the new BDSM addition. They should be
down soon.”

She’d sucked down all her drink and he had another in front
of her. Good thing she wasn’t drinking wine.

“What type of sexual adventure are you seeking? You don’t
have to tell me but if you do, I can make some recommendations and possible
introductions.”

She blushed. Like ripping off a bandage, the quicker she was
open and honest, the sooner the job would be over and she’d have the material
for her story. “I always wanted to go to one of these clubs but never had the
chance. My last boyfriend and I role-played in the bondage stuff but we didn’t
know what we were doing. He wasn’t interested in coming to a club like this
when I suggested it.” That part was true. She was sexually open and adventurous
in her mind, not in practice.

“Were you the submissive or the Dominant?” He made a few
drinks for other guests at the bar.

Emma waited for him to come close enough to answer.
“Submissive.”

He opened two beer bottles and handed them to guests.

“Submissive,” he said, studying Emma. “I’ll mention that to
Cynthia. I know a Dom who’s getting back into the lifestyle.”

“Why did he take a break?”

Daniel shrugged. “He was finishing his residency at one of
the hospitals. The hours were long and his last sub, well…he would have to
explain about her.”

“Oh.” Emma heard a story there.

“We respect our guests’ privacy. We get prominent people
here, politicians, CEOs, celebrities and they prefer to keep their private life
private.”

“I understand.” Her boss wouldn’t think twice about exposing
one or all of those well-known people. Emma planned to write an exceptional
article without ruining people’s reputations. The edge—or juice as her boss
would call it—would be her own personal experience.

* * * * *

“TropiX hasn’t been the same since you left, Adrian.” Carter
led his friend up the winding staircase into the new addition.

“Six months is a long time,” Cynthia Everett, Carter’s
girlfriend, agreed. “What have you been doing with yourself all this time?”

“Working, trying to get on staff at Bayside Medical,
working.”

Cynthia shook her head. “Not good, need to get out more and
whip a few pretty asses now and then.”

Adrian gazed up at the cathedral ceiling and stairs leading
to the new wing. “As if Bill and Geneva didn’t think this place was big enough.
This addition is as large as a house,” Adrian said. “I never heard of a BDSM
dungeon in an attic.”

“Florida homes don’t have basements. They flood.” Cynthia
grabbed his arm as she led him up. She wore a pair of fuck-me heels and her
signature slinky pink outfit that barely concealed her store-bought breasts.
Her sleek blonde hair fell straight to the middle of her back. The outfit and
the woman could pass for Palm Beach money. Carter came from money, but he was a
working man. They both worked as commercial pilots, but didn’t make the kind of
money required to buy a place like TropiX. The two lovers were good friends of
the owners and kept an eye on the place when they were in town.

“TropiX needed the new section. The single bondage room
wasn’t enough and BDSMers were requesting a private area, separate from
swingers. Not so much because they don’t get along but because some of the
practices require safety considerations like knife, needle and fire play.”
Carter opened the door at the top of the stairs.

The TropiX dungeon did indeed look like a dungeon. The
stucco walls were made to look like large stones as if they’d entered a castle.
Chains and straps hung from various hooks on the walls and ceiling. Padded
tables, spanking benches, medieval stocks, a St. Andrew’s Cross and a steel
cage were in the large foyer. A social area was arranged at one side with
chairs, sofas and a small bar. “Good job,” Adrian said.

“Only soft drinks up here,” Carter said. “This is a more
open playroom. There are several semiprivate and private rooms. The private
rooms are for VIP guests and have to be reserved weeks or months ahead of time.
They have a separate entrance around back.”

The sound of a flogger smacking taut skin and a woman’s
moans drifted across the room. “Guests are here already?” Adrian asked.

“A few,” Cynthia said in her playful, submissive tone.

The room took a ninety degree turn and at one end there was
a raised platform, like a stage. A woman stood completely naked, her arms and
legs stretched out and bound with chains. Her Dom lashed her with a flogger.
The woman’s skin had a beautiful pink glow and a few red marks across her
breasts, abdomen and thighs. Adrian’s balls tightened and his cock hardened.
Six months had been way too long to be out of the lifestyle. He needed to find
a sub. Someone he could trust to be discreet. He stood to lose too much with
his career otherwise.

Another moan from the woman went right through him. Hell,
this was maddening. He knew how to make a woman moan and beg like that.

When the club was full of players, the place smelled of
leather and sex. His last scene with a sub hadn’t gone very well. He remembered
her, naked, lying facedown on a table, wrists and ankles cuffed and spread
wide, the tassels of his flogger striking her glistening skin, across her
thighs, buttocks and back.

Shrieks of pain and pleasure echoed in his head. The
leather bit and caressed, leaving red marks, her skin glowing. His lovely sub
wiggled her bottom and arched her back
.

“Sir…?” his sub asked weakly.

“Do you have something to say to me, slave?” He adjusted
the vibrator in her pussy, turning it on higher. “I’m not ready for you to come
yet.”

“Not that, Sir.”

“Then what? Had enough?” Running a pinky finger under her
restraints, he checked to make sure they hadn’t tightened with all her tugging.
He hadn’t sensed she’d reached her limit yet although her skin had a nice rosy
glow. Her mouth open slightly and she squeezed her eyes shut. Gently he stroked
her hair. “Are you in pain?”

“No!” she snapped. Frustration or anger, he wasn’t quite
sure. And was it aimed at him or herself?

“Apparently, with that tone, you need a bit more
punishment.”

“Yes Sir. Pleeease.”

He stepped back, flogger hanging at his side. That
response he hadn’t expected. At this point, most women would’ve been
apologizing and begging to stop or asking permission to orgasm. This partner
was a true pain slut. His cock hardened and he swung the flogger in a half
circle. If he continued…

“More! Harder, Sir,” she begged.

“Quiet.” He had to stop soon or she’d have deep bruises,
and possibly cuts. Damn, her tolerance of pain was incredible. He had to stop
because he was beginning to like it too much. Could a doctor be a sadist?

“Please, Sir, I have a request—”

“Adrian!” Cynthia called out, bringing him back to reality.
“Something wrong?”

“No, they did a great job. Show me the rooms.” His stomach
turned over as he tried to force those memories out of his brain.

“We have time to show you one then we have to go downstairs
to meet someone.” Cynthia checked her watch. “Wait until you see these rooms.
It’s like Disney World for the kinkster. Maybe you’ll want to try one out.” She
hooked an arm around Carter’s, leaned into him and gave Adrian a wicked smile.

“I don’t have a sub,” Adrian reminded her.

“When you see the rooms you might be raring to go find one,”
Carter said. “There are eight of them, and four different themes.” He placed
his hand of the doorknob and swung the first door open.

“Bill and Geneva came up with the themes,” Cynthia added.

By the way Adrian’s two friends were grinning, he had a
feeling he was in for a shock. The owners were not known for their conservative
nature. Most people who had a large beach house would rent it out in their
absence. Bill and Geneva had turned their home into a sex club amusement park
and were making quite a profit.