WanttoGoPrivate (4 page)

What did you expect, Isabel?

“Who the hell knows,” she said aloud, taking the cards with
her to the library. It wasn’t him asking for a hug after what apparently was a
one-sided, totally delusionary moment and it wasn’t him attempting to find her
possible dating options. Was he even single? She assumed he was and his comment
about a separate pile for women’s cards suggested that. And that pile was
probably more mountain than molehill. Because, while she always thought him
cute, tonight was enlightening where her attraction to him was concerned.

She sat down at her computer and turned it on. She’d do some
emails, check on some items she’d been tracking for delivery, maybe play some
Mahjong
Titans
until she was tired. Waiting for the machine to boot, she perused
the business cards. A few of the names she recognized from local businesses.
The head of a huge activities group, a morning-radio host, a real-estate
developer. Stanley’s card was there and she smiled. She would not be dating
him, despite the fact he had touted himself, in print, as the most eligible man
on the Eastern seaboard.

Her screen blipped on, the light making the sleek, black
business card that was next in line hard to read. She turned in her chair and
tilted it so the blood-red text was discernable.

BIND YOUR BODY…NOT YOUR MIND

The other cards slipped from her hand and fell to the desk
as she turned the card over and read the back.

For The Inexperienced and Bondage-Curious

Offering Sound and Practical Advice

MySecretMaster.com

Blog and Chat Room

Signs, Isabel. Signs.

“Oh good god.” Someone who frequented On The Left was into
the kinky shit? He had to be local if Chris kept his card and he probably had
to have carried on a conversation with him so he must know what the man did.
Must know what he was into.

“Holy shit. A blogging Dom!” Now wasn’t that just a portent
and a hell of a lot more? And she couldn’t just ask Chris about the guy because
then he’d know she was interested in that stuff. She doubted she could pull it
off as curiosity alone. And why the hell did he even give her that sort of
card? Was the guy that great-looking or successful? Was he a Dom with a golden
heart? Isabel huffed. That was not at all the usual stereotype. That’s not how
the man who had made it impossible for her to sit for two days had been.

She quickly typed in the web address as her train of thought
progressed. One never imagined the wielder of the whip as a loving partner or
father. They were supposed to be aloof and guarded and somehow a bit larger
than life, not a kinky version of Ann Landers, which was the vibe she was
getting from the quick scanning of the webpage. It was most definitely an
introductory arena filled with a glossary and two photo galleries. One
highlighting implements and supplies, the other filled with tastefully erotic
photos of rope work and the reddened results of paddles and crops and floggers.

Isabel bypassed the
Links
tab and went straight to
the blog. It read more like a diary of a recent session, the focus not on the
exact punishments that were meted out, although they were briefly expounded
upon. The tone was more educational and definitely psychological and Isabel was
surprised. She hadn’t expected something so exclusive and before she realized
it, she’d gone back and read nearly a year’s worth of blogs and the resulting
comments, most of which the Dom himself had answered.

Returning to the
Home
page, Isabel scrolled through
the menu options once more, her cursor hovering over the one tab that she
wasn’t sure she wanted to click.

Chat
.

Not knowing what she might find provided a heady combination
of thrills and fear. Had she not read the blogs, she would have assumed it was
a bunch of lifestyling Dominants and submissives, but she highly doubted this
was a place for them. It seemed like a kinder, gentler bondage arena.

She laughed at the thought then took a deep breath. If James
were standing behind her, he would tell her to do it. To explore. But he would
also tell her to participate, and that part she wasn’t as sure of. She could
lurk with the best of them and with that in mind, she double-clicked her mouse.

The terms of agreement were standard and she read through
them quickly and tapped the
Accept
button. The screen that appeared was
totally unexpected and her palms began to sweat. Apparently, despite the
anonymity, there would be no under-the-radar admittance.

In two hundred characters or less she needed to tell the
moderator exactly why she wished to be part of the chat group. She stared at
the vertical, flashing line of the cursor. Her mind screaming
do it
in
sync with it appearing and disappearing—over and over and over—until Isabel
finally relented and reached for the
Shift
key.

* * * * *

Chris didn’t even bother locking the door to his apartment
behind him. Let the asshole who lived across the hall or one of his drunken,
heavy-metal horde wander in. He’d happily tell them to grab a beer from the
fridge and pull up a chair. Usually, he’d divest himself of every clothing item
he wore, toss them in the washer and snag an ice-cold libation before turning
on the television and trying to get his brain to quit racing over whatever
calamity the night might have offered. But not tonight.

Chances were slim that Isabel would have hurried home and
immediately checked out the website. Then again, before tonight, chances were
slim that he’d be presented with even a tiny window of opportunity where
playing Dominant to Isabel’s submissive could become more than a wet dream.
While he kicked ass at offering advice on his blog and in the chat room, he
hadn’t had a D/s relationship in quite some time. As he plopped onto the big
computer chair, he realized how much he had missed the closeness being with
another person on that level offered. But it was so damn hard finding a woman
who had all the components needed for success.

Within seconds he was logged in and staring at the inbox
notification that stated he had three unread emails. Part of him thought to
play it cool, to check out who was online or what had been posted in his
absence. But here, in the sanctity of his home, he didn’t have to prove jack
shit to anyone. He could be as damn dorky as he wanted. And at the moment, he
only wanted to check and see if there were any new member requests.

There she was. No mysterious or obscure email address.
Her
initials,
her
last name. She’d taken the time to check it out. He took a
steadying breath and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it tightly
against his scalp before reaching for a hair tie and securing it in a tiny
ponytail at the nape of his neck. Then he opened her email.

I’m not into the lifestyle by
any means, which is why some of the other sites are unappealing to me. I found
this site by accident and feel the chat room might be the perfect place for me
to get some insight and some answers.

I’ve had one experience with
bondage and found it to be appealing, not only on a titillation level but, more
importantly, for the serenity it briefly provided.

I’m not sure what I’m hoping to
get from being a part of the chat group, other than a better understanding of
what I want at this stage in my life. Thank you for your consideration.

“Concise,” Chris said, looking at the time stamp of her
email. Two hours ago. She wouldn’t be online, not if she had to get up and go
to work. His gut clenched, the acid in his stomach suddenly churning. “Fuck.”

Did she even have a job? He hadn’t given that a thought
until now. He knew from enough passing conversation at the bar that her late
husband had been considerably older and that he’d gone pretty quickly from
cancer. Chris racked his brain, trying to remember if she or her friends had
ever mentioned a career. Something other than charity-centered activities.
Something a bit less highbrow. He couldn’t remember a damn thing.

“Great.” He did not need another rich girl trying to take a
walk on the wild side. He’d done that more than a few times and it never ended
well. He wasn’t looking for a session of titillation. No. He wanted something
far more rewarding with Isabel. Something that would have her hot and wanting
from the get-go. Something that would leave her unhinged to some extent.
Something that would keep her on her toes.

An image of her wearing thigh-high latex boots with six-inch
heels flashed through his mind and he ground the heels of his hands against his
temples. He’d listened to enough relationship chatter to know one of the major
tenets was not looking too anxious. If he were contacting her on a dating site,
there’d be all sorts of crazy-ass, hidden-agenda rules to consider.

But MySecretMaster wasn’t for dating. Not in the least. He
clicked on the button that would allow her request, ready to respond with the
standard welcome greeting. Chris stared at her screen name and tried not to
grimace.

It could have used a little more thought. Every Dom, whether
experienced, apprenticing or just hopeful, would be chatting her up.

CURIOUS2aFault.

He reset the
Options
to alert him to new chat
messages and plopped down on the couch, killing the volume on the television.
“Curious, Izzi? Let’s just see how much.”

* * * * *

Welcome to MySecretMaster,
CURIOUS2aFault!

Isabel stared at the email until her eyes hurt then, with
more than a little trepidation she clicked on the text, prepared to read the
note. It was a standard greeting email. It outlined the basics, urged her to
ask questions since the Dom On Call was there for her benefit.

She hadn’t thought about the fact there might be more than
one of them and her excitement suddenly plummeted. How would she know which one
had been at the bar? She couldn’t very well ask something like that on a public
loop. While she wanted to protect her privacy, she wouldn’t dream of intruding
on his. A link at the bottom of the email would take her directly to the chat,
maybe she should just click on that and go for broke. She glanced at the clock.
Half past five in the morning. She doubted anyone was up asking questions this
early and clicked over to the loop.

Join me in extending a warm
welcome to the following new members: MJfromRNC, beachyone, LEGALEAGLE1958, and
CURIOUS2aFault. Remember chat etiquette and patience at all times. Anyone
comfortable sharing their first-time chat story with our newbies will be
registered for a $15 gift card!

Isabel stared at the lines of greetings that followed the
post. There were a handful of stories outlining first chats, most of them
conveying at least a small sense of the apprehension she was feeling but all
proclaimed high praise for the members and, most importantly, MSMaster. She
read post after post and got the feeling there was only one Dom and he was a
god among men. She wondered if he ever offered to train personally and the
impropriety of that seeped into her body and made her shiver. What the hell was
she thinking?

She sent a quick note of thanks to the group in general,
answering some of the more innocuous questions, such as how long she’d been
curious and if she’d ever had any incidences of bondage in the past. Was it the
BD she was interested in specifically or more the D/s? Or was it SM? Fifteen
minutes later she had searched online for each pairing of terms so she knew
what exactly was being asked and sent specific replies to the ones who had
asked particular questions.

Never before had she given much thought to what she actually
liked. It wasn’t the S&M stuff, that much was certain. She had learned she
didn’t mind a little discomfort or the occasional jolt of pain, as long as it
was followed by a soothing, reciprocally rewarding motion. Her fantasies
revolved around being bound and her inability to get away from her tormentor.
Just the thought made her a bit tingly and she pushed away from the computer,
intent on making a cup of tea.

Good morning, CURIOUS. You’re up
early
J

It was from him—MSMaster. She leaned forward and typed a
quick reply but, unsure how to address him, she hesitated. She typed another
sentence and sent it:

Good morning. I’m an early
riser. And I don’t know how to address you. My apologies. Thank you for
accepting my request.

His reply was quick.

Not to worry. You may call me
MSM or just Master if you wish. I won’t take you to task. Not yet, at least,
lol. And a suggestion, you should go into the Options area and create a
signature line so you don’t have to sign each message by hand. People like to
see a signature.

Isabel smiled and typed, deciding it was wiser not to ask
why his posts didn’t include a signature but his tone invited a bit of
lightheartedness.

Thanks for your beneficence,
MSM. From past posts I’ve read, it’s clear everyone adores and respects you.
I’ll go now and fix the signature thing.

When he didn’t respond she sent another note.

I’ve got it figured out. Hope
it’s fine to abbreviate C2aF

It seemed juvenile, the short interaction, but she didn’t
know what else to say.

Ask me a question. Ask me
something you’re really struggling with. I can give you my undivided attention
at the present time.

Isabel realized he’d offered her a golden carrot. It was
much like a confidential meeting with the person within a corporation who held
the charitable-benefits’ purse strings. Or an audience with a celebrity and she
racked her brain to think of the perfect question. Seconds ticked by and she
started to sweat. She needed to say something but everything seemed
inappropriate to share.