Working Out the Kinks (Chain)

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Love comes in many forms, even in submission to a Master.

When her childhood friend shows up in her history class completely changed, Alexandra “Lexi” Hayes knows something is wrong. She thinks it might have to do with the mysterious Dr. Eric Pierce she keeps seeing with Whitney. Seeking to help her friend and understand the change, Lexi finds herself drawn to the man. Before she knows it, she’s fallen into his world, and under his control.

Eric Pierce is used to breaking in new subs for other Dominants, but when Lexi shows up in his office, he wants her for himself.
 

Can Lexi learn to let go and submit to her new Master? Or will she run from this chance at love?

CONTENT WARNING: BDSM, punishment, m/f/f sex

A Lyrical Press Erotic Romance

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“So you know Whitney,” he mused casually, keeping his back to me. In shock, I watched him remove the latex gloves on his hands with a loud, snapping noise and toss them into the trash bin in the corner. I felt like a deer in the headlights, caught, and knowing I needed to run or risk my life standing there. And with most of my clothes still discarded on the chair beside me, there wasn’t a good chance I could get out quick enough with my decency still intact.

I mentally told myself to remain calm. To keep relaxed, just as he had told me to do moments ago.

“Yes, she’s my friend,” I said after regaining some composure.

Dr. Pierce spun around on his heel, wearing a new pair of gloves, and returned back to stand between my outstretched legs.

“Why are you here?” he asked me as I felt him touch my thigh. My mouth parted, my breath coming in quick gasps of air. He squeezed my sensitive skin, causing me to suck in my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I want…”

Getting words out was proving to be more than a challenge.

“What do you want, Alexandra?”

His eyes challenged me to speak.

“I want what she has. I want a collar.”

The Chain Series, Book 1

Kara Winters

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Dedication

For Crystal, for everything.

Acknowledgements

Thank you, to everyone in the Community.

I hadn’t realized one of my oldest friends had been sitting in my history class for half of the school semester until our professor had us all up to grab our graded papers. When I reached to scoop up my report on the front desk, our hands briefly touched.

“Oh, sorr–” I stopped myself when I recognized her eyes. “Whitney?”

Her silky, chestnut-colored hair was cut shorter than I remembered, but her eyes gave her away. Whitney’s head remained down the entire time she collected her paper.

She had always been a vibrant person. At barely over five feet in height, her personality was her best trait, next to her beauty. In high school, she was always one of the better friends to have around, as someone who knew all of the gossip and all of the parties. Now, this person who I was staring at in shock had little emotion. She stretched out her hand and took her paper from off the desk with a timid grasp and rushed back to her seat in the back of the classroom.

After more observation, I noticed her eyes had black circles under them and she looked as if she hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in weeks. She looked frail, but what caught my attention when the sunlight streaming in hit her was the strange necklace she had on. It was a simple, choker-like band made of black leather that was tight on her pale skin. In the middle of it, at her neck, hung a plain O-ring that dangled and reflected off the sunlight. It wasn’t like anything I had ever seen before and almost looked like…

“Alexandra Hayes.” The sound of my name brought me out of my daze. Whitney looked over, but when she caught me staring at her, her gaze went straight back to her paper. I turned back to my professor and grabbed my paper from his hand. As I walked back to my seat, I stole another glance at Whitney. She looked like a marble statue instead of a human being.

Through the rest of class, she remained completely still, never opening up her notebook to take notes or even picking up her pencil. I was distracted for the majority of the time, watching her out of the corner of my eye. We had been as close as sisters all throughout grade school. I even remembered her standing up for me when a bully tried attacking me on the playground. We practically lived at each others’ houses each weekend of our last summer together before her parents decided to move out of California, halfway through high school. Like most long-distance friendships, we lost contact with one another. That had been almost six years ago. This was our junior year of college, and I should have been happy to see her in my class after all that time. But there was something unsettling about how she reacted.

Perhaps she didn’t have many friends here. Coming to college had been a bit overwhelming, even for me, and I had stayed in Los Angeles my entire life. Most of my friends had felt it was time to leave LA. But I didn’t want to go far. There was so much here, what would be the point in leaving such a cosmopolitan place?

Class was dismissed, and the other students began packing up while I waited and watched Whitney from afar. She scooped up her belongings and was one of the first to leave the room. Weaving my way around the other students, I stepped outside and she was practically rushing to the parking lot, her head still down, and never looking up.

“Whitney,” I called out to her. She flinched and stopped in her tracks. Hesitantly, she turned her head and looked over at me. Her fearful glance made me halt, and I almost felt that she was giving me a silent warning I shouldn’t have tried getting her attention. Whitney continued walking away, and I picked up my pace.

A slick black Mercedes suddenly appeared at the curb in front of her. The engine purred beautifully when it came to a sharp stop, causing a few passersby to stare in awe. The glass was almost completely tinted, and the only thing I could see inside was a large, shadowy figure in the driver’s seat. The car’s door lifted up, instead of out like most car doors did. A man emerged, wearing a dark suit that hugged his sculpted body. He was dressed impeccably, a perfect match for a car like the one he was driving. His blond hair was parted to one side and stood perfectly still on the top of his head. Not one part of him was out of place. The man’s face was angelic, yet with a hint of something sinister. His jawline trailed down the side of his cheek, and his eyes, a deep blue, were latched onto my every move.

He casually watched Whitney rushing in a quick walk toward him. When I took a few steps closer it caught the man’s attention. His gaze turned to me, and his brows narrowed. My legs froze in place, I was captured in his gaze. The air around me began to feel tighter, closing in from all around.

I suddenly felt as if he was challenging me in a way, controlling me with his gaze and pressuring me to back down. But I didn’t. I just kept staring at him the entire time it took for Whitney rush to the passenger side and slide into the car with ease. The driver finally broke his stare and looked down toward Whitney. With one last glance at me, he sunk back into the car and closed the door behind him.

In the shadow of the darkened window, he finally turned back toward the road and shifted the car into gear to speed off. Whatever had happened to Whitney, I started to feel the man driving was to blame. In the few fleeting seconds I had seen him, I felt I was being held captive by something dark. It was like a lure, the way he had looked at me. As if he knew I wouldn’t resist.

On Wednesday, Whitney didn’t show up to class. A lot of students skipped random class days, but after seeing that man waiting for her in the car, the feeling in my stomach her absence created was unsettling. Was she all right? Would seeing me get her into trouble? I’d only called out for her attention, but was there something else I was missing?

It shouldn’t have been any of my business what Whitney did in her personal life, but concern was running rampant in my brain. There was definitely something wrong with my old friend. After class let out, I headed off campus to walk home. Westwood was a perfect little nook in Los Angeles, filled with housing for students and easy access to local restaurants and bars. The walk to my apartment was several blocks away, and it was the best time for me to exercise my brain outside of school. While taking my time getting home, I began thinking back to everything I knew about Whitney.