B is for… (2 page)

The woman in the picture was gorgeous—soft red curls framed her classically beautiful face and soft, kissable lips. In the photo she was wearing a ruffled white corset, lace panties, and stockings printed with pink hearts, which showed off her lush figure. She was the kind of sub who liked to be cuddled and kissed, and to squirm and giggle while being spanked.

The women Xavier played with made a lot of noises, but they didn’t giggle.

“Mae is a lovely sub.” James clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t let her looks fool you. She’s also very smart and has a quick wit. She’s a pleasure to talk to.”

“I’m not looking for a fucking therapist.” Xavier rubbed his cheek just under the edge of his mask.

James shrugged. “I didn’t say she was one.”

“Isn’t she the one who did that ribbon bondage presentation?” Occasionally members hosted demonstrations. The last time he’d been here there’d been one on “gentle bondage” and he was fairly certain this pretty redhead had been part of it.

What the fuck was the point of gentle bondage?

There was something about her though, a kind of magnetism and confidence that made submission powerful. A weak-willed woman who submitted wasn’t interesting. At the demo she’d been bound to an upholstered ottoman with wide red ribbon and then gently spanked. As uninteresting as he’d found the set-up, he remembered Mae because he’d stayed to watch her, if only because it was impossible to look away.

“Just…try not to break her.” James nodded once and then headed for the door.

Xavier examined the photo one more time. She was the perfect sub…
for someone else
. She was silk ribbon and champagne. He was steel cuffs and whiskey. He needed to find Mistress Faith and get a new assignment. Yet he found himself still standing there, long after the Conclave had cleared out, staring at Mae’s photo.

Shaking his head, he shoved the photo back into the envelope, then pulled out the two checklists inside. Looking first at his own, he scanned the list of things that began with the letter B. It was a long list.

Flipping to Mae’s checklist he read through, cursed, then scanned the “B” section again, sure he was misreading it. He wasn’t.

*****

Mae poured herself another glass of champagne and curled up on a delicate love seat in the lounge of the Subs’ Garden, a pretty suite of rooms reserved exclusively for the use of submissive members of
Las Palmas Oscuras
. It was nearly midnight and there were only a few other subs milling about. Members who hadn’t reserved play time or space for this weekend had gone home. Others were off meeting with their checklist partners, planning when they’d work through their letter. Some were ensconced in playrooms with their Owners or Masters, since the rules said that they had to complete their checklist items within the month, not that they were restricted from any play that wasn’t part of the game.

A few hours after the announcement, Mae had ventured out to see what was happening, and who was playing with whom, in the public spaces. She watched Master Carter drip black wax onto a sub’s nipples—a fairly regular occurrence since Master Carter was a wax connoisseur—and tried to not let herself get too worked up by the woman’s moans of pleasure. A few of her favorite Doms had approached her while she watched the scene, but she’d gently replied that she wasn’t free to play, making sure her smile let them know how much she regretted her reply. It wasn’t a lie, but maybe it wasn’t the whole truth.

In the six hours since the game had been announced, it seemed that club members all knew who their partners were, what their letter was, or at least when they were expected to be here to play. Mae knew nothing. She hadn’t been contacted, either over the loudspeaker system that allowed the Doms to make announcements in the subs-only spaces, or by paper message delivered by a few slaves who’d been tasked to play mail carrier. Envelope after envelope had arrived to the Subs’ Garden, announcement after announcement had been made, but none addressed to Mae.

Taking a sip of champagne, Mae tugged the shoulder of her kimono-style robe up over her shoulder, covering her breast, and tried to keep her mood light. Her emotions were a mess of arousal—which was an almost Pavlovian response to being at Las Palmas, frustrated—since it didn’t seem like a scene or orgasm was coming her way any time soon, angry—that her partner hadn’t contacted her, and worried that somehow, for some reason, she hadn’t been included in the game. Mae wasn’t used to being alone. When she came to play, she never doubted that there would be Doms delighted to have her submit to them, if only to have her sitting on their laps while they drank and chatted.

Polishing off the champagne, she decided it was time to give up hope of being contacted. She’d chosen to come here, to play and be played with, but it seemed that wasn’t going to happen. She could stay the night and see what happened in the morning, using the downtime to get some work done—her phone and tablet were in her locker—but if she was going to work she might as well go home. Plus at home she had a lovely box of toys she could play with.

Letting irritation mask feeling sorry for herself, Mae set her glass down with a snap, glad to have a plan. She was in no shape to drive home immediately, but she could change into her street clothes and get ready to go. Rising to her feet, she left the lounge for the locker room, keying in the code and taking her phone and glasses out of her designer purse. Slipping on the glasses, she started typing an email to her assistant, letting her know that, despite what was on her calendar, she would be available to take meetings and approve designs this weekend.

“Mae?”

Startled by the sound of her name, Mae jumped slightly, knocking the locker door closed. Gabriela, Master Leo’s bonded submissive, was standing in the doorway. She was a lovely Hispanic woman and older than Mae, but maybe not as much as anyone would have guessed. She had waves of lush dark hair and wore a long black silk robe, held closed by an under-bust corset.

“Gabriela, you startled me.” Mae tapped her chest, just over her heart. “I was just going to change.”

“Don’t. Come with me.”

Mae’s stomach muscles tightened and irritation morphed into trepidation. The only people who could send Gabriela to do an errand were the overseers, which meant that they wanted to talk to Mae about something serious. Was she being kicked out? Was that why she hadn’t gotten a letter? The idea of being shut out of Las Palmas was enough to make Mae physically sick.

“Let me put my stuff back in my locker.” She reached for the keypad but stopped when Gabriela spoke.

“Now, Mae.” Gabriela’s tone was soft, but firm. In the hierarchy of club submissives you didn’t get any higher than Gabriela, and only the unwise ignored an order from her.

Tucking her phone and glasses into the sleeve pockets of her robe, Mae followed Gabriela out of the locker room. The abrupt change from ready-to-go-home to mysterious summons left her feeling off balance. If Gabriela had come even thirty minutes earlier Mae would have been prepared, but mentally she’d already started to check out, leaving her submissive side behind.

They left the Subs’ Garden, which did indeed have a native plant garden in the small courtyard around which the submissive-only rooms were arranged. The hallways were mostly empty, with only a few people out and about, most of them wearing the cat-that-ate-the-canary smile that indicated they were in the middle of, or had just finished a scene.

A few minutes later they reached a part of the estate Mae knew existed, but had never been to. The Spanish-style of the buildings meant that everything was arranged around courtyards, and the various playrooms had been named to go along with their gardens. Each court, and each playroom, had different equipment and amenities. The Constellation Court had six rooms, each unsurprisingly named after a constellation, and rooms large enough to accommodate large pieces of bondage equipment. The Sub Rosa Court, where Mae most often found herself, had playrooms modeled after bedrooms or living rooms and were named after famous roses breeds.

For the first time, Mae found herself in the Iron Court, so named because instead of lush plants, the courtyard held a statuary garden, each piece rendered in metal and stone. The figures were those of naked men and women, each shown in some sort of bondage—a stone woman encased in bands of steel, a bronze male figure with chain wrapped not only around, but seemingly through, his arms and legs. Mae folded her hands together, letting the sleeves fall over them to hide how hard she was clenching her fingers. The Iron Court rooms were for people who liked their BDSM physical and dangerous.

Gabriela stopped at one of the doors. There was no label on it, no name to the place she’d been brought.

The other sub reached over and pushed one shoulder of Mae’s robe down so it pooled at her waist, exposing her right breast. “You’ll be okay.” She knocked three times on the door.

With that Gabriela departed, leaving Mae staring at the closed door with no idea who, or what, was on the other side.

“Come in.”

The muffled words made Mae’s already racing heart beat so hard that she could feel her pulse in her fingertips. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, drawing on her submissive persona.

Everything is going to be fine. They’re just going to explain your part in the game. This room is probably the only one not in use tonight.

Mae arranged her hair over her shoulder, fixed the bow at the small of her back from her double-wrapped sash, quirked her lips in a sexy little smile, then opened the door.

It was a dungeon.

An elegant dungeon, but a dungeon nonetheless.

The floor was massive terra-cotta tiles, cold even through the soles of her shoes. The walls were rough stucco, painted a classic Spanish cream color, but that didn’t make the space seem any less threatening. Metal-studded wood panels, vertical bars, and horizontal boards were mounted around the room, providing plenty of places where someone could be bound. The high ceiling with its exploded wood beams was partially obscured by a grid of pipes, almost like the lighting rigging in a theater. A dark-stained wooden horse and straight backed chair were tucked against the far wall, and there was a stack of padded mats, the kind used for wrestling or in a gym, in the corner by the door.

In the center of the room was a single brown leather armchair. The occupant was hidden by the uneven low lighting. His splayed lower legs were on the edge of a pool of light while his upper body was in shadow. He wore black pants and dark boots.

Mae hesitated on the threshold. Whoever this was, it wasn’t one of the overseers.

“Close the door.” His voice was a delicious low timber, his tone tinged with either impatience or irritation. There was no denying the command in his voice.

Something in that voice called to her, stirred something inside her. The world seemed to spin, as if she were standing in the eye of a hurricane while the madness of the storm whipped around her. It was strange and thrilling to have such an instant and powerful reaction to someone she couldn’t even see. Her self-preservation instinct told her to run, flee this man and this moment before everything changed. Before he changed everything.

But she was a moth to a flame—dangerously curious about something that was undoubtedly hazardous to her sanity.

Mae tugged the door closed, sealing herself in the room with the unknown Dom.

*****

Xavier’s fingers tightened on the arm of the chair until the wood creaked. His palms tingled with the need to touch the beautiful creature who’d just stepped into the playroom.

Mae was even more lovely in person than he remembered, and than her photos showed. Her skin was pale and creamy, making her red hair gleam, but the photo must have been a few years old. In person she was more mature in her face, placing her in her late rather than early twenties. Or perhaps it was the way she was dressed in the photo that made her seem younger. Tonight she wore a short Asian-style robe. It had fallen on one side, leaving her breast exposed. Her nipple was a lovely shade of rose, the tip hardened into a sweet little bud. A wide pink sash around her waist emphasized the curves of her hips. Her legs were bare and she wore black shoes with white puffy things on the toes.

He wanted to rip the clothes from her and cane her ass and breasts until she begged him to fuck her.

Xavier closed his eyes and reined in his impulses. This was exactly why he couldn’t be paired with Mae. Hours of arguing with Mistress Faith and he hadn’t gotten anywhere. He’d been tempted to walk away, forfeiting his membership, but Faith had convinced him to at least meet with the sub, and trust that the rules of the game, and the rules of BDSM, would protect both of them.

Xavier took that to mean that once the pretty Mae met with him she would run screaming from the room. Pre-scene it was the submissive who held all the power, because the sub decided whether the Dom merited the trust needed to proceed. Mae would refuse and he would be free to find another sub to play with for the limited amount of time he had here. Though technically if Mae walked away, she’d be in violation of this ridiculous checklist game, Xavier had made Faith agree not to kick the submissive out if she did indeed run from him.

What Xavier didn’t understand was why Faith was putting him through this. She knew he needed his time here to fight back the darkness inside him. Forcing him to waste a night like this was cruel…which considering the source shouldn’t surprise him.

But whatever lesson Mistress Faith wanted to teach him, Xavier doubted she had any idea how truly torturous this was, because though he and Mae were as different as silk and steel, there was something about her that called to him.

She was smiling slightly when she entered, but the longer she stood there in silence the more the expression faded. Good. He wanted her scared enough to walk away. When she shifted her weight and clasped her hands together, Xavier decided it was probably time to show her exactly what was going on. Placing his hands on the arms of the chair, he rose and stepped into the light.