Read Bondage Ranch 6: Taming the Mistress Online
Authors: Sindra van Yssel
Tags: #BDSM; Contemporary
Bondage Ranch 6: Taming the Mistress
Loose Id Titles by Sindra van Yssel
Bondage Ranch 6:
TAMING THE MISTRESS
Sindra van Yssel
www.loose-id.com
Bondage Ranch 6: Taming the Mistress
Copyright © June 2014 by Sindra van Yssel
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
eISBN 9781623006082
Editor: Jana Armstrong
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde
Published in the United States of America
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San Francisco CA 94104-0806
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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Chapter One
I’m looking fine tonight.
Sue Taylor, better known to the denizens of Bondage Ranch as Mistress Sue, walked into the dungeon dressed to kill. As much cleavage as she could manage threatened to spill over her tight and shiny black leather bustier. A matching miniskirt, with buckles, revealed a glimpse of flesh above thigh-high patent leather boots. Her heels clicked on the polished floor. The room was used as a ballroom most of the year, but right now, it was kink central.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been here without at least one date lined up
. Originally, Keith, a submissive from New York, was supposed to meet her there. But Keith suddenly remembered he was married, so that was the end of that. She cursed herself for the naïveté that had let her go months without suspecting. She didn’t even have love as an excuse. She was never in love with Keith. But more and more of her friends had steady partners, and it was annoying to have to find someone new all the time.
She’d been tempted to stay home. She had a stack of science fiction lined up and enough microwaveable meals to last all weekend. She’d barely have to get out of bed. But that would be chicken.
I’ll find someone easily enough.
A naked woman on a table screamed and bucked as red wax was dripped onto her breasts. Then she took a deep breath as the wax rapidly cooled. Sue smiled as she inhaled the scent of paraffin. The woman looked like she was having a good time, and so did her dom, a big African American male in tight leather pants. For a moment, Sue imagined what it would feel like to be bound and helpless like the woman, in the hands of someone she trusted. It had been a long time since she’d felt that.
A very long time.
She looked across the room to where Bruce, a tall dom, was tying up his curvy brunette wife, Laera. He had her leg tied to a winch hanging from the ceiling. Soon, Laera would be completely in the air, held secure by Bruce’s expert knots. Then he would tie and retie the knots to move her about almost as if she were a puppet. Laera was already blissed out, her eyes half closed and a beatific smile teasing her lips.
Bruce had been the last man ever to tie Sue up. He’d learned a lot of skills since then, but he was still the same man. Gentle, caring, firm. Sue hadn’t wanted to let him go, but she’d known from the start their relationship wasn’t built to last. It was almost right but not quite, and she never put a finger on what was missing. Sometimes she told herself she wasn’t cut out to be a submissive and had always been destined to be a domme. She suspected that wasn’t quite right either. Bruce had taken her to a club in Philadelphia. The first couple of times, she’d gone as his sub, but the last time had been just as a friend. A man had approached her and called her Mistress, and men had been doing it ever since.
She crossed the room to a chair in the corner. There were six of the chairs scattered about, and they were new. Sitting on small wooden platforms with ornate black metal arms and legs and soft, dark velvet cushions, they were almost thrones. Each came in a different color with a matching cushion in front of it. Clearly, the chairs were for dominants, and the cushions for submissives. Sue headed for a dark red chair that matched her shade of her lipstick. She sat and crossed her legs. It was a good way to show off her spike heels. Subs loved spike heels and the air of menace they created.
It won’t be long until I get some male attention.
In fact, a man was staring at her now from across the room, and she locked gazes with him for a moment. He held her gaze, rather than averting as so many submissives did, until she was certain he was a dominant. And what a physical specimen! He had dark, tanned skin. Bare chested save for a diagonal black leather strap, he had exquisitely defined pecs and six-pack abs. A black tattoo of a dragon snaked up his muscled shoulder. Long blond hair. He was even taller than Bruce. And he was wearing a steel-gray kilt with confidence.
Whatcha got on underneath the kilt?
Sue would be almost shocked if a man like that wasn’t going commando.
Crap. So not your type
. Sue looked away and realized she had averted
her
gaze this time.
“Ma’am?”
Sue turned and noticed a woman standing nearby. Dark brown hair flowed generously over her shoulders, and she wore a lacy black teddy through which Sue could clearly make out dusky nipples. The woman was looking at the floor or perhaps at Sue’s boots. Sue had seen her before.
Melanie? I think that’s her name.
“Yes?” Sue answered.
“If Ma’am would be interested in using this one as a submissive this evening, this one would be honored.”
Sue ground her teeth. What was wrong or unsubmissive about using the word “I”? Formal language could be a lot of fun, but she’d never cared for people talking about themselves in the third person. “What’s your name?”
“Melanie. Unless it pleases you for it to be otherwise, Ma’am.”
Sue leaned back and considered. She occasionally topped women, although it wasn’t her thing. Still, BDSM didn’t always have to be about sex, and she didn’t have to be sexually attracted to enjoy using her skills with a flogger. The other reason she played with women, if she was going to be perfectly honest, was that men thought it was hot, and she liked men thinking she was hot. A nice public scene would pass the time and possibly attract interest from others. She was normally quite comfortable alone, but Bondage Ranch was different. Being alone where so many were being sexual together in public ate at her self-esteem. And yet she knew she would not have to wait long. Even when she brought a submissive to the weekend getaways, people made offers.
She wondered what the man in the kilt would think. Would he watch her play with another woman? Want a threesome perhaps? Melanie would probably like receiving attention from two dominants. Sue frowned at her emotional response.
Why do I care what he thinks?
“Melanie is fine. What do you want done to you?” Sue tried to will the sub to meet her gaze.
Melanie stared resolutely at the floor. “Whatever Ma’am wishes.”
Sue rolled her eyes. Everyone had limits, with the possible exception of crazy people. Everyone had desires of their own too. “What I wish is for you to answer the fucking question.”
That made Melanie’s eyes jerk up. “Ma’am?” Melanie looked genuinely scared, which was ridiculous.
Sue took a deep breath. She hadn’t always had such a short temper. Top’s disease, they called it, when a dominant got so used to being obeyed they quit using common courtesy. She tried again. “When a dominant asks you a question, they probably want an answer, not an evasion. Now then, what would you like to have done to you?”
“This one tries not to have expectations.”
“Maybe you should start,” Sue suggested as gently as she could. “You’ll have better scenes. Please answer the question.”
“Um, maybe some needle play? May this one kneel, Ma’am?”
Sue wasn’t into needles. With some effort, she’d gotten to the point where she didn’t feel sick at the sight of people playing with them and didn’t have to turn away. She could smile politely and say, “Nice scene.”
Obviously her face betrayed her because Melanie quickly added, “Or anything else that pleases you, Ma’am.” She started to kneel on the cushion.
“No.”
“Ma’am?” Melanie stopped in an awkward position, her knees bent.
“No, thank you, Melanie. Not today. Possibly Sir Gardner would be interested.” Sue knew he’d done those kinds of scenes before. Just because it wasn’t her thing didn’t mean she didn’t want other people having their fun. Hopefully not in her direct view.
“Was hoping for a Mistress, Ma’am.” Melanie straightened.
“Valerie likes to do all sorts of things.”
“She’s a switch.” It was said with obvious disgust.
Sue wondered how Melanie would feel if she knew Sue had once been a submissive too. “Sometimes that’s a good thing. If your top knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end, they may have a better idea of how to make you feel good as well. And think about it. What’s sexier, a top brave enough to face what you’re being subjected to, or one that isn’t?”
“Doms shouldn’t submit. They should be too strong for that.”
Sue smiled, even though she disagreed. It was good to hear Melanie argue. It meant the girl had a little spunk after all. It might be interesting to try to bring that out, but Sue wasn’t sure the pleasure would be mutual. Melanie didn’t seem to want to have a backbone. Hopefully, she’d get there. In an attempt to soften the blow of rejection, she said, truthfully enough, “I’m afraid I prefer men.”
“Oh. Sorry, Ma’am.” Melanie took one step backward, turned, and walked away.
Sue leaned back again. What was it like to offer yourself, so much of yourself, and then be turned down? Not that Melanie was really willing to do
anything
, but still. To say it and then be told no. Sue couldn’t let that force her to do something she didn’t want to do, but she sympathized.
Then the memory of Bruce setting her free came back, and she remembered all too well what it felt like. She could only take that kind of pain once. She couldn’t give her all to someone and risk him not wanting her. Being a domme was easier. She dressed up, and people approached her. When she approached a prospective sub, it didn’t hurt nearly as much to be told, “No, I don’t want you to hit my cock with a ruler,” as it would have to be told, “I don’t want your submission.” Not wanting to have one’s privates tortured seemed perfectly reasonable, and she wouldn’t take it personally.
