Claimed (9 page)

Cora’s eyes crinkled. “You’re sexy as hell, Presley. What won’t he like?”

“I don’t know.” She hated to admit this, since she sounded so damn insecure—leftovers from Steven’s betrayal, she was sure—but nonetheless it was something she couldn’t ignore. With the comfort of her friend, she spelled out the truth. “What if he gets me into the scene and realizes I’m boring?”

“Honey . . .” Cora gave a shrewd grin. “A D/s relationship is intense. Believe me, Dmitri won’t allow for you to be boring.”

Presley could only hope she didn’t take the award for the worst submissive of all time. Before she could spit out another round of questions, her cell phone beeped, and she reached for it on the coffee table. Once she glanced at the screen and saw the message was from Steven, she wished she hadn’t looked.

It was great seeing you yesterday. Can we talk?

Terrific, just what she needed to add to her already unstable mood. Why was Steven taking an interest in her again, anyway? Until she’d seen him at Scores, it had been a good month without any contact at all, which she preferred. Perhaps because he’d heard she was dating someone else, he now wondered about her life. Perfect. Her desire to stick it to him had made him . . . what . . . jealous? The thought nearly made her laugh, since he was the one who’d cheated. Sometimes—most of the time—men made no sense at all.

“Who is it?” Cora asked.

Presley hit the delete button, not wanting Cora to get peeved; she certainly didn’t want to give Steven a second thought. He’d get the hint soon enough from her ignoring him. It had worked last time, after she’d told him for the hundredth time that she couldn’t forgive him and she didn’t want to be friends. She hadn’t a doubt in her mind that it’d work again.

Lifting her head, she put on her most innocent smile. “No one important.” She placed her cell phone on the coffee table. “But we do have something important to discuss.” At Cora’s curious brow, she added, “Proper kneeling position and must-have hard limits.”

Chapter Eight

Later that night, Presley arrived at the mansion with Cora, and Dmitri took her to his office to fill out the limits section of her agreement, which would be in effect until her training concluded. After that, a new agreement would need to be drafted, limits stated, and the document re-signed.

The club had certain hard limits that were nonnegotiable:
No fire play. No catheters or enemas. No breath play. No urination or defecation. No knives, needles, piercing, cutting, or blood.
If a Dom or submissive didn’t agree to those terms, Club Sin wasn’t the dungeon for them. There were other Vegas clubs that allowed such play, or so Dmitri had told her. His club, his rules, he said.

Presley was perfectly happy with the rules, since every one of those suggestions, she would’ve added to her hard limits in big bold writing. She had added one soft limit: No intercourse in the dungeon. The thought of having sex in front of a crowd paralyzed her, though it didn’t outright horrify her. Maybe she’d be open to such an experience at some point, but right now, she couldn’t go there.

With the help of Cora earlier that day, she had come up with her hard limits and added to the agreement: No permanent marks on the skin. No humiliation. No clothespins. No speculums. No fisting. No group sex. No touching by any Dom other than Master Dmitri on mouth, breasts, vagina, or anus.

The latter had been the only one Dmitri discussed with her because she had first written
No touching by any other Dom than Master Dmitri,
and he had requested that she add
on mouth, breasts, vagina, or anus,
since he might require the assistance of another Dom. He had told her with his sexy smile, “Sometimes four hands are better than two for tying ropes and such.”

As long as no one else touched her womanly areas or expected sex acts from her, Presley didn’t mind his request. With a full-out blush, she moved on to sex toys and agreed to everything from a flogger and a whip, to bondage with rope and leather cuffs, to the use of vibrators and dildos.

Once she signed the limit page of her agreement, Dmitri gave it a good long read before he put it in her file. Then he turned to her and asked, “Did you masturbate last night when you got home from the dungeon, thinking of what you saw?”

“Yes.” Her cheeks burned. “Once this morning, too.”

He studied her; a slow smile filled his face. “Did you think of me doing those things to you?”

She hesitated then nodded.

“Good.” Leaning down toward her, and with his warm breath caressing her face, he murmured, “You should only think of me now, as I am your Dom. But your orgasms belong to me. Those were your freebies. You don’t masturbate unless I allow it.”

After that interesting conversation, leaving her revving high, Master Dmitri had taken her into the dungeon. Then he had become an ass—a totally smokin’-hot ass, but still an
ass
who continued to tease her all night. Last night had been much easier, when he simply watched her explore. For the three hours she stayed in the dungeon, he’d approach to make her wonder if they’d scene, then he’d leave her.

Now he had returned to the couch she sat upon for the umpteenth time after Cora went off with Master Aidan. “It’s time to play, doll,” he said with the same devilish expression she’d seen all night.

Presley hesitated, waiting for the follow-up of
later, that is
. She’d given up on asking him if he was serious. This time he simply grinned at her with dark, delicious eyes. “Now, sir?” she asked.

He offered his hand. “Yes, Presley, now.” The side of his mouth curved. “I do believe if I don’t take you into a scene soon, you might combust.”

She laughed, realizing he’d done this little game to relax her, since she wasn’t nearly as nervous as when he’d approached her the first five times. She pressed her hand into his firm touch, his presence of power wrapped around her in a sensual embrace, and he led her through the dungeon.

Tonight Club Sin seemed busier. To her pleasure, as they strode through the dimly lit dungeon and passed the available spanking bench, no one paid any attention to her. She hoped it remained that way, considering she didn’t want to become the focal point of the evening’s entertainment.

The music playing in the club tonight sounded closer to hard rock without the lyrics. Beneath the guitars and drums, all she could hear—sense—around her was the sexually charged environment, with erotic noises coming from every corner of the room.

She glanced up at the Dom holding her hand, and her cheeks warmed. A slow heat slid over her: Soon this gorgeous man would touch her in the places that would warrant her to moan in pleasure. Maybe even groan from a firm slap on her bottom. Her mouth dried, and a harsh shiver rushed along her spine.

A low chuckle snapped her out of her thoughts, and Presley blinked, realizing that yet again Master Dmitri had caught her ogling him. He winked. “Stay here, love.”

Following his every fluid and powerful step, Presley watched him grab a cart from against the wall, then he approached his locker. Irritating her to no end, he took out the items and placed them on the cart, covering the tray with a black sheet before she got a good look.

On his approach, Presley swallowed, desperate to get saliva into her mouth, and Master Dmitri gave her a heated smile. Without saying a word—while Presley read the raw and rich excitement in his gaze—he took her hand and led her forward. She stayed just a bit behind him as he pushed the cart.

They traveled through the dungeon and passed a scene that had attracted a crowd. Presley noticed that the submissive to her right was hog-tied on the dungeon’s floor while Master Sawyer used a flogger on her, impeccably hard.

Ouch!

While the scene looked mildly painful, what bothered Presley more was the sizzle forming between her thighs and the rush of moisture making her panties feel tight. Her mind refused to accept the thought of pain being pleasurable, but her body betrayed her, heating in all the right places and throbbing to experience such a sensation.

With that confusing mess rushing through her mind, she looked away from the scene as Master Dmitri led her into a cubbyhole of sorts at the back of the dungeon. Not a closed-off room, but to the left of the doorway and hidden by the stone wall.

He released her hand and she looked up to him, catching him staring at her. He arched a brow over eyes that positively glowed. “I’m being kind to you by not playing with you in front of a crowd for your first scene. I do believe I should be thanked.”

“Thank you, sir,” she responded in haste.

His mouth twitched. “Very nice.”

She figured he’d given her another lesson, and she took it as such. Clearly, whenever Master Dmitri did something generous, he expected gratitude. Which she didn’t mind; heck, she did appreciate not going through this event with a crowd watching.

However, at that scary thought, she swallowed hard, and those hidden nerves flared within. The air in the space became thicker and her heart rate faster. She had wondered if the nervous edge had worn off, but apparently, it hadn’t.

Master Dmitri’s playful game had made her comfortable tonight. Now she was reminded exactly what she was here to do. She clenched her hands in front of her and fought against her desire to turn and leave.

With tingles rushing through her limbs and sweat sliding down her spine, she scanned the small room. There wasn’t much to the space: a black wooden platform, which she didn’t doubt she’d stand on, at the back of the room, surrounded by the stone walls.

A sudden scuffle came to her, and when she glanced at Master Dmitri, he turned on a light, casting the space in a warm glow. She didn’t have to look to realize the platform had spotlights on it, but why prolong the inevitable? With force, she glanced over and . . .
oh, shit.

The stage, completely lit up with nowhere to hide, stood before her, and the little strands of bravery keeping her feet in place plummeted. She considered the quickest way to get out.

“So much fear, doll,” Master Dmitri murmured, turning her to him and wrapping an arm around her waist. His intense but amused eyes twinkled at her. He cupped the side of her cheek, brushing a thumb over her face, and here, in his arms, she noticed that the panic lifted. Her unease about the event ahead wasn’t erased, but she forgot about the impulse to exit. She liked him holding her. But why wouldn’t she? The man was God’s gift to submissives.

He gently pushed on her chest and urged her to walk backward. At the platform, he lifted her, as if she weighed nothing at all, and placed her upon the stage. Then he did a full once-over, examining the black minidress she’d borrowed from Cora. When his eyes caught hers, his smile was genuine. “You’re incredibly beautiful, Presley.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Cora was right—Master Dmitri gave many compliments. All through the night, he’d whispered the sweetest things to her. In the short amount of time she’d known him, he’d complimented her more than . . .

Had anyone ever complimented her?

Master Dmitri studied her, and in that awkward pause, Presley took a second to glance around and try to calm herself, realizing a second later the feat was impossible. The spotlights weren’t like the ones she remembered from the ballet classes she’d taken as a youngster. When she performed, she could never see out into the audience, but Dmitri’s sexy half-grin was all too visible.

“Now,” he said in the commanding voice, garnering her full attention, “while you look lovely as you are, I prefer having your body available to me.” He ran his finger down her cheek, along her neck, over her shoulder, then stepped back. “Strip.”

First, she fought to center her thoughts. His touch seemed imprinted along her skin, which caused tingles in the places his finger had traveled. Second, she realized what he had told her to do.

Nudity had never been a comfortable position for her, but to go ahead with the scene, she needed to be bare. Besides, she’d seen nude submissives, played with in front of a crowd. Hell, she’d been practically naked at the visit with the doctor, Mary, who was a complete stranger.

In the past, she never would have done anything like this, but she reminded herself that was why she’d joined the dungeon—to be bold and do something out of character. Being the perfect angel who always played it safe and followed the rules got her nothing but heartbroken.

With the
old her
and the
new her
battling it out, Presley put distance between Master Dmitri and herself. If she could get naked in front of Mary with little stress or without dying from embarrassment, she could do the same now.

“Closing yourself off?” Master Dmitri smirked. “That’s one way to do it. For now, I’ll go along with that.”

With haste, so as not to lose her conviction, she removed her heels, shed her dress, which left her in a black lace shelf bra and matching thong. Nibbling her lip, she watched Master Dmitri as he studied her in return, waiting patiently.

Who was she fooling? This wasn’t like being at the doctor’s office. There wasn’t the cold reserve in Master Dmitri’s eyes. His intense gaze burned a fiery inferno into her core, sending an electrifying buzz within.

You can do this . . .

She reached back and unclipped her bra, letting the straps fall gingerly down her arms. Then she tossed it into the pile of her clothes on the hardwood floor. The warm air caressed her nipples, making them pucker and deepening her breath.

Master Dmitri’s focus slowly lowered to her breasts, and he searched her flesh from left to right with an intoxicating look. The heat in his features mixed with the clench of his jaw, causing Presley to squirm under his obvious approval of her naked body.

So, then, why couldn’t she take her panties off?

Master Dmitri’s mouth curved as he stepped in close to her. On the platform, she met him eye to eye. “You’ve got perfect breasts. Look at those tiny nipples awaiting me.”

As he brushed a finger over her taut buds, her knees weakened to finally feel his educated hands on her skin. Every single apprehension washed away, and as he tweaked the buds, dampness spread into her panties, making them constrict around her.