Mistress Mine (2 page)
It was a simple white business card with a black back. The
front of the card merely said “1-800-DOM-help” and nothing more. Trey stood
still, staring at it for long seconds before swearing.
“Son of a bitch!” He dropped the pants into the washer and
picked up the phone.
Mike answered on the second ring. “What’s up, man?”
“You asshole.”
“Huh? What’d I do?” His friend sounded genuinely confused.
Trey didn’t buy any of it. “I found the card you slipped
into my pocket. And, by the way, how creepy is that for you to stick your hand
so close to my dick?”
“Are you having some kind of psychotic break or something?
Because dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The guy sounded so sincere, Trey started to have doubts, but
how else could that weird card have ended up in his pants? He took and let out
a deep breath. “All I’m saying is that it’s pretty strange that you were
talking about ball-busting women last night and all of a sudden I find this card
in my pocket about Dom help, whatever the hell that means.”
“Dude, you’ve got a card for what, a hotline?”
“I don’t know. It’s a number, is all. You telling me you
didn’t do this?”
“I swear I know nothing about a card. Sounds like someone
from the club last night slipped it to you, maybe when we squeezed by people to
get out.”
“Maybe.” Trey couldn’t keep the skepticism out of his voice.
It didn’t make any sense. Who else besides Mike had any idea of Trey’s
submissive inclination? It didn’t matter. “Okay, I guess I have to trust the
guy who covered my ass in Kandahar.”
“Damn straight.” Mike paused. “So, what are you going to do
with the card?”
Suspicion pricked again. “I’m throwing it away. Why, what do
you think I should do, call the damn number?” The pressure of facing his sexual
orientation took its toll. He couldn’t keep the anger and frustration out of
his voice.
“No, no,” his friend soothed. “I didn’t say that. Who knows
what kind of weirdo might answer. I don’t want to have to dumpster dive for
your body parts.”
Trey squeezed the bridge of his nose, pulled himself
together. “Yeah, right, sorry, dude. I need to chill. Enjoy the rest of your
Sunday. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Same back at you.”
Trey ended the call and stood still, staring at nothing for
long moments. He did need to pull himself together. It’s not as if he’d
realized he was a cannibal or anything. He didn’t need to hook up with a woman
right away, either. There were limitless fantasies to be lived through the
images on the internet. The night before had proved that. But he couldn’t let
sex get in the way of duty. Ignoring the lure of his computer, he tossed the
card in a trashcan and went back to cleaning. A couple of hours later, he
decided the place was clean enough and sat down at his desk.
As soon as he reached for the mouse, his hand touched the
business card. Eyebrows raised, he picked up what he was sure he had thrown
away. “What the fuck,” he muttered. Maybe Mike was right, he was having some
kind of mental breakdown. Could he have subconsciously picked this thing out of
the trash? Was it possible he never threw it away in the first place, only
thought he had? Well, those were the only two options. Either way, the
possibility of the woman of his dreams only a phone call away intrigued him. He
spent a few more seconds wrestling with his saner half before picking up the
phone and dialing the number.
A male voice answered on the first ring. “Thank you for
calling 1-800-DOM-help. This is the Operator. How may I be of assistance?”
Okay, not what he was expecting. It was like calling Judy at
Time-Life
for a magazine subscription. A bit stunned, Trey didn’t know
what to say.
“How may I be of assistance?” The man persisted in a calm,
yet firm, tone.
“I’m not sure.” Having found his voice, Trey still didn’t
know how to respond.
“Are you a Dom or a sub, sir?”
“I-I am a sub, a submissive looking for a Domme.” Wow, as
hard as it was to admit it, saying what he was and what he looked for out loud
lifted a weight that had been crushing him slowly to death. “I’m not sure how
to go about finding the right woman,” he added, emboldened, now.
“I understand. I see that you are calling from Boston.
Please write down the following address. You will find a club called Unfettered
at that location. You will find what you need at the club.”
Trey stared at the address. If accurate, it put the club
inside what was known as the Leather District. Nice touch, he supposed,
although the name of that area of Boston was tied to old factories, not
fetishes. It surprised him to learn that Boston had a BDSM club at all.
Massachusetts laws frowned on even consensual sadism. This had to be a very
private club, and if it wasn’t, the last thing he needed as a law enforcer was
to be picked up in a raid.
“Um, can I go there without an invitation?”
“You just received one.”
“I see. When is it open?”
“Whenever you want it to be.”
Trey was skeptical. “Tonight?”
“Do you want it to be open tonight?”
“Yes.”
Maybe.
“Then it will be open tonight,” came the mild retort.
“Okay. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The line went dead before Trey could ask anything more. He
stared at what he had written down the same way he had stared at the card
earlier. It all seemed so unreal. Yet, the idea of going to the club made his
heart beat faster, part fear, part arousal, a testament to his ambivalence. His
cock had no such qualms. It was hard and pulsing with need. Shit, he had to go.
He had to at least try this lifestyle. So what if he didn’t know what to
expect? So what if the club might prove weird or even dangerous? He was a
combat soldier and an FBI field agent. He walked into the unknown and the
dangerous all the time. Like all those other times, this was a matter of doing
what was right, a matter of life and if not death, at least a matter of
happiness. His happiness for the rest of his life. If he didn’t at least
explore this side of him, he would die regretting it.
Resolved to try the club that very night because, hey, the
guy said it would be open tonight if he wanted it to be, there remained one
question left, one that he had never pondered before in his life. “What the
hell do I wear?”
Chapter Two
Juliette Coyne stood inside Unfettered’s reception area and
took a furtive, deep breath to steady herself. It was a Sunday night, for God’s
sake, a quiet time with few people lounging about. It was in fact the perfect
time for her to test getting back in the lifestyle with a new sub. Any man
hanging out at this time of the week looking for a Domme would be eager and
perhaps not too experienced. The guys already active in the life were probably
home recovering from taxing Friday and Saturday night scenes with their Dommes.
She reminded herself that she had no expectations. She was merely there to
check out the new club a friend had recommended. She wasn’t even sure who had
slipped her the hotline card. All she knew was that it ended up in her purse
and the man who answered her skeptical call had led her to this place.
It certainly had promise. The reception room was spacious
and comfortable looking with its large, chairs and low lighting. Several halls
branched off the main area to what could only be the play chambers. Her clit
tingled at the idea of what she could do in a new dungeon with a new sub,
although she hadn’t come to play necessarily that night. She had dressed in
street clothes, in fact, wearing black slacks and a casual jacket of the same
color. Her blouse was red satin, yet modestly cut to expose only a hint of her
breasts. Even her shoes were fairly sensible sling-back pumps with two-inch
heels. The only outward sign of her sexual orientation was the black and red
suede flogger dangling from her left wrist. It was a beautiful tool, hand-made
with alternating colored lacing up the handle. It was her favorite,
notwithstanding the rather delicate nature of suede.
Holding it, allowing it to swish gently against her leg,
centered her and reminder her that she was a Domme. It was long past time for
her to shake off the effects of her last sub, Tom. He had been a pretty, young
and clever boy who had topped her from the bottom with subtle brilliance simply
because he could. The secret power play had given him greater satisfaction than
a true Domme/sub relationship would have, and she had trusted him enough to
miss what was happening before he messed with her head and her confidence. She
closed her eyes to block out the sudden memory of the worst of it, the night
she had begun to doubt her ability to dominate and to do so safely.
“Red!”
The safe word tore out of Tom’s mouth, piercing Juliette’s
cloud of pleasure. She froze, the dildo strapped around her hips seated fully
inside her sub’s ass. “What, what’s wrong?” she demanded, her heart racing with
fear. This was the third time in a month that Tom had used his safe word. What
had she done wrong? She had been so careful before introducing pegging to their
play.
“Take it out,” he begged. “It hurts too much. Please,
Mistress.”
As carefully as she could, she eased out of him. Her fingers
caressed his ass cheeks in a motion meant to soothe, while her eyes looked for blood
or any other sign that she had damaged him unintentionally. God, there was no
worse offense for a Domme than to be careless with her sub. If she had truly
hurt him this time, there was no forgiveness, at least she would not forgive
herself. She sighed with relief when she saw nothing wrong and released him
from of his restraints.
Tom collapsed in her arms and hugged her tight. “I’m so
sorry, Mistress. I try to submit to you always, but I’m not strong enough to
take everything.”
His words of contrition clawed at her heart and her
conscience. It wasn’t his job to endure more than he could handle. It was her
duty to give him only what he could. She had screwed up, again. What was wrong
with her?
Gently brushing aside a trickle of tears from the corner of his
eyes, she said, “No, I’m the one who is sorry, so sorry. I’ll take better care
of you, I promise, if you’ll let me.”
“Of course, Mistress. I want you, I trust you.”
She had missed that night the look of triumph that she knew
he must have sported. Instead, she had scaled down their play, questioning her
own moves, asking him at every turn if he was okay with what she did. Bit by
bit, losing her confidence, losing her own joy in dominating. It had taken her
months to catch the cocky, furtive grin he wore whenever he got his way, to
realize how she was being played. Confronting Tom and breaking with him had
been easy, fueled as it was by her rage. Many months more were needed, however,
for her to recover her confidence. She was a good Domme. She knew how to take
care of a boy properly. Tom had been an anomaly. She told herself that and she
believed it, mostly. There was a part of her still that was unsure. Finding a
new boy to play with, an older one, though, more mature, perhaps to introduce
to the lifestyle would banish the last of her lingering doubt forever. She
wasn’t looking for a guy to commit to. This was all about having fun.
“Good evening.” A woman who could have been Juliette’s
sister given her slender build, long black hair and blue eyes, stepped in front
of her and greeted her with a smile. “Welcome to Unfettered. I’m Dru, the
manager.”
Juliette looked down at the other woman because even with
short heels, she towered over the petite manager. “Thank you,” she smiled back.
“I’m Mistress Juliette.”
Dru inclined her head. “I can assume, then, you are looking
for a boy to play with this evening.”
“Perhaps. I’m in the market for someone untrained.” Someone
who hopefully wouldn’t have had a chance to develop bad habits and manipulative
ways. “I don’t suppose this club sees many of those.”
“As a matter of fact, there’s someone here tonight who would
fit the bill.” Turning slightly, Dru nodded her head toward a man sitting at
the far end of the bar.
Juliette had missed him in her first glance of the room. His
age from that distance was hard to determine, although he appeared to be in his
early thirties. Damn, younger than she by a good seven years or so, although
not as young as Tom had been. Thirties was okay, she reasoned, a mature decade
for men. His hair was short and dark. He was dressed in jeans and a dark
colored t-shirt and what appeared to be sneakers. As slouched over the bar as
he was, his legs still looked long, implying height. His body certainly
appeared lean and hard. His gaze was focused on the glass in front of him, his
expression neutral, conveying a sense of “I don’t give a fuck”. To most people,
the man screamed alpha male, and therefore, Dom. She knew better. Her body went
on high alert at the sight. Her nipples hardened against her shirt and wetness
seeped into her nether lips.
She grasped her flogger, her fingers itching for action.
“Are you sure he isn’t waiting for someone?” Her voice sounded breathless to
her own ears. She glanced at Dru and the other woman smiled.
“I didn’t say that. He’s definitely waiting for a woman to
help him be the man he is.” With that cryptic response, the manager turned and
walked away.
Juliette stared after her, waging an internal battle. When
she had left her condo, she had told herself she was only going to check out
the place and the people. Wade in a little to test the waters. She was not
prepared to start something with a new boy. Still, the man intrigued her.
Strong, overtly masculine, the kind of man who liked to be in charge, except
that when she commanded, he would obey. She suppressed a moan at the thought.
Nothing aroused her passion as much as a powerful man submitting to her will.
She couldn’t pass by this opportunity. If she let him go, some other Domme
would snatch him up in a flash. It didn’t have to be forever. Hell, it didn’t
have to be more than this one night. She had to take this first step before her
fear made it impossible to take any step at all.
