Chapter One 3 page

As she made a fresh pot of coffee, she breathed in the heady fragrance of the aromatic grounds. No cheap coffee for this household. A few minutes later, she poured herself a nice full cup and walked into the sunny breakfast nook. Skirting the antique table and chairs in the center of the room, she chose the couch under a window with a magnificent view of Puget Sound and the mountains turning pink with the rising sun.

When she sat, her still-tender bottom touched the cushions, making her squeak, then scowl at the unwelcome reminder of yesterday.

What a mess. And she'd created it all by herself. She thudded her head on the back of the couch: dumb, dumb, dumb. How could she have been so lacking in morals? God, she would never, ever open a locked door again.

But how that man had the nerve to spank her, she didn't know. And then he'd pretty much blackmailed her into cooperating with him. Done a good job of it too. She'd spent most of last night going over her predicament and hadn't discovered any way out of it. With his connections, he could help her secure a job—or could sink her just as easily.

It was the submissive stuff that really sent a chill creeping up her spine. She'd spent enough time in the BDSM clubs to know some of what went on. How could she possibly trust this stranger to…to tie her up or to… Then again, he already had, hadn't he?

He'd had her at his mercy on that bench. Frowning, she took a sip of coffee. In her opinion, spanking her had been way over the top, but considering he'd found her exploring his private dungeon, maybe he'd figured she deserved it. Yet despite his fury and all the nasty whips and floggers and canes available on the wall, he'd contented himself with five swats from his bare hand.

“Five swats.” The memory of his voice made a shiver run up her spine. But the man hadn't groped her or done anything remotely sexual, despite her nakedness. Her breath eased out, and her muscles relaxed. Maybe…maybe this would work.

Toenails clicked dully across the marble tile floor of the sunroom, and then Butler trotted over to her, his tail wagging furiously. He put a big head on her knee and gazed at her in adoration.

“Good morning, sweetie.” She sent the dog into ecstasy by scratching his sides. “Did you sleep with the brute last night?”

“Actually, the brute makes him sleep in his dog bed on the floor.” Alex strolled into the room, holding a cup of coffee, and sat down on the other end of the couch.

“I—”Good going, Mac. “I'm sorry. Um. Am I supposed to call you something like 'Master' or something?” Something totally wussy?

He chuckled. “MacKensie, there will be times I expect you to be in a submissive role. Certain private parties, at the club, and occasionally at other times if I have friends over who are in the lifestyle. Otherwise we will operate on a fairly equal footing.”

“Fairly equal?” she asked carefully.

He had a dimple in his cheek when he smiled. “From what I've seen, you probably aren't submissive twenty-four hours of the day, just under certain circumstances. Of course, that may change as you find out more about yourself.” He drank some coffee and stretched an arm across the back of the couch, far enough that he could finger her wavy hair. He didn't touch her exactly, just her hair, and yet there was something intimate, almost possessive, about his action. “Now, aside from this being my house, it happens that I'm a dominant; I like my own way. So we will undoubtedly butt heads now and then.”

Well, knowing he really didn't expect her to play kiss up all the time helped, although the thought of arguing with him made her feel a little weak. Look at the way he'd taken over the couch, occupying not only his space but hers also. Just from that alone, she got a pretty clear idea of what he meant when he said dominant.

She wet her dry lips and regretted it immediately when his gaze dropped to her mouth. Somehow she could almost feel his lips on hers. His lips would be firm and—Stay on task, Mac. Appear businesslike and maybe he'll act the same. She could handle business interactions quite competently. She cleared her throat. “Ah. When does all this start? You'll need to give me an idea of what to wear ahead of time and when you expect me to be available.” And just for sheer contrariness, since he'd said she didn't have to be under his thumb all the time, she pushed his hand away from her hair.

He didn't smile, although she could see laughter in his eyes, and she realized he'd won this round. If they were having a war, she'd just given him information, since he now knew his touch made her uncomfortable. “This isn't going to work, you know,” she blurted out. “I don't like being touched. At all. Everyone will see that and know that we're not together.”

Moving slightly closer, he tugged on her hair, then put his hand on her nape, and his touch felt more intimate than another man's kiss. Why? The heat from his palm penetrated her skin as his fingers closed just enough to remind her of his ruthless grip yesterday when he'd held her down and spanked her. The coffee in her cup rippled as her hand started to shake. She set the cup on her thigh to hide the telltale sign and looked up to meet his knowing gaze.

Not taking his hand from her neck, he leaned just an inch forward, invading her personal space. “Whether you enjoy being touched or not isn't what this is about. I require your submission and your honesty, nothing more.”

His thumb rubbed up and down in the hollow under her ear. She hadn't realized how sensitive that patch of skin could be. Her tiny movement back made his grip tighten, and she got nowhere. Goose bumps broke out on her arms. “So you still want to do this? Me as your sub?”

“Yes, MacKensie. We will continue, and earlier than I had anticipated. I received a call this morning from Peter. A friend is having a party at the club tonight, and Cynthia, the woman I told you about, plans to attend.”

“Tonight? You must be joking.” Mac's orderly thoughts scattered into the corners of her mind. “But…but…I don't have clothes; I don't know what to do. I—”

“No problem. Do you have any interviews today?”

The thought of lying crossed her mind and disappeared under the slight narrowing of his eyes. “No. I set everything up for Monday.”

“Excellent. Then today we'll go shopping.”

“We?”

“Oh yes, pet. Definitely 'we.'”

* * * * *

Later that day, Alex suppressed a grin as MacKensie wandered past latex corsets and leather bustiers, rubber miniskirts and thigh-high boots. And then he chose clothing for her to suit his preferences. She might as well start learning some of the various forms submission could entail. Lucky for her, he didn't enjoy twenty-four-hour mastery. Unlucky for her, he did occasionally enjoy dominance outside of the bedroom.

Like now.

“MacKensie.”

She turned, and her eyes widened at the garments he held out to her.

“Put these on. I'll wait outside the door to see if they fit.”

Her eyes narrowed, spine straightening until her height increased by almost an inch, which still left her half a foot shorter than he was. “I choose my own clothing, and I judge whether it fits.”

“Not this time, pet.” Alex kept his voice soft.

Not being at all slow, she caught the command. With a glare, she snatched the clothes and stalked into an empty fitting room.

She probably didn't realize the allure of a woman's ass when she's stomping. Or how arousing a sub's defiance could be to a dominant. And this one—he shook his head—could prove to be quite a trial to his control. He'd topped subs before and kept the interaction platonic; not everything had to be about sex, after all. But there was definitely a sexual component in the dynamics between him and MacKensie. She pulled at him—strongly—and he could see the same pull in her. But she didn't want to recognize that.

If she truly felt no attraction to him, he wouldn't think twice about observing her restrictions. But if fear corralled her sexuality? Then that was part of a Dom's mandate—to explore those fears. But only if he had her trust to do so.

So he needed to gauge the attraction, help her see that in herself, and earn her trust. Enjoying the thought of a challenge, he leaned against the door frame to wait.

When she appeared, he knew it had been worth the wait. An embarrassed flush highlighted her cheekbones almost as nicely as the French-maid's corset showcased her round breasts. The white lace and ribbon decorating the black latex gave her a fragile appearance, one that would be accentuated when she had on the garters and G-string that she held in her hand along with the other accessories.

“That will do nicely,” he said.

“You cannot be serious.” Her brown eyes sparked with indignation. “I'm not going to—”

When he lifted his eyebrows, she managed to cut off the rest of her protest.

“Wait in there,” he said. “You'll need at least one more outfit.”

She actually growled as she retreated.

* * * * *

“Surely Nordstroms doesn't have kinky clothing,” MacKensie said. As they entered the fancy department store, she was all too aware of Alex's guiding hand on her lower back. He touched her—often—and always stood just a few inches too close. She knew he did it deliberately. Since he'd done nothing blatantly sexual that she could challenge him on, she tried to pretend his actions didn't unsettle her.

He bent down to murmur in her ear, his warm breath washing across her neck and making the hairs on her arms rise. “We're done with kink. Now we're shopping for formal wear for the party you want to attend.”

“I want to attend? Does that mean you don't?” When she turned to look up at him, he was still so close that her lips grazed his cheek. She froze.

Rather than stepping away, he slowly straightened, his lips brushing against hers, as if accidentally. Only the crinkling of the lines at the corners of his eyes told her he'd done it deliberately. That, and the fact that every move he made was as controlled as the words he used.

“Normally I'd make a short appearance and leave.” He touched her chin lightly with a finger. “But to do a good job of networking for you, we'll need to spend the evening.”

He'd do that for her? An odd uneasiness lodged in the pit of her stomach, one having nothing to do with his teasing games. Jim and Mary had shown her a selfless generosity, but they'd thought of her as a daughter. Her sorority sisters in college had befriended her and given her etiquette lessons, thinking of her as a challenge. But men…men didn't help women. Not unless they wanted something, and Fontaine already had her under his thumb. He didn't need to do this.

Head tilted, he studied her face. “I've rarely seen that amount of disbelief when I ask a woman to a dance,” he murmured. “But this isn't the place to discuss it.” He guided her forward through the aisles of clothing.

If he thought she'd talk about her reaction or why, he was sadly mistaken. Not a chance.

A minute later, she planted her feet as something else occurred to her. “I didn't mind your paying for the…the kinky clothing since it's more for your problem than mine, but you can't buy me formal wear. That's not right.”

He turned, his piercing blue eyes as focused as a laser from a science-fiction novel. Then he smiled and ran his hands up and down her arms, less a sexual than a comforting gesture. “MacKensie, I doubt you could afford what you need. It's my pleasure to get it for you.”

She knew better. Gifts came first, followed by demands. She wasn't that kind of person anymore. “I can't accept, but thank you.”

When she tried to step back, his hands tightened on her arms, holding her firmly in place. “I see. Well then, how about a trade? A lifetime of free care for Butler in exchange for my purchasing everything I think you'll need while you remain under my care.”

“Under your care?”

“Yes, pet,” he said, deliberately emphasizing the word. “I believe that is the bargain we made yesterday. This just adds a codicil to it.”

“What are you, a lawyer?”

When he grinned, the sternness left his face. “I have a law degree, yes, but I'm mostly a boring businessman.”

“You couldn't be boring if you tried,” she muttered, then realized he still held her arms, apparently oblivious to the people having to detour around them. He'd probably wait there forever for his damned answer, wouldn't he? Considering the exorbitant price tags for the T-shirts on the rack beside them, the fancy clothing must be horrendously expensive. Even a lifetime of vet care might not cover it. But he obviously wasn't lacking for money, and he'd made an effort to salvage her pride. “All right. We have a deal.”

“Good girl.” He released her and headed toward the elevator.

Despite the fact that he wore jeans, he obviously exuded the scent of money, for the saleswoman in the formal-wear department upstairs pounced on him like a cat discovering a mouse. With an effort, Mac concealed the fact she was shaking in her sneakers and tried to emulate his polite reserve.

Arm around Mac, Alex instructed the woman about what he had in mind, consulting Mac only to get her shoe size. Mac couldn't decide if she felt insulted or coddled. Coddled won out since she had no clue how to buy a formal gown; she'd never bought one in her life. Her college finances sure hadn't extended that far. She'd only been in the sorority because of the influence and funds provided by an alumnus friend of Mary's.

The saleswoman returned with an armload of gowns that she held up for Alex's approval. Not Mac's.

“If you like them so much, maybe you should try them on,” Mac muttered.

Alex laughed and then shocked her stupid by kissing the top of her head.

She pulled on gown after gown, with the saleswoman helping her lace and tie and button and zip. Gold, blue, black. With each one, Alex made noncommittal noises. The final hanger held a long, full-skirted gown in pink, and Mac sneered at it. The color of cheerleaders. “I never wear pink.”

“Pink would be lovely on you,” the saleswoman said. “Your man has a good eye for color.” She whisked the gown over Mac's head.

Mac had barely a glimpse before the woman pushed her gently out of the room to where Alex waited on a plush couch. Legs outstretched, one arm resting along the back, he looked thoroughly at home. His eyebrows rose when he saw her this time. “That's lovely on you, MacKensie.”

As warmth bloomed inside her, she tried not to reveal how much the compliment meant.

He twirled a finger in the air, a silent command to turn.

She did and—to hell with it—enjoyed the feel of the luxurious fabric swirling around her bare legs. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrors and stopped dead. Whoa, look at that, Miss Elegance. She turned one way, then the other, admiring herself, before remembering who watched.

“But pink?” she said, making a token protest.

“Pink looks good on you,” he said mildly. “We'll take this one,” he told the saleslady. “Please select the appropriate undergarments, hose, and shoes.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of the couch, thinking. “A purse and a cape also. The evening will be chilly.”

Mac's mouth dropped open. As the saleslady scurried away, beaming like a woman whose commission had just gone through the roof, Mac realized she should have put a limit on how much Fontaine could spend. “That's too much.” Maybe most women would gloat over the windfall, but it made her feel obligated.

“We have a deal.” Alex rose to stand beside her. With a faint smile, he ran a finger down her cheek, his touch somehow more intimate that any john who'd pounded into her.

Chapter Five

She changed the bandage on his back when they got home. Only a tiny bit of clear pink drainage had stained the gauze, and the wound was healing nicely. As she taped the gauze down, she couldn't help but notice the long lines of his torso and the contoured muscles of his back. Under her fingers, his warm skin felt velvety soft over disconcertingly hard muscles beneath. No businessman she'd ever seen had muscles like that.

Bemused, she looked up and met his penetrating gaze in the mirror. Oops. She stepped back hurriedly, only to have him grasp her wrist.

“MacKensie, it's time we talked.” Still holding her wrist, not her hand, he led her to the family room and pointed to the couch. “Sit there.”

As she took a seat, he opened the curtains to display a magnificent view of the Sound, with the white-capped Olympics beyond, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Mac leaned her head on her hand and studied the mountains. Yeah, they really were gorgeous. Yet right now she wanted cozy instead. A place deep inside her ached with the need to be rocking on her porch swing with the neighbor's cat a warm weight in her lap. Red and orange leaves would be swirling down from the big maple, and she would grumble to Fluffball about having to rake them all up.

Before she could descend into a major homesickness attack, Butler got up from the rug by the fireplace and leaned against her leg with a heavy sigh, as if he'd worked a twelve-hour day. She leaned forward to pet him and whispered in his ear, “I had a rough day too, baby.”

Alex returned and handed her a glass of dark red wine.

After taking it, she regarded him warily. “What are we going to talk about?”

He sat down in the middle of the couch. Why did the man always crowd into her space?

“In a couple of hours, we're going to my club to spend the evening,” he said. “A friend and his sub had a private collaring ceremony earlier today, and they plan to celebrate at Chains. You'll be on display as my sub, MacKensie.”

Good thing he'd given her the wine. She took a hefty gulp. Good stuff. Smoother than any she'd tasted before. “And what exactly will that display entail?”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Your first lesson is this: what we do—what you do—is entirely up to me.”

Oh now, didn't that just sound great? Undoubtedly, protest would be futile. She was being assimilated and liked it no more than Captain Picard had.

He sipped his wine, studying her until she felt like a lab mouse. “Let's talk about diseases. Have you been tested since the last time you had sex?”

“I've been tested.” Jim had insisted on it after taking her in. “I'm clean.” But hadn't Alex promised no sex? “But—”

“Any chance you're pregnant?”

God forbid. “No. I have an IUD.” Thanks to Ajax, who didn't want to have any of his “girls” sidelined with pregnancies if and when a condom broke. She'd replaced the IUD in college when she'd started dating and hoping… Well, she'd been more optimistic back then.

“Any medical problems? Any at all, MacKensie?” he warned. “I don't like surprises.”

“No. I don't have any medical problems.”

“Have you ever been tied up or restrained in any way?” he asked. “Are you claustrophobic?”

She choked on her wine. “Um. No, and maybe a little.” Just don't shut me up behind a locked door. “I don't like small, dark places.”

“Good to know. Have you ever been whipped? Beaten? Flogged? Hit at all?”

To each question, she shook her head.

“Spanked?”

No one has ever cared enough to spank me. She swallowed. “Only by you.” When his eyes narrowed, moving from her fingers clenching the wineglass to her eyes, she had to look away.

A finger under her chin forced her gaze back to his. “When was the last time you made love with anyone?”

She shoved his hand away and snapped, “I've never 'made love' with anyone.”

“All right,” he said easily. “When was the last time you had sex?”

“About twelve years ago.” And when that john had complained about her unenthusiastic blowjob, Ajax had decided she needed incentive. After the two men left, she'd crawled out of the alley to collapse at Jim's feet.

“That's a long time, little cat.” Alex's low voice broke into her thoughts. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and then massaged her shoulder. “What happened? You would have been…sixteen?”

How did he know that? Oh right. The application she'd filled out for Exchanges had her birth date. “Nothing happened.”

“Don't lie to me, pet.”

“Well then.” She tried to ignore the warmth of the hand on her shoulder. “It's none of your business.”

“Actually it is. As your Dom, I need your history so I know what land mines to avoid. Or head for.”

Head for? But she could see why a person into kinky stuff might worry about emotional hang-ups. “I had some—a—bad experience with sex. That's all,” she said stiffly.

“Has anyone tried to give you a good experience since then?”

“No point.” His finger slid under the collar of her shirt to stroke the juncture of her neck and shoulder. How did he find such sensitive places on her body? “I'm not interested in sex. At all.”

“I see.” His eyes crinkled. “And what would happen if you inadvertently became interested? Aroused?”

“I-I…” She glared at him. “It won't happen, so there's no—”

“In that case, I have your permission to take the next step? To change our play to sexual?”

Did he not understand the “won't happen” phrase she'd used? “Listen, I don't want you deluding yourself that I'm interested in sex when I'm not.”

“Ah. So you require objective proof that we both can see. I understand the need.” He tilted his head. “So if your nipples become erect in a warm room, and your pussy gets wet enough on the outside to dampen my hand, is that a sign of arousal?”

She flushed at just the thought of his hand…there. Damned lawyer. She crossed her arms over her chest. If her nipples had peaked, she so didn't want to know. “No.”

“MacKensie, I should warn you that lying is punished.”

The thought of being spanked again sent a tiny shiver through her.

The corner of his mouth turned up for a second before his eyes chilled. “Now give me the truth.”

“Yes, all right. Wet means aroused, okay?”

“And if you're aroused, then, as your Dom, I will determine how sexual in nature our play becomes. If you become unaroused, I stop. Have we an agreement?”

“I'd rather leave it with no sex at all.”

“I'm not comfortable with those limitations,” he said softly. “As your Dom, I give you what you need, not necessarily what you want.”

* * * * *

Alex kept his hand on his sub's bare arm as they entered Chains. Because of Lynn and Bob's party, the private BDSM club was busier than normal, with every station in use. Whips snapped and floggers splatted, accompanied by moans and screams and whimpers. Most of the rising and falling hum of conversations came from the crowded bar area. The music of Nine Inch Nails' “Meet Your Master” blasted down from the dance floor upstairs, where people lined the rails, watching the scenes downstairs. Upstairs on the left, the quieter safe-lounge area held more people.

“Kink is a popular sport these days, isn't it?” MacKensie murmured, looking around with wide eyes.

“It is.” Grasping her arms, he held her out in front of him, taking a second to appreciate the view. The dark leather bustier not only matched her eyes but also emphasized her tiny waist and pushed her breasts up in a way that tempted fingers to explore. The bloodred latex skirt stretched over her firm, round ass, stopping just below her cheeks. He'd considered letting her wear heels but decided she needed a constant reminder of her submission, so she was both bare legged and barefoot.

His decree of no underwear had received a horrified look, then a stubborn one, and finally compliance. Very reluctant compliance. This would be an interesting night with her denial of her submissive nature and his need to dominate.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked, scowling at him.

Definitely interesting. He tightened his grip to remind her of his strength and ability to hold her in place all night if needed. “MacKensie, do you recall our agreement?”

Her eyes dropped.

“That's better.” He'd held off on swamping her with all the protocols, but this would be a good time for some more. “Now some rules: In a club or anytime we're in Dom/sub roles, you stay silent unless spoken to. You address any Dom as 'Sir' and any Domme as 'Ma'am.' If you need to ask for something, you say, 'Sir, may I have permission to speak, Sir?'”

“You have got to be kidding. That's—” She halted at his frown.

“Making a mistake can and will get you disciplined, little cat.” At his words, a tremor rippled through her. Punishment, discipline, and spanking were trigger words for her, and the haunted look in her eyes indicated an emotional response rather than an erotic one. Another area to explore. Soon.

He continued. “I prefer that you keep your eyes on me; I like to see what's in them.” He ran his hands up and down her arms, feeling the soft, soft skin and the toned muscles hidden beneath a woman's gentle padding. “Keep your eyes down with other dominants. Some take offense at a sub meeting their gaze.”

Her hands tightened into fists. But even in the dim light of the room, he could see a slight flush of excitement appear on her cheekbones. He eyed the bustier that hid her nipples. Maybe he should have forced her to wear only a skirt. Then again, the leather laces could be easily undone. “Is there any part of this that you don't understand?”

She shook her head.

“Your answer should be 'no, Sir.'”

“No, Sir.”

“Very nice.” He let approval warm his voice. The way she drank it in like a thirsty kitten made him want to wrap her in his arms.

“Alex, you made it!” Bob pushed through the crowd, trailed by his sub.

“How could I not come to celebrate with you?” Alex shook Bob's hand. “Congratulations. You're a lucky man.”

“I know.” Bob put his arm around Lynn, pulling her forward. “Oh I know.”

The slim brunette leaned into her Dom, her eyes glowing. Every few seconds, she fingered the thin collar around her neck, stroking the leather as if she wore the finest of diamond jewelry.

Alex glanced at Bob for permission and received a nod before kissing Lynn's cheek. “Felicitations, sweetheart.”

She beamed at him.

Bob looked at MacKensie and raised his eyebrows. “Well. I heard you and Cynthia had parted ways, but she called it a false rumor.”

“No rumor.” Alex smothered his irritation before putting an arm around his little vet and pulling her closer. “I'm working with MacKensie at the moment. She's very new to the scene, and this is her first time out openly as a sub.”

Mac kept her eyes on the ground, but she could actually feel the appraising look from Alex's friend.

“Very pretty.” Bob snorted. “Cynthia's reaction should be interesting.”

Lynn giggled.

“Doubtful,” Alex said in a cold voice.

When his arm around Mac tightened, she didn't resist, needing the feeling of being protected more than she needed to avoid contact. The atmosphere seemed more intense than the public BDSM clubs she'd visited. She'd expected to see subs getting flogged, caned, even sights like the person having hot wax being tipped onto her stomach from a candle. But here, the observers were more focused, and the people negotiating a scene were more serious. In fact, one Dom had actually taken out a list on a piece of paper to go over it, point by point, with a thin male sub. That Dom looked up just then and met Mac's eyes.

She dropped her gaze immediately. Oops. This not looking at Doms wasn't an easy rule to remember.

“We've commandeered an area near the far end, between the stockade and the St. Andrew's cross. C'mon over,” Bob said.

Still within the curve of Alex's arm, Mac walked through the room. By a massive wooden St. Andrew's cross, Bob's group occupied a sitting area of leather couches and chairs. As Alex received a chorus of hellos and welcomes, Mac unobtrusively checked out his friends. The mostly male Doms wore either leathers or black clothing, much like the black slacks and black silk shirt Alex had on. Their ages ranged from thirties to fifties, and most were fairly good-looking, with a couple of men almost as gorgeous as Alex. One female Domme had a male sub, another a female.

As Alex took a chair, Mac looked for one too, then noticed every sub was kneeling on the floor. She didn't want to embarrass Alex, so she did the same, trying not to flash everyone and cursing her short skirt and lack of underwear. Once situated, she checked her posture against the other subs—kneeling, hands palms up on knees, back straight—then glanced up at Alex.

His eyes and smile showed his pleasure even before he leaned forward and stroked her hair. “Very observant, little cat. You look lovely.”

The compliment in his deep voice seemed to glide right through her skin and into her insides, creating a warm glow that lessened her insecurity. Not that the glow lasted as comments from the other Doms came hard and fast. She forced her gaze to stay on the floor.

“New sub?”

“Pretty little thing.”

“Looks a little feisty; 'bout time you had a challenge.”

His hand rested on her shoulder possessively. “Her name is MacKensie, and she's new to the scene.”

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 881