Claimed (2 page)

With a gentle hold, he gripped her chin, tilting her head downward. “Arouses you?”

He dropped his hand and she nodded, and the water in the glass rippled in waves from the tremble of her hands. Gripping it tightly, she bit her lip, which didn’t ease the flickers of mortified tremors.

“What about BDSM arouses you?”

His intense study reached into her soul. She squirmed against the leather couch, and her skin flushed wicked hot. “Err . . . the sex stuff.”

One sleek eyebrow lifted. “The sex stuff?”

She followed the line of his brow along the masculine contours of his face. While his eyebrow arch looked simple enough, it portrayed a statement of curiosity, and he was beautiful
.
“You know, being tied up, dominated . . . and um . . . other
stuff
.”

Dmitri considered her in a way that made her feel as if he noticed every flaw on her face. “I’m going to be blunt with you, Presley.” Before she could inquire what he meant by
blunt,
he added, “I’d appreciate if you stay quiet while I talk. After I’m done, we can discuss what I’ve told you.” He waited for her nod, then he continued. “A Club Sin submissive can be restrained with ropes, cuffs, chains, or anything that can be used to bind a person.” His grin became devilish. “Doms enjoy being creative.”

Sweet Jesus!

“In a scene, you might be flogged, paddled, whipped, spanked, or caned. You could find yourself tied to a Saint Andrew’s cross, tossed over a spanking bench, or attached to any other device located in the dungeon.”

Damn her body for flushing at those choices, and damn his wicked expression declaring enjoyment. She took a big gulp of the water, which this time didn’t help the dryness in her throat.

His eyes twinkled. “If it’s within your limits, you might have intercourse in the dungeon or be asked to give oral sex; if your Dom is especially pleased, you could find yourself climaxing in front of a crowd.”

Her mouth dropped open, but he seemed not to realize or care. He added, “This isn’t a sex club meant to have vanilla sex. At Club Sin, you are the submissive and are treated as such.” Drawing in a deep breath, he allowed her a minute to process before he said, “There are no slaves at Club Sin. We have submissives who, outside of the dungeon, are equal in every regard. In the dungeon, you are the bottom in the relationship and will need to accept that. You don’t make decisions. You don’t ask questions. You do what your Dom tells you to do.”

A shiver slid down her spine. Not at what he said, exactly, but how he said it. The heated look in his eye and the stern tone portrayed a confidence that her lower half appreciated. Which had been part of the battle, excitement at the thought of a man controlling her, yet she’d been raised to have a voice and thoughts. Meshing the two desires and wants was confusing at best.

His head tilted. “Submissives at Club Sin are expected to be submissive only while in a scene. Meaning you’re not expected to be in high protocol at all times in the dungeon, as in kneeling at your Dom’s feet and avoiding eye contact. These are the rules I’ve put in place at Club Sin
,
because they’re what I prefer. To be a member, everyone must follow that rule.”

He once again let her process it all before he said, “Of course, you are to respect all Doms with proper address; mind your manners; and be respectful to other submissives. But we are not a club that expects high protocol, unless that’s something your Dom requires of you for a punishment.” That ridiculously sexy eyebrow arched again. “Do you understand?”

Presley nodded and wiggled in her seat, trying to ignore the heat swirling between her thighs. All of what he said were things she’d read about, fantasized over, and the idea that she’d play the submissive role made her burn.

“Some submissives like things others don’t, and that’s why
you
outline your limits when you sign the dungeon’s agreement. That part of play at Club Sin is nonnegotiable. Your limits will never be broken. If you want to change a limit, you’ll have a sit-down with me to discuss it. I may agree without hesitation, or I might request that I watch you in scene first if the limit change is drastic.” He casually picked a piece of lint off his pants. “What you do in your private life is your business. Here, in the dungeon, what you do is my business, since I’m the owner of Club Sin. All clear?”

She nodded, managing to close her parted lips, but she was unable to look away from his eyes. There, in their depths, she found something so intoxicating, so centered. Dmitri appeared to be the most put-together man she’d ever met in her life, so sure of himself and his choices, and that was even sexier than his muscular frame and gorgeous face.

He flicked the piece of lint onto the floor. “If you don’t follow what has been asked of you, you will be punished. If you refuse your punishment, you will be escorted from the dungeon and not allowed to return.”

Her breath became trapped in her throat, and as if he read her concern, he added, “A punishment can be a spanking with a hand or a paddle, a night spent wearing a gag, or whatever the Dom thinks is appropriate for your disobedience. But no punishment would ever exceed your limits. One thing you can count on is your punishment will be fair.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling gently. “Now tell me how you feel about what I’ve told you.”

“It’s . . . well . . . I . . .” She swallowed, shifting through all the confusion coursing through her veins. Her body burned so hot that she wanted out of her skin. Her mind warned her how insane it was to agree to something that could, in fact, lead to a punishment.

After a moment, she realized the winner of the internal battle was glaringly obvious, because it was why she’d come here tonight. “God forgive me, I liked it.”

Dmitri gave her a long look before he threw his head back with laughter. Her embarrassment quickly turned to anger, and she stood so fast that the water spilled on the floor. “Stop laughing at me! This isn’t funny.”

He slowly looked at her. His eyes had darkened. He rose to his feet with a powerful grace, taking the glass from her hands, and slamming it on the end table with a
clunk.
“To your knees.”

In a swift move, she dropped to her knees, cringing when she connected with the hardwood floor. The second the pain eased, she realized what he’d asked and what she’d done.

Had she honestly responded to Dmitri without a single thought? Was she seriously kneeling for the man at his feet? And why had he told her to kneel? Because she snapped at him, or maybe she’d glared again? Her mind raced to understand what had happened in the last couple of seconds, but failed miserably.

Dmitri’s shiny black shoes rested in front of her, and his rich masculine scent wrapped around her. He didn’t move, nor did he say a word.

She did the only thing she thought would be appropriate in this extremely awkward moment. She whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Chapter Two

Dmitri stood over Presley and pursed his lips at the blond hair, stunned that she had dropped to her knees without asking the simple question
why?
Which had been exactly why he’d given her the test; he needed to see how she’d react. But he’d expected some push-back from her, as such a newbie, not her obedience, as if he’d removed the rug from beneath her.

While some Doms desired an obedient sub blindly responding, Dmitri didn’t crave a needy woman who had no guff to stand up to him; nor would he bring a spineless woman into his dungeon. He’d always been considerate of a broken woman, but his members needed to be strong-minded individuals, not the opposite.

Brushing the darker blond locks that curled at the ends over her shoulder, she looked at him, and he discovered eyelids lowered in shame. He glanced down into such a pretty face; her gorgeous emerald eyes opened and stared back at him. Her pouty mouth invited him to take kisses and demand pleasure.

He scanned over her tanned shoulders and along her gentle curves beneath her pink tank top that detailed her round breasts. He smiled when he noticed puckered nipples through her top. Skittish, maybe, but he currently had her revved high. He liked how she didn’t hide her arousal. Her heated reactions showed on her face and in her breath, and that made for a lovely submissive.

Clenching his fist, he fought the sudden urge to discover if her skin felt as soft as it looked. “Why are you sorry?”

“I . . .” Her eyes searched his, then she sighed. “I’m not sure.”

He inclined his head in approval. “That’s an honest answer, Presley.” If she’d given him any other bullshit reason, such as
to obey you,
he would’ve escorted her out of his house. Any woman who gave that level of submission to a stranger wasn’t a submissive who interested him. He craved a woman’s submission, but because he deserved it and they wanted to give it to him, not because they had no backbone.

It appeared that Presley held a strong desire to please him, since she’d responded, though she didn’t understand why. While she obviously had a few insecurities plaguing her, considering she took his laughter as an offense, she wasn’t an empty woman. Confused, yes. In need of guidance, definitely. But no submissive—especially a new one and at twenty-five years old—would come into the lifestyle without some baggage.

Dmitri took a seat on the couch. “Turn to me.” She scooted on her knees to face him, and he placed his feet beside her legs, caging her into his space.

He liked how she looked at him, with an enchanting innocence that he doubted she knew she possessed. Every little touch he’d made was a gentle way of testing her reactions to him, and she’d passed his assessments.

A vanilla woman didn’t shudder under the hand of a dominant man. Yes, he’d tested her a bit forcefully by sending her to her knees, but the way she heated to his touch interested him more than her response to his verbal commands.

Keeping a strong hold on her chin, he gathered her full attention. “Again, if something I do upsets you, you are to
tell
me with words, not angry gestures.” Her gaze clouded, going distant, and he squeezed the skin beneath his fingers. “I ordered you to your knees not because I’m upset that you’re irritated; I want you to share with me—or any Dom, for that matter—when something bothers you. But I did so because you’re not telling me why and are instead reacting aggressively.”

She looked at his knees, her brow creasing. “I don’t like being laughed at.”

“I see that.” He softened his voice to ease her apparent stress, and she peeked up at him with those wondrous eyes. “But I won’t tolerate you not simply using your voice to tell me such. Clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Releasing her chin, he placed his arms along the back of the couch to give her some breathing room, and he noticed her long exhale. In fact, he quite enjoyed how she looked breathing heavily through her parted lips. “Tell me why my finding amusement in you is so upsetting?”

She nibbled her lip, no doubt contemplating how truthful to be with him, and said, “I’m uncomfortable being here with you, talking about all this, and I guess it’s making me sensitive.” Her cheeks flushed a beautiful deep rose. “It seemed like you were laughing at me because I’m new.”

Dmitri enjoyed how easily she blushed. “Now, isn’t that a much better way to tell someone how you feel rather than glaring at him and spilling water on the floor?”

She laughed softly. “Definitely.”

He liked her sweet smile and found himself smiling with her. Tilting his head, he noticed her squirm under his stare. Without any doubt in his mind, Presley was a good girl, desperate to be wicked.

“I realize you’re quite unsettled. That’s all right. I wouldn’t expect otherwise, but I would never laugh at you to make fun of you. I do, however, find it amusing that you look as if the devil is going to show up because you want to indulge in the lifestyle.” He smiled gently. “So yes, doll, this amuses me. Understand?” The crease in her brow lessened, and
this
confident woman he found more beautiful than the earlier glaring version. “Now that I’m aware of how you perceive my amusement, I’ll restrain it.”

As he slid his finger over her warm cheek, her pupils dilated. Heat sped through his veins like liquid fire at the sheer purity of her features. Blood rushed to his cock so fast that it hardened to steel. Her blatant reactions to him were impossible to ignore, and he suspected all the Club Sin Doms would appreciate her transparency. Christ, it made him rock-hard. “I cannot read your mind, and I want you to be comfortable. You need to
tell
me if you’re not.”

She leaned in to his touch, clearly without thought, since she quickly straightened. “Thank you. I’ll try to remember that.”

“Excellent.” He tucked her silky hair behind her ear, then tugged on her earlobe. “That, doll, was an introduction to discipline.”

She blinked. “Discipline?”

After a final swipe of his finger, simply because her skin pleased him to touch, he released her. Leaning away, he settled against the couch, cursing his hard cock pressing against his zipper. “You exhibited behavior I don’t approve of for Club Sin, which is why I ordered you into a submissive posture. As in, lashing out instead of telling me what is wrong.”

He waited for her to process, and when the confusion cleared from her eyes, he continued. “I’ve corrected the behavior, and now you realize it’s not tolerated in the dungeon.
That,
in BDSM, is discipline. It’s the understanding of what a Dom expects from you and the rules he sets for you to follow.”

“I understand.”

He rubbed his jaw, regarding how comfortable she seemed on her knees. A telling sign of a submissive—a vanilla woman wouldn’t have gone to her knees for him, nor would she have stayed there so easily. “The other reason was to determine if you would obey the request. As it seems, you have a willingness to submit, but it’s important I hear your thoughts.”

Scooting forward on the couch, he squeezed his feet around her thighs to cage her. “Would you enjoy exploring the dungeon, Presley?” Her deep intake of breath drifted over him, causing his groin to throb. “Ah, yes, I see you would.”

“You’re right,” she whispered.