Claimed (6 page)

He fought his smile, watching her lean in toward him, as her body said she craved his touch. “Our agreement will be this: You’ll stay under my command to ensure that you have the right training to play in the dungeon with the other Doms.”

“Right.” A hint of anger flared in her expression. “Other Doms.”

Once again, he didn’t approve of how she wasn’t forthcoming with her desires. She either took his words and actions the wrong way, or she accepted his orders without a thought of herself. He would fix that little bad habit of hers before their agreement was over, of that he was sure. “Do you not approve of being offered to the other Doms?”

“I . . .” She hesitated before she squared her shoulders. “I only sleep with one man at a time. I don’t want to have multiple lovers or a whole bunch of men touching me sexually.” Her nose scrunched up. “I’d feel dirty.”

“Let me rephrase.” He never minded a woman who held strong morals and craved a monogamous lifestyle. In fact, he preferred women who sought that type of lifestyle. “I’ll train you until I determine that you’re ready to make yourself available to one Dom. Does that suffice?”

She shifted on her feet, looking everywhere but at him. “I . . .” As she drew in the deepest breath he’d ever heard, her firm gaze returned to him. “Yes, that works for me.”

Such a battle she suffered on the inside. As if she wanted to run and hide but she had something to prove to herself. Maybe she did. He couldn’t tell who she truly was; the innocent little darling scared out of her wits, or the brave woman not hiding from her sexual desires but fighting to experience them.

Leaving the thoughts behind for now, he rounded the desk and took the waiver out of the filing cabinet. Grabbing a clipboard and pen off the desk, he tucked the paper into the clipboard. “For you to join the dungeon, you’ll need to sign the agreement. It states the rules of the dungeon, including safe word, hours of operation, and rules such as not interrupting a scene. It explains the roles of a dominant and submissive, and it contains a privacy clause.” He leaned down into her face. “You know what they say about Vegas; the same rule applies here. What happens here, stays here. No discussions about Club Sin with outsiders.”

She paused and, after a moment, said, “I can do that.”

He smiled, respecting that she put some thought behind her choices. “I suspected you could, doll.” Flipping the page, he pointed to the paper. “Here, we list your hard and soft limits. Hard limits are things that go against your moral code, something you would never do under any circumstances. Soft limits are things you don’t want to do right now but you may consider doing in the future and after a conversation with your Dom. For now, leave the limits blank, but beneath those you’ll see a list of ‘consent to and restrained with’ items, such as the use of a vibrator or dildo; bondage with rope, tape, or leather; and voyeurism or having others watch you in a scene.”

Her shudder and sharp inhale indicated to him without words that she’d enjoy all of those suggestions. “You can always change these before we firm up your limits, but I imagine you already have an idea of what you’re comfortable with. If you don’t know what something is, leave it blank, and I can show you in the dungeon.”

He handed her the clipboard and pen, and she lowered her head to examine the document as he went on. “Read it thoroughly; fill out all your information, including address and medical history; and sign and date at the bottom.”

“Okay.” With her finger paving the way, she read each word as if her life depended on it. Dmitri smiled. An attentive woman. He liked that.

After a while, he glanced at the clock on the wall and realized it had been twenty minutes. Never in the dungeon’s history had anyone ever taken so much time not only to read the form but to fill out the information.

Once she signed and dated the agreement, she handed him the clipboard with crimson cheeks. “Rules seem fair. I’m okay with—” She waved her hand over the agreement. “All of that.”

Taking the waiver from her, he glanced over it, noticing that with bondage, toys, and play in front of a crowd she had no hesitations. As he flipped back to the front page, he couldn’t hide his smile.

She tensed, though the quick learner stared blankly at him when he suspected by the heat in her eyes that she wanted to glare. He restrained his bubbling laughter, knowing she was sensitive about that, but smiling at her was nonnegotiable.

“You know—” He cocked his head. “When I asked you to write down your medical history, I didn’t mean for you to tell me every cold you’ve had for the past five years.”

“I don’t get sick often.” She looked to his chest before she snapped her attention to his face. “When I do, it’s always really bad, so it’s kind of hard to forget.”

Her dedication and accuracy weren’t things he disapproved of, but her properness was a bit too strong for his liking. “Seems as if you’re in good health now. You haven’t had any serious illnesses or hospital trips?”

“Yep, all healthy.”

“All right, wait here, doll.” Returning to the desk, he placed the waiver in her folder, then he returned to her. “The dungeon is open Friday and Saturday nights. I expect you here both nights unless you let me know beforehand that you have other plans.” He waited for her nod, then he continued, “However, tonight you won’t play.” At the disappointment in her eyes and the slump of her shoulders, he added, “I want you to watch, to discover what you enjoy and don’t enjoy.”

She nibbled her lip. “May I ask why?”

He stroked her cheek, and her eyes fluttered and lips parted, encouraging him with how intensely she reacted under his touch. “There’s no reason to rush into this. You need to discover your limits. If not, I’d be leading you blind into a scene, and that would be wrong of me.”

“Oh, okay.” After nibbling that lip a bit more, she released it, licking her top lip.

His full attention remained on her pouty mouth before he examined the growing color in her cheeks and the raspiness of her breath. “Tonight you can have some time alone to explore the dungeon before we talk things over.”

A quiet squeak spilled from her lips, drawing his focus to her wide eyes, which were rich with lust and nervousness. Not needing her to answer him, and ready to show her that his word was one thing she could always trust, he slid his hand across her warm cheek. “Now, then, I do believe you are due to be rewarded for being a brave little submissive, hmm?” He cupped her nape and swiped his nose against her cheek, sensing her trembling. “Were you nervous coming here tonight?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“You fought against that, though, and your bravery pleases me, Presley.” Another good lesson for her; he would reward her when she pushed herself beyond what she thought she would—or could—do.

He leaned away, and dark, shameless eyes stared at him. Her lips parted in a silent request. He wouldn’t deny her. Tucking his thumb under her chin, he angled her head and sealed his mouth over hers.

The woman he expected to kiss in an uneducated way proved him wrong. Each slide of her tongue, the feel of her soft lips beneath his, and the little moans she made, enticed him to deepen the kiss. His hard cock became steel, and he fought the urge to grind against her.

Giving her a passionate kiss, he did so not only because she deserved it but also because he couldn’t hold back. Her acceptance of his tongue as she mirrored his movements with her gentle caresses could have been his undoing. Now, however, wasn’t the time to indulge himself; this was simply a taste to make certain she’d desire more. No matter that he found himself equally enamored. After a final flick of her wet, soft tongue, he broke off the kiss, enjoying her wiggle against his cock. Her eyelids were hooded, her parted mouth had yet to close, and her breath sounded delectably harsh.

Feeling the heavy weight in his groin and watching the beauty begging for more with her heated gaze, he brushed his thumb across her damp, pouty lip. “This agreement between us, Presley, will work out just fine.”

Chapter Six

This ain’t the Cowboy’s Saloon.

The country bar in Apple Valley at times had a wet T-shirt contest, causing Presley to blush like a fool, but
this
place:
Oh. My. God!

Master Dmitri had introduced her to the other four DMs, so she knew who they were if she needed anything. He instructed her to have a look around while he made his rounds of the dungeon.

Ten minutes had passed, and she hadn’t moved from the spot where he’d left her.

The moment she stepped through the dungeon doors, her mouth had dried, her muscles had become rigid, and her skin had tingled. Although she wasn’t convinced that her body had recovered from Dmitri’s kiss.

He must’ve taken lessons, kissed many women, or simply had some special gift when it came to the art of kissing, because the man could kiss like nobody’s business. Perhaps his dominant side made him a better kisser than the men she’d kissed before him. But Dmitri didn’t just kiss her; he stole the kiss right out of her mouth.

At the slow heat pooling low in her belly, Presley shook her head, clearing her thoughts. If she kept thinking about his incredible mouth, she’d end up a giant mess of arousal, and right now she had enough to worry about, including standing in a BDSM dungeon.

She scanned the large open room, which consisted of the entire bottom level of the mansion. It held none of the Victorian elements she’d seen upstairs, except the hardwood floors. In the center of the room, chandeliers rested over black leather couches, paired with coffee tables.

Along the flagstone walls, sconces cast the room in a soft romantic glow, and against the far wall was a large glass fridge holding nonalcoholic beverages. Next to it, cherrywood lockers had names written on plaques in gold calligraphy. Her gaze landed on Dmitri’s name and images soared through her mind of what was contained in that locker.

Soft and seductive music played through the dungeon, an African tribal soundtrack, and low pounding on drums and chimes of bells carried vibrations through her. Though the sexually charged room was hard to ignore, her body didn’t react, she was so overwhelmed with nervousness.

The room wasn’t entirely dark, but the lighting was low, more like what she had seen in a typical dance club. However, what made the place entirely different was the BDSM equipment, situated a good distance away, with spotlights beaming down on the stations. Minutes ago, Presley had watched a Dom clean one of the spanking benches with disinfectant after the last submissive was removed. That in itself separated this place from a normal dance club.

Presley looked away from the spanking bench to the current show in front of her. A shapely brunette was strapped to a wooden X, and she was bound at the ankles, calves, thighs, waist, arms, and wrists with tan rope. Master Miles, with his huge frame and stern dark eyes, circled around the submissive, studying her so intently that Presley’s cheeks flushed.

How would that feel? To be examined so closely and exposed for all to see?

She shivered, liking the suggestion, but the scene itself bothered her and increased her heart rate. Clothespins pinched the woman’s nipples, as well as being strategically placed along her vagina. A gleam of sweat created a sheen glimmering on her body; her lips parted; and her face flamed in color, matching the rest of her body.

Master Miles held a flogger in his hand, swaying it back and forth before he sent those leather tails onto the woman’s sex, removing two of the clothespins with the hit. A shriek followed, loud enough to make Presley flinch and turn away. A hot flash soared across her so fast that her head spun and her stomach became woozy.

What was she doing here?

She was a sweet girl from Apple Valley who didn’t do kinky things, and she didn’t belong in a BDSM dungeon. These people were all so experienced and confident, seemingly enjoying watching Master Miles make that poor woman scream. Presley didn’t want to scream out in pain or have clothespins ripped from her body.

Oh God . . .

Reading about BDSM and imagining it were nothing like the reality. Every station was in use, screams blending with loud erotic moans, and a sudden coldness hit her core.

Flogging, spanking, oral sex . . . and fucking; people were
fucking
in front of her. Sweat dripped down her spine, and her insides clenched with a need to vomit. Arousal and intrigue had led her there, but her blood turned to ice. “I can’t do this,” she snapped to herself.

She scanned the room, looking for the door she’d entered through, and it seemed to have disappeared. Rushing past the couches in the center of the room, she noticed a couple of men sitting on them with women tucked in to their sides, laughing about something Presley couldn’t hear. She glanced to her right and spotted the fridge and the lockers, so, based on what she remembered, the exit had to be on the other side.

Without a hitch to her step, she made a beeline for the door but noted a crowd had gathered in the far left corner. When she reached the group, she stopped dead in her tracks, hoping—praying—that she was imagining the view before her. But there wasn’t a hope in hell that her mind could conjure something like this.

Cora had been gagged with a red ball in her mouth and a leather strap around her head, and she was totally wrapped up in ropes. Her back was against the stone wall, her legs were spread wide open, and her vagina was on full display. On her chest, held tight with the rope, was a note that read,
SPANK ME.

Heaviness formed in Presley’s stomach, and as Doms one by one walked up to Cora and walloped her with the flat of their hands, her stomach churned in fear. Some hit along Cora’s thighs, a couple right on her calves, and a few lifted her up and hit her bottom.

Cora flinched against the rope holding her hostage. She was drenched in sweat, and her normally perfect hair stuck to her forehead. Tears filled Presley’s eyes as she noticed that Cora’s cheeks were bright red and her limbs trembled.

A sudden warm hand spread across Presley’s back, and she started, shoving the hand off. “Don’t touch me.”

Master Dmitri frowned. “Let’s try that again.”