The Plume: The First Anthology (12 page)

Joanna shivered, knowing it was not to be.

She wondered what she would write, remembering that he had all those pictures, hoping that she’d had some effect upon him.

He had shaken her world.

She thought of Mike, was unable to imagine what he would think if he could see her now. She allowed herself to fantasize that he was both surprised and aroused. She imagined him taking her as the Master had and the idea made her dizzy. She leaned back against the wall opposite the full length mirror, spread her legs, and touched herself.

When she came, she cried Mike’s name.

After she had cleaned up, Joanna put on her raincoat and left the room. She couldn’t bear to untie the ribbon corset, wanting to hold this idea of herself for as long as possible. She left the key behind. She knew there was no point in asking who had booked the room. The Master wasn’t sloppy about such details. She wouldn’t find out anything, and she might just ruin her exultant mood.

The world looked brighter to her, more colorful, more filled with sensual possibilities – even knowing that she’d never see the Master again. The people in the lobby looked more alluring to her. The way her raincoat slid over the tight ribbon made her skin hum and she was surprised to catch sight of her own smile in the lobby mirror. She looked a little disheveled, a little wild, confident and potent.

Sexy.

Joanna wasn’t really surprised that Rafe was waiting for her with the black limo.

* * *

Rex returned to the Plume, as restless as a caged tiger. Three explosive orgasms and he felt he’d only begun. He hadn’t come that close to losing control in years. He couldn’t believe how many pictures he’d taken of Joanna, and already he ached to review them.

It wasn’t like him to become obsessed, not so quickly or so thoroughly.

Which could only mean one thing.

Rex was falling in love.

He stood in the bar at the Plume and threw back a Scotch. It burned down his throat, seemed to settle him a bit. He watched the members tease each other and titillate each other, knowing that he wasn’t alone in getting emotion mixed into the game.

It was unfamiliar ground for him, all the same.

It frightened him.

Which maybe was why he was still so hard.

But there was nothing more he could do. He had given Joanna a taste – more of a taste than he’d planned to give her. He had baited the trap and given her a clue. If she came back to him – just the idea made him feel dizzy with hope – he would never let her go.

“Looking for company?” Athena asked from beside him, her gaze dropping to his erection before returning to his gaze again. She was dressed in full latex dominatrix gear tonight, the tight black suit and mask making her look like a naughty version of Catwoman.

“Thanks, but no,” Rex said, indicating the crowd. “Just checking on things.”

“And how was our intrepid reporter?”

Rex couldn’t help but smile. “More intrepid than expected.”

“But gone?”

Rex forced himself to acknowledge what he knew was the truth. “Gone,” he agreed, his voice flat.

Athena smiled with satisfaction. “Good. Maybe I’ll take the next one, after all.”

“You should take them.” Rex pointed to an attractive couple at the far end of the bar. She was dressed similarly to Athena and he was hooded, with his hands shackled behind his back. Despite their gear, they seemed desultory, glancing over the crowd as if hoping for a new sensation. “They both want to be run by you, you know.”

Her gaze brightened. “No, I didn’t know. I didn’t see it in their files.”

“It’s not in their files.”

Her gaze was assessing. “But you know.”

Rex smiled. “You’ve seduced them totally.”

“At least someone is seduced,” Athena muttered.

“Go on. Make their dreams come true tonight.”

Athena caressed her whip, considering the possibilities. The pair noticed her attention and fluttered in anticipation. “Private room seven?”

Rex checked the schedule with Tony, then nodded. “All yours. Make it a showy capture, and spice things up a bit.”

Athena grinned. She cracked her whip over the heads of the members, startling more than one with her vigor and control. Tony changed the music to a song with a pulsing beat and Rex smiled as Athena strode into the crowd. She was in her element, but on this night, he was content to simply watch.

He wondered what Joanna thought of how he’d left her.

He wondered whether she would follow the clue back to him.

Then he wondered how he would endure the suspense.

* * *

Joanna started her article,
“My Night at the Plume
”, as soon as she got home. She sat at her desk, her silk kimono bathrobe hiding the ribbons that trussed her, keeping her shoes and stockings on. She felt half in the experience as she wrote about it. She could smell the Master’s skin on hers, practically feel his strength inside her.

She’d lost track of how many pictures he’d taken. That was terrifying. She had no doubt that he’d keep his word if he was displeased with the media coverage.

She didn’t dare imagine Mike’s reaction to those images.

Joanna ensured that she dwelt on the pleasure she’d felt. She underscored that all activities were consensual and that safe sex was practiced. (He must have put a condom on the last time. Maybe a thinner one. Maybe lambskin. That would be why she hadn’t felt it.) She declared that the Plume was a safe place to explore fantasy and role-playing. She mentioned that the experience had opened her mind to new possibilities.

It seemed preachy and pretentious, so she went over it again and again. Joanna was fussy about her prose, going over it multiple times, editing more than she usually did.

She stopped at intervals to touch herself, to remember the Master’s touch, to think about the balance of tough and tender.

Joanna worked for two hours that first night, then carefully unpeeled her stockings and removed her shoes to go to bed. The next morning, she put them back on, declining to get dressed as usual. She did the same on Sunday. Louise was away for the weekend so she could do what she wanted without having to explain herself. She spent the weekend in a haze of desire.

She couldn’t bear to remove her bonds. On Monday, she washed carefully, not wanting to shower because it would mark the ribbons. Louise complained about how long she was in the bathroom, but Joanna loved the sensation of going to work, secretly trussed and tied.

She wore pantyhose in a plain brown color instead of the stockings but no underwear, which left her with the sense of having a wicked secret. What had she become at the Plume, beneath the Master’s touch? Maybe a woman more confident in her sexuality. One in touch with her desires. Joanna’s outward appearance was as conservative as usual, but she knew there was a new radiance in her complexion.

She watched Mike across the table at their editorial meeting, barely listening, consumed with the possibilities that could result from showing him her purple bonds.

Mike matched his step to hers as they left the meeting, as if he’d read her thoughts. She dared to hope, the smell of his skin and the heat of his proximity making her heart leap.

“Disappointed?” he asked and she looked up in surprise. “He’s going to run your article under a pen name. I thought you’d be disappointed.”

Joanna shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

He looked at her, his eyes filled with concern. “I thought you wanted the credit.”

She smiled at him. “So did I.”

His gaze danced over her and she wished… “Are you okay?”

“Never better.” Joanna forced a smile, saw that Mike wasn’t convinced, but knew she couldn’t tell him the truth. Now she had the confidence to ask him for that coffee, but she didn’t believe herself capable of a normal relationship.

Could she be happy with sweet kisses, now that she’d had tough and tender?

She didn’t know.

She did know that she couldn’t leave those pictures in the Master’s possession, leave them where they could be revealed at any point in time. She wasn’t sure about her own romantic future, but she knew that those pictures could jeopardize anything.

She had to get them back.

“So, how was the Plume really?” Mike asked, his gaze searching hers. “Your article makes it sound as if it changed your life.”

“It was different than I expected,” Joanna said with care.

He grinned. “Don’t tell me they converted you.”

She shook her head, blushing as he watched. “That’s not what you’d expect, is it?”

Their gazes clung as Mike shook his head. “Lots of things are not the way we expect them to be,” he said softly, his eyes bright. Joanna sensed that he was going to say more, but Kevin shouted from down the hall and Mike gave her a brisk nod before he turned away.

She watched him go and wished with all her heart, knowing it would make no difference to anything. There was no point in confessing the truth to him. There was no point in pretending that fantasies could come true.

Joanna turned back to her cubicle, knowing that she had to get rid of the ribbons.

* * *

That night, Joanna stood before the mirror in her bedroom, filled with regret, then cut down with heavy shears through the purple satin. The ribbons cascaded to the floor, a shining pile of discarded plumage. The shears were cold against her skin and she was disappointed with the sensation of being released.

The feather drawn on her skin was fading, too, as if the whole interval had been a dream. She’d been careful to wash around it in an attempt to preserve it, but it was still wearing away from brushing against her clothes.

She remembered the hood in her purse and got the purse from the pocket of her raincoat, removing the hood and smoothing it in her hands. The rest of the ribbon was in there and she pulled it out, coiling it around her hands, wondering how she would persuade the Master to not only take her back but surrender the pictures of her.

She still didn’t know where to find the Plume.

That was when Joanna spotted the peacock feather, nestled into the bottom of her bag.

And a notecard.

The Dungeon

Minimum stay: two weeks

Below that was an email address. Joanna read the card over and over, her hands trembling. The Master had put this card in her purse, an invitation in case she wanted more. He liked her to submit when the stakes were raised, was probably still cautious of her being a journalist.

But the article she’d written couldn’t displease him.

If it did, she knew he wouldn’t reply to any email she sent.

The Dungeon.
She recalled his vow to train her to come only for him and only on his command and her mouth went dry.

That was what she’d learn at the Dungeon. That’s what would take at least two weeks. She had vacation due, a lot of it, and Joanna knew with sudden conviction exactly where she’d be spending at least two weeks of it.

As the Master’s personal toy.

If she surrendered completely to him, would he give her a reward? Could she get the pictures from him by playing along?

There was only one way to find out.

SURRENDER

Chapter One

Joanna was restless.

She’d published her newspaper article on the experience of joining the private sex club called the Plume. She’d ensured that she didn’t include any details that might annoy the Master – and prompt him to share the photographs he’d taken of her as a sex slave. She’d booked two weeks of vacation and had sent the message to the Master that she wanted to surrender to his Dungeon on those dates.

There was only silence.

She tried to figure out her mistake. She’d been sure that the card he’d left with her after their last encounter had been an invitation.

Then why didn’t he send instructions?

Joanna found herself increasingly impatient as the days passed. The world seemed flat and plain, its citizens content with only an increment of what they could experience. She wanted to feel the thrill of captivity again, the rush of pleasure the Master could create in her, the adrenaline surge of danger – even though there was no real danger within the Plume. Everything was consensual, desires recorded in advance, the Master ensuring the fantasy of every member of the club was fulfilled.

She wanted that sweet sense of being flooded by futility, of being out of control.

Captive to pleasure.

She knew that this wasn’t about writing a more in-depth article. It wasn’t about learning the truth. It wasn’t even about getting the pictures the Master had taken of her.

It was about discovering her own desires, secret urges that she’d never explored before entering the Plume.

Joanna wanted more.

She touched herself at night, filling her mind with fantasies of what might happen in such a place. She wore the satin hood he’d sent her, the one that acted as a blindfold encasing her head in its soft bonds.

It wasn’t as satisfying as surrendering to the Master’s command. She became irritable at work, so much so that her boss told her she was past due for that vacation. She found Mike watching her with concern, but couldn’t exactly confess the truth to him.

Even if she fantasized about Mike being her Master. She’d never seen the Master’s face. She didn’t know his identity. And there had always been something special about Mike, her handsome, good-natured co-worker.

“Ever had the feeling you were being watched?” Mike said, falling into step beside her after their Friday editorial meeting.

Joanna was surprised to find him beside her. “What?”

He grinned at her, the sight making her heart skip a beat. “You’re watching me. What’s up with that?”

Joanna blushed and looked away. “No, I wasn’t…”

“Sure you were. Maybe you’re even watching me as much as I’m watching you.”

She glanced up at that, only to find his eyes twinkling. “You watch me?”

“All the time. Smart, cute, tall.” Mike sighed. “You’ve got everything going on that works for me in a big way. How about we go out for dinner tomorrow?”