Private Delights

Chapter 6

      Joanne flinched at the rough sound of his command. Could she really do this? Watching him open that weapon, the care he took to make sure all the wrapping was removed, the slow inspection of each long strand, took her body to another place. A place where his hands were on her skin, sliding up and down her back and inspecting every inch as he had with the cords.

Clamping her lips shut to prevent the rising moan, she slipped her feet out of her shoes and unzipped the black slacks she’d worn, trying to remember what panties she’d put on this morning. It was a recognizable deflection for her brain but anything to keep her sane at the moment.

A glance in his direction didn’t help at all. He’d gotten rid of his shirt and stood watching her progress.

Waiting.

She didn’t know what he did for a living, but it was definitely working for him. Muscles stood out across wide shoulders and down his chest, visible even through the dark sprinkling of hair. Just a little lower, that dark hair narrowed into a thin line and disappeared into the low-slung waistband of his jeans. Not the kind of body she’d expect from the owner of a business unless it was a gym.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and draped her slacks over the back of the chair. The blouse went over her head and joined the pants. Undies next.

She closed her eyes and reached for the clasp of her bra, but he wouldn’t allow her the slight privacy.

“Eyes on me, sub.”

Dammit. She settled her nerves and tried to remember why she thought this was a good idea. When she met his hot stare, she relaxed. Not completely, but some.

He was as affected as she, his chest rising and falling a little faster than it had when they were simply talking. A flick of her fingers and the bra dropped from her breasts, the straps at her shoulders holding it cupped in front of her.

His eyes flared with heat and she relaxed a little more. A certain sense of power settled in her chest. He wanted to do this. He desired this act, and if she wanted, she could call it off. The outcome was hers to choose.

Her hands came up to her breasts and held the bra cups for a one teasing moment, and then the bra landed on the chair with her other clothes.

“Being a tease will often get you more strokes of the paddle, little submissive-in-training. Bear that in mind.”

Her breath hitched at his comment, but she stood her ground, only lowering her eyes when his brow rose. “Sorry.”

He cleared his throat.

“Sorry, Master.”

“Good girl,” he crooned. “Leave the panties.”

Arms by her side and head tipped forward, she waited for his instructions.

A few seconds seemed like hours while she waited.

“Ordinarily, we’d use restraints to keep you in one place, but the proper equipment won’t be installed until the floors are finished. “Joanne, look at me.”

She looked up into a half-amused face.

“I’m going to break a few rules and give you input today. Don’t expect it to happen again.”

When he paused, she wanted to return the smile but didn’t think he’d appreciate it. Her gaze dropped while she fought the urge and discovered a growing bulge in his pants. Interesting.

“Too choices. Lay across the table or stand against the wall.”

The table was one of those hard plastic temporary things with rounded edges and it wouldn’t be comfortable at all, not that she expected comfort. “I’ll stand, Master.”

“Wise choice. Step over to the wall and show me the standing submissive position.”

Easy enough, but not for long. Dread crept up her spine. She’d never done this, never thought about doing this, and her nerves were tighter than a violin string.

A cool draft blew across her shoulders as the air conditioner cycled on, and then heat brushed against her back. Derek’s bare chest made contact with her shoulder blades, his hands cupped her upper arms and slid down to take her hands. He lifted them the wall and pressed her palms to the plaster.

“Keep them here for me,” he whispered in her ear, the rasp like the swipe of a brush across her scalp, sending tingles straight to her core. Those hot hands returned to her shoulders and slid ever so gently down to her hips. His right foot nudged hers. “Feet further apart. Hm, good girl.”

The heat returned to her back and his proximity had her lungs working a little faster.

“Joanne, can you trust me?”

She replied with a short bob of her head, the gruffness of his voice causing chill bumps to rise on her arms.

“The first few strikes will hurt. Breathe through the pain and wait for the pleasure.” His hands clenched against her hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into her flesh through her thin panties. “Trust me to make it good for you.”

She nodded again and the heat moved away.

A deep breath did nothing for her nerves or the function of her lungs.

She focused on her muscles, trying not to tighten them. If she could just relax, she’d be okay. She was prepared but his hesitation worked on her head. Anticipation was a bitch, one she knew on a first name basis. She could only hope he was trustworthy.

The first lash stung in long lines across her back, the ends of the strands like exclamation points to the pain. A shout left her with the second barrage, the sting more intense than the first. In the pause afterward, a warm hand caressed her skin and the pain morphed into a hot stone massage with a rough edge.

The massage stopped and her Master changed sides, the cat-tail landing at a different angle. The sensations changed, the slap of the cords and the tight little end pieces creating an inflammation from within her body. She ached with a need that raced through her until it reached the center of her body. A moan echoed in the room, and then another before she realized they came from her. Again and again, she felt the strands collide with her body, and every time, she felt the stroke in her belly and in her sex more than across her back.

The need to come bombarded her. “Please, Master,” she whimpered.

He paused in mid swing and lifted her chin. “Are you asking me to stop?”

She turned enough to look at him through a haze of desperate arousal. “No, Master. Don’t stop. I need...I need more....”

His grin was wicked, his face flushed and tight with lust. “I know what you need, little sub. Trust me.”

He stepped back out of sight and another set of lashes crossed her flesh. Moisture slipped past the elastic of her panties and coated the inside of her thighs. She needed him inside her. Now.

The strands of the whip landed one more time and stopped. The heat of his body enveloped her, his hands roaming across her shoulders, retracing the path he’d taken before they began. They paused at her hips then slid around to her belly.

They moved lower. Thick fingers explored the thick cream between her legs. Her panties were pushed aside and two fingers slid deep.

A cry sounded in the bare room as he filled her, pumping his fingers in and out of her sex, and a baritone groan near her ear filled her head. Arms and legs shaking at the onslaught, Joanne clenched around him. “More...more...please, Master.”

His thumb moved against her, found the right spot, and she exploded, the fire in her body rushing to her extremities and back to her core in an instant.

When her eyes opened again, she was in Derek’s arms, cuddled like a baby where he sat on the chair. An attempt to leave his lap failed while he shook his head. “Hang on a few more minutes, honey.”

A few more breaths helped her regulate her heart rate and he eased his hold on her. “Is it supposed to be like that?” she asked.

He cocked a brow. “It can be. Depends on the motive of the Dom. Spankings can be for pleasure, pain, or discipline. Some people prefer the pain more than the pleasure. To each, his own.”

“So I shouldn’t expect this reaction every time?”

“With me, probably. With others, I can’t say. But most Doms prefer to give pleasure.”

A wiggle on his lap made her realize he was still aroused. What was the protocol when a Dom gave a sub an orgasm? “Um, should I give you pleasure now, Master?”

His head stretched back until he faced the ceiling before he answered. The crooked smile made him look younger. “No, I think we’ll leave that lesson for another day.”

“Oh.”

“Are you still working another job?” he asked.

“Yes. I didn’t want to quit until I knew this job was a sure thing.” Maybe the residual orgasm had refocused her perceptions, but he was more than handsome as he spoke to her face to face. Okay, so it was probably the orgasm, but he was being nice and she felt good. Better than good.

“You’re officially on the clock as of today. Payroll is biweekly. We’ll continue your training and when we’re not working on submission, you can help in other areas. Once you’re trained, you’ll be training other staff.” He held up a hand to stop her question. “I’ll continue instruction when you need me to with the other subs. Settle with your other job and give us a call when you know when you can be here on a regular basis.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“I’ll be here every day this week, so find me when you get here. Now, get dressed. I have some things to take care of outside.”

He stood, adjusted his hard-on in his jeans, and left her to get dressed. This was going to be one hell of a job but if she felt anywhere close to this satisfied at the end of every work day, she’d be in heaven. 

Derek stopped at Mark’s office door, his head and dick still pounding, and pressed his head against the shiny wood, feeling a lot less than happy with his own version of hardwood.

He ached.

Nothing he could do until it went away on its own.

Celibacy bit the big one, but he’d survive.

His good buddy might not, though.

The door opened and Mark came close to running over him. “Hey, all finished with the new hire?”

Apparently, a growl wasn’t an appropriate greeting.

Mark’s grin wasn’t welcome, either. “Do you like my new door? It was just installed. Great wood grain, don’t you think?”

Derek shoved him into the room and slammed the nice new door behind them. “I need to kill someone right now, and you’re handy.”

Hard hands pushed against his chest and he leaned into them. Mark was strong, fit and muscular, but Derek had at least twenty pounds on him and a boatload of aggression to release.

“Come on, man. Was it that bad? Did she run screaming from the new front doors?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much, buddy.”

 

Adult Content - if you are under the age of 18, please exit this page.

Chapter 5

 

She might have some experience as a submissive, but most of it was being fucked and watching others fuck. Besides an idiot boyfriend, Joanne was innocent in the ways of club life. He’d need to start from scratch.

The tension in her shoulders told him she was interested but nervous. Unsure of herself or the situation. Going slow was the best option. However, Derek had chores outside this gig and knew from past experience that the more time he took training her, the harder it would be to separate his body and mind into different entities.

Having her in his bed wasn’t an option.

And regardless of where he got her submissive-wise, he wouldn’t subject her to the darkness he reined in every minute of every day. He flat wouldn’t do that to the novice standing in front of him with her mouth hanging open.

With one finger, he tucked her chin back into place. “You don’t have any idea what these things are, do you?”

“No, Master.”

Mentally expounding on Mark’s poor parentage with a silent string of explicit phrases, Derek stepped around her and snagged another folding chair from the hallway. “Sit.”

Joanne’s eyes jumped to his face, panic making her pale.

Shit. He didn’t want to do this, but she needed more than a rudimentary lesson in dominance and submission. He set the other chair in front of her and straddled it, his arms looped across the back while they spoke face to face.

More like he lectured and she listened.

“This club isn’t a strip club or a porn shop. It’s a place where men and women who chose to participate in an alternative lifestyle are free to openly do so. That said, the members will often be nude or semi-nude and may or may not be engaged in public sexual encounters. Possibly like the ones you witnessed while you were involved with that asshole you mentioned.”

She sucked in a breath but he didn’t let her speak, his raised brow all the reminder she needed, thank God.

“As a paid submissive, you might be asked to participate in sexual acts or in scenes where members act out fantasies. You will not be passed around like a whore the way your previous boyfriend did with the other women in that group.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“You will be paid a salary and we don’t allow gratuities for any of our employees. There won’t be any allusions about paid sexual favors. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Glad that’s settled.”

“Me, too.”

Derek cocked his head in her direction. “Did you expect to be on your back every night?”

“No.  I was waiting to find out if that was the case. I would’ve quit first thing.” Her voice faltered. “I was hoping for something better than...originally, I applied for a waitress position.”

“Understood. Still with me or ready to go home?”

“Still here. Thank you.”

“Good.” Her body language remained a little off, but in slow steps he recognized the signs of relaxation. No doubt in his head she was still way outside her comfort zone, but he could get her there if she’d let him.

“Working here, you’ll see plenty of intimate acts. If you’re asked to participate, you may. But it will always be a choice you make. No one will force you. If anyone tries, you report it to management immediately.”

     As close as their faces were to each other, the quick flash of surprise on her face caught him off guard. “Don’t believe me?”

     The hard swallow and carefully blank face wasn’t the reply he wanted. Her eyes were down again and her mouth kept opening and closing even though no words escaped. When she finally looked at him again, her expression was almost defiant.

     “I believe your intent. But the kind of high end clients, members, I mean, well, in my experience, the more money a man has, the more...favors he expects. Most businesses tend to follow the money instead of the employee.”

     Derek leaned back and stretched his arms, not immediately realizing his show of muscle put her off. Not his intention at all, but it made him wonder how much damage that old boyfriend had done and whether she’d be able to work it out. If he could gain her trust and show her how a true Dom took care of his submissive, she’d be well on her way to enjoying the lifestyle.

With a flash of insight, he realized Mark had been smart to put her in his hands. He had more patience than his old friend, and more experience in training subs. It was the right choice for all but one reason. He didn’t want a woman in his life. He didn’t want to play in the club, just help manage it. He didn’t want to feel the pull of sensuality from a cute little submissive.

Want and need were two different issues, and watching Joanne had his body overriding his brain, his emotional reluctance. In fact, he was perilously close to giving up his celibate streak for this straight talking woman.

     Damn little lady had a way with words and didn’t cut corners. The strength of her convictions impressed him. She’d be a hell of a submissive and the idea of his hands on her filled his head.

     “Thanks for your honesty, but I can assure you the employee’s report will be substantiated and actions will be taken as necessary. The partners running this club will see to it.”

     “How can you be sure?” she asked, then slapped her hand across her mouth. “Sorry. That was out of line.”

     “I’m sure because I’m one of the partners. All three of us take offense at a woman being abused. We’re in the process of putting together membership packets to maintain the safety of everyone involved in Private Delights, employees and members alike.”

     “If that’s true, why are you stocking this room with instruments of torture?”

     “Darlin’, they may look like dangerous weapons, but erotic pain is often the path to orgasm. Don’t dismiss it until you’ve tried it.”  He stood and went back to the boxes. Might as well introduce her to a few more tools of the trade.

     “Show me.”

     All motion stopped and his chest flooded with heat. Son of a bitch. Did she really ask that question, or was it a figment of his imagination? Turning his head, he saw determination in her eyes even though her knees were shaking.

     “What are you asking, Joanne?”

     “If...if I’m going to work here...and do this, I need to know if...if I can handle it.”

     “And you’re asking me to spank you?” Damn body wasn’t cooperating with his celibacy plan and it was Mark’s fault.

     She planted a hand on her hip. “Who else should I ask? Some guy off the street?” Her chest rose and fell on a long, deep breath. “I can assume you know how to do this?”

     Oh, hell, he knew how and he wanted to, even knowing she wasn’t his to play with, but she had a point. If she couldn’t handle a little erotic pain play with him in an empty room, how would she manage in a full club?

     The less than perfect environment bothered him. Until the carpet was installed, all the equipment was stacked in a corner, meaning no restraints. The only option was the table.

     Derek pulled a cat-tail out of a box and slowly removed the wrapping on each of the nine soft leather strands. Each one ended with a braided knot. With the packaging put away, he gave it a few practice swings and turned to face her.

     “Strip and present yourself.”

 

    

 

A Private Delights novella with no name as yet...

Chapter 4

 

Joanne adjusted the position of her knees, thankful she’d worn slacks instead of a dress. The unfinished floor wasn’t exactly comfortable, but the fabric helped.

What to tell him? Honesty would be best, since she needed the job. The salary quoted by the secretary was close to double her last paycheck.

“Five years ago, I was living in Michigan and dating a man who was, well, I guess the best word would be interested, in the lifestyle. We joined a local group and participated for about six months.”

“Only six months? Why did you stop?”

Blunt or delicate? Did it really matter?

“He liked being with other people, but he didn’t like to see me with other men. He couldn’t handle the fact that I enjoyed it. It became a competitive thing with him, seeing how many women he could... be with while I watched. After the second or maybe it was the third month, he refused to let me participate.” The frustration she’d dealt with during that relationship surged to the fore and she slapped it back into the dark spot in her heart where all her troubles lived. “At the time, I thought he’d change his mind once he had his fill.” She paused for a comment that didn’t come.

 

“We were living together and working a lot of hours. I didn’t realize he was going without me. When I found out, we fought. He insisted I go with him again, and I tried. Once or twice.”

She stretched her spine and watched his expression stay calm and unaffected by the information she shared. And then she realized what made him different. There were no explosions, no demanding questions or heated discussions. He was strong and dominant, but he didn’t take his emotions out on other people. The best word she could find to describe him was self-contained.

“What happened when you went back?” he asked, his deep voice conveying curiosity and concern but no hint of contempt.

She shrugged. “More of the same. It wasn’t fun anymore, so I walked away.”

That piercing gaze of his observed her for a few minutes, taking in the information and processing it against what he saw now, and she hoped the person he saw now was a better person than she’d been five years ago.

“I can say with some authority that removing yourself from that situation was a wise choice.”

Thank you was the first thing she wanted to say, but didn’t. “Even though it was his idea to begin with?”

Derek’s brows rose at her question, making him look sympathetic and attractive as hell. This wasn’t going to be easy, letting him touch her without getting involved. Falling in love with him might be the easiest thing she’d ever do in her life. Scary, since they just met.

“From what you’ve told me, if he stayed in the lifestyle, he probably evolved into one of two types. A closet submissive that plays at being a Dom, or a dangerous Dom, one who believes there’s no need for a safe word.”

“I don’t think I’d like either choice.” When he nodded, she couldn’t stop her question. “What kind of Dom are you?”

When he laid his forearms on his knees and leaned in close, Joanne wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

“I’d like to say I’m the only type of Dom you’ll meet around here, but until I assess the membership, I can’t comment.”

In the early shock of his closeness, she’d forgotten to lower her eyes, and now, she couldn’t look away. Dark eyes, almost black, bored into hers and mesmerized, a sensual stroke without a touch of skin on skin. He radiated power and compassion, a heady mix of sexuality and sorrow.

In a blink, it was gone from his face, and she didn’t know what to think.

“Let’s get started,” Derek said, straightening in the chair. “While your frame is adequate, I’d like to see better. Knees apart, feet together, hands on your thighs, palms up.”

Joanne blinked at his change in demeanor and let her eyes drop while she adjusted her body. When finished, he murmured a ‘good girl’ and stood.

Her eyes stayed at his feet. Nice shoes. Long and wide. Thick soles. Interesting.

Rolling her lips in over her teeth, she tried to repress the inner monologue and listen to his comments.

A hand appeared in front of her face.

“Take my hand and stand, sub.”

Sliding her hand into his warm palm reminded her of the lack of male companionship in her life. This job would most likely change how she felt about not having a boyfriend. She’d meet a lot of people here, but she doubted they’d all be like Derek.

“Show me the standing sub position.”

With no clue, she raised her gaze. “I never knew that one.”

He stepped closer and his hands rested on her shoulders, the heat penetrating a little too much for her comfort zone today, but a few breaths helped her relax. The distinctly calm tone of his voice helped.

“Move your feet a little farther apart, relax your shoulders but don’t slump. Only your head is lowered. Submissive and beaten down are two different looks. A good submissive is strong internally and happy in the service of her Dom.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Now, put your arms behind your back. Have you had any experience with handcuffs?”

“Yes, Master.” Dammit. She’d forgotten about this aspect of submission. The one time she’d been cuffed, she’d had bruises for a week. Squeezing her eyes shut, she concentrated on her breathing.

Rough fingers touched her chin about the same time she heard his soft shushing sound. He lifted her chin with a gentle hand she wouldn’t expect from such a large man.

“You’ve had a bad experience, haven’t you, Joanne?”

It was the first time she’d heard her name on his lips and the feeling it evoked shocked her.

“Tell me.”

“They hurt and I had bruises afterward.”

“Unless you’re in police custody, they’re not supposed to be painful.”

He held them in front of her and she sucked in a breath. The metal cuffs he held were wrapped in fabric, nothing like the ones she’d seen before.

“Touch them, get used to the feel of them. In our club, handcuffs—hell, all the cuffs we use—are more of a reminder of submission than an attempt at pain management.”

Derek laid them in her hands and let her play with them for a few minutes. The fabric around them was soft and encased all of the metal except the closures.

“Before we move any further into the scene, let’s talk about all the different types of restraints we plan to use here at Private Delights.”

He led her to a table piled with boxes, some of them already opened and waiting for inventory.  “Until the room is completed and shelves are ready, I don’t want to open all of these, but one from each box should be enough to get you used to the equipment.”

Who knew sex required equipment beyond the human participants? Nevertheless, she stood by his side while Derek opened a box and unwrapped a long leather-sheathed rod with a flat surface extending from the end.

“This is a slapper,” he told her, “usually used when the submissive is bound in some way or positioned on a Saint Andrews cross.”

Suddenly, her world got a whole lot smaller.

 

 

Chapter 3

 

     “I’m not doing it.”

     They’d been arguing about it all weekend long and Derek was tired of the subject. Mark, on the other hand, was still warming up to the subject. A clear reason to keep Doms from working together on a business project. Neither would back off willingly.

     “Dammit, Derek, you don’t have to fuck her, just train her to be a submissive.”

     Easy for him to say, much harder to do, and the look Derek gave his friend was intended to end the discussion. “No.”

     They crossed the main floor and went out to the front walk to inspect the façade. The contractors had worked over the weekend to finish painting the extensive remodel and to get the landscaping done while they could. Taking advantage of a few bright sunny days in February before the weather changed was an opportunity not to be missed.

     The original entrance to the country club had been front and center, with wide steps and a ramp. That entrance was gone and in its place was an oval patio area contained behind a wrought iron fence. A concrete sidewalk ran through what was rapidly becoming a grass yard in front of the patio. The sidewalk extended into part of the existing parking lot and ended in a sloped entrance. Another load of soil was on its way to fill in the area and enlarge the grass yard.

     Mark and Derek watched the landscape crew plant shrubs around the water feature to the right of the entrance.

     “This was a good idea,” Mark said. “I wasn’t sure what you were talking about when we first discussed it.”

     “Yeah, you didn’t want to trust me, but I know what I’m doing.” Derek shut his mouth on a groan, sure of what was coming.

     “Exactly, which is why I want you to train the girl. You know what you’re doing and you’re good at it.”    

     A truck pulling a flatbed turned into the drive and both men pivoted to watch its progress. “The sign,” they both said, grinning at each other like little boys with a new toy.

     “I thought it wouldn’t be here until tomorrow?” Derek asked.

     “They called early this morning,” Mark said, still grinning. “Both the building sign and the one for the street entrance are ready to hang.”

     Derek felt the cosmos close around his throat. “And that means you need to be out here all day to supervise.”

     Mark slapped him on the shoulder. “Yep. Guess you’ll have to handle the new girl.” He turned and strode across the lot to meet the delivery truck.

     Fuck. Derek reluctantly followed, wanting to see the final design for the marquee but unwilling to give in to Mark’s plan. He hated to be manipulated.

     Gorgeous. No neon for this club, just simple lines and classic décor, except for the playrooms, of course. But the exterior remained sophisticated, right down to the marquee.  Private Delights spelled out in a flowing burgundy script and set a few inches out from the brick wall with overhead lights spotlighting it. No flashy strobe. No trashy pictures of strippers. This private club would remain a secluded haven for people with discerning tastes.

     Another car pulled into the lot and Derek watched a slim woman stand next to her car looking for a sidewalk of some kind. She was the one he’d yelled at the other day. The new hire he was being forced to train. Shit. He took a few steps in her direction and gestured for her to come to him. It helped that she didn’t look happy to see him.

     Nevertheless, when she stopped in front of him, her head tipped up and she stood her ground. “I have an appointment with Mr. Harrison.”

     “Yes, I know, but you’ll have to do with me. His schedule has changed and I’ll be taking care of you today.” He smiled when her spine visibly stiffened. “I believe there are papers for you to sign before we begin.” With a tip of his head, Derek strode toward the new entrance, wondering if she’d follow or try to catch up with him. A first test to see how she would adapt to the lifestyle.

     He stopped at the door and she was a few steps behind, ready to enter when he held open the frosted glass door.

     “Wow. This place has changed a lot since I was here last week. You’ve been busy.”

     Derek couldn’t stop a smile. He was proud of the work they’d put in. “We plan to open in two weeks. We still have a long way to go.” He led her to the grand staircase still covered with the old carpet. “Watch your step here. Some of this is still loose, but we aren’t pulling it up until the new carpet is ready to install.”

     “Are they going to make this Friday’s delivery date?” she asked.

     Derek paused. “How do you know about the delivery?”

     “When I was here last week, Mr. Harrison asked me to help him chose the carpet.” She stumbled on a rough patch of carpet and he reached out to steady her. The pink flush in her face caught him off guard and he let go as soon as she regained her balance.

     Instead of responding he nodded and hurried her along. “Can I assume you know what kind of establishment we have here?”

     She huffed. “I would assume it’s a BDSM club, simply because of the position I discussed with Mr. Harrison. Am I correct?”

     “Yes. Have you—do you have any experience with BDSM?” Better to get everything out in the open as soon as possible.

     “Some.”

     “Care to elaborate?”

     She paused at the top step. “Have I been hired yet, or is this still the interview process?”

     “Does it matter?” he demanded, making sure he was calm, cool, and dominant.

     “Yes. Legally, I don’t have to reveal personal information during an interview.”

     “Do you have things to hide?” If she was a problem, they didn’t need her, and he made sure his tone conveyed just that.

     “No, but my sexual history is no one’s business at the moment.”

     Hmm. Strong minded and a little conventional. The makings of a good submissive. Maybe.

     Derek pulled open the door to Mark’s outer office. “Mildred will walk you through the paperwork. Give her everything she asks of you. We’ll also do a background check. Is there anything we should know before we run it?”

     “No.”

     “Good.” Instead of leaving her with Mildred, he walked over to one of the folding chairs lined up against the wall and sat, his eyes following her every move.

     He was making her nervous.  The shift from foot to foot was evident only in the slight sway of the cuffs of her pants. Her slim hips barely moved. And what a lovely ass she had, not too big, but definitely not flat, and it sloped from her small waist to a nice soft curve before ending at her thigh.

     He wouldn’t fuck her, but touching wouldn’t hurt. Surely Mary would forgive him that much.

     The thought of his wife sent a wave of grief through his gut, but the cut wasn’t as deep as it had been in the last two years. If Mary could speak to him, she’d be disapproving of his celibate life these days. She’d told him to move on, but he hadn’t, not really.

     The young woman had finished signing the ream of paper Mildred had prepared, so he stood and waited for her attention. Gathering her copies into the envelope the secretary provided, the young woman slipped them into her purse and rose.

     When she turned to him, he said, “Tell me your name, sub.”

     “Joanne,” she replied, head dipped just enough to hide her eyes. So the answer was yes, she did have some experience with dominance and submission.

     “Come with me.”

     Derek strode out the door and down the hall to one of the open play areas. It was nowhere near finished, but they could use the space for basic instruction. First, he needed to assess her knowledge within the BDSM lifestyle.

     Regardless, he wouldn’t go easy on her.

     He sat in the only chair in the room and looked her over, waiting to see what she would do of her own accord. Joanne’s eyes didn’t meet his, and when he didn’t offer instruction, she fidgeted a minute before going to her knees in front of his chair. It wasn’t the best submissive form he’d ever seen, but it was adequate.

     “How long has it been since you’ve been in this position?” he asked.

     “About four or five years, Master.”

     Her gaze remained focused on his knees, a good start, but he needed her trust and more information before they could get started.

     “Joanne, for now I’d prefer that you look at me while we talk.”

     Soft brown eyes looked at him, her expression hesitantly nervous. The short cut of her dark brown hair fit her gamin face and even in this untraditional situation, she appeared calm and in control of her body. No flitting around with her hands or her eyes like she was a flight risk.

     “Now that you’re properly hired, will you discuss your private experience with BDSM with me? I’d like to know where to begin your training.”

     “Yes, Sir. First, will you tell me how you prefer to be addressed?”

     “When we are in the club, you will address me as Master. Any other time, you may call me Derek.”

     “Thank you, Master.”

     “Good girl. Now, tell me about your past experience.”

 

Chapter 2 - Help me name this story...

Chapter 2

 

“How did the interview go?” Beth asked when Joanne came in the front door. “Did they say when they’d make a decision?”

Joanne dumped her purse on the wing chair near the door and flopped onto the sofa next to her roommate. “He offered me the job, but I’m not sure I want it.”

“Uh, why?”

Joanne looked around at all the things she’d acquired in the last few years. Most of the furniture was new, bought during what she now called the money-flood year and a half she’d worked for the dot-com. When the flood trickled into a mud pile, two of her co-workers moved in with her to help with the rent. They were lucky.

They hadn’t bought a house like she had. Even with a three way split, they were barely making the house note and utilities, even though all three were working long hours.

“Come on, share. I have an appointment Friday. Should I skip it?”

“The ad wasn’t exactly clear about the type of business.”

“It’s a club. Beer, wine, dancing. Sweaty people getting drunk and spending money. Better, rich people spending money.”

“Beth, it’s a BDSM club, very quiet, exclusive and pricey. A members-only kind of place.”

“Okay, it’s a kinky bar. They still pay good money for booze, don’t they?”

“I suppose, but he asked if I would consider being a paid submissive. I wasn’t worried about the bar or the wait staff positions. Those are pretty much the same anywhere. But what he suggested is different.”

“I may have a bachelor’s in English Literature, but I’ve lived a sheltered life. What the hell is a paid submissive?”

“Interesting. I asked Mr. Harrison the same question.”

“Dammit, Joanne,” Beth said, “stop beating around the bush and tell me the whole story. You’re driving me nuts.”

“In the club, there are dominants and submissives. The submissives follow orders and please their master. They can be punished for infractions or rewarded for good behavior.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. He’s opening a whorehouse?”

Joanne got to her feet, too wound up to sit still. And talking about the whole Dominant/submissive lifestyle brought out too many old memories. Pacing the length of the living room, she tried to find a good way to explain it to her friend.

“It’s not always about sex. And it’s not always a male dominant and a female slave.” She held up a hand to Beth when she gasped. “The terms are interchangeable in the scene, but no one is really a slave. Actually, the submissive can stop the action at any time and the dominant has to stop. At least, that’s the way I learned about it.”

     She turned around to see Beth staring at her. Heat suffused her face from the horrified look on her friend’s face, and now they were both embarrassed.

     “I never knew you had such an interesting life before we met,” Beth said. “I feel boring as hell right now.”

     A giggle erupted, and then another. Beth joined in and the laughter continued until the front door opened and their other roommate stood staring at them.

     At least Terri had a regular job, one she loved and paid well.  “What did I miss?”

     “Joanne got a new job. She’s going to be a paid submissive.”

****

 

Derek Lyons pushed the swinging door open with his foot and maneuvered the large pizza box through the opening. The six-pack of beer in the other hand clanked as the bottles tipped and his buddy turned at the sound. Mark grabbed the box and set it on the one open table in the room, one of those white plastic things that easily folded. They’d cleared out the warehouse store when the building had been declared habitable and they could begin the remodel. Easier and cheaper to use temporary furniture until the work was done.

“Thank God for pizza,” Mark said as they broke into the box.

“Thank God the construction is almost done,” Derek added and Mark nodded while he chewed.

Derek tore open a package of fake cheese and doctored his slice. “Foreman assures me the exterior will be finished by the end of the week. How are we doing on the inside?”

Mark swallowed a sip of beer and nodded again. “Carpet will be delivered and installed at the end of next week. Furniture will come in the following Friday, now that we have a color scheme.”

Derek laughed. “You finally picked something?”

“Yeah, I had help.” He grinned. “One of the women I interviewed today picked one for me.”

Derek raised a brow but didn’t stop chewing.

“Yeah, I know. But I liked all three, and while I can tell a Chagall from a Renoir, I couldn’t see much difference in the carpet swatches. It’s a rug. As long as it’s soft on the knees and looks luxurious, I’m okay with it.”

“Isn’t that why we paid a designer?”

“Yes. She asked me to make the final decision, so I figured they would all work.” He downed another sip of beer and chuckled. “She was pissed when I asked a stranger to choose, but the girl did fine and Miss Tankson still got paid.”

“How’s the hiring going?” Derek asked.

“It’s getting there. I have five bartenders lined up and ten or eleven waitresses so far. Mildred is doing the paperwork for background checks. And I think I found a paid submissive. She came in as a waitress application, but I think she’d be great on the floor.”

“Why? Does she have a BDSM background?”

“I don’t think so, but maybe. She didn’t open up, but said she’d think about it.”

“What makes you think she’ll call back?” Derek asked.

“She looked hungry,” Mark said. “She’s been working as a waitress, but has a degree in marketing and made a heavy salary at a now defunct dot-com. She’ll call.”

“This is your instinct at work?”

Mark shook his head. “Nope. Just good business. She needs a job and I offered her one that pays better than what she has now. She’ll call.”

They finished dinner and Mark tossed the box and bottles in the large rubber trash bin in the corner. “Let’s walk the place and call it a night. I need a hot shower and a soft bed.”

“And you call me the old man,” Derek huffed. They’d just finished the second floor walk-through when Mark’s cell rang.

He grinned when he answered. “Yes. Thank you for calling me back, Miss Reynolds. Good. Come in Monday morning at ten and we’ll discuss the terms.” Mark smiled at his buddy. “Great. See you then.”

“Don’t tell me.”

Mark laughed. “Told you I had the gift. She needs a job.”

“That’s one. How many submissives did you want to hire?”

“Probably four or five. We’ll have to see.” They crossed the corridor and went down the steps to the main floor, noting finished work and items on the checklist that hadn’t been done. Mark ran a tight ship and Derek was the best supervising contractor he knew, besides being a security systems analyst.

“I want you to train her.”

Derek stopped in his tracks. “Why me? You can do it.”

He nodded. “I could, but I’ll be the boss once the place opens. And you have better technique.”

“Bullshit. You just want me involved again.” Derek hadn’t had a submissive since his wife died three years ago. He dabbled, but he didn’t keep anyone. “I can’t train anymore.”

“Don’t tell me you can’t remember the drill. I know you. You’re the best trainer in the state.”

“No.”

“Just think about it. You can meet her Monday morning and decide.”

“I’ll meet her, but I won’t commit to training her.”

“I’ll agree to that.”

Derek paused halfway across the main floor. “Why don’t you wait and train all of them at the same time?”

“I already planned to have you do that.” At his best friend’s glare, he laughed. “I’m running the business end of this club. It’s the least you can do for me. Think of it as keeping an eye on your investment.”

“Bullshit.”

“Once you get this girl trained, she can help you train the rest.” Mark slapped him on the back. “She’s pretty. Tall and slim, with short brown hair and dark eyes.”

Derek’s brow lowered. “Don’t push me.” He walked ahead to the next corner but didn’t turn into the open area.

“She’s nice, and she needs a job. Can’t you help her out, and help me, too?”

“Dammit. I don’t need this harassment.”

Mark grinned as Derek walked away from him.

“She was the last woman in the door this afternoon. Maybe you saw her? Gray skirt, heels, and a nice rack, not too big, but just right for her build?”

Son of a bitch. “Did she have dirt on her skirt?”

“I think so.” Mark waited for his buddy to make the connection.

“No. Hell no.”

Help me name this story...

Chapter 1

 

Joanne pulled into the parking lot and found a spot well away from the building. The old country club was barely visible through the morass of workmen rebuilding the façade and while the lot seemed debris free, she didn’t want to take a chance on a flat tire. With funds dwindling, she needed a job more than a repair bill.

A few minutes early for her interview, she got out and leaned against her car. Six months ago, she’d been in and out of this place too many times to count while she organized the company Christmas party. With no idea of how quickly a start-up dot-com could go under, her boss had insisted on a high-end bash to celebrate the great year they’d had.

Two months later, they were bankrupt, and she was the only waitress at the diner with a master’s degree in marketing and bills to match the national debt. Well, everybody had bills to pay, and she couldn’t be sure about a couple of the other girls at the diner. But, for the last few months, her resume circled Dallas, Fort Worth, Austin, Houston, and Las Vegas. She even sent a few to San Diego, hoping she could locate Kevin and reconnect if they worked in the same town.

This was the last place she expected to be, but the new club opening after this remodel promised to pay top-shelf wages for qualified candidates, and she needed the money. Besides, she knew her way around a bar, knew how to fend of drunks and still get a good tip. She’d put herself through college doing just that. This couldn’t be any worse than some of the dives she worked on the East Coast.

She stepped over a bundle of wooden rails and made her way around to the side of the building where she’d been told to look for the temporary entrance. Halfway there, she ran into a wall of male heat with a wad of papers in his hand. One minute, she was on her feet with no one nearby, the next, she was on the ground looking up at the most impressive physique she’d ever seen.

Well, the best she’d ever seen in a shirt and jeans, but from the fit of the shirt as it hugged his body, he’d spent serious time at the gym.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Looks a side, he wasn’t much of a winner.

He reached down and offered her a hand. “Why are you sitting in the middle of the walkway?” he asked.

“I was walking to the entrance when I was run over,” she replied, tugging at her skirt to make sure she was still presentable.

She gave him her best screw-you look, but he didn’t notice, so Joanne stepped around him, or tried to. His hand gripped her arm just above the elbow.

“Where are you going, miss?”

The steel in his tone and in his grip stopped the sarcastic reply on the tip of her tongue. One look at his face had her mesmerized. The sharp line of his brow, dark brows furrowed above his nose, highlighted the high cheekbones and strong jaw. Power. The word flung itself into her brain and wouldn’t leave. She filled her lungs and fought for a little self-control. “I have an appointment with Mr. Harrison.”

Without letting go, he took a step back and looked her over from head to toe before meeting her gaze. A flicker of interest in his expression caught her by surprise but it disappeared almost immediately.

“The path to the front door is on the other side of the fence.”

Releasing her arm only long enough to turn around, he took her by the shoulder and escorted her to the gate she’d been aiming for before their collision. The heat of his hand penetrated clear to her chest and breathing wasn’t easy with him so near. The scent of testosterone and clean male sweat permeated the space around him and overwhelmed her. Damn, she’d been single for too long.

“Harrison is in the main hall discussing carpet with a vendor. When you come back out the door, make sure you stay on the gravel path all the way to the parking lot.”

“Yes, sir,” she said as he put her on the other side of the chain link gate and closed it between them.

His lips twitched like he was trying to hide a smile before the man turned and strode back to a makeshift table facing the building.

Joanne focused on the door and increased her pace, mentally shaking off the encounter with the contractor. She needed this job, and as hunky as the guy was, she’d never see him once the club opened. The door was propped open even though the air conditioner blew cool air from every vent in the ceiling. The waste was irritating after the irrational spending of her former boss, but she tried to let it go. She didn’t know these people, but they must have money to spare.

Squaring her shoulders, she walked right up to Mark Harrison and waited while he looked at three carpet samples. The floor underneath was covered with beige industrial carpet, well-worn and dirty. It should have been replaced long ago. Harrison looked back and forth between the two salesmen, then caught sight of her.

“Mr. Harrison, I’m Joanne Reynolds. I have an appointment at one.”

One brow went up and he did that head to toe thing the contractor did before meeting her eyes. “I had a little accident on the way in,” she said, dusting off a spot of dirt on her gray skirt. “One of the contractors knocked me down. I don’t usually come to a job interview with dirty clothes.”

“You weren’t hurt, I hope?” he asked.

“Just ruffled a little, but I’ll be fine.”

His grin was a surprise. “Good. You can tell me what you think of the samples before we go to my office.”

That was so not in the job description, but she’d handled all kinds of tasks at the failed dot-com. “Thread count?” she asked the vendors.

Mark answered. “All the same. We’re—well, I’m stuck on the color and pattern. I need a woman’s opinion.”

Joanne studied all three of the large swatches and looked around the room where they stood. Football games could be played in the place if they took down the staircase in the middle. “Is it for this space?”

“Yes,” all three answered.

“I’d go with the purple.”

“Eggplant,” the salesman interjected.

“The eggplant with the gold and green swirls. It won’t take over the room and is more elegant than the other two.”

Harrison turned to the salesmen. “Order it. I need it installed at the end of next week.”

One of them pulled out his cell and keyed in a number while the other hurried to gather their samples. Harrison didn’t spare them another glance, just turned and strode toward the bare wooden staircase. She followed, hoping he wasn’t ditching her appointment. At the top of the stairs, he turned with an apologetic look.

“My office is still being put together, so we’ll need to be a little less formal today.” He waved her to a pair of folding chairs and a small table set out in the hall. “Please sit.”

As if by magic, a door opened and a demurely dressed woman came out to hand Mr. Harrison a manila file.

“Tell me about your previous employment.”

With so many interviews under her belt in the last three months, it didn’t take her long to hit the highpoints and share her work history. It was all in the resume in his hands and she didn’t deviate.

“Interesting and diverse. Now tell me about your personal life.”

Not a typical subject during a job interview and she didn’t have a ready answer. Could he legally ask that question?

“Private Delights is an exclusive members-only BDSM club. I’m interviewing for wait staff, baristas, and paid submissives. With your education and background, you would come closer to your previous high salary as a paid submissive, if that interests you.”

Prickles of heat crawled over her skin. “What in the world is a paid submissive?”

 

 

Chapter 2 will post next Monday, March 24th.

Help me out with a title! leave a comment or email me at LavenderDaye@gmail.com

 

 

Changes

It’s finally happened.

I finally confused the Amazon search engine and it has no idea what kind of ads to send me.

For years, my primary purchases from the online giant were children’s books. Now my kids are grown and they buy their own stuff.

Last December, I spent a week searching for a robe for my mom, but never found the right one. I’ve shopped for gifts for hubby. I’m bought my fair share of romance novels. And in the past year, I’ve ordered more college textbooks than I wanted, but with kids in college, I had no choice. Those books ran the gamut of subjects.

When I see an email from Amazon in my inbox, I never know what to expect.

I do know my reading habits have changed over the years, and their computer needs to go with the flow.

As a young teen, I read stuff from the school library and books I could find in the local grocery store—mainly Harlequin fare (I’m telling my age, but it was when they only had one line.) and they were fast reads.

I moved on to science fiction in high school and lingered there for years (the genre, not the school) because I found lots of romance cleverly cloaked in fantasy and sci-fi from writers like Anne McCafferey. In fact, most of her books are still on the shelf in my office.

Several years ago, in a moment of high stress, I reached for a romance, sure it would be an enjoyable read and end in a happily-ever-after, something I desperately needed that day. I haven’t strayed since then, reading all types of romance from dozens of great writers. I could list my favorites but this post would go on for miles.

Speaking of change, the biggest leap I made recently was from the ‘I must have a book in my hand’ camp to ‘I can’t live without my ereader’ camp, and in my mind, it was a huge step. I should take a moment to apologize to all those friends and authors who tried to change my mind a few years ago, when I was adamant about not giving up my paperbacks. They know who they are, and I buy their books regularly.

Have you made any changes lately?

 

Leave me a note and let me know.