Read an Excerpt
"On your knees, slave."
Tora stood firm. She wouldn't bend--not to this man. What the hell was he doing in her fantasy anyway?
His fingers grazed her left nipple, then caught the peak in their grasp. Tora shuddered and tried to pull away. The grip on her tender flesh tightened with the perfect amount of pressure and forced her knees to give way. But she sprang back to full height when laughter rose up from the audience of bidders. Damn the blindfold. How many eyes roamed over her naked body? And could the man in possession of her breast right now really be who she thought he was?
The Master of Ceremonies stood behind her and teased the crevice of her ass with his riding crop. "I believe the man asked you to kneel, woman. What are you waiting for?"
Without thinking, Tora straightened her shoulders and stared daggers into the black silk hiding her identity. If the buyer still tweaking her nipple truly was her nemesis from work, maybe he didn't know who she was. Maybe she could do something to drive him away...
She tilted her head toward the bidder's voice and hoped the audience could hear the challenge in her words. "I don't think I'm your type."
The Dom laughed. "Wanna bet?"
Her mouth opened to give a smart-ass retort, but she wasn't fast enough. His other hand found her right breast. She couldn't talk, couldn't think. Christ, she couldn't do a damn thing except enjoy.
The MC's breath blew damp and steamy on her shoulder blades seconds before his crop left a stripe of unexpected pain across both butt cheeks. "Did you not hear the man?"
The bidder released her swollen nipples. Tora's knees hit the stagefloor.
"Are you sure you want this one?" asked the MC. "She'll need lots of training."
Jovan's voice was thick as honey. "That's what I'm hoping for."
The audience exploded with more laughter, and a warm flush of humiliation spread over her flesh. His talented fingers found a nipple once more. "I'll take her."
Shit, thought Tora. This man is going to ruin everything.
She heard the rustle of paper and the clank of metal when he tugged on the chain connecting her wrists. At least the walk to his suite would give her time to calm her frantic heartbeat. Unfortunately, it also gave her time to ponder her bad luck.
Sasha is sooo dead. She rolled her eyes beneath the blindfold. "Go to Club Xotica," her best friend had suggested. Sasha was right--Tora needed an escape from work, the scorching Georgia heat, and, most importantly, her rival, Jovan Creel.
She'd been more than a little intrigued by the exclusive New York City resort catering to the BDSM crowd. Her stressful job at Martin and Hyde, Atlanta's top ad agency, forced her to micromanage everything and everyone under her supervision. The idea of submitting, of being under someone else's control, quickly became an obsession. Tora'd spent the last few months squirming during meetings while her imagination ran wild. Hell, she'd even resorted to carrying a second pair of panties in her purse to replace the ones soaked by noon. When the forms required by the Club finally arrived, she took them to work and came like crazy countless times behind the locked door of her office--and once in the employee bathroom during lunch. That tight-ass Mr. Martin would have died...
And now he was here...
Her new Master unlocked a door and led her into a humid room. Once the door was shut and locked, he repeated his earlier command.
"On your knees..."
This time, she obeyed. She felt his fingers lift a sweaty curl from her nape. He toyed with it for a moment, then traced a fingertip along the top of her spine. Her body ignored the oppressive temperature of the room and responded with a shiver.
How did he end up here? Admission to the Club required sponsorship from a long-time member or a trusted individual from the BDSM community. Sasha had vouched for Tora and introduced her to several Club members in preparation for this erotic adventure. Jovan must have known someone as well. Then again, he was the kind of guy who could talk the devil into handing over his pitchfork--and horns, too.
Still behind her, he eased his tall frame down to the floor to kiss and lick the salt from her skin. His teeth grazed her shoulder, forcing the air from her lungs as the muscles in her cunt clenched in arousal. A click sounded at one wrist, then the other, and the cuffs clinked to the carpet. The blindfold fell from her face.
When two strong hands the color of deep mahogany reached around to palm her tits, she nearly groaned. The gold class ring she saw everyday at work winked up at her, its garnet stone emblazoned with the letter M taunting her with the full realization that, yes, her dearest enemy now had control over her body and mind for the next six days. Even the tiger engraved on the ring's side seemed to roar in victory.
"Guess who?" he asked.
Oh, she knew who, all right. The hands making her nipples feel so goddamn good belonged to the man whose new accounts consistently kept her from being number one in the company. A man she lusted after even while she despised him for snatching up the best clients in the country.
"Someone who went to Morehouse?" she asked innocently.
Jovan didn't answer. Instead he stood and walked barefoot to the leather couch that faced her. He sank into the buttery brown cushions with the grace and intensity of his alma mater's mascot before picking up her file from an ornately carved mahogany end table.
She tried to focus on one of the sofa's wooden ball-and-claw feet to keep her eyes respectfully downcast as instructed in her morning orientation, but his arm moved. It stretched along the high, curved back of the immense piece of furniture, and his bare torso rippled to accommodate the motion. He didn't seem to notice her staring, or maybe he didn't care. She licked her lips wondering how his chest would taste and how he'd react to her touch.
Sweat trickled over her brow from both nerves and humidity. Seems she hadn't been successful in eluding the heat, either. Even posh resorts had A/C problems, and with leather-clad Doms and naked subs and slaves all over the place, the manager would need someone discreet to make the repairs. Apparently, that person had yet to be found.
Jovan's chest shimmered in the heat and reminded her of how she took her coffee: no sugar, only a dash of cream. He kept his head clean-shaven, and it, too, glistened in the dampness of his suite. She could see why the women at work--and a few of the men--drooled when he walked past in his expensive Italian suits. No matter how much she hated him, she always joined the others in waiting for the last day of the work week. Casual Fridays, renamed Cock Fridays in his honor, kept her daydreaming throughout the weekend about the bulge in his khakis filling her pussy.
He flipped through the papers in her file. "We're going to have a lot of fun, um, Silky." His arrogant smile gleamed in the dim room. "But I'm not crazy about that name. Sounds a bit phony. What do you think?"
She answered as instructed in her morning training. "I agree, Sir."
"Master," he corrected.
"I agree, Master." The words came through gritted teeth.
"Let's call you Tora." He continued to browse her application, his smirk still in place. "You remind me of a bitchy blonde back home."
"Quit playing games. You know damn well who I am."
He slid from the couch, his muscles liquid, his gaze fixed with purpose. Long, thick fingers threaded in her hair--fingers that made her wonder just how big his cock was.
He released what was left of her French twist and gently pulled her head back to meet his eyes.
"Yes, I do know who you are. You're my little bottom. Mine to command all week long." He bent down, his lips hovering mere centimeters above hers. "And if you can manage to behave, you'll enjoy every second of it."
His words, his scent, and his proximity left her breathless. The hand in her hair made its way to her lips, tracing them lightly before retreating. In that instant, her anger vanished and pure carnal heat owned her.
This was what she'd paid for. A whimper caught in her throat when she realized Jovan had done everything right thus far. He'd made her tremble and cooled her temper. Maybe seven days serving him would be more satisfying than a week with a stranger. The slickness coating the opening of her cunt agreed.
She thought back to what he'd just said. Every week, he topped her at work. This week, he'd top her at play. The whole situation--the heat, her anxiety, his presence--everything conspired against her and made her giddy. A grin pulled at the corner of her mouth, and her hand left her side to cover her lips.
He narrowed his eyes. "Tora, the rules clearly state that bratty bottoms will be punished. The staff explained the Discipline Chamber, did they not?"
"I can't hear you."
Her new Master undid his belt. The giant in his jeans increased in size, and his voice became a whisper. "If you don't want to talk, that's fine. I've got something to keep you quiet." He opened his fly. "Something to fill that pretty mouth of yours."
He looped his thumbs beneath the waistband of his briefs, and his cock sprang free. Her tongue darted out in anticipation. His fingers hadn't lied--he was hung like a fucking Clydesdale.
The tip of his cock teased her lips, and she felt her pride evaporate, the thrill of submission sink in. With a hand on the top of her head, he urged her forward. She complied, bracing her palms on his now naked thighs while laving the slit in his dick with an eager tongue. After suckling the tip, she moved further down his dark shaft and relaxed the muscles in her jaw.
"Good girl. Take all of me. Every inch."
One of her hands reached up to grip the base of his cock and work him deeper into her throat.
"Mouth only, Tora."
She removed her hand. The man was a robot, Tora mused as she sucked him in earnest. His breathing remained constant, and no groans broke from his throat. Domination suited him. His free hand disappeared behind his back, and he stood rigid and in control like some kind of ruthless drill sergeant. She decided to torture him a little, to rake her teeth along the sensitive swell of his enormous cockhead. To slow her assault on his prick until he gave her some kind of reaction.
In that moment, Tora figured she had nothing to lose. She had no dignity or clothing and God only knew what would happen when they returned to Atlanta. But she wanted a taste of this lifestyle; her only worry was whether he could keep his mouth shut. She released his prick. He growled in disapproval.
"Master, can I ask you something?"
"Yes, but make it fast."
His control is already slipping, she thought with amusement. "Remember the confidentiality statement we signed in our paperwork?" she asked. He nodded. "So what happens at the Club stays at the Club?"
Tora swallowed him whole and smiled as best she could with a mouth full of cock. He'd chosen her for the week and, by doing so, he afforded her enough power to break him.
The next six days belonged to her. And before it was over, she would rock his body, mind, and soul until the control he seemed to prize so dearly melted in the blistering New York heat.
Jovan looked down again to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Tora Wolff's lips circled his dick, her mouth moving on him like she wanted to suck him in to the balls. Who'd have thought the uptight smart-ass could give such good head?
The fist behind his back clenched tighter with every thrust of her sweet mouth. Thank God for the heat. Without it, she'd have known in a heartbeat how badly he wanted her--and what little control he had left. He swallowed yet another groan and tried to play it cool. Hell, she'd been driving his dick crazy for months. Those sassy business suits with low necklines and generous slits teased him every goddamn day.
But what surprised him more than her skill at fellatio was the fact that she hadn't flinched when he'd taken off the blindfold. He'd worried every step of the way from the auction to their rooms about how she'd react to being his sub. A black man's sub. He stroked her blonde hair and forced his mind to focus on anything but her lips, her tongue, the heat of her throat ... Tora was a Southern gal, as pale and fair as they came. In the words of the great Cornel West, race matters, and it sure as hell still mattered below the Mason-Dixon Line.
Maybe he'd misjudged her. He certainly hadn't believed his buddy Garrett when he said she'd be spending the week at a Holiday Inn for freaks.
In the process of learning about the Club, Jovan realized he'd misjudged himself as well. During his training on how to treat a submissive, he knew he'd found his sexual calling. Sure, his last few girlfriends liked to take an occasional walk on the wild side. But those forays into kink only whetted his appetite for more--more than what his exes had bargained for.
A moan grumbled in his chest when her teeth scraped against his glans. A jolt shot through his nuts, and his breath hitched. If he didn't stop now, he'd spray the back of her throat with come. He guided her head away from him and nearly exploded when she looked up to meet his gaze. A slight smile graced her lips, and she opened her mouth to receive him again.
"You like sucking my cock, don't you, baby?"
She tried once again to take him back into her mouth.
"I'm saving myself for your cunt, slave."
He helped her stand. Light danced over the elegant motifs of the golden wallpaper, painting her body in shades of amber. The blonde hair on her pussy glinted in the light and reminded him of what he'd planned next.
Though neatly trimmed, the hair distracted him from the wet pussy below. Lucky for him, her questionnaire indicated that she wasn't opposed to being shaved or waxed.
He fastened his pants, grabbed the phone, and dialed the number to the front desk. "We're ready," he said. "One woman, two men."
A soft tap sounded on the door within minutes. Jovan admired the blush burning Tora's cheeks before answering the knock. She stood with downcast eyes when the three slaves entered. Adorned in body jewelry, leather, and the occasional chain, the trio waited for Jovan to speak. The woman held an ornate box as requested.
"Sit on the floor, Tora."
When she did, the men took their positions on either side of her and clasped a thigh. Jovan knelt behind her, pulling her close to support her while the men tilted her back and spread her wide. The female slave opened the box, then lowered herself to the floor.
The woman stroked the fur of Tora's pussy. "All of it, Sir?"
"Every single hair." He nuzzled Tora's cheek and whispered, "I don't want anything to hide my sweet pussy." His new slave trembled in his arms.
The woman continued to run her fingers through the curls. Tora squirmed, and the men brought her knees toward her chest. When a delicate finger sank into her wet hole, Tora buried her face in Jovan's shoulder.
"Don't turn away. I want you to watch."
She obeyed, and he reached down to pinch a plump nipple. When she moaned, he chuckled and pulled a strap of leather from his pocket as best he could while holding her in place.
"Looks like you need help staying silent."
After tying the gag, he turned back to enjoy the show. The woman took a pair of cordless clippers from the box and held it to the hair between Tora's thighs. A hum filled the room; soon only stubble remained. The slave blew on Tora's bare pussy to get rid of the shorn curls then licked the wiggling blonde from slit to clit. Swirls of pink tongue lashed at the swollen ridge, and Jovan pressed his erection into Tora's back.
A quiver racked her body. The other woman stopped to fill her hand with shaving gel. She massaged it onto Tora's delicate flesh, then ran a razor through the layers of foam to reveal a perfect, hairless pussy.
After wiping Tora's mound with a wet cloth from the box, the slave produced a silver jar. One of the men released his grip on a thigh, opened the container, and slathered thick oil over Tora's breasts. The scent of vanilla filled the air as the man rubbed, and soon his hand made its way south. The second man stuck a finger into the jar, and his hand joined the one already slicking her cunt with lube. When he bent to taste a nipple, his glistening finger trailed lower and worked the small brown hole below her sex.
Tora groaned. Jovan watched from over her shoulder as the muscles of her cunt flexed almost violently. The man's thick digit burrowed deeper into her ass, and when the last knuckle disappeared, the woman pleasured Tora's clit with her mouth again. The beauty in his arms screamed as best she could with the leather in her mouth, then squirmed and bucked while they all held her tight.
When she went limp, the three helpers left the room. Jovan lowered her to the floor, unknotted the gag, and removed his jeans. After licking the juice from her still-throbbing pussy, he claimed her mouth.
Tora broke the kiss. "May I ask a question, Master?"
She tasted like summer, and he didn't want to stop. Reluctantly, he lifted his head. "Sure."
"How'd you find out about this place? I mean, did you know I'd be here?"
He grinned. "I believe that's two questions." She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled before giving up his secret.
"My friend Garrett. He hangs out with Sasha. Don't get pissed at her."
"I don't think "pissed" is the right word."
He looked into her eyes. "What is the right word?"
"Something between furious and, um, grateful."
"She told Garrett you must be hot for me, all that bitching you do behind my back. So Sasha and Garrett decided to hook us up." He kissed her ear. "And I'm glad they did."
"Why, Master? So you can make me as miserable here as you do in the office?"
The old Tora was back, but she was grinning.
"No. I want to give you what you want this week. I want to do things to you no other man has ever dared."
Tora didn't argue. She didn't say anything at all. Her hands swept over his shoulders and made love to his back. They were everywhere--his neck, his sides, the top of his ass. His cock surged into her tightness, and he rocked her for as long as he could. With a final plunge, he felt his come shoot through his shaft to mix with her own wetness.
Finally, Tora. He'd been waiting for ages to possess her, to have her beneath him, willing and pliant.
He only hoped one week would be enough.