Chapter 10

Oliver held back the shakes until the car had turned out of sight at the end of his driveway.

He closed the door and rested his back against it, gritting his teeth.

Dear old Daddy.

He was familiar with the ways family could screw you up—he could write a book on the games his own relatives had played over the years.

But this—this wasn’t deliberate and yet enough to scar her psyche.

I can’t be a submissive because I can’t relinquish control.

It was so simple and yet so complicated, her misstep screwing up not only her life but those of the submissives she’d dealt with who hadn’t understood that deep inside, she was one of them.

He rubbed his face with both hands, trying to vent his anger.

And his desire.

The more he knew about Veronica, the more he wanted her.

My Roni.

The next week went by in a flurry of public relations promoting the reopening. She’d wrangled a spot on the local television station’s morning show, and between the advertising blitz and supervising the final bits and pieces of renovation, Veronica was beyond exhaustion by the time Saturday morning came around.

She’d considered calling off the session until an enigmatic email arrived in her inbox at noon.

Wear clothing you won’t mind having destroyed. Car will be there as usual. Leave your purse and cell phone at home. You’ll be safe.

She’d tried not to think about Oliver all week, resisted the urge to walk around the corner and see if he were in the bookstore nagging the staff or micromanaging the store.

For his part, he’d stayed clear of Java Jive, this email the only communication between them. She was halfway through her prescribed sessions, and even though she had to admit progress, she didn’t want to take any time off that could be spent on one last promotional push.

But her curiosity got the better of her, and she ended up standing in her bedroom, gazing into her closet.

What the hell does he mean—destroy?

Even at her nastiest, she’d never actually ripped off anyone’s clothing. She’d pushed the limit with their bodies, but never had she trashed someone’s shirt or pants to send them back out in a crazy walk of shame to scamper back to the locker room.

Veronica walked into her bedroom and put her hands on her hips, scowling as she surveyed the closet.

Screw it. I’m not wearing anything I can’t afford to lose.

Veronica couldn’t help smirking as she dug in her closet for her old workout clothing.

Let’s see how sexy he can make it when I’m wearing these.

Oliver paced around the playroom. The leather collar was in his hand, wrapped tight around his fingers.

I don’t know if she’s ready for this.

His thoughts warred with each other for dominance.

You won’t know how far you can push until you do it. She won’t know either. But if she breaks too soon, if she safe-words out—you’ll know her limits.

As will she.

You took on the job, the challenge. Now let’s see if you can live up to your promises.

He glanced at the clock and headed for the front door.

Two minutes to two o’clock.

Oliver’s gaze landed on one of the wall pictures.

He and Melissa at a campground, laughing as they held up burned marshmallows.

I miss you.

The color image smiled back at him, and for a second, he thought he heard her soft whisper.

Help her. Help yourself.

He stopped and lifted his empty hand to brush over the glossy photo.

A knock came at the front door.

Oliver smiled and advanced on the entrance.

Veronica dropped her hand down by her side after knocking on the door.

She wasn’t sure why she was there.

She didn’t need the club that badly.

Sure you do, the smug voice said. Don’t lie to yourself.

You need this.

She sighed and brushed invisible lint off her shirt front.

We’ll see what I need.

A kernel of fear churned in her gut, one that had been growing since she’d left her flat.

What is he going to do today? What can he possibly do to me, do for me that we haven’t done yet?

Her mind spiraled into different scenarios, ones she’d either done herself or seen done to other submissives.

The anticipation grew, feeding on her fear.

An underlying sense of desire trembled to life inside her as well, keeping pace with the fear.

The door opened, and she was struck dumb.

Oliver stood there, bare-chested and in the same leather pants she’d seen before. He didn’t look any different—except for his eyes. Those deep-blue eyes.

They were…solid. Strong.

In control.

She forced herself to stay still.

“You’re on time. Good.” He pivoted on his heel and headed down the hall. “Close the door and come with me.”

Veronica did so. She had to run to catch up with him, dashing past the images on the walls.

He led her to the sitting room they’d used before.

“In here.” Oliver closed and locked the door once they’d entered. “All the staff is gone as usual. No one can hear you. No one will help you even if they did.” He turned and faced her, arms crossed. “Give me your purse.”

She did so and watched him toss it into a corner of the room.

“You won’t need that.”

Veronica glared back at him. She’d worn a ratty old black T-shirt dug out from the bottom of her closet and a pair of gray track pants stained with paint from a previous café renovation.

He stretched out his hand, revealing the collar.

“Put it on.”

She paused.

His voice rose in both intensity and volume. “Put it on.”

Veronica plucked it from his hand and wrapped it around her neck. She fumbled with the buckle, feeling his disapproving stare boring holes in her as she stared at the floor.

“Good,” he said as she put her hands down at her sides.

She took a deep breath and felt the leather dig into her skin. It was suffocating her, choking the life out of her.

Her fingers went up to pull it loose.

A few steps brought Oliver close. He grabbed her wrists and pulled them down.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s too tight. I can’t breathe.” The panic attack started in her chest, threatening to overwhelm her.

“You’re fine. It’s the same one you wore last week.” His voice dropped to a low steady tone. “Roni. Look at me.”

She dragged her eyes up to meet his.

“It’s the same one. I wouldn’t change it to hurt you.” He stared at her. “Trust me.”

He released her hands and reached up to stroke her cheek. “You have to trust me.”

Veronica took a staggered breath and nodded, forcing the panic down into her belly.

“I trust you,” she murmured.

“Good.” He spun her around to face the chaise lounge. “Because I’ve got plenty planned for you today.”

She stared at the various toys laid out on the plush furniture.

All for me.

Nipple clamps, floggers, thick wooden paddles—

Oh God.

She felt faint and must have wavered, because suddenly he was behind her, his arms wrapped around to hold her steady.

“I won’t push you beyond what you can take. Believe me.” He loosened his hold as she regained her balance. “But first—” His hand landed on her left shoulder. “This will have to go.”

Veronica flexed her fingers in preparation for the order to take off her shirt.

“Don’t move.” Something cold touched the back of her neck. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

The sensation startled her into immobility.

Scissors.

He’s cutting my clothing off.

The cool trickle ran down her spine, and the shirt loosened around her.

“You’re doing well,” he murmured.

The chilled touch vanished.

“Take your running shoes off.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice. “I don’t think the scissors will survive those.”

She leaned over and untied them. The remnants of the shirt fell along her arms and she let it fall to the ground, exposing her breasts.

She hadn’t worn a bra.

Veronica paused for a second, wondering if she should pick up the torn fabric.

“Don’t touch it,” he warned.

Her question answered, she toed off the shoes and peeled the socks free.

As she stood back up, his hand landed on the back of her neck again.

“I could cut those pants, but they’re ugly as sin, and I’m not going to ruin my scissors by touching them. Pull them off. Slowly.”

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as she wriggled out of them.

He’s watching me.

Evaluating me.

A flash of insecurity dug into her mind.

How do I stack up to his other women?

She’d never worried about her appearance before.

Suddenly, it’d become very, very important.

The question burned in her mind as she pushed the pants off to one side.

“No bra. But you did wear panties.” Oliver’s hand slid down her bare spine to land at the base. “White cotton panties. Did you think this would somehow dissuade me?”

She shrugged.

The cool metal settled at her hip. “Nice try. I actually like the simple things.”

The loud snip echoed through the room, and Veronica flinched as the cool air rushed over the exposed skin.

She flexed her fingers, fighting the urge to cover herself. It took a concentrated effort to keep her hands at her side.

I’m naked.

Except for this damned leather collar.

She’d never been fully naked during any of her sessions, even the ones where she’d had sex. Usually she let the sub take off what they needed to get the job done.

Now she was exposed.

Fully exposed, and she wasn’t happy about it.

She itched to reach up and tug at the collar again. She could feel the rough edges cutting into her skin.

Veronica rubbed her palms against her legs.

Maybe he won’t mind if—

“Touch it, and I’ll whip your ass so badly, you won’t sit down for a week.” The rough words grated in her ear.

Oliver moved out from behind her and went to one of the tables. He placed the medical scissors down.

What am I doing here?

Why don’t I leave?

“I can imagine what you’re thinking.” Oliver walked over to the chaise lounge where the toys had been laid out. “You’re trying to figure out what you’re doing here and if it’s worth readmittance to the club. You’re out of sorts because this is out of your control, out of your comfort zone.” He picked up a pair of black leather cuffs, the insides lined with rabbit fur. “Being on the other side is something you’d never thought about, never considered.”

Her mouth felt like she’d swallowed a bucket of sand.

“As a Dominant, you should always be considering what your sub is thinking, feeling.” He strolled back and stood in front of her. “Put your hands out.”

She did so, seeing her fingers tremble as he fastened the cuffs around each wrist.

The soft caress of the fur seemed out of place with what was going on, what was about to happen.

There isn’t going to be anything soft about this, she warned herself.

“Are you afraid? Is it fear or anticipation of what you’re going to feel, what you’re going to experience?” He glared at her. “Tell me.”

“A bit of both,” Veronica confessed.

“Good.” He smiled, and she had to hold back a shiver. “Position five.”

She knelt down and placed her hands behind her.

Oliver moved behind her and clipped the cuffs together with a short length of chain.

I can’t move.

Her head fell forward as she processed the position. Getting to her feet would be near-impossible—she would fall on her face. It could be done, but she’d end up rolling around to try to get up.

Veronica doubted she’d get that chance.

A bubble of fear rose in her throat as she waited. She could see Oliver and the love seat with all the assorted toys on display.

Remember your safe-word.

Chai.

She tried to control her breathing and failed, taking shallow pants as she watched him return to the seat and look over the various items.

Chai.

All I have to do is say it, and I’m out of here.

And of the clubs.

Veronica gritted her teeth together and forced down the fear.

I won’t break under this. This is nothing. I can take more.

Oliver turned back, and she recognized what he was holding.

Her lips curled together, the word hovering on her tongue.

He saw her eyes grow wide as he approached.

It was a calculated guess what would push her to the edge.

He’d chosen well.

“This, as you can see, is a blindfold.” He knelt and showed her the thick black padded mask. “Today we’re going to do a lesson in sensory deprivation. You understand?”

Before she answered, he slipped it over her head and tightened it at the back by pulling the strap against her short blonde hair.

The huff of air against his chest told him she was off balance, confused.

She’d expected something worse.

Nipple clamps, butt plugs, floggers and paddles like the ones she’d seen on the way in.

Oliver allowed himself a smile, sure she couldn’t see it.

Never tip your hand.

He put his arms around her and leaned in. “I’m going to help you to your feet.”

She wavered in his grip, disoriented from the mask.

He stepped away and watched her wobble.

“Don’t fall,” Oliver snapped. “Don’t you dare. You’re not a child learning how to walk.”

She froze in place.

Slowly, she rose, and he saw the pride in her posture, the refusal to give in.

Good.

Keep it up, Roni.

He picked up a riding crop and walked around her. “Imagine you’re on a private island, a club you’ve never been to before. It’s one of the more famous clubs. I’m sure you’ve read about them. Total anonymity, total privacy.” He touched her bare breast with the cold leather tip and saw her tense up. “We’ve come here as a Master and Slave. But I’m not sure I want to keep you for the week. Nothing personal, but I’m thinking about a change. Maybe a redhead.”

Veronica pressed her lips into a tight line, and he knew she wanted to say something.

“Don’t you dare.” He touched her lips with the crop. “Embarrass me, and I’ll give you over to the worst Master here.”

She flatted her mouth out into a tight line.

“Can you imagine what he’d do to you?” Oliver strolled around her before delivering a punishing slap with the crop to the back of her left leg. “He’d probably keep you naked all the time, available for whatever he wanted to do.”

He leaned in close. “Whatever he wanted. He could string you up and leave you there for hours, nipple clamps on your breast and a vibrator in your pussy going at full tilt with orders for you not to come until he returned. What would you think of that? No, don’t answer me.”

The sharp intake of breath told him she was deep in the fantasy, the blindfold pulling her far away from his house and her reality.

Another snap of the crop on her right butt cheek. “He wouldn’t listen to your pleas or maybe even your safe-word. And if he did, he’d bring you right back here to be passed on to another man. Or maybe a woman.”

She gasped as he ran the crop over her bare torso.

“Listen to me. Trust me.” He moved behind her. “Fall backwards. Now.”

The order crashed into her imagined world, and she reacted instinctively, filled with the need to please him.

Veronica arched back on her heels and let go.

Her world spun around her as she fell back, her internal balance out of whack between the lack of sight and the scenario.

I’m going to hit the floor.

I’m going to knock myself out.

I’m going to—

A pair of arms went around her, strong and tight.

Veronica felt the rough stubble grind against the back of her neck as he turned his head to the side. The flash of discomfort sent a frisson of desire through her despite her disorientation.

She smelled Oliver’s musk, his scent enveloping her as she settled to the ground against him.

On him.

Veronica took short sharp breaths, feeling the dizziness threaten to overwhelm her.

“Good.” His reassuring words caressed her ear. “Maybe I’ll keep you after all.”

They lay there for only a few seconds before he spoke again.

“I’m going to help you to your feet again. Be ready.”

She allowed him to move out from under her and went with his tugs and pulls, feeling the world shift again as she stood.

“Time to show you off to the other Masters.” He pushed her forward, and she felt something hard brush against her thighs.

Veronica tried to identify it.

A chair.

A bench.

Whatever it was, it was solid.

“Bend over.” He barked out the orders as she maneuvered herself. “Legs spread wide. Get your ass in the air.”

Her mind spun as she followed his commands, careful not to fall over.

I’ve done this to so many men—why does it feel different this time?

She couldn’t do anything with her hands cuffed behind her. The leather rested against the base of her spine, the rabbit fur brushing her wrists.

Something touched her bare ass, and she flinched.

“A display of discipline. There’s one fellow here who’d like to see you whipped raw. I’m not going to do that today, but if you misbehave, I might oblige him.”

Veronica knew this was only a fantasy; there was no one else in the room with them.

Her imagination took over, running wild.

Are you sure?

Maybe he’s brought in his staff, his friends. Others from the club. He’s rich enough to do exactly what he wants.

To you.

“If memory serves me right, I owe you five from a previous visit. And fifteen for your choice in clothing.”

Oh God.

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she ducked her head.

Chai.

All I have to do is say it, and it’ll all be over.

She tensed up as something warm ran down her spine, settling at one cheek. His hand gripped her and squeezed hard.

“You’ve felt my hand. Time to move up to the big leagues.” His finger slipped between her legs, and Veronica gasped. “Hell, you’re already wet.” His voice was hoarse and low. “Damn.”

She tensed up and waited for the first slap.

Damn, she echoed. He’s right.