Red Hot Obsessions (173 page)

A Discussion with The Dom

In Play Room Two, Rae stood in the center of the room and stretched her arms above her head, reaching for the stone-tiled dungeonesque ceiling and nearly scraping it with her still-unpainted nails, while Mr. Park hung onto his drawers and scuttled from the play room.

A feeling rose in her chest, something like victory, and she smiled.

Relief rested there, too. She had bested the defiant Mr. Park and hadn’t disappointed Wulf, and she was glad as all hell that it was over and she hadn’t screwed it up. Although spanking Lando Park creeped her out a little because the religious nut in the back of her head was oh-so outraged, Rae felt, just a little, like she could do this and that she might have helped Lando Park with some of his issues.

She dropped her arms and collapsed onto the curvy chaise lounge.

The carved-mahogany door opened, and Wulf stepped into her dungeon. He cleared his throat. “That went well.”

Rae stretched her arms over her head and grabbed the back of the seat behind her head. Her boobs rose to the top of the leather teddy’s cups. “Yeah, even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes.”

“Glenda will escort you to our accounting madam, where you can fill out the necessary paperwork to be paid for today, after we speak privately.”

“We need to talk?” Insecurity shattered her victory glow. He had said that she was to be paid for
today
, suggesting
today only
, suggesting that she had royally blown it all to heck, dang it.

“If you have the time, I’d like to have a full and frank discussion in my office about your employment.”

“Did I do something wrong? I shouldn’t work here, right?”

Wulf smiled. When his lips parted over his bright white teeth and his chin dropped a notch like that, his expression turned sexy and predatory. “You were superb.”

The relief dribbled back, though her nerves still strummed like an over-tightened banjo. She hooked a thumb through a wide leather strap around her hips. “Should I change first?”

Wulf’s eyes bobbed down, a cursory glance. “No. You’re fine.”

Wulf strode ahead of her through the twisting corridors, marching with purpose like he might be slightly late. Rae teetered behind him in those too-high cowboy boots that were beginning to pinch her toes and worried that she might fall off of them and break an ankle, which would truly end any hope of her getting a job at The Devilhouse. No one would want to be whipped by a Domme on crutches.

Finally, he opened a nondescript office door. Inside, sharp sunlight streamed through the long window overlooking the garden and threw harsh shadows over his spare, oversized office furniture. She was just wondering if there was such a thing as Swiss modern furniture or if it was all Swedish modern like sterile, boxy Ikea when he grabbed her wrist hard and spun her back against the wall.

She thumped the wall and said “Hey!” just as his mouth came down on hers in a rough kiss. His body pressed hers hard against the wall.

Finally!

The whole time they had been in the play room practicing, visions played in her head of Wulf throwing her over one of those furniture things, but he had stuck to the schedule, and then she had taken her frustration out on Lando Park because Wulf was watching.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, wanting more. He kissed her harder, groping her hips and waist over those leather straps and lace, his hands everywhere at once.

His breath on her neck was ragged like he had sprinted miles. “If you don’t want this, you should leave now.” His body pulled away from hers a little, enough to let her slip away if she wanted to.

She twisted her arms harder around his neck, pulling him closer. She wanted his body tight against hers and to taste him. Pushing her tongue into his mouth, she tasted mint. His warm tongue wrapped hers and then pushed back into her mouth.

His torso and hips pressed against her, wedging her body between himself and the wall. They kissed, their mouths meshing together as his hands ran over her body, grabbing her breasts in the leather bustier and her ass through the straps. She wanted him to slip his fingers inside the leather and inside her body like he had that first night and yesterday, but he trailed his fingers on the tight leather over her pussy. Her body throbbed.

“Please,” she moaned against his lips, trying to move so that his fingers would slide inside her. She fumbled with the tiny buttons on his shirt, trying to press them through the buttonholes, but unbuttoning them was a lot harder when she couldn’t see what she was doing. She struggled with his silver tie, but that didn’t give, either.

He groaned and picked her up, cradling her. Rae yelped against his lips because she still wasn’t used to anyone being able to lift her. He carried her over to his desk and set her bottom on the cold glass.

She said, “No, I’ll break it,” and struggled to jump off, grinding her pussy against his pants.

“Unbreakable.” His low voice was harsh.

She spread her palms behind her, trying to distribute her weight on that glass, sure that she was going to crash through it and yet trying to keep kissing him because his warm, soft lips felt so good against hers. “Are you sure?”

For an answer, he pressed her back onto the cold glass and wrapped her legs around his waist. She pulled back, afraid to hurt him with the high-heeled boots, but he grabbed her hips and yanked her body toward him, nestling her pussy against his hard dick in his pants. His hands slid around her waist to the back, and he fumbled before the leather around her waist loosened and then he wrenched off bottom half of her costume, unsnapping it all the way down her sides and shoving it out of the way.

Rae gasped because she was bare from the waist down and she hadn’t even known there were snaps but then his lips closed on hers again, rougher this time. He leaned down and bit and sucked her neck while his hands dipped into her top, spilling out her breasts.

Rae let her head fall back as Wulf sucked her nipples until they tightened into hard buds. Each suck pulsed through her body, from her tits to her spine down to her aching pussy. She wanted him and wiggled closer to him, but Wulf gathered her breasts together and sucked harder, driving her wild.

She couldn’t get enough of him. Every time he touched her, she craved more.

The desert sun shone outside the window and glinted on his blond hair. She sneaked one hand up into his hair, gripping the fine strands between her fingers. He took this as a signal that she wanted more, and he pulled her body toward him. His cock made a long, hard lump in his pants against the inside of her thigh, so close to her sensitive bump that she tried to rub against him, but he slid his hand between her breasts, down the leather still around her ribs and her tummy, over her mons, and into her wet pussy.

His fingers slid in her cream and were slick against her, and then he found her clit and circled it, rubbing so slowly, while he sucked on her tits. Pleasure shocked from his mouth and his hand through her and met in her belly.

Her hands slid apart on the desk and she lay back, panting. She glanced out the bright window over the garden, where thick bushes hemmed in oddly shaped benches. He hadn’t even shut the window blinds. If someone walked by, they would see her, splayed out on Wulf’s glass desk, clearly about to fucked.

She heard a desk drawer open and shut through the waves of pleasure running through her head, and a foil packet ripped open.

Then he was moving up her body again, and his bare chest slid against her stomach. He slithered up her body until his cock just touched her pussy, the head barely parting those soft, sensitive folds, and he held it there. He rose up a little, bracing his other arm on the desk, and looked down at her.

Her whole body hummed, wanting him inside her. She tried to scoot down the desk to take his dick into her, but his arm under her hips didn’t allow her to move. She grabbed his silver tie, still knotted around his neck, and yanked, trying to pull him inside her and down to kiss her again.

Wulf’s blue eyes were fiery, like he was angry, but the corners of his mouth curved upward as he panted. “Say you’ll work for me. Here. At The Devilhouse.”

“Yes.” She would have said anything to get his cock inside her. Her body hungered for him.

He slid a little more into her, stretching her body around him. She was so wet, sopping wet, that he slid like silk into her. Just when she thought he was going to fill her completely, he stopped again.

Rae was wild for him, wanting him to take her. She gasped air and tried to grab the edge of the desk to pull herself down and onto his dick, but he was a lot stronger than she was, and he held her, half-on, just to where she wanted to scream.

“And you won’t try to find out anything more about me,” he said. His breath puffed like he was running for his life.

“What? Wulf,
please!
” She struggled, but he held her still.

“Promise me,” he said. “Nothing more. Don’t search online. Don’t look up anything. Not about
me.”

“I promise!”

With that, he pulled
back
and lifted her leg, flipping her over. Her cheek pressed against the cold desk, and the beige carpet wavered though the thick glass.

Behind her, he slid the head of his cock through her slit, found her entrance, and thrust deep into her with a growl and she cried out again, feeling his hard dick push up inside her like he was forcing even the air out of her.

She held onto the thick edge of the glass above her head, trying to steady herself because every time he pounded into her, she rocked away from him. Wulf yanked her back down onto his dick with his hands on around her hips, practically lifting her whole body and driving her down and onto his hard cock.

He stroked in and out of her pussy, pushing her hips against the sharp edge of the desk. Each time he slid into her, Rae thought she would come, but the pleasure wound tighter every time.

Wulf’s hands slid from her hips and up her back, and he held her by her shoulders, pulling her back and ramming himself into her. She felt like a tiny girl being fucked by a giant, so helpless, and she lay on his desk, letting him take her. His pelvis smacked her ass again and again.

Just when she thought he was going to go forever, he pulled out of her and she almost stumbled backward and he spun her around again, lifted her by her ass up to sit on the desk, and dragged her down on his dick.

She tried to wrap her arms around his shoulders—he was still wearing his shirt, though it was unbuttoned down his front, exposing hard muscle and ridges of abs—but he pushed her backward onto the desk and drew her legs up, hooking her boots over his shoulders, and he pounded deep into her.

The ceiling lights above Rae glowed bright, and she shut her eyes against the glare from them and the sunlit window. With her eyes closed, she could feel and hear nothing but Wulf ramming into her and scrubbing her clit hard with every thrust.

That first night at the party, when she had screwed him against the wall, he had held back.

Yesterday, when he had tied her up, he had taken her from behind, but that time, too, he had controlled himself.

This time, he hammered into Rae, slamming his pelvis into hers and driving so deep that it almost hurt. He had abandoned all his reserve and forced his full length up into her, each long stroke rubbing her inside and then smacking her clit with a burst of tightening desire. She wanted to scream for him to stop because his lust scared her, but he felt so amazing that she gasped,
“Yes!”

Wulf grunted with every thrust, his breathing harsh and rapid. Rae spread her arms on the desk, trying to hold on as Wulf leaned on the desk for better leverage. He stood up at the top of each stroke, lifting her and rubbing her clit and the inside of her pussy, and she cried out, not caring who heard her.

The friction built, heating her.

Tension spiraled. Her brain sparked.

He pulled her hips back and rammed into her over and over, each pounding thrust like a climax but then he kept going, harder, and Rae was helpless to even push back against him because he had her legs up so that he could stroke deeper into her. Rae arched her back and ground down on him, and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, wanting him more and more, and the crushing tension blinded her.

Wulf grabbed her hips and pushed her down on him one last time, bowing backward as he gasped. Rae felt his cock throb deep inside her and her pussy burst into hot waves.

She shrieked and arched off the desk as wave after wave tossed her. She held onto the edge while he pumped her, extending the pulses that ran though her flesh. Each surge raced through her, swirling in her head, until they slowly subsided.

She was still gasping when Wulf collapsed on her stomach.

She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as aftershocks fluttered. His dick, still in her, pulsed in fast time with his heartbeat, and his scent, sharp citrus and wind-blown meadows and warm man, flowed over her, and she breathed him into her nose and into her lungs, filling her body with him that way, too.

He lay on her stomach and chest, his body limp. His shirt draped down over her sides, covering both of them. She combed his hair away from his eyes with her fingers, but his gold eyelashes and pale lids stayed closed.

Her other hand strayed under his shirt, and she gingerly explored the hard tangle of scar tissue on his back.

“Remember,” he whispered. His lips moved on her breasts, and sweat ran down her ribs.

He whispered, “Remember what you promised.”

~~~~~~~

Episode 4: Rae Bound

Contract with The Devilhouse

Contract with The Devilhouse

What have I done? What have I done?

Rae’s chattering mind kept cadence with her stiletto boot heels clattering on the tile as she paced around the whipping post and past the red leather-upholstered, undulating sex couch. In the flickering light from wall sconces that pretended to be candles, the black shadows behind the dungeon’s torture equipment looked like they were waving at her and mocking her.

Why did I do it? I shouldn’t have signed!

Since Sunday, Rae had dithered for three days, penduluming, deciding whether she should take the job as a dominatrix at The Devilhouse and hand out punishments to sexually deviant men or change her cell phone number so that Wulf couldn’t ever find her again.

Not that the latter would work. Lizzy and Georgie, her college dorm suitemates, would just barge through their adjoining bathroom and demand to know why she hadn’t taken the job.

Signing her name on that paper that the accountant had slid across the desk at her just a few minutes ago had been merely Rae’s hand scratching the pen on deceptively ordinary paper, but now it felt like a contract with the Devil.

I’ve already done it. There’s no way out.

Rae freaked out some more.

If my family finds out, they will never speak to me again. Wulf’s private investigator almost blew it, but this is all my fault. They’ll find out, somehow. My father, my mother, my brothers, and my cousins will all turn away from me. Shun me. Expel me. Strike my name from the church rolls and scratch my name out of their Bibles.

I’ll be alone in the world, in this Godless, sinful, awful world.

She knew that she was backsliding, becoming again that child who had shown up at college mired more in despair than defiance, but fear drove her back.

Maybe God had devised The Devilhouse as a supernatural moral test, threatening her education by challenging her virtue.

By signing the contract, maybe she had failed.

Yet, the whole point of her college education was to help autistic kids. If she gave up her plan to build her autism clinic, A Ray of Light, surely that would be wrong.

Surely, abandoning children to the darkness of autism was the most evil thing that Rae could do.

Plus, her bank account had fattened by a thousand dollars since yesterday morning when The Devilhouse’s direct deposit had arrived, which meant that her account was up to a grand total of one thousand, one hundred and three dollars.

That was, like, three textbooks for next semester. Maybe four.

Maybe the Devil was tempting her to choose her pride and vanity over helping children.

The Devil was tempting her in The Devilhouse. Get it?
Devilhouse.

Surely, even Satan himself was more subtle than
that
.

She didn’t even believe in Satan any more. After that blowout with her preacher when she was sixteen, when he told her that she was a weak woman and should hold her peace in church and look to her father
and
younger brothers
for guidance, she had written it all off.

She wanted to fall to her knees and pray. The thigh-high leather boots would protect her skin from the rough tile floor.

Instead, Rae paced. Her heels clicked and clacked on the tile, the shadows danced crazy jigs on the walls, and with every step of the knee-high boots, she regretted signing that danged contract.

Probably.

A thousand dollars. For a few hours.

Two thousand dollars a week would change her life.

Her mind boggled at the thought of not scraping by in college. She could buy a cafeteria meal plan and eat something other than oranges off the neighborhood trees, half-burned grilled cheese sandwiches made by ironing buttered bread through aluminum foil, and beer.

To steady herself, she grabbed a beam of a St. Andrew’s cross, a huge capital
X
, with her gloved hand. The metal chilled her hand through her leather glove, and she leaned her fevered forehead against it. The metal shocked her face.

If only slinging pancakes at IHOP paid two thousand dollars a week, she wouldn’t have to wonder which Devil’s trap she was falling into.

The door banged open, and Wulf, The dread Dom of the Devilhouse, strode in, unbuttoning the jacket of his black suit. Even in the dark dungeon of Play Room Two, his hair glinted gold in the weak lights from the medieval sconces, and the fake candlelight flickered on the sharp planes of his cheekbones and the square angle in his jaw. Her family would disparage his strong face as “too pretty” in their envy of his unscarred skin.

Yeah, he didn’t have any scars on his face. Rae’s heart clenched.

Wulf said, “We’ll start with some basic intimidation today.” When his gaze lit on her, the expression in his bright blue eyes changed to concern. “Rae, whatever is wrong?”

He crossed the play room in three long steps and wrapped his strong arms around her. “Did something happen? We didn’t put you in with anyone, yeah?”

His alarmed tone reproached Rae for being so emotional, even while she noticed that his usually imperceptible accent seemed stronger. “It’s nothing. Just second thoughts.”

“About working here.” His flat tone chastised her. “Or was it the books?”

A box for her had been delivered to the front desk of her dorm this morning. When Rae opened it up in her room, the smell of mildew-foxed paper floated out, and she sneezed. The two volumes were bound in old, red leather, and the early sunlight picked out the worn gold lettering on the spines,
Shakespear
. It was kind of weird that they misspelled his name. She had seen nicer copies, newer ones, with bright gold leafing in the big box bookstore just off campus, but the thought was nice. At least he hadn’t bought her ostentatious faux jewelry, which she would have returned to him. Some of that jewelry that he had sent over were obviously high-end crystal and probably worth a couple hundred bucks.

Indeed, he had bought her used books.
That
was an appropriate gift and obviously not a weird sex bribe.

“No, no, no,” she said. “The books were really sweet of you. I love Shakespeare. His sonnets and long forms are incredible, and I really appreciate it. It was very thoughtful of you. Thank you.” Even though
Venus and Adonis
and
The Rape of Lucrece
were kind of scandalous for a guy to give to a girl.

“They’re the 1709 printing,” Wulf said.

“Wow. They’re that old? They’re in really good shape.”

“Fine condition, specifically.”

“I love them. They’re beautiful, and used books are an appropriate gift.”

“Used books?” He glanced at her face, his eyebrows raised.

“They’re not used?” Disconcerted, she tried to figure out what he meant.

“I guess they are. Yes, used books.”

“Well, I like the books. Thanks again. I just have qualms about working here. It’s a lot of money, but it’s just,” and she couldn’t think of how to end that without offending him, “some things about the Devilhouse, I don’t know, they kind of scare me.”

“What scares you? The clients?” Wulf thumb-pointed to the eye in the sky, the shiny black dome embedded in the rough-tiled ceiling. “If anything untoward happens, Mr. Jackson or one of the other security personnel will intervene. They’re all ex-special forces. Mostly SAS. A few Americans. They will stop anything that might occur. I consider security nearly as important as punctuality.” His knowing tone suggested self-mockery.

She didn’t think she could explain her qualms to him. If she tried, she would feel foolish, and he would be scornful, even if he didn’t show it. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m all reassured now.”

He leaned back and studied her. Disbelief lingered in his bright blue eyes. “Really.”

“Yeah. Seriously.” She shouldn’t protest too much, either.

He released her. “All right. I won’t pry. You’re practically British sometimes.”

Rae needed to either take her acting classes more seriously or drop her second major so she could concentrate on counseling.

Probably the latter.

In the meantime, she was at The Devilhouse, she had signed the danged contract, and she needed to take this seriously. “Let’s start.”

“As you wish. Let us begin with some basic intimidation techniques,” Wulf said. “All these are within the context of a scene. We don’t seek to permanently harm our clients, so you must be cognizant of the greater influences with which you work. Mostly, we use shame.”

Rae reared back. Every psychology class she had ever taken recounted shame as a foundation of neurosis. “But that’s unethical. Shame is psychologically damaging.”

“We are not psychologists. We work with what we have, not some romantic ideal of psychological health. Shaming is our most common tactic and the one our clients find most useful. Since most of them feel shame for utilizing our services, shaming tactics for other items divert them from their shame for their sexual proclivities. One of our doctors deemed us a ‘counter-irritant,’ which amuses me no end.”

“I’d love to talk to your sociologist Domme at some point. I can’t imagine how she rationalizes this in her own head.”

“She is here most Saturday nights. You are coming to the club next Saturday,
ja
?”

When he said that, Rae finally heard, where she had thought that Wulf said “yeah” at the end of his sentences, he had actually said, “
ja,
” the German and Swiss word for “yes.”

Wulf had told her that he was Swiss, a secret that he had told no one else.

Even his name, Wulf, was a secret.

The huge gunshot scar on his back with the dragon tattoo woven around it was a secret.

He told her too many secrets, and Rae didn’t know why.

She said, “Yes. You said I should come here on Saturdays.”

Wulf’s grin was extravagantly innocent, and his eyes were so amused. “Perhaps I will see you there.”

Rae sure as heck hoped that Wulf would be there because she probably was going to need someone to explain stuff to her. “Okay.”

“Now, back to shaming our clients. You did a stellar job dressing down Mr. Park yesterday, but you must be careful about the subject matter. We usually critique their subservience and manner of submission. We keep to non-physical aspects. For example, I would never denigrate you for your petite stature.”

Rae laughed. She was five-feet-ten when she slouched, and even though she wore high-heeled boots, her nose was lower than Wulf’s.

He gathered a fistful of her auburn curls, which she hadn’t tied back in a bun this morning, and kissed the tresses that curled out of his hand. “Or chastise you for your dull, listless hair.”

He was standing so close to her that his suit jacket brushed her sides. “You’ll notice that I’m using physical proximity to make you uncomfortable, standing in your personal space.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” Her breathy voice betrayed her.

“Just as an example of other ways to play, you can do something that appears innocent at first, and then use that to shock them.”

Rae saw his fist tighten in her hair, and he yanked her head back and kissed her. His lips were rough on hers, kissing her hard. His tongue pushed into her mouth, swirling with hers, and she wound her arms around his neck.

Just being near him made her body ache for him. She wanted to feel his skin slap hers and his dick hard inside of her, even though she had had sex with him three times in the last week. Every time she touched him, she wanted more, again. She pressed her pelvis against his body, craving him. He slid his other arm around her waist and squeezed her to him. Under his buttoned dress shirt, she could feel the muscle that ridged his body.

Lust had a hold on her, she realized. She wasn’t longing to understand his mind or his soul. She just wanted to screw him against a wall, like that first night she had met him.

The moral danger in The Devilhouse wasn’t in the clients or the work.

Rae grabbed Wulf’s shoulders and shoved him away.

Wulf stumbled backward, catching himself on a beam of the St. Andrew’s cross, and laughed. “Yes, like that. Keep them off balance.”

Rae turned away and pretended to inspect the case of whips while she composed herself. Her heart thumped like a kicking rabbit. In the glass front of the case, Rae could see that her expression looked horrified, so she inhaled deeply and tried to make her face look like she didn’t care that she was doing so many wrong things and that Wulf tempted her to worse.

“Yes, yes,” Wulf said from somewhere behind her. She glanced up and could just see his reflection in the glass. “I promised to teach you whip work. We’ll get to that soon.”

His cell phone beeped.

“Pardon me.” He turned away, touching the screen. “Hello.”

She took the extra moment to cram her stupid trembling down into her stomach while she watched him, mirrored in the glass of the case. She wanted to run her fingertips over the pale skin on his strong cheekbones and jawline.

Wulf listened to the cell phone, and his shoulders slumped. “Again.” His neutral tone betrayed no emotion. “Thank you for notifying me. Call Karin and inquire if she can come in for a few hours. I’ll take care of it until then.”

Rae watched, but he was impassive.

Wulf tapped his phone, and then he stared at the ceiling of the dungeon for a moment. He might have been calculating a sum in his head or inspecting the faux granite up there for cracks. He transferred his attention back to his phone, but his cool expression didn’t change. “Rae, my Lady Macbeth, could you do a personal favor for me and step in for yet another session this afternoon? The client is here, now. His Domme has not checked in.”

She shouldn’t do it.

She should leave The Devilhouse and Wulf and never look back.

Wulf was still pondering his phone. “I understand if you are not ready, but your session with Lando Park went exceptionally well yesterday, and I think you have a talent for this.”

His approving tone warmed her.

One more session would pay for another couple of textbooks.

Or let her buy into the meal plan for the rest of the semester.