Unleashed: Volume 1 (Unleashed #1) (13 page)

“Let me know when
it’s delivered.”

“Done.” Angie used
my favorite word in the English language and got off the phone. I
loved that she didn’t waste time discussing the details or even
telling me how she managed to pull things off. She was probably
already on the phone again right now with a personal shopper in
Billings’ one high-end department store. It wasn’t yet 9 o’clock.
They’d still be open. And for a client like me, the store would
make it happen. I liked having money.

I stepped out into the
warm evening air, a Friday night in June. I had the woman of my
dreams up in my hotel, probably about to sink into a hot bath. With
any luck she’d slip a few fingers down into the steamy water and
touch herself, reliving the scene in the stockroom. I could still
feel her ass firm in my grasp, her quivering and moans of need, the
way she’d begged for release.

Damn, I needed that,
too.

Restraint. I was the
king of it. Even if it nearly killed me, I was going to give Kara
time to think this over. I wanted her to struggle with it, wrestle
with her conscience, have time to think about what a good girl would
do. And then choose to do the opposite. I knew her well enough to
know if she didn’t want this, she’d turn it down. There was no
money in the world that would coerce her to give herself to someone
if she didn’t want to.

The money was simply a
premise, something she could use as an excuse to do what she wanted.
I knew her intimately. I knew what made her tick, what she craved,
perhaps even more than she knew herself. I couldn’t wait to unleash
it in her. But only after she begged for it.

A young guy, probably
right out of high school, brought my SUV around. “Mr. Hunt, sir.”
He held the door open for me. It had been cleaned, though I hadn’t
had it scheduled. “I gave it a wash,” he explained. “You had
mud on the fenders.”

He was right. I had
been out on a muddy road visiting one of my properties a few hours
outside Billings. I checked the name on his tag. I liked to remember
the ones who showed initiative.

“Good work, Sam.” I
gave him a $20. It hadn’t been that long ago when a $20 could make
or break my weekend. Now I liked to share what I could.

I headed out into the
night without a definite plan. But I knew I wouldn’t be heading up
to my penthouse, not any time soon at least, so close to Kara yet not
close enough. I needed to bide my time. A good distraction would make
it that much easier.

Like the club I enjoyed
when I was in town. It had nothing like the buffet of offerings or
the lush opulence of clubs I frequented in New York. But BDSM was
BDSM no matter where you did it, and this club usually knew how to
put on a good show.

Located on the
outskirts of town, the building had no exterior sign. A valet even
parked your car off premises if you desired. The governor couldn’t
have his constituents knowing he wielded a flogger for pleasure.

I didn’t particularly
care what people thought of me, but you never knew who might want to
turn up dirt when. Discretion seemed a smart choice. I pulled up into
a dark alleyway. A man all in black emerged. I could see him quickly
check my plates in his phone. Then he hopped to it, opening my door
and taking another $20 from me with a crisp, “Good evening, sir.”

Funny how many people
called me sir these days. In the boardroom. In the bedroom. Not bad
considering I’d been a mere ‘boy’ not long ago, as in “boy,
fetch me that over there.” Or, “Boy, you’re not gonna make much
of yourself in life.” I’d had more than one adult tell me that, a
nasty high school English teacher and a mean son-o-bitch correctional
officer came to mind. Success felt good for a lot of reasons. Right
at the top had to be proving people wrong.

Inside, a long corridor
ended at a heavy door guarded by a big bald guy and hosted by a
curvy, raven-haired woman in a suit.

“Welcome,” she
greeted me, apparently having gotten word from the man who’d
checked my plates. I was on the list. “Would you like to secure a
private room? Or would you like to leave that option open for later?”

“I’m good.”

The big guy opened the
door and I entered into a room of dark fantasies. Lanterns hung from
the walls, giving out flickering light as if I were in a dungeon of
old. People gathered around tall bar tables or reclined on clusters
of chairs and sofas. Women circulated, bringing drinks. At first
glance, it looked like any other club.

Then you’d notice a
woman walking by in a g-string and nothing else, led by a leash
attached to a collar around her neck.

Over in the corner a
woman kneeled, nestled in between a man’s legs, her head working up
and down as she sucked his cock. A few people watched. A man sat next
to them and openly stroked his own thick erection. A woman stood
fixated on the scene, her legs apart as the man next to her reached
his hand up her tiny leather skirt to work her pussy.

Up on stage was the
real show. It was just getting started. The master was handcuffing
his slave and attaching her wrists to a hook hanging from the
ceiling. She could still stand in her high heels, but barely as she
stretched out. I could sense her mix of nerves and arousal. I
wondered if she was new.

“How may I serve you
tonight?” A redhead with thick eyeliner attended me, her large
breasts displayed atop a tightly laced corset. She wore fishnet
stockings and long, black stiletto-heeled boots.

“A bourbon, neat.”

“Yes, sir.”

I watched her walk
away, her ass nicely displayed under a short, tight skirt. I knew the
girls working at the club were on the menu as well, there to satisfy
any needs of the clients. Another night she might tempt me. Tonight,
I didn’t want to play myself. Just watch.

I found my way to a bar
table, close enough to see well. The master was displaying his tools,
laying them out for his sub to see on a wide, wooden table. He had a
couple of floggers, some nipple clamps, various sizes of butt plugs.
Some doms liked the element of surprise, blindfolding and shocking
their subs. Others enjoyed making them watch, worry, anticipate. I
could see merit in both strategies when done well.

This dom drew it out,
showing her everything and building her tension, teasing her with her
own anticipation of what he had planned. She twisted against her
restraints and a newbie might mistake her distress as wanting to get
away, escape from the man who held her at his mercy and get off the
stage where strangers could openly stare at her. But to a more
experienced master such as myself, I could see the signs. Her rapid,
aroused breathing. Her nipples straining out in hardened peaks. I was
close enough that if he parted her thighs for the audience—and I
bet he would—I could see her glistening juices. I bet right now, up
there on display, she was already slick with lust.

The mind was the
ultimate sex toy. That’s why I wanted Kara to have some time
tonight, time to play out scenarios in her head. She could imagine
what I might do to her, things she desperately wanted but would never
ask for, a good girl like her. With a boring lover she’d probably
spend her life in the missionary position, more turned on by the
naughty books she read and her own fingers than her man.

That’s why submission
was so arousing. It gave me the power to give her exactly what she
truly desired.

My drink arrived and I
held it as I watched. Up on stage, the master chose to begin with
nipple clamps. The sub whimpered, her eyes fixated on the gleaming
metal. I could hear her breathing, fast and hard, like an animal. She
had a safe word, every sub did, but she wasn’t even close to using
it, I could see that. She wanted this, badly.

He teased her with the
cold metal, sliding the clamp along her stomach. Down along her
thigh. Then, with sudden swiftness, he brought it up to snap down on
the aching peak of her nipple. She gasped, arching her back and
panting.

The master waited,
biding his time. After clamping the other nipple, he took a
cat-o-nine tails from his bench and used it softly, tracing the
braided ends along her limbs as she writhed with building need.

Waiting, planning,
plotting. Crafting his strategy. Exercising so much restraint. In a
true dom/sub relationship the sub might be the one physically tied
down, but it was the dom who had to exercise iron-clad
self-restraint. He had to stay completely attuned to his sub’s
responses, coaxing, teasing, taunting, shocking, soothing, everything
to build her desire. The better the build-up, the more intense the
release.

With Kara, I planned to
take my time. We only had a week, but I would use every second,
teaching her, training her, showing her how much she needed to serve.
She was such a lethal combination of innocent and sexy, and still
clearly remained inexperienced. The way she’d responded when I’d
gone down on her, I wondered if she’d ever had a man do that to her
before. I swelled hard with the thought of being her first, the one
to open her up to her own sexuality.

I’d played a lot of
games with a lot of women over the past several years, but they’d
all been experienced subs. I’d never trained an innocent. I always
liked to play within well-established lines. It kept things safe,
emotions removed, ensured that the entire exchange remained a
physical transaction. I didn’t like things to get messy.

Sometimes you did run
the risk of disengagement. Occasionally you’d see it in a club, the
glimpse of boredom in someone’s eyes, whether sub or dom. They’d
done it before a million times. BDSM might shock someone new to the
scene, but for the more experienced even whips and ropes could become
perfunctory.

With Kara, I knew it
would be intense, all-consuming. I wanted to take her on a wild ride,
see her confusion or apprehension melt into hot desire. See her
struggles give way to the intense, overwhelming pleasure of
submission.

I glanced at my phone.
Still no response. I knew I’d told her I’d get in touch with her
tomorrow. I wanted her now.

I could drive to the
hotel and head up to her suite. Maybe I’d find her just stepped out
from a shower, towel haphazardly wrapped around her wet, naked body,
surprised to see me at the door. I could have her in my arms in an
instant and I knew she’d yield, welcome me, need my touch as much
as I craved hers.

But it was better to
wait. My sweet Kara, all honey and strawberries, the farm girl I’d
always wanted. Now a waitress at the local diner. I could picture her
in a short, polyester dress, something cheap and tight that stretched
over her curves. I bet she was good at it, serving, meeting people’s
needs. It was me I wanted her to serve. She belonged with me, meeting
my needs.

I downed the rest of my
drink. Time to get out of there. It wasn’t like me to leave
mid-show. I liked a big finish as much as the next guy. Right now the
dom on stage was unhooking his sub and positioning her back over a
table, her legs spread wide. Her pussy lay bare for all to see and,
as I’d expected, it glistened, drenched and needy.

“Show everyone how
wet you are, my little slut.” The man commanded. She moaned and
spread her legs wider, allowing him to fasten her ankles further
apart.

Yes, they were putting
on quite a show but watching wasn’t helping my restlessness. It was
making it worse. There would be no relief, I realized. No rest, no
reprieve until I buried myself in Kara.

Behind the wheel of my
Escalade, I started driving without a destination, pent-up, tense,
yet aimless. Used to being master of my domain, cruising the streets
with purpose, striding through life from one conquest to the next, it
didn’t sit well with me. I knew where I wanted to go: Kara’s
suite. But it wasn’t an option, not yet.

Maybe it hadn’t been
a good idea to put Kara up in my hotel. I didn’t like the idea of
heading back to the same building with her underneath me, but not in
the way that I needed.

I wondered if Kara had
received her VIP basket of overnight goodies yet. Maybe now she was
rubbing some lotion on her legs, working her way up her thighs.

I swore under my
breath. What was I doing, so agitated? I was cool, calm and
collected. Unruffled feathers, still waters. No one could read my
poker face and that was how I liked it. Now, I was like a new
dad-to-be pacing the hospital hallway and stopping every nurse to
ask, “How is she?” The high school sophomore hoping for a ‘yes’
from the crush he’d asked to prom.

Pathetic. And if there
was one thing I didn’t do it was pathetic. I may have had a few
moments of it, sure, back when I was a kid. But I’d learned quick
that getting overly attached to things or people—especially
people—didn’t serve you well. Nothing lasted. In this life the
only person you could really count on was yourself, and the sooner
you realized that the better it was for everyone. It made everything
a hell of a lot less messy.

I headed out into the
night, revving up my big, black hunk of metal. I decided I’d drive
out to the resort I owned in Bozeman. I’d check on things, make
sure business was running smoothly. It didn’t matter which property
I ended up at, really, just so long as it wasn’t the one where she
was staying.

My phone rested, silent
at my side. 11:30. I’d talk to her tomorrow.

I felt it in my bones,
she’d say yes. Soon all of my fantasies, everything I’d been
wanting to do for years, I’d get to do. That would be our bargain.
She couldn’t say no. I would have total control.

Kara

Then

“Have fun, princess!”
Daddy called out to me as I ran out to my truck to head to a pep
rally.

“Thanks!” I called
out. The bright smile fell from my face when I saw he was standing
next to Declan. Glowering and sexy as hell.