Sierra Cartwright: Doms of Dark Haven 2: Western Night

He stood. He didn’t touch her again. After nodding to the dealer, to Master Xavier, and ignoring Master Trevor, he left the room.

A few seconds later, Master Xavier said, “Game’s over, everyone. I invite you to enjoy the other pleasures at Dark Haven.”

Destiny signaled to the dungeon monitor stationed near the door. Together, she and the man shepherded subs and Doms toward the exit.

Several people stopped to congratulate her temporary dom before they left the room.

Because Master Trevor had yet to give her any instructions, Shelby remained on her knees, her gaze downcast as the noise in the room diminished.

At this point, she realized it was probably a good thing he hadn’t given any commands. Nervousness raced through her body, and she wondered if she’d be able to follow any direction, no matter how simple, he gave her.

“You’re free to go,” Master Xavier said to Destiny and the dungeon monitor.

Without a word, they left.

Master Xavier came over. “I trust this is only about you wanting to play with Shelby,” he said to Master Trevor.

Time seemed to simultaneously drag and zip by. She wanted to be alone with her new dom, but the prospect also frightened her.

“I told Master David the sub is in good hands. You have my word.”

“I expected nothing less,” Master Xavier said.

“We’d like to use the punishment room.”

“Consider it done.”

“My Liege.”

She heard the tone of respect in Master Trevor’s tone, but also the signal that, as far as Master Trevor was concerned, the conversation was over.

Master Xavier’s steps seemed to echo off the wooden floor as he left the room.

The echoing silence, the realization that they were alone, and that for the next seven days she was his sub, suddenly overwhelmed her.

She remained on her knees, her pulse ringing in her ears.

“I want to know about you,” he said. “How much BDSM experience do you have, sub?”

She kept her gaze cast down. “I… Very…” Her voice cracked. She sounded squeaky, lacking her usual confidence. In her job as a high-powered corporate mediator, she spent her days utilizing all her senses to tune into people’s subtle nuances. Even when she wasn’t feeling confident in her abilities, she squared her shoulders and projected authority.

But being on her knees, mostly naked, in front of this powerful man undid her.

“Go on,” he told her.

She cleared her throat and tried again. “Very little, Sir. A handful of experiences.”

“I could have guessed,” he said. “You were given the choice, and you agreed to be my sub for a week. Does that mean you want more experiences?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I can’t hear you.”

She swallowed. “Yes,” she said again.

Continuing in his soft, probing way that reassured even as it demanded, he asked, “Do you know what that means?”

She could do nothing but look at his boots and be nearly overwhelmed by his presence. He was so close she breathed in his scent, that of crisp ocean air and raw masculine power. “Truthfully? No.”

“You have ideas.”

Who knew if they were close to reality, though?

“Tell me what you’re expecting. Or what you’re hoping.”

The sound of Master Trevor’s voice intoxicated her. It was deep, well modulated, firm, domineering. “I came to San Francisco because I want even more experiences. I’ve wondered…” She trailed off. She and David hadn’t even had this level of conversation. She just went along with what he wanted.

They’d visited Dark Haven a few times, so she’d seen other subs and Doms interact. She’d seen one sub attached to a collar and leash. The man had crawled behind his master and seemed happy to do it. Another female sub had walked in front of her master, her head lowered; her dom’s hand was fisted in her hair. And she did a fair amount of reading. Clearly no two D/s relationships were the same.

But she knew she wanted to experience more spice than she had with David. Their scenes were more like casual interludes with kinky clothes. At the end of the night, he dropped her at her hotel. What would it be like to wake up in the morning and be expected to continue the role of sub?

Master Trevor waited patiently for her answer.

“I have heard that you are harsh but fair.”

“Probably accurate,” he said. “And…?”

“If I am staying with you for a week, I understand you’ll probably have a set of rules you’ll expect me to follow.”

“I do. And if you break a rule?”

“I imagine…” Oh God. Oh yes . The idea of his supple brown leather belt against her exposed buttocks definitely made her shiver. The fantasy just got better and hotter.

“Tell me what you just imagined.”

She stalled.

“I don’t tolerate shyness or hiding, sub. Tell me what you just imagined. Now .”

“I imagined you…” She exhaled a shaky breath. “I imagined you punishing me.”

“Sir,” he said.

“I imagined you punishing me, Sir.”

“Punishing you how, sub?”

“Your belt.”

“Good to know,” he said. “Shall we begin?”

Trevor saw her shoulders shake just a little, whether from fear or excitement he wasn’t sure. Maybe it was a combination of both feelings.

Since David had entered the poker room with the sub obediently following, Trevor had been intrigued.

He’d been in the scene a long time. He’d had subs. Twice, he’d even committed to 24-7 lifestyle relationships. But he’d gotten bored. On her way out the door, his last sub had accused him of being jaded.

He’d shrugged. She’d been partially right; he was jaded. But worse than that, he was bored, mind-numbingly, ready-to-change-anything bored.

As far back as high school, he hadn’t been interested in conventional relationships. He’d always been a leader, captain of the football team as well as the debate team. He’d had jobs throughout high school and college, but after graduation, he’d started his own company. For the first two years, he’d lived on packaged noodles and slept in his beat-up pickup truck.

Despite the odds, he’d never given up. Even when his family encouraged him to get a real job, he’d continued to live on fast food so he could spend his meager earnings buying the finest tools available to hone his craft.

In work, in life, in his relationships, his standards were exacting. He asked for what he wanted, and he never settled.

The woman kneeling in front of him did so imperfectly. She allowed her gaze to stray, and she wasn’t subtle about it. She shifted often, letting everyone know of her discomfort. Over the time that he’d watched her, she’d made little pretense at behaving well. She either didn’t know how to suffer for her dom or she’d never had a dom with exacting standards.

Shelby wasn’t the type of sub who would generally draw his eye. He played with experienced women who’d been trained by the best, women who knew his moods better than he did, anticipated his needs, and saw to them.

Perhaps, he reflected, that was exactly why she intrigued him. Her lack of expertise combined with an air of innocence was refreshing. Maybe for the next week, he wouldn’t be bored. “Stand.”

She rose slowly and a bit unsteadily, as if nervous and fighting cramped muscles.

“Do you want me to call you Shelby?”

“Yes,” she said.

He cocked his head.

“Shelby is fine, Sir. Thank you.”

She was a hot little number, no doubt. Shelby Salazar’s dark hair flowed over her shoulders. The vest and bolo tie were sexy, white leather chaps wrapped around her slender legs. The feminine pink thong she’d added provided a splash of color and a hint of intrigue.