Sierra Cartwright - Doms of Dark Haven

“Twice? And now a party? Ooooh, this sounds good.”

“No.” When eagerness to see him roused, Rona stomped it flat. “I'm not going for him. I want to meet other guys. Getting involved isn't in my plans.”

“So enjoy him without getting involved. Like Max does.” Brenda jerked her chin toward the surgeon. He was notorious for his having affairs with several women simultaneously, although he'd discovered the dangers of dating two OR

nurses at once.

Rona studied him with rising hope. That might just work. “Sex with Simon one night, then with someone else a day or so later, and so on. No way could anything get serious.”

“That's the spirit.”

Boy, it sounded a bit— a lot —slutty, but making up for lost years wasn't for sissies. And tonight she'd revise the rule list: No sexy seconds unless dating additional men.

On Saturday evening, Rona walked through the open front door of Simon's three-story, stone-and-stucco house. A myriad of guests stood in small groups under a huge sparkling chandelier, and laughter and conversation filled the foyer. The party had definitely started.

“Merry Christmas!” A young woman in an elf costume with bright green fishnet stockings hurried across the gleaming dark wood floor.

At the high-pitched greeting, people glanced toward Rona. A second later a man disengaged from a small group and strode across the room. Master Simon.

Rona pulled in a breath as her nerves went on alert as if someone had called a code blue for a heart attack.

Arriving first, the elf beamed at Rona. “Come on. I'll take you around.”

“Mandy, I'll show her to the dressing room,” Master Simon said as he stopped behind the elf. He squeezed the young woman's shoulder. “Thank you, pet.”

The elf gazed up at him in adoration, then scurried away, the white pom-pom on her red hat bouncing with each step.

Simon watched her for a second, and he murmured, “So much energy.” Then his black gaze turned toward Rona like a dark laser beam, the type that would cut a villain right in half.

Her heart gave a violent thud . The man had dressed simply, in black slacks and a white shirt that set off his dark tan, yet when a smile lightened his stern face, her blood fizzed in her veins like a shaken Coke.

“Rona. I'm pleased you came.” He held out his hand, waiting patiently until she gave him hers. His fingers closed, encasing her in warmth.

“Thank you for the invitation,” she said, falling back on proprieties. She caught sight of his guests and frowned. Although the dominants remained fully clothed in jeans or suits or leathers, all the submissives were in elf costumes. One wore only a Santa hat and red nipple clamps. Oh Crom . Rona's stomach sank as she glanced down at her slinky black dress.

Growing up, she couldn't afford the trendy clothing her friends wore, and had hated never fitting in. Shallow or not, her feelings hadn't changed. She stepped back. “I don't think that I—”

He chuckled. “Relax, pet. I took the liberty of selecting an outfit for you.”

An elf pranced by wearing only red high heels, a red thong, and a hat. Rona winced. Do I even want to know what he got me?

Ignoring her hesitation, he set a hand on her low back and steered her across the foyer to a powder room. “I left your costume on the counter in one of my company bags—look for a Demakis International Security logo.”

“Well.” All arranged. He'd obviously put some thought into making her comfortable. “Thank you.”

“I think a more enthusiastic expression of gratitude is in order.” With one finger, he tilted up her chin. Before she could protest, firm lips explored hers, teasing for a response. When she sighed and leaned toward him, he yanked her against his solid body and took the kiss from sweet to devastatingly possessive.

Crom . Her memories hadn't come close to how he really kissed or how easily he could control her. Heat pooled in her belly like molten lava.

When he pulled back and steadied her on her feet, she was breathing like an asthmatic having an acute attack.

“Now that was a very nice thank-you,” he murmured. “Go change, lass. Then meet me in the living room. I'll explain the rules and introduce you around.”

As he pushed her gently into the powder room, she frowned. Rules?

In the living room, Simon did the rounds, greeting his guests, making introductions. Along with the local BDSMers, quite a few friends had arrived from out of town. Busy or not, he kept an eye on the arched doorway, his anticipation rising. He spotted Rona the minute she walked into the room.

She paused in the doorway. Her hands rubbed the white fur downward in a nervous gesture, although her face appeared serene and self-confident. To come to a party by herself, to try something so new… Brave lass.

And she looked beautiful. A fuzzy red Santa cap with a white puff ball at the end sat on her wavy blonde hair. The long-sleeved, red velvet coat trimmed with white fur reached only to the top of her creamy white thighs. Right where he wanted his hand. If she bent over, everyone would have an enticing glimpse of the ribbon-tied, peppermint-striped bra and thong set he'd bought.

Wanting her to feel comfortable, he'd chosen relatively conservative clothing.

Of course, being a dom, he'd selected for his own pleasure also.

The wide sleeves would accommodate wrist cuffs, and only a securely fastened leather belt held the buttonless coat closed. Poor sub. Belt and ribbons could and would be removed over the course of the evening. He hardened at the thought of revealing those sweet curves.

When she spotted him, her eyes lit up in a way that made his chest compress.

Her head might tell her not to get involved, but apparently her emotions matched his. He'd do his best to see that her emotions won.

He crooked a finger, then grinned as her passage across the room netted interested glances from the dominants.

One stepped away from her friends. Tara gave Rona a long look. “Oh, that's nice. Tell me she likes girls and not boys.”

“No,” Simon told the tall domme, not looking away from his sub. “She's straight.”

Tara's eyebrows went up. “Well, well. I haven't seen that look in your eyes in a long time…if ever.” She slapped his arm in approval before returning to her group.

Rona stopped in front of Simon.

“You look lovely,” he said and enjoyed how her cheeks turned pink.

“Thank you. And thank you for…for giving me enough costume.”

“You are very welcome.” He tugged her silky hair lightly. “Do bear in mind that submissives usually wind up wearing less clothing by the end of a party.”

The wary look she gave him included a fair amount of excitement. “I'm not sure I understand.”

“These are the rules: as is normal for a submissive at a party, you will serve the doms food and drinks. Since you're not owned, a dom may touch any part of you that isn't covered.” He grinned when her arms wrapped protectively around the coat. “Touch only, pet. Scenes and intimate play must be negotiated. The safe word in my house is 'red.' Some doms and subs have their own safe words, but if someone shouts 'red' in here, everyone shows up to enforce it.”

“That's both scary and reassuring,” she said.

Smart girl. Despite all the precautions, BDSM still hovered on the dangerous side. “Before playing, you will inform the dom of your inexperience. But as an additional precaution, I had this made for you.” He pulled the gold necklace from his pocket and put it around her neck. It settled just below her throat.

She picked up the lettered part and tucked her chin down to read it. Elf-in-training . Her laugh was husky and open.