Cherise Sinclair - The Dom's Dungeon

Bemused, she looked up and met his penetrating gaze in the mirror. Oops . She stepped back hurriedly, only to have him grasp her wrist.

“MacKensie, it's time we talked.” Still holding her wrist, not her hand, he led her to the family room and pointed to the couch. “Sit there.”

As she took a seat, he opened the curtains to display a magnificent view of the Sound, with the white-capped Olympics beyond, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Mac leaned her head on her hand and studied the mountains. Yeah, they really were gorgeous. Yet right now she wanted cozy instead. A place deep inside her ached with the need to be rocking on her porch swing with the neighbor's cat a warm weight in her lap. Red and orange leaves would be swirling down from the big maple, and she would grumble to Fluffball about having to rake them all up.

Before she could descend into a major homesickness attack, Butler got up from the rug by the fireplace and leaned against her leg with a heavy sigh, as if he'd worked a twelve-hour day. She leaned forward to pet him and whispered in his ear, “I had a rough day too, baby.”

Alex returned and handed her a glass of dark red wine.

After taking it, she regarded him warily. “What are we going to talk about?”

He sat down in the middle of the couch. Why did the man always crowd into her space?

“In a couple of hours, we're going to my club to spend the evening,” he said. “A friend and his sub had a private collaring ceremony earlier today, and they plan to celebrate at Chains. You'll be on display as my sub, MacKensie.”

Good thing he'd given her the wine. She took a hefty gulp. Good stuff. Smoother than any she'd tasted before. “And what exactly will that display entail?”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Your first lesson is this: what we do—what you do—is entirely up to me .”

Oh now, didn't that just sound great? Undoubtedly, protest would be futile. She was being assimilated and liked it no more than Captain Picard had.

He sipped his wine, studying her until she felt like a lab mouse. “Let's talk about diseases. Have you been tested since the last time you had sex?”

“I've been tested.” Jim had insisted on it after taking her in. “I'm clean.” But hadn't Alex promised no sex? “But—”

“Any chance you're pregnant?”

God forbid . “No. I have an IUD.” Thanks to Ajax, who didn't want to have any of his “girls” sidelined with pregnancies if and when a condom broke . She'd replaced the IUD in college when she'd started dating and hoping… Well, she'd been more optimistic back then.

“Any medical problems? Any at all, MacKensie?” he warned. “I don't like surprises.”

“No. I don't have any medical problems.”

“Have you ever been tied up or restrained in any way?” he asked. “Are you claustrophobic?”

She choked on her wine. “Um. No, and maybe a little.” Just don't shut me up behind a locked door . “I don't like small, dark places.”

“Good to know. Have you ever been whipped? Beaten? Flogged? Hit at all?”

To each question, she shook her head.

“Spanked?”

No one has ever cared enough to spank me . She swallowed. “Only by you.” When his eyes narrowed, moving from her fingers clenching the wineglass to her eyes, she had to look away.

A finger under her chin forced her gaze back to his. “When was the last time you made love with anyone?”

She shoved his hand away and snapped, “I've never 'made love' with anyone.”

“All right,” he said easily. “When was the last time you had sex?”

“About twelve years ago.” And when that john had complained about her unenthusiastic blowjob, Ajax had decided she needed incentive. After the two men left, she'd crawled out of the alley to collapse at Jim's feet.

“That's a long time, little cat.” Alex's low voice broke into her thoughts. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and then massaged her shoulder. “What happened? You would have been…sixteen?”

How did he know that? Oh right. The application she'd filled out for Exchanges had her birth date. “Nothing happened.”

“Don't lie to me, pet.”

“Well then.” She tried to ignore the warmth of the hand on her shoulder. “It's none of your business.”

“Actually it is. As your Dom, I need your history so I know what land mines to avoid. Or head for.”

Head for? But she could see why a person into kinky stuff might worry about emotional hang-ups. “I had some—a—bad experience with sex. That's all,” she said stiffly.

“Has anyone tried to give you a good experience since then?”

“No point.” His finger slid under the collar of her shirt to stroke the juncture of her neck and shoulder. How did he find such sensitive places on her body? “I'm not interested in sex. At all.”

“I see.” His eyes crinkled. “And what would happen if you inadvertently became interested? Aroused?”

“I-I…” She glared at him. “It won't happen, so there's no—”

“In that case, I have your permission to take the next step? To change our play to sexual?”

Did he not understand the “won't happen” phrase she'd used? “Listen, I don't want you deluding yourself that I'm interested in sex when I'm not.”

“Ah. So you require objective proof that we both can see. I understand the need.” He tilted his head. “So if your nipples become erect in a warm room, and your pussy gets wet enough on the outside to dampen my hand, is that a sign of arousal?”

She flushed at just the thought of his hand…there. Damned lawyer. She crossed her arms over her chest. If her nipples had peaked, she so didn't want to know. “No.”

“MacKensie, I should warn you that lying is punished.”

The thought of being spanked again sent a tiny shiver through her.

The corner of his mouth turned up for a second before his eyes chilled. “Now give me the truth.”

“Yes, all right. Wet means aroused, okay?”

“And if you're aroused, then, as your Dom, I will determine how sexual in nature our play becomes. If you become unaroused, I stop. Have we an agreement?”

“I'd rather leave it with no sex at all.”

“I'm not comfortable with those limitations,” he said softly. “As your Dom, I give you what you need, not necessarily what you want.”

Alex kept his hand on his sub's bare arm as they entered Chains. Because of Lynn and Bob's party, the private BDSM club was busier than normal, with every station in use. Whips snapped and floggers splatted , accompanied by moans and screams and whimpers. Most of the rising and falling hum of conversations came from the crowded bar area. The music of Nine Inch Nails' “Meet Your Master” blasted down from the dance floor upstairs, where people lined the rails, watching the scenes downstairs. Upstairs on the left, the quieter safe-lounge area held more people.

“Kink is a popular sport these days, isn't it?” MacKensie murmured, looking around with wide eyes.

“It is.” Grasping her arms, he held her out in front of him, taking a second to appreciate the view. The dark leather bustier not only matched her eyes but also emphasized her tiny waist and pushed her breasts up in a way that tempted fingers to explore. The bloodred latex skirt stretched over her firm, round ass, stopping just below her cheeks. He'd considered letting her wear heels but decided she needed a constant reminder of her submission, so she was both bare legged and barefoot.

His decree of no underwear had received a horrified look, then a stubborn one, and finally compliance. Very reluctant compliance. This would be an interesting night with her denial of her submissive nature and his need to dominate.