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  She paused and, after a moment, said, “I can do that.”

  He smiled, respecting that she put some thought behind her choices. “I suspected you could, doll.” Flipping the page, he pointed to the paper. “Here, we list your hard and soft limits. Hard limits are things that go against your moral code, something you would never do under any circumstances. Soft limits are things you don’t want to do right now but you may consider doing in the future and after a conversation with your Dom. For now, leave the limits blank, but beneath those you’ll see a list of ‘consent to and restrained with’ items, such as the use of a vibrator or dildo; bondage with rope, tape, or leather; and voyeurism or having others watch you in a scene.”

  Her shudder and sharp inhale indicated to him without words that she’d enjoy all of those suggestions. “You can always change these before we firm up your limits, but I imagine you already have an idea of what you’re comfortable with. If you don’t know what something is, leave it blank, and I can show you in the dungeon.”

  He handed her the clipboard and pen, and she lowered her head to examine the document as he went on. “Read it thoroughly; fill out all your information, including address and medical history; and sign and date at the bottom.”

  “Okay.” With her finger paving the way, she read each word as if her life depended on it. Dmitri smiled. An attentive woman. He liked that.

  After a while, he glanced at the clock on the wall and realized it had been twenty minutes. Never in the dungeon’s history had anyone ever taken so much time not only to read the form but to fill out the information.

  Once she signed and dated the agreement, she handed him the clipboard with crimson cheeks. “Rules seem fair. I’m okay with—” She waved her hand over the agreement. “All of that.”

  Taking the waiver from her, he glanced over it, noticing that with bondage, toys, and play in front of a crowd she had no hesitations. As he flipped back to the front page, he couldn’t hide his smile.

  She tensed, though the quick learner stared blankly at him when he suspected by the heat in her eyes that she wanted to glare. He restrained his bubbling laughter, knowing she was sensitive about that, but smiling at her was nonnegotiable.

  “You know—” He cocked his head. “When I asked you to write down your medical history, I didn’t mean for you to tell me every cold you’ve had for the past five years.”

  “I don’t get sick often.” She looked to his chest before she snapped her attention to his face. “When I do, it’s always really bad, so it’s kind of hard to forget.”

  Her dedication and accuracy weren’t things he disapproved of, but her properness was a bit too strong for his liking. “Seems as if you’re in good health now. You haven’t had any serious illnesses or hospital trips?”

  “Yep, all healthy.”

  “All right, wait here, doll.” Returning to the desk, he placed the waiver in her folder, then he returned to her. “The dungeon is open Friday and Saturday nights. I expect you here both nights unless you let me know beforehand that you have other plans.” He waited for her nod, then he continued, “However, tonight you won’t play.” At the disappointment in her eyes and the slump of her shoulders, he added, “I want you to watch, to discover what you enjoy and don’t enjoy.”

  She nibbled her lip. “May I ask why?”

  He stroked her cheek, and her eyes fluttered and lips parted, encouraging him with how intensely she reacted under his touch. “There’s no reason to rush into this. You need to discover your limits. If not, I’d be leading you blind into a scene, and that would be wrong of me.”

  “Oh, okay.” After nibbling that lip a bit more, she released it, licking her top lip.

  His full attention remained on her pouty mouth before he examined the growing color in her cheeks and the raspiness of her breath. “Tonight you can have some time alone to explore the dungeon before we talk things over.”

  A quiet squeak spilled from her lips, drawing his focus to her wide eyes, which were rich with lust and nervousness. Not needing her to answer him, and ready to show her that his word was one thing she could always trust, he slid his hand across her warm cheek. “Now, then, I do believe you are due to be rewarded for being a brave little submissive, hmm?” He cupped her nape and swiped his nose against her cheek, sensing her trembling. “Were you nervous coming here tonight?”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  “You fought against that, though, and your bravery pleases me, Presley.” Another good lesson for her; he would reward her when she pushed herself beyond what she thought she would—or could—do.

  He leaned away, and dark, shameless eyes stared at him. Her lips parted in a silent request. He wouldn’t deny her. Tucking his thumb under her chin, he angled her head and sealed his mouth over hers.

  The woman he expected to kiss in an uneducated way proved him wrong. Each slide of her tongue, the feel of her soft lips beneath his, and the little moans she made, enticed him to deepen the kiss. His hard cock became steel, and he fought the urge to grind against her.

  Giving her a passionate kiss, he did so not only because she deserved it but also because he couldn’t hold back. Her acceptance of his tongue as she mirrored his movements with her gentle caresses could have been his undoing. Now, however, wasn’t the time to indulge himself; this was simply a taste to make certain she’d desire more. No matter that he found himself equally enamored. After a final flick of her wet, soft tongue, he broke off the kiss, enjoying her wiggle against his cock. Her eyelids were hooded, her parted mouth had yet to close, and her breath sounded delectably harsh.

  Feeling the heavy weight in his groin and watching the beauty begging for more with her heated gaze, he brushed his thumb across her damp, pouty lip. “This agreement between us, Presley, will work out just fine.”

  Chapter Six

  This ain’t the Cowboy’s Saloon.

  The country bar in Apple Valley at times had a wet T-shirt contest, causing Presley to blush like a fool, but this place: Oh. My. God!

  Master Dmitri had introduced her to the other four DMs, so she knew who they were if she needed anything. He instructed her to have a look around while he made his rounds of the dungeon.

  Ten minutes had passed, and she hadn’t moved from the spot where he’d left her.

  The moment she stepped through the dungeon doors, her mouth had dried, her muscles had become rigid, and her skin had tingled. Although she wasn’t convinced that her body had recovered from Dmitri’s kiss.

  He must’ve taken lessons, kissed many women, or simply had some special gift when it came to the art of kissing, because the man could kiss like nobody’s business. Perhaps his dominant side made him a better kisser than the men she’d kissed before him. But Dmitri didn’t just kiss her; he stole the kiss right out of her mouth.

  At the slow heat pooling low in her belly, Presley shook her head, clearing her thoughts. If she kept thinking about his incredible mouth, she’d end up a giant mess of arousal, and right now she had enough to worry about, including standing in a BDSM dungeon.

  She scanned the large open room, which consisted of the entire bottom level of the mansion. It held none of the Victorian elements she’d seen upstairs, except the hardwood floors. In the center of the room, chandeliers rested over black leather couches, paired with coffee tables.

  Along the flagstone walls, sconces cast the room in a soft romantic glow, and against the far wall was a large glass fridge holding nonalcoholic beverages. Next to it, cherrywood lockers had names written on plaques in gold calligraphy. Her gaze landed on Dmitri’s name and images soared through her mind of what was contained in that locker.

  Soft and seductive music played through the dungeon, an African tribal soundtrack, and low pounding on drums and chimes of bells carried vibrations through her. Though the sexually charged room was hard to ignore, her body didn’t react, she was so overwhelmed with nervousness.

  The room wasn’t entirely dark, but the lighting was low, more like wha
t she had seen in a typical dance club. However, what made the place entirely different was the BDSM equipment, situated a good distance away, with spotlights beaming down on the stations. Minutes ago, Presley had watched a Dom clean one of the spanking benches with disinfectant after the last submissive was removed. That in itself separated this place from a normal dance club.

  Presley looked away from the spanking bench to the current show in front of her. A shapely brunette was strapped to a wooden X, and she was bound at the ankles, calves, thighs, waist, arms, and wrists with tan rope. Master Miles, with his huge frame and stern dark eyes, circled around the submissive, studying her so intently that Presley’s cheeks flushed.

  How would that feel? To be examined so closely and exposed for all to see?

  She shivered, liking the suggestion, but the scene itself bothered her and increased her heart rate. Clothespins pinched the woman’s nipples, as well as being strategically placed along her vagina. A gleam of sweat created a sheen glimmering on her body; her lips parted; and her face flamed in color, matching the rest of her body.

  Master Miles held a flogger in his hand, swaying it back and forth before he sent those leather tails onto the woman’s sex, removing two of the clothespins with the hit. A shriek followed, loud enough to make Presley flinch and turn away. A hot flash soared across her so fast that her head spun and her stomach became woozy.

  What was she doing here?

  She was a sweet girl from Apple Valley who didn’t do kinky things, and she didn’t belong in a BDSM dungeon. These people were all so experienced and confident, seemingly enjoying watching Master Miles make that poor woman scream. Presley didn’t want to scream out in pain or have clothespins ripped from her body.

  Oh God . . .

  Reading about BDSM and imagining it were nothing like the reality. Every station was in use, screams blending with loud erotic moans, and a sudden coldness hit her core.

  Flogging, spanking, oral sex . . . and fucking; people were fucking in front of her. Sweat dripped down her spine, and her insides clenched with a need to vomit. Arousal and intrigue had led her there, but her blood turned to ice. “I can’t do this,” she snapped to herself.

  She scanned the room, looking for the door she’d entered through, and it seemed to have disappeared. Rushing past the couches in the center of the room, she noticed a couple of men sitting on them with women tucked in to their sides, laughing about something Presley couldn’t hear. She glanced to her right and spotted the fridge and the lockers, so, based on what she remembered, the exit had to be on the other side.

  Without a hitch to her step, she made a beeline for the door but noted a crowd had gathered in the far left corner. When she reached the group, she stopped dead in her tracks, hoping—praying—that she was imagining the view before her. But there wasn’t a hope in hell that her mind could conjure something like this.

  Cora had been gagged with a red ball in her mouth and a leather strap around her head, and she was totally wrapped up in ropes. Her back was against the stone wall, her legs were spread wide open, and her vagina was on full display. On her chest, held tight with the rope, was a note that read, SPANK ME.

  Heaviness formed in Presley’s stomach, and as Doms one by one walked up to Cora and walloped her with the flat of their hands, her stomach churned in fear. Some hit along Cora’s thighs, a couple right on her calves, and a few lifted her up and hit her bottom.

  Cora flinched against the rope holding her hostage. She was drenched in sweat, and her normally perfect hair stuck to her forehead. Tears filled Presley’s eyes as she noticed that Cora’s cheeks were bright red and her limbs trembled.

  A sudden warm hand spread across Presley’s back, and she started, shoving the hand off. “Don’t touch me.”

  Master Dmitri frowned. “Let’s try that again.”

  With gentle but reassuring hands, he turned her around, then he pressed his hand on her lower back. Heat burned from his touch to travel up her spine. Oddly enough, the sheer force of the sizzle spread like wildfire across her body and settled the race of her heartbeat, easing her panic. She stared up into his face, and the strength of his gaze comforted her.

  He smiled softly. “That’s a better way to greet someone.” He gestured to Cora. “Does this scene bother you?”

  Presley wrapped her arms around herself, not wanting to look at Cora again. “It’s horrible.”

  “Is it?” Master Dmitri stepped in behind her, placing his hands on her hips, and her tight muscles loosened, which was odd. Shouldn’t she be tense in his arms, not melting like warm chocolate drizzled over strawberries?

  He pushed her forward with his thighs, forcing her toward Cora. “Look at her face, doll.”

  Presley studied her friend—even if she’d rather not—and caught sight of Cora’s hooded eyelids. Her lips around the gag were relaxed, not struggling. Cora sucked in shallow breaths through her nose, as if she could hardly contain herself. “She doesn’t seem to mind this.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist, placing his mouth next to her ear. “It appears that Cora has a fondness for being restrained in public and spanked by many hands, as you can see.” He nudged her head to the right with his cheek. “Look over there. Do you see Master Aidan watching to make sure she’s all right?”

  Master Aidan, who sat on a stool a bit away from Cora, had his shadowy eyes transfixed on her. “Yes, I do see.” Cora was fine, even more than fine. She looked ready to erupt into an orgasm.

  “This scene is for her.” Master Dmitri closed in on Presley’s back, his erection pressing against her bottom, causing her to swallow hard. “Because she likes it. Do you understand?”

  Remembering how to address a Dom in the dungeon, Presley responded, “Yes, sir.”

  “Nicely done, doll,” he murmured, running one large hand over her abdomen. “Now you understand the point of setting your limits.”

  She snorted a laugh. “Yeah, got it—know your limitations, or your Dom will put you in a horrible situation.”

  He chuckled. “Too right.”

  Presley shivered as his warm breath trailed over her neck and amplified the heat between her legs. Wetness pooled in her panties and seemed to increase as she watched Master Aidan stand, drop his leather pants, and sheathe himself in a condom. Then he slammed himself inside of Cora, thrusting unforgivingly.

  Holding her breath, Presley ignored her trembling body as she watched Cora erupt into the most impressive orgasm. She’d never come like that. Had the spanking intensified the orgasm, or being tied up and put on display?

  An orgasm in a second—unimaginable.

  The hottest of all tremors started at the tips of Presley’s fingers and shimmed their way down to her toes. Watching others get off in front of her, and the idea of others watching her orgasm, set her aflame, even if she fought against the idea of having sex in public.

  Master Dmitri leaned away, tickling a fingertip along her spine. Damn Cora for picking out her clothing. The open shirt gave him a huge amount of access to her sensitive skin. She should’ve worn a turtleneck, because then her legs wouldn’t be wobbling.

  “What’s on that pretty mind of yours?” he whispered into her ear.

  I’m insane! The idea of being strapped up for all to see and spanked in public makes me hot! “Nothing.”

  He tsked. “I expect an honest answer, Presley.” He spun her around to face him, which only made matters worse; his intense stare ignited a fierce throb in her clit. “For now, seeing as you’re shy, I’ll help you.” He cupped her shoulder and pinned her to the spot, and the world closed in on her as if he were interrogating her. “Did you enjoy watching Master Aidan fuck Cora?”

  She blinked twice, questioning whether she’d heard him correctly. “I . . .” She shut her mouth, unable to put her thoughts into words.

  “You liked watching others have sex in front of you,” he said, far too casual. “You even liked the idea of being bound and others watching you orgasm. But you don’t app
rove of penetration in public.”

  She gulped. “Sex—I mean to say, intercourse—”

  “Is a private matter behind closed doors?”

  “That’s right.” She hastily looked at the floor. “I’m not sure I could ever do that in public.” You sissy! In this place, everyone must take their wankers out and thrust them into anyone, right?

  “Eyes to me.” The sharp command snapped her attention to him, but he smiled gently, showing none of the harshness in his voice. “You said not sure instead of won’t. That means penetration in public—as in a cock thrusting into your cunt—would be a soft limit for you.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  His eyes twinkled and he tapped her jaw, forcing her lips closed. “You don’t have to enjoy everything BDSM has to offer.” He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, and his gaze focused there. “You simply need to discover what you do like.”

  The ravenous hunger reaching his eyes liquefied her. “Okay.”

  A dark flare surged through his expression, stealing any of the heat, and on instinct, she stepped back. Before she could firmly plant her heel on the ground, he gently pulled her in place in front of him. “Try again.”

  She gulped. “Yes, sir.”

  “That sounds lovely.” He smiled that sexy grin, displaying none of the power he’d exhibited a moment ago. “Let’s see what else you might take an interest in.”

  While the switch in him had surprised her, she appreciated the clear signals. When she did something inappropriate for the dungeon, he didn’t chastise her like a child or make her feel foolish, but one look sent the message clearly enough for her to rethink her actions. He gave her the chance to correct herself, and she liked that.

  Taking her hand in his strong grip, he led her across the dungeon toward Master Sawyer, who was slumped on one of the couches drinking a Red Bull. His bare chest glistened with sweat, and his muscles appeared strained.