Authors: Ann Mayburn
“I'm going to help you get comfortable with your submissive
side.” Daisy practically vibrated with excitement. “I'm not naturally dominant
enough to be a true Mistress, but I can teach you about BDSM and help you until
you find the right Dominant. I'll give you what you need in order to relax and
take your time finding the perfect Dom, inside and outside of the bedroom.”
Daisy grabbed her hands and gave her puppy dog eyes. “Please, Shan. I've been
researching it, and I apprenticed with a fantastic Mistress.”
Shan jerked her hands away and said through clenched teeth,
“How long have you been planning this?”
Daisy avoided her eyes and looked at the wall behind Shan
while toying with the clasp on her gown. “My mother—”
“You told your mother about this! Your mom knows I want to
be spanked while I have sex?” Shan buried her face in her hands. “How the hell
am I supposed to ever look at Nina again knowing that she thinks I'm a
Daisy snorted. “Shan, I hate to break this to you, but my
mom is the High Priestess of a Sex Goddess. Being a submissive doesn't even
come close to being perverted. Besides, it's not like we discussed your crappy
sex life in detail.” She ignored Shan's glare and gave her a hopeful smile.
“You're…you’re my, ah, final test for making full Priestess.”
Shan narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms again. “I’m your
Daisy held her hands out in a pleading gesture. “Well, I’m
supposed to help you find love. Erin… you remember Erin, right? You met her at
the harvest party my mom threw last month, beautiful blonde with the body of a
porn star and the face of an angel? Anyway, Erin said if I can’t help my best
friend find love then I need to spend more time learning how to recognize love
in all of its forms, to help those who have a hard time seeing it. If I fail at
this, it’ll be another ten years before I can try again. I don’t want to push
you—you’re like my sister, and I love you to death—but I really
think I can help you.”
The uncertainty in Daisy's hopeful voice broke down Shan's
last barrier. If it had been just about her, she could try to get out of this.
But it was about Daisy now, and she couldn't crush her friend's dreams because
of her own fears. She’d been raised with Daisy and they were as close as
sisters. Crap, she had to do this for her friend. Bring on the embarrassment of
“Fine,” Shan snapped and sat up straight. “How do we begin?”
Daisy grabbed her in a hug and gave her a big loud kiss on
the cheek. “Excellent! Oh, you won't regret this, Shan. I have it all worked
out, and I've set up the perfect place to begin your training and get you used
to the BDSM community. It’s called the Steel Chalice, and it’s an elite BDSM
“What?” Shan said in a faint voice. She’d imagined some kind
of blind date or maybe a shopping trip to a fetish store first, not an elite
BDSM club, whatever the hell that was.
Daisy snickered. “For you, it's best that I take you to a
safe place where you can see the different styles of the D/s relationship. You
need to see some established relationships and experienced Dominants. I thought
about watching some BDSM porn with you, the instructional kind, but that just
seemed kinda...weird. I think we’d both end up making fun of the movie, and
that wouldn’t help you at all.”
“I don't know...that's a little scary.” She hated admitting
her fear, her weakness, but this was Daisy. She hadn't judged Shan when she
went through her unfortunate Hello Kitty phase, and she wouldn't judge her now.
“And I don’t know how I feel about random strangers knowing about my…needs. I
mean I’m a private person about my love life, I don’t like to even kiss a guy in
public let alone let them do stuff to me in a freaking club. And what if they
see me on the street and recognize me? That would be too weird.”
Crossing her legs, Daisy leaned closer. “I've thought of
that too, well, not grocery store molestation, but protecting your identity. I
got these awesome masks for us to wear. They're leather and custom-made. A lot
of people in the club wear masks and all kinds of awesome outfits. Some even
make their own, real pieces of art.”
A flicker of real interest surfaced. “What color are the
masks?” She had an extensive collection of leather and latex dresses, not to
mention a drawer full of corsets that she wore to the clubs. Mentally flipping
through her clothing, she tried to decide what to wear.
Daisy tossed one of her dreadlocks over her shoulder. “Shan,
you're going to love this place. No one will judge you for your needs, and you
will adore all the effort people put into creating a scene. It's really almost
like a theater performance...with orgasms.”
Excitement, worry, and anticipation flooded her body with a
heady mixture of adrenaline. She took a deep breath and prayed that she was
making the right choice.
Devon King crossed his heavily muscled arms over his
black-leather-clad chest and examined the submissives offering themselves for
the evening. Men and women wearing everything from suits with strategically cut
out breast and crotch panels to nothing but skin covered in glittering body
paint huddled together like a bunch of nervous rabbits. There were mostly women
standing around, but also few unattached male submissives who darted glances at
the section of the club where the single Doms tended to hold court.
Behind the unattached subs, a club Sentinel carefully kept
watch over the main floor. Part of the appeal of this private club was the
knowledge that safe, sane, and consensual was strictly enforced. It didn't hurt
that most of the Doms were part of various Temple Guards, trained for battle
and possessing the instinct to protect. From his seat on the black leather
couch, he counted at least two dozen male and female guards roaming the room.
Toward the back of the small group of men and women, a
stunning brunette caught his eye then sank to her knees with a pleading look.
Thin, dressed in a see-through cream sheath, she arched her back and mouthed
the word, “please.” Biting back a sigh, he shook his head and purposefully
looked away from her, signaling his disinterest in dominating her tonight.
Her name was Maria, and he had played with her once, weeks
ago, and now she seemed fixated on him. Gods knew why. He wouldn't hurt and
debase her like she wanted, and her attempts to top from the bottom totally
turned him off. With a bitter twist of his mouth, he remembered the way she had
lied about what she wanted and tried to goad him into really beating her. So
much of the D/s relationship was built on trust, even during the casual
encounters at the club. No matter how beautiful and willing, her dishonesty was
a total turn-off and he kept his distance from her.
His best friend, Malik, adjusted the leather mask he was
wearing and equally ignored Maria and her silent pleading. Unlike Devon's solid
black mask, Malik's had traces of gold that gleamed against his dark brown
skin. Big and solid, the men filled the couch they shared. Though the club was
crowded, no one sat near them, and a circle of masterless submissives whispered
and admired them from across the room.
“I thought Maria got kicked out for causing that fight
between Master Greg and Master Dane,” Malik muttered as he scanned the crowd.
“Ben let her back in. From what he said, she recently got
away from a fucked-up Master who put her in the hospital. Said her head is all
messed up and she needs the good influence and safety of the club before she
goes out and finds another abusive asshole. You know Ben. Show him a wounded
sub, and he wants to make it all better.”
Malik grunted a laugh and shook his head. “That girl is
nothing but trouble. I've watched her play the baby Doms, bending them around
her little finger and making them jump through hoops.”
Shrugging, Devon minutely relaxed as he watched Maria pair
off with an older sadist and head for the playroom downstairs. Despite the
small amount of pity he felt for her, he was glad she wouldn't be following him
around tonight. Something burned in his blood, and he felt an eager sense of
anticipation he hadn't experienced in years. Almost as though he was waiting
for something wonderful to happen. Snorting at his own foolishness, he cracked
his knuckles for the third time in less than ten minutes.
Malik carefully scanned the floor. “What are you in the mood
Shrugging his broad shoulders, Devon ran a hand over his
tight brush cut. He tried to keep his words light, but his tension crept
through. “Something soft.”
Malik grinned, his teeth a flash of white in the subdued
lighting of the Steel Chalice. “The need is riding you hard tonight, isn't it?”
Instead of answering, Devon nodded. His gaze locked on a
full-figured submissive with short red hair and skin as pale as cream. Her nice
full hips would be a pleasure to grip. She noticed him watching her and dropped
her gaze to the ground, toying with the ends of her fringed black dress.
“Being the Chosen of a War God isn't easy,” Devon admitted
and continued to watch the submissive. He drank in the hesitant way she edged
across the floor toward him, the fear and anticipation coming off her in waves.
“Especially when you're already an arrogant prick.” Malik
turned his attention to the submissive who paused at the end of the stairs that
led to where they were sitting. His voice dropped an octave. “The need to
dominate, to own and possess, can become overwhelming.”
Making up her mind, the submissive went to her knees and
began to crawl up the steps toward them. Both men took a deep breath of her
scent and sighed in disappointment.
“Human.” Devon breathed out. “A little gold mist in her
aura. I'm going to guess she's a Priestess of Zeus.”
Malik leaned forward, his attention on the doorway. “What I
wouldn't give to find an unattached submissive Chosen.” He rolled his shoulders
beneath his black leather shirt and cracked his neck. “All the good ones are
taken. What I wouldn’t give to find a single, hot submissive Chosen tonight. I
need to let out some tension with a woman who can take it.”
I'm not the only one being ridden hard by the need tonight
Devon thought in amusement as he watched his friend. Malik was a Chosen of the
Nubian War God,
was the Captain of the Nubian Temple Guard like Devon was Captain of the
Egyptian Temple Guard. They had been friends for over twenty years and were
like brothers. “I know,” Devon murmured in a cold voice and tried to push back
the dull pain created by Malik's words.
Malik glanced back at him with an apologetic twist to his
lips. “Sorry, Devon. I didn't mean—”
“It's okay.” Devon glanced at him. “My mother knew the price
she would pay when she married my mortal father.” Even though his mother, a
Chosen of Isis, was thirty years older than his father, she looked like a woman
in her prime while his father's fragile mortal body was showing the wear and
tear of his ninety-two years.
Watching her suffer through his father's slow slide into
death had made Devon determined to take another Chosen as his mate. Too bad
only about two percent of the world's population had what it took to be a
Chosen, and of that two percent, only a fraction were actually picked by a god
or goddess as their personal hand on Earth. Oh, and he couldn’t be with another
war diety Chosen. That relationship would be doomed from the start, two people
determined to win. No, he needed someone belonging to a softer, gentler god or
goddess. And, he had to like them. He really didn’t like many people. That cut
down his odds of finding a Chosen who could soothe his need to dominate and
crave his rough brand of pleasure down to one-in-a-million odds.
“Do you want to share her?” Devon asked in a voice too low
for the human to hear. She stopped three paces before them and knelt. Thighs
spread, head held high with her eyes lowered to the ground, she knew what she
was doing. Devon felt a slight twinge of disappointment. While he enjoyed the
pleasures of a well-trained slave, he preferred to do the training himself.
There was nothing like helping a woman discover the overwhelming satisfaction
of true submission for the first time.
Standing with a long stretch, Malik grinned at Devon. “No,
you and I are both too close to the edge. Our territorial instincts would get
triggered, and we'd end up fighting and getting kicked out of the club.”
Unhooking the flogger from his belt, he twirled it in the air. “I'm going to
see what lovelies are offering themselves on the lower level. I’m in the mood
for a pain slut tonight.”
The noise of the club faded into the background as Devon
slowly rose into the hyper-reality of his Top space. Every nuance, every detail
of the lovely sub before him became magnified. His world focused on the woman
before him and how far he could push her for their mutual pleasure.
“Come,” he said and watched the beat of her pulse increase
beneath the pale skin of her neck.
She crawled toward him and looked up for permission with her
lips hovering over his black motorcycle boot. Judging her need and desires, he
nodded and felt the flow of energy from her as she kissed his boot. Though the
soft press of her lips should not have registered through the heavy leather, in
his magically heightened state, he could feel the warm press of her human aura
against him. The favor of her god added a little extra zing to her energy but
nothing like the psychic punch of another Chosen. What he wouldn’t give to feel
that connection just once. He’d heard that when two Chosen had sex their auras
merged, and it was amazing.