Authors: Delphine Dryden
Roses and Chains
A book in the 1-800-DOM-help series.
Take one adorable suburban couple just starting to realize their D/s relationship
isn’t quite enough to satisfy. Add one cute and quirky sub who can’t seem to find a
Dom to suit her tastes. Place them in a room full of sex toys and candlelight, roses and chains…
And after a few smoking-hot nights of pleasure and exploration, all three just might find what they’re looking for.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
Roses and Chains
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Roses and Chains Copyright © 2011 Delphine Dryden
Edited by Kelli Collins
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication April 2011
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
ROSES AND CHAINS
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the
following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Coke: The Coca-Cola Company
Pyrex: Corning, Inc.
Prologue: The Magic
The magic begins with the appearance of the business card. Sleek black print on a
pristine white background—unassuming in its appearance. Those brave enough to call
the number will begin a journey that will explore their greatest desires. Once the call is made, the Operator goes to work. Somehow he knows just what every caller needs,
always able to find the answer the caller seeks.
Callers may be directed to Unfettered, a new club in town, one nobody has heard
of. It provides a safe haven for all who enter. Members are free to explore their every desire…even those they weren’t aware of. Little do they know Unfettered will
disappear once those yearnings have eased.
Submissives who don’t know how to handle their Dominants. Masters looking for
the perfect sub. People who need just a little push to admit vanilla isn’t their favorite flavor. The card finds them all.
And once you dial 1-800-DOM-help,
Roses and Chains
Scenes in the main room at the club weren’t Mara Tyndall’s favorite thing. But they
served their purpose.
Tonight, that purpose was to make her forget her very stupid recent attempt to date
outside her flavor. He was Plain Vanilla, she was Rocky Road. She should have known
it could never work.
“I think this side’s done. Time to turn you over and toast the other side, slutski.”
Mistress Amie was relentlessly perky. Her kitten-with-a-whip insouciance struck a
particularly cruel note tonight, because she knew exactly why Mara was there. She
knew what Mara needed. And in her relentless, perky, cruel way, she was not saying “I told you so.”
She was not saying it
, with everything she did and every expression on her face.
“Fucking…cheerleader from hell,” Mara gasped as Mistress Amie loosened the
leather cuffs around her ankles. For her sass she received a brisk slap on the upper thigh where the flogger marks were still flushing, blending into one blotchy pink map of the pain she’d endured thus far this evening. Mara groaned when the Mistress released the restraints around her wrists and she lowered her arms too suddenly.
“I can see we’re not quite there yet. Okay, stretch it out then face the cross.”
Amie really did sound as if she were leading an exercise class. Which was
appropriate, because she was a Pilates instructor and personal trainer. The kind who made a lot of money making wealthy people hate her guts, but love the results she
helped them achieve. After all, Amie was an expert at getting people to take more pain than they ever thought they could tolerate.
Mara knew the heights Amie could inspire her to. They had spent close to a year,
off and on, exploring those heights, and although her mind might resist returning, her body was already responding all too eagerly to the cheerful Mistress’s wicked
“And now,” Mistress Amie chirped, shackling the leather back into place as Mara
inspected the top crotch of the St. Andrew’s cross she was now facing, “let’s work that rear.”
The paint’s chipping. Tad needs to touch this thing up.
The flogger cracked against her butt and she reflexively shouted, “One!” before her
brain caught up. “How high, Mistress?”
“I’ll let you know. You know math isn’t really my thing, sweetcheeks.”
“Two!” Against the upper thigh.
across the shoulders.
The unpredictability slowly lost its edge, ceased to engage her mind and instead
forced her to relax, to accept that there would be a blow, that she wouldn’t know where the pain would land next. She was buffeted this way and that, just a leaf, and Amie’s flogger was the wind.
“Do you need to come?” The chipper, smug voice in her ear was accompanied by a
surprisingly gentle hand that traced the line of her spine from neck to ass. “Hmm? You want me to make you come for me, Mara?”
The hand dipped lower, following the curve of one cheek, ending up cupping the
top of one inner thigh. Amie wouldn’t touch her pussy unless Mara asked for it.
Tonight was just a favor, and an orgasm would be another favor. Another reason for
Amie to avoid saying “I told you so”.
Roses and Chains
But she needed it too much. She needed to come, in order to feel as if the scene was over for the evening. Submitting to her own needs was more important than submitting to Amie. It took more humility.
“No. You know better. Say it.”
“Please make me come.”
. You know what I need to hear, slut.” Amie paused then added more quietly,
“You know what you need to say.”
“Mistress. I need to come, please make me come, Mistress.”
“Thank you. My hand or the flogger?”
Oh, a touch. A touch was so nice, so personal. She knew Amie would do it just
right, apply just the right amount of pressure. Press her perfect, leather-corseted breasts against Mara’s back as she slid two fingers inside her to tease, then finished her off with that brutally, beautifully merciless stroke against her clit. Strapped to the cross, in plain view of everyone in the club. And Mara knew, with the part of her mind that remained aware of such things, that everyone was watching.
Watching the adorable cheerleader pinup whipping the naughty little Goth girl. It had once been the highlight of everybody’s week at the club, watching the two of them go at it on the cross.
“The flogger please, Mistress,” Mara whispered.
It wasn’t really what she wanted. But it would be enough to get the job done.
Amie paused, squeezed her thigh briefly then backed off. She would never touch
without permission. She loved rules, enforcing them as well as following them. She
would never cross lines.
She had never been able to push Mara in the way she needed to be pushed. The
way that had nothing to do with physical pain.
But she knew how to work a flogger. The snap of the leather between Mara’s legs
was gentle; a caress, a tease. Not quite hard enough. Because Amie was a Domme, after 9
all, and enjoyed withholding. Mara enjoyed it too, moaning and working her hips,
trying to push her ass out farther to present a bigger target. The next flick of the whip wrapped under and up a tiny bit, a zap of high-voltage pain over her clit and pubic
bone, drawing the first true scream of the evening from her lips.
Amie hit a rhythm a few strokes later, slap and swing and slap and swing and
It hurt to come, and Mara screamed again as the flogger continued to drum against
her. She craved the feel of fingers or a cock or
inside her, and the climax ramped higher and higher and felt almost spiteful because it wouldn’t let her go and it didn’t satisfy.
Then there was a second sharp peak, and after it ebbed she finally achieved a
resolution of sorts, a release that wasn’t quite the relief she had sought. But Amie pulled her down from the cross and into her arms, letting Mara weep into her honeysuckle-scented curls.
And she didn’t say “I told you so”.
A few minutes later, Mara was seated on the floor next to Amie’s chair. As she
dutifully finished off a bottle of water and plucked idly at one of Amie’s bootlaces, the Domme leaned down and pressed an unexpected kiss to the top of her former sub’s
head. Then she handed her a business card. Mara took the card and stared at it for a moment before looking up at Amie.
“Somebody gave it to me. But I think you need it more than I do, sweetie. You’re
just barely holding it together, aren’t you?”
Mara wanted to crumple the little white oblong into a ball and throw it back at
Amie, but she knew her frustration wasn’t the Domme’s fault. It was her own. She
looked at the card for another long moment before answering carefully.
“I’m sorry if I didn’t please you tonight, Mistress. It was very kind of you to—”
Roses and Chains
“Don’t. Don’t bullshit me. We were never like that.” Amie gave a sharp little sigh
and pulled her ankle from Mara’s reach, then stood up and tucked a finger under
Mara’s chin to force her eyes upward. Mara was too well-trained to jerk away, no
matter how much she wanted to.
“Honey, we had a good time here in the club. It never worked outside, and we both