WanttoGoPrivate (6 page)

She had one. And she was more than adept at employing it
when necessary. He’d shocked her, that’s all. But he was obviously joking
around. He had absolutely no inkling of who she was meeting. Unless
MySecretMaster had enlisted Chris’ aid. That was totally plausible.

The faint strains of a whistling baritone interrupted her
thoughts and a short, bald man appeared from the hallway that led to the
restrooms. Never breaking stride when he glanced her way, he took in the fact
she was restrained and continued strolling toward the door.

“Have a grand night, my dear.”

“Wait. Are you MySecretMaster?” The words sounded ridiculous
and she closed her eyes, not at all surprised to hear him chuckle.

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” he replied. “Hey, Chris.
Take it easy.”

She relied on the mirror once again and watched the man
soundly thump Chris on the back before leaning in and whispering something that
got him a two-handed push to the chest and a loud “fuck you, Larry”. But she
could see Chris smile as he opened the door, let the man pass and then locked
it behind him. He turned and their gazes locked for a second before he dropped
the blind that covered the door then walked to each of the big front windows
and repeated the action so no one could see in.

What the hell are you going to do, woman?
Isabel
masked her indecision and tried to step down.

“I doubt you’re going to be able to reach the floor.”

She ignored him, pleased when first one toe and then the
other hit the tile, but she regretted her decision a moment later when her calf
muscles were pushed to the limit as she strained to force the heels of her
boots onto the floor.

“You don’t have to stay like that. You have my permission to
get back up.”

His words stunned her.

“Your permission?” she finally asked. “Who do you— Let me
loose right now, Chris. I’ll admit I’m a little off-kilter with this and I’m
sure it’s amused you. Feel free to share with Sammy and Stan and have a laugh
riot at my expense.” She waited for him to tell her he was part of the plan,
certain at some point, after the man she had arranged to meet made his grand
entrance, that she’d calm down and thank him for his help.

“The last thing I plan to do is share, Isabel. That’s not at
all what I’m into. And it’s not what you’re into either.”

His husky tone washed over her but the presumptuousness was
really the final straw and she tugged her wrists with enough force that the
bindings dug into her skin. In two steps his large, warm body molded to her
back as he grabbed her forearms and forced her to remain still.

Their gazes locked in the mirror, above the row of neatly
aligned liquor bottles, hers furious, his silently warning her not to move.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she said loudly.

“I know more than you think,” he said, shifting his weight
to one side. His breath teased her ear and she tried to ignore the way the hair
on her arms rose to attention. “I know that you’re inquisitive. Curious, some
might say. To a fault.”

Her heartbeat sounded in her ears as clarity enveloped her.

Curious. To a fault.

“Oh my god,” she said, her mouth dropping open.

“Mmmm. Now that’s a helluva look, Isabel.” He let go of one
arm and hooked a finger under her chin before brushing her lower lip with the
pad of his thumb.

She didn’t even try to stop him as he gently forced her head
in his direction until their green gazes met. It was all quite clear and she
tried to move her head but he tightened his grip. “You’re part of the blog,
aren’t you?”

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, lowering his mouth. “I
am
the blog.”

Chapter Four

Chris hadn’t meant to kiss her. His kisses were saved as
rewards for orders obeyed or tasks carried out to their fullest. But her lush
lips, parted in surprise, had him breaking his personal rule and plundering her
mouth like a man in search of the sweetest treasure.

She tasted like heaven and he knew he should stop. He could
feel her hesitancy and knew thoughts had to be flying through her mind at an
exorbitant speed. She’d have questions, no doubt. His initial intent was to
establish exactly what she wanted from a submissive point of view before he
actually touched her but with her lips softening under his and her hips
thrusting backward, he had to draw deeply on his inner control to refocus and
reclaim the upper hand.

He eased one leg between her thighs and pulled his head
back.

“Put your feet where they belong before you hurt yourself.”

She blinked and he could feel the tension that permeated her
body. She was waging an inner battle, he was sure, most likely trying not to
spread her legs wider to feel the hard muscle of his upper thigh against her
core. He raised his knee and her toes left the floor. She clamped her lips
together but he felt the infinitesimal shift of her body as she tilted her hips
downward before doing as he suggested.

He held back from offering her praise. That would come
later. Once she’d forgiven him for the subterfuge. And she would. Not wanting
her forgiveness intertwined with lust that was obviously building, he made sure
she was once again steady and stepped away. He pulled up a barstool and took a
seat.

The “permission” comment had set her off. That was good to
know. He’d found that most initial reactions were quite telling.

“Let me go.” She closed her legs and moved closer to the
tap. It was a halfhearted request, but he silently gave her props for trying to
be assertive.

“If you want to give the orders, then we need to switch
places.”

“Would you do that?” she asked with more than a hint of
disbelief.

“No fucking way.” He chuckled, brushing an errant strand
dark hair off her forehead before tucking it behind her ear. “I’m not a bottom.
I
have
been, don’t get me wrong. That’s the best way to learn. But I’m a
Dom in every sense of the word. And by your own email admissions, that’s what
you’re looking for.”

She remained quiet and Chris patiently waited her out. It’s
what he did. It was second nature. Whether in the persona of bartender, friend,
or Dominant, he didn’t feel compelled to interject until the appropriate time.

“I can’t figure out how all this happened. There are chunks
that seem to be missing. There’s no way you knew I was trying to come to terms
with that past experience before the blog. No one knew about that. But you’re
the one who gave me the card. It’s not coincidental, I know that. Nothing ever
is.”

“Really? It’s not coincidental that you harbor a little kink
and you come into my bar at least once a week, three times if it’s during
hockey and football seasons? Or that I’m the guy who knows enough about all
things BDSM that I feel comfortable sharing my expertise online. Thanks to the
wide, wide world of technology, both our hidden traits can be admitted,
explored and used for the betterment of mankind.”

“But this isn’t what I expected.
You’re
not what I
expected.” She met his gaze and Chris shook his head.

“It sort of hurts that you’d have preferred a complete
stranger. Someone you think you can trust enough, from a dozen or so loop
entries and emails, to tie you up and do devious things to your body? Someone
who could be the next star of
Serial Killers Gone Wild
.”

He saw a glimmer of fear cross her face but just as quickly
it was gone. Another positive reaction.

“You could be that man, for all I know,” she accused.

“You’re right. I could. Your method and criteria for meeting
me totally sucked, Isabel. You have no idea of the number of sadistic men and
women who are out there just waiting to get their hands on a newbie. If you
truly want to partake in some playtime, I’m the man to chart those new waters
with you. The fact that you haven’t screamed your head off for help is a
testament to that. You know that as well as I do. If it’ll help soothe your
concerns, I can give references.”

“I’m sure you can,” she said hotly, a blush creeping up her
neck. A part of him hoped it was because she realized he already knew her a
little better than she knew herself. That was the beauty of finding the right
sub. And with each little heave of her breasts, each flare of emotion in her
eyes, Chris knew she was meant to be his.

“First rule. Don’t think about anyone who came before you. I
may have initiated one girl or one thousand girls, but it doesn’t matter. It’s
you I want now.”

She studied him longer than he would have imagined. “Why?”

The question surprised him. Most prospective subs took that
statement as a sign of devotion and readily accepted the meaning that went with
it. They wanted to feel special and for a brief period of time, they were.

“Is it because I’m all but virginal when it comes to the
freaky stuff? That you see me as a prize? Or maybe a challenge?”

“First of all, it’s not freaky. I thought we established
that. Not to me. Not to us. If it’s an interest and it’s healthy in and of
itself, and no one gets hurt, then what’s the problem? We’re kindred spirits,
Isabel. Plain and simple.” He tugged at a section of her hair and wrapped it
around his fingers then gave it a gentle yank. He watched her nostrils flare
but she remained silent. “Of course you’re a challenge. That’s part of the attraction.”

“What’s the other part?” She fired the question at him,
obviously not ready to relinquish the upper hand in the conversation.

“You’ve got a tight little ass that I can’t wait to redden.”
He smiled at her shocked gasp and continued. “In addition, I’m someone you can
trust. I’d never hurt anyone, especially someone I consider a friend. And I do
consider you my friend.”

“And how does that work, Chris? You see me naked, push me to
my limits, bring me release and then serve me up a draft like usual the next
time I walk through the door?”

“If that’s how you want it to work, that’s exactly how it
works. Anonymity and covertness. Secretive interaction, if you want to call it
that. I’ve served tons of people I’ve run into at one dungeon or another. I
nod, say hello, give them their order and that’s it.”

“There are dungeons around here?” she asked incredulously.

“You never once seemed interested in that sort of thing
during our conversations, but yes. They’re here in the tristate area and
they’re busy.
Trust me.
”

He accentuated the phrase because, in the end, that’s
exactly what it would come down to. Her placing her trust in him. And him
alone.

He watched her give his words a great deal of thought before
sighing heavily. “I thought we were going to discuss scenarios and what I had
in mind. It sure as hell wasn’t being tied to the Kegerator until my hamstrings
rip in two.”

“We will, but I didn’t have time to finesse you. It was the
only thing I could think of to keep you from thinking your fetish date stood you
up. I didn’t want you storming out the door. It was necessary. And rule number
two is ‘no swearing’ unless you’re in the throes of denied, impending or actual
orgasm. I’m not down with the potty mouth.”

“You have
got
to be shitting me.”

He held her gaze and landed a hard, resounding, open-handed
slap on her right ass cheek. He immediately grabbed the back of her skirt to
keep her from stumbling off the foot rail before taking advantage of her
wide-eyed shock to elaborate.

“The time for jokes is over, Isabel. Eventually, we’ll talk
about your predetermined ideas of what you may actually need. Eventually, I’ll
cut your bonds and we’ll go back to your place. Eventually, after you’re so
sated you can’t move, I’ll put you to bed then see how easy it might be to
incorporate some playthings into your present décor. But before all that, we
need to see just how amenable you are to taking direction, because if you’re
going to get your nose out of joint over something as small as my demanding you
don’t talk like a trucker, then I know for a fact I’m not the man for you.”

Her ass still stinging and her wrists beginning to ache,
Isabel let his words sink in. Now would be the time to backpedal, or throw up
the white flag. A part of her was scared at what he’d do but another part, the
same one that apparently connected her pussy to the soft underside of her
derrière, urged her to simply say “yes Sir”. But could she do it? It seemed
less intimidating when she could use James as the scapegoat for whatever
obsessions she might be harboring.

It was James’ idea. James wanted it so badly, I hated to
deny him.

Never once did she tell her girlfriends how hot she had
found the experience. How she’d come ten times stronger at the end of that
riding crop than she ever had with a man…or on her own.

The fact that she innately trusted Chris was more baffling
than anything else and she wasn’t sure she was one-hundred-percent comfortable
with the idea. Maybe it was the fact she actually knew him. How could she ever
sit across the bar from him again if she let him do the things she dreamed of
having done to her? The other time, it was James who had known the Dom. She had
no interaction with the man, other than lying there and allowing him to do what
he knew James enjoyed watching. The fact that she actually enjoyed it as well
had been a bonus.

But this would be different. It would have nothing to do
with James. It was for her and her alone and the thought of baring herself,
both physically and emotionally, to someone she didn’t completely trust would
be the pinnacle of stupidity. She wasn’t stupid.

“Do you trust me, Isabel?”

She really didn’t like him sounding so formal. It was so
much better when he used her nickname. “What happened to Izzi?”

“This isn’t a game. If you think it is, I’ll set you free
and you can go home. Right now.”