What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [58]
The truth was—by the time she’d examined the whole outfit, her heart beat like a drum against her chest. Despite Brent’s warnings, she’d not thought much about what lay ahead—which was just as well, since she couldn’t have imagined . . . this.
Barely able to think straight, she tore into the envelope to extract an invitation, this one on thick red paper, printed with black ink in a rather menacing-looking font.
You Are Invited to a Fantasy
Where: The Dungeon (map included)
When: Tonight, 10:00 p.m. Don’t keep the Master waiting.
You are to be the Master’s new sex slave tonight,
coming to him in a state of complete submission.
Eat before you arrive—a meal will be delivered to your room.
Then prepare yourself for a night of bondage, domination, and submission—
resulting in brutal pleasure.
(Your safeword is Susan B. Anthony.)
(But a submissive slave wouldn’t even think about saying it.)
Chapter 7
Brent sat on the master’s throne in the resort’s dungeon, wearing black leather pants and a black leather vest with slashes in the fabric, awaiting Jenna’s arrival. Tonight was make-or-break. Either she’d survive this fantasy and go all the way, or she’d use the safeword and end it all. Brent’s only worry: Would it be too much for her?
The goals were the same as last night’s—but more intense. Tonight she would be instructed not only in taking, but in giving. Tonight she would be exposed to rougher sex—and other partners, not just women this time. Tonight he would teach her that sex didn’t have to be gentle to be good. No silk sheets and violins for you, sunshine.
He hoped like hell she’d stick this out and keep trusting him. It had to happen for her to make the leap to true sexual comfort and freedom. She might never do anything this wild again, but she had to do it tonight if she were to be truly, deeply happy in her sexuality. It was just her bad luck she’d gotten ugly impressions of sex in her youth—but since she had, and since it had affected her lifelong outlook on the activity, she had to take big, definitive steps to alter those perceptions.
Despite himself, he would take it personally if she opted out. Not only would he fear he’d failed her—but he would fear for the rest of her sexual life. Oh, he knew she’d be okay—not miserable or anything—but he wanted more than that for Jenna. He wanted her to know every possible pleasure, every joy. And besides, he’d be sorry to see her leave, since he was enjoying this particular challenge—as well as the guest who’d challenged him. His cock was already stiff, not only because playing the dominant came so easy to him, but because he ached to see her nipples wrapped with those tight silver rings.
Glancing around the room, he thought briefly through his plans for her. BDSM tools and toys hung on the pegboard secured to the fake stone walls across the room and lay upon the black wooden bench in front of it. Nearby, adjustable-length chains for securing slaves extended from the pseudo-rock wall, along with a variety of cuffs and harnesses. Various padded tables dotted the space, some with chains attached, others with leather restraints, still more with cuffs at each corner or steel rings for slipping ropes or other tethers through. Far to his right stood the whipping post and what the facilitators casually referred to as the pommel horse, an apparatus for bending someone over for spanking or fucking. And near the door hung the black bands of the room’s two sex swings, and