What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [60]
Taken aback, Jenna could only nod.
“I’m Serena,” the petite but buxom blonde said. “Let me take your coat.”
Jenna could barely breathe as she untied and unbuttoned the long trench—and when she slipped it off, she was trembling with nerves.
Serena noticed. After tossing the coat on a wall hook, she turned back to Jenna with what looked like genuine concern. “I know you haven’t played any BDSM games before, but there’s nothing to be afraid of—I promise.”
“Okay,” Jenna managed to eke out, yet she knew she didn’t sound convinced.
Serena held up one finger. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and not thirty seconds later, she returned with a glass of white wine. “Here, drink this. It’ll help.”
Jenna took it, sat down on the padded bench near the door, and sipped. She’d downed half the bottle of pinot grigio that had come with dinner, but that had been hours ago. It just now occurred to her that Brent had probably sent it to relax her before the fantasy. So she drank more from her glass, eager to take the edge off her anxiety.
Serena sat down beside her, shifting to face her. “About the BDSM—let me assure you no one here would ever do anything to cause you real pain unless you specifically requested that, and even then, we have our limits. Your fantasy tonight isn’t about pain—it’s about discipline and obedience. I hope that helps assuage your fears a little.”
“Actually, it does.” Deep down, she knew Brent wouldn’t hurt her, but given the setting and lack of control involved, it was a little scary. “Brent always says that everything he designs for me will ultimately bring me pleasure.” She supposed she was reaching out to Serena for even more reassurance.
“Completely true. After all, that’s what we’re all here for,” she added with a smile as she squeezed Jenna’s hand.
You seem so nice, Jenna wanted to say. Why do you work here? Why did anyone work here? But then, why was she here herself? Maybe the circumstances that brought someone to the Hotel Erotique were too complex to be tackled in pre-fantasy small talk.
“Drink up,” the topless Serena said, then widened her eyes playfully. “And let yourself get excited about this!”
“Okay,” Jenna said, finishing the wine and setting the glass beside her.
Then she watched as Serena reached into the nearby chifforobe and pulled out a long, thin length of leather—which she then smoothly snapped onto one of the decorative rings on Jenna’s neck collar.
Oh God. Oh shit. They weren’t just decorative. “Um . . .” she said nervously.
But Serena acted as if it were nothing. “Just a little leash,” she said. “Remember, you’re Brent’s new slave tonight—and it’s my job to deliver you. And . . . I might not seem as friendly once we’re inside, but that’s just part of the game. Don’t be afraid. Let your body love this.”
With that, she opened the door and pulled gently on the leash, and Jenna literally had no choice but to follow her through—into what looked like a true dungeon, complete with curving rock walls and ceiling. Except, glancing around the room, she could see this wasn’t a place where people were banished to die—it was clearly where people came to be punished.
Brent sat in a large black chair atop a small pedestal, but Jenna was so busy taking it all in—the strange, scary equipment and the other men and women in the room, all wearing more domination-style black leather or shiny vinyl—that she didn’t even look at him at first. He’d been right—the harem fantasy had been a walk in the park compared to this. She wished she were back in the harem room in her flowy chiffon right now.
“The new sex slave, master,” Serena said, leading Jenna to Brent’s perch.
Their eyes met, only for a second, before his gaze swept down her body. He didn’t smile,