A is for…(3)

The tips of a pair of glossy black dress shoes appeared at the edge of the ring of light. Anna caught her breath, holding very still. Not Master Jensen—he wasn’t the dress-shoes type. Anna blinked to dispel the tears that gathered in her eyes. Up until that moment she’d secretly been expecting her Master, Master Jensen, to walk in to the room.

Should she refuse to submit? Should she use her safe word, get up and walk out? Anna tensed, unsure what to do.

The Dom didn’t say anything. Turning to the right, he circled her, staying in the shadows so that all she saw were his expensive shoes and the cuffs of his black dress slacks.

She could protest, say that she wouldn’t submit for anyone but Master Jensen.

He stopped in front of her and took one step forward, bringing everything up to his chest into the light. He wore a perfect black one-button suit with a crisp white shirt and thin black tie. His left hand was tucked into his pocket, pulling the side of his jacket back. His right hand was encased in a black leather glove. He pointed to her with the first two fingers on his right hand then tipped them up. Anna stared at him, not sure what she should do. It was the first time she’d failed to instantly obey an order in years.

After a moment of silence the Dom walked away. He stepped into the light, this time holding a riding crop and a pair of cuffs.

They were symbols, items so quintessentially linked to BDSM that when she saw them Anna remembered why she chose to submit, and what that submission meant. The overseers were right—her relationship with Master Jensen had made her complacent. Surrendering body and mind to gain sexual and emotional fulfillment had kept her sane. It was dangerous to forget that she didn’t just enjoy being mastered—she needed it.

She wouldn’t flee, wouldn’t protest being dominated by someone new, because though her emotions were involved with Master Jensen, she was a true submissive. She’d given Las Palmas power over her body and choices, and she would obey.

Anna took deep slow breaths letting go of her questions and worries. Her heart clenched, and there was still part of her that was crying out for her Master, but she was well trained, and would obey as she should. After a few minutes of practiced breathing she was calm, her body warm and ready for a Master’s touch.

“I’m sorry, Master. I’m yours to use as you see fit.” Her words hung in the air. Though his shoulders and head were still in shadow Anna could just make out the movement as he nodded.

Anna bowed her head, waiting for his first command.





Chapter Two


The tip of the crop tapped the underside of her chin. Anna looked up. The Master dropped the cuffs to the floor and again gestured using two fingers.

Sub sign language.

When Anna had first been introduced to the world of BDSM she’d set out to learn everything she could about it, including taking an online class on “sub sign language” designed to be used to maintain secrecy in the vanilla world or when the Dom preferred silence. She’d never been with a Master who used it, but she had a bad feeling she might have indicated that she knew it on her BDSM Checklist.

Anna slowly rose to her feet, guessing as to what the gesture meant. The tip of the crop slid down her breasts. The Dom motioned again, this time raising pinky and thumb. Anna bit her lip, then clasped her hands together at the small of her back.

Crack. The crop struck the bare skin of her thigh above the top of her stocking. Anna sucked in a little breath as he repeated the gesture. This time she raised her arms, lacing her fingers together behind her neck. The crop rose and Anna winced, hating that she’d made such a terrible first impression on this Dom. First she’d been hesitant to obey an order, now she wasn’t obeying correctly.

He touched the tip of the crop to the center of her forehead. Anna blinked, then closed her eyes. The folded leather slid down her cheek, over her chest to her right breast. She breathed a sigh of relief that she’d gotten it right. Her whole body was on alert. She’d forgotten how stimulating the fear or the unknown could be, and this Master was a dangerous mystery.

He took two steps and then the crop was gone, replaced by hands. He cupped and kneaded her breasts through the thin fabric of her corset and Anna couldn’t help but moan. The Dom slid his fingers beneath the material, lifting her right breast and then folding her corset down, creating a shelf for her now exposed breast, presenting it to him.

At the touch of the cool air her nipple beaded, and Anna wished she could squeeze her legs together to address the aching in her pussy. The danger this Dom presented and the unknown pleasures and pain that lay before her had her nearly at the point of climax.

The Dom walked away. Anna kept her eyes closed and focused on her breathing. She tried to stay in the moment, to be the good submissive she’d been trained to be, but she couldn’t stop her thoughts from shifting to Master Jensen. Would he be angry that another man was using her? He would. He’d be furious that anyone else had touched her, but he knew, as she did, that being a part of this lifestyle meant that until they made their relationship formal there were no guarantees.

If she’d been a different kind of woman—a woman who thought pain had no place in sex and that bruises from a lover’s hands were a sign of danger—she would have run screaming from Las Palmas rather than let another man touch her. But she was a submissive, and when she gave herself over to this life she did it wholly, and without reservation. She’d forgotten that for a moment, but wouldn’t make that mistake again. Her checklist would indicate that she was willing to play with any Dom, because she’d completed the list and set her personal limits before Master Jensen entered her life, and before they’d developed the relationship they now had.

Jensen was the Master. If he didn’t want her to be used by someone else, it was up to him to stop it.

That thought brought a little smile to her lips. Her job was to submit and obey—she shouldn’t have to worry or plan. She got to leave those things behind when she drove up the palm lined driveway.

The Dom returned, standing so close to her that she could feel the heat of his body. He stroked her right breast, the leather of his gloves buttery soft. He pinched her nipple, twisting and then lifting it until she gasped and rose onto her toes. He released her, leaving her right nipple throbbing and her left aching for want of the same treatment. Something cool touched the inner swell of her breast, tracing a path up to her collar bone and then down the other side. Anna wanted to open her eyes, but she obediently kept them closed. What had he applied to her breast?

He moved away and she heard the door open. Anna froze. Had he left, or someone else entered?

“Open your eyes to see your letter,” a female voice said.

Anna opened her eyes and looked around. She could see the shadowed outline of a woman kneeling five feet in front of her. The Dom was nowhere in sight.

Anna looked down at her bare right breast. It took her a minute to understand what the red lines painted there represented. Her lips twitched.

“A scarlet letter.” The painted ‘A’ glistened against her pale skin.

“Please position yourself on the St. Andrews cross,” the woman said.

Anna kept her hands behind her head, turned, and with a slow, graceful walk went over to the leather covered “X.” The bottoms of the leg portions ended in padded platforms. Anna positioned her back against the cross and then stepped up onto the platforms. It spread her legs wide, enough that there was no way to pretend she was anything other than on display. She unlinked her fingers and raised her arms, laying them along the upper pieces.

The woman had followed her, and when she stepped into the light Anna could see she too was a sub and naked except for a body chain that started in a choker around her neck, and draped and swaged its way down to her pussy. Clamps on her nipples and pussy lips helped hold the jewelry in place.

The dark haired sub attached straps around Anna’s ankles, thighs, waist, ribs, upper arms and wrists. When she was done, the sub turned and walked to the door, slipping out.

Anna was left alone to contemplate her situation. The St. Andrew’s cross leaned back slightly, and the center supported her back. On either side of her were large rectangular boxes, which she knew contained the mechanisms that allowed the cross to rotate from upright to flat and then to upside down, depending on how the Dom wanted to use the sub.

A minute passed, then five. Anna struggled to keep from screaming. If Master Jensen were here, he’d take one look at her and know what she needed—a good, hard fuck. She closed her eyes and imagined he was there, his rugged, scarred body naked from the waist up, his stubbled cheek scraping hers as he leaned in to demand that she beg to be fucked. When she did, he’d rip open his jeans and thrust his long, hard cock into her.

She was so lost in the fantasy that she didn’t register the sound of returning footsteps until they were close.

The Dom stepped into the circle of light. His face was shadowed by a fedora. All she could see was the edge of a smooth jaw. In his trim, elegant suit with the hat shading his face he looked like a celebrity hiding from photographers.

The brim of his hat dipped a bit as he looked her over. Anna could only hope what he saw pleased him. She was lightly muscled and toned—she worked hard for this body—but that didn’t mean he’d like it. Maybe he preferred larger breasts, or more curves. Maybe he liked girls with darker skin who wouldn’t bruise as easily.