Everything changed the night she’d hung out at Dreama’s and stumbled upon her cousin’s huge collection of BDSM books.
After a long conversation with her cousin, she realized she wanted to learn more about it and borrowed a few of the books. Something about the lifestyle resonated with her. How many times had she thought she was a freak for wanting Tony to tie her up or get a little rough during sex? Girls her age were supposed to want sweet kisses and compliments, not rough hands and dirty talk. Unfortunately, Tony only wanted to get rough outside the bedroom.
She’d spent the following six months researching BDSM and discussing it with her therapist. At first, she hadn’t understood how she could want to be dominated or why she craved pain when she’d been abused by Tony. Shouldn’t that have turned her off of those yearnings? Did she want it because of the abuse? Had he abused her because of her desires? For weeks, she’d walked around filled with shame and guilt. That changed once her therapist helped her understand that her sexual inclinations had not caused the abuse, and that BDSM required those participating to adhere to the tenet of “safe, sane, and consensual.” What Tony had done to her had not been safe, sane, or consensual.
Once she’d accepted that, she started attending a local BDSM group’s introductory class, and now she was finally ready to participate. Dreama had assured her that she knew all of the Doms at the party, and with the rules in place, she’d be perfectly safe.
In Isabella’s opinion, giving up her power to a Dom tonight would help her reclaim control over her life. This time, she would have control of the pain and the pleasure. Tonight, she’d take back what she’d lost and become whole again. And damn it, if it went as she suspected it would, and she got off on being beaten by a stranger, then she’d accept that her sexuality was different. But it was hers and she’d own it. Then she’d box it away for a few years until she had time for a permanent Dom/sub relationship.
This was her last chance to experience these things, because tomorrow, she was leaving for her freshman year at Hayvenwood University, and with Tony being released from the mental hospital next week, she wasn’t planning on returning to her hometown anytime soon.
For the last two weeks, she’d received daily flower deliveries, as well as letters in the mail, and although they were sent anonymously, she knew they were from him. Unfortunately, the hospital administrators swore he didn’t have the means, making it impossible to prove he’d violated the restraining order.
Dreama released her hold on her. “Yes, I know all the reasons you need to do this, but once you get a taste, you may develop a particular palate. Life will become a lot more complicated.”
“More complicated than it already is?” Isabella shrugged. Nothing could top the complications of the last year. Besides, once she got to school, she’d spend every minute either studying or working. After tonight, her particular “palate” would have to wait four years for another taste. “I don’t think that’s possible, but thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure to take that into consideration.”
Scrutinizing her, Dreama pursed her lips. “Before we go in, we need to do something about your outfit.”
Spoken like a true fashion maven. Dreama had taken over her father’s bar when he’d passed away a few years ago, but she still designed clothes in her spare time. She swore one day she’d run her own fashion line. Tonight, Dreama was wearing one of her own creations, a black bustier with metallic blue ribbons and an attached lace skirt.
But even with her skills, Isabella’s outfit was hopeless.
Isabella pulled her shirt taut, showing off the logo for her family’s bakery. “Unless you have something in your car, I think I’m stuck with what I’m wearing.”
Dreama scanned her up and down, smiling. “We’ll make it work. Slide your arms out of the sleeves.” When Isabella did what she was told, Dreama folded and tucked the sleeves into the opening at her neck. “Now take off your pants.”
She raised a brow. “When I thought about attending my first play party, somehow it wasn’t you I pictured ordering me to remove my clothes.” Giggling, she shimmied out of her black pants and twirled around wearing nothing but a shirt made into a dress and white lace boy shorts. “What do you think?”
Her cousin whistled. “You look hot.”
She laughed as she picked up her pants and tossed them into the backseat of her car before locking it. “I look like a stripper.”
“You’ll fit right in.” Dreama winked and threw her arm around Isabella’s shoulders, leading her to the front door. “Ready to play, bitch?”