Niles realised he knew little about her. He'd seen her around the Den for years. She was always unfailingly obedient, but she didn't stand out. No wonder Damien continued to have her at his events.
"If you'd like to go to one of the private rooms, Sir, I'm available."
His cock hardened. He met her gaze. Her blue eyes were wide open and she gave him a quick smile that slammed his solar plexus. Fuck. Why had he never noticed how attractive she was? Maybe because she wasn't the type he usually went for.
At six feet tall, his wife had looked him in the eye when she had donned the heels he liked. She'd been runway-model thin, with deep brown eyes and raven hair styled in a sleek, no-nonsense bob.
The two women couldn't be any more different.
Suddenly, though, the idea of bending Brandy over, making her scream his name as she came, appealed to every dominant urge. Still, he didn't want to scene just because she had a misplaced sense of gratitude. "You owe me nothing."
"I think you misunderstood. It was an invitation, Sir." She linked her hands at her back.
Interesting. Brandy was well trained, a perfect sub. And if he wasn't mistaken, she'd tucked her hands out of sight so he couldn't see the way she was fidgeting.
"I'm afraid I was being bold," she said, still looking at the ground.
So she was nervous, and he understood why. Though she was often summoned to the dungeon, he was certain she initiated few, if any, of the scenes. "I respect a woman who asks for what she wants."
As he stood, he put down his glass. Brandy didn't glance up. He placed his forefinger beneath her chin and tipped her head back.
She smelt of cinnamon with a tangy undercurrent of arousal. The spicy scent intrigued him. He'd expected something more floral, in keeping with her femininity. For the first time since Eleanor had passed, he wanted to scene for pleasure. "I accept," he said.
Brandy smiled.
The slow, sensuous curve of her lips made something deep inside start to melt. "After you," he said.
She scooped up his glass and started towards the main house. Her hips swayed from side to side, not in an exaggerated movement, but with natural feminine grace. He was looking forward to getting her naked.
Responding to a male instinct as old as time, he placed his fingers against the small of her back.
Gregorio, the Den's caretaker, opened the patio doors for them.
"We'll be availing ourselves of one of the playrooms," Niles said.
Gregorio drew his dark eyebrows together. Obviously, he hadn't been expecting that news.
"Let me know if you need anything," Gregorio said. "You as well," he said to Brandy as he accepted the glass from her.
"I'll take good care of her," Niles promised.
"See that you do," Gregorio said.
He appreciated the way Master Damien and Gregorio ensured everyone's safety, but this time it rankled. Niles would do nothing to harm Brandy.
With a nod towards the watchful Gregorio, Niles guided her through the kitchen then down the stairs that led to Damien's elaborate dungeon.
Niles owned a production company that often filmed at the Den, and he'd appeared in a number of their videos. He knew the rooms well, all the apparatus that was available and each of the implements he could apply to her body.
He stopped at the bar and snagged two bottles of water before asking Brandy if she had any preference on which room to enter.
"Sir?"
Clearly she expected him to make the decisions. Under normal circumstances, he would. But this evening was anything but ordinary. "This was your idea," he told her. "So I'm betting you have an idea or two about what you'd like to have happen."
"In that case, Sir, first door on the right."
He nodded, pleased with her answer. Because of its sparseness, this was one of his favourite playrooms. A hook hung from the ceiling, and a chair stood off to one side, tucked beneath a padded bench. The far wall was dominated by crops, whips, floggers and a tawse handcrafted by Master Marcus. As with all the rooms, there was a small sink and counter, and a cupboard stocked with necessities, including wipes, lube, condoms and towels.
She entered ahead of him. He paused to seal them in relative privacy. At the Den, all rooms had a window cut into the door. Every interaction was observed by Gregorio or Master Damien, meaning there was no such thing as complete seclusion, a policy Niles endorsed.
When he turned, he saw her kneeling in the middle of the room, head bowed, hands on her thighs. The subs-male and female-that he professionally dominated were actors and models. Each act was scripted and choreographed, and each response was exploited to ensure maximum effect. Screaming, whimpering and begging were all expected from the participants-after all, no one wanted to pay money for a download in which the spankee was silent.
He was reminded that Brandy, too, submitted for a living, but there were no cameras, directors or second takes. This was between two willing participants for no reason other than pleasure. "Stand, please," he said. "Hands over your head."
Niles drew her dress up, exposing her beautiful body, inch by perfect inch.
She wore a scrap of material that served as panties. And she had on a black shelf bra that lifted her breasts. "I'm a fortunate man tonight, Brandy."
"Thank you, Sir."
He offered her the dress. "Fold it and put it on the counter then return to me."
Wordlessly, she did as instructed. She stood in front of him, her legs spread slightly and her hands looped behind her back. He noticed the telltale rapid rise and fall of her chest, indicating she was not as relaxed as she appeared.
It might have been ego, but he liked to think that this might mean something to her. If it didn't, he could live with that. Passing an hour or two together would make the evening more pleasant than he'd anticipated. "How expensive are your panties?"
"Very," she said.
"Sorry in advance."
"Occupational hazard, Sir."
He crossed to one of the drawers and took out a pair of safety scissors. Almost every week, he cut the material from an actress. This, however, was different. She wouldn't be turning in an expense report for replacement lingerie. Well, not to his company.
She stood still as he slid the blunted end between her skin and lace. "Ask me to do it."
Brandy met his gaze. "Do it," she said. "Cut the panties off me, Sir."
He did. The useless scrap pooled to the floor. "I like a shaved pussy," he told her.
"I'm pleased you approve, Sir."
She'd given him a stock answer. Any sub, any time would reply with a variation of those words. From what he'd observed, her training had been complete, exquisite even. But something in the pit of his stomach yearned for more-demanded more-from her. Honesty. He wanted honesty.
Maybe, he told himself, this was the real her. But part of him wondered if she was different away from the Den.
Stupidly, belatedly, he looked at her left hand. No ring adored her fingers, not that that meant anything. "Remove your bra and drop it."
Without hesitation, she did so.
The room was silent, save the sound of his heartbeat and her shallow breaths. "Look at me and tell me what you want, pretty sub."
Their gazes collided.
"To please you," she said.
"Then stop with the expected bullshit."
She gasped. "I'm not sure what you mean, Master Niles."
"I think you do."
Over the course of several seconds, she licked her upper lip.
"Stalling?" he asked.
"No, Sir. I'm trying to figure you out," she replied.
"That might be the most truthful thing you've said yet."
"You're a Dom, a very experienced one." She took her time, making every word count. "I'm a sub."
"Is that why you approached me? Do you want me to treat you as if you're interchangeable with any actress on the planet? I assure you, I don't see you that way."
To her credit, she took her time in answering. He liked that she was deliberate.
"No. It's not."
"I don't have a script, Brandy. And if I did, I wouldn't follow it. I would rather you be real with me, and natural. I need you to open up." With the power of his will, he held her gaze captive. "I need to know about your limits, but even more, I want to know the things that quicken your pulse and the sensations that make you writhe in ecstasy. I demand your participation, but not your blind obedience. Those are my terms."
"You'll think I'm selfish."
"I'm willing to take the risk."
"In that case, Sir, I love any kind of flogging, but especially one on my pussy, followed by a long, hard fuck."
His cock throbbed at the passion in her words. When he orchestrated a shoot, he never had sex with the actors. He'd bring them off manually or with a toy, but he kept his dick in his pants. Over the years, that had added to his mystique. He wasn't interested in his reputation. He had one purpose-grow the company's revenues.