What he wanted was so simple and yet was so hard to come by. Yes, he had exacting tastes, but he knew many Doms like himself all over the country—the world in fact—who were settled and happy with their submissives. BDSM clubs and other sex-positive organizations were teeming with them. And while it was true he spent most of his time overseeing his own club and event venue, his friends knew of his preferences. They’d tried, there was no doubt, but it’d been several years since he’d found a submissive he felt a deeper connection with. He was beginning to wonder if the perfect one for him was still out there.
Blonde. Mid-thirties. Strong submissive tendencies with a masochistic streak very much welcomed. Well-educated and cultured, with impeccable manners. Willing to be bound, gagged, spanked, whipped, and hungry for whatever else he wanted to do with her—to her—was all he wanted. Simple really.
Violet stroked the live floral wreath he’d ordered for her, and her smile pleased him. Surprising her gave him a sense of accomplishment, much the same way orchestrating the additional elements of her scene earlier that morning had.
“Thank you, Joseph. You’re so thoughtful.”
He patted her cheek affectionately. “Have fun at the feast. I’m glad you decided to wear your costume.”
With a snort, she gave him a sassy look and had the guts to punch his arm—again—and said, “Wear? What’s to wear? My choices were a bunny tail and ears with body paints or…nothing.” She gestured dramatically at her lush, delightfully decorated body. “No one can doubt my sweet submissive compliance, now can they?”
He smiled at the hint of a teasing giggle in her voice and ignored how very non-submissive her tone was. High protocol wasn’t in effect on a fantasy weekend unless agreed privately between a Dom and sub, and she wasn’t his to command…or discipline. But her sassiness reminded him of a certain redhead he very much wanted to put over his knee, and the thought of how satisfying spanking the little technician would be tightened his gut…and heightened his loneliness.
The whole indoor-outdoor sound system had been down that morning. Since mood music was a necessary component of the weekend, he’d had no choice but to request an emergency service call. It was nobody’s business but his that Grogan Home Theater and Communications had sent his favorite little technician to do the work.
Miss Carrigan had been out to Hazelle House as a sub-contractor for Grogan on previous service calls, and she’d impressed him with her problem-solving skills and work ethic. She’d fixed an issue another company had claimed couldn’t be fixed, so he’d stuck with Grogan from that point forward.
She’d always been out during the week when Hazelle House wasn’t “in use,” so having her there with all those fantasies in progress made him nervous. She didn’t seem all that bothered by the goings on she’d witnessed earlier. Although he didn’t expect to be addressed formally in casual settings, he was accustomed to a certain amount of deference, at least from visiting submissives, but she seemed to take delight in yanking his chain. Submissiveness from her would be hard won. And she’d asked him to use her first name. Bunny. Never would he have dreamed he’d be attracted to a woman named Bunny.
Speaking of bunnies… “Off you go, Violet. You have a feast to participate in,” he said as he nodded to Josh and Lucas. He’d enjoyed keeping them on edge all weekend as well. It wouldn’t do for them to think they’d have it easy the whole time they wooed their lovely woman. He’d made sure of it.
“What do you mean, ‘participate in’?” she asked as her men ushered her forward toward the large ballroom at the end of the walkway.
All he did was chuckle. Explaining would take all the fun out of it.
A high-pitched scream suddenly rent the air, followed by a series of loud thumps from upstairs.
“Joseph!”
The voice could belong to only one woman. A woman who had promised him she’d steer clear of the weekend festivities in order to get her job done—a woman with an incredibly poor sense of direction.
* * * *
Josh’s heart lurched as the scream echoed through the mansion. “Joseph, did that come from your dungeon?”
Anywhere else his question might’ve been met with laughter or shock, but Joseph really had a dungeon.
“No,” Joseph said as he took off at a run. “The second floor landing!”
“Help me—” The desperate cry was cut off by a whimper and another thump.
Curious at the commotion, guests ventured out of the ballroom as they reached the end of the corridor, which opened into a much wider space, including one of the staircases. They waded carefully through the growing crowd, and Joseph took the stairs two at a time. As he made the turn in the stairwell, he came to an abrupt halt.