BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

Chapter 23

Twenty-four hours later, Anna zipped her skirt and checked her reflection in the mirror. She’d come right from work on Friday, and hadn’t brought any casual clothes with her. She’d be going home in the tailored Chanel skirt suit she’d been wearing when she left the office.

Friday felt like a million years ago, instead of only two days. It was even stranger when she considered that she’d spent most of today sitting quietly with her Master and watching the players who’d been assigned to the letter “B.” She’d thought “A” was intense until she’d seen what the “B” subs were being subjected to.

She placed her toiletry bag in the locker she’d been assigned in one of the Subs’ Garden rooms. Picking up her overnight bag, she pulled out the ring box. Extracting the antique, three-carat sapphire engagement ring, she slid it onto her finger.

She waved to the other subs, both those who were changing into street clothes and those who were lounging in various states of nakedness, their play not yet done. She hadn’t exactly gotten the girls’ night they’d talked about, but there would be other weekends to play with her fellow subs.

Anna smoothed a lock of hair back towards the chic chignon that was her signature hairstyle.

Her Sergio Rossi heeled sandal—alternating thick and thin straps of hot pink and zebra print with a fuchsia heel—tapped on the concrete as she left the mansion and made her way toward the parking area. A handsome, blond man was leaning against the fender of a sleek, silver Aston Martin DB9. Anna smiled at her fiancé.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

“Hello, soldier.”

The corner of Jensen Couper’s mouth kicked up when she used the nickname she’d coined for him back when they were undergrads.

She kissed him, plucking at the ugly polo shirt he wore. “I’m going to throw this thing away.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this shirt.”

Anna rolled her eyes.

“You’re the only one who cares what I wear.” He took her bag and put it in the trunk.

“At least you dress up for client meetings.”

Jensen snorted. “Only because you make me.”

“When people are giving you millions of dollars, a tie is appropriate.”

He grinned. Looking at him now, with his hair glinting in the fading sunlight, she could see traces of the boy she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. They’d been through more than some people twice their age—he’d gone to war and nearly died. She’d nursed him back to health, while struggling to control her feelings for him and simultaneously dealing with her personal sexual demons.

When he’d been near the end of his recovery and leaned in to kiss her, she’d had to haltingly tell him about what she’d been doing to satisfy her sexual needs, even while she’d emotionally committed to him and his recovery. Jensen hadn’t judged her, and they’d agreed to remain friends. Anna hadn’t wanted to take advantage of his gratitude by starting another relationship. Jensen hadn’t wanted to stand in the way of her exploration of BDSM.

It had been a painful, if productive, period of their relationship, with each of them trying desperately to deny their feelings for one another, and learn to be friends as adults.

Anna had helped him to set up a small engineering firm. Within six months he’d designed a new missile mount for military helicopters. Uneven weight distribution had caused the crash that had nearly killed him, and his design corrected that error. She’d represented him in the patent filing and subsequent multimillion dollar sale of the design. As a result of bringing him on, she was made a junior partner in her law firm, and Jensen was owner and chief designer of an ever-growing mechanical engineering company that specialized in military equipment.

A year ago she’d arrived for one of her monthly visits to Las Palmas where Master Leo had introduced her to their newest member—a handsome, young millionaire who went by the title of Master Jensen.

***

Oh shit.

Mae’s breath hitched in her throat when the Dom came out of the shadows.

Master Xavier.

There were a handful of truly terrifying Doms at Las Palmas, and this was one of them. Though he was an infrequent player, Mae recognized him. Even if she’d never seen him, she would recognize him from his description. Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Master Xavier always wore a black leather hood-mask, and rumor had it no one at Las Palmas had ever seen his face.

The mask covered his whole head and neck except for his mouth, lower cheeks, and chin. A sub Mae knew named Sarah, who had submitted to him several times, said it was like Batman’s mask. They’d giggled about that, but quietly, as if Master Xavier might hear them otherwise.

He was muscular, but not bulky, wearing a tight sleeveless top that hugged the muscles of his chest and firm belly. He folded his arms, which were thick with muscle. The unrelenting black of his clothing and mask drew attention to the skin that was bare. Mae focused on his lips, which were fuller than she’d remembered from the few times she’d seen him.

“Mae.”

A shiver ran down her back when he said her name.

“Master Xavier.” She bowed her head submissively, but looked at him through her lashes.

“You know me.”

It wasn’t really a question, but she answered anyway. “Yes, Sir. I recognize your mask.”

He let out one hard laugh. “Fine. Do you know why you’re here?”

“No, Sir.”

“We’re partners in the game. The checklist game.”

Mae wasn’t really surprised—there was no other reason for him to have called for her, but hearing him say it made her stomach knot.

She popped her hip to the side, propped her hand on it, and said, “I almost left, it took you so long to contact me.”

She hadn’t planned to say that, hadn’t planned to act like that, but it was an automatic response, a defense mechanism. Mae teased and pouted, sassed and misbehaved. That’s who she was. When Doms came looking for her, that’s what they wanted.

And it was the wrong thing to do with a Master like Xavier.

* * *

When she’d seen him. Realized what his being here meant, Anna had thrown herself into his arms and cried. He’d done this for her, she knew that. Later, Leo had told her that Jensen had come to him looking for advice and training. He’d spent six months secretly exploring the world of BDSM before officially joining Las Palmas. That first weekend, she’d been eager to show off for Jensen, and volunteer to sub for a Master who was known for putting on lovely bondage displays.

Jensen had lasted ten minutes before he’d jumped on the stage, demanded that the other Master release her, and then hauled Anna away to fuck her senseless.

They’d spent forty-eight hours locked in a room, exercising years of pent up desire. When they’d left after that first weekend, Anna had told Jensen that outside of Las Palmas she wasn’t sub Anna. She wanted to keep that part of her life separate. He’d understood, and that night he’d taken her home and dropped her off at her front door like a proper gentleman.

The night after that, Anna had shown up at his condo in nothing but a trench coat. Much to their delight, they discovered they could still set the bed on fire outside the D/s relationship.

Two weeks later they’d moved in together, and a month after that Jensen had proposed.