Control is her kink…and she’s losing it.
It’s another gloomy Christmas for Pamela Dane. Not only is it the anniversary of a dark period in her life, but all her friends had the nerve to hook up. It’s not easy for a female Domme to find a playmate. Maybe The Cage in San Francisco will be the perfect place to escape—and find a willing man to chase away the memories.
Christian Nolan is at the BDSM club for the hell of it. Yet the minute Mistress Dane takes control of him, she not only stuns him with her talent, he stuns himself with his willingness to surrender. Her offer to meet him there for another night is intriguing—and frightening.
Pamela’s session with Chris shakes her to the core, resurrecting memories she’s afraid to face. But Chris isn’t willing to let her past haunt her…even if it leaves his heart in tatters.
Lights flickered as The Cage Club maintained the illusion of candlelight with electric bulbs. Pamela’s gaze darted over the patrons. Not too many Dominants and several submissives. Those were odds she liked. On the counter was a small Christmas tree about two feet high. Amusingly, the ornaments were tiny little whips and handcuffs.
She made a beeline for the club owner. She’d met Dominique years earlier through David and now that acquaintance was paying off. She’d been given a free pass for the Christmas holidays and access to private rooms. New members were often restricted, but she was welcomed because of David’s word. Her leather corset tightened unbearably as she bent down to wipe the rain off her black boots. Her tight pants, black wig and heavy makeup were her costume, her disguise. She dressed the part so no submissive would mistake her for something else. She was Mistress Dane in this world and every inch of her screamed that fact.READ MORE
In the center of the club was a large area surrounded by wrought iron bars. A huge sign above the entrance said “The Cage” and within the confines were several groupings of people, some standing, some on all fours. Whips, canes and crops were wielded with expertise. Dominique followed her gaze, her blue eyes lit with anticipation. “Did David tell you about our cage?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“It’s usually the first step for newcomers. Here they can practice, play, discover each other under the watchful—and lustful—gaze of others.” Dominique’s voice was smoky. “The sounds and the smells are the most memorable part of my club.”
It was much rawer, coarser and less controlled than David’s dungeon. Pamela smiled. Perhaps this was what she needed. Dominique pointed to an area near the right side of the cage. “Those four over there match your questionnaire. I asked them to wait.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Only that you are a visiting Domme and would like to play.” Dominique gazed at her. “They are all…unattached.”
With a quick nod, Pamela stepped away from the counter. She scanned the submissives Dominique had chosen and spotted one man in the corner. He did not stroke himself, but stared transfixed at the women on their knees. His erection bulged in his slacks and he wore no shirt. He had straight, cropped brown hair and a square jaw. By the length of his legs Pamela could tell he was tall even though he was seated. His eyes riveted her, however. They were a tawny gold that shone in the muted light around him. Something in his manner revealed his preference.
Cautiously, she stepped across the room. A woman moved away from the wall and presented herself with head bowed, but Pamela only registered she was female before she moved on. She wanted a man tonight. A very specific man. When she reached the man he glanced up and then dropped his gaze immediately. Definitely a submissive.
“Are you engaged?” she asked formally.
“Do you wish to play?”
His breath hitched and his hands twisted. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Come with me.” She turned away and approached the large counter at the entrance. He followed at a respectful distance, tall and quiet.
“Do you have your own collar?”
Silence for a heartbeat and then, “No, Mistress.”
It wasn’t common to collar a sub the first time at play, but Pamela wanted the formality, the illusion of ownership. Just another part of the fantasy. It made it feel less…random.
She glanced at Dominique who found three and laid them out for Pamela to choose from. One was a dog collar with pretty stones. No, too feminine. Good for a puppy boy, but this submissive might be more of a challenge. The second collar was smooth and sleek. Again, not really his style. Or hers, for that matter. The last one had spikes on the inside that would press against his skin. She lifted it from the counter and turned to the man. “This one.”
He glanced at it and fire flickered in his gaze. The bulge in his pants strained. Yes, this was the right one to choose.COLLAPSE