Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
At five o’clock the next afternoon, Damien again checked the reservations list which worked great, thanks to the work of Brandy, their tech genius. Because snow hadn’t fallen, at least ten more people had signed up. Catrina was not among them.
Two hours later, Damien had watched all the television he could tolerate. He’d finished his work and cleaned out his email inbox. Despite a shower, he was unable to settle in with a true-life crime story that had, until recently, engrossed him.
Restlessness churned at him. He tossed aside the book and strode to the closet. Telling himself he might as well be useful and meet with some of the potential new members—anything was better than dwelling on Catrina—he dressed in business attire and strolled downstairs.
After last night’s craziness, bright colors, thundering noise, outrageous outfits and big hair, this event was subdued. Gregorio had put together an elegant mixer. Low-key jazz oozed from the sound system. No one had to shout over the band to be heard. Waitstaff moved throughout the area with fruity, non-alcoholic beverages made from sugary ingredients he would never touch.
He chatted with a few people in the living room, answered questions about membership and various activities and gave one Dom some tips on dealing with a beautiful but very saucy sub.
Then, seeing Gregorio was occupied in the kitchen with the caterer, Damien excused himself. He went downstairs to check on the play area. The Den employed a number of House Monitors, men and women who knew the rules and enforced them to keep everyone safe. Regardless, Gregorio and Damien tried to make themselves as visible and available as possible.
He wandered down the hallway, looking in on all the private rooms, checking in on the participants. It had been a long time, years even, since he’d availed himself of the Den’s facilities for a personal scene.
Until now, he hadn’t missed it.
But at this moment, the idea of having a woman spread before him in beautifully bound supplication, helpless and writhing in expectation…
Damien inhaled sharply.
Maybe he should seek out one of the house subs to slake his sudden need.
In the open area, some couples sat at tables. A small group of Doms stood in a circle. One put his booted foot on his kneeling sub’s shoulder. The position appeared uncomfortable for both of them.
Another’s sub was seated cross-legged on the floor.
After nodding toward the group, he walked to the bar for a glass of sparkling water.
That’s when he saw her.
Catrina was alone, seated at a high-topped table, swirling a straw in her drink.
The hell was she doing here?
“May I get you anything, Master Damien?” a house sub inquired.
“No. Thank you, Mary.”
She was a relatively new employee, having been hired to replace Brandy, who Master Niles had stolen away and never returned. Even though Mary was tall, willowy, available and agreeable, the idea of taking care of his needs with anyone other than Catrina vanished. Truth was, even if she hadn’t shown up, he wouldn’t have scened with another sub. No one but her would do for him.
She watched him over the rim of her glass, tracking his every move.
“May I join you?” he asked as he neared her table.
“Please.”
Though he’d seen her on numerous occasions over the years, the more he knew her, the more there was to uncover. Tonight, no pretty man knelt by her side. In fact, there wasn’t a leash in sight.
As was usual for her when she attended the Den, her makeup was startling. Her eyes appeared enormous, more luminous, thanks to false lashes. Her red-colored lips were full and pouty.
She’d left her hair loose, though a large clip held a chunk of it back from her face and showcased her stunning cheekbones.
By any standard, her black dress was demure, but fabulous. The square-cut neckline covered her breasts but revealed her collarbone and an alluring glimpse of her cleavage. Previously he hadn’t played with her nipples much, but now he itched to explore all of her.
“Nice event,” she observed as he sat.
“Quite,” he agreed.
“I heard last night was a little different.”
“I looked on the dessert table when I was upstairs. There isn’t a single orange cupcake in sight.”
“Orange?”
“They were a complement to the neon pink ones, I’m told.”
“Sounds like fun. I love big hair and hoop earrings. I’ll be here for the next eighties night.” She moved her straw through the ice cubes in her glass. Her filmy shirtsleeve fell back, and he noticed her white wristband.
Gutted, he stared.
Any hint of ease between them vanished.
To avoid confusion, when a guest checked in for the night, they were issued wristbands. Doms and Dommes wore red ones. Tonight, she wore white, which meant she was heterosexual and looking to scene…as a submissive.
I’ll fucking kill anyone who touches you.
He took hold of her hand.
Leashing his temper, keeping his voice low and well-modulated as he said, “You’re full of surprises.”
“I decided to accept your challenge and try to submit.” Unblinkingly, she met his gaze.
Damien rubbed his thumb against the flutter of her pulse.
Did she know she was flirting with danger?
“To you, Damien.”
“Of course it would be to me.” Her words should have soothed him, but they didn’t. “This is my domain. And I wouldn’t permit you to play with anyone else.”
She met his eyes. “You’d stop me?”
“My house. My rules.”
“That’s a little…”
Arrogant? Possessive? Unreasonable? All of those things.
Catrina brought out intense reactions in him that he wasn’t sure he appreciated. “I’m not interested in a single scene with you.” He wanted so much more.
“I understand. That’s why it took me so long to reach a decision.”
“What convinced you?”
As if hypnotized, she stared at the small circles he made with his thumb.
He stopped rubbing and captured her chin to tip her head back slightly. “No hiding.”
“Maybe you can help me learn to be a better Domme. Alternatively, perhaps the experience will leave me unchanged.”
No fucking chance.
“But there’s only one way to know. And…”
He waited.
“I’m curious.” She shrugged. “I liked what happened at your house. And the fact I can’t stop replaying the events shook me up. Worse, it made me question everything I’ve assumed over the last few years. Part of me wants to pretend it never happened. But the truth is, I’m also intrigued. It took me a long time to reconcile my different thoughts and feelings.”
As much as he wanted to say something, he remained silent.
With a soft sigh, she went on. “How can I be a strong, independent woman, but then enjoy being in your arms after you spank me? I’ve spent years depending on only myself. The bigger question to me is…do I even want to consider a change?”
“Why not?”
“I’ve never met a man who was worthy of trust.”
Damien winced.
For a moment, she stared into the bottom of her glass. “And I like my life.”
A full thirty seconds passed before she met his gaze.
When she did, her eyes were wide, honest. She placed her hands on the table, palms up. “It meant something when you said you’d always want your subs to come to you. I’ll be honest. I thought that was a line. Or maybe a nice fantasy. The more I thought about it, the more I thought it sounded like friendship.”
“Or a partnership?”
“Don’t push it, mister.”
He grinned. Now that she was near and not planning to see anyone but him, the tension that had gripped him for two weeks seeped away.
“So I decided I’d talk to you about it and see what we could work out.” She wrinkled her nose. “Damn. And as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve already learned a thing or two from you.”
“I’m honored you’d say so. It’s mutual. I’ve learned not to assume what you’re thinking. And I’m honing my patience skills.”
“Oh, Damien…” She batted her eyelashes. “You’ve only just begun.”
“I accept your challenge.”
Catrina cocked her head to the right and more seriously added, “I want to find out what I don’t know.”
“It will be an adventure for both of us.” Wanting connection, he began rubbing her wrist again. “I want two weeks of your time. When can you arrange to be away from work?”
Her chest rose as she drank in a deep breath. No doubt this was becoming more real to her. So he continued his reassuring touch.
“I work from home, but I have to meet with clients periodically.”
“We should be able to manage that,” he said.
“My customers matter to me. I won’t abandon them.” She brought her chin up.
“I’d never ask you to. The things that matter to you matter to me. So let’s figure out a schedule. Are you amenable to working from here? Gregorio can set up an office for you.”
“Your house isn’t an option?”
“I promised you an experience. Being up here qualifies. It’s a long way to Denver, but the distance isn’t insurmountable. And I’m happy to drive you back and forth.”
“The house and surroundings are gorgeous.”
And he had all the equipment he could possibly want. “Let Gregorio know what you need. I assume you have a notebook computer that you can bring? We have a satellite connection you can use for email.”
“As long as I can get online, I’ll be fine. I can pack all my files in a box.”
“How many hours a day do you need for work? I won’t have you tied to my bedposts all the time.”
“About that…”
He remembered her having a similar reaction at his house to his threat. “Scares you?”
“Yeah.”
“You have a safe word.” He paused. “But I’m hoping you’ll eventually trust me enough to surrender.”
His soon-to-be sub arched one of those sexy dark eyebrows. “I might agree if I tie you up a time or two.”
“Sorry, Milady. Not happening.”
She tugged her hand away from him.
“Talk to me, Catrina, always. About everything. We can resolve anything as long as we keep the lines of communication open.”
“That all makes sense. And it’s great. In theory. But I’m not good at it. My first response, always, is to protect myself.”
Because no one else ever has?
Damn it to hell.
In this moment, she seemed delicate, vulnerable.
He’d always seen her as larger than life, a dominant, powerful force. Of course she still was, but her open, hesitant side made protective instincts roar through him. “Not all people are trustworthy.” He stilled his finger over her pulse point. “But I promise I will work to earn yours, every day, every moment.”
“Let’s start with one week,” she said.
Damien shook his head. On certain things, he was willing to compromise. On others, he’d remain steadfast. The trick for him was in knowing which to choose when. “Two weeks is hardly enough time for you to explore what it means to live and breathe submission. A month would be better.”
“As you just said, not happening.”
“I never thought it would.” He fingered her wristband. “You wanted to start tonight?”
“Yes. But I wasn’t sure what your reaction would be since I didn’t call or make an online reservation.”
He would have waited forever.
“I didn’t want to presume too much, and…” She paused. “I was a bit afraid of being rejected.” She shrugged fatalistically. “If that happened, I would have traded it back in for a red one.”
“Now that I have you here, Catrina, I’d like to keep you.”
“I wasn’t planning on staying.”
And he didn’t plan on letting her go.
“Maybe next weekend? I didn’t bring any toiletries or even a change of clothes.”
“Jeff can pick them up.”
She blew out a shaky breath. “You have a solution for everything.”
“Only the things I truly want.”
To her credit, she kept her gaze on him, and she didn’t look away, even though he noticed her shift uncomfortably. “As for clothes,” he added. “You won’t need many. I intend to keep you naked.”
“Sounds cold.”
“I’ll turn up the heat. Anything else you want to discuss before I take you to a private room and make you scream?”
* * * *
Catrina’s mouth dried.
Over the last couple of weeks, she’d played out a dozen scenarios in her head. She’d show up and he’d reject her. Or he’d frown and scold her. Best case, he’d fall at her feet. Still, she hadn’t been prepared for this Damien, tender and simultaneously unyielding. It scared her when she thought of how easily she’d fallen under his spell.
His touch reassured, his voice soothed.
Sexual desire knitted her insides when he was close.
Earlier, she’d watched him come down the stairs. The first sight of him had stolen her breath.
As was his custom, he wore all black.
This evening, though, his clothes had a more refined cut, and the fabric seemed richer, as befitted the elegance of the night. His trousers were tailored, his wing-tipped shoes polished. His sweater, she guessed, was cashmere. He looked every inch the owner and master of the place.
He’d swept his gaze over the gathered crowd, but he hadn’t noticed her. He’d nodded toward several guests before continuing confidently down the hallway to check out the private rooms.
Everything about him oozed success and confidence.
She’d slipped over to the bar and secured a diet cola, knowing she needed to occupy her hands and her time until he saw her.
And she’d known the moment he had.
When he’d locked his gaze on her, she’d shaken, as if electricity had zapped down her spine. Courage had almost deserted her.
The way he’d moved toward her, with undeterred purpose, proved how much he wanted to dominate her.
And damn it, she’d spent far too long denying the obvious. She wanted him to.
A sub had interrupted him for a moment, and Catrina had been momentarily afraid he would be needed elsewhere.
But he’d continued toward her.
Drawing on skills she’d learned in a college acting class, she’d pretended to be relaxed. She’d swirled her drink, thinking it was a metaphor for what was going on inside her.
And now that the rules were in place, he stood and offered his hand.
It was more than a polite gesture, she knew. It was his first demand. He was claiming her in one of the Den’s most public spots—for everyone to see.
After only a moment’s hesitation, she placed her palm against his, accepting his strength as she slid from the high stool.
“Milady.” He nodded, indicating she should precede him down the hallway.
His courtesy surprised her.
He could have instructed her to follow him. Part of her wondered if he might ask her to crawl. She should have realized that nothing about him was predictable. “Any particular room?” While each was furnished with a counter, sink and a few toys, none were identical.
Because a production company rented space here, she’d heard that a storage area existed, containing an amazing array of furniture and contraptions.
With enough notice, almost every fantasy could be fulfilled.
Some rooms had no doors so that participants could be watched by anyone who wandered past. Others could be sealed off, except for a small observation window. All scenes were looked-in on at some point by either Gregorio, Damien, or a designated House Monitor.
“Last one on the right is vacant.”
She’d never been down that far, and she wondered what he had in store for her.
Gregorio intercepted them on the way. “Enjoying the evening?” he asked, his arms folded across his imposing chest.
She detected a hint of a tattoo on one biceps.
The Den’s second-in-command glanced between Damien and Catrina, obviously taking in their body language.
“It’s okay to ask her if she’s willing,” Damien said dryly.
Gregorio nodded. His pirate-like earring glinted in the dim light, and his bald head made him seem all the more imposing.
“Please give us a moment, Boss.”
With a sigh, Damien stepped aside.
When he was out of earshot, Gregorio asked, “Are you under any undue pressure, Milady?”
The exchange hit her as strange, but she appreciated that Gregorio wasn’t afraid to challenge Damien and that Damien was willing to follow his own rules. “I’m here of my own free will.”
“And you know the Den’s safe word?”
“Halt,” she said.
“I’ll be looking in on you.” He cocked his head in his boss’s direction.
“You’re not invited,” Damien said when he rejoined them. “She’s mine.”
Gregorio grinned. The expression was quick, as if he were satisfied in a very personal way. “I never thought otherwise, Boss.”
“Please prepare an office for Catrina on the second floor.”
Gregorio dropped his arms. “Private?”
“Adjacent to mine.”
“By when?”
“Monday morning. I have plans for Catrina tomorrow.”
“I take it our meeting is canceled?”
“Not at all.”
Gregorio frowned.
Obviously, Damien confounded everyone around him.
“Consider it done, Boss. Milady, please, if I can be of service, let me know.”
“Enough,” Damien said, the word a growled warning.
Without saying anything further, Gregorio pivoted, then vanished into shadows.
With Damien’s fingers possessively resting against the small of her back, Catrina continued down the hallway.
As they neared the end, he reached over her head to push open the door.
She missed a step as she crossed the threshold.
Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw.
A gigantic spool-looking contraption dominated the space. Though she didn’t know what it was called, she knew two ways it could be used. And in either case, she’d be completely helpless to him.
He placed his fingers lightly at her spine again and nudged her forward.
She swung around to face him. “I’m not a masochist.”
“Not yet,” he said.
Her knees wobbled. “Damien…”
“I was teasing you,” he said softly. “I won’t do it again.”
She appreciated that.
Slowly, she moved closer to the torture device while he closed the door.
It made a tiny snick as it sealed, and her spine went rigid.
“It has no lock,” he said as if he’d read her fear.
Of course she knew that. For the protection of subs, few doors at the Den had locks. In her small panic, she’d momentarily forgotten.
“Milady, I’ll never ask you to do something that will cause you bodily harm.”
She glanced over her shoulder.
“I’ll release you anytime. You have a safe word.”
Which meant he fully intended to affix her to the cursed thing.
Catrina was learning that her thought process was more dangerous than anything he could do to her.
He walked across the room to stand in front of her. “We’ll go as slow as you need.”
She could ask for a different room or to play in a more public space.
But she wanted to trust him.
Gently, he took hold of her shoulders.
“I mean it.”
At the table, he’d run his thumb over her wrist, back and forth, as well as in small circles, helping keep her calm. Until tonight, she’d never fully comprehended the power of a Dom’s touch.
Even though she rubbed her boys’ heads, ruffled their hair, ran a finger down their cheekbones, stroked their cocks to the point of distraction, and even imprisoned their faces so she could make eye contact, the situation with Damien was different. More profound. He fully intended to form a bond that drew her closer to him, deeper under his spell.
Suddenly, Catrina was terrified that she might never want to get away.
“What will it be?” His voice was low, hypnotic, as he went on, “Do you want the full experience I can offer you? Or do you want to go home wondering how great tonight might have been?”
After glancing at the contraption, she looked back at him. “I don’t…”