Corrupting Cami (Submissives of Rawhide Ranch #27)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Cami

The phone call from Sampson shouldn’t have rattled me.

I’d known him for years through my best friend Shelly and trusted his judgment on most things.

But when Shelly’s submissive told him about my “interest in triads,” my face went hot enough that I had to press my palm against the cool granite countertop.

As a Switch, Shelly’s triad consisted of her, her husband and Dom, Harrison, and their submissive.

Their submissive was Sampson’s best friend.

My guess was that she’d overheard Shelly’s and my phone conversation.

But the fact that she shared that information was a gut punch to my ego.

“I didn’t realize that conversation was public knowledge,” I’d said, trying to keep my voice level.

“She thought she was helping.” His tone was careful, the way you’d speak to someone standing on a ledge.

“And honestly, Cami, the timing is perfect. Two professional Dominants are teaching a course at Rawhide Ranch—triads, quads, the whole dynamic. They need an assistant. Room, board, airfare covered. You’d get to observe, participate if you want. No strings.”

No strings. Right.

Now, forty minutes later, I was pacing my living room while Shelly’s voice came through the phone speaker, sharp with disbelief.

I couldn’t continue the conversation with Sampson because I was so riled up and he wasn’t the person I needed to talk to.

I needed to vent to the person who needed to handle it.

She also happened to be the person I needed advice from.

“She did what?”

“Your submissive told Sampson I was looking for a triad.” I sank onto the couch arm, then stood again. I couldn’t get comfortable. “I don’t even know if that’s what I want. We were just talking hypothetically.”

“I...” Shelly paused, and I could practically hear her recalibrating. “Okay. So what did Sampson actually say?”

I explained about the Ranch, the class, the two Masters who apparently needed an assistant for their instruction on multi-partner dynamics. The words came out in a tumble, my embarrassment making me talk too fast.

“I heard about that Ranch,” Shelly said. “It’s supposed to be really professional. High-end. I also know one of the Masters in question. He’s a good guy. Lex comes here to Club Illusions often and is highly looked upon.”

“That’s not the point, I’m being set up like some desperate woman.”

“Are you desperate?”

The question stopped me mid-pace.

“No.”

“Then stop acting like being curious about something makes you pathetic.” Shelly’s tone softened.

Her mostly dominant demeanor sometimes slipped out during our conversations, especially when I was losing my shit.

This was one of those times. “Look, this isn’t even a relationship.

You’d be assisting with a class. Observing.

There’s no expectation that you’re auditioning to be anyone’s third.

You can satisfy your curiosity without actually committing to anything. ”

I sat down properly this time, pulling a throw pillow against my stomach. She had a point. This was low-risk. Educational, even. However, I didn’t know either of these men.

“Two weeks away from everything,” Shelly continued. “All expenses paid. You get to see how this lifestyle actually works instead of just wondering about it. And if you hate it? You come home and you never have to think about it again.”

“It feels like a blind date,” I muttered.

“So?”

“So I don’t want people thinking I can’t manage my own love life.”

“Cami.” Shelly’s voice cut through my spiraling.

“Nobody thinks that. And even if they did, who cares? When’s the last time you did something just because you wanted to?

Something that scared you a little? You’re always considering others instead of putting yourself first. Now is the time to do that.

This is an opportunity to take care of yourself while also letting two hot men spoil the shit out of you. Who wouldn’t be jealous of that?”

I didn’t have an answer.

“How long do you have to decide?” she asked.

“Sampson said he needs to know by tomorrow morning. The class starts in two weeks.”

Through the phone, I heard Shelly’s exhale—the one that meant she was about to say something I wouldn’t want to hear but probably needed to.

“You’re going to think about this all night,” she said. “You’re going to make a list of pros and cons. You’re going to imagine every possible thing that could go wrong. And then tomorrow morning, you’re going to call him back and say yes, because we both know you’re too curious not to.”

My chest tightened. Not with anxiety this time, but with something closer to anticipation.

“What if it’s a disaster?”

“Then you’ll have a really good story to tell me when you come back. And after I spank my submissive for running her mouth too much, I’ll make sure that you’ll have your favorite snacks readily available for your return.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “But also… what if it’s not?”

I didn’t have much to say in response and Shelly left me to think. After we hung up, I sat in the growing darkness of my living room, phone still warm in my hand. Two professional Dominants. Rawhide Ranch. Two to three weeks of my life. No strings attached.

I opened my text messages and stared at Sampson’s name. My thumb hovered over the keyboard.

What if it’s not?

I switched to my notes app and began typing.

The next morning, I woke to three missed calls and a text that simply read:

I’m sorry. Can we talk?

I deleted it. There was nothing to discuss.

Shelly and Harrison’s submissive had overstepped and I didn’t want to hear how sorry she was.

My coffee was still too hot to drink when my phone rang again.

It was Sampson this time. I answered on the second ring, my heart doing something uncomfortable in my chest.

“Morning,” I said, aiming for casual and landing somewhere near anxious.

“Morning, Cami. Did you have a chance to think about the Ranch?”

I wrapped both hands around my mug, staring out the kitchen window at my neighbor’s overgrown hedge. The safe and smart answer was no.

“I’m in,” I heard myself say.

The pause on the other end lasted long enough that I wondered if the call had dropped.

“Good,” Sampson finally said excitedly. “That’s really good. I’ll send you the details—flight information, what to pack, contact info for the Ranch. Masters Majesty and Lex will be expecting you two weeks from Friday.”

Masters Majesty and Lex. Two names that would define the next few weeks of my life.

Sampson added. “They co-own a custom BDSM furniture business—high-end carpentry work. More importantly, they also teach classes all the time in the BDSM community. They’re good men, Cami. They’ll take care of you and as another submissive, I’d never lead you astray.”

“I know.” I took a sip of coffee and burned my tongue. Still too hot.” I trust your judgment.”

“You can still change your mind any time before you get on that plane. No judgment. Or if you need someone to talk to, I’m available as well.”

“I’m not going to drop out, and thank you for the support, Sampson.”

We hung up shortly after. I sat at my kitchen table and tried to imagine what I’d just agreed to. Two professional Dominants who were well respected by the BDSM community. A ranch in Montana—Rawhide Ranch, he’d said. Two weeks from now.

My phone buzzed with an incoming email. The subject line read: Rawhide Ranch—Assistant Position—CONFIDENTIAL

I opened it.

The email was thorough. Almost intimidatingly so.

Flight details, packing list: casual clothes, formal attire for evening sessions, any personal items I’d need for scene participation if I chose to engage.

A detailed schedule of classes. Liability waivers.

And at the bottom, a brief description of the Ranch and the two instructors.

Rawhide Ranch - Est. 1890. A 1,500-acre private ranch in the Sapphire Mountain Range of Southwestern Montana. For the past decade, it has served as a premiere destination for BDSM education and lifestyle retreats.

Master Majesty Dian - African American. Age thirty-six. Co-owner of Apex Custom Furnishings. Instructor. Specializes in bondage, impact play, and control-based dynamics. Fifteen years’ experience in the lifestyle.

Master Alexander “Lex” Morrison - Caucasian. Age thirty-eight. Co-owner of Apex Custom Furnishings. Instructor. Specializes in Shibari, wax play, fire play, cupping, breath control, and psychological dynamics. Eighteen years’ experience in the lifestyle.

There were no photos. Just those professional descriptions that told me almost nothing about who these men actually were.

One who liked pain and control. One who liked rope and mind games.

I scrolled back up to the packing list, trying not to think too hard about what “scene participation” might entail with either of them.

My phone buzzed again. A text this time, from a number I didn’t recognize. Except it wasn’t just one number—it was a group message.

Unknown #1:

Hello Cami, this is Majesty. Sampson gave us your number. Hope that’s alright.

My heart kicked against my ribs.

Unknown #2:

I’m Lex. We wanted to reach out before you arrived at the Ranch. Are you free tomorrow evening for dinner? We’d like to fly into town and meet you in person.

I stared at the screen. Tomorrow. They wanted to meet me tomorrow.

Majesty:

No pressure. Just thought it might be easier to get acquainted before you’re surrounded by over a dozen students and a packed schedule.

My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. This was happening faster than I’d expected. But maybe that was good—less time to overthink, less time to talk myself out of it. I typed back:

Me:

Tomorrow works. What time?

The response came within seconds.

Lex:

7pm? Pick the restaurant. Somewhere you’re comfortable.

Majesty:

Our treat. And, Cami—we’re looking forward to meeting you.