His Domain Read online

  On my right stood a huge four-poster bed with hooks embedded in every side. Chains dangled from the top and thick leather straps would ensure there could be no escape for the lucky person restrained in it.

  I dragged my eyes away from the bed to the wall opposite. This was filled with hooks and shelves housing every implement of torture imaginable, from whips and floggers to cuffs and coils of rope. Excitement fizzed through me as though I were a sugar addict who had just stumbled into a sweet shop, until I reminded myself that I wasn’t supposed to be there. I’d forgotten to hide and now it was too late. The door behind me was opening, pushing me forward into the room. Fuck!

  It was at that moment that I remembered where I had seen Jet Whitely before. We had been introduced at Club Deviant by Mickey, the owner, about a month ago. Only his name had been Master David and he had been wearing black leather trousers and a black T-shirt. Mickey had boasted that Master David was the meanest Dom he knew and could bring a submissive to her knees in no time at all. Oh my God.

  “What the fuck are you doing in here?”

  I turned around slowly, my mind racing as I tried to think of a good explanation for being there, until I was face to face with the man who had interrupted my chat with Jet out on the deck. “I…er…” I seemed to have lost the power of speech and could only stare stupidly at the guy, who I presumed was a security guard.

  He took out a walkie-talkie and pressed a button. “Yes?” came the crackly response.

  “Jet, you’d better get down to the office. We have an intruder,” said the security man in a mean, gravelly voice.

  Shit, shit, shit. I’d make a lousy bloody detective. Not only had I found nothing to incriminate Jet Whitely, but I been caught before I’d even had a chance to do a proper search. And now I had to explain to a man who was a renowned Dom exactly what I was doing snooping in his playroom.

  Chapter Two

  It was just over a minute before Jet Whitely strode across the office floor. The security man was holding me by the arm now, as though he thought I might do a runner. I tried to shrug away from his grip, but he just tightened it until it hurt.

  Jet stormed into the playroom then stopped suddenly. A look of recognition flickered across his face as he crossed his arms and glared at me.

  “Well, well, what have we got here?” he said, narrowing his eyes at me.

  Heat flared through me, but I couldn’t tell if it was from fear that I had been caught or embarrassment that his dark glare aroused me.

  “I saw this one sneaking through the security door on the CCTV,” hissed the security guy. “I caught her trying to hide in here.”

  “Thank you, Roger. You can leave us now,” said Jet calmly.

  “But…”

  “I said, thank you,” snapped Jet. “I’ll deal with her.”

  Roger, the thug, released my arm and shoved me in Jet’s direction. With a furious glower at me, he turned and stormed out, leaving me alone with Jet. Now what? I knew I should have my cover story ready, but my brain seemed to have turned to scrambled eggs and I couldn’t remember what I had planned to say if I got caught. Don’s warning rang in my ears. Jet Whitely was dangerous.

  Jet left me standing in the same spot while he strode across the playroom to a large leather chair. He sat down, then crossed one leg over the other as he leaned back. “Sit down,” he commanded.

  I looked around me, but there were no other chairs. There was only the bed. Surely he didn’t want me to sit on that at the opposite side of the room while he questioned me?

  “As there are no other chairs in here you’ll have to sit on the floor. By my feet.”

  So he did remember me. Was he going to punish me, BDSM style? A flicker of excitement teased me, but quickly faded again as I realized that this wasn’t exactly Club Deviant and that he was holding me prisoner. I shuffled across the playroom until I was facing him then sank onto my knees. Oh God, this was weird, and yet a tight coil deep inside me loosened when I knelt at Jet’s feet.

  “Good girl,” he said, a little less harshly. “What were you doing in my office?”

  “I…er… I’d gotten lost trying to find the toilet,” I stammered. Even I could hear how lame that sounded. For some reason I didn’t like lying to him, which was odd considering why I was there.

  “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen.” Jet leaned forward until his face was almost opposite mine.

  I caught a whiff of his fragrance, a fresh lemony scent, as his eyes bored into mine. I shivered.

  “I won’t beat around the bush. I know you’re a submissive, I recognize you from Club Deviant, so I’m going to give you a choice. Either I call the police and you can explain to them what you were doing or…” His pause was effective—I knew what was coming. “Or I could punish you our way.”

  I swallowed. The word ‘punish’ did strange things to me. “What, er… What way would that be?”

  He bent forward even more until his lips touched my earlobe. “You’ll get a hard spanking from me. And it will be hard, don’t be fooled into thinking you might enjoy it.”

  I pulled back and stared at him in disbelief. Not because of what he had proposed, but because of the way my heart pumped blood directly down between my legs. Surely I shouldn’t be getting aroused at the thought of being spanked by Jet? But I was. He knew it too, judging by the glint in his eyes.

  I didn’t need to think twice about my answer, although a warning voice in my head hinted that it might be safer to opt for the police. “I… I’ll take the spanking,” I muttered, barely able to believe my own words. Was this really happening?

  He sat back and nodded. “Okay, but I need to hear you give me your consent. You don’t have to agree to this. Just say the word and I’ll call the police.”

  He had me and he knew it. “I consent to you spanking me,” I whispered through another shiver.

  “What’s your safe word?”

  I nearly said ‘deadline’. I usually used that because deadlines were always on my mind, but it might give away my profession. “Red,” I replied.

  “Don’t use it unless you absolutely have to. Remember, this is a punishment. It’s supposed to hurt.”

  I nodded.

  “Pardon?”

  My submissive instincts kicked in straight away. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Stand up and remove your underwear,” he ordered.

  “What?” I gaped at him, not sure I’d heard correctly.

  He sighed impatiently, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as they creased slightly at the corners. “I never spank a submissive who is wearing anything that might get in my way.”

  Every bit of instinct I possessed urged me to run, to get the hell out of there while I could. But, for some reason I couldn’t fathom, I just nodded my acceptance and knew that my fate was sealed. My cheeks burned as I rose and slowly pulled my knickers down to my ankles, then stepped out of them. Somehow the humiliation turned me on even more.

  Jet reached his hand out. “I’ll take those.”

  As I placed them into his upturned palm I couldn’t help noticing how large and strong it looked. I had no doubt he could hit hard.

  “Good. Now get over my lap and lean forward until your hands touch the floor and your ass is aimed for impact.”

  He reached out to steady me as I draped myself over his thighs, making sure I didn’t slip off. When I was in position, with my bare ass poised at just the right angle for his hand, I closed my eyes as I tried to calm myself. The crazy thing about BDSM was the conflict of desire versus fear. I desired the pain I knew he would inflict on me, but I also feared it. That, in itself, made it even more desirable. All thoughts of my safety at that point had been well and truly quashed.

  Jet ran his fingers lightly across my buttocks, giving me the false belief that I was about to receive a pleasure spanking. When the first smack landed, I was dragged out of the delusion as fire exploded across my buttocks. Shit, he hit even harder than I’d imagined. He continued t
o hit the same spot several times until I whimpered and tried to wriggle out of his grip.

  “Stay still and take your punishment,” he scolded and rained more heavy blows on the now tender area.

  It had been so long since I’d had a proper punishment spanking that I had forgotten how much it really did hurt. There was no gentle warm-up, no soothing rubbing in between the slaps. He held me down firmly with one hand while he smacked every part of my bottom with the other. The pain burned, reaching deeper inside me with every strike. I knew I was kicking my legs, but I couldn’t stop, just as I couldn’t silence my cries. When I thought my poor buttocks would explode from the searing pain, he moved down to the delicate skin where my thigh met my ass then spanked my thighs, which hurt even more.

  Tears poured down my face, but I was glad of them. It was as though I had been given a kind of release that I’d badly needed. With them came the haze that often followed intense pain and I welcomed that too. Somehow the pain felt different now. The heat on my ass seeped through my skin and flowed down toward the apex of my legs. My pussy throbbed with the need to be touched, the warm moisture trickling out and dampening my inner thighs. Each smack intensified my arousal until I writhed on his lap, desperate for some friction to relieve the tension.

  Finally, Jet slowed until he stopped completely. I moaned, not sure if it was from the loss of the pain or relief that it was over. He ran a finger along the crack of my ass very slowly until he reached the heat between my legs. He chuckled and removed the finger just as I arched to help him reach better.

  “Do you want to come, subbie?”

  His words swam around in my head before they registered. Come? Oh yes, I really wanted, needed, to come.

  “Yes, Sir,” I whimpered.

  “Get down on your knees and beg me to let you come.”

  By now I was so desperate that I slid off his lap without argument and fell to my knees by his feet. “Please, Sir, I need to come.”

  “Would you like me to make you come?”

  “Oh, yes, please, Sir.”

  “Turn around, put your head on the floor and raise your ass in the air for me,” he ordered.

  I obeyed without question. When I was in position, he slapped my sore buttocks. Fire reignited my skin, sending fresh shocks of pleasure through my body.

  “Spread your legs.”

  As I parted my legs, cool air brushed against the hot moisture pooling at my entrance. I groaned.

  “Your ass is nice and red,” he remarked casually. “Let’s see how wet you are.”

  A shiver rippled through my body as an image of my position flashed through my mind. I was on full display for him, about as subservient as possible, and completely at his mercy. I tilted my ass farther up to give him better access. The throbbing was relentless now. I needed release.

  Finally, he reached down and stroked my folds. He ran his finger along my labia then slid it over my clit. My body jerked.

  He pulled the finger away. “Stay still.”

  I whimpered and waited for him to resume. When he touched me again it took every bit of willpower not to grind against his hand. Then he started rubbing my clit and I lost all sense of reality. He brought me to the brink, but paused a fraction of a second before I was able to reach my climax.

  “So you really want to come?” he asked, leaving his finger hovering over my pussy.

  What kind of a bloody question was that? Of course I wanted to come. “Yes, Sir,” I hissed.

  “Okay, but first answer my question. What were you really doing snooping in my office? Who are you?”

  Bastard. “I work for a celebrity magazine,” I lied. “I’m writing an article about rich people who live on yachts.” I was shaking now, desperate for his touch again. Please let him believe me.

  “Hmm.”

  I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. He slapped my ass hard again and I screamed. “It’s the truth.”

  He didn’t respond, just kept me in the same position on the floor, with my legs spread and pussy exposed. I hardly dared breathe as I waited for him to pull me up and get nasty. But instead, he reached between my legs again and thrust his finger deep inside me, making me cry out as pleasure zapped through to my core. He finger-fucked me hard, until I was trembling so much that I had trouble staying in position.

  Then he flicked his finger over my clit again. “You can come now.”

  I screamed as my orgasm tore through me, making me buck against his hand over and over until the waves finally slowed. When he removed his hand, I collapsed on the floor, panting. I had never come so hard before and certainly not on command. The fact that he’d had so much control over me sent a strong shudder through my entire body. Nobody had ever mastered me like that and I had to admit I’d loved it.

  Gradually, my senses returned as I recovered. Jet had reduced me to a quivering pile of rubble and had used my helpless state to interrogate me. And he had believed me. Well, he must have done, because he’d let me come.

  I pushed myself up to a sitting position and blinked at him. He was still standing by me, towering over me, reminding me of my vulnerability.

  “Thank you, Sir,” I muttered. It was all I could think to say.

  He took my hand in his and helped me to my feet. “You’re welcome. Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “Yes, thank you, Sir.”

  He led me over to the bed by my hand. “Sit down while I get you a drink.”

  “Oh, I’m fine.”

  “Don’t argue.” He strode across the room to a fridge in a corner then took out a water bottle. When he returned he handed it to me and sat down on the bed. “Drink.”

  I took a sip of the deliciously chilled water. One sip turned into nearly the whole bottle. I hadn’t realized I was so thirsty. When I’d had my fill I handed him back the bottle and smiled awkwardly. Now what? Was he going to fuck me?

  “I should be getting back to my guests,” he said softly as he stroked my hair. “But I don’t want to leave you.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but shut it again when I realized I didn’t know what to say. Did he not want to leave me because he didn’t trust me or because he wanted to spend more time with me?

  “Will you have dinner with me here tomorrow night?” he asked, looking me straight in the eyes.

  “I’d like that,” I replied, truthfully. I was still in a fuzzy headspace and had temporarily forgotten that I hated this man, that I was there to find evidence against him. All I knew in that moment was that there was nothing I’d like more than to have dinner with him.

  It was only later, when I was safely out of Jet’s clutches, that I came to my senses. Of course he hadn’t believed me. There could only be one reason why he had invited me back to his yacht the following night. He was going to seduce me again to get me to confess the truth, but I was one step ahead because I was going to use the situation to my advantage. He might want to find out what I was up to, but that would give me the chance to continue my investigation. Only this time I needed to keep a clear head. I wasn’t about to let myself fall under his Dominant spell again. No, this time it would be me in control and, as soon as an opportunity presented itself, I would find the evidence I needed to send him to jail. And if I needed to resort to devious tactics to get what I needed, then so be it.

  Chapter Three

  “What do you mean, you’re going back tonight?” snapped Don.

  I held the phone away from my ear and let him prattle on for a couple of minutes about how I’d lost my chance and that I couldn’t risk going back. I’d given him the simplified version of last night’s events, omitting the bit about being caught and spanked.

  “Don, he doesn’t suspect a thing,” I soothed. “We got chatting last night and he invited me to dinner, that’s all. It’s a good opportunity to find that evidence we need.”

  “Don’t fall for his charm, Sami,” said Don, sounding a little calmer now. “Don’t forget he’s a drug dealer and potentially very dangerous.” />
  As if I could forget. How typical that I’d finally met a Dom who was strong enough to master me, and he turned out to be a bloody criminal. Every time I’d sat down today, I’d been reminded of his firm discipline as my tender buttocks stung on the seat. And every time, the tingle of excitement quickly turned to jittery nerves when I reminded myself about the real reason I was going back tonight. He was using me, as I was him. This wouldn’t end well.

  “Don’t worry, he doesn’t suspect a thing,” I reassured Don, hoping he couldn’t hear the slight edge in my voice.

  “Well, all right, but for fuck’s sake take care. I don’t want to lose one of my best reporters.”

  I was briefly stunned into silence. That was the closest Don had ever come to paying me a compliment.

  “I’ll be careful,” I said, quietly, when my voice had returned.

  I rang off and stared at my bed, where I’d laid out several different dresses. Which one should I wear tonight? I picked up my favorite, held it up against my body and studied myself in the mirror. The black, figure-hugging dress showed off my slender curves and modest cleavage. On the other hand, the red one was shorter and showed off my long legs, whereas the midnight blue one matched my eyes and looked shit-hot with my long strawberry-blonde hair hanging loose over my shoulders.

  I had to remind myself that this wasn’t a real date and it didn’t really matter what I wore. But it would help if Jet found me attractive enough to be distracted by my sex appeal. It was purely business, of course. Jet Whitely was not going to bring me to my knees again tonight. Although, a more intimate tour of his playroom wouldn’t hurt, would it?

  * * * *

  As I stepped out of the taxi, I took a moment to take in my surroundings. The quay at Poole was bustling with life, tourists and locals all enjoying the offerings of the many cafés and bars. Jet’s yacht was moored farther down the quayside, away from the crowds and noise, but still standing out from all the smaller, more modest boats.