Bailey: Independence #1 (3 page)

“A car…a driver, I suppose, is more accurate,” she answered honestly.

“Okay…wrong question,” he brought one hand up, rubbing the back of his neck.

She liked looking at him. He wore a white silky shirt, open half way down his chest. She could see dark coils in the flickering lights and looked up at the dark hair that barely touched his ears and didn’t touch the collar of the open, billowing shirt. He wore a sash around his waist and a pair of loose black pants that ended in a pair of boots that stopped at his knees. His eyes were dark, too. His jaw firm and throat lean. He wore no jewelry, no rings or anything else marking him.

“I didn’t mean to cause a problem. I was just watching.”

“You’ve never been here before,” Gabriel decided on a course of careful questions. Not that she seemed adverse to answering. Her voice was soft and deep and left the pretty bow of her natural colored lips with a timbre that had his cock aching. Maybe he’d just been too long without a sub and companion. He caught himself, questioning his own choice of words. He’d never made a sub his companion. He frowned at the thought.

“Definitely never been here before. It looks so nondescript from the outside.”

“Who brought you here?”

“I told you. A driver.”

“This is an invitation only affair,” he chose his words carefully. “How did you get inside?”

Gabriel felt his brain question his sanity when she casually reached into the bodice of her outfit and held out one of the specially made coins. No embarrassment; no coy flirting. Just open honesty.

“May I?”

“Yes, if you promise to give it back. The note said I should always get it back,” she said firmly.

“Note,” Gabriel said the word very slowly but took the coin and looked at the number. Dark eyes sharpened and narrowed. “Where did you get this?” He demanded coldly, his fingers closing around the coin.

“It came in the box with the outfit. May…” She licked her lips, the hard line of his jaw making her swallow. “Please? May I have it back?” She looked around, accepted the coin back and placed it safely inside her bodice. “Are there other floors? Am I allowed to explore? The note said I could.”

“Do you have the note?” He asked cautiously, suddenly stunned at the brilliant smile that shone even in her eyes with all the excitement of a child opening packages on Christmas morning.

“I do,” she stood up and took a step before turning back. “Wait here?” She accepted his nod and moved across the room quickly.

He almost laughed at her order. He had to search far back in his memory for a time when someone gave him an order and here the little Jeannie issued it without a second thought.

Gabriel’s head tilted to watch her move, her gait only slightly betraying a limp. A limp that definitely added a seductive sway to the globes of her behind. He could tell by the lines of the harem pants she wore, that there was nothing beneath it but flesh.

He moved to the sofa, arms stretched along the back as she wove her way through the various scenes being played out on the floor of the chamber. He knew from experience these were tame compared to the other levels. He found himself studying her. Slim fingers held a small beaded bag with a long silver chain that she slipped over her head before opening it and pulling out a folded note.

He felt his jaw clenching. The stationery was too familiar.

She held the note out to him, his fingers taking the thick vellum and absently testing its weight. Very familiar, he thought before opening the folded page and reading.

This is your night. Your chance to explore and open your senses. Learn the truth about what hides behind the double doors. Everything you need is inside the box. Be at the address below at eight this evening. The gold coin is your pass inside a new wonderland for you. Explore and enjoy. They will record the number on the coin. Make certain it is returned to you. You’ll need it later. A vehicle will call for you at seven-thirty to deliver you to your destination. It will also wait for you, when you’re ready to return home. Your costume and destiny await you.

Chapter Three

Bailey sat in the corner of the small Victorian sofa, the high cushioned back edged with gleaming dark wood. Her focus was on the note he held in his fingers, hoping he wouldn’t crush it. She wanted to snatch the note from his fingers but somehow knew that wouldn’t be the brightest thing she could do.

“Please don’t destroy it,” she bit one corner of her lip, eyes instantly on his when they lifted from the crème colored paper.

“And just how do you know that’s what I want to do?”

“You’re angry. It’s on your face. In your eyes,” she said softly, her gaze going back to the tightly held paper. “Whether I had a good time or not, I wanted to keep it. It’s a girl thing…you know…memories?” One hand rose and gently tugged on the paper, surprised when it came sliding free. She quickly folded it and slipped it back into her little bag. “Thank you.”

“Whatever I’m angry at, Bee, it is not you.”

“Thank you,” she repeated, a smile surfacing from somewhere. “Is it alright for me to go to the other floors?”

“You’re still feeling intrepid after being assaulted?”

Bailey shrugged. “I don’t know the rules. Not completely. I’ve read some books, but wasn’t quite sure until I was inside where I was going. I suppose I should have researched the address. But…” She made a little face. “There really wasn’t time by the time I got home from work.”

“You’re not a reporter.” He saw the answer immediately in the little frown she offered. His fingers moved along her throat, tugging on one of the unruly, deep red curls. It stretched below her shoulder and sent a shiver through her. The gaze she had been holding now falling to her hands.

“No. I work with computers all day. I’m a programmer and systems analyst. And people. I train people.”

“Did you have any inkling where you were going tonight, Bee?” He asked softly. He couldn’t guess her age. Perhaps mid-twenties. Maybe a little older. He would prefer older. A clinging twenty year old had a tendency to grate on his nerves lately.

She sighed, her head shaking. “No. Well, no, not really. I knew it would be a costume party. As I said, I should have researched it before but I got home late and…I wanted something different,” she said firmly. “I had invitations to parties. But it gets so old watching people make fools of themselves, too much drinking, too much drama and fighting and…once you get past a certain age and you’re still single…somewhere along the line it really lost its appeal.” She looked up to see him studying her. But she could see understanding in his gaze. “I don’t exactly fit in the twenty-something crowd. They’re nice enough,” she sighed. “And most of them are good friends.”

“But it’s not enough,” Gabriel kept his gaze on her. “Since you didn’t research your destination, what do you think now that you’re here?”

“I’m thirty-one years old, Gabriel. I don’t shock easily.”

He almost laughed. She made it sound ancient and all knowing. So what was it about this ingénue that struck some place deep inside him? He couldn’t recall his attention this piqued in ages. Or his cock. Maybe he’d become more than a little jaded with the events around him lately.

“Age doesn’t entitle you to knowledge, Bee,” he replied, one corner of his mouth lifting as her gaze shifted to the wide open space of the chamber. “And certainly not experience.”

“I’ve read about it,” she repeated stiffly. “This…type of place. Really good authors.”

“It’s a BDSM club for consenting adults, Bee,” he clarified without mincing words. “Are you consenting?”

She didn’t turn to face him, her attention on a couple near one of the thick wooden beams. The girl was attached to the suspension hook above her head, her toes dancing on the floor below her and her master sweeping her body with expert ease and the leather strands on the end of the club like handle he held.

“What is that thing? In his hands?”

“It’s called a flogger and comes in many sizes and styles,” Gabriel answered simply. “It’s made out of all types of material, but that one happens to be deer hide.”

She watched the man swinging the strands of dark red leather, his arm barely moving but the sounds of the strands striking made her eyes widen more and more. Yet the girl thrust back for more.

She participated in many a Renaissance Faire and recognized the items being used. Only the noises the girl made were as far from pain as Bailey could imagine them. And when the man slid his hand between her legs and came up soaking, she swallowed hard and couldn’t stop looking. Part of her attention was the whole naked thing that seemed to be prevalent.

Gabriel continued to play with the mass of dark red curls that hung beneath the shimmering veil. Now and then a shiver raced through her and his fingers ventured to the expanse of crème colored shoulder. She was far outside his realm. She was adorable and fresh, with wide eyes filled with fascination, delectable feminine curves and a stubborn tilt to her chin that probably went with the red hair.

A challenge.

Or his Waterloo? He heard the warning deep inside him and shoved it aside.

He was a dom. He controlled things. He controlled people and scenes. He didn’t get controlled.

“Bee?” He spoke her name quietly, firmly enough that he knew he’d gotten through to her.

“Yes?” She wasn’t sure where her voice had gone. Her eyes were riveted on the couple, watching their interaction and the expression on the woman’s face.

“What do you see, pet?” He kept his voice low, hypnotic.

“Serenity,” she answered almost without having to think. “She’s serene. In a place that…I don’t know. Reading about it is very different than seeing it.”

“And far, far different than experiencing it. Look at me, Bee,” he waited for her to comply. Thick, dark lashes blinked and she faced him, her chin tipped up to meet his gaze. He’d slid to the edge of the sofa and straightened his body so she had to look up to meet his gaze. “Are you consenting?”

“I…for that?” Her voice rose considerably, her breathing hitched and coming too quickly.

“For anything. All things are open to discussion, Bee. Nothing is ever done without your permission. It might appear otherwise, but you have the power,” he told her confidently, watching the words resonate in her expressive eyes. “Are you interested, pet? Are you consenting?”

“Yes,” Bailey knew she’d been holding her breath and the single word seemed to breathe out from deep inside her. She’d read several good novels. Read enough to know the words alone made her wet and in need of more. “Yes, I think I am.”

“Then let me be your guide,” he waited for her response, her nod faint. “The proper answer is, ‘Yes, sir.’”

“Yes, sir,” she complied instantly. Role play, she thought instantly. She could do that. She enjoyed role playing. She was a gamer. She role-played all the time.

“Very nice. A submissive responds to any other dom with sir or ma’am when she’s spoken to. Dennis was a poor example. Here, you will always be treated respectfully, or you end what you’re involved in if it wasn’t negotiated beforehand.” Gabriel stood up and held out his hand, pleased when her palm was instantly inside. He closed his fingers around hers. “And for the night, Bee, you’ve chosen to belong to me. Now we can explore.”

“There are rules,” she said when she was convinced her voice would work. Her mind and memory were suddenly a whole different story. For some reason she couldn’t get her brain past the presence of this man. She knew she was aroused. She could feel it pulsing inside her and all he’d done was talk to her.

“There are rules,” he agreed. “Tell me what you learned in your books.”

Bailey was sure he was teasing her.

“Don’t look up from the floor,” she struggled to remember the books she’d read.

“Very good. Eyes averted,” he felt her sway slightly. He liked the dark green of her eyes watching him with apprehension and arousal. And submitting was definitely arousing her. He brushed the back of his hand across the front of her costume, the taut peak of each nipple sending a jolt through her that made her gasp. “And what do you call me?”

“S-Sir or Master,” she whispered, the rounded tops of her breasts rising a little faster.

“Which would you prefer?” He stared into the surprised expression.

“Sir,” she answered when it looked like he was going to change his mind and make the choice for her.

“Then Sir it will be. And while others might like their subs staring at the floor, you’ll do that when we walk or when we’re in a group with others. When we’re alone, I want to see every emotion and trace of excitement in your eyes, Bee. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she nodded, her breath caught at the single brow he arched. “Yes, sir.”

“Better. Since you’re very new at this, I’ll try not to be too exacting in my demands,” he assured her, his fingers still locked around hers as he turned and led her to one of the winding, wide staircases. Like the chamber floor, the wide stairs held suspension hooks along the walls and the stairs were wide enough for scenes that some enjoyed acting out.

He should have sent her packing. She didn’t belong here and the wide-eyed submissive look was having too great an effect on him for him to rationalize his behavior. He didn’t take on students. He didn’t want admiration or fawning. And yet he hadn’t seen either of those things in her eyes.