Punishing Petra [Locks and Chains 3] (3 page)

A workout, that was what he needed. He needed to beat the shit out of a bag. Then run a good five, no, make that ten miles. Yes, he would sweat her out of his system. That’d work. Surely that would work.

* * * *

Petra sat at her desk staring at the blinking curser on her computer screen. She was struggling to find the words to finish her next chapter. She swore the curser was mocking her, just sitting there blinking like the eternal heartbeat of life. How was she going to write what happened next? How would the sweet submissive girl allow herself to be captured by the demanding Dom?
Fuck, sweet submissive? How about strong and demanding submissive.
Books about young, innocent woman frustrated her. This was the twenty-first century, and times had changed for the better. She would never write a story about a virgin. Too many of those romantic stories created a grandiose event and a magical taking of a pure woman’s chastity. Where were the stories of the fumbling in the back of the boyfriend’s car? The drunken party hookup, or the girl pressured by her boyfriend and then regretting it after? Yeah! Those romantic books were a great way to make the majority of the population feel bad for the way they lost their virginity. No, she wouldn’t be going there unless it was something really kinky. Like a student taking her teacher on. She could always write about how she lost hers. Hell, that was the first piece of evidence of how truly kinky she was.

Okay, back to her story, and to the woman who was innocent in the ways of the lifestyle. The very one who will be taken under the wing of a loving Dom and fall in love and live happily ever after. She loved the happily ever after bit. It was the innocent part that pissed her off.
My God! Do readers honestly believe that a woman just jumps straight into the hardcore lifestyle for the first time and magically her dream Dom is just standing there waiting for her?
Better yet, that all women who fantasize about the lifestyle just jumped straight in?
Most women who entered the lifestyle first tested the waters with their previous boyfriends, experimenting slowly and then taking that final step. Did they really believe that you could just go from vanilla sex to allowing yourself to be strapped to a cross and whipped?

God damn, her bitchiness was getting worse. Maybe she needed to cool off for a while. Yes, she needed to step away from the desk and take a walk to cool down. Of course, her fans wanted to believe they could finally take the step into the lifestyle and their knight in shining armor would be there. She’d dreamt of the same thing happening for her. But like so many others, the reality burnt her. Just like in the vanilla world, it was goddamn hard to find that knight, but at least in the lifestyle people were more honest about it.

Before she stepped away from her desk, she opened the manuscript of a new book she’d started working on in the last few weeks. Her publisher was nagging her for the next book in her BDSM series. But this book was turning out to be a dream for her. This one was her fantasy. Maybe she could just slip it into the series. Maybe she could ask all those impatient fans to hold on another couple of months so she could deliver this one. However, this was not a story for the lighthearted. She could feel in her blood this story was one of truth and freedom. She had ensured that the heroine was nowhere near the description of herself. Her readers would never know that this one would contain a piece of her soul. It would show the true emotions and desires of the submissive she was. This would show her devotion to the lifestyle, to her religion. As if they would ever find out. As if they would even appreciate how much of herself she had put into this book.

Okay! It was now official, she’d become jaded. Never before had she cared, and in reality, in the cold light of day, she didn’t care. She was just well…lonely. She needed to admit to herself that she was officially lonely. She needed a release of her soul. Her spirit screamed to be set free from being trapped in the body she was born with. She needed to have a session, but who could she call? Who could she ask? Even Craig from the club, whom she’d played with, stopped pushing her. He started to treat her like so many others did, as some little precious porcelain doll. Why couldn’t any of them see her for what she truly was? Why couldn’t she be loved and cared for in the way she wanted and needed? As a tear splashed on her keyboard, she knew she needed to get up.

Deciding to use the treadmill that was behind the desk in her studio instead of going outside for a run, she started to walk and then moved up to a slow jog. Panting, she again promised herself to work out more. She really needed to get fit. For what she had no idea. Maybe for her health. Yes, that sounded good. Too bad she knew the truth. She wanted to be fit and attractive so her dream Dom would sweep her off her feet, tie her to the bed, and spank her till she screamed. Which would then be followed by a fucking so hard and brutal she would remember it every time she sat down for the next week. As the sweat beaded off her body, the words started to flow in her brain. Stopping the machine, she threw a towel over her white leather chair and sat down. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. Her publisher could take a hike. She was going to write this story next. Her entire being needed this story written, and she needed to live it while she wrote it. She wasn’t going to sit back in the shadows anymore. She was going to grab the Dom she wanted. He may not be the one of her dreams, hell, she didn’t need him for a lifetime. But she knew he could give her what she needed, and she was going to make him give it to her. She was going to make Caleb her Master. The question was how?

Her story would tell her how. She continued to allow the words to flow from her fingers onto her computer monitor. The bottom right-hand corner of the screen popped up with a new message, showing a small preview of the e-mail from the Locks and Chains club. She couldn’t help herself and stopped working to see what it was.

* * * *

A NIGHT OF FANTASIES

Calling all single submissives and slaves. We’re inviting you to participate in an auction for charity. For those collared and owned, your Masters or Mistresses must enroll you if they wish for you to participate. All monies raised will be donated to the women’s shelter to assist in the purchase of an additional safe house.

The auction will be for a play session of your greatest fantasy. The more taboo the better. Each submissive or slave wanting to participate will need to fill out the attached application form detailing the two fantasies you would like to play out. We’ll select one of these fantasies, and if it’s appropriate, you will be placed in the auction with your fantasy. All Doms and Dommes will be able to bid for the chance to deliver your fantasy for the night. Please ensure the fantasy can be played out in the club or a private room within the club. Think of the pleasure of not only living out one of your fantasies but also of the good that can be done with the money raised.

For our more experienced submissives and slaves, push yourself. Live out your darkest fantasy or deepest desires. Fulfill a Dom or Domme’s dreams by giving them all of yourself.

To all, remember safe words are always in place and additional dungeon masters and mistresses will be on duty for the night to ensure that everyone stays safe. All club rules will also apply.

As always, safe, sane, and consensual.

Master Craig

* * * *

Absolutely, unbelievably, perfect. This would be her way to trap Caleb. This would be the way to show them all what she wanted. She could finally be seen for what she truly wanted to be. Opening the application form that was attached to the e-mail, she began filling out all the details. Using her skill with words, she detailed her fantasy. She had only one, but she knew Master Craig would accept just the one from her when he read what she’d written. Or at least she hoped so anyway. She felt her body beginning to heat and pulse as the fantasy that had always plagued her spilled onto the screen. Before she lost her nerve, she sent the e-mail back with the completed attachment. She would wait for a response, but how many subs would Craig get whose fantasy was a night with a sadist? How many in the lifestyle truly appreciated the fine line between pleasure and pain? How many were willing to auction their soul to the highest bidder? If this night came off, a part of her would be lost. She knew in her bones she would never be the same. She also knew that Caleb might not even bid on her. But nothing risked is nothing gained, and what did it matter if she wasn’t the same? She wasn’t whole now. The pain of loss would have to be better than the void of nothingness. She’d lost before, and whilst painful then, over time all wounds healed. Scars were never forgotten, but they didn’t bleed forever.

Chapter Three

The one thing Caleb couldn’t stand was incompetence. Especially in his field, a mistake could cost a life. Fuck, look at the babies they were sending out into the hospitals now. They thought they knew everything just because they’d graduated from medical school. This kid was probably still playing with his dick and trying to put it in every nurse he saw rather than concentrating on saving the lives of the patients in his care.

“Did you even look at her chart?”

“Well, um, yes,” the young intern replied.

“Yes, so you looked at the chart and saw she had an allergy to penicillin. So, what, you thought it was a mistake in the chart? Or you just wanted to kill her for the heck of it?”

“No, of course not, I was so busy and I just—”

“Stop, no excuses. I don’t want to hear another word of justification. There’s no excuse for an error like that. I want you to tell me and her that you take full responsibility for the mistake. And you’ll do everything in your power to help her. Including staying with her all night tonight to ensure she is fully recovered.”

“Yes, sir,” the intern replied with a forlorn expression on his ghostly white face.

God, why were there so many employee rights and regulations? Industrial relations laws had a lot to answer for. If he wrote the rules, he would have given the kid twenty strikes with the cane. One strike for every second the patient’s heart had stopped. He would never forget the lesson then. He would always remember to read the goddamn chart fully before prescribing meds.

“Another wet-behind-the-ears mistake,” Kyle, his best friend and colleague, said from behind him.

“The wet-behind-the-ears little fucker nearly killed his patient.” Caleb huffed, still furious.

“Now, Caleb, we all make mistakes when we’re starting out,” Kyle said in a soothing tone.

He could only humph in reply. A mistake like that should never be made. But Kyle was right. All interns made mistakes. You couldn’t learn it all in med school, and the pressures and responsibilities were daunting to say the least. Still, fuck!

“Do you have time for lunch?” Kyle asked.

“As long as you’re paying,” Caleb said in a slightly less agitated tone. “So how are tricks in plastics?”

“Why? When you say that, I always feel like you’re calling me a pimp or a prostitute or something,” Kyle said with a huff.

“Because you are a pimp with a harem of women hanging on your every word. They all want you to make them twenty again and see you as a fucking god. And all I’m looking for is one woman to be able to handle what I have to give.”

“Oh fuck. This isn’t a pity party lunch, you know. I actually have balls. I don’t do the vagina squad hugs-and-feelings crap, it’s not my style,” Kyle said with an indignant stare at him.

“You’re such a prick, and no, it’s not a fucking pity party lunch. Where’d you even come up with that term?”

“My niece told me. She’s getting me hooked up with the entire vocabulary of twenty-first-century lingo,” Kyle said, smiling.

“And does she know your preference is caveman style?” he asked.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Kyle said as he grabbed a sandwich, apple, and iced tea and put them on his tray then headed toward the cashier. “Did you go to Locks and Chains on the weekend?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you see anything interesting?” Kyle asked with a sly grin.

“Wanting to live vicariously through me, eh?” he replied.

“Maybe,” Kyle said with a sigh.

“Why don’t you come with me to the club this weekend and find out?” He watched as a myriad of emotions crossed his friend’s face. It was time he rejoined the lifestyle again. It’d been four years since his wife had died, and two years since he’d started dating again. But he hadn’t found a way back into the lifestyle. He kept everything in his life vanilla.

“It’s just that…Look, I know there are other single parents in the lifestyle dating pool. And I know in the vanilla world a lot of women don’t mind taking on a kid, but…it’s just that Joel’s been through so much. I couldn’t do that to him again,” Kyle said with a pained expression.

“Do you really think every woman in the lifestyle has mental health issues? Yes, I admit there are a few. But, hell, there’s also women with issues in the vanilla world as well. Kyle, you know you couldn’t have stopped her.”

“Fuck, I know. I saw all the signs, and I got her the help she needed. I thought if I kept a tight leash on her, she’d be okay,” Kyle said wish a wistful expression.