My Liege of Dark Haven

Chapter Two

It’s already too much. Abby looked over her shoulder at the owner of the club. White dress shirt, black silk vest, black jeans, black boots. Definitely in the tall, dark, and handsome category, only the words seemed insipid compared to the reality. The wide, muscular shoulders turned tall into dangerous. His skin held the darkness of Native American ancestry, and the long black braid down his back was a definite statement. Very handsome, with chiseled European features that went well into hard-edged.

And scary. But she couldn’t back out. She doubted the man had a benevolent bone in his body. Quite obviously if she didn’t “assist,” she’d be out the door. She sure hadn’t thought her participant observation would include real participation. Unease tickled the back of her throat.

He glanced up, and the sun lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Easy, Abby. The club safe word is red, and if you use it, play stops immediately. Say it loudly, and a dungeon monitor will show up to make sure you’re all right.” Holding her arm firmly, he wrapped what looked like wide packing tape around her right wrist a couple of times, and she realized the material wasn’t sticky.

“Red. Got it.”

“Abby,” he said. “I daresay you know how to address a Dominant in this setting, especially the one working with you.”

The uninflected reprimand made her flush as if she’d been caught cheating off someone’s test paper. “Yes, my liege.”

He didn’t rant but nodded acceptance.

Despite her relief that he hadn’t lost his temper, anxiety thrummed in her ears as he pulled her other arm behind her back and secured both wrists together. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend nothing was happening. She’d never been able to let Nathan put her in handcuffs. Why in the world was she allowing this stranger to restrain her arms?

But she needed this place for her fieldwork. Needed to keep her job. Publish or perish. If she ever met the academic who’d invented that phrase, she’d shove his papers down his throat until he choked.

“Abby.”

She opened her eyes.

Xavier stood in front of her, looking down. Why did he have to be so tall? His warm hands massaged her bare shoulders. “Any strain in your joints?”

“No, sir.”

He studied her silently.

She shifted her weight, trying not to think about her lack of mobility. If she didn’t move, she wouldn’t know—much like closing her eyes during gory movie scenes.

“Pull on the tape, Abby. How does it feel?”

Her arms jerked involuntarily, and just like that she knew she was restrained. Couldn’t defend herself. That her body was available to the impassive-faced Master. Alternating waves of heat and cold rushed over her as if she stood in front of a rotating fan. She pulled harder, and panic squeezed her throat.

“Easy, pet.” He cupped her chin with one firm hand. His fingers curled around her arm, creating a warm place on her skin. His movements showed how easily he could touch her…yet the contact was comforting. Settling. “Eyes on me.”

Panting, she looked up and into eyes the color of darkness, but the specks of golden brown made them warm, not cold.

“Good girl.” He stroked his thumb along her jawline. “You know you can’t escape, but I’m not going to do anything you won’t enjoy. We’re here in a public place, and you have a safe word that will summon every monitor in the dungeon. Now slow your breathing down before you hyperventilate.”

Oops. His gaze never left hers as she pulled in a measured breath and let it out.

“Better. Another.” His grip on her upper arm was unyielding but not painful. A man’s hand.

Why did his touch seem different from Nathan’s? Why didn’t she get that horrible dread?

“Little fluff, I want you to remember how you’re breathing now. When I tighten a clamp, it will hurt for a few seconds. I want you to inhale through the pain like you did with your fear.”

“Pain? But—”

“Do you get flu shots?”

“Yes.” When his eyebrows pulled together, she added a hasty, “My liege.”

“This is the same level of pain, although people rarely get turned on by vaccinations. Whereas nipple clamps…” A crease appeared and disappeared in his cheek.

She nodded to say she could handle that much pain. But could she handle these disconcerting flares of heat? Her nipples actually tingled as if anticipating the touch of those powerful fingers.

Was this the kind of thing Nathan had wanted to do with her? Guilt pressed on her chest. Considering he had dumped her, she shouldn’t feel as if she were betraying him. But she did. And she’d let a complete stranger restrain her. Alice had fallen down a hole into Wonderland; Abby had fallen into quicksand and was sinking fast. What am I doing here?

Xavier hadn’t moved, was simply watching her. “What’s the matter, Abby?”

“I don’t know you at all. You’re talking about…” Nipple clamps. “I don’t know you.”

“I see.” His hand was still curved around her upper arm as he moved closer. With his fingers under her chin, he lifted her face and gave her a light kiss. His lips were firm but velvety. Gentle. How could someone with such a merciless face kiss so sweetly?

When he lifted his head, she whispered, “Why did you do that?”

His aftershave was totally masculine with a hint of the exotic, like a pirate who’d visited India. He rubbed his thumb in a circle over her cheek, his lips only an inch from hers. “Because I can,” he whispered back. Then he smiled. “Because I’m going to be touching you much more intimately in a moment.”

Heat roared through her at the thought of his hands…elsewhere.

“Think of this as an introduction. I’m Xavier.” He covered her mouth with his, and it wasn’t a gentle, sweet kiss any longer. He took her lips, demanding a response. When she pulled at the restraints and gasped, his tongue swept in. She couldn’t move, couldn’t escape, and…

He stepped back, grasping her arms to keep her steady. Ravished by only a kiss, she stared at him. Her lips felt swollen, and she ran her tongue over them.

A flicker of heat lit his eyes, followed by amusement. “Are we better acquainted now?”

Her voice came out sounding as if he’d strangled her instead of kissing her. “Yes, my liege.” If he introduced himself like that at a faculty party, the floor would be littered with swooning academics.

“Very good.” With far-too-competent hands, he undid the first hook on her corset. As he worked his way down, his long fingers brushed the skin between her full breasts. Each undone fastening exposed more of her body, and coolness wafted over her damp flesh. When he finished, he set the corset to one side, leaving her bare from the waist up.

She bit her lip. Really, this is nothing. In France, beaches were filled with women wearing no tops. Not that she had joined them, but… She took a mental step back. Observe. With a determined breath, she checked out a noisy spanking in the center of the room.

A warm hand cupped her breast.

She jumped, tried to pull away. “What are you doing?”

He grasped her arm with his other hand, holding her in place. “Did you think you could get clamps without being touched by the Dom?” Even as he spoke, he stroked her breasts, one then the other. His palm was calloused, slightly abrasive. His thumb circled the areola, and her nipple bunched hard enough to create an ache.

She tried to dissociate, to observe the other scene.

“Eyes on me, Abby.” The softness of his voice didn’t negate the command.

The intensity of his gaze sent a shudder up her spine. He tugged on her nipple, and she inhaled hard at the reverberating sensations—the rush of pleasure at his touch, echoed by another in her groin.

“You have beautiful breasts.”

She blinked at the sweet compliment.

He didn’t look away as he said, “Rainier, as with most play, you should warm up the skin first. Get the blood circulating. Especially with your submissive, you want her aroused first, or she’ll only feel the pain.” He rolled Abby’s nipple between his fingertips, and the sensation almost sent her up on her toes.

“You can massage or suck nipples to long points. Be aware that with smaller breasts, wetness can cause clamps to slide. I prefer either tweezer clamps or adjustable alligator clamps, until I discover the sensitivity of the submissive’s breasts and the amount of pain she enjoys.” He picked up what looked like a metal spring clothespin with a screw in the center. The ends had a black coating.

When he chuckled, she realized she was staring at the device.

He put the clamp on her nipple.

Oh, that’s not so bad.

Then he played with the screw, and the jaws closed more tightly. “If you know your submissive well, you can simply watch her for clues.” Another slight turn and the sensation increased to a pinch. He brushed a finger over her compressed lips.

“However, at first, you should check verbally.” He lifted her chin with a finger and held her gaze. “On a scale of one to ten, where ten is unendurable, how much does this hurt?”

The pinching sensation was easing. “Four, I guess.”

“Very good.” To her horror, he tightened the clamp, and she squeaked as the pinch turned to a bite. “Breathe through it, Abby.”

She tried to get her hands around, to pull the damn thing off, only her arms were restrained behind her back. She couldn’t do anything. Her breast hurt. Then the pain diminished. The pinch gradually changed to throbbing, and her nipple felt…bigger, tighter. Every movement made her more aware of the sensation—and the way her clitoris had begun to ache as well.

Xavier squeezed her shoulder in a comforting massage before glancing at Rainier. “Since you’re not a sadist, this is far enough until you know what works for your submissive. You want her engaged in processing the sensations, unable to escape them, but not quite sure how much it hurts.” He smiled at her. “Next one, Abby.”

Owwwww. She’d braced for the pain, yet her eyes teared, making her contact lenses swim. But this time she worked her breathing, and it helped. As the pinch gentled to throbbing, she felt slickness between her legs. Thank heavens she’d worn a skirt and wasn’t bare-bottomed like some women. No one needed to know this had turned her on.

A finger stroked over her cheek. “See the color here and on her lips? How her breathing is fast and shallow, even though the pain has decreased? The fondling aroused her. The clamps added to it.”

A tidal wave of heat rushed into her face.

His chuckle was low and dark. “She’s also easily embarrassed.”

The other Dom laughed.

“Once the clamps are on, you can play,” Xavier said. “Add a reminder of who is in charge.” His long fingers combed her hair. “Your hair is like dandelion silk, pet,” he murmured before his hand closed, trapping the strands. He firmly pulled her head back until she stared up at him, her throat exposed.

A sudden tug on one breast clamp sent a jolt of pain through her. She gasped, struggling instinctively to get her hands free. She couldn’t even move her head with Xavier fisting her hair.

“Helplessness is frightening to some women. Exciting to others.”

He tugged on her other nipple enough to hurt, yet as she struggled she realized that her panties were truly wet. That she wanted sex more than she ever had in her whole life.

“I think Abby finds it exciting.”

Oh sweet heavens, she was making an idiot of herself. Stiffening, she tried to step back and got nowhere.

Unmoving, Xavier watched her with an eagle’s predatory gaze. He glanced at the other Dom. “That enough to start with?”

“It is. Thank you, Xavier. I screwed up.”

“We all do,” Xavier said. “Talk to her. An apology doesn’t diminish your authority.” He released Abby’s hair and stroked the strands back down. “Remember to leave breast clamps on only a short time—fifteen minutes or less—until you assess her endurance. If on very long, they’ll hurt more coming off than going on.”

“Got it.”

Trying to distance herself from the sensations flowing through her, Abby gritted her teeth. She couldn’t let herself get diverted from making her observations. She turned her attention to a different scene where a man was restrained on a Saint Andrew’s cross. But…why was an X-shaped piece of equipment called a cross? Have to do some more research. The female Domme had two floggers that swirled and slapped the man’s shoulders in an amazing display of coordination.

A gawky person like Abby would probably hit herself in the face.

“Xavier, I had a question.” A tall, stunning Domme approached.

“One second, Angela.” His calloused hands closed on Abby’s shoulders. “Kneel, pet, while I talk to Mistress Angela.”

Kneel? She stared at him in outrage.

His expression didn’t change, but he gave her a look.

The pit of her stomach dropped, and her knees bent like thin wire. Halfway to the floor, she lost her balance.

He caught her and lowered her easily.

Way to show how graceful you are, moron. Totally humiliated, she settled down with her bottom resting on her feet.

“That’s right. Spine straight. Eyes down. Knees farther apart. We’ll work more on your form later.”

How could she straighten a spine that seemed to have disappeared?

“I’ve never seen one of your submissives with so many clothes,” Angela remarked.

“Receptionist in training,” Xavier said. “And new to the scene as well.”

“Gorgeous skin.”

“Yes.”

Abby felt her gorgeous skin turning pink. As the two talked quietly, Abby waited, slowly becoming far too aware of how each breath made the clamps move, fixing her attention on her breasts. Of how aroused she was. She prayed she wasn’t wet enough to soak her skirt.

“Thank you, Xavier.”

Abby looked up, and Angela smiled at her before she walked away.

After setting Abby on her feet, Xavier glanced at his watch. “I’m going to release you. Then I’ll answer your questions and give you the rules.” He lifted her left breast, his warm palm supporting the weight.

She closed her eyes, acutely aware—again—of being half-naked. Of how nonchalantly he touched her. Need churned through her veins. Please don’t let him be able to tell.

“This might hurt as the blood returns.” He undid the clamp and put it in a container in his leather bag.

She had a second of thinking he’d exaggerated before blood surged into her nipple in an explosion of pain. After the first fist-inducing surprise, the sensation subsided. Pulling in a slow breath, she nodded that she was all right.

He had an interesting smile. Not slow, but…deliberate. The left corner of his mouth rose a little higher than the right, the crease on that side deeper. His approval warmed her to her toes.

After he removed the second clamp—and she breathed through the wave of pain—he ran a finger around each areola. The intense rush of sensation over the burning, tender skin curled her toes.

“Look how pretty your nipples are now. I’ve never seen this shade of pink before.”

Her gaze focused on his darkly tanned hand lifting her breast for her to see. Her nipples, normally just a blush of color, were now a hot pink. Her face heated—again. Honestly, she hadn’t wanted the reminder of her nudity.

“Beautiful.” His voice was almost as dark as his skin, low and resonant, with a hint of an accent too faint to identify. With a pair of blunt-ended scissors from his bag, he snipped the tape around her wrists.

Free, free, free. The trickle of disappointment was unsettling. Surely she hadn’t wanted him to continue.

“Move your arms slowly,” he cautioned. After she stretched for a minute, he massaged the last ache out of her joints.

It felt…nice. As if, since she’d done as he wanted, now he’d care for her in turn. “Thank you. Sir.”

“You’re very welcome, Abby.” He helped her into her corset, hooked up the front, then adjusted her breasts inside it.

What was wrong with her? Why did she let him handle her like a…a doll?

He picked up his bag. “Come. Stay one step behind and to the right of me.” As they headed upstairs to the reception area, the Dominants stopped Xavier every few feet, wanting to discuss a scene, ask questions, or just say hi. Submissives lowered their gazes, occasionally giving him a pleading look first. And everyone stared at her. Assessingly. She heard whispers, asking if she was replacing the estimable Destiny or if Xavier had actually brought his slave to the club.

AT THE FRONT desk, as Xavier showed his new receptionist the few things she hadn’t managed to figure out, he realized the woman was blindingly intelligent. But inexperienced. “I’d like you to attend the beginner’s classes, Abby. You’ll be more comfortable.”

After studying the schedule on the wall calendar, she shook her head. “I can’t. I teach reading that hour.”

“Ah.” A teacher. He assessed her in light of the new information, smiling slightly. Yes, he could see it. The keen look in her eyes, the way she listened with all her attention on what he was saying. Odd that she’d been singularly inattentive when he’d been playing with her body. Until the sensations overwhelmed that busy brain, she hadn’t stayed in the moment at all.

She noticed him watching and flushed, her gaze skittering away before she straightened and faced him directly.

She was a rather adorable little submissive. “You do want to learn more about BDSM, though?”

“I do,” she said firmly.

“Are you looking for a Dom?” Many of the club submissives requested that he introduce them to Doms he thought they’d suit.

“No. Just information.” She absently straightened up the desk, filing papers as if she’d been born to the task.

“Ah.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you have a Dom to play with here? Or a significant other? Anyone who will be upset if you are doing scenes?”

“No and no and no.” Her lips pursed. “But really, I’d prefer to…observe. See what it all involves.”

Observe? Did he have a watcher and not a participant? That fit what he’d seen of her so far. “I see. Well, as a staff member, you’ll get called on for assistance and demonstrations. That’s part of the job description.” One most submissives enjoyed.

Despite the dismay in her eyes, a flush rose into her cheeks. She wanted to play, yet she didn’t. Interesting.

“Watching scenes is part of the fun in a club, but complete voyeur-only types aren’t welcome. BDSM is a participant sport.” He walked over to the shelves behind her. “Speaking of which, are you allergic to anything? Food, fabric, medicine?”

“No. No, sir.”

“Allergy to latex? Or rubber? Or leather?”

“No.”

“Good.” At the wall shelves, he pulled on a latex glove and smeared each fingertip with a different ointment from the sample case. “Hold your arm out.”

The underside of her arm was the color of cream. He drew his fingers across her inner arm in four long lines, then dotted the lines with a marker. “These are the most common ointments used here. Since not every Dom tests beforehand, I prefer to know you’re not going to react.”

She stared at her arm with wide eyes. Never heard of chemical play, eh? The thought of doing a scene with her was almost too tempting.

After tossing the glove, he pulled a limits list from the form shelf. “Fill this out before you return. It shows what you won’t permit a Dom to do. You’ll of course negotiate beforehand, but I like to know your hard limits as well, so I can keep an eye on things.”

“I don’t plan—”

Lindsey sailed through the inner door and saw him. She bowed her head. Her brown hair, streaked with vivid blonde and red, brushed over her bare shoulders. “My liege.” Her mild Texas drawl managed to turn liege into two syllables.

“Lindsey, this is Abby, who is taking Clarissa’s place. She may have some questions for you.” He glanced at Abby. “You signed the releases and forms, yes?”

“Yes. My liege.” She had a pleasingly low voice, and he firmly put away any curiosity about what she’d sound like during a climax.

He pulled a pink leather collar from a drawer and crooked his finger at her. Her appalled expression had him smothering a laugh. The leather was engraved with double silver stripes on the top and bottom. The dangling tag stated: UNDER THE PROTECTION OF XAVIER. “This ensures that any Dom who wishes to play with you will obtain my permission first.”

When she looked insulted, he ruffled her silky hair. “No, pet, I don’t own you. This is for your protection.”

“Oh.” She considered and then bent her head so he could fasten the collar.

She had a delicate neck with tendrils of downy hair at her nape. He buckled the collar on, then widened her eyes by adding a tiny padlock. She didn’t need to know they kept master keys everywhere in the building. “When you arrive at the club, put on your collar and lock it. Before you leave, find me so I can remove it.”

Her swallow was obvious and delightful.

Yes, he liked this little submissive. “Abby?” he prompted. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, my liege.”

“Very good.” He let his gaze sweep down her body. “Tomorrow I expect you in suitable attire. The corset is beautiful. But not with a skirt and boots. A thong would work.”

He chose to ignore her rebellious look. This time.

“Or a very short skirt. Naked is acceptable.”

She ran her tongue over her plump lower lip. He had a momentary image of sitting on his bed with her kneeling in front of him, her lips around his cock and that small tongue swirling the head. To his surprise he hardened. Receptionist, Leduc. Her job was here. He carefully tucked her into the mental compartment labeled JOB. She wasn’t for his home or for social dating.

Back in the main room, he swung by the bar to get a cup of coffee and looked around. On the stage, deVries was giving a flogging lesson. His student, a new Dom, swung wildly and missed the pillow completely.

Xavier spotted Simon at a table and walked over.

“Have a seat.” Simon shoved a chair out with his foot.

As Xavier sat, he said, “That pretty little receptionist seems to take a messy desk as a personal insult. Where’d you find her?”

“Here. After she taught Dixon how to print out her application, she dared to suggest he do some filing.”

Xavier snorted at the thought of Dixon’s outrage. “A competent receptionist would be a nice change. I was getting desperate.” He’d even asked his elderly accountant if she wanted to moonlight. “Unfortunately Mrs. Henderson refuses to set foot in the club.”

“There’s a shame.” Simon’s brows lifted. “Wouldn’t she make a hell of a Domme?”

The image of the gray-haired Baptist grandmother wielding a flogger rather than her calculator made Xavier grin. “Competent or not, Abby seems appallingly new to BDSM, and she can’t attend the beginner’s classes.” Xavier leaned back and stretched his legs out. “Would you keep an eye on her if I’m not around? Answer her questions?” The little fluff would be a temptation to any Dom.

“Not a problem. And Rona will undoubtedly adopt her.”

“Excellent.” Xavier winced as the new Dom on the stage hit the pillow with enough force to take out a kidney. Hopefully the man would stick with inanimate targets for a good while longer. He took a sip of his coffee and breathed in the fragrance of chicory.

Obviously catching a whiff, Simon made a sound of disgust. “You and your damn New Orleans coffee.”

If the coffee wasn’t thick, black, and strong enough to dissolve an unwary spoon, it wasn’t worth drinking. “Any chance you want to teach the beginner’s class next week?”

“Nope. I got a warm woman at home, and I don’t see as much of her as I’d like.”

“Ah.” When Simon had found Rona, he’d plowed through every obstacle she’d put up to make her his. Probably one of the few battles the woman had lost. They were very much in love. Xavier’s chest ached as he remembered how it felt to have a love like that—and then to lose it.

“You still dating that blonde?” Simon asked.

“Socially? One blonde, one brunette,” Xavier said absently. Who could he get to teach that class? He might have been interested if the little receptionist were going to be in it.

“How about your latest slave? Did you manage to find her a Master?”

Xavier nodded. “Pedro Martinez. She’s been there a week and sounds very happy.”

“So you’ve lost your slave-at-home category and your business minion? You’re down to just a girlfriend or two?” Simon had no patience with Xavier’s inclination for keeping his women in slots. “Who’s your next slave going to be?”

“I’m taking a hiatus from matchmaking.” Sometimes being served was more exhausting than doing it himself.

“House a little lonely now?” Simon asked with a discerning look.

More than he’d ever admit.