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The Incredible Mr. Black Book 1
By Rachel E Rice
The worst thing a young woman could do was fall in love, and worse yet was to fall in love with a sexy, drop-dead gorgeous rich man. Because you could find yourself doing things you never would imagine—like letting him handcuff you to his bed as he made passionate, erotic love to you.
Driving into the gated community, shivering from the thought, I stopped to put in the code. The mansion was set on a lush, green, manicured hill with a circular driveway. I stopped and exited my SL 550 Mercedes, another present I accepted from the billionaire industrialist, Maximilian Blackstone, or as I called him, Mr. Black.
The valet reached for my keys. I stiffened my hand. He felt my hand hesitate. “Don’t worry, Miss. We’ll take care of your car.” It wasn’t the car that worried me.
Walking in a daze, I was now at the front door of Pandora’s Retreat, a luxurious getaway for the serious bondage and S& M enthusiast. My mind wavering as I counted my steps, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to do this—whether I wanted to walk through those double glass doors with the gold-plated trim and spend a week experiencing a world of BDSM.
I’d had only one man in my sexual life, and I couldn’t imagine anyone who could match the incredible Mr. Black, or Max, as his friends called him.
I tugged the collar of my cream-colored silk shirt and lumbered on through the doors. My gaze turned, following an attractive woman heading in my direction. A faint light bounced off her stern face. She stopped to greet me. “Welcome, Ms. Johns. You will find your stay most delightful, and you will discover that we have attended to all your needs, including an apartment for a week’s stay.” The director, a beautiful, golden-haired woman of forty, wearing a black fitted dress and high heels, who appeared to enjoy her job, smiled warmly, opening the door of the apartment and handing me the key.
How has it come to this? Why did I agree to do this? I wondered, ignoring the answer.
Three years ago, I fell in love, and the last thing I thought about was being a sex slave to a beautiful, exotic-looking billionaire. He appeared normal on the outside, but by my standards then, there was nothing normal about whippings, ropes, and handcuffs. I guessed a few years ago, I would have been considered vanilla.
I was here to meet the Master. He was going to teach me how to be the perfect sub and bring me to a higher level of submission. Mr. Black suggested that I was confused, and I didn’t know whether I was a sub or a Domme, and he needed a sub. I knew what I was; he just couldn’t handle it. Finally I agreed to his wishes, but I warned him that sending me here could be dangerous for both of us. But deep down inside, I was anxious to learn about the real world of bondage. Until now, I had been faking it to understand and fit into the world of my incredible Mr. Black.
When did this begin? I asked myself as I prepared my mind and body for what I had come to love. When did I begin to enjoy a man placing me over his knee, whipping my ass, and tying me to his headboard while fucking me senseless?
It started the day I answered an ad in the local newspaper for a terrific job in Montana, never bothering to read the small print.