Chapter Three

What was he thinking? Damon paced in front of the fireplace and winced when his thigh tightened painfully. Stopping, he stared at the flickering pillar candles that replaced burning wood. He never took on new subs, preferring women who knew the score, but one glance at his weekend sub, and he had to have her.

For years, he’d existed, survived by going through the motions of living. He often likened himself as one of the walking dead. Everything he’d been before that last mission had been either destroyed or left behind with his team of men who’d lost their lives.

But something about Caitlin Olsen’s photo had sparked a tiny flame in the dark cavity of his heart, mind, and soul. Why? She was beautiful, no getting around that. He’d have to be truly dead not to appreciate her classic beauty—her large, expressive eyes, full lips, and curvy body—but he also acknowledged there was more to her than looks.

Thinking of his role for the weekend, he grimaced. In the fairytale, the Beast was an ugly, deformed man spurned by society, and Damon…he was an injured war hero hiding his beast deep inside with his dark moods.

In the movie, Belle tamed her beast with unconditional love and acceptance, and the beast overcame his curse and became a prince once again. Damon had no such expectations. He’d never been and never would be a prince.

The door to the spacious suite of rooms opened. He shifted from staring into the candle flames. His heart thumped hard as he got his first look at Caitlin Olsen in person. And what a first glance.

She held her head high as she stormed into the sitting room. Her eyes beneath her mask glittered with anger and resentment, those full, sexy lips were compressed into a flat, tight line, and she had one glorious tit exposed. Her skirt swished around her thighs, and her sheer top teased him with the dark shadow of her other breast. More than her body, it was her face that struck him speechless.

Sweet Jesus walking on water! The woman was wild, earthy, and totally unlike any sub he’d taken on. Every stiff line screamed a silent challenge, including the tipping of her chin and the glare in her sparking, golden eyes.

He deliberately lowered his gaze to her exposed tit. He sucked in his gut and swallowed hard. Talk about beauty and perfection. It took every ounce of control not to go to her and cup that perfect mound in his palm and flick his fingers across her dark, dusky nipple. His dick stirred, and suddenly, he was eager to begin his role of Dom.

Aware of her displeasure at his open admiration, he hid his grin, seeing Glorie’s hand in his sub’s exposed state. His gaze returned to her face. From the anger in her features, he’d guess she’d challenged the Queen of Dommes. And lost.

So why was this obviously strong willed woman willing to take on a submissive role? Bryce and Glorie just might be wrong in their assessment of Caitlin. The challenge in her eyes ignited an answering need in him to peel away those layers and find that hidden sub—if she existed.

He straightened, planted his feet apart, and clasped his hands behind his back. The weekend ahead should prove enlightening and entertaining. And a distraction from his own dark moods and thoughts. He suspected that taming this sub would take all his wits.

****

Hot damn. Instead of a beast, Lady Fate gifted her with her very own god.

The man leaning against the mantle was one hell of a hunk from the top of his dark, auburn head to his bare feet. Unlike the men in the parlor, he didn’t wear a mask. He was good looking, but not in a pretty-boy or young exec manner. His face was too tough and hard. The lines etched around his eyes and mouth spoke of someone who’d seen and experienced more of life than most.

Judging from his firm jaw—holy cow, her heart gave a couple hard thumps at the sight of a deep chin dent and lord knew, she had a weakness for a man with a cleft chin—he was not a doormat. Her heart raced. The buzz of attraction swirled in her head, then swept through her body like a whirlwind. She curled her toes, ran her tongue over her front teeth, and let herself absorb her prize for three, delicious days.

Her gaze traced across his mile-wide shoulders, then traveled over his bronzed, muscular chest. His leather vest hung open, and her fingers itched to comb through his thick mat of dark curly hair with a reddish glint to find his twin nipples. With his bod, they were sure to be yummy and sexy as hell.

Her first fear of being stuck with a playmate well past his prime flew out the window. This man playing Beast to her Belle stood straight and tall as though he were in the military and could have stepped off a dude ranch or, considering his attire, the glossy spread of a sex magazine. No wimpy, pale, thin guy with a saggy ass and potbelly for her. Her fingers tingled with the urge to touch and explore. And claim.

He remained silent and still as her gaze traveled from his flat abdomen to the soft and buttery leather chaps snugged low on his hips and buckled around each tree-trunk thigh. Yum. Definitely cowboy material. Too bad she didn’t have someone like him on her ranch. Her rule of no dating the ranch hands would go right out the window. Or barn if she got him into the loft.

And OMG—her heart once again thumped hard against her ribs—his costume had no crotch. As she’d seen in the parlor upstairs, he too wore a G-string sack to hide his goodies and judging from the strain on the fabric, he had prime, yummy man parts.

That first delicious shiver of pure lust morphed to raging need that flooded between her legs like a fall of water crashing into a pool. Wow. Her anger at being cuffed against her will, along with the embarrassment at having a boob hanging out faded as she met his intense steel-blue eyes. She stared at his full, sexy mouth and hoped he was a good kisser. His mouth begged to be kissed.

She licked her lips, suddenly nervous again. How did a person begin a cold turkey sexual fling? She didn’t engage in one-night stands, always dated and got to know her past lovers first. “I’m Caitlin. I’ve never been here before. What now?” She knew what she wanted to do—make use of that sofa.

He inclined his head. “I’m Damon. I’ll be your Dom for the weekend. Find the X on the floor and stand on it.”

Damon. To tame. Oh, yes, she wanted to tame her beast. Like a flame set to gas-soaked briquettes, his gaze on her breast, along with his sexy, deep baritone voice, ignited the ball of lust swirling in her center.

Whew, this won’t be so bad. In fact, if she hadn’t been cuffed, she might have jumped him, tumbled them both onto the couch.

He snapped his fingers, bringing her back to the here and now. “First rule. I don't give instructions more than once. Do as I ordered.”

Caitie sucked in her breath. The lust in her veins cooled and once again, indignation threaded with anger took hold. “Excuse me?” No one had ordered her around since she was thirteen and assumed the role of parent to her younger siblings and caregiver to her mother.

“Your choice is to obey or leave. If you want to leave, I’ll remove the cuffs and let Hastings arrange for you to be taken home.”

Go before she sampled this hunk? Nope. Wouldn’t happen, no matter how much she hated being told what to do. So far, the weekend wasn’t what she’d imagined, but her curiosity was piqued, and her body ached to have this man kiss her. And fuck her like a stallion claiming his mare. This Belle wanted her Beast.

She gave her surroundings a quick glance. The cozy sitting room held a sofa and chair. Overhead lights ran on tracks across the ceiling. Several silk plants overhead added color to the corners, and the candles in the fireplace added warmth and comfort. She spotted an X taped to the floor. A pot of ivy hung from the track lighting. Too bad, mistletoe would have been very fitting.

Head high, shoulders back, she did as ordered and planted her feet on the X. “Fine. Now what?”

Damon left the mantel, willed himself not to limp as he called upon his military training to ignore and overcome the dull throbbing in his thigh. Nothing was going to interfere with his weekend. He removed her mask, and his gaze held hers. “Very good. I expect obedience from my subs.” He trailed one finger across the creamy swell of her breast and circled her puckered nipple until it shrank and tightened into a jutting peak. “Why are you walking around with your tit exposed?” He closed his palm over her breast and squeezed.

A streak of heat burned beneath his touch. It was strange, wrong even, to allow a perfect stranger to fondle her so intimately without a chance of getting to know him, but obviously, they were here for sex and he planned to get right to it. And that was fine with her. Caitie thrust her chest forward, pushing her breast fully into his hand. “Wasn’t my idea. That woman cuffed me, and then pulled my top down.”

Her weekend hunk tweaked her nipple hard.

“Hey!” She sucked in a breath, stemming her cry of pleasure as lust exploded deep in her core like a dormant volcano flaring to life.

“That woman is your queen and your hostess. You will show her proper respect. Understand?”

Caitie didn’t dare roll her eyes. She bit back her sigh and glanced away as she nodded.

He tapped her chin with his finger. “The correct response is, yes, Sir.”

Her gaze returned to his. “Excuse me?” She’d forgotten that Doms were accorded such lordly titles. She grimaced. It’d been one thing to address the queen as Mistress, but she’d never yes sirred a man in her life. The words stuck in her throat.

“I am your Dom, and you are my sub. You will answer yes, Sir, or yes, Master.”

Or leave.

He didn’t say it, but it was in his eyes and in the firm set to those full, sexy lips. She’d read about Doms and subs on-line, but it hadn’t occurred to her that it was going to be real. She’d assumed the event was just an excuse for a bunch of people to gather and play make believe in order to engage in wild sex. Besides, she wasn’t a real sub. One glance at the man so casually fondling her breast said he considered himself the real deal.

So how badly did she want to make love with Damon? Enough to overcome her aversion to being a good, meek, obedient little girl? She chewed the inside of her cheeks. Yeah. Master was out, though. That left her with the equally distasteful, Sir.

“Fine. Yes, Sir. I understand.”

Damon chuckled. “You don’t, but by the end of the weekend, you will. Now, back to the question. Explain this.” He pinched her exposed nipple.

Caitie bit her lower lip to stop her whimper as the tingling in her breast echoed deep beneath her clit. She was already so damn wet and wanted to get to the wild sex and orgasm smorgasbord part of the menu. “I protested when she cuffed me without asking, then told her to take them off.”

Damon laughed, his eyes crinkling as the first hint of humor warmed those steely blues. “Now that, little sub, is something I’d have liked to have seen. Be grateful she didn’t spank you on the spot.”

Caitie wrinkled her nose. “She whipped one of her guards, showing me what happens to subs who don’t obey.” Caitie worried her lower lip. “I’m not into that stuff. Or any pain.”

Damon lifted a brow.

“Sir.”

He nodded. “You have much to learn. It’s my duty for the next three days to instruct you about the BDSM world and your role as a sub. If you accept, you’ll discover things about yourself you never knew.” He trailed his finger across the top of her breast to the other.

She shivered with anticipation, eager to experience this man’s touch. He cupped both breasts, and she wished he’d bare them both.

“I will push you past your comfort zone, make demands, and expect obedience. In return, you’ll be pleasured beyond anything you’ve experienced.”

Oh, my god.

Pleasured beyond anything you’ve experienced. The promise spun her insides to goo. She swayed toward him.

Damon removed his hands and strode behind her. He shifted so close, the heat from his body seeped into hers. “Let’s get some basic housekeeping out of the way, my sweet Belle. The envelopes containing our blood results are on the table. Everyone must have a clean bill of health.”

“That’s good to know,” she said, her voice low and throaty.

“According to your questionnaire, you’ve never experienced any BDSM role-play. Did you read the guide you were given, and do you understand the role and use of safewords?”

“Yes, Sir. I did a lot of research on the internet, and the queen also made sure I understood. If I don’t like something, I say the word red, and you’ll stop.”

“Correct. I’ll halt all play, and we’ll discuss what you didn’t like and why. In your research, did you come across anything you consider a definite no?”

She chewed on her lower lip. “Pain is out. Not into the sado stuff, so no whips or canes.” She wrinkled her nose. “Some of the pictures of women tied up with ropes were scary looking as well.”

“Fair enough. Let’s set some boundaries. Because you’re new, I’d hate for you to discount many of pleasurable activities without having the experience necessary to make an informed decision. For now, we’ll say the use of gentle bondage is acceptable—cuffs or a silk scarf—and we’ll give light spanking a try.”

Her jaw dropped. “Spanking?” She whipped her head to the side to glare at him.

“Face forward.” He waited until she complied. “We’ll stick with the flat of the hand. Or a paddle.”

Caitie’s breath caught in her throat. “I—”

“Why are you participating in this event?” He stroked his hands across her shoulders and down her arms.

She struggled to get her mind around the possibility of being spanked. She licked her lips. “My friend Maize said the sex is great and orgasms are handed out like candy at Halloween.” She moaned when his palms slid over her wrists. His fingers trailed across the center of her palms, making her shiver. Her fingers curled over his. Then he cupped her ass with his warm hands. “I—um—love sweets.” Her voice slithered into a moan, and she wiggled her hips, seeking more, wanting more.

He chuckled. “As do I. We’ll just pretend that tonight is Halloween. I’ve got a lot of fun activities planned for our party.” His breath swirled in her ear. “You’ve agreed to take part in what we call a Total Power Exchange. Tell me what that means?” The tip of his tongue traced a vein in her neck, and he shifted even closer, his hard thighs pressing against her buttocks, his hands sliding around to grip her hips.

The tips of her fingers brushed against his bare abdomen. She felt the tickle of his pubic hair and sucked in a breath. Did he want her as much as she wanted him? The insides of her thighs grew uncomfortably damp as her body hummed with need. She ached deep in her center and, between her legs, her clit throbbed. Damn, she longed for him to bend her over and slide his cock into her pussy. Forget warm ups and foreplay. She’d take it hard and fast.

A squeeze of his hands reminded her she hadn’t answered his question. “It means you’re in charge, and I have to do whatever you say.” God, the thought of obeying this man turned her on.

“You’re partially correct,” he said, his voice a low rumble in her ear. “Think of domination in a relationship as perceived control. The trust bond between Doms and subs requires submission from both parties to be truly mutual and balanced.

“I, as a Dom, gain power from a sub’s submissiveness. You, as a submissive, gain power by giving up all your worry, all your cares and fears. You are handing me total control over you, and when I accept, I am wholly responsible for you.” Damon licked and nibbled his way along her collarbone.

Caitie tipped her head to one side. His hands wrapped around her waist and rested low on her belly. The heat of his body made thinking difficult. If only he’d trail those fingers lower and touch her where she throbbed and pulsed. “Um, how does that make you submissive?”

“Not submissive. Submission, as I will put aside all my wants and needs for you. For the next three days, you’ll be my total focus. That means I’ll take charge of each of our play sessions. It is now my duty and responsibility to pleasure you and meet all your needs. All I require of you is to let go of all inhibitions and enjoy each new experience.”

His warm and spicy scent wrapped around her like cotton protecting a fragile object while his voice, low and compelling, lured her into relaxing against him.

“Will you trust me, Belle, give up all your worries, and hand over any shame or preconceived ideas and beliefs? Will you give yourself permission to experience and feel and believe that I know what your body wants and needs?” His hands stroked up and, once again, closed over her breasts, one bare, the other covered.

Caitie sucked in her breath. Could she give a perfect stranger total control? Pure lust ran like liquid gold through her, and when he tweaked each nipple, then rolled the sensitive bud between his fingers, her knees nearly buckled. She wasn’t sure she could surrender to the extent he demanded, but she definitely wanted this man to make love to her.

“I’ll try," she moaned, turning to offer him her mouth.

“Wrong answer.” Damon stepped away, leaving her achy, cold, and so alone. “If you forget the rules, I stop.”

Oh, god, don’t stop.

He grasped her shoulders, flipped her around, and fixed intense, steely blues on her. “You either comply or you don’t. Either you trust me or you do not. What is your answer?”

Could she put herself in his hands? She stared deep into his eyes. There was something there. Buried. A reserve. A part of him he kept hidden. More, she sensed he needed, truly needed, not just wanted her to trust him. In that moment, he reminded her of the abused, neglected, and abandoned horses she took in, animals no one wanted or cared about. She recognized a wounded animal when she saw one. And that was all it took for her to draw in a deep breath and answer, “Yes, Sir. I trust you.”

“Will you give me everything I ask or demand? All or nothing, little sub. You will surrender totally. Say it.”

“God, yes. I surrender. Totally. Sir.” Caitlin tipped her head back, lips parted in silent plea. She struggled against the cuffs. “I want to touch you. Take off the cuffs.” She added a belated, Sir.”

Damon lifted a brow. Caitlin intrigued and enchanted him, and he couldn’t say why. He appreciated her spirited nature and understood her need for control. She’d both surrendered and issued an order in the same breath. He hid his amusement. His sub didn’t understand what it meant to surrender, and by god, he would enjoy teaching her the meaning of submissive.

The hard knot in his belly loosened, making him realize he’d been afraid she’d refuse him. Still holding her gaze, he noted how desire had changed her eyes from a bright honey brown to the shade of dark, aged whisky.

He eased her top over her covered tit, exposing both breasts. Her sigh pleased him, as did her weight on his palms. She was deliciously heavy, and she more than filled his hands. He lowered his eyes to her full mounds topped with rosy nipples, each drawn tight as though brushed with an icy wind.

Fuck. The jolt of pure lust almost had him falling to his knees. One pale breast mesmerized him. The pair sent a tidal wave of need crashing into his balls with enough force to have him gasping as though he’d just been kicked there. His breath caught in his throat, and his need for this woman nearly wiped out his control. He wanted nothing more than to pick her up like the beast he played and dump her onto the couch so he could suck and nibble until she writhed and begged beneath him. Then he’d fuck her until they were both well sated.

It took effort to still his raging need. Each breath Caitlin drew in caused her chest to swell, and under his palms, her heart pounded. She leaned close, silently begging for more. Though he wanted her, sooner rather than later, his first duty was to her, not to easing his own aches. To remind himself of his promise to her, he rubbed his palms across the turgid tips, loving the way she shivered and bit her lower lip.

“Please, Damon. Sir. I’m ready for you. I ache.”

Her confession pleased him, as did the hunger in her expressive eyes. He’d seen defiance there when she entered their suite, laughter in the one photo of her on horseback, and a hint of uncertainty in her sexy, posed picture. Now he needed to see blind need. For him.

“Ready for what, my sweet Belle?” He trapped her pouty tips between thumbs and forefingers then squeezed and pulled. Her surprised gasp became a throaty moan that prowled through him like a panther stalking through a jungle.

She closed her eyes and leaned into him. “That. More. I like your hands on me.” She drew in a long, shuddering breath.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded as he continued to play with her breasts. She shuddered when he applied gentle pressure to each rosy tip.

“Oh-oh.” She gasped and panted and shivered.

“Do you like what I’m doing?” He pinched harder, judging her reaction.

She cried out and squeezed her legs together. “Oh, yes, Sir. More, Sir.” Her moan rose to a low cry. “Now enough of all this. Remove these damn cuffs so I can touch you back.”

Damon choked, then coughed. Just when he thought he had her where he wanted her, that need of hers to take charge returned. Since entering their suite, she’d challenged him, both verbally and in her demeanor. First task, was to establish some ground rules and teach her what it meant to give him her all.

“Are they hurting you?” Holding her shoulders, he turned her around to examine the fur-lined cuffs. They didn’t appear too tight, nor were they chafing her skin. He stroked her hands, her wrists, and her palms, pleased when her fingers curled around his.

She glanced over her shoulder, met his questioning gaze. “No. I just don’t like them.”

“As they aren’t hurting, they stay.” Her eyes flashed with annoyance and rebellion, but she kept silent. Oh yeah, she was going to give him a run for his money. For the first time in a long time, excitement hummed through his mind and his body, waking every nerve and cell. The elastic of his cock sack pulled taut as his erection protested confinement.

He pushed her hands up so he could brush his dick against her ass. She gasped and leaned back into him. It nearly killed him to allow her to wiggle against him. Good god, the anticipation was going to be the death of him. Her frustrated exhale when he stepped away mirrored his own response.

“My rules, remember? When and how I say. Let’s go over lesson one, which you should have learned upstairs with the queen. Subs do not make demands. You may ask, but as your Dom, I am in charge. From this moment on, until I end this play session, you will do exactly as I say. If you don’t, you’ll be punished.”

“Punished? Like spanked?” Her voice rose an octave.

Damon trailed his hands up her arms, across her shoulders and leaned close enough to feel her breath on his lips. “There are other ways to punish disobedient subs. You are mine for the next three days. I will do what I please with you, when I please, and how I please. Do you understand?” He deepened his voice and scraped his teeth and tongue along the ridge of her shoulder.

She sighed like a contented, purring kitten. “Yes, Sir.”

Chuckling, Damon drew her around to face him. His traced the back of his fingers just beneath her jawbone and stared deeply into the liquid gold of her eyes. “You don’t, because you don’t understand what it means to submit mind and body, but you will, my sweet sub. You will.”

He bent his head and claimed her mouth.