Her day had turned out to be the cherry on top of a shitty week sundae.
When Selene had left the law enforcement station after shift and fired up her personal shuttle, she’d realized she hadn’t been in the mood to be alone. She’d needed something to remind herself she could still experience pleasure and joy. That life wasn’t bloody crime scenes and chasing ego-maniacal perps bent on seeing her dead.
After a short planet jump from Miravon, she reached Sypricon, and within minutes of landing her personal cruiser, was settled at the chest-high bar at Tawse. As she tapped her booted foot to the rhythm of the pulsing music, her gaze scanned the fetish club. The only action in the establishment was a threesome in a corner. A man attended two women, who both had their arms—four a piece—strapped with metal bands to the wall. While it was obvious the man had a skilled tongue, his particular talent wasn’t what Selene Orasova sought.
Any of the Doms at the club could get a woman off.
She wanted more.
“He’s not here yet.” Despite the admission, Bales sounded amused.
Selene hid her frown as she turned to the bartender who had been slinging drinks in Tawse long before she began frequenting the establishment. Bales Christenson was a retired communications officer who had been hurt during the Earth Wars. And he was as charming as he was stern. Most of the time, Selene loved his no-nonsense demeanor. But given her mood, he was simply an irritation.
“I just came in for one of your house specialty hydrators.”
A sharp bark of laughter caused her to grimace. “You’ve been coming here for years and you ain’t never come in just for a drink.”
Damn wily drink slinger and his impeccable memory. While she would have commended that kind of brain power in a witness, she didn’t like it turned against her. “When I need to celebrate closing a case, I do.”
“Right. Sure.” The look on his weathered face indicated he knew better. This was a club built for selling dominance and submission to willing customers. Not drinks. “Kaber is over there. Given the moans coming from that direction, he’ll be finished shortly. Merc has a private session downstairs. And the one you ain’t looking for should be here before the hour is up.”
“Drink,” she reinforced. “That’s it.”
Bushy black eyebrows lifted. “Sticking to that half-cocked story, huh? So be it.”
Selene watched him move off to clean the far end of the bar. Bales was right. She wasn’t here for a drink. Especially when he didn’t serve anything with a serious kick. Hydrators from all reaches of the universe. Juice from a nearby planet. Mint fizzes for the club’s owner. But not a drop of alcohol.
The enigmatic man was too crafty for his own good. Selene was here because she’d needed a reason to celebrate. To remind herself that she hadn’t just spent the past week chasing after a serial killer who had decided it would be thrilling to pick off small children.
Five planets, twenty kids, and the bastard had finally slipped up.
Those moments of glory made all the crappy days worth the hassle.
The families would get their justice and Selene would move to her next assignment. Shitty as those facts were, it was just another day in the life of a Planetary Marshal. Though she loved her job, her boss said she took the work too personally. Occasionally, it was hard not to. Being around so much death could drill deep inside a person’s brain. Add in the fact her jurisdiction spanned two frontier galaxies and the reason she came to Tawse in order to blow off steam was pretty evident.
“Come to celebrate snagging your man?”
As the feminine voice broke the air, Selene smiled. “Like always.”
“Haven’t seen much of you around lately. Work keeping you busy?”
Selene turned and nearly snorted at the ensemble the woman wore. The inky black suit sparkled despite the low light. The suit was so well-cut and stylish, Selene knew it had to be worth a year of her income. Must have been nice to rake in those kinds of credits. “You look like an advertisement for New Vegas.”
“Possibly. I do hold a controlling interest there.” Hearing Miranda Spaulding was a partner in the planet whose sole purpose was to deliver pleasure in any possible form to willing clients wasn’t a shock. There was always money to make in sex. Even in the furthest reaches of the galaxy. “I have a function to attend tonight that requires a bit more flair.”
Selene noticed then that Miranda’s silver hair had been swept away from her flawless face and clipped back into an extravagant silver barrette. Bright blue eyes shined with pleasure, and she wore only minimal makeup. Miranda was a woman who’d chosen to accept her aging gracefully without any of the normal high-end enhancements.
“Function, huh? So that’s what you’re calling it these days.”
Miranda smoothed a hand over her hair. “Should be a quiet night here. Most of the staff is going to be at the Fetish Ball with me. Client hired the whole lot of us to provide entertainment for the night. So, if you’re looking for any of your usual Doms, you’re going to have to come back another night.”
“What about Kaber over there?”
The man in question was now sandwiched between the two women. He’d latched his mouth to the breast of one woman while burying his cock deep in the other. “Decent. He still needs work. Not your caliber, though. Too light of a touch for your taste, I believe. He’s more about the sex than the control. Merc is with a sub downstairs.”
“So I heard.” Selene thought about the few times she’d watched Merc in a scene. Last time she’d been here, he’d drawn an audience with a seasoned submissive and an impulse cane. While it had held entertainment value, the line ended there for Selene. “Too heavy of a touch.”
Pain wasn’t her pleasure.
“True. He does favor more pain than the other Doms.”
Selene sighed heavily. “May just finish this up then and head home. Chief gave me a few days off, but I’ll just take the early shift tomorrow. Let someone else use the time.”
Miranda pushed off the stool. As she tapped her hand on the bar, her impeccably polished nails clicked against the top. “Sugar, if you’re just trying to manipulate me into offering Vaughn to you, best work on those skills of yours.”
“I wasn’t here to see—”
“He’ll arrive in a few minutes,” Miranda interrupted with a kind smile. “Talk to him yourself. You know the rules.”
Selene returned with a huff to her drink to drown her sorrows. She hadn’t come specifically for Vaughn. Well, not really. She’d come in order to forget an unfortunate side effect of her job. To escape the death and blood around her on a daily basis. To get her out of her brain for five minutes.
Problem was, whatever scene she participated in would be a quick hit. An illusion of relief. What she needed the most was someone to push her. To shove past barriers she struggled to demolish. Her law enforcement instincts were too ingrained to allow her to fully submit. Most Doms found out she was a cop and went easy on her. She needed someone who wasn’t afraid of her badge.
Another glance around showed the threesome had finally broken up and the two women sat quietly off to the side chatting. Miranda had been serious when she said it would be a slow night.
This wasn’t the sort of quiet Selene wanted.
Or needed.
She pushed away from the bar and promptly ran into a solid wall of muscle. A hand shot out to steady her before she tumbled to the floor. Cool blue eyes met hers as she lifted her gaze. His blinding smile was so wide it crinkled the corner of his eyes. A rush of heat swamped her.
“Wherever it is you’re going, you’re sure in a hurry to get there. Hope whoever you’re rushing toward appreciates the effort.”
The deep bass notes in his voice made her stomach flip before her tongue knotted as though it was too thick for her mouth. She’d always been considered tall, but Vaughn towered over her. Her nose barely cleared his pectoral muscles and his biceps were bigger than her thigh. Something deep in her core clenched.
Yeah. He definitely did it for her.
In spades.
Vaughn smiled as he released her arm. “Be careful next time. Bales, got any high quality ishke back there? Not that piss colored stuff you like to pass off as ishke either.” He tilted his head to excuse himself, and moved to the other end of the bar.
She cursed silently for turning into an idiot the moment she realized Vaughn had arrived. She was a Planetary Marshal for fuck’s sake. Wrestling mass murders to the ground as they punched and kicked for freedom was an everyday occurrence. How was it possible for him to turn her into a useless pile of muck with just a sentence or two? Damn him for owning a fucking cunning smile that turned her insides to jelly.
She spun on her heel and shoved her hands in her pockets, humiliated because she couldn’t even talk to Vaughn, much less ask for what she wanted. Damn Miranda and her rules.
Time to escape.
Her mouth and brain finally connected. “Going to jet out of here, Bales. Looks like another night with some vids and a lot of alcohol. Thanks for the drink.”
As she started to step forward, a solid body blocked her. She looked up to find Vaughn’s addictive smile beaming down at her again. “I can think of a few more entertaining ways to spend an evening.”
Her earlier nervousness vanished, replaced with annoyance. “So can I.”
“Tell me.” The power behind the command washed over her, touching off fires deep in her belly. She thought she knew what it meant to be under a Dom’s guidance, but the authority behind those two words indicated this was a man who excelled at his job.
She felt compelled to do as he instructed without argument. “I need to feel alive again.”
“Well now, I think I can accommodate that. Why don’t you go change and then meet me over on the platform in ten minutes?” Even though it was a question, Selene felt as if she didn’t have a choice.
Immediately, she nodded her acceptance and moved forward to the small room set aside as an intimate changing area. Unlike the Marshal multi-species locker area, this room was warm and inviting. A space for clients who came here immediately after work and needed to change. It was also a place to collect their thoughts and find that headspace where they could truly find their center.
She remembered she hadn’t brought anything appropriate to wear.
Damn spur of the moment trip.
Disappointment was running rampant tonight. She turned at the door, only to see he hadn’t moved. Gah. Why the fuck did Vaughn have to be such a model of walking dominance and sex? Hard and mean. Broad shouldered and thickly muscled. That smile of his was downright sinful. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
“You’ll find something befitting of the situation if you look around enough.” He faced Bales without further clarification.
As the door to the room closed, she noticed a small silver case on the padded bench in front of her. She’d spent enough time at the club to know what she’d find when she opened the latch. But this time, uncovering a Dom’s toys was somehow different. Inside wouldn’t just be an obscure collar and a pair of bland, unadorned cuffs.
These were his.
Ignoring everything else, she cautiously stepped forward to hover over the bench. Her hand shook as she reached forward. She stopped, inhaled a cleansing breath to quell the nervousness, and started again. Familiar with similar cases, she tapped the lid with a finger. The clamshell opened to reveal two small silver colored bars nestled amid a nest of dark cranberry silk. They sat on either side of a larger, more complex bar about the size of her fist. The items appeared innocent enough.
How would it feel to have them on?
Fueled by the unknown, the what-ifs, she extracted the larger piece and set it just above the hollow of her throat. As soon as the device made contact with her skin, it activated. The weight of the energy field felt heavy as it circled her neck. Evidently, it was something he had custom programmed. Most collars couldn’t be felt at all. At least the ones she’d worn. Vaughn wanted whoever wore one of his devices to know the collar was in place. To know he owned them for the time they wore the item.
Pleased, she picked up the other two pieces. Each rested over the pulse point on the inside of her wrists, activating on contact. Just as the collar, the cuffs held a detectable weight. A soft red glow shined against her skin. Another sign these belonged to Vaughn. Each Dom employed at Tawse had been assigned color-coded impulse devices. Members could own similar pieces, but they were forbidden to use them during a scene at the club.
Anchored to the moment, and feeling more secure, she turned to face the armoire. As she opened the door, she saw a scrap of black material had been folded carefully on the shelf. Directly below, a pair of knee high stiletto boots rested.
With a small smile, she carefully removed her pants and shirt. She then piled her department issue weapon and badge on top and secured everything in a locked drawer until she returned to retrieve them. Stripped of her everyday confines—her job, her duty, her life—she was free.
Wearing the boots and thong, she stepped out, and scanned the club. The habit was instinctual. An ingrained practice beaten into her during months and months of training at the Academy. Not something she could just turn off on a whim. Or a piece of her make-up that would simply vanish when she wore cuffs and a collar.
A few patrons still milled around the bar area. Merc and the sub he’d taken down to the lower level had returned. A gorgeous being with shimmery gold skin and vivid pink hair sat cradled in his lap, wearing an expression of contentment. Well and thoroughly satisfied.
A shiver of expectation swelled through Selene. Would she ever find a Dom who lavished her with the same sort of treatment? Would Vaughn finally be the one to give it to her? Aftercare was an important part once a Dom and sub completed a scene. But the way Merc cuddled his submissive wasn’t something she had ever experienced before.
To feel cherished.
Loved.
She turned toward the platform Vaughn had indicated. Empty. She’d watched him with enough subs at the club before to know he expected his sub to wait when he wasn’t around. However, it wasn’t simply a matter of waiting. How was just as important.
She licked her lips as she stepped forward, ignoring everyone there. They didn’t matter. Previous visits had taught her how to tune them out. In just a few short strides, she stood in the center of the raised dais. Better to default to what she did know than to completely defy him. The last thing she wanted to do was make him angry.
As she sank to her knees, everything about her faded. The scratched wood under her smooth legs was rough, and the dichotomy of the two sensations together felt exquisite. She folded her hands behind her, locking her fingers together and waited.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Years spent waiting on stakeouts had taught her how to keep track of time even without a timepiece. Anticipation was the driving force that kept her anchored in place. A soft cough caused her to dart a glance to the bar area without moving her head. The few members here, and Bales, were staring at her.
Twenty.
Bales looked amused. She made a mental note to give him a ration of crap for it later. Old man probably got off on seeing so much naked skin.
Twenty-three.
The wood vibrated softly under her legs. Her gaze snapped forward to focus on a point on the floor. Footfalls drew closer. When Vaughn reached her, he brushed his hand against her hair. Everything fell away.
“While that’s a beautiful position, it’s not the one I favor. Since you’re wearing my gear, I expect you to be the way I prefer.”
She waited for further instruction, but he remained silent.
Would he give her direction or wait for her to get in the wrong one just so he could punish her? She scoured her mind, filing through images quickly to remember how she should have presented herself. While she’d seen him with other submissives, she’d never paid attention to how they offered themselves.
She’d been too busy admiring him.
“That pretty mind is working overtime, isn’t it? You have permission to ask my preference, kitten.”
She let out an internal sigh of relief. “How would you like me presented, Sir?”
“That’s a girl. Lean back, legs spread, arms behind you, chin up.” He waited while she adjusted.
As he walked in a slow circle around her, she noticed he’d changed clothes. He was now wearing the trademark uniform for the Doms employed at Tawse. Deep gray pants with a dark navy stripe down the length of the leg. His chest was bare, and unlike the other Doms who chose to remove most of their body hair, there was a scattering of dark hair that arrowed straight down to the waistband.
Murmuring, he nudged her knees wider. Tilted her chin higher. The new position caused her to lean back more. Her lower back groaned in protest, but she let out a slow, relaxing breath to release the tension.
He stopped beside her, crouched, and skimmed his fingers against her waist. Right where the serial murderer had gotten a few cheap kidney shots in before she’d hauled him off to the jail cell.
“Tell me who put these bruises on you.”
“An unruly perp. Sir,” she added.
“Admirable dedication for a cop.”
“Planetary Deputy Chief Marshal Selene Orosova, Sir.”
He smoothed the mottled discoloration, easing the ache with a surprisingly gentle touch. “Take it easy, kitten. I didn’t realize the level of your profession. Or the fact you take such pride in your job. Had I known, I would have realized the bruises were an occupational hazard, not from another Dom.”
Limit checking. Simple and innocuous enough. Any good Dom would need to know. He hadn’t asked, but she wanted to clarify. “I don’t prefer that kind of punishment, Sir.”
“No, you don’t. But you do like to go all out.”
What the hell does that mean? She didn’t get a chance to ask as he cupped her shoulder. Light pressure bowed her backward so most of her upper body weight transferred to her hands as they contacted with the floor.
The position left her chest available to him with unencumbered access. When he grazed his thumb against the side of her breast, her vision grayed. Oh god. The light touch awakened the nerves in her core and her pussy tightened.
The collar and cuffs gave a pulse in reaction. Impulse bondage. A specialty of the house. She’d been bound by it before, but this was somehow different.
As Vaughn’s touch grew heavier, the sensations swirling through her heightened. Again and again, he traced her body, learning her curves. Her lower body started to pulse with urgency. His touch disappeared just when her body started to reach for more.
As she began to mourn the loss, his tongue laved over her nipple. Quick suction followed. He fastened his mouth against her, arousal rolling through her like a wave crashing on the shore. It doubled back and fed on itself to swell as his teeth nipped at her flesh.
He reached between her arms and arched body to settle his arm at her lower back, taking her weight on his forearm as he lifted his head. “I like a little more decoration on my sub when I show her off.”
She caught a quick flash of something shiny in his mouth seconds before his head dipped to her chest. His teeth nipped again, this time stronger and steadier. However, the pressure remained, even as he moved away. Her arousal spilled over, her lower half growing heavy with need when she realized he’d used his mouth to clamp her nipple.
He moved around, keeping his hand on her as he repositioned, and dropped his head to lavish the same attention to the other side. Just when she thought he’d reached the point where he’d place the clamp on the other breast, he continued pushing the hard nub against the roof of his mouth. Suckling. Teasing. Taunting. Eroding her control a sliver at a time.
The pressure finally came when she didn’t expect it and she cried out softly in pleasure.
He stepped away, pulling on her shoulder to sit her upright, and admired his work. “Very pretty breasts. And very sweet tasting nipples.” She watched as his tongue traced over his slightly swollen lips. How would his mouth feel—she jerked her focus back to him, schooling her features. “Though I’m rather fond of the look and feel of the impulse bands, they lack a certain amount of personal touch when it comes to any of their extras. Such as enhanced nipple stimulation. And, since we seem to have an audience tonight, we can’t disappoint them without some kind of show, can we? Relax your arms, kitten, and get some blood flowing in them again before we continue.”