Chapter 71


    He should have hacked into the Las Palmas records, looked up her number, called, and apologized.


    James paced, hoping to hell Beth showed up this weekend, that she’d seen the list he’d impulsively left


    her and her rule-following tendencies would push her toe back so they could finish. He hadn’t


    originally nned to deal with caning or choking. Though they weren’t on his hard limits list, they


    weren’t things that particrly interested him, and unlike Beth, he had no problem ignoring rules when


    it suited him.


    He’d been a Grade A asshole thest time she’d seen him. How nice of him to spend all that time


    convincing her she should be more forting with what she wanted only to shut her down when she


    asked for something. It was hardly her fault that she’d managed to hit on his one major trigger.


    Not an hour had gone by this past week that he hadn’t thought about her, and more than once his


    fingers had been poised over his keyboard, ready to break some rules, andws, to get her personal


    phone number. Since his firm had been part of the team to develop Las Palmas’s digital security, it


    wasn’t really hacking in so much as using the back door he’d left for himself in case of emergencies.


    It had felt like an emergency.


    But then again, he’d already made one dick move and decided not topound the problem with


    another equally dick move. An unholy amount of time ying Grand Theft Auto and some senseless


    murdering of digital characters had helped keep his mind off everything. Now that he was here, he had


    nothing but time to think about it as he waited to see if she’d show up.


    There was an inte system, and James had asked that an announcement be made every hour


    asking her to join him in the Orion Room, a well-outfitted yroom off therger Constetion Court.


    Unlike their room fromst weekend there was no bed—this room would never be mistaken for


    anything other than a BDSM yroom.


    He’d been here since three o’clock, and it was now 6:45. So far, no Beth. But he wouldn’t give up, not


    yet. There’d be another announcement in fifteen minutes.


    James checked the setup, then went back to pacing.


    * * *


    She hadn’t brought any lingerie. It was hardly a surprise—lingerie packing had never been part of her


    normal routine foring here.


    Arriving at 5:50, Beth had heard the six o’clock announcements, including a request for her to go to the


    Orion Room. Rather than rushing to obey, she took her time, even going so far as to ask the other


    ladies getting ready in the Subs’ Garden if anyone had something she could borrow. It was the first time


    she’d ever really interacted with anyone in that space, and she was surprised by how readily people


    pulled out garments for her—and by the volume of brand-new lingerie everyone else owned and kept in


    their lockers. As someone said, “you never know what you’ll need.” She gravitated towards a frilly white


    corset, but after putting it on was gently told that it didn’t really go with her “look.”


    Unaware she had a “look,” Beth instead epted the suggestion of a ssic ck bustier that stopped


    two inches above her belly button, boy-short stylece panties and thin satin slippers that were slightly


    too big. Then someone insisted on helping her with her makeup, the result heavy ck cat-eye style


    liner, matte bronze eye shadow, and glossy lips.


    When she stepped back to check her reflection, the blonde sub who’d helped her with her makeup


    smiled. “It’s like ck Widow meets yboy Bunny. Gorgeous.”


    Beth stared at her reflection. Her hair hung in a perfect straight line around her neck, the eye makeup


    drawing attention to her face. Thece panties kept the outfit from veering into leather-fetish costume


    territory. She looked strong and powerful.


    “I don’t look very submissive.”


    “So?” The blonde who’d done her makeup capped a small pot of liquid eyeliner and wiped the brush off


    on a tissue. “You want a Dom who’s strong enough to handle you, in yourplete bad-ass package.”


    Complete bad-ass package. She liked that. Beth smiled at her reflection.


    With profuse thanks and promises to rece all the pieces, Beth left the Subs’ Garden and headed for


    the Orion Room.


    When she reached the door, she knocked once and opened it—she didn’t hesitate or second-guess


    how he’d want her to show up. If he wanted her to crawl into the room then it was his job to tell her that.


    She had every right to expect a Dom to be clear with her…and for him to respect her desires, needs,


    and wishes.


    The room was lit by cool blue recessed light, the high ceiling studded with small LEDs that mimicked


    the real night sky, the three stars of Orion’s Belt slightly brighter than the others.


    Master James stood in the center of the room, looking strong and dapper in ck cks and a gray


    dress shirt open at the cor.


    “You got the list I left you.”


    “Yes…Master James.” There was no denying the little blip of panic she felt because she’d purposefully


    paused before adding “Master James” to her sentence. Maybe this new bad-ass persona and


    worldview on how she was going to submit—and what it meant to be submissive—would take a bit


    longer to get used to than she thought, if such mild disobedience caused difort.


    “There, under the chains.”


    Beth paused for a second to see if he’d include any orders on how he wanted her to get there, but he


    didn’t, so she walked over to stand under the structure he’d indicated. Therge metal frame looked


    like a piece of gym equipment—the kind used for pull-ups and cable exercises. One of the overhead


    cross pieces had chains dangling from it, giving the otherwise calm room a hint of dungeon


    atmosphere.


    She took her position facing him, waiting with her hands rxed at her sides. There were flutters of


    arousal dancing over her skin, but she wasn’t lost in the feeling.


    “Raise your arms.” Master James stood in a shadowy area of the room, his face hidden from her.


    Beth lifted her arms, helpfully positioning her wrists near the heavy padded cuffs attached to two


    lengths of chain.


    The heels of his dress shoes clicked on the floor, and Beth dropped her gaze—not only out of


    submission, but because some stubborn part of her didn’t want to look at him, afraid that if she did


    she’d lose the anger that was a cold ball of white light just behind her breastbone.


    The cuff slid easily around her left wrist, buckling into ce. The fabric of his shirt brushed against her


    hip as he leaned across to cuff her right wrist.


    Beth licked her lips, trying to hold on to the anger, to use it as a shield against the feelings his nearness


    caused. Her body didn’t care that he’d shut her down when she’d asked for more. Her body


    remembered what it felt like to be touched, to be mastered by him.


    When she was in ce, her wrists at shoulder height, Master James walked away. Spotlights came on,


    bathing the area where she stood in bright light, and effectively blinding her to anything outside the


    circle of light.


    “You look different.” His voice and footsteps told her he wasing back, but she couldn’t see him.


    “Yes, Master James.”


    “It suits you.”


    “Thank you, Master James.”


    The tip of a bamboo cane appeared in the spotlight, inching towards her as if it were a sentient thing.


    The slim cane was long enough—nearly four feet—that by the time the pointed end came to rest on her


    breasts, only Master James’s hand was visible.


    “I wasn’t sure you’de today.”


    “We aren’t done with our letter, Master.” And I wouldn’t turn down the chance to y with you again,


    even if you hurt me.


    “Remind me, what do we have left?”


    * * *


    Hadrian looked at the picture behind his desk.


    In it, a young, fit many on the beach, his legs in the air. An equally young, fit woman was bnced


    above him, her hips braced on his upraised feet. Their hands were sped, the man’s elbows locked,


    hisck of shirt disying well-defined triceps, bulging pecs, and rippling abdominal muscles. The


    woman’s upper body was bowed in a cobra pose, all while suspended above the man. Her slimly


    muscled arms were a match for his, and her legs, stretched out behind her, were also corded with


    muscle. The pose looked effortless, yet it was a disy of strength, her core muscles drawn tight to


    keep her legs extended, her arms flexed to hold her upper body in the elegant backward arch.


    The man was smiling up at the woman, whose face turned away from the camera as she looked out at


    the water. Her dark hairy across her bare shoulders, and the bikini-style workout wear, simr to a


    beach volleyball uniform, showed miles of tanned, toned skin.


    “Hello, Hadrian.” He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the ringing had stopped.


    “Master Mikel.” Hadrian jerked his gaze back to the ocean. “I got your message.”


    “Good. Good. I was sorry we didn’t see you.”


    “Should I make an excuse or just admit I didn’t pay attention to the first message?”


    Mikelughed, as Hadrian had hoped. “Truth, Hadrian. Always truth.”


    “Of course.” It was one of the sacred rules of BDSM y: truth—and its partner, trust—were necessary,


    not optional.


    “Truth is actually why we called the meeting.”


    “Oh?”


    “We’ve been lying to ourselves, all of us.”


    That certainly wasn’t what Hadrian had expected to hear. “What do you mean?”


    “Every member of Las Palmas has becent, hiding from our real needs, our real desires.


    We no longer tell ourselves the truth.”


    Content is ? by N?velDrama.Org.


    “Right.” Hadrian had no idea where this was going, but his spidey senses were tingling.


    “Master Leo, Mistress Faith, and I came up with a game.”


    “That sounds…rming.”


    Mikelughed again. “Oh yes, oh yes.” His chuckle faded, and Hadrian waited for him to offer some


    reassurance, but he didn’t. “You remember the checklist, of course.”


    “Not at all,” Hadrian said frankly.


    Mikel sighed. “The list of things you could do to, with, and for a sub?”


    Hadrian didn’t bother to search his memory. He didn’t want to think back to when he’d joined. “Go on.”


    “Each memberpleted a checklist, and we kept a copy. Over the past year we’ve noticed that


    everyone has be…uninspired.”


    “Content?” Hadrian’s tone was dry.


    “Yes, that. And boring.”


    “Boring?”


    “Sadly, it is true.” Mikel breathed out a long-suffering sigh. “Las Palmas is not a country club, not a


    weekend resort. It’s a ce where our darkness can, and must, run free.”


    “There’s plenty of dark stuff that happens, at least there was…thest time I was there.” Hadrian had


    seen some crazy things at the club, especially in the Iron Court.


    “It’s not enough.” Mikel’s tone made it clear it was not up for discussion. “We have the game. The


    checklist game.”


    “You still haven’t given me any specifics.”


    “Each member has been assigned a letter of the alphabet.”


    “And what do they do with that letter?” Hadrian tried to ignore the picture his brain had thrown up of a


    3D puppet-style letter K in rope bondage. X-rated Sesame Street.


    “You will take your checklist, and that of the submissive we assign you, and explore every kink, toy, and


    fetish listed for your letter.”


    If Hadrian had been aputer, his screen would have frozen. “Uh.”


    Mikelughed. “I knew you’d enjoy it.”


    “Wait, did you say you assigned the submissives?”


    “Yes. Everyone has been assigned a partner, or partners. Unless they’re bonded.”


    Hadrian dropped onto a low white couch facing the windows, ignoring the protest in his knee. “You’ve


    assigned everyone a partner, and they have to work through one letter of the alphabet with that


    partner.”


    “Yes.”


    “And everyone agreed to this?” The members of Las Palmas were all wealthy and sessful. They


    were hardly the type of people to meekly toe the line when someone told them what to do.


    “If they wish to remain members, yes.”


    That exined the threat in the email. “I see.”


    There was a beat of silence before Mikel spoke. “Do not use this as an excuse to leave.”


    “Maybe it’s time.” Hadrian had been a member for ten years, but they’d been a long, difficult ten years.


    The Hadrian who’d joined Las Palmas was very different from the man staring out at the ocean.


    “Or maybe it’s time for you to give in to the beast. Stop ying, ah, rk Kens.”


    “Kent. rk Kent.”


    “Yes, rk Kent. It’s time to be Superman.”


    “Rope-carrying, crop-wielding Superman?”


    Mikelughed.


    Hadrian stuck out his left leg, rubbed his knee. The most exciting thing that had happened to him


    recently was hiring Samuel and the subsequent takeover of his schedule. Maybe it was time to


    remember that he hadn’t always been a tech geek—or at least he hadn’t always been just a tech geek.


    “What’s my letter?”


    “Ahh.” Mikel’s voice was thick with pleasure. “I’m so d you’re going to y. The letter D needs


    you.”