Bondage Ranch 4: His Little Tart Read online

  Bondage Ranch 4: His Little Tart

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  far away from civilization that made her concoctions taste so good, but they were as good as anything he’d ever had. He’d never considered a cupcake to be fine eating before. He’d grabbed it only because he wanted a few empty calories to keep him going.

  He didn’t want to waste a moment of his vacation, but here he was, standing and watching.

  He came to Bondage Ranch to blow off some steam and have some hot sex.

  Apparently his last few trips had given him a good reputation, because he’d had offers. Some instinct had made him turn them down. Do-me subs like Valerie and Brenda didn’t have any appeal to him. Like the cupcake, they were empty calories, offering the illusion of being in control while following a script. Perhaps that was what made Constance attractive to him. He had no idea what would happen with her, and she probably had little preconception as to what she wanted.

  He watched her as she took longer and longer looks. She showed little interest in Mistress Sue as she teased her helpless sub, his cock in a cage, but her gaze lingered on Bruce tying up his sub, Laera, in ever more intricate knots. Perhaps that meant she was interested in being restrained, or perhaps she admired Bruce’s artistry. She’d turn away, fidget, focus on her cake decorating or test the heat on the fondue, but then she’d look around again. He wanted to believe it meant something that she was more interested in the scenes where a woman was submitting than the ones where she was in charge. He wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t deluding himself. Maybe he wanted what he couldn’t have. But she wasn’t the least available woman in the room, and he didn’t fantasize about Laera or tall, redheaded Selena, who was standing aloof with her Master James.

  They were definitely his type, physically, as was Alex Allison, but his appreciation of their curves didn’t make him want to encroach. Those women were taken.

  Even Mistress Sue, who clearly had an open relationship and whose lovely body was displayed quite nicely today in her black leather bustier, micromini, and thigh-high boots, didn’t interest him. He suspected Sue wasn’t quite as all domme as she sometimes pretended, but she was definitely in the class of beautiful women who were

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  not on his menu. If he just wanted what he couldn’t have, he’d be dreaming about trying to get Sue to submit, he supposed. Instead, he was mooning over a pastry chef who couldn’t bring herself to openly look at the activities that clearly fascinated her.

  Constance looked up again, in the direction of the waxing scene Arthur and Samantha were doing on a table to his left. He’d heard that the muscular dom and his thin-as-a-fashion-model submissive had gotten married recently. Poor blighter. Still, Arthur looked happy enough, pouring drops of hot wax onto his wife’s body and stopping briefly each time her body jerked in response. He wondered what Constance made of it and found her staring straight at him.

  Caught.

  He smiled and stared back until she lowered her head. Yes, I’m looking at you, ma petite pâtissière.

  Maybe he should stay away. But he didn’t think so. All his instincts said there was something beneath that shyness that wanted to be unlocked. And he wanted to be the one to unlock it.

  He’d had plenty of experience with sex when he’d met a kinky stranger named Karla in a London nightclub years ago, but the experience had led him to understand much better what had made some hookups work and some not. He’d learned who he was and come to terms with the fact that he liked to be in charge. It was all a matter of finding a partner who liked the other side, who wanted the freedom of letting someone else make the decisions for a while. He’d often wondered how his life would have been different if he’d never run into Karla. He imagined he’d have found the BDSM scene eventually, but maybe not. She’d taught him a lot about himself.

  Including the fact that he wasn’t built for a lasting relationship. He’d fallen, hard, but that was long past. There was always a danger that Constance might do the same, so he’d have to be careful with her. And very, very clear. But hopefully, he could pay forward the favor that Karla had done for him.

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  He snorted. He hadn’t even gotten the girl to admit to her kinky side, and already his mind had her falling in love with him. Not going to happen. He glanced at his watch. It was a few minutes before seven. He still had over an hour to wait. Maybe he should find some other girl and let Constance find her own way.

  Nah. Time to do some research.

  He crossed the room, walked down the hall, and headed for Alex Allison. If anyone knew anything about Constance, it would be the mistress of Bondage Ranch.

  The question was, would she talk?

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  Chapter Two

  There had been no sign of Aidan the last hour, but that hadn’t made Constance feel any less selfconscious. In fact, she’d taken comfort from the idea that he was watching over her, which showed how active her imagination was. She knew why having a protector look out for her was attractive. Times were tough, and it wasn’t easy to run one’s own business. She often felt all alone. But a man wasn’t going to make that easier. She’d watched her friends from college and from culinary school. Their relationships took a lot of work and time she couldn’t afford.

  Besides, Aidan could probably have plenty of other women. She’d seen him turn away two, both better looking than she was. Maybe threesomes weren’t his thing, but she had the distinct impression they were pretty much every man’s thing. He wasn’t seriously going to be interested in her.

  She packed up the remaining pastries into two deep trays with lids and carried them down the hall toward the kitchen. Alex—she felt odd thinking of a customer by her first name, but Alex had insisted, saying that “Ms. Allison” made her sound like a domme—had wanted the table put away at eight to make room for more “equipment,”

  so she was going to serve the leftovers for breakfast in the morning. Much later, and they wouldn’t be at their best.

  She had to go through the living room to get to the kitchen, however, and Aidan was there, chatting and laughing with a beautiful blonde she hadn’t seen before. In spite of herself, she felt a pang of jealousy. He had found another woman, just as she’d expected. She hurried to the kitchen. It wasn’t like she was going to do anything with him anyway, but she would have found her fantasy as she went to bed that night more

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  fulfilling if he’d been unattached. Now if she thought of him, it would be of him boinking that blonde. No thanks.

  One tray was for things better refrigerated, like the tarts; the other was for things not, like the remaining cupcakes. She opened the industrial-sized refrigerator, which was nearly full of drinks, and placed the tarts inside.

  “I’ll help you pack up.”

  She turned and saw Aidan, his large frame filling the doorway.

  “I thought you were busy romancing that girl?” She hadn’t meant to make it sound so catty, but she’d been taken off guard.

  “Sheila?” He laughed. “She’s very taken. The Allisons’ living room isn’t a very good place to pick up girls. If they wanted to play, they’d be in the dungeon.”

  “Oh.”

  “I prefer the kitchen. Easier to get one-on-one time.”

  She frowned. What did he want with her? “I told you I was vanilla. And that I have to leave at eight. Which it is, right now.”

  “Yes. Alex told me you’d have to come through this way to drop off the sweets, so I thought I’d hang out here and wait. Otherwise, I’d have been watching you for an hour, and that would have been sweet, but you’d get selfconscious.”

  She stared at him. He had this utterly self-confident look on his face that she wanted to slap right off. But she found it attractive too. She wished she was as sure of herself as he was. Being drop-dead gorgeous probably helped.
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  “I have to leave at eight.”

  “Alex says you may stay and play as long as you want to.”

  “Play? Oh, you mean romp around naked, get tied up, and have wax dripped on me? Is that ‘play’? Because there’s no way I’m going to be doing that.”

  “That sounds a little intense for a first time,” Aidan conceded. “So we’ll do something less painful. But still intense. And very pleasurable.”

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  She had to stop her jaw from dropping. “You don’t understand the word no, do you?”

  He took two steps, and they covered the entire distance between them. She found herself looking at him, aware of his height in a way she hadn’t been when the serving table had functioned as a barrier. If he’d gotten any closer, they’d be touching. His heavy, musky scent filled her nostrils, awaking something primal inside her. Her heart beat a little faster. She wasn’t used to reacting this way to anyone. His lips were almost kissing hers.

  “I do understand the word no. But you haven’t said it yet. The question is, do you have the courage to say yes? Or are you going to walk away and wonder what would have happened?”

  She blinked at him. Such a simple choice. Yes. No. She ought to say no. She didn’t know what she’d be saying yes to anyway. She didn’t know what she’d be saying no to either. He was right that she’d be imagining what could have been. He was too sexy, too confident, not to haunt her. “What would happen?”

  “I’d like some of that to be a surprise. And I like to be in charge, but I also understand everyone has limits and that you wouldn’t want it to be completely open-ended.” He stroked her chin, tilting it up so her lips were even closer to his. “Do you want to be tied up, Constance?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “You don’t sound very convinced.”

  “I saw how that girl was tied. She was so exposed, so helpless.”

  “I won’t tie you like that. Bruce and Laera really enjoy their rope bondage, but for me, it’s a means to an end. And they’ve had a while to build up trust as well. We’re strangers still. I want you to be free to feel without feeling like you have to do anything.

  Your wrists cuffed behind you, not very tightly, enough so you can’t bring your hands in front of you. And your eyes covered with a blindfold, so that you can feel and hear instead of worrying about what you’re seeing.”

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  “Free? With my hands tied, that will make me more free?” She didn’t think it made a lot of sense, but it sounded hot. The thing was, she would still be helpless.

  “You’ll see. Are you willing to try it? Anytime you want to call out your safe word, you’ll be set free. There will be people all around, because we’ll play in the dungeon. As nice as it is to play in private, it’s more dangerous to be alone with a man you don’t know, even with your hands free, than it is to be in the dungeon restrained so tightly you can’t move. I know I’m safe, but you don’t. You can ask around, if you like.”

  He smiled. “I can give you references. You’ll have a safe word. But we’ll still play in the dungeon.”

  “Safe word?”

  “If you say the word ‘danger,’ I will stop doing whatever I’m doing, untie you, and ask you what’s wrong. Say it loudly, and other people will come and ask what’s wrong too, and if you tell them to get me away from you, they will.”

  That sounded safe. Not that she knew any of these people who would come rescue her.

  The idea of being tied up in front of everyone made her warm. It would be embarrassing, but it was kind of sexy. But everyone there seemed to be taking their clothes off, and being naked in front of everyone was more than embarrassment. That would border on humiliation. “I get to keep my clothes on,” she said, and then realized that she’d practically agreed to the rest.

  “Mostly. Your jacket comes off.”

  “All I’ve got on underneath that is a bra!” Alex had warned her that it got hot in the ballroom when it was crowded with people. The jacket covered her, so she hadn’t worn a blouse under it the way she usually did.

  “Good. I want to be able to touch your skin.”

  She shook her head. “It’s too much.” Somehow, the fact that other people were wearing far less didn’t help. Her bra covered her as well as a swimsuit would. It wasn’t lacy or transparent, just plain white satin. She was tempted occasionally to buy herself

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  some nice lingerie, but she was trying to save all the money she could, so she bought whatever underwear would fit, provide support, and was on sale.

  “Nonetheless.”

  Her gaze locked with his. She tried to stare him down, but he wasn’t budging.

  “Everything else stays on,” she said.

  “Everything else stays on. Even your panties.”

  “And you’re not getting into my panties, either.” That would be totally awful, in front of everyone, if people were to watch him put his hand there. Even though the thought of it made her wet. This was the kind of place where people did things like that. He was the kind of man who would do them.

  “Not unless you beg.”

  “I’m not going to be doing any begging.” That would be even worse. But his confidence was arousing.

  “If I’m in a generous mood, asking politely might suffice.”

  She ignored that. It wasn’t going to happen. “No pain.”

  “Well, I can’t always be sure what someone else will think of as pain and what they’ll think of as pleasure. I’m not going to make a promise I can’t keep. But nothing I do will be causing any damage. You won’t have any bruises or anything like that. You won’t be aching when we’re done, unless it’s from desire that you refuse to let me satisfy.”

  “You do have an active fantasy life, don’t you?”

  He chuckled. “A friend of mine once asked her dom if he had any fantasies. He told her he didn’t—he just had plans for the evening. But yes, I do have an active fantasy life. For the most part, I try to make my fantasies come true. And hopefully, my partner’s as well.”

  She nodded, thinking about her own fantasies. They hadn’t involved a place like Bondage Ranch or leather clothes or whips. But they did involve a man like Aidan:

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  cocky, tall, capable of overpowering her anytime he wanted. The sort of man who wouldn’t be safe to be alone with unless she wanted be held down and ravished all night long. And yeah, someone who might tie her up.

  For a moment, she wanted to tell him what she had told her fantasy man a dozen times: that he could do anything he wanted to her. And then she made a face. I’m not that stupid.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking I’m going to check on your references. Starting by asking Ms.

  Allison—Alex. And on whether what you said about the safe word is true. If you want to fold the tables and put them away and get all my stuff near the door while I do that, we can carry it out my car together.”

  She half expected him to get prickly, but instead, he grinned. “Smart girl. The more at ease you are, the more we’ll both enjoy ourselves, so check on me thoroughly.

  I’ll be waiting for you in the dungeon.”

  He walked away. He was so confident that she almost felt she didn’t need to ask.

  His manner told her what the answers would be, and she had no desire to go wandering around telling the world she was thinking of letting a man tie her up. Bad enough doing it in public without having to talk about it. But if she could justify a late night and the resulting morning off from studying her craft, she had to stay safe. As hot as Aidan was, she wanted to be sensible.

  Alex Allison was standing in the living room, talking to the same blonde Aidan had been talking to. Sheila. Alex was wearing a short purple latex dress, her breasts pushed into two demi-spheres above the skintight fabr
ic. Her golden-blonde hair was in ringlets, the old-fashioned hairdo in an odd contrast to the shiny clothing, but somehow it worked for her.

  Two men were nearby. One she recognized as Dylan, Alex’s husband, whom she’d met at the wedding, looking sinfully decadent in a long black velvet tailcoat, tight pants tucked into high leather boots, and a shirt with a froth of white lace. He reminded

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  Constance of a vampire caught in the clothing style of his youth, although he hadn’t seemed out of place in a tux as a member of the wedding party. The man with him was tall, lanky, dressed in old black jeans and a T-shirt. He had one hand on Sheila’s shoulder. Sheila had a black leather collar. Was it just a fashion statement? In this place, it was possible, but it might also be something more. Still, surely she didn’t wear that sort of thing all the time. People would stare.

  Alex, she noticed, had a gold chain around her neck, with a tiny lock in the middle that was studded with diamonds.

  Constance walked up and waited, not wanting to interrupt.

  “So then he gets out the single tail,” said Sheila. “That thing stings like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “I know,” said Alex, who nodded in Constance’s direction.

  “So I’ve got all these marks on my ass now, and— Oh, hi. Those raspberry things were delicious.”

  Constance smiled. “Thank you. There are some left in a box in the kitchen. You might enjoy one for breakfast.”

  “Everything go okay, Constance?” asked Alex.

  “Everything went fine. I just had a few questions.”

  “It can be a lot to take in at first, especially if you’re not used to it. Hope we didn’t embarrass you too much. Or offend you.”

  “Um, no, um, well, I’m not as innocent as I look.” Or at least I don’t want to admit it.

  Alex arched her eyebrows. “What were your questions?”