Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
My pulse hammers between my thighs. I’m salivating. Freedom and euphoria… I guess that about sums it up.
I try to nod, then realize that’s not an option. The top of the leather cutting into the soft flesh at the apex of my throat. “Yes,” I manage as a screech of pleasure, pain, or both comes from somewhere behind us. “I feel…calm.”
“Good girl,” he says, low and steady, and those two words send a wild wave of heat and excitement through me.
We stand and watch a few of the other newbies’ names being called. Several staff members now move through the attendees, handing out their little scraps of paper, the little black experiences they're all going to have. Round two will be up soon.
I'm trying to remember my safe word. What if I need it?
Watermelon.
That was the word I chose when I filled out my release form.
I smile, remembering all the summers Rye would bring watermelon to Fourth of July barbecues and teach me how to spit the seeds as my mother reminded us that we did not live in a trailer park.
Rye is so close his body heat wraps around me like a blanket. None of the other men in the club has cast a glance my way since he dragged me away. I don't know who he is to them, but if there’s a pecking order, he’s clearly at the top of it.
I have so many questions, and somehow none of them seem important right now. I'm completely at his mercy and more peaceful than I ever knew I could be.
"You doing okay, baby?" He leans toward my ear, his breath scented lightly with scotch. His favorite.
Ironic, right? My father's name is Scotch, his name is Rye.
Apparently, my grandparents enjoyed their amber liquid back in Scotland where my father and uncle were born. They moved to Michigan when they were both toddlers. Rye and my dad tell stories about their parents a lot.
They were full of Scottish grit and stubbornness but they loved their boys. They were both gone by the time my mom married Scotch and it’s a shame I didn’t get the opportunity to meet them.
I've never seen Rye overindulge in alcohol, though. He’ll pour one finger of scotch, finish it, and that's it. My father, on the other hand, enjoys his scotch, his rye, white wine, beer, margaritas on Taco Tuesday. He has been known to numb himself.
"I'm fine," I answer, swallowing against the dryness in my mouth, shifting my weight back and forth on my heels, my back pinned straight. The way he keeps checking in with me is sexier than I could have ever imagined. His interest in what I’m thinking, and how I’m feeling, is erotic in a whole other way.
The posture collar feels natural. I've been holding my neck like this since I was a toddler. How do I feel so at home in this dark, edgy, wrong-side-of-the-tracks club? Mom would curl up in a ball, have an aneurysm, a heart attack, and God knows what else, seeing her daughter like this.
"You're up for your next kink or dare after this person is done," Rye rasps against my ear. "Do you want to call your safe word, or do you want to keep going?"
A sticky stream of wetness answers him silently from between my legs. The urge to reach down and rub myself is all-consuming. Having my hands bound and immobilized only makes the desire multiply a hundred-fold.
This giant man next to me with the face of the man who raised me has my heart bouncing around in my chest. But before I answer him, the man with the slicked-back hair turns our way.
"Allegra, ready for round two, or are you tapping out?"
"I'm not tapping anything," I reply with a smile, first at him, then at Rye, who has stepped around from behind me. I add a wink, unsure where my sudden boldness is coming from. "I'll take dare this time."
The helmet-haired man nods, motioning to a young woman dressed in a frilly pink dress and knee socks, her bottom exposed under the hem to display frilly white panties. She approaches with another box, this one gold. He reaches in and pulls out a golden slip of paper.
"Now, Allegra chooses dare. What do we have here?" He pauses, dramatic tension building in the room, though most people are otherwise occupied at this point.
I did catch a glimpse of Anna earlier. She shot me a wink while a very handsome salt-and-pepper-haired man led her around the room by a leash and collar. And Jeremy looked like a pig in shit as a muscular bald man with tattoos down both arms wrapped him in Saran Wrap against a red pole, then proceeded to blindfold him.
The man's voice cuts through.
"Well. This should be interesting." He looks up, catching Rye’s eye, then mine. "We dare you to treat your guide like your Daddy, and you do anything and everything you are told as his little girl. Everything, Allegra. No exceptions. Quite daring to be under someone else’s control. What do you say? Yes or just say your safeword and you’re free to go…"