Author

Eden Bradley has been writing since she could hold a pen. When she's not writing, she's walking
through museums, cooking, eating, shopping, and reading everything she can get her hands on. She
lives in California with numerous animals and the love of her life.

Further information at: www.edenbradley.com

The erotic novels by Eden Bradley published by Blanvalet Verlag.

Salon of Lust (37055)

House of Lust (37056)
Captivating Lust
(37034) Chains of Lust
(37723) Mistress of
Lust (37724)
 Eden Bradley

Mistress of pleasure
Erotic novel

Translated into German by

Melanie Meyer
 The original American edition appeared under the title
»The Beauty of Surrender« bei Delta, New York.

1st edition
First published in German in December 2011 by Blanvalet, a
publishing group company
Random House GmbH, München.
Copyright © 2009 by Eden
Bradley
This translation is published by arrangement
with Dell Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing
Group, a division of Random House, Inc.
Copyright © of the German-language edition 2011 by
Verlagsgruppe Random House GmbH
Cover design: Johannes Wiebel / punchdesign Munich Cover
photo: © Günter Hagedorn/Hagedorn Photography Editor:
Thomas Paffen
HK · Manufacture: sam
Set: DTP Service Apel, Hanover
ISBN: 978-3-641-06151-7

www.blanvalet.de
 Part 1
Desmond and Ava serve
the master
 1

AVaInstantly
slipped through the door into the little café on Columbus Avenue.
she felt more delicious Coffee scent mixed with spicy
Garlic aroma typical of North Beach, the Italian district of San Francisco.
She stood there until her eyes adjusted to the dim light coming through the
windows. And took a deep breath to get her racing heart under control. It
did not work. She looked around the crowded cafe. Lots of Sunday
afternoon guests, she noted. They weren't there yet. Relief ran warmly
through her body, mingled with the tingling feeling of anticipation she'd felt
for the past few days. Ever since she had discussed with Marina what she
needed.
What she needed. She had never thought about it before, at least not
seriously. Her adult life so far had been a battle between what she wanted
and would have liked to do and what should be done should. What others
expected of her. Your family. Michael. At some point she got completely
fed up with it. Not that BDSM was necessarily the way out of her dilemma.
Actually, she was just looking for a deeper experience.
Ava had read about subspace, a trance-like state that can be achieved
during bondage or sensation play when someone lets themselves go
completely and gets in touch with their deeper self. A state of complete,
sensual ecstasy. This was exactly what she longed for, this might help her
figure out what she really wanted. And contribute significantly to clarifying
her problem, she just didn't really know how. At least Marina acted as if she
had a solution.
She trusted Marina even though they hadn't known each other long. They
met a few months ago at Pinnacle, one of the most exclusive BDSM clubs
in San Francisco, and after a short time Marina became her mentor and
friend. She also suggested bringing Ava together with a guy from the
Pinnacle who Marina had probably known for ages. And considered one of
the best in the art of Shibari, the fascinating ritual of Japanese bondage.
Ava looked for a free table. She took another deep breath, held her breath
and exhaled slowly and with concentration, as she had learned to do to find
her inner balance. Her pulse continued to race happily, her hands trembled.
She would meet him soon.
Was he the solution to her problem? Hopefully.
I don't know why, but she had a good feeling. She had been with other
dominant men before. However, Marina insisted that this guy was special.
Somehow Ava felt weak just at the sound of his name.
Desmond Hale.
What was the basis for her hope that things would be different with him
than with the others? She didn't even know him.
Pure wishful thinking.
Prepare to be surprised, Ava.
She spotted a free table by the window and headed for it with
determination. Took off her coat, slid into one of the chairs and stared
through the window. Everything outside was gray on gray, a typical March
day in San Francisco. She didn't really care about the weather. Instead, she
nervously looked for Marina. And after him.
Marina had told her about him, but had kept it quite secretive. Ava now
knew he was forty, a software designer with his own business. She was
twenty-nine. Marina was confident that he was the perfect guy to give Ava
exactly what she needed: total
Submission in the shibari shackles. Her deepest desire, her deepest, unmet
need.
She shifted uncomfortably on the edge of her chair, straightened her skirt,
tried to tame her wild blonde curls, but as usual was in vain.
What did he look like? Would she recognize him if he arrived in front of
Marina?
Finally the door swung open and her friend floated into the café. Ava's
heartbeat quickened as the slim, elegant woman with perfectly styled,
mahogany-red wavy hair spotted her and approached her table.
»Ah, great that you found a free table, Ava. Hey, stay seated.” Marina
peeled off her dark trench coat, hung it over the back of the chair, and sat
down, her every movement graceful. "Have you been here long?"
“No, just a few minutes, Marina.”
“Hey, girl, relax. Lighten up a bit.”
»Yes, Marina.«
Marina giggled. “You want to show absolute obedience, right? You don’t
need that with me.”
»I can't help it. After all, you're here to set me up with this strange guy. I
would like …"
"What do you want?"
“I want him to like me,” Ava said quietly so that the guests at the
neighboring tables wouldn’t overhear. She fiddled with a curly strand,
twirling it nervously around her finger. She wanted to be good. The best
possible. This had been instilled in her since she was a child.
"No problem." Marina smiled confidently. »That's why I'm sending you to
Desmond. I think he'll like you. And I think he is
exactly what you need. He can give you what I can't give you.
"I am so sorry. I know I failed again.”
"You don't need to apologize, we've already discussed this." Marina leaned
towards her and lowered her voice a little, but not enough, Ava thought.
»You just need a man for the game scenes. You have been very good to me.
You were good at the bondage games, but we both realized that you couldn't
let yourself go enough. You need a guy who will give you what you need.
Ava, we're too straight for this dynamic. Things aren’t working between the
two of us.”
“But you do it with other women too.”
»Everyone has different needs. Yours go deeper. Desmond is definitely
into that.” Marina leaned back, her smoky gray eyes on Ava. She smiled.
»Believe me, he will love everything about you. You are perfect for him,
guaranteed. I really could have thought of it sooner. And he is perfect for
you. Besides, he’s the only bondage master I trust implicitly.”
A pause followed. A young waitress came to their table. Marina ordered
coffee for her and Desmond. Marina exuded a natural dominance that made
people involuntarily submit to her. Ava admired that about her friend, but
she never wanted to be like that herself. She was far too submissive for that.
And handled it well.
Marina was the exact opposite. She was an expert with the ropes, a master,
a so-called Nawashi in the Shibari ceremonial. And she was right: the
feeling between them wasn't right. The crucial energy was missing. Ava
couldn't have said exactly what it was. As well as? She had never achieved
the mind-expanding state that she imagined deep subspace would be - that
place of meditation, of freedom. She had come close several times, but so
far it had
no one managed to give her the deep experience she so desperately wanted.
The perfect ecstasy never worked.
Maybe this time, with this man. This master of ropes.
Nawashi.
Desmond.
“Here he comes,” Marina whispered.
Ava spontaneously jumped up, her eyes fixed on the table. She didn't dare
look at him. Her pulse a hot, frantic hammering in her veins.
“Good girl,” she heard Marina murmur and felt a pleasantly warm tingle
run down her back.
“Marina.” There was a slight accent in his deep voice. Scottish perhaps?
»Desmond. Good to see you. She's the girl we were talking about. Ava
Gregory.”
He was silent for a brief moment and looked Ava up and down intently. She
held her breath. Hopefully he liked it.
And if not? What then?
Her heart skipped a beat.
He stepped closer and she caught his dark musky scent, earthy and fresh.
He lifted her chin with a fingertip, forcing her to look at him. Green eyes that
spontaneously reminded her of dark, moist, shimmering moss. They seemed
to see right through Ava. She caught a glimpse of his face, dark hair slicked
back, something that accentuated his high cheekbones and well-set jawline.
A thin menjou beard over his full, sexy lips. They were almost too sexy for
his angular, masculine features, giving him something brutally sensual.
Simply stunning, the guy.
She had never imagined that he could be damn attractive.
And I never dreamed that she could melt from the spot with his look and
smell. She suddenly felt soft
Knees, heart fluttering and stomach tingling. And was dimly aware that this
was all happening to her in the middle of a café, in the middle of the day, in
front of all the guests.
"Ava." Marina's voice. “This is Desmond Hale, the bonder I told you
about. And a good friend of mine.”
"Beautiful," he murmured.
He looked deep into her eyes and Ava swallowed. She had the feeling that
he was looking into the depths of her soul. And she felt the aura of power
he exuded.
Just like with Marina, who was also dominant. Ava recognized this and
reacted spontaneously. Still, she didn't really get in the mood with her friend
to let herself go completely. He, on the other hand, only had to brush his
finger against her cheekbone and Ava would automatically press her thighs
together to relieve the sweet desire.
Oh me. This man was certainly exactly what she needed. What she was
keen on. And more.
"She's even sexier than your description, Marina." Yes, definitely Scottish
accent, and that made it even more exotic. »So small and delicate. Like a
doll. Beautiful fair skin, a real porcelain complexion.«
“Desmond, come sit with us. I ordered you a coffee. Ava?”
Ava nodded absently and sank back into her chair. Desmond sat down
opposite her. She could almost feel him staring at her. Researching.
Insistent.
"Ava, this isn't a game scene, understand?" Desmond told her calmly. "We
have to talk, agree on what we want and what we expect from each other."
“Yes, sir, I understand.” She was familiar with these discussions from
other dominant partners with whom she had staged games. It was a
Standard practice among people in lifestyle. Nevertheless, she felt
completely overwhelmed. Shit, what was wrong with her all of a sudden?
He fixed his gaze on her for a long moment, then he leaned towards her
and she inhaled his scent again.
"You're very submissive, aren't you?"
She nodded. »For me it's something completely natural. I’ve been aware
of that for a long time.”
»Marina told me a little about you, but I want to hear it from you again.
Tell me about yourself, Ava. How you ended up in this scene. What
experiences you’ve had and how you’re coping with it.”
»I've been trying these things since I was an adult. Power exchange.
Bondage.”
Did she say that out loud? And without blushing? The other guests would
probably be shocked if they found out what they were discussing at their
table. So what? Somehow Ava missed it.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-nine, sir."
“Go on.”
»I was... one of those children who has wild imaginations from an early
age, for me it started when I was eight or nine. I had dreams where I was
kidnapped and tied up. I never thought that was a bad thing. Does that make
any sense?”
"Absolutely. At that age, I dreamed of kidnapping and tying up pretty
girls.” His laugh was contagious. Ava began to relax.
»Mmmh… I've read a lot about it. Novels above all, but also the odd
guidebook. Five years ago I was in a club for the first time." Okay, you'd
better leave out the Michael thing; This Desmond doesn't necessarily need
to know what happened to him back then
is. How he dressed you down mercilessly. “It took me a while to be... brave
enough.”
"Where was that?"
»In Seattle. I’m from Seattle.”
“Do you have family there?”
"Yes. My parents live there and my sister Andrea. I don't have much
contact with them. Is that important?"
She wasn't sure what he was ultimately getting at.
»Every aspect of your life is important. The experiences we have in life
influence how we perceive ourselves and our sexuality, not least how a
submissive partner reacts in a play scene. Consequently, it is important that
I learn as much as possible about you. But there is time with your family.
We’ll discuss that another time.”
Ava nodded. That seemed to make sense to her.
»Tell me about your experience at the club in Seattle. How was it? How
did you feel?”
»At first I found it hard to get used to, a bit bizarre - I'm sure everyone
feels that way - but it was good. It was exactly what I wanted; I knew that
immediately. It takes courage and conviction, but I just stand by my
fantasies.«
"Correct."
His sinfully full lips curled into a sensual grin. Great, so he felt the same
way. Ava secretly felt a weight lifted from her heart.
The waitress came and put three cups on the table. Desmond drank his
coffee with a sachet of sugar, Ava noticed.
Marina watched the two of them in silence. Ava's eyes were glued to
Desmond as she poured cream into her coffee with unsteady fingers.
 “But... I've never gone to extremes. It never really went deep. I think that
when I'm about to go into subspace and I'm about to let myself go, I'm
spontaneously pulled back into reality because then a thousand thoughts
race through my head, almost as if... my mind is trying to prevent me from
knowing what that's really what's going on. In these deeper levels of
consciousness. I'm fighting with myself. I'm trying to let myself go, but...
Well, I'm guessing... should I go into detail now?"
»We'll get to that later. Just tell me a little bit about your experiences with
bondage.”
“Hmmm…” She carefully sipped the steaming hot coffee and almost
burned her tongue. »I played with some people who were very good, with
handcuffs, chains, belts. Even with ropes. Until I met Marina, it wasn't
really shibari, even though I like that best. The way you get tied up. After
all, bondage has a deeper meaning. But I need someone who can stay with
me. I mean, I don't want to just be tied up and then have to endure that for
hours. I don't understand these people who go to clubs, tie someone up and
that's it. That's really not my thing. I'm sorry. Uh…am I talking too much?”
She glanced over at Marina, who gave her an encouraging nod.
"That's how I see it," Desmond said. »For me, ropes are much more than
just the simple act of tying someone up. Japan bondage is very aesthetic, it
is an art, physical and visual. And I'm a persistent player; I prefer to do it
over several hours, a whole evening is best.” He paused, raised the cup to
his lips and drank. He lowered his voice and looked at Ava.
“First we have to see what you can really take, Ava.”
She shuddered at his words. What could she really endure? She couldn't
wait to find out.
 “I want to try it, sir. I want to try all of this. I just have to do it,” she told
him. And she was serious about that. She suddenly realized that she couldn't
fool this man. She didn't even want to.
»Okay, let's get to our arrangement. So let's put it plainly: I don't play well
if I'm given too many limits. If you are one of those submissives who want
zero sexual contact, I am not the one for you. Is this a problem for you?"
Her heartbeat accelerated like a turbocharged engine. Her pussy became
wet and hot.
"No, that's not a problem for me, sir."
No, definitely not a problem. She refrained from moaning.
He leaned towards her, took her hand and stroked her wrist with his
fingertips. Her pulse raced under his touch, her skin burned like fire.
"I think that settles everything." She
nodded. "Yes, sir."
»Call me Desmond. I just think it’s better.”
“Yes, sir… er… Desmond.”
Beautiful name. Handsome man. And his accent was like warm whiskey in
her veins.
“Tell me, what else do you want, Ava?”
Millions of images and ideas spontaneously swirled through her head.
How was she supposed to explain this to him? Still, she somehow found it
great that he was inquiring about her secret desires and mentally dissecting
her life, or so it seemed to her. »I'm looking for that deeper experience. I
want to be... completely empty. And the pain game never worked for me,
even though I tried. For me it's all about bondage. Experience that certain
kick. And there’s one more thing…”
"And?"
 »I like to show off myself in the clubs. I'm definitely an exhibitionist. I
love it when I subconsciously know people are watching. It makes me
feel… beautiful.”
"Ah, Ava," he drawled, "you're the perfect girl for me."
It was heavenly good to hear that from him. She still had something on her
mind. “But...but I guess I tend to let exhibitionism distract me from my core
goal. So sometimes it’s good for me and sometimes it’s not.”
Desmond nodded. »You are very sensitive. I like this."
He took her hand, pressed his lips to her palm. A small moan escaped her
lips, pleasure flooding her senses like an electric shock, hot and
electrifying.
Oh yes, perfect.
Ava shuddered, a hot tingle crawling up her spine, spreading. She was on
fire. Flared. For him.
Try it with a dominant male partner, Marina suggested. He is probably
more able to give you the kick you crave because he brings the sexual
element into the bondage game. Ava had agreed with her friend. And she
trusted Marina to choose a good partner for her. However, she never
expected to meet a man whose fascination she spontaneously succumbed to.
Desmond Hale was intense and thoroughly dominant. He had this certain
aura, this self-image that no one dared contradict him.
As soon as she heard his voice, lifted her head and saw him, Ava wanted
nothing more than to serve this man.
And now that she knew of their mutual agreement, she could hardly stand
it anymore.
“Sir…Desmond. May I ask something?"
 "Clear."
"When can we start?"
He laughed and she was afraid she had said something wrong. However,
he squeezed her hand, stroking her wrists again with his fingertips, so
lightly that she barely felt it. An erotic shiver ran through her body and she
sighed in relief.
He let go of her hand and turned to Marina. “Tell me exactly what
happened between you two.”
He took a long sip of coffee, and Ava watched in fascination as his
Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.
"She was good," Marina said. »Very submissive, you noticed that yourself.
She follows instructions perfectly. And she loves the ropes; I noticed that
straight away. She quickly got to the edge of subspace, but it never went
any deeper, no matter how long I left her tied up or how elaborate the knots
were, but she already told you that. I never tried the hanging thing; we only
did it three times anyway. She never went far enough, otherwise I might
have tried. She definitely has a block there.”
He turned back to Ava, looking into her face. “We’ll manage,” he said
with emphasis in his voice. It almost sounded like an order. His accent was
thicker than usual. “No matter what it is. No matter how long it takes."
She nodded, suddenly feeling a huge lump in her throat. The thought of
what he could do to her made her weak in the knees. Not that it mattered;
She would go along with anything anyway, no matter what he asked of her.
She knew she was subservient to him and willing to break all taboos.
"I'm convinced you'll overcome the blockage with her," Marina just said.
“If anyone can do it, it's you, Desmond. She also seems to really like you.”
She grinned at Ava, who promptly turned red.
 “Ava?” He stared at her intently, his green eyes shimmering darkly in the
faint sunlight streaming in through the café windows. »Tell me, do you
really want it? That we work together? That I play with you? And tie you
up according to the shibari ritual?”
She swallowed hard to clear the knot in her throat. It was the tense
anticipation, the nerves, pure desire that spoke in her voice.
“Yes, please, Desmond,” she managed to say.
"Excellent. I'll email you a questionnaire. “You’ve done something like
this before, I take it?”
"And."
»Fill it out and email it back to me. With the questions you have for me. I
want us to be open with each other. It doesn’t work any other way.”
She nodded. Her head suddenly went blank.
"I'll look at everything and then we'll find out if you still want it."
"Oh, I'm sure she wants to, Desmond." Marina looked at Ava intently, her
gray eyes sparkling. “She’s practically vibrating with pleasure now.”
Ava's cheeks glowed. It was true. She had never been so horny. He
laughed, a throaty dark laugh that physically turned Ava on. Oh yes,
everything about him turned her on.
»Don't worry. I’ll let you hear from me.”
»Bald?«
“Impatient, Ava? Don't worry, you'll end up in my hands soon enough. In
my ropes. Unless you change your mind.”
“Certainly not, sir… Desmond.”
He grinned, raised her hand to his mouth, brushed her knuckles with his
lips, feathery light and sinfully erotic.
 »Sorry, but I have to go; I have a date. I’ll be in touch soon, sweet Ava.”
Marina stood up and gave Desmond a quick hug. Ava remained seated, her
knees trembling. The wet tingling sensation began to pulse between her
thighs and she involuntarily crossed her legs.
Disarming.
Sweet.
When would is again at her report? When would she
see him again? She couldn't wait.
She stared after him, absorbed, as he pushed his way between the tables
towards the exit. Her head went on a merry-go-round.
»Ava?«
"Yes. What? Sorry, Marina.”
Marina laughed and sat down again. "You do not have to apologize. I'm
guessing you've really got it, haven't you?"
“Yes.” She pushed her wild curls out of her face. “Good heavens, yes.”
"I thought so. Take it easy. Think again about your conversation, about
what you want from him and what he might want from you.”
"I don't think about anything else."
“I knew that.” Marina looked at her. »But are you really ready for him,
Ava? Especially since I think it will be an experience that can change your
life. You may open up to Desmond in ways you never imagined. Assuming
you get what you secretly want, do you think you can handle it?”
"Yes I am ready."
That was her. Ready for anything because he would be her master.
Desmond.
 She had never met anyone like him. Desmond fueled her with lust until
she felt like she was going to explode. She longed to serve him, to do
anything to make him happy. She suddenly realized that she had always
held back and never lived out her desire to the fullest. However, with him
anything was possible.
Crazy to feel that way after just twenty minutes of sniffing each other!
How was she even supposed to assess whether this man could change her
life, as Marina assured?
Her pulse was racing, her heart was pounding. With desire. With
excitement. The old fears suddenly flashed through her mind. Michael, who
had explained to her that he rejected her wishes. Abnormal. Terrible. Still,
he had gotten it for her, an awkward, painful experience.
She spontaneously ignored her concerns. She had long since come to
terms with what happened with Michael, hadn't she? After she realized that
her sexual desires scared him because he didn't really understand her, and
after that everything went wrong.
Stop thinking about the past. That is snow from yesterday.
She decided to imagine the future in rosy colors. Because she would soon
have everything she ever dreamed of. Marina was right: Ava really wanted
it, but she was still extremely nervous about it.
 2

AvaNofrantically unlocked the front door and stumbled into her apartment.
idea how she made it home - from the city to the
Sunset District, near the beach.
She ran straight to her bedroom, throwing her purse on an antique dresser.
Her cat Wicked hissed in fright, jumped off the bed and shot like a black
ball of fur into the hallway. Ava hastily tore off all her clothes and stood
naked in front of the oval, carved wooden mirror that hung above the
dresser. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. The wild mane of light
blonde curls that flowed around her shoulders. Her big blue eyes glittered
hungrily. She felt hot; her cheeks, her breasts. And her nipples were two
hard, pink tips that wanted a little pampering.
And…
She ripped open the top dresser drawer and rummaged around until she
found a pair of nipple clamps, two small alligator clamps connected with a
chain. Ava caressed her breast, her fingers tweaked the nipple, and she
moaned softly. She rubbed it between her fingers, pinched the sensitive skin
and spontaneously became wet between her thighs. She worked on both
nipples, pinching and rubbing until they throbbed hotly. She then attached a
clamp to one of the nipples.
A mixture of pain and excitement shot through her pussy, which promptly
became slick and wet.
Oh I...
The tiny metal teeth were cold against her skin but warmed quickly. She
twisted the other nipple between her fingers, pulled on it, snapped the
second clamp shut. And sucked in a hissing breath as
the excitement sent burning shivers through her body. It wasn't so much the
pain itself as the torture, the idea of ​submission.
Her gaze focused on the mirror again. She loved looking at herself in this
pose: her skin tingling pink with desire. Her breasts, her pussy swollen. She
slid her hand between her thighs and felt her wet, greedy slit.
What would Desmond think if he could see her like this?
She imagined his extremely handsome face, his big hands. He would
process them with that – but when?
Her camera lay on the dresser next to her carelessly thrown handbag, an
old Nikon that she had bought years ago for her high school photography
class. She considered taking a photo of herself and emailing it to him. So
that he could see her heated skin, her distant blue eyes. No, better not until
he asked for it himself, and then she would do exactly as he instructed.
Her fingers slid between her swollen labia, finding the hard clitoris.
Desmond.
The phone rang and she jumped.
She fished the cell phone out of her purse and snapped it open.
"Yes? Hello?"
»Ava.«
Desmond.
She was shaking all over.
»S…sir?«
"I have a few instructions for you."
Oh! I. His voice in her ear, he gave her orders. And her body shuddered
with desire, the clamps tight on her aching nipples.
"Yes, sir. Sorry…Desmond.”
 »It's something fundamental. And it has to be.”
»Okay.«
Oh yeah. She wanted to do everything for him.
»You'll keep your hands off yourself until our next meeting. Is that clear? I
don't want you to masturbate yourself. No matter how."
Good! Could the guy read minds? Her breath caught in her throat.
»Ava. Are you still there?"
"And."
“Did you get that?”
"Yes, I have."
She got it, and she didn't want to disobey. No matter how hot she was at
the moment, no matter if her body was shuddering with excitement.
"Very good. I'll get back. Check your email for the questionnaire. Get it
back to me as soon as possible, but don’t rush your answers.”
"Yes, of course."
"And Ava?"
"And?"
He lowered his voice. “I'll tell you something else... I can hear your
agitated breathing. I can literally smell your lust through the phone. I know
exactly what you're like right now. You're holding back, is that clear? For
me."
Yes, for him.
“Yes, Desmond, I will. Promised."
»Good girl. I’ll get back to you.”
Click. He hung up. She
could have screamed!
Instead, she wanted to obey and do whatever he asked of her. She sniffed
the faint sea scent of her own juices on her hand and snapped the phone
shut.
 Oh Gott …
She took another look at her reflection in the mirror, noticed her eyes:
shiny, moist. And the nipple clamps, the metal chain that swung between
her breasts with every breath, gentle, eroticizing. She shook her head at
herself. With a heavy heart, she pressed the mechanism of the clip and took
it off. And gasped in pain as the blood rushed back to her numb flesh. She
took a deep breath before releasing the other clip and throwing the toy back
into the drawer with a sigh.
She felt driven by her hunger and desperation. Nevertheless, she wanted to
obey Desmond. Even at the risk of driving her half crazy. Was it possible to
lose your mind from unsatisfied desire? With Desmond Hale, anything was
probably possible.

Desmond turned onto Doyle Drive, took the tree-lined avenue through the
old Presidio military base, and headed toward the Golden Gate Bridge. The
scent of ancient eucalyptus trees and salty Pacific air wafted through the
open windows of his black Lexus.
I have to go home. Just go home and...
What? Why did he really want to go home? He had had a long meeting
with a client in the financial district today, so at least something like that
was distracting. At home, however, he was alone with his thoughts.
He thought constantly about Ava Gregory, her doll-like face, her porcelain
complexion, the perfect sway of her breasts under her sweater. Her breasts
were almost too voluptuous for her delicate body. Pornographic, with a cute
face. And her little pink mouth...
He shifted in his seat, groaning as he felt a painful erection.
He had to have her. Had to get her around.
 Yes. And he would get her around. Unless the little one changed her mind.
Damn, I have no idea what he would do then.
She wouldn't back down.
Was he sure about that? Or not quite?
When was the last time he doubted himself? Had he ever had anything like
self-doubt?
Not since he was an adult. He left nothing in life to chance. And chose his
bedmates carefully.
With Ava, however, he had had no choice.
And he would be good. Phenomenally good. If only he had already had
that damned introductory phase, which he consequently didn't want to skip.
He was the one who set the rules: the introductions, the formal
questionnaire, the long discussions via email, on the phone, in person,
before he touched her. This time, however, he found the waiting a fucking
torture. Nevertheless, he stuck to his guidelines. And for a good reason. It
was his responsibility to treat an obedient slave correctly. Insightful,
level-headed and sensitive. And this meant that everyone involved was well
informed.
Stupid idea to drive to her and force her to let him tie her up...
It was exactly what he had in mind.
Self-control!
Yes, self-control was the magic word. Always has been. Nothing would
change that.
He turned onto the Golden Gate Bridge, shifted back into first gear and
rolled slowly through the toll gate. Then he shifted gears and drove along
the long bridge road.
To his right stretched the San Francisco Bay, below him the lights of the
city reflected on the black velvet surface of the water. In the
To the north, the pale glittering skyline of Marin County emerged, the small
coastal town of Sausalito, his home.
At home. I have to go home. To be alone.
He demanded that Ava not masturbate; of course, such restrictions did not
apply to him.
He accelerated. The elegant limousine purred noiselessly across the
bridge, which had little traffic in the evening hours. On the other side he left
the highway and took the winding road to Sausalito. Despite the cottony
fog, he noticed the moonlit water, boats bobbing on the docks. A priceless
look that he could never get enough of, but that left him cold today.
Regardless of the speed limit, he stepped on the accelerator and roared
around corners, his tires squealing. Turn left onto a narrow residential
street, up the steep hill. Turned on his turn signal in front of his driveway
where he parked the car in front of his garage. Then he turned off the
engine.
He got out and walked down the narrow path to the front entrance and into
the hallway. Where he stopped completely out of breath.
He tossed the keys onto a console table in the entry hall and ran to the
window that overlooked the bay. That million dollar look again, but he
didn't care about it tonight. He only had eyes for the glittering sea of ​lights
of San Francisco that stretched far below him - somewhere in this maze of
streets lived Ava. The girl with the flawless complexion, the beautiful
mouth and the huge, innocent blue eyes.
His penis swelled, throbbed.
Innocent? No definitely not. The girl had tons of experience. All the more
fascinating. Almost shocking. That aura of naivety that radiated from her
look of innocence, even though she actually had it all covered up.
 The idea of ​caressing her bare skin, of sticking his fingers into every
opening of her graceful body was all the more exciting...
He pulled his throbbing hard-on out of his pants, ran his fingertips over
the head and moaned loudly.
Yes, he wanted to caress her. And captivate. Submit.
He pressed his fingers around his hard shaft and began to rub, driven by
his desire. Deep, intense pleasure shot through his body. He always had the
girl's face in mind.
Beautiful. And even more beautiful in the chains.
He braced himself against the cool glass with his free hand, rubbing
harder, faster, his cock so swollen, so sensitive that it almost hurt. But the
pleasure actually consumed him; he couldn't stop.
Ava …
He saw her in his fantasy, tied up with black ropes because he found them
particularly hot. Dark and brutal against her light skin.
His loins twitched, straining into his clenched fist. Was it just as tight?
He had to find out. Fuck. He had to fuck the girl. Had to, had to...
Ava …
He pumped faster, so damn hard it actually hurt. And it came in his hand,
his vision blurring, the glittering San Francisco Bay blurring before his
eyes.
Jesus Christ. This girl. This face. His legs gave way beneath him.
He slumped halfway in front of the window and leaned his shoulder
against the glass. His hand wet with cum, the smell intense in the still, cool
air. Coming in her...
Damn, if he wanted to play with that girl, he would have to control
himself better. And he would play with her, that much was certain. Today
In the evening he had just vented a bit. Ugh, he damn well needed it. By the
time he saw her again, he would get his libido in order. And if that meant he
had to jerk off constantly in the coming week. Five times a day. Something
like that happened. But he would handle it, he had a firm grip on himself.
As soon as he saw the girl again, he had full control of himself. And you.
After all, he was an expert in this field. Control was an important aspect of
what he did. What he wanted, demanded.
He groaned.
That was exactly the problem. He was asking too much of this girl. He
was obsessed with fucking her, the thought taking over his senses,
something completely new in his life.

Desmond was woken up by the buzzing of his cell phone. He opened one
eye and squinted at his watch. Eight o'clock in the morning. He usually got
up early, but last night he'd been up until two o'clock, doing it himself over
and over again. In the shower. In bed. He couldn't get enough. He couldn't
get her out of his mind.
Damned. He had to answer it, maybe it was a customer.
»Hale yesterday.«
“Desmond, it’s me. Marina.”
»Oh. Hi.«
“Ah, a little groggy this morning?”
He pushed a few pillows under his head and leaned against them. “Hey, one
more thing like that and I’ll cut your head short.”
She laughed. »Try is but. Of would is
NO dare, me to contradict. Neither do my playmates.”
»Don't provoke me, Marina. At some point you'll end up in my rope too,
bet?"
"Are you kidding me? Are you serious when you say that. You need it
more.”
 “A matter of opinion.”
"As usual. Come on, get it out there. Why are you in such a bad mood this
morning?”
"I was up too late."
"Your job?"
"No."
»Can you go into a bit more detail? Or do I have to drag every word out of
you, Desmond? You know exactly why I'm calling. What do you think of
Ava? Do you like her?"
»I offered to work with her. You were there."
"Yes. And?"
"And what?"
“Oh, come on, Desmond. I was there. I know how you looked at that girl.”
“How did I look at her?”
There was a short pause. "Like you're blown away by her."
“Maybe.” He had to secretly grin.
“So you like her?”
"You could say so."
Marina giggled. »But you act very mysterious. Okay, I'll let you keep your
little secret. At least for now.”
"You're being too generous with me, Domina," he drawled, with a slightly
ironic tone in his voice.
»I'll remind you. In the meantime, keep me updated, okay?”
"I'm guessing you're exchanging ideas with her."
"Logo. After all, I sent them to you. I want to know what’s going on
between you.”
"That's okay."
“You don’t sound too happy about it.”
 "What? No, no problem. I realize we have to cooperate.”
Marina remained silent thoughtfully. “Sooner or later you’ll have to confess
to me what’s going on in your head anyway.”
"I'm not exactly the communicative type, Marina."
»Probably not that. By the way, neither do I. But still …"
»Let it go. We’ll talk more another time.”
"Okay, let's do it."
He usually enjoyed their little debates, but this morning he was in a bad
mood.
"I'm late, Marina."
“That means you’re brushing me off, right? You're in such a bad mood
that it could make a dog whine. Okay, then I’ll call again tomorrow or the
day after to check what’s going on.”
They hung up. He pushed his hair back from his forehead with one hand.
He war grotesque on it. But why? It certainly wasn't because of the four
orgasms last night. Or to Ava. The girl was great, perfect. Arousing. Hot as
sin.
And that was exactly what could become a problem for him. He was
suspicious and that was annoying. What if this girl actually made him lose
control of himself for the first time in his life? For the first time since...
No, forget it. Forget that horrible night with Lara, don't do that to yourself
again. It was ten years ago; why did he suddenly remember that? He had
put the story behind him, left everything behind him and vowed never to
lose control again.
Don't think about it anymore.
Instead, his thoughts turned to Ava. He mentally imagined how he would
react to her and how he would contribute himself.
Okay, he was definitely too out of control when it came to the girl.
Impossible.
Unacceptable.
Nevertheless, it remained
a fact. Holy shit.
 3

Avacupwasof coffee
sitting at the small, dark-stained kitchen table with her laptop, a
next to her. Wicked jumped onto one of the kitchen chairs
and began to groom his dark, shiny fur. Cats were pleasantly calm pets, and
she liked that. Her cat occasionally came to her for cuddles, but most of the
time he remained unobtrusively distant. He watched her, Ava reflected, in a
similar way to Desmond: intense, searching, with eyes that shimmered
mysteriously green.
She had checked Desmond's email. For two days, ever since the encounter
in the café, she had been pondering the questions.
She had filled out questionnaires like this several times before. The
questions were mostly: was she into bondage? On spanking? Submission?
Yes, maybe, and then again not.
Some of the questions were more interesting this time, however, and Ava
resolved to answer them honestly.
When had she first felt sexually stimulated during bondage?
That was easy: even as a young girl. Those early fantasies had given her a
pleasantly warm tingling sensation in her abdomen even before she realized
what they meant. However, she had already said that in the café. She kept
looking.
She couldn't have said where the love of bondage came from. She had
played cowboys and Indians or pirates with the neighborhood children and
felt a dark sexual thrill when she was tied to a tree. But those were just
children's games, right?
She closed her eyes and reflected on those memories in fragments: a boy
from the neighborhood tied her to a tree while he was wrapping her
Rope around her legs, wrapping it between her thighs so that they rubbed
against Ava's shorts... an awesome feeling, as was the pressure as he pulled
the rope even tighter.
The idea made her feel as hot as she did when she was ten. She could
literally feel the tree bark, rough and scratchy, through the thin cotton
material of her tank top.
She reluctantly opened her eyelids and typed everything into the
questionnaire, trying to concentrate and block out her wet, hungry pussy.
Next question.
What did she hope to gain from the shackles?
Ah, that was much more difficult. And Ava didn't really know how to
answer. Only that Desmond would teach her everything. About Shibari.
About that place in her head that she absolutely had to find. And much
more. She felt it.
Desmond. The man just wouldn't let go of her and she found it difficult to
concentrate. Her body yearned for him, longed for the ropes. However, she
was an obedient student, so she wanted to answer the questions as best she
could - for him.
Her head went on a merry-go-round.
She sipped her coffee, trying to concentrate.
What were their expectations? Well... well, she was looking for a way to
block out the outside world and concentrate on her inner self. She wanted to
learn to let go, to give up on herself in the process. Although she had huge
concerns about it at the same time.
She shook her head, twirling the coffee mug in her fingers and staring out
the window. The fog outside was settling heavily on the neighboring
apartment buildings. Otherwise she would have been able to see the moon
rising over the ocean a few blocks away.
It was easier to think about the fog and the moon than what she was afraid
of and why. The fear was deep within her and was gone
don't even shake it off like
that. Michael.
She tried to think about him as little as possible. Especially since she had
her life firmly under control. But sometimes, like now, when the self-doubts
came and she had scruples about doing whatever she wanted, she stupidly
remembered what he had said to her and how she had felt. Dirty. Perverse.
Oh yes, he had used those terms when she expressed a desire to be tied up
by him. Nevertheless, he had done it. Except the whole thing had nothing to
do with eroticism. He wanted to have power over her, and not in a good
way.
At that moment she had felt that it was not what she had imagined.
However, instead of taking the consequences, she stayed with him for a
year. She now knew that her experiences with him hadn't helped her at all.
She stood in place.
The crux of the matter was: she had been in love with him. His criticism
hit her all the harder. That and the constant lectures from her family. One
thing led to another: stigmatization from the people she loved. Or tried to
love.
Michael had hurt her. Still, she stayed with him. Until she couldn't take it
anymore and finally gave him up.
Ava got up to get another coffee. She walked over to the green tiled
counter where the coffee pot sat.
She loved her tiny kitchen, the little apartment in the old stucco building.
She felt completely comfortable here. Surrounded by the beautiful antique
furniture she inherited from her grandmother and the pieces and treasures
she bought at flea markets and house clearances. She liked the creaking
wooden floorboards, the smell of old wood and plaster that hung in the old
houses of San Francisco. She loved this security, the constant, as if there
were
These solid-looking houses were a safe haven in the turmoil of life, she
thought.
Her body burned at the memory of when the boys had tied her to the tree.
Desmond kept coming to mind.
Shaking her head, she sat back down and busied herself with the
questionnaire again. Maybe this part needed to be real to consistently make
her think. To revive the deeply buried memories, the moments that
everyone tends to repress, everything that the subconscious subconsciously
stores. It was clear to her that a good dominant partner worked through all
the sex stuff both mentally and physically. In doing so, they definitely broke
the last taboos. Don't worry, she told herself, don't even try to analyze the
background.
Her phone vibrated on the table next to her. Ava read the caller ID.
Desmond.
Her pulse quickened, the blood rushed to her temples. She suddenly felt
dizzy with happiness. Desmond. It was his number. He called her. Ava was
stunned.
She took a deep breath before speaking up. "Hello?"
“Ava, are you home?”
"And."
"You haven't sent the questionnaire back to me yet."
A small, tender threat in his deep, pleasant voice.
»I'm not quite finished with it yet. I called in sick at the office today and am
sitting diligently in front of my laptop.«
"Ah very good. Then you’ll have it on the screen in front of you and we can
discuss it.”
Her throat tightened involuntarily. Her pussy too. Pulsed. Swelled.
“Ava, are you still there?”
 “Yes…yes, I am.”
»I still have a few questions for you. And wants you to think carefully
about the answers.”
“Yes, Desmond. I'll do it. No problem."
“What sexual practices are acceptable to you in bondage or play scenes?”
»Oh.«
Ugh, the guy didn't hesitate for long, but got straight to the point.
Unleashed her libido. Ava's head was spinning.
»I think this can be clarified just as easily over the phone. All you have to
do is answer yes, no, or maybe.” He paused. “What about breast
stimulation?”
She suppressed a moan and instead mumbled tightly, "Yes."
»Clitoral stimulation?«
Oh God, how was she supposed to get through this?
"And."
»Vaginalpenetration?«
"And."
»Analpenetration?«
She shuddered, overcome with obsessive lust. Felt her getting wet and
shifted in her chair.
"Yes, Desmond," she managed in a whisper.
“Even with my hands or with sex toys?”
»And, just yet!«
Anything, as long as Desmond was her master.
He stayed silent. She heard his steady breathing through the phone. How
could he ask her such things and remain so calm?
“Something different.” Another long pause. »Tell me about your hobbies.
What else do you like to do, I mean, aside from bondage and stuff?”
 “Is that also… part of it?”
»Everything is part of it.«
She glanced at some framed photos of her cat, Wicked, hanging on the
kitchen wall. »I am passionate about photography. However, I’m definitely
not a super photographer.”
"Why not?"
“Oh, I just do it in my free time.”
“When did you start doing this?”
"Even as a child. I'm particularly into black and white photography. The
idea of ​working with shades and contrasts fascinates me... oh, sorry, I'll
probably bore you to death."
"On the contrary. I would like to get to know you better. I like your
enthusiasm.”
»I'm passionate about taking photos. It used to be my dream…”
"What?" he interrupted her eagerly.
»I wanted to be a photographer.«
“Commercial photographer or something?”
"No. More towards… art. It’s stupid, I know.”
"How come? I disagree."
»You can't really make a living from photography.«
»Some people do. Why didn’t you seriously pursue your career choice?”
How should she answer this question? Ava's stomach knotted painfully.
»In my family, people earn their money through decent work. You have a
real job.«
“And being a photographer isn’t a real job?”
"No. Well, for some do. But not for me.” Her hand
tightened on the phone.
“And what do you do in your real job, Ava?”
 His question didn't sound the least bit sarcastic. He was just interested.
»I work at a large bank, in the credit department.«
“And this is a real job?”
»I am responsible for contract processing.«
“So, do you like that?”
"I hate it. God knows, I imagine interesting jobs differently.«
"Of would liketaking photos." Is war no Ask, rather a
statement.
"Yes. But that… doesn’t work.”
“Because of your family?”
"Yes. No."
“Sorry, Ava. I don't like to criticize you, but you can tell that you're tired
of being patronized."
»No, it's okay. I mean...you're right. My family criticizes me. Permanent.
Especially my mother. I'm not doing anything right for them. Hopefully I'll
get to the point where I don't care about that anymore. But unfortunately it's
still like that, whether I like it or not. Stupid, right?”
"It has nothing to do with it. It's about your feelings. Like you think."
"You're really giving me pause."
"All the better. Think about what you want from life.”
»Yes, I think so too. But when I think too much about what I want,
I...sorry. I’m getting into philosophizing.”
"That's exactly what I wanted to achieve with this."
»Oh.«
He paused again. She didn't know what to say. Finally he said, "I want to
see you, Ava."
»When?«
"Now."
"Now?"
 He was silent again. She was perplexed.
»Ava, I always follow a special plan and stick to my method. The first
meeting, the questionnaire, a few emails, phone calls before I stage
something with a girl.
“Yes?” What was he getting at?
He took another long, pregnant pause. Then: “Ava, I want to see you. I
don’t want to wait any longer.”
“Oh…” she sighed, realizing the naked desire in his voice. Was it possible
that he was as hot as she was?
Desmond was horny for her. Ava was the first woman he was really into in
a long time. He took a deep breath, his hand gripping the receiver sweating.
Leaning against the edge of his desk, he ran his other hand over the smooth
dark walnut wood.
Damn, he was talking his head off! No matter, there was no stopping it. He
had to see her. Had to have this girl.
He pushed his hair back nervously and sat up. His gaze slid out the office
window, over the bay, where the setting sun glittered gold on the water and
the last sailboats pierced the gray-blue waves. He took another deep breath,
trying to change his mind by the peaceful sight.
»You know my principle is security, sensitivity and consensus. Just like
Marina. She must have explained to you that everything needs to be
negotiated. That you have to be okay with it.”
"Yes, of course."
He heard the confusion in her strained voice. This only strengthened his
resolve.
»Are you ready to see me? Now? Tonight? Before all the formalities are
done?”
“I am willing to submit to your wishes.”
Her honesty hit him like a punch to the gut.
 Good Lord, he had to pull himself together and do his job.
“Then come to me in Sausalito this evening. I'll email you my address and
directions later." He paused. »Are you sure, Ava? You have to be 100%
sure. You have to be clear about what you’re getting yourself into.”
Yes, Mr. Careful.
»I'm absolutely sure, one hundred per cent. I know... I know what's going
on. I know my experience with you will be...different. But I want it that
way. I think I need this. With you.”
"Promise me you'll always be honest with me, Ava," he said harshly.
“Promise, Desmond. No ifs and buts."
Her voice sounded a little unsure, but he still accepted it.
“Be here at eight o’clock.”
"Okay, I'm here."
“See you later, Ava.”
He hung up, shoved his hands in his pockets and paced frantically around
his office. He ran his small software company from home; His company
rooms took up the entire ground floor of the villa built on the hillside and
were optimally equipped: with the most modern computers and the latest
video conferencing equipment. At his company he didn't look at the cent.
He didn't need to, because he was very successful. Lucy, his assistant,
worked for him from her apartment in San Jose, and they only met when
necessary. And his old friend Caleb sometimes took care of the contractual
matters when Desmond had too much on his plate. However, he preferred to
do it himself in order to have a direct line to his customers. His control
fetishism, as Lucy occasionally described it, and she was right. In business,
however, it was positive, she thought. She had no idea that this control
fetishism also affected him in other, darker areas of his life.
 He stopped at the window and stared outside again, as he had been doing
more often lately. He looked across the bay at the San Francisco skyline.
And would have liked to know exactly where she lived in this bustling
metropolis.
Ava.
Damn, he must have been deserted by all good spirits that he asked her to
come here this evening! That wasn't his style. He had been practicing his
method for years and had never deviated from it.
Until now.
She was an adult after all. And knew what she was getting into. She knew
about these games and had agreed to them.
With her breathless voice, feminine, pure seduction...
He was hard again. Or rather, still. His little friend couldn't seem to calm
down.
He pressed one hand to his throbbing cock. Soon. Soon he would have her
in his house, in his hands. Under his command.
He couldn't think of anything else. He had the hots for Ava. He wanted to
dominate her. They captivate. She own.
Was that really all he cared about?
Sure, why else? About a relationship – never in your life! He hardly knew
the girl. It was some sort of bizarre move. If he tied her up and fucked her,
he might be able to vent. Control yourself again.
Wow, awesome to fuck her...
He groaned. His cock twitched. He quickly decided to run into the small
bathroom next to his office. He stood in front of the mirror, pulled his
hard-on out of his pants and started pumping into his fist. When he looked
up, he saw his feverish gaze.
A few thrusts into his clenched hand and he came wildly, squirting over
the edge of the sink. His heart drummed against his ribs, hard and
violent.
Tonight.
The earlier the better.
Panting, he grabbed a towel and wiped away the presents. He just had to
see her, make out with her, and everything would be fine.
Liar.
No, no shit at all. He would get bored with her pretty quickly. He always
felt that way. This girl was no exception.
And why was it different with her now?
He didn't know the answer to this question. Why?
She was just a girl. Something like so many others.
Liar.
So what? Then he was one. No matter what, he wanted to be with her. They
feel. They fuck.
React. Done, off.
Liar.
Holy shit.
 4

Anminutes
that evening, Ava stood at Desmond's front door at exactly two
to eight. He lived in one of the modern two-story villas
with a dark tiled roof, the typical architectural style for the Sausalito
Hillsides, half hidden behind tall oak trees. The fresh green of the dense
foliage wafted towards her. Unlike in the city, where every now and then a
puny alibi tree flanked the sidewalk, where the air was filled with the salt
breeze of the Pacific, dust and exhaust fumes.
She took a deep breath while her eyes were glued to the large double-leaf
entrance door, painted strikingly red. Impressive. She felt a faint throbbing
pain behind her temples, but perhaps that was just her nervous tension. The
familiar little voice in her head whispered to her that what she wanted was
wrong...
Stop!
She had vowed to ignore the old tapes that regularly replayed in her head,
and it hadn't been a problem for years. Ever since she dumped Michael.
Why did it all suddenly come up again?
Presumably because Desmond had been digging into old wounds with his
questions. This had stirred her up inside and sensitized her.
Somehow it also gave it a certain kick. It was just the beginning, and she
felt she could go much further with Desmond Hale.
Relax, sweetie.
She smoothed the hem of her pink leather dress and cleared her throat. Her
body vibrated with tension, head-wise she was already in that heavenly
weightless state of opening up her consciousness, ready for what was to
come: Subspace.
 Her pulse a hard rhythm in her veins, she lifted the heavy brass door
knocker and dropped it. The loud bang made her heart race faster.
Just the peace.
Impossible, she was standing on Desmond's doorstep. Waited for him to
open the door for her. Led her into the house, into his torture chamber.
To tie her up.
She moaned, barely audible.
The door was thrown open and a broad strip of light fell onto the landing.
Ava blinked in confusion, then noticed his tall silhouette.
"Ava." His deep voice like a caress. Like velvet. She knew instantly that
his hands would feel the same on her skin.
"Come in."
His hands rested on her shoulders, taking her coat from her. Arousing,
even this small, harmless touch.
Harmless? Are you kidding me? Are you serious when you say that. The
glint in his green eyes signaled dark, wicked pleasures. Obsession. Ecstasy.
He pushed her further, and Ava had to force her eyes away from him,
otherwise she would probably have fallen full length into his living room.
The room was simply stunning. A stylish mocha brown leather group,
totally masculine. Art objects on the walls, mostly Asian: wood carvings,
masks, a carpet woven in muted earth colors - not the least bit overloaded.
Elegant, extravagant, with a touch of exoticism. It suited Desmond, with his
slightly Scottish accent, the angular features, the piercing eyes that saw
through Ava at a glance.
"Sit down, Ava."
 He pointed to one of the couches. She sank carefully onto the edge,
kneading her fingers in her lap. In order not to have to look at Desmond,
she looked intently at the generously glazed front.
“The view is amazing, Desmond.”
His gaze shot briefly to the window and then back to her.
»That's right, the view from up here is fantastic, that's why I bought this
house. I love this feeling of space. The view of the water. The boats, the
seagulls. Even in winter, when it’s gray on gray outside and the sea is
almost black and storm-tossed.«
She didn't know how to answer that. He stood there and watched her,
composed and intent. His eyes iridescent green.
"Are you uncomfortable here with me, Ava?" he asked softly. Almost
tender.
“I…I have to admit, I’m a little scared of you…uh…you.”
He laughed quietly, throatily. “Perhaps it’s better that way.”
Ava let out a nervous giggle. "That doesn't sound particularly
encouraging, sir."
“Not really?” He stepped closer until he was standing directly in front of
her, his stature intimidating. “That’s why you’re here, right, Ava? To
surrender despite your fears? And your inhibitions?”
God, she felt dizzy from his scent. And he was so damn big. So totally
dominant. The tension fell away from her and pleasure flooded her body.
Warm, intoxicating.
"I think so."
“And what else?” he asked gently. As if he didn't already know that! Ava
thought. After all, they had discussed it at length.
»I want to… lose myself in the ritual. In the special technique of Shibari.
In the act of being tied up. I definitely don't want myself like that
feel like I'm distanced from it. I don't know if I'm making myself
understandable."
»Yes, you do. And? Further?"
»I'm looking for satisfaction. But in the end that’s what we’re all looking
for, right? Ecstasy? Sexual humiliation?” She shook her head. »No, that's
not it. That would be too easy. I want more. I'm looking for...perfection.
And wants perfect be, and those are two different things.” She sighed and
pushed a curly strand of hair from her forehead. “Maybe I don’t know
exactly what I want.”
He sat down next to her on the sofa and she literally felt the heat of his
body, barely inches from hers.
“Tell me about this need for perfection.”
“Is that so unusual?”
"No. But I want to know exactly what it means to you.”
She took a deep breath in and out. How much should she reveal to him?
Best of all. She now understood that Desmond Hale could work out because
he made her feel open to anything. In any case, she really hoped that things
would be different than with the others.
»I always wanted to be perfect. Also because I was constantly told that I
had to be perfect.«
“From who?”
"Of my parents. Especially from my mother. The message was clear. Just
as clear as her disappointment in me. It's crazy - I know - that I take this
negative message to heart. But...don't get me wrong: in this scenario, in this
sexual lifestyle, I feel like I can channel my desires in a more positive
direction."
When Desmond nodded, Ava breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily, he
understood what she meant.
“But that’s not all, is it?”
 Shit, she didn't feel like telling him about Michael. But it wasn't possible
to keep quiet.
“I had... a relationship when I was twenty. Michael was a few years older
than me. He was in the Coast Guard, the total macho man. And very
dominant – of course I was really into that.”
»Mmh, logo. What happened to him?”
»I told him about my wishes. The thing about tying me up. And that I
wanted to be under his control. I didn't have much idea back then. Is
neither, How I later recognized. I
thought, Verbal humiliation is not necessarily one of them. Okay, some are
into that, but in my case it was just... degrading. He called me a depraved
slut while he tied me up and slapped me in the face. The pain game thing
was never my thing. He became totally abusive, and I didn't know at the
time that there was another way." Desmond's irises darkened; she read in it
compassion and burning anger. And felt strangely protected.
“Well,” she continued with a sigh, “it was pretty much the same thing as
my mother’s. I wasn't good enough, I was always doing something wrong.
Finally he said bluntly that he was dying of boredom. I would be boring. I
somehow didn't understand that. Why was I boring when most girls just
wanted vanilla sex? So this stuff without pain.” She became increasingly
angry. »I put up with this for a year. I should have broken up with him
much sooner. Especially since this story hasn't gotten me any further."
»But you finally decided to draw a line in the sand. That shows some
strength, don’t you think?”
»Yes, maybe so. Do you think my fantasies are somehow absurd? Or
perhaps be repulsive to others?”
»They are what you make of them. Don't let other people's judgments
influence you. By the way, your wishes are very similar to mine. The
Looking for perfection in the bonds, dominance games. That's completely
okay. It's up to you whether you're into that sort of thing or not. I’ll tell you
what: I felt straight away that you could be perfect for me.”
“Desmond…” She looked away, blushing in embarrassment. And
shuddered with pleasure.
“Ava… I have to tell you something. As I mentioned on the phone, I'm
throwing my normal routine out the window because you're not supposed to
be here yet. I don't want to fool you. We shared our sexual desires and I'm
sure we both want the same thing. Shibari as a means for a finale, a finale
that we both long for. And I think we agree on how we want to achieve it,
what you need and what I expect from you. Have we worked this out
amicably?”
"I, Desmond."
There was another pause. She wondered what was going on in his head
when he stared at her in silence, as he was now. Her heart was pounding
wildly against her ribs. She felt hot, her breasts tingled with tension - just
imagining what was about to happen.
"Do you still have questions?"
"I..." There were a thousand more things she wanted to know from him,
personal things, but it didn't really matter right now. She also liked the
mystery, the unknown, the first few times she played with a new Dom. She
trusted him. She wanted him. She didn't need to know anything more. "No,
Desmond."
“Then let’s start now,” he said, his voice calm and assertive, pure
eroticism.
She nodded. He stood up, took her hand and helped her up. Oh, how she
loved those little polite details. Plus his melodic accent, his angular face, his
large, beautiful hands...
 He led her through the dim house, and Ava mentally memorized every
detail. They came through a spacious dining room with wall-to-wall
windows that overlooked the dark, sparkling bay, a round designer table and
leather-covered chairs were the only furniture, simple and beautiful, on the
table there was a narrow glass vase with delicate green orchids. Then they
crossed a hall, on the walls were small framed black and white photos that
had been taken during the construction phase, she noticed upon closer
inspection. They passed two open doors, one of which was a bathroom, the
other probably something like a guest room, Ava guessed, not being able to
see much in the dim lighting. A third door, at the end of the hall, was
locked.
He stopped in front of it and turned to Ava. He was silent again. Then he
cupped her chin with one hand and looked deep into her eyes.
There was so much intensity in his gaze - almost too much. His fingertips
were warm on her chin. Her stomach was in knots. She was suddenly afraid,
terribly afraid. And an overwhelming desire for him to touch her. That he
tied her up. Pleasure spread warm and tingling through her body.
“Ava…” Was there a little tremor in his voice? No, she was definitely
imagining it. »This is your last chance. If you still want to change your
mind…”
She shook her head. »I am exactly where I want to be.«
He smiled and leaned over her. Brushed his lips against hers, feathery
light, an adrenaline rush for Ava's senses.
He opened the door and pushed her into the room.
A gigantic bed with turned wooden posts that reached towards the high
ceiling. More windows with panoramic views of the bay let in the night: the
dark sky, the twinkling stars. The young woman spontaneously had scruples
about being watched,
although no one could see inside. Wall lights made of smoked glass
provided mild, soft light. Music was playing softly, something catchy and
meditative. There was a large rack attached to one wall, similar to the ones
Ava had seen in the fetish clubs. This one, however, was beautifully carved,
had poles and supports upholstered in brown leather, and had gleaming
brass hooks all around. Next to it stood a high bar on which colored ropes
hung: white, black, red, blue. Ava caught her breath.
He stood directly behind her so she didn't see him. She could only feel his
presence, his body heat. And his warm, mysterious scent that excited her
senses.
“Do you know what that is, Ava?”
She nodded. "I think so. Looks like the bondage racks in the clubs.”
"Yes, that's right. Here I can carry out complex bondage actions, strapping
in, hanging up. Anything.” And after a short pause: “Be prepared.”
Oh, it wouldn't take much for her to fall off her feet in front of him!
»Ava, take off your clothes. Everything."
She paused, opened her mouth and closed it again without having
accomplished anything. Everything he asked of her was within the normal
range, but she still felt somehow overwhelmed.
Should she resist? No, zero chance. She was shaking with excitement and
also a little bit with fear. She wasn't really afraid of him. It was the
dominance he exuded.
She took off her dress, her bra, her high heels and finally her wet white
lace thong, which he took from her. He twirled the tiny something in his
fingers, stroking the delicate tip with his thumb.
 “I like that you're wearing something so cute. "That was one of the first
things I noticed about you," he admitted, placing her clothes at the end of
the bed on the dark velvet throw. “That aura of innocence.”
Incomprehensible! She stood stark naked in front of him and he spoke
calmly about sweet and innocent.
“And there’s something else,” he continued calmly, almost reverently.
"Your stunningly beautiful skin." Desmond pushed a finger between her
breasts and her nipples spontaneously hardened. She shuddered all over. He
pressed closer, spreading his fingers, pressing his palm between her breasts.
“I feel your heartbeat, Ava. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that mine is
pounding just as wildly.'
He took her hand and brought it to his muscular chest, and she felt his
heart pounding beneath his black cotton shirt.
My God.
She was like putty in his hands. Intoxicated by his closeness.
"That's why we're here together now," he said.
He took a step back and took a deep breath. She couldn't answer him
because her mind began to sink into that trance-like state at his beauty, at
his commands, at her own obsession with submission. She involuntarily
clasped her hands behind her back and lowered her head.
“Ah, good girl.”
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at his words.
"Stay as you are while I prepare everything," he explained.
She waited. With bated breath. Dizzy with desire, with anticipation.
She heard the familiar whirring of the ropes, then he stood in front of her,
took his hands from her back and pulled her forward.
"We're starting now, Ava."
 Her body willing and submissive, he pushed Ava under the wooden frame.
Her brain was now absolutely blank.
Desmond.
There was only him left. Desmond, the bonds, the excitement that gripped
Ava before he wrapped the first rope around her body.
Desmond silently drew the first noose around her waist. And she
shuddered hard, her muscles tensing and relaxing, her pussy growing wet.
He leaned toward her and asked, "Taoist philosophy, does that mean
anything to you?"
"No, Desmond," she whispered.
»Okay, I'll tell you a little bit about it. Afterwards I'll give you books that
you absolutely have to read." He wrapped the rope over her back, around
the front of her body and knotted it tightly: it felt like cool silk. Only tighter.
Heavenly. »The Taoist teaching says to give up the fight against the
inevitable. To let go. When I first read about it, I spontaneously realized that
this is what we do in this lifestyle. Do you understand what I’m trying to
say, Ava?”
“I...I think so. You think I have to give myself to you. Submit to the act.
Being able to let go.«
“Yes, exactly.” He nodded affirmatively. »Because the liberation you seek
lies in the act of submission. In total submission. Not that you think I
wanted to make you my sex slave - I'm not interested in that sort of thing.
When you're not in shackles, I want to be able to have a normal
conversation with you. You are an intelligent, bright young woman and not
a brainless doll. But first you have to learn not to resist what is happening to
you here, what you have asked for and what you want. Or what I wish for,
if you prefer. You and me, we will work this out together. And we're going
to do a few things to get you there. We start with
meditative breathing. If you've ever done yoga, you know the technique.
Now I want you to hide everything. Just focus on my voice. How you feel
in the bonds.”
Oh, that was easy. She was just concentrating on the bondage experience
anyway.
"Inhale, Ava," he ordered. »Through your mouth, into your windpipe, and
then you force the air deep into your stomach. Good. And now breathe out
slowly. And while you do that, you concentrate. On my voice. On your
breath. The ropes.”
She felt the silky texture on her skin as he wrapped a second rope around
her shoulders and began to place her in some sort of body harness. Ava
sank into the ropes, into the play of his fingertips and knuckles as he
manipulated the ropes.
Too bad he doesn't really caress me...
Shit, her mind was wandering.
Pay attention. Breathe.
Yes, just let go, hide everything...
»Take a deep breath, girl. Take your time, slowly... yes, that's good. And
again. My voice. Your breath. The ropes.”
Desmond couldn't believe how quickly this girl let herself go, drifting into
that trance-like state. He watched as her eyes glazed over and she closed her
lids. She continued to follow his instructions: breathe in and out. Calm and
steady, like she was sleeping, except her nipples were two hard, dark peaks.
Swollen. Incredibly provocative.
He pulled the rope tighter over her pale flesh, trying to concentrate.
The control.
Otherwise he would have greedily attacked her.
Bald.
 Yes, once he tied her up, once he did everything he could to get her into
subspace, once he finished his job with her...
His cock became rock hard in his pants.
Control yourself, man!
Jesus, she was just gorgeous. And the black rope looked even hotter on her
fair skin than he imagined. Damn, it was hotter than his wildest fantasies, in
every way. How she looked naked... stunningly beautiful, her large breasts
squeezed into the tight restraints. Lonely peak.
His cock twitched sharply as he ran the underside of his fingers over a
perfect breast.
A sweet little sigh escaped her lips.
»Still, Ava.«
He had to pull himself together. And stay tough.
Keep going.
She took a deep breath, and so did he. He pulled the rope over her body
and soon found his rhythm, with the music, with her breathing and his.
Across her torso, between her seductive breasts. Her skin was silky smooth.
Baby skin.
No, think of something else.
He concentrated on the complicated technique of tying and took a lot of
time. And the body harness became more and more perfect, the ropes
crossed each other in a herringbone pattern, leaving only Ava's breasts
exposed. He placed his hand on her soft, downy neck, both breathing
evenly, and admired her, his cock rock hard. However, he kept his attention
on the process, on Ava as she slipped further and further into the state of
subspace. Her body relaxed, her weight supported on Desmond.
About an hour had passed when he pushed the rope between her thighs,
the back of his hand brushing against her privates.
Jesus, she was wet. Wet. She moaned, moving her hips. He held back a
groan as he wrapped the rope around her body and secured it tight.
“Ava, are you still with me?”
"Yes, Desmond," she murmured, her eyes closed further. He noticed the
finely branched blue veins on her eyelids and found it somehow touching.
He didn't know why.
"Very good. Keep it up. My voice. Your breath. The ropes.”
She nodded almost imperceptibly. Oh yes, she had arrived, in that
weightless state of floating. Now it was time to find a way to immerse her
even deeper, to take her all the way.
He pulled another rope from the wall bar, bent her arms back and tied
them behind her back, carefully testing the pressure of the rope. Even the
slightest mistake could disrupt blood circulation or create a visual flaw in
the perfect symmetry that was as important to shibari as the ropes
themselves or the act of bondage.
He felt her shudder, a very slight vibration rippling through her body. The
glow she exuded was indescribable. He tied the rope several times around
her biceps, arms and wrists, binding Ava's shoulders tightly behind her back
so that her breasts jutted out provocatively. She kept very still.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. »You are beautiful, Ava. I just have to tell
you.”
»Ah … Desmond …«
She lowered her head and he breathed in the fresh scent of her hair. He
raised a hand, tangling his fingers in the silky curls and pulling her head up.
Ava complied willingly, and her reaction gave him a feeling of absolute
power over her. Combined with the inspiring feeling that she submitted to
him.
 She began to let go. However, he noticed that she was still tense.
Somehow distant. Marina had warned him about it.
With one hand in her hair, he slid the other down her body, between her
breasts. He hesitated for a moment before sliding his hand through the rope
and cupping the soft flesh.
"Oh..." Her soft sigh, her hitching breath - by now he was hard as steel.
Almost burst.
His hand slid over her other breast, over the soft fullness, rubbing her firm
tip.
»Oh, Desmond …«
She squirmed in the bonds.
Hold still!
He couldn't get the command out of his mouth, her gently swaying body
far too arousing to stop. Instead, he grabbed her nipple with his thumb and
forefinger and pulled.
She moaned, her pelvis arched, and he did it again, pulling, pinching,
twisting. She twitched uncontrollably. He saw that her eyelids were further
closed.
He let go of her hair and stroked her breasts with both hands, stimulating
her hard breasts again. He enjoyed the fantasy of spontaneously thrusting
himself into her body and fucking her in this position, knowing she was in
his power. But he wanted to wait. The erotic tension that the sight of her
created was fantastically good. And he loved these long sessions, the sweet
torture of waiting, the pure pleasure as a meditative force.
His hands remained on her nipples, pinching, twirling, stroking gently. He
enjoyed the experience, her ragged breathing, her little cries of pleasure
when he squeezed hard, the pulsing in his cock. Finally he realized that his
fitness was failing him and that he had been playing with her for hours.
Added to this was the almost unbearable pressure in his little friend.
 He pulled her to him. With one hand pressed to her bound body, he pushed
Ava's back against his stomach. His erection pressed against her firm naked
buttocks. His hand slid over the ropes to the base of her thigh.
“Ava…” His voice died in his own ears.
"And . . . and, Desmond."
“Are you wet, Ava?”
"Oh me."
»Can I touch you? Slide my hand between your thighs? Until you come?"
"Please, Desmond," she whispered between two ragged breaths.
“Then tell me, Ava. Tell me you're mine. "That I can do anything I want to
you," he blurted out.
"Yes! I'm yours, Desmond. You…”
He froze as if struck by lightning.
I belong to you.
Why was his head suddenly spinning? As if a knot was unraveling there,
as if something was unraveling, as if he had finally become enlightened?
She was his. Damn, that was his most fervent wish at the moment. He didn't
understand what was going on with him - between them. But it was too
good to stop.
He just knew he wanted to screw this girl.
Ava.
The craziest things were happening in his head. At least something that
had nothing to do with dominance, with control. The fact was that he
wanted Ava, her needed – and thus lost command.
What did that mean? He did not know. At the moment, only one thing
mattered: that she was there and belonged to him. Fuck the mind fucking.
He was damn sure she was worth a sin.
 5

DEsmond's head was pounding, his pulse was pounding in a wild staccato.

Ava.
Enchantingly beautiful.
He had to own her.
His fingers slid into her wet pussy crack. So swollen and slippery that he
half lost his mind. He pushed his fingers into the wet, silky warmth. She
went off like a rocket, tightening her can around his hand as he pumped into
her. She moaned and screamed.
His erection was throbbing; he could hardly stand it. But first of all it was
about her.
Ava.
Good heavens.
She came, shuddering and moaning softly. Trembling, she leaned on him as
he untied her.
"Very good, Ava."
Oh yes, very good. Almost too good. He could barely control himself, his
painfully throbbing cock. And the other story that was going on in his
head...
He carried her to the bed, where he carefully laid her on her stomach. Her
eyes were closed, her blonde hair fell wildly curly over her face and over
her shoulders. He knelt next to Ava, trying to ignore his little friend. He
focused on the sexy swing of her hips in the bonds, on her bottom, her
perfectly shaped legs.
 “Ava.” Her eyelids fluttered open, a bright blue flash. Shiny, huge pupils.
Again he was overwhelmed by her innocent aura.
"I'm going to do a few breathing exercises with you now."
»And...«
 He pushed her curls aside and pressed his hand gently but firmly into the
back of her neck to keep her still.
»Breathe in, into your stomach. Yes, and hold your breath for a moment.
Good. Breathe out slowly. And again."
He instructed her quietly, demonstrating and falling into her breathing
rhythm; he needed to relax and concentrate, just like she did. Within
moments she relaxed under the gentle pressure of his hand.
His cock throbbed even harder.
However, he only registered this vaguely. Since he was the top in the
game, he had a lot of responsibility for his bottom partner, so his own needs
had to wait. He was determined to satisfy her needs, and her climax earlier
made it clear to him that she was well on her way to reaching a deeper level
of relaxation.
»Very good, Ava. I'll stop giving you instructions now. Nevertheless, you
continue to breathe the way I showed you so that you can feel my breath
and be in sync with me. Let yourself drift mentally, let go, just as you let go
of your body. To find that place.”
He stayed with her for about twenty minutes, during which time his hand
rested on her silky neck. She was lying completely still, but he could still
feel the energy flowing through Ava, crackling in the room in an electric
way. It was pure sensuality. And he felt the velvety texture of her skin
beneath his palm...
He checked the blood circulation in her hands. They were a little paler
than he would have liked.
His own body tingling with that sensual, underlying energy - hers and his -
he leaned over her and whispered, "I'm uncuffing you now, Ava. Do not
move."
He untied the knots, carefully unwrapped the ropes from her arms and
hung them back on the wall bar. When he returned to the bed she was
breathing
evenly, but he registered the change in her perception. He picked her up and
sat her at the end of the bed.
Her eyes were open, gorgeously blue and bright, as if her body was
radiating from within. He could feel the heat radiating from her in erotic
waves. And he was still rock hard and horny. He had to fuck her. But not
tonight.
Torment.
But it was his job: to do what was best for her.
He helped her to her feet. It took all of his self-control to hold her, one arm
wrapped around her slender waist, her bare breasts teasing, inches away
from him. All he had to do was pull her to him, mold her body against his,
slide her hands onto those breasts, between her enticing thighs, into her
slippery hot cave
…
She swayed and he involuntarily hugged her tighter.
»Is it okay, Ava? Can you stand?”
"Yes. Everything okay."
He untied the knots and let the rope slide over her skin, enjoying the feel
of the soft nylon texture sliding through his palms. And she stood
completely still, like a real doll, with her big blue eyes, her pink pout. Her
expression showed no emotion. Except her eyes were shining, lively,
euphoric.
When he was finished, he gently pushed Ava onto the edge of the bed and
sat next to her. Then he put a blanket around her shoulders.
“What are you feeling, Ava?”
For what reason interested him the so burning?
Especially since is above his responsibilities as a top went
beyond.
"I feel … nothing, anyway not much.
Perhaps A little endorphin rush or something.”
"Nothing else?"
 "No I do not think so."
He stayed silent. That, he mused, was her problem.
»Could this be part of your problem? That you don't want to allow the
sensations that the ropes can give you? That you resist intensely feeling
what’s happening to you?”
"I have no idea."
“Think about it carefully when you go home before we see each other next
time.”
She nodded.
"Are you cold?"
"No, Desmond."
"Are you thirsty?"
“Thanks, no, Desmond.”
He looked at her face. He seemed sad, depressed. There was something
about this girl. He wanted to know what it was. Help Ava solve her
problem. Her secret fascinated him.
Hell, she fascinated him.
Don't kid yourself. There's a hell of a lot more to it than
that. Fuck. He had to pull himself together.
"Ava, do you even want to see me again?" he asked, his voice harsher than
intended.
"And."
"I frag you the later again, if of Time had,
"Come back down, okay?"
»Okay.«
Maybe she'd change her mind once her condition returned to normal.
“Come on, I’ll help you get dressed.”
She let him put on her white lace thong and her leather dress. Then she had
to carry her shoes in her hand and into him
Follow the living room, where he gave her a glass of water to drink. He
asked her to snuggle up comfortably on the sofa with her blanket. Where
she slowly came to again, out of subspace, out of this strange daze.
»Ava, we will discuss tonight in detail soon. So in a day or two, once
you've processed your impressions. Now let’s just chat a bit.”
"About what?"
»Mmh, about us. What do you do. What moves you. Tell me how you met
Marina.”
She nervously pushed her blonde curls out of her face and began
tentatively: “I went to one of your events one evening, at the Pinnacle. It
was a workshop about bondage, and afterwards I asked her if she knew
someone I could work with, someone with experience. Someone who really
knows what he's doing. She then worked with me several times…”
Ava paused, biting her bottom lip. As her white teeth dug into the full,
rosy flesh, Desmond's fingers itched to caress her lips, to kiss her. His
loosely hanging hands clenched into fists.
Ava continued. “Then Marina told me about you. That you’re both in the
club and know each other from there.”
"Yes. And I plan on taking you with me at some point.”
»When she brought up Shibari and the formal ritual, I thought maybe she
could... but it didn't work with us; but you already know that.”
She swallowed and looked away.
"What is it?" He put his hand on Ava's shoulder, feeling her shudder.
“Tonight…that was…that was…”
 “It went deeper with you than I expected, but you're still too tense. After
all, it was only our first time. We'll try again unless you don't want to
anymore."
“No!” She paused. “But… uh… sorry, Desmond. Of course I'm up for it,
assuming you want it too." Ava blushed in embarrassment.
“Yes.” He reached out and stroked her cheek with a finger. "Honestly, I'm
dying to get going with you." She smiled, for the first time since he'd taken
off her bonds. He took her hand, stroking the soft skin with his fingertips.
Baby skin. Adorable.
»Desmond? Can I ask you something?"
»Yes, done.«
»Why do you want to work with me? Is it just the challenge?
It’s…important for me to know.”
»Sure it's a challenge, and most Doms are into that sort of thing. But you
are something... special. You're like a puzzle and I'm keen to find the
missing pieces. I definitely don't mean that in a negative or condescending
way. On the contrary, I was spontaneously fascinated when Marina told me
about you, and even more so when I met you.”
Now even more. Much more.
“Marina…will you tell me how you know her?”
She snuggled into the sofa cushions, becoming increasingly relaxed. Great,
he thought.
»Marina and I are old friends. We've known each other forever, almost ten
years. She was very young back then. And beautiful, she still is. She was
just starting to get interested in Shibari. I hired her as a bondage partner at
demo sessions and quickly discovered that she was a top performer. She
didn’t know until then.”
"Ah, you were her lover."
Was there a hint of disappointment in her voice?
 »No, we were never together. What would have happened with us would
have been a constant power struggle. Instead we became friends. Although
we rarely saw each other when she was with Nathan.”
»Nathan?«
»Your lover. Your sub. They had a very intense relationship. He died of
cancer four years ago. Marina wasn't in the clubs for over a year after that.
She hasn't played with a man since she's been back on the scene."
"How tragic."
"And."
He caught her eye. Her eyes were swimming with tears. She didn't even
seem to notice.
Why could she cry uncontrollably in his presence but not really let herself
go in the bonds? Ava was very sensitive and easily hurt, he reflected. And
from what she'd told him tonight, he was pretty sure he had some kind of
influence on her. But how could he help her break through her barriers?
He really wanted to see the girl again.
He squeezed her hand gently.
»We'll chat more next time. Until then, I’ll give you a few tasks to do.”
She nodded and straightened on the sofa, her breasts pushing against the
tight corset of her leather mini. Desmond still had a semi-hard on. He'd had
it since they arrived - apart from the bondage act, where he was hard as a
steel pipe. He was horny no matter what they were talking about.
"I'll send you a list of books," he continued, "about Shibari, about Taoism.
You get them and read them.” She nodded again. “And you don’t touch
yourself or bring yourself to orgasm, got it?”
"Yes, of course."
 »I'll see you again next week. By then you have answered the remaining
questions in the questionnaire. And one more thing, Ava.”
"And?"
“I'm working in the South Bay for the next few days, but starting
Thursday I'll be calling you every evening at eight o'clock sharp. Be home
and answer the phone.”
"I, Desmond."
She smiled, happy and happy with his instructions. Ah yes, this girl was
pretty much perfect.
»Are you feeling okay so far? Then I’ll call you a taxi.”
"Yes everything is okay. I'm just a little tired.'
He called the taxi company. While they waited, he told Ava about the
Pinnacle. Then he put her in the taxi and paid the driver in advance for the
long ride back to San Francisco.
The car drove off. Desmond watched him until the taillights disappeared
into the darkness. Fog rolled in over the bay, damp and heavy. He felt thrown
off balance, something that hadn't happened to him in a long time. Not for
years. And only after very long, intense gaming sessions. But it was the
same feeling of diffuse dizziness, mental exhaustion. Vulnerability.
He ran a hand through his hair. He probably just needed more sleep.
Working on the project in San Jose was nerve-wracking. He briefly
considered delegating the project entirely to Caleb. Yes, that could be: too
much work, not enough sleep. It was that simple.
So why was he standing out on the street long after the taxi carrying Ava
had disappeared into the darkness? His body whipped up with lust, his
consciousness overwhelmed by images, of her beautiful, tear-moist eyes,
her enchanting doll mouth, her fragrant curls?
 Just be careful! Don't get wrapped up.
This couldn't happen to him, could it?
He ran back into the house, slamming the door behind him irritably. As if
to get Ava Gregory out of his head and everything he thought about her and
felt about her.
Yes, get them out of your head. Forget her.
That was easier said than done.
Nice shit.
 6

DThe next few days just flew by. Ava felt numb, at her job, at home. She
forgot everything around her except
that Tuesday evening with Desmond, their shibari master. When she was
alone in her apartment, she didn't know what to do with herself. She bought
the books that Desmond had recommended for her to read during her lunch
break on Wednesday and began reading them. However, she could only
concentrate for a few pages before her thoughts inevitably circled back to
Desmond.
At night, before she fell asleep, she thought of his minimalist, elegantly
styled house, of his face and his tender hands.
Gently until he pushed his fingers inside her...
She moaned softly, lustfully, at the idea. Then she got up from the kitchen
table and poured herself some wine. Half a glass to avoid being drunk when
Desmond called.
Quarter to eight.
Her stomach tingled with desire and nervous tension.
She sipped the heavy red wine, once, twice, nervously twirling a curly
strand of hair around her finger.
She bent down to pet Wicked, who was curled up under the table as usual.
Then she pushed her plate aside; she had no appetite, at least not for food.
She had followed his instructions strictly: reading the books and
wondering why she couldn't get rid of the blockage in her head that
prevented her from reaching the deeper levels in subspace. And was just as
smart as before. It was clear to her that Michael had a lot to do with her
difficulty building trust with someone. Why couldn't she just leave this
story behind, the horrible things
hide what Michael had thrown at her back then? After all, it had been
nothing new, because he had blown the same horn as her mother.
She constantly told Ava and her sister Andrea that girls had to be perfect.
And Andrea had stuck to it: her war been the perfect copy of her mother.
The good girl. The one who made everyone happy and everything right.
Ava, on the other hand, was a complete disappointment. Although she was
trying to walk the fine line between meeting her mother's standards of
perfection and being her own person at the same time. It never worked.
Why did she actually care? Why hadn't she just thrown everything away?
She would never be perfect. Point. Out of. End.
She raised her glass, took another sip, and the velvety wine ran pleasantly
warming down her throat.
I don't want to think about it now.
No, because her thoughts were constantly circling about Desmond, about
her next visit to him. What would he say to her? Would he give her further
instructions? Ask her if she masturbated?
She hadn't, although her fingers were tingling. The sexual chemistry with
Desmond was intense, not least thanks to his demand for absolute
consensuality. And his absolute dominance. Ava was convinced that she
couldn't refuse her master anything.
Maybe that's exactly what she had scruples about. Knowing that she
would do anything for Desmond. That she was even willing to open to him
the part of herself that she had kept closed for so long. She had already
started by telling him her problem with Michael and her mother. No idea
what was behind it. Something bad, maybe? Ava realized with dismay that
she had always been afraid to find out. The fact was, she had no idea what
Desmond could convince her to do or how far she would go for him.
 Shocking. Arousing.
She felt hot, and not from the wine. Her pussy got wet every time she
thought about Desmond. Of his skillful hands, his lips that had gently
brushed against hers.
My God …
She looked at the kitchen clock. Five to
eight. Just five minutes.
Her pulse quickened, her nerve endings vibrated.
She stood up, grabbed her plate, put it in the sink and ran hot water over it.
She loved these dishes that she bought at the flea market. Green Princess.
Not necessarily valuable, but she liked the delicate sea green glass with the
engraved pattern. Over the years she had bought a full service, at flea
markets and through house clearances.
She carefully dried the plate with a soft dry towel, pivoted around and
opened one of the kitchen cabinet doors.
Suddenly her phone vibrated and Ava jumped. Dropped the plate in shock
and the glass shattered on the old black and white tiled floor.
Wicked ran out of the room in a panic.
"Crap!"
She looked from the broken glass on the floor to the cell phone lying on the
table next to the wine glass.
Desmond.
She frantically shook her hair back, took a deep breath and opened the
phone. "Hello?"
»Ava.«
»Desmond?«
“Were you expecting someone else?”
 "What? No. Of course not. No."
“Are you okay, Ava?”
No, nothing was okay. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage as if it
was trying to burst out of her chest to escape.
"Yes. Everything's okay, thanks.” She paused, carefully stepped her bare
feet over the broken glass and slid into her living room. "How was your
week?"
"Long. I definitely prefer working from home, but the driving every day
was too annoying for me, so I stayed there. The hotel was a break. And
what have you done? Do you read diligently?”
"I, Desmond."
"And?"
There it was again, his underlying tone of command, scaring her a little
and exciting her at the same time. She loved this feeling.
"I found, Tao and Puh was written in the most understandable way. Sorry,
but I’m not a big believer in spiritual things.”
"No problem. That's why I recommended this book to you. It is an
easy-to-read introduction to the Tao. I thought you’d like it best.”
"True."
»So, did it help you? Tell me, what have you learned for yourself?” She
thought for a long time before answering him.
»Hmm… well there are things that must seem completely self-evident,
such as the realization that there is no point in fighting against the
unchangeable, as you mentioned. Sounds totally logical. I now know that
I'm reacting wrongly. In the shackles and in general. The book really made
me think... that I have to decide for myself what's really important. What is
worth fighting for. And that I must never fight with myself.
»What you say is true. It’s nice that you see that.”
 »And yet I always find myself at odds with myself and resisting my needs.
My sexual desires. Because of latent feelings of guilt, I suspect. Out
of…fear. Or what do I know? This is damn frustrating.”
»The Tao teaches us the things we should strive for. Nobody is perfect. We
are human, and humans make mistakes.«
"You too?"
He was silent for a long moment. Oh crap, did she really say that?
"Please forgive me," she said hastily. "I didn't want to get too close to
you..."
»No, it's okay. I may seem superhuman to you, but I'm not Superman."
Then he laughed and she relaxed a little. "You do not have to apologize. I
like your spontaneity and sincerity. Tell me, what have you been up to?”
“I... I followed all your instructions.”
"I mean, what else has been going on in your life besides what's going on
between us?"
"Oh. Oh well. I took some time off on Monday and worked overtime on
the other days.«
»Tell me about your job, Ava. You work in the mortgage department of a
bank, right? How is that?”
»The job is extremely boring, but very lucrative, and of course my family
thinks it's great. However, I work as a freelancer and they don't think that's
great.«
“Aha, you have something against a permanent position,” he said with mild
amusement.
"May be. I haven't thought about it yet. But you are right. I prefer to be
independent.«
"What you don't say."
She laughed.
“Tell me about your family, what was it like for you?”
"Real? Do you really care?”
 "Yes. I’d like to know.”
She almost stopped spitting. Desmond chatted with her casually, as if it
was the most normal thing in the world. Still, it wasn't a normal
conversation. Ava had the impression that he was probing deeper. And she
ignored the warmth that flooded her, a glow that had little to do with sex.
Apart from the fact that Desmond was all about sex.
She twisted a strand of hair around her fingers as she paced around her
living room, phone to her ear.
"OK. So my family is pretty average, I guess. I grew up in Seattle. Or
rather, Mercer Island.”
»I've been there before, nice spot. Sausalito reminds me of that a bit. Trees
everywhere, everything is green. The hazy weather.”
"True. Seattle is gray and foggy most of the time. That's why I often felt
depressed as a child. But that could also have something to do with my
family.”
“What do you mean?” he wanted to know.
»They are extremely conservative in their thinking. My parents, my sister
Andrea. My mother is obsessed with being an avowed feminist and my
sister is her clone. Andrea aligns her life exactly with that of my parents,
but I never wanted that, even as a child. She is two years younger than me
and has already achieved a lot at only twenty-seven years old. After college,
she entered the real estate business, where she enjoyed a stellar career. In
between, she got married and had a baby a few months ago. At the same
time, she continues to manage her job, just like that, with her left hand. I
don't know how she does it. In any case, it wouldn’t be for me.”
»So you are the rebellious one. The black sheep of the family.«
“God, if they only knew…”
His laugh was relaxing. Ava now noticed how tense her shoulders were.
She went to the sofa, sat down and stuffed herself with a pillow
The back.
»Sorry. I’m sure I’ll bore you with my family stories.”
"Quite the opposite. I find it fascinating. I want to know more about you,
Ava. Tell me, what makes you think it’s an obsession when your mother
calls herself a feminist?”
"Forget it. It's certainly unfair of me; I shouldn’t have said something like
that.”
»No, you're just being honest. I like that. Come on, tell me.”
“Oh, she insists that she's one of those modern women who can do
everything and have everything. But that's... churned poop. I mean, sure,
she was always working and was never there when I needed her as a child.
We got food, clean clothes and went to good schools, but I never really had
a mother. At least that's how I felt. And my sister does the same thing, she
spends twelve hours at her job instead of with her child. I don’t think that’s
right.”
“So you think women can’t have everything?”
"No idea. Possible. Can I even judge that? After all, I don’t have any
children, I don’t even have a permanent job.”
“You’re damn hard on yourself.”
"Is that me?"
Stupid question. What he said was undoubtedly
true. He refused to answer.
“What do you think about that, Desmond? Sounds kinda… stupid, doesn’t
it?”
"No definitely not. I simply store information. And don't judge what you
tell me. Your experiences suggest to me who you are and how you react to
certain things. Getting to know you is my job.”
She remained silent thoughtfully.
“You take your job, as you call it, very seriously,” she said.
 "True. Because I take on quite a bit of responsibility. I'm not one of those
doms who just plays with a girl and lets it all happen without thinking about
it. "I am seriously considering the outcome of my actions," Desmond said
emphatically in that unmistakable Scottish accent. He seemed confident in
what he was doing.
»I really appreciate it. Still, I ask myself, what makes a person do this?
What motivates you – or others – to take on such a high level of
responsibility? Of one's free will."
"I think it tends to be in the genes, and in this day and age of
overstimulation, such tendencies are activated until we succumb to their
stimuli."
“Sorry, sir, but the explanation is too simple for me.”
»Desmond.«
»Okay, Desmond. Does that work with all your bottom partners?”
“Not for everyone.” Both were silent. Then: “There are certainly other
aspects involved.”
"Which?"
“Mmh…that’s irrelevant now.”
»But... so you do something and are convinced of the positive effects, but
don't want to explain it to me in more detail? Do you think that’s fair now? I
don't want to bother you, and you don't necessarily have to tell me. I'm just
trying to get a picture. And after all, you also wanted… well, for me to get
to know you better, right?”
"Yes, that's right, I want you to get to know me better." Another long
pause. She heard his breathing through the phone. »In any case, it's good
for me: the shibari, the power game. It turned out to be a positive outlet for
my emotions.«
“Then you had something like your personal coming out, right?”
»It's something completely natural. That can happen to anybody."
 "Yeah, you're probably right." She trailed off, twisting a curl around her
finger and pulling until her scalp hurt. “Forgive me for pestering you with
questions that don’t concern me.”
»It's okay. At least I started with the topic.«
"It's not my job to analyze you."
“Maybe...maybe so.” Another long pause. »Ava, I have to confess
something to you. With you it's different. Do not know why. And I'm not
really happy about it either. With the blocks you had during our game
scenes. That you didn’t feel anything.”
“Desmond…” She panicked. “Does that mean you don’t want to see me
again?”
"No of course not. But I wanted you to know that. I have to be honest with
you. Honesty is part of a strong, effective power exchange. And it has to
come from both sides, otherwise it won't work. It is one of the basic
requirements on which the exchange stands or falls.«
"Yeah! That makes sense."
She heard him take a deep breath. Then he lowered his voice so that Ava
had trouble understanding him. »Ava, I have something to confess to you.
I'm incredibly attracted to you. Something like this has probably never
happened to me before. And that is problematic for my control behavior.
Still, I'll handle it. It doesn't affect my actions. You’re safe with me, word of
honor.”
The desire in his voice, the intensity of his words, shot through Ava like an
electric shock, making her nerve endings vibrate with pleasure. Lust, spicy
and pure. Her breasts tensed, her pussy swelled, and she involuntarily
squeezed her thighs together.
Good Lord, if he could do that with just his voice, with a few softly
breathed words, what else could he do?
»Sir …«
 »Desmond.«
“Desmond.” The name was heavy on her lips. Heavy and sweet. Seductive.
"I count on you."
"So we're in agreement then."
“Yes,” she breathed breathlessly. And had butterflies in my stomach.
»Next time we meet, we'll visit the club. I'm interested in how you react in
front of an audience. You recently mentioned that you had a penchant for
exhibitionism.”
"Yes! Please."
He laughed. “We both have an exciting journey ahead of us, Ava.”
Travel. They always had a beginning and an end. But she didn't want to
think about that now.
“Yes, I think so too.”
»Read the books I recommended to you. I'll pick you up tomorrow and
then we'll go to the Pinnacle. Around nine o'clock. One more thing: Dress
in all white for me. Dresses, lingerie and stuff.”
"I, Desmond."
“Good girl.”
She smiled proudly. She wanted to be good for him more than anything.
Perfect. And she tried really hard to do that.
»Goodnight, sweet Ava. Sleep well and be ready for me tomorrow.”
"I'll do it. I'm ready."
Ready and wet and willing for him. Oh yeah …
They both hung up.
"I can't believe it," Desmond muttered to himself, shaking his head. He
almost chatted about his own past. Unbelievable, but he was eager to make
some revelations to her. His dark secrets, the things that he never mentioned
but banished to the furthest corners of his brain. Even Marina didn't know
about it. She had no idea about Nessie.
 The memory stabbed him in the heart.
Marina only knew about Lara. That she had left him. How bitter that had
made him.
Don't kid yourself, you were already bitter before, old house, he said
silently.
Mistake, when he met Lara, he had opened up to her and put his past
behind him. And what was the end of the song? No, he was definitely better
off that way. He was living his life and had been for the last ten years.
Til today. Until this girl who touched something deep within him. His
stomach was in knots. He went to the window, but had no view of the
spectacular panorama, the sparkling sea of ​lights against the dark night sky.
Not too deep. That much was certain for him. He had no desire to
experience that kind of shit again. He knew each other. And knew what he
could accept and what he couldn't.
The thing with Ava was damn good. He had to have her, own her, that was
the end of it for him. But the timing had to be right. Her satisfaction came
first and then his. That was his job. After all, he was responsible for his
bottom partners.
He pulled away from the window and went into the dining room, where he
opened the bar and grabbed the bottle of scotch. Glenfiddich single malt,
forty years old. A small luxury that he allowed himself - in addition to his
outrageously expensive office. He poured himself two fingers and downed
the whiskey in one gulp. Shame on you, Desmond, for downing that
precious whiskey like that, but he needed this now.
The alcohol warmed him inside and he poured himself a generous amount.
Man, get back downstairs to your office and distract yourself with your
job.
 He raised the glass to his lips, inhaled the sharp, sweet smell and managed
to overcome his inner weaker self. He brought the glass into the kitchen and
poured the contents down the sink.
Hell, what was wrong with him all of a
sudden? He tore his hair and groaned.
Hell, sit at your desk and work.
Good idea. He ran down the stairs and into his office. His personal
sanctuary, if he was honest with himself. He had been honest with Ava on
the phone. And had absolutely nothing to blame himself for. Now he
wanted to bury himself in his work and simply forget about it.
 7

AND r dived. Saw the sun above him, breaking off the waves in bright,
glittering streaks. Below him everything was dark and muddy.
He crawled, swam through the dark depths, the sunlight reflected golden
on the azure surface of the water, his body as if weightless.
One more stroke and he would have made it, he told himself. But even
though he struggled, the surface of the water seemed to move further and
further away.
A rush of panic took over his body.
Control.
Damn, he needed air. Fuck control. His panic grew, gradually, choking, in
the face of the lack of oxygen. His alveoli were threatening to burst! Where
was the surface of the water? Suddenly everything around him was covered
in dark mud, like the bottom of the lake, and he had no idea whether he was
swimming down or up, whether he was moving at all.
His arms and legs went limp, his lungs burned out. And then he saw her.
Nessie, with the cute dimpled cheeks of a twelve-year-old. With her long,
dark hair that flowed medusa-like around her head, she looked like a little
mermaid.
Nessie!
He wanted to yell at her to swim up. Quickly, Nessie, swim. However, he
couldn't make a sound; he didn't have the strength or breath to scream.
It was too late. She floated a few feet away from him, and he saw through
the murky water that the spark of life in her empty, wide eyes had gone.
 Holy crap!
Not again. No, I won't allow that.
He scratched with vigorous strokes, but could not reach Nessie, could not
reach the surface of the water. And the masses of water surrounded him and
were as hard as concrete. He would drown. And he was powerless, helpless.
Helpless.
Holy crap!
He kicked, his legs tangled in the blankets, gasping for air. His bedroom
was dark, only a pale streak of moonlight filtering through the fog and
shining into the room through the wall-to-ceiling windows. His heart was
pounding, his pulse was racing.
Just a dream. It had been that damn dream again. He ran his
hands over his head, tore his hair. It's okay. Everything is alright.
No, nothing was okay. When was the last time he had this dream? It was
probably over a year ago.
It was clear to him what had triggered this dream: his phone conversation
with Ava that evening. He had been close to telling her everything.
Just don't. Not hers. From Nessie. His little sister.
The tightness in his chest remained so that he could hardly breathe. Like
in the dream.
He got up, ran naked to the window, felt the cold glass with his hand,
trying to find his inner center again.
Was it wrong to open up to Ava? He usually didn't reveal anything
himself, but let the women he played with tell the story. So he got to know
her better. Of course he chatted with them about his job, his hobbies, his
wishes. However, his past was taboo. Just like the pain that had been
inflicted on him. Where the hell did the need to tell her everything come
from?
 He barely knew the girl.
Still, he felt like he had known Ava forever.
He would have preferred to take a few days off to regain his inner balance.
No, what nonsense! They had a date and he couldn't wait to see Ava again.
His eyes darted to the luminous numbers of the clock on his bedside table.
Five in the morning.
It was no longer possible to fall asleep. He was too excited for that. Ava.
Nessie.
He ran to his closet, took out a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved
t-shirt, slipping the soft cotton material over his body. He wanted to use the
time and work.
He didn't want to deal with it anymore. There would be time for that later,
when he saw her again.
A slight tingling sensation in his abdominal cavity, not unpleasant at all.
Did he have a crush? It was a long time ago, he couldn't remember. Still
better, he thought of Ava than Nessie. Or that horrible dream. Of what
happened many years ago.
No, forget it. Don't even think about telling Ava.
He had read somewhere that the brains of people in love worked in a
similar way to those of crazy people. Crush equals crazy? The comparison
was bizarre. No, that was absolutely not there. He couldn't afford to have
deep feelings.
Damn, what was he supposed to do about it?

Ava kept looking at the clock. Five to nine. Desmond.

She had followed his instructions exactly. She was wearing a short white
leather dress, killer high white leather stilettos, white lace lingerie. A pair of
tiny silver hoop earrings, no other jewelry. Jewelry only got in the way
during bondage.
The ropes.
Her pulse was pounding.
 The ropes and Desmond Hale tying her up.
Oh I...
The doorbell rang and her heartbeat quickened. She took a deep breath,
then ran to the door.
He was really an eye-catcher. Masculine. Muscular. Impressive.
Like most doms, he wore black clothes and looked stunning in them: tight
designer jeans that hugged his hips, the black button-down shirt
emphasizing his broad shoulders. The thin mustache gave him something
satanic. Ava was smitten.
He spontaneously grabbed her hand.
“Can I come in, Ava?”
"What? Yes, sure. Please come in.”
Absolutely polite manners, and they would later play wild, excessive
games with each other. She was smitten again.
Desmond pushed through the door and appeared overwhelming in her
apartment. How small her apartment was. She had never noticed that
before. It was probably Desmond's size. Or because of his enormous
presence.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wicked sprinting down the hall
toward her bedroom.
"You have a cat?"
"Male cat. His name is Wicked and he’s a friendly guy.”
"I love cats."
"Real?"
“Does that surprise you?”
“Everything about you amazes me.”
He grinned and refused to answer.
“You collect old furniture?” He examined the massive cupboard that took
up one living room wall, tracing the carvings with his finger
after. »You have some very nice pieces here. I'll have to watch it again
sometime. Now we have to go to the Pinnacle.”
She shivered pleasantly at the thought of him wanting to visit her in her
apartment again. That he liked her furniture. A casual little compliment, but
that was what she loved about Desmond, it made her proud.
"I'll quickly get my coat."
She took her trench coat out of the closet and was once again amazed
when he helped her into it.
“You’re different than the Doms I’ve been with, Desmond.”
“Is that me?” He left the apartment behind her, waited until she had locked
the door, then they walked down the narrow stairwell together.
"Yes. You are more dominant than anyone else I know. Besides, you are
… very polite."
“That’s part of it for me, Ava. If these guys don't get this, I don't think
they're good Doms. And certainly not gentlemen.”
»Marina already told me something like that, but of course it's something
completely different to experience it live.«
His car was parked right in front of the apartment complex, a sleek, dark
Lexus - it suited him.
He held the passenger door open for her and helped her get in before
walking around the car and getting in on the driver's side.
He buckled the seatbelt and started the engine. “What else has Marina said
about me?”
Was this some kind of test? He left the engine running, his eyes on the
dark street.
»Oh, not much. That you a Nawashi are, a shibari master, and that you are
way better than them. That she learned a lot from you. That she
totally trust you. And she said that I could do it too.”
He nodded, clearly satisfied with her answer. He pulled the car onto the
street and hit the gas.
The drive to the other side of town was silent. The Potrero Hill District
club was tucked inconspicuously in a small industrial area. Not exactly a
trustworthy neighborhood; In the dark, Ava would never have dared to
come here alone. However, the location – a bit away from the residential
areas – was ideal for a fetish club. And she wasn't alone. She peered at
Desmond, his sharp profile illuminated by the milky glow of the
streetlights. An erotic tingle ran through her body: excitement, desire.
Desmond pulled into the parking lot behind the Pinnacle. It was an old
brick building, two stories. The wooden panels in front of the windows
were tightly closed, and the wide front doors had black iron bars. There was
absolutely no telling what was happening behind these walls, but Ava
shivered as she made her way to the entrance. She had been to the Pinnacle
before and knew exactly what went on behind the old brick walls. But she
had never been here with Desmond before, she thought half anxiously, half
euphorically.
She knew the doorman, but said nothing when Desmond greeted him,
instead keeping her head bowed submissively and her hands clasped in
front of her body. Oh yes, she was already slipping into her role as a sub.
Into that willing, passive state that also somehow had an energizing effect
and illuminated her internally. And when Desmond took her hand to lead
her into the club, that inner glow turned into pure fervor that coursed
through her body.
At the club, Desmond took the trench from her and gave it to an employee
dressed in black and red leather, a steel collar around her slender neck. As
he wrapped a hand around Ava's waist, the embers spread through her
pelvis, thick, liquid lava between her thighs.
 “Are you ready, Ava?”
“Oh yes,” she sighed in a throaty voice.
They slipped through a curtain and into the main room of the club. Ava
blinked hard until her eyes adjusted to the dim red light. She took a deep
breath, inhaled the smell of old, musty plaster and something darkly
animalistic: excitement, sex, mixed with heavy, provocative perfume.
She hastily blocked out her impressions. Desmond pulled her around the
room, past the St. Andrew's crosses - gigantic x-shaped wooden crosses to
which naked people were chained - and the leather-covered spanking
benches. Along the small leather sofas that were scattered around the room
and where people chatted, relaxed and watched. It all rushed past Ava like a
wild whirlwind. Her thoughts revolved around Desmond's hand burning
through her skin and leather dress, his unwavering presence next to her.
And about what he was about to do to her.
He led her to a narrow iron staircase at the back of the room, brought an
arm possessively under hers and pushed her up the steps. Then they were in
the bondage room on the first floor, where it was a lot quieter and more
relaxed than the open play room downstairs. More meditative.
Soft meditation music played in the background while the bondage
masters worked in silence on the high racks that Ava already knew, large
wooden frames equipped with hooks and eyes for a variety of bondage
techniques.
Meanwhile she was trembling with excitement, her inner tension growing.
Desmond's presence was both comforting and intimidating. What was she
afraid of with him? She had no explanation. Especially since she wouldn't
have wanted to be anywhere else but here in the Pinnacle, with him.
He chose one of the suspension racks and placed his black bag with the
ropes on the floor next to it.
“Ava, get on your knees now, let’s get started.”
 A simple command, it still shot through Ava like an electric shock. She
sank to her knees. Her legs were as soft as jelly anyway. As soon as she
knelt, she folded her hands in her lap, bowed her head submissively and let
herself fall into that weightless trance state. She just switched off.
Heavenly.
Divine as Desmond murmured "perfect" and ran a hand through her hair.
There was an electric tingle between her thighs and she had to suppress a
moan. This was what she had worked hard for. It was exactly what she
wanted. Needed.
She watched him with a shudder, but could only see up to his waist
through her lowered eyelids. She saw him laying out the ropes, black and
red. And in a flash all the switches in her head were flipped and her
rationality was blocked out.
Don't resist it.
No definitely not. Especially since it was exactly what she wanted. And
Desmond could certainly take her further than she had been.
She didn't know how long she stayed in that position. After a while he
took her hand and helped Ava stand up. He pulled her close and she felt his
hot body against hers. Fantastic.
“I’m going to undress you now, Ava.”
He unzipped the leather mini and took off her dress with tender, gentle
movements while she stood in front of him, unleashed with pleasure.
“Hold still,” he ordered, his voice an authoritative whisper against her
cheek.
His hands delicately brushed against her lace bra, and Ava wanted to
attack him hungrily. He then took off her bra, bringing his hands to hers
Breasts. He pampered her so gently that Ava went crazy when he rubbed
her tips with his fingertips.
Please, touch me.
However, she wasn't allowed to say that out loud, she wasn't allowed to
say anything at all. She was already completely wet, needed his hands on
her body, a touch of brutality, why was a mystery to her. However,
Desmond continued to stroke her, gently and not at all brutally.
If he continued like this, he would drive her crazy! As he cupped her
breasts with his hands and rubbed the hard tips with his thumbs, a harsh
moan escaped Ava's throat.
“Ah, that's good, Ava. So it is good. Get it off, let’s go.”
He took his hands away and they were bent. Then he slipped the wet lace
thong over her legs and she stood naked in front of him, only in high heels.
“You have amazing legs in your sexy high heels,” he said, his hands
admiringly stroking her thighs. “Unfortunately, the high heels are in the
way.”
He held out his hand helpfully to Ava, and she stepped unsteadily out of
her heels. Driven by her excitement and her longing.
He's going to tie me up soon.
She couldn't wait until it finally started.
He led her to the bondage frame, where he stood behind Ava and wrapped
one arm tightly around her waist. His fingertips seemed to burn into her
naked flesh.
His face so close to hers that his cheek brushed against hers. »I'm going to
tie you up now, Ava. You breathe the way I showed you. I want you to
concentrate. That although you are slipping into subspace, you are also
concentrating on me and what is happening. Do you understand me?"
“Yes… I understand.”
 "I'm with you. I’ll guide you.” He paused, ran a hand through his hair.
“Give yourself to me, Ava. Can you do that?”
"And."
“Can you do that tonight?”
»Yes, Desmond. Yes!«
God, she was dying to let go, to surrender to him. His hands.
His hands.
»You can do it, Ava. You will do it, for me.” He stroked her cheek and she
shivered. "And I want to do it just for you," he continued, his voice a rough
whisper.
So sweet. So tender. Ava's eyes became treacherously moist.
“Now come on, take a deep breath.”
Desmond brought a hand to her ribcage, just above the sway of her
breasts. His palm was warm. His touch, his voice fired Ava with erotic
impulses, his hand on her body was comforting, calming.
"And now slowly out again."
She followed his instructions until her body slipped into a state of
weightlessness, became illuminated, and she floated with him, as if in a
trance.
“I’m going to tie you up now, Ava.”
Oh I...
He let go of her briefly, picked out a rope and wrapped it around her body.
It was heavenly arousing how the ropes rubbed gently over her flesh and
how he gently coaxed her while he tied her torso in a body harness. She was
dying to see what she looked like with the artfully arranged pattern of ropes
on her flesh: over shoulders and back, over and under her breasts, over her
stomach and finally between her thighs where two rope ends spread her
swollen privates. In any case, the feeling of the bonds was
heavenly. She sank lower, blocking out everything but the feeling of the
ropes, his voice, her growing excitement as he tightened the ropes around
her body.
Time and space ceased to exist as he tied her up. When he tied her arms
behind her back and tied them tightly together from elbows to wrists, she
felt an intoxicating feeling of completeness that made her completely
surrender to him. And the familiar switch in her head flipped, she opened
up mentally, was completely vulnerable. And so excited that she could
hardly stand it anymore.
It didn't take much for her to cry. She wanted him to touch her. She
wanted to be his.
Yes, his...
“Fine,” Desmond whispered. “So fucking beautiful, Ava.”
He pressed closer. She felt his body close to hers, the material of his shirt
rubbing against the tips of her breasts.
"Where are you, Ava?"
"I am here."
"Is that you? Are you here with me?”
He cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. His dark eyes
bore into hers. She shuddered at the intensity with which they penetrated
the subspace mists.
Good Lord, he touched her! He had tied her up. Ava didn't know why her
eyes filled with tears. Maybe because she desperately wanted this? And
because it actually happened? She was grateful and afraid and still willing
to move on with him.
»Do you see the people, my beautiful Ava? Do you see how they are
watching you? Admire you? Desire you?”
She blinked, noticing the group that had joined them. A dozen pairs of
eyes fixed on her. Pleasure surged through her body. Lust and pride. She felt
beautiful. Desired.
 "Yes, Desmond," she whispered. "I see her." Her gaze returned to
Desmond. “But most of all, I see you.”
“Ah, Ava. You’re so fucking perfect.”
A wave of excitement overwhelmed her, pure desire just to know that he
was happy with her. He leaned forward, pressed his lips to hers, and Ava
reflexively tried to push herself against Desmond, but the ropes prevented
her from doing so, whereupon she returned his kiss hungrily.
Yes, kiss me. Touch me.
He pushed his tongue between her lips, hot and sweet, and she moaned
into his greedy mouth.
He kissed her more passionately, wrapping his arms around her waist
possessively, restricting Ava's range of motion even further. She was exactly
where he wanted her, on the one hand in the meditative trance of subspace
and on the other hand focused on him: on his hands, his mouth, his
masculine scent. He relished the sweet knowledge that she, in that moment,
him belonged.
Desmond's hand slid lower, under the rope he had wrapped around her
body and between her thighs. His fingers pushed between the ends of the
rope that pressed against her pussy. And she moaned ecstatically as his
fingers slid into her slippery wet slit.
»Ah!«
»Yes, you need it, don't you, Ava? I need it too. I need you. I'll touch you.
So that you come. I have to have you. And I'll get you. But first you come
for me. Come for your fans. Look at her. They admire you, as do I.”
Another quick look through lowered eyelids at those watching her.
Yes, for him. For her.
 Suddenly his hand was between her thighs, his fingers pushing into her,
his thumb rubbing her swollen clitoris. Excitement flooded Ava, desire
fueled her, and she tensed involuntarily. Felt the tight bonds, her clitoris, her
nipples, pulsating and hard.
Desmond's fingers pushed deeper into her pussy. Ava's hips bucked into
his hand, hungry, hot. And he gave her more, stimulating her harder and
harder.
"Oh please …"
"Please what?"
“Please let me come, Desmond.”
»Come on, Ava. Come."
Her body twitched, fueled by wild contractions, whipped up, intoxicated.
She felt her vagina clenching around his fingers, pumping harder and
harder until she couldn't take it anymore.
»Desmond!«
He continued, stimulating Ava to a stormy climax that overwhelmed her,
overwhelmed her.
“I got you, baby, I got you.”
He supported her with his arms as she sank exhausted into the ropes. Her
body continued to shudder for a while, fueled by small orgasmic waves.
"That was perfect, my beautiful Ava," Desmond whispered into her hair.
Perfect. Yes, that's what she wanted: she wanted to be perfect, for him. With
his words still ringing in her ears, she felt her body go limp and sink into his
embrace.
 8

Stundenlang
Desmond
– so it appeared her at least - whispered
gave her instructions, breathed with her, checked the
ropes. He held her
in his arms, tied tightly so that she could no longer move, and the space, the
people around her, had ceased to exist. Her psyche had crossed boundaries,
drifting through past and present. And Ava had sunk deeper and deeper,
becoming more and more relaxed physically and mentally, until she finally
had the sensational experience of what it was like to let herself go and lose
herself in subspace. She had no idea it would be so good.
Her mind finally docked back to earth, as if waking from a dream, with
the beautiful feeling of Desmond holding her body against him and
beginning to free her from the ropes.
It was a slow, sensual process, like everything with him, and then she was
in his arms. He carried her to one of the small couches and pushed Ava onto
his lap. She snuggled up against him, her head resting on his shoulder,
enjoying his strong arms, his hands in her hair, on her cheeks. There was
something strangely touching about the way he caressed her and spoke to
her in a quiet, comforting way. She didn't understand what he was saying to
her. It wasn't important either. What was more important was that she was
with him and that there was something deeper connecting them.
Or was she just imagining it? She didn't know exactly. She was pleasantly
exhausted, relaxed. And yet excited with lust.
She lay on his lap, feeling his hard erection rubbing against her soft
buttocks. Oh, she wanted him.
His hand slid from her cheek to her cleavage, caressing her breast. Ava,
moaning softly against his hand, felt her nipples harden.
 “I need you, Ava,” he groaned quietly, his voice rough with hunger. »I
need the thrill of losing myself in you.«
"Yes, please …"
He stood up and carried her into one of the small curtained alcoves that
led off the club's game rooms. He laid her on the bed with its high brass
posts and she watched, fascinated, as he took off his shirt. He had broad
shoulders and firm, fair skin. His nipples stood out darkly beneath his
lighter chest fuzz. Ava's fingers tingled to caress her, to pamper her with her
lips. However, she couldn't move.
Then the pants. Finally he stood naked in front of her, his cock erect.
Craziness.
Focusing on Ava, he spread her thighs. He protected himself with a
condom, which he took from a small compartment next to the bed. As the
latex stretched around his shaft, she saw how hard he was. Then Desmond
slid between her legs, pushed his hands under her buttocks and was inside
her in one long thrust.
She cried out, her body shuddering lustfully. His green irises sank into
hers.
Then he started moving. His hands wrapped around her flesh hard, he took
possession of her, dominated her, and Ava caught her breath. Arousal,
intense and sharp, ignited her body in sync with each of his hard thrusts.
»Desmond!«
»And...«
He gasped, his feverish eyes fixed on Ava, seeing her in a whole new way.
"I need you, Desmond."
What was she saying? She no longer knew herself. All she knew was that
she desperately longed for him.
 "I'll have you in a moment, Ava." He plunged deep into her crack, his cock
pumped harder, his hand dug into her hair, gripped tightly.
“Yes, take me… yes…”
He wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing Ava to him. »You're mine,
Ava. Only me."
Its dark green depths sparkled in the dim lighting. Nice. His hard,
throbbing cock and his hands fueled her body.
The excitement rose, her hot, pulsating pussy clamped around his wand.
He thrust harder, she heard his gasp, felt it warm and sweet on her cheek.
His gaze locked with hers, his face reflected shameless, hungry desire, just
like hers.
"You're mine, Ava," he repeated, thrusting into her obsessively, filling her,
dominating her.
A thousand glittering stars danced wildly behind her eyeballs, the orgasm
hit her like an earthquake: stunning, overwhelming. And she sank again -
into the ecstasy, into the green fire of Desmond's eyes, into his unleashed
moans as he came inside her.
»Ava!«
His pelvis drilled into hers so that it hurt. No matter what, she wanted to
be as close to him as possible, her body twitching, shuddering.
She felt his cock pumping inside her vagina, a hot, pleasurable throbbing.
He wrapped Ava in his arms and buried his face in her hair.
Her heart was pounding, driven by emotions that were a mystery to her.
How could she feel so much for this man she had only recently met? She
barely knew him.
Mistake. They knew each other on a deeper and inexplicable level.
Strange but true. What he had brought her to tonight, what he had given her,
proved that to her.
 Desmond managed to crack her shell. And it was beautiful and shocking at
the same time.
She bit her lip, blinking away tears.
Ava, pull yourself together.
It didn't work, the tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Ava?” Desmond lifted her head, pushing her messy curls out of her face.
“Sorry,” she sniffled, wiping away her tears.
He sat up, pulling her into his strong arms. "Are you okay? Did I hurt
you?”
»No, I'm okay. It’s just… I don’t know.”
“Little nervous breakdown, hmm?”
"And."
He guessed correctly. This feeling of surrender, of fear and vulnerability,
was what many submissives experienced when the game scenes were over.
Often it was the pain games that caused this feeling. However, Ava had
gotten exactly what she longed for, what she had asked for. It was
overwhelming, almost unbelievable. On the one hand, she felt deep
gratitude and satisfaction, but on the other hand, she felt strange feelings of
guilt, which she didn't understand.
Stop! Stop this crap!
It did not work. She cried uncontrollably. Desmond hugged her tighter.
»It's all good, Ava. Come on. You are okay. I'm with you." Yes, he
was with her. But for how long?
She buried her head on his shoulder, fighting back tears. She took a deep
breath, held her breath, regained some composure and finally stopped
crying. Nevertheless, her heart was fluttering indescribably. From panic.
Don't allow too much closeness. Be careful.
 Damn, but she should have thought about that before, now it was too late.
She had opened herself up to him mentally and he had penetrated her
deeply. Deeper than he had penetrated her body. He had touched her most
sensitive spot and cracked the armor she had developed long ago.
"Ava, stay with me."
"What? I'm with you."
"No you are not. You're shutting down inside. I feel it."
He leaned back, lowering his gaze into hers again. And she couldn't lie to
him because he seemed to see right through her.
“Ava…damn it, girl.”
“Desmond?” she sobbed quietly. “Are you…aren’t you happy with me?”
“For heaven’s sake, no. You're fucking perfect. Fuck.”
"I disagree. Definitely not."
What did he mean by damn perfect? Before she could figure it out, he
lowered his head and kissed her tenderly. Gave her exactly what she needed
right now. And she didn't even know she needed that. Until now.
Desmond pushed his hands into her hair. Spoiled her tenderly. And her
sweet mouth was on his. Her heavenly taste, her intoxicating scent, her
velvety skin - he couldn't get enough of Ava.
Don't worry. Just kiss her.
Damn, he had been racking his brains all evening about why things were
different with Ava than usual. He had to concentrate so as not to lose
control.
This girl...
She returned his kiss. Her tongue soft like silk in his mouth, she sighed
and moaned softly, and he promptly became hard again.
 He had to own her, at least once more. Had to get to know her body better.
Your psyche.
Have a conversation with her. Yes but later. Now she was like putty in his
hands and he couldn't take it anymore. Damn, even though he had only
come a few minutes ago. Regardless, he had the hots for her.
Ava.
He had a problem with this girl.
Fuck it all. He didn't care.
He pulled away from her lips and looked at her face. Her eyelids were half
lowered. A smoldering fire glittered in her sky-blue, slightly distant eyes.
Her mouth was pink, swollen from kissing. Fucking beautiful.
A groan involuntarily escaped his throat.
You own. Come on. Do it …
He brought her body down onto the bed again, one hand straddling her
stomach while he fished for a condom with the other. Then he rolled it over
his throbbing cock, his gaze still fixed on Ava's face.
She watched him, her bottom lip pulled into her mouth. Her breasts rose
and fell as her breathing quickened. Ah, she was just as horny as he was. He
slid a hand between her thighs, feeling that she was completely wet, and
grinned. Yes, she was ready, she wanted it, just like him. And her blue doll
eyes were big and round, framed by thick black eyelashes. That innocent
face. And the expression that showed on it. Intensity. Emotions... he didn't
know how to put his finger on it, but it was stunning.
He had to own her.
“Ava, turn around.”
 He instructed her to kneel down and lower her head between her
outstretched arms. In this position she was enchantingly beautiful.
Submissive. As his cock slid into her, she was his. He felt it, felt her
surrender as her body relaxed completely. She gave herself to him without
reservation.
He began to move, one hand on her pelvis, the other firmly planted on her
back, he pushed Ava down. The excitement was like a wild predatory
animal stealing into his tail, his body, his extremities. He pressed harder
into her soft, willing body, each of her sexy curves a revelation to him. Her
soft, muffled screams drove him half crazy, fueled his greed.
He leaned over Ava, wrapping his arm around her slender waist, pressing
her tightly to his body. His heart was pounding, threatening to burst his
chest.
Why did he never get enough of her?
He pushed his hard-on hard into her, into the wet, silky flesh.
“Ava…” he whispered. What did he want to tell her? Maybe just her
name.
Crazy.
She was driving him crazy.
She braced herself against his thrusts, taking him inside her, her pussy hot
and velvety, sucking in his cock. So damn good. Her breath came in short,
small sighs.
He slid a hand between her tempting thighs, pressing his fingers to her
hard clit. She finally cried out, shuddering, her pussy clenching around his
wand.
»Oh Good, Ava...«
Then he came, hot and wild, pumping into her tight cave.
When it was over, he pulled his cock out of her, rolled onto his side, and
took Ava into his arms. He shuddered with pleasure. You too. In
His head was in chaos, his heart was drumming in a wild staccato.
What was it about this girl?
It was more than sexual. More than Power Exchange. She really meant
something to him.
No.
Yes, it was like that, whether he wanted it or not. He might be physically
exhausted and a little confused in his head, but that fact still couldn't be
ignored.
With Ava he had somehow gotten it. Damn, there was nothing he could do
about it.

Seven days. Seven long days, and Ava was on the verge of madness. Why
didn't he call?
She paced around her small kitchen, a cup of hot chocolate in her hand.
She loved this sweet little comfort, even as a little girl, but tonight it didn't
seem to work. She stared out the window, watching as a bus pulled up to the
stop and people got off. They scattered in different directions, and shortly
afterwards the sidewalk was empty again.
The morning after their date at the Pinnacle, she'd had an answering
machine message from Desmond saying he'd probably be away on business
all week. She hadn't heard from him since. No phone call, not even a quick
email.
It was pretty damn intense during the day, but at least she could distract
herself with her job. But now, alone in her apartment, with the sun setting
outside the windows and the sky turning increasingly blue-black, she could
hardly stand it any longer. Her head was spinning.
Her thoughts constantly revolved around the evening at the Pinnacle. The
bondage. The sex. Desmond. How he had opened her up mentally and given
her a crazy gift. How tender he had been to her when she
had her little moral. How he fueled her body with pleasure just by his
presence, by chatting with her. She touched.
There was more to it than lust or desire. There was a deep longing to be
with him, to serve him. As a submissive partner, this was her greatest wish.
How was it possible to feel so intensely for a man she had only known for a
few weeks? And why was it that Desmond was able to give her more than
any dominant partner she had had before him? It certainly wasn't just sex. Or
was it your imagination that they had good chemistry? Those moments of
pure intensity when he looked deep into her eyes? Maybe her mother was
right about Ava being impulsive. And unrealistic.
Ava shrugged helplessly. And now he had been missing from the scene for
days. If Desmond really wanted to be with her, he wouldn't have
disappeared for so long, would he? She felt... alone. Misunderstood.
She often had a similar experience with Michael. Although he responded
to her submissive tendencies, he did so with a perverse harshness that made
her feel misunderstood.
Desmond had opened old, long-scarred wounds in her. Since there was
radio silence, she frantically wondered what was going on between them.
And what Michael had to do with it. After all, it was a long time ago with
him. Why was she even thinking about this story anymore? Couldn't she
view things with Desmond and things with Michael completely separate
from each other? To make matters worse, she constantly had her mother's
nagging voice in her head: Ava, you're just not one of the good girls.
She had thought that with Desmond she would have overcome all of this,
that she would have drawn a line under her past. But maybe he was just a
catalyst for the things she would ultimately have to learn without help.
 She was determined to do this. That was definitely a step in the right
direction. If only she could concentrate better! If only he called!
She sipped the hot cocoa, yuck, it was sweet! She poured the rest down
the sink, rinsed the cup, pushed her hair out of her face, pulled the thick
locks with her fingers so that her scalp hurt.
She felt left alone. She needed someone to talk to. And that someone was
Desmond.
Fuck it all. She would call him. Fuck his damn protocol. She grabbed her
phone and started scrolling through the numbers. When the phone suddenly
started vibrating and beeping, Ava jumped in shock and almost dropped the
thing.
Desmond's name appeared on the caller ID on the small display. She
immediately had butterflies in her stomach.
She took a deep breath before walking away.
"Hello?"
»Ava. You're there."
"And."
God, she was speechless, her brain was completely empty. She was totally
relieved. And a little offended. Why?
"I have to talk to you."
»Okay.«
»Ava? You sound…reserved.”
»Understandable, right? After all, you haven’t contacted me for days,
Desmond.”
Was that really her, her own voice so bitter?
"Are you mad at me, Ava?" he asked quietly. “Tell me, what’s wrong with
you?”
»Desmond …«
 What should she tell him? That she couldn't handle her feelings? Yes, she
was mad at him. But at least she could deal with that.
"Desmond," she repeated, "I don't understand what's going on here. The
other day was… incredibly beautiful. Am I the only one who feels this
way?”
"It was nice. Incredibly beautiful with you.”
“Then why aren’t you in touch anymore? I know you have a lot to do, but
a quick call in the evening? Or an email?”
"I'll call now."
“After a week, Desmond.”
"I know. I...I thought everything was okay when I brought you home that
night. That you would have recovered from your little breakdown.”
"I didn't," she replied, and that was the truth.
»Hey, Ava. I'm really sorry. Is it okay again? Sorry, I should have checked
in at some point. Fuck.”
His voice sounded genuinely contrite. He seemed genuinely concerned
about her. Ava was a little relieved about this, but still angry. Couldn't he
just come here and wrap her in his arms? Phew, it was hilarious.
»Ava, I am truly sorry. It was…irresponsible of me. As a cathedral I
should…”
"Are you crazy? Is that just what you care about? About your
responsibility?”
“It’s my job, you know?”
"Yes, sure. That's all? I need to know before we go any further. If you even
want to continue, I mean. Why are you even calling?”
She fought back tears.
"I don't know it. I have no idea why I didn't call earlier. Damn, Ava.”
 "You don't know why you're calling me?" Ava shook her head and
clutched the phone so that her knuckles cracked softly. “God, Desmond. I
can't... I can't do this. “I’m breaking up now.”
She closed her phone, her body numb.
How did she come to the conclusion that this guy had real feelings for
her? It was like that time with Michael: she had been in love with him and
he had just taken advantage of her.
In love with Desmond? My goodness, what do you dream about at night,
Ava?
Impossible. It was too early, too fast.
Still, it was a fact.
Forget him, sweetie.
Well, that was definitely the best. She would probably never see Desmond
again anyway.
After what happened with Michael, she swore that something like that
would never happen to her again. She never wanted to be humiliated so
deeply again. As a result, her heart had been closed like an oyster all these
years. And it should stay that way.
Still, she couldn't stop the tears. She wiped her damp cheeks with her
fingertips.
Maybe she really was as wrong as Michael had always claimed. And her
mother.
Hey, stop feeling sorry for yourself. After all, she had done the only right
thing, right? She was determined to get this over with Desmond. No more
dates. It was just stupid. She wanted to be strong. She war strong. Much
stronger than before, after last night with Desmond, she ironically had to
admit.
And then why did she feel so horrible?
Those damn tears. She wiped them away in annoyance.
 Then she ran to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay, poured
herself a glass and stood at the window again. Wicked jumped onto the
window sill, nudging Ava's hand, and she absently stroked his soft fur.
It was now dark outside, the streetlights bathing the sidewalks in amber
light. Ava felt even lonelier. Frustrated. Alone. She sipped her glass, and the
pleasantly mild wine was like a small comfort that warmed her inside. She
took another sip.
She downed the glass in one gulp and was pouring herself a second one
when there was a knock on the apartment door. She jumped. The glass fell
from her hand and shattered with a clatter in the sink. Startled, Wicked ran
away and shot into the hallway.
Desmond, Ava thought spontaneously. When she opened the door, he was
leaning in the doorway, waiting. Tough, masculine, devastatingly attractive,
his eyes flashing with anger.
Crap, and she looked absolutely tearful.
That didn't work at all. Impossible. In her current state, Ava was just
missing an argument with him. Plus, she had no idea why he was angry.
Maybe because she was clinging too much?
She shook her head dejectedly and cleared her throat.
"Desmond, I can't talk to you. Please go back.”
»Ava.«
That commanding tone in his voice again, but this time she wouldn't obey.
"No. Go.”
She slammed the door in his face. It was difficult for her, but there was no
other way. Then she cried uncontrollably.
 9

DEsmond banged on the door.

“Ava, let me in!”

She leaned back against the door and shook her head violently.
"Ava." His voice a little softer. “Please, Ava, you have to let me in. I have
to apologize to you."
“You… you came here to apologize?”
“Don’t make me stand in front of this damn door like I’m a supplicant!”
She swung around and opened the door for him with mixed emotions. His
mood had calmed down. As he looked her up and down, his expression
relaxed.
“Jesus, Ava, I’m so sorry.”
Then he pulled her close, and for a heartbeat Ava suppressed the fact that
she was mad at him. Instead, she snuggled into his embrace.
“Damn it, Desmond.”
"I know. I’m a rotten scoundrel.”
"Yes you are."
He laughed briefly and Ava's heart warmed.
»Will you give me another chance, Ava? I thought for a long time. About
this...this delightful ritual that I've been able to lose myself in for years
because it's the perfect distraction...from everything that's much more
important."
“But only because you allowed it.”
 “Yes.” He pulled his upper body back, his deep green shimmering eyes
focused intensely on Ava. »You too, right? I think that’s where your block
comes from.”
 “I know what it is,” she said spontaneously. »My blockage has to do with
experiences that happened a long time ago. I thought I had gotten over this,
but apparently not. I do the… bondage, dominance thing to free myself
from it.”
"But you weren't free and relaxed, not even the other night," he said
quietly. »But that will come. That is, if you want to continue with me.”
He clenched his jaw, his expression impassive. There was just a restless
flicker in his eyes. It must have taken a lot of effort for him to come here
and ask her for forgiveness. To ask for a second chance.
»What you say is true. The other night took me a big step forward, but
there's still something missing. I haven't quite reached that borderline point
yet. But I would like to. With you."
He smiled, his expression relaxing. At that moment she felt it: they had
good chemistry.
His hands gripped Ava's hair. Possessive. Tender. Emotionally. Then he
kissed her, his lips soft and sweet on hers.
When he pushed his tongue into her mouth, Ava let out a soft moan. It all
happened so quickly. Her body, her mind, reeled with euphoria. Desmond
pulled away from her and whispered against her lips, "I want you, Ava."
His accent was heavy, his voice low, throaty. »I want you now, without the
ritual, without shackles and everything. Tell me you want it too.”
"I want you. Without bondage and all that surrounding it. I just want you.
I'm keen on you. I need you, do it for me.”
“Ah, girl. Have I told you how perfect you are?”
He stripped off her jeans and panties and pushed Ava, wearing only her
soft cotton T-shirt, into the living room, where he propped her against the
back of her old upholstered sofa. Fully dressed, his muscles
Tense, he moved behind her. He wrapped an arm around her, his fingers
caressing her wet pussy. She rubbed herself against his hand, moaning.
Then he inserted his fingers inside her.
»Jesus Christ, you're wet. I have to fuck you.”
He pulled his fingers out and she held still, waiting with trembling knees.
Heard him quietly pulling down the zipper and tearing open the condom
wrapper.
»Open your legs, Ava. Yes, that’s a good thing.”
With one hand imperiously on her neck, he forced Ava to lean over the
sofa, with the other he pulled her pelvis against his. She spread her thighs,
her cave hot and tingling with excitement.
“Please, Desmond. I need you."
She felt the latex-covered tip of his boner at her entrance, then it slid
inside her. Driven by unbridled lust, she clamped around his hard cock. His
hand was between her thighs again, his fingers stimulating her clit, rubbing,
tweaking as he pumped into her.
She moved in sync with the force of his thrusts, ravished by the feeling
that he was still clothed, that he shared his hunger for sex with her. And he
pushed her harder and harder, Ava's body like putty in his hands.
“Tell me, Ava,” he gasped, “is this what you need?”
“Yes… take me.”
He entered her hard and she moaned in pain and excitement.
"Please, Desmond..."
"Please what?"
"Please... I want more."
He penetrated her deeply.
“Yes… even more…”
He slid out of her, caressing her wet pussy for a moment before she
anew his Tail tip felt. Followed from that
one
indescribably hot feeling when he penetrated her again.
"You're mine, Ava."
"Yes, only to you, Desmond."
His wet fingers stroked between her buttocks, slid deeper, pressed against
her anus. He rubbed there, fingers circling as his cock worked inside her.
She pressed against his hand, hot, hungry to be filled everywhere.
“Do you like that, Ava?”
"Oh me!"
She felt his fingertip slide into the tight hole. Just the tip of her finger, but
the feeling was heavenly, the feeling of being completely taken sending hot
waves of pleasure through her womb.
»Oh …«
He twirled his finger, ever so gently, igniting all of Ava's senses.
“Cum for me, Ava,” he moaned.
He pushed her hair aside. She felt his warm breath for a blink of an eye,
then he pressed his lips into her neck. His tongue tickled Ava's skin, licking,
sucking. He pushed his finger deeper into her anus as his cock penetrated
her slit, giving Ava heavenly pleasures. It was like sweet torture: his cock,
his demanding hands, his greedy wet mouth on her skin. And the animalic
scent of his troubled body.
The orgasm came over Ava in hot waves as Desmond pumped into her.
Millions of stars exploded behind her eyeballs, and Ava lost herself in the
glittering light, in the ecstasy, in Desmond.
»Ava. You're fucking beautiful, my girl. I'd love to hear how you get on. A
great feeling when you come. I want you to come again.”
»And... only...«
 He pulled his hard cock out of her crack, his finger further into her anus,
and slid his other hand between her thighs. He twirled her labia and her
cave, causing her to shudder as if she was coming again. He pressed his
finger deeper into her anus.
“Am I hurting you, Ava?”
"No. It’s good… crazy good.”
He penetrated her with two fingers.
»I think you're ready for me. You’re fucking wet.”
"And."
His fingers slipped out of her anus.
»We need lube. Do you have any?”
"And."
»Hello es.«
She nodded and walked on shaking legs into the bedroom, where she dug
a tube of lubricant out of the nightstand. When she returned to Desmond, he
was standing naked and sexy leaning against the arm of the sofa, his
latex-clad erection a compliment to his and her lust.
He took the tube from her hand, kissed Ava and pushed her against the
back of the sofa again.
»Spread for me. Yes, that’s good.”
Then his fingers were on her back hole, squirting cool lube on it, pushing
into her, spreading the gel into her anus. Then he pulled his hand away and
Ava felt the tip of his cock. She shuddered.
“Inhale, Ava. Relax yourself."
She obeyed and he pushed his tip into her. Hot, unbridled pleasure
suddenly shot through her body. Ava was shaking.
“Again, Ava. Take a long, deep breath. Good girl.”
Good girl.
Oh yes, she wanted to be good for him. She wanted to do everything for
him.
»I'll push it in now. Relax.”
 His cock pushed deeper and Ava felt a brief burning pain. She bit her lip,
blocking out the pain and taking it deep inside her. And it was all good: his
cock moving gently in her ass, his hand playing with her clit. Her
excitement grew, intensifying, until Ava's libido went haywire. She didn't
care. All that mattered was what he gave her. Desire. To be desired. He
dominated her. She was his.
Him.
»You feel damn good, Ava. Sinfully good…” His voice was a moaned
whisper in her ear, his masculine scent surrounding her, his body hard and
strong. Within moments it came over her again, in long, tingling waves.
Ava sank into a frenzy of emotion, surrendered, rapturous. Her body
unleashed with passion, she breathlessly called out his name.
She pushed herself against him as he came, moaning, pumping into her
body, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
She was safe with him. He
dominated her.
Her mind was numb, but she still understood subliminally: she belonged to
him. The Ava from before no longer existed.

He stayed with her all weekend. Ava couldn't believe her luck. When she
woke up early in the morning and the twilight fell softly through the
curtains, he would lie asleep next to her, his luxurious body beautifully
modeled and sweet enough to eat.
It was Sunday, the last afternoon, and it was already getting dark. They
were already in bed again - or still, Ava wasn't sure. They had gotten up a
few times in between to eat something and take a shower. Somehow,
however, they always ended up naked and entwined in bed again, where he
ate them out and they came hot and greedy. And the power play was much
more subtle. He was just the cathedral and had
the command, a few quiet words from him, and Ava knew he controlled her.
Heavenly submission.
It was all so great that she didn't want to question it. But the questions
were there, gnawing at her. The sex was great and she felt close to him, but
- something was missing. Although things were physically right between
them, he was still keeping something from her. They had talked about Ava's
dream job of being a photographer, her family, his travels, his job,
everything but his past. And she sensed intuitively that he was hiding
something from her, something deeply personal. Something dramatic.
She sat up in bed, stuffed some pillows behind her back and looked at him.
He had his eyelids closed and was breathing steadily and shallowly. In the
soft twilight she noticed the hard line around his mouth, his energetic
jawline, the incredibly soft, full lips. Incredibly beautiful lips. She reached
out and traced his thin, scratchy mustache with her fingertip, causing him to
open his eyelids. And grinned.
"What are you doing, my girl?" His accent was heavy, his voice thick and
rough with sleep.
"I am thinking."
"Now? "About what?" He took her hand, brought it to his lips, and planted
tender kisses on Ava's knuckles.
"You're trying to distract me, Desmond."
"Do I do that?"
“Yes, and you do it phenomenally well, as usual.”
“As usual?” He paused and looked at Ava with his brows furrowed.
“Desmond…” Ugh, she had to answer him something, but what? She
strained her gray cells. »Our weekend was wonderful. And me
feel...feel so close to you. Is that…I don’t really know if you want to hear
that.”
He squeezed Ava's hand tenderly.
»I also think we have become a lot closer. You have opened yourself
completely to me. But that was our goal, right?”
She pulled her hand away. “Damn it, Desmond. Don't you have them all
anymore? It's not just about goals. It's about... how I feel. How we feel. Do
you think I'm completely narrow-minded or what?"
»Ava. Do not say that. "I'm just trying to understand you." His green eyes
bore into hers.
"Tell me I'm not the only one who brings feelings," she said softly, her
heart pounding.
He was silent for an endless moment. “No,” he finally drawled. "You are
not the only one."
Ava's heart jumped in her chest. “Then tell me what you’re keeping from
me. Tell me what it is.”
“Ava…” He tore his dark hair. »There are just things I keep to myself.
Things I don’t share with anyone.”
“Then I’m not taking part anymore, Desmond. It's not working. I didn’t
open myself up to you and make myself vulnerable so that you would
chicken out now.”
As she did so, her stomach twisted in knots of panic. It doesn't matter
either. She couldn't be with him and at the same time have this horrible
feeling that there wasn't anything really deep between them. Her heart was
in it, he owed her that.
He shook his head. »Fuck, Ava. I don’t know if I can do that.”
Her eyes suddenly flooded with tears. She wiped them away with the back
of her hand. Her abdominal cavity clenched painfully.
»Okay. Okay.«
She got up, crossed the room, pulled her silk dressing gown from the hook
on the bathroom door and wrapped herself in it. Ending
with naked. No more vulnerable.
»Ava.«
He was at her in two steps and wrapped her in his arms. She tried to pull
away from him, but he held her tight.
»Desmond. Please."
»Ava… I'll do it. I'll tell you. But I have to... I have to do it my own way.
For that you have to come with me, with me.” His eyes were dark, wild.
»Was?«
"Just say yes. Say you’re coming with me.”
She looked at his face, his tense features, his eyes shadowed with emotion,
and promptly felt faint. She couldn't deny him any wish.
"OK. I'm coming with you."
 10

DThe drive through town and over the bridge to Sausalito seemed
endless. At some point Desmond turned onto his street and steered
the car into the driveway. Paralyzing fear spread like a slow poison in the
pit of his stomach. Afraid of having to tell her the things that had happened
in his past and that he thought were safely locked away in his heart. Scared
at the idea that she might leave him if he continued to stay silent. She would
probably leave him even if he confessed everything to her and she learned
the brutal truth about him.
He thought back and forth. There was no alternative. The fact was that he
owed her this openness. And that a lot of things in his life had already been
destroyed because he stubbornly refused to reveal his horrible secret.
Maybe it really was time to change something.
Life isn't a walk in the park, he sighed silently. He could truly sing a song
about that. Pull yourself together, he told himself. This is about you. And
about Ava. About your relationship. Damn, it definitely wasn't going to be
easy.
She had remained silent during the journey, her posture tense as if she was
expecting the worst. He could sympathize with her; it was hardly any
different for him.
He parked, helped her out of the car, led her into the house, where he
kicked the door shut with one foot and felt for the light switch with his
hand.
“What’s happening now, Desmond?”
He looked at her, her beautiful big blue eyes shadowed with concern. Her
pout sweet and sad. It almost broke his heart to see her like that. She was so
damn beautiful.
 Then do it.
"Come with me, Ava."
He took her hand and led her through the house to his bedroom. He
needed this now. He would have to tie her up before he could make his
revelations.
He didn't want to do that.
It must be.
He stood at the foot of his queen-sized bed and Ava watched him
skeptically. He stroked her cheek soothingly, pushed her wild curls from her
temple. "I have to tie you up," he whispered against her ear.
She let her head fall back almost imperceptibly and closed her eyes for a
few seconds, a gesture of sensual submission. In the pale moonlight he saw
the shimmering skin of her eyelids, surrounded by long, thick eyelashes.
She looked incredibly vulnerable.
“Ava, can you imagine how difficult this is for me?”
“Mmm, I think so.”
“Then please forgive me as I have to do it. You have to believe me that I
want more from you than a reflection of my own power. I hate to say it, but
the last few years have been all about stroking my own ego. About the
opportunity to escape from myself, about my need for control. Don't get me
wrong, Ava. You are not an object for me, word of honor. But it’s the only
option that makes me feel… safe enough.”
When she nodded, he lowered his hand and caressed her soft neck before
he began to undress her.
She stood there in silence and let him undress her. Yes, like a doll, mute,
with her beautiful wild blonde curls, her flawless skin. When she was
naked, he went to the high bar. He chose several white ropes of different
lengths that he took with him to the bed. There was no wind outside, the
night was quiet. Desmond was happy about
the anonymity of darkness. The darkness and silence enveloped her as he
began the ritual with the ropes, looping them in a simple pattern around her
provocative body: over her shoulders, between her breasts, around her
slender torso. He took another, shorter rope and tied her wrists in front of
her body.
That was enough. He needed the symbolism of the bondage ritual for his
inner balance. That's what it was ultimately about. And she was so beautiful
in her submission, passive, waiting, she seemed so helpless on the ropes.
She knew exactly how powerful she was. About her sex appeal. The
contrast between an innocent angel and a sexy power woman – that was
what he really jumped on. The sensuality with which she submitted to him.
He was entranced by her looks, her sweet face. He loved the grace with
which she moved. He loved …
Damn, what was he thinking?
He clenched his fists so that his fingernails dug painfully into the heels of
his hands.
"Desmond?" she whispered.
“Sssh.” He opened his fists and concentrated.
It's enough. Finally tell her what she wants to know.
He took her in his arms and laid her on the bed, propping her up against
the pillows. She was warm and willless in his hands. He didn't want to let
her go. He could snuggle against her soft flesh and she wouldn't protest. No,
he stepped back from the bed resolutely.
»Okay, Ava, I'll tell you everything. I have never confided in anyone what
you are about to learn from me. And when I'm done with it, maybe you'll
understand why I had to do it this way. My last relationship fell apart
because I wasn't willing to open up. That was ten years ago. Now I will
reveal everything to you ruthlessly. Afterwards you can decide for yourself
whether you want to go or stay." She
shook his head timidly. "No wait. Save that for later when I get rid of
everything.”
He took several deep breaths and began to pace nervously.
"I had a sister." A sharp stab in his chest and he gasped. »It's incredibly
difficult for me to hear what they're talking about. However, it is largely due
to her that I have developed a strong sense of responsibility. This strong
awareness of being responsible for everything and everyone. Especially for
those under my control. That's why I'm literally looking for control, that's
why I need this lifestyle. However, the knowledge doesn't help me at all."
He paused, risking a quick look at Ava's bound body. »Her name was
Nessie and she was three years younger than me. She was...she was a pretty
girl. Awakened. Funny. I was…responsible for her. I'm to blame for her
death, Ava. That’s the brutal truth.”
»Desmond …«
»No, it's true. She was drowning, right in front of me, and I didn't stop it.
We were at the lake with our parents. We went there every year.” He ran a
hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck frantically. »She was
only twelve. I thought she was just playing on the bank. But she went
deeper into the water and suddenly disappeared. By the time I noticed this
and dove into the water to swim after her, it was already too late. Nessie had
to drown in agony.”
Damn, it took a lot of effort to say it, the words burned in his throat.
“Oh, Desmond. I'm so sorry," she murmured, her voice choked with tears.
»No, you don't have to be sorry. I should have been more careful. Damn, I
could definitely have saved her.” Pain that he thought he had long since
repressed stabbed itself sharply like a knife into the pit of his stomach. He
lowered his head, rubbing the back of his neck roughly. "Fuck."
 “Desmond, untie the shackles,” Ava said calmly.
"Not yet."
"Please, Desmond."
“I don't care that people say it's not my fault. I know damn well I failed.
The blame is definitely mine, regardless of whether Nessie messed up or
not.”
"That's not true."
"Oh but."
“Untie me,” Ava repeated quietly.
“Fuck, Ava.” He took a deep breath and looked at her. Saw her staring at
him intently. Saw her determination.
He had to do it. He couldn't keep her tied up against her will. That's not
how it worked. Besides, the truth had already been told. The whole horrible
truth.
He went to her and she lay still until he freed her from the bonds. As the
last rope slipped from her body, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her
sweet scent enveloping him.
“Desmond!” Ava pressed her face into his chest, feeling his heart racing
against her cheek, which was wet from crying. »I think that's such a shame.
It's a shame you believed that all these years." She tilted her head back and
looked at him. He looked exhausted, completely exhausted. Ava was
heartbroken. »I can imagine how you feel. At least I'm trying. However,
you are not to blame. After all, you can’t be responsible for everything.”
"No? But I believed it.”
She raised a hand and brushed a wavy strand of hair from his forehead. He
seemed taken aback.
»I'm glad you told me that. I just need to know what's bothering you. To
know you better."
 “And I had to tell you. But does that explain everything? At least not to
me.”
»It explains why your need for absolute control goes so deep. Too far,
Desmond.”
She saw him clench his jaw.
"It can't go far enough."
»You're wrong. It's going too far if you base your life on it."
"So what? I'm doing great. I have everything I need.”
He still wasn't really letting her get close to him, or was she seeing it the
wrong way?
“Desmond.” She tenderly cupped his face with her hands, lowering her
gaze into his imploringly. "Do not do it. Don't lock me out again. It's too
late, you know." Why didn't he finally see that? Ava tried desperately to
blink away the tears that welled up in her eyes. She was depressed.
Frustrated. "Desmond..."
"Hey, don't cry, Ava." He pulled her roughly into his arms. “Goddammit,
girl.”
Then he kissed her. Fiery kisses that touched her soul. Ava now knew that
she was in love with him. And he into her, even if neither of them were
ready to admit it to each other. She was also afraid of falling in love with
him.
If only a little.
Falling in love and giving your heart away was risky, all of their synapses
sparked. A thousand horror scenarios and negative memories spontaneously
ran through her head, her mother's critical voice, Michael's hurtful words.
So what? She quickly blocked everything out and surrendered to Desmond's
embrace, his kisses.
Soon he was naked and she felt the now familiar press of his warm, hard
body against hers. He pushed her onto the bed, his hands much more tender
than before, and yet she still felt his dominance
he threw himself at her. Arousing, sexy. He pushed her legs apart with one
strong thigh. And she melted, her heart full of love and unsatisfied
longings.
As he entered her, hard flesh into supple soft embers, she wrapped her
bonds around his loins. "Desmond," she breathed.
»Ava …«
"Stay with me."
"I'm with you."
His hands dug into her buttocks as he thrust into her, again and again. The
excitement pulsed sweetly and hotly through Ava's veins.
They came together, panting, moaning and lustfully entwined in each
other. And with every orgasm, Ava felt a slight fear that it might be over at
some point. And this fear became increasingly stronger.
It was her deepest desire to be with this man.
Desmond.
When it was over, they lay wrapped in each other's arms, their bodies
sweaty and exhausted. And she was terrified, like never before in her life.
But he was with her.
That would have to do for the moment.

It was early morning when Desmond woke her up with tender kisses.
“I have to go, Ava. I have a business meeting. But I want you to stay here.
Do you do that? Are you waiting here for me? Or will you then have
problems with your job? I'll just be gone for a few hours."
"Yes. I'll do it."
»Get a good night's sleep first. And feel at home with me.”
She nodded. When he grinned, a sun suddenly rose for Ava. She stroked
his cheek. "Desmond..."
 "And?"
"Kiss Me."
He leaned over her and pressed his lips tenderly to hers; he smelled of
soap and tasted of toothpaste. A long sensual shiver crawled down Ava's
spine.
He pulled away from her lips. "I have to go. I'm hurrying."
Then he disappeared. She buried her head in his pillow, intoxicated herself
with his scent and fell asleep again.
When she woke up, the sky was still hazy. She guessed she had slept for at
least an hour. She felt rested. Heavenly.
She got up, the air in the room was fresh, the wooden parquet beneath her
feet was very cool. Shivering, she pulled on Desmond's T-shirt, which lay
crumpled on the bed. Drawing his masculine scent deep into her lungs,
wishing he were with her.
Oh, this time she had a hard time, she was head over heels in love with
him. But she wanted to keep that to herself for now, like a sweet little
secret.
Her gaze swept across the room: his bedroom. She had been here before,
but hadn't noticed much. The large antique bed was a dream made of dark
mahogany, the high wooden posts beautifully turned. The rest of the
furniture was similar in style: dark, masculine-looking pieces, antique and
probably outrageously expensive. The color of the room was warm earth
tones, matching the nougat brown fur blanket on the bed. The tall,
impressive bondage frame stood on one wall, next to it the horizontal bar
with the ropes in assorted colors. She walked there, running her hands over
the smooth wood. And shuddered with pleasure as soon as her eyes touched
the ropes. Meanwhile, her feelings for Desmond went deeper, Ava's desire
had reached a new dimension.
 She crossed the room and slid into the bathroom, which was equipped with
elegant dark granite tiles and decorated in elegant gray tones. A large
bronze-framed mirror hung above the designer vanity. Ava leaned forward
and smiled at her reflection: her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were shining,
her curls were wildly tousled. She loved the way her mouth looked, swollen
pink from Desmond's hard, passionate kisses. And promptly got wet at the
thought of them kissing.
She loved his accessories: the elegant hairbrush with the wooden handle
and the soap in the granite bowl. She took the piece and sniffed it. The scent
was arousing and masculine, just like him. She put the soap back and
opened one of the bathroom cabinets under the vanity, discovering a tube of
toothpaste. She sniffed it. Ah yes, that mint scent was heavenly familiar to
her; it had smelled of mint and soap in the morning.
Desmond.
She missed him. His tenderness. His presence. He
had said he wanted to hurry up.
She put down the toothpaste and took off her t-shirt. Then she turned the
shower faucet all the way on and let the hot water rain down on her body.
There was another bar of soap in the shower, which she used to lather
herself lavishly and closed her eyes dreamily for a few seconds. She
imagined he was with her. She spotted his shaving cream and sprayed a dab
on her hand. Yes, that was his scent, that shaving cream mixed with the
soap. For a blink of an eye she felt as close to him as if he were with her.
Finally she gave herself a mental shake.
Desmond!
Hey, don't mess around. He comes home later and you're not finished yet.
 She showered off, turning off the faucet before stepping out of the shower
and wrapping herself in a bath towel. The cuddly soft terry towel on her
skin fired up her senses. She wanted to be with him. She needed him, his
hands on her flesh. His closeness.
Why couldn't she think of anything else?
Because she was in love with him.
Fantastic.
Craziness.
She smiled at her reflection one last time before returning to the bedroom.
Where Desmond was already waiting for them. She threw herself into his
outstretched arms, feeling the fabric of his pants scratch against her bare
skin. No matter, he was there, Desmond. He wrapped her in his arms and
pushed her to the bed.
Oh yes, she loved him. But she could tell him that later. They still had so
much time. First she wanted to enjoy him, to feel his body against hers.
Everything was almost perfect.

He sank deeper and deeper into the darkness. The masses of water crashed
over him, like a cloudburst, a bubbling waterfall, dragging his body to the
bottom of the lake, where there was no air, no light.
Nessie was down there.
He tried to swim, fighting the suction that felt muddy and heavy around
his arms and legs.
He had to get to her.
Nessie.
The mud became thicker and his progress was slow, crawling. His heart
pounded hard and painfully in his chest. His lungs burned from the lack of
oxygen.
He had to find her.
 Nessie.
The mud seemed hard like cement. And he ran out of breath. He had
to save her!
Nessie!
Ava!
Ava? Since when was it Ava? No matter: he wouldn't make it anyway. Not
again. He couldn't save her. He couldn't even breathe. The masses of water
pulled him relentlessly into the darkness, into that ghostly loneliness and
forlornness. There was nothing he could do about it, even though he tried
everything. His lungs, arms and legs ached from the exertion.
No, he couldn't let himself down.
Damned!
Ava!
Desmond woke up with a start, his face wet with sweat, his pulse racing.
Ava.
He looked around frantically. Thank God. She was lying next to him, on
her stomach, kicking off the covers, her sleeping super body bathed in
silvery moonlight.
Come on down first, man. She's there.
It had now been three weeks since Desmond had revealed his painful
secret to her, and Ava had stayed with him. She never ceased to amaze him.
Every evening she drove from her job at the bank to her apartment where
she looked after Wicked. However, they always spent the nights and
weekends together. They had started doing a few "normal" things: eating
out, going to the movies, going to the theater. However, their outings were
short-lived because they couldn't keep their hands off each other.
 He often tied her up, at home or in the Pinnacle, because he really liked
how she looked in the bonds, how she submitted to him. It turned him on
when he tied her up in front of an audience, her reaction, an inner glow, as
if the energy of all the peeping Toms were reflected from her body. Still, he
didn't need the ropes to be with her.
When was the last time he had been with a woman without needing this
stimulant? When was the last time he had one?
Had a “normal” relationship? Things never really worked out with Lara,
even though he had pulled himself together. At some point the relationship
broke down. Since then, he knew that it was impossible for him to be with a
woman while denying his sexual inclinations.
He thought he somehow got it. Until Ava had made it clear to him that he
wasn't being authentic because he closed himself off mentally and didn't let
anyone near him.
Because he ran away from his past like an idiot.
He was glad she knew now. And still didn't condemn him, even if he
continued to blame himself. He wasn't sure if this would ever stop. Maybe
he had a chance with Ava.
Since he became an adult, he had stopped relying on other people. And
now he was suddenly relying on Ava? Hoping she would reform him?
Could she make the impossible possible?
His gaze wandered over her naked flesh, her tousled hair curling wildly
across the pillows. He reached out and twirled one of the curly strands
between two fingers, soft as finely spun golden silk.
He immediately felt a tightness in his stomach. He felt compelled to caress
her. To wrap her in his arms. He needed this now.
He desired her.
 He groped for Ava, his fingers exploring the heat of her body. His heart
suddenly felt heavy in his chest, hard as a rock.
He loved her.
Damned.
He snatched his hand away and shook his head at so much madness. Damn,
how could something like this happen to him of all people?
It just can't happen.
No? You should have thought of that sooner, man!
He threw the sheet aside and stood up, ran into the bathroom and quietly
closed the door behind him. He turned on the light and saw his reflection,
his face pale and dejected.
What was suddenly wrong with him? He just couldn't believe it.
He turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his face. Do not be like
that. She is a woman like any other.
That was a blatant lie. What should he do now? Let things continue as they
developed? No, that wasn't there.
He wasn't allowed to
love her. But he loved
her.
Fuck.
He jumped into the shower and gave himself a quick shower with hot
water. A cacophonous babble of voices tortured his head.
I fell in love with her.
I'm not allowed to love Ava. I can't love anyone. I have
to get out of here. Let's get away.
Back in the bedroom, he quietly dug a few things out of the closet and
hastily got dressed. He wrote a short note for Ava and left it on her bedside
table. As if in a trance, he crept outside and closed the door behind him. He
got into his car and drove off. A broad crescent moon was reflected in the
dark waters of the San
Francisco Bay, the Stars glittered hart and called am
black night sky.
 11

AVa stretched and blinked cautiously. Phew, it was as bright as day in the

room.

It was Thursday and she had to go to work. Why did Desmond have her?
not woken up. Maybe it was still early.
She opened her eyelids and turned on her side, but he wasn't there. So he
was already up. She sniffed and listened. No smell of coffee - and the
shower wasn't running either. Where was he?
She sat up and looked around the room. Nothing. Then she registered the
small folded piece of paper with her name on the nightstand.
She stalked across the cold parquet floor, shivering. She took the note to
bed, pulling the blankets around her shoulders before unfolding the small,
inconspicuous piece of paper. He had beautiful, even handwriting.

Ava,
I got a call this morning and urgently needed to
away on business. Guess I'll be away for a few days. No idea how long.
Please lock the front door when you leave. I left the gate open so you
could drive your car out.
Desmond

Ava's stomach churned in dismay.

What had suddenly gotten into him? His note sounded completely distant
and emotionless. Still, the message was clear: take your car and get out.
 It was over, it slowly seeped into her consciousness. The shock went
through her every limb. She was shaking all over, and it wasn't because of
the cool morning air. No, it came from somewhere deep inside her.
His sudden disappearance and his curt note could only mean one thing: he
had broken up. This terrible certainty weighed like a millstone on her heart.
It's over before it really begins. Before our relationship even had a
chance.
She shook her head groggily and got dressed as if it would distract herself.
But it didn't work.
Desmond.
It hurt when she thought about him. That she was in the empty house, his
house. The shock of realizing he was gone was deep.
What now? Should she wait until he returned? Try talking to him again?
Christ, if Desmond had wanted to talk, he would definitely still be here. He
would have at least told her approximately when he would return and call
her.
His watch was on the bedside table, a platinum Rolex. She reached for it,
stroking the cool metal with her fingertips. It was hilarious. She wanted to
cry, but she couldn't. She bit her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood.
Desmond, why?
Because he was too wrapped up in his past to love Ava. And to reciprocate
her deep feelings. She hadn't said anything, but he could definitely tell that
she was in love with him!
Shock gave way to irritation. Suddenly she trembled with anger. He was
gone. Away! Now of all times, after she had started to let go. To open up.
Became aware of what she wanted. And that her sexual desires were okay.
The bondage. The exotic sex. She now realized that she wasn't a bad girl.
And that she was looking for great love. She had thought she had found her
- in Desmond.
That damned scoundrel!
 In her indignation, she held the watch so tightly that the metal cut into the
heel of her hand. She swung her arm and threw the Rolex across the room.
It hit the ground with a dull thud.
Ava let out a small sob and pressed her lips tightly together.
Yes, cold and hard. Like Desmond. At least she found it. Otherwise he
wouldn't have left her so disgracefully.
She shook her head angrily, fighting back tears.
Damn, why did she suddenly build so close to the water? Those damn
tears!
Desmond.
No, he couldn't treat her like that. As if she were worthless, like a piece of
driftwood on the beach. Damn, it was the same sad old story again. She was
too good for that. She now knew about her inner values. Too bad Desmond
didn't get it.
His problem.
Ava, are you still okay?
After all, she had lost just as much as he had. And she was devastated.
She couldn't stand it.
Tears stung her eyes and she swallowed hard. She had to hold on to the
bedside table to keep from falling because her knees were suddenly as weak
as jelly.
“Self-knowledge is the first step to improvement.” It probably ended again
as usual. With frustration. Lonliness. Heart pain.
The
emptiness.
The pain.
The
nothingness.
Desmond.
 She lowered her head in depression, pressed her forehead against the edge
of the bedside table and cried bitterly. It was crazy with this guy.

On Sunday morning, Ava was rudely woken from her sleep. Her cell phone
rang persistently. She sat up in bed, rubbed her eyes, and blinked sleepily at
the caller ID.
Marina.
She accepted the call.
"Hello?"
»Ava, you are home. It’s nice to be able to reach you.”
"Yes everything is okay?"
"That's why I'm calling."
"What do you mean by that?"
“Do you know that Desmond was at the Pinnacle last night?” For
Ava it was like a stab in the heart, burning, cutting.
“Desmond is an adult. He doesn't need to ask me for permission. He can do
whatever he wants,” she said cautiously.
“Don’t feel like that, Ava. I can vividly imagine what happened between
you. I introduced you to each other, and then you were out of the picture for
over a month. The few times I've seen you together at the Pinnacle, you've
been completely absorbed in yourself, you and Desmond. Something
serious happened, right?”
"And."
"So why weren't you both at the Pinnacle yesterday?"
"Because he doesn't want to."
"I don't believe that."
Ava ran her fingers through her wild curls, tugging nervously. "No? I can
hardly believe it myself.”
“Ava, come on, get it out there. What happened between you?”
 "Is … is is just go away. I woke up In the morning on, andis
had disapeared. Everything was going great before. Excellent. We
were...we were getting closer. Trusted each other. And then he… just
disappeared.” Marina remained silent, shocked. Then she said, "Oh, darling,
men can be idiots sometimes."
»Yes!«
“I guess that explains his stupid behavior. I have to add that he was alone
at the Pinnacle last night - he didn't make out with any of the girls. He sat
alone at a table all evening, with a bitter expression on his face. And hardly
spoke to me. So, sweetie, what are you going to do?”
»What big can I do? He left me, Marina. It was his free decision.”
"A stupid decision."
"Might be. It still doesn’t change anything.”
“I've known Desmond for a long time, Ava. He has never loved anyone as
much as he does you.”
"So what?"
»I think you should give him a second chance. He’s been alone too long.”
"Do not you?"
There was another long pause. Ava regretted saying that.
“This is about you and Desmond,” her friend remarked quietly.
»Yeah, sure. Sorry, Marina.”
"Is okay. I also have a lot to nibble on. This makes me even more certain
that you can’t just give him up.”
»I don't want to at all. I want to be with him. God, Marina, if he only knew
how much I long for him!”
Her throat suddenly felt tight.
 "Tell him," Marina said firmly. "Tell him how you feel about him."
“And you think that’s of some use? The guy completely isolates himself
emotionally.”
“Are you in love with him or not, Ava?”
»Yes!«
Her heart was literally about to burst. Ava swallowed loudly.
»Isn't it at least worth the try? Love is so precious.” Marina’s voice trailed
off. "Too precious not to try everything."
»Marina? Are you okay?”
»Maybe not with me. But there is still hope with you, sweetheart.” Was
what Marina said true? Ava didn't have that feeling at the moment. On the
other hand, she didn't want to run away anymore. She had to be brave at
least once in her life. Facing what she feared most: rejection.
“I...I don't know how to do this, Marina. What should I say to him?”
"You'll think of something."
Her friend wasn't so sure. Still, it was nice to know that Marina trusted her
so much.
You have to trust yourself more, a small voice whispered imploringly in
Ava's head. Okay, she wanted to try: she wanted to find him and talk to him
again.
Get a hold of yourself, Ava. Think about your happiness in life. This is too
important. Is there anything more important than love?
"I do it. I talk to him."
"I am happy about that. For the both of you."
Ava pulled her hair out, sighing. “Unfortunately there is no guarantee,
Marina.”
"No. That’s the beautiful and cruel thing about it, isn’t it?”
 Cruel, yes. It would be nice if she could get through to him. If he could
love her.
Did he love her? But already. Either way, she was determined to find out.
And if not? She didn't even want to think about it.

Desmond tapped away at the computer keyboard, concentrating hard on the

screen. The words blurred before his eyes, nothing made sense.
Everything seemed pointless to him since he left Ava. He didn't even
really know why he did that. At the time it had seemed like an inner need:
he had to leave. Even if he had felt like an ass. Like an ass and a coward.
My God.
Now she definitely hated him. She had every reason to. Desmond shook his
head dejectedly.
He loved her.
Fuck.
The idea made him break out in a cold sweat.
No, he had done the right thing. Because of relationships and stuff, that
didn't work at all. In the end he would have just disappointed Ava. He didn't
want to subject her to this disappointment. No, then better this piercing pain
that threatened to burst his chest. Day and night. The pain of knowing what
he had given up.
The dream image of Nessie came into his mind's eye: her long, flowing
dark hair, her pale, staring eyes. The sweet face expressionless. Lifeless.
This always happened to him when he was in love and failed because of
his emotions.
Things with Ava should never have gone this far. But it had felt so damn
good...
Ava …
 No, think of something
else. Forget her.
A forceful knock on his office door. Probably the guy from the parcel
service. Strangely, Desmond wasn't expecting a shipment. He stood up,
rubbing his scratchy unshaven jawline with one hand. Another knock.
"Okay, I'm coming."
He threw open the door. Ava stood in front of it.
Her huge blue eyes glittered with dismay. And from anger. He
involuntarily took a step aside and held the door open for her.
“I've been waiting, Desmond. The one who didn't come was you. You
didn't call me either."
"Ava... I didn't want you..."
“No, keep your excuses to yourself. I don't want to hear anything. I just
want to know the reasons why you did this to me. I know about your need
for control. And that your behavior has to do with your past. Still, I never
expected you to…” Her voice trailed off. “…that you can be so cruel.”
Heavens, her voice, her accusations, which were undoubtedly justified,
completely threw him for a loop.
»What you say is true. I was cruel to you. Forgive me, Ava.”
“Mmh, at least that’s a start.”
He noticed that they were still standing in the doorway and that it had
started to rain, a fine drizzle, cool and misty.
»Ava, come in, okay? Let’s talk inside.”
“You want to talk, Desmond? That's a good thing. Because I’m not leaving
until I get some answers from you.”
Oh, she was angry. She slid into his office. When he tried to help her out of
her coat, she angrily shook off his hands.
»I'll leave the coat on. I probably won’t stay long.”
 She was damn straightforward and spirited. That's what he loved about her.
Don't think about it now.
What else should he think about? She stood before him, angry and so
damn adorable that it broke his heart just looking at her.
You can't have this woman. But you could at least apologize to her. Save
what can still be saved.
»Ava, I'm so sorry. I treated you terribly badly.”
"Yes, that's right. I love you anyway,
Desmond.” Her eyes sparkled with lightning.
His heart skipped a beat. His breath caught in his throat.
"You love me?"
She took a step closer. He smelled her perfume, saw the tears shimmering
in the corners of her eyes. Damn beautiful.
"Yes I love you. And you love me. Don’t try to tell me otherwise.”
He let his head fall heavily on his chest. "No, you're right," he said quietly.
»I love you, Ava.
»Then explain something to me. Why did you just leave me?”
There was so much pain in her voice and he felt miserable. He lowered his
gaze to hers, seeing the tears shimmering in her bright blue depths, clear as
a lake on a summer day.
It stabbed him in the heart.
"I had to do it. I... I can't take on such a responsibility. Not for you. For
nobody. Not to that extent. One night, a few weeks for the game scenes,
that's one thing. But this… I can’t do it.”
“Desmond, don’t talk crap. It's just an excuse you use to run away from
your emotions." She shook her golden locks back indignantly. “Damn it,
Desmond. I saw through you. This excuse no longer works for me. Better
tell me,
what really concerns you. Come give your heart a push. Is it so hard for you
to talk to me about this?”
"No. After all, I told you about Nessie.”
“Yeah, but that was just the tip of the iceberg, right? So she’s the reason
you’re reluctant to fall in love.”
"Yes No!"
"You're avoiding me."
“Damn, Ava, this is more complex than that! I just can't promise anything,
to anyone. Promises I may not be able to keep.”
»Do you think that of yourself? That you have deficits or what?”
"Yes. That's exactly what I think. I know it. If I can't properly take care of
the people I love, then I don't deserve to love and be loved."
“I don’t need anyone looking after me, Desmond. You just have to love
me.”
He shook his head. "It's not that easy."
"Stop! Stop telling me what a monster you are. You may have a problem,
Desmond, but you'll get over it. You're just scared. This whole story, the
power play, your need for control, is only controlled by your fears. And it
probably works okay if you... just play with people. It doesn’t work if your
heart is in it, does it?”
He took another step back, digging both hands into his hair. What she said
was true. »Ava, how can you even be in love with me? Such a cowardly
villain?”
She saw the consternation in his expression. His sensual green eyes
clouded under half-lowered lids. Ava felt for him. She reached out, stroking
his cheek with her fingertips. He raised his head and their eyes met.
 She said quietly, “It’s just me. That's how it is with love. Love can move
mountains, Desmond.”
“You’re stronger than me, Ava, you know that?”
He took her hand and pressed it to his cheek. Then he impetuously pulled
Ava into his arms. He hugged her so tightly to his body that she could feel
his heart pounding.
"I've been an idiot, Ava."
“You could say that,” she giggled through tears.
"I can not be without you."
"You do not need that either."
His eyes brightened. He arched his head back, his eyes sinking into hers.
"I love you, Ava."
Her heart suddenly began to flutter like a hummingbird. "I love you,
Desmond."
He gently brought his mouth to hers and kissed Ava. He then pushed his
tongue between her lips, causing her to sigh ecstatically into his mouth. He
pushed deeper, kissing her so hard that Ava gasped for breath.
After a while he pulled away from her lips. “I could slap myself.”
"I know."
»I've been struggling with this obsession for an indescribable amount of
time. I imagined that everyone I cared about was in some sort of danger.”
»You'd better forget that as soon as possible. You can only help people by
loving them. It took me a while to understand this because of my own past.
Love doesn't have to be perfect. And you not too. Thank God, that's all I can
say, because I'm not perfect myself."
"Ah, for me it's you."
 He leaned over Ava, planting a kiss on her lips. Tender. Sweet. Perfect.
»Desmond, I have my past too, my problems. My love for you helped me
process some of this. I'm guessing it was a long process and I thought I had
already done it. Then you removed the blocks in my head that inhibited me
during bondage games and suddenly I was able to open up inside. You've
opened my Pandora's box, so to speak. And it wasn't really that bad to
confront and deal with the old history. Because I love you. Because you
love me. So one thing led to another.«
“Ah, Ava. Come on, let's go upstairs. I have such a desire for you and
want to spoil you tenderly. I want to be gentle and beautiful and sweet. Just
like you, my Ava. My girl."
When she nodded, he took her hand and led her upstairs. The rain
drummed on the windows outside. The sky was a pale, washed-out gray
with the sun fighting desperately through the clouds.
In his bedroom, he pampered Ava with tender kisses while he slowly
undressed her. And with every kiss, Ava felt loved, wanted, admired.
Finally she was naked and he hastily undressed her. He pulled her into his
arms, snuggling her against him, bare skin on bare skin, heavenly. She
smelled his erotic, masculine scent. His mouth captured hers, his kiss
almost brutal and full of emotion that it took Ava's breath away. She wanted
to cry with happiness.
Desmond laid her on the bed and pushed himself on top of her. Ava was
wet, hot, horny. Nevertheless, they took their time because they were in no
hurry.
His hands slid over her body: caressing the sensitive dimple in her neck,
her shoulders, her breasts. His caresses a lot
tenderer than usual, she felt his love with every touch. As soon as his
fingers touched her nipples, excitement flowed through her like a deep,
calm river. When he leaned over her stomach and licked her delta, Ava
almost exploded with pleasure. She wanted to beg him to keep going and
hurry up. She automatically spread her legs for him. Felt his warm mouth
licking her slit, her swollen clitoris, feeling his hands, his lips and his
tongue bringing her blissful pleasures. Before long, Ava came.
"Desmond, Desmond," she moaned his name loudly.
He made his way back with hot, sweet kisses.
Leaning over Ava, he said harshly, "I want you, Ava. I want to be inside of
you. Lose myself in you. Become one with you.”
“Yes, Desmond… I want you and no one else.”
She felt the tip of his cock against her pussy. His eyes merged with hers as
he penetrated her. Ava shuddered in pleasure. His hips moved rhythmically,
inspiring Ava with passion and deep feelings. She looked at his face, his
hard features soft with excitement. Of love.
"I love you, Desmond," she breathed as he pushed deeper into her, igniting
all of her senses.
»I love you, my Ava. My beautiful Ava.”
He tenderly cupped her face with his hands, thrusting slowly and hard.
Ignited fireworks of pleasure in her womb, and Ava came so intensely it
almost hurt.
»Desmond!«
He cried out, tensed up and came with her, his eyes glued to hers. He was
beautiful, his face, his disturbing green eyes. After the orgasm they
remained wrapped tightly around each other for a long time.
"I'll take care of you no matter what," Desmond whispered into Ava's hair,
his breath a harsh staccato. »And I will protect you. So good me
can. You're mine, Ava. All mine. You’re the only way I know what that
means.”
"Yes, I'm yours." Her deepest wish had come true.
»I always wanted that.«
And it was true. She had always longed to arrive, to be accepted. To be
loved. Their relationship certainly wasn't going to be easy, but Desmond
was in love with her. Love can move mountains. And he loved her! It was
like a revelation to feel his love. Ava felt safe for the first time in her life.
Saved. Desired. Loved.
Perfect.
 Part 2
Marina and James tame
the lust beast
 1

SHibari is the ancient art of Japanese bondage ritual. But Shibari means
more than tying someone up, subjugating someone. It is
truly an art.”
Marina Marchant focused on the faces of the audience sitting on metal
folding chairs outside the Pinnacle's large performance area. The workshops
she gave were always well attended and tonight was no exception.
Is was the exception.
He sat at the back of the room, his eyes dark and searching, his expression
thoughtful. Probably a mixture of concentration and internal struggle,
Marina thought to herself. Interesting …
Why couldn't she stop analyzing him?
She cleared her throat and continued. »In addition to the visual art of
Shibari, it's about the art of sensuality, about what happens in the head.
Shibari works with symbolism that we all know to some level. And I don't
just mean those of us who are into BDSM or extreme sex. The
psychological symbols in question are fairly identical in Western and
Eastern cultures. For example, what does it mean to be helplessly at the
mercy of someone? The root cause is the need to be controlled, regardless
of the reasons behind it. And these reasons are complicated, complex,
individual. That's what makes the experience so fascinating. And for some
of us, irresistibly attractive.”
She saw him lean forward in his chair, his dark, shimmering eyes intense,
and Marina spontaneously had the feeling that she was being watched. He
didn't just look at her, he assessed her carefully. As
he examined them with x-ray vision. She didn't really find it unpleasant.
No, she had no problem with that.
Especially since the guy was incredibly attractive. Male distinctive. Well
over six feet tall, with broad shoulders to lean on. The tattoos on his arms,
visible beneath the short sleeves of his simple black muscle shirt, looked
Asian: clouds, water. A fantastically good job. The tattoos just emphasized
his strong muscles. She also liked tattoos on a man. There was something
masculine about it. Slightly wicked.
Sexy.
Don't lose focus. Please concentrate.
She nervously brushed a long strand of mahogany red hair from her
forehead. She had given this workshop countless times. What the hell was
wrong with her? Her gaze wandered over the other participants, a mixed
group, men and women of different ages. People who looked completely
normal but had their secret desires. This is what Marina particularly liked
about her job.
Her gaze stole back to him: his eyes were glued to her. She looked away,
taking a sip of water before continuing.
»In the minds of the teammates, everything revolves around the power
play. Psychology. No matter how it turns us on. Sex is psychology. What we
imagine, how we react. I think it is very important that you explore your
sexual desires, your reactions to different stimuli, to what you want and
why you want it. The ritual of Shibari usually leads to you getting to know
yourself better, but that only happens if you take the time to see more than
just the technique of tying or being tied. Make Shibari an inner journey
because it is a physical experience and you will reach the deepest levels of
your consciousness.«
 She continued with her lecture, recommended further reading on bondage
and meditation, and circulated a list of sources of information. And the
handsome stranger at the back of the audience was watching her the entire
time, his well-defined body an enigmatically striking presence.
who was he?
Towards the end of the talk, she invited her listeners to a shibari
demonstration that she planned to give next month. She then asked those
present to ask questions. Nevertheless, Marina had to concentrate hard on
what she was answering. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, his
short black hair, his dark, searching eyes. He had a small scar above one
eyebrow and one on his chin, which made him even more masculine.
An exciting tingle ran down her back, warmly flooding her womb. How
long had it been since she was last interested in a man? Certainly not since
Nathan...
No, don't think about him now. He has nothing to do with that.
No, but he was still the reason why men had long been taboo for Marina.
And now she suddenly had a lust for this unknown guy.
Stop! Stop!
Finish your lecture and go home. Drink a glass of wine and forget about
the guy.
»Okay, I hope to see you all again next time. If you are interested in
becoming a member of the Pinnacle and would like to find out more, please
contact Carrie at the front entrance. She has the registration forms.”
As usual, several participants gathered around Marina, and she readily
answered the last few questions before everyone filed out of the room.
Everyone except him.
 “I'm not one of your usual sub-types. I don't need any of that. What I need
are the shackles. And someone who understands the trip in their head.
Someone who can guide me.”
“The shackles are the trip in the head,” she said angrily, her beautiful gray
eyes sparkling with lightning. »Look, I don't play with men. I have my
reasons for this. Apparently you don't even know what the Power Exchange
is all about. So why do you want me to play with you?”
»Because I'm sure it will work for you. And I assure you, I've got it. Just
try it out and we'll see.” He's had the hots for this woman since the first
moment of eye contact in her workshop. The idea of ​running his hands
through her amazing mane turned him on.
Still, it wasn't about sex for him. Sex hadn't gotten him anywhere.
It's impossible not to think about sex with this woman.
It would be better if he left her alone and looked for
someone else. But he didn't want anyone else.
“Marina...I didn't mean to be rude. I just wanted to explain to you that I'm
not interested in the usual domination dynamics. I'm looking for the trance
state. I want to clear my head.”
"Maybe you should try seeing a therapist." She picked up her purse and
slung the straps over her shoulder. She was still angry. Why?
"I was already there. The therapy didn't do anything for me." He pushed
closer, grabbed Marina's wrist. Her skin was soft and cool, and he felt a
sudden thrill in the pit of his stomach. He didn't let on, but instead said
calmly: "I have to find that inner place. And I know you can relate to that. I
can see in your eyes that you've already been there. Right?"
 She blinked at him from under long, half-lowered dark lashes.
“Yes,” she said, her voice a little breathless.
“Then take me with you. I can't do it alone." Her skin burned under his
fingers. "Come with me."
She nodded almost imperceptibly and then said, “Okay. OK."
He grinned at that, not triumphantly, but relieved. She had no idea how
difficult it had been for him to ask her to do this. “Can we talk somewhere
private?”
"There's a bar down the street."
He nodded. "Thanks."
She looked at him with her dove-gray eyes, her gaze strangely agitated.
“Strange, but I have a dark feeling I should stay away from stuff like that.”
He stayed silent.
She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. »Okay, I'll come with you. But
first let's talk. I'll give you a chance. You're trying to convince me to do
what you're asking me to do. I'm not sure if I'll do it, but we'll see."
“One chance, that’s all I want.”
“Oh, you just asked me for a whole lot more. Let's go."

The bar was warm and a bit cramped. Maybe it was James’s presence,
sitting across from her at the tiny round bar table. Marina twirled the stem
of her red wine glass uncomfortably between her fingers. Why did she even
come with us?
"I'm glad you're engaging in this conversation," he began, sipping his
mineral water.
»I still don't know why I'm here. Why I actually came along. But okay.
Tell me why you think you need someone like me.”
 He bent his elbows on the table, rested his head in his hands, and she
caught his scent again, fresh and animalistic at the same time. Heavenly
good. She took another sip, trying to drown her desire with red wine. Alone
with him in the dimly lit bar only made it worse.
“As I said, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said. »Your name is no stranger
to the bondage and BDSM scene. I read about your lectures online.”
“You did… research on me?”
»I was looking for a Shibari master. And you're one of a handful of very
experienced people in San Francisco. And are therefore the only ones who
can induce trance states.«
"I've studied meditative phenomena extensively: with Buddhist monks, the
whirling dervishes of Turkey, even with Catholic nuns." She stroked the
wine goblet with her fingertips, concentrating on the cool, steamy glass and
avoiding his intense gaze. »I believe that bondage can put you into a kind of
trance state if those involved respond to it and are open to it. It doesn't work
for everyone.«
»It's exactly what I'm looking for. Which I think I need.”
"For what reason? I get the feeling you’re not really interested in a sexual
experience.”
“I can have sex anywhere.”
Certainly - with the looks, she thought silently. »Tell me more about
yourself.«
“I've had... some damn hard experiences. I work as a freelance journalist.
Well I war Journalist, until two years ago.”
»That's how I know you. I saw interviews with you on TV. And read your
reports in the magazines.”
"Yes." He nodded.
 »They've been all over the world. Have for Time and National Geographic
reported on the worst trouble spots. You did the report on the street children
in Brazil, right? And the one about the Serbian refugees.”
"True."
His expression hardened and Marina immediately guessed that he must
have been through hell in his job.
“I’m sure you’ve seen…pretty much atrocities.”
“Yes.” He lowered his eyes and took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry, James."
He focused on Marina again. »No, it doesn't have to be. After all, we are
responsible for the life we ​lead, right? I've done some good reporting." He
fell silent, took a sip of water and put the glass down more firmly than
necessary. »And I saw the horror. Lived nightmares, unbelievable horror
scenarios. And I don't say this to brag about what a great hero I am. No, just
the opposite. Horror is and remains horror. And I have to get all this crap
out of my head. Or learn…to let go. I have no idea how this is supposed to
work. Because I can't meditate. I can't switch off. I can't even sleep properly
anymore..."
"Good, James."
»I don't want pity, I want help. And I honestly have a really hard time
asking for it. Do you believe me?”
His brown, gold-flecked eyes bore into hers, glittering with desire and
pain and...Marina couldn't have said it. His gaze got under her skin, set her
body on fire, touched her deeply.
How could she have refused him something?
“You think I can help you with these things?”
“I think you can take me where I need to go. If anyone can do it, it's you.
Everything else doesn't work. I was close enough
to get an idea of ​what is possible on the ropes. However, I have never been
with someone like you - a master of shibari. The Power Exchange was
there, but it wasn't intense enough for me. I've never been with anyone
strong enough."
“And you think I’m strong enough?”
He looked at her with his head tilted. "I consider you to be one of the
strongest women I know, Marina."
Her heart warmed again. She shuddered and promptly weakened her
knees.
Out of the question. That didn't work at all.
On the other hand, she didn't want to turn him down. She just couldn't do
it.
"There are... certain boundaries that must not be crossed," she said, her
throat dry as dust. She swallowed and reached for her wine glass. »Sex is
taboo.«
“So you’re doing it?”
"If we come to an agreement."
I must be crazy.
"Naturally."
»If I understand you correctly, you are not a humble slave - I wouldn't
want that either. I don't like men who are weak." No, she had seen far too
much of that while Nathan was dying. "Nevertheless, I don't allow myself to
be discussed in the scenes; our roles are clear."
"No of course not. I take on the passive part. Even if it is difficult for me.«
It's incomprehensible that this hunk would say such things to her.
She wanted nothing more than to tie him up, to see him beg, to see him
submit to her. Oh, it was too good to be true to see a giant like him
to bring your knees...
»I'll call you in the next few days. Then we’ll make an appointment.”
He nodded. “Deal.”
He shook her hand as if sealing a business deal. His palm felt warm and a
little rough. For Marina, it was as if her arm was being shocked by
electricity. She pulled her hand away, but that was it, a hot tingling
sensation flooded her body. She involuntarily crossed her legs against the
underlying pain that pulsed between her thighs.
No sex.
Yes, she had to stay in control. No problem. She had been doing this for
years. Once he was tied up, his masculine aura would be gone anyway, or at
least severely impaired, and he would no longer come across as
overwhelmingly… sexy.
Or?
She was determined to go for it, even though alarm bells were ringing in
her head. She was already aware that James Cortez could be dangerous to
her. Because he wouldn't lose any of his masculine, sexy presence... not
even in the bonds.
Oh yes, he was a danger to her. For their need for control. For the mental
armor she had put on after losing Nathan. Still, she couldn't say no.
She was about to take the bull by the horns. And she wanted to enjoy
every second of it, until the final consequence where he would inevitably
eat her out.
 2

MArina opened her eyes. Diffused twilight fell through the lace curtains
into her bedroom. It was still quiet outside.
It was hard to say what time it was, especially since it was always a bit
foggy in San Francisco, even in the Castro District where she lived, which
was a little sunnier than most other parts of the city. She had no idea how
long she had been asleep.
She peered at the clock. It was almost ten. This didn't surprise her one bit;
after all, she had been up until after two. The conversation with James
Cortez was replaying in her head as if someone was constantly pressing
play.
She constantly thought about him, what he had said and what he wanted
from her. What she wanted from him.
She wanted to help
him. She wanted to
touch him.
She wanted to experience the exhilarating feeling of power that came with
bringing a body-styled dream guy like Cortez to his knees, in every sense of
the word. There was no hotter feeling. And she hadn't experienced it in
years. Not even with Nathan.
Nathan had been sweet. Not that that made him any less of a man. But he
was gentle and naturally submissive. Not really her type, but it was
impossible not to love him.
Why couldn't she stop thinking about Nathan? And to James? Somehow it
all seemed to be connected.
Maybe playing with James wasn't a good idea. Still, she was fascinated by
it. But also confused. Normally nothing could upset her so easily. This man
had thrown her off balance and she didn't like it at all.
 Still, she was hot for him.
She threw the covers aside, stood up, and padded across the floorboards in
her thin white cotton nightgown. Fished her cozy fleece housecoat off the
chair. Wrapped herself in it and slipped on her slippers. Then she ran into
the kitchen, turned on the coffee maker and put slices of bread in the toaster.
She loved the old Victorian house she bought with Nathan's life insurance
money. It took her a year to renovate. It had been a lot of work, but Marina
had desperately needed the distraction. By now everything was perfect,
styled exactly the way she wanted. She had resealed the old floors, restored
ceiling stucco and wall frescoes, and polished brass fittings and door
handles to a high shine. Although she had completely modernized the
kitchen, the ambience still seemed pleasantly nostalgic, thanks to marble
work surfaces and an old cast iron stove that she had bought at the flea
market. She had decorated the entire house with a mix of Victorian antiques
and hip furniture and kept the walls in the modern ethnic style that she
loved.
The house comforted her through many things. It was a real component of
Marina's life. Solid. More solid than anything she had left after Nathan's
death.
The grief of the loss gave her a painful little pang. Would she ever stop
missing Nathan? Unlike before, however, the pain slowly became more
bearable. Still, the feeling was pervasive that she had lost the most
important person in her life. She came to terms with it. Accepted it but
forgot? No, probably never.
The coffee was ready and she poured herself a cup, spooned in a generous
amount of sugar and stirred. Then she took the fresh toast, spread butter on
it and placed the slices on a small porcelain plate like any other
Morning. There was something comforting about these little habits. She
carried the cup and plate to the large whitewashed wooden table by the
window that overlooked the street. The fog began to lift, revealing the city
as if it were hidden under a fluffy blanket.
She loved the architecture of her neighborhood, a mix of cute Victorian
buildings like her own house and stuccoed villas from the 1920s and 30s.
And she liked the diversity of her neighbors. She felt at home in a
community that accepted alternative lifestyles. Of course she didn't walk
through the streets like a dominatrix in latex and leather or swinging a
whip. Nevertheless, you could feel that everyone was accepted here.
She ate her toast while watching the goings-on in the street: people
walking their dogs, shopping in the store down on the corner, and enjoying
their lives. Why couldn't she do that today? Because she was too distracted.
She had to get this James Cortez out of her head as quickly as possible. Or
at least get her wandering thoughts under control. Maybe she should talk to
Desmond. He usually managed to straighten her out.
She got another coffee and took the cup into the living room, where she
sank onto her cream-white leather sofa and picked up the phone.
Desmond answered on the first ring.
»Desmond Hale.«
“Desmond, it’s me, Marina.”
"Marina, how are you?"
"IM fine, thanks. Uh…at least I think so.”
“Can you maybe be a little more specific?” he teased.
»Hah, I don't know exactly what's wrong with me either. That actually is
my problem. For this reason call I at you an.« She
faltered, nippte at hers
Coffee pot. “Desmond, I think… I’m in trouble.”
"What? Did something happen?"
»It's not that dramatic. I just…I just got myself into a stupid situation. I
met a man, James Cortez. He's looking for a top, someone to tie him up.
And this...this guy excites me so damn hard. I don't know why either. I'm
really into this guy. I think that’s where my problem lies.”
Desmond laughed. “After all, it’s not the end of the world. It happens to
all of us at some point.”
“Yes,” she confirmed quietly. “But in this case we’re talking about me,
don’t you get that?”
“Maybe it’s time, Marina.”
“Mmh, maybe you’re right.”
He was silent for a short while. "Think about it. Far too often we come to
terms with the circumstances and fall into the same routine. I was stuck.
Until I met Ava.”
“It’s always the same routine, Desmond. I lost a loved one.«
“I know, and it was a big blow for you. But Nathan's was over four years
ago. “You haven’t shown any interest in a man in all that time.”
"Because I wasn't interested."
"And now?"
“And now there's this man... I feel like playing with him, Desmond. And I
think I’ll do it.”
"Well, then have fun."
“Hopefully.” She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, pressing one of the
midnight blue velvet pillows onto her stomach. Why did she suddenly have
butterflies in her stomach?
 »Marina, give your heart a push. I know what I'm talking about. Don't resist
your needs. Let your feelings guide you.«
“Wise words from a guy newly in love, right?”
»Logo, I am. Wouldn’t be bad for you either.”
»Me and in love? Nope, I would know that. I hardly know him.”
»But there's something there, isn't there? Some kind of
erotic attraction.” She had to suppress a moan. "Yes …"
"And you want to play with him."
“Yes.” Oh dear, this gorgeously muscled toyboy in his restraints. "Yes I
want to."
“So, what can I do for you, sweetie?”
Her hand clenched on the phone. “Talk me out of it.”
»I'll leave it alone. I think you should try it out and play with him. To be
with a man. It's time, Marina. I know you never really got over Nathan's
death, and it may sound presumptuous of me, but he certainly wouldn't
want you to be alone forever. You know that best.”
"Yes, I know," she sighed. She unconsciously pressed the pillow tighter
against her chest. "I'm guessing I just wanted a little reassurance that I was
doing the right thing."
“You always only know that afterwards, right?”
"Probably."
Desmond lowered his voice. »Look, I can relate to you. I went through all
of that too. I wanted something, but I didn't want to give in to my desires
for fear of losing control. We're both wired similarly. But sometimes it's the
best thing you can do. Sometimes it’s sorely needed.”
»Desmond. Ava is the love of your life. This guy, James, is...just some
man. A nobody.”
 "Okay, he still is. But maybe if you give him a chance..."
"And that's probably exactly why I'm nervous." She paused and took a deep
breath.
“You know I wouldn’t admit this to anyone but you.”
“The main thing is that you admit it to yourself.”
“I'm really tired, Desmond. It doesn't bother me one bit that I can't
estimate what could ultimately happen between us.'
"Ah, we're two bad control freaks, you and me."
She unconsciously grinned. »Yes, we are. And I like that. I feel great when
I have everything under control.«
“Don't we always tell submissives that the best way to get to know each
other is to break down their mental barriers? Shouldn’t we take this to heart
for ourselves too?”
"Oh, you're the philosopher, Desmond."
"That's what happens when you're in love."
"I'm not in love."
"Not yet. It can still happen.”
»Desmond!«
»Okay, I'll stop. All joking aside, you tell me what's going on with this
James guy, okay?"
"I'll do it. Glad you listened to me. Even though you weren’t much help.”
“Thanks, I was happy to do it.” He whinnied.
Somehow he had built her up morally with his positive attitude. And he
was probably right. Guess it was really time for her to have some fun again.
Not a big story like Desmond's relationship with Ava, but at least
something...
"I'll be in touch soon, Desmond."
She hung up, remained sitting on the sofa and drank the leftover cold
coffee from her cup. Come on, Marina, put your best foot forward and get
to work
a bit, even if today is Saturday. Call a few clients, make appointments, take
care of your filing. Work will definitely distract you. Hopefully.
She seriously doubted that. James’s face was etched in her mind: his
voice, his intensity. His sexual desires stirred Marina up inside.
Maybe she should write him an email, ask him a few questions, clarify the
conditions for her first time? Oh no, put him out of your head and do
something constructive.
Go back to bed, get out the vibrator and stimulate yourself to a hot orgasm
while thinking about him...
She threw the pillow into the corner of the sofa. My goodness, finally pull
yourself together, do something, no matter what! Put the guy on ice and
stop fantasizing. She got up, carried the coffee cup into the kitchen, put it in
the sink. Then she went into the bedroom, took a few things out of the
closet, and tore off her bathrobe and nightgown. Naked, she stared at the
bathroom door, wondering whether she should take a shower. Get dressed
and work. Instead, she ran back to her rumpled bed, sank onto the edge,
moaning softly, and rummaged in the bedside drawer for a vibrator. She
chose the largest one, a massive piece of bright blue silicone. She turned it
on and leaned in front of the pile of fragrant silk and lace pillows.
James …
Good heavens, just thinking about him made her wet.
She spread her thighs, slipped her hand between them, felt her wet pussy.
Imagined it was his hand, his brown eyes flecked with gold, admiring her.
Oh yes, he knelt in front of her and watched her do herself...
When was the last time she did it herself?
 Doesn't matter. In her imagination she imagined this hunk kneeling in
front of her. With one hand she spread her labia, with the other she inserted
the vibrating phallus - just the tip, to turn herself on a little.
Her body went off like a rocket.
James …
She twirled her clitoris with her fingers, let the vibrator do its job,
shuddered with pleasure and pushed it in a little deeper.
She would order James to kiss her thighs, to lick her slit
…
My God …
She inserted the vibrator deeper, angling it until it stimulated her G-spot.
The excitement hit her like a sweet wave; she felt sinfully wicked and
lascivious. And she pinched her clitoris, hard, imagining they were James's
teeth.
Moaning, she pushed her pelvis into her hand - into his hand, pushing the
vibrator hard into her vagina. And screamed when she finally came.
»James!«
She trembled, the orgasm washing over her like a tsunami. She had his face
in front of her eyes, his scent in her head, he was with her, he was eating her.
Oh yes, he would eat her out.
Holy cannon barrel.
He's just a random guy.
Her twitching body ticked differently. After all, he was the first man she
felt something for in four long years. And those feelings were spiraling
dangerously out of control.
She pulled out the vibrator, turned it off and rolled onto her side. Still
breathless, she tried to think clearly.
She would play with him and then ditch him. It was nothing more than a
purely chemical process.
 Pure chemistry and his desire. So damn strong she couldn't possibly resist.
She had to accept the challenge. Embracing your obsession.
James.
She was hot again. There was nothing to be done. She pushed the vibrator
between her thighs again, tensing as she stimulated her swollen clitoris and
surrendered uninhibitedly to the growing ecstasy.

In Hayes Valley, the area where James lived, all the sidewalks were still up;
People just got up later on Saturday mornings. However, James had been
awake since six in the morning and couldn't get back to sleep. After lying
there for another full hour, he got up, got dressed and left the house to get
some coffee.
He went to the little cafe on the corner, ordered his usual latte and strolled
down Gough Street with his paper cup. All restaurants, shops and galleries
were still closed. In a few hours the street would be buzzing with people,
and usually he loved the hustle and bustle; that's why he ended up living in
the heart of the city.
Today, however, he enjoyed the peace and quiet, especially since countless
thoughts were running through his head. He had contacted Marina
Marchant to clear his head, but things had only gotten worse since then.
The lady was sinfully attractive and he couldn't forget her face. Fucking
perfect, really. Not a lie.
He was determined to let her captivate him.
He got hard just thinking about her hands pulling the rope over his skin.
His pulse fluttered with nervousness.
He wasn't afraid. He wasn't afraid of anything. Apart from his nightmarish
memories.
And maybe in front of this woman.
 He blocked out the thought, dug the key out of his jacket pocket and
unlocked the front door. The house he lived in was two stories and lovingly
decorated with stucco, too old for an elevator, but he didn't mind climbing
stairs - it was also much healthier. He crossed the narrow gallery and
unlocked the door to his apartment, which took up the entire upper floor. He
appreciated the spacious feeling of living with the old, spacious parquet
floors and the high ceilings. He had furnished the apartment sparingly
because he liked it minimalistic. And he loved the feeling of living in the
hectic maelstrom of the city and didn't mind the cacophonous noise of
traffic. At least that distracted him from thinking.
He thought a lot. Too much... and damn... always on Marina.
He closed the door behind him and walked to his desk. Booted up the
computer and stared at the dark screen.
He had a lot of time this morning. The best prerequisite for working on
your next book; especially since he wanted to submit the manuscript in just
over a month. However, so far he had only developed the concept. And he
wasted his time strolling through the city, driven, locked in his own head,
trying to find a solution to how he could deal with the horror he had
experienced.
He just called it “the horror,” as if horror needed an official name. Mental
snapshots of his travels, the misery and suffering he had seen. He had tried
various techniques to stop these flashbacks, but it didn't really work.
The trip to Burundi had been one of the worst. The sheer horror.
Dear God, he never wanted to go to Africa again!
Don't think about it
anymore. Never again.
 No, he had to think about Marina, whether he wanted to or not. Of her
sinfully sensual body. Flawless. Her mouth a revelation. Your beautiful
hands. And what these beautiful hands could do. She was one after all
Nawashi. A bondage master. He was aware of what that meant in Shibari.
To have a real one Nawashi To be a woman, she had to know more than the
art of bondage. she had to is have it.
Bloody hell. She was his last hope.
After a sip of coffee, he opened the document containing the notes for his
current project, a book about the homeless in America that he had wanted to
write for years. However, the problems in the Third World had taken a
greater physical and psychological toll on him than he cared to admit. At
some point he couldn't take it anymore and quit the job. Otherwise he
would have died.
Don't think about it
anymore! No, think about
Marina instead.
Why did all this rush at him with force? The thing with Marina, his job, all
the damn horror he'd seen. Better if he concentrated on her.
Marina.
He had the strange feeling that she might be some kind of key to his inner
self. That probably sounded idiotic. It was just wishful thinking. Maybe his
libido had clouded his brain and he was just thinking with his little head
since he met Marina.
Libido wasn't really the deciding factor. That mattered less to him. The
crucial thing was the shackles, the ritual, the trip in the head.
He closed his eyes and imagined the ropes sliding over his skin, being
pulled tight until he could no longer move. Otherwise it wouldn't work. He
would have to submit.
To get where he needed to go, he would have to completely let go of his
dominance. Something he had never been able to do before. But with
Marina... Oh yes, things were different with her.
His computer beeped and James clicked through his email.
Marina.
He leaned close to the screen and read her message. A long email. She
asked about his wishes and explained to him the requirements that applied
to her in the bondage scene. Again she emphasized that sex was taboo.
The woman was pure sex for him.
But okay, if it absolutely had to be. He could control his desire, right?
Ultimately that didn't matter. Because she would be in control. He, on the
other hand, would languish in his bonds, helpless and submissive.
If only he could open up. Let go. So far impossible. With Marina,
however, he had the feeling that many things were possible.
He spontaneously sent her a reply email. Yes, he has experience with
bondage. Yes, bondage is erotic for him and, yes, spiritual too. No, he is not
looking for pain or humiliation; he just wanted to be tied up so he could
finally free himself from his demons.
His pulse raced as he typed his answers. It was becoming more and more
real that this woman would lay hands on him. That he wanted to allow it.
Craziness. A gift from heaven. He
couldn't wait.
 3

SShe hadn't become weak. No, she had somehow managed to get through
the week and not contact him. And today
She would finally see him again in the evening.
James.
Her body spontaneously trembled with desire.
Control yourself!
Oh yeah, tonight was all about control. And she would get it. She had
always managed it so far!
However, she had never been so hot. Not with any man yet. Not even with
Nathan. He had been a considerate, sensual lover; James, on the other hand,
was more like an electric shock.
She had showered, massaged herself with scented body lotion, brushed her
hair until it shined. The whole time she had been thinking about the extent
to which the preparation rituals were the same, regardless of whether you
were a Dom or a sub. She wanted everything to be perfect. As a gift for
those in the submissive role. And to understand your personal power as top.
For example, a woman could exercise her power through sexuality.
Because it was sexual when she tied a man up, even though sex was
absolutely taboo for Marina. But sex was power. A power she would use to
bring this dream guy to his knees.
The idea gave her a shiver of pleasure, her breasts tingled, her nipples
hardened.
Oh yes, this was definitely about sex. And she wanted to use it in doses, to
channel it.
However, she didn't want to sleep with him. There was no touching
either. Shit, she was literally longing to be touched by him.
 She sighed disgruntledly and, shaking her head, opened a closet drawer to
select her lingerie. Although she had been sexually silent for years, her
drawer was full of red lace and black silk lingerie. She had never been able
to deny this part of her femininity: she was a woman with erotic needs. So
she wore sexy lingerie and used a dildo or vibrator. Everything is well
hidden so that they are not constantly on the one thought.
A date with James Cortez and the one flashed like a bright neon sign in
her head. Sex. Sex. Sex.
Maybe she just needed to get laid again? she thought.
She almost laughed out loud as she slipped into a black bra and matching
thong, the silk cool against her skin.
No, she definitely didn't want to sleep with him!
In her lingerie, Marina ran to her tall antique wardrobe, dug a pair of black
seamed stockings out of a compartment, rolled them lasciviously over her
ankles, up to her thighs. Then she took a black knee-length skirt off the
hanger. She stepped into the tight piece, smoothed it over her hips and
pulled up the zipper. She thought the black knitted top with the wide-cut
lace collar went well with it. She looked at herself in the large oval standing
mirror with the ornate gold frame. Saw her shimmering eyes, her dilated
pupils, huge and dark. Her cheeks were flushed. Her fingers involuntarily
slipped into the waistband of her skirt, over her stomach, her breasts
wrapped in silk.
How long had it been since she last fucked a man?
Much too long. Maybe Desmond was Mr. Right. Nevertheless, for Marina
it was about more than satisfying her sexual needs. Much more. She didn't
want to risk allowing too much closeness. She had lost too much - that
should never happen to her again.
 Don't feel like that. Treat yourself to a hot number with him. It's just about
sex.
Wild, uninhibited sex and sweating bodies, naked skin rubbing against
naked skin...
She really had to pull herself together. James could ring her doorbell at
any moment.
She dropped her hands from her lustfully tingling breasts and hastily ran to
the dresser with her shoes. She pulled out a pair of red leather stilettos,
slipped them on, and gradually regained her composure. She loved shoes
and had a gigantic collection. High heels gave you dominance. And that's
what tonight was about. About dominance. Your personal power. That she
wouldn't give up for any man, no matter how exciting he came across. Even
when he got her going, she almost exploded with pleasure.
Her hands slid to her breasts again and she closed her eyes in distraction,
imagining that it was James's hands caressing her... Suddenly the doorbell
rang and Marina jumped as if she had been caught.
Pull yourself together!
She took a deep breath, shook her hair back and walked to the door. James
was standing outside in the hallway, wearing jeans and a black shirt with a
white collar. He looked good. The absolute eye-catcher, dark, glowing eyes
and sun-tanned skin. She had ignored how devastatingly handsome he was.
The scar on his cheek… Marina's fingers itched to reach out and caress it.
"Marina." He smiled, revealing two rows of healthy white teeth. God, she
could have smooched that mouth.
"Hi. Did you like it?”
"Clear. It wasn’t a problem.”
 She suddenly realized that she was standing glued to the doorway, staring
at him. She took a step back.
"Come in."
Why did her nerves have to be so stupid? Like a teenager on his first date.
She had to come down quickly and concentrate on her role. Do your job.
No long small talk. Don't push it away. Just do it.
“Would you like something to drink before we start, James?”
"Oh. You get straight to the point.”
“Logo, did you expect anything else?” She had unsettled him, she said
with a mild smile. Her inner balance was immediately restored.
"No," he smiled uncertainly. He flirted with her, a crooked grin, his dark
eyes glittering. As soon as he noticed it, he put on a distant, vague
expression. Interesting that he was able to isolate himself internally from
now on. Probably some survival instinct he had developed in his job.
"Thanks, I don't want to drink anything."
“As I indicated in the email, I do not require you to address me as ma’am
or mistress. I have nothing to do with the slave mentality. Call me Marina,
okay?”
»Yes, Marina.«
His tone was polite, but not the least bit submissive. This James Cortez
was a real challenge, but she had already known that. It even appealed to
her. She couldn't do anything with willing, sweet Subbie boys. It would
never have worked. At least not like with James.
A hot shiver slowly ran down her spine. She bit her bottom lip and
stiffened.
"Okay, come with me."
 She spun around and ran down the hall, sure he would follow her. A little
later she heard the soft clacking of his soles on the parquet floor behind her.
She opened the door to the guest room; her bedroom, her inner sanctum,
was off limits. She almost never had men visit anyway; Desmond
occasionally came and brought a friend or two with him. That was all.
There was no guy she played with. Nobody with whom the chemistry was
as good as with James. She resisted the pleasurable tingling sensation.
He's a bottom like everyone else, man or woman. He's here for a very
specific reason. For the same reason women have come to me for the last
four years.
She beckoned him into the guest room, which she had simply furnished: a
wide four-poster bed made of dark antique wood dominated the room; she
had decided against a bedspread because she thought the beautiful wood
stood out better that way. There was a tall dresser against one wall where
she kept her ropes and handcuffs. In one corner stood the high suspension
frame, which was equipped with loops and rollers for pulling the ropes,
handcuffs and ankle shackles. Marina had additional rollers installed on the
high ceiling for her suspension work. For James, however, that was out of
the question. He definitely wasn't the type of guy who was into aesthetic
patterns. He just wanted the trip in his head. Exceed limits.
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and focused on him. He stood
in the middle of the room. And watched her a little uncertainly, his
expression uncertain. What could he be thinking now? Did he have any
scruples? Rather unlikely, but still...
Finally start.
She nodded at him. "Get undressed."
 A grin crossed his face. Then he hastily unbuttoned his shirt and took it
off. Underneath he wore a simple white undershirt. She liked these shirts
because she generally had a thing for white cotton. On men. About herself.
She always slept in a short cotton nightgown. The material stretched over
his muscular chest so that his nipples stood out darkly beneath the material.
Marina wanted to reach out and stroke her.
Her gaze slid to the black and gray tattoos on his left arm. An angel
covered his shoulder, his wings spread wide, underneath he had a tattoo of
an Asian woman, everything in great detail and underlined with clouds and
waves.
Beautiful and powerful, just like him.
"Where can I put my things, Marina?"
“Just put her on the end of the bed.”
He willingly went to the bed and pulled the white undershirt over his head.
God, that guy was a looker. Marina caught her breath. Golden brown skin,
firm and smooth. His chest and shoulders were well defined; he had
definitely had to train his impressive muscles with hard workouts in the
gym. A long scar adorned his right ribcage. Like the scar on his chin, it
made him even more masculine. Even more attractive for Marina.
She couldn't resist; she reached out and touched the scarred skin with a
fingertip.
"What has happened there?"
“Battle wound.”
She raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Oh... no, I was never in the military. But my job was... I saw a lot of
combat operations, went to theaters of war and stuff like that."
“You don’t want to tell me how it happens, do you?”
 "But. Secure. No problem.” He shrugged dismissively. Still, Marina could
tell he didn't like talking about it. "A machete, in Indonesia."
She nodded. “You don’t like to talk about it, huh?”
He turned his head away briefly, and when he looked at Marina again, his
eyes were darkly shadowed. “I came to you to get rid of all this stuff. If you
value it, of course I'll tell you, but not today. I definitely don't want to annoy
you or be uncooperative, but I can't talk about it right now. Not this
evening."
"OK. I got it.”
He nodded, his gaze still on her. However, he didn't evaluate her. At least
not like other submissives who secretly tested the strength and will of their
top partner. James, on the other hand, searched her face for answers.
“James, take your time with it. It is your right to keep your painful
experiences to yourself.”
"Yes!" he hissed, his gaze increasingly dark.
“Hey, don’t be so defensive, okay? It really doesn’t have to be that way.”
He shook his head with an abrupt movement. “That’s… it’s difficult for
me sometimes.”
“And that's why you're here, isn't it? We'll get it sorted out.'
He nodded, his face relaxing almost noticeably. "OK. Okay.” Marina
was silent. He took a deep breath and composed himself again.
“Go on.” She nodded towards his luxury body.
With his chocolate-melting gaze fixed on Marina, he bent down, untied his
boots - heavy black lace-up boots that Marina found extremely erotic - and
took them off. Then he unbuttoned his jeans and took his time. Almost as if
in slow motion, he finally pushed it over
his hips, thighs and took them off. Underneath he wore charcoal gray boxer
shorts. His penis was bulging under the soft material, Marina noticed.
She enjoyed this sight. And spontaneously hated himself for it. But just a
little.
You give him what he wants now.
She licked her lips. "Everything."
He had toned thighs and a flat washboard stomach. And when he lowered
his panties, his cock was hard and hungry. Holla.
When she tore her eyes away from his best piece, she realized that James
had been watching her. However, he didn't bat an eyelid. He stood bolt
upright, arching his shoulders back. The blue veins in his neck throbbed
clearly, signaling that he was struggling hard.
»Lie down on the bench. On the belly."
He nodded, although his expression was serious and somewhat grim, he
still obeyed. His back was sinewy, his skin smooth and taut, except for the
end of the scar on the side of his body. His buttocks were perfectly rounded.
She kneaded her hands and took a deep breath.
You know the routines. Finally get started.
“James, before we even begin, I'm going to tie your hands. I don't want
you to talk unless you have a real problem, whether physical or emotional,
or I ask you a question. Did that get to you?”
»Yes, Marina.«
She pulled open a dresser drawer and pulled out two short white ropes,
settling on a pair of handcuffs. She looked at James' body, his arms
stretched above his head. The dark, silky hair on his arms, the silky tufts in
his armpits.
The tense muscles beneath his skin. And pleasure crept into Marina's body,
into her senses, as supple as a cat.
She unconsciously licked her lips, clasped one of his wrists. He flinched
involuntarily. And held still as she tied his wrist to the bench.
His skin was silky smooth, like a woman's, but much more sinewy.
She couldn't believe it, but her pussy was swelling, getting wet, just
because she had touched his wrist!
She walked around the bench and cuffed his other wrist.
Just do your job.
She leaned over him, putting a hand on the back of his neck, feeling him
stiffen.
“Relax, James. I know this is difficult for you. But you have to concentrate
on it.”
You better concentrate, Marina.
And not on his stunning muscles and the provocative idea of ​his inner
struggle, even if that was pure eroticism for Marina.
»First let's do a few breathing exercises. Breathe in through your nose,
long and deeply. Then out again through your mouth. I breathe with you.
Do you understand what I mean?”
"Yes, I have."
She could tell he wasn't switching off at all. His voice and his tense body
signaled that he was totally present. Many submissives began to slip into
subspace as soon as they felt the first restraints and were given instructions.
With James, every step would be a struggle. Still, she wanted to savor this
fight, to know how difficult it was for him to surrender, to give up on
himself. See how strong he was.
 She leaned close over him so that her breasts brushed his back. Heavenly.
Her nipples were hard, her breasts tingled. And this position was brilliant.
“James, feel my breath. Follow my rhythm.«
She drew her breath slowly into her lungs, mentally forcing herself to
calm down, feeling his chest rise and his back press against her body. A
quick flick, then again. She felt his inner rebellion, even with this simple
exercise.
"You have to let go, James," she told him patiently. »You know what you
have to do if you want it to work. So do it.”
"I try it."
“Let go, James.”
That's what he wanted. Damn, and how! But it was a fight every time.
Now Marina pressed herself against his back and he was hard as granite.
This made the exercise all the more difficult, but he found it increasingly
easier to participate. He didn't understand that. Maybe there was nothing to
understand.
He continued the breathing exercises, trying to get into Marina's rhythm.
"You're too tense, James," she said, her voice a breathy whisper against his
shoulder.
"I know."
»Psst. Just keep breathing.”
He obeyed. Tried to let go, to relax, as she commanded. It did not work.
»Marina …«
“Sssh.”
“No, I have to tell you... it's... I want it to work. But it takes more than
that.”
Marina was silent for a long moment. “Yes, I think so too.”
 She sat up and a small shiver ran through his body. His cock throbbed
hard.
She smelled sweet like chocolate. Sweet to bite.
He was allowed to get that out of his head. As if he could throw off the
shackles and eat her out! Still, he couldn't think of anything else.
“James, I'm going to tie you very tightly now. You need this.”
"And."
That was the crux of the matter. He couldn't let go, couldn't let himself go.
He desperately needed it.
“Please do it, Marina.”
Was he begging from this woman? It doesn't matter either. He had to find
some way to get all the crap out of his head. And that need was intensified
by his desire to touch her. To fuck her. By the idea that she would reject
him. It didn't fit together somehow, but he didn't care.
He felt the soft rope caress his skin before she really got going. She
wrapped the ropes around his arms several times, then tied them to the
bench so that he could no longer move them.
Yes, it was exactly what he needed.
She worked quickly, efficiently, looping the rope over his back, tying him
tightly to the bench. Then she ran it over his tight ass, his legs, until he was
almost completely tied up. He could barely breathe and could tense his
muscles just a little. No matter how strong he was and how great his panic
would become, he could no longer move.
Comforting. Shocking.
His body pulsed with pleasure, his nerves rebelled. And he felt a tiny bit
freed in his head as soon as he relaxed a bit. Finally!
Damn, it would work with her.
 Oh yes, he was half out of his mind, but she had just tied him up.
But it was Marina. This ravishingly beautiful creature whose scent drove
him wild with desire. Marina exuded power like no woman before her. And
he was ready to let go. To submit to her.
It actually happened. Finally.
 4

MArina felt his breathing quicken, felt his body relax, a slight muscle
reflex, so subtle that it was just because of her
noticed because she was leaning close over him. A small success, but at
least it was a start.
She let him savor the feeling of the bonds, breathed with him, let herself
drift a little mentally. A short while later she felt a small sharp twitch of his
bound body beneath her.
He resisted it. Thought too much.
“Ssh, James. Allow it. Let it happen.”
"I can't."
»Yes, you can. They just resist it.”
“Mmh, that could be true.”
He took a deep breath, trying to relax. It did not work. Before long, his
skin was glowing, beads of sweat glistened on his shoulder blades.
»Marina. Fuck …«
"I think that's enough for tonight," she said quietly.
He didn't answer her, probably because he didn't want to admit his failure.
His back muscles became increasingly tense and his breathing quickened.
“I’m going to untie you now, James.”
»Okay, yes. I can’t take it anymore…please, hurry up.”
She untied the knots, letting the ropes slide through her hands as he
became increasingly tense. He panicked, Marina knew the signs.
“It's okay, James. We can try again later. I'm almost done."
 He remained silent, trying to demonstrate composure. His breathing came
in short, rushed gasps and he lay on the bench, stiff as a board. As she untied
the last rope, he sat up, somewhat dazed.
His face was flushed and there was a dark gleam in his eyes. Dangerous.
His cock was hard as a lance. Almost too beautiful to look at.
He stood up abruptly, his eyes flashing. Marina took a step back, startled.
He walked towards her, pushing her against the wall. She was completely
taken by surprise; She noticed the glow that radiated from his naked body,
his provocative look that promised pure sex. Power. His masculine,
animalistic scent made her spontaneously wet, damn it. He supported
himself on the wall with his hands on either side of her waist and fixed
Marina with a glowing gaze. Hypnotizing. He pressed closer, a harsh moan
coming from deep in his throat. Her knees went weak. She was wet.
Shocked. Excited.
Damn, and there was nothing she could do about it.
He leaned forward, lowering his head so that she felt his breath warm on
her face. She could already feel his lips...almost...
"Dammit, Marina," he whispered. "I'm going to touch you now."
»And...«
She lock the Eyes, opened the Lips. She had to Just tasting
him, feeling his mouth on hers.
Then she felt his lips brush hers as light as a feather. Oh yes, heavenly, to
melt away. She sighed against his mouth.
"Damn," he whispered, his words a hot whisper against her skin. He sat up
quickly, tore his hair and shook his head.
Holy crap. What the hell was wrong with her? What had she just allowed
herself to do?
 She was no longer in control of the situation and they both knew it.
She was itching for him to kiss her. To hell with responsibility!
»James …«
»Sorry, cursed. I would have the not again may. I
should … Excuse me. It will not happen again."
But what if I want it? Are you still in good spirits, Marina?
"No, no problem, it's...okay." She paused, took a deep breath and gradually
regained her composure. "Get dressed," she ordered him.
Yes, it's better. In her role as Dom, she was the one who gave the orders
here.
Order him to kiss you. To eat you up. He'll obey, bet?
She really wasn't in her right mind.
Marina saw him forcing his hard-on into his boxer shorts and putting on
his shirt and pants, his every movement aggressive and erratic.
After all, she had a guilty conscience. The tempting desire was suddenly
faded away.
She hadn't been able to give him what he had come to her for. She wasn't
doing her job properly.
Her head went on a merry-go-round. She decided to deal with the problem
later, wanting to talk to him as soon as she could think clearly again.
What. What. What.
He was fully dressed and eyed her uncertainly from across the room. His
shoulders rose and fell with his ragged breathing. His face showed no
emotion. His dilated pupils glittered as black as night.
“I have to go now,” he said between clenched jaws.
 “You shouldn't go yet, James. There’s no way you can drive in your
condition.”
He shook his head. "No, I'm leaving now."
She slid over to him and saw that he flinched involuntarily, as he had
earlier when she had put her hand on his shoulder. “You need to know.”
"I am okay. I've never been to subspace. I’m in great shape.”
She was silent for a brief moment, examining his face with her eyes.
“You know that's not true. Even if you had only reached that first level.”
»I don't want to argue with you, Marina. So I'm going now."
His demeanor signaled cool determination. She knew she couldn't stop
him. Hated herself for not being able to do anything for him, for losing
control so drastically.
She nodded and he spun around and disappeared from the room. Marina
wanted to run after him to stop him. However, her pride held her back - it
was better for him and for her. She couldn't watch him disappear from her
house - from her life.
She heard his footsteps on the parquet, the soft creak of the front door, the
crack of the wooden frame as the door closed behind him.
She gasped, her lungs burning. She felt miserable.
How could she have gotten so out of control?
She walked to the bench and ran her palm over the surface. She thought
she could still smell him, feel him, as if he were still present in the room.
Marina was firmly convinced that each person exuded a special energy,
like an individual scent brand. And his was pure power. Pure masculinity.
With James, however, it was quite extreme.
 She had never met someone like James before. No man turned her on as
much as he did. The desire was almost unbearable. Lust fueled her body:
her breasts, her stomach, her pussy.
She slid a hand between her thighs and rubbed herself there.
Lust shot through her, sharp as a knife, blocking out her reason and her
need for control. Blocked out everything else.
She crossed the hallway and went into her bedroom, where she ripped off
her clothes and pulled her most powerful vibrator out of the drawer. She ran
into the bathroom with it, stood in front of the mirror, naked, her skin
covered in pink. Her nipples were two hard, dark islands of pleasure. Her
pussy was slippery wet.
She spread her thighs, reached between them and teased her pussy again.
She was wet, hot. Sparkling. Her eyelids fluttered as she rubbed her fingers
over her swollen clitoris before gently pushing her pussy lips apart,
revealing the hard bud. She spread her thighs a little further apart, turned
the vibrator to the highest setting and stroked it over her wet cave, feeling
the excitement fueling her body. She shuddered.
Yes, that really got her going. It was exactly what she needed. She didn't
need a man.
James...
No.
She pushed harder, enjoying the tickle that stimulated her pussy. She
spread her legs even further and pushed the tip of the vibrator into her slit,
moaning as her body jerked convulsively.
Oh I...
She kept her gaze fixed on her reflection in the mirror, moving the
vibrating phallus up and down. Ecstasy built, unleashing Marina's senses.
James …
 No, just herself and good equipment. She didn't need anything more.
She pumped her hips, rubbing her clit with one hand, bringing the vibrator
to her G-spot with the other. Her breasts tingled with longing, her pussy
throbbed.
When was the last time she had been fucked by a man?
She rotated her pelvis faster, pressed the vibrator deeper, tweaked her
clitoris harder.
James!
The excitement shot through Marina like an electric shock. And her body
exploded, the climax almost painful. And she came, thinking of James' dark
eyes, his tight golden skin, his hot cock. When it was over, she lowered the
vibrator to the edge of the vanity. Looked at her reflection in the mirror: her
face, neck and breasts were sexy and flushed. Her huge pupils shone. Her
mouth looked like James had kissed her - but he hadn't.
Even though you long for his kisses.
Yes, she had to admit that. She had the hots for James. She longed to sleep
with him. That hadn't happened to her in years.
Dangerous. James could be dangerous to her.
Or? It was definitely pure pleasure, nothing more. Then why was she
worried? She hadn't had sex with a man since Nathan's death: maybe it
really was time, as Desmond said. After all, she had a right to her sexuality,
like every human being. Finally she had held back long enough.
But was it fair to think of sex with James? After all, she had taken on the
responsible task of satisfying his need for subspace, of giving him relief
from his bonds. Did it make sense to shift the matter to the sexual level? Or
would it further exacerbate the problem? God, she was so damn indecisive.
As far as James was concerned, she was probably too self-conscious to be
rational
To make decisions. Besides, it was ultimately his decision whether he
wanted her or not.
He wanted. That was completely beyond doubt. The lust that burned in his
eyes, his hard, hot cock, how he had broken the taboo, how he had attacked
her...
She wouldn't have let anyone else offer that to her. But from James...she
would probably put up with just about anything. She was like putty in his
hands.
Not particularly cathedral-like. But James wasn't your average Subbie Boy
either. And that's exactly why she was attracted to him. At least it was one
of the reasons. That and his fiery dark eyes, the energy that radiated from
him. The embers.
She moaned, pressed her hand to her pussy, reached for the vibrator again.
And as she pushed the throbbing phallus between her legs, she tried to
convince herself that another orgasm would cure her desire for James, even
though she knew full well that was self-deception.

The drive home dragged on forever. All hell was breaking loose in the city,
like every Saturday evening, even though it was already late. Too many
cars, too many people, too many lights, too much noise and chaos. James
just couldn't switch off, lose himself in the hectic hustle and bustle, like he
used to.
It was urgently needed.
And quickly so that you can forget the taste of Marina's lips. The tickle of
her hair that had brushed against his skin. Your scent.
His cock was still rock hard, but the thought of Marina made it even
stiffer. James pressed a hand to the bulge in his crotch. Relax, sports fan, he
told himself mentally. - It did not work. He hadn't really expected it either.
He couldn't be helped.
 Because she was so damn beautiful. And hot. And feminine. And
everything.
Her power, her absolute control turned him on incredibly. And seeing her
give in to him when he tried to kiss her...he thought he was losing his mind.
He knew there wasn't much left and it would all have been too late. He
would have pushed her against the wall, ripped off her clothes and fucked
her, wild and animalistic, standing up. Her body pressed against the hard
wall as he pushed his cock into her willing body...
Damned!
He was hard as steel.
Go home.
Yes, and at home he would masturbate while thinking about her.
He groaned, focusing back on the road, on the traffic on Van Ness. He
turned right onto Gough Street, then right again onto the avenue behind his
house. He parked the car in the narrow garage that he had luckily found in
the old town, slammed the garage door behind him, ran up the steps to his
apartment, and put the key in the door. Once inside, he immediately ran to
the bathroom.
Turned on the shower faucet, pulled his shirt over his head, took off his
shoes, jeans, boxer shorts. His cock stood like a pleasure barometer
between his legs, twitching with desire. He slipped into the shower, turned
the water hotter, he couldn't help but feel the burning sensation on his skin.
Then he grabbed the soap and lathered his hard-on, which spontaneously
throbbed harder at the rough touch.
James leaned against the wall tiles and began to masturbate. It wasn't a
slow, steady rhythm; no, he was far too impatient for that. It was a hard
thrust into his soapy fist, again and again, hot, hungry and frantic.
Excitement flooded his synapses, Marina's hot little mouth buzzing through
his mind.
 He imagined her putting him in her mouth. No, different. She squatted in
front of him and he pushed his cock between her lips until she swallowed
and her eyes moistened. She sucked him, licked him as he pressed a fist
into her hair.
Marina!
Then he came. He leaned heavily against the wall, letting the shower jet
wash away his sticky ejaculate. His cock continued to stay hard.
He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to regain his
composure. It did not work. Damn, he was really into her. Damn, he needed
her.
Not okay.
He had never needed anyone before. Not like Marina. All he wanted from
her was her experience as a shibari master, her knowledge of trance states,
her ability to clear his head of all the crap he'd been carrying around for
years. Atrocities of war and violence and unspeakable loneliness.
Everything he had seen and felt, not to mention the emotions he was
desperately trying to repress.
Yes, he had emotions.
Holy shit.
Marina Marchant was his last resort. And his worst nightmare. A woman
who didn't leave him indifferent. A woman he could fall in love with.
Don't kid yourself, buddy, you have a huge crush on her.
 5

TTypical Monday morning, Marina sighed as she looked up from her desk.
The sky outside the windows of her office, which she has in one
The gallery he had rented on Union Street was covered in dreary gray. It
was still quiet outside, but the two or three coffee bars on the street were
busy.
She loved her office in the old brick building. It was small, but she didn't
need much space. Her computer was on the bombastic antique desk by the
window, overlooking the bay, and next to it was the telephone system with
several lines, because Marina worked as an art broker for a fairly well-off
clientele. In a red leather-bound address book, she jotted down her most
valuable information: her worldwide contacts, agents who knew the hottest
new artists, and those oddballs who could find just about anything, no
matter how old or how rare.
She could have easily worked from home, but she liked being around
people. It gave her the feeling of being part of the busy life of the city.
Nevertheless, she felt completely isolated all week and didn't notice much
of the bustling lifestyle of the metropolis. Nothing but a constant obsession
with James. Where was he? What was he doing? Why the hell didn't he
call?
It had been nine days since James left their house. Nine days that he had
tried to kiss her. And she didn't resist.
He hadn't called or answered the email she'd written him.
She oscillated between irritation and dismay. With any other submissive,
such behavior would have been a reason for separation. She
However, he knew that there was more to James's sudden disappearance
than mere disobedience. This went deeper. For James. And for you.
He had panicked that evening. And she herself too. All the more reason to
continue with him, to explore the electrifying dynamic, the amazingly
harmonious chemistry between them, their spiritual connection. Your
irrepressible desire.
She hadn't felt so frustrated and unspeakably helpless in a long time, not
since Nathan's death. She had hated the feeling then as much as she did
now. Helplessness wasn't her thing.
And it was precisely this helplessness that prevented her from calling him:
James was not allowed to notice anything, because the reality would
definitely have disappointed him. On the other hand, she really wanted and
needed to see him again and talk to him. After all, she was responsible for
what had happened to him, for a game scene that had ended horribly.
Hey, give your heart a push, Marina, and reconnect. You owe him that.
She heard the little voice in her head and obediently picked up the
receiver, dialing James's number from memory, just as she had memorized
every feature of his face, his broad cross, his scent.
She tapped the tip of her pen on the desk and listened nervously for the
ringing.
Would he answer? No, probably not. And then? Then she wanted to leave
a message on his answering machine and ask him to call him back. After
all, it was important that she discussed his bondage experience with him.
God, the sight of his super body on the ropes, his hunched shoulders...
"Hello."
“Oh.” The pen fell out of her hand and rolled across the parquet floor with
a quiet clatter. "James."
 »Marina?«
"And."
He was silent for a brief moment. Marina couldn't make a sound out of
sheer shock.
“Are you still there, Marina?”
"Yes." A sigh of relief escaped her lips and she blushed with
embarrassment. “I…we should talk about this again, James.”
"Yes. I think so too."
He didn't make a big fuss about the story. But that went pretty damn
smoothly. Where she didn't even expect him to answer the phone.
"Okay, let's meet tonight." His voice sounded a little harsh.
Command-wise. Marina couldn't believe it, but she was melting like ice in
the sun.
Pull yourself together, you stupid cow!
“I can’t do it tonight,” she fibbed, trying to regain her composure. “How
about tomorrow evening?” she added.
»Okay, tomorrow then. The earlier the better."
He took command again. Damned.
"Yes. Come see me tomorrow evening.”
“I think it would be better if we met at a bar somewhere or something,” he
said softly.
"What? Why?” She was gradually losing her patience.
An unpleasantly long pause followed. "Because I don't trust myself when
I'm with you," he finally admitted.
That at least sounded expandable. Marina smiled silently to herself. That
and his commanding tone from before. It went down her like oil. She no
longer understood herself.
“So it’s settled.”
“Do you know the Absinthe bar on the corner of Gough and Hayes?”
 "Yes. I drive past it often. “But I’ve never been inside.”
"We'll meet at eight o'clock... er... that is, if you can."
Aha, at least a small concession, a touch of gentlemanly, instead of giving
in to her.
She thought it was a sinful good that he didn't give in to her. But that
wasn't correct, was it?
"I can," she explained.
Another long pause. Then he said quietly: “I’m looking forward to seeing
you, Marina. But somehow I’m also nervous about it.”
Her stomach was in knots. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll explain it to you tomorrow, okay?”
"OK. See you tomorrow evening then.”
He hung up and Marina cradled the phone in her hand, uncertain. She felt
strangely euphoric and depressed at the same time.
What did she have to prepare for tomorrow night? That it was over
between them? No more dates? Was that it? The thought was devastating.
I have to see him.
Yes. See him and talk to him. Touch
him.
One more day. She could wait. Even if it was terribly difficult for her.

James strolled through the light evening rain, past the illuminated windows
of the small galleries, flower shops, and hair salons on Hayes Street. The
fine drizzle didn't bother him. It reflected the light from the street lamps on
the pavement and intensified the smell of crumbling, weathered plaster and
old wooden facades more commonly found in San Francisco. This
reminded him that he was home. And after everything he had seen and
experienced, there was nothing he wanted more than a home.
And Marina.
 Two blocks away he entered Absinthe. His heart was pounding. Was
Marina already there?
Yes, she was sitting at the window, her skin bathed in the silvery light of
the street lamp. Her dark red mane heavy and shiny. Like pure silk. Her
fingers held onto a martini glass. Two olives, he noted as he walked through
the rows of small tables toward her. It smelled of good vodka and a hint of
caramel, as the bar was known for its delicious crème brûlée.
Don't be like that, man. She's nothing special, just a woman like any other.
A woman who disturbed him inside. A woman who would redeem him,
all he had to do was let go and submit to her.
Fuck.
Stay calm. First sit down and make a little small talk.
»Hello, Marina.«
"James. Hi.«
Her cherry red pout turned into a hint of a smile. A dimple appeared on her
right cheek and he noticed it spontaneously. And he found that...fascinating.
He couldn't describe it any other way. He pulled back one of the coffeehouse
chairs and sat down. And ordered a scotch from one of the young waitresses,
then turned back to Marina.
"Thanks for coming. I know I don’t deserve it.”
She studied him silently. She didn't really look angry, he noticed, only her
eyes were clouded darkly, shadowed by an emotion he didn't know how to
interpret.
»What you say is exactly true. You really don’t deserve it.”
“Then why are you making an exception, hmm?”
She looked at the glass in her hand. »I... I don't know why. Maybe that's
why I'm here. To find out.”
 He nodded. »To be honest, I don't know what's wrong with me either. Why
I ran away from you without a word that evening." He rubbed his hands
over his thighs. »Fuck. No, I really don’t know.”
She looked up, fixing him with cool gray eyes. “Tell me about yourself.”
Where should he start? How much to reveal? How much of this shit could
an outsider take? »Did you bring some time with you? Because it's a long
story, and I... I want to be completely honest with you. At least try.”
She nodded. “No problem, get started.”
Oh, she didn't hesitate. But at least she came here and was willing to listen
to him.
»You already know what I did for a living. That I have traveled a lot
around the world as a journalist. For my reports, I spent many years in all
crisis areas, in countries that will be forgotten again as soon as the wars and
catastrophes are over. It is never really over, no matter what the respective
governments claim. I was in El Salvador, Laos, Serbia, Iran, Africa.«
He paused as the waitress brought his drink, took a long sip, felt the
pleasantly warm burn in his throat.
»After a while you think you've become jaded and immune to the horror.
At least that's what you do. That's the only way to deal with it. I saw things
that were horrific, violence and brutality that cannot be described. Sure, I
wrote my articles, then later my books. But the horror still hangs with me,
you see? And I can't bring myself to talk about it. And after a while... it
builds up inside." He paused again to take another sip and shrugged. His
fingers gripped the whiskey mug so tightly his knuckles turned white
emerged. »I have no idea, it may be that other colleagues have a different
approach. At least that’s how I feel.”
“That sounds bad, James. I don't even know how you managed that. I
could not do it."
Were her eyes a little wet, or was it just his imagination?
»After all, someone had to do it and draw attention to the grievances. So
that these unfortunate people are not forgotten. Children and the elderly, the
women who are the only ones left behind to help everyone else. Or at least
try, because there is often a lack of medicine, food and medical facilities.
These people are desperate, you can't imagine it. Damn, now I sound like
one of those commercials calling for donations to UNICEF. That’s not what
I intended.”
Marina leaned forward, placing a sympathetic hand on his arm. She wasn't
mad at him anymore; he could see it in her face. He really didn't say that to
manipulate her. It was simply part of his truth.
Her hand was warm...
He continued. "What I'm trying to say is... I want to convey to you what's
going on in my head."
“Yes, go ahead and tell me more.”
He lowered his gaze to hers. And read there sincerity. No pity. Luckily,
otherwise he wouldn't have been able to continue telling the story. This
whole thing wouldn't work if she did it out of pity. Still, his stomach
clenched painfully.
»You must know that this story is always in the back of my mind. It
influences my thoughts and my actions, in every respect. That's why I
eventually threw everything away. I could not anymore. And I’m not
ashamed to admit it.”
 »There's no reason for that at all. At some point everyone has enough. And
your colleagues probably have a different level of tolerance because the fate
of these poor people doesn't affect them as much as you do. But I don’t
think you have to be proud of this ability.”
"No. Me neither."
She smiled and nodded encouragingly at him.
"I don't know if you can imagine what it's like to constantly experience
this endless suffering and misery."
»Yes, I can imagine that very well. I've had to witness a lot of suffering
myself, certainly not to that extent, but still." She looked down, but he
could still see that her eyes shimmered with a telltale moist glow. After a
long while she said, "And sometimes all we can do is... withdraw. From the
outside world. Within ourselves…”
»Marina?«
»No, leave it alone. I didn’t really want to say that.”
"But you said it." He leaned forward, and when she avoided his gaze
again, he took her hand and felt her flinch almost imperceptibly. Still, he
held her hand tightly. “What’s troubling you?”
She shook her head silently.
»I noticed it straight away, Marina. On our first date. I mentioned it, that
dark place. It was a reason why I knew we
...could work together. That you would have some understanding of what I
was looking for.”
"I know," she replied shortly.
»Tell me about yourself.«
She shook her head again.
»Okay, then I'll carry on. Maybe later you'll be willing to tell me what hurt
you so much."
 Her eyes flashed with pain, her full lips trembled almost imperceptibly. He
didn't let go of her hand.
»My last trip was to Africa, Burundi. I don't know if you've heard of it;
most people know more about Rwanda. There has been war in Burundi for
twelve years. More than three hundred thousand people died and half a
million were displaced. History repeats itself in many
African countries. Contaminated Drinking water, Hardly any food,
inadequate medical care. AIDS. And even after that War over was, it
existed Conflict between government and rebels continues. And it's
always the innocent who pay for it." He paused, ran one hand through his
hair, continued to hold Marina's hand with the other, while the same images
kept flooding his head: the lush green landscape with the small, hammered
together wooden huts. Abandoned coffee plantations as a sad legacy of a
once thriving economy. In addition, shocking snapshots: A boy, the
on a bicycle the driving down the village street with a goat
firmly in his arms. A group of women, dressed in colorful robes, balancing
jugs of water on their heads, are woefully malnourished Babies on your
hips swaying. A Convoy Military jeeps
kicking up dust pass the sandy red desert road after they have reduced
everything to rubble.
»James. Are you okay?”
"What? Yes I'm sorry. So... I've been in Burundi for about a month,
collecting information for a report. I had my connection there, a guy who
used to be in the military. He fought for better living conditions in his
country. As a result, he took care of us four journalists. And one time...we
were on our way to a small town to visit a hospital, they stopped us. Damn,
it was the middle of the day.”
 His chest tightened so that he could hardly breathe. His voice failed him.
Los, atme.
He took a deep breath. It was over, he was home, and his hands were
fucking tied.
»James …«
Marina squeezed his hand reassuringly. His fingers dug into her soft
palms, turning the skin pale white, but he just didn't want to let go. Couldn't
let go.
He continued. “Damn paramilitary. I'm guessing. You just never know for
sure. They wore uniforms. And had machine guns.” He took his drink and
downed the rest in one gulp. The burning didn't help. He would have liked
to order another one, but one had to be enough. Because otherwise he
wouldn't stop drinking. “They dragged us out of the van and confronted our
guide. I just picked up a few snatches of sentences, so I don't know why. I
never understood why they took us all out of the van, stood us against the
wall and shot us. Everyone except me.”
“My goodness, James. How terrible. I'm so sorry. Horrible what you must
have been through!”
Her eyes filled with tears, James noticed with concern.
“They left me on the side of the road, kneeling in the dirt, next to the
people who had been shot. I smelled the blood of the dead in the heat. I
waited for them to come back, but they didn't come back. After a while I
stood up. Packed the dead in the jeep and drove back to the capital, to
Bujumbura. I didn't know what else to do. Afterwards everything was as if
covered in cotton-soft fog. For months.”
"That's why you quit your job," Marina said softly.
"Yes. Maybe it was the last straw that broke the camel's back. I have no
idea.” He relaxed visibly. Before
Relief that he could get all this crap off his chest? Because he finally got rid
of it? »All I know is that I couldn't handle it anymore. I could not anymore.
And I'll tell you something else: I felt like a fucking failure. As if I was
letting these people down terribly by not reporting on them. I put down my
notes, couldn't look people in the eye anymore, and felt like I was leaving
the whole damn country hanging. I felt immense guilt for keeping my
mouth shut about the conditions in Burundi. What happened to the
journalists I worked with. That I was the only one who survived the
massacre. This sense of guilt is probably typical of a survivor. I did therapy.
She didn't help me much. I can't just shake it off like a heavy coat. I’ll
probably never succeed.”
»I doubt whether that is even possible. You'll never forget, James. And I
think that's okay too. I think you are doing these poor people a good thing
by remembering them. Regardless, you have to find a way for yourself so
that it doesn't hurt you so much. That you're not constantly down and that
you can find fun in life again.«
“That’s why I came to you, Marina.”
He looked into her eyes, huge black pupils surrounded by a narrow
golden-brown iris. Marina shuddered inwardly, a feeling of warmth running
through her body, and she became weak with compassion, a strong desire to
help him. His psyche had suffered serious damage, but he fought against it
and didn't give up.
“James, I would like to help you so much. But I don’t know if I… if I’m
objective enough.”
He waved to the waitress, ordering another drink before answering. "I've
already thought about that."
"And?"
 »In my opinion, the objectivity of the other Doms and the therapists was
more of a hindrance than a help to me.«
Marina searched his features.
He pressed his lips into a grim thin line, his expression closed. She didn't
know what he was trying to suggest to her.
"What do you mean by that?"
“What I mean by that is that I need someone to…me really
accompanied there. Who is committed to the matter.«
“Do you mean sex?”
"Yes. That too.”
Marina picked up her martini and sipped it. The waitress brought the
second scotch, which James gulped down hastily.
“You want me to get involved, is that it, James? That I hide my control
from you?”
"Yes. I think that’s it.”
She nodded. It sounded logical. She couldn't expect him to open up to her
if she wasn't willing to do the same for him. The distant and mysterious
dominatrix thing worked for most submissives, but James wasn't really a
submissive, even if he wanted to be tied up and humiliated by her. No, he
had a very specific need. And she wanted to help him. Marina's obsession
went beyond the usual satisfaction of her need for control, the thrill of being
in charge. There was so much more to James.
And before that, she was panicking.
“James... you're asking me to do something I don't normally do. I haven’t
done that in a very long time.”
“That’s the one thing you don’t want to talk about, right?”
He didn't sound the least bit reproachful. Still, she had reservations about
revealing about Nathan to him. As if it wasn't fair if she told someone else
told her husband about her ex-lover. But maybe James was right that it was
the only option.
She was dying to tell him. And was afraid of it at the same time. However,
with James everything was different. When he talked and struggled for
words, she discovered his deep pain, his helplessness. This opened Marina
up to her own pain, and she felt just as defenseless as he did.
She detested this feeling of being at the mercy. Could have been at James'
throat for maneuvering her into this situation.
Still, she wanted to let go.
Because everything was different with James: how she felt about herself,
how she felt about him.
The fact that she felt for him. Physically and mentally. And she enjoyed
this pain as if she were submissive. She probably didn't have all her cups in
the closet anymore.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, sniffing a hint of whiskey
mixed with a martini, accompanied by James's unmistakably distinctive
scent.
After another deep breath, she cleared her throat, determined to get the
one thing off her chest that had never crossed her lips before. About the
pain that had been locked tight in her heart. Far too long, as she now
realized. It hurt just thinking about it. James was right, though. It was time
to talk about her pain, about her past.
 6

AND“It’s incredibly difficult for me to talk about this, James.”

He nodded, waiting patiently. His pupils onyx black and dilated –

like before when he told her his story. However, the revelations did not
diminish the painful experience; Marina could tell a thing or two about that.
“So...Nathan was...he was my partner. My submissive. My lover. He
was…I loved him.”
While it was hard to talk about, it was strangely not nearly as difficult as
she had feared. James held her hand comfortingly, his eyes glued to hers.
"What happened, Marina?"
"He died."
James watched her in silence, his features softening. »It was certainly a
sad stroke of fate for you. I can say you, right?”
“Yes, I was terribly sad. I never really got over it.”
“I can sympathize with that.”
"I know. That's why I can tell you...you too." He nodded.
"How did it happen?"
"He had cancer. Pancreatic cancer. When the diagnosis came, we knew he
didn't have long to live. Eight months later he was dead.”
"How long were you together?"
“A little over two years.”
"Too short."
“Mmh, you said it.”
 Something inside her loosened, as if the walls she had built around her
heart were suddenly torn down. As if a piece of her sadness would fall
away.
“And since then,” James concluded, “you’ve closed yourself off inside,
much like I did. Unlike me, you haven't reached the point where you want
to change something yet, have you? Where you want to let go.”
“I think…” She paused, trying to think of the best way to put it. »Yes, I
think I'm at that point. I've now realized that. By the way, you are not
entirely uninvolved in this. And I thank you for that.”
“I was happy to do nothing to thank you.” He grinned. "Especially since
it's a mystery to me what I was supposed to have contributed to it."
"I can't really explain it to myself."
God, his gaze was so intense, as if he could see into the depths of her soul.
That hadn't happened to her in a long time. Actually never.
“I haven't been with a man since Nathan died. He's been dead four years
now," she confessed, strangely touched. “I only played with women and
then you came along. You changed my life, James. And that's not just a
saying, it's simply a fact.«
He nodded. »I feel the same way as you. And I think we can do a lot more
for each other. Making a difference together, motivating each other.” He
leaned forward, laced his fingers with hers and gave them a comforting
squeeze. “Promise me you’ll try, Marina. To you. And for me."
Her heartbeat quickened at the idea of ​letting go of her principles and
trusting James, trusting him. His closeness, the warmth of his hand
suggested security. He was so damn strong, in every way - illusory to
consider him a submissive.
 He certainly wasn't the least bit submissive in bed. And that's where they
would undoubtedly end up, in no time, if she accepted his suggestion.
"Okay, I'll try."
Tsh, you're incorrigible, Marina. So what?
That was the last thing she wanted to worry about right now.
A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. The man was really
annoying. He lowered his gaze to hers, loosening his grip on her fingers.
Then he pulled her hand to his lips and planted sweet, tender kisses on
Marina's knuckles.
A hot tingling sensation ran through her arm and into her breasts, her
nipples hardening. The intensity of the moment took her breath away. She
peered at her hand, then at James’s face. She spotted the emotion reflected
in his eyes. Emotion and excitement, intense like hers. There was an electric
crackle between them.
“So, Marina?”
She nodded silently. On the one hand I was numb, but on the other hand I
was more euphoric than I had been for years.
Four years.
James let go of her hand briefly to place a few coins on the table. Then he
stood up, pushed Marina's chair back and pulled her to her feet.
»Come on, I live nearby. Do you need ropes? If you want, we can of
course go to your place too.”
»Whatever you want. Let’s get out of here first.”
Her heart was racing, her body was pulsing with desire. He grabbed her
coat from the back of the chair, helped her in, picked up her umbrella and
escorted her out of the café. On the street, he slipped an arm under Marina's
and held the umbrella over them both as they strode toward his apartment.
She barely caught a glimpse of the old, stuccoed building and the winding,
wood-paneled staircase.
Then he unlocked the door and led her into a spacious loft. There was a
bombastic sofa against one wall, hand-woven carpets covered the floors,
and there were wall-high shelves of books everywhere. However, Marina
didn't have an eye for that, she only had eyes for him.
For James.
“Where are your ropes?” she wanted to know. Her fingers itched to feel
the soft texture, to tie him up, to watch him struggle, rebel. Yes, that's
exactly what she loved about him, this sensual rebellion. This proved his
power because he wasn't really weak.
"Wait. Come with me."
He grabbed her hand and pulled her across the room, through a door and
into a large bedroom. The bed stood in the middle of the room, supported
by thick carved wooden pillars. Pale moonlight, the reflection of street
lights and neon signs bathed the room in diffuse twilight. Softly marked by
the rain, which had now become heavier, a steady rhythm like Marina's
pulse.
James let go of her hand and walked to a heavy wooden chest of drawers
that stood against a wall. Probably Asian. He opened a drawer and took out
a few mesh bags, which he placed on the dark bedspread.
"They're sorted by color by length," he murmured, his voice throaty. »Ten
meters, six meters, three meters. Some are also shorter. What do you need?"
He drew himself up to his full length, looked at her, and her breath caught
in her throat. He was so damn attractive, his features hard, provocative, his
jawline squarely determined. However, there was something soft and
relaxed in his eyes, a contrast that showed his inner struggle for submission.
She shuddered. Got wet.
She forgot the usual commands, forgot everything around her.
He pressed closer.
Oh no, I can't do anything at the moment.
 "Marina," he whispered quietly. "Don't think about it for long, just do it."
He reached out his hand, stroked her face with his index finger, whereupon
a hot blush flooded her cheeks, and lowered his hand again. “Let’s just see
what happens.”
»And...«
She licked her lips nervously, looking him up and down. “Take off your
clothes, James.”
He nodded and began to undress.
She slid back a step and watched him, his every movement revealing the
seductive play of his muscles. She almost ignored how supple his body was.
Stunningly perfect. His bubble butt, heavenly broad shoulders. The dark
tattoo on his left arm, lit by the pale street light.
She reached out and brushed her finger against his bicep.
"Who is this?"
»The Archangel Gabriel. My guardian angel."
“And that?” It suddenly seemed immensely important to her to find out.
With her fingers, Marina traced the dark lines on his skin that depicted an
Asian woman in elaborately pleated costume.
»The Chinese goddess Kuan Yin, the goddess of mercy.«
“Do the clouds and the water mean something?”
»They represent everything impermanent. The capriciousness of life.«
"Why?"
»Because you never know what to expect from life.«
»You're in such a state that you always expect the worst, aren't you? I
noticed that from the beginning.”
»Because the prospect, the reality, that we humans have to go through hell
in this life is unchangeable. But you know that. That’s why we’re here
now.”
 It was almost incomprehensible. There he stood half-naked in front of her
and philosophized while she was almost bursting with pleasure. At the
same time, she found it completely natural with him. As he continued
speaking, he pushed his jeans down his thighs, moments later he was naked.
Wow, geil.
His cock was hard. Super sexy. Her mouth was suddenly bone dry, she ran
her tongue over her lips and had to force herself to keep her fingers to
herself. He looked stunning: tight, golden-brown skin, strong, sinewy
thighs.
She just had to touch him.
Then just do it, James had said earlier.
She turned away from him and shook out the bags on the bed. White,
black, blue and red ropes of varying lengths fell out. She grabbed a few of
them and jerked her chin toward one of the turned wooden support posts.
Whereupon he glided silently to the pillar and stood in front of it, his legs
slightly apart. His eyes glittered darkly, his features appeared determined.
As she got closer, she saw that the small vein in his neck was throbbing
rapidly.
She ran a rope through her hands just to get the feel of it, as she often did.
Her palms felt slightly sweaty. She wiped them on her dress, one by one,
watching as James followed the movement of her hands. Then she had the
rope between her fingers, it was one of the long black ones.
She pressed closer. Noticed the passion in his eyes. And was instantly
aroused.
"Turn around," she ordered. »With your back to the post.«
He obeyed and she moved closer until she felt the heat of his body
through her dress. And his scent really turned her on.
She inhaled it, shuddered, leaned forward and planted a kiss on James'
cheek. He flinched barely noticeably, but more than that
not. As she pulled back, she tasted him on her lips. Her pussy swelled,
becoming hot and wet.
More.
Oh me. She was determined to get more. But first she would have to tie him
up.
I have to tie him up...
Reaching around the pillar, she pulled his wrists back and tied them
together in a simple knot. She then began tying his body in an
uncomplicated criss-cross pattern. She was too nervous to take the time to
do the delightful, difficult knots that real shibari required. No, with James
the symbolism was more important than the ritual. She understood that now.
He certainly didn't feel like a long, complex bondage game. Not this
evening. He just wanted to be tied up. Having something to rebel against.
Something other than the demons in his head that constantly tormented him.
She wrapped the rope around his body, watching as his breathing
quickened, his nipples became dark and hard, his cock became erect, with a
dark pulsating tip. And she felt in complete rhythm with him, his desire
reflected off her body, a mirror of his lust. Probably her own too, Marina
guessed.
It wasn't really important either. More important were the rope that slid
through her hands and the smoothness of his skin, the contractions of his
muscles as soon as she touched him. Oh, it was so good to watch his
reaction. And even better, looking into his eyes and realizing he was
slipping into subspace. But not in that passive, sleepy state of consciousness
like most others. No, with James everything was borderline experience,
intensity.
As she tied him to the post, she stroked his shoulder with a fingertip. He
winced and she leaned closer
him, bringing her mouth to his ear.
"What's wrong, James?" Will you tell me?”
"I... it scares the hell out of me how hot I am for you."
A soft moan escaped Marina's throat, her wet pussy tingling. She pressed
her body against his and simply let herself fall. Her breasts nestled against
his arm, her hips against his pelvis.
“Good heavens, James.”
He responded with a throaty moan. She pressed harder, lolling her body so
that her nipples rubbed against his arm. The tips so hard they hurt. She was
eager to feel his skin against her.
Oh I...
She took a step back to take off her sweater and bra, then stood in front of
him in her tight pencil skirt, opaque garter stockings and high-heeled black
boots. She saw him turn his head towards her, eyeing her hungrily, his cock
twitching. She arched toward him until the tips of her breasts brushed the
ropes and she felt his hot skin beneath the bonds.
Oh I...
A ragged breath from him, then his mouth was on hers. His lips tasted
heavenly, warm and sweet from the whiskey. He pushed his tongue
uninhibitedly between her lips, assaulting her even though he was tied up
and could hardly move. She had been the dominant part. Nevertheless, he
suddenly dominated her - perhaps right from the start? She didn't know, and
suddenly she didn't care. She just wanted to taste him, savor the eroticism
of her tongue play, feel his full lips sucking hers. She pressed herself
violently against him, his heart pounded against hers, a wild hammering
that made her chest tremble pleasantly.
Marina felt weak in the knees. She held on to his shoulders with her
hands. She pressed her pelvis against his so that his penis was hers
Touched pubic bone and pushed for more.
Yes, she had to have him, feel him there...
She backed away.
»James …«
"Kiss me, Marina."
"Yes...but, James..."
"Kiss Me."
»Tell me one more thing first. Tell me you're mine.” She was out of her
mind, out of control. She didn't really realize what she was asking him to
do.
He spoke quietly. "Yes you. And you are
mine.” She nodded. What he said was true.
“I have to fuck you, Marina.”
A wave of pleasure, sweet and sensual in her belly. "Yes."
"But I “I’m going to fuck you, Marina.” His voice was a strangled gasp.
»And...«
Marina no longer cared whether she was in control or not. It had become
pointless. She sank to her knees, sucking the head of his cock into her
mouth. Hearing his moans, yes, that made sense to her. To taste his pulsing
flesh, the pearly drops of pleasure warm on her tongue. She felt him rebel
against the bonds and soon give in. His body relaxed as she lowered her
head and sucked his penis all the way in, deep into her throat.
She arched her head back, swirling her tongue over the tip of his cock
before resuming the deep throating. His body trembled, twitching as much
as the tight restraints would allow. And Marina felt the exciting thrill of
power, but in a different way than when she was usually top with someone.
No, this was pure female power. The power to give a man pleasure. And
that was exciting, horny.
 However, she needed more. She needed him.
She let his cock slip out of her mouth and sat up. His features were hard,
but his mouth was soft, almost sensitive, his irises almost sparkled with
gold.
She stroked his lips with her fingertips and he sucked her in, sucking hard,
almost hurting her a little. She pulled her hand away and looked at him.
»James. I’ll untie you now.”
"Yes," he groaned. “Fuck yes.”
She hurried, within moments the ropes slid to the ground and he pounced
hungrily on Marina. It all happened so quickly that she didn't really have
time to think. He pulled down her skirt, her boots, ripped holes in her
stockings. Then the panties, which were totally wet. He paused, looked at it,
brought it to his lips, and Marina shuddered. Then he threw the panties
aside, swept Marina into his arms and turned her towards the bed.
His hands hard and firm on her arms, he pushed her down. And she
obeyed, willingly and without a word. He leaned over her, pulling one of
her nipples into his mouth. He sucked, nibbled on her tip with his teeth, and
she spontaneously rolled on the bed, moaning with pleasure. Writhed
beneath him. His hands caressed her breasts, pushing them together,
kneading the soft flesh, and she bucked beneath James.
Every move he made was hard, commanding, heavenly. She didn't want it
any other way. She tried to bring a thigh around his waist, but he pushed her
harder into the mattress, cupped her hands and bent them behind Marina's
head.
"Don't move, Marina," he said. »You're mine now. Say it."
"Yes. I’m yours, James.”
Had she ever said that to another man?
»Kiss me, James. Fuck me. Please."
 He braced his body on top of hers, urging, his cock pressing against her
stomach. She spread her legs and his sinewy thigh slid between them, right
against her wet, hot pussy. He rubbed his knee against her crack, and
Marina wanted to cum right away, whipped up with lust. On the other hand,
she didn't like coming like that.
»James!«
He leaned on his side and ripped open the dresser drawer so violently that
it crashed to the floor. He rummaged through it, cursing, found a strip of
condoms and tore one off with his teeth. Then he crouched on his knees and
opened the package. He fiddled with the condom, swore again, and Marina
offered to help him. Somehow together they managed to roll the condom
over his penis. Still in a kneeling position, he brought her legs over his so
that her pelvis was tilted and he could see her pussy. His eyes were glued to
it as he caressed her pussy lips with his fingers.
»Oh …«
»You're heavenly wet, Marina. For me."
"James, come to me."
She arched her pelvis forward, opening wider for him. And he grinned,
baring his white teeth like a wild predator. His hands went to her hips and
he entered her, taking her in one deep thrust.
»Oh Gott, James …«
Excitement, hot and deep, yet sharp and intense like shards of glass.
Marina suddenly trembled because she felt better than ever before in her
life. And he penetrated her, again and again, his hips pounding into her with
long hard thrusts. He took her, fucked her. Both of them moaned, panted,
made animalistic sounds. She could hardly breathe. She didn't care.
He paused, grabbed her hips with his strong hands and turned Marina onto
her stomach. Then he pushed her legs apart. He threw
on top of her, taking her from behind. He lifted her hips slightly, at an angle
so that his cock hit her G-spot. He wrapped one arm possessively around
her waist. His hand slid between her thighs, his fingers twirling her clitoris.
She came, shuddering wildly, screaming out his name loudly. Lust made
her body tremble like an electric shock; she almost thought she could smell
the burning on her skin.
His cock inside her was a massive rod, penetrating her progressively
deeper and fueling her climax. Then James tensed up, groaning, and Marina
felt the fervor with which he came through the condom, his body twitching,
unleashed.
»Marina... it's pure madness!«
He continued to pump into her even after his penis became semi-flaccid
and little orgasmic shivers spread across Marina's skin as she came again
and again.
Eventually they were both exhausted, satisfied, and he rolled onto his side
with Marina in his arms. Her mind was distant, her body vibrating with the
exertion. Still, she wanted more, somehow she couldn't get enough of him.
It seemed almost unreal to her that it was James lying next to her,
breathing quietly and agitatedly. That he had just slept with her. Seemed
like a wild dream and yet more real than anything she had experienced in a
long time.
It was now raining heavily outside. Thick drops splashed against the
window panes. Marina subconsciously noticed that the water was gurgling
in a sewer pipe on the wall of the house. And that the cars outside were
driving through puddles, smacking their lips. James’ closeness was
comforting; with him she felt safe and secure. It was as if the rain wrapped
itself around James's apartment like a protective cocoon, isolating her from
the rest of the world.
Nevertheless, Marina felt her nagging conscience.
 You are too emotional in this story. You know how this can turn out.
Oh yes, she learned that the hard way. And she had sworn to herself that it
would never happen to her again. But it had already happened with James,
she couldn't help but let herself go emotionally. And after that night...
Was?
She didn't want to think about it. Instead, she snuggled up to him and
listened to his calm, even breathing. He slept. She closed her eyes, drifted to
an indeterminate place, dreamed of raindrops streaking her skin, tender as
his fingertips, soft as his lips. Heard the glowing confession he had made to
her.
You belong to Me.
 7

James woke up when Marina carefully turned away from him. They had
fallen asleep with their arms wrapped around each other, and he
spontaneously missed hers
warm body. When he opened his eyelids, he saw Marina's silhouette in the
diffuse dawn. She just slipped out of bed.
She was beautiful.
He had been with a number of beautiful women. So why did his heart go
crazy with her of all people?
He lay very still and watched her dress through half-lidded eyes. Her
movements were graceful, like those of a dancer. He'd noticed it before, in
the way she handled the ropes or sipped her martini glass. And last night...
Last night she had taken him to a place he had never been before. This
woman was like magic. Most certainly. This thing with her went far beyond
the ropes, even if the bondage had been a catalyst. It wouldn't have
happened with anyone else, that much was certain for him. The dynamic
between them just worked. He had let himself go, accepting in the bonds
that his aggression was building up. And when she untied him, she
approved of him acting out this aggression on her, on her body. But as soon
as he touched her, his aggression changed into something else. In sex. In...
something indescribable.
Damned. It made no sense, not even to himself. All he knew was that he
felt better. More relaxed. And he was looking forward to more. He was
excited to fuck Marina, to penetrate her again and again. Watching her
come and scream her pleasure, just like last night.
He was hard again. However, she seemed very quiet, very thoughtful in
the dim twilight, so he didn't dare disturb her. Besides, wanted
he test her reaction. Would she leave without saying goodbye? Damn,
was that important?
And.
Completely dressed, she looked around the room, her gaze focused on the
windows for a brief moment.
It had stopped raining. And it was certainly early; It was almost dead quiet
outside, the occasional car driving by, nothing more. Finally she returned to
the bed. And he opened his eyes, letting her know he was awake.
"James, I have to go to work."
»Okay.«
“I…we can talk about it later if you like.”
“Do you like it then?”
She seemed taken aback by his question. "Yes."
»Gut.«
She was now standing close to him. He grabbed her hand and pulled her
onto the bed to kiss her. Her mouth was soft and full, and his little friend
twitched violently.
Yes, James was keen to take her hungrily. To undress her and wrap her in
his arms. To penetrate her body like last night. But first he wanted to take
his time to explore her body.
She tore herself away from him. “I really have to go now.”
»Would you like me to get up with you? And take you to your car?”
"I'll take a taxi."
“I can drive you.”
"No, stay there."
He felt her shutting down inside, closing herself off from him. He didn't
know why. And why he even cared.
“When do you finish in the evening?” he wanted to know.
"Different. I don’t have fixed office hours.”
 "I will call you this evening. Maybe you'll be home then." Why was
he harassing her like that?
»Okay.«
He tangled his fingers in her hair and she smiled softly before pulling away
from James. “Now I really have to go.”
Then she was gone.
The bed was suddenly too big for him. And he was still as hard as steel.
Out of passion.
His hand slid down. He rubbed his fingertips over the erect tip of his
penis, drawing the erotic scent of their night of love deep into his lungs. His
cock strained into the touch, he cupped it in one hand and began to stroke it.
The movement turned him on: his cock, his balls, his pelvis. Spontaneously
he punched his fist like he had punched Marina last night. Just fucking her,
fucking her, her body soft and willing beneath him.
The orgasm hit him like a tornado. The excitement was a wild whirlwind,
he cummed hard in his hand and came on his stomach.
Marina …
Damn, he had no idea why that woman was constantly on his mind. Why
masturbating didn't really give him any relief.
Why he really wanted to be with her, fuck her and let her tie him up.
Totally crazy.
He wanted to call her tonight and ask if she would like to meet him. Then
they could talk, then we would see more. By then his head would be clear
again. Because this was totally crazy. He had only known the woman for
three weeks. So what? It could have been three months. Or three years. No,
he wasn't the type for long-term relationships. So
what didn't fit into his planning. Not at his job. Not with the risks he took.
You quit that job, dude.
That didn't mean he had changed. Or was Marina just a different kind of
risk?

Marina stared at her ringing cell phone, James’ name flashing on the screen.
She suddenly had a fluttering heart. Like a teenager. She thought she was
idiotic. Nevertheless, she smiled and reached for the phone and opened it.
The anticipation of their conversation banished the doubts that Marina had
been struggling with all day.
She took a deep breath before speaking up. "Hello?"
»Marina.«
Heavenly to hear him say her name.
»Hi, James.«
"You are at home."
“Yeah, I finished at six.”
"How was your day?"
"Good. Great.” She got up from the sofa, stood at the window and watched
the evening fog settle over the city like a fluffy gray blanket. »I found an
object that I've been looking for for months for one of my customers. A
Mexican painter, surrealist. My client was looking for a very special work,
on a huge canvas. I was lucky and had a really good nose.” In her mind she
saw the painting in front of her, the photo that the dealer from Lisbon had
emailed her. The strong brushstrokes in bright colors, the disturbingly
beautiful abstract shapes. There was something erotic about the picture.
Maybe it just seemed that way to her - after last night. Last night... She
shuddered. “Oh sorry, James, I'm definitely annoying you. Guess I’m a little
excited because I finally found what I was looking for.”
 Maybe it was also because of James' call, because the sound of his voice
reminded her of their night together and spontaneously floated on cloud
nine.
»No, I think it's good. I like to listen to you. We haven't had much of a
chance to talk about your job. How long have you been doing this? How did
you end up becoming an art broker anyway?”
»I studied art history; I think we would have talked about it. I've been in
the business for over ten years. Before studying, I also worked in galleries.
Since I left home, actually.”
"When was that?"
“The summer I turned eighteen. A week after my birthday.”
"And your parents?"
"They're long dead. I only have one sister, Elizabeth."
"I'm sorry for that. What happened to them? I hope you’ll forgive my
curiosity.”
"Sure, it's okay." She ran her fingertips over the cool window glass,
looking up at the dark sky. "It's been a long time. My parents died in an
accident when I was a baby. My grandmother raised us. She was good to us,
we had everything we needed, but I was never very close to her. Grandma
lives in North Carolina, where I grew up.”
"And your sister?"
»She is an interior designer and now lives in New York.«
"Ah, you have a lot in common."
"Not really. She is twelve years older than me. She was always more like
an aunt to me than a sister. We have little contact.”
»I hardly have any contact with my family either.«
 "Where does she live?"
“I just have dad. He moved from San Francisco about ten years ago; He is
now retired and lives in Puerto Vallarta with his wife number four. Dad and
I get along well. I don't particularly like his wife. But wherever love falls,
he seems happy with it.”
“So you grew up here?”
“Yes, I graduated from Santa Cruz University with a degree in journalism,
but this is my home.”
"I love this city and don't want to leave here anymore."
"Since when do you live here?"
“I moved here when I was twenty-two or three. I studied at the art
academy here.”
“So you’re all about art, right?”
»Nooo, not everything. At first I studied cultural history, but... but I never
finished.” She didn't want to talk about why she dropped out: because
Nathan had needed her after the devastating cancer diagnosis. James didn't
need to know that. At least not yet. »I've always been incredibly interested
in art. Unfortunately, I am completely untalented myself. I really wanted to
become a visual artist.«
“Shibari is art,” he said simply.
"I think so too. It has a certain aesthetic. Through shape and balance, the
choice of rope color and the contrast to the skin.«
“So you’re an artist, in a sense.”
»Well, how you take it. Art is just a broad term.«
Marina thought it was nice to chat with him. As if they were any normal
people.
Weren't they?
 When was the last time she felt normal? That was a damn long time ago.
She had long felt like an outsider. Isolated. Marina suddenly realized that
this had nothing to do with her sexual preferences, her interest in bondage
games. No, she had deliberately closed herself off after Nathan's death.
Four years was a long time. She had probably mourned long enough.
“Are you still there, Marina?”
"What? Yes. Sorry, what did you just say?”
“I said I'd like to see you. I need to see you."
Yes, she had to see him too. Absolutely. On the other hand, it was playing
with fire. The realization sent shivers through her, a mix of overwhelming
pleasure and deep fear.
»Tonight, Marina? Can we meet up tonight?"
"And."
Was it really that easy?
Yes...no, I can't resist him...impossible.
It was impossible that she allowed herself to be carried away by emotions.
No matter whether for James or someone else. However: James war
irresistible. The big question remained, how far did she ultimately want to
go? How much to risk? Was she even able to control her emotions
appropriately?
"Marina," he murmured with a rough vibrato in his voice that promptly
sent her hormones into overdrive. "I can't wait to see you again."
No wonder she became weak with this man. She ignored her reason and
only thought with her libido.
“Uh…when?”
"As soon as you can. As far as I'm concerned,
immediately. Suggest something.” Shit, this man
completely threw her off her feet.
“I still have a few things to do.”
 liar. This control thing is a load of shit, isn't it? Honestly, you want to see
him too.
»Nine o'clock? Can you come here?”
“Sure, no problem,” he replied.
Yes, that was better. Although he didn't sound the least bit submissive. But
she didn't want that either, did she? No, she wanted power, wanted to see
his defiance, wanted to be the one to channel the power of his aggression.
"Okay see you later."
She hung up before he could answer. Before he turned her on even more.
Everything in its time.
She moaned softly. Undoubtedly he would turn her on, fuel her libido and
rob her of her senses. She was powerless against it. It doesn't matter which
of them would be tied up.
Absolute madness.
Still, she just couldn't let him go.
She took a deep breath and placed her palm on the cool window pane to
ground herself again.
Just let it happen. You'll notice where it leads.
Why did James always make her feel like she was dancing on a bubbling
volcano? And if she wasn't careful, would she stumble and... fall into a
bottomless void? A dark place that she didn't want to get to know better and
that she had deliberately ignored for the last four years? A place of fear of
loss, of loneliness.
She rigorously ignored her skepticism: she wanted to see him again. To be
with him. It just had to be. Fears aside, consequences notwithstanding, she
wanted to deal with that later, if at all.
She ran her hand over the glass, felt the cold on her skin and shivered
involuntarily. No doubt he would leave a mark on her soul. Especially since
she had a huge crush on James. What if it was over at some point? She
didn't even want to think about it.
 And there was certainly no thought of quitting.

It was a quarter to nine and Marina's pulse was pounding in her veins. Her
outfit was an eye-catcher: a knee-length, tight skirt, her black over-the-knee
boots with pencil-thin heels, a black stretch top, a blood-red glittering
garnet dangling from a long silver chain around her neck. Sexy clothes.
These were the things she wore when she took on the role of dominatrix.
There hadn't really been any talk of sex games, but she was still determined
to go all out on her date.
She stumbled into the kitchen and sat down at the table where there was a
geranium in a Chinese porcelain planter. She rubbed the delicate red petals
with her fingertips, causing the plant to exude its spicy scent. With the
flower still between her fingers, her gaze wandered across the night sky.
The pale gold shimmering disc of the full moon hung in the sky as if it was
watching over the city - a night watchman.
With James, she should probably take better care of herself tonight. But
how? If she let him hit on her - sure, what else? – she had to be careful to
maintain control. That worked somewhat as long as he was tied up, if only
somewhat. However, as soon as she broke the bonds...
Her pussy itched with promise.
Oh yes, once she untied him, he was guaranteed to take control of the
situation. About her body.
She shuddered involuntarily: a mixture of pleasure and fear.
When the doorbell rang, she jumped in shock and tore two geranium
flowers from the plant. She stood up, scolding softly, and straightened her
skirt. She glided to the door, her heart pounding.
He looked stunning. What's more, she now knew what his kisses tasted
like, what it felt like when his body was pressed against hers.
He beamed, an open smile that Marina found irresistible.
Like everything about him.
She wanted to put her hands around his beaming face and kiss him. Hugs
him stormily.
Stop, stop.
What had suddenly gotten into her?
"James, hi. Please come in."
"You look lovely, Marina."
"You don't have to say that just because we slept together."
»I don't have to say that at all. But I just find you charming.” He stood in
the doorway and looked at Marina, his eyes glittering darkly. And
imploringly, as if there was a deeper meaning behind what he was saying.
"I'm definitely not the first person to tell you how beautiful you are."
“No, but…” Why was she suddenly embarrassed? »I… thank you for the
compliment. Come on, I'll get us a drink. What you want to drink?"
“Are we playing tonight?”
"I don't know."
Marina's pulse quickened.
Yes please.
"A mineral water, if you have it." He smiled again, his teeth flashing white
between his full lips. She spontaneously imagined what it would be like to
run her tongue over his teeth...
She ran ahead and waved him into the kitchen, it was definitely safer there
than in her living room. Where they could end up on the sofa in an instant.
How long had it been since she had sex with a man on the sofa?
At her gesture, he sat down at the table, on one of the white leather
swingers. James was big, damn big. And the apartment seemed to be closed
dominate. She ran to the fridge and returned to the table with a bottle of San
Pellegrino and two glasses filled with ice cubes.
James reached for the bottle. "I'll do it."
He poured them a drink and she sat down on the chair next to his.
Damn close.
It can't be close enough.
"Mmh," she began, "you wanted to talk to me about last night."
"True. Last night, well, about us and specifically about me. About what
happens to me if... if you tie me up. I want you to know. It is important for
me."
"Okay, then get going."
He tilted his head almost imperceptibly and watched her in silence.
Marina felt x-rayed by him, as if he could see how her body was aching for
him and how her panties were already wet just because he was sitting next
to her.
Then he started talking and she had trouble concentrating.
»When I came to you I wanted something very special. Namely,
experiencing subspace, diving really deep, losing myself. Find peace.” She
nodded. "We discussed this on our first date."
"Yes. Still, I didn't know exactly what I needed. Until it happened.”
“Are you saying you’ve already found that peace?”
»In a way, yes. But it didn’t happen the way I thought.”
"What do you think?"
He ran a hand through his dark hair, causing it to stick slightly messy from
his head. »I looked for the border experience as a way out, as a way to
escape. What I ultimately needed, however, was to confront all the shit that
was going on in my head. The thing I didn't want to deal with. The fury."
“I noticed that last night.”
 "I hope I didn't scare you with that."
»Oh no, not at all. You seemed quite capable of channeling your
emotions.”
He leaned forward a little and she caught his masculine scent. This man
simply smelled... She sniffed carefully so that he wouldn't notice anything.
Stunning.
“Marina,” he breathed quietly, his voice rough, urgent. Marina felt a
pleasant tingle as he reached across the table and grabbed her wrist. »I
absolutely have to have this experience again. With you. Preferably tonight.
I know I’m not the one who can make demands here.”
Oh, if he knew.
“No, I mean... it's okay. I'm happy if I can help you."
"Marina, stop it."
»Was?«
»Stop all this damn aloof behavior. We both know that this is just an act.
This isn't a professional job, okay? I feel something for you. A strong
emotionality. I don't know what it is myself. This dynamic would be
impossible if we weren't on the same wavelength. I'm damn sure I'm not
just imagining it. This is power play and goes beyond the usual. Tell me if
you feel the same way," he urged. "Tell me."
He gripped her wrist so tightly that Marina had to resist the impulse to
pull her hand away. Suddenly it was all too intense for her. Still, he was
right.
"OK. Yes. Something is happening. And yes, I feel it too. Of course I feel
it.”
He stared at her imploringly, his beautiful brown eyes shimmering like
liquid gold in the bright kitchen lights. she could not
look away.
"I have to do it again," he repeated, more to himself.
She nodded briefly and stood up. He followed her example, keeping his
grip on her wrist.
“Take me there, Marina.”
 8

James watched Marina doing shibari. Leaning over him, she moved her
hands with the fluidity of a dancer – sexy, enchanting. She had him
first fully undressed and he was hard before the first rope caressed his body.
Now he was tied to the long, narrow bench that stood in her guest room. He
lay on his back, the ropes so tight that he could no longer move. He enjoyed
the exciting feeling of mentally switching off, even though he was
intoxicatingly aware of Marina, her soft hands on his body, pulling the
ropes tight, her warm fingertips on his skin.
What this woman did to him was fucking brilliant. And even as his
consciousness drifted away and his mind shut down, he felt his erection
connecting him to his body, grounding him.
He looked at Marina, the fall of Titian red hair around her shoulders, her
cool ice-gray eyes, her high cheekbones. Her soft yet focused face. He
almost physically felt that she was watching him. Conjuring, inspiring.
He felt hot and his skin glowed, something that often happened to him
during bondage. The embers crept over his body and into his head, and he
opened himself to it. He felt himself drifting away and fought back the
feeling of a panic attack, but Marina immediately switched gears.
»James, you have to let yourself go, otherwise it won't work. Breathe like
I showed you. Come, listen to my voice, my breath. You know how it
works.”
She placed a hand on his neck, her palm warm. His cock was throbbing
hard, but that didn't distract him from what was happening in his head. If
anything, it somehow made things easier.
Her voice was quiet, a breathy whisper. »Okay, James. It’s okay.”
 He sank into subspace, his vision dissolving, black shadowed nothingness,
his consciousness fading faster than the last time with her. With her hand
still on James' neck, she held him within his body so his thoughts could
wander freely.
The places came back first: Baghdad, San Salvador, Angola, Timor,
Bosnia and finally the red dusty road that led out of Bujumbura.
He saw a small herd of goats, a brown-and-white spotted kid bounding
happily after his mother, the only happy creature he'd seen in Burundi -
hell, in all of Africa - and he grinned.
After that he stopped grinning.
The jeeps chased them. Three pulled up next to their van, surrounding him
and his colleagues. A bunch of soldiers jumped out of the jeeps. Hard to say
whether they were government troops or guerrillas. It didn't matter either.
Then everything happened very quickly: they were shouting orders, he
didn't understand what they were saying, only that the situation was
threatening to get dangerous.
They were dragged out of the van and made to kneel on the side of the
road one by one, lined up like targets. Brian Reynolds went first. One of the
military men put a boot on his neck and pushed his head into the red dust.
Then the first shot, goddammit, and Reynolds was dead.
James’s insides churned.
Goddamn!
Blood everywhere, the metallic smell mixing with the dust. Helpless as
hell, he couldn't do anything but watch out of the corner of his eye as they
shot their Burundian guide in the head. He squeezed his eyelids shut as they
shot Foster and Garman. He would be next.
That didn't happen.
 Blood everywhere, but not from him. Those motherfuckers kept driving
and left him with his hands behind his neck.
No, the one on his neck was Marina's hand.
"James, it's okay," she whispered.
No, it wasn't okay. It wasn't fucking okay!
He tried to get up, but the ropes held him in place. Holding his body so
damn tight he couldn't move, yet he still rebelled.
“Shush, James. Breathe.”
Didn't she notice that he couldn't breathe? Damn, he couldn't breathe
anymore!
Anger knotted itself into a tight knot in the pit of his stomach, flooding his
brain, white-hot as a bolt of lightning.
He. Could. Not. Breathe.
He was gasping for air, but his lungs were so damn tight. No matter, then
he would just die here. After he missed his round back then.
He struggled against the bonds, tensing his muscles until they ached. His
whole body hurt because the ropes were cutting into his flesh. He broke out
in a cold sweat.
He had missed his damn round back then!
What nonsense, that was totally stupid. Had he really felt that way all
along? And don't want to believe it yourself?
God, he hated these motherfuckers, these murderers. And he hadn't been
able to do anything about it, their guns pointed at his head, long machetes
in his hands.
Nothing. Zero, damn it.
He yelled “Fuck” and opened his eyes. Noticed Marina watching him,
frowning.
 He was panting, he was shaking, he was sweating as rage ran hot through
his veins. It continued to boil inside him, but the ropes helped compensate.
At least temporarily. After all, she had to channel herself somehow.
»Okay, Marina. Untie me,” he said between clenched jaws.
He expected her to object. That she was afraid. Hell, if he were Marina he
would be scared right now. But she just nodded, and within moments he
was free.
He wasn't even hard anymore. He had to... own.
Groaning, he grabbed Marina, pulled her close and kissed her
passionately. Her lips were sweet, so damn sweet, and he parted them with
his tongue. She had already lost, and he was spontaneously hard again. He
rubbed his hard-on against her and began to rip off her clothes.
I have to see her, touch her, fuck her.
He noticed that she was shivering hotly and lustfully as he undressed her.
Then he slid a hand between her thighs, feeling that she was wet.
»Himmel, Marina.«
»Come on, James. Come …"
It's so good to hear her begging like that. Hearing her desire, practically
screaming at him, made him forget all the crap in his head. Oh yes, just
being with her, in her body, feeling her pleasure, feeling his pleasure. They
eat up.
He pushed her onto the bed, spread her legs, pushed his head between her
thighs. He took her with his mouth; first with his lips, then with his tongue,
he penetrated her wet crack, sucked her hard pearl: clitoris, pussy lips. She
pushed herself against him, on his face, and he didn't want it any other way,
wanted her to writhe under him and moan with a purr.
He raised his head briefly. "Marina, come."
 »Oh …«
She spread her thighs further apart and he pushed into her again, sucking,
licking, stroking, pressing two fingers into her, Marina's pussy silky wet. He
went hard, poking her with his fingers, rubbing her G-spot. And she rotated
her pelvis, pushing her beautiful pussy against his face, enjoying it, needing
it.
Then she came, her hips jerking, her vagina clenching around his fingers,
her juices flowing, onto his hand, across his face, sweet and hot. And he
kept going and she came, screaming out his name loudly.
»Oh Gott, James! James, James …«
At some point he couldn't take it anymore. He felt for his pants, fished a
condom out of his pocket, and rolled it over his cock. He was as hard as
steel as he slipped the robe on and looked at Marina, her rosy breasts, her
soft, sensual mouth. The wildly tousled hair.
He lay down on the bed next to her, rolled onto his back, and pulled her on
top of him.
“Fuck me now, Marina.”
She gave him a small smile, a hint of triumph in her eyes.
"You're not in control here," he confessed calmly.
The smile spontaneously disappeared, her expression became softer, more
submissive. She obeyed willingly as he cupped her pelvis and brought her
onto his lap, her long legs perched on either side of his body. One sharp
thrust and he was inside her, filling her. He held her tight as he pumped into
her.
"Fuck me, Marina," he repeated, and she began to move, pushing herself
off him and sinking back onto him. It was so fucking good and fucking
arousing. And she kept going, riding him, bucking and bucking like a wild
foal, fueling his ecstasy.
 He reached out, took her nipples between his thumb and forefinger,
tweaked them hard, watching them turn dark pink. He pinched it, Marina
threw her head back and screamed. He squeezed harder.
»James, fuck!«
“Am I hurting you?”
“Yes…please…hurt me.”
He twisted the tender flesh more violently, pulling and pinching. She
bucked up on him, her pussy spanning his shaft like a sheath of pure
pleasure. And he felt the frustration flood from his body into hers,
dissipating and losing.
She came again, her hot vagina clenching his spear, making him wet. And
he pushed deeper, fucking her, taking her. Had to hurt her, at least a little
bit.
»Oh … James, Gott …«
The orgasm hit him like a tsunami, his nervous system exploded with
pleasure, his body lost in unrestrained spasms. He came so fucking hard,
pumping into her obsessively as he came. His body shuddered and it was so
damn good, almost too good, almost painful.
Only when it was over did he see the dark red marks on her skin where his
fingernails had dug deep into her hips. Still, it was somehow euphoric. A
sign that he had taken possession of Marina.
She let her body sink exhausted onto his. He felt strangely liberated,
relieved, as if the fog in his brain had cleared.
No reason to worry about it. A blessing, damn it.
He lay relaxed next to her, perhaps even dozing off for a few minutes.
When she sighed, he turned to her, took her face in his hands and kissed
her. She was docile, quiet. Somehow he sensed her desires and had
promptly got a hard-on again. Yet there was nothing animalistic about him
anymore. He just wanted to be with her. Touch her. Just…touch her.
He would be able to think about the consequences later.
»Marina. Come into the shower with me.”
»And...«
They stood up and he took her hand. “Show me where your bathroom is.”
"This way."
She led him down the hall, past her bedroom. The view in there seemed
strangely intimate. Light streamed in from the hall, dimly illuminating the
room, James spied the large bed, covered in plum silk and littered with
pillows.
Taking Marina in her own bed. Oh yes, he would. Later.
Marina turned on the light in the bathroom, tiled in virgin white with fluffy
lavender terry towels and brushed copper fittings. A bombastic
copper-framed mirror hung over the vanity, and James caught a glimpse of
their reflection: both of them with messy hair, their skin heated, holding
hands.
He reached into the shower and turned on the hot water, letting it run
briefly. Marina was silent, and he had the feeling that she was in subspace,
that he had brought her there by taking control of her body. He smiled with
a hint of tenderness at her submission to him. It was something, he realized,
that she had rarely, if ever, done before.
Fantastic. She was amazing, the best thing that had ever happened to him.
His heart was jumping in his chest, but he couldn't possibly think logically
in his condition and didn't want to stop their sensual play. Instead, he
pushed her into the spacious shower stall, under the warm stream of water,
and she went along willingly, holding still as he wrapped his arms around
her. Nestled her head on his chest. And although neither
As they spoke, he knew she felt the same way he did. That they both allowed
this unusually intimate moment.
Damn, he was thinking too much. He'd better switch off and enjoy himself.
Marina snuggled up against him, his chest a comforting wall against her
cheek. When was the last time she felt so safe? Allow yourself to be fully
woman with a man? It was a long time ago. And until that moment, she
hadn't even realized how much she needed this.
Fantastic, just standing there, feeling the water like warm rain on your
skin. Her pointed nipples rubbed against his chest. And he held her tightly
in his arms. The sheer emotion brought Marina to tears. That and…
something else.
James.
Yes, it was him. He.
God, don't ruminate so much, especially now, in this state of mental
confusion.
She turned her face to him, finding him watching her, his dark eyes
flecked with gold. Tiny drops of water glittered in his long black eyelashes.
This man was unbelievable. Attractive in its own way. He was sensitive.
Adorable. Sincerely. And despite everything he had been through, despite
his dramatic experiences, there was something boyishly fresh about him.
Something in Marina opened. And she allowed it.
She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his. Her heart beat
faster as his lips gave way and his warm, sweet tongue pushed into her
mouth. He wrapped her in a passionate embrace that almost crushed her.
And it felt good. Safe, secure.
 Her heart was feverish with desire, which he soothed with his hard, silent
kisses.
She pressed herself against him and he kissed her again and again, lips
and tongue and hot, wet skin. Heavenly, more fantastic than anything
Marina had ever experienced.
They stood under the stream of water, kissing and caressing. His hands
slid through her hair, stroked her face, her shoulders. Then lower, over her
breasts. As he wrapped his hands around the voluptuous fullness, she felt
hot, wet and horny.
He pressed closer, his erection hard and hot against her stomach. She
wanted him. Needed him. But she wanted it slowly, lasciviously. They were
in no hurry because he was there just for them.
»James …«
He arched his upper body back and stared at her with a serious expression.
Prudent.
"I'm taking you to bed now, Marina," he said. Emphatically.
"Yes. Please."
He turned off the water, helped Marina out of the shower, and dried her
with one of the fluffy bath towels. There was nothing submissive about his
movements, not even when he bent down to rub her legs and dry her feet
one by one. No, it seemed caring.
He dried himself quickly, then took Marina's hand again. He stopped in
front of her bed.
“Off to bed with you, Marina.”
She nodded silently, her mouth bone dry. She knew it was important that
he take her in her own bed. Her thoughts constantly revolved around James.
She wanted him, needed him, wanted to feel his body. Wanted him to take
control for her.
He grabbed her hips, pushing Marina onto the bed. The cool silk rubbed
sinfully rough against her skin. She watched as he stood over her, his
stature pure masculinity, illuminated by the streak of light coming through
Bathroom door fell. She loved his muscular body: his broad shoulders, his
flat, washboard stomach. Dark nipples, the thin line of hair below his navel
that led directly to his erect cock.
She loved his cock; he was beautiful like everything about the man.
Golden skin, the swollen head a shade darker, a drop of pleasure juice
shimmering on its tip. She licked her lips, drawing her gaze back to his
face, softly contoured in the twilight. His mouth was so sensual, Marina
thought, because she knew what it felt like, what it tasted like.
My God …
Her body was pulsating, glowing, her pussy slick and wet.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and he came to her, lowering his
toned body onto hers. Marina felt completely overwhelmed by him: by his
scent, his hot skin, his weight pressing her against the mattress. And she felt
once again that she was submitting to him. Was dependent on him. And she
loved it.
He kissed her again, his mouth soft on hers, his lips sensual, intoxicating.
His tongue slid into her mouth, searching, demanding. And she opened
herself to him: her lips, her thighs. He slipped a hand between them and
began to stroke.
“Ah, James...”
»Do you like this, Marina? You’re so wet for me.”
"Yes, yes, I like that. More, more."
"I'll give you more when I want and how I want."
»Yes, James.«
Whatever he wanted. No matter what. As long as he stroked her. As long as
he was with her.
He finally pressed a finger into her and she moaned.
“Good, Marina?”
 »Yes!«
He started pumping and she pushed her pelvis into his hand before the
pleasure overwhelmed her. Her body, tense with excitement, vibrated. She
was tight for him. Deeper and deeper he pumped into her, one thumb
pressed mercilessly on her clitoris.
»James … oh …«
"Are you coming?"
"And."
She gasped with pleasure.
"Not yet."
He pulled his hand away and kissed Marina so hard it hurt. She wanted it
like this, needed this brutal kiss.
“James…” she moaned against his lips.
"Shh."
He turned her onto her stomach, manhandling her so effortlessly that she
could imagine his unbridled strength. Yes, she wanted to be taken from
behind... by him. Her pussy itched with desire.
With one arm wrapped around her waist, he pulled her to her knees, using
one hand to spread her legs wider before fondling her wet pussy.
"You're ready for me, Marina..."
“Yes, James. Please come."
"Please what?"
“Please fuck me, James.”
"Do you want it? Get fucked?”
"Yes, please …"
Marina needed him so badly that she could hardly stand it. Her pussy was
hot, hungry. Uninhibited.
“Here, Marina?” he whispered throatily and pushed two fingers into her;
they slid into the silky dungeon, bringing ecstasy deep into Marina's womb.
»Ah...«
 "Or here?"
His hand slid back to the tighter hole, slick with Marina's own juices. She
spread her knees apart.
»Everything, yes. Whatever you want. Make it easy for me.”
»Do you have any lube, Marina? Condoms?”
"In my nightstand."
He reached into the drawer and searched around briefly. Then he slid
behind her and she heard the crinkling of the condom packaging. Marina
moaned with desire. No man had had her ass in years; She didn't let
submissive guys get there anyway.
But James was anything but a submissive. Her consciousness drifted, her
thoughts suddenly seemed to float in space, and she sank deeper into
subspace. She submitted to James without reservation: mind, body and soul.
His hand slid to her anus again, his fingers primed with lubricant. He
rubbed it in small circles and it was heavenly, pleasure trickling through
Marina's body, into her genitals.
“Are you ready for me, Marina?”
"And."
She arched her backside towards him, lowered her head onto the pillows
and gave herself to him.
He pressed his fingers against her hole with gentle pressure for a few
seconds. Then he slid into her, using just his fingertip. However, it was
enough to stimulate Marina, her brain was blank, her body tingled with
desire.
"Good girl," he whispered against her ear. "I think you can take more." He
pushed his finger into her anus and it slid in effortlessly.
“Oh…” she whispered quietly, excitedly, pleasure creating white flashes
behind her eyeballs.
"Come on, baby," he encouraged her, and she pushed herself against him,
taking his finger deep into her hole. "Yes, that's good."
 He pushed two fingers inside her. It was easy because she was wet and her
body was dying for more.
»Jesus Christ, you are hot and tight. I have to be inside you. I have to fuck
you.”
"Yes, please, James."
She felt him kneel behind her, using his hands to spread her buttocks apart,
pushing his fingers into her anus again before bringing the head of his
lube-covered cock to the opening.
"Are you ready?"
She couldn't wait. She pushed herself against him, taking him in. And she
was filled with his flesh, with fervent passion, with an obsession to obey
him. Her consciousness reached a higher level, fueled by her arousal: her
pleasure intensified by what was going on in her head.
Yours.
He began to move, a gentle pumping of his pelvis. It felt so good, just
heavenly. It's just heavenly to let him control you. To belong to him.
Yours, James.
His hand slid forward, rubbing her clit. That was hardly necessary because
his cock in her ass drove pleasure deep into Marina's womb. Her pussy, her
breasts swelled.
As he pushed her harder, Marina moaned her pleasure loudly. No matter,
she had lost control. She was a creature intoxicated by lust and passion: his
cock moved in her anus, his fingers teased her clitoris, his scent enveloped
her. His body took control of hers. And it was all beautiful and certain and
amazing when she thought about it more deeply.
She didn't.
Instead, she let him fuck her until it hurt and pleasure and pain combined
into an explosive mixture in her body.
White-hot pain and lustful abandon. And they came together, bodies
convulsing, hot, turbulent breath, divine ecstasy rolling over them like
liquid lava.
He dominated her.
James.
Yours. Forever.
 9

She woke up at dawn. James lay next to her, completely relaxed.

His eyes closed, he breathed calmly and evenly.

He had a well-cut profile, apart from the small scar on his chin, which
actually made him even more masculine. Should she reach out and pet him?
No better not. She just wanted to look at him lying there, in her bed - her
bed! – that was sweet, overwhelmingly beautiful. And her deepest wish.
Yes, having him here with you. Getting up with him every morning. To
spend the nights with him. To allow him to control her body so that she
could finally let go.
She remembered how he had taken her that night, how her body, her mind
reacted to it. How she had opened her heart to him. Your sensitive,
vulnerable soul.
Stop, stop!
Her heart was pounding. She absently stroked the cool silk sheet as if she
hoped it would provide comfort. It did not help.
She wasn't allowed to do that, under any circumstances. There was too
much at stake. It would be best if she ended the whole thing as quickly as
possible. it could not go on like that. He wasn't a good risk: he had enough
problems of his own, deep problems. He was with her to get these problems
under control, then he would disappear from her life again. After all, he
hadn't given her any hope or spoken of love.
Paralyzing fear pierced her chest like an icicle, churning Marina inside.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
 Lord in heaven, she had fallen in love with him!
She looked at the sleeping man and suddenly had butterflies in her
stomach.
 She became weak. No, it
couldn't be!
She slid out of bed on unsteady feet and ran naked into the bathroom.
Turned on the water, took a shower, let the hot water hit her shoulders and
cried.
How she hated feeling weak and vulnerable! That hadn't happened to her
since Nathan's death.
When was the last time she cried? Oh, she had cried for months after
learning Nathan's cancer diagnosis, when they realized he didn't have long
to live, and hours, days, weeks after his death. She had cried until her eyes
burned and her body felt numb. She had vegetated for a long time, trapped
in her endless sadness. And she had vowed never to cry again.
Not even now. Crying was taboo.
She quickly washed her hair, showered his scent off her body, dried
herself. She applied a touch of makeup, blow-dried her hair, wrapped
herself in a bathrobe. She quickly decided to return to the bedroom where
he winked at her from the bed, a smile on his sleepy face. She couldn't get
enough of him.
"There you are. Come back to bed, Marina."
"I have to work."
“Can’t you start an hour later?”
She shook her head. “I have a conference call with a client at nine.”
You're cheating on him - again.
"It's only half past seven."
»I have to get some information first. I really have to go now.”
James swung himself onto the edge of the bed, threw the blanket aside and
walked naked across the room until he stood in front of Marina. He cupped
it with one hand
tenderly her chin, causing her to unconsciously wince.
"Marina, what's going on?"
She pulled her head away, tore open a dresser drawer and rummaged
through it. Took out silk lingerie. "I...I really have to work," she said tightly.
“Don’t talk trash.”
Two steps and he was behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist
and spun her around to face him. His expression grim, his dark eyes
clouded with emotion.
»You want me to disappear, is that it? Okay, okay, do what you can't help
doing. But don't kid me, Marina. Be honest with me. Tell me what you
want. What you need. That's what it's all about between us, isn't it? So far,
anyway.”
She swallowed to get rid of the thick lump in her throat, intoxicated by his
closeness, the sexy scent of his bare skin and the energetic, hard timbre in
his voice.
»Mmh, what you say is true. I... I need a little more time. It was all very…
intense.”
"Yes, it was. That’s why things are going so well for us.«
"Might be."
"Why are you doing this to yourself?"
She felt like crying again. However, crying was taboo. So she shook her
head silently. She couldn't look at him, instead her eyes wandered to the
foggy window. It was dreary and sad outside. Like in her heart.
“Sorry, James, but I have to…” She paused and narrowed her eyes,
shaking her head. “Please go. Okay? Just go."
He flinched as if Marina had given him a resounding slap in the face. His
face darkened and his jaw clenched. It hurt her soul.
 "Yes, okay. I go."
He disappeared into the guest room where he got dressed. She stood in the
middle of her bedroom in her bathrobe and listened intently to every sound:
she heard him closing the door to the guest room, the floorboards creaking
as he walked down the hall, then the muffled slam of the front door closing
behind him fell. As soon as he left, the tears came, and there wasn't a damn
thing she could do about it.
She wrapped her arms around herself, sank onto the foot of the bed and
cried until she had no more tears.
When she looked at the clock it was after nine. Her face was puffy from
crying. She had a headache and felt horrible. Couldn't think clearly.
No, she urgently needed to think. Should she end the whole thing? Would
she even be able to do that? She sobbed. Everything was probably too late
anyway. Surely that would be best.
Or maybe not?
Jesus, what was she supposed to do?
She leaned over the bed and reached uncertainly for the cell phone that
was lying on the bedside table. Desmond! She could call him and pour her
heart out to him. He was always the cool, rational guy. At least he had been
until he met Ava six months ago. Now he was head over heels in love. And
hovered above things. No, talking to Desmond wasn't a good idea. She had
to deal with this alone, like she had done all these years. Desmond would
definitely recommend that she give in to James, tell him that she loved him.
Impossible.
She couldn't do it. She never wanted to risk deep feelings again. Although
it was true: she was in love with James.
Good God, she loved him! The realization hit her like a knife in the chest.
Because it couldn't be. Never again. No never.
 She put the phone back and threw herself on the bed, burying her head in
the pillow James had been sleeping on. She breathed it in, breathed in the
pain of knowing it was over. She gave in to her grief, allowed the pain, just
for this one day. Afterwards she wanted to lock him away safely, in the dark
dungeon in her heart where she kept everything that hurt.

James was sitting at one of the tables outside Absinthe, sipping a

cappuccino, watching the sunset and feeling miserable.
It had been over two weeks since he had last seen Marina, her dismayed
expression, huge, stunned eyes in a pale face. He had fully believed she
would call him the next day. Or at the weekend. However, she had not
contacted him.
He never thought it would hurt so damn much. It hurt worse than the
broken jaw back in Manila. Or the injury he sustained with a machete in
Indonesia. Much worse than anything he had experienced in Africa.
He never thought falling in love could hurt so much.
Damned!
He reached for the steaming cup of coffee and burned his fingers on the
hot porcelain. So what? He didn't care at all.
He loved her, and what did he get out of it? She had turned away from him
and left him to stew. He was completely the rejected lover. And felt
accordingly.
It was like a small death. When you lose someone you love and it almost
breaks your heart.
This time, however, something could be done about it. He could at least
try. This time no one held a machete to his throat. He didn't have to kneel in
the dirt and beg for his life.
 He took a long sip of the hot coffee, ignoring the fact that he was scalding
his tongue and throat. Instead, he spontaneously felt like he was finally
waking up from a two-week emotional coma. Shit, was he still in his right
mind? To wait that long? Was he deserted by all good spirits? Damn, he
loved her. Damn, and he just sat there stupidly instead of fighting for her?
He tossed a ten dollar bill onto the white tablecloth and jumped up.
Dashing past the other tables and across the sidewalk at a run. Moments
later he was back in his apartment complex. Where he unlocked the garage
and jumped into the car. He sped down Hayes Street at full speed. It was
one of those gray, overcast days, typical of San Francisco, which he had
always found a bit romantic. But the last two weeks have just been
depressing and frustrating.
Yes, it was time for him to completely turn his life around. And Marina
finally made it clear that they belonged together. She had to see that.
He drove through the city, fighting his way through the busy Saturday
evening traffic. It took him an eternity to reach the part of town where she
lived. He found a parking space right in front of her house. It was dark
inside and no one answered his knock.
Was she still in the office? He knew she often worked weekends. He
jumped back in the car and drove to Union Street. Couldn't find a parking
space, parked three blocks away, and the walk through the cool evening air
kept me cool. His anger faded - anger that he had let her go.
There was no light in her office and the gallery on the first floor was
already closed. He walked up and down the sidewalk thoughtfully. Where
the hell was she?
He grabbed his phone and dialed her number, his heart jolting when he
heard her voice, but it was just her voicemail.
 Damned.
He hung up without leaving a message. He had to tell her what he had to
say in person.
He drove home through the city, disappointment his silent companion.
Where was she?
When he returned, he didn't feel like going back to his apartment. Too
overwhelming. And lonely. Instead, he strolled down Hayes Street, past
shops and brightly lit restaurants: where people chatted and laughed. He felt
even more left out than usual. He turned onto Gough Street, strode up the
hill, then down a side street onto Van Ness. Long, hard steps, but not hard
enough to vent, to calm his thundering heartbeat. But still better than sitting
around in his apartment next to the stupid phone like he'd been doing for
days.
The city came alive around him: gleaming neon signs flashed, street lights
flickered on. San Francisco was always full of people: seeing and being
seen, promenades, nightlife. And he was happy for the action, the hype. It
invigorated him, distracted him a little from what was going on in his head.
Still, he kept thinking about her.
About an hour later he was back on his street. It was now just after nine.
And he made a decision.
He drove his car through heavy traffic toward Potrero Hill. He found a
parking space behind the old brick building. By the time he reached the
front door, he was at his wits' end.
Calm down, man.
He showed the doorman his membership card. Meditative music drifted
through the heavy entrance curtains leading to the Pinnacle's club rooms.
However, he didn't come here to play. Oh no,
he had something serious to do if only he could find her. Some crazy inner
inspiration had brought him here.
He pushed his way through the main room of the club, barely taking a
look at the dim red lighting and the relevant equipment: St. Andrew's
crosses, suspension frames, horizontal bars, leather-upholstered benches. It
was still early and not much going on. Hopefully he didn't bump into
anyone he knew, because he didn't feel like talking.
He climbed the winding iron stairs to the first floor. The
bondage room. That was her domain.
She stood at the back of the room, next to one of the tall bondage racks,
leaning on the frame with one hand. She was alone.
He couldn't breathe. In the milky amber lighting, Marina's hair seemed to
flow around her shoulders like red-gold lava. She was dressed entirely in
black, high-heeled boots, a tight black leather skirt and leather bodice made
her skin look even paler. She wore a pendant with sparkling rhinestones
around her neck. As soon as she turned her head, he saw the shocked flash in
her eyes, her bright red painted lips forming a startled O. Damn, she was the
most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
In three or four long steps he was at her. She stood frozen, watching him
with her eyes wide in shock. It hurt to see her like that, her fear, the tension.
He never wanted that. But hell, he couldn't help it. She made life difficult
for herself.
»Marina.«
God, she couldn't believe he was there! Her palms became clammy, her
throat dry. Her breath caught in her throat and she couldn't make a sound. It
hurt too much to see him like that. The anger in his eyes, the desperate, hard
set around his mouth.
On the other hand, she felt weak in the knees with
relief. She hated feeling weak.
 Is handle after her, enclosed energetic her Wrist.
She flinched but didn't fight it.
»Marina, we need to talk. And we'll talk whether you want to or not. Come
with me."
"Where?"
She tried to ignore the trembling that was taking over her body. The pain
came back spontaneously. The pain that she had stubbornly tried to
suppress in these last few weeks. In vain, he had ambushed her day and
night.
»Come upstairs with me. There’s nothing going on at this time.”
He didn't give her a chance to protest, but instead pulled her along with
him through the long room, up the wooden stairs, and through the high
double doors that led to a roof garden.
It was cool up there, the night damp and damp, but she didn't shiver
because of the cold. It was as if the reunion had opened the emotional
floodgates that Marina had kept tightly closed. Tears rolled down their
cheeks, even though they had barely spoken two sentences to each other.
Her temples throbbed uncomfortably. And she felt helpless. Unable to turn
away from him.
She didn't want to admit to herself how terribly she missed him.
He continued to hold her wrist tightly and led her to a patio table. There he
let go of her and stood close to her. Neither of them sat down.
She caught his masculine scent. Felt the anger and love he radiated. Oh
yes, there was love. She'd known since that morning when she'd asked him
to leave. Had known it the night he kissed her tenderly in the shower, when
he had taken her in her bed.
His voice was sharp. He had every reason to be angry. »You still owe me
an explanation, Marina. And keep it short.”
 Her pulse fluttered wildly, her head was spinning. She couldn't think
because he was so damn close to her!
“I… I don’t know what to say, James.”
“Oh yes, you know that. I expect an explanation. I want to know why
you're sending me to the desert! Does it mean nothing to you?” He pressed
closer and she bit her lip to hold back her sobs. “Dammit, tell me what it is
for you!”
“I think you know that,” she said, her voice a strangled whisper.
"Yes. I know, I know. It has to do with Nathan, right? But that was four
years ago. How much longer do you want to punish yourself? Lie to
yourself?”
She shook her head. "No, that is not correct. It has nothing to do with
Nathan.”
It had with him to do with James, with her emotions for him. Emotions
she couldn't handle.
“Oh no?” He pulled his hair out. His eyes flashed angrily in the darkness.
The roof garden was only lit by a few individual wall sconces, and there
were lanterns on the tables.
»Do you think I couldn't understand that? Me of all people? You know
damn well what I've been through. You have to gnaw at Nathan's death as
much as I have to gnaw at the misery I had to witness in Africa. It's
survivor's guilt, that's normal. But, you know what? It's okay that we're still
alive. And it doesn't make any damn sense if we don't affirm and enjoy this
life! Do you think Nathan would have asked you to do that? I don't
believe."
"No of course not. He certainly wasn't like that." Gradually her crest
began to swell. It was really great that James dictated how she should tick
emotionally! Still, a small part of her knew he was right. He had hit her
sensitive nerve. It was just hard to face reality.
 »Then why are you like this? To yourself? To me, damn it!”
Oh, he was fuming. And behind that anger was passion. For her. That's
what made him so attractive to Marina, and it scared her at the same time.
“It's so hard for me, James. I can't... I couldn't go through something like
that with Nathan again. I can’t handle it.”
»Marina. There are no guarantees in life. I could get hit by a truck
tomorrow. Damn, what are you doing? You can't just anticipate your fears
of loss. That's not fair!"
»Life isn't fair, James! Life wasn't fair to Nathan, dying of cancer at the
age of thirty-five. It’s not fair that I’m in love with you and you can be
taken away from me just as easily.”
He was flabbergasted. Had he misheard? Or did she really just say that? A
kaleidoscope of emotions flashed across his face, his expression softening.
He reached out and stroked Marina's cheek. "I never thought you could
admit it so easily."
A hard, unwilling laugh escaped her. “Do you think that was easy for
me?”
“Damn, Marina.”
He pulled her into his arms. She resisted, but he just squeezed her tighter.
»Marina, let it go. Stop resisting.”
She tried to wriggle away from him. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“No, James. “I don’t want to!” she sobbed.
She flailed her arms, trying desperately to break away from him.
“Marina, damn it, my girl. You love me. Damn, you love me! And I love
you. It's completely okay. I love you."
Marina lost all her strength when he said that. She sank into his chest,
wracked by deep, uncontrollable sobs.
 “I didn't mean to, James. I didn't want to fall in love with you. Then it
happened anyway. I’m so scared!”
"I know. Me too. We found each other and now we are together. I never
thought this could ever happen to me. That it would be so good and so
intense. I love you. I would be a complete idiot if I didn't listen to my heart.
If I let you go, love.”
He held her close and she cried on his shoulder. Overwhelmed by her
emotions, her fingers dug into his biceps for support. She was helpless
against these emotions: the renewed pain, the familiar fears of loss, the deep
love she felt for James. No point in continuing to deny it. She was just
hurting herself. Their love was too deep, too real.
Finally she murmured bashfully, "You're much stronger than me."
“Don’t be mistaken about that. This was incredibly difficult for me. But
it's the best thing I've ever done. And the right thing.”
A weight fell from Marina's heart; the pain and fears were suddenly faded
away in the face of her unconditional love. Then she knew she just had to
accept it, the good and the bad.
After a while the tears dried and she raised her head.
»James.«
"Mmm, what's wrong?" He stroked her face with his fingertips, her
cheeks, her eyes, her lips. He was sinfully tender towards her, careful.
»You are the best thing that could have happened to me in my life.«
His dark eyes flashed. "You're the one for me, Marina." Then he kissed
her, gently, a sweet touch on her lips. She almost cried again because it felt
so nice, so right. She couldn't get enough of his mouth. Of his sweet lips, of
his warm skin. She nestled against him and he embraced her more closely,
held her tightly, pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her until she was
breathless,
dizzy with happiness. And melted in his arms. Until the pain disappeared
and the love remained.
He relaxed his embrace and whispered in her ear, "I need to be alone with
you."
"Yes, please. Not here. Take me home, James.”
He took her hand with a smile and led her downstairs. They walked to the
parking lot, hugging each other, where he carefully helped her into the car.
He got in, started the engine, and they glided through the night. However,
the darkness in Marina's heart was gone.
They held hands during the ride. Both were silent. Marina felt strangely
relaxed, despite her racing heart and fluttering pulse. But that was because
of the excitement, the euphoria, her reaction to his tenderly warm fingers
wrapped around hers. Knowing that he loved her.
They reached his apartment. And he didn't let go of her for a moment as
he made his way to the house, through the front door, past the high loft
windows and into his bedroom. Silvery starlight bathed the room in a soft
twilight glow. He pulled her over to the large bed and began to undress her.
He whispered in her ear, his breath warm on her skin, “I love you, Marina.
I love you."
She was paralyzed. By him. Of their feelings. Her throat felt tight, but it
felt good. Wonderful. She smiled as he lifted the coat from her shoulders
and gently stroked her bare arms with his palms.
»Your skin is beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?” There was
admiration in his voice. »I could keep stroking you like that. And I’ll do
that too, you can count on it.”
“Always, James?” Her heartbeat quickened. His
gaze penetrated hers. "Yes. Forever."
“Ah, James...”
 His thumb brushed her cheek, his expression softer than usual. Then he
leaned forward and brushed his lips over the curve of her breasts, full and
round over the leather corsage. Marina's body flared up for him, her knees
buckling. She buried her hands in his hair, pressing his face into her breasts
as he kissed her, her nipples hardening.
"James, I need you."
He raised his head and looked down into hers. "Tell me, Marina."
"I love you." Tears glittered in her eyes. But not because of grief.
"I'm madly in love with you."
Immediately his hands were in her hair. He pulled Marina towards him,
then his mouth was on hers, he opened her lips with his tongue, sucked her
into his mouth. It tasted sweet and was incredibly gentle. Like cream
caramel.
His hands seemed to be everywhere, pushing her skirt down, reaching
behind Marina, untying her corsage, sliding it over her body.
"I can't get enough of you, Marina," he whispered as his hands pushed her
panties off her legs. "Never enough."
She undressed him, caressing his dream body: chest, shoulders, stomach,
then she wrapped her arms around the broad small of his back. Tight golden
skin over steel-hard muscles. It was unbelievable that a man built like that
could be gentle and tender. But he was, in every way.
“James...I've never been caressed like that before. Your hands
…” She swallowed, her voice shaky with emotion. "No one has stroked my
pussy like you."
»Marina. Baby.” He knelt on the Persian rug in front of her and kissed her
stomach. Pleasure bubbled through her body like champagne. “Love you,
baby,” he whispered against her bare skin. »My Baby.«
She shuddered longingly, her pussy wet with desire, her breasts itching.
He lowered his mouth lower, brushing his lips over her hip, down her thigh.
She couldn't stand it, couldn't wait.
 "James, please..."
He stood up, wrapped her in his arms and pushed her onto the bed,
throwing himself on top of her. His skin was velvety soft against hers, bare
flesh on bare flesh. A great feeling. And he smelled sinfully good, eh James
even. She raised her head, pressed her mouth to his neck, licked and sucked,
tasted him. As he moaned, she spread her legs and he brought his muscular
body between her thighs. She felt his erection press against her entrance.
Once again a wave of pleasure whipped through her body, across her skin,
deep into her womb.
“James… I need to feel you inside me. Please."
He lifted her body with both hands, pushing her up until she was leaning
against the pillows. Then he took a condom from the nightstand. Kneeling
over Marina, he tore open the packaging with his teeth and pulled out the
latex part.
“Let me do this…”
She took the penis from him, rolled it over his hard cock, and became
intoxicated by the hot, pulsating erection. And his soft moans.
Then his hands were on her hips, lifting her, pulling Marina closer. His
eyes merged with hers, his irises dark, sparkling with gold in the dim
lighting. Eyes full of love. And as he entered her, she felt pure passion: his
thrusting body, his silky skin, his hands warm on her flesh, his shining eyes.
She felt her body yearning for his, needing him, needing to know how
potent he was, how strong. Real and not a dream. How much he loved her.
How much she loved him.
She wrapped her thighs around his groin, melting into him. He whispered
in her ear:
"I love you baby. Love you, love you…” And
she knew it was true.
 "I love you, James."
Pleasure flowed through her, whipping up, unleashing. And as they came
together, it was as if Marina's uninhibited desire radiated from her body to
his, like a candle burning at both ends. Both shuddered in the intoxicating,
fervent ecstasy.
“James, darling,” she moaned again and again.
"Marina, my baby," he gasped at the same time.
They clung to each other, two heated, satisfied bodies. Undisguised desire.
Sensually intoxicating. Unbelievable, inexplicable. Love.
The force of fate had destined for her. In the future it no longer mattered
which of them took control. What mattered was their love for each other
and that they knew how to live in the moment. Whatever happened, James
would give her the strength and support she needed. She never had to be
afraid again. Marina loved and was loved. Then she knew she had finally
arrived.
 thanksgiving

IThank you Tammi Flora for our brilliant brainstorming sessions,

especially at the end of the book; and Vivienne Westlake, Lilli Feisty and
Lanie Bancroft –
You were like my personal cheerleaders when I had a slack while writing.
Thanks also to Gemma Halliday, Crystal Jordan and RG Alexander. To my
agent Roberta Brown for her incredible patience, commitment and constant
encouragement in difficult times. And to S. – for inspiring me and for
catching me and supporting me in a damn tricky phase of my life.
I thank you all!