BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

“Oh thank you, Jesus.”

Jensen barked out a laugh. He cupped her hips and in the next moment she felt his breath on her wet pussy.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this wet.” He pinched her labia and pulled them open, exposing her aching core.

“I can’t remember the last time I was this aroused, Master.”

“You’re enjoying trying new things—abrasion, arm binding, anal.”

“Oh yes, Master.”

“Good, because we’ve got more to do. Come when you’re ready.”

His lips closed over her clit. Anna screamed. The direct contact with the throbbing bundle of nerves was so intense that her toes curled. Jensen held her upper thighs as he lapped at her clit. Broad strokes of his tongue fanned the already wild fire of her desire. He pulled back and blew on her wet flesh, then circled her clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Master!”

Knowing she had his permission—and she was so aroused that even if she hadn’t she would have come—Anna gave in to the orgasm building in her belly. She sobbed as the pleasure washed over her in heavy, thick waves. Her nipples were diamond hard, her ass throbbing, her channel clenching.

He pulled her deeper under the waves of pleasure, using the flat of his tongue to gently massage her throbbing clit. Anything more direct would have been uncomfortable in her pleasure-sensitive body, but he knew her, knew that he could prolong her orgasm.

Anna sucked in great sobbing breaths as her legs trembled and her pussy throbbed. The last wave crashed over her and she went limp, her head hanging down, her hair nearly brushing the floor.

* * *

pain. Some had no choice. For some, the darkness inside could only be

elegant mahogany lockers in a small dressing room, anticipation making his movements hard and sharp. He needed this. For months he’d been wanting it, lying awake at night dreaming of having a woman bound at his mercy. A week ago it had gone from “want” to “need” when the darkness inside him reached critical levels. He rubbed

bar in the next room. The Dom’s Lounge, affectionately called the den, was an elegant room with wood paneling, floor to ceiling bookshelves, and robust leather furniture. It had an air of wealth and power, both of which the people who used this room possessed. One wall was all windows, taking in the view of golden hills and palm trees,

could claim to have ever been inside. Las Palmas was the home of Las Palmas Oscuras—a BDSM club for the wealthy, powerful, and kinky denizens of

“Welcome back, Xavier.”

Xavier half-turned to see an elegant woman in her fifties rising from one of the leather wing-back chairs. Mistress Faith was one of the overseers of Las Palmas, and

Xavier used the title both as

it and bowed stiffly over it. There were lines around her eyes that Xavier hadn’t seen last time he was here, though she looked elegant and powerful in a tailored black skirt suit. Outside the Doms’ section of the estate she

make it for our meeting.” She patted his

he’d missed something. Not a surprise, given his life outside

“I suppose

remembered he didn’t carry it while here. It was a way to separate who he was to the outside world from who he was at

an hour before everyone is expected

“You mean the barn?”

it’s elegant, it’s not a barn.” Faith had helped develop Las Palmas, and had

snorted. “It’s nicer than 99% of the world’s housing, but it has horse stalls. It’s

sniffed. “You weren’t always so

of small talk. “What’s going on? Is

all. Have a seat; I’ll have someone

He tossed back his drink and poured another, though this one was simply mineral water. It was time to go

to eat.” She