BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

Twenty-four hours later, Anna zipped her skirt and checked her reflection in the mirror. She’d come right from work on Friday, and hadn’t brought any casual clothes with her. She’d be going home in the tailored Chanel skirt suit she’d been wearing when she left the office.

Friday felt like a million years ago, instead of only two days. It was even stranger when she considered that she’d spent most of today sitting quietly with her Master and watching the players who’d been assigned to the letter “B.” She’d thought “A” was intense until she’d seen what the “B” subs were being subjected to.

She placed her toiletry bag in the locker she’d been assigned in one of the Subs’ Garden rooms. Picking up her overnight bag, she pulled out the ring box. Extracting the antique, three-carat sapphire engagement ring, she slid it onto her finger.

She waved to the other subs, both those who were changing into street clothes and those who were lounging in various states of nakedness, their play not yet done. She hadn’t exactly gotten the girls’ night they’d talked about, but there would be other weekends to play with her fellow subs.

Anna smoothed a lock of hair back towards the chic chignon that was her signature hairstyle.

Her Sergio Rossi heeled sandal—alternating thick and thin straps of hot pink and zebra print with a fuchsia heel—tapped on the concrete as she left the mansion and made her way toward the parking area. A handsome, blond man was leaning against the fender of a sleek, silver Aston Martin DB9. Anna smiled at her fiancé.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

“Hello, soldier.”

The corner of Jensen Couper’s mouth kicked up when she used the nickname she’d coined for him back when they were undergrads.

She kissed him, plucking at the ugly polo shirt he wore. “I’m going to throw this thing away.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this shirt.”

Anna rolled her eyes.

one who cares what I wear.” He took her bag and put it in

least you dress

“Only because you

giving you millions of dollars, a

more than some people twice their age—he’d gone to war and nearly died. She’d nursed him back to health, while struggling to control her feelings for him and simultaneously dealing

and leaned in to kiss her, she’d had to haltingly tell him about what she’d been doing to satisfy her sexual needs, even while she’d emotionally committed to him and his recovery. Jensen hadn’t judged her, and they’d agreed to remain friends. Anna hadn’t wanted to take advantage of his gratitude by starting another

productive, period of their relationship, with each of them trying desperately to deny their feelings for one another, and

mount for military helicopters. Uneven weight distribution had caused the crash that had nearly killed him, and his design corrected that error. She’d represented him in the patent filing and subsequent multimillion dollar sale of the design. As a result of bringing him on, she was made a junior partner in her law firm, and Jensen was owner and chief designer of an

arrived for one of her monthly visits to Las Palmas where Master Leo had introduced her to their newest member—a handsome, young millionaire who went by the title of

***

Oh shit.

throat when the Dom came out of the

Master Xavier.

truly terrifying Doms at Las Palmas, and this was one of them. Though he was an infrequent player, Mae recognized him. Even if she’d never seen him, she would recognize him from

a black leather hood-mask, and rumor had it no one at Las Palmas had ever seen

whole head and neck except for his mouth, lower cheeks, and chin. A sub Mae knew named Sarah, who had submitted to him

muscular, but not bulky, wearing a tight sleeveless top that hugged the muscles of his chest and firm belly. He folded his arms, which were thick with muscle. The unrelenting black of his clothing and mask drew attention

“Mae.”

back when he said her

submissively, but looked at him through her

“You know me.”