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.

cares what I wear.” He took

dress

because you

millions of dollars, a tie is

could see traces of the boy she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. They’d been through more than some people twice their age—he’d gone to war and nearly died.

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

a painful, if productive, period of their relationship, with each of them trying desperately to deny their feelings for one another, and learn to be

caused the crash that had nearly killed him, and his design corrected that error. She’d represented him in the patent filing and

Leo had introduced her to their newest member—a handsome, young millionaire

***

Oh shit.

in her throat when the Dom came

Master Xavier.

them. Though he was an

leather hood-mask, and rumor had it no one at Las Palmas had

neck except for his mouth, lower cheeks, and chin. A sub Mae knew named Sarah, who had submitted to him several times, said it was like Batman’s mask. They’d giggled about that, but quietly, as if Master Xavier might hear them

firm belly. He folded his arms, which were thick with muscle. The unrelenting black of

“Mae.”

back

She bowed her head submissively, but

“You know me.”