Nettles (1)

Five years.

Jakob paused to look at the dollar bill on the wall behind the bar. It was after closing, well into the wee hours of the morning. The last of the staff were stacking chairs, straightening the place for when Mandy came in the morning to clean. Even as he stood there, the lights in the back of the large main room began to shut off.

Hours from now Nettles would re-open, and the crowd of perverts would gather inside to share in the celebration of the club’s five-year anniversary.  Nettles was a special place for them to gather, and a club that was doing incredibly well in the revenue stream these days. It was terrific to own a club that was a success, any way one looked at it, by clientele or by profit margin.  He thought back to those first nervous days when he’d sunk all his available capital, maxed out his credit on purchasing the old factory building, and all the sweaty hours that had been spent here. It had taken months of sweat equity to convert it to the BDSM club was celebrating its fifth successful season. He was pleased, too,  that the local paper touted Nettles as the “Best of the Best” for “Alternative Clubs”  when they had written up the anniversary in the ‘About Town’ section.

He thought about the groups that hung here, that called Nettles their ‘playground.’ This particular crowd defied explanation, other than ‘different’.  How unique they all were, from Dominants to submissives. Their styles of clothing was as varied as their styles of play. He smiled up at that first bill, framed and forever marking the end to his ‘freedom’ to go gallivanting hither and yon. He’d spent time in Europe, in part thanks to Uncle Sam, and partly just for the guilty pleasure of soaking up the atmosphere in some truly sinful skin shops. One of the first places he’d gone while stationed in Germany was to a fringe club. He liked what he’d seen, been drawn to it, and to what he’d experienced there. And there, of all the places in the world, he’d reconnected with Keegan.

What were the odds, Jakob mused, that they’d meet in that club, on that day, at that particular time? Probably 1000-to-1 if not higher. 

They’d come face to face at the BDSM club that masqueraded as a bar, in a mid-sized town in Germany. There had been a moment of shock, a bellow of glee, and one-armed hugs, back slapping, and a series of pokes about each others branch of service. He’d been army, and Keegan had gone to the air. They’d been close friends in college, gone separate ways after graduation, lost touch. It was freaky. If he was a religious man, he might have called it a miracle. As it was, it appeared to be fate. Once they’d met, they continued to hook up at various clubs. They’d  enjoyed learning the ropes, the freedom and ability to channel some of the need for aggressive sex, the outlet of beating someone to a sexual frenzy–for themselves and their partners. They’d had a lot of fun over there, Jakob mused. And who woulda thunk back then, that it would become the basis of how he made a living once home. The idea had been planted while overseas, and germinated once he’d finished his stint in the service. He’d come home, unable to settle for the old nine-to-five grind of an office, or the butt kicking thanklessness of being a private contractor. Driving through town one night, he’d seen the FOR SALE sign on the old brick building, and the idea sprang to life.

He’d start his own kink club stateside.

He couldn’t do it alone, he knew. He had a pitiful short list of friends.   Keegan had moved back stateside and had been an invaluable help in doing the gruntwork required to rip apart the place, and begin to piece it together. The two of them had sweat in tandum, yet still had time to explore some of the clubs in the city. Becoming active in the local scene meant making more friends who also were invested in the new space. No one was happy to drive for an hour or more to hit the city clubs. A local place was just the right niche at the right time.

Five fucking years.

Who would have thought that here he’d be, contentedly stocking the bar, watching the parade of kinksters moving through his space, playing when he had the inclination–and the free time. His finger tapped the glass covering that first precious bill, then he thumbed off the lights behind the bar, and headed into the kitchen, leaving the closing up to his capable staff.


Jakob wasn’t the kind of Dom who dressed in leather or chaps; he considered that aspect of BDSM as dress up play, and one that didn’t interest him at all. He didn’t begrudge those that wanted that as part of the formality of a scene, but for him, comfortable jeans and a dark-colored tee-shirt did the job.  But since tonight was the celebration of five years, and the club had been advertising locally for a week or more, he expected a bigger crowd than usual. Every staff person was coming in, everyone excited to be a part of the night. He’d give a few demo’s and, knowing that there would be a certain amount of vanilla’s and potential newbies, especially with that whole fifty shades phenomenon going on lately, he decided to spiff up just a bit. His work jeans were comfortable, but his play jeans were pretty close to scandalous. Skin-tight, they would have been completely uncomfortable to wear if not for the ‘ball-room gusset’ in the crotch. He liked the way the denim hugged his ass, not that he was vain. But if he was going to put on a show, then he was going to put on one hell of a show. He eschewed a shirt, reaching for his favorite denim overshirt. He rolled up the sleeves to the elbows. He slid his feet into a pair of scuffed black boots, as someone was bound to do a bootblacking tonight.

Leaving his apartment on the top floor, he scooted down the hidden staircase which ended in the second room of his office suite. The small room boasted a closet, a double bed, a wall with a variety of whips, paddles, cuffs, and rope on hooks, and a dresser filled with a host of other ‘toys’. Many people thought that he lived in his office, and slept in this back room, but this was merely his private play space. Virtually no one knew of the secret entry to his apartment upstairs, which was also accessible by an outdoor staircase. One of the joys of doing your own renovation work, he knew, was finding little gems like the secret stairs, and incorporating it into his personal space. This way he could be at home and at work, at the same time.

He sauntered into his office, running a hand through his shaggy mop of hair. He left his denim shirt open but for the bottom button, which would entice some of the subs in the playspace.  If he was restless, he chalked it up to not having had much time to play. He had a hunger tonight, to spank bottoms, and whip some asses, and maybe, if some needy little submissive was really lucky, he’d fuck them. He glanced out the window at the sunset, the sky glowing in colorful shades of vermilion and gold. The fantastic light splashed on the outer walls of the buildings, and gilded the long street outside the club. He took a deep breath, pleased to finally begin this special evening. He planned to address the staff, congratulate them on a job well done. Then it would be time to open the doors, and begin the celebration.

HNT–Butt Plugs and the Strange Dream

So, I had this dream the other night. And I forgot about it until I talked with M on Tuesday evening on my way home from work. It was strange because it just *POPPED* into my head. You know when you have those “snippet” types of dreams? It’s like a whole story but it happens in a microburst?

Yeah, that was how it was.

In my dream, I was laying facedown on the bed. M came out of the bathroom. I was recovering from something because I was all limp and kind of breathing hard.

“Nilla,” he says, that devilish tone in his voice letting me know something was about to happen. I LOVE to hear that tone…and it makes me very nervous too. I know nothing good (and everything good) will happen to me when he talks that way. I turn my head to look at him and he’s standing half in, half out of the bathroom, holding something in his hand.

“It’s Big Red,” he says, wiggling the thing back and forth in the air. “He’s been dying to meet you. Or more specifically, your ass.”

And then he laughs, and then time fast-forwards (as it does in those kind of dreams) and M is pushing that humongous piece of red rubber up my asshole. I screetched…(and was of course turned on, because he didn’t ask, he didn’t give me a choice, he just did it.)

Isn’t that sick as fuck?

Isn’t that hot as fuck?

Yeah. Well, anyway, I must’ve woken up then because that was all I remember, other than being very turned on when I woke up in the morning.

I told him about the dream, and he says, “yeah, I know that was a dream.”

“How M?” I say. (I keep falling into that rabbit hole, don’t I?)

“Because that’s WAY more notice than I’d give you in real life.”

*long silence on the phone*

Then he laughs, and laughs.

“I do so love making you speechless, little girl.”

So…in honor of that wicked dream, I’m going to show an HNT that I swore in my head I’d never share. But that I know He wants me to share. It’s mah butt. With his latest butt plug in it. The end piece? Glows and changes colors. And it vibrates. And it’s really girthy, and I came like a waterfall when he impaled me with it. So…ahem…pardon my blush as I post this…0h…and the pearls? Those are the “crotch” of my lace panties…


Flaked Out

er…that would be SNOW flaked out.

Seriously peeps…it’s been snowing here since Saturday afternoon and it’s Monday night.

And two more people.

No not two more people… two more, people.

Yeah. TWO. MORE. SNOW-Storms.

Seems that this coming Thursday could be another BIG one. (Like we need another “big one”..) And another could hit us this weekend. Isn’t that just …wicked?

Seriously. Don’t you all want some? Coz I think we now have ALL the snow for the entire country here in New England. We’ve broken records. Records of long-standing. Amount of snow in a 17 day period. Amount of snowfall in Boston. Amount of snow and no-the-fuck-where to put it.

And here I am blathering on about snow and you came here to read ….something sexy.

Am I right? Ya…I see you over there, blushing.

But the snow…you see? That is the reason why there IS nothing sexy here today. Snow–a ton of it–put us back on statewide restrictions for driving, so the wife and kids and everyone stayed home–it was like Saturday here. Lots of hanging out in bed with the kids, and snuggling and giggling and wishing me happy birthday (coz today was mah birthday…gonna have a good time…(shoveling snow–oh wait, the Beatles didn’t sing that part…!)) and just lolling around until it was time to go shovel off the roof. Yeah. We have to do that up here when there are three feet of snow on flat roofs. And more coming.

So tomorrow will be a normal-er day…and I’ll have time to write at some point…and somehow…Savannah and Jakob’s story has started writing itself in my head….

Want a wee teaser?

You do?


My birthday and YOU get the gift! I don’t have a working title yet, but I think I’m leaning towards simply …



Jakob ran the numbers again. Ran his hand through his hair. How the fuck? He debated running the numbers again but knew they’d come out the same. They were up. Up substantially. Specifically on Saturday’s. The last two, when Savannah was covering the bar. He could grant that 5% would be due to “fresh meat” behind the bar, and maybe another 5% for her revealing and sexy outfits. But to be up almost 20% spoke of more than that. She was pulling in a ton of sales. And perhaps the scruffmeister she’d booted out of the job had been skimming the till.

As if thinking about her created some cosmic disturbance, a sharp rapping at the door had him saving the details and blanking the computer. Somehow that “NO” sign on the door didn’t deter many.

“Come,” he spoke loudly.

NO. No, it couldn’t be.

“Hi Boss,” said Savannah, as she slid into the room. Today she was dressed in street wear, the crisp white blouse doing nothing to detract from her big tits. Or maybe he just knew they were there and his mind filled in the blanks.

“It’s Wednesday. What are you doing here in the middle of the day?”

“Came to get my check–I couldn’t get away yesterday.”

“Busy pushing papers, eh?”

She stared at him steadily, making him regret the snark. She brought out the worst in him.

“I had an idea to run by you. I wrote it out, actually. Since you’re pigheaded enough to ignore it just because…”

“I’m not pigheaded.”

“Hell you aren’t. You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met…and that’s saying something.”

He glanced at the paper she proffered.

“Things to make the bar more profitable? Are you fucking kidding?”

“Hey, I have idea’s. And you’re stuck in the 90’s. Bars these days offer more than booze to patrons.”

“Patrons like booze. That’s why I’m running a bar.”

“Look….after a big scene…once the adrenaline wears off…don’t you want to munch on something more substantial than peanuts and nacho’s? Sure, we have great nacho’s and they’re a great profit maker. But if we offered a simple menu, even had a small eating area or kept it barside–we could do even better. People have to leave if they want to eat. You don’t want people to leave and drop their bills someplace else…you want them to hang after a scene, eat, maybe play some more.”

She had a point. But he felt his back stiffen.

“What kind of food?”

“You know…something like…sliders. They’re small and neat and quick to prepare. Put them on a plate with some kind of specialty fries…boom. Fed the masses and make a nice profit.”

He looked at the paper, noting that she’d even worked up costs and proposed fee’s.

“If this doesn’t work, I’ll bear the brunt of the failed cost.”

“If it does work you’ll make a bundle.”

“I have to hire a cook.”

“You have a cook. Didn’t you know that Macy went to chef school? She’s a great cook. We had dinner at her place last week. That’s what started me thinking.”

Truthfully he hadn’t know that. Damned woman!

“Tell you what…we can bet on it. If I’m right, and you make out well on this, I’ll fuck you.”

He blinked. His cock stood up and did a little dance. Thankful that he was sitting behind his desk, he frowned.

“I can get free fucks anytime I want or need one. That’s hardly an enticing offer.”

It was her turn to scowl at him. He was so fucking impossible sometimes.

“Fine. Then…I’ll play with you. NO fucking. Whatever you want. For one night.”

Now that was more to his liking, though the thought of fucking that fine body had more than a little appeal. He’d love to shove something deep into her mouth just to shut up her smartass comments.

“Accepted. Since it’s your idea, you set it up. Not this week. See? I’m a reasonable man. But by next weekend I think.”


She leaned over his desk and they clasped hands. Both felt the same current run through their joined hands, and both pulled back quickly.

“Good. I’ve got to get back to the station.”

Trying to act nonchalant, she strode to the door, refusing to wipe her sweaty palm on her slacks. And her palm was not the only wet part of her, she mused. Damned that he managed to piss her off AND turn her on, the asshole.

He watched her ass saunter across the office.

“You didn’t get my offer. You know. In case you fail.”

“I won’t.”

She turned, half-in, half-out the door.

“If you lose, you’re mine–for a week.”

“Deal. Won’t happen. But –fine.”

The door closed quietly behind her. He spun about in his chair, fingers steepled. His grin was hungry.

She leaned against the closed door, feeling like she’d run a 10k. She didn’t know if she wanted to win…or lose this bet.


You can thank Kayla for the idea of giving you a snippet, plus it helps ME to settle the characters in my head. Okay, so you did get a wee sexy bit after all! Lucky YOU!

AS for this birthday girl? I’m off to my warm and snuggy bed!

‘nite, pervie peeps!



Just a quick short note to tell you all…

Thank you!

I –(phew, am feeling very emo as I write this, guys…)  am beyond touched, moved to tears several times as I read all your comments on The Job==during the writing, to be sure, (your encouragement was so wonderful)…but for this final chapter? You’ve stunned me, moved me, humbled me.

Thank you for the gift of YOUR words…they have meant the world to me. I’m going to take a wee break…just a little one, just Sunday…time to go outside and snowshoe (hell, you get 60″ of snow in two weeks, ya gotta don the snowshoes at least once, right?!) and clear my head. And maybe write a few of the short and dirty pieces I’ve been keeping tucked inside.

And eventually, I will edit in some more “spice” in The Job–it’s posted in the “Pages” part under my header…by Monday ALL the chapters will be in it if you choose to read it contiguously…and will let you know when that’s done.

But I must admit…Jakob’s story is really tugging at me…and it will be more than a bit different than Keegan’s was…

Thank you. For inspiring me to be better at this. For enjoying my writing. For the validation, for the encouragement, and for taking the time to comment and tell me.

I am truly blessed.


The Job (25)

Blindfolds made her nervous, but Keegan was insistent. He’d gotten her into the car, then slid the black satin sleep mask over her eyes.

“I don’t know why…”

“This is your Dom talking. You don’t need to know just now. Trust. You do trust me, right?”

OH, how she hated when he pulled that card out of his pocket. Of course she trusted him. He’d worked with her for weeks after the attack, using a mixture of dom tactics and vanilla love and cuddles to help her through those first rough days. It helped too that the trial was behind them, that Roderick was in jail for a long, long while, thanks mostly to Fae. When Mandy added her testimony, it sealed his fate. But that was done, over, and she was a different woman these days than she was a year ago.

She’d been surprised by the cupcake sitting on the table in her cleaning office, a gift from Jakob to celebrate her first anniversary at Nettles. How had a year rolled past so quickly? And hadn’t things changed dramatically for her in that time?

The car slowed, pulled to a stop. Before she could lower the blindfold, his hands covered hers.


She remembered that they were on “Dom Time” and sighed quietly.

“Yes, Sir.”

His door opened, closed. She counted silently, getting to 11, when her door opened.

“Let me guide you.”

His hands unfastened her seat belt, then guided her out of the car. She felt him standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Resting her head on his chest, she could hear his heart thumping steadily. His hands lifted and tugged the blindfold. For a moment, sun dazzle blinded her.

“Well, what do you think?”

What did she think? What the hell was he talking about? She twisted her head, looking back and up at him.

“It’s a house.”

“It could be our house.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, if you’d marry me. It has a nice big finished basement which would make a lovely private dungeon…”

He paused, enjoying the total confuddled expressions crossing her face.

“It has a nice kitchen, a decent sized living room, lots of windows…perhaps you’d like to go inside and see it?”

She spun fully around, slapping her hand on his chest.

“Wait just a second. Just…wait. Say that first part again.”

“It could be our house?”

“No, no, no! You know the part, the next part. After that.”

“It has a basement that could become a dungeon?”

He put on his best stupid face, which made her crazy. Her brows drew together and her lips pursed as if she was ready to yell at him. He was crazy….about her. He bent, and kissed her firmly.

“What were you saying?”

She shook her head. When he kissed her that way, his fingers in her hair, it made her feel small and hot and floaty.

“You are…”

“….a wise and wonderful Dom?”

She bit the inside of her lip to hold in the laughter. He was slick bastard, no doubt.



“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“That was in there someplace too, yes.”


“As simple as that, kitten?”

His smile made her heart do a slow tumble. She’d never thought she’d get into the “scene” at Nettles, never thought she’d be interested in a “Dominant”. And she had given up the dream of being in love. She thought she was broken, but it seemed that walking into the job at Nettles had led her down a less-traveled road.

“Yes. As simple as that. I love you. I haven’t said that to many people…but I’ll say it to you now, and show you later how much I mean it. I’m not sure what you’ve got in your bag of tricks…but I’m excited to see what’s coming.”

“Be a good girl…and you’ll be the one coming.”

The giggle–and the blush–came at the same time. It never failed to embarrass her how frank these people were. She guessed they were her people now. But she doubted she’d ever get used to talking about coming and body parts. He took her hand and led her up the sidewalk to the house.


Back in the car, blindfold back in place, they drove away from the charming  house. The best part, from her point of view, had been the lovely back yard. She could have a dog, and a garden. ‘I like naked gardening,’ he’d replied when she mentioned it, laughing at her as she sputtered and dissembled. She wasn’t sure if he was joking about that part or not. She supposed she’d find out. And that brought her a tingle of excitement, and a deep glow of ‘happy’.

When the car pulled over again, she waited for him to take her out of the vehicle. This time he kept the blindfold on as they walked across a bumpy sidewalk. He steered her through a door. A bell chimed above them; from a distance came the sounds of pulsing rock. There were some strange smells. Not food. She wasn’t sure what it was. It wasn’t unpleasant, just something she couldn’t quite place.

“This the one?” A gruff voice asked.

“Ye-up,” replied Keegan.

“Back here.”

She was propelled forward again, the sound of guitar riffs and ripping drum beats growing louder. The floor creaked under her feet, and she felt the soft press of a curtain as she passed through it.


He tugged her hair.

“Dom time,” he reminded her.

Sir” she whispered. She was embarrassed to say it aloud, outside of the club, outside of the bedroom.

“Speak up, girl, and address your Sir properly.”

The gruff voice addressed her.

“UHM…Sir….where are we?”

There was the sound of male laugher. She had no idea where she was, who the guy was, or what Keegan’s next move was.  She was pushed into a chair. The blindfold was tugged away. She still had no idea where they were.

“Based on the picture you sent me, I worked this up.”

The man, who was definitely the stereotypical  ‘biker guy,’ passed a paper to Keegan. He looked at it, then smiled.

“This is exactly what I was looking for–without knowing exactly what it would look like. Brilliant, Jimmy.”

Keegan sat on a stool beside Mandy.

“Kitten, this is the plan. This,” he pointed to the paper in his hand, but not showing it to her, “is the diagram of a tattoo I’ve had Jimmy design for us. You could call it our joining mark. It won’t erase the past.”

He laid the paper on her lap. In it, she could clearly see the three parallel lines branded on her wrist. Yet, the tattoo artist had crafted a “K” and an “M”, interwining them over the mark. Surrounding the entire design was the faintest outline of a leaf. She could see that end result would change the lines into something new, just as she felt Keegan had changed her.

“That’s a nettle leaf,” Keegan added, pointing to the outline. She swore she could feel her heart smile.

“I like it.I like it so much!”

“I do as well. And I’ll be wearing that same mark on my wrist.”

She didn’t want to cry, but no gesture could have touched her more. She squeezed Keegan’s hand hard, then looked back at Jimmy, wiping away the one happy tear that had escaped.

“Will it hurt?”

“Not as much as that did,” he replied, pointing at her branded wrist.

“Well–okay, then.”

She took a deep breath, and laid her unmarked hand in Keegan’s.


She took a deep breath.

“I’m ready.”

He lifted her hand to his lips, biting into the pad of her thumb. She smiled at that small pain. She’d gone from lonely to being included in a wildly eclectic group of weird freaks. Not only was she was genuinely fond of them, but she’d become one of them. She was with a man who was exciting, who thrilled her, and who loved her as much as she loved him. She’d gone from being ‘broken’ to being whole. And she owed it all to her job. Later she’d thank Jakob for taking the chance in hiring her. But for now she was going to focus on the present. Her free hand encased in Keegan’s, she watched as the tattoo artist took up his tools and began to transform her from ‘victim’ to ‘owned submissive.’

 The End


afterward~or in the new beginning….

Prepping for Saturday’s crowd, Jakob took inventory of his stockroom. He made a note on his master list that he was running low on Nettles custom bar napkins. In the middle of counting glassware, Bill poked his head around the corner.

“Boss? You got company.”

“Yeah? I’m busy here.”

“Well, that’s just too damned bad.”

He knew that voice, and he had to forcibly bite back his irritation. He did not have time for this. The lanky redhead slid into the stockroom uninvited.


His voice was terse and unwelcoming.

Her head canted to the side, smiling that killer smile at him. He definitely did not have time for this. He ignored, he swore he ignored, the skintight leather pants, the leather bustier that was laced tight, the swell of an impressive rack.

“I believe I was supposed to start work tonight.”

“What, you don’t make enough as a detective, Detective? Sorry, got no room for dicks in here.”

She laughed at the double entendre; her tits jiggled enticingly. His cock shifted. He did not have time for this. Down boy, he growled inwardly at his penis.

“Hey, you hired me, and here I am. Lots of cops have other jobs on the side. I choose to spend my time in places that feed my….proclivities.”

“And what might those be?”

Despite himself, he was drawn in. Damn her.

“I like the scene. I like hot, naked bodies, the whistle of a whip as it sails through the air, the sharp snap when it connects…”

He didn’t want to know, but his mouth formed the words anyway.

“And which side of the whip are you on?”

She laughed.

“I guess you’ll have to see–after my shift. No playing on the clock. My boss said so.”

She slid out of the small space, her heels clacking. He could hear her husky voice at the bar. For now he was going to go back to counting glasses. And ignore the stab of lust that speared straight to his balls.



*of course, if you’d like to know more about what happens with Savannah and Jakob, do let me know…their story has yet to be fully explored… ~nilla~ 




The Job (24)

The door shut with a firm snick. With a sense of desperation, Mandy worked the knot, trying to ignore the pain in her wrist as she twisted it, digging at the tangled rope. She heard the drawer slam, the echo shaking the air even out here.


His voice was enraged.


Not any more than you already have, Roderick, you asshole, she thought to herself. Yet the fear that he was coming through the door at any moment was a good motivator. She refused to think of the consequences of failing. Her diligence was rewarded as the knot began to loosen. She listened for him, the grunts and yelling as he opened and shut the other drawers, his cry of rage as he slammed the last cabinet shut. She heard the crash as he tore through her possessions seeking the Hitachi that she did not, in reality, own.

“You FUCKING CUNT!” His enraged cry made her dig frantically at the knot. Her fingers were sweaty from fear, when she heard the rattle of the doorknob. It was followed immediately by the thunk of it falling off to the floor.

Thank gawd! She crowed silently. Thank gawd that she’d not gotten around to fixing that stupid, fucking, awesome broken knob. The pounding of his fist against the door, and his yelling spurred her to tug away the last of the knot. Jerking her hand free, she sprang from the bed.


“Something’s not right.”

Keegan found Jakob at the back door, looking for the liquor truck. It was nearly opening time for Nettles and he had been pacing the floor for the last 15 minutes.

“You’re not kidding–that truck had best be here soon–”

“No–Mandy. She’s not answered her phone. At all. I’ve left voice messages. I’ve called a dozen or more times…”

“That’s not like her.”

“No. I’m sorry boss…I need to go.”

A shiver of nerves danced down his back. His radar was up and active, and was rarely wrong.  Jakob knew that look. He glanced out the door again, then at Keegan.


He strode from the room. A moment later he was back with the tall redhead and Bill, another bouncer. His voice was terse.

“You-” he pointed at Bill, “will carry the cases into the cooler, while you, Red” he pointed at the woman, “will take the inventory. Consider this your test run.”

“I get paid for this?”

“For helping, yes.”

“No I mean for being treated like I’m a clueless dolt.”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“You said this was an emergency, and you got your bully-boy here to watch over me to make sure I don’t swill down your inventory….so go.”

“I’ll deal with your shitty attitude later.”

“Like–later after you deal with yours?”

Her smile was falsely bright, keen enough to slice skin. Jakob’s mouth thinned into a firm line, and he stared at her hard for a moment before turning back to Keegan.

“Let’s go.”


The door rattled as he kicked at it. Mandy had the option of running, but who knew where Roderick would disappear to if she left and he got out of her bathroom. She didn’t have time to grab her cell which was ringing madly. Instead she dashed into the kitchen and grabbed the heavy iron fry skillet that had been her Dad’s. She only used it to fry bacon, and it had a good season to it…and terrific heft to boot.

She took up position to the side of the door. She heard Roderick cursing at her, about her, swinging wildly from quiet hateful murmurs to stomping rages. The door shook and trembled, yet held firm. She knew, having been shut in there several times herself, that you could shake it all you wanted and the door would not yield. You had to use a tool to wiggle the tongue free. It grew quiet, and she heard something rattling around inside the knob. It wouldn’t take long for him to figure out how to wriggle and twist the stem and free himself. She would be ready when he did.


“She should have answered.”


“If somethings happened–if it’s that bastard who attacked Fae–I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”

“O no. You don’t want to start your life with your lady with a life sentence. I’ll do it.”

The two exchanged grim smiles. Jakob nudged the car a bit faster, already over the speed limit, and fairly flew the last mile to the apartment.  Neither noticed the dark car following them, too preoccupied with what might lay ahead. The vehicle hadn’t come to a full stop before Keegan leapt out. Jakob was right behind him as they pelted into the building.

“Not waiting for the elevator!” He called over his shoulder, slamming through the door for the stairs.

“What floor?”



The two ran up the stairs, Keegan fishing in his pocket for his keys, even while leaping up the last flight two steps at a time. He paused a moment for Jakob, then whipped open the hallway door. He spent precious moments getting the key into the lock before it slid firmly into place, and turned. The door gave way, the room beyond, silent.  The two men entered slowly, all senses on high alert.


The bathroom doorknob began to turn, slipped, turned again. She heard the faint click as the knob finally released the tongue and the door slid open a scant quarter-inch.

“Daddy’s going to hurt you bad, you fucking whore.”

She drew back her arms, her form similar to a baseball player preparing to whack a home run. Adreneline surged through her, but she took a deep slow breath. She would have one chance. She had no intention of blowing it.

The door flung back into the bathroom, and he stormed through.

Mandy, arms cocked, released as his toe crossed the threshold.


The men looked around the living room. The curtains had been drawn but there was enough light to see things were out of place.

“Someone’s here,” Keegan spoke softly, pointing to a leather jacket tossed on the couch.

Jakob put his finger to his lips then pointed to the closed bedroom door. The two moved forward, but froze for a moment when a man’s voice yelled.

“Daddy’s going to hurt you bad, you fucking whore!”

Borne of long years of working together, they moved stealthily but quickly towards the bedroom.


Things seemed to move in slow motion. There was his foot, then his body, even as the heavy pan seemed to float towards him. Her body twisted as she swung the pan, the arc perfect. He sensed it at the last second, attempted to stop, but his forward momentum carried him directly into the blow.

There was a sickening crunch as the pan bashed into his face, and the sudden splatter of blood. Simultaneously, the bedroom door flew open, and Keegan, followed by Jakob spilled into the room. She stood, pan hanging from her hand, staring at them, then at the man laying still at her feet.

“I…I think I killed him.”

Her voice was a whisper, shock written on her face.

Keegan and Jakob moved towards her.

“I certainly hope you didn’t kill him.”

Everyone paused to look towards this new voice. Mandy saw a woman, tall, with flaming red hair and–dear god– a handgun held in her hand.

“What the fuck…” Jakob turned towards the woman.

“It will make it very hard for me to arrest the bastard if he’s dead.”

Savannah holstered her weapon, then turned back to the hallway.

“Get a bus, will you, Drew?”

Keegan ignored her, and moved over to Mandy. His fingers loosened hers on the handle of the pan.

“Don’t drop it,” she said, her voice high. He could see she was holding it together, but barely. His hand touched her wrist and she yelped, drawing everyone’s attention. Savannah stepped through the room and checked on the man laying on the floor.

“He’s out, not dead. Looks like you broke his nose, maybe cracked his cheekbone. Roderick Masterson, I’m placing you under arrest for aggravated assault, aggravated rape, stalking, and whatever else I can throw at you. You have the right to remain silent.”

“I don’t think that counts as Mirandizing since, you know, he’s unconscious. You’re a cop.”

“Well, yes, I am. Detective Savannah Douglas. Thanks for the job, by the way.”

“You could have told me you were a cop.”

“That kind of defies the term ‘under cover’, boss. You had to buy it, so that he’d buy it, if he came back into Nettles. It seemed to be his one regular hangout.”

The wail of sirens came closer. Savannah rose and went to Mandy.

“You did good, honey. May I see your wrist?”

Mandy  held up her arm. Across her wrist were three parallel lines, swollen and angry red.

“He marks his victims, what he calls ‘his girls’ this way. You might notice it on one of the women from your club. She goes by the name of Fae there.”

Keegan hugged her tightly to him, his arms encircling her. She felt the tremors growing in her belly, though she tried to hold them back.

“You didn’t need me at all. I have to admit, that kind of hurts my feelings.”

Startled, she looked up at him. His face was serious.

“I–you–don’t have to rescue me. I’m good at taking care of myself.”

“I can see that. Still. I’m the guy. I should be the one taking care of you.”

“I think you both take care of one another.”

Keegan and Mandy turned towards Jakob, as the three were ushered across the room. Detectives moved through the space, taking notes and photographs, as a stretcher was rushed in. EMT’s did what was needed for Roderick, before lifting the semi-conscious man onto the unit, and securing him to it.


Savannah turned to Mandy.

“I think you should go get checked out.”

Mandy shook her head.

“I have some burn cream here, and mostly I just have a few bruises. Really, he didn’t rape me.” She turned and looked up at Keegan. “He didn’t, I swear. He was going to, but I tricked him into going into the bathroom and you know how that knob keeps coming off.”

He smiled. He’d been stuck in there a few times too, until she had shown him the trick to opening the door. The knob didn’t always come off. She’d been incredibly lucky that it had with Roderick.

“Smart girl.”

“He was so angry…I just knew he’d jerk the knob, slam the door.”

He hugged her tightly. He was so glad she was okay.

“I’m looking forward to hearing the whole story.”

Savanna turned towards the EMT’s. Walking over to the stretcher, she fastened a handcuff to the railing, the other side to his right wrist.

“We don’t want him going anyplace but the hospital.”

“Doctor’s don’t like it when patients are cuffed,” said the smaller of the two.

“Drew? See if you can get one of the guys to ride along.”

She tossed her cuff keys to him, before turning back to the trio. Pulling her notebook from her back pocket, she invited them to sit, and settled in to listen.

She ignored the pointed looks her ‘boss’ threw her way. She’d make amends with him later. Once this job was done.


He had bundled her, despite her protests, out the door and over to his small apartment. He’d helped her pack her necessities, had treated her wrist – she had one of the most complete first aid kits he’d ever seen, including silvadine cream for serious burns – and wrapped it carefully in gauze. His mind was busily working towards a solution for healing that nasty mark.

She slept like the dead for nearly 18 hours, before waking with a hunger that nearly outstripped his meagerly stocked kitchen. The woman could eat! Later they made their way to the police station to complete their official statements. Detective Douglas had been kind, but had not given them much information about what was happening with Roderick, beyond the fact that Mandy had given him a first class concussion, along with the nose and cheek fractures, and he had complained bitterly about the pain.

“Some people are clueless about pain,” she said.

“They can dish it out but they can’t take it, you mean,” said Mandy with a look at Keegan. Just this morning he’d whined about a stubbed toe. Of course, she wasn’t sure that he wasn’t just putting one over on her. He was wickedly good at it.

Later he about pitched a fit when she said she was going to work at the club.

“It’s my job,” she said, trying to be patient. “I’m not broken, I’m not made of glass, and that bastard is not going to make me shy away from having a life. Which includes doing my job at Nettles. Jakob needs me. And I need to be there. You can dom me and manage me all you want…but I need this to feel –” she paused, searching for the right words. She wanted him to understand that this wasn’t just her being unsubmissive. This was her, living.

“I need this to feel–me. I need to live my life. I need to be your submissive, but I have to be free to do my thing, you know?”

She lay a hand on his chest, over his heart.

“Nettles gave me a life. And Jakob and  you? Made it worth living. I’m not going to let that asshole take that away from me. If I do that, if I hide here at home, even with you? He wins. I won’t let him win Keegan.”

He hugged her hard.

“You’re damned smart. For a submissive.”

She poked him in the ribs, making him laugh. His arms tightened harder around her, making her squeal as he squished the breath from her. He stole more of it when his mouth took hers, kissing her long and deeply.  It was a good predicament to be in.

The Job (23)

For a moment, shock stifled all movement. She couldn’t see, could barely breathe. For a heartbeat she wondered if Keegan had gotten home ahead of her–but she knew that he would never frighten her this way. Her hands flew up to try to release the pressure on her throat, to gain a quick breath. She tried to kick behind her, but the arm tightened and her focus was solely on breathing.

She was wrestled over to a chair, shoved into it. Rope fell around her securing her tightly. She heard the rasp of velcro, felt the scratch of it on her right wrist. He used it to bind her arm to the chair quickly.

There was another rasp, different from the first. Her left hand was slapped down onto the table, palm up. Something sticky landed across her fingers, keeping her hand flat.

Duct tape.

What the fuck was happening here?

“Please…whoever you are…please…just…my purse is on the table in the hall–take what you want…”

A hard slap against the back of her head was followed by another rasping sound. Her forearm was also taped to the table. My gawd, was he going to drug her? Her heart raced, and she tugged futilely against her bonds.

“Please,” she pleaded, hating the desperate fear in her voice. “Please– just let me go…”

There was a clicking sound that she recognized as the stove burner kicking on, the sharp pungent smell of gas carrying through the cloth bag covering her face. Something metal landed on the stove. He was cooking? What the fuck?


The bar was stocked, the back room ruthlessly organized.

“Not much else to do until the truck gets back here,” Keegan said, taking a drink from the coffee that was kept fresh in the kitchen.

“It totally pisses me off that someone fucked up the order.”

“Maybe it’s time to look for a new distributor?”


Jakob frowned into his cup. He glanced over at his friend who was swirling the dregs of his coffee.

“So…when are you going to ask her?”

Keegan looked up in surprise.

“Ask…her? What?”

Despite himself, he felt the embarrassed flush in his cheeks. For crissake, he was better at controlling himself than this! Still, J was his oldest friend. At the steady knowing look, he sighed.


“Picking out rings? or diamond nipple clamps?”

Keegan snorted.

“oh yeah, that’d go over well. Mandy will you marry me and wear my diamond nipple clamps as a sign of …” he broke off, laughing at the mental image that presented.

“You’re right about that. She won’t take any shit from you. Are you sure?”

“Hell, sure, I’m sure. Dammit, J, she’s got me. Got into me. Not certain when or how it happened…but–”

“But it happened. I’m happy for you. For her and you. You’re kind of an asshole, so I guess I’m happier for her.”

He socked his friend on the shoulder.

“So, when are you going to ask her? Mr. Romance and all that shit?”

Keegan laughed.

“No one–ever–has called me Mr. Romance. Wait. Are you jealous?”

“No!” Jakob was quick to disclaim. “I like Mandy just fine, and I’m sure she’d be a terrific submissive. But I’m not currently in the market for the old ball and chain. Not even for the collar and ball gag.”

“No, no, no,” Keegan interrupted. His face was serious but his eyes were alight with mischief. “Did you think–”

He paused.

Keegan stared at him blankly.

“Did you think that I should be asking you to marry me?”

Jakob looked at his friend and erupted into crying. His hands covered his face as he bent over sobbing. In seconds, he stood back up, and poked Keegan hard in the belly.

“You ass.”

Then he doubled over again in hysterical laughter.

Keegan shook his head.

“You’re a sick fuck. You know that.”

“You’re a sick fuck too. That’s why we’re ….friends. Special friends.” Jakob grabbed at his belly, laughing loudly.

“I’m going to go….someplace else. I don’t know where else. But someplace. Where you aren’t.”

With great dignity, Keegan left the room, closing the door, ever so slowly and quietly behind him, which sent Jakob off into gales of hysteria once more.


“Your 3:00 is here, Sir.”

Mish held the door open a bit wider, but waited for Jakob to dismiss her. A tall redhead stood in the entryway to his office. He couldn’t quite peg her. She wore jeans, a scuffed leather jacket, and her hair was contained in a neat ponytail. Her makeup was light, tasteful.

“And you are?” He asked. He had his schedule on his computer in front of him and there had not been an 3:00 appointment scheduled.

“I’m Savannah, Savannah Thompson. Your –” she turned to wave a hand at Mish, who was in her traditional black outfit; tight corset, fishnets, black killer stiletto’s with metal spiked heels, and heavy Goth make-up. “–girl said it would be okay to meet with you since you were on premises.”

“You may go, Mish. Thank you.”

He turned back to the redhead. She was a looker, that was for certain.

“Please, sit. How can I help you?”

“Your bartender sucks. Specifically the scruffy headed guy who works on Saturday’s? He’s rude, his drinks are inconsistent, and poorly made at best. I’m a hell of a lot better than him–and I happen to have an opening in my schedule to squeeze you in.”

He sat back in his chair, admiring her nerve as well as her looks. She met him eye for eye, calm and serene,  as if she really was doing him a favor.


Keegan pressed the redial button on his phone. Again. Three times, and no answer. Maybe Mandy was still in the store. Sometimes the reception in the deli area wasn’t good, and he’d asked her pick up some meats for dinner. He was in the mood for a thick roast beef sandwich, piled high with tomatoes, and melted Havarti-with-dill cheese slices. He hung up when her voice mail came on. He’d try again later.


“This is going to hurt. A lot.”

The voice was raspy and just behind her. Again, panic had her tugging at her hands, trying to gain her release. The smell of something hot came to her, a moment before that screaming heat was laid on her wrist. An animal cry of pain erupted from her– but his hand covered her mouth, effectively muffling her cries. It wouldn’t matter anyway, her neighbors all worked. She tried to move away from the searing pain, but could not even wriggle her fingers.

Whatever he had put on her moved away, and she heard the stove snick to “off”.  The faucet went on, a sharp hiss when the hot object hit the cold water. Drawers opened and closed as he searched for something. A moment later, a cold, wet cloth was laid over the burning pain of her wrist.

“There now, that’s not so bad.”

He stroked over the top of her head.

“You fucking Bastard.”

“Good to know that a little bit of heat didn’t dampen your spirits. It makes it much more fun to break the spirited girls.”

She tried to place the voice, but with the bag distorting sound, and the strange whispery tone he was using she couldn’t quite place it. It sounded a bit like the asshole who’d attacked her in the bathroom. Could it be Malcolm? Would he be so bold? Had he, in fact, been the one to attack Fae? Her mental ramblings were interrupted by his hands loosening her bindings. He tugged her to her feet, subduing her feeble attempt to strike at him. The movement of her left wrist reignited the burning pain.

He dragged her into the bedroom and threw her onto the bed. Again she fought through the pain, fought as hard as she could. He sat on her and wrapped his hand over her burned wrist, squeezing until she cried. Quickly he wrapped a rope around the painfully hurting area, securing it to the headboard. Any tug caused instant pain.

His hands slipped up under her sweatshirt, squeezing her breasts painfully.

“Where are your toys?”

She remained silent, but his fingers plucked at her nipple, squeezing it roughly.

“Where. Are. Your. Toys.”

Each word was punctuated by a brutal pinch. She whimpered, writhing despite her secured wrist.


“Where is it?”

“BathROOOM!” She shrieked as his fingers dug into her breast, the moons of his nails cutting painfully into the skin.

He rose from the bed, and she heard him crossing the room. With her free hand she tugged the hood from her head, gasping in quick gulps of air. Finally! Deep breaths. She heard a drawer slam and then froze in shock as he stepped into view.


“Where is it?”

He took a threatening step forward. Her mind raced, even as she trembled in fear. She could loosen the knot and get free–if she could get just a few moments to get at it. He moved across the room and reached into a bag she had not noticed. Pulling something from it, he turned and slapped it hard on her thighs. The long rubber strands sent a shockwave of pain through her. Her cries of pain became gasps as he hit her a second time. The idea bloomed even as she screamed when the whip landed again. She felt her jeans rip with the force of the impact.

“PLEASE!” she yelled. “I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!”

He paused, breathing hard.

“It’s in the bathroom. You have to close the door all the way to get the drawer open. It’s right behind the door, the bottom drawer there. It’s under the facecloths.”

“You better not be telling me a lie, cunt,” he growled, shaking the whip at her. He strode to the bathroom and shut the door. She turned, fingers shaking, to work at the knot holding her throbbing wrist to the bed.


New Rules

I know–I’m writing right after this, I promise! But it’s time for a little bit of real life catch-up. So, grab a cuppa and let’s chat, hmm?

First the vanilla stuff–

How ’bout dem Pat’s???? !!!!

(See, I don’t have to devote an entire paragraph to gloating about  celebrating my team’s win during the Superbowl. Certainly the tensest 40 seconds of my life, though!)

And how about the classiness of Tom Brady, who, while awarded the MVP of the Superbowl, *immediately* gave his MVP -awarded truck to Malcolm Butler, the player who nabbed that pass and intercepted a win for the Patriots in the last few seconds of the game. That man is a class act.

And snow. This isn’t a complaint. Really. I LIKE snow. I hope to get out and snowshoe in it. But–one must wonder if we needed to get an entire winter’s worth of snow in 10 days? Yes. We’ve gotten 62 inches of snow in ten days. Is that ridiculous or what? And I almost hate to write this, but there are two more storms in the forecast, one on Thursday and another over the weekend to add to that silly total.

Oh well, at least I won’t have to worry about a drought affecting my garden this summer, right?

If only it would warm up a wee little bit. We’ve not seen the north side of 35 in weeks and weeks and weeks. Wordwitch suggested opening my windows to exchange the house air when I got sick again, but seriously? It takes all day for my  old house to get up over 65 when it’s this cold (thank goodness for the woodstove that makes the front room nice and toasty!) It’s currently 6 degrees, a temp rise that’s taken nearly all morning. Brrrr…a bit too cold for this old gal to snowshoe in. Yeah, call me a pansy-ass. I’m okay with that. 😀

And bridging the gap between vanilla and D/s stuff–this just in….

-I cut my hair.

It is a MAJOR cut, as in, just below my shoulders, or about a foot off. (yes, really. A full FOOT of hair gone!)

Of course I did it with permission from Him, and I’m LOVING it. I swear I feel like my head is floating. (And it’s SO much healthier. My hair, that is. My head is still the same sick fuck as ever. 😀 ) And yes…I still have the purple streak in it.

Secondly–Non-vanilla stuff, mostly:


(pauses a moment, sighs happily and smiles)

That Man. You all know I get to have one freebie orgasm a week, on Tuesday. Well, on Tuesday last week, I was recovering from yet another stupid cold. It was the middle of our blizzard, and I was cold, and tired and still coughing a bit. When I went to bed, I decided to not have my weekly orgasm, but bank it.

I send Him a text about that the next morning.  His reply shocked me.

Oh, well, too bad you lost out on that one. No more banking missed O’s.

I hurriedly send Him another text saying mostly “what? WHAT?? When did that rule change?”

OH, didn’t I tell you about the new rules? New year, new Us, new rules little girl.

Okay, so I go from shocked and irritated to turned on and intrigued. Ya, just like that. *snaps fingers*

So — No more saving those Tuesday orgasms. That’s rule one. I only get to bank orgasms with His prior permission–and that will be grudging, I’m sure. (Just typing that makes my clit throb. I tell ya…submissives are a strange bunch!)

On Tuesdays (This is our old “reconciliation day” now called “Like Day” for those of you newer readers.) I must wear His collar to bed. And on Thursday, the day I may never, ever have an O? I have to have one “half-O”. I tell you, there is not much worse than edging yourself before going to sleep–and knowing you might not get any relief for 4 more days…it is a long while between Thursday and Tuesday….!

I’m not sure where all this is coming from–but I like it. Just a total turnaround from our normal day to day. It’s not “tons” of dominance–but it’s just what this sub-girl needed to jolt her out of complacency….


Okay, that pretty much wraps up the news from my neck of the woods. M and I had a wee bit of face time that makes us both happy, I’ll have an opportunity to see Him again on Valentine’s Day (d-awwwww….!), and I’m in a really good place in my life just now.

How’s by you?



The Job (22)

She touched her collar. Smiling, she slipped on her gloves, stocked up her cleaning cart and headed out to work. This was how she had started every day at Nettles since Keegan had put the metal around her neck. It wasn’t jewelry, but a thicker, more industrial-type of chain. And if it occasionally tugged at her hair, it served to remind her of his hand there. And if the weight of it made her neck feel tight, or thick, it reminded her of his right to take–her mouth, her throat, her every-part-of her… because he was her Dom. She wasn’t sure when she’d fallen in love with him, but it seemed that it had just grown slowly the way a carrot seed took forever to root and grow. It just had been there, growing through the days, and weeks, and months.

She worked through the morning, enjoying the chores. Scrubbing things back to cleanliness soothed her. Calmed her running brain, yet left her able to think about things. And realize how incredibly happy she was in her life.

After putting her tools away, she jogged down to Jakob’s office, but found him in the kitchen.

“Hi Boss!”

“Mandy…you look happy.”

“I am. You look–annoyed.”

“I am. My liquor supplier screwed up and –well, don’t worry about it. Just the headache of getting things all fixed.”

His phone rang and he held up a finger to forestall her.

“Yeah. No. NO. I didn’t call to reduce the order. For crissake, Don, why the fuck would I? What? No. Send the guy back here. Well fuck. That’s cutting it pretty close to opening time. Fine. Fine.”

He disconnected with a scowl.

“You okay, boss?”

He shook his head, his attention elsewhere.

“No worries. I’m glad that things are working out for you, you know. Keegan is a lucky guy.”

She smiled, then going with impulse, she hugged him hard. Pushing her away, he looked at her. Into her, it seemed. The look was intense, but in a moment, He drew her back, a genuine smile on his face. His head rested on the top of hers for a moment.

“You’ve never ever done that before, Mandy.”

“Well–you looked like you needed it. And — I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing–but your undying allegiance.”

He laughed at the look on her face.

“Kidding. What you have here? You’ve earned. You were right, that first day. I almost didn’t hire you. Because I didn’t think a woman would be tough enough to handle the club, not just the workload. But you have, and done it beyond my expectations.”

He kissed the tip of her nose, just as Keegan came into the kitchen, drinking from a travel mug.

“Hey..I know you’re the boss and all…but that IS my sub, there.”

“If I wanted to challenge you on that, I’da had my tongue halfway down her throat.”

She covered her ears.

“YOU TWO!! Just…geeze!”

Jakob brushed a finger down the length of her cheek.

“Mandy, you’re a fine girl. But not for me. Go hug your man and head on out of here. I’m going to have to keep him later than usual, I’m afraid.”

As she moved to hug Keegan, he shot an inquiring look at his friend.

“S’up?” he asked as Mandy wound herself around him. He really liked when she did that.

She tugged at his nose, insinuating herself between his coffee and his mouth. His lips slipped along hers, the barest whisper of touch. She moaned in frustration, but even on tippy toes could not quite reach high enough to put pressure on his lips. He smiled as she tried, as she used the arm around his neck to attempt to lever herself up enough to kiss him.

“Keegan!” she whispered. “Please kiss me.”

“Please kiss me, Sir.” His eyes were amused, but his mouth was firm.

“Please kiss me, Sir.”

She wasn’t overfond of this game. A note of impatience danced through her tone.

“That wasn’t very sincere.”

“It was…I am….You are such a bastard.”

His smile flashed across his mouth.

“I am, aren’t I? That was nice of you to say. Okay, you may kiss me.”

He didn’t move an inch, and her stretching full-on barely allowed her top lip to brush his bottom one. Growling with frustration, she tugged on his neck, but he remained upright.

“Well, don’t be all day about it, sub-girl. Where’s my kiss?”

She rolled her eyes at him, which made him laugh.

“Seriously, Sir, will you bend down so that I can kiss you properly?”

“I’m thinking I’m not in the mood for a ‘proper’ kiss…”

Again, she growled. He threw back his head and laughed, joined by Jakob, who was enjoying the by-play. Keegan certainly had his hands full. As did Mandy. They were a well matched pair.

Still holding his coffee mug in one hand, he grabbed a fistful of her hair, wrapping the length of her ponytail around his hand. It bowed her backwards, arching her. His mouth didn’t kiss, but devoured hers. Pain and pleasure exploded in her head as his tongue filled her mouth, tasting her. Her hair pulled horribly, but only added to the singing lust that filled her. That he could devastate her so thoroughly with one kiss…such a change for her. Her body quivered with need for him, but just as she thought she’d expire for lack of air, he lifted her back to her feet, his mouth leaving hers, and his hand releasing her hair.

“That’s even better than coffee…” he said, a moment before taking a long drink from his mug.

“Here, take this home with you, sub.”

“If you two are finished?”

In truth, she’d totally forgotten that Jakob was waiting there for Keegan. In a bit of a haze, she took Keegan’s travel mug and headed out of the kitchen.

“Good thing that door swings both ways,” observed Jakob as he watched her walk through the door without using her hands to open it.

“Not the only thing in this club that does!”

Keegan’s quick quip made Jakob smile, for a moment, anyway.

“I just came back here to check the alcohol delivery. It’s way off, and we’ll run out of beer, vodka and gin tonight. But Don says that someone here called and cut the order in half. If I find out who did that I’ll not only fire their asses, but I’ll beat them.”

“I can’t think of who here would do that. Everyone was on last night, but I don’t remember who was on kitchen detail last night. Maybe he was short and just shorted you?”

“Nope. He’s sending his driver back, but he’s already offloading at his third delivery. He’ll have to run back to the warehouse, restock the truck and put us on his end-of-day delivery. Which has us stocking while the front is open. I don’t like having a booze truck on premises when customers are on site. It clogs up our parking lot, and there’s always one fucktard who tries to enter through the kitchen to avoid the cover charge.”

With a slap on the back of his friend, Jakob turned and led the way back into the storeroom.


It was, Mandy reflected as she headed home, both thrilling and puzzling that she enjoyed the challenge of Keegan. On the one hand, she’d often dreamed of happy-ever-after with some amorphous someone. As she’d gotten older, and, she admitted ruefully, more damaged by certain someones, she’d let go of that dream. She’d felt a failure as a woman, as a partner, as a sexual being.

But the failure had not been her. Keegan and Jakob had both helped her to understand that. Perhaps she struggled from time to time with that, but really, Keegan kept her mind, her body, her heart, occupied.  She spent precious little time worrying that she wasn’t making Keegan as happy as he was making her.

The lifestyle–her being a submissive–had helped. The scales of the relationship were tipped in his favor. Yet he saw it as his job to make certain that she was cared for as well. He didn’t have a problem hurting her, but he didn’t have a problem helping as well. Such a strange thing, this dominant and submissive life.

She pulled into her garage, parked, and grabbed the small sack of groceries that she’d picked up on her way home. She dropped her keys twice — distracted much? she asked herself silently. Keegan had a way about him, from strong, strong hands, to that little teasing smile he often wore. He could turn her on with just that look. Add that steaming, knee-melting kiss? She was a goner. She wished she had time to masturbate, her need was that great. The key slid into the lock and she opened the door.

Hanging her keys on the hook by the door, she locked the door, and headed for the kitchen. The hood came over her head from behind, along with an arm of steel around her throat.