Chapter One
The expensive, elegant yet unadorned card felt heavy between
the smooth skin of her fingers. Aria knew it was only her imagination and
anticipation giving it more importance than the business card deserved.
1-800-DOM-help
The who, how and why remained unanswered. Aria knew the
where. Right smack-dab in the middle of her personal tool box, under her
bed. Normally something appearing out of nowhere would freak her out, sending
her running for the nearest police department, but interest kept her feet
firmly planted in her apartment.
Should she? Shouldn’t she? Nice girls didn’t want to be
dominated, did they? Good girls never fantasized about being taken in the ass,
right? A normal woman wouldn’t want to submit to a man, give him complete
control over her body? Let him pleasure her anyway he wanted?
Shit ! Why was this so hard for her? At thirty-four
Aria Dunson knew her mind and lived a generally guilt-free existence. But something
about this card made her yearn for all the wicked dreams to turn into reality.
To let the fantasies that only lived in her mind out to become actuality.
“Screw it,” she muttered and picked up her phone. With
slightly shaking fingers she punched in the number.
“Thank you for calling 1-800-DOM-help. This is the Operator.
How may I be of assistance?”
The male voice that floated over the line was smooth and
smoky, with just the right touch of sexual innuendo.
“Hello?” the Operator asked when she didn’t say anything.
“Um…hi.”
“Hi back. May I help you with something?” Amusement rang in
his sexy voice.
Right, she almost smacked her head with the cell phone.
“Yes, I received your card and wanted to get a little more information.”
There, that sounded a little better and more like her normal
take-charge self.
“Ahh, I see. Are you interested in the role of a Domme or a
submissive?”
“Oh no… I mean…crap…umm… Dominated. Submissive. Or at least
I think so. You see I’m not too sure, but I do know I’m not calling any man
master or licking feet. Oh and I have no desire to eat dinner off the floor in
a bowl marked Fido and I don’t share well so there’s no chance I’d want to be
passed around like a large party tray.” She babbled nervously, thinking of all
the bondage sites she’d looked over, late at night with a glass of wine in
hand.
The Operator’s husky chuckle caused things to tingle low in
her stomach. “I’m here to ensure you make a wise decision, Ms….”
That stopped her. Should she give her real name? What if he
came into her shop? Bric-Brac might not be a Fortune 500 company but still
there was her professional reputation to protect.
“Should I do that? Give you my real name, I mean. I really
have no idea how this works.” Could she sound more like a scared high school
virgin? “I’m not usually this inept either,” she made a vain attempt to
explain.
“It makes this much easier if I know whom I speaking with.
Not to mention pairing you up with just the right Dom.” He took a quick breath
then continued before she could interrupt him again. “The lifestyle of BDSM is
not for everyone. However, you would not have received the card if you weren’t
inclined to it. Before I attempt to pair you with one of our Doms I’d better
explain exactly what will be expected of you.”
“Umm…okay.” Why oh why hadn’t she’d she thought this through
better? Now this crazy sex perv knew her cell number.
“First off, members are vetted in every way possible.
Backgrounds, physicals, and when possible psych evals. We don’t let just anyone
into our playground because not everyone wants to be there for the right
reasons. Now, that said, if you agree to come as a submissive then that is the
part you will become. When the doors are closed you will address your Dom in
the manner he prefers. Some like Master, others Lord, a few even like Sire or
Sir. You will respect your Dom or else you’ll be punished. Even though
The expensive, elegant yet unadorned card felt heavy between
the smooth skin of her fingers. Aria knew it was only her imagination and
anticipation giving it more importance than the business card deserved.
1-800-DOM-help
The who, how and why remained unanswered. Aria knew the
where. Right smack-dab in the middle of her personal tool box, under her
bed. Normally something appearing out of nowhere would freak her out, sending
her running for the nearest police department, but interest kept her feet
firmly planted in her apartment.
Should she? Shouldn’t she? Nice girls didn’t want to be
dominated, did they? Good girls never fantasized about being taken in the ass,
right? A normal woman wouldn’t want to submit to a man, give him complete
control over her body? Let him pleasure her anyway he wanted?
Shit ! Why was this so hard for her? At thirty-four
Aria Dunson knew her mind and lived a generally guilt-free existence. But something
about this card made her yearn for all the wicked dreams to turn into reality.
To let the fantasies that only lived in her mind out to become actuality.
“Screw it,” she muttered and picked up her phone. With
slightly shaking fingers she punched in the number.
“Thank you for calling 1-800-DOM-help. This is the Operator.
How may I be of assistance?”
The male voice that floated over the line was smooth and
smoky, with just the right touch of sexual innuendo.
“Hello?” the Operator asked when she didn’t say anything.
“Um…hi.”
“Hi back. May I help you with something?” Amusement rang in
his sexy voice.
Right, she almost smacked her head with the cell phone.
“Yes, I received your card and wanted to get a little more information.”
There, that sounded a little better and more like her normal
take-charge self.
“Ahh, I see. Are you interested in the role of a Domme or a
submissive?”
“Oh no… I mean…crap…umm… Dominated. Submissive. Or at least
I think so. You see I’m not too sure, but I do know I’m not calling any man
master or licking feet. Oh and I have no desire to eat dinner off the floor in
a bowl marked Fido and I don’t share well so there’s no chance I’d want to be
passed around like a large party tray.” She babbled nervously, thinking of all
the bondage sites she’d looked over, late at night with a glass of wine in
hand.
The Operator’s husky chuckle caused things to tingle low in
her stomach. “I’m here to ensure you make a wise decision, Ms….”
That stopped her. Should she give her real name? What if he
came into her shop? Bric-Brac might not be a Fortune 500 company but still
there was her professional reputation to protect.
“Should I do that? Give you my real name, I mean. I really
have no idea how this works.” Could she sound more like a scared high school
virgin? “I’m not usually this inept either,” she made a vain attempt to
explain.
“It makes this much easier if I know whom I speaking with.
Not to mention pairing you up with just the right Dom.” He took a quick breath
then continued before she could interrupt him again. “The lifestyle of BDSM is
not for everyone. However, you would not have received the card if you weren’t
inclined to it. Before I attempt to pair you with one of our Doms I’d better
explain exactly what will be expected of you.”
“Umm…okay.” Why oh why hadn’t she’d she thought this through
better? Now this crazy sex perv knew her cell number.
“First off, members are vetted in every way possible.
Backgrounds, physicals, and when possible psych evals. We don’t let just anyone
into our playground because not everyone wants to be there for the right
reasons. Now, that said, if you agree to come as a submissive then that is the
part you will become. When the doors are closed you will address your Dom in
the manner he prefers. Some like Master, others Lord, a few even like Sire or
Sir. You will respect your Dom or else you’ll be punished. Even though
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