C is for… Read online

  C is for…

  BDSM Checklist, Book Three

  L. Dubois

  Published by:

  Farm Boy Press ([email protected]),

  Los Angeles,

  California,

  United States of America.

  First electronic edition December 2014

  Copyright © 2014 L. Dubois, all rights reserved

  Cover by L. Dubois

  Proofread by Fedora Chen and Sharon Muha (www.sharonmuha.com)

  Book formatted by Farm Boy Press

  ISBN: 978-1-941641-60-6

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Publisher’s note:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  C is for…

  BDSM Checklist, Book Three

  The A, B, Cs have never been so sexy.

  Beth is the perfect sub: quiet, obedient, and well trained. After years of membership in LA’s most exclusive BDSM club she’s served many of the most demanding masters and mistresses…and she’s bored.

  James is a committed Dom who enjoys nothing more than a bratty sub he can “punish” until they’re both satisfied. The last thing he wants is a serious submissive.

  Beth is on the verge of leaving the club when she’s paired with Master James as part of the BDSM checklist game. They’re both surprised to find that the hyper-obedient Beth is hiding the true depth of her submission, and James will have to decide if he’s willing to break his own rules to give Beth what she needs.

  From the Author

  Dear Readers,

  I owe all of you a huge apology. C is for… was scheduled to be out in July 2014, but in May something unexpected happened that threw off everything. I got pregnant! Strangely, reading The Billionaire’s Secret Baby books did not prepare me for the reality of growing a human, and I proceeded to suffer from every pregnancy symptom in the book, to an extreme level. This left both C is for… and Hidden Devotion, the fifth Trinity Masters book, in limbo. However, everything is now back on track.

  Thank you for purchasing C is for… and I hope you enjoy James and Beth’s story.

  L. Dubois

  Table of Contents

  C is for…

  Title Page

  Synopsis

  From the Author

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  A is for…

  The Trinity Masters by L. Dubois and Mari Carr

  About the Author

  Additional Titles by L. Dubois

  Chapter One

  James examined the single sheet of paper he’d pulled from the envelope labeled “C.” When the overseers of Las Palmas Oscuras, LA’s most exclusive BDSM club, called all members together, a club-wide sex game was the last thing he’d imagined they’d announce… Each Dom, Master, Owner, submissive, and slave was assigned a letter of the alphabet and everything that went with it. They had to work though each kink, toy, and fetish on the BDSM checklist, which all members filled out when they joined. It was a rather intriguing idea, made all the more interesting because the Doms didn’t get to choose subs—the overseers had assigned everyone partners.

  Over the past year, James had played with many of the uncollared subs in the club. He liked his BDSM play pleasure-focused and never engaged in scenes that lasted too long, or took either player too deep into that dark place of truth that was so dangerous.

  Beside him, Xavier, a Master with a reputation for brutal play, opened his envelope. “Fuck.”

  James looked over. “Problem?”

  Xavier held up a glossy photo of a woman James knew—in the biblical sense. “Mae is a lovely sub,” James told Xavier. “Don’t let her looks fool you. She’s also very smart and has a quick wit. She’s a pleasure to talk to.”

  “I’m not looking for a fucking therapist.”

  James shrugged. “I didn’t say she was one.” He didn’t add that a resident therapist wouldn’t be a bad idea at Las Palmas, whose members were wealthy, powerful, and more often than not, wrestling with some demons.

  And he was no exception.

  “Isn’t she the one who did that ribbon bondage presentation?” The other Dom’s voice dripped with derision as he flicked through the stack of papers in his envelope—the submissive’s BDSM checklist, and his own.

  Frowning slightly, James folded his own nearly empty envelope in half. “Just…try not to break her.” BDSM play was dangerous, and that danger wasn’t just physical. The emotional and spiritual damage that could be inflicted inside the delicate world of the D/s relationship was far more lasting than bruises and welts.

  The subs filed out of the large converted barn, one of many buildings on the expansive adobe-style estate and the only one big enough to hold all members at once. Shortly after, the Doms started filing out too.

  Once outside, James circled the building until he was out of sight, staring out at the immaculate grounds, privacy fence, and beyond that, the gold and green hills of Malibu. Leaning against the wall, he once more opened his envelope. Xavier’s had been thick, containing two checklists and a photo. He had only a single sheet of paper bearing a single typed sentence.

  Return next week to meet your partners.

  Partners?

  The overseers had said that anyone who wasn’t already bonded could be partnered with someone, or someones, new. It seemed that he was in for a ménage, which was never a bad idea. But the lack of a checklist meant he couldn’t peruse the inventory of items and kinks that began with the letter C.

  The only one he could think of was collar.

  Closing his eyes, James leaned his head back against the smooth plaster of the barn wall.

  Collars had a million uses in BDSM play—from simple non-weight bearing restraint to posture correction and animal play.

  But the most dangerous, in James’s opinion, was symbolic collaring—using a collar the same way you used a wedding ring. Collars showed more than just commitment, but ownership. At Las Palmas, members in Owner/slave or permanent Master/submissive relationships were recognized as being in an exclusive committed relationship by being “bound” together, rather than collaring. He, more than anyone, knew why Las Palmas used the distinction, though plenty of couples were both formally bound by the club’s rules and used the elegant simplicity of a collar.

  He tapped the envelope against his palm. He had a bad feeling about the letter “C.”

  *****

  Beth shifted her weight to her left hand, lifted her right off the wood floor and flexed her wrist. A crop struck her thigh.

  “Be good, girlie.”

  Dropping her hand back to th
e floor, Beth resumed her position on hands and knees, serving as a footrest for her owner. Madame Cat lifted her legs a fraction of an inch off Beth’s lower back, switching which ankle was crossed on top.

  The floor of the library was one of the least comfortable places to be kneeling for long periods of time, but that was where Madame Cat had decided to have her dinner. Almost everyone else in the library was also eating, and Beth’s stomach growled in reaction to the delicious food smells. People went quiet and Beth lifted her head just enough to look around. Master Xavier, recognizable from the mask he wore, was leading a lovely red-haired sub through the room.

  They must have been paired up as part of the checklist game. Beth had played with Master Xavier once, over a year ago. He’d complimented her on her ability to obey and her responsiveness to pain, but Beth had been able to tell that he’d never ask for her again.

  That was the story of her life. She was good, but forgettable…as forgettable as a piece of furniture, which she was now serving as.

  Beth bit the inside of her lip, reminding herself that anything was better than nothing. Being collared by Madame Cat was an honor and a gift.

  She watched out of the corner of her eye as the lovely red-headed sub was draped backward over a wine barrel and then pleasured by nearly everyone in the room. Beth was transfixed by the sight—though the sub had been ordered not to come, she’d clearly had orgasm after orgasm from mouths and hands dancing over her body.

  Beth had been kneeling here, completely naked, for what felt like days, and the only physical contact she’d had were her owner’s feet on her back and the occasional strike of the crop when she moved too much.

  “I need her.” Master Xavier’s voice only a few feet away shocked Beth, but she held still.

  “Of course.” Madame Cat took her feet off Beth. “Go with Master Xavier.”

  Beth’s heart was in her throat as she pushed herself up into a kneeling position. Keeping her head down, she waited for her orders, hoping, praying that it would be something dirty and sexy. Clearly Master Xavier remembered her from their one session. Maybe she wasn’t as forgettable as she felt.

  “Stand up. Come with me.”

  Ten minutes later Beth was positioned behind the barrel. Xavier had raised his sub’s head and shoulders so they were no longer lower than her heart. Beth was serving as a support—the other woman’s shoulders against her breasts, her bound arms looped around Beth’s neck.

  It seemed that her destiny was to be either furniture or a prop. Biting hard on the inside of her lip, she was able to hold in the murky feelings bubbling inside her. With nothing better to do, she analyzed, finally deciding that the predominant emotion she had at the moment was frustration, followed shortly by boredom.

  Being part of the scene, even tangentially, was certainly better than being a footrest. She now had a perfect view of the woman’s spread legs and the Dom who was currently licking her. Beth’s own body throbbed in response. For one insane moment she considered running her hand over the smooth white skin bound and displayed before her.

  But she knew better. That wasn’t why Master Xavier had asked for her. Turning her gaze away to avoid temptation and stupid fantasies, her gaze landed on Master James.

  Beth sucked in air. Master James looked like a movie star—not a grungy action star, but a classic clean-cut hero. Though he was wearing slacks and a simple button down shirt, he looked as elegant as other men looked in three-piece suits.

  Master James was on the top of her wish list of play partners. She’d seen him sitting with subs on his lap, his style of domination a kind of causal yet intimate mastery—as if he had no doubt that he was in control and felt no need to make a show of it. She’d watched him kiss and pet his subs while in the common spaces, touches that seemed more like those of a lover than a Master.

  And oh, she wanted that.

  He smiled slightly and Beth blinked, then checked behind her, but there was no one there. Was he smiling at her?

  His gaze dropped to her neck and the padlocked collar she wore. Golden-brown brows drew together and Master James looked away.

  Beth lowered her gaze, her face warm—embarrassment the main cause, but there was another feeling in the mix, which she identified as shame. Luckily a moment later Master Xavier freed his sub’s legs and helped her off the barrel. Beth waited to see if she was still needed. When everyone turned away, focusing on other things now that Master Xavier’s scene was done, Beth dropped to her hands and knees and crawled back to her owner, wincing as Madame Cat plopped her feet into place.

  Only five feet from where Beth knelt, a pretty blonde submissive was urged up onto a low ottoman. The girl had an open-style gag in her mouth, drool making her lower lip glisten. The Dom, who Beth recognized but whose name she couldn’t remember, had her lie on her side. Smooth black rope was wound around the sub’s limbs, creating wide cuffs that bound each wrist to the corresponding ankle, and knees to elbows. With her legs tucked up against her chest her ass and pussy were fully exposed. The Dom knelt beside the ottoman and ran his hands over the girl’s back, adding the occasional spank as he whispered to her, the words low enough that Beth couldn’t make them out, but she could guess that they were gentle from the tone of his voice.

  The Dom pulled a small, jeweled plug from his pocket, slipping it into the sub’s mouth through the open gag. When it was coated in saliva he spread the cheeks of the girl’s ass with one hand then teased her anus with the blunt tip of the plug. Beth watched, unable to turn away—not that she wanted to—as little by little the Master coaxed, teased, and tormented the woman, using the plug to relax and loosen the muscles of her anus, until each time he pulled away the sub frantically twisted, trying to lift her hips, seemingly desperate for the penetration.

  Beth understood the feeling. She’d been wet since watching the scene with Master Xavier and his sub, and her current view wasn’t doing anything to lessen the low burn of arousal. Her nipples were tight, making her aware of each breath she took.

  When the plug was finally inserted, Beth had to bite back a moan that echoed the blonde’s, her own anus clenching in reaction to what she was seeing. Next a large silver egg was forced into the sub’s pussy. With the woman’s squeals of pleasure ringing in Beth’s ears, she shifted her weight, trying to relive the throb in her own pussy. Madame Cat rewarded her fidgeting with a sharp blow from the crop. Pleasure darted through Beth, and for one exciting moment she thought she might find release too, but then her Domme went back to her conversation.

  The blonde’s Master had risen and taken a seat, propping his ankles on the sub’s hip. Another submissive footstool. He held a small control box, a wire leading from it to the egg buried deep in the sub’s wet, pink pussy. He murmured something, then the girl started gasping and twitching, her toes curling, fingers grasping nothing but air.

  Beth watched as the Dom leaned back in his seat, drink in hand, appearing relaxed and at ease, yet his eyes never left the sub, his fingers poised over the control box, adjusting it according to the sub’s reactions.

  It was painfully simple to make comparisons between the blonde’s situation and her own. Beth wanted what the other girl had, but even as the sounds of female orgasm rose to impossible-to-ignore levels, Madame Cat was more focused on her conversation than on Beth. As Beth’s Mistress, that was her right, to use Beth in whatever way pleased her.

  Rather than continue to watch, Beth closed her eyes and tried to ignore the sounds, hoping her arousal would fade. Eventually, it did.

  Maybe it was time to give up this life. She’d thought BDSM would help her, but instead it just reinforced the fact that Beth would never be like other women. No one wanted to play with her, no one cared about her pleasure. She was as alone here as she was in the outside world.

  Madame Cat had dropped hints that she might be leaving the club, or possibly moving out of LA. When she did, Beth would resign her membership. Though it would effectively mean giving up most human contact, alone m
ight be better than feeling like this.

  Bottling up her feelings, Beth settled in to the boredom of serving as a footstool and started working through calculus problems in her head.

  *****

  “Master Mikael.” James nodded to the older man as he closed his overnight bag into one of the lockers the Doms and Masters used.

  “James.” Mikael scrubbed a towel over his head, then unselfconsciously dropped the towel around his waist and started dressing. It was just after noon on Friday a week after the checklist game announcement, and still early as far as the club’s patrons were concerned. Most people arrived between three and six pm on Friday nights and stayed until Sunday. Those with more flexible work schedules came on weekdays, though Las Palmas only had catered food in the dining room on the weekends.

  James wondered idly what Mikael had been up to that he was showering at noon. Either it had been a long night or he’d gotten up early and already participated in a hot and sweaty scene. As one of three overseers of the club, Master Mikael was a force to be reckoned with. It was a testament to his personal authority that he was an undisputed leader among this group of powerful people.

  When he’d finished pulling on pants, a shirt, and a vest, he turned to face James. “You’re here for your checklist game?”

  “I am. Though I don’t know who I’m partnered with yet.”

  “Ah, yes. We have something special for you.” Mikael smiled.

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  “Leo was going to do it, but since you’re here now…”

  Mikael unlocked one of the doors marked “private” and disappeared inside, only to return a moment later holding another large envelope with the letter “C” on the front, and James’s name in the top corner.

  “Join me?” Mikael gestured with the envelope and James followed him to the Doms’ Lounge, usually just called the Den. There were areas of the estate that were reserved for Doms and Masters and this was one of them. There were matching places where the subs relaxed away from the presence of the Doms.