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For the first time in over a year, her mind and her fingers were in sync, and by eleven that morning, she’d written the full outline of her next Angelique Rose novel, along with the first two chapters. The novel would be about a BDSM romance writer who finagles her way into a special compound where Masters and their slave girls live a BDSM lifestyle 24/7. The heroine goes through various trials and tribulations as she explores her own submissive tendencies and desires.
Instead of crashing and burning, her fictitious heroine bravely works through her fears. At the end of her training, the gorgeous, unattainable Dom who had guided her through the process confesses he has fallen madly in love with her. In a beautiful collaring ceremony at the end of the novel, he claims her for his own.
There was a certain ironic satisfaction in rewriting the ending of her own failed experiment, giving her readers and herself the HEA that was unfortunately all too elusive in real life.
Lucia had been checking in to make sure Hannah was all right and encouraging her to return to The Enclave. While Hannah appreciated her new friend’s genuine concern, she had explained she still needed some time and space to work through this on her own.
She had confided in Charlotte, who had immediately dropped everything to come over and commiserate.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I punched Master Jim in the face?” Charlotte said over their second glass of wine.
“No,” Hannah exclaimed, the revelation pulling her momentarily out of her own head. “What happened?”
“It was fairly early in our relationship. He had me tied down spread eagle on the bed, a gag in my mouth, a blindfold over my eyes. He’d been doing lots of sexy, wonderful things to me involving a single tail whip, his fingers and tongue, and my favorite vibrator.”
“Sounds pretty good to me,” Hannah had said.
“Yeah. It was awesome. But then he started tickling me. Now, I absolutely hate tickling more than anything in the world. Probably because my older brothers used to hold me down and tickle me until I peed my pants when I was little. Master Jim didn’t know about this trigger. I had a safeword, of course, but we hadn’t yet worked out any kind of safe signal at that point. He told me after that he thought I was having a grand old time. Tied down and gagged as I was, I couldn’t do a thing but lie there and take it. I was so furious by the time he untied me that I just hauled back and socked him.”
“Oh, wow,” Hannah said, laughing in spite of herself. “Talk about a buzz kill.”
“Right?” Charlotte had replied, laughing too.
“So, what did he do? Did he get mad?”
“Only at himself. He was mortified that I’d been so upset, and he hadn’t realized it. We talked it through to figure out what we could have done to avoid that situation, and how we could do better going forward. I guess my point is, D/s is a journey and a learning curve for both Dom and sub. Mistakes happen. People sometimes get punched,” she added with a laugh. Sobering, she’d said gently, “Maybe give him another chance, Hannah?”
Hannah had shaken her head. “It’s not the same as what you and Jim have, Charlotte. Mason and I aren’t in a relationship—not even close. I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened and how it could have gone differently. It wasn’t just Mason’s fault. Though it’s been mostly academic to this point, I’m well aware how important communication is in a D/s scenario. I kept my mouth shut because I wanted to live up to what everyone seemed to expect of me. The crux of the problem wasn’t his ignoring my cues. It was me trying to be something I wasn’t.”
When Charlotte had attempted to protest, Hannah had cut her off as gently as she could. “I’m not saying I’m not into BDSM. I’m saying I’m not in the same league as you all. The Enclave is a community of people who embrace the lifestyle 24/7. That’s not me, even if I was pretending it might be for a few weeks there. Even if I’d stayed and Mason and I hadworked things out in the short run, there’s always going to be that basic disconnect.”
Mason hadnottexted since she’d left The Enclave two weeks ago, not that she could really blame him. She’d been the one to cut and run, never properly explaining herself, or giving him the same opportunity. While she was sorry in retrospect for how she’d scampered, as the days passed and one week became two, she told herself it was for the best.
The attraction she’d felt for him had just been a byproduct of her overall excitement at being a part of a BDSM community, however briefly. Mason and she were so clearly wrong for each other. While she wished things had ended differently, the net result was always going to be the same.
Still, in spite of her resolve to move forward, leaving The Enclave as she had left her without a sense of closure. Maybe someday she’d get up the nerve to accept Anthony’s kind, open invitation to return.
Meanwhile, she refused to allow herself to fall back into the morass of depression that had immobilized her for so many months after losing Andy. Instead, she threw herself into her work, happy to finally be creating once more.
That particular morning found her once more in her creative happy place. Her fingers were flying, the characters in her novel now directing her instead of the other way around, which meant she was definitely on the right track.
She vaguely registered the sound of the doorbell, which momentarily broke her concentration. It must be the printer ink she’d ordered online, which was due to arrive that day. They could just leave it on the porch.
But as she was returning her attention to the laptop screen, her cell dinged several times in succession. Glancing down, she saw the series of texts from Charlotte.
Cancel any plans. I won two free passes for the full treatment at that new spa that opened on Central Ave! I have to use it or lose it this morning, and you’re coming with me!
Open up!
I know you’re in there.
Hannah closed her laptop with a chuckle, aware she was no match for the force of nature that was Charlotte.
Charlotte did most of the talking as they drove to the spa, eager to share some salacious gossip about two coworkers at the clothing store where she worked part time who were caught having sex in one of the changing rooms.
When she asked Hannah how she was doing, Hannah told Charlotte about her new novel, glad for a chance to keep the topic off her love life, or lack thereof.
The spa was fancy, and they were given thick terry cloth robes to change into before being ushered into a private room. Soft music comprised primarily of panpipes played from hidden speakers and the scent of lavender oil permeated the air. Once they were prone on side-by-side padded massage tables, naked under soft sheets, two young women dressed all in white appeared. As strong, oiled hands skillfully pummeled and kneaded Hannah’s muscles, her mind drifted, as usual, back to The Enclave.
