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She shook her head. “Damon, I want to go. I want to know what it’s like to submit to you in a safe, sane, and consensual environment. You keep telling me that’s what real Dom/sub relationships are like. I’m ready.”
She knew he was concerned. After all, they’d tried this one other night and it ended in disaster. Much to everyone’s shock—Gemma, Damon, his friend Jagger who worked for the FBI, and the club owner, Robert—Master J had been at the club that night.
When Gemma heard his voice, she’d nearly died on the spot. Apparently the motherfucking piece of shit had never in a million years expected any of the six slaves he’d trained and sold to become members of the local Denver fetish club.
He was wrong, and it had cost him his freedom. He would never see the light of day again. That fact alone had settled in Gemma’s chest and alleviated some of her stress. She would never be fully free from her demons, but knowing the man who’d trained her and treated her like she was worth less than a dog for three years was behind bars and could never train another woman and sell her into sex trafficking, helped.
That night had been cut short. Gemma had gotten a tour and watched a few scenes, but she hadn’t submitted to Damon. Granted, he hadn’t intended to fully introduce her to his Dominant side that night anyway. He hadn’t felt she was ready. He’d brought her there to acclimate her because she’d insisted.
She was insisting again now. She flattened her palm on his firm chest and stared into his eyes. “Don’t try to talk me out of this, Damon. We’re going. It’s all arranged. The club isn’t even open tonight. It will only be you, me, Robert, Ella, Boyd, and Macy.”
He stroked her cheek again. “And you’re okay with that?”
She nodded. “Yes. I want them there. Moral support.” Ella, Robert’s wife, had been a godsend since Damon rescued Gemma. She was also a lawyer, so if anything ever creeped up to bite them in the ass, Ella would be there.
Boyd and his girlfriend, Macy, had also been members of Roses and Thorns for a long time. Boyd was one of the key FBI agents working with Damon’s best friend Jagger to find and rescue the rest of the women who’d been sold that night.
They were the perfect people to have present at the club to support Gemma tonight. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
Gemma rolled onto her side, facing Damon. She set her hand on his hip and smoothed it down to his cock. She’d gotten bolder with him every day. As she palmed his rigid length, he moaned.
His hand slid over hers as he narrowed his gaze at her. “You’re not very submissive, naughty girl.”
She giggled. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like it when you spank me.”
He chuckled. “That’s an understatement. My palm is sore from spanking you every day.” He lifted his hand between them and flexed his fingers as if they ached.
Master J had not struck his slaves. He tortured them in many ways, but impact had been strictly forbidden because the slaves were to be delivered to their masters unmarred. And virginal.
It was confusing, but between Damon and Dr. Langston, Gemma was growing to understand why she so enjoyed impact play. It made her feel alive and it held no triggers.
Damon tugged her hand away from his cock and brought it to his face to kiss her knuckles.
She pushed out her bottom lip in a pout, making him chuckle again.
“Listen, naughty girl. I’ll give you what you crave. But let’s get something straight. If you’re going to go to Roses and Thorns with me, you need to submit to me in the club.” He lifted a challenging brow.
She nodded. “I will, S…” She bit back the word. He didn’t permit her to call him Sir when she wasn’t submitting. It had been difficult at first. After three years of having it ingrained in her to always refer to her owner as Master or Sir, she still struggled to stuff that rule in the trash.
Damon did let her use it when she was submitting. When he spanked her. When he dominated her. But only then.
“I will,” she repeated. “I’ll submit to you at the club.”
He squeezed her hand. “You’re sure you want this experience?”
She knew he was concerned, but she was ready. “Yes, and I want it to be authentic. Don’t dumb it down or baby me. I want you to dominate me like you would anyone else.”
He shook his head. “We’ve talked about this. You’re not anyone else. You’re mine. I will never restrain you, understood?”
She nodded, even though she wasn’t sure the experience could be fully authentic without restraint.
He tipped her chin back and set his forehead against hers. “Trust me. You can have a fully submissive experience without restraints, and I expect you to obey me and defer to me when we’re inside the club walls.”
“Yes, Sir,” she breathed out, heart racing. She squirmed against him too. She was on fire. She always got that way when he dominated her so intently. She loved the way he looked her in the eye, but more than that, she loved the way he forced her to look him in the eye.
After three years of being trained to keep her gaze down and never look at any man, she still struggled to meet people’s gazes, but not Damon’s. She trusted him. She could look at him and reassure him she was with him.
“Your breathing is heavy,” he commented.
