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“If you keep this up, you’re going to explode. And when you do, you’ll find what you need by whatever means necessary. That’s a dangerous state of mind to be in when doing the things we do.” Mistress Freya released her chin and leaned back against the desk, folding her hands placidly in her lap. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to help you.”
She knew she wasn’t allowed to speak, so she put all her hope into her eyes instead. If anyone could help her, Mistress Freya could.
“I know someone who can reintroduce you to the lifestyle—someone I know beyond a shadow of a doubt you can trust.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “I give you my word, he’ll only hurt you in ways you’ll like. And he’ll help you learn what a healthy relationship between a Dominant and submissive feels like. Perhaps that’ll give you the courage you need to find someone new and try again. So, what do you say?”
With a few slow, deep breaths, Nell counted to ten. Then she let nearly a year of unfulfilled desire and desperation fill her voice when she said, “Please.”
CHAPTER2
Rafe
Acall interrupted the song blaring from Rafe’s phone while he did bicep curls in his home gym. Putting down the thirty-pound dumbbells with a small grunt, he grabbed his phone.
Grinning, he slid the green icon to the right. “Freya, my life, my love, my dream.” He used that sexy, gravelly voice all submissives loved, but which he knew did absolutely nothing for the woman on the other end of the line. “Ready to turn switch for me yet?”
Her laugh came through the line low and husky—the product of decades of smoking. It made her sound like an old Hollywood starlet. “You wish, pretty boy.”
Rafe’s smile only widened. He couldn’t put into words what it meant to hear Freya joking around again. It had been a brutal two years after Ian, her husband and longtime sub, passed away. Ian had been the beating heart of Freya’s life, and without him, she’d been utterly lost.
Only after Rafe and a few of her other past mentees banded together, all but forcing her to return to teaching, did the darkness begin to lift. Giving classes to those new to the scene, helping them unleash their inner Dom or sub, and watching them flourish in the community...it gave meaning to her life again. Then she opened Valhalla, building herself a new family to love and watch over and protect.
He didn’t think it was an exaggeration to say her club saved her life.
“Oh well.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I always knew you were too good for me.”
Freya snorted. The woman was technically old enough to be his mother, and didn’t have a submissive bone in her body—and neither did Rafe. But that didn’t mean the game wasn’t fun to play.
“So,” Rafe said, plopping down on the weight bench. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything.” He didn’t hesitate. Freya had been there for him during the hardest time of his life, helping him figure out exactly the type of Dom he wanted to be. She’d even introduced him to Jonathan and Mason, two of the founding partners of Fairford Manor, where he now worked. The BDSM resort took the termdream jobto a whole new level, especially after the founders made him a partner.
In other words, Rafe owed everything to her.
With a hum of satisfaction, Freya said, “I knew I could count on you. Check your email.”
Putting her on speaker, he maneuvered to the mail app, opening the one from Freya. There was nothing in the body of the email—only an attachment. “This better not be porn,” he joked as he tapped on the attachment icon.
His eyebrows arched as soon as the document opened. It was a scanned copy of a Manor application.
“You know we only accept applications by mail,” he said, though his gaze flew across the tiny words on his phone screen.
Freya gave an annoyed huff. “I mailed the original. But I don’t want to wait for you to get it. I want to talk about Nell now.”
Rafe repressed a chuckle. Clearly nothing had changed; this Domme only did things on her schedule. There was no point in resisting.
According to the application, Nell Beaumont was a thirty-six-year-old submissive living outside Tampa and working at Valhalla. She recently got out of an eleven-year relationship, and wanted one of the Manor Doms to help ease her back into the casual side of the lifestyle.
“If you want her to come here, you know I’ll say yes.” Rafe studied the photo taped to her application—long dark hair, a hint of mystery in her smile, and enough muscle in her arms and thighs that he suspected she did at least some weight training. Stunning really. The thought of a strong woman like that all soft and pliant in his arms had his cock stirring.
“Good. I’ll—”
“But why me?” Rafe interrupted. “Are you telling me there isn’t a single Dom in your club who’ll scene with her?” And if that was the case, what the fuck was wrong with her?
“Oh, there are plenty,” Freya said. “She’s a beautiful girl, sweet as can be. My regulars love her. But she can’t scene with just anybody. I don’t know quite what happened with that ex of hers, but I do know it wasn’t good. You’re the only one I trust to give her what she needs without...” She let her sentence trail off with a sigh. “Let’s just say, without potentially damaging her further.”
Well, he sure hadn’t been expecting that when he answered the phone. This sounded more like his friend Aiden’s area of expertise. The man was brilliant at taking traumatized, broken subs and making them blossom. Just look at Aiden’s fiancée, Olivia. She showed up at the Manor a fucking mess, but now? Not only were they deliriously happy together, but she also played a third in scenes with the other Manor Doms from time to time. Rafe fucking loved playing with her.
