Mistress Maya’s precise discipline and unshakable self-possession are legendary in the Boston kink community. Newcomer Dom Shark is fascinated by her beauty and power from the moment he sees her flogging a sub at Club Inferno. Behind the Ice Queen’s mask of perfect control, he senses a spirit aching to submit. He’s determined to break through her defenses and bring her the same release she grants to the lucky slaves she tops.
When Maya dismisses Master Shark as young and inexperienced, he offers her a challenge: a night together, during which he’ll show her what it means to be mastered. If he fails to bring her to new heights of bliss, he agrees to become her slave.
Can he make Maya trust him enough to surrender? Or will the flawless, untouchable dominatrix take possession of his body as well as his heart?
Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been revised, expanded and re-edited for this release.
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While washing the stickiness from her hands, she surveyed herself in the mirror. Milk-white skin and ebony hair from her Black Irish father, cut severely to the level of her jaw; high cheekbones and plump lips from her Lebanese mother. Her nose was a bit prominent, and a few tiny lines decorated the corners of her green eyes, but, all in all, she approved. Not too bad for a thirty-six-year-old broad. Most of all, she liked the strength she saw in her expression. She lived her own life. She made her own decisions. She controlled herself. No one else could step in and take that control away.
But that strange Dom…
She’d felt oddly transparent under his scrutiny. It had been unsettling, but exciting, too. The challenge in his eyes had been too blatant to miss. He wanted her. He wanted to play.
A vision seized her—the nameless stranger bent naked over the foot board of her bed, with his arms spread wide and his wrists roped to the bedposts. Tattoos would wind around his biceps—barbed wire, or perhaps Celtic patterns. His taut, round butt elevated by pillows, he’d beg her to fuck him. She’d beat him first, though, marking his long thighs with her crop, paddling his butt cheeks to the color of raw hamburger. Maybe she’d clip weights to his scrotum and nipples, or trap his swollen prick in a tight leather cage.
And he’d plead for more—more pain, more humiliation, more proof of her power. She’d never head his voice but she imagined it, deep and a bit gravelly, a contrast with his James Dean bad-boy appearance. It would be so sweet, finally giving him what he craved, donning her harness and driving her prick into his ass.
The image was so vivid! She dimly realized that she’d sunk to her haunches, her thighs splayed open, just inside the ladies’ room door. Three fingers of one hand were buried in her cunt. With her other, she plucked at her nipples through her bra, twisting them almost as hard as she imagined doing to the stranger.
She settled the pad of her thumb against her clit, while her fingers delved deeper. She was already close to the edge, self-stimulation combining with fantasy to ramp her back to the brink where James had left her, only ten minutes before.
Someone will see…
She arched her back, screwing the stranger Dom for all she was worth. The knob near the base of her dildo rubbed over her clit as she rammed into him, giving him what they both craved. He whimpered with pleasure, his strong body totally open to her power.
You’re losing control…
Doubts buzzed like mosquitoes, distracting her from her pleasure. She focused on her fantasy sub, reading his body language, sure that he wanted more. He tightened his butt around her silicone cock, transmitting the pressure to her sensitized tissues. “You’re mine,” she cried in her daydream, drilling into his ass as though to tear him open.
The thought intruded. It was Roger’s voice at first, warm and cultured, seductive and treacherous. Then it deepened and grew rougher. All at once, her fantasy shifted.
She was the one tied spread-eagled with her ass in the air, not just her wrists but her ankles too, the ropes so tight she could scarcely move. Her shoulders ached with the pull of the bonds. Her cunt dripped onto the carpet. A blindfold hid her tormentor but she couldn’t ignore his fingers, poking into her to gather her pussy juice then smearing it over her anus. The rude fingers probed, loosening her, triggering sharp stabs of delight. She contracted her muscles, trying futilely to keep him out, but the fingers dancing in her cunt melted any determination to resist. “You’re mine,” he repeated, whoever he was, rubbing the knob of his huge-seeming cock against her back entrance. “Let me in.”
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh