[Siren Classic: Erotic Consensual BDSM Romance, public exhibition, spanking, paddling, whipping, flogging, sex toys, HEA]
Ivone Mendes-Rodrigues and Jamison Landry are two peas in a pod. They are scarred by their childhoods and afraid of commitment, yet are secretly longing for someone to complete them. Jamison has compensated by becoming a play Dom. Ivone gives over within the context of her sexuality in the short term, and both rely upon the superficial to carry them through life.
They meet at a BDSM club, and what follows is a battle of wills. It is a struggle against a powerful sexual attraction that demands a deeper commitment.
If patience is a virtue, then Ivone is blessed, but she can only be pushed so far, and Jamison must dig deep for virtues he didn’t know he possessed and be a quick study in learning others.
They seem perfect for one another physically, and that should be enough given their histories, but love has crept in on little cat feet.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Ivone slipped out of her coat and shoes, leaving them with the attendant, and made her way into the general meeting area of the club. She could hear the rise and fall of distant male and female voices as the evening ramped up along with the sound of the music that emanated from a large number of speakers tucked into various corners of each room. She was late, which was quite unlike her, and anxious that she had missed meeting everyone who would have turned up for the event. Ivone didn’t have her own Dom, being content to connect with one at these regular affairs. She wasn’t interested in finding a long-term connection, probably because she hadn’t met a Dom who she believed would meet her needs on a regular basis, but sometimes there weren’t enough Doms for subs and vice versa, and she really needed a release tonight. Ivone picked up the pace until she came to the doorway of the meeting room. The area seemed fairly empty, and she felt disappointed but walked in anyway, hoping she had missed someone in the dim lighting.
She was wearing a simple, black silk chemise that fell just to midthigh and nothing else, aside from a delicate red ribbon of silk and lace around her neck. The ribbon signaled her availability, and she hoped there would be someone in the club tonight to connect with and take her mind off of the absolute bitch of a week she had just endured at her present job. Her boss was away on vacation, and his second-in-command was a spoiled, petulant wannabe who took delight in ordering his subordinates around as well as assigning make-work projects. Ivone was the senior designer of the team and therefore took the brunt of his pettiness, partly because she was the senior member, but mostly because she felt the need to shelter some of the younger staff. Frederic—imagine someone calling their son Frederic, it sounded like a perfect name for a Pomeranian—was an ass, but Reed would be back next week, and things would go back to normal. This evening might be her R & R if only she could find a Dom to meet her needs. She was tired of taking care of other people and being assertive. She wanted someone to see to her, to demand and take from her, force her to let go, to surrender, if only sexually. Tonight.
* * * *
Jamison Landry spotted the tall, voluptuous brunette the instant she passed into the meet-and-greet area. His reaction to her puzzled him. His taste usually ran to tall, thin blondes, yet none of that type had appealed to him tonight. He had been entertaining the idea of going back to his own club, Pleasure, and seeking a connection for the evening, given the fact that he wasn’t finding anyone here. Maybe that was what was lacking in his life. He was picking the wrong type of women, because that package in the scrap of silk really spoke to him. Certainly his senses were already on alert by virtue of the environment, and he planned to do a scene with some woman tonight and fuck her afterwards, either at this club or his own, but his gut was tight, not just his cock. He had thought to visit Vice, to see if he could counter the ennui, the sense of his life unfolding without purpose, but he never figured he would lay eyes on a woman who would speak to him in such a way. He turned to one of the waitstaff and motioned her over.
“Yes, Mr. Landry?”
“Bring me the brunette in the black slip, the tall one,” he ordered.
“Jamison Landry has asked for you, Ivone. You want to watch yourself with that one. He doesn’t play games. He only does short-term stuff, and he’s just slumming tonight, so remember that, too.”
Ivone searched Veronica’s face carefully. A truly serious Dom. Could this Landry be the man she had been searching for? One who might really meet her needs and possibly be available for more than a night?
“Okay, Veronica,” she responded. “Thanks for the heads-up. I won’t leave the club with him.”
“And don’t go into one of the private rooms with him either, honey,” Veronica advised. “He’ll hurt you.”
Veronica’s dire warning awoke the pain slut within Ivone. She could take a lot of pain. Oh, not knives or burning, although wax was okay if the Dom knew what he was doing, but if he was good with a single or double tail, she would bleed for him. She’d simply contract that he whip her only on her lower back and buttocks, maybe the tops of her thighs. Those parts she could cover in public with clothing. She wondered for a moment if he shared his submissives with other Doms. She had yet to really give up that part of her. Being handed off at her Dom’s discretion wasn’t something she really wanted to do, although she had done a couple of threesomes, and the sex had been very good, probably because she had been dominated. And if he were a real Dom, he would learn that being shared wasn’t what she really needed. She obediently followed Veronica to where this Jamison Landry was slouched comfortably in a leather club chair. She kept her eyes cast toward the floor, but noticed his thick black hair and forbidding handsomeness. His eyes were hooded and in shadow, and she wondered what color they were. She had the impression of a large, hard body, and now, within view of her downcast eyes, she could see his heavily muscled thighs, molded by the leather pants he wore splayed in front of her, an impressive bulge between them.
“Ivone Mendes-Rodrigues, Master Landry,” Veronica advised him and then slipped away.
Ivone stood there for what seemed an eternity. But she had learned patience early on in her childhood, and it had served her well right into her thirtieth year. Fascinated, she unobtrusively watched Landry’s body shift like a big cat’s as he reached out a large hand, the fingers long and spatulate, the nails big and square. He hooked them into the front of her chemise and pulled her to stand between his thighs, right up against his package. Ivone felt the heat and hardness clear to the centre of her being and tried not to tremble, then gave it up as a bad job. Both of his hands slid up her arms to toy with the thin straps, sliding them down to her elbows, the silky fabric shimmering over her breasts to drag on her erect, pebbled nipples. He paused and brushed a thumb against each of them, the roughness of his callused skin making her shudder. He pushed the garment down over her hips and let it pool around her feet, then leaned back to scrutinize her. At his gesture she spread her thighs further apart and his violet eyes darkened to amethyst as he looked at the naked folds of her labia. The rest of the room and the people in it simply ceased to exist for Ivone. The sound of them was like the faint buzzing of insects. Jamison Landry was her only focus, and she obediently turned when he motioned for her to do so, stopping when he grasped her hips to hold her in place, then stroked a callused hand over the curve of her ass. A pressure on the small of her back signaled for her to bend over, and she did so, grasping her ankles. She felt a finger press between her buttocks and find her anus.
“Do you let a cock in here?” a low, mesmerizing voice asked.
“Yes, Sir,” she managed.
The finger moved to her vaginal opening, pausing at the wetness then pushing up inside of her, high and hard. Shit, one of his fingers felt like three of every other man who had fingered her. Would his cock be larger, too? What she thought was his thumb swirled in her moisture and pressed a little ways into her anus, and Ivone gasped at the double penetration.
“Do you let two men here?” he now demanded, his voice even deeper with arousal.
“Twice, Sir,” Ivone whimpered, as the thumb pressed harder at her answer.
“We’ll see,” was his response, and the digits were abruptly removed.
Ivone held the position until he lightly slapped her ass and pulled on a thigh to turn her.
“Kneel,” he ordered.
Ivone dropped to her knees instantly.