REPLAY BOOK 8: THE DARK SIDE

by

Nia Farrell

REPLAY BOOK 8: THE DARK SIDE by Nia Farrell

Copyright 2017 by Nia Farrell

Edited by Anita Quick and Anne Bright

Cover Design by Crystal Visions

Stock Photography from bigstockphoto.com

Interior Layout by Anita Quick

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or used without the written consent of the author, except for brief quotes in reviews.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. Such action is in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.

Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

First Edition November 1, 2017

Length 26,421 words

ASIN: B0762SFXM3

Long Branch Books

Shattuc, Illinois

Disclaimers

This book is a work of fiction.  While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The use of any real company, organization, and/or product names is for literary effect only.  All other trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners.

The acts portrayed in this fictional story are not meant to be tried by the reader.  Exploration of anything related to BDSM should be done after extensive personal research and only with qualified Dominants who have the knowledge and experience that are required for a safe play session, whether it is SSC (Safe, Sane, and Consensual) or RACK (Risk-Aware Consensual Kink).

Titles

by Nia Farrell

SOMETHING ELSE

(The Three Graces Book One)

SOMETHING DIFFERENT

(The Three Graces Book Two)

SOMETHING MORE

(The Three Graces Book Three)

THE THREE GRACES TRILOGY

(BOOKS 1-3)

SOMETHING SPECIAL

(The Three Graces Book Six—

sequel to SOMETHING ELSE)

DARK MOONS RISING

REPLAY BOOK 1: VIKING RAID

AS WICKED AS YOU WANT

(FOREVER OURS BOOK 1)

REPLAY BOOK 2: TRIPLE PLAY

REPLAY BOOK 3: HONOUR BOUND

REPLAY SET 1 (BOOKS 1-3)

REPLAY BOOK 4: HOOKED

REPLAY BOOK 5: NIGHT MUSIC

REPLAY BOOK 6: HIGHLAND FLING

KEEPER—THE AVENGING ANGELS MC INTRODUCTION

FIND HER: AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 1

WICKED LADY

REPLAY BOOK 7: WING MEN

REPLAY SET 2 (Books 4-6)

KEEPER: AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 2

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT:

A DADDY DOM AGEPLAY EROTIC ROMANCE

Titles

by Nia Farrell and Jane Austen

PRIDE AND PUNISHMENT

An Erotic Retelling of Jane Austen’s Beloved Classic

and by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn

RIDE THE WIND

TOUCH THE WIND

REAP THE WIND

DARE THE WIND

TOUCH THE WIND SET 1 (Books 1-3)

Audiobooks by Nia Farrell

SOMETHING SPECIAL

(THE THREE GRACES BOOK 6)

Narrated by La Petite Mort and Ruby Rivers

REPLAY BOOK 4: HOOKED

Narrated by La Petite Mort

KEEPER—THE AVENGING ANGELS MC INTRODUCTION

Narrated by La Petite Mort and Ruby River

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Replay Series Cast of Characters

Author Biography and Links

Previous Releases

Dedication

To the classic stars of the big screen who brought magic to life in glorious Technicolor when, at home, on a small screen, we viewed the world in shades of black and white.

~ Nia

Introduction

Welcome to Replay, the ocean-side BDSM theme resort where patrons play in the past.  The settings are museum-quality, the handcrafted garments look like originals brought forward in time, and the staff members are selected for their unique talents and abilities.  Each scene that they bring to life is drawn from a page in history, but no one has to suffer through it—

Unless that’s what they want.

Chapter One

Ashley Slade had only herself to blame.  She had ignored her gut instinct and listened instead to all the right people saying the same wrong things.

“This project has Oscar written all over it!”

“The movie’s sure to be a hit!”

“This is the break-out role you’ve been waiting for!”

“Don’t worry that we’ve changed some things.  We’re making it fresh and new and exciting.  It’s all good!”

For her ex, Cade Madden, maybe.  Thanks to his other movie just released, he seemed to be doing just fine.  As for her, she was nursing wounds that refused to heal.  She’d lost too many damn fights these past few months.  Cade hated her.  The media berated her. Only the crew in post-production seemed sympathetic to her cause.  Like her, they had wanted a finished product that they could be proud of.

Instead, A Royal Affair was a vainglorious piece of crap that had tanked at the box office.  If they were lucky, it might get nominations for cinematography, art direction, and costume design.  If she was very lucky, she’d land another role that would pay enough to let her keep the California home that she’d once shared with her lover, co-star, and co-producer Cade Madden.

Nearly all of her savings had gone into making the movie.  Virtually nothing was left to maintain the property that Cade had insisted she buy two years ago.  Theoretically, it was a good investment.  Property values had only escalated since then.  But Cade was gone.  While twenty-two rooms were barely enough to contain his ego, the sprawling mansion was far too big for her and her broken dreams.

Today seemed to be her day of playing “what if.”  What if they’d stuck to the original script?  What if they’d filmed everything in California?  The two weeks at Replay resort had taken a huge bite out of their budget…but then, the scenes shot there were the only ones getting positive attention.  The setting had been a perfect recreation of a palatial room at Versailles.  The period costumes were divine.  The music, even more so.

Had renting Replay been a mistake?

No, she decided.  All things considered, no.

Her time at Replay had been an enlightening experience.  She had come away from the ocean-side resort with much more than filmed footage.  If she hadn’t gone to Replay, she would never have watched the BDSM demonstrations.  She might never have identified what was missing from her vanilla relationship with Cade.  She wouldn’t have known that watching kink was such a turn on.

And she would have immediately shredded the letter that had come, outlining plans for Cinema Classics Weekend at the BDSM theme resort.

Ashley recalled the handwritten note from Piers St. Leger, encouraging her to come at a discounted rate.  Half of the usual fee was still a small fortune, but a trip to Replay was just what she needed after her bittersweet experience with A Royal Affair and her breakup with Cade.

She wanted it.

She deserved it.

But she couldn’t justify the expense.

Ashley consoled herself with a piping hot pizza delivered from her favorite restaurant, along with a chilled two-liter bottle of diet cola.  There was something about pizza that called for carbonated caffeine.  Her personal trainer would throw a fit, but screw it.  Tonight was all about pleasing herself.  Tomorrow, she would go back to pleasing others.

Ashley put the soundtrack from Fifty Shades of Grey on repeat, lit candles on the dining room table, and poured bubbling soda into her favorite wine glass, one of a 19th-century, gold-trimmed set that she’d picked up in Paris last year.  Taking one of her great-grandmother’s china plates from the cupboard and a dinner fork from the drawer, she went into the kitchen, added a single slice of pizza, and carried it to a table large enough to seat twenty.

Another night, she might have just eaten at her northeasterly breakfast nook, but the sunset sky over the sea was magnificent, and the dining room’s western wall of windows let her enjoy every moment of it.

She ate slowly, savoring each bite of a food that was typically forbidden to her.  She was proud of herself for stopping at one slice.  If she’d never left home, had never become Ashley Slade, she might have eaten three.  Maybe four.

Yes, it was that good.

And it would be again tomorrow.  There was nothing like cold pizza for breakfast, personal trainers be damned.

When the sun had disappeared and the last colors had bled from the sky, Ashley took her dishes to the kitchen, hand-washed them, and wiped them dry with a clean, soft, cheesecloth towel before returning them to the cupboard.

Pulling a chilled bottle of spring water from the refrigerator, she went back to work, reaching for the top script in her pile.  She expected another piece of fluff, which is what her agent tended to send her, but this—this was a meaty, gritty role far different than anything she’d done.  The writing was brilliant.  The script was based on a true story of a woman who’d been kidnapped and held prisoner for years before she escaped, enduring the unthinkable.  She could name ten actresses who would kill for this role, but not one of them would be doing the research that she could do if she returned to Replay resort.

Before, she’d stayed on the SSC—Safe, Sane, and Consensual—side of the resort.  For this role, she would need to go to the dark side, where the Risk Aware Consensual Kink took place.  Thank God, she hadn’t shredded Sir Piers’s letter.  She might not be able to justify a visit for personal pleasure, but she could write off expenses when a trip was for research.

Hot damn.  It looked like she would get to go to Replay after all.

Ashley looked at the clock.  It wasn’t too late to phone the resort, even after translating Pacific Time to Eastern.  Sir Piers was pleased to book her room for the weekend.  When they finished, he transferred her call to the wardrobe mistress Jewell Fraser.  Jewell took her measurements and gave her a number of costume ideas.  Ashley opted for 1930s glamour ala Greta Garbo.  Her naturally platinum hair was perfect for a Hollywood vamp, which was more her style anyway than a Valkyrie or vampire.

As soon as she ended the call, she went online and booked first class, nonstop, round-trip tickets, using her credit card with her legal name.  While the paparazzi preyed on Ashley, no one ever paid any attention to bespectacled, brown-wigged Leigh Ann Dixon.

At Replay, her disguise could come off.  She would be able to expose herself, to express herself.  She’d be free to explore BDSM with one or more of the resort’s Dominants and discover the secret hidden somewhere inside of her, just waiting to be found.

The truth of who she was.

What she was.

Ashley could not wait.

Chapter Two

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Slade.  Do come in and have a seat.”  Sir Piers, the towering British Dominant who owned Replay resort, motioned to one of the wing-backed chairs in front of his desk and took his place behind it.  “I trust that you had a pleasant flight?”

Keeping hold of the folder in her right hand, Ashley set her purse against the back of the chair and sat in front of it—something that she’d learned when she visited England.  Ladies do not use the entire seat.  Not even the Queen.

“Yes,” she answered.  “Thank you.  We had some mild turbulence, but nothing too severe.  I’m glad that everything here is as I remember.  I wondered how you fared during Hurricane Irma.”

“Minor damage,” he hummed.  “Our architect sees that our buildings more than meet the required codes.  We must still rebuild the metal hanger on the World War I airfield, but we have until April to do it.  Other needs are more pressing, with the first gladiator tournament scheduled and the villa and arena not quite completed.  If you are interested, I would be happy to provide you with details.”

She gracefully declined.  “Thank you, but no—at least not at this time.  Sadly, work consumes far too many hours.  I brought the paperwork that you require.  Here are my medical clearance and test results.”  She handed the folder to him.  “Sir Josef was kind enough to Skype his interview with me.  I assume that he’s already given you his report?”

Sir Piers’s mouth tipped in a smile.  “Indeed.”  Opening the plain brown folder, he scanned the pages and nodded his head.  “Good.  Good.  Sir Josef and I have discussed the research that you hope to do on the RACK side of the resort.  We are assigning a Dominant to you who will answer any questions you might have on anything that you observe.  He shall also be your guide, should you wish to experience anything first hand.  I have asked him here to meet you.”

Sir Piers pressed the intercom button on his phone.  “Kitten?  Send in Master Sorin.”

Unsure as to protocol, Ashley rose from her chair, turned toward the door, and watched it open to reveal the man who would be her Dom for the weekend.  Master Sorin was tall, at least six three or six four, with thick black hair, black eyes, an angled jaw, and Slavic cheekbones that gave him the look of a gypsy prince.  He was built like a tennis player, with wide shoulders, a trim waist, and muscled thighs that challenged the fit of his black dress pants.  The sleeves of his white button-down shirt were casually rolled up to reveal sculpted, hair-dusted forearms.

The man’s aura was pure animal magnetism.  His dark gaze was penetrating.  Hypnotic.  He moved with the lethal grace of a jungle cat when he crossed the floor to where she stood, transfixed.

“Miss Slade, may I present Master Sorin?  Master Sorin, this is Miss Ashley Slade, the actress we discussed.”

He swept her with an assessing gaze and crooked his lips into the barest hint of a smile.  “Miss Slade.”

His rich baritone voice resonated in her core.  The man could make a fortune doing voiceovers.  His accent alone was perfect to inspire fantasies.  It sure as hell made her mouth dry and her panties wet.

“Sir,” she managed.

He arched a brow and leveled the full force of his gaze upon her.

“Master,” she croaked, in desperate need of a drink.

Those dark eyes flashed.  Reaching for her throat, he wrapped his hand around it and squeezed slightly.  This close, he smelled of exotic spices and manly musk.  There was no hiding her very physical reaction when her breath hitched and her pulse raced beneath his fingers.

He hummed his pleasure and leaned to whisper in her ear.  “I hope that you are ready for this, dragă.  I will be very disappointed if you are not.”

The dark, unspoken promise in his voice made her tremble and her knees grow weak.  She’d isolated herself after her breakup with Cade.  She wasn’t about to go rushing into another relationship so soon.  Instead, she’d been making do with her drawer of toys and taking care of her needs—at least the orgasm part of things.  She’d read that women need a hug a day and three orgasms a week.  The hugs were missing, but she was making up for it with three orgasms a day.  Her silver bullet was in her purse now, just waiting for some alone time.

Keeping his black gaze locked on hers, Master Sorin spoke to Sir Piers.  “Has she completed the list of hard and soft limits?”

“No.  I sent it in advance for her to research, but I wished the two of you to meet first before completing it.  With your permission, I will have her do so now.”

Master Sorin loosened his grip and gently massaged her neck.  “Answer the questions, honestly and to the best of your ability.  If you do not understand something, no matter how small, ask me to explain or you will earn yourself a punishment.  Do you understand?”

His touch and his voice were gentle but firm.  She’d be a fool to deliberately disobey him.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good girl.  Now, sit.”

Sir Piers handed him the papers.  Master Sorin gave them to her with an antique gold-tipped fountain pen, then sat in the chair beside hers.

He watched her work her way through a list that covered everything from simple spankings to exotic things like vampire gloves, violet wands, and increasingly dark play.  She was okay with some of it.  Some of it, not.  The things that made her shudder, she marked as hard limits.

She finished the list, looked it over again, and presented it to her Master.  He read.  Nodded.  At one point, his brow furrowed and he sliced a glance at her.  “Sir Piers might not have told you, but I usually portray a vampire.  I would like you to consider letting me use vampire gloves.  They are,” he said, choosing his words with care, “quite intense.  With the right pressure, they can even draw blood.  I will understand if you choose to not use them.  For some people, the gloves can be too much.  The teeth are far more fun.”

She dropped her gaze to his mouth and imagined those perfect lips of his, fastened on her neck.  She could almost feel the twin points of pain, blooming where he’d bit her, and his mouth, sealing them together when he drank the blood that he’d drawn, while his hands claimed her breasts and his cock owned her pussy.

“Okay.  Yes,” she breathed, clamping her legs together and telling what was between them to behave.  “For you.  Yes.”

He handed the list back to her.  Ashley made it a soft limit, willing to try with persuasion, and handed it back to him with the pen.

Master Sorin finished looking through the list, signed it, then gave the document to Sir Piers, who scanned it briefly and signed as their witness.

“Mistress Jewell is waiting for you in wardrobe,” Sir Piers told her.  “Samael can show you the way.”

“That won’t be necessary.”  Master Sorin stood, towering above her.  “I can escort Miss Slade down.  Come, dragă.  Follow me.  Mistress Jewell will not wish to be kept waiting.”

It was clear that he expected obedience, even in this.  He helped her from her chair, turned on his heel, and headed for the door.  Grabbing her purse, Ashley hurried to catch up, almost sprinting to match his much longer stride.  She could have asked him to slow down or shorten his step, but if this was a test, she refused to fail it.

Thanks to her personal trainer, she was barely winded when Master Sorin rapped on the door and announced their arrival.

“Mistress Jewell, I have Miss Ashley Slade to see you.”

“Come in, Master Sorin.  Miss Slade.”

The last time Ashley was here, her costumes came with A Royal Affair’s production crew.  The extras had supplied their own—mostly thanks to Jewell Fraser, who headed the wardrobe department at the resort.  Ashley had glimpsed her from a distance and had spoken to her on the phone.  Meeting her for the first time, she was more than a little intimidated by the Amazon Domme.

Jewell was tall, with purple and teal spiked hair and a no-nonsense attitude.  Peering past the top of her reading glasses, she gave Ashley a quick once-over and nodded her head.  “Your measurements are good,” she said.

From the note of relief in her voice, Ashley guessed that wasn’t always the case.

Jewell glanced at Master Sorin.  Something unfathomable passed between them before she spoke again.  “The theme this weekend is Cinema Classics—from the 1930s, to be precise.  The Golden Age of the Silver Screen.  I have day dresses, evening gowns, and play attire for you, but I need you to try everything on for a final fitting.  Put your purse on the counter and strip.”

Master Sorin stayed exactly where he was, watching her with an enigmatic expression on his face.  But then, why would he react to the sight of another nude body when he probably saw dozens of them over the course of a weekend?  She was just one of many.

Suppressing a sigh, she slipped out of her shoes and stripped off her clothes, laying each piece over the back of the nearest chair.  By the time she was finished, she wore only body jewelry—earrings in each ear and the pretty piece adorning her belly button.

“We have two main events tonight,” Jewell told her, pulling the first garment off the rack and handing it to her.  Here on the SSC side, things kick off at 7 PM with a big band in the Nightclub Room and a pair of dancers who do Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.  The theme is The Gay Divorcee, 1934.  Two hours later, at 9 PM, they’re revisiting the French Terror on the RACK side of the resort with Les Misérables, 1935.  You’ll have outfits for both.”

Ashley slipped into the satin evening dress, a soft golden beige that complimented her coloring and fit like a dream, sleek and simple.

Her outfit for the French Terror was anything but.  There were layers of underpinnings.  Chemise, corset, corset cover, petticoats, panniers, then the gown itself that she had to be helped into.  She had avoided looking at Master Sorin, but once she was pinned and laced up, he circled her voluminous skirts, taking in everything with a critical eye.

“Will these do, Master?” she asked when he remained silent.

“Yes,” he said smoothly.  “But then, I expect nothing less than perfection from Mistress Jewell.  Tell me, have you checked into your room?”

“No, not yet.  My flight was delayed, and there wasn’t time before my appointment with Sir Piers.”

Master Sorin nodded.  “We shall see to that next, after you are done here.”

Saturday’s theme on the SSC side was pet play inspired by Bringing Up Baby, a comedy from 1938 starring Cary Grant and Kathryn Hepburn.  Jewell actually had two outfits prepared—one vanilla, one kinky, with Siamese kitten ears, a jeweled collar, an anal plug with a Siamese cat’s tail, and nothing else.  Except for the collar, she’d be naked.

Cade would have a cow.

But Cade isn’t here, she reminded herself.  This time, it’s what I want.  What I need.  How can I know what I like if I never try it?”

That was her reason for marking herself as willing to experience—with persuasion—so many of the kinks that were listed.  Master Sorin had seen her list of hard and soft limits.  He knew that she was here to explore, to watch, to experience and learn.

Saturday’s theme on the RACK side of the resort was inspired by Vampyr, a German film from 1932.  Her costume was a delicate, sleeveless nightgown, cut so that her neck and the tops of her breasts were exposed.  From the appreciative gleam in Master Sorin’s eyes, she wondered if she should even bother with the matching robe and slippers.

On Sunday, the SSC side would finish the weekend with a twist on The Rules of the Game or La Règle du Jeu, a French movie from 1939 directed by Jean Renoir.  There would be masters and servants, husbands and wives, pairings and partner swapping.  Jewell had outfitted Ashley with a kinky French maid’s costume that exposed her breasts and left her bottom bare, framed by a pair of garter straps that held up her thigh-high hose.

The RACK side would have interrogations in police, gangster, and military settings.  Ashley’s 1930s day dress would allow her to slip into any or all of the scenes, should she choose to do more than just watch.  But the role that she wanted portrayed a woman who’d been used and abused.  The scenes on Sunday were likely the closest that any would get to the grim reality of the story.

Ashley took off the day dress and put her own clothes back on.

“I’ll need you here at 5:30 for hair and wardrobe.  When you come back to change for the French Terror, we’ll need to add 18th-century curls or a powdered wig, which is more appropriate, since you’re dressed as nobility.”

“I’m sure it is, but I think I’d rather forego the wig.  That extra weight could trigger spasms in my back, from the accident,” she explained, in case Mistress Jewell had forgotten yesterday’s news. 

It had happened on a set, after they insisted that she could do the simplest stunts.  One failed piece of equipment, and she was off to the hospital.  The result was endless days of suffering, two surgeries, and one stint in rehab for her addiction to prescription painkillers.  Now she used biofeedback, relaxation and breathing techniques.  If she was lucky, she could quiet it down and not go into a full-blown episode.  But even then, she could sometimes still dull the edges.  Physical therapies helped, too.

“I suspect that I’ll be booking more than one massage this weekend.  Sir Piers also gave me the name and number for the local Chinese herbalist who does acupuncture.  For me, the effects last twice as long as a session of ultrasound used to, before they put a plate in my back.”

She turned to Master Sorin.  “I’m sorry, but I’ll probably require special consideration when I join in the play.  I’ll understand if you prefer to not handle me.”

Wonder of all wonders, he actually smiled.  “But of course, I will handle you.  Sir Piers paired us because I am the most qualified Dominant here to do so.  At Replay, we are Master and submissive, but in the outside world, I would be Dr. Moldovan, at your service.”

Chapter Three

He was a doctor?

Ashley picked her jaw up from the floor where it had dropped and stared at Master Sorin.

He nodded. “Come, dragă.  Mistress Jewell has others waiting.  We can talk in your room.”

It was hard, but Ashley held her questions until they were in her suite, a tasteful blend of contemporary furnishings and kink.

Master Sorin stepped past the luggage that had been delivered and guided her to the large leather davenport in the living room area.  “You, of all people, should understand the need for discretion, given my profession.  I left private practice to teach, but I still maintain my medical license.  Should the university discover my alter ego, I fear that things would not end well.  Thus, I keep my two lives separate.  Here, I am Master Sorin.  During the week, I am simply Dr. Moldovan.  Sebastian Moldovan,” he added, sharing his secret with her.

“Hi.”  Ashley spoke softly, keeping her voice almost a whisper.  “I’m Leigh Ann Dixon.”

She bit her lip and studied him.  He was so young, to be a doctor and to teach…?  “How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

He crooked a grin, obviously was used to the question.  “I am thirty-three.  But I graduated very, very young.  I was advanced for my age.  Like your Doogie Houser, yes?  I wanted to make a difference, and I did, where I could.  But one day, the emergency room received victims of an apartment fire.  Many of them were small children.  We managed to save a few, but I realized then my limitations.  I did well with scheduled surgeries, but unscheduled things—accidents, fires, domestic violence, beatings—especially if it was a child….”

He went quiet for a moment, haunted by ghosts of a traumatic past.  “By teaching, I can use my skills and knowledge to train others who are better equipped to handle cases that I should not.  Strangely, learning my limitations also led me to the lifestyle.  As a Dominant, I accept the control that the submissive willingly surrenders.  When we begin a play session, I enter with an awareness of your needs and limitations.  I have the knowledge and experience required to push your limits and keep you safe.  Your medical history limits you to watching some kinks, rather than learning of them first hand, but you like to watch, do you not?”

Ashley swallowed hard and nodded.  “Yes,” she admitted, feeling a faint blush warm her cheeks.  “The last time I was here, they had demonstrations—kinbaku, wax play, flogging.  I’d never seen anything like it.  As much as I liked watching, I hoped to experience it, but I haven’t been with anyone who’s in the lifestyle.”

“Until now,” he corrected.  He swung his gaze from her to the St. Andrew’s cross in the corner.  “Your room has everything we need to get started.  We have two hours before we report to wardrobe.”  When he turned back to face her, his eyes were alive with possibilities.  “Tell me, dragă, would you rather rest, or would you like to be bound to the St. Andrew’s cross and feel the kiss of the flogger on your back?”

The rumbling baritone of his voice resonated in her core, heightening her senses and igniting a flame that threatened to consume her.

“The cross, please, Master Sorin,” she whispered.

Black lightning flashed in his eyes.  “Good girl.  But before we advance to a flogging, let us begin with some basics.  Disrobe and kneel for me, dragă.  Here is a pillow for you to use.”  Plucking one from a nearby chair, he placed it on the floor and continued to speak while she took off her clothes.  “In your suite, until instructed otherwise, you may ask questions, and you will speak when I ask you something.  I want no guesswork between us.  Outside of here, if you have a question, you will touch my arm, or place your hand upon my thigh if you are sitting at my feet.  I will allow you to speak when I deem it appropriate.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Sorin.”  Ashley folded her oversized knit tunic and laid it on top of her leggings.  Taking a deep breath, she shrugged the straps of her bra off of both shoulders, undid the clasp, and added it to the pile.  Her matching panties were next.  Nude, she folded her body and knelt on the pillow as instructed, sitting on her heels with her knees apart and her hands palm-up on her thighs.

Master Sorin hummed his approval.  “Nicely done, pet.  You will remain here while I prepare for our session.  Close your eyes.  Quiet your mind.  Focus on your breath.  I need you to relax.  You will want to keep your muscles loose for impact play.”

Ashley closed her eyes and began a breathing exercise.  She tried to quiet her mind but found herself too distracted, listening to him.  He opened the entertainment center and started taking things out of it.  There was no telltale metal clink of handcuffs, so probably rope or leather restraints, the flogger, and heaven only knew what else.

Quiet.  She scolded herself and turned her attention inward, focusing on her breath.  She didn’t know how much time passed, but it was enough that her knees were beginning to protest.

Eventually, Master Sorin came to stand before her.  Putting his hand on her head, he petted her hair for a long moment, communicating by touch, offering comfort and reassurance, while letting her feel his pleasure with her obedience.

She sighed, exhaling a deep, cleansing breath.

“That is what I was waiting to hear,” he murmured.  “Now you are ready.  Rise, and follow me.”

Helping her up, he led her to the St. Andrew’s cross in the corner.  A small table nearby held four leather cuffs, a flogger, lubricant, two sizes of anal plugs, and condoms.

Just thinking about the possibility of his possession made her soaking wet.

He fastened the cuffs on her wrists and ankles and had her stand, facing the cross.  When he ordered her to spread her legs so that he could secure them, there was no hiding the scent of her arousal.

He drew his fingers up her leg as he rose, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in his wake.  He palmed her ass and slid his hand up her spine, past the scar on her low back to the base of her neck.  Tracing the line of her shoulders and arms, he grasped her wrists, put them where he wanted them, and fastened them to the cross, too. 

Master Sorin gathered her hair.  “Before we begin, I need your safewords,” he asked while he worked.  Twisting the length of her hair into a rope, he brought it to her front and tucked it between her breasts to help keep it there.  “One to slow the play, another to stop it.  What are your safewords, dragă?”

“I don’t know,” she said, feeling slightly panicked.  She should have chosen them before coming.  Now it was too late to be creative or clever.  “I can’t think of any.”

“Then let’s make it simple.  Yellow to slow, red to stop.  Just like driving.”

“Okay,” she breathed, glad that he wasn’t going to make her come up with something more exotic.  Her mind was too full of other things, like lube, anal plugs, condoms, and the hot, hard, and very sizeable erection that she felt pressed against her.

“Stay here.  I’ll be right back.”

Master Sorin went into her bedroom’s en-suite and returned with wet washcloths and towels.  “Now, we can begin.  Have you ever worn a plug?” he asked.

“No.”

“Have you had anal sex?”

“Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

She’d only done it with Cade, and he had to be persuaded to go there.  “It was okay.”

He grunted.  “We’ll start with the plug for now.  I’m going to check you.  I need to see how tight you are and what size plug you can handle.”

Lubricating his finger, he circled the ruched ring of her ass and pressed against it, gentle but insistent, until half of his finger was inside her.

“Give me a word,” he rumbled, testing her opening, judging how much he could give her, seeing how much more she could take.

“Green.  I’m good, Master Sorin.”

He pushed in deeper, penetrating her with one lubed finger, then two.  Stopping there, he oiled the larger anal plug and inserted it into her rectum.  “Color?” he asked, tapping on the plug.

“Lime,” she wheezed.  “Just…give me a minute, please, Master?  I need to relax my muscles, and the plug isn’t helping.”

Wiping his fingers clean on one of the washcloths, he started massaging the tension from her with those gifted hands of his.  Hands that helped.  Hands that healed.  Hands that had held countless lives in the balance and done their best to bring them through to the other side.

She wondered, when he’d lost a battle, had he cried?

“That’s it, dragă.  Relax.  Let go.  Trust me to take care of you.  Trust me to give you what you need.”

Ashley exhaled a deep, cleansing breath and put herself fully into Master Sorin’s hands.

“And now, the flogger, for your pleasure and mine.  Keep your muscles relaxed and welcome it.  Here we go.”

He stepped back.  Immediately, her body missed his warmth, and she shivered.

“Breathe, dragă,” he reminded her.

Ashley drew in a deep breath, held it, and exhaled, feeling some of her tension leave with it.  She remembered to inhale when the first blow fell, the soft leather falls striking her upper back.  He swung it again, aiming for the other side this time, checking his strength and easing her into it.  Gradually, his blows got harder, and closer together, until he was raining them down on her back, her hips, her thighs.  One carefully placed swing caught the anal plug.

Ashley moaned her pleasure.

Master Sorin dropped the flogger.  Behind her, she heard the crinkle of a foil packet, the jangle of a belt buckle, the snick of a zipper, then his breath, hot and harsh against her neck.  “One word stops it,” he reminded her, as if she could.  Months of sleeping alone had her primed and ready for him.

“Please.  Oh, please,” she begged him.  “Fuck me….”

Chapter Four

He hadn’t meant for things to go this far, this fast.

Sebastian shoved aside the thought.  Ashley wanted this.  Wanted him.  Sooner or later, what did it matter?

Wetting himself on her juices, he notched his glans in her opening and pushed inside, not stopping until he had worked most of his length into her tight, wet hole.

He smiled to feel it.  Not every woman could handle nine inches.

He hadn’t been worried.  If he couldn’t bury himself in her sex, there was always her ass.  She’d taken his fingers and the plug beautifully.  But he planned to save anal for later.  They had all weekend.  There were so many things he wanted to show her.  So many kinks that he’d like her to try.

Grasping her hips in a bruising grip, he began to pound into her, setting off a series of orgasms that made her pussy gush, until her juices were running down her legs.  Keeping one hand on her hip, he wrapped his fingers around her shoulder and snapped his pelvis, driving into her and hitting her G-spot.  She came, hard, drenching them both with her juices.

“Yessss,” he grated.  Continuing to fuck her, he brought her up to her next orgasm and kept her there, hovering on the precipice, until she was begging for release and he was ready to join her.  He bit the base of her neck, twisted her nipple, and heaved inside, ripping a climax from her.  He came, filling the end of his condom while her deliciously snug walls spasmed around him, milking his length.

She was perfect.

Before they’d met, he’d had his doubts.  When he had expressed them to Sir Piers, Replay’s Master Dom had assured him that he would find Ashley Slade a pleasant surprise.

Sir Piers was right, as always.  She was intelligent, curious, and very, very guarded.  She had old scars and fresher wounds that were far from healed.  She was fractured—but not broken.  A recovering addict with a back injury that would never go away, limiting her on what they could do.

He’d never had a fragile submissive.  The women he usually paired with on the RACK side of the resort could handle anything that he gave them and more.  Given her medical history, it was possible that Ashley could not support the weight of his body when he finally took her to bed.

He kissed the place where his teeth had marked her and licked the petal softness of her skin.  Still impaled on his cock, she moaned and pressed back, grinding against him.

“Give me a color, dragă.”

“Green, Master Sorin.  Better than green.  That was amazing.”

Indeed, it was.

A glance at the clock told him what he already knew.  There was no time for a bath.  A quick shower, dress, then they’d head back to wardrobe.

Pulling free, he took care of his condom in the en-suite.  He returned with a fresh, warm washcloth for Ashley, wiping the sweat from her back and cleaning her juices from her thighs.  He removed the anal plug before washing between her legs.  Tossing the used cloth aside, he unfastened her ankles and wrists, checking the color and circulation of each one.

Done, he took hold of her shoulders and turned her towards him.  “Shower,” he said, brushing his lips against her temple.  “Then dress.  If we don’t do anything else, we should make it to wardrobe with a few minutes to spare.”

Ashley rolled her shoulders and sighed.  “Too bad,” she said, her voice still husky with arousal.  “I love shower sex.  And bathtub sex.  Hot tub, swimming pool, ocean—just mention water, and I get wet.  Better Pavlov’s dog than Schrödinger’s cat, I suppose.”

Sebastian smiled.  If he wasn’t aware of her intelligence before, her casual use of scientific references would have clued him in.

Ashley Slade just became even more interesting.

Damn it.

He wasn’t looking for a permanent sub, and there was no way in hell that he could maintain anonymity with someone like her.  He had agreed to be her Dominant, knowing that this weekend was all that they could ever have.

“Shower only,” he growled.  “Tease me or try for more, and you’ll earn yourself a caning.”

“Yes, Master.”  She said the right words, but he glimpsed the brat in her eyes, itching to disobey.  He’d see how well she controlled her impulses.

Returning to the en-suite, this time with Ashley in tow, Sebastian turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature, and ordered her to wash while he started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Master Sorin, Mistress Jewell will want my hair ready to style.  I need to put it up to keep it dry,” she said, biting that luscious lower lip of hers.  “May I get a hairband, please, Master?”

He nodded, seeing the logic of it.  There was no sense making extra work for the wardrobe staff if they could avoid it, and he preferred to keep on Jewell’s good side.

“Go,” he said, “but be quick.”

Sebastian took off his pants and laid them with his shirt on the foot of her bed.  It only took Ashley a minute to find her toiletry case and bring it into her bedroom.  He was just stepping out of his boxer briefs when she paused in the doorway, the light of appreciation in her eyes for what she saw.

He was certain that it mirrored his own.

She had a beautiful body, toned and fit, a few pounds under what he’d prefer to see on her, but stunning nonetheless.  He was glad to see that she protected that fair skin of hers, avoiding tanning beds and overexposure to the sun.  Her nearly waist-length hair was naturally blonde.  The neatly-trimmed triangle of crisp curls below her pierced navel was mere shades darker.

Her nipples surprised him.  Rather than being a pale rose or pink, they were a shade of brown that would fit perfectly with her Siamese cat fetishwear, if she decided to join in the pet play.

Seeing his body’s reaction to her, Ashley shook herself and hurried into the en-suite, setting her small zippered case on the marble counter and finding the covered elastic band that she needed.  In a move worthy of Brock O’Hurn, she put her hair in a knot at the top of her head and stepped into the shower.

Sebastian was right behind her.

Despite his burgeoning erection, he had told her no sex, and he meant it.  Still, it was an ego stroke when one of Hollywood’s hottest young actresses couldn’t take her eyes off his body.

As tempted as he was to wash her, he kept his hands to himself, lathering up and rinsing off in near-record time.  Seeing that he was all business, Ashley did the same, hugging the marble-tiled wall and keeping clear of the rain showerheads.  When she was ready to rinse off, she stepped in front of a set of body jets and sluiced herself clean.

He turned off the water when she was done.  Reaching through the shower door, he nabbed two towels and handed her one.  They both dried with brisk efficiency.

Gathering his clothes, Sebastian took them into the living room where Ashley had shed hers.  He dressed while he watched her do the same.

A quick look at the clock confirmed that they were on track for time.  “As soon as you are ready, we need to leave,” he said.  It wouldn’t take long for him to get in character, but she had hair and makeup to do, too.

“Yes, Master Sorin.  May I use the restroom before we head down?”  She bit her lip and blushed becomingly.

Some Doms would have insisted on watching, but she had behaved herself in the shower and done everything that he had asked.  Feeling generous, he answered, “You may.  Be quick.”

“Yes, Sir.”

She returned shortly, looking grateful that he had allowed her privacy.  “Ready,” she said, the remnants of her blush still pinking her cheeks.

He found it rather charming.  On screen, she did her own nude shots and sex scenes rather than use a body double.  She had portrayed intimate acts in front of cameras and crews, with a number of male co-stars.  The world had watched her all but make love, and yet she could still blush like an ingénue.

Upon reaching the wardrobe department, they went their separate ways.  Mistress Jewell had dressed him in 1930s black tie fashion.  After donning his boxers, socks, and garters, he put on a white, high-wing collared shirt, closed the front, and fastened the four buttons on each cuff.  His trousers came next.  In 1930s fashion, the full-cut black pants matched the peaked-lapel, one-button tuxedo that he wore over a white, single-breasted evening waistcoat.  Black patent-leather Oxfords and a black bow tie completed his ensemble.

Ashley took longer to get ready, but the results were well worth the wait.  She was stunning.  Her hair was swept back and caught up in a loose French roll.  A floor-length satin gown hugged her curves.  When she walked toward him, he caught glimpses of pointed-toe high heels with crossing ankle straps.  Their light bronze color was a close match to her dress.

“Beautiful,” he said, thinking that, although she must know it, she would surely like to hear it.  “The music won’t begin for another thirty minutes.  Dinner will be served once it starts.  We should finish well ahead of the main floor show.  I want you to eat what you can.  You’ll need it for the night ahead.  One last thing.”

Sebastian pulled a long, flat jeweler’s box from his pocket and removed the lid, revealing a silver chain with a lock that fastened in front.  “Although we’ve never had a problem with unattached Doms hitting on unwilling subs, I want you to wear this.  It will let patrons know at a glance that you are under someone’s protection.”

Mine.

She looked up to meet his gaze.  Her eyes were wide with surprise, and pleasure.  “Of course.  Would you mind…?”

He was already pulling the BDSM piece free of the box.  Undoing the clasp, he draped it around her and fastened it in the front.  The chain was sized so that the lock nestled in the hollow of her throat.

Stepping back, he eyed her with a connoisseur’s appreciation and felt his body stir.  Patience, he told himself.  This evening was just a prelude, a series of scenes that he hoped would draw her more deeply to him and inspire the trust required for what he had planned.

Tonight, he would have her body.

Tomorrow, he wanted her blood.

Chapter Five

The two of them were seated at a private table on the far side of the Nightclub Room.  Sir Piers, his wife, and six others shared a larger table close to the stage, where a swing band had been playing for nearly an hour.  Soon, the floor show would begin. 

Ashley looked over the rim of her water goblet and met Master Sorin’s gaze.  The man was so intense.  When he focused his attention on her, she could feel the pulse of sexual energy linking them, drawing them together like a magnet.

It was all she could do to sit still.

Thank God, he hadn’t made her wear the anal plug.  Her seat would be soaked for sure.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said. “Tell me about Leigh Ann Dixon.”

Master Sorin had been relatively quiet while they ate their steak and lobster dinners.  If he wanted her life’s story, she would need to do thumbnail sketches to finish before the dancing started.

“I was a typical middle child,” she told him, keeping her voice just loud enough to be heard above the music.  “Needy.  Always looking for attention.  For affirmation.  For praise.  I was daddy’s girl and loved hanging out with him.  I was a tomboy, which appalled my mother.  She wanted me to act like every other girl my age and thought community theatre would be good for me.  From the first time I stepped on stage, I was hooked.  One of the local boys was making his name on Broadway.  He saw me perform when he came home for a visit, gave my parents his agent’s number, and told them to drop his name.  A month later, I did my first commercial.  Within two months, I was cast in an indie film about a veteran who loses his fight with PTSD and commits suicide.  I played the twelve-year-old daughter he left behind.”

Master Sorin nodded.  “I’ve heard of it but, I confess, I have yet to watch it.”

Ashley smiled softly, remembering her first supporting role.  “It’s one of those little indie gems.  I was nominated for a Golden Globe.  Maybe if I’d made the Oscars….”

Another career goal that she had yet to achieve.  She sighed.

“I got bit parts here and there, but it was hard, not living in LA.  My mom and dad talked it over, and it was agreed that Mom, my little sister, and I should move to California, along with whoever else wanted to come.  My dad stayed where I grew up, near Kansas City.  My younger brother stayed, too.  My older brother was in college by then, so it was the three of us, trying to make a go of things.  It was rough.  Dad sent a monthly allowance, more when he was able.  Even with my mom working two jobs, we pretty much lived on peanut butter sandwiches and Ramen noodles.  I helped where I could, waitressing, babysitting, walking people’s dogs.  It was sheer luck that a producer saw me scolding the neighbor’s Airedale when we were headed for the park and all he wanted was a hot dog from a cart.  They’d been looking to cast a role.  She thought that I’d be perfect for the fifteen-year-old delusional stalker of pop star Hunter Cameron.  I went in, did a cold read with Hunter—complete with tears—and got the part.  I’ve been working in the industry ever since.”

“You filmed here.”

“Yes,” she said, shifting in her seat.  The failure of A Royal Affair and her subsequent breakup with Cade were still sore spots with her.  “We rented the resort and filmed in the Versailles Room.  At the end of the shoot, I watched the BDSM demonstrations and found myself wanting to learn more.”

“You shall,” he rumbled, eyeing her intently.  “The weekend has only begun.  What happens here, when the dance is done, is nothing compared to what you’ll see on the RACK side of the resort.  I look forward to being your guide.”

“Thank you, Master Sorin.  I’ll try my best to act the part of your submissive.  I would hate to be an embarrassment to you.”

His perfect, chiseled lips crooked in a deviant’s smile.  “Any action that reflects badly on me merely gives me a reason to punish you, dragă.  I warn you, I should like that very much.”

“Dragă,” she repeated.  “You’ve called me that a number of times now.  What does it mean?”

Master Sorin cradled his goblet of wine in his hand.  Having allowed himself only one, he was making it last.  “It is Romanian for dear, or sweetheart.  My dear would be dragă mea.  My mother was Romanian.  She was a talented gymnast when she was younger.  She would likely have been an Olympian if an injury hadn’t cut short her career.  My father was considered wealthy, a Lithuanian businessman with a vested interest in sports.  He had seen my mother perform.  When he heard that she was hurt, he made certain that she had the very best surgeons.  My father was older, but they fell in love, married, and had three sons before he died.  A brain aneurysm,” he said.  “He was working late, as was his wont, and never came home.  They found him sitting at his desk.  My oldest brother took over the company.  My younger brother stayed to help.  It was my mother’s situation, though, that got me interested in medicine, the idea that someone had the skills to help her heal.  I hoped that I could one day do the same and became a doctor.”

“A very young doctor,” she said.  “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

He lowered his gaze to her mouth.  His dark eyes flashed.  “Don’t,” he said.  “Think about wrapping those lips around my cock instead.  Think about me fucking your face.  Think about me taking every orifice before the weekend is through.”

Her mouth.  Her pussy.  Her ass.

The dark promise in his voice made her tremble with need.

Fortunately, the server came to bus their table, and the floor show began.  A pair of first-person impersonators danced as Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers in a thirty-minute performance that was spellbinding.  When they had finished, the patrons and staff who’d attended were free to put on their own show.  Submissives started shedding clothes and serving their Dominants’ needs.  Master Sorin let her watch for a while before deciding that it was his turn.

“Kneel, dragă.  Take me out and suck me dry.”

Ashley had never had public sex.  Fake sex, yes.  She’d gone through the motions in front of cameras, directors, and crews.  But this…?

She swallowed hard.

Master Sorin pinned her with his gaze.  “Is there a problem? Do you wish to be punished?”

“No, Master Sorin,” she croaked.

“Delay only makes it worse.  Do it,” he said sternly.  “Now!”

Master Sorin repositioned his chair with his left side to the table and his back against the wall.  She appreciated that he would make this easier for her.  This way, she would see only him and not have to face the crowd.

Ashley rose and knelt before him.

Focusing on her Master, she unfastened his slacks and freed his erection.  Taking him in hand, she lapped the precum that was pooled on the tip, then swirled her tongue around his velvety crown.  Breath hissed between his teeth when she teased the sensitive point underneath it.

Emboldened by his response, she wrapped her lips around his shaft and went down on that meaty nine-inch length of his, taking in as much as she could, teasing him with her tongue and hollowing her cheeks as she sucked him.  Adjusting her angle let her take even more of him in.  Finally, she worked her way to what she wanted.  Being deep in her throat made him groan with pleasure.

Up to that point, he had given her freedom and let her work.  Now he grasped the sides of her head, held her in place, and started fucking her face.  He didn’t stop until he had emptied himself inside her mouth.

Somehow, she managed to swallow it all.

When she had sucked him dry, she released him with an audible pop, kissed his crown, and sat back on her heels.

Master Sorin leaned forward.  Hooking a finger under her chin, he tilted up her face.

Seeing the satisfaction on his, she smiled softly. 

He framed her face in his hands.  Bending down his dark head, he pressed his forehead to hers.

“How is your back, dragă?” he asked.

“Complaining,” she answered honestly.  If only she weren’t allergic to Naproxen, she could have hours more of relief.  “I took ibuprofen after our shower, but it’s pretty much worn off.  The bottle is in my locker in wardrobe.  I had planned to take some more when we change for the French Terror.”

“Make certain that you do,” he rumbled.  “Otherwise, you will earn another punishment.”

The dark promise in his voice made her shiver.  He wasn’t going to forget how she had balked at giving him head.  At some point, he would demand an accounting, and she would pay in pounds of flesh.

“I’ll remember, Master Sorin.”

“Good.”  He tucked himself back in his boxers and refastened his pants.  “Now, come.  Sit on my lap and watch the play.”

Ashley accepted his help up and settled herself on one of Master Sorin’s muscled thighs, with her legs between his wide-spread feet and her back protesting the position.  While she took in the play going on in different parts of the room, the doctor began massaging her muscles, deftly working out some of the soreness with his practiced hand.

Acutely aware of her growing arousal, she watched couples, threesomes, foursomes and moresomes engaged in kink, sex, or kinky sex.  Some of the Dominants were simply conversing, with their subs kneeling at their feet or seated on their laps.  A St. Andrew’s cross had been added to one wall, and a spanking bench had been brought in.  The two of them were rarely empty.

Seeing what went on here made her wonder about the RACK side of the resort and the punishment that awaited her.  The longer they stayed, the more nervous she became.  Attuned to her, Master Sorin wrapped his fingers around her throat and pressed enough to feel her pulse.

“What’s your color?” he murmured.

“What’s the opposite of yellow?  Purple?” she whispered.  “I’m sorry.  I’m anxious.  I’m having a hard time sitting still, thinking about what’s coming.”

“It sounds like someone needs some knee time.  On the floor, dragă.  Get as comfortable as you can.  Kneel by my leg and rest your head against it.  You will stay there until you have emptied your mind.”

Shit.  The longer it took, the later they would get to the French Terror.  Determined to make it sooner rather than later, Ashley slid off his lap, took her place by his feet, and leaned against his leg.  Resting her head on his knee, she tried her best to ignore the sounds around her and empty her mind.

Master Sorin put his hand lightly on her head and kept it there.  His comforting touch helped.  After months of being alone, it felt wonderful to have his strength to lean on.  She’d been attracted to him from the first.  The longer she was with him, the more deeply connected she felt.

There was a very real danger that she was falling for the doctor.

In the outside world, the two of them would never work.  He needed anonymity, and she was constantly in the spotlight.  If this weekend was all that they could ever have, she was determined to make the most of it.

Come Sunday, she’d have no choice but to let him go.

Chapter Six

It was nearly ten before they made it to the RACK side of the resort.  The building was styled like something from a Gothic novel.  A dark, brooding facade set the mood for whatever was transpiring inside.

Master Sorin helped her from the limousine and escorted her to the entrance.  They were met at the door by a strapping guard who looked like Aragorn from Lord of the Rings.  A Medieval nun in rough homespun took the velvet cloaks that had protected them from the cool night air.

Master Sorin wore an embroidered frockcoat, long vest, and breeches.  Silver-buckled shoes added two inches to his height.  Ashley’s silk dress had layers of underpinnings that included panniers and petticoats but no pantaloons.  Her bottom was bare and unadorned.

He was saving the butt plugs for later.

Master Sorin guided her past a series of rooms, stopping long enough at each one to let her see what was going on and decide if she wanted to stay or move on.  The differences between the SSC and RACK sides were immediately apparent.  Floggers vs. vicious-looking whips.  Spanking with hands and paddles vs. punishment with tawses, canes, bastinadoes, and God knew what else.

In one alcove, a nude submissive had been put in stocks.  The Dom standing behind her drew a long swab down the sub’s body, lit it on fire, and promptly put it out.

“Fire play,” Master Sorin murmured.  “The next room is where they use needles.”

Ashley shuddered.  She hated needles.  She’d been poked like a pincushion when she was in the hospital.  But, remembering the script and why she was here, she knew that it was something that she needed to see.

She remained silent.  Master Sorin had not posed a question, and she did not have permission to speak.  She did have a ribbon tied to her wrist, with two feet of extra length that he held like a leash.

“Come,” he said, giving it a tug.

She followed behind him like a good submissive, stopping when he did.  Keeping her gaze lowered, she waited for permission to look.

It wasn’t long coming.  A submissive dressed like a French peasant was dragged before a Dominant nobleman.  The Dom had her stripped and bound to a heavy wooden chair, with her forearms tied to the chair’s carved oak arms and her widespread feet lashed to its legs.  Rough rope banded her chest.  The coils cinching each breast looked painfully tight.

He attached weighted nipple clamps, making her gasp, whimper, and moan.  A third clamp went on her clit.

Ashley pressed her legs together in empathy.

Modern protocol took precedence over period correct when the Dominant put on surgical gloves before continuing.  Swabbing one breast, he started threading needles just beneath the surface of her skin, changing directions and adding more until he had completed an elaborate pattern.

It was at once disturbingly beautiful and fascinating to behold.

The pain contorting the submissive’s features seemed more from the clit clamp than anything else.

The Dom flicked her nipple.  Breath hissed between her teeth.  She jerked, crying out when the movement pulled the chain to her clit.

He shoved a finger into her clean-shaved pussy, then two, then three, pumping until she was sopping wet.  He left the needles in and her arms bound when he untied her legs and chest.  Removing the clit clamp, he grabbed her hips and dragged them forward until her pussy was at the edge of the seat.  He propped her heels on the edge, too, and tied each bent leg separately.

The Dom retrieved a vial of oil.  Spreading her knees wide, he lubed his hand and began working his fingers inside her.  One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  She whimpered and begged him to stop.

He didn’t.

“Part of the play,” Master Sorin explained.  “She has not used her safeword.”

He drizzled more oil where they were connected, tucked his thumb, and pushed his whole hand into her.  She shrieked and panted at his invasion, begging for mercy as he fisted her.

“Have you ever….?”

Ashley tore her gaze away to look at Master Sorin.  “No!”  Realizing that she’d been too emphatic, she lowered her voice to a whisper.  “No, Master.”

“Can I persuade you to try?”

Looking back at the sub, Ashley watched the warring emotions on her face.  Arousal.  Pain.  Trepidation. Trust.

But could she do it?

She had marked both anal and vaginal fisting as possibilities.  Now, she wasn’t so sure.

“I don’t know, Master Sorin,” she whispered, watching the Dom’s wrist disappear.  “It seems almost too much for her, and I’m not experienced.”

“But I am,” he said smoothly.  Biting her ear, he whispered into it, “You can trust me.  I’m a doctor.”

Yes, he was.  He was a healer and a Vampire Dom with an unexpected sense of humor and a taste for human blood.  Other women might run the other way, but she found the duality in his nature fascinating.  She could honestly say, she’d never met anyone like him.

“In that case, I might be persuaded to try it.  But I think I’d like my first time to be private, with just the two of us, if that’s okay?”

“So, no threesome?  Don Diego will be disappointed.  He was hoping to play with us.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.  Should she be pleased that he thought she could handle them both or hurt that he wanted to share her?

She hadn’t made ménages a hard limit.  He couldn’t know that the mention of it brought back a host of unpleasant memories.  Cade’s desire to invite someone else into their bed was just one of the things that had led to her break up with him.  She thought that she’d put that much behind her, but obviously not.

Ashley forced a smile.  “I think that you’re all I can handle, Master Sorin.”

He studied her for a long moment.  The corners of his mouth turned down into a frown.  “Come,” he ordered crisply and tugged her ribbon lead.

She followed him away from the needle scene and down a series of corridors until they reached a hall reeking of sex and flanked with closed doors.  He stopped before one of them and pressed his hand against a biometric scanner to its right.  The lock released, allowing him to open the door and step inside, pulling her after him.

“My room,” he said, giving her a minute to take it all in.  The rich purple-red walls were the color of wine.  One of them held racks of implements.  A St. Andrew’s cross was mounted on another.  The furniture was black, heavy, and loomed as ominous as his promise of punishment.  There was a spanking bench, a waist-high table, and a sex swing in one corner.

The main feature was the massive four-poster bed, made up with black sheets.  The bedposts were studded with hand-forged tie down rings.  The foot of the bed had been crafted to function as stocks, with openings for the neck and hands.  Overhead, parallel beams formed scaffolding that looked sturdy enough to be used for suspension.

Master Sorin tugged on her wrist.  “Back to me,” he rumbled.  “That’s better.  Kneel, dragă.”

Ashley lifted her skirts and went down on her knees.

“At the scene, I mentioned Don Diego and you turned as cold as ice.  Explain.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “My ex wanted to invite his current costar for the weekend.  I knew that he was screwing her, but he wanted us both and tried to talk me into a threesome.  It was one more nail in the coffin for our relationship.”

“And yet, you marked ménage as a possibility.  Why?”

Ashley bit her lip and confessed what she’d never dared to tell Cade.  “If he had suggested his male costar, I might have been tempted to do it.  The fact is, I have no interest in sharing a bed with another woman.  I—I’m just not geared that way.”

Master Sorin nodded.  “So, you have imagined being with two men?  Lovers who are dedicated to pleasuring your body?  At any time this weekend, just say the word, and I will make it happen.  Don Diego or another Dom would be more than happy to join us.  For now, though, it is just the two of us…and the punishment that is due….”

Chapter Seven

“Clothes off, dragă.  Strip, then put on your corset.  Can you lie on your stomach?  I know one back patient who can, but most cannot.”

She shook her head.  “No.  I’m sorry, Master.  I can lie on my sides or back but not flat on my stomach.”

He angled his head, considering their options.  “What about if you kneel with your shoulders down and bottom up?  I can prop up your chest and hips with pillows for support.”

She bit her lip, considering.  “That should work, Master.  I have my safewords if my back becomes an issue.”

“Very well,” he rumbled.  “We’ll try it.  Now, strip everything but your corset and kneel with your head on the bed.”

Ashley obeyed, removing every layer until she was naked.  Once her stays were back on, Master Sorin tightened the laces for her.  “How does it feel?”

“Good,” she told him, promising herself to shop for corsets when she got home.  This one seemed to help her back as well as enhance her figure.  Her waist was trimmer.  Her breasts looked like D-cups and threatened to spill from the neckline.

Satisfied with her answer, he stepped away to admire his work…and her body.

Below her stays, she was totally nude.

Turning his attention back to the bed, he lowered the stocks at the foot until the openings were even with the mattress.  “Have you forgotten so quickly?” he scolded.  “Get in position!  Head down.  Ass up, with your feet towards the headboard!”

She knew what came next, even before he said it.

“Now, put your neck and wrists in the stocks.”

Ashley bit her tongue, crawled a foot more, and gingerly placed her neck in the rounded-edge half circle.  When she was certain that her body was perfectly aligned, she committed her wrists to the same fate.

He lowered the top half of the stock and secured it.  She shivered at the sound it made, locking her in, rendering her helpless, at his mercy.  Her body responded to her unspoken fear.  Her pulse raced, and her respiration increased until she was almost panting.

“Remember, dragă, you have the power to stop this at any time.  What are your safewords?” he asked, tucking a pillow beneath her breasts and two more under her hips.

“Yellow,” she choked out, “to slow.  Red…red to stop.”

He knelt down.  Fisting her hair, he pulled up her head until her eyes met his.  “Do you need to use them?”

“No,” she croaked.

He gave her hair a slight yank.  “No, what?”

“No, Master,” she said, her voice as tight as his grip.

“Good.  Then we begin.  The stocks will heighten your experience.  You won’t be able to see what I am doing behind you.  You will have to listen…and feel…and trust.  And you will not come until I say that you can.”

Trust, she told herself when he rose and started gathering things from around the room, bringing them back to the bed.  The mattress dipped when he sat on it.

Trust, she repeated when she heard a lid pop and smelled the unmistakable scent of coconut.  He lubed her anus, then oiled the plug that he pressed into it, pushing until it popped in place.

He splayed his hands and grabbed her ass cheeks, flexing his fingers and kneading her muscles.  “You must relax, dragă.  The cane is not kind if you are tense.”

A cane?  Who was he kidding?  A cane wasn’t going to be kind.  Ever.  Short of directing traffic or conducting an orchestra, it was going to fucking hurt.

She wondered if he’d take the hint if she changed her safeword from red to Singapore.  He would, but it wouldn’t matter.  He was determined to punish her, and the cane was his implement of choice.

Knowing that it would hurt more if she resisted, Ashley used breathwork to help release the grip of fear and allow her muscles to loosen.  Soon, Master Sorin’s hands lifted.  He slid off the bed to stand beside it.  She heard the ominous tap of the cane against something.  His palm?  His thigh?  There was a telling swoosh as it sliced the air a split second before striking her buttocks.

“Fuck!” she yelped, unable to help herself.  “Yellow!”

He grunted behind her.  She could imagine him, shaking his dark head at her lack of enthusiasm for corporal punishment.

“Your back or the cane?” he demanded.

“The cane,” she grated, “Master.  Shit a brick.”

She heard something slap his palm.  It sounded as loud as a thunderclap, given her anxiety.  He rubbed her seat with what felt like a smooth, wooden paddle.  When it fell, it hurt like the dickens, but she’d take it over a cane any day.

“Better?” he rumbled.

“Yes, Sir,” she breathed.  “Thank you, Master.”

“Three more,” he said, “then I’m fucking that ass.”

On the count of five, he stopped.  Ashley knelt there with her backside on fire, listening to him strip his clothes, put on a condom, and lubricate his erection.

He pulled the plug, set it aside, and climbed onto the bed.  Spreading her legs with his knees, he tapped her sphincter with the head of his cock, then pressed against it and pushed slowly, carefully inside, advancing in increments until he was buried to the root.

“Yes,” he hissed between his teeth.  “Christ, you feel good.  Let me know if it’s too much.”

He drew part-way out and tunneled back in, balls slapping against her clitoris and his girth challenging her resolve.  She wanted to take him.  She thought that she could.  But the initial pinch was slow to let up, and each stroke was less than pleasurable.

There was no hiding her discomfort from him, doctor that he was.

“Give me a color,” he demanded, pausing and holding himself suspended above her before driving back in.

“Orange,” she grated.  “I’m sorry.  It’s just…you’re so big....”

Thank God, he listened.  Slowly, he worked his full length inside her.  His next stroke was almost a non-event, it was so short.  But she handled it.  And the next, and the next.  He never did cut loose on her, but he did come to a shuddering finish inside her without letting her climax.

He took care of his condom in the playroom’s en-suite, returned with a warm, wet washcloth and towel, and cleaned her.  Freeing her from the stocks and lifting her out, he laid her on the bed, helped her onto her side, and checked her neck, throat, and hands with clinical precision.

“Are you okay?” she asked him.  Her attempt at humor earned her a smile.

“Yes, dragă.  I am fine.  Better than fine.  How is your back?”

He’d noticed that she had stayed curled in a half-fetal position, with her knees bent.

“Complaining.  I can take more ibuprofen in an hour.”

“I want you to hydrate.  You haven’t drunk nearly enough water today.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Sit up if you wish.  Get comfortable.  I’ll be back.”

Master Sorin took chilled bottles from a small refrigerator, twisted off the caps, brought them back to bed, and handed her one.

She drank half before she started to get brain freeze and had to slow down and take small sips.  He downed his water, his throat muscles working until he’d finished it.  He took her empty bottle and set it aside with his.

“Thank you, Master.”  She managed to finish her sentence before he turned back to the bed and the sight of his sculpted body robbed her of coherent speech.  Sebastian Moldovan was magnificent.  Intelligent.  Well-spoken.  He could make a career of supporting roles on those looks alone.  Add some acting lessons to that delicious accent, and her agent would sign him in a heartbeat.

Except…he was a doctor.  A teacher.  A healer who taught others to heal.

“Bath next, then bed,” he said.  “Tomorrow’s a big day.  I’ve booked massages for us after breakfast.  The evening scenes won’t start until seven on the SSC side and nine on the RACK side.  We’ll have the rest of the day to do what you will.  Explore the resort.  Watch unscheduled scenes.  Experience new or favorite kinks.  Be thinking about what you’d like, dragă.  But for now, let’s get you out of this corset and into a hot tub.”

Master Sorin had set the stage perfectly.  Dozens of candles softly illuminated the luxurious, black marble bathroom.  Eschewing the large, walk-in shower, he filled the black, jetted tub and had her void before joining him in it.  Embarrassed as she was, she obeyed.  When she’d finished, she crossed to where he waited.  Stepping into the hot, churning water, she settled herself between his hair-dusted legs.

He reached for the bath sponge, picked it up, and submerged it.  Lifting it clear of the water, he squeezed it in one hand and added shower gel with the other.  He washed her back, then her front, paying particular attention to her breasts.  The natural feel of them made her happy that she’d kept her C-cups rather than get them surgically enhanced.

Her nipples responded to his ministrations, drawing into hard, tight knots that begged for extra attention.  He gave it.  Rolling them between his thumbs and index fingers, he pinched, twisted, and tugged on them, sending bolts of sexual energy to ignite her very core.

She pressed her legs together and whimpered, desperate for more.

He dipped his head and nipped her ear.  “Talk to me, dragă.  What is it that you want?”

You, she thought.  I want you and I shouldn’t, when we can never have anything more.

“Tell me,” he rumbled.  “Tell me what you need.”

It was a much safer—and easier—question to answer.

“I need to come,” she whispered.  “Please. I need to come.”

Chapter Eight

Sebastian was half-hard for her again.

But he was the Dominant.  She was the submissive.  He was pledged to give her what she needed.

And what she needed was release.

He slid his right hand down Ashley’s front, threaded his fingers through her curls, traced her seam, and found the engorged button of flesh at its apex.  With 8,000 nerve endings (twice the number in his glans), the clitoris was the only organ in the human body designed solely for pleasure.

He cherished it like the treasure it was, teasing, circling, pinching, fanning.  He twisted her nipple, and she whimpered, thrusting her pelvis to grind herself against his hand.

“Don’t stop,” she begged him.  “Please, just like that.  I’m so close.  Yes, yes, that’s it.  There.  Touch me there,” she grated, breath sloughing between clenched teeth.  “Oh, God.  Oh, God.  I’m going to come!”

She stiffened, bucking twice before her body seized, gripped in the throes of her climax.  He rubbed her labia, massaging her swollen lips while she choked out an inarticulate sound each time that her body jerked.  When the last spasm faded, she went limp in his arms.

Ashley Slade was one of the most responsive partners he’d ever had, and one of the most open to new experiences.  Her list of limits pretty much dovetailed with his own tastes—everything except the cane.  She had taken it, but just barely.  Unlike a spanking, the cane brought her no pleasure, only pain.

Which made it perfect for punishment but useless for playtime.  He filed that away for future reference.

They stayed in the bath long enough, she drifted to sleep.  He hated to wake her, but she needed to take her meds and they hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements.  As mellow as she was right now, he could probably talk her into doing whatever he wanted.

“Hey,” he whispered in her ear, massaging her shoulders.  “Ashley?”

“Mm.”

“We need to get out and go to bed.  Wardrobe will wait until morning.  Your ibuprofen will not.  Will you stay with me here, or do you want me to take you to your room?”

“Stay,” she breathed, snuggling against him.  “If that’s okay.”

Okay?  It was more than okay.

But that was his problem, not hers.

He dried her off and tucked her in bed with a bottle of water and her pills.  “Do you need a body pillow?” he asked, uncertain what else she might need to sleep.

“Extra pillows would be good,” she said.  “I usually use one for my upper body and one between my calves.

Sebastian was one of the Doms allowed to carry a muted phone during scenes, in case of an emergency.  Dr. Brandt—Sir Josef, the resort psychiatrist—was another.  He used it now to call housekeeping for extra pillows.  Meanwhile, he let Ashley have the three standard pillows that spanned the width of the king-sized bed.

“I have a longer pillow ordered to use for your upper body and another standard size for your legs.  We can switch them out when they come.”

“If I can stay awake that long.”  She covered a yawn, smiled sheepishly, and turned her blue topaz gaze to meet his.  “Thank you, Master Sorin.  For the pillows.  For everything.  This weekend has already exceeded my expectations.  I look forward to tomorrow.  Today.  Whatever.”

“Today,” he said.  Their bath had lasted until it was past midnight.  “I’d like to visit wardrobe first thing in the morning.  Once we’ve changed, I’ll take you out for breakfast.  Our massages are scheduled for 10 AM.  The rest of the day is open until it’s time to get ready to play.”

A soft knock on the door announced the arrival of housekeeping.  Sebastian answered, fetching the pillows and bringing them back to bed.  Ashley traded both of his pillows for the new ones, tucking the smaller one between her calves as she lay on her right side, pulling the longer one to her chest, and draping her left arm over it.  Together, they helped to keep her spine straight while she slept and minimized strain that would aggravate her back.

Sebastian had never considered himself a hugger, but he found himself missing the choice to hold her.  As it was, he lay against her back, with his hand resting on her hip and his face by her occiput.  He drifted to sleep, breathing in the soft, herbal fragrance of her hair.

Ashley had told him that she was an early riser.  Given that she was still on Pacific time, three hours behind local time, she’d led Sebastian to expect her to awaken at seven, but at four AM, her movements woke him up.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.  “I need to change positions for a while.”  Pushing her extra pillows aside, she rolled onto her back, settling gingerly into place.

She knew it was only temporary.  Chances were, she couldn’t maintain it for long before the pain worsened and the position became untenable.

“What about ibuprofen?” he asked gently.

His tender concern was just one more thing that set him apart from Cade.  God forbid that anything should interfere with his beauty sleep.  Towards the end, they were spending more nights in separate beds than together.

“I’ll take it with breakfast, once I get something on my stomach.  Thank you,” she whispered.  “I’m sorry to be such a bother.”

“Ashley,” he said firmly, using that panty-melting Dom voice of his.  “You are not to apologize for anything related to your back, or things beyond your control, do you understand?  You’ve had a severe injury.  Surgery.  It’s to be expected that you would have limitations that need to be worked around, but work around them we shall.  Now, close your eyes.  You should rest them, even if you can’t sleep.”

She obeyed, but sleep was elusive, thanks to the pain that she was never fully free of—despite what the surgeons had predicted—and bizarre, Dali-esque dreams that she struggled to escape.  She was just fighting free of another one when she felt Master Sorin stroking her hair.

“It’s okay,” he murmured.  “You’re here.  You’re safe.  It’s okay.  You’re here.  You’re safe….”

At some point, she had rolled onto her right side.  Pillows were tucked between her calves and under her left arm.

Ashley didn’t remember putting them there.

She wondered if he had.

Sebastian Moldovan might play a vampire Dom, but there was an innate kindness in him that was lacking in most of the men she had dated.  He had started out to be such an enigma, like a giant puzzle that she might never solve.  With Cade, the more she learned, the worse things had looked.  Every piece that the good doctor revealed of himself just made the picture that much more promising.

Reaching behind her, she caught his hand, pulled it forward, and kissed it.  When she didn’t let go, he nuzzled her hair and sighed into it.

“Did you sleep any, dragă?”

“Not much,” she admitted.  “I’m so used to it, I’ve nearly forgotten what a good night’s sleep feels like.”

“I wish that I could help.”

“You have,” she assured him.  “You are.  I wish that other men were half as patient and understanding as you’ve been.”

“Have you seen another orthopedic surgeon for a second opinion?”

“Before the surgery, yes.  After it was done, no one would look at me, once they found out that I’d already been operated on.”

She could feel how still he went, processing what she just said.  But it was true, and not just in her case.  Most doctors wouldn’t touch another doctor’s work.  Their advice was to see her surgeon, who’d done nothing except write scripts for prescription pain medication.

Pills that she’d taken…and which had gotten her addicted, eventually landing her in rehab.

Cade had stood by her then—or so she had thought at the time.  Now she wondered if he’d been fucking his current costar while she was away.

“Will you let me check?” Master Sorin asked.  “I know someone who might be persuaded to look and give his opinion.  Say the word, and I will contact him.”

That was possibly the sweetest thing a man had ever said to her.  If she wasn’t careful, she could fall so hard for him.

“Thank you.  Yes,” she said, grateful for the offer.  She was so tired of hurting.  So tired of not being able to do what she needed to do.  What she wanted to do.

She would have trusted Master Sorin to look at her, even though she had no real knowledge of his skills as a doctor.  But he could never see her as a patient—not unless they agreed to share a platonic, vanilla relationship, and that was not going to happen if she could help it.

She’d had a taste of his Dominance.  It had only left her craving more.  They had two more days together.  Four scenes to go.  After that…after that, she didn’t want to think about it.

Sunday would come soon enough.

Chapter Nine

Sebastian took Ashley to The Three Hens French bakery for breakfast.  The weather was as delightful as the company.  It was slightly cool for this time of year, which made it perfect for his California girl to accompany him incognito.

There were no paparazzi to deal with, but Ashley had fans everywhere.  She maintained her anonymity by braiding her trademark mane of platinum hair, tucking it under a broad-brimmed hat, and wearing dark sunglasses.  An oversized sweater hid everything from her neck down to her skinny jeans and boots.

Because the bakery catered to Americans, they offered more than breads, jams, and coffee.  At the counter, Ashley ordered a crêpe filled with yogurt and fruit.  He looked over the selections in the case and chose a layered pastry filled with bacon, eggs, caramelized onions, and Gruyère cheese.  Both of them ordered expresso.

Once he had paid, they were given their beverages and a number to set on their table, but where?

“How about the courtyard?”  He nodded to the back door.  “It’s surrounded by a privacy fence, and what you’re wearing is perfect for dining outdoors.  Chances are, we’ll be the only ones using it.”

She beamed a smile up at him.  “Lead the way.”

As he’d guessed, they were the only customers willing to brave the slight nip in the air.  Ashley took note of the daily papers lying in a stack for patrons to peruse, but she chose to not bring one to their table.  Like him, she was content to enjoy the morning, the meal, and the company.

Once she’d eaten a few bites of her crêpe and had something on her stomach, she took more ibuprofen for her back.  With nothing scheduled until ten AM, they were able to take their time, quietly conversing, just in case anyone would happen to intrude without their knowledge.

She spoke of her stack of scripts, and the one in particular that she was desperate to do.  “It’s brilliantly written, ” she told him, her bright blue eyes shining with enthusiasm.  “Based on a true story, ripped from the headlines, of a woman who was kidnapped when she was fifteen.  She was held prisoner, beaten and tortured into submission, and made into a sex slave for her captor and his friends.  She finally managed to escape after six horrific years of being used and abused.  Whoever plays this part may well win an Oscar.  I haven’t managed to get nominated yet, but this….”  She eyed him intently.  “This could be the one.”

He couldn’t pretend to know about her work, the same as she could never truly know about his.  But he enjoyed listening to her talk about different aspects of the business, sharing some anecdotes from appearances on late night television and early morning talk shows.

Their worlds were poles apart, and yet they met here—and at Replay, where he could continue to expand her horizons.

Sebastian listened to her but discreetly kept an eye on the time.  When nine-thirty came, he lifted his left wrist and turned his watch so that Ashley could see it, too.

“If you are finished, we need to head back to the resort for our appointments.”

“I’m good,” she said, starting to gather their plates.

He put his hand over hers and stopped her.  “Leave them, dragă.  They have staff who bus the tables.  They’ll take care of it.”  He glanced at her empty cup.  “Would you like an expresso to go?  We can grab one on the way out.”

“No, I’m good.”  She smiled sheepishly.  “I like coffee but I’m not a big consumer.”

“I am,” he confessed.  “If you don’t mind, I’ll grab another for the road.”

“Of course, I don’t mind!  Please, get what you need.  I’ll start hitting the bottled water once we’re back.”

Sebastian left a generous tip on the table for the waiter who had checked on them from a distance and allowed them their privacy.  Inside, he got an expresso to go, then escorted Ashley to his car, a gray metallic BMW with a silverstone leather interior.  Opening the curbside door, he helped her into his M6 before rounding the back and getting in the driver’s side.  Once his coffee was safely in the console’s left cup holder, he fastened his seatbelt and made certain that Ashley had done the same before starting the engine.  Putting the car in gear and checking the traffic, he turned on his signal, pulled out from where they had parallel parked, and headed for the resort.

The drive back was made in companionable silence.  They had talked at the bakery.  Now they were both processing.  He didn’t know where her mind was focused, but his was on her back and her health.  From what she had described to him, her surgery should have relieved the pain from her injury.  Instead, she was still suffering.  Losing sleep and unable to live life to its fullest.  She needed help—help that he might not be able to give her but that he could hopefully find.

The role that she was so excited about would be very demanding, physically, mentally, and emotionally.  From what he’d seen, she was a strong person.  So very strong.  And very mature for her young age.  She accepted responsibility for her choices and acknowledged her part when things went wrong instead of foisting the blame on others.  She could have been bitter about her breakup with Cade Madden.  Instead, she chalked it up to a hard lesson learned.  Rather than waste time looking back, she was determined to keep her eyes on the future—one that he hoped would be free of the pain that she now endured.

Knowing the benefits of therapeutic massage, he had scheduled two appointments.  The resort’s masseuses were versed in a variety of techniques, depending on the patron’s needs.  He had requested his favorites from past experiences and had arranged for Ashley’s session to be done at the same time, in the same room, where he could observe.

Watching another man’s hands on her body affected him more than it should.  There was no hiding his very physical reaction.  Seeing her oil-slickened, supple flesh beneath Quentin’s practiced hands and hearing her purrs of pleasure left him painfully hard.

Ashley’s session had left her wanting, too.

“I’m surprised they didn’t offer a happy ending,” she said as soon as the door closed, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

“I told them to leave that to me.”  Dismounting from the massage table, he crossed to where she lay on her back, her body gleaming in the ambient lighting.  Soft music played in the background, an exotic blend of koto strings, wooden flutes, wind chimes, and running water that evoked the experience of a Japanese garden.  The soothing sound was at odds with the Taiko drums beating inside him, their driving rhythm propelling him towards an inevitable conclusion.

As if by magic, the music changed to Japanese drums, making the air pulse around them. 

He lay his hand on her belly and pressed toward her pubic bone.  She curled her fingers in the sheet.  Her respiration quickened until she was panting softly.

“How do you do that?” she whispered.  Her voice was husky with keen desperation.  The expression on her face was exquisitely tortured.  “One look, one touch, and I’m so empty, it hurts.”

“What do you need, dragă?”

“You,” she whimpered.  “Inside me.  Filling me.  Fucking me.  Make the hurt go away.”

He couldn’t fix her back, but he could do that much, at least.

Cupping her sex with his hand, he pressed his middle finger against her folds, parted her labia, and wet himself with her juices.  Tracing her seam, he found her clitoris and coaxed it fully from its hood.

“Yes,” she breathed, fighting to keep her hips still and let him do what he wished.

Repositioning her with her knees bent and her hips closer to the edge, he fucked her with his tongue, then his fingers, then his cock, listening to the sounds of her pleasure and seeking his own.  When they were both close to coming, he pulled out completely, shifted his angle, and pressed his glans against her other opening.

“I don’t have a condom with me,” he said.  They were both clean and had the paperwork to prove it.  “Remember, one word will stop me, dragă.  I want to finish in your ass.”

Chapter Ten

“Do it, Master,” Ashley begged, pushing herself against him.  “Please.”

Sebastian smiled.  “So polite.  Very well.”

He flexed his hips and entered her, slowly, carefully, until the head of his cock had breached the rings of muscle and a third of his shaft was buried in her warmth.  Looking down to where they were joined, he felt his cock twitch its approval.  The view was so fucking sexy, with her wet pussy gleaming, her clit begging for attention, and her ass gripping him, welcoming his length.

He tunneled in deeper, enjoying the way that she whimpered with need.  When he had kept her on the edge long enough, Sebastian gave her the release that she so desperately craved, stimulating her clitoris until her body seized, then convulsed, her pelvic floor spasming, clenching him, her pussy drenching him.  He found his own release, buried balls-deep inside her while she writhed on the massage table, caught in the throes of her climax.

“Holy shit,” she breathed when the last contraction had faded.

He chuckled.  “I tried to go easy on you.  There’s pet play tonight, if I can persuade you to join in rather than merely observe.  If you have any concerns about being seen in fetishwear, the stylists and makeup artists here will transform you to the point that you won’t recognize yourself.”

She had all day to think about it.  Because last night’s interrupted sleep had left her fatigued, after lunch, he made her take a nap—alone.  Borrowing Sir Josef’s office, Sebastian connected his laptop to the resort staff’s private Wi-Fi, checked his emails, and scrolled through headlines of current events while he waited for her call.

Two hours later, his sleeping beauty awakened.  The day had warmed from sixty degrees at breakfast to a very pleasant seventy-three.  When he suggested a tour of the resort, he recommended another visit to wardrobe for 1930s daywear and gave her the choice of his M6, a Land Rover, or one of the vintage automobiles owned by the resort.

The last option really piqued her interest.  “It’s 1930s weekend,” she mused.  “It seems appropriate to take a car that fits the part.”

He thought that she might enjoy what he had arranged, but he never expected her reaction to her first sight of it, or what followed.

Lenore, one of Replay’s chauffeurs, was available to retrieve the car from the resort garage and meet them out front.  Ashley wore a fetching dress that matched her eyes, camel leather pumps, a saucy broad-brimmed hat, and light blue embroidered gloves.  Due to the heat of the day, he eschewed a jacket and wore summer-weight wool suit pants with suspenders bisecting his crisp white button-down shirt.

Seeing the expertly restored vintage automobile, Ashley curled her gloved fingers over his forearm and squeezed.  “A Cord?”  She spoke to him but her gaze was locked on the dark blue convertible, its distinctive chrome-plated side exhaust pipes gleaming in the sun.  “Seriously.  You just made my weekend.  I get to ride in a Cord!  Oh, my gosh!”

Sebastian smiled at her enthusiastic response.  “It sounds as though you know a bit about cars.”

“I do.  My dad was a mechanic and a gearhead.  I grew up helping him in the garage, working after hours to restore whatever car, truck, or motorcycle he’d found to fix and sell.  I was probably the only girl in my school who could drop oil, change tires, and check filters and fluids.  He’d have loved this.  Oh, my gosh.”

“I can take your picture with it, to send to him, if you’d like.”

Her smile faded, and she fought to keep her emotions in check.  “He, um, he died last year.  He was pulling a motorist out of a ditch after they’d skidded on a patch of black ice.  Another driver hit the same ice, lost control, and killed him.  We all went home for the funeral.  My brother wasn’t handling it very well.  He needed my mom, and so did my little sister, so Mom moved her and Lacey back permanently.  I’m the only one left in California.”

He hated that his offer had evoked such sadness.  He’d lost a father.  He knew how it felt to have hers taken from her far too soon.

“And I am the only Moldovan here,” he said, another thing that they had in common.  “Although I suspect that you get to visit your family more often than I do.  I always hope to go home between semesters, but so far that hasn’t happened.”

Her gaze turned wistful.  “My schedule doesn’t let me go home and visit like I’d wish.”

He nodded, fully understanding.  “The offer is still open, if you want to send pictures to your family.”

Ashley shook off her sadness and pasted on a smile.  “Sure,” she said.  “That would be great.  Thank you.”

She posed beside the car and behind the wheel.  Sebastian showed her the images, then sent them to the cell phone number that she provided.

“Now, are you ready to go for a ride?” he asked.

Her answering smile was blinding.  “Absolutely.”

Ashley filled him in on the car’s details as they drove.  Thirty years ahead of its time, the Cord had front-wheel drive, hidden headlights, a disappearing convertible top, and a supercharged V8 engine.  The interior was as innovative as the car’s engineering, with an aircraft-inspired instrument panel that lit up at night, thanks to a luminous dye applied to the edges of the glass dials.  The resort’s other chauffeur Geoffrey had explained the Bendix electric hand shifter on the steering column before he’d driven it the first time.

“Cords were just taking off when the Great Depression hit in 1929,” she told him.  “They made a short-lived comeback in the mid-1930s as a lower priced alternative to Duesenbergs.”

Her love of cars was obvious.  Her enthusiasm, genuine.

“I know you’ve been doing films, but have you ever thought of hosting a classic car show?  You’d be perfect.  I would watch it.”

She blushed just a bit.  “Thanks.  I’ll keep that in mind—although I’d rather see you host a talk show.  Dr. Oz could use some serious competition.”

He glanced at her.  She was serious.

“You could even put a BDSM twist on some of it, how to do safe, sane kink.  With all the different fetishes out there, you could probably do a series just on the lifestyle.  You’d be teaching the world instead of a lecture hall of students, but you have what it takes to make it work.”

She was eyeing him intently now, as if taking his measure.  He wondered what she saw.

“What it takes?” he asked.

“You’re intelligent.  Attractive.  Articulate.  Exotic.  Trust me, women will eat up that accent of yours.  Not to mention, you’re phenomenally fit.  I don’t know if you have a personal trainer, but whoever’s responsible for that Adonis’s belt and those washboard abs has my thanks.”

“My mother,” he said.  “With her gymnastics background, she made certain that all of her children exercised daily, mind and body.  We had to read, and we had to do something physical.  I never fit in with children my own age, so team sports were out.  Instead, I swam and used the gym.  My father’s work ethic and my mother’s work-out ethic are still very much a part of me.”

“I know the feeling,” she said.  “I’m driven to achieve, like my dad.  My grandfather and his brother started the family garage after they came home from World War II.  My dad worked for them.  Eventually, he took over the business and tripled its size.  As for me being like my mom?  Let’s see.  She’s resilient.  Brave.  Wise.  Giving.  She sacrificed a lot for me to pursue my dream.  I’m fairly resilient, and I like to think that I’m brave, but she seems better at the wisdom part of things.”

She started to say something but stopped herself.

“Patience,” he admonished, turning onto another dirt road that ended at the new Roman villa.  “Wisdom comes with age and experience.  You’re only twenty-five.  You’re going to make mistakes.  All of us do.  What’s important is that we don’t repeat them.  Learn the lesson and move on.”

Any further conversation was silenced by her first sight of the Roman villa.  The construction site was cordoned off with yellow warning tape.  At odds with a structure that evoked antiquity, a pair of portable toilets used by the crews sat on one side.

“This should be open soon,” he told her.  “There’s an arena behind the house where the gladiators will fight, with banquets and orgies held inside.”

“This is amazing,” she whispered.  “God, I’d love to come back for that.”

“You should,” he agreed.  “Just let Sir Piers know, and he will make it so.”

Her initial excitement fled from her face, replaced by regret.  “I wish.”  She exhaled a sigh.  Looking over, she met his gaze, swallowed her pride, and confessed, “I’m afraid that this trip is all I can manage right now.  The movie that we filmed here took nearly all of my savings.  I’m to the point, I’m considering selling my house and downsizing.  I can write this trip off taxes because it’s research for the role, but beyond that….”

Sir Piers had given him some basic information on Ashley Slade when he proposed to pair them.  Sebastian’s teaching schedule hadn’t allowed him to do much more than a cursory search, pulling up her biography online and perusing the list of her acting credits.  Her breakup with her co-star was headline news.  Now she said that she had risked everything to make A Royal Affair.  Had her then-lover and co-producer Cade Madden done the same, or had he merely used Ashley to get what he wanted?

The thought roused Sebastian’s protective side.  Hearing that she might be forced to sell her home made him acutely aware of the feelings that he had for this remarkable young woman.  He had no business wanting more with someone he didn’t dare be seen with, yet that’s exactly what was happening.

He was only supposed to have her for the weekend.

There’s no way he could keep her.

Parting ways should be easy, but nothing this weekend was proving simple.  The truth was, he was infatuated with Ashley Slade.  And he knew, the longer they were together, the harder it was going to be to say goodbye.

Chapter Eleven

They continued the rest of the tour with the barest minimum of conversation, each of them lost in their own thoughts.  Upon their return to Replay One, the resort’s main building, Ashley informed Sebastian that she had decided to dine in.

“I’d appreciate your company, if you have no other plans,” she said.  Her pleading look suggested that more than food would be involved.  If she needed to talk, he was certainly willing to listen, and he had no other pressing business to attend to.

“It will be my pleasure.”

Valet parking took care of his car.  He escorted Ashley to her suite, where they discussed menu options and placed their order.  While they waited, Ashley finally opened back up.

“A Royal Affair had such potential,” Ashley whispered, her blue eyes scanning the far wall, as if she hoped to find written on it the answers to the questions swirling in her head.  “It was based on a real scandal, The Affair of the Diamond Necklace, a piece designed for Louis the Fifteenth’s mistress, except he died before taking delivery.  The jeweler hadn’t been paid.  He tried to sell the piece to Marie Antoinette, but she refused.  Eventually, a confidence woman ran a scam, using her lover and her husband to make it look like Marie agreed to buy it after all—except the letters from the queen were forged.  Payment was never made, and the diamond necklace disappeared.  It turned out, the husband took it to England, where it was broken up and the individual diamonds were sold.”

Sebastian had seen the film only because he knew people in it.  Aubrey Wolfe had portrayed Mozart.  Her Dominant, the resort’s Austrian-born psychiatrist Sir Josef, had played Mozart’s father.  A number of Replay Doms and submissives had appeared as costumed extras.  The end product barely resembled her description.

“I thought that the original script was perfect, but some of the producers wanted less intrigue and more entertainment.  By the time it was done, we had rewritten history.”

And created a movie that was doomed to fail.

She blamed herself.  He knew it.  She carried the weight of it on her slim shoulders as clearly as a yoke.  He couldn’t share her burden, but with luck, he might be able to help her shed it or at least lighten the load.

“I believed you as Marie Antoinette,” he said firmly, taking heart when she smiled despite herself.  “I enjoyed watching the scenes filmed here and spotting familiar faces in the crowd.  And,” he added, “while the score had little original material in it, it certainly deserves an Academy Award.”

Ashley warmed to his words, opening like a flower in the sun.  “Thank you.”  When she finally turned and met his gaze, he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes before she dashed them away with her fingertips.  “Sorry.  I’m so used to people bashing it, it’s nice to hear a compliment.  It’s even better when it’s sincere.”

He shifted into Dom mode and let her see it.  “I may not say what you want to hear, but you can believe what I tell you, dragă.  Do you understand?”

She wet her lips and swallowed hard.  “Yes, Master Sorin.”

“I can see that you blame yourself for the film’s failure, but the success of any film depends on a large number of factors, does it not?”

“Yes.”  Her voice was small as a schoolgirl’s.

“And of all the things that make a success, none of them rested solely in your hands except your performance.  Is that correct?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts!” he snapped.  “Just answer the questions!  You put everything that you had to give into bringing Marie Antoinette to life.  Yes or no?”

“Yes,” she answered unequivocally, conviction ringing in her voice.

“Then why do you blame yourself for circumstances beyond your control?  You did everything you could to make it a success, but you were overruled.  Your voice was silenced.  Tell me now, dragă.  Say that it was not your fault.”

“It—it wasn’t my fault…?”

“You sound unsure.  What part of this do you not see?”

“I should have fought harder,” she said wearily.  “I should have….”  She shook her head.  “I don’t know.  I should have done something!”

“Dragă, you fought.  You were forced to compromise, forced to capitulate.  Do you honestly believe that fighting harder would have changed anything?”

“Honestly?  No,” she admitted.  “Probably not.”

“It seems to me that fighting would have only delayed the inevitable and likely have caused future problems for you.  Before this movie, were you considered hard to work with?”

“No.”  She sat a bit straighter, her spine stiffened with pride.  “I have a good reputation when it comes to my craft.”

“And did this film change that?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, her brow creasing with concern.  “I suppose I’ll know more after my next audition.”

“I shall do what I can to prepare you for it,” he promised.  “We have the two scenes tonight, but I believe that tomorrow holds what you need.  Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I do.  As much as I’m looking forward to the vampire scene tonight, I know that the interrogations will come closer to what the heroine experienced.  I want to do it justice.”

“And you will,” he hummed.  “You shall.  Now, you have tensed again.  Can you feel it?”

She nodded.

“All that massage work from this morning will come undone if you are not careful.  Is this true?”

“Yes,” she answered, a bit too glumly for his liking.  She’d just made the choice of knee time or a spanking easy for him.

Sebastian rose from the davenport they shared and reseated himself in the matching chair.

“Dragă, I want you here—” he pointed to the ottoman in front of him “—on your knees, with your chest on the ottoman.  Now!” he barked when she remained glued to her seat.

Ashley scrambled to accommodate.  Kneeling on the side that he had indicated, she draped herself across the top.

“How is your back?” he asked.

“Good,” she squeaked.

“I am going to spank you,” he said.  “You need it.  You need release, and you need the catharsis of tears.  A spanking will give you both.  Now, what are your safewords?”

She’d had time to think about it.  “China to slow.  Singapore to stop.  Slow boat and no canes,” she explained.

Sebastian allowed the barest hint of a smile.  “No canes?  How disappointing.  Oh, well.  Once more.  What are your safewords?”

“China to slow.  Singapore to stop.”

“Good girl.  When we begin, you will keep count, and you will thank me.”

He caught the hem of her skirt.  Lifting it to her waist, he found the waistband of her loose-cut panties, pulled them to her knees, worked them off the rest of the way, and tossed them to the side.

Her ass was perfectly toned from the hours that she’d spent in the gym, maintaining the figure that Hollywood demanded, doing as much as her back allowed.  He wished now that he’d had her wear a jeweled plug on their tour of the resort.  He would have enjoyed making it sparkle.

He consoled himself with rubbing her bottom, helping her settle in and lose some of the tension that had him concerned.  The first deep breath that he heard her release, he hauled back his hand and spanked her.

“One!” she yelped, surprised by the strength of the blow.  “Thank you, Master Sorin.”

He rubbed the sting and swatted the other cheek.

“Two.  Thank you, Master Sorin.”

He kept going, soothing her between strokes, not stopping until his hand had turned her ass the perfect shade of red and she had dissolved into tears.  “Come, little one,” he crooned, helping her up and pulling her onto his lap.  “Let me hold you for a while.”

She snuggled against his chest, welcoming the touch of his hand, stroking her hair, caressing her skin, drying her face.  A knock on the door announced the arrival of their dinner.

“We must let them in, dragă,” he crooned in her ear.  “You stay here.  I will go.  Coming!” he added, tossing the word over his shoulder.

He eased her onto the chair and made certain that she was settled before answering the door.  The cart that was wheeled in held side salads, soup, two china plates covered by domed lids, and a decanter of fruited water.  There was no alcohol tonight, with playtime looming.  As soon as they finished, they would be headed back to wardrobe.

Once everything had been transferred from the cart and room service was gone, Sebastian fetched Ashley.  Helping her to her feet, he put a hand on the small of her back and guided her to a table set for two.  She ate some of everything, but in small portions, and took more ibuprofen once they were done.

So far, she hadn’t complained of her back, but tonight might test her.  “Before we leave, do you have any problems, issues, questions, or concerns?  No?  Once we leave this room, if you do, you are to place your hand on my arm or leg.  I will allow you to speak as soon as the opportunity presents itself.  We shall use your safewords, China and Singapore, unless that clever mind of yours has thought of something else.”

She smiled softly.  “No, Master Sorin.  My mind is too full of other things.”

“Good,” he said.  “That’s settled.  Time to get ready for pet play, my dear.”

Chapter Twelve

Ashley Slade continued to surprise him.  She emerged from wardrobe, almost unrecognizable save for his handprints on her bare behind.  Expertly applied makeup transformed her face into that of a Siamese cat.  Her trademark platinum hair was braided and coiled behind her head.  She approached him wearing nothing but a pair of Siamese cat ears, a matching tail, and a jeweled collar with a leash attached.  When she handed him control, he noted that her blush nearly matched her bottom.

“Good pet,” he hummed, adjusting himself.  “You’ll be the prettiest kitten here, I guarantee.”

He shortened his stride to make it easier for her to walk with a tail dangling from the plug in her ass.  He was going to be hard-pressed to not fill it himself during playtime, as tempting as she was.

Tonight’s theme for the SSC side was inspired by the Kathryn Hepburn-Cary Grant film Bringing Up Baby.  Replay’s owner Sir Piers and his wife Eleanor reprised the roles—except that Eleanor played the leopard Baby.  Sir Josef and his partner Luc Vashon shared Aubrey Wolfe as their sparrow, making certain that one of them—usually Luc—remained with their visually-impaired submissive at all times.  Marcus Vos, head of Replay’s security, had left his PTSD service dog at home; tonight, that role was played by his submissive Gini Shelton.  The most exotic pet was Regina Wright as a dragon, controlled by her master, Scottish billionaire Micheil MacDonald.

For the most part, Ashley was content to sit at his feet, or curl in his lap and watch the action unfold around them.  When her body required a change of positions, she asked permission, which he granted immediately.  The night was young.  He needed her to be comfortable and ready to play when the time came.

He enjoyed having her in his lap, where he could stroke her naked hip and feel the heat from her backside through his Dom leather pants.  If Ashley had done palomino pony play, he would have carried a crop.  As it was, he’d brought a spray bottle, filled with his favorite oil.

Her eyes widened when he told her.  “Be a good kitten, and I may use it.”

Giving him a blow job under a table in the Nightclub Room was one thing.  He didn’t know if she was ready to have sex in public.  Later, perhaps.  On the RACK side, there would be fewer eyes, dimmer lights, and settings made for expressing forbidden desires.  One of the allures of the dark side was indulging in nameless, clandestine encounters with partners willing to share your kink.

For now, they watched the play taking place all around them.  His kitten shifted in his lap, clearly aroused.  Her nipples were hard.  Her sex was sopping wet.  He pinched her tit, and she mewled, needing more.

Sebastian tugged on her leash, forcing her chin up enough to meet her eyes.  “Settle, pet.  Otherwise, my cock is going to be in your ass instead of that plug.”

“I’m trying, Master,” she whispered.  “But it’s so hard.”

Like him.  His erection strained against the front of his leather pants, testing the zipper.

He didn’t make it any easier on her.  He stroked her skin, played with her breasts, and tweaked her tail, making her breath hitch and her sex that much wetter.  He wanted her horny.  Wanted her to be so desperate that by the time they got to the RACK side of the resort, she’d be open to just about anything.

He’d ask Don Diego to watch for them, just in case he could talk her into a threesome.

Pet play was in full swing when they left to get ready for the second part of their evening.  Ashley emerged from wardrobe totally transformed.  The kitten was gone.  In her place was a 1930s silver screen siren, from the waves shaped in her side-parted platinum hair to the silk lingerie that revealed almost as much as it covered.  Around her neck, she wore the piece that he had given her, its lock nestled in the tempting hollow of her throat.

Sebastian was dressed in his favorite outfit—a black silk poet’s shirt, black pants tucked into black riding boots, and a lightweight cape that reached to mid-calf.  The soft leather bag hanging from his belt contained his muted cell phone and the teeth that he would use—for nibbling, not for piercing, but she didn’t know that, not yet.

Sir Piers had arranged special conveyances tonight.  Instead of a chauffeur and limo to drive them, they were treated to a horse-drawn carriage ride.  The temperature had dropped enough, Sebastian tucked a blanket around Ashley’s legs and shared his cape to keep her warm on their ride.

She nestled her body against his and sighed in contentment.  The night was clear enough to count the constellations and marvel at the Milky Way, spanning the sky like a bridge of stars.  “It’s beautiful.”  She sighed again, but this time, she sounded sad.  “One of the things I’ll miss about my house, it’s remote enough to see the stars.  There’s so much light pollution where I was living before.  Hopefully, I can find another place away from the city.”

He could feel the moment her anxiety kicked in again.  She was worried about her house.  Worried about her future.  He’d promised to tell her the truth, but the only things he could offer were platitudes.  He wished he could tell her that everything would work out, that she’d get the part, keep her house, win an Oscar, and be free of her back pain, but he’d be lying.  No one knew what the future held.

“I’m here,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.  “You have my number.  If you ever need me for anything—and I mean anything, I want you to call me.  I don’t care why.  I don’t care how big or how insignificant you think something is, call me.  Talk to me.  Hopefully, we can figure things out.”

She tightened the arm that she’d wrapped around his chest and sighed.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  “Thank you.”

She made no commitment, but then she hadn’t said no, either.  Instead, she tucked his offer away, likely hoping that she would never need it.

The carriage drew up to the RACK entrance, looking very much like it belonged.  Sebastian unfastened his cape, put it on Ashley, and helped her down from the carriage.  Scooping her into his arms, he carried her through the front door before setting her on her slippered feet.

He unhooked the clasp and reclaimed his outerwear.  “Let me know if you get cold.  Generally, it’s warm enough to keep the submissives naked, but everyone’s metabolism is different, and nerves can do a number on you.  Come, dragă.  The scene starts soon.”

He led her through the maze of corridors to where the vampires played.  An oversized bed was the central feature.  Carved of heavy wood, it looked like it was plucked from the set of a Bela Lugosi movie.  The walls were dark; the lighting, moody.

“Would you like to try it?” he asked.  “Lie on the bed and see what awaits you in the night?”

“Yes, Master Sorin,” she answered, aroused by the thought.

“Take off your robe and lie on the bed.”

She undid the sash, parted the front, and shrugged her shoulders.  The thin silk slid down her arms, revealing hardened nipples that peaked the front of her gown.  She glided across the floor like a sleepwalker, mesmerized by the setting, immersing herself in the role like the consummate actress she was.

He made himself ready for her, taking his place by the leaded glass window, backlit by a full moon which shone every day of the year.  Normally, he’d begin on the balcony beyond it, limned by artificial moonlight, his face cast in shadows.  But Ashley knew he was here.  Her body thrummed with anticipation.  He could almost hear her thoughts.  What would he do?  How far would they go?

She sat on the edge of the mattress, toed off her slippers, and lay on the bed, closing her eyes and pretending to sleep.  Sebastian stalked across the floor.  His long cape hid just how gracefully a man his size could move.  He undid the clasp as he went, allowing it to fall just before he reached her side.

He loomed above her, filled with lust for this woman who had inspired fantasies for millions but who had chosen to share her body and mind with him.  Reaching, he touched her, stroking the soft curve of her cheek, tracing the elegant line of her neck, placing his fingers on a point that told him just how affected she was.

She pressed her legs together, a subtle shift that did nothing to hide the scent of her arousal.  He breathed it in, inhaling deeply and absorbing what he could before it demanded to be let go.  Too soon, he would have to do the same to her, but for now, for tonight, she was his.

Chapter Thirteen

Sebastian eased onto the bed to lie beside her.  Pressing his full length against her, he placed a hand over her throat and kissed her neck, softly at first, open-mouth kisses with lips and teeth and tongue.  Hunger gnawed at him, until he was caught in the maws of a living beast.

The only way to be free of it was to become one, too.

His kisses grew savage, demanding a response.  Ashley moaned, unable to feign sleep any longer.

“Please,” she begged him.  “Oh, please….”

“Let me in,” he said, shoving a knee between her legs and thrusting his thigh against her groin.  She ground herself on him, wetting her gown with her juices.

“Say yes,” he cajoled.  Vampire lore dovetailed BDSM in that respect.  He had to have permission to go on.

He pinched her nipple and twisted it at the same time that he bit her neck, not enough to draw blood but hard enough for her to feel his custom-made fangs.

“Do it,” she whimpered, tipping her head and baring her neck for him.  “Do it.”

He bit down more and sucked her in, hard enough to mark her.  Desperation drove him to claim her.  Moving over her, he held himself suspended while he fumbled with his pants, freed himself, shoved up her gown, and thrust inside.  Her orgasm was instantaneous.  Her vaginal walls clenched and spasmed around him, milking his length.  He took her like an animal, a savage rut that made her cry and beg and moan from the sheer force of it.

“It’s too much!” she gasped, but she didn’t use either of her safewords.

He scraped her throat with his fangs and bit her neck again, knowing better than to pierce her skin with porcelain teeth.  He left that to the sterile medical lancet that he pressed under her jaw.  Just a quick, short stab that made her breath catch and her blood well. 

He devoured her.  Consumed her.  Trapped her beneath him and set her free, riding high on the orgasm that ripped through her the moment he started to feed.  Just a few drops—he was careful that way—but he felt the pull of her life force joining with his in an act more intimate than anything he’d ever experienced.  She yielded everything to him.  Everything.  And when he shuddered to a climax, he buried himself deep enough to touch her soul and flooded her with his life force in turn.

“Jesus,” he breathed, lungs heaving from his exertions.  “Was that as good for you as it was for me?”

She opened her eyes and lifted a finger to touch his elongated incisors, not bothering to hide her fascination with them.  Her lips curved in an enigmatic smile.  “I believe it was.  If yours was incredible.  Earth-shattering.  Mind-blowing.  Un-fucking-believable.”

“Potty mouth.”  He bit down on her finger, releasing it when she yelped.  “You’ll pay for that last one.”

“Promise?” she rasped, her voice husky with desire.

“Later,” he growled.  “Unless you want more of an audience than we’ve already drawn.”

Her eyes snapped fully open.

“Fuck!”  She pressed against his chest, her blue eyes panicked.

He caught her chin and made her meet his gaze.

“Dragă!  Look at me!  See me.  Only me.  Nothing else.  No one else.  What matters most is the two of us.  Feel it.  Believe it.  Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her anxiety coming under control.  Her gaze flicked to the side, where a handful of people stood in silence, watching them.

He pinched her tit and made her gasp.  “What did I tell you?  Look at me, dragă.  They are nothing to us.  Nothing.  Now, I need to get you cleaned.  I need to treat where I pierced you.  We will go to my private room for this.  When we are done, we can come back here, or we can stay.  For now, we must move and let this space be readied for others.”

Sebastian had softened enough to slip easily from her body.  Rolling to one side, he pushed himself to a sitting position, swung his legs, and slid to the floor.  He fastened his pants, keeping his eyes on his submissive.  She was beautiful, lying there with his seed leaking from her slit.  Looking around, he stripped the case from an unused pillow and tucked it between her legs to minimize the mess.

“Are you ready to stand?”

“Yes, Master Sorin.  I just hope I can walk.  You got pretty wild.”

He had.  He’d tested his control but had never lost it like that.  Something about Ashley Slade brought out the Alpha wolf in him, and he wasn’t sure that he liked it.

She seemed to, though.  She practically purred while he washed her, cleaning her juices and his semen from her skin before tending the small puncture wound on her neck.

“I should have sterilized the skin first,” he murmured.  He knew better, but he had been a man consumed at that point.  With his mouth fastened on her neck and her body writhing beneath him, he hadn’t wanted to break away long enough to do it.

“It will be fine,” she said.  “Really.  I was clumsy as a kid.  I got scrapes and cuts all the time.  Even when I helped out in the garage, it was really rare for one to get infected.  I’m either treating them right, or I’ve developed resistance.”

He felt her eyes on him while he worked.  She bit her lip and waited until he’d finished tending her wound to speak.

“The blood thing…do you do that often?  Is that something that you need?”

Straightening, he met her gaze and shook his head.  “No.  I wear the teeth to add to the illusion and provide extra stimulation, but they’re not meant for blood play.  That’s done with proper preparation, using medical lancets or surgical scalpels to make small incisions.  I’ve never gone farther…never intentionally drawn blood and tasted it until tonight.  You were my first.”

He had never done this before.  Not with anyone.

While Ashley reveled in the knowledge that she had been his first, the truth was, she wanted to be his last.  This man had gotten under her skin in every sense of the word.  He was like a fever in her blood with no hope for a cure.  She should have guarded herself…should have guarded her heart, but it was too late now.  For all the mess that she’d be returning to in California, letting go of her house was going to hurt far less than letting go of Sebastian Moldovan.

Tomorrow, they would go their separate ways.  She’d probably never see him again.  The thought made her achingly bereft.

He eyed her curiously, trying to read her.  Rather than call on her acting skills and hide her feelings from him, she let him look.

Let him see.

Breaking eye contact, he caught a lock of her hair and wrapped it around his finger.  “What would you like to do, dragă?  Do you want to observe the scenes?  I’m certain that there are several going on right now.”

“I’d rather stay here,” she said, touching his hair-dusted forearm.  “If you don’t mind.”

He smiled softly.  “I do not mind.  This weekend is yours, dragă.  Shared with you, or shared with others, it’s all good.  But I warn you, I have toys that I have not yet used with you.  If we stay, I cannot guarantee how much sleep you will get.”

“I can sleep on the plane,” she told him, taking heart in the look that passed over his face like a cloud crosses the sun.  He was no more looking forward to parting ways than she was.  “Do with me what you will.”

He fisted her hair and kissed her fiercely, letting her feel his frustration at their situation.  “I want to tie you to my bed,” he growled, biting her ear and licking the side of her face.  “I want to blindfold you.  Play with you.  Bring you up and keep you on the edge so long, when I finally thrust inside that perfect pussy of yours, you’ll come all over my cock.”

Oh, God.

She trembled at his touch, his words, the passion she felt simmering beneath the surface, ready to ignite.  She wanted him unleashed, unbridled, riding her raw like he’d done before, when he’d taken her neck and tasted her blood.  She’d pay for it, probably dearly, if the twinges in her back were any indication, but right now, she didn’t care.  She wanted him.

Chapter Fourteen

“Please,” she whispered, welcoming what was to come, yet already regretting it, when it would only make it that much harder to let him go.  She focused on creating memories instead, like a movie that she could play back in the dark of night in her lonely bed, remembering the feel of him, the smell of him, the crook of his smile and the command of his eyes.

She loved the feeling of being bound to his bed, allowing herself to feel helpless, even though she had the power to stop things at any time.  She almost balked at the blindfold but she agreed to it, knowing that it would sharpen her senses.  With her eyes banded in black silk, she lay bound, spread-eagled on the bed, while he toyed with a feather, teased her with ice, tormented her with a Wartenberg wheel and the vampire gloves that he’d mentioned.  He had her so sensitized, she thought, if he touched her core, she wouldn’t be able to hold back.

That was when she heard the buzz from a vibrator.

A vibrator, and he hadn’t given her permission to come.

Shit.

She held her breath, waiting to feel what he’d chosen to use.

What he dragged along her seam wasn’t small.  It felt like a dildo.  Not just a dildo.  A rabbit.  Pushing in her pussy and taking hold of her clit.

Sweet baby Jesus.

Ashley clenched her teeth and fought to deny her body the release that it craved, but every second was one closer to pushing her over the edge.  “I can’t…,” she grated the words between clenched teeth.  “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

He threw the rabbit aside, seated the head of his cock in her entrance, and thrust inside.  “Come for me,” he ordered, but it was too late.  She was already there.

The dam burst.  She cried out with the force of it.  Wetness flooded her sex, drenching him and running down her crack to soak the sheet beneath them.  He groaned at the sensations, her orgasm bathing him, her tight walls milking him, her body convulsing with wave after wave of pleasure.  When he started pounding into her, she regretted the blindfold.  She would have loved to watch his face when he finally reached his peak of pleasure.

He shoved in deep and shot his load, flooding her womb with his seed in hot, pulsing streams.  When he had emptied himself, he shook like a racehorse and dismounted.

“How is your back?” he asked.  Slipping into doctor mode, he pulled off her blindfold and untied her wrists, then her ankles, checking for problems with her hands and feet.

“It’s been better,” she said honestly.  “But I’m not complaining.  That was amazing.  You’re amazing.  God, I wish—”

She stopped herself from saying more.  She couldn’t bear to say the words that he’d only have to reject.  They both knew this was only for the weekend.  The world outside would never let them have anything more.

Ashley blinked back the tears that threatened.  She knew if she didn’t, there would be no stopping them, and no man wanted a sobbing, clinging girl in his bed, let alone in his life.

“I wish I’d taken more ibuprofen before we started Round Two,” she said lamely.  Although not what she’d been thinking, it was certainly true enough.  The ache in her back was quickly becoming unbearable.

It seemed that Master Sorin had stocked his playroom for her.  He left her briefly, returning with a bottle of analgesics, spring water, two bath sheets, and an ice pack.

“Pills first,” he ordered.

She obeyed, keeping the bottle of water to finish.

“Scoot forward, enough that I can sit behind you.”

She did that, too, wondering what he had in mind when he settled himself against the headboard.

Padding himself with one towel, he had her scoot back until her hips were snugly against his thighs.  He draped the towel over her shoulders, put the ice pack on her lumbar area, and had her settle back against him, trapping the ice pack between them. 

Ashley knew there had to be a method to his madness.  The one towel protected him from the cold.  The other kept her from cooling down too quickly after their round of torrid sex.  The second towel was aided by two, strong arms that he wrapped possessively around her.

She sighed and leaned against him, reveling in the feel of his embrace.  She’d been in love twice, but she’d never met a man as perfectly in sync with her as Sebastian Moldovan.  If nothing else, he’d given her a new measuring stick by which to judge all other men.

She fell asleep in his arms and awakened in tears, experiencing such pain, it was all she could do to beg him for help.

“Sebastian!  Wake up!  Oh, God!  It hurts!”

He was alert in an instant, probably a holdover from his days when he was on call at the hospital.  “Your back?”

“Yes.  Please.  Can you do something?  It hasn’t been this bad in months.  It hurts so much, I can’t breathe.”

One phone call and thirty minutes later, the resort physician knocked on the door.  After a brief medical history and examination, Dr. Powell gave Ashley the choice of pills or a shot.  “An injection will work faster,” she advised.  “You’ll have to wait for a pill to take effect.”

Ashley hated needles almost as much as the thought of taking prescription drugs.  Given her choices, she opted for quicker relief.

Her condition troubled Sebastian.  She could tell, the way he busied himself and looked everywhere but her eyes.  Surely, he didn’t blame himself?

“I’ll be okay,” she promised, wiping the tears from her cheeks.  “It’s happened before, just not for a while.  With luck, I’ll be able to see the interrogation scenes and fly out after that.  I could probably use help repacking, though.  Maybe someone in housekeeping—”

“I will do it, dragă mea.”  His tone brooked no argument.  “It is the least that I can do.  As for the scenes and flying home, we must wait and see what you are feeling up to.  I tell you now, Dr. Powell won’t release you to fly like this.”

Panic hit her with the force of a California earthquake.  “I’ve got to fly out,” she told him, crying harder, tears of worry chasing her tears of pain.  She started shaking, feeling overwhelmed and desperate.  She couldn’t afford another ticket if the airline refused to change hers.  “I have to, Sebastian.  I can’t stay.  I have an audition on Tuesday that I cannot miss.”

“It’s just an audition,” he growled at her.  “This is your health that we’re talking about here.  You only have one body.  There will be other roles.  If you try to go in like this, chances are, they’ll choose someone else.  You know this to be true.”

“Yes,” she admitted, pushing the word past a throat choked with emotion.

“You are my responsibility,” he said firmly.  “You will stay as long as it takes for you to be safe to fly home.  I will make certain that you get there.  Everything will be taken care of.  I’ll arrange it with Sir Piers.  Meanwhile, you will focus on yourself and do what is needed to get better.  Doctor’s orders.”

Ashley didn’t watch the interrogation scene.  She didn’t fly out Sunday night.  It was another two days before Dr. Powell released her to go home.

By then, Sebastian was gone, forced to return to the real world when he’d rather have remained with her.  He left her with the promise of finding a surgeon willing to look at her and who would hopefully provide the help that she needed for her back.

He couldn’t stay, but he called her, speaking to her at the end of each day, letting her fall asleep to the sound of his voice, envisioning herself wrapped in his embrace.  The resort staff was more than accommodating.  Sir Piers and his wife saw that she lacked for nothing.  The first time Elly came, she brought Ashley’s cell phone so that she could call her mother, send Sebastian’s pictures, and let her know about her back acting up again.

The last night Ashley stayed was her most painful yet.  When she spoke to Sebastian, she finally voiced what they’d known all along.  Thankfully, he agreed to part as friends and promised to text her, as soon as he heard from his colleague.

The flight home was excruciating.  An upgrade to First Class did little to buffer the severe turbulence that they encountered.  Every lift, drop, and bounce played havoc with her spine.  By the time they landed, she needed a wheelchair to disembark.  Another airport employee pulled her luggage off the carousel and followed them to the ride that was waiting for her.

Her agent took one look at the three of them and clamped his mouth tight, saving the conversation they would have to have until they reached the privacy of Ashley’s home.

The first thing he saw was the script that she’d been reading.  “I hate to say it, but you can’t do this one, Ash.  Not with your back the way it is.  I know they delayed making a choice until you could audition, but if they decide to go with you and production gets delayed because of your health, they will crucify you.  You’ll be lucky to get hired as an extra after that.”

God, he reminded her of Sebastian.  It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it was the truth.

“I know, Stan,” she said tiredly.  “I know.  I’ve been hoping against hope that I could do it, but I can’t.  Or shouldn’t, anyway.  I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

The poor guy looked like he needed consoling as much as she did.  She put a hand on his arm.  “I talked to a doctor this weekend.  He couldn’t take my case but he thought that he knew someone who might.  If it’s a go, he’ll text me a number to call.  I’ll check my messages first thing tomorrow.  Right now, I need to soak my muscles and try to rest.  I’ve had too little of it these past few days.

Stan had become a bit of a father figure since her dad passed.  He patted her hand and took his leave.  “Go.  Rest.  Call me once you’ve talked with this other doctor and let me know what we’re looking at.  Is that understood, young lady?”

He’d guided her career before and after her accident.  He’d defended her when rumors of illegal drug use ran rampant.  He’d stood by her when she went through rehab for her dependence on prescription medication.  From the looks of things, he wasn’t about to bail on her now, thank God.

“Will do, Stan.”  She managed half a smile.  “Will do.”

Chapter Fifteen

Sebastian couldn’t believe what he was hearing.   “What do you mean, the surgery is delayed?  Because of the holidays?”  He’d just spent Christmas alone.  He planned to spend New Year’s Eve with his fellow Doms and their subs at Replay.

“No, not because of the holidays.”  His friend Greg—Dr. Kelly—blew out softly.  “I’m sorry.  You know I can’t tell you any more than that, so don’t even ask.”

“But I referred her,” Sebastian insisted.

“No-o.”  He drew the single word out into two syllables.  “Officially, Dr. Powell referred her.  She’s the one who has my report, and she’s not allowed to tell you anything about it either, in case you’re thinking of calling her, too.  Fuck, Bast.  You know HIPA laws as well as we do.  You teach it, for Christ’s sake.”

Sebastian blew out harshly.  “Sorry, Greg.  It’s just…she didn’t audition for a role that she really wanted, and now this.  I don’t understand what’s going on with her.”  The truth was, he feared that her weekend at Replay had done more harm than good.  She’d been highly visible before her trip.  Now, she was rarely seen.  He’d been careful to keep their texts professional, but damn it, he needed to know what the hell was happening with his California girl.  He could fly out, track her down, and demand some answers, or he could just cave in and call her after he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t.

“You care for her.”  Greg’s words were more of a statement than a question.

“Yes, I do.  I shouldn’t.  You know who she is.  If I see her, I put everything at risk.  My job.  My license.  My position at the university….”

“Not everything,” Greg reminded him.  “But I’m telling you, Bast, I’ve never seen you like this.  You’re the only one who can decide whether she’s worth having.  If she is, by God, then commit to it.  Don’t look back five years from now and see a past riddled with regrets.  If you’re meant to be together, you’ll find a way.”

Sebastian was so fucking tempted to call Ashley as soon as he got off the phone.  He’d only contacted Greg because he hadn’t heard anything from her, and he knew that Greg had worked her in early. His waiting list was usually six months long.  He’d agreed to see Ashley in under two.

He went to bed, a man torn by thoughts of a future devoid of any form of medicine and his shell of a life without her.

He was between semesters.  Christmas travelers had returned home today.  It would cost extra to book this late, but if he flew out tomorrow, he might be able to talk Ashley into coming back with him for New Year’s Eve.

He thought about texting her, but this was too important.

He picked up his phone and made the call.

Ashley nearly choked on her bite of raw onion when she saw Sebastian’s number flash across her screen.  Realizing that she would only delay the inevitable, she chewed fast and swallowed enough to answer.

“Sorry,” she mumbled past a cheek full of sweet, tangy goodness.  “I’m eating supper.  The movers were here, and I’m just now getting to the point where I can sit down and relax.  Is there something that won’t wait?  Wait.  You didn’t text me.”

That had been their agreement, to help maintain distance and protect his anonymity.

Across the continent, Sebastian blew out harshly.  “No, I didn’t.  Jesus.  I’m sorry.  You eat.  I’ll call you later.”

“No.  No.  It’s okay.  I was going to get in touch with you anyway, as soon as I had time to talk.  It might as well be now.”

“If you’re sure,” he said.  “I can call back.”

“Sebastian, please.  I’m sure.  Just—just let me talk, then you can have your turn, okay?  I saw Dr. Kelly.  He thinks that he can help my back.”

“Good,” he said.  “When is the surgery?”

And now the tricky part.  “Not for a while,” she told him.  “It was scheduled for next week, but the pre-op tests came back and now it’s delayed.”

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, a hint of panic in his voice.

“Nothing,” she hastened to assure him.  With his training, he was probably imagining a worst-case scenario.  “Really.  But we discussed it and agreed that it’s better to wait.”

“For how long?”  She could hear him huff out his frustration.  “Jesus, Ashley!  What the fuck’s going on?  You didn’t audition for that role you wanted.  You’ve sold your house.  Now you’ve delayed your surgery.  Do I need to fly out there and spank your ass?”

She took a deep breath and counted to ten.

“Ashley?”

“Yes?”

“You’re driving me nuts here.  I don’t care what we agreed on.  The truth is, I can’t do this anymore.  I have to see you.  Whatever it takes, we’ll find a way to make things work.  Now, talk to me.  Tell me what you think.”

“I think,” she said, smiling like a fool, “that you’re crazy.  Add me to your equation, and you put everything that you’ve worked for in jeopardy.  Nothing’s changed for you, but for me….”

She looked at her plate of raw onions and the bowl of beets that was her latest craving.  At least her craziness had an excuse.  “I delayed the surgery because it’s too risky right now.  When we did the pre-op screenings, my pregnancy test came back positive.  I have a sonogram scheduled, but at my last appointment on the twenty-second, Dr. Kelly thought I was about eight weeks along.  You do the math.”

There was a long moment of silence, but she wasn’t overly worried.  It had taken her a minute to digest the news, too.

“I want you here,” he told her.  “With me.”

“But what about your job?  Your teaching?  I won’t put you at risk.”

“Dragă mea,” he crooned.  “If it is a risk, it is one that I am willing to take.  I wanted you here, even before I knew of our child.  If you cannot leave California, then I’ll resign and come to you, but know this.  We will be together.  Here, there, or somewhere in between.  Whatever we decide will be best for us and our children.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he said firmly.  “You mean more to me than any job.  If you are worried about my ability to provide for a family, I can at least put your mind at rest. Do you remember when I spoke of my parents, how my father was considered a wealthy man?”

“Yes,” she said, struggling to process the shifts that were taking place at warp speed.

“My older brother runs his business.  Like your father, he has increased its size.  I may not have stayed to help him, but I am still on the board of directors.  I inherited the same number of shares as my brothers.  Their portions are larger now, but all three of us are, as you Americans say, a catch.  Now, dragă mea, are you going to be reasonable and take a chance on me, or do I need to fly to California and fuck some sense into you?”

“I think you need to come to California and fuck me,” she rasped, acutely aware of an empty ache that only he could fill.

Sebastian flew out on Wednesday.  They barely made it inside the door of her four-bedroom house before they remedied the situation.  He fucked her against the foyer wall.  Fucked her again in the living room, the bathroom, and finally the bedroom.

They christened the kitchen after breakfast.

Ashley was still bent over the island’s cool marble counter with his spent cock softening inside her ass when she looked over her shoulder at him.  “God, I’ve missed you, Master Sorin.  You have no idea.”

He smirked at her, preening like a rooster.  “I believe I do, dragă mea.  It has been the same for me.  I told myself that I should stay away from you, that your work was here and mine was there, and nothing but trouble could come of it.  But I could not forget our time together.  When I thought about it…when I had exhausted every conceivable argument, I knew that I could look for the rest of my life and never meet another woman who was such a perfect fit.”

He gave an elegant roll of his hips before slipping free.  “Stay there.”

He wet some paper towels in warm water and gave her a cursory cleaning.  A long bath followed, with the two of them soaking in the master bedroom’s large claw-footed tub.  Made of hammered copper, it was as beautiful as it was functional.

“What do you think of my tub?” she asked him, trailing her fingers in the water.

“It is very nice, dragă mea.  At first, I thought it strange to find it in your bedroom instead of an en-suite, but I can see its appeal.  I can rest in bed and watch you bathe, while your belly grows ripe with our child.  Have you told your mother?”

“No,” she said.  “Not yet.  You needed to be the first to hear it.”

“I would like for us to tell her together.”

She bent her head and pressed a kiss to the hair-dusted arm banding her front.  “I would like that, too.  We can call her after our bath.”

“No, dragă.  We need to see her.  She will want to meet the man who plans to marry her daughter and raise her grandchildren.”

Ashley knew better than to twist her back to look at him.  “Sebastian?  That sounded a lot like a proposal.”

He kissed the base of her neck, then bit it.

“Say yes,” he ordered gruffly.  “I can go no further without your permission.”

“Yes,” she breathed, giddy with happiness.

“Good.  That is settled.  Today, we shop for rings.  When we go to Kansas City, we will look at houses.  If your mother is like mine, after the baby, after the surgery, she will want to help, but she has other children to think of, too.  It will be easier for everyone if we are close by, is this not so?”

“Yes, it is.  But what about this house?”

“I would advise that you keep it for now.  Here, you are close to some of your work, when you are not filming on location.  Where I live is close to my job and to Replay.  The first, I can change, but not the other, dragă mea.  However, I can also see that my house is better suited for a single man than a family.  If we wish to keep an East Coast location, then I need to sell it and find another place for us, one that is closer to Replay and the ocean.  You liked the countryside there, did you not?  And the town?  I know that you enjoyed The Three Hens where we had breakfast.”

“I did,” said Ashley, considering the possibilities.  What he’d said was true.  Most of her filming was done on location.  Some box office stars kept homes around the world.

“If you come back with me, we can start looking.  I had hoped to talk you into spending New Year’s with me at Replay, anyway.”

“I would like that,” she said, “but I have everything here to put away….”

“You will need help.”  He pinned her with his Dom eyes.  He knew her physical limitations.  There would be no argument from her.  “Classes don’t start until January 15th.  I am yours until then.”

The man was a godsend, but Ashley was torn.  “If I’m going to be moving again, I don’t know how much to unpack and how much to keep in boxes.”

Sebastian brushed a kiss across her lips, a soft tease that left her hungry for more.  “Unpack it all, I think.  It will be easier to outfit all of the houses and worry only about what clothes we will need.  Eventually, we will have to choose one for our legal residence, but there is time to decide which is the best for raising a family.”

She didn’t tell Sebastian, but she already knew what her vote would be.  Living near Replay, they would have a whole community of friends in the lifestyle.  Every weekend, they could act out their sexual fantasies on a dark and decadent stage.  With its themed events, Replay was constantly re-inventing itself.  It offered people in the lifestyle a brave new world unlike anywhere else on earth.

Looking up into the dark eyes of her Dominant lover, she couldn’t imagine anything better than a lifetime spent exploring it with him.

REPLAY SERIES

CAST OF CHARACTERS

with main book appearances

Adriana – Sir Josef’s ex-lover; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Adrienne Elizabeth St. Leger, daughter of Piers and Eleanor (Dubois) St. Leger; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Alexander Patrick Boulton – British WWI flying ace reenactor, co-owner of ABDC Air, Piers St. Leger’s cousin, in a relationship with Lara Eastman and Dmitry Chezhekov; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Alexis MacDonald – daughter of widower Micheil MacDonald; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Ashley Slade – actress portraying Marie Antoinette during filming at Replay (Book 5), engaged to Sebastian Moldovan/Master Sorin; Replay Book 8: The Dark Side

Aubrey Wolfe – gifted pianist, legally blind, submissive, in a MMF ménage with Dr. Josef Brandt and her mentor Luc Vashon; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Beatrice Hammersmith – Nanny to Piers and Victoria St. Leger, Nanny to Piers’s daughter Adrienne; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Breanna Campbell Falk – Replay resort musical director, married to Gunnar Falk; Replay Book 1: Viking Raid

Cade Madden – actor portraying Louis XVI during filming at Replay; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Dmitry Gregori Chezhekov – Russian aerobatic pilot, German WWI flying ace reenactor, co-owner of ABDC Air, in a relationship with Lara Eastman and Alex Boulton; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Don – period musician who plays the lute, in a relationship with Jon; Replay Book 1: Viking Raid

Don Diego —Replay Dom on the RACK side of the resort; Replay Book 8: The Dark Side

Dr. Greg Kelly – orthopedic surgeon and friend of Dr. Sebastian Moldovan; Replay Book 8: The Dark Side

Dr. Powell – Replay resort physician; Replay Book 8; The Dark Side

Eleanor (Elly) Benoit St. Leger – psychologist, friend of Rowena Campbell MacDonald and Marcus Vos, married to Replay resort owner Piers St. Leger; Replay Book 3: Honour Bound

Geoffrey – chauffeur for Replay resort; Replay series

Ginger Owens – children’s author, pen name of Rowena Campbell MacDonald; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Gini (Virginia) Shelton – librarian and 5K runner, in a relationship with Marcus Vos; Replay Book 4: Hooked

Gunnar Falk – Viking Dom at Replay, married to Breanna Campbell Falk; Replay Book 1: Viking Raid

Henry – Sir Josef’s ex-lover; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Ian McGregor – architect, Highland dancer, Dominant, in a relationship with Jannet MacDonald; Replay Book 6: Highland Fling

Jannet MacDonald – sister to Micheil and Xander MacDonald, former ballerina, homeschools her niece Alexis, in a relationship with Ian McGregor; Replay Book 6: Highland Fling

Jewell Fraser – Domme wardrobe mistress at Replay; Replay series

Jody “Savage Joe” Greene – Native American Dom, personal coach, and former MMA cage fighter; Something Special (The Three Graces Book Six), that introduced Replay BDSM theme resort

Jon – period musician who plays the bass viola da gamba, in a relationship with Don; Replay Book 1: Viking Raid

Jorge – Josef Brandt’s groundskeeper, married to Nadine; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Dr. Josef Brandt (Sir Josef) – Replay resort psychiatrist; Replay series/Replay Book 5: Night Music

Kitten – Sir Piers’s secretary at Replay; Replay series

Lacey Dixon – younger sister of Ashley Shade (Leigh Ann Dixon); Replay Book 8: The Dark Side

Lara Eastman – singer, songwriter, music historian who does first person impressions (Lillie Langtry, Nora Bayes, etc.), in a relationship with Alex Boulton and Dmitry Chezhekov; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Leah – wardrobe assistant at Replay; Replay Book 6: Highland Fling

Leda – wardrobe assistant at Replay; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Leigh Ann Dixon – legal name of actress Ashley Slade; Replay Book 8: The Dark Side.

Lenore – Replay chauffeur; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Luc Vashon – French-Canadian piano instructor and professional musician, aide to Aubrey Wolfe, a switch in a MMF ménage with Dr. Josef Brandt and Aubrey; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Sir Luis – Replay Dom, master of the whip; Replay Book 3: Honour Bound

Madeleine – Chez Cuisine’s owner’s wife; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Marcus Vos – private investigator and head of Replay security, an amputee veteran with PTSD, in a relationship with Gini Shelton; Replay Book 4: Hooked

Melody – bookstore owner; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Michael Holliday – singer with WWI band; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Micheil MacDonald – Scottish billionaire software designer, widower, now married to Rowena Campbell MacDonald; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Michelle – Aubrey’s friend who helps her shop for women’s things; Replay Book 5: Night Music.

Mr. Zelznick – Big Band conductor (WWI); Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Ms. Bryan – Replay attorney; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Nadine – Josef Brandt’s housekeeper, married to Jorge; Replay Book 5: Night Music

Nanny (Mrs. Beatrice Hammersmith) – Nanny to Piers and Victoria St. Leger, Nanny to Piers’s daughter Adrienne; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Nathan Roth – literary agent to Regina Wright and Ginger Owens (aka Rowena Campbell MacDonald); Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Piers St. Leger – British Replay resort owner, kinbaku master, and husband of Eleanor Benoit St. Leger; Replay Book 3: Honour Bound

Quentin – resort massage therapist; Replay Book 8: The Dark Side

Raphael – driver at the Paradiso Luxury Resort; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Ray – Replay bartender; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Regina Wright – erotic blogger, alter ego of Rowena Campbell; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Rex – Marcus Vos’s PTSD service dog; Replay Book 4: Hooked

Rich/Richard Benjamin Franklin – Replay Dom; Replay Book 4: Hooked, Replay Book 6: Highland Fling

Rowena Campbell MacDonald – Replay musician, author, artist, married to Micheil MacDonald; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Sabrina Wright – stage name of Breanna Campbell Falk; Replay Books 1 & 2: Viking Raid and Triple Play

Samael – Replay personal assistant; Replay series

Sebastian Moldovan – legal name of Dr. Moldovan/Master Sorin, paired with actress Ashley Slade/Leigh Ann Dixon; Replay Book 8: The Dark Side

Master Sorin (Dr. Sebastian Moldovan) – Romanian Dom on the RACK side of Replay, paired with actress Ashley Slade/Leigh Ann Dixon; Replay Book 8: The Dark Side

Stan – talent agent for Ashley Slade; Replay Book 8: The Dark Side

Stephen Howard – talent agent for Regina Wright, bisexual Dom; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Trent Blackwell – assistant to talent agent Stephen Howard, a switch; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Victoria (Tory) Elizabeth St. Leger – sister of Piers St. Leger; Replay Book 7: Wing Men

Xander MacDonald – software designer, brother of Micheil and Jannet MacDonald; Replay Book 2: Triple Play

Author’s Biography

Nia Farrell is the author of one of The 50 Best Indie Books of 2016, a 2016 Golden Flogger Finalist, and a founding member of the Wicked Pens.  A multi-genre writer published in nonfiction, poetry, music, articles, and children’s books, with one documentary screenplay under her literary belt, she’s an old soul and a period reenactor who’s been into corsets for centuries, although she wears them more to Civil War events these days.

Nia has been involved in the metaphysical community for over twenty-five years.  She is a Reiki Master and crystal healer whose work encompasses this and other lifetimes.  In her book Something More, BDSM and submission are tools for healing post-rape PTSD, earning a nomination for Best BDSM Book of the Year, Ménage Category, in the 2016 Golden Flogger Awards.

Her debut books from The Three Graces series, Something Else, Something Different, and Something More, are kink with a paranormal twist.  Soul mates, reincarnation, karmic fallout, shamanism, and psychic abilities come into play.  Personal experience and extensive research go into crafting her characters, but it’s her sense of whimsy that has made fictional Posey, Minnesota, the ménage capital of the United States, with a Monty-Python-inspired diner that’s central to the plotlines.

Nia was fortunate enough to meet her soul mate early on.  She married her high school sweetheart, raised two children, and began writing at her husband’s suggestion.  She has been published in erotic romance since 2015.

AUTHOR LINKS

Nia Farrell & Erinn Ellender Quinn’s webpage

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Nia Farrell’s Facebook author page

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Farrell’s Foxes, Nia Farrell’s Street Team page

https://www.facebook.com/farrellsfoxes

Nia Farrell’s Amazon author page

http://viewauthor.at/NiaFarrell

Nia Farrell’s Goodreads author page

http://goodreads.com/Nia_Farrell

Nia Farrell’s author page at Kinky Literature

http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellKL

Nia Farrell’s Wicked Pens author page

http://bit.ly/WPenNia

Nia Farrell on Tumblr

http://authorniafarrell.tumblr.com/

Nia Farrell on Twitter

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Nia Farrell on Google+

http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellGplus

Nia Farrell on YouTube

http://bit.ly/NiaFarrellYouTube

WRITING AS ERINN ELLENDER QUINN

Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Amazon author page

http://viewAuthor.at/EEQuinn

Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Goodreads author page

http://bit.ly/EEQuinnGoodreads

Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Facebook author page

http://bit.ly/EEQuinnFacebook

Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Wicked Pens author page

http://bit.ly/WPenEEQ

Erinn Ellender Quinn on Twitter

https://twitter.com/ErinnEQuinn

WRITING AS REE L. DIEHL

Ree L. Diehl’s Facebook author page

https://www.facebook.com/ReeLDiehl

NIA FARRELL TITLES

Something Else (The Three Graces Book One).  Three soulmates forge a future from the flames of their pasts in an interracial New Age New Adult MMF ménage BDSM erotic romance.  “It’s part paranormal, part BDSM, part love story, but all good.”  Released August 25, 2015.  Length 17,872 words.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/SomethingElseWP

Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TG1

Something Different (The Three Graces Book Two).  Starving artist Anna James has sworn off men.  Rock gods Jackson and Jacob Thomason just promised her the best sex of her life.  Does Anna dare submit to the part-Comanche twins who perform as No Mercy?  Released September 29, 2015.  Length 17,235 words.

Teasers and except http://bit.ly/SomethingDifferentWP

Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TG2

Something More (The Three Graces Book Three) Finalist for Best BDSM Book of the Year, Ménage Category, 2016 Golden Flogger Awards.  Rachel Givens is supposed to be dead.  She has post-rape PTSD and a three-year-old autistic daughter, father unknown.  When her former lovers—a biker and a porn star—walk into the restaurant where she works, this single mother learns just how much more she can handle.  Released October 15, 2015.  Length 18,613 words.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/SomethingMoreWP

Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TG3

The Three Graces Trilogy (paperback) includes Something Else, Something Different, and Something More.  Welcome to fictional Posey, Minnesota, the ménage capital of the USA and home of the Three Graces—young women whose names all mean “Grace.”  Three women.  Six men.  Things are about to get interesting.  Released April 2, 2016.  Length 230 6x9 pages.

Amazon buy link http://mybook.to/TGr

Something Special (The Three Graces Book Six—the sequel to Something Else).  When morning sickness hits the house, a Dominant veteran with PTSD and an American Indian musician propose to give their psychic submissive a very special honeymoon.  They’re giving Grace the capture fantasy of her dreams at Replay, a BDSM theme resort where patrons role play in the past.  Released May 5, 2016.  Length 21,578 words/105 5x8 pages. 

Nominated Best Erotica and Best Romance, 2016 Summer Indie Book Awards. Winner, Favorite Audiobook, EskieMama & Dragon Lady Reads Midyear Awards, 2016.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/TG6WP

Amazon e-book buy link http://mybook.to/TG6

Amazon paperback buy link http://mybook.to/TG6p

Audiobook buy link http://mybook.to/TG6a

As Wicked as You Want (Forever Ours Book One).  It’s a past life for The Three Graces’ Nico, J.T., and Grace, a Victorian erotic romance BDSM MMF ménage with a bisexual British history professor, his American stepsister who’s been living as a man since serving in the Civil War, and her Irish messmate who is an apprentice in her art studio and who has been fighting his attraction to “Lane.”  Released August 1, 2016.  Length 155,467 words / 609 pages.

Voted #1 Erotica and #10 overall, The 50 Best Indie Books of 2016. Nominated Best Erotica, Best Historical, and Best Romance, 2016 Summer Indie Book Awards.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/AWAYWWP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/FO1

Paperback http://mybook.to/FO1p

Audio excerpt, read by the author

http://bit.ly/WickedAuthorReadsYT

Dark Moons Rising.  On the most dangerous night of the year, a daughter of light finds unexpected sanctuary with two dark lords, handsome as men, stunning as centaurs.  An otherworldly sword-and-sorcery paranormal shifter ménage erotic romance novelette.  Released March 10, 2016.  Length 9,210 words.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/DMRWP

Amazon e-book buy link http://mybook.to/DMR

Amazon paperback http://mybook.to/DMRp

“Pride and Prejudice meets 50 Shades of Grey” in Pride and Punishment – An Erotic Retelling of Jane Austen’s Beloved Classic by Nia Farrell and Jane Austen. A Dominant Mr. Darcy must find a way to win the submissive heart of a woman who abhors him.  Released June 1, 2016.  Length 91,133 words/344 pages.

Voted Best Historical Romance, 2017 Ménage Romance Readers Favorites.  Nominated Best Erotica, Best Historical, and Best Romance, 2016 Summer Indie Book awards.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/PunishWP

Amazon e-book buy link http://mybook.to/Punish

Amazon paperback buy link http://mybook.to/Punishp

Amazon Large Print buy link http://mybook.to/Punishlg

Gift shop http://www.cafepress.com/prideandpunishment

Wicked Lady.  In Restoration England, a lady highwayman demands more than money from her victim and now must pay for her crimes.  It’s a tale of dubious consent, first his, then hers, with a degenerate lord, one desperate woman, and two nights that will change their lives.  Reached #37 on Amazon’s Best Seller list, Historical Erotica Mystery.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/WLadyWP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/WLady

Rules of Engagement.  Corporate attorney Dylan Reynolds wants to become a first time Daddy Dom with his latest submissive, a twenty-two-year old genius whose lack of experience intrigues him.  Holly Knox can’t deny her attraction to Dylan, but she’s never had a serious relationship, let alone been with a Dominant who’s into the BDSM lifestyle. Can this innocent embrace ageplay and be Daddy’s good girl?  Length 18,816 words / 99 pages.

Teasers and excerpt at http://bit.ly/RulesOEWP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/ROE

Amazon paperback http://mybook.to/ROEp

Replay Book 1: VIKING RAID.  A curious virgin makes Replay resort’s Viking Dom an offer he can’t refuse.  Released July 1, 2016.  Length 20,051 words/99 pages.

Nominated Best Erotica, 2016 Summer Indie Book Awards.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/RB1WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB1

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB1p

Replay Book 2: TRIPLE PLAY.  A celibate sex addict meets a Scottish Dominant who’s determined to be the exception to her rules.  Released September 1, 2016.  Length 20,232 words / 100 pages.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/RB2WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB2

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB2p

Replay Book 3: HONOUR BOUND.  A psychologist interested in BDSM experiences it first-hand with the owner of Replay resort.  Released November 1, 2016.  Length 19,946 words / 97 pages.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/Replay3WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB3

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB3p

REPLAY SET 1: Viking Raid, Triple Play, Honour Bound.  Contains Books 1-3 of the series.

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RSet1

Amazon paperback http://mybook.to/RSet1p

Replay Book 4: HOOKED.  During pirate weekend, a curious librarian explores BDSM with a Dominant veteran amputee.  Released January 1, 2017.  Length 21,950 words/ 121 pages. 

Winner, Favorite Leading Lady, 2017 Our Book Stars Awards.

Teasers and excerpts http://bit.ly/Replay4WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB4

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB4p

Audiobook http://mybook.to/RB4a

Replay Book 5: NIGHT MUSIC.  In an updated version of Cyrano de Bergerac, bisexual Replay resort psychiatrist Sir Josef plays matchmaker with a blind concert pianist and her mentor and falls for them both.  A MMF ménage.  Released March 1, 2017.  Length 19,438 words / 104 pages.

Teasers and excerpts http://bit.ly/RB5WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB5

Paperback http://mybook.to/RB5p

Replay Book 6: HIGHLAND FLING.  During a special music weekend at Replay resort, a former ballerina must choose between two Dominants.  Released May 1, 2017.  Length 20,081 words.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/RB6HighlandFling

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RB6

REPLAY SET 2: Hooked, Night Music, Highland Fling.  Contains Books 4-6 of the series.

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RSet2

Amazon paperback http://mybook.to/RSet2p

Replay Book 7: WING MEN.  During World War I weekend, a singer comes under the sights of two rival fighter pilots.  If they want her, they’ll have to learn to share.  Released August 1, 2017.  Length 20,081 words.

Teasers and Excerpt http://bit.ly/WingMenWP

Amazon e-book  http://mybook.to/RB7

Keeper—The Avenging Angels MC Introduction.  Isabella Castellari is rescued from a roadside breakdown by Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan, Vice President of the Avenging Angels MC.  He takes her to the clubhouse, but it’s his rules, his way, if she chooses to stay.  Released June 1, 2017.  Length 2,724 words.  Includes a free sneak peek at Find Her—Avenging Angels Book 1.

Trailer http://bit.ly/AAMCKeeperTrailer

Teasers and excerpt: http://bit.ly/AAMCintroWP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/AAMCintro

Amazon audiobook http://mybook.to/AAMCintroA

Find Her (Avenging Angels MC Book 1).  Rose McLanahan is the daughter of the Avenging Angels MC president and younger sister to four of its members. When she’s rescued from a rival gang, her oldest brother’s best friend is entrusted to take her where the Blackwater Demons MC won’t find her.  Michael O’Flaherty has known the Angels’ princess since she was born, but alone in the Angels’ safehouse, Dominant Michael and submissive Rose will finally discover each other.  Released June 8, 2017.  Length 40,627 words.  Reached #9 on Amazon’s BDSM Erotica Best Seller list.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/AAMC1WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/AAMC1

Find Her: Avenging Angels MC Book 1 with Keeper—The Avenging Angels MC Introduction.  Print edition includes bonus series introduction short story.  Length 43,348 words / 186 pages (208 total).

Amazon paperback http://mybook.to/AAMC1p

Keeper: Avenging Angels MC Book 2.  When Mad Dog McLanahan comes to Isabella Castellari ‘s rescue after her car breaks down, he quickly realizes that she’s nothing like her porn star sister. Isabella is an innocent, but the secrets he’s been keeping will either bring them together or tear them apart.  Length 42,925 words / 225 pages.

Teasers and Excerpt http://bit.ly/AAMC2WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/AAMC2

Amazon paperback http://mybook.to/AAMC2p

Touch the Wind (Touch the Wind Book 1) by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn.  Christiana Delacorte has loved Justin Vallé since her misspent youth, sailing disguised as a boy.  When she hires the French privateer to rescue her father, she’s delighted that his price includes her presence in his bed.  The first of a swashbuckling series set in the 1720s Caribbean.  Released December 1, 2016.  Length 91,354 words.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/TW1WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/TW1

Ride the Wind (Touch the Wind Book 2) by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn.  Set in the same year the last witch burned in Scotland, indentured servant and Wiccan healer Beth Gordon risks her life to save her master, Irish sea captain Ian O’Malley, a man with dark secrets of his own.  A paranormal historical romance.  Released October 1, 2016.  Length 70,059 words / 244 pages.

Teasers and excerpt at http://bit.ly/TW2WP

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/TW2

Paperback http://mybook.to/TW2p

Reap the Wind (Touch the Wind Book 3) by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn.  A vicar’s unconventional daughter meets her match in the bastard son of a Spanish spy.  Release Date February 1, 2017.  Length 67,087 words.

Teasers and excerpt http://bit.ly/TW3ReapWP

Amazon e-book link http://mybook.to/TW3

TOUCH THE WIND SET 1: Touch the Wind, Ride the Wind, Reap the Wind (Books 1-3). Length 440 8 ½” x 11” pages.

Amazon paperback http://mybook.to/TTWSet1p

Dare the Wind (Touch the Wind Book 4) Dare the Wind (Touch the Wind Book 4) by Nia Farrell writing as Erinn Ellender Quinn.  Irish Captain Tristan O’Dea finds passion on the high seas with his commander’s widowed half-sister, free-thinking musician and composer Jessenia Bougeureau.  Release Date April 1, 2017.  Length 67,703 words / 245 pages.

Winners, Favorite Historical Hero (Tristan O’Dea) and Favorite Historical Heroine (Jessenia Bougeureau), EskieMama & Dragon Lady Reads Midyear Awards, 2017.

Teasers and Excerpt http://bit.ly/TW4WordPress

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/TW4