Pain, Pleasure and Passion (A BDSM Novel)

Mystery Room

He gazes down at me, watching intently as I think through this room, how I think of my fantasies. I'm assuming he is waiting for my reaction to be clear on my face. What is my reaction? I want to be disgusted, and I want to run for the hills and never return.  But then I would never have the chance to live my wildest dreams. I would be lying, not only to Nicolas, but to myself, if I said I didn't completely love this room.

"Well?" I urge, trying to sound curious, nonchalant, and uninterested.

He swallows hard, licks his now parted lips, as if looking for the right words. A pool of wetness forms, down there. Just at watching his beautiful mouth, thinking of what he can do with it, especially in this room.

"This is my playroom, it is for both my pleasure and yours, yet can also be used for pain and punishment, when necessary." He explains, turning his face into an unreadable mask. It's like in that one instance he went from vunerable, nervous young man, to confident, striking business man. I am dizzy.

"I don't know what to say..." I say honestly, breaking the awkward silence.

"Well, I am sure you have questions, concerns, and fears." He says blatantly.

Hmm, questions, Yes. Concerns, Kinda, more about what this means and how many women has he done this to in the past. Fears? I hadn't thought of that, I don't feel scared at all, I am excited, turned on, and very wet. But, scared? No, for some strange reason I know I need to be scared and should be, but standing this close to Nick, I feel safe, secure and protected.

He breaks the silence this time, his impatience winning out over the confident business man composure. "What are you thinking? Please you're killing me." He pleads.

I smile. "I do have some questions, and concerns." I say, trying my best to match his unreadable expression from before.

"In that case, please ask away." He says, leaning up against the wall. He looks nervous and tense like he is scared of what questions I may have. But he looks so unbelievably sexy standing there, with just fucked hair, and wrinkled shirt. This lighting really does make him look mysterious, like a sex-god. He is very distracting. I have completely lost my train of thought.

"Um... do you mind if we talk out there? Not here?" I ask, knowing that I won't get much talking done in here, all I want right now is to be naked with this man. I swallow, biting my lip.

He nods briskly, his eyes darkening, and leaves the room. I follow him. As soon as I leave sexy room, I feel a pang of disappointment. I try to bury that feeling deep, needing all of my usual emotional control, that I have built up over the years.

I follow Nick all the way back to the grand living room and sit back down on the couch from before. He turns and angles his body towards me. Just looking at him is making me wetter and wetter- Focus April! I think to myself as I clear my throat awkwardly.

"So, um... I don't know how to start."

"Well, why don't you ask the first question that comes to mind, and we can go from there." He answers, nervously. His confidence all gone, once again.

"How many have there been?" I blurt out, it is the question that has been eating away at me since I got here.

He looks at me confused.

"How many girls have you done this too?" I repeat, more clearly.

His brow furrows deeper. "What do you mean? How many submissive's have I had? Or how many woman have I fucked?" He asks, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"How many women have you brought home, fucked, and then demand that they live with you?" I ask.

"None, except you. You are the only woman I have ever brought home and fucked, at least before a contract is signed. I don't do vanilla, baby. Never, but for some reason you got me to break my rule. And I have never begged someone to live with me either, I have had submissive's live with me in the past but I never personally asked them to live with me, they just signed the contract." He says, rather fast. He seems embarrassed by the fact that he is doing all this for me and explaining this.

I am in complete shock.

"When you say submissive, do you mean what I think you mean?" I ask, remember the research I have done on this subject in the past, in my fantasies.

He laughs, "I have no idea what you're thinking, April." He says.

"Do you mean a person who obeys your every command, who works to please you in any way possible, sexually and not?" I ask sounding matter of fact.

He looks utterly shocked. "Yes that is what I mean... How do you know?"

"I have done research on the subject Mr.Merinor." I say waving him off, nonchalantly.

"How many subs have you had in the past?" I ask.

He recovers from his shock, and answers. "Eleven."

Now i'm shocked, Eleven! I feel like someone just hit me with semi-truck. My heart sinks into my stomach. I have to hold back the tears that suddenly want to burst out of my eyes. What is wrong with me, I never cry. Ever.

"Um.... So your a dominant then?" I reply, my voice cracking. Hopefully it isn't so noticeable that I am about to burst into tears.

He looks at me in concern, "Yes." I all he says.

"Why me?"

He furrows his brow once more, looking like this question took him off guard. "Well, I am attracted to you, April. You are beautiful, and I, for some reason, feel the need to protect you. Like I have never felt before. When I saw your boss about to hit you it took all I had not to beat him to a pulp. I also have this feeling of need, to please you, which I guess is why I felt the need to pleasure you in the car, and fuck you in my bedroom, which I never do. You have this effect on me that I don't understand." He replies.

I sit there shell-shocked. This man is attracted to me? Wants me? What? I can't stop myself from lurching forward into his shocked arms. My lips meeting his and frantically fisting my hands into his hair. He reciprocates after a moment, ad we continue into sweet oblivion, right there on the couch.