Claire Calderwood had fantasized about being a sexual slave to a man's desires for a long time now. She'd even taken the time to buy a couple of books on the D/s lifestyle. Those few times she'd tried to communicate her desires to her partners had turned into nothing more than mindless rutting that had left her feeling empty and used. Being tied to a bed while her boyfriend satisfied his fantasies wasn't the same as the give and take of consensual passion happening below.

Her hope had been to share this weekend with her fiancé so they could both learn from the experience of others. But Claire understood better than most that plans had a way of disintegrating dreams.

How she'd managed to let her baby brother's best friend talk her into keeping her plans still baffled her. Adjusting the butterfly mask, she cast a quick glance around. Claire wasn't sure she'd survive if she ran into Jonny here at the fetish club of all places. She hoped he was neck-deep in some hot tub with a good-looking co-ed. Goodness knows, she didn't know what she'd say if he found her strutting around in the barely there leather bra and skirt and heavy knee-high biker boots she'd found in her closet. She would be mortified if he told Ryan of her foolishness. Surely, she'd never hear the end of it. But this vacation wasn't about her brother Ryan, Jonny or her fiancé or anything else she'd left behind in Indiana. It was about Claire and giving herself permission to let loose and give in to her fantasies.

Throwing her shoulders back, Claire forced away the gloomy thoughts and turned her attention back to the dungeon. A man hung face-up by a series of knotted ropes. His arms and legs were stretched wide, exposing his torso and genitals to tempting possibilities. Clamps had earlier been applied to his nipples and inner thighs, and a plug inserted in his rectum. He had remained suspended and blindfolded, only able share the woman's pleasure and pain through her cries of ecstasy. Now two Doms maneuvered a pulley system, lowering him to waist level. Strong hands stroked over sensitive flesh. His cock and balls, restrained in a tight leather harness, swelled against its bindings, anticipation putting everyone on the edge of their seats.

"Are you enjoying the show?"

A male voice, thick and rich as honeyed molasses shivered down her spine. When Claire attempted to turn, he pressed into her back. His face nestled against her neck so that only a whisper separated his lips from the shell of her ear.

"Don't turn. Just answer. Are. You. Enjoying. The. Show?"

He spoke softly, each word enunciated clearly. It was such a simple question and delivered with such intensity, Claire could barely fill her lungs. The hard planes of his chest pressed against her. Muscular thighs ran along the back of her legs and against her ass. Gooseflesh rose where his breath caressed her neck. It was all she could do not to lean into the man.

"I… Well… I…"

"Yes. Or. No?"

Power buffeted her but didn't smother. Rather than drowning, Claire felt swaddled in the absolute security of this man. Her nipples steepled, pressing hard against zippers running along the soft leather cup of her bra. And when she inhaled to speak, the clean scent of soap and fresh air filled her nose. "Yes."