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Vice (Sins of Seven #7)
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My life is perfect, but my story isn’t.
I’m cruel. I’m cold. I’m heartless.
The list of submissives wanting me to train them is endless.
*A romantic suspense standalone with BDSM themes, MM/MMF/FFM scenes.*
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There was never a time I can recall that I didn’t derive my pleasure from pain.
Since I was in my late teens, the act of pain brought pleasure. At the time I thought I was broken. I believed my desires had been altered, and there was no hope for me. I ignored it. Shoved it into the recesses of my mind because I knew it was wrong.
Pleasure and pain could not coincide.
Every day, I went through my routine of school, work, and chores. When I finally moved out of my childhood home and into the dorms where I studied at Northwestern, I found my calling. Not one of those epiphanies where you realize you need God or some fucked-up religion. No, I found my calling as a Master, which I’m now known as.
At first, I was unsure of this life, but as I played out scene after scene, I knew it was what I needed to push my past behind me and move forward.
God was never there for me, so I didn’t expect him to answer, even if I prayed. I focused on what came naturally to me, and I realize that all this time, I was only doing what I was meant to all along.
As a Master, I’m here to train inexperienced men and women who know something is missing in their lives, and to show them the other way.
The leather, ropes, metal cuffs, and chains, those are the instruments I use to ensure that those who kneel before me find pleasure in the pain I inflict.
For those who aren’t familiar with the lifestyle, I’m called a sadist.
The people who kneel and bow for me are known as masochists.
And we find pleasure in the darkness of BDSM. Yes, there are many fetishes, and we each have our own way of finding bliss. Euphoria.
The room I walk into is dark, with only the dim light of candles I’ve set out illuminating the space. Golden shimmers of flames dance along the red walls. I’m wearing a black suit, crisp, white dress shirt, and a pair of shiny black Oxfords. I’ve just come from the office where I’ve had a meeting with Nathan Ashcroft, one of my best friends, and a Dominant, like me.
On the floor before me is a beautiful blonde woman. At thirty-seven, she’s one of the older submissives I train. Her curves are voluptuous, her tits heavy with dark brown nipples that are extremely sensitive. Her skin is smooth, tanned, and beautiful to the eye.
“Eyes up,” I order, commanding her with two words.
She lifts her blue eyes, meeting mine with a shy, sultry gaze.
“Have you been a good girl for me?” I question, shrugging off my jacket, hanging it on the back of the chair.
“Yes, Sir,” she says, addressing me the way I taught her.
Each woman who walks in here has rules. I’m not a Master to all, and I’m not a sadist with everyone. They each have their own wants and needs, and I fulfill those as best I can.
I have a waiting list of men and women vying for the next spot in my dungeon.
I’ve never believed in owning one slave. Never allowed myself to give a collar to one woman or man. The variety I’m afforded is what I crave. Seeing beautiful bodies at my mercy every day is something I’ve become accustomed to.
“Spread your legs,” I command, while my shirt finds its spot atop my jacket. Next are my shoes. Placing them neatly beneath the chair, I pad over to her. She’s facing the door, her body nude, hands on her thighs, palms up. Her are legs wide, offering me a view of her pussy.
I scrutinize her for a moment, stalking around her. There’s a slight tremor in her body, and I wonder if she’s wet already.
“You didn’t shave.”
It’s an observation. She doesn’t need to respond, which she doesn’t. I can’t help my satisfied smile, she’s learning. When I reach her front, I crouch to face her.
“What is it you want, Misty?” I question.
“To be owned by a Master,” she responds easily.
“And do you think he’ll enjoy eating your hairy cunt?”
She blushes at my use of words. “No, Sir.”
“Exactly. I want you to go to the bathroom, bring everything you’ll need to shave, and I’ll watch you.”
She gapes at my order but knows better than to question me. Slowly, she rises, perfectly poised for what she’ll soon have to endure. Not all men are like me. Some prefer hair, others not. Me? I’m meticulous, and every woman who walks out of here is clean, smooth, and ready to be devoured.
I never love them.
I never allow myself to feel.
And I never let my cock make my decisions.
I’m cold, I’m calculated, and I’m far from someone you want to love.
That’s an emotion I no longer possess.
It’s been a long time since I allowed myself to love someone. And when I did, my heart was torn from my chest with vicious claws. That’s why I no longer seek a long-term playmate. My role as a sadist revolves around the pleasure I derive from training and delving out the pain. It’s all I need in my life these days.