Four Beautiful Letters (Desire Island 4)

She took a long drink and handed it back to him. “Thanks.” Still naked, she held her clothes bunched under one arm.

“Can I help you back into that corset?” Nick asked, swinging his repacked gear bag over his shoulder.

“No, thanks,” Sophia replied with a shake of her head. She opened her tote and pulled out a bright red bikini top and matching sarong. “I’d rather wear this, if you don’t mind.” She chuckled, adding, “Or even if you do.”

He grinned. “I don’t blame you. I have no idea how you women manage those tight-fitting outfits and stiletto heels.”

“Oh, I draw the line at the heels, ,” Sophia said, still smiling. “The corsets and bustiers make me feel sexy, and I love the scent of leather. But there’s nothing sexy about a twisted ankle. Talk about torture devices,” she added with a dimpled grin. “I never could learn to totter on those things.”

Nick laughed. “You’re funny.”

“Uh oh,” Sophia said, wrinkling her nose. “And here I was, going for sultry and mysterious.”

Nick laughed again, in spite of himself. Who was this girl? He glanced around, wondering if he should take her to another scene station, or to one of the private fetish rooms for something more intimate. Maybe he’d just throw caution to the winds and take her right up to his room and…

“Hey, want to take a walk out on the beach?” Sophia asked, breaking into his thoughts. “I could use a little fresh air to clear my head. That scene was really powerful.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Nick said, regrouping. She was right—there was no rush.

They left the dungeon and walked through the lobby to the main doors. Leaving their bags at the reception counter to collect later, they headed directly out to the beach.

The evening air was pleasant, a sea breeze stirring the air. They walked past the tiki bar, which was lit with hundreds of tiny lights strung around and between the palm trees. They passed small groups clustered around the fire pits, their faces lit by the flickering flames.

As they moved farther along the cool sand, the murmurs of the other guests were muted against the sound of the waves breaking along the shore. The sky was inky black overhead, sprinkled with tiny, sparkling stars.

“You handle yourself very well during fairly intense scenes,” Nick commented. “I take it you have a lot of experience?”

Sophia shrugged. “I’ve been in the scene for years. I’ve gone to BDSM clubs and conventions and played with a lot of different guys, but nothing long term has really worked out. I did live with this guy for a while who identified as a Dom. I thought I loved him, and I definitely wanted to please him, but it didn’t work out. He wanted me to try the whole Master/slave thing. I loved the BDSM play, and he knew what he was doing, so I figured, what the hell? I’d give it a shot.” She laughed, shaking her head.

“Didn’t work out so well, huh?” Nick surmised, trying to imagine this strong-willed young woman on her knees.

“You could say that,” she agreed. “He did say that,” she added with a laugh. “I tried. I honestly did, but I couldn’t get into the whole sub thing—at least not in the way he wanted. He wanted a docile, submissive slave girl who would massage his feet and say, ‘Yes, Master,’ to everything he said, even if it was bullshit.” She chuckled. “He wanted to take full control of my life, down to what I spent on toothpaste and what brand of underwear I wore.”

“How long did that last?”

“Two weeks.”

Nick laughed. “That’s thirteen days longer than I would have given it. You’re definitely not the slave type.”

“No,” Sophia agreed with a rueful grin. “I’ve since learned to be more honest—both with my partner and myself.”

“That’s a good thing,” Nick said. Though he normally gravitated toward just such docile, submissive slave girls, he found himself enchanted with this brash, self-confident, funny young woman.

“So,” she said, turning to look at him as they walked. “Maybe you can explain it to me.”

“Explain what to you?”

“What a Dom gets out of a BDSM scene. I’m not talking about the Master/slave dynamic. I’m just talking about the powerful interaction of pure, raw BDSM. I know what I get from it. The intensity, the erotic pain, the blinding pleasure, the excitement, the thrill of letting go, of total surrender. But you? You have to work so hard, and for what? Just to watch me go berserk?”

Nick laughed. “It doesn’t feel like work to me. It’s sheer pleasure. I love the look of erotic fear in a sub’s eyes. I get off on the power of having complete control over her body and her experience. When a scene is good—when the connection is there—it’s like I’m right there with you on that wild roller coaster of sensation and emotion. And to know I caused that—that I can give that to another person—it’s amazing, really. But it’s even more than that.” He paused, trying to find the words.