Submission to a Madman

I mentioned I’d give you a little taste of just one of the pieces I’m working on. As we all know, you can hire anyone to do anything your heart desires – as long as you have money. What keeps those who are dark souls from acting on this practice as well? If you’re sexy, good looking, wealthy and savvy, you can find exactly what you’re looking for. What if you’re a monster in disguise? What if there’s only one person in the world who can break the chain of violence, hunt the hunter? What if SHE is lured into his den of extreme kink, submitting to the one man who could end her life? Yes, what if…

Coming soon…

SUBMISSIVE FOR HIRE

Destiny heard the insistent tone. Swallowing hard, she blinked several times before easing 1Power Exchangeback in her chair. After a few seconds the fog slipped away. She scanned the perimeter of the room. There was no mysterious man invading her privacy or controlling her actions. Dear God, I’m losing my mind. His face, the man she hungered to find, remained in the forefront. She shook her head and glanced down at her skirt. The rumbled material had crawled up to her mid thighs. She stifled a gasp. Her panties were missing. No. This is insane.

“Doctor? Are you alright?”

I will taste you. I will own you and when I do, you’ll understand pure ecstasy…

Seconds later, she shut down the fantasy. She was a strong person, capable of protecting the woman buried deep inside. She’d been damn good at doing so for almost thirty years.

Tick. Tock.

Glancing at the oversized, old-fashioned clock, she grimaced, unable to remember the majority of the conversation. A patient. She was a doctor. She was…

He cleared his throat. Only this time, the sound was no apparition, no formidable monster, hungry to chain her in his basement, performing unspeakable acts. The man seated in front of her was desperate for help, lost in a system she claimed to understand. Go away!

A strand of dark hair fell to his lips. He was a patient. Still, she continued to read her fantasy man’s lurid thoughts, sensing his required possession of her. Why? Why was she so special to him?

A blip coming from her phone brought her up from the foggy haze. Panting, she fingered her iPhone. Two messages. Okay. Break free of this. He’s not real. Sadly, no man was coming to claim her.

She forced a smile and pushed a file across her desk, breaking the psychic connection. “I’m sorry and of course I’m just fine. What were you saying?” She wasn’t certain she’d asked the question loudly enough. As she centered her gaze past her desk, her thoughts cleared.

The chair was planted in the middle of the room. Her client was only comfortable if he was surrounded by air and nothing else. The poor man had fallen into an abyss. For a few seconds she thought about ending the session, but his imploring eyes and slacking mouth reminded her that she was his only hope. He was a loner. Then again, so was she. Concentrate. Her patient needed her expertise to pull them back to reality. Hell, they all did. Lately she’d felt like nothing but a farce, a woman incapable of helping anyone. Michael. You have to help Michael.

Michael’s expression was pensive. He tapped his foot as he wrung his hands. “Okay. Okay. SlaveI just thought…”

A full minute ticked by. Destiny glanced at the clock as she pressed down her skirt. She wiggled and slipped her fingers inside her waistband. Where the fuck had her panties gone? Had she actually taken them off at some point? She patted her hand on the desk and plastered on a smile.

“Michael, we have just a few more minutes in our session. Is there anything else you can remember about your dream?” Her professional training made certain her expression was comforting. Her patient was even more of a nervous wreck then he normally was during their typical hour-long sessions.

Michael’s eyes shifted, his gaze unfocused. He picked lint off the sleeve of his dress shirt and hummed. The heel of his foot continually tapped against the tile floor. Every body movement exuded raw emotion, complete discomfort, yet he’d only offered four full sentences during the last fifty minutes. She adjusted her suit jacket.

Even from where she was seated, she could easily see the sweat beading across his forehead. He reeked. His body odor was a putrid combination of garlic, stale cigarettes, urine and vomit. She’d never seen him this anxious in the nearly two years she’d been treating him. “Michael. Stay with me. What’s going on? Why are you so distraught? Did something happen at work?” Back on track, she breathed a sigh of relief.

He shook his head and leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands. “No.” There was zero inflection in his tone.

“With your lovely girlfriend? Did you guys have a fight?”

He’s lying and you know this. A demon lives inside of him. He’s being eaten alive as he should be.

The voice filtered inside her brain. Go away. Go the fuck away. She heard him laugh. His scent remained and the combination of the two men was nauseating. She shifted again.

Laughing, Michael shot her a quick look. “Do you really think a model is going to stay with a beast like me?”

“What?”

“You heard me, doc. I’m a puss sucking slug.”

The demon rises…

Destiny exhaled and stole another glance around the room. Her legs shaking, she rose to her feet, moving slowly to the other side of the desk. Michael certainly had his insecurities, but he’d never spoken this way. Confidence bordering to the point of pure arrogance had Masking herbeen a downfall his entire life. This was…unexpected. “You’re not a beast. You’re a professional with an excellent career in a well-known accounting firm. You have a better than average salary, a house in your name and a brand new sports car.” The majority of people would be jealous of the amazing attributes Michael had obtained in his life. She wanted to hate him for his pompous bullshit, but she couldn’t. She’d seen inside the man, straight to the dark side.

We all have a dark side, especially you darling Destiny, my good little slut. Soon you’ll learn your power, understanding my command. Listen and learn…

Fuck you! Hissing, she willed her midnight lover back into the trenches.

As Michael snorted he shoved both hands through his hair. “No woman will stay with me because of who and what I am. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch!” Enraged, he shoved back in his chair with enough force the metal legs slammed against the edge of the glass coffee table.

Did I mention I have a dark and evil mind? Lick…

Cassandre

About Cassandre Dayne

Cassandre Dayne is the pseudo for the best selling author of romantic suspense and thrillers
This entry was posted in BDSM, creatures of the night, Domination and submission, Dubious Consent, horror, serial killer and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s