San Francisco Love: San Francisco Trilogy: Part Three Read online

  Master Jensen knows who, and what, he wants—Anna—but when he’s assigned the first letter of the alphabet he must prove to himself, and the lovely submissive, that he’s willing to push them both to their limits, and maybe beyond.

  When Anna and Jensen are forced to face the depth of their desires, and the painful origins of their relationship, they’ll learn that the worst pain comes not from a whip, but from the heart.

  * * *

  A is for…

  B is for…

  C is for…

  D is for…

  E is for…

  F is for…

  G is for…

  H is for…

  I is for…

  Pain or pleasure. In the end it didn’t matter. She craved both.

  Anna kept her breaths slow and even, trying to make as little noise as possible. Drawing attention to herself right now would be like a mouse squeaking in a room full of hungry jungle cats.

  The submissive kneeling beside her shifted, wincing a little. Anna’s legs hurt too—they’d been waiting here for over half an hour, and the concrete was hard against her knees and toes. She wanted to raise her head and look around, but she didn’t dare.

  Slaves and submissives knelt in various states of undress in the center of the large open space. Some sat back on their heels, others were kneeling up, their bodies straight from head to knee. Still others sat cross-legged with their hands laced together behind their backs.

  The Masters and Doms lounged on couches or in chairs along two of the walls. More were in the seating area in the converted hay loft, leaning forward to look down at the bounty of flesh on the ground floor. Some prowled the edges of kneeling men and women like predators circling a heard of prey.

  They were assembled in the barn, the only space in Las Palmas large enough to house everyone. To outsiders it might seem like nothing more than an upscale adobe-style barn, built to match the massive, sprawling mansion a hundred yards away. Las Palmas was a beautiful property north of Los Angeles, named for the twin rows of palm trees that lined the drive and circled the mansion. The barn was only one of the many outbuildings and, despite its name, was nicer than most people’s homes, with brushed concrete floors, air conditioning and teak doors on the ten large stalls. It had been built to house finicky purebred horses, but both the barn and the mansion served a darker purpose.

  Wood groaned as the heavy double doors opened. Anna caught her breath and dropped her chin to her chest. She stared at the top of her own breasts, exposed to just above the nipple by the black corset she wore. Matching stockings, panties and a garter belt completed her ensemble. Outside Las Palmas the lingerie would have been exciting and racy. Here it was the equivalent of a t-shirt and jeans.

  Footsteps clicked on the concrete—two pairs of boots and a pair of high heels. She’d been a serious submissive for several years now, and after spending that much time with her head down, she’d become very good at identifying the sound of footsteps.

  “Masters, Mistresses, thank you for joining us. Subs, focus on us.”

  Anna raised her head. Around her the other subs and slaves shifted to obey, rearranging themselves and focusing their attention on the three people standing in the center of the assembly.

  Master Leo, Mistress Faith and Master Mikel drew the eye and commanded attention. Each was tall and slim. Master Leo and Mistress Faith wore half masks. Master Mikel did not. He had a narrow, strong face and dark eyes, which regarded the submissives with a sort of lazy pleasure.

  They were the owners of Las Palmas, and overseers of Las Palmas Oscuras—The Dark Palms—the name they’d given to the exclusive and secretive BDSM club housed on the estate. Referred to simply as Las Palmas, anyone who overheard a member talking about it and went snooping would find a website detailing the architectural and cultural history of the property.

  “We’ve called you here for a very serious reason,” Mistress Faith said, her voice cool and clear. She was in her early fifties and favored trim, tailored dresses instead of leather pants or latex gloves. She radiated power like a fire gave off heat.

  “We’ve become complacent,” Master Leo added. “Each of us has found pleasure and pain, often both, within these walls.”

  “And yet,” Master Mikel continued, “we do not push ourselves. Comfort and safety is for the mortals out there.” He threw out one long arm, his dress shirt pulling back to expose his strong brown wrist. For a moment Anna thought she could see bruises, like those left by a cuff, but that couldn’t be. “We are gods, gods who are growing lazy and stupid in our complacency.”

  Anna’s heartbeat raced. Though the subs and slaves remained still, she saw the Masters and Doms straightening, some who were seated rising to their feet.

  “If you want to play the same games, if you want the safety of the known, then we invite you to leave. The contract you signed when you joined will remain in effect. Any discussion of who we are or what we do will be met with swift, harsh retribution.”

  There were several long minutes of silence. No one moved. Membership at Las Palmas was limited to a very select few—wealth, beauty and depravity were all required to even be considered. Anna suspected that many of the people in the room were like her—they didn’t just enjoy this place, they needed it. It soaked up and exercised a darkness within them that otherwise might have run rampant.

  “I warn you,” Mistress Faith said, “the offer will not be made again. By remaining here you consent to the…activity.” The syllables of the word “activity” rolled from the Mistress’s mouth, as if she’d been savoring them before speaking.

  There were a few chuckles, some muttering from the Doms and Masters, but again, no one left.

  “Very well,” Master Leo said. “Let’s explain the rules.”

  Master Mikel went to the door of the tack room. He wheeled out a large board draped in black cloth, and positioned it against the wall.

  “My friends and companions in debauchery.” There was a hint of amusement in Master Mikel’s voice. “Prepare yourselves.” He pulled off the cloth.

  Keep reading A is for…

  Also by Lila Dubois

  The San Francisco Trilogy

  San Francisco Longing

  San Francisco Lost

  San Francisco Love

  Masters’ Admiralty

  Treachery’s Devotion

  Loyalty’s Betrayal

  Pleasure’s Fury

  The Trinity Masters, Erotic Ménage Romance written with New York Times bestselling author Mari Carr

  Elemental Pleasure

  Primal Passion

  Scorching Desire

  After Burn (free short story)

  Forbidden Legacy

  Hidden Devotion

  Elegant Seduction

  Secret Scandal

  Delicate Ties

  Beloved Sacrifice

  The Trinity Masters: Volumes 1-4

  BDSM Checklist, BDSM Erotic Romance

  Writing as L. Dubois

  A is for…

  B is for…

  C is for…

  D is for…

  E is for…

  F is for…

  G is for…

  H is for…

  I is for…

  Undone Lovers, BDSM Erotic Romance

  Undone Rebel

  Undone Dom

  Undone Diva

  Standalone BDSM Erotic Romance

  Betrayed by Love

  Dangerous Lust

  Red Ribbon

  The Glenncailty Ghosts, Modern Gothic Romance

  Redemption

  Lovers

  Ghosts

  Bones

  The Wraith Accords

  Carnal Magic

  City of Angels, Supernatural

  Writing as E.M. Nally

  Faith of Beasts

  Monsters in Hollywood, Paranormal Romance

  Dial M for Monster

  My Fair Monster

  Gone with the Monster

>   Have Monster, Will Travel

  A Monster and a Gentleman

  The Last of the Monsters

  Standalone Paranormal Romance

  Briar Rose

  Calling the Wild

  Kitsune

  Sealed with a Kiss

  Standalone Shifter Romance

  His Wolf Heart

  Savage Satisfaction

  Zinahs, Fantasy Romance

  Forbidden

  Savage

  Bound

  About the Author

  Lila Dubois is a multi-published, bestselling author of erotic, paranormal and fantasy romance. Her books have been nominated for many awards including RT Book Reviews Erotic Novella for Undone Rebel and the Golden Flogger. Having spent extensive time in France, Egypt, Turkey, Ireland and England Lila speaks five languages, none of them (including English) fluently. Lila lives in California with her own Irish Farm Boy and loves receiving email from readers, though she is slow to respond since she now has a tiny human. Can books featuring secret baby plots be far behind?

  Visit Lila online:

  www.liladubois.net

  [email protected]