Roses are Red by Jasmine Hill Page A

dungeon.
    When Mistress Kitty opened the door of the dungeon she did a double-take and drew her breath in sharply. Mr X was already waiting and the man who stood in front of her could only be described as an Adonis! A mask covered the top part of his head and hair but she could see that he had deep brown eyes and full lips. His shoulders and chest were hard and muscular, his stomach rippled and his long, powerful legs looked like they could snap her in two. He was tall, so that even in her stilettos he seemed to tower over her. He had a small amount of chest hair that trailed down his lean stomach and ended below the waistband of his black leather pants.
    Mr X was unlike most of the men she was used to seeing in Fantasy and she imagined her surprise was evident. She tried quickly to regain her composure as she stepped into the dungeon but she could see by his wry grin and raised eyebrow that her agitation hadn’t gone unnoticed.
    She felt instantly off balance from his reaction. She was the one who was supposed to be in control. In here she called the shots. Now this man, without uttering a word, had totally unnerved her and was obviously enjoying doing it.
    Determined to regain the upper hand, she lifted a stiletto-heeled boot until it rested against his hard stomach then she kicked him back against the wall—his body hitting brick with a satisfying thud. Then pinioning him by the chest with her whip, she swiftly looped each end through steel rings set into the wall and brought one knee up to rest dangerously between his legs. She saw with satisfaction the spark of fury in his eyes then thought of the instruction—‘enjoys pain but NOT domination’—and here she had dominated him so quickly he hadn’t seen it coming. It wasn’t her usual approach to defy the client’s wishes but for some perverse reason she was getting immense satisfaction from his barely suppressed anger and it was important that she maintain the upper hand.
    Stepping back, she stood akimbo as she studied him, giving him a moment to adjust to the whip restraint before she spoke.
    “I hear you like pain, Mr X.”
    “I wonder that you didn’t receive the rest of the instruction,” he growled, “for if you had, you would know that I do not enjoy being dominated.”
    “You do realise that a big part of BDSM is domination and submission? In here I am the Dominant, Mr X. There are other Fantasy employees who cater to dominant clients.”
    “I am well aware of that. Madam Boudica told me the same thing but you come highly recommended and I must say my friend definitely did not exaggerate your considerable assets,” he responded as he swept his eyes appreciatively over her body.
    She studied him a moment longer as she wondered idly who had recommended her and why. Then with one quick movement she lunged forward and once more rested her knee at his crotch. She placed her hands on the wall, caging him in, and leaned close to speak in his ear.
    “How shall we play this, Mr X? You want to be whipped but not bound—is that right?”
    Not waiting for him to reply, she unlooped one end of the whip then the other but kept her knee resting firmly between his legs.
    “Of course the client is always to be kept satisfied,” she purred, drawing a nail slowly but deeply down his chest. She felt his cock harden against her knee at the erotic contact and drew her hand down farther, nails raking his skin until she slowly removed her knee from between his legs. As she did so she gripped his balls and squeezed carefully but firmly. She felt him stiffen against her as he groaned.
    “You don’t like being dominated, Mr X,” she said softly, “but now I have you by the balls.”
    As she looked up at him, a small smile playing on her lips, his eyes narrowed in anger then with a low snarl he grabbed her wrist and squeezed it painfully until she relaxed her grip. Smiling cruelly, he seized both of her wrists and secured them with one hand behind her back while with