The Inner Room by Claire Thompson

would fall for a gay guy?
    She’d found him attractive at work, but it hadn’t bothered her, not really. She wasn’t stupid enough to waste her time pining after some gay nurse, and he was easy enough to ignore when wearing his scrubs and sensible shoes.
    But seeing him decked out in that muscleman T-shirt and black leather, his usually combed back hair falling into his eyes, his five-o’clock stubble adding a roguish appeal to his features, while she stood naked as a jaybird in front of him—holy cow! She’d nearly fallen down with shock.
    And the way he’d stared at her. Yes, he was clearly taken by surprise too, but his eyes had moved over her hungrily, making her feel even more naked than she was, if that made any sense. At the same time, though, it had felt as if he were caressing her with his gaze, as if he wanted her. But maybe that was just a talent he’d developed as a trainer—a way to make the submissive feel desired, whether male or female.
    She’d told herself she could handle the situation—she wanted to explore this part of herself too much to blow it—and she could have! She was doing okay, that is, until he put his hand on her throat, and his other hand on her cunt.
    Something about that big, masculine hand closing around her neck, bringing with it the knowledge that he had complete power over her, erotic and otherwise, had nearly undone her. Her poor clit was throbbing and when he slipped his fingers into her, that was bad enough. But that thing he did with his palm! Oh god, it was amazing. She wanted him to do it again. And again. And again…
    Where did a gay man learn to touch a woman like that?
    Though she was apprehensive about what came next, she was also excited. Erotic pain . Just the words were enough to send a shiver through her loins. Dana was right—how had she survived this long without being clued in to her submissive and masochistic needs? And if Cam were anywhere near as capable in the erotic pain department as he was in the giving straight girls orgasms department, she was definitely in for an intense experience.
    “I understand from Jack that you’ve responded well to a bare-handed spanking. Have you ever been flogged or caned? Have you ever been whipped?” Cam’s deep, sexy voice pulled Marissa back to the moment.
    Her heart jolted into a higher gear at these questions. “No, Sir. None of those things. Not yet.”
    A smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Good answer. Not yet. Well, let’s remedy that, at least in part. I believe the flogger is the next logical step. I have something new I think would be just right.” He moved toward a rack and selected a medium-sized flogger with dozens of black leather tresses dangling from a thick braided handle.
    “I think I’ll keep you standing for this exercise.” He pointed to the polished wooden column that rose from the floor to the ceiling, which Marissa knew from the outer room was called a whipping post. “Hug the post and bring your hands together around it. I’ll cuff your wrists so it’s easier for you to stay in position. I’ll leave your feet free. Since we’re at a point in the assessment where it’s possible you might need it, what’s your safeword?”
    Marissa felt a ridiculous but undeniable sense of pride that she had one. “Lemon,” she said promptly, adding a belated, “Sir.”
    “Lemon,” Cam repeated. “Okay. Stand at the post. I’ll get a new set of cuffs for you.” Marissa moved to the whipping post and carefully pressed her bare body against the cool wood. She wrapped her arms around the thick pole and turned her head so her cheek was resting against it.
    Cam returned with a set of canvas cuffs with Velcro on either end, a ring of metal dangling from the center of each. He put one around each of her wrists and then clipped them together by the rings. Oddly, instead of making her feel more vulnerable because she was now bound, she found herself easing into a softer place, if that was the