All Things Jensen City Book Two!

Book 2 of Jensen City Heroes.

Release Date: 11/11/21 Preorder available! Click on picture of cover below to be taken to a pre-order link. Or click here.

Ya’ll, I can’t wait for you to get to know Remi better!!! Don’t get me wrong, Arson will always be my first book baby, but this book…this book is my Empire Strikes Back effort of the series. I hope you’ll love her as much as I love her.

And damn, did I fall in love with that man of hers along the way.

Blurb:

Zeke Lightfoot is the new Jensen City fire chief and a damn good one. He may be young for a fire chief, but he’s a good leader and is always in charge. The only exception is that he likes to be dominated by beautiful women in his off time.

One night, he goes to a secret club known only to the city elite by invitation only. While there, he’s humiliated and punished in the best possible way. The woman he meets there, his new dom, is gorgeous and mysterious. Who is the woman behind the mask she uses to keep her identity a secret?

Remi Young has a boring day job but an exciting and secret night gig. She’s also having a rough time since falling into a puddle while helping her friends. With her new ability to control water haunting most of her thoughts, Remi welcomes the distraction of a new sub at her night job. He’s gorgeous and everything she wants in a partner outside of work. Unfortunately, he’s off-limits per the club rules.

When Remi walks into her friends’ engagement party and sees her new sub sitting with her best friend’s fiancé, sparks fly. Should she tell her secrets to Zeke? Would it be more of a shock to her new sub if she tells him that she can move water at her whim or that she’s the secret sub that’s infiltrated his dreams?

Cover:

Chapter 1!- Only available on this blog post. Shhhhhh. (There is a prologue, but it basically catches you up on what happened in Arson from Remi’s POV.)

Chapter One

Zeke

“What are you into?” the woman at the cash register asks.

The amusing fact that there’s even a cash register at a secret sex club isn’t lost on me. It’s not like I’m buying a garden hose or tacos since I’m buying sex. Do I get a receipt? I inwardly chuckle to myself while I appreciate the beautiful blond woman’s ample breasts protruding out of her tank top.

“What’s on the menu? I’m a first-timer.”

“Ah. A club virgin. Well, we have your standard pay to play. We have an offering for a threesome that’s pretty popular with men of your status,” she says while ticking each item off on a finger. “We have quickie blowjobs for the no-fuss man on the go, we have a dom on-site and we have a massage with happy ending offering.”

“I’m sorry. Can you back up to the dom offering?”

The woman smiles a toothy grin, and I notice a gap between her teeth. She winks at me and wiggles her shoulders as if she knows exactly what kind of rough kinky shit I like.

She wouldn’t be wrong. It’s my dark secret. I love being dominated. Maybe it’s unmasculine because women have looked at me as if they feel sorry for me. For this reason, I don’t tell just anyone. OK, I tell the hookers, but only because I have to tell them so they can fuck me the way I like.

I’m not proud of it. By it, I mean the hookers. However, when I’ve told past girlfriends what I wanted in bed, they ran for the hills as soon as I asked them to flog me while pulling my hair. I’d love to experiment within the confines of a loving relationship, but it never ends well when I tell them. If you think finding a vanilla relationship is hard, try having a kink. Most women want me to dominate them. I comply to give them what they physically need, and I have no problem playing switch. However, when it’s my turn, I get squeamish looks and judgmental goodbyes. Hence, the hookers.

That’s how I ended up here. I’m the fire chief of Jensen City and the youngest person to hold that honor at the age of thirty-six. I now have powerful friends in government that include aldermen, the heads of the city utilities, the chief of police and the mayor.

Even so, it was a surprise to get an anonymous letter at the admin building last week. It was the kind of invitation that looks like a serial killer made it. It didn’t have a signed name or return address, and it was fashioned with block letters. The only information on it was the address and directions to go to the bar and give the password to the bartender. The envelope only said that the information in the envelope is confidential. Apparently, this is where the men of Jensen City’s elite get their dicks sucked and get anything else they desire.

“How much for the dom and what are the rules?”

“Five hundred,” she says, and a whistle escapes my lips. “She’s a damn good dom. I’ve never given a refund and most come back.”

“Does she finish the job, or does she just get me going?” I ask and feel my cheeks redden.

“She always makes sure you finish, but it’s up to her what she allows. She doesn’t usually fuck or blow her clients. She’s in charge and runs a tight ship no matter how much you beg,” she says with a wink. “And you will beg.”

I reach into my pocket and give her the entire wad of bills I pulled from the ATM. I wasn’t expecting to spend five hundred dollars at the club and grimace at the thought of paying to be humiliated. However, if the dom is as good as she says, it should be worth it.

“Come with me,” she says after putting the cash in a drawer and writing the transaction into some type of ledger.

I follow behind her down a long hallway. You’d think this would be some sort of strip club vibe or feel, but it’s not. It’s a back area at the Jensen City Golf Club. I guess someone knows where their clientele frequents. The men can golf all day, have dinner, move to the bar and give the bartender the secret password. The men are then led to what normal society believes is a service hallway. It’s a service hallway alright.

The woman leads me to a room with dim lighting like a massage parlor. She hands me a soft, white robe and stares at me without blinking for a few moments. I’m unsure if she wants me to get undressed in front of her or turn around, so I just stand there looking at her in confusion.

“What’s this for?” I ask, unsure why she’s just staring at me.

“It’s only if you want it to start. She’ll take it off. Most men just get naked or in their underwear, though. It’s your choice. We want you to feel comfortable.”

We stare at each other for a few seconds. “Uh, are you going to leave so that I can get undressed?”

“I can, but I have to come back to secure you to the wall,” she says, gesturing to a wall with adjustable restraint sliders built on a shelf-like structure.

“Never mind,” I say and unbuckle my jeans and slide them down.

The cold air hits me as I step out of my pants even though I keep my underwear on. I grab the hem of my t-shirt and pull it over my head, and the woman gives my chest and ab muscles an unprofessional smirk.

“Are you checking me out?” I ask.

“Sorry,” she says and clears her throat. “Most men that run the government of Jensen City aren’t so…healthy.”

“Where should I stand?” I ask, trying to break the spell of this woman looking at me like I’m a steak dinner.

“Go over to the restraint area and face the wall,” she says nodding again to the concrete wall that looks like it belongs in a real dungeon instead of a sex dungeon. “I’ll secure your arms.”

“I face the wall?”

“Yes. Mistress likes to make an entrance when you can’t see her. She likes to smell your unease,” she says, waggling her fingers and sounding like she’s a ghoul in a horror movie.

I trudge over to the wall, and the woman walks over and lifts my right arm. Using a leather cuff like you’d see in a horror film about an insane asylum, she buckles my wrist into the rack and makes sure it’s not too uncomfortable for me. She walks over to my other arm and does the same.

My arms are now suspended in the straps, and my nose is touching the grey cement block wall. My arms aren’t comfortable, but they’re not really supposed to be comfortable. I paid a lot of money to make sure this isn’t a day at a spa. Nerves cause my stomach to churn uneasily, and I start to regret that I stopped at Archie and Bennett’s station for burrito night before coming here.

“She’ll be in when she feels like it,” the woman says as she walks through the door and closes it gently.

I wait silently for about ten minutes as my arms just hang by the wall. I’m so bored looking at the cement wall, I can scream, but part of me wonders if this is part of the torture. I take deep breaths, but they don’t do anything to calm me. The deep breaths also make me smell the sterile air that smells like someone has bleached the room since the last client. At least the place is clean.

I start humming an old country tune from the nineties to myself to pass the time and wish I could turn my wrist to look at my watch. I can’t tell how much time passes and the silence is deafening. I even try to listen for activities in rooms nearby. I half-expect to hear moans from the blowjobs down the hall, but the rooms must be soundproofed. My stomach bunches even more, and I make a deal with myself that if she’s not in here in what I think is five more minutes, I’m going to yell to be unhooked and ask for a refund.

The door creaks open before I can call to get out of my restraints. I’m facing forward and cant’s see anything, but I hear a soft female gasp as the dom comes into the room. The click-clack of her heels stops suddenly. I don’t know why she gasps, but I flex my ass cheeks in the hopes that she just likes the view of my naked back. I regret not taking my underwear off for her to see my naked ass.

After a few seconds, a whisper that sounds like honey escapes her lips. “Are you comfortable to start?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I answer. I know to be respectful.

“I like your respect, and you will refer to me as mistress from now on.”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Before I start, do you have any limits, injuries or fears I should know?”

“No, mistress.”

“What is your safe word if I go too far?”

Oh shit. What the hell do I use as my safe word? Why can’t I think of any words? Quick, I need to think of something I’ll remember in the heat of the moment!

“Uh, cream pie,” I say and cringe. Really? Why the hell did Bennett’s favorite phrase just come out of my mouth?

I swear that I hear the woman stifle a chuckle, but she regains her composure and disguises the laugh with a cough. I don’t know why, but the sound of that chuckle soothes me, and I instantly want to please her.

“Cream pie it is,” she replies, and I hear the smile in her voice. That makes me smile even though my nose is pressed against the wall.

“Is this your first time being dominated?” she asks.

“Professionally, yes. Privately, no. I’ll need a lot of instruction, mistress.”

I feel her approach my back. Pressing against me, she wraps her arms around my waist. I feel leather at my back as if she’s wearing it. I get a hint of lavender, but it soon passes out of my mind as she grabs a hunk of my hair and pulls my head back to get close to my ear. My cock instantly becomes erect at the feel of her controlling my head.

“You are in my service. You relinquish all control of your body for my pleasure. In return, you will trust that I will give you your own pleasure. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mistress,” I whisper, and she releases my hair.

Behind me, she pulls my underwear down so that I’m naked in front of her. I hear her hiss, and she drags her fingers across my ass.

“Such a tight little ass,” she says in a playful voice and spanks it lightly, the sound of her hand meeting my flesh echoing through the room. “It’s mine now, and I can’t wait to have fun with it.”

She leaves the back of me, and I immediately miss her body on mine. I feel my entire body tighten in anticipation of what she’s going to do to me first. I hear a drawer open from somewhere across the room, and she turns on a lamp that casts a small glow. She turns off the main overhead light, and we’re left with dim light like a romantic restaurant would have.

Without any warning or words of instruction, I feel a leather item slap against my buttocks causing me to grunt. “Shit!” I grunt to the wall in front of me as only the restraints keep me from hitting it with my face.

That spank was hard, but it was also blissful. The sharp pain on my ass cheeks moves to my balls as they tighten in anticipation of more spanking.

“Mmm,” she purrs behind me. “I love the way your ass reddens for me.”

She plants another spank on my ass, and I now recognize that feeling as a leather riding crop. Before I can recover from that blow, another blow lands across the back of my thighs, and I moan with the sheer perfection of it. Fuck, this is exactly what I wanted. The fact that I can’t see what she’s doing and don’t know what to expect or when to expect it makes this hotter than I could ever imagine.

Over the next few minutes, she relentlessly spanks me with the riding crop and periodically uses a salve to massage the pain from my ass cheeks and the back of my thighs. The cream instantly cools the heat coursing up and down my legs, and I feel like ramming my dick into the cement wall because I’m so aroused. It’s torture not being able to touch myself. Her hands on my back or thighs as she massages the pain away are exquisite.   

I don’t have to wait long for more torture. She puts the salve on the back of my thighs and then reaches around to my dick. She smooths the cooling lotion up and down my shaft and jerks me a few times to tease me as the cool tingling shoots straight thru my balls and all the way up to my neck. I throw my head back and hiss at her touch. “Yes, mistress. Fuck, yes.”

“Your pleasure makes me happy,” she whispers. “Let’s see how you do with more pain, though, shall we?”

Her perfect grip on my cock releases, and I hear a whimper escape my throat. I miss her touch and twist my arms in the restraints in a fruitless effort to touch my own dick. An odd mixture of frustration and pleasure twists in my stomach as I hear her open the drawer again.

I hear her high heels stalk over to me, and I feel an immediate pain flood my back as a flogger with several extensions, or tentacles, lashes across my back. I arch my back as the pain rockets through my body, and I cry out for her. The cry could be taken by most people as a request to stop. For me, it’s a request to keep going. I can’t form words right now.

She whips me again and again across my back until I’m panting and whimpering like a small child. She comes over, yet again, to apply the salve to my back, and I smile as she works the peppermint-smelling lotion into my skin. I’m enjoying the sensation so much, that I barely notice she’s unhooking my hands.

My hands come clear of the restraints, but I stand against the wall until I’m told what to do. “Turn to face your mistress,” she demands in a murmur as I rub my wrists.

I slowly turn to her, unsure of what I’ll see. I halfway expect a massive woman taller than Bennett with a square jaw holding a whip. What I see surprises me, though, because I have to look down to look into her face.

In front of me, is a woman of average height. That’s all I can really see of her, though. Her eyes under her mask are so rimmed with eyeliner, I am unsure how to describe them except to notice that they’re brown. She’s wearing all leather, including a leather corset, that pushes her breasts up. Given that it’s probably some kind of special design bra technology, I don’t think I could even guess at her cup size.

She wears bright red lipstick on full lips, but there’s nothing unusual about their shape. She’s also wearing thigh-high leather boots with high heels. I couldn’t even guess at her shoe size. She’s everything you’d imagine a dominatrix in an identity-hiding mask to be.

She sees me taking in her body as I look up and down her length. “You will avert your eyes from your mistress until you’re told to admire me.”

“Yes, mistress,” I reply and look to the floor and the tips of her boots.

She reaches down to my cock and jerks me a few times, and I feel the tingling on my dick again. The feeling causes me to smile, and I see her cock her face to the side as if studying my smile.

“Enough of this. Sit on the bench over in the corner,” she instructs and points to a bench to sit on with a bar to lean over.

I walk to the bench to sit on the hard metal, and I lean forward over the bar so that my back is fully exposed to whatever she wants to do to it.

“There are several other fun ways to play with you, as I’m sure you know. However, I need to gauge how much you can take and experiment with you before I completely own every single inch of your body. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mistress,” I reply.

I hear her flick a lighter, and trepidation causes me to wince. I’ve never done anything with fire before. As a fireman, I have a healthy respect for fire and have never thought to use it for sexual pleasure. I needn’t worry though. It’s not the fire or flame I need to worry about.

I feel heat drip onto my back and realize that she’s dripping hot wax from a candle or other item that melts onto my back. “Oh, fuck yes, mistress,” I cry out even though I haven’t been told to speak.

“Your mistress wishes for you to please yourself as I test your pain tolerance.”

She doesn’t need to tell me twice. I reach down to my cock and start jerking myself off while wax relentlessly falls on my back. The pain is cooking the skin on my back, but I’m reasonably sure there won’t be any scars or marks left after initial redness. I can even feel the wax running down to the crack of my ass before cooling and drying. When a drop reaches my asshole before cooling, I clench my ass cheeks in appreciation of the pain.

“Moan for me when you come. Tell your mistress what you like.”

The words come out of me in a whimper before I can even think. “Mistress, let me please you. Let me eat your pussy.”

She’s silent for a second and then lashes me with the flogger straight across my back. “I didn’t give you permission to ask to taste me. Speak only when you are spoken to.”

She flogs me several more times and then continues with the melted wax. I keep pumping my cock in my fist as the wax continues to drip into the crack of my ass. However, cleaning that up later is the furthest thing from my mind even as she aims the wax more toward my ass. Some of it drips all the way to my balls.

I’m the worst submissive ever as I rock against the bar at my chest and pump my cock into my fist. I’m moaning for myself, and my balls tighten with my load. Heat surrounds my entire dick area, and I can still feel the tingling of the lotion she used on my cock. However, I know enough not to come until she gives me permission.

She must read my mind. “Do not come until your mistress tells you to come,” she demands, grasping my hair and pulling my head back.

“Yes, mistress,” I whisper and back off my ministrations so that I won’t come as fast.

She makes me wait for ten minutes of relentless heat on my back alternating with massage. At least, I think it’s ten minutes. I’m rocking on the bar at my chest the entire time, and she whips, flogs and waxes me the entire time until I can only moan.

Finally, she dips her mouth near my ear and tells me the sweetest words I’ve ever heard. “Come for me. Come for your mistress, now.”

Her words push me over the edge and the tension in my stomach vibrates as the familiar ball clenching blurs my vision. I jack myself faster and push myself over the edge while I imagine tasting her pussy. It’s all I can think about, and I wonder if it would taste like the peppermint salve since that’s the smell stuck in my nose.

Come drips from my cock as tears well in my eyes from the exquisite pain that sears up and down my body as I come for her. She grabs the back of my head and flogs me lightly during my orgasm in encouragement.  Her face is still next to my ear, and I expect her to whisper something tawdry to me. I’m waiting for her words with anticipation when she simply presses a small, warm kiss to my ear lobe. It’s such a small move, but it makes me want to bend her over the table and fuck her until she feels this good.

“You’ve pleased your mistress today,” she whispers next to my ear and releases my hair, causing me to grunt. “If you return, we’ll push further, and you’ll please me again.”

“Yes, mistress,” I say with a strangled voice as she sashays from the room. Her hips sway seductively, and she still holds the flogger in her hand as she walks out the door without a backward glance.

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