“Ruthi Shay,” Ms. Leighton said. Madeline’s expression didn’t change, but Kel felt her shift beside her. “I understand you’ve already met,” Ms. Leighton added, with the faintest trace of amusement. “She can be... direct. But she’s brilliant.”
Doing her best to keep a poker face, Kel bit the inside of her cheek.Now, how does she know that we met? Does she have eyes everywhere?she wondered, but only for a second.But of course she does.
“I want you to trust the process,” Ms. Leighton continued. “Tomorrow will be your first day. It will be simple. Natural. You’ll be playing yourself.”
4
Mistress Eve Mondragon leaned on the railing of the small private patio of her cottage on the Isle of Dreams, sipping a chilled glass of sparkling water spiked with fresh lemon and lime slices, as she contemplated the reason why she was there. The staff had kindly offered her a glass of champagne or wine upon her arrival, but Eve had a strict no-drinking policy and had requested the sparkling water instead.
Alcohol and Dominants did not mix.
The corner of her mouth lifted as she thought about the typical remarks she’d received on her unusual last name, courtesy of her Basque father, during her first arrival on the island. “As I understand it, the meaning of Mondragon is ‘dragon mountain,’ is it not?” one of her mentors during her Dominant training had asked her before laughing a bit. “Fitting for a Domme, I should think. Since it is your sacred responsibility to protect your submissives, you must be that dragon mountain that keeps them from harm, even as you guide them in their submission. Don’t ever forget that.”
Eve and Ms. Leighton had known each other for a long time, although Eve certainly wouldn’t consider them close friends byany stretch of the imagination. Several opportunities in the past had arisen for Eve to lend her experience and expertise to the Isle of Dreams in the fulfillment of guest fantasies. The first time Antonia had called her, asking her to come to the island to discuss a business arrangement with Ms. Leighton, Eve had been surprised. She knew about the mysterious resort, of course, although she had never been there. One did not work in the sex industry in any capacity without hearing the stories and rumors of how desires and wishes came true on the Isle of Dreams.
Rearranging her extremely busy schedule and closing her dungeon for a few days, the professional Domme had taken the plane sent for her and landed in the beautiful lagoon surrounded by tropical flora that took her breath away. Once settled in Ms. Leighton’s striking office with a cold, refreshing drink, Antonia had assured her was non-alcoholic, Ms. Leighton had wasted no time explaining why she had been asked to come.
“As you well know, the fulfillment of dreams and fantasies is why the Isle of Dreams exists. Of late, we’ve had several potential guests express the desire to submit to a Domme, to feel safe in an environment where they can hand over control to another without feeling coerced or threatened.” Eve’s eyebrow had quirked slightly. “I don’t simply flatter you when I say your name came up consistently as Antonia searched for someone whom we felt could meet those needs for our guests, Mistress Eve.”
“Please. It’s just Eve at the moment, Ms. Leighton. You are not in my dungeon under my command.”
A gleam of amusement had twinkled in Ms. Leighton’s eyes. “So noted, Eve. We are also quite aware you are a professional Domme with a large clientele and an exceedingly busy calendar. Our guests are typically here for one week at a time. It is my hope that, with enough advance notice, we can book that period oftime with you for ourselves so we can adequately serve the needs of any guest who may be longing for such a fantasy.”
This time, both of Eve’s eyebrows shot straight to the top of her forehead. “The cost for booking a solid week of my time would beexorbitant, Ms. Leighton. A one-hour session with me in my dungeon is three hundred dollars. Of course, we would certainly negotiate a reasonable weekly rate, but ‘pricey’ doesn’t evenbeginto describe what something like this would cost.”
“I am quite aware, but I also have every confidence we can come to terms.” Ms. Leighton had been anything but perturbed. “More importantly, would this be something you would be open to considering?”
Slowly, Eve had replied. “Offering a fantasy such as this will take a great deal of advance preparation. Writing contracts. Establishing rules. Setting the guidelines for negotiation so the Dominant understands the submissive’s hard limits before play begins. The world of Dominance and submission is somethingno oneshould jump into feet first without knowing exactly what to expect.”
A slight smile touched Eve’s mouth. “Also, a professional Domme never engages in sexual play of any kind with a client. No sex. No sex toys. Nothing penetrative. D/s play in this context is not ‘tie a rope around my wrists, stick a plug up my ass, and do me with the biggest vibrating dildo you can get your hands on.’ This is what we call TPE, or Total Power Exchange, where the D/s protocols lead to mental release and fulfillment as the priority, not sexual gratification.”
After looking at Ms. Leighton and receiving a nod, Antonia had broken in. “In my search for someone who would be compatible with what our guests have been requesting, what you have said is not a surprise. Indeed, I am more convinced than ever that you are what the Isle of Dreams needs, given yourintegrity and approach to a dynamic that is beyond scary for many.”
“Have dinner with us. The island is empty of guests at the moment,” Ms. Leighton had urged. “We can talk in more detail about this plan without interruption and satisfy ourselves that this partnership will be greatly successful. Of that, I have no doubt.”
Sighing, Eve took another sip of her sparkling water as her thoughts returned to the present. As Ms. Leighton had so confidently predicted, their partnership had indeed been a success over the years. This current fantasy, however?Pursing her lips, the beautiful Domme massaged the back of her neck. Ruthi Shay was going to be one tough nut to crack. Eve didn’t think she had ever met another woman who was so emotionally stunted and closed-off.
And yet, even after only a few minutes, with every fiber of her being, Eve felt the longing deep within Ruthi’s soul, the yearning to be able to let go and submit to someone in perfect trust without worry or fear. However, her fractured soul had clearly taken an almost-fatal blow somewhere along the line, leaving her prickly, distrustful, impolite, and unable to form any type of healthy relationship with another human being.
“Ruthi Shay is a brilliant director, Eve, with the ability to capture emotional truth unlike any I have ever seen,” Ms. Leighton had told her. “The very fact that Ruthi has requested this fantasy tells me she wants to submit to another more than she wants to breathe, but she doesn’t know how to get there. She doesn’t know how to trust. It will be up to you to free her from the shackles she has placed around herself, to discover what has wounded her so badly, she is incapable of reaching for what her soul longs for more than anything in the world.”
Finishing both her sparkling water and her musings, Eve turned to go back into the cottage. “Well, little one, we have ourwork cut out for us, it seems. I sincerely hope you are ready to serve your Mistress as we loosen these iron chains that bind you. It will not be easy, but I do not, nor have I ever, accepted defeat. Hang on for the ride of your life, my lovely. I suspect there are more than a few surprises in store for both of us.”
Kel movedthrough the final pose, a seated forward fold, arms stretched long over her legs, forehead hovering barely above her knees, and tried to focus on her breath. In. Hold. Out. Her yoga mat was spread across the polished wood floor of her guest room, the same muted sage green one she always traveled with. It usually grounded her, but not tonight.
She sat up slowly, spine rolling vertebra by vertebra, and let her arms fall to her sides. Her palms pressed flat against the mat, fingers splayed wide. The room was dim, lit only by a single lamp near the bed. Outside, the ocean whispered against the shore, a soft, rhythmic hush that should have been relaxing, but her muscles still hummed with tension, her mind refusing to quiet.
Too much had happened. Ruthi Shay, with her razor tongue and casual cruelty, had been the tipping point. Kel had held it together for Madeline’s sake, had kept her expression neutral and her words measured, but inside she was still vibrating with the urge to do something reckless.Like find out what room Ruthi is in and give the director a piece of my mind, she thought.Or, worse, tell Madeline everything.
Sighing, she leaned back on her hands, staring at the ceiling. The fan spun slowly overhead, casting lazy shadows across the whitewashed walls. She’d never been in a place so beautiful and felt so... off-kilter.Maybe I shouldn’t have come, she thought, not for the first time.Maybe staying in LA would’ve been smarter. Safer. But Madeline had asked her to come. Had looked her in the eye and said, “I trust you more than anyone I’veever known.” And Kel, idiot that she was, had melted. Just like always.
Being near Madeline was like standing too close to the sun. Brilliant. Warm. And utterly impossible to touch without getting burned. Every time Madeline smiled at her, every time she brushed her hand or leaned in close to whisper something meant only for her, Kel’s heart twisted. It was sweet agony.And I signed up for it,she thought.Again. She shifted to lie flat on her back, arms flung wide like she was making a snow angel. Her breath slowed, finally, but her thoughts didn’t.
Madeline would never really see her. Not as anything more than the assistant who had her latte order memorized and could recite her schedule backwards. Not as someone who stayed up nights writing a screenplay with Madeline in mind. Not as someone who wanted desperately to be something more.
She turned her head toward the sleek leather bag by the dresser. Tucked inside, between her tablet and a half-read paperback novel, was a worn leather notebook. The script. The one she had rewritten four times in secret. The one where the lead character was brave and vulnerable and funny and flawed.And looks a hell of a lot like Madeline Whitley, she thought. No one had read it. Not even Madeline.Especially not Madeline.Because if I gave it to her and Madeline didn’t like it? Or worse, didn’t see herself in it at all?Kel wasn’t sure she’d survive that.
She sat up and padded barefoot toward the bathroom, tugging her tank top over her head as she went. A hot shower might help. Might rinse away the ache lodged in her chest. She reached for the light switch when her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She froze.Madeline, she thought with a glance at the clock.Close to midnight so who else would it be?
