Sweet Surrender (Sweet #1)(8)

Spanking. Tied hand and foot. A man having complete power over her. Bending her, making her submit.

Taking care of her.

And there was the biggest attractant of all.

She sighed as she clicked through countless useless pages. Impatient, she typed in another series of search words.

Dominance. Control. Bondage.

At least these looked more promising. She scanned the topics and clicked on a few of the offerings. Her brow furrowed as she began reading about female submission.

Honestly, she’d never considered herself a submissive person. Yeah, she wanted a strong man. Someone who didn’t have to ask. Who was confidant enough to act. But did that make her submissive?

She wrinkled her nose. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to read up on it. At least then she’d have a better idea of how to find this elusive creature: the dominant male.

God, she made it sound like an endangered species. But in today’s world, she supposed they were. A dying breed. Emasculated by a politically correct society.

Great. Now that she’d figured out what she wanted in a man, she was going to discover there was no such animal.

She clicked until her finger was numb. Read well into the night, her eyes glued to both the fascinating and the downright bizarre. Honestly, she had no idea there were so many people out there who shared her desires, and certainly not so many women. But strangely, it didn’t make her feel any less isolated.

She heaved a sigh as her tired eyes perused yet another listing. Just as she was ready to give it up for the night, an ad on one of the pages caught her eyes.

She leaned closer. Houston. The address was Houston. For an exclusive, private, members-only club. “Specializing in themes of dominance, bondage and a variety of fetishes guaranteed to satisfy even the most discerning palate.”

One of her eyebrows went higher. Thought highly of themselves, apparently.

Intrigued, she clicked on the ad and was transferred to a surprisingly sophisticated website. Not your average trashy  p**n  site high on shock value.

It was discreet, a website that could host a variety of different businesses. Subdued colors. Easy on the eyes. No pop-ups or flashing little boxes screaming that you just won an iPod.

Her pulse fluttered as she read on. Membership was exclusive and only open to a limited number each year. Security was a high priority, and the “club” wasn’t a flashy, neon-sign-bearing business in the heart of Houston’s downtown. Instead, it was a stately home in the northern outskirts of the city. Big wrought-iron gates. High security fences. No sign advertising what went on behind closed doors. Basically a meeting place for like-minded individuals.

She shivered. Could it be that easy? Somehow she doubted it. But where else was she going to start her search? Her cursor hovered over the telephone number listed on the site. She reached for the cordless phone she kept by the computer and punched the On button.

For several long seconds, she listened to the dial tone. When it started its obnoxious loud beeping to let her know it was still on and she wasn’t dialing, she turned it off and stared at the computer monitor.

Then she turned the phone back on. And off. And on. Cripes. What could possibly be so bad about calling the place? It wasn’t like they could reach through the phone, snatch her bald and leave her tied up and naked on the floor. Though, if the guy were hot enough, she might be up for it.

She touched the phone to her forehead and closed her eyes. Just do it, Faith. You just want information. They don’t even have to know your name.

Taking a deep breath, she punched the On button and quickly dialed the series of numbers. She put the phone to her ear and squeezed her eyes shut in dread. Maybe they wouldn’t answer.

Her stomach gave a painful lurch when a smooth male voice offered a greeting.

“Hello?” he said again when she didn’t respond right away.

“Uh, hello,” she offered, barely able to squeeze the words from her lips. “I was calling for some information. I mean, I saw your club, er uh, your establishment on the internet.”

“What’s your name?” the man asked cheerfully.

Damn. She guessed they would know her name after all.

“It’s Faith,” she said, not volunteering her last.

“Hi, Faith. My name is Damon, and I’ll be happy to answer whatever questions you may have.”

She relaxed a teeny bit. “Well, the thing is, you see, I’m not sure what questions to ask.”

“Ah. Okay then let me ask you a question.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess.”

“What is it you hope to find at our establishment?”

“Not much of a loaded question,” she muttered.

Damon chuckled. “Don’t be shy, Faith. There isn’t anything you could possibly say that would shock me. Or make me judge you. I can’t help you if you aren’t honest with me.”

Her mouth went dry. Moment of truth. How to tell a complete stranger what it was she was looking for when she wasn’t completely sure herself?

“I want…” She sucked in another deep breath and started over. “I want a man to take control. Take. Not ask. In all aspects. Not just sexually.” She broke off, but still Damon waited, as if sensing she wasn’t yet done. “I want to be taken care of,” she finished softly.

“You want to be dominated.”

The word still made her uncomfortable, but in essence, that was precisely what she wanted. So she muttered a low agreement.