Chapter One
The Secret
“What is your name?”
Margaret glanced down at the linoleum floor, the flashing lights around the room making it look dreamy. Like a trance.
She liked it.
She wanted to feel like she didn’t exist—surrounded by a bubble.
“Candy,” she whispered. “My name is Candy.”
“Candy…have you been informed of the rules? Do you know your safe word?” A deep, very male voice said. It felt like it was coming from inside her, from a place that wanted to burst free.
She nodded. Then she licked her bottom lip. “Yes, master.”
She heard his satisfied hum and felt his bigger, slightly rougher hand as it caressed her ass. She’d gone to the spa two days before and asked for their deluxe treatment.
Her usual masseuse, Olivia, had been surprised. Margaret never let them touch anywhere below her waist.
Margaret—no, Candy—she was Candy now—shivered when she left his hand nudging her thighs apart. She spread them willingly, feeling the hard leather of the bench bite into her knees.
His hand slid upward, teasing her inner thighs. She quivered. Clenched. He pushed wider, until she was eagle-spread and she could feel the cool AC air on her bare pussy.
She’d shaved too.
It was the first time in what…six months? There wasn’t a single hair left.
“Candy, I’m going to spank your pussy now. You’re going to count, okay?” Her master said.
It wasn’t a question.
She started to nod, before catching herself. “Yes, Master.”
Candy felt his hand leave and something inside her protested. She waited, holding her breath.
And then—it stung. It stung so hard her heart lurched. But she didn’t move, not when the pain traveled through her body and her pussy tingled.
She gripped the edges of the table tighter.
This was it. This was what she wanted. What she craved.
His palm came down again, hitting hard. She grit her teeth as her legs shook, her lips trembling. Both pairs.
“You’re not counting.”
“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I forgot.”
“We’ll go again.”
There was nothing personal about what the man was doing to her. He was a dom at the club, skilled at bringing out the most deviant sides of people who walked in.
Candy didn’t know his name. He knew only the name she gave him.
“Count, Candy.”
She nodded firmly, finding the part of her brain that was still working. He slid a finger between her pussy lips and rubbed back and forth, slipping the tip in. She gasped, clenching hard as she rocked into his touch.
He withdrew sharply. “You’re not allowed to use me for your release,” he growled. “You’re to take what I give you, sub, and use your safe words when it’s too much.”
“I’m sorry, Master,” she said quietly.
The sting from his spanks were fading, but she could feel something else. A dull throbbing, spreading through her lower body. She knew what it was—she’d felt it every night when she edged herself in bed, stopping right before she orgasmed.
Not now, she reminded herself sternly.
His hand came down again.
“One.” She counted loudly.
The keys jingled in Margaret's fingers as she reached into her bag, waddling through the junk of candy wrappers she’d forgotten to trash. She sighed softly and slowly slipped it into the hole. The key wouldn’t budge at first, and she leaned closer, her tongue darting out.
She twisted it one way, then the other…the same way he’d done to her. The man whose name she did not know. He was simply Master—and after he’d spanked her until all she could feel down there was numb, he’d slipped two fingers in.
She felt full at first—too full.
She wanted to protest, but she held on as he twisted and turned, fine-tuning places she didn’t know could feel anything. She’d gone from stiff to whimpering, ignoring his repeated low-toned warnings as she rode his hand recklessly.
When he thrust another in, shoving all three deep into her and tilted them, she’d exploded. Loudly.
Her orgasm had rocked her off her senses, left her quivering and gasping for breath. And then he’d used his fingers on her again…and again, until she was begging him incoherently.
The lock gave way.
She pushed the door open gently, careful not to make a noise. Her shoes had kitten heels, so she took them off and padded bare-feet through the hallway, hanging her coat on the rack beside the stairs.
Then she took them, one at a time, reaching into her bag at the same time for a hair tie. By the time she was on the second floor, her hair was tied up in a neat bun.
She walked past the door to her right, stepping into the next one. Her clothes came off—the gown she’d secretly bought at a store that read LINGERIE & SEXY WEARS out front and the gaiter she had underneath. It was sheer lace and the only thing she had on when she was on full display, spread out on the leather bench.
Margaret stared at herself in the full-length mirror.
Her cheeks were slightly flushed. Her legs were a bit wobbly and she felt sore between them. Pleasantly sore.
A tiny, pleased smile crept up on her face as she turned to the closet, grabbing a nightgown. She put it on. It was twice her size and inches past her knees.
Her smile faded.
She walked back to the door she’d ignored, reaching for the handle. The room was dark, but she knew her way to the bed. She crawled into it, pushing aside the covers as she curled up next to the wall.
“Maggie?” A sleepy voice mumbled.
She froze, holding her breath.
“Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” she murmured, doing her best to sound normal. The person beside her turned around. He opened his eyes halfway, scratching his beard. “Could you set the alarm for me? I fell asleep and I don’t want to miss my meeting.”
The alarm clock was over at his end, but Margaret obliged, leaning over him. Her hand burned as she stretched it, a lingering memory from how high the bench had been from the floor. Something inside her tightened as she pulled back and stared at the man’s face, but she turned away without another word.
He was her husband, after all.
