Free Invitation to Ecstasy by Nina Pierce Page A

someone did to celebrate the beginning of celibacy?
This weekend had been his last chance to prove himself a capable Dom, and he’d
fucked it up good. Even if Ethan didn’t blackball him at every BDSM club on the
planet, Derek would never step into another dungeon.
    The screwup with Sara had only confirmed what he’d suspected
eighteen months ago—he had no right dominating anyone. The experience brought
only pain and misery to anyone foolish enough to submit to his stupidity.
    He’d felt so confident as he’d pulled down her defenses,
encouraged by her willing response to his masterful technique. In the end, his
arrogance had blinded him and now Sara was paying for his inadequacies.
    Sara. He’d left the bungalow hours ago, the Wave
Runner unable to help him outrun his shame. He’d reached the main dock, covered
in blood, and had taken himself straight to the medic for five stitches—without
anesthesia. It was only the beginning of the penance he would pay for how he’d
mistreated Sara.
    Derek had thought he’d read her right. Thought he’d
understood what she needed.
    Never, in six years working in the dungeons, learning the
nuances of submissives, had he ever pushed someone past their breaking point.
Even before a safe word was uttered, a worthy Master knew when to stop. Knew
when to switch gears and go in another direction to give his submissive what
they needed to release their inner turmoil.
    He’d thought Sara was ready, well on her way to healing.
He’d arrogantly butted up against her defenses, unwilling to admit defeat. That
is, until Ethan had burst in, acting as the conscience he’d steadfastly
ignored.
    But, Christ, he and Sara had been in sync. Like a
final puzzle piece dropping into place, he’d heard it echo in his heart. As her
body had shattered around his, he was sure he’d reached the core of her
anguish. He’d desperately wanted her to clear that one last hurdle to rid the
final hellish damage from her soul. Derek had pushed because, damn it all,
she’d needed the physical pain to be the conduit for releasing her inner pain.
It was textbook D/s.
    Who was he kidding? Nothing Sara had told him had been in
the textbook. She’d given herself to an asshole who’d used her gentle spirit
against her. The bastard had held her prisoner for his own selfish
satisfaction. Who did shit like that?
    Arrogant idiots, that’s who. His fist slammed down on
the bar, bouncing his drink, pain singing up his arm.
    “Don’t.”
    The soft voice startled him.
    He turned to find Sara standing behind him.
    The black leather corset, intricately laced up her ribs and
belly, stopped just below her breasts, its shelf showcasing her mouthwatering
tits. Decorative chains hung from the gold collar she’d worn last night, their
ends looped around her pebbled nipples. A leather G-string hugged her mons,
barely covering the silken flesh. A garter belt hung from the bottom of the
corset and ran down her milky thighs, holding up black stockings that showed
every curve of her never-ending legs, finishing in come-fuck-me heels that
added four inches to her height.
    Sara was breathtaking, and he had no right to be salivating
over seeing her. His cock, not understanding this gorgeous woman was
off-limits, jumped to attention nonetheless.
    “Sara, sorry doesn’t—”
    “Shhh.” She put her finger on his lips, the sweet scent of
her wrapping around his nostrils, stealing his breath. “Derek.” She paused, her
eyes and hand dropping simultaneously. “May I call you Derek?”
    Christ , even after the way he’d treated her, she
offered him respect he hadn’t earned. “I don’t deserve any other title.”
    Her mouth curved and a small laugh escaped. “I beg to
differ.”
    The bartender stopped and offered her a drink, but she
declined. Derek had no doubt she was headed to the Masters’ lodge for the
training he’d been invited to attend. The Doms would be lucky to have her
responsive body at the ends of their