Free Pursued by Cynthia Dane Page A

We’re not vessels of pleasure to be used however a Dom wants. Our joy and pleasure comes from bringing our Dom happiness. Of course we have our preferences and the lines we draw, but at the end of the day, we’ll try anything once if it brings him or her joy of any kind. That’s how we become so vulnerable. We bare our souls from the first meeting. If we’re put in the wrong hands… men like him knew that. I fear for any woman he cons next. He’s handsome and wealthy. There will be someone.”
    “There are none that I know of.”
    “That you know of. He keeps that shit private.” For good reason. He was the type of man to understand what wasn’t socially acceptable. But he did them anyway. “Forgive me. You didn’t need to know any of that.”
    “Correction. I didn’t want to know any of that.” When Monica turned her head toward him, bemusement clouding her countenance, he explained, “I don’t get any glee or pleasure in hearing what that callous man did to you. Yet I needed to know it. I needed to know what you’ve been through, so I understand where you come from.”
    “Where I came from is obvious to anyone who Googles my name.” Monica pulled her hand out of his. “Where I’m going, on the other hand, remains a mystery to most.”
    “Even to yourself?”
    “Perhaps. I take things one week at a time.”
    “ Perhaps you will be a little old lady running your Château a good forty years from now.”
    “And I will be happy to do so.”
    She knew what that look meant. The one telling her, “Are you going to hide in your mansion of everyone else having pleasure but you for the rest of your life? ” She would if it meant she was never hurt again. Monica could sustain herself on the ambiance of her insular world and never again be touched by another person. She could die happy that way.
    “I won’t pretend to understand,” Henry said. “Obviously I have never been in your position before. All I know is that the world would be a much lonelier place if you never ventured into it again.”
    Monica blushed. “The world doesn’t know who I am.”
    “I do.”
    See, this is what’s dangerous about this man. Henry had the influence to sway Monica back into the world of powerful relationships. Powerful within, and powerful on the outside. There was the power they exuded on each other behind closed doors, and then the power they presented when they stood before others as a unified front. If I go out into the world, then I do nothing but wander around it, looking pathetic. Dominant men were the accepted norm in the business world. They came, they saw, and they conquered the piss out of everything.
    Submissive women, on the other hand, looked lost. People often approached Monica when she sat in cafes by herself, asking if she was all right, if she needed help, etc. And that was when she was in a relationship! When people found out she ran her own business, they were floored. People didn’t respect submissives as smart, intelligent people who had a lot of will to get things done. Just because Monica wanted to live a life of submissive love and pleasure didn’t mean she couldn’t do things on her own.
    “You continue to flatter me. The fact of the matter is, Mr. Warren, you don’t know me from the mole on your back you’ve never seen before. Like I keep telling you, I’m a sub, not a naïve girl who believes everything a handsome man tells her.”
    “So you think I’m handsome?”
    That knowing smile could sink ships. Like the one capsizing in Monica’s stomach right now. “I think you know you’re handsome. Men who are handsome always know that they are.”
    “Meanwhile, beautiful women need constant affirmation.”
    “Can you blame them?”
    “No. And can you blame me for trying to get to know you better?”
    “Mr. Warren, may I remind you that you sent me a silver and diamond sub collar? That’s not getting to know me better. That’s…”
    “A friendly BDSM way of saying hello there