The Edge of Jasmine: A Hotel Bentmoore World Novel (BDSM Romance)

SAMANTHA GAVE THE BOW ON her gown one last tug as she studied herself in the mirror. She puffed up her hair a bit, pressed her lips together to fix her lipstick, and declared herself Good To Go. She wasn’t wearing that much makeup, but everything she was wearing was waterproof, or so she hoped. Then again, if it ran, that would be okay, too. Brian always did like the look of running mascara.

She smiled.

A knock at the door alerted her it was about to be opened.

“It’s time,” Judy poked her head in to say. “Mr. Bentmoore is about to send him down.”

“I’m ready,” Samantha replied. She turned around to smile at the face peeking at her from around the door. Judy, a mistress of the Hotel Bentmoore and a vivacious young woman, had been helping Samantha since Samantha’s arrival to the hotel, and Samantha had quickly grown to like her.

Joining Judy in the hallway, Samantha saw she was not alone, but was accompanied by Mr. Brooks, one of the hotel’s many liaisons. With his black suit, impeccably slicked back silver hair, stiff gait, and sober expression, Mr. Brooks looked more like an eighteenth century English butler than a staff member of a hotel. But he did his job well, escorting guests to and from the hotel’s many dungeon rooms, acting as emissary between host and guest, and all the while, revealing no hint of judgement or surprise.

Of course, nothing could surprise Mr. Brooks at that point. He had been working as a liaison at the Hotel Bentmoore for too many years. He had seen it all, and he would take his secrets to his grave.

Mr. Brooks led the way into the elevator and, once all three of them were inside, turned his key into the lock next to the button that would send them down to the dungeon floor.

Judy tried to make small talk with Samantha, but Samantha only smiled and gave her monosyllabic replies. She was too nervous for conversation.

At last, the elevator doors opened, and Mr. Brooks led them down a narrow and dimly lit hallway. It was well padded with thick carpets to muffle much of the sound; but even so, as they passed the many doors lining the corridor, Samantha could hear screaming coming through more than a few.

Mr. Brooks led Judy and Samantha into the activity room right at the end of the hall. It was large, well-equipped, and to Samantha, looked strangely familiar.

“Now you go hide in here,” Judy said, pulling Samantha through a door hidden by the angle of the large wardrobe. All activity rooms of the Hotel Bentmoore had large wardrobes to store a myriad of sex toys, but each one held its own delightful surprises.

The room Judy pushed Samantha into turned out to be a large, luxurious bathroom. “Leave the door open, but just a crack,” Judy said. “Just enough so you can know when to come out.”

“But how will I know when to come out?”

“You’ll know,” Judy said. “I hear him, he’s coming! Don’t make a sound.” She pulled the door shut until there was just enough space for Samantha to hear what was happening on the other side.

~ * * * ~

“Dean, why am I doing this? Seriously, why can’t you handle this?” Brian asked his former co-worker. Brian was tired, surly, and more than a little pissed off.

“Oh shut up, Sinclaire,” Dean replied, a small smile playing on his lips. “You know you’re better at this kind of thing than I am. Even in the state you’re in, you can still teach this girl a thing or two I can’t.”

“I could teach her a lot of things you can’t,” Brian said, unable to stop himself from getting the dig in. “But I’m not exactly in the mood, in case you haven’t noticed. For god’s sake, I don’t even work here anymore. Can’t Cox handle this? He’s got what it takes.”

“Cox is busy with an emergency, and the girl was told to be ready tonight.”

“And cancelling now would be cruel,” Brian muttered. “Then again, wouldn’t that be another kind of teaching lesson? To make her anticipate a proper beating, get her all scared and keyed up, and then make her wait even longer?”

They had told him he would be helping to break in a new hostess, a young woman who had just joined the staff of the hotel. The new girl, Stacey, was a true masochist at heart; Brian had learned this fact firsthand the night before. But Stacey needed to learn what kind of tactics and techniques she could expect from her guests at the Hotel Bentmoore, and how to comport herself in every possible situation, before she would be allowed to work with guests.

During his years there, Brian had helped train, and teach, many new girls. But he was in no mood to be teaching anyone anything right now.

He had arrived to the Hotel Bentmoore four days before, and upon arriving, had drank himself into oblivion. In his drunken state, he had raged and stormed, scaring guests and staff alike, until they had dragged him down into an unused activity room and locked him in. His old friends had taken turns watching over him, making sure he didn’t hurt himself, talking him through his fits, until all the alcohol had left his bloodstream.

After that, they had cleaned him up, forced some healthy food into him, and given him work to do.

First they had made him aide Mr. Cox in a rope lesson. Then they made him give a class on whip technique to some novice guests, using Stacey as his bottom. Now they expected him to spend some intimate time with Stacey, teaching her firsthand about figging.

Brian didn’t think he should be the one teaching her anything. Last night’s class should have made that obvious to everyone. Yes, Brian had tied Stacey against the St. Andrew’s Cross and whipped her bottom until she screamed for mercy. But his heart had not been in the task. His movements had been insipid, cursory, detached of all interest. There had been no life to his art.

Dean had tried to inject some excitement into the scene, by pulling out a violet wand. But when Brian saw it, all he could think about was the time he had used just such a wand against Samantha’s wonderful ass, and he had exited the scene right then and there. Dean had been forced to finish with Stacey on his own.

But now they were asking him to try to teach the girl about figging. Brian couldn’t understand why they were doing this to him. Figging involved inserting a piece of ginger up a girl’s ass until she became a sobbing, snivelling mess, begging for release both from the pain, and the blooming urge to come. But Dean had the reputation of being the ass man, not Brian; Dean probably knew how to fig a woman better than any of them. Cox knew how to do it well, too. He was good at torturing assholes. (Cox knew how to torture any body part…but then, Cox was a bigger sadist than he was, Brian had to admit.) So why had they asked Brian to do the honors?

Brian was in no mood for this. All he wanted to do was go back to his room, get drunk again, and forget about Samantha. She was all he could think about.

He had a feeling his friends were trying to distract him with fresh prey, a new willing victim upon whom he could unleash himself. But the woman they were giving him wasn’t Samantha, it would never be Samantha again, and no other woman, no matter how willing or beautiful, would ever be the same.

Brian had tried his best the night before to unleash the sadist inside, but Stacey’s pain had not pleased him. It had only made him wish harder Samantha was there instead.

They had wanted him to show the new sub what getting fucked in the ass by a huge cock could feel like, too, but fucking Stacey had been out of the question. Brian made it very clear he would go along with showing her a few things like whipping and flogging, but when it came to the climax of the scene, getting her to orgasm, Brian would not go there. He was willing to play–if one could call what he was doing play. He wasn’t having fun at all. But there was no way he was ready to fuck another woman, not yet. Not while he was still mourning the loss of Samantha.

Which was why Dean was now accompanying him, he supposed: to help finish the girl off once Brian was done with the ginger. So why couldn’t Dean do that part, too? Why was Brian necessary for the scene at all?

But it was too late to back out now: Dean was already opening the door to the activity room and leading them inside. Brian looked around and noticed the ginger and timer on the small wheeled tray, ready and waiting. But he could not find the girl in question. The only other person in the room was Judy, looking sly and mischievous.

~ * * * ~

Samantha heard the door open and the men enter the room. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of Brian’s voice, and her heart beat fast in her chest.

“Judy, what are you doing here?” She heard Brian ask. “Where’s Stacey?”

“She’s getting ready in the bathroom,” Judy said. From her hiding place, Samantha smiled, and put her hand up to muffle the giggle coming out of her mouth. “She’ll be out in a minute. Just wait.”

“You’re not staying?” From the tone of his voice, Samantha realized Judy must have already been making her exit.

“No,” Judy replied. “I have a guest in an hour. But have fun!”

“Wait a minute Dean–you’re not leaving too!” Brian’s voice was angry now. “You know I have no intention to fuck this girl. I’m not going to fig her and leave her hanging!”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Dean said. Samantha wanted to laugh, but took deep, slow breaths so she wouldn’t make any noise. They were being very mean to Brian, but she thought he deserved it a little.

And by keeping her presence a secret since her own arrival, she had managed to learn a lot, too.

Samantha had arrived to the Hotel Bentmoore two days before, after gleaning Brian’s whereabouts out of Jake. Jake had been reluctant to tell Samantha where Brian had gone; he had been afraid Samantha would get so upset, she would never want to speak to Brian again.

The opposite had been true: Samantha had tried to get an airline ticket to follow him immediately. When she couldn’t find a flight leaving fast enough, Jake had offered to fly her on his private jet. He had, of course, accompanied her to the hotel. He was somewhere on the premises right now, having his own private fun.

At first, Samantha had been told she was not allowed to see Brian. It was against hotel policy, against everything the hotel stood for. But after a candid talk with Mr. Bentmoore himself, not to mention a report that Brian was drinking himself into a coma, it was decided, under the circumstances, a few rules could be broken, and a plan was set into action.

Brian was requested to act as top to a new mistress of the hotel, a sub. But what he didn’t know was that Samantha had watched him play with her, thanks to a strategically placed hidden camera. Samantha had witnessed Brian whip the woman against a St. Andrew’s Cross and torture her to tears, and what Samantha had seen had astounded her, and put her fears to rest for all time.

Brian didn’t enjoy playing with the new girl at all. He did exactly the same things to her as he did to Samantha, and used exactly the same types of whips. But there was no joy on his face, no light dancing in his eyes. His movements were mechanical; he was doing it all by rote. Brian was a Master Sadist, and he always would be. But what he was doing to the submissive under his control gave him no pleasure. It was obvious he was doing it under obligation, not for gratification.

When Mr. Dean had pulled out the violet wand, Brian had looked so sad, Samantha had wanted to reveal her presence right then. But Mr. Bentmoore had promised her a much more entertaining, and satisfying, climax to their subterfuge.

As the door to the activity room shut loudly, Samantha heard Brian swear. She waited behind the door, suddenly afraid what was about to happen next. Would he be very angry at her? Would he even want to talk to her?

“Stacey, hurry up and get out here,” Brian called. “You should never keep your top waiting this long. You should know this by now. Stacey!”

Taking a deep breath, Samantha stepped out from behind the door.

~ * * * ~

“Samantha?” Brian stepped back in surprise, his eyes going wide.

She was wearing a sheer silk gown that came just to the top of her thighs. Emerald green, belted tight, it shimmered in the dim light and did wonderful things for her eyes. Her hair, falling loosely to the middle of her back, was shiny and slightly disheveled, like she’d been running her fingers through it. Brian’s fingers itched to dig into her mass of hair, to feel its softness running against his palms again.

The gown was belted at her hips, but open on top, descending into a low V at her waist. The swell of her breasts rose with each breath, and her nipples were hard and stiff beneath the thin material of the gown. Brian realized she was not wearing any bra beneath it. He wondered if she was wearing any panties, either. His mouth went dry.

“What–what are you doing here?” He asked.

Samantha lowered her eyes, acting coy, surprising him once again. “I decided I needed a vacation,” she said. “I thought a visit to the Hotel Bentmoore sounded like fun.”

“Really,” Brian replied. “What a coincidence.”

“Yes, what a coincidence.”

For a moment, they were silent. Brian knew there was something going on, some plan in action, but he didn’t know what it could be. Samantha looked like she was waiting for him to say something, but there was so much they both had yet to say, neither one of them knew where to start.

“How…how are you feeling?” Brian finally asked.

“I’m good,” Samantha said. She gave him a pointed stare. “Of course, you would know that for yourself if you’d waited at the hospital for me to wake up before you left.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Brian said. He rubbed the back of his head, looking like he wanted to escape. Of course, he could not; they were both locked inside the room. “Your sister and I had a talk, and she made me realize it would be best to give you that space you asked for. You know, so you have some time to think.”

“Oh I see, you left for my sake,” Samantha said dryly. “You wanted to do me a favor. How kind of you.”

Brian was taken aback by her umbrage. “Well, yes, I mean, why else would I leave–”

“You also told Kimberly you were going to Chicago. So what are you doing here?”

Brian flushed. “I…oh hell, Samantha, your sister made it very clear what’s really going on. She told me you could never have a future with a guy like me, someone who worked at a place like this. I’m not good enough for you.”

“I know what she said,” Samantha whispered. “I also know you are the biggest hypocrite in the entire world!”

“What?”

“I should always come and talk to you, you said. I should let you know if I ever have any concerns about our relationship, you said. But when my sister serves you a bunch of bullcrap and you get cold feet, you hightail it out of there and run away before you can talk to me, before I even have a chance to wake up!”

“Samantha, I….” His voice trailed off. “Bullcrap?”

“Of course it was bullcrap! I don’t give a god damn you used to work here, Brian! In fact–in fact, I’m proud you used to work here! It means you’re a renowned lover! God knows how many women can attest to that fact–and you are all mine.”

“But then why….”

“I never thought you weren’t good enough for me, Brian. I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I thought I was some kind of novelty for you, and that eventually, you would play with someone else, someone better than me, and you would realize I’m not good enough for you.”

“God, Samantha, when have I ever given you that impression?”

“You didn’t. But it was what I thought, because I was stupid. Just as stupid as you were for thinking I’d be squicked out by your being a former Hotel Bentmoore host. But unlike you, I know better now. I watched you last night with Stacey.”

“You did?” Brian felt like he needed to sit down; everything was coming at him at once. “How–how? If I had known you were here, I never would have–”

“I know. But I’m glad I got to see you play with her. It made me realize you were telling me the truth: you can play with a woman, and not want to fuck her at all.”

“That is very true,” Brian said, relieved. “I didn’t have any interest in fucking Stacey last night, and I wouldn’t have fucked her now, no matter what. Because she’s not you, Samantha. I didn’t even want to play with her, but Mr. Bentmoore asked me. They’ve been asking me to do all this play…” his voice trailed off as understanding dawned.

“I’m sorry I doubted you, Brian. But I’m really pissed off that you let my sister chase you away before I had a chance to talk to you.”

“You’re right. That was very wrong of me,” Brian said, smiling.

“You ever do that to me again, Brian Sinclaire, and I will get biblical on your ass,” Samantha said, poking her finger into his flat stomach as she threw his own words back at him. “You understand?”

Brian raised his eyebrows. “And just what would you do to me?” He asked, curious.

“I would…I would…I would think of something!” She said, and they both burst out laughing. Then Brian grabbed her and pulled her close, digging his fingers into her hair.

“I’m here now, and I’m listening with both ears. So why don’t you tell me what you have to say.”

Samantha leaned into his chest. “I love you,” she said. “And I don’t care what you did before or what kind of life you led. And if you want to top other women now and then, it’s okay, because it’s just play, and I know you love me.”

“God, Samantha, I have wanted to hear you say that for so long,” Brian said, hugging her tight. “I love you so much, and I will never do anything to hurt you.”

“Now hold on,” Samantha said, pulling her head away to look up at him. “That’s not what I said!”

“Oh?” Brian’s smile was huge. He felt like he couldn’t stop smiling. “You want me to hurt you?” He feigned a look around. “Well, we are in a dungeon room. I suppose I could tie you up a little…maybe do some spanking…some light spanking, mind you….”

Samantha backed up, looked him in the eyes, and dropped her gown to the floor. She was, as he hoped, not wearing any panties underneath. She motioned to the wheeled tray parked by the padded spanking bench. “There is a large piece of carved ginger root and a timer sitting on that tray, and a long rattan cane hanging in the wardrobe,” she said, her voice cracking at the end. “And I happen to know you know very well what to do with all of them.”

“Mmm. Interesting,” Brian said, running his eyes up and down her body. “They did ask me to give a figging lesson in here. I suppose you’ll do as my bottom.”

“Not as your bottom. As your sub.”

Brian’s eyes hooded with desire, and his lips tightened in a familiar way that made Samantha’s nerves tingle and her pussy flood. “Get on that spanking bench, sub,” he ordered. “And get your ass ready, because I’m about to violate it until you can’t sit for a week. You’ll take the ginger, and you’ll take the cane…and then you’ll take my cock in your ass.”

“Yes, Sir.” Samantha positioned herself over the spanking bench, feeling so happy she wanted to squeal. She only began to feel the first pangs of nervousness when Brian began to strap her down to the bench, but even then, her joy overrode her fear of what was to come.

A second later, Brian knelt by her face, holding up the ginger in front of her eyes.

“You ready for this?”

“Yes. No. Yes. God, just do it, please.”

“I like it when you beg me to hurt you. Please, what?”

“Please, Sir.”

Brian smiled. Then he kissed her on her lips, long and hard. “I love you, Sam.”

“I love you too, Brian, Sir,” she said. “Please, take me over the edge. Make me fly.”

“Like the first time?”

“Like the first time. Like only you know how to do.”

At that, Brian smiled so wide, Samantha’s heart swelled and her toes curled.

A few minutes later, her toes were curling for an entirely different reason: pure, unadulterated pain. But it was her kind of pain, and she loved it.