The Mask She Wears Read online

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  The Wild Rose Press

  www.thewildrosepress.com

  Copyright ©2008 by Jennifer McKenzie

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  The Mask She Wears

  by

  Jennifer Leeland

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  The Mask She Wears

  COPYRIGHT ©

  2007 by Jennifer Leeland

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Angela Anderson

  The Wild Rose Press

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2008

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  "To Dayna Hart, who listened to all the frustrated brainstorming for “mask girl.” To Eden Bradley, who gave me valuable information and helped me step up and write this story. To Miranda Heart, who read this work and loved it, encouraging me to finish.

  Chapter One

  I hate eating alone.

  Catherine sat in her usual spot at the corner café by the Courthouse. Her job as a court reporter gave her a one hour lunch that was spent at this little restaurant.

  Alone.

  Taking another bite of her mandarin orange salad, she tried to concentrate on the words in the book she'd brought with her for company.

  Why did she read romances anyway? These people weren't real. They didn't experience the banal loneliness of sitting in a crowded café, eating alone. All the characters seemed to live blissful lives of mindless lust and happy endings.

  At twenty-six, Catherine doubted happy endings existed. They certainly didn't for her.

  A brisk wind ruffled her napkin as the front door opened. There he was again. Dressed in casual dress pants and the button up shirt that was the usual uniform of a man who worked in the business area. No tie, loafers and a briefcase gave the man a professional yet approachable look. She'd seen him several times in this café. He'd set up his laptop and eat a sandwich while he studied his screen with intensity. She always admired that he didn't look uncomfortable eating by himself.

  Focusing on her book again, she smiled. He looked like a hero in one of these romance books. Tall, good-looking, blue eyes and a great work ethic, he was an ideal model for one of the sappy stories she enjoyed. In her mind, she began to compose a passage a romance book might have.

  Tall, dark hair and a terrific build, he strode to the counter and ordered his sandwich with authority.

  "Bacon, lettuce and tomato, please.” His blue eyes scanned the café. Her heart jumped to her throat as his gaze met hers. Heat spread through her body, and she could feel her face grow flushed with...

  "Excuse me."

  Catherine jumped as his deep voice interrupted her musings. She raised her gaze and found herself looking into the blue eyes she had just been day dreaming about. She cleared her throat, nervous. “Yes?"

  His arm swept the room, indicating the crowd. “There doesn't seem to be anywhere to sit. May I share your table?” His smile caused her stomach to flutter. “I promise I won't disturb you."

  Any coherent comment she may have made was lost, and all she could say was, “Of course."

  She licked her suddenly dry lips and jerked her eyes back to her book. While he connected his laptop, settled in his chair and began to eat, Catherine sat like a stone, wishing she was smoother with men.

  It was hard enough to find a man with her sexual preferences. Being shy on top of being obsessed with dark fantasies had made for a series of long lonely nights.

  "I've seen you here before.” His voice drew her gaze. “Do you work at the courthouse?"

  "Yes. I'm a court reporter. And you?” She sounded so polite and stilted to her own ears.

  "I'm a lawyer.” He cringed. “People usually quit speaking to me at this point."

  "They do?” How could they? I can't take my eyes off you. “I like lawyers. I work with them all day."

  "Well, I'm glad you do.” He took another bite of his sandwich. “Do you like your job?"

  "I do. It's very interesting."

  "How did you become a court reporter?"

  Catherine wasn't used to small talk, but she wanted to try. He seemed to really want to know. “Initially I wanted to be a lawyer, but I lack the killer instinct. Plus, getting up in front of people and talking scares me to death.” Painfully shy would be more accurate. She smiled and took a discreet bite of her salad.

  "But you like the courtroom?"

  "I love observing the process."

  "You like being behind the scenes.” His penetrating gaze was a little unnerving, like being a witness on the stand under his cross examination.

  "I guess you could say that.” She lowered her eyes to the table. “What about you? Did you want to be a lawyer when you were young?"

  He nodded. “My father is a lawyer in the Bay Area. It was a family tradition I didn't mind following."

  "So, you're from the Bay Area? When did you move here?"

  He grinned. “I'm a newcomer. I've only been here about a year. I hear that you have to say you're a newcomer until you've lived here for twenty-five years or more."

  She laughed. “I've heard you have to say it if you weren't born here."

  "Were you born here?"

  "No. I'm a newcomer, too. I've only been here for ten years."

  They both laughed.

  Then his eyes sharpened as they examined her face and a strand of black hair that escaped from her French braid. “I know you from somewhere else, don't I?"

  "You've probably seen me in the courthouse.” Not likely. She would have remembered.

  "No. It was somewhere else. I just have a vision of you with your hair down, not up."

  A nasty suspicion wound its way up her spine. “Really? Maybe it was at a bar."

  "I don't think so...” His blue eyes studied her with the same intensity he usually reserved for his computer screen.

  Could he have seen her at one of David's parties? It was rare that Catherine went to them, but lately she'd needed validation, relief. His parties gave her a sense of belonging that was missing in the rest of her life.

  "I don't remember seeing you.” She forced a smile. “My name is Catherine Lanyard."

  "I'm Justin Travers.” He put out his hand. “I wish I could remember where I've seen you."

  Time to run to the nearest exit. If she stayed, he might figure it out. She closed her book carefully and picked up her purse. “I'm sure you'll remember. I'll see you again, I'm sure. Nice to meet you, Justin."

  Catherine bolted for the door.

  Jeez, she sounded like a prim and proper virgin. And heaven knew she was anything but.

  * * * *

  As Catherine left the restaurant, Justin followed her progress, both frustrated and in
trigued. From where did he know her?

  Oh sure, he'd noticed her here, eating alone, usually reading. And he'd noticed her immediately. She was striking, not gorgeous. Her dark hair was swept up in a clip, her eyes a light brown, and her face was all planes and angles. She reminded him of a statue of Athena he'd once seen. But he couldn't get rid of the feeling that he'd seen her with her dark hair tumbling down her back in wild curls.

  Something about her drew him. For weeks he'd been plotting how to approach her, and now she was blowing him off. Or had he made her nervous? She went absolutely still the moment he'd mentioned seeing her before.

  An image of a sultry brunette with shimmering brown eyes and dark flowing hair filtered through his memory again, and it suddenly dawned on him. The bondage gathering.

  In a small town like Eureka, California, there were no BDSM Clubs. Those in the lifestyle had to find each other as best they could. So, once a week, David Peters put on a party. It was invitation only, and David was very discriminatory. Justin's summons came because of his friend, Lisa.

  A fellow dominant, when she found out he was moving to Humboldt County, she made a phone call and got him added to David's guest list. Only people committed to the lifestyle attended. No newbies.

  If Justin had seen Catherine at David's party, that meant she...

  A smile spread over Justin's face. The next gathering was Friday night. If she was the woman from the party, he'd find out then.

  Chapter Two

  Catherine slid the fishnet stockings over her thighs and snapped the elastic bands that held them in place at the top. She smoothed the leather mini-skirt and reveled in the soft sensation of leather and skin. Staring in the mirror, getting ready for the party, Catherine puzzled over when she first began to attend these parties. How had David found her?

  Even back when she was twenty-one, she'd known that her personality was “different.” The few sexual encounters she'd had were disappointing mainly because Catherine wanted things her own mind told her were depraved and strange.

  Some hint of her differences must have shown because David had approached her in a bar and invited her to share a drink with his friends. She almost refused, since he was almost twenty years older than she was and she thought he was hitting on her.

  Of course, he wasn't. He was initiating her, testing her. How serious was she about her own fantasies? Would she settle for the normal sexual games that the “vanilla” world played? Or was she willing to take a risk and be herself?

  After months of casual meetings, David invited her to a party. Her first was a shock. There were doms and subs. The ones who liked pain. Ones who liked inflicting it. Everything under the deviant sun could be had. And Catherine fit right in.

  David even provided a room like the one she dressed in now, so that those who didn't want to announce their preferences to the whole world could prepare in his home.

  High, spiked black heels, fish nets stockings, leather skirt, matching halter top and the last touch, the accessory that gave away so many of her secrets. She zipped up the all encompassing mask.

  Safety.

  As the mask blocked her vision and her mouth, tension melted from her body. Her breathing slowed and her limbs relaxed. It had taken her a few play sessions with female doms to realize the mask was necessary for her to get into the right head space. She couldn't let go and submit without it. Her first orgasm occurred when she wore the mask.

  Straightening her skirt, she opened the door of the bedroom. David Peters was waiting outside.

  "It's an interesting crowd tonight.” He lounged against the door, running his gaze down her body. His survey wasn't sexual, but it made Catherine finger her halter top nervously.

  She didn't speak because of the mask, but she returned his perusal through the small slits still open. For over forty, David was a good looking man. He was medium height, but still taller than she, and his sandy blond hair showed none of the grey most men his age began to exhibit. It was his eyes that captured a woman's attention. They were steel grey with a seductive droop of his lids that gave new meaning to the term “bedroom eyes."

  "Is it the same tonight?” he asked.

  She nodded. After four years, she and David had the same arrangement. When she arrived, she indicated whether she wanted submissive play or sex. On those rare occasions she wanted actual intercourse, her sexual needs were gratified with no danger to herself. He chose her partner, someone unknown to her, someone she would never see. Tied and bound to a bed in the back of his house, Catherine kept the mask shrouded around her head, blocking her vision, her hearing and any verbal communication, leaving only her nostrils to give her sensory information. Her sexual partner was only required to provide touch for her gratification. Emotional contact with another person was too frightening and dangerous.

  For years, she believed she was depraved and sick because of her needs. David was the only one who understood, and the trust between them had never been broken. He chose a dom who would enjoy a completely submissive partner, and she trusted him to keep her safe. The demons that haunted her were held at bay by the gentle control David kept over her.

  Of course, he knew why she needed the mask. They didn't need to discuss it.

  Taking her hand, he led her to the large family room in the basement of his home. The party had started with several pairings already in progress. Catherine's role was to make an appearance so that others with her brand of sexual tendencies could see she was being taken care of. She would exit shortly, and David would choose her partner for the night.

  Soft, unobtrusive music floated around the room, not interfering with the conversations that were so important. This was no urban club scene. This was David's home and both comforting and warm. For Catherine, it was a life changing place filled with acceptance and fulfillment.

  * * * *

  "Great party, David.” Justin took a sip of his cocktail and scanned the room. Several female submissives appealed to him, but the one that captured his interest was the masked brunette his host had sent up the stairs moments earlier.

  "I'm glad you like it.” David's eyes studied him as if sizing him up.

  Justin shrugged. “I'm not really into the club scene. I keep my practices under wraps. Most people won't care, but I don't like to advertise."

  "This is your third time here?"

  "Fourth. I've played a couple of times, but I want some deep work. Most people don't know me well enough yet."

  "Lisa tells me you're good at playing with subs you don't know."

  "I enjoy it. It's a knack I have."

  Nodding, David set his glass on the bar. “I've got a unique opportunity for you."

  That got Justin's attention. It was obvious David was a dom. What opportunity could another dom offer?

  "Something unusual?"

  "Yes.” David seemed to struggle for the right words. “I hold trust for a submissive that enjoys extreme sensory deprivation during sex. She wears a mask, is completely bound and the only senses she allows herself is touch and smell. I provide anonymous partners to fulfill her fantasy."

  Justin knew David was talking about the brunette. He got hard just thinking about that leather encased body tied to a bed. “You're asking me to be her partner?"

  "Yes, but I want it understood she has boundaries you mustn't cross."

  "Naturally."

  Ticking them off on his fingers, David's voice grew firm. “No after sex communication. You're not to know her name. The mask must stay in place at all times. You must use a condom. I've only had one person step over these lines, and they are no longer welcome here.” The warning was clear.

  Knowing the importance of what he was being asked, Justin nodded. “I won't step out of line. I respect safe words and limits, at all times."

  The older man nodded again. “She doesn't play often. Mostly, she just wants to play as an extreme sub. No sex. Women love to top her. Tonight is different. It's rare that she requests sexual partners, but we have an arra
ngement for those evenings when she does."

  Justin didn't want to seem too eager, though anticipation zinged through his nerves. It was a familiar excitement, yet tinged with something more potent. “I'm new to the area. Maybe one of the other regulars would be a better choice."

  David shook his head. “I have to go with my instincts on this. I've not asked the same man to service her a second time. I'm only asking you because Lisa trusts you completely."

  The words rang in Justin's brain. I've not asked the same man to service her a second time. He wasn't sure he liked that stipulation. Somehow, he knew once might not be enough, but he wasn't going to pass up this opportunity. Would he have been as interested in this offer if he wasn't sure it was Catherine under that mask? He didn't know. And he didn't care.

  "What room is she in?"

  "The last one on the right.” Justin started for the stairs, but David put a hand on his arm. “I'll be checking on her. It's our agreement to keep her safe."

  "That's fine with me. Will you come up now and introduce me? No names, just letting her know I'm there."

  A smile broke over David's face. “If you're doing your job, she'll know you're there."

  * * * *

  Catherine lay on the soft comforter spread over the queen sized bed. The room smelled of incense and leather added to the darkness and silence to comfort her. With the mask, she wouldn't hear her partner enter the room. She'd slipped the restraints on her wrists and ankles. Her partner would tighten them, depending on his nature. One man liked them tight, another might like them loose. She left it completely up to her anonymous lover.

  Soap and musk penetrated her senses as Catherine inhaled. Her partner had arrived. His scent was intoxicating and unusual. Pine, spice and something very male assaulted her system. She squirmed.

  The first touch was a gentle reminder to remain still, just a palm on her naked chest. Long fingers, strong and smooth, splay against her skin.

  Then his hand wandered, palming her nipple while the other lifted her other breast to his mouth. His hot breath fanned over her, bringing her nipple to a painful rigidity. It was a struggle to remain motionless. Everything in her wanted to arch into those warm, strong hands. She sensed no impatience in his touch as he ran his tongue over her turgid peak.