Beneath The Whip

I open my mouth again but before I can say another word, Ryder lays a finger over my lips and shakes his head. “Who are you going to obey?” I lick my lips, the total command in his voice making not just my pussy but also my heart sing. “You, Ryder,” I breath. “Good girl.” ~ #1: Never kneel for the man who destroyed you. #2: Never let him see that part of you still wants to. Lila Mitchell has broken both rules within the first hour. Lila is an FBI agent on a dangerous undercover mission to pose as a submissive and rescue her kidnapped bestfriend from a ruthless human trafficking ring. But when her trainer turns out to be her ex boyfriend Ryder Kane, the man who shattered her heart twelve years ago, every wall she built comes crashing down. ~ Hi, loves! Before we begin… yes, observant readers are absolutely correct. This story takes place in the same universe as SIR and the Red Room still very much exists behind its infamous black doors. But no... it's not going to have any cameo from David and Nora unfortunately, since it takes place years after they leave the club. You absolutely don't need to read SIR first, but if you have, keep your eyes open for little easter eggs throughout the story 🙃 Now buckle up, because Ryder and Lila are about to wreck each other in the best possible way. DISCLAIMER: This is a work of smutty fiction and should not be construed as anything other than smutty fiction. This is not a how-to guide on BDSM, bondage, or relationships. The author does not claim to be an expert on anything kink related and urges interested parties to be smart, be safe, and do their own independent research on the topic.

Twenty-six, brilliant, and achingly untouched, PhD student Cassie walks into the city’s most exclusive sex club because of a bet against her virginity. She chooses him blindly: a cruel Dom who drags her to the hidden chambers, spreads her trembling thighs, and takes her virginity with slow, savage thrusts while she screams. She never sees his face. She buries the memory under ambition, until her mother’s death forces her back to her home. Her brother offers her an internship with his best friend, Reginald Walker; an introverted, lethal and impossibly controlled CEO. The man whose mere presence makes her wet and reckless. Cassie pushes until Reggie snaps, chains her on the wooden crucifix, spreads her legs and fucks her till she's speaking in tongues. Despite the fact that Reggie cannot do emotions, their secret affair turns raw and desperate: His hand is always fisted in her hair, his neck filled with hickeys that his shirt cannot hide. Their love and lust is so violent it terrifies them both. Then the devil returns. Dominic is the one who broke Cassie's virginity and he recognises her one night at a party. He does everything to get a taste of her again, including blackmail. When Reggie refuses to believe that the pictures he received are from the past, he walks out but they get back. Before they can fully reconcile, Reggie's ex comes with full force. Cassie runs to her brother with a broken heart. Reggie drowns in whiskey and self-loathing. On his knees in the rain,he begs for her forgiveness and love. She gives it, but nothing is the same again. They start over slowly, trying to rebuild what Dominic nearly destroyed. One careful kiss, one trembling “I love you,” one fragile heartbeat at a time.

In the opulent halls of the Stanley manor, Judy Kent, the daughter of the family chauffeur, grew up alongside Chris Stanley. Their childhood bond blossomed quietly, a tender friendship that seemed unshakable. But Chris' traumatic kidnapping left him with deep psychological scars, manifesting in a peculiar fixation directed solely at Judy. Tragedy struck when Chris' father died in a car accident. With Judy’s father on leave that day and a substitute driver behind the wheel, Chris' grief turned into misplaced hatred toward Judy’s family. Their once-close bond shattered. Consumed by bitterness, Chris withdrew from her and inflicted emotional torment, even coercing her into signing a contract that bound her to him. Yet beneath the layers of anger, Chris' love for Judy never truly faded—it was merely buried under his rage. When the truth of the accident finally surfaced, the weight of Chris' actions drove Judy to walk away, unable to reconcile with the pain of her past. Only then did Chris realize the depth of his mistakes. Overwhelmed by guilt, he vowed to make amends, embarking on a desperate pursuit to win back her love and trust. But can Judy’s fractured heart mend? Will their shared history and enduring connection be enough to overcome the barriers between them? Or has too much been lost in the wake of betrayal for love to flourish again in the manor’s shadowed corridors?

Kyra never believed in miracles. At twenty, she’d already stopped hoping, beaten by the hands of the man who called himself her father, ignored by the world that never cared to notice her bruises. The only thing she ever wanted was escape. When her friend drags her to a secret BDSM bar, Kyra expects nothing more than another disappointment. But in a room filled with power and control, her broken gaze meets his—the Master, the man everyone fears and obeys. A single look, and something inside her cracks. He gives her his card but she throws it away. Until the night her father’s fists nearly kill her and she finds herself crawling back to the only man who ever looked at her like she was worth saving. But when she stands before him again, begging to be his sub, Kyra doesn’t realize the truth. The man she’s surrendering to is not just the Master of the bar. He’s her new professor. And he’s been waiting for her to come back.

By the fifth year Dylan Crewe dropped me on a remote island, I finally learned submission. He brought his sugar baby, a college student, along with a Doberman to pick me up. I sank to my knees, wiped the sand off his leather shoes with my sleeve, and bent my back as a step for them. “Your duty from here on out is to take care of Tammy Bates. She and the Doberman are your family now.” I complied with his demand with a smile. Dylan took over my family’s empire, pushed my parents to the depths of despair until they jumped to their deaths, while I was abandoned in the middle of nowhere to break me. He succeeded in his venture. Back in the familiar manor, I couldn’t recognize the place I once called home. My alarm clock rang at 4 o’clock every morning, as my day would start with a special diet for Dobie and its grooming session. At nine o’clock, I would lay out Tammy’s outfit for the day and be her literal punching bag at the gym. I would have the drinks and food ready for Tammy’s friends in the evening, as she kidded around with her friends about how she tamed the once proud, notoriously spoiled heiress of Hedgewood’s high society.

I had always been obedient and compliant. I never dared to disobey others' instructions. The day my wealthy biological parents brought me home, my adoptive brother leaned close to my ear and sneered arrogantly, "The position of the Spencer family's heir belongs to me. If you know what's good for you, get lost on your own." I nodded obediently. Then I turned around and threw myself straight into rush-hour traffic on the highway. My parents nearly lost their minds. Panicked and trembling, they dragged me back into the car, their faces drained white with terror. My sister's expression darkened as she warned me coldly in my ear, "If you pull another stunt for attention, believe me, I'll throw you right back into the doghouse you came from." I obediently listened. That very night, I locked myself inside a dog crate. My sister froze in complete shock. Gritting her teeth, she yanked me out, staring at me like she'd seen a ghost. Later, when my adoptive brother pretended to be sick, my sister forced me to donate blood for him. I obediently took the knife. Without the slightest hesitation, I slashed straight through the artery in my wrist. By the time my parents rushed over, blood had just begun spraying out. They screamed in horror and lunged forward to press against my wound. "Somebody call 911! Now!!!" My sister had gone just as pale. After a long moment of stunned silence, she finally stammered, "Mom, Dad… I only told him to donate a little blood to Eric. I never told him to slit his wrist…" I blinked. My sister wasn't lying. She really hadn't taught me that. It was something the traffickers taught me during the five years my family personally handed me over to them—to "learn obedience."