No Entry

Awaken your forbidden desires in the Inner Room…

After a lifetime of suppressing her darkest erotic fantasies, Marissa dares to take the leap at last, unable to resist the rare and exclusive chance to train in the Master’s Inner Room…

Master Cam has no idea the novice submissive he’s agreed to assess is none other than the new colleague at his day job. He doesn’t bank on the powerful reaction, both emotional and sexual, that ignites between them. Ignoring the risks, he takes her past her fears into the dark, edgy world of erotic submission.

But there’s a lot on the line when Marissa is faced with unwanted attention from a player who refuses to take no for an answer—not just the risk to their careers, but a test of the fledgling connection between Master and sub.

The passion is real… So is the danger…

Previously titled: The Inner Room

No Entry is a BDSM Club Series novel. Where erotic submission is not only accepted, but demanded.


Excerpt from Book

It was nearly five o’clock before she had a chance to respond to Dana’s text. Flopping into her desk chair, she tapped a message onto the screen. Hey, Dana. Crazy day. What’s up?

A moment later her phone buzzed with an incoming call from Dana. Swiveling in her chair to face the tiny window of her cramped office that looked out over the vista of the Manhattan skyline, Marissa took the call. “Hi,” she said, trying and not quite succeeding to censor the image of Dana’s naked, welted body from her mind. “What’s up?”

“Open invitation night, that’s what,” Dana said cryptically.

When she didn’t elaborate, Marissa said, “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s open invitation night? Are you inviting me over to watch Master Tony in action?” As soon as the words tumbled from her mouth, she wished she could grab them back. She’d only been kidding as she said it, but what if that was what Dana was offering? Did she dare accept? Would they expect her to participate? Did she want to?

Dana laughed. “Even better. You know that BDSM club we belong to? Once a month we’re allowed to bring guests and prospective members to see what the place is about. Tony asked me if I’d like to bring you and—”

“Tony knows about me?” Marissa blurted, not quite sure how she felt about that.

“Sure. I tell Master Tony everything, you know that. He’s always interested in anyone who’s curious about the scene. He’s got this personal mission to bring BDSM to the world.” She laughed and continued, “He’s suggested before that I bring you around, but I was pretty sure you weren’t ready. Then after I saw the way you were looking at me this morning, your tongue practically hanging out, your eyes so full of longing I thought you were going to cry—”

“What?” Marissa exploded, embarrassed she’d been so transparent. “I never did any such thing.”

Dana’s voice was kind. “Hey, Marissa, honey. I’m sorry if I’m pushing buttons. I do tend to just blurt things out, you know. Master Tony says that’s what gags are for.” Again she laughed. “Anyway, seriously, can you honestly tell me you weren’t, if not turned on, at least intrigued about those cane marks?”

When Marissa didn’t respond, Dana went on, “You’re thirty-two years old, right? In the three years I’ve known you, I’ve watched you date the occasional guy and lose interest in like five minutes, no matter how nice or good-looking or rich or hung or whatever the dude might be. You’ve talked before about wishing you could find a guy you connected with, but that it’s virtually impossible to meet anyone, given your schedule and the dwindling supply of decent single guys in the city.”

“Yeah,” Marissa admitted, though she knew the issue went deeper than mere availability of single men. Several times over the course of the day, Marissa had found herself falling into a daydream in which she was the cherished and adored sub girl, lying in the arms of her Dom after an especially intense play session, as Dana called them. She didn’t just want any available guy in the right socio-economic bracket. She wanted what Dana had.

Dana continued, unwittingly giving voice to Marissa’s thoughts. “Every time I talk about the scene, or you witness the latest evidence of Tony’s and my delicious games, you look like a kid with her face pressed up against the glass of a candy store. Yet, as far as I know, and please correct me if I’m wrong, the only thing you’ve done to find out if the lifestyle is for you is masturbate to BDSM porn videos, am I right?”

Marissa’s ears felt hot, and she was glad this was a phone conversation, instead of face to face, as she knew she was blushing. “Oh, I, um,” she stammered, though Dana had in fact hit the nail on the head.

“Want to know what I think?” Dana continued, thankfully not pressing Marissa for a more coherent response. “I think you’re just not looking in the right place. I think it’s time for you to take the bull by the horns. Stop acting like a little girl and find the courage to explore your true feelings and desires. The Power Exchange is opening its outer room to guests tonight, and I’m inviting you.”

Dana had mentioned The Power Exchange before—a private BDSM venue for folks who were seriously into the BDSM lifestyle. Dana and Tony engaged in what Dana called public scenes, which Marissa surmised from Dana’s occasional descriptions included whips, chains, rope, gags and lots of naked bodies. Marissa imagined something out of a gothic horror film—whipping posts, torture racks, manacles protruding from crumbling stone walls, everything cast in a blood-red light, the only sound that of cracking leather and anguished cries.

Marissa felt the heat rising in her crotch. Her breasts ached and she reached her free hand into the cup of her bra to tweak the suddenly distended nipple. She shifted in her chair and pressed her thighs together in an effort to ease the ache in her sex, glad her office door was closed.

“Marissa? You there?”

“Yeah,” Marissa said hoarsely. She cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m here.”

“So, how about it? You ready to stop being the kid with her nose pressed to the glass and step on inside? Shall we come by your building at nine o’clock to pick you up?”

Dana was right. Marissa’s excuses all her life about why she had no time for a relationship were pretty worn at this point. She was done with medical school. She was done with residency. She had a good staff position at a well-respected city hospital. She understood intellectually there was nothing wrong with being a sexual masochist. Was she ready, at last, to finally begin her own erotic exploration into BDSM?

Marissa was silent for a long moment. She felt as if she were poised on the edge of a high dive. Closing her eyes, she took the leap. “Yes, nine o’clock sounds good.”