Realm Of The Dominatrix Cycle: Boxed Set of 8 Short Stories (The Complete Set)

By Susan Hart

The Island of Broken Souls - Late at night, an old man shows up at a private dominatrix club looking for someone. On a hunch the manager lets him in and eventually the old man begins to tell the tale of his search for the first dominatrix he’d ever met, right after the war. This is a stand-alone story but there are seven more in the cycle, to be published soon.

The Man Who Loved Rubber - A man discovers a way to make latex sheets which can be sewn into clothing and it’s an instant hit. One woman invites him over to her house and makes the process exclusive to her, if he wants to be under her control once a week. He starts to run out of money and hasn’t a clue what to do next.

The Great Goddess Freak-Out - This is the story of one man who lost his first two mistresses and just happens to come across a new one as he’s leaving a strip club. She takes him on for a while but things always seem to fall apart after a few sessions.

Spike Heels On A Broken Pavement - A man is in search of his fourth dominatrix, when he sees and overhears a woman dressed in expensive leathers. He follows her into a movie theater where she becomes the maestro to many men who happened to be sitting close to her. When he follows her outside she has disappeared but after he locates her in an alleyway, she puts on a handy dog collar and leash and then leads him to a completely unexpected location.

A Plague Of Leather - A man, now sixty, talks about his fifth dominatrix and how different the encounter was to all of his others.

Our Lady Of Cybernetics - In the nineties a man who has served a handful of dominatrices throughout his seventy years of life, tries to find another one but at the dawn of the Internet and computer age, it’s not as easy as it seems.

Queen Of The Down-sized - A man recounts his adventures in the 2000s, still in search of the original dominatrix, Aphrodite. He runs into one of his previous ones and she can’t help with any more info on the focus of his lifelong quest. However, the last piece of information he’s gleaned has narrowed down her location to within five miles of the bar he’s been telling his stories in.

Redemption In Black - An old man completes the final chapter of his life as he has finally found out where he can find the Dominatrix he’s been searching for his entire life. However, it most definitely does not turn out how he imagined it would.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Hart
• Release date: Jul 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310453021

Susan Hart

I was born in England, but have lived in Southern California for many years. I m now retired and live in the Pacific NW in a little seaside city amongst the giant redwoods and wonderful harbor, almost at the Oregon border. My husband and I have one cat, called Midnight and she is featured in two of my latest Sci-Fi short stories. I love Science Fiction, animals, and trying to help others. I publish under Doreen Milstead as well as my own name. My photo was taken right before the coronation of QE II in the UK.

Book preview

Realm Of The Dominatrix Cycle

By

Susan Hart

Copyright 2015 Romances With A Bite Press

The Island of Broken Souls

The Man Who Loved Rubber

The Great Goddess Freak-Out

Spike Heels On A Broken Pavement

A Plague Of Leather

Our Lady Of Cybernetics

Queen Of The Down-sized

Redemption In Black

Author’s Note: All characters in these stories are over eighteen.

#1 - The Island of Broken Souls

Synopsis: The Island of Broken Souls - Late at night, an old man shows up at a private dominatrix club looking for someone. On a hunch the manager lets him in and eventually the old man begins to tell the tale of his search for the first dominatrix he’d ever met, right after the war. This is a stand-alone story but there are seven more in the cycle, to be published soon.

Jack turned off the sign at two in the morning. The usual crowd had long since left the club, which meant he’d only have to do periodic parking lot checks until four. He turned and eyed the street, which ran past the clubhouse and made certain there were no more car headlights out there.

The Passion Cove was located five miles from the nearest building, but the road next to it saw a lot of traffic. It never ceased to amuse him watching cars slow down to look at the neon handcuffs on the banner. That banner had caused the owners a little bit of trouble until they agreed to move it away from side of the club, which faced the road. You could still see it, just not as good.

He locked the front door and went back inside. Anyone already in the club could exit without trouble by simply pushing on the bar to get the door open, but anyone outside would have to ring the doorbell. The club owners had learned their lesson the hard way about keeping it secure after the License and Inspection Board had made an unannounced visit.

Once you’ve had to deal with one police raid, you learn to get ready for the next. That night, Jack had left the door briefly to go on break only to see a mob of guys with cop fetish on his return. They were standing around inside the club carrying flashlights. However, they weren’t fetish kinksters; these were real cops who had found their primary target, a whorehouse, conveniently closed that evening and went for the secondary target, The Passion Cove.

It had taken five weeks of lawyers and donations from the members to get that mess straightened out. In the end, the inspectors were satisfied with a new fire extinguisher system. However, some of the cops who were in on the raid filled out membership applications.

Jack went up to the bar where Angel was serving. She was a gorgeous thing in latex and one of the biggest draws of the club. Angel had been granted a free membership so long as she tended the bar once a week. All of twenty-two, she looked hot in her latex corset, short skirt and heels. Tonight, she had teased her long black hair down the back, which kept the drinks pouring all night long. The liquor license had been recently granted and the club owners where determined to get their money back.

Pretty dead out there? she asked Jack. Angel was busy cleaning some glasses. Jack thought she was the only woman he had ever seen who could make latex gloves sexy.

Yeah, he responded, tossing the floor length duster he wore to one side. Jack had forgotten to shave again, but the effect of him in the duster and shades helped deter any wannabe groupies from trying to crash the place. Last week he’d shooed some kids away who were getting too close to the door.

Son, get away from the door, he’d told one of the boys, who was about fourteen.

I’m not your son, the kid snapped at him.

Really? Jack said to him. How would you like to be my girlfriend? The kids took off when he said that.

The weather has just about killed it, Jack told Angel. No one is coming out in that rain this time of the night. They’ll be home spanking each other.

The club was made out of an old varnish-making plant. The walls were stone, with mica deposits showing through the rough finish. It created a strange effect in the daytime when the sun hit it. Inside, once you got past the admission booth, was an open area with tables. The tables faced a stage, but there were smaller, private rooms to the back.

Upstairs the former locker rooms had been converted into changing areas since most of the members didn’t wear fetish gear from on the street. It wasn’t unusual to see them carting in suitcases every night.

The stage had a human-sized cage hanging from it. To one side was a stock, which faced a bondage table and near it a rack. Unlike the medieval dungeons the club was trying to duplicate, there was a set of rules for each piece of equipment’s use posted right next to it. Any violation of those rules was grounds for ejection from the club. It hadn’t happened too often, most of the members knew the rules and followed them to the letter.

Jack set his walkie-talkie down on the bar counter and rubbed his head. He was getting too old for this nonsense. At forty, he’d been in and out of relationships for the past twenty years. He’d owned stores, worked security and shoveled gravel. This wasn’t the worst job he’d ever had and it beat his last door job at a strip club. He’d sent more idiots flying out the door than he’d like to remember at that place.

However, he didn’t know how much longer he could take being up so late because it was starting to get to him and he hadn’t had a girlfriend in the past three years. In spite of what people wanted to believe, a bondage club was not the ideal place to find long-term relationships.

The members didn’t give him too much trouble. Jack had some issues when he first started, as the owners asked him to check cards for everyone coming in the door. This was a new policy and didn’t go over to well with some of the older members who felt their very presence should allow them to do whatever they wanted.

He recalled a professional dominatrix who had grown fourteen feet in height when he asked for her card. She went from a tiny five-foot woman to a hell-beast with an attitude until Jack had looked at her card and let her in. The next week, the card policy was rescinded in favor of visual identification.

I think we’re the only ones in here, Jack said to Angel as she finished cleaning the bar. I’m about ready to close-up. I don’t think the owners would give us a hard time if I did it in this weather.

Unfortunately for Jack, there was a buzz at the door. Somebody wanted to come in. He leaned over the bar to look at the monitor Angel had on her side. Great -- somebody he didn’t recognize. Now he would have to tell him how much it cost to join, what the basic rules were, blah, blah. He was ready for a pot of coffee.

Jack sighed and walked over to the main door. There were three others, but members weren’t supposed to use them during club operation hours, they were just for emergencies. Jack paused and looked at the monitor behind the admission booth, which had closed at midnight. Just one old man, no one hiding in the bushes.

Some fool had tried to rush his friends into the place last year and found out what a barricade that door could make. Probably someone out looking for love who couldn’t find it and this place seemed like a reasonable option at the hour. Most of the public bars were closing down this time of night.

Jack opened the door and let the man in out of the rain. He closed the door behind him and listened to the lock click. The old man shook the rain off his back and dropped down the hood from his jacket. He carried a lit flashlight in one hand, which he turned off on entering the club.

The man was very old. Jack couldn’t quite recall seeing someone so old in this club before. They catered to a young and middle-class bunch at The Passion Cove. Corporate lawyers looking for some place to get their freak on with the latest girlfriend. Off-duty dancers in search of someone to take care of their other needs. Just people in the scene looking for a place to chill. But they did get people of all ages and occupations, people who kept Jack busy checking ID’s. It wasn’t unusual to see a fifty-five year-old woman sitting at the bar with a twentysomething slave boy on a leash.

Ditto for a white restaurant owner and his submissive Asian girlfriend in her corset with heels. He knew of a few members who were pushing seventy.

However, this man had to be in his nineties, easily. He was small and light. No hair adorned his skull and his face was a map of wrinkles. He had a slight bend to his back; the mark of someone who’d spent their life working for a living. Could this be one of the legendary leather Old Guard that people talked about in hushed tones? He wasn’t wearing any fetish gear and didn’t sport a toy bag. Nor did he have