Sabine & The Wolf: The Sabine's Daybook Series, #3

By Sabine M

Fresh from her wounds from the summer, Sabine arrives at the doors of the Darling Aster Hotel. Will the surrounding woods and new faces be the healing she so desperately needs? Or will the attention of the mysterious, persistent stranger be the unexpected awakening Sabine requires?

In the third book of the series, Sabine And The Wolf is a cautionary tale of exploring new ways of loving and the price paid for throwing all caution to the wind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sabine M.
• Release date: Oct 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9798201964436

Sabine M

Sabine M. resides in Los Angeles and spends her time writing erotica. Her secret passion has always been to publish writing for others to enjoy. Her hope is to inspire others to enjoy pleasure as completely as she does. Sabine writes vanilla, threesomes, and BDSM, focusing mostly on D/s power dynamics. When not writing erotica, Sabine pens noir fiction and nonfiction under the name Sabine Marlowe.

Book preview

Note from the Author

Dear Reader,

First and foremost, thank you for following Sabine this far.

I’m humbled and grateful that you would read this work.

It’s important to me that I state here that this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken as a handbook or guidebook or roadmap or anything resembling anything instructional about BDSM or life in general.

There are some intense, graphic sex scenes of BDSM in this story and some violence. Please don’t read it if those things trigger you.

There’s also a diary written by the main character of her darkest thoughts. Again, her diary. Not a decree, not a treatise on what women everywhere want or will accept.

I offer a story about flawed people finding one another and trying to make sense of why we are drawn to others, and the minefield it creates in the human heart.

Be well. Be safe.

I wish you happiness.

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-Sabine M.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Epilogue

There is no coming to consciousness without pain.

-  Carl Jung.

This is dedicated to those who understand:

From you, towards you, too much, too soon. Yet, not enough.

Ever.

Chapter One

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Nearly everything after arriving at The Darling Aster has been a fever dream.

Why must we wake up from our dreams?

Nevermind, I should begin this account correctly.

I checked into the Darling Aster around 8 p.m. eastern time, and although it was only five p.m. back in Los Angeles, I was exhausted and in need of a bed. A broken heart will do that to you. Mine had been aching for weeks. All I knew anymore was depletion.

I gave desperate smiles to everyone I met when I checked in and followed the bellman up to my room. It wasn’t until the room service waiter unveiled my steak and old-fashioned with shaking hands that I realized that on top of my failure to hide my emotional exhaustion, I had also failed to recognize these people were scared for their jobs.

Do you want my champagne? I gestured towards the complimentary bucket of champagne and a small tray of strawberries. That’s way too romantic for what’s going on here.

The room service waiter hesitated, then shook his head.

Well, can you remove it then? It’s mocking me. I attempted a joke. Neither of us smiled.

Good job, Sabine. Now you just look special.

Oh yeah. I was there to critique the hotel for my godmother Sophia. And they knew it. I had to stop feeling sorry for myself. Soon.

One glance around and it dawned on me that I didn’t know how successful I would be staying at a place like this.  It didn’t take much to realize this is a place you go to fall in love, to meet an illicit lover, to rekindle a fading romance. No single person in their right mind would stay here. Even lusty, old me would have bristled at the heady feel of the space.

I gazed around the large, sumptuous room. It was big enough for a small family and yet cozy for lovers. I thought of all the things in the room going to waste, and after my dinner arrived, I went to bed as I always did with my last thoughts being about Alexander and Harry.

They both should have been with me in this darkly romantic hotel. We should, all three of us, be enjoying one another. I so missed the taste and feel of them. I missed their breathing changing pace in my ear; I missed watching their pupils dilate.

I couldn’t get them to return my calls or texts. I had no idea whether or not they were seeing other people. It pained me to think of the three of us just floating in limbo, all of us lonely, all of us lost.

––––––––

The next morning, I was still in my clothes from the night before.

I had cried my mascara off onto my pillowcase, and from the looks of my phone, I had drunk dialed both Alexander and Harry. I vaguely remember leaving voicemails. Great. No incoming calls. Even fucking better.

There was, however, a lovely text from Sophia.

There were no reports of a plane crash last night, but please text me anyway. Also, don’t fuck the help. J.K.

I texted back confirmation of my existence and took an earnest look around my room for the first time since arriving. The curtains I asked the bellman to close the night before caused the space to be in near darkness. The only light was from my phone, which told me it was ten a.m. Guess I needed to sleep like the dead.

My throat had the typical dryness of too many drinks and tears. How many more mornings like this? I had begun to forget what it felt like to not wake up with aches and debris.

I slid off my bed to my feet and turned on the table side lamp. Even the low light made me wince. To the right was the bathroom door, which remained closed. A thin sliver of daylight glowed from beneath.

I made my way to the bathroom, covered my face with my hand, and braced myself for sunlight as I opened the door.

When my eyes adjusted through my fingers, I saw just how lucky I was. My God, the white egg-shaped tub could fit three people. How ironic. There was a glassed-in shower, big enough for two with shower heads on either side. My heart pinged, and I wondered if I should request a smaller room, one that didn't remind me of what a loser I was. I shook it off and went to one of the two sinks and, avoiding the mirror, splashed water on my face.

I removed all my clothes and placed them in a bundle. The shower would be the better choice. All this luxury screamed, get someone in here, and play with them. I had barely played with myself in weeks. I eyed the tub as I walked towards the shower. I’d be seeing that bad boy later that evening.

Going from being handled, fucked, loved, shared, and mercilessly used daily, to nothing at all, was whiplash. Even though my nipples and my pussy ached for contact and warmth, it was as if appeasing my desires with my hand was just another way to taunt myself.

Sometimes when I couldn’t take it anymore, I simply climbed into the bathtub and scooted until my starving pussy was right under the faucet. I would turn the warm water on full blast, letting the raging torrent torture and whip my clit until I came. But touching myself? No.

Freshly showered, I wrapped the thirsty towels around my hair and body and did my best to stop wishing Alexander or Harry was there with me to enjoy all the goodies. I walked back out into the room and located my suitcases. They were still in the little foyer. So was last night’s room service. My goodness. Three tumblers and a demolished steak. I barely remembered ordering more drinks.

I dragged all the suitcases to my bed and opened the biggest one. I fished out dark jeans, a white button-down shirt, and a red scarf just in case it got chilly later. I threw these on and went to the three sets of large curtains to the left of the bed. To the left was a panel with buttons that soon proved to open all three or one at a time. I settled for all three.

They opened onto a balcony that ran the length of the wall. Through the glass, I could see a cafe table and two chairs. Flanking this set up were Adirondack chairs with thick, lush throws with the hotel logo embossed on their centers. But that wasn’t the best part. The best part loomed beyond the french doors behind the middle curtains.

I turned the handle and pulled them open. The trees were almost as tall as where I stood, and I was on the twelfth floor. The scent! I inhaled deeply several times and almost teared up. Oh, what a view. I walked past the cafe table and chairs and went to the railing to gaze down.

Below me was a patio with several tables and chairs on a deck that had steps leading down onto the grounds. I saw a wide path that led deep into the woods. Oh yes. Yes, please. As soon as I could, I would go for a walk in those woods and feel that forest floor. There was way too much beauty, way too much for my senses. Although I couldn't imagine ever getting over Alexander and Harry, I knew that at least all this nature would soothe me.

I closed my eyes and lifted my face towards the warming sun. I don’t know how long I stood there but felt a slight feeling in my gut. I lowered my face and looked around. Down below, at the base of the steps, stood a bearded man with short dark hair. He wore black jeans, a gray shirt, and a black jacket. And he was looking right up at me.

He had been staring; I could feel it. I looked away, pretending not to notice. He didn’t stop staring. Finally, still feeling his gaze, I looked down again.

His face broke into a slow smile, and he made that motion of touching his eyebrow with his forefinger and then moving it towards me slightly as if tipping an invisible hat. I looked away and then went back inside, shivering.  That was rather bold. As much as I liked flirting, I wasn’t used to that sort of unabashed attention.

Okay, that’s a lie. I was. But there was something far more intense about this instance. I hoped the man wouldn’t be staying long. I sure as hell hoped he wasn’t staff.

I went back into my room and opened the smallest suitcase. Inside was a wrapped rectangle that Sophia had insisted I opened only upon arrival. I tore open the smooth parchment paper and found a soft blush-colored leather-bound diary. Tucked in next to the three satiny ribbons used for keeping various places was a cream-colored card with a lily, Sophia’s favorite flower, printed at the top.

It read: Write your books on your laptop, but every single day, write your mind here. No matter how much it hurts.

I sighed and clutched the diary to my chest. I owed Sophia. Big time.

Swiping on the usual crimson lipstick, I put my still damp hair in a bun. It was all I could muster. Tucking my diary, laptop, and phone into my bag, I headed downstairs in search of breakfast. I didn’t have much of an appetite for anything, but I knew enough to know that faking it until I felt it, was much better than sitting in my room drinking and crying.

Besides, I could never turn down some scrambled eggs and good coffee.

––––––––

The elevator doors softly hissed open, letting me in. A scent encased me as the doors slid close. Bergamot. Sandalwood. The softest hint of dark, lush patchouli. Usually, I hate patchouli. It tended to sit in my throat like a pungent cloud. This one was warm and feathery. Strange. There was another leathery, slightly decaying note I couldn’t quite place. Oddly, it worked.

What I did know was that this particular scent was not in the elevator the night before.

The doors opened, and I moved towards the lobby. To my left was the opening of the Darling, the hotel’s only restaurant.

As I walked in, I picked up on the scent again, but it was very faint. To my left, past the host stand, came the lower octave sound of men laughing the way they do when someone’s told an off-color joke or shared a story of conquest.

I turned my head in their direction and saw all but one turn towards me. I stared them down, my mouth a hard line. I made eye contact and refused to soften my gaze. Various men in business suits slowly turned their back to me. But I had my eye on the one that hadn’t turned around. Broad shoulders, a thick athletic build that required tailoring, was showcased expertly in his jacket. His jeans didn't fail, either.  I took in a set of powerful thighs and legs. And honey, one could bounce a quarter off that ass.

It was him.

Unlike the others, he hadn’t turned around. But the bar had a mirrored wall behind it, and I could see he was watching me. Again.

His eyes slowly looked me up and down, then rested on my face.

I reluctantly broke my gaze when I realized we had been staring at one another. I waited at the host stand and pretended to be fascinated by my phone. My face was flushed. What was worse was I believed the man in black knew it.

One of the men said something quietly, and they all laughed. Then I heard his low, calm voice.

Don’t distress her, he said.

For the second time that day, I shivered.

My face burned hot, and I shifted from one foot to the other. The hostess came over and apologized for making me wait.

It’s fine, I said a little too sharply and regretted it. No, I mean it. It’s fine.

She showed me to a table close to the bar, and I pointed to a booth in the back. She led me there.

I immediately opened my computer and tried to forget what had just happened. But even in my blue state, I could still feel two eyes watching me from across the restaurant.

Don’t DISTRESS her? What?

I took stock of the early crowd. Not bad. A few families. A few couples. No one of note except for him.

A lusciously curvy server with rosy skin and long red hair in a prim chignon broke me out of the trance.

Hi, she smiled, I’m Maggie.

Hi, Maggie. I’m Sabine. I was relieved. She stood in direct line of his view, and for once since arriving, I no longer felt his eyes burning into me.

Oh, I know who you are, she giggled. May I bring you some coffee or iced tea?

I deliberately kept my voice soft. I wasn’t feeling friendly, but Maggie’s uneasiness matched that of the bellman from the night before. I would love a coffee. Especially a strong one. Some eggs softly scrambled. Bacon. No toast. Please.

She wrote everything down, blinking rapidly. I watched sweat beads form on her forehead.

Maggie, I leaned forward gently.

Yes?

I’m not here to get anyone in trouble, okay? I offered.

She sighed. I’m sorry. Is it obvious?

I know how important everyone’s job is to them. I get it.

She grinned. Thank you. I appreciate it.

I do have a question, though.

Sure.

Please don’t look at the bar, okay? Please do not give any indication-

You’re asking about him, aren’t you? Maggie lowered her voice to a whisper. Her voice had reduced dramatically over saying the word him.

Ummm. Yes. I think we’re talking about the same man.

Dressed in black?

Yes.

"Yes. No one knows much about him. Doesn’t talk much. He’s friends with those men.

Every once in a while, he brings in a scotch bottle and shares it with the bartender. Also, he’s close to the Chef.

What does he do?

Maggie shrugged. He lives behind the hotel. In a cottage or cabin or something way in the back. He was here before the hotel was built.

I see.

And the hotel’s been here for four years...

Uh-huh.

Are you going to ask me if he has a woman? She giggled, then blanched in horror after hearing herself. She practically clapped her hand over her mouth. Others nearby turned when hearing the sound it made.

I laughed my first real laugh in a long time. I guess I was, Maggie. But someone who looks like that...

There’s no one in particular that I know of.

I could have told you that, my dear. I sighed.

Not that he doesn’t get traffic if you know what I mean.

Oh, Maggie, if you only knew.

I hesitated, wondering if I could trust her. What do they look like?

No one sees. No one knows. He’s incredibly private. But, you just know. You feel it.

We exchanged a look. I did know. And I did feel it.

Well, Sabine, I’d better put your order in if you’re ever going to get those eggs.

Thanks, Maggie.

––––––––

I sent a few emails while I ate my late breakfast and then decided that was enough for the day. Closing the laptop, I took a pen out of my bag and eyed the diary.

Where to break her cherry? Here? The sounds of dishes being bussed off nearby tables, murmured words, and soft laughter seemed like a lovely backdrop. But then I thought of my beautiful room. I decided I would go up to the balcony and sit amongst the treetops. Yes. That was better.

But first, I would go back upstairs, put some of my things away, and go for that much-needed walk in the woods. I was fairly aching for the rich scent and the crush of soft decaying leaves beneath my bare feet. Ground me first, then go for the opening of the vein via my new diary.

I signed off on my bill and gathered my things. The men were still there but were, for the most part, oblivious to my presence as I walked past them. I didn’t see the dark stranger.

I made my way to the hallway and towards the elevator. Pushing the button, I thought about how lovely the hotel seemed so far. Sophia wouldn’t do too badly with this investment.

The scent that captivated me in the elevator grew more robust. I was too lost in my thoughts about the forest to understand what was happening before it enveloped me. The scent wrapped itself around my face and neck right before the doors opened.