Mind Game (The Power Games Part 2)

By Brynley Blake

She'll do anything to win the games.
He'll do anything to win her.

Roman

The Power Games was my idea to promote my new hotel in Las Vegas, where guests can indulge their darkest fantasies. I never intended to be a contestant.

Then I saw her. Now all bets are off.

Enigmatic and impossibly beautiful, her feistiness intrigues me as much as her innocence. Ava's a girl with infinite layers, and I'm determined to peel away each one until she's bared to me.  Until she's mine.

I want her. And I'll do anything to possess her—body and soul.

 

Ava

When my best friend Emmett suggested I compete on The Power Games with him, I thought he was crazy. Until I realized the BDSM-themed reality show was the perfect opportunity to ruin my stepfather's political career like he ruined my life.

All I have to do is pretend to be a submissive.

Then I'm paired with Roman Castile. Gorgeous as sin with a sadistic streak, he's as intimidating as he is dangerous, yet my body is drawn to his like there's a physical force pulling me in.

He says he can help me win…if I'm willing to give him everything.

The Power Games is a multi-part novel published in five installments:  Pregame, Mind Game, Game Plan, Game Point, and Endgame.

 

*For mature audiences only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kairos Publishing
• Release date: Oct 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215535103

Book preview

Chapter One

Roman

Incredible, Logan marvels, tossing the photos I’d printed out and brought to show him across the desk. These would be perfect for the print and website advertising campaign for Club Helix.

He picks up the one of Ava displayed on the pedestal, blindfolded with her arms chained above her and her nipples clamped. This one is phenomenal. I’ve never seen a picture that so perfectly captures the sheer beauty of submission.

He’s right. Ava’s face, usually so composed, betrays her every emotion. Her lips are parted, her stance emphasizing her utter vulnerability, her expression a blend of innocence and strength. She’s the epitome of the unadulterated power of surrender.

I don’t know what stroke of genius possessed you to take her to Club Helix for the photo shoot, but I’m damned glad you did, he continues. Do you think she’ll sign a release to let us use these images for advertising? We could pay her a generous modeling fee.

I honestly don’t know. She comes across so innocent in many ways but oddly worldly in others. I think she could use the money, but I don’t know how she’ll feel about having such an intimate photo of herself plastered everywhere. Let’s have lunch tomorrow, and you can talk to her about it, I suggest before heading out to do some shopping to prepare for the games.

I’ve left my submissive to her own devices this morning, although I’ve promised her a beating if she touches herself or gets herself off in my absence. She’d shot daggers at me last night when she’d realized I had no intention of easing her need, but she’s too proud to beg for it…yet.

I intend to keep her on edge for a while. Although I would have loved nothing more than to see her shatter beneath my hand last night, and while I sure as hell could have used the release myself after posing her sweet body in erotic positions all afternoon, I know she’ll perform better for the group event tonight if she’s somewhat needy and unsatisfied. Besides, I’ve decided that when I allow her to come the next time, she’s going to have to beg for it. This little submissive is getting under my skin, and we both need the reminder of who’s in charge.

When I come back, she’s freshly showered and waiting for me in the suite.

Did you get your work finished? she asks. The raw hunger of last night is gone, replaced by polite aloofness. My cock hardens at the prospect of breaking down her defenses and getting her back to depraved wantonness.

I did, I say, taking off my jacket and unbuttoning the top two buttons of my shirt before rolling up my shirtsleeves. She licks her lips. I also got the details for the group event tonight.

And? She looks as calm as if she’s just asked me whether it’s going to rain, but her hands are clenched together in front of her, betraying her nervousness.

I pull out the card and read it to her. "Join us in the Diamond Lounge at eight o’clock as everything comes off. Submissives will perform an erotic striptease to a full house at the first official group event of the Power Games."

Ava lets out her breath in a whoosh. An erotic striptease? Okay, that’s not so bad, right?

I look at her consideringly. I suppose that depends on how inhibited you are.

She blushes. It’s just taking my clothes off. I can do that.

You have to do it better than the other thirteen women, I remind her. I take a seat on the sofa and gesture to the space in front of me. Show me.

Now? She looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

Yes, schiava, I say, my voice taking on an authoritative edge. Now. Show me.

Listen, I wanted to talk to you about this whole schiava slave-girl thing, she says, all prim and proper.

I try to suppress the smile I feel pulling at my lips. This should be entertaining. All right. Talk.

I, um, don’t want you to call me that.

Why not?

She fidgets slightly and then frowns as she tries to put her feelings into words. Because it makes me feel like I’m at a disadvantage. Like you have more power than I do. She stops for a minute, her brow furrowing in thought. It makes me feel like I’m just a thing, your possession that you can do anything you want with. And I don’t like it.

You have all the power, schiava, as you can revoke the control you’ve surrendered to me with your safe word. But you have subjected yourself to my desires, and I have the authority you’ve given to me. I can do anything I want with you within the limits that you’ve agreed to, unless you choose to use your safe word, I remind her. "This isn’t a democracy, and what you like or don’t like doesn’t always matter. But I’m a fair man, so I’m willing to compromise. During our regular day-to-day interactions, I’ll call you Ava. But during scenes and any games or D/s interactions, I’ll give you a choice. You can answer to slave or schiava, or you can answer to Avalon."

Her eyes flash as she meets my gaze. You fucking bastard, she hisses.

Be careful that mouth of yours doesn’t get you into something your ass can’t handle, Ava, I warn softly.

She stands there for several long minutes, and despite the armor of impassivity that she works so hard to keep in place, I can see the internal conflict rage through her as she considers her options. Her fingers curl into fists at her sides, and I half hope she decides to slap me again. I’d love nothing more than to take her over my knee and break that stubborn will of hers. But she finally takes a deep breath and says, Okay. You can call me Avalon.

I lift my eyebrow in surprise. Somehow, I thought she’d go with schiava, but I’m pleased at her choice. As you wish, Avalon, I say deliberately. Now show me your striptease.

Her eyes widen. But…I don’t have any music, she says, sidestepping the command. She’s clearly uncomfortable with the idea of stripping for me, but she’s trying hard not to admit it.

They’re making an exception to the no-music rule for this event, although you still won’t be able to access the internet or your own personal cell phone to download songs. After we’re finished here, you can go downstairs and peruse the music library provided by the hotel to choose your song for tonight, but for now, I just want to see your moves. No music. Strip.

She looks at me with a brief hint of desperation in her gorgeous green eyes, and then she tilts her chin up and slowly removes her shoes. It has all the sex appeal of someone preparing for the guillotine. With her eyes downcast, she slowly begins to unbutton the sleeveless red blouse she’s wearing.

Avalon! This is supposed to be erotic. Seduce me. Show me what you have. Make me want it. Make me desperate for it.

She nods and tries again, but her embarrassment gets the best of her, and she refuses to look at me as she continues unbuttoning her shirt, although her hips are now swaying enticingly.

I sigh with exasperation. Come here.

Her eyes meet mine in bewilderment, but she obediently moves to stand in front of me.

You’re obviously shy about this, I say, my voice laced with understanding. She relaxes a little.

I am, she admits.

I take her hands in mine. As your Dom, it’s my job to help you overcome whatever obstacles and insecurities get in the way of you obeying without hesitation, and to sometimes help you do things you’re not entirely comfortable with. Your desire to please me has to be stronger than your fear or anxiety about doing something. Do you understand that?

She nods, eyeing me suspiciously.

Good. I stand up and go to the dresser, pulling out a black blindfold. I’ve noticed things are easier for you when you can hide behind the security of the blindfold, so we’ll start with you blindfolded.

Although she’s a master at controlling her facial expressions, her eyes always give her away, and I hate not being able to read what’s going through her head. But what she needs right now is to focus on her body and the way she feels without distraction or self-consciousness. She stands motionless as I move behind her and tie the blindfold over her eyes.

Still behind her, I skim my hands down her sides. Feel how seductive your body is, its curves and movements. I grip her hips and begin to rock them gently from side to side. After a moment, she relaxes and lets me take over. I roll her hips in a silent rhythm—side to side, front to back, and then in unhurried, erotic circles.

Now lift your arms over your head, I murmur in her ear, still rotating her pelvis. Slowly. Seductively. Keep them there. She obeys, her arms over her head as she gyrates her hips with