Dark Erotic Romance with Heart and Angst


Welcome to my little corner of the web! I write naughty stories about alpha men and the women they love.

It's domination and submission with lots of heart, just the way I like it.

You can find my latest erotic short stories on Medium.


    When her friend suggests they attend the Haven Fetish Ball to help lift her mood after her divorce, senior partner Sofia Mason has no idea what the night will hold – certainly not the masked Dominant who now commands her to strip off her clothes and position herself in front of the bed for a spanking. She's never even been spanked before.



    I hadn’t meant to walk this far into the house, not when I had no idea what was inside the rooms. And I didn’t want to know. But I was bored and needed to walk around after Sage and I got separated in the grand ballroom. One minute she and I were admiring the sight of a man going down on a woman right in front of us like it was a lesson I wished my ex knew the basics of, and the next minute she was gone.

    But I didn’t mind it. After all, she’d brought me to the Haven Ball to help distract me from my recent divorce. After numerous rounds of negotiations as to who’d get the house, the lake cottage and everything else, I signed away eleven years of marriage in a meeting that left me too exhausted to do anything else but sit at home and watch whatever was playing on TV. But as draining as the divorce was, it was better than going on with the charade called our perfect marriage. That farce began the moment I caught him fucking his secretary two years earlier and, of course, he denied it.

    At least I’d been able to move on even if it were only lunches at the country club with friends and happy hour with the other partners of the firm. I kept busy as always. Just because I was divorced didn’t mean I was dead although it did mean a split of loyalties for our mutual friends. What can I say? Collateral damage.

    But no matter what happened, life went on. Attending the Haven Ball, a fetish party in a private mansion somewhere in the hills of Bel Air, had been Sage’s idea of moving on and celebrating my legalized state of single-hood.

    How she knew people with questionable morals amazed me, but I wasn’t complaining. It was better than sitting at home eating another container of ice cream and wondering where I went wrong in my marriage. No wonder Sage was determined to help me forget, insisting that the divorce wasn’t my fault.

    Shit happens, Sofia, even to the best corporate lawyers in Beverly Hills, she’d said one night after finishing her session with me, leaving me feeling like a limp noodle on her table.

    Sage was a massage therapist for the rich and famous. She was so laid back it wasn’t funny. She was also able to fit into any occasion like she belonged there. Rock stars, bored wives of rock stars, and actors and directors on location. Some of them even flew her out to wherever they were filming. It wasn’t because she was good, she’d told me. It was because they knew she’d keep her mouth shut.

    But Sage was only being humble. One didn’t get to be known under one name if you weren’t good.

    “Maybe you’ll finally meet someone,” she’d said while helping me pick out something to wear. “You can’t be celibate forever, you know. One day, you’ll probably announce that you’re taking the veil, or whatever it’s called.”

    Well, at the rate I was going–and the dress I had picked which was nothing like the revealing outfits every other woman was wearing tonight, some of them without anything on but strategically placed clips with chains dangling from their bodies–I just might be celibate for just a while longer. I couldn’t believe the things I was seeing. Worse, I couldn’t believe that I’d willingly signed the contract that Dominic Thorne slid across the table toward me the moment we arrived at the Thorne mansion.

    I should have known better than to sign a document without being given enough time to study its terms to the letter. Not that it was complicated; it was a simple document that stated I was attending the party at my own free will, that I wasn’t a member of the media, and while I could freely have sex on the premises, I also had the right to say no. Consent, according to Dominic, was everything. No one was here against their will. There was also a waiting list to get in, and for the men, there was a hefty price tag for membership. Women got in for free–but that was only after he vetted you. Whatever that meant…

    Even though every rational cell in my body begged me to get up and leave the crazy yet popular ball despite how awesome it’s supposed to be (even my colleagues expressed their desire to ‘check it out’ the moment they learned I was a guest), I signed my name on the dotted line anyway. As far as lawyer-me was concerned, she was officially on vacation.

    But no matter how adventurous I felt for agreeing to come here, I didn’t think I could ever do what most of the masked guests were doing with people they’d just met. Blowjobs, cunnilingus… even outright fucking right in front of everyone although it wasn’t exactly what I’d call an orgy. There seemed to be some kind of formality attached to certain things.

    “Acts of service,” Sage told me. “They’re not just random partners hooking up for the night. Most of them are in dedicated relationships… or arrangements, if you will. A Sir, a Mistress, a Dom, a sub.” She paused. “A slave.”

    I stared at her, speechless.

    “And maybe a random hookup or two,” she added, chuckling before leading me to the ballroom. “I want to check out the shibari master.”

    That was right before she disappeared on me, leaving me standing there grateful my mask hid my reaction. If this was going on out in the general area, what on earth was going on in the private rooms? Even a dungeon?

    So I kept walking… past a threesome on a round dais and a tall woman leading a naked man on a leash. At least, the walk to the more quiet part of the mansion served to calm me down. If anything, it helped make me feel less turned on.

    There was something about the idea of having sex with strangers that was so tempting, but I was simply too conservative for that. Too prim and proper, too concerned for my reputation. What if someone recognized me? I had a reputation to protect, even more now that my divorce was final and I didn’t want to become that divorcee everyone gossiped about at the country club, the one who’d end up whoring herself with every eligible man she met.

    Nope, that was so not me.

    I’d worked too hard to risk losing everything on a fling, not when I was a senior partner at Jenkins, Baker & Mason, a corporate law firm in Beverly Hills. How ironic. The day they made the offer was the same day Miles served me with divorce papers.

    As I made my way down the hallway, past doors that were slightly open and some that were shut, I could hear the sounds from inside the rooms. A moan, the snap of a crop hitting flesh, a cry.

    Yes, Sir!

    Please, Master!

    Mistress, may I…

    I bit my lower lip, wondering how long I’d last pretending that none of this was affecting me. I was wet just from hearing the sounds and secretly, I needed to find relief. I just didn’t want to do it out in the open and just with anybody. Maybe if I could find a study in this place, I’d be happy to hide there for the rest of the evening until Sage was ready to leave.

    The last door at the end of the long hall was open, and when I took a peek, I saw shelves lining the far wall. Peering through the crack between the door and the frame, I discovered that the room was empty.


    I walked in but paused when I reached the middle of the room. I sniffed the air. Sandalwood with a hint of bergamot. Sexy and masculine. I stared at the four-poster bed on a base of wooden bars that reminded me of a cage. Then I saw the hinge and a small padlock on the cage’s door.

    Shit. This was someone’s bedroom, I thought as I quickly turned to leave.

    A table set against one wall caught my eye, and I paused, curious. On it were a few toys I was familiar with only because I’d read naughty stories that featured them. There was a paddle, a whip, and… wait, were those nipple clamps? My hands instinctively went up to my breasts, the thought of having my nipples pinched like that making me cringe.

    Still, I had to touch them, my curiosity winning out.

    “You’re late.” A deep voice startled me from my thoughts and I gasped, pulling my hand back. If I’d known there was someone in the room, I wouldn’t have walked inside. My hand went up to my face, making sure my mask was secure. I wouldn’t want anyone to recognize me.

    I turned toward the voice and found that it belonged to a tall man in a white dress shirt that stretched over broad shoulders and a muscled chest, his lean torso revealing a hint of six-pack abs. He was wearing what looked like tailored gray trousers, and I had to pull my gaze away from his crotch and force my focus back to his face. He had a mask on, but the recessed light above him revealed deep blue eyes that looked as inviting as his body did. Thick dark hair slicked back completed his look. Square jaw, thin, cruel lips.

    He was gorgeous.

    “I’m sorry. I was just leaving.” I turned around and headed toward the door.

    “Stay,” he said in a firm voice just as I reached for the doorknob. I paused. There was something about his voice that commanded obedience. I brought my hand down.

    “Turn around.”

    I slowly turned to face him, my thoughts in turmoil. I was always the one in control. I’d just made senior partner a year earlier and it was my job to keep everyone else on their toes. I didn’t take any orders from anyone, least of all a stranger. But this man had something that I couldn’t ignore. It made me want to obey his every command.

    “Come closer.”

    My legs led me to him until I was standing mere inches away. Breathe, I told myself as he circled me like a predator inspecting his prey. Or an auctioneer of virgins, I thought wryly although I was long past the expiration date. Was he expecting someone younger?

    Suddenly I found myself hoping that whatever–or whoever–it was he’d been expecting, he was finding it in me. I bit my lower lip, surprised at my thoughts. I didn’t even know him, and here I was, already wanting to please him.

    As he walked behind me, I felt a hard smack on my butt and I gasped at the impact. It was painful and unexpected. But there was something else. I didn’t expect a single smack to my ass to send tingles straight to my pussy. My stomach clenched.

    “Strip,” he ordered.

    My brain switched back on then. “Excuse me?” I spat out and stared at him. Who did he think I was? His slave?

    He arched an eyebrow. “I ordered you to take your clothes off, sub, or are you looking for punishment tonight? Because I would love nothing more than to grant your wish.”

    The power in his voice made me stop overthinking things. My body took over, my hands moving slowly to the straps of my dress, sliding them down my shoulders. While it wasn’t as revealing as what most of the women were wearing, it clung to my body, pushing my breasts up like they were the main attraction.

    “Do it slowly,” he murmured as he stood behind me. God, that was hot, knowing he was right there. It made me feel tingly all over, the sensation settling between my legs. I slid the dress off my body, revealing my red lace bra and matching panties.

    As the dress sank in a puddle at my feet, I stepped out of it, stiffening when I felt his his hand touching my bare ass. I shivered, electricity coursing up and down my spine, a delicious blend of excitement and trepidation. What was he going to do next?

    He squeezed my ass possessively and I gasped. I should be offended but as he drew closer, his beard grazing the back of my neck and shoulder, all should-haves and could-haves escaped my vocabulary. My nipples stiffened.

    “You’re stunning,” he murmured from behind me as his fingers stroked my ass, fingers moving up the small of my back to rest behind my neck for a moment before moving back down again. I was so turned on. It didn’t help that it had been a long time since I’d gotten laid although that had nothing to do with the unbridled desire I was currently feeling. It was him. His voice. His touch. His presence. It vibrated through my very core.

    “Thank you.”

    “Thank you, what?”

    “Thank you, Sir.”

    He took a step back, his hand leaving my body. “Take everything off.”

    This time, my mind didn’t even object. “Yes, Sir,” I replied a little too quickly. As I unhooked my bra, I almost laughed. Without a doubt, this was a part of me I did not recognize.

    But that didn’t mean I didn’t like her.
    He’s powerful yet willing to be vulnerable, confident yet aware of his limitations well enough to know when to push past them… and that’s all I need to know about him. For with every act of my submission comes his Domination… one session at a time…until he’s unbroken ...until he’s free.


    Blaze’s text came at 8:10 PM.

    – Be in front of my hotel room at 9:00. –

    There were no other instructions and I didn’t dare ask. What did he want me to wear? Did he want me with underwear or did he want me without it? What about my hair? Should I put it up using something he could tie me down with later, or leave it loose so he could grab it to pull me wherever he wanted me?

    For a moment, I panicked. I was so used to being told what to do, what to wear, even when to brush my teeth that with Blaze, my mind became a blank slate. What I wanted didn’t matter. I only needed to know what he preferred, how he wanted me to present myself to him. What would he like? What did he like?

    After telling myself to calm down, I chose to wear a red wraparound dress and stilettos. Black lace bra and matching panties. No, Alannah, get rid of the bra. Just keep the panties. Then I cabbed it to the hotel and made my way to one of the top floors.

    At 8:56, I was standing in front of his door, chewing on my bottom lip. I was nervous. I was a wreck. What now? Should I be in ready position? Out here in the hallway? No, that would be ridiculous. Which ready position? Would he be a good Dominant? Would he remember my safe word? Would he listen?

    I knocked on the door and listened for a few moments. I heard movement on the other side and wondered if he was looking through the peephole. I looked down at my red dress and stilettos that had drawn every man’s attention the moment I walked into the lobby. A few women, too.

    I knew I looked good. No, I looked amazing. The dress clung to every curve, the wrap accentuating the swell of my breasts. My hair was down and my makeup was on point. Not too much. Just right. I wanted to please him. I wanted him to choose me to be his submissive.

    I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to be quiet, to stop second-guessing myself. Still, the door didn’t open and I didn’t want to knock again. He’d heard me, I was sure of it. My legs took a life of their own and I knelt, my knees touching the soft carpet. Anyone could step out of the elevator at the other end of the hallway and see me kneeling. But I could no longer worry about what they’d think. My mind chose not to focus on that anymore. It was now set on Blaze on the other side of the door. Maybe he’d see me kneeling. Maybe he’d see the submissive I was.

    I stayed there still kneeling, my eyes cast down, my hands, palms up, resting on top of my thighs spread shoulder-width apart. I wanted to serve him and only him. I wanted to please him.

    I wanted him to see me.

    A minute passed, and then another. Was he going to open the door at all? Fear began to seep through the edges of my mind, doubt shifting from the shadows, ready to taunt me. I kept my gaze lowered, centering my breathing. I pushed the dark thoughts away. I thought only of Blaze with his tousled dark hair and his beautiful blue eyes. I thought of his mouth and straight row of perfect teeth, his broad chest, flat stomach and slim hips. Then I thought of his hands, of the power he could wield over me with just a flick of a wrist or a lift of his finger. And then his voice, that smooth and steady voice that lowered whenever he was displeased.

    One word, one gesture. That was all I needed. Give me a sign, Sir. Show me you want me.

    The door opened and I saw his shoes first and then his trousers though I didn’t dare lift my gaze to look at his face. I hadn’t earned it, not yet. I smelled his cologne, tobacco flower, vanilla and cocoa all rolled into one. I felt his presence take over my senses—sight, sound, and everything in between, conquering every moment of doubt I’d dared to entertain. He stood before me, towering like the king he was.

    His fingers caressed my cheek. His first touch.

    I sighed with gratitude.

    He did more than just open his door.

    He saw me.

    Blaze slid his fingers under my chin as his thumb softly stroked my lower lip. My breath hitched and it was as if time stood still. Then he tilted my face upward and I met his gaze.

    “Alannah,” he murmured, and I felt my chest swell with pride. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered to life and desire settled between my legs, maddening in its intensity. “You’re on time.”

    “Yes, Sir.”

    Then he withdrew his hand and held it toward me, palm up. “Come in.”
Stacks Image 115
Pia Monroe is the Mistress of arousingly hot erotic romance...

Pia Monroe

When she's not playing mum, Pia Monroe writes steamy and dark romance stories with swoon worthy and brooding heroes and the women they love.

Want to drop Pia a line?