Page 4 of Wickedly Played (Checkmate #1)

Why would Jim think this was the best option for me? I don’t want some weekend warrior thinking he can watch my back better than I can. Damn. So, what if one of my fans is stalking me? I’m fine. I have gates around my house and a security system.

I’m not surprised when my phone starts to ring, letting me know Jim is calling. “What?”

“Look, Serena, I’m doing my fucking best right here. I would like for you to stop being a little brat and let me help you,” he barks. He snarls at me. “I made a promise…”

“We’re not talking about that, Jim. You would do a lot better in life if you would stop talking about that.”

Jim blanches at my harsh words. “My dear one, you know we have to make sure you’re safe.”

“There has to be someone better than Captain Chucklehead.”

My agent snorts. “I hate to tell you this, baby girl, but he’s the best we’re going to find. His record is clear, and he is unattached. Give him a chance to show you what he is capable of doing.”

“Has he signed the NDA?” I question before pulling into my driveway. After typing in the gate code, I’m pulling into my garage.

“Don’t insult me.”

Once I’m parked, I close the garage door behind me. “Let me think about it.”

I’m about to hang up when I hear him use his I-mean-business voice. “Ser, lock the fucking doors, set the alarm, and don’t leave your house.”

“Yes, boss,” I retort before hanging up.

I moved into my house last year after I made some good money from caming online.

Plus, my clients have been paying me quite a bit of money, allowing me to afford my mini mansion.

It is a Spanish colonial from the early 1900s that I managed to update a little before moving in.

The truth is, I love the vintage feel of my house and the fact that it is all mine.

I bought it on a short sale when the market crashed, which was great for me.

I dropped cash on it, along with paying extra to move in quicker.

Reaching across the center to grab my vintage Chanel bag, I hop out of my car. Once I’m inside, I follow Jim's directions. I don’t need him coming down here and fucking up the rest of my day.

This morning, Jim woke me up to let me know we had a meeting with another bodyguard.

I liked the last two I had. It wasn’t anyone’s fault they were shot in the line of duty because one of my fans got too close to me, even though I blame myself for their injuries.

Robert and David, both protected me from the fan, but were shot.

Needless to say, it was my fault. It was my fault they might never work again. Robert and David might never work in this industry again, and that is something I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life. The world can see me as the heartless Domme, but I do take care of my people.

My ringing phone startles me. I look at the caller ID and shiver. “Hello?” I immediately regret answering the phone.

“A ghra,” the smoky voice rings in.

“No,” I greet back.

The old man whose voice has haunted my dreams, thoughts, and everything in between is on the other end of the line. “When are you going to stop this all and come home?”

Without responding to him, I hang up the phone. Nothing good will come from speaking to him, except that I'll spiral out of control.

I always knew what I was supposed to grow up to be, thanks to my family's constant reminders. I don’t need to be reminded of my worth to my family whenever they want to reopen my wounds.

My fingers rub over the scars I have spent so much time hating.

They are deep, ugly, silvery, and raised as they mar my skin.

I’ve done my best to come to terms with them and carry them like a badge of survival, but it doesn’t always work out for me.

There are times I wish I could burn them off my skin and hope they would disappear.

My subs were never brave enough to ask the questions lurking in the back of their minds about the raised flesh. They are hideous.

I get myself situated in my kitchen with a bottle of water and a snack and then go upstairs to take a shower.

There’s buzzing at the gate, causing me to look at my app on my phone.

I look at the car through the app, and don’t recognize it.

“Who is at my house?” I ask myself. I don’t respond to the buzzing on the gate alarm, though.

They can go away. In the back of my mind, I consider this to be the wizard I hung up on. I can’t deal with that.

I quickly curse when I see the time on my phone. I’m late, and I hate to be late. Stripping out of my clothes, I throw them in a pile on my bed. I rush to turn on the shower and then log in to the cam website for my subscribers.

“Hey, lovers,” I greet them while climbing into my shower. “How is everyone’s day going?” I begin to soap my body with my loofa, making sure to pay extra attention to my breasts and pussy. I purposely drop my loofa, lean over to grab it, and then wink at the camera.

“My day is so much better with you, lovers.”

My ten-minute shower consists of asking questions about my subscribers’ day, what I have done today, and then it turns a little sexual with me using my shower head on my clit.

“I wish you were here with me,” I moan. “If you would like to have a private video chat with me, please click the button,” I remind everyone.

I see several people are requesting a video with me, and I smirk to myself. From the shower, I can see the names requesting the time with me. Stallion14 has been a long-time fan of mine and helped pay for this house.

“Thank you, lovers! I will see you all tomorrow!” After shutting off the water, I wrap my body in one of my bath sheets, then accept the video request from Stallion14.

Stallion14 is a middle-aged man who has a huge dick. He loves to touch himself during our sessions and has a dirty mind. We agreed that I would be his Domme every other meeting.

“Hello, pet,” I greet him. I’m rubbing my towel over my hair to soak some of the water off it. “Have you been a good little pet this week?”

Stallion14 nods his head. “Yes, Mistress. I’m always a good pet for you.”

“That’s a good boy. Did you touch yourself without my permission?”

That is one of the things he likes. He loves it when I deny him his orgasms, as he said the orgasms are much stronger this way when I do let him come.

Plus, Stallion14 is an investment banker, or something, where he is in control all the time.

Stallion14 loves to hand it over to me- his control, that is.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Show me your cock. Take it out. Stroke it twice and then wait for my instructions.”

My client does as I requested, pulling out his engorged dick. I watch his hand shuttle over his shaft twice with his lips parted in a slight sigh.

“Make sure you thank me for allowing you to touch yourself.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

After my two sessions with my two guys, I begin to pack my bag for tonight. This particular Saturday is one of my favorites, and was actually my old bodyguards’ favorite, too. We have a warehouse where everyone can meet. Tonight is a Shibari workshop, where I'll be the presenter and demonstrator.

I’m packing a couple of my corsets, a robe, my signature Christian Louboutin high heels, and then adding my travel makeup bag to my rolling suitcase.

I pull out one of my drawers to grab a couple of pairs of underwear, and then a box of condoms, just in case.

I’m throwing them into my bag when one of the alarms starts to go off in my house.

“What the fuck?” I hiss to myself.

A few weeks ago, the alarm system in my house started acting up, going off at random times of the day and night.

It would wake me up all the time and cause issues with my videos since they were so loud.

Jim had called the alarm company, which came over to fix it, but I don’t know how much they fixed since they spent most of their time watching me.

Squeezing my fists and looking at the ceiling, I take a deep breath. This has been a difficult few weeks without my guards. I miss the camaraderie of having someone here with me.

I know that the people I work with and those I am contracted to work with will develop feelings for me because of what we are doing together.

That transference of emotions and feelings of elation is not uncommon.

However, these are not true feelings. It's been a long time since I last dated someone without a contract.

Damn, I can’t remember the last time I had sex with someone without it being for show.

I get off during the sex I do have, even with an audience. That’s not the problem. Perhaps I'm just missing the connection I have with my partner. It has been too long since I have been connected with someone on that level. Well, besides Stella.

The last time I had a semblance of a relationship, it didn’t just end. It crashed and burned.

Damn. I must really be exhausted.

I’m not in the mood to deal with the alarm's malfunctioning. The alarms are loud, echoing through the whole house. After pocketing my phone and grabbing my small pistol, I keep in my room, I’m walking out of my room.

Once I’m at the bottom of the stairs, I see my front door is kicked open. “What the actual fuck?” I yell. I cock my pistol while turning around to see a note on the staircase.