“From the… what?” Lord Brandon looked confused, his regal bearing slipping a bit.
“Never mind,” Sophia said, chuckling. What the hell—she had come there to distract herself. And she was unlikely to find another piece of eye candy as lovely as this one. The gear bag on his shoulder looked promising, too. Both a cane and a flogger handle stuck out of the open zipper. “What did you have in mind for a scene?”
“I have the bondage wheel in a few minutes. I’d love to strap you in, lovely lady, and have my wicked way with you.”
Oooh! The bondage wheel. Yummy. And wicked way sounded good to her.
She smiled up at him. “All right, Lord Brandon. You’ve convinced me. Let’s go.”
They made their way to the bondage wheel station. The wheel was made of sturdy stainless steel with a large padded body rest at its center. A man wearing only a thong was strapped in facing forward, a zipped black hood completely covering his head and face. A woman resembling the actress from Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, was flicking a plastic beaded whip over his body. His skin, sheened with sweat, was mottled with small red marks left by the beads.
A timer dinged just as Lord Brandon and Sophia arrived. Martin, the assistant manager who also served as bouncer when necessary, appeared. “Time’s up,” he said to Elvira. “I’ll help you get him down.”
The Mistress unzipped and pulled the black hood from her sub’s face. She smoothed his mussed graying hair and kissed him on the cheek, the tender, intimate gesture telling Sophia they were a couple. Together, Martin and she unstrapped the guy and helped him from the wheel.
As the couple slipped away, arms around each other’s shoulders, Martin sprayed and wiped down the apparatus. He glanced back at Lord Brandon and Sophia as he worked, his face breaking into a smile of recognition.
“Hey there, Sophia,” he said. “It’s been way too long. Where the hell have you been?”
“Here and there,” Sophia said vaguely, smiling back. “Lord Brandon here is signed up for the next slot. I’m excited to try this thing out.”
Martin’s eye moved to Sophia’s temporary partner, his tongue flicking over his lower lip as a bulge appeared at his crotch. “Hellllllloooooo there, sailor,” Martin cooed in a campy, exaggerated way. “Don’t tell me you’re pure het? I’ll have to kill myself immediately.”
To his credit, Lord Brandon didn’t take offense, as some straight guys would. “Sorry, mate,” he replied, flashing those blindingly white teeth. “I’ve only an eye for the ladies.”
“And a Brit, too. Oh my god,” Martin wailed theatrically, but he, too, was grinning. “Figures. All the cute guys are straight.”
Sophia laughed. “Hey, that’s supposed to be my line. All the cute guys are gay,” she retorted. Turning to Lord Brandon, she added, “Present company excluded, naturally.”
Martin shrugged. “The grass is always greener…” His cleaning done, he addressed Lord Brandon, his tone more businesslike. “You ever used the wheel before?”
“Not this particular one,” Lord Brandon replied. “But I am experienced with bondage wheels.”
“We had this one custom made,” Martin said with evident pride as he stroked the rim of the large wheel. “All the straps are Velcro for quick release. Feet go in the anti-gravity boots to hold the legs steady, and there’s a footrest for comfort and stability. You can cuff her wrists at her sides or extended.”
He paused in his explanation to ask, “Do you have your own cuffs? If not, they’re available for purchase. For hygiene reasons, we require you provide your own.”
“I’ve got my own,” Sophia piped up. She reached into her gear bag and pulled out her favorite leather cuffs, their clips already attached.
“Of course you do,” Martin said with a grin. “What was I thinking?”
He returned to his spiel. “There are six different attachment points to choose from. Once you’ve got her strapped in, push this lever here”—he pressed a lever at the base of the contraption—“to unlock the wheel and you’re good to go.”
He gave the wheel a demonstrative spin and then reengaged the brake. “You can strap her in facing outward or facing the wheel. Nudity is fine. I’ll be back in twenty minutes to help with takedown and cleanup. Any questions?”
“We’re good, thanks,” Lord Brandon said. As Martin walked away, Lord Brandon turned to Sophia. “Do you care to disrobe, my lady?”
“Indeed, I do, kind Sir,” Sophia replied in her best attempt at an English noblewoman. Dropping the accent, she added with a grin, “How can I get a proper whipping with all this leather in the way?”
“My sentiments exactly,” he replied, gifting her with another radiant smile.
She handed him her cuffs so she could strip. As he took them, their fingers touched and something electric sparked along Sophia’s spine.
Pulling her hand away, Sophia bent down to undo her laces and remove her boots. Lord Brandon watched her, his heavy eyelids hooding as she unhooked her cincher and unzipped her skirt. Finally, she slipped off her panties. Folding her things, she placed them in her gear bag and set it aside.
“Safeword?” Lord Brandon queried, his eyes still flitting over her body.
“Mercy,” Sophia replied, pleased he’d asked, not that she expected to use it.
He slipped the gear bag from his shoulder. “Whip, crop, flogger, cane? What’s your pleasure?”
“I love them all. Surprise me,” she said.
They decided she would face the wheel, arms extended. Lord Brandon held her arm supportively as she stepped into the leg supports and got her balance. As she leaned against the padded body rest, he strapped her into place. Finally, he wrapped her cuffs around her wrists and extended her arms, clipping them to the wheel so she formed a human Y.
Sophia’s entire body tingled with expectation, while at the same time something heavy, dark and perfect settled in her soul. She adored the helpless, delicious feeling of being bound in this way. She was excited at the additional sensation promised by a turning wheel.
If only it were Nick standing behind her.
She heard the click of the wheel brake being disengaged. “Here we go,” Lord Brandon said. “Let me know if it’s too fast.”
The wheel began to turn, taking Sophia along with it. It was sturdy and well-balanced, but she squealed nonetheless, startled by the shift in her center of gravity.
“All good?” Lord Brandon queried.
“Yes, thanks,” Sophia replied, adjusting to the sensation.
Lord Brandon started with the flogger, nicely warming her skin. She sighed with pleasure as the stinging leather made her come alive. As he flogged her, he kept the wheel moving at a slow, steady turn. The feeling was both thrilling and disorienting.
Taking her at her word, he graduated from the flogger to a riding crop, smacking her ass and the backs of her thighs with strong, steady strokes that fired her skin and quickened her breath. Next came the whip, its sting sharp and sudden. All the while, she turned on the wheel, her hair falling into her face and away again as the wheel righted.
Her clit was throbbing, her nipples hard against the leather body rest. In her mind’s eye, Nick was behind her. In a moment, he would drop the whip and press his naked body to hers. He would kiss her neck and whisper that he was proud of his sub girl for taking her whipping with barely a whimper. Then he would enter her from behind, at the same time slipping his hand around her body to find and tease her cunt while his cock filled her completely…
She was startled by Lord Brandon’s voice in her ear. “You’re taking quite a whipping, lovely lady. None of the usual squirming and squealing. You please me.”
“It’s awesome,” she replied breathily. He was doing a good job. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t Nick Kincaid.
“I’m going to lock the wheel now,” he continued. “I want to use the cane. That work for you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He spun the wheel until she was completely upside down, whi
ch she hadn’t been expecting. Locked in that position, the blood rushed to her head. Her sense of helplessness intensified. Unless she shouted her safeword, she was truly at this man’s mercy.
The cane whistled and struck, leaving a line of searing heat across both ass cheeks.
Lord Brandon crouched beside her and murmured, “That good? You handle that okay? There’s a lovely mark.”
“More, please,” she begged in a throaty voice.
He got to his feet and stepped out of her limited line of sight.
Another whistling stroke made contact just where her ass met her thighs. The pain was intense, but was instantly enveloped in the warm, buttery embrace of submissive need.
“More,” she entreated, the word barely a whisper.
He struck again, this time catching both thighs at once.
“Ah,” she cried. Blood was pulsing at her temples, her hair hanging wild in her face, sweat breaking out beneath her extended arms.
When the timer dinged, it took Sophia a moment to process the sound. The cane fell away. The brake was released and Lord Brandon slowly righted the wheel until Sophia was again upright.
As the blood rushed away from her head, she was suddenly very dizzy. “Oh,” she grunted as she regained her bearings. “Wow.”
She heard Martin’s voice behind her. “Hey. Nice marks, dude. You know your way around a cane, that’s for sure.” She felt a hand on her shoulder. “You good, Sophia? The handsome Brit treat you right?”
“I’m great,” Sophia replied, still riding high from the endorphins released by the erotic pain.
“We’ll just get you down from there so the next couple can take their turn.”
They released her quickly and helped her from the wheel. “Aftercare is in that back room behind the stage,” Martin said to Lord Brandon. Glancing at Sophia, he added, “She knows where it is.”
Sophia crouched by her gear bag. Unclipping her cuffs, she dropped them inside and then unzipped the side pocket. She pulled out the knee-length cotton robe she had brought for the purpose and slipped it on.
“I’ve got a marvelous balm especially compounded by a chemist’s shop I frequent in London,” Lord Brandon said. He waved a hand theatrically toward the back of the club. “Lead the way, lovely lady.”
Sophia allowed Lord Brandon to smooth the ointment, which smelled of lavender and eucalyptus, over her ass and thighs. As he worked, she said, “That was really a wonderful session, Lord Brandon. The wheel made it especially intense. Thank you for the scene.”
“You’re most welcome,” Lord Brandon replied. “But we’re only just getting started, I hope? Do you enjoy hot wax? Medical play? Or, we can cut directly to the chase. I have a delightful suite booked at the Four Seasons. It would be my pleasure to take you there and make love to you until sunrise.”
Before Desire Island, Sophia would have agreed in a heartbeat to all of the above. After all, the guy was handsome, a skilled and attentive Dom, and she loved hearing him talk, even if the constant “lovely lady’s” were a tad annoying.
Just then, she heard the faint but unmistakable sound of her cell phone dinging in her bag. Had Nick landed in New York? Was he, even now, on his way to see her? His image rushed into her mind’s eye—his dark, lovely eyes, strong features and engaging smile. The warm curve of his body curled around hers their last night together, and that first time he’d kissed her on the beach under the sparkling stars…
“Sophia?” Lord Brandon prodded gently, his face quizzical.
“I’m sorry,” Sophia said with a small shake of her head. “You were truly wonderful. But my heart belongs to another.”
She’d used the line before as a way to let a guy down gently. But this time, as terrifying as it was to admit it, the words were true.
The next morning, naturally, Laura and Sophia dissected every detail of the previous evening with Lord Brandon. “Okay, I have to ask,” Laura eventually said. “Where does Nick fit into all this? How can you pursue true love with one guy while scening with another?”
“True love?” Sophia attempted a dismissive laugh but wasn’t sure she’d pulled it off. “I’ve decided we’re just friends with benefits. ” Maybe if she said it aloud, she could convince herself it was true.
But Laura, who knew her better than anyone, did that nose wrinkle thing she did when she wasn’t buying it. Before she could express her skepticism, Sophia added, “It’s easy for you to talk about true love. You and Ben are perfect for each other. You’ve made the ultimate commitment with marriage. With Nick and me, it’s different. We’re still so new. We were together all the time at the resort because we were on vacation, and not just any vacation. Desire Island is the kind of place that fosters intense and immediate connections.”
She sighed, missing their time on the island more than ever. “But now, back in the real world, things are more complicated. Nick’s made it pretty clear that his business comes first and foremost. I need to be careful about getting too involved with a guy like that. He has so many irons in the fire that there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of time for anything—or anyone—else. I’m not ready to hand my heart over to someone who’s only around every so often to accept it.”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Laura replied with a knowing smile.
Just as Sophia was gearing up for another defensive retort, her phone dinged with a text message. Glancing at the screen, she caught her breath. “It’s Nick,” she squealed.
Laura just grinned at her.
“Hey, sexy girl. Can I cash that raincheck tonight? Dinner and then a grand tour of my BDSM club? I have a surprise for you. You might want to review your safeword…”
Chapter 9
At Laura’s insistence, they went shopping together after she closed the shop to find a new outfit for Sophia’s date with Nick. The red silk cocktail dress Laura picked out wasn’t something Sophia would have chosen on her own, but she had to admit, it was both sophisticated and sexy.
She was already waiting by the curb when Samir pulled up to her building that evening. Before the car even came to a full stop, Nick leaped out of the car to take her into his arms. As he held her close, something that had been curled tight inside her since they’d parted unfurled. It felt so right being in his arms. She could have stayed there forever.
When they eventually parted, he took a step back and whistled appreciatively. “You look stunning, Sophia,” he said, his eyes moving hungrily over her.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she replied, beaming with pleasure at his compliment.
Nick was in a beautifully-tailored dove-gray suit, his shirt open at the neck, every bit the GQ gentleman. Settled in the back seat, they couldn’t resist cuddling and kissing a little, in spite of Samir’s presence in the front as he wove his way through the city traffic.
Nick took her to dinner at a small, elegant place where the menu had no prices and the ratio of wait staff to patrons was three to one. She would have found it pretentious, but the food and Nick’s excellent company were so good she forgot to be judgmental.
When they exited the restaurant, Samir was idling at the curb, ready to whisk them to their next destination. Nick’s club took up an entire four-story brownstone in a hushed, elegant neighborhood in Greenwich Village. You wouldn’t even know the club was housed there, save for a discreet placard over the antique doorbell that read Impulse – Private Club.
“Whoa. This is stunning,” Sophia enthused. “It looks more like a nineteenth century mansion than a BDSM club.”
Nick nodded. “That’s what it used to be, back in the day. Come see what we’ve done with it.” He punched in a code on a pad beneath the doorbell and the lock clicked open.
They entered a large foyer, the floors of marble tile inlaid with beautiful mosaic patterns in turquoise and gold, a classic crystal, ten-candle chandelier sparkling overhead.
“Oh, Nick,” Sophia breathed, awestruck. “This is exquisite.”
Nick looke
d around, the proprietary pride evident on his face. “I wanted to create something different from the usual run-of-the-mill underground club. I wanted something elegant and private, dedicated to people serious about the lifestyle. This is a members-only club and all prospective applicants are vetted, much in the way they’re vetted for Desire Island. We have a second location here in the city and a new one in Los Angeles that’s doing very well. In fact, I’m thinking of expanding overseas. Maybe London? Paris? I haven’t decided.”
Sophia had understood Nick was wealthy, but she hadn’t really grasped the scope of his wealth. These elegant clubs were just a side hobby he’d gotten into for fun.
In her admittedly limited experience with the truly wealthy, Sophia had found that they tended to believe their money gave them rights that didn’t extend to the rest of the world. It was somehow understood that allowances had to be made for the sacred task of earning even more of the stuff. Unfortunately, Nick confirmed rather than dispelled that belief. He’d cut his vacation short in the name of closing a deal, derailing their newfound, intense connection in the process. And he’d broken his date with her, again in pursuit of the holy grail of cold, hard cash. How much more of the stuff did any one person need, for chrissakes?
An attractive woman came striding into the foyer. She was tall and stately, dressed in a black leather vest and matching leather pants. In her late forties, she had burnished chestnut hair swept back in jeweled combs, her lips painted a shiny red.
“Nicholas,” she said warmly, moving toward him with outstretched arms. “We’re so delighted you’ve come this evening. We’ve missed you terribly.” As they embraced, she gave Nick air kisses on each cheek.
She let him go. “And this beautiful young woman must be Sophia, yes?”
“The very one,” Nick agreed, beaming from one woman to the other. “Sophia, this is my good friend, Elizabeth Owen, manager of Impulse. Elizabeth, meet Sophia Weinstein.”
Four Beautiful Letters: BDSM Page 9