VelvetTricks,SinfulTreats

by VJ

  Her whole body swayed in his direction, but before she could take a step, one of the club regulars approached her. With a last, lingering look in his direction, she nodded at the man and let him lead her to an open cubicle.

  Sin suppressed a low growl and pushed away from the wall. No way was a novice, a nonmember, ready for what Georgie liked to dish out. And no way was his novice going to be touched or trained by anyone but him. Sin wouldn’t fuck her, not when he was on the job, but he was going to show her what could happen if she ended up playing where she shouldn’t. Or with whom she shouldn’t.

  Chapter Three

  Kendra couldn’t stop herself from gaping like the greenest virgin as she took in the sexual excess filling the room. Her eyes were drawn again and again to one particular scene. A tall man in a leather harness had his sub strapped to something that looked like a pommel horse and was using a variety of tools to paddle, flog and spank her bare behind.

  Something about the scene fired her imagination. Kendra closed her eyes and pictured herself in the woman’s position, bound and at her lover’s mercy, begging for more, harder, now.

  A sudden chill ran up her spine, snapping her eyes open and swinging her head around. Staring at her from across the room was one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen.

  Her breath stuck in her throat as she stared at him. He had to be at least six feet tall—a giant to her five-three, he’d tower over her even with the ridiculous shoes she was wearing. Long sable hair fell in waves across his shoulders and back. He was dressed in black pants and a white button-down shirt. Leather boots wrapped thick calves up to his knees, completing the outfit. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of a Victorian highwayman fantasy.

  With one glance it was him spanking her, first with a paddle, then with the heat of his bare hand. His gaze never left her face and Kendra felt herself blush. Great, now her cheeks would match her mask and her dress. Real sophisticated, Kennie. That should turn him on, you and your splotchy face.

  Her glance flickered back to the spanking scene she’d been imagining herself in. The Dom was releasing his flushed, shaky sub and handing her over to a fully clothed woman who seemed to work at the club. Looking up, the Dom caught her interested gaze and gave a slow, dangerous smile before heading in her direction. He wasn’t as gorgeous as her highwayman, but his Greek god costume showed off a set of well-muscled legs and went well with his light-blond hair.

  Ohmigod. The strange Dom approached her confidently, training predatory blue eyes on her as if her agreement were already assured. And on some level she guessed he had reason to believe that. After all, she’d been virtually eating his scene up with her eyes. Even now her bottom was throbbing, clenching and aching for the kiss of the paddle.

  Just not from this man.

  No, Kendra wanted the mysterious stranger in the corner. The man who looked as though he’d stepped off the cover of one of her favorite historical romance novels.

  The stranger who had disappeared while she was distracted.

  Dammit.

  “So.” The Dom’s voice was deep and pleasant but didn’t make her as hot as the brush of her highwayman’s pale eyes had. “You look lonely and curious.”

  She supposed she couldn’t argue with that, so she nodded.

  “Would you like to participate? I’ll be gentle with you if you want,” he added with a wink.

  It seemed the devil she was dressed as took over her voice, because entirely against her will Kendra heard herself answer, “Well, gentle would kind of defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?”

  “You are so right, sweetheart,” he responded delightedly. Taking her arm, he began to lead her toward the cubicle. She noticed that another young man, also fully dressed, was just finishing sanitizing the pommel horse and had gathered up the used implements, replacing them with fresh toys before quickly leaving the area for the next set of players.

  “I’m Master George,” the man continued. “Will you allow me the honor of being your Master for a little while?”

  She wanted to. She wanted the intensity of sensation she’d seen on the faces of every sub she’d passed in this amazing, terrifying place. Kendra glanced toward the corner again, hoping for a final glimpse of her mystery man, but he was gone. And Master George was here. And she might never get the chance to experience this again.

  “Yes.” She had to force the word from between numb lips.

  Master George smiled again and led her quickly to the pommel horse, directing her to bend over, stretching her torso along the narrow back. He stroked one heavy hand down the length of her spine before crouching out of sight behind her and buckling her ankles loosely to the legs of the horse.

  Kendra sucked in a breath, alternately terrified and thrilled by what he was doing to her. By what she was allowing him to do to her.

  Master George moved around and adjusted her head, placing her cheek against the rough leather and smoothing her hair away from her face. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he began to bind her hands to the front legs of the horse. As he worked, he spoke in a low, somehow menacing tone.

  “Until this scene is over, you will address me as Master. You will not speak unless I ask you a direct question. Do you understand?”

  “Um, yes.” Ohmigod, could that shaky voice really be hers?

  Suddenly, hard, pinching fingers grasped her cheeks, turning her face to his. This wasn’t the kind of pain she’d been anticipating.

  “Yes what?” His eyes were cool and passionless. Not what she had hoped for when she’d accepted his invitation.

  “Sorry,” she gasped. “Yes, Master.”

  He gave a short, satisfied nod and rose to walk around her. Kendra found herself bound facedown on a pommel horse, the submissive of a cold stranger in a club where she had no business being. Somehow, from the moment she’d spied the beautiful man in the corner, all her fantasies had focused in on him. Poor Master George didn’t stand a chance.

  “Look, Master,” she began. “I don’t think this is such a good idea after all.” Those heavy hands stroked down her back again, pausing to squeeze her left butt cheek. Too hard! A yelp escaped, and she shifted in her bonds, trying futilely to escape that grabbing hand.

  “Seriously, Master George.” She tried to put a bit more force in her voice, but it was tough when he was leaning over her back, pressing her hard against the pommel horse. “This isn’t working for me. You need to let me up.”

  The man ignored her, fisting his hands in the back of her costume.

  Oh no, he wouldn’t…

  The velvet gave beneath his wrenching tug, ripping from neck to hem with a distressed swish.

  “Let me up, you fucking bastard!” This was so not fun anymore. Her cheeks, both sets, were sore and probably bruised, and now her damn dress was ruined.

  The angry rip of fabric and a burst of vaguely hysterical profanity punctuated Sin’s entrance into the cubicle where George had led Red. The other Dom was poised behind her, pushing the tattered remnants of her gown to her hips. Sin’s tempered flared as George’s hands tried to become familiar with his novice’s ass. Swallowing down his desire to punch George in the back of the head, Sin approached the couple.

  “Say the safeword, woman,” Sin ground out between clenched teeth. He rarely stepped into a scene at the club. In general, anyone who made it to the third floor knew exactly what they were getting themselves into. But even before Red’s panicked cry, Sin had known that he wouldn’t, couldn’t, let any other Master—particularly one as unpredictable as George—train his sub.

  “What safeword?” she cried as she writhed against her bonds, trying to twist her wrists from their confines. Sin looked over at George. The man looked genuinely confused. Sin shook his head disgustedly. Moving to the head of the pommel horse, he knelt near Red’s head, brushing her tangled curls away from her flushed cheek with a gentle hand.

  “What’s the problem, Sin?” the asshole whined. “I have the same safeword with everyone
. And everyone knows it.” Sin’s glare must have turned even icier because the other Dom took a big step backward.

  George’s defensive arguing quickly trailed off when Sin reached out an imperious palm for the key to Red’s shackles. The Dom reluctantly handed it over and watched resentfully as Sin began to free the young woman.

  “It doesn’t work like this, baby. George had no clue you didn’t belong up here. And he had no business treating you with anything less than absolute respect.”

  Her face turned a deep red and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I…I didn’t know he would rip my dress.”

  “She agreed, Master Sin.” A good deal more of that missing respect had bled into George’s wheedling tone. “She agreed to play out the scene, to call me Master—she agreed to all of it.”

  Sin leaned into his personal space and silkily whispered, “And that is why you’re going to Brady’s office and not out on your ass permanently.” George’s mouth opened, as if he were going to argue more, and Sin cut him off. “You took an obvious newbie and abused her ignorance. When you’re done explaining yourself to Brady, you can explain yourself to Jenner.” George’s healthy tan turned a sick green at the mention of the cop and notorious Dom. “Red here is with his sister tonight and is obviously under his protection.” When George muttered a frustrated curse, Sin didn’t even try to suppress his smile. “Guess she isn’t the only one who didn’t ask enough questions, right, Georgie?”

  The other Dom walked away and Sin hid a smile. He was stomping off like a two-year-old in a tantrum. Good. The fucker’s ego was twenty times too big anyway. Sin’s smile faded as he noted the red welts forming on the wrists of his damsel in distress.

  Fuck.

  “We’ll replace your dress, of course,” he murmured, helping her to sit up. “Until then…” He stood and untucked his shirt, stripping out of it briskly. In spite of the tense situation, he almost smiled at the way her eyes flickered over his bared torso. The tip of her tongue peeked out, slicking over her full lower lip, and his bound cock gave a hungry throb.

  He quickly helped her to stand on her trembling legs. Kneeling again at her feet, he steadied her with one hand on her hip and bent to remove her heels. There was no way in hell she would be able to walk in them when she was this shaky.

  He glanced up in time to catch her in the act of checking him out. She’d pulled off her sequined mask, and her big, golden eyes traced the deep groove of his spine, brushed over his shoulders and stroked through his hair. He could tell the exact instant she focused on his tattoo. Even, white teeth sank into that puffy red lip and her breath caught audibly as her eyes followed the sinuous curve of the whip from his wrist around his arm until it draped over his collarbone, the handle dangling across one hard pec. Her appreciation was so obvious that he indulged himself in a brief fantasy that it was his teeth sinking into her lip and other, even more tender places.

  Talk about fucked-up timing.

  He stood and draped his shirt over her shoulders. “You have no business up here, Red.”

  “Kendra.”

  “What?” She refused to look at him, and Sin was forced to talk to the top of her head.

  “My name is Kendra.” She shifted and Sin realized he was touching her bare back, stroking over the baby-soft skin of her hips under the hem of his shirt.

  “Well, Kendra, a pretty girl like you who doesn’t know the rules could get in real trouble in a place like this.”

  She stiffened at his chiding tone, jerking away from his stroking hand.

  “I do know the rules. I spent two weeks researching the world of Domination and submission. It’s not my fault that Mr. Compensating-for-something over there didn’t follow them!”

  Sin smiled, both at the fire in her voice and the rather apt nickname she’d given her would-be Dom. “Well, baby girl, it’s true that Georgie didn’t follow the rules.” Seeing the vindicated look on her face he quickly added, “But you can’t experience the reality of this world through the pages of a book, nor can research prepare you for what really happens inside the walls of a place like this.”

  “I just wanted to feel like all those people I saw on my way in here.” Her voice was low, almost a whisper, and all the starch seemed to have gone out of her defiant posture.

  He should be escorting her out of there, showing her down the stairs and out the front door. Yeah, that’s what he should be doing, but instead he found himself asking, “And what do you think they felt?”

  “Pleasure.” She almost looked up, fastening wide, golden eyes on his chin. “Such immense pleasure that the body can hardly contain it.” Her eyes dropped, her chin lowering, leaving him staring once more at her satiny hair. “I’ve never felt that kind of pleasure.”

  He was so screwed. His head kept screaming, Asshole, get her out of here. Instead he lifted one of her wrists and rubbed the angry red mark left by George’s cuffs. Fucker had better stay out of his sight—Sin would be happy to do some marking up of his own.

  “Kendra.” He waited until she raised her head, refusing to continue until she met his gaze. When she did, he was nearly struck dumb. Wide, golden-brown eyes met his, the innocence and yearning in them sending an arrow straight to his soul. His woman. His to mark. His to train. No one else’s. “Baby girl, do you still want to know what real pleasure feels like?”

  “It wouldn’t be like that? Like with him?” Her gaze darted in the direction George had taken.

  “It would be nothing like that.” He met her eyes, drowning in their melting depths.

  “Then yes, please.”

  Releasing a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding, Sin walked over and pulled a solid screen across to cover the doorway. They would have no voyeurs this evening. He moved back to her and removed his shirt from her shoulders.

  “Your safeword is ‘red’. You may call me Master Sin, or just Master. Once we begin there is no stopping unless you say the safeword. If you do not understand something, you may ask, but we do things my way. In this room no does not mean no. The only thing that will make me stop is if you say the safeword. Do you understand?”

  She nodded hesitantly, her eyes tracing the sinuous line of his tattoo.

  “What is your safeword, Kendra?”

  She didn’t speak right away—her forehead was slightly scrunched up as if she were repeating his every word in her head. She finally dragged her eyes back to his. “It’s ‘red’.”

  “Good girl.” He stepped away from her and let his gaze slide deliberately over every inch of her body. “Remove your dress,” he murmured, suppressing a smile when she jumped, startled by the sound of his voice. “The bra and panties stay on, but the dress has to go. Now.”

  Chapter Four

  Kendra gulped and called on every ounce of courage she possessed as she pushed the tattered dress down her shoulders and over her hips, letting it fall to the floor.

  The red lace demi-bra and matching panties made her feel even more exposed than if she’d been naked. Every insecurity she’d ever had about her body flared to raging life. She wanted to suck in her stomach and push out her chest but there was no use in hiding her curves, so instead she stood straight and tried her best to appear relaxed.

  He was an Adonis. When he’d removed his shirt, Kendra had been dazzled by his physical beauty. He was all broad and bronzed and satiny smooth, hairless except for a thin trail that drew her eyes from his navel…down. But what really caught her imagination was the intricate black ink that wound around his arm, highlighting round, sculpted muscles. She wanted to lick her way around that tattoo, sink her teeth into the handle of the whip while she sampled the salt of his skin.

  He stood, arms crossed, staring at her for what felt like forever before moving behind her, circling her in the same way a wolf does his prey.

  A soft clinking sound, like glass on glass, drew her attention to the side of the cubicle. Before she could turn her head to look, though, he spoke in that same, soft voice. “Eyes in front. Arms a
t your sides.”

  She immediately faced forward, resisting the urge to squirm as his commands sent a tingle of arousal crawling over her skin.

  Suddenly he was behind her again, the heat of his body blanketing her back. He gathered her hair in his fist and bundled it into a messy knot at her nape. Before she could process what he was doing, she heard glass sing again and drops of cool, heavy liquid were hitting her spine. He lowered his head to speak into her hair, his warm breath stirring the curls.

  “This is Indian Tobacco,” he explained. “It’s a rare oil, very difficult to find.”

  The oil slid down the groove of her spine, at first cool but quickly absorbing her body heat. Sure, thick fingers smoothed the liquid from the center of her back outward toward her sides as he continued speaking.

  “Why do you think it’s so rare?” He leaned closer, letting his breath ghost over her collarbones. His thumbs ran up and down the small of her back while his long fingers wrapped around her sides, almost brushing the full lower curves of her breasts. “What makes it so special? Tell me how it feels, Kendra.”

  With his last words he blew a gust of warmth over her shoulders and down her back. Ice flashed over her flesh, then fire, a confusing contradiction of sensations that left her shivering and gasping.

  “Tell me,” he repeated. Each breath sent sparks of fire and ice over her skin. “Tell me everything you’re feeling.”

  “I feel on fire,” she finally choked out.

  He slid one finger lightly from her nape to the band of her panties, skipping easily over the lace of her bra and sending frissons of sensation over every oil-coated inch of her back.

  “What else?” he questioned relentlessly.

  “So sensitive,” she gasped. And it was. More sensitive than she’d ever been. He began tracing patterns on her skin, swirls and circles, and every shape felt branded into her flesh.