“Do you think he’s the kidnapper then?”
He tosses me my panties. “Only one way to find out.”
***
Guard My Secrets is a dimly lit den of leather clad flesh and blatant sexuality everywhere I look. Women strut around in leather cat suits, brandishing whips. One dominatrix in full leather gear leads a man in tight black shorts around by a silver chain leash. Scantily clad men and women writhe in cages propped up on different levels in the club’s main room. Strobe lights flash over the sea of writhing skin.
Damien leads me to the bar and he asks where he can find David. The bartender tells him the dom is in a private session but should be done with his client soon. He gets a waitress clad in a crimson corset and black tutu to show us where we can sit and wait. The short blonde leads us to a booth near the very back of the club.
Moments later a man dressed in tight leather pants emerges from a red door directly across from us. Like Damien, he’s a stunning specimen. Kind of reminds me of the last Old Spice guy. What was his name? Isaiah Mustafa, that was it. David flashes us a dazzling smile, shakes Damien’s hand, kisses mine.
“A new sub?” David raises his eyebrow. “Where’s Sasha? I heard a rumor you two broke up.”
Damien gives him an impassive look. “She’s visiting her grandma. I’m training Mistress O for the resort.”
David strokes his chin, stares at me with narrowed eyes. “You look familiar…” He sits beside me in the booth, close enough I feel Damien tense beside me, but not quite close enough to touch me. “Have we scened before?”
I want to make a quip about bad come on lines, but I don’t. Has he picked up on my resemblance to my sister? It’s a scant similarity, since she’s a lithe, gorgeous brunette with eyes the color of melted chocolate and I’m a short curvy redhead with boring blue-gray eyes and too much junk in my trunk.
“No, we’ve never scened.” I simply say, but I notice David keeps taking quick glances at me. Does he suspect something’s up? That Damien and I are on to him?
“Would you like to scene with Mistress O?” Damien says.
I feel my eyes grow wide and I give him a look.
David’s wolf grin returns. “How does your submissive feel about that?”
I swallow hard, look at the dom oozing sex appeal and bulging muscles. Then I cast a glare at Damien, who wears and expression that says, “Trust me and play along.”
For Sasha’s safety, I’ll do what I have to do. “I’d be happy to scene with you, Master—”
“I prefer the term sir,” David informs me.
“I’d be happy to scene with you, sir,” I say, though my every instincts screams for me to run and get out now. But I have to trust that Damien has a plan and I need to distract this mountain of maleness so he can act on it.
Damien makes an excuse about needing a drink and gets up, but before he leaves the booth he tells David, “She’s willful, this one, and she’s been a very bad girl today. I think some punishment is needed. Flog her with a bullwhip.”
I give him another wide eyed glare and sit up higher in the booth, on the verge of bolting from the club.
David takes my hand. “It would be my pleasure.”
My hatred for Damien becomes extreme loathing. As I watch him walk away, I think of a million ways I can one day return this torture. And, oh, I will.
David takes my hand and guides me from the back of the club to the front, making small talk as we go.
“How long have you been with Surrender?”
I decide to be honest. At least a little, to protect my already tender bottom. “I’m new.”
His eyebrow quirks up again as we move through the crowd and approach the stage. “New to Surrender or new to BDSM altogether?”
I smile and give a nervous giggle. “A bit of both.”
He returns my grin, melting me with his handsomeness. “I’ll be gentle then. Instead of the usual twelve lashes for being naughty, I’ll only give you eight.”
I gulp. “Eight?”
He guides me up onto the stage. “I promise I’ll make every one hurt so good.”
I want to roll my eyes, but I’m too worried about my butt to be sarcastic.
The crowd gathers round as David strips me. My face burns with humiliation and I want to stop this exposure, but the game must go on. I try not to cry from the force of my shame.
Then he tethers me to a tall grey pillar situated in the center of the main stage. It reminds me of phallic symbols found on distant islands. I try not to tremble as he loops my hands through wide gleaming circles and then clicks a bolt of metal over each wrist, fastening them tight. He wraps something he calls a leg spreader around both my ankles, and I’m standing prone. His warm hands curl around my hips and I jump from the contact as if he’s burned me, but he ignores my reaction while he positions my hips so my ass juts out farther. Then he massages my ass until I begin to get aroused from his touch, to calm and grow wet from it.
The crowd around us murmurs and my embarrassment nearly chokes me. My heart thunders in my ears and my knees grow weak. To say I am mortified is an understatement.
He turns to the crowd. “Mistress O has been a very bad girl. She needs a public flogging to remind her of the rules a submissive must follow.”
The crowd’s combined voices rise higher.
He directs his next words to me. “You will receive eight lashes as punishment, and you will remain silent through the discipline. Is this understood, Mistress?”
“Yes, sir.” I boil with anger and anxiety inside.
He goes over our safe words, reminding me I can end this punishment at any time if I should choose to do so. However, I know the part I must play, so I’ll clench my teeth and deal with the humiliation and pain. I focus on my breathing and decide to try a form of meditation to get through. If I go somewhere else, it might not be such a bad experience.
He starts light, as if he’s building a tempo with each stroke of leather against skin. But then he puts more force behind strike number four. A small scream escapes me as I lurch forward and my breasts mash into the cool, smooth pillar.
“I told you not to scream,” he admonishes. “You just earned another lash, Mistress.”
Whap!
The bullwhip’s tail licks across my ass again, leaving a scalding trail in its wake. I breathe and focus on absorbing the pain instead of fighting it, like how in meditation you’re told to gently push out the noisy thoughts instead of getting angry at not being able to clear a chaotic mind. This seems to work, because when the sixth slap bites into my butt I feel it, but the burns seems to melt into my skin and become a pleasant tingling I barely notice.
However, I get too smug, and when the next lash comes I’m not prepared. The whip’s kiss sears my flesh and I cry out loudly.
“Control yourself, Mistress,” my dom demands. “You just earned another lash.”
This bastard just earned a place on my hate list, right next to Damien.
I grit my teeth and take the next lash, which my body absorbs with more ease this time. The scorching numbs quickly to a minor tingle. I breathe deeply and prepare for the next one. My eyes are shut so tight tears squeeze out the corners.
When the next one strikes my ass, I bite my lip until it bleeds. But the pain seems to have taken me to an altered state of consciousness. I’m floating in an almost Zen-like moment and I take the final strike with barely a flinch. I’m not as aroused as I was with Damien’s mild spanking. But at the same time the pain’s burn does make me horny, as does my ability to overcome my need to cry out, to flee, and endure this challenge with a sort of quiet dignity.
For Sasha, I remind myself, trying to ignore the other wicked little voice that says, For your enjoyment, too.
The dom smoothes his wide, warm palms over my stinging ass, along with some fragrant oil that soothes away the burn. I relax and feel the pain melt away. The crowd grows loud with applause and cheers, then their noise dims as the dom unties me and helps me mov
e away from the pillar. My butt throbs, but not as badly as it did, and my legs are shaky.
“How’d she do?” Damien asks as he makes his way up on the stage, his eyes boldly raking over my nakedness before I can retrieve my clothes.
“She’s willful, this one. Just like you said.” He points a thumb toward me and grins. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
After I’m dressed and David leaves us, I punch Damien twice, hard, as we walk through the crowd. “You are a supreme asshole for putting me through that.”
“Ouch, you bitch!” He glares at me and rubs his bicep.
“Big baby,” I snap. “Do you know what I just went through? I may need therapy!”
He opens his charcoal blazer just enough so I can see some paper tucked in his coat. “I needed you to be my distraction while I did some digging. You might not hate me so much when I tell you what I found out.”
I grab his arm and pull him closer, whispering, “What?”
“David was out of the city when Sasha went missing. I found the address for a place up in Glacier Park.”
I frown as I consider this. “That’s in the middle of nowhere.”
“Exactly. And that’s where I think David is keeping Sasha.”
***
“I’m sorry I just handed you over to David like that,” Damien apologizes as we climb in his Jaguar. “Normally I would never do that to a new sub, but we needed the distraction.”
I peer at him from the corner of my eye, shocked by his admission. Damien Walters didn’t strike me as the sort of guy who apologized for anything.
“I haven’t forgiven you yet,” I say, my ass still smarting as it slides across the leather seat. “But thank you, and I understand why you did it. So what now?”
“Are you busy tomorrow?”
“I was going to hit the college library,” I tell him. “Start researching for my biological anthropology paper. Why? What’s your plan?”
“I’m thinking you and I and Gina should head up to Glacier Park and do a little digging.”
“Makes sense to me.” Although another day spent in Damien’s company doesn’t thrill me. Or maybe it does and I’m too stubborn to admit it. I hush that little traitorous voice quickly.
“I’ll be at your place by 9 am then. Wear your hiking boots.”
He drops me off outside the dorms, but tells me he’ll wait until he sees me safely inside the building before he drives off. I want to tell him that isn’t necessary, he doesn’t have to protect me, but I am somewhat touched by the gesture. Then I remind myself it’s just a precaution. After all, if I get kidnapped too it’ll only add to the dilemma. Damien’s just being practical.
Once I’m inside the double glass doors, I wave to him to indicate everything looks fine inside then I head to the elevator. The dorm is quiet tonight, as it often is on a Friday. My college has strict rules about parties on campus, so a lot of the students head off grounds to do their weekend celebrating.
When I get to my room, I notice my door is open just a crack. Icy fingers of fear trace over the back of my neck. My roommate, a quiet studious girl named Tara, is very careful about locking up after herself if she does go out, and tonight I know she planned on going over to the college library with a study buddy to cram for a big British Literature exam they have on Monday.
I take off my stilettos that I’m still wearing from earlier and hold one with the spiked heel out. If I have to, I’ll jam it in the intruder’s eye. Hopefully whoever broke in is long gone, though. My fingers shake as I touch the pressed wood and push the door open farther.
At first I think the room is empty, but then a tall slender man steps out of the shadows near my bed and walks forward. My heart seems to freeze in my chest for a moment and I hold the shoe higher.
He holds up his hand. “Please, I’m here to talk, not to kill you. Put the shoe down.”
The man is impeccably dressed in a three piece pinstriped suit. His long gray-blond hair is pinned back in a ponytail, I notice, after I flick the light switch on. He’s got a sharp face that reminds me of a fox. Though he looks to be over fifty, those cunning eyes suggest a mind that is keen and young.
“I had to drop by to meet the new girl at Sasha’s resort,” he says in a sibilant voice. “Seems you lead a double life. Student by day, Damien’s playmate at night.”
“I’m not—“ I stop myself, not wanting to give anything away to this mysterious man. I still hold the shoe poised to strike. “How did you get in here? Who are you?”
He holds out a hand that I ignore. “Drake Morton, my dear. And I simply paid your roommate a generous sum of cash to get in here.”
He walks closer and I take a swipe with the shoes.
“Easy, young lady.” He holds his hands up in a gesture of peace. “I suppose your next question is how did I find you?” His slow smile chills my skin and raises goose bumps. “Let’s just say I have eyes everywhere, Mistress O.”
I don’t respond to that. No telling how much this jerk does know. I remember Damien telling me that Drake is another potential suspect in the Surrender embezzlement and the potential kidnapper of my sister. I sense he’s playing cat and mouse with me to get information, possibly see what we’ve discovered about his involvement. Fortunately, Sasha worked under a pseudonym within Surrender, as I’ve learned, from Damien, many of the submissives do for their protection and privacy, especially when they aren’t contracted exclusively. So unless Drake knew her real last name, it will be harder for him to tie the two of us together.
He may have been watching us all night, but that doesn’t mean he knows my true identity. Still, I have to be careful with this man. He’s clever, I sense, and used to getting his way.
“Rumor has it Sasha is missing.” He strolls toward my desk with his hands clasped behind his back. “What a pity. Damien must be devastated. But not too devastated to find a new submissive. Isn’t that interesting?”
“I wouldn’t know anything about a missing person. I was contracted by Surrender and just met Master D today.” I hope my bluff is convincing.
Drake taps his chin, smirks at me, and leans against the desk. “Of course you did. Let’s be honest, my dear, there’s more to your story than that.”
He moves away from the desk and draws near once more. I still wield my shoe and move in a wide arc away from him. With my free hand, I fish my phone out of my pocket. “I’ll call the police if you don’t leave right now.”
Drake gives a mocking laugh at this. “Oh, darling, I own the police.” Then he stops just before the door, stares at me intently. “I have a message for Damien. Tell him I’m watching him. He’s not fooling anyone.”
And with that, he walks out my dorm, shutting the door tightly behind him.
***
“I’ve been publicly flogged and a strange man showed up in my room last night,” I tell Damien when he arrives the next morning. “We’d better find my sister soon.”
“Yeah, well I was nearly run off the road after I dropped you off last night,” he says as he wraps a hand around my upper arm and guides me out of the dorm after I lock up. “Someone is definitely on to us. Let’s talk outside.”
We walk onto the campus grounds and sit beneath a tree to talk.
“Are you afraid your car is bugged?”
“I checked it over last night when I got home. Even looked at the stitching on all the seats to see if there was a difference. I think it’s safe, but I’d rather be extra careful.”
“Are you a little OCD?” I quip.
Damien’s jaw clenches and he looks at me through dark sunglasses, obviously angry. I’m glad I can’t see his eyes because they’d probably burn a hole through me. “Yes, actually, I am. But I manage to keep it under great control.”
I wince and feel terrible. “Sorry.”
He shrugs. “I handed you over to a stranger for a spanking. I think we’re even. But I do think we need to be extra careful. In fact, no more using our personal phones to communicate
with each other. We’ll start using prepaid phones and dispose of them when they run out of minutes.”
“I can’t afford that,” I protest.
“I’ll buy the phones. No worries.”
Part of me wants to protest still. I hate the idea of being in Damien’s debt in anyway. But I’m also oddly touched by the gesture. I don’t like how I’m warming up to this guy, how he’s breaking down my wall of intense dislike and actually making me admire his seemingly endless confidence. We’re only allies cause we need to save Sasha, and I won’t be foolish enough to let someone like Damien Walters worm his way into my heart.
We discuss his run-in with a old black sedan that took off when he headed back toward his club, and I tell him what Drake Morton said to me.
As we walk toward his car, he takes my hand and leans close, whispering, “So who’s spanking turned you on more—mine or David’s?”
“Neither,” I lie.
“Oh, come on. I’ve got a fragile ego. Tell me I was the best,” he teases. “I think you’re lying, Opie.”
“Whatever,” I snap. “And don’t call me Opie.”
I should try to take my hand out of his, but I let it linger there, enjoying the warmth of his touch. Dangerous, Ophelia, I warm myself. But my impulsive side isn’t listening.
“How’d you get that nickname anyway?”
I sigh. “You’ve met my grandmother, right?”
He grins and chuckles. “Oh yeah. Sasha took me to her brothel when we first met. She told me your Grandma Stoltz was her first mentor.”
“Yeah, well, Gran used to love this old show called Mayberry, I think. And there was this little boy with bright red hair and freckles on it, I guess, that reminded her of me. He was called Opie, so…”
“So you became Opie.” He chuckles again. “That’s classic.”
“No, it’s annoying.”
We climb inside his car and buckle up then take off. “You should let me kiss you.”
“Excuse me?” I feel the blood pounding in my ears at the thought.
“Well, if the spanking didn’t work, maybe my kiss would?” He grins again, obviously toying with me.
Surrender Boxed Set (Surrender Series Volume 1 - 7. BDSM romance with man love, bad boys, and billionaires.) Page 31