L is for… (BDSM Checklist Book 12)

by L. DuBois

  “So you want my opinion on a club that’s going to be part nightclub, part private BDSM club. And you want it to be a serious club, while also allowing at least some newbies in.”

  Rolf nodded. “Yes.”

  That sounded…interesting. Maybe a little undoable. Still, interesting.

  Cain slid his chair to the side, so that the webcam had a view of the garage behind him. His in process bikes were all there, including the Moto Guzzi.

  “All right, I’ll consult for you. My club is doing a game right now, and it’s made me feel…creative.” He gestured.

  Ciro leaned towards the screen. After a second, Rolf did the same.

  “Did you…” Ciro’s voice trailed off, and then he started to chuckle.

  “You are attaching a dildo to a motorcycle.” Rolf’s voice had lowered, his words less business-like. Probably closer to the tone he used when he was on a club floor.

  “Yep,” Cain said happily.

  “Your sub is very lucky,” Ciro said, still smiling.

  “She might start to object when I don’t let her up off it.” Cain grinned, and the other men laughed.

  The diabolical laugh unique to Doms.

  Cain turned back to the screen. “Hey, Rolf. What’s the name of your club going to be?”

  “The Oasis Club.”

  Chapter 10

  “Where, exactly, are we going?” Victoria asked.

  Cain dropped an arm—a very heavy, deliciously muscled arm—over her shoulders. “Somewhere where no one will hear you scream.” He started to laugh like a B movie villain.

  Victoria rolled her eyes, then reached up and grabbed hold of the wrist dangling off her shoulder. She wasn’t sure why she did it, except that she wanted to touch him. She wanted to hold him, just as he held her.

  She felt him look at her when she wrapped her fingers around his wrist. Felt the weight of his attention. Being the center of his focus was like standing just a little too close to a fire. The heat a tad too intense to be pleasant.

  It would be awkward if she let go of his wrist, so she brazened through it, pretending she couldn’t feel him looking at her as they followed the gravel path that led away from the main buildings. When most people heard Malibu they thought of beach, or coastal cliffs. Most of Malibu was hills and canyons. Las Palmas sat on high, relatively flat ground with patches that had been made perfectly level back when the large barn, arena, and paddocks had been used for actual horses.

  The path forked, and they turned away from the Conclave, following a less used, but still perfectly maintained, path that went to the open-air arena.

  “Going to try your hand at rope bondage?” she asked before the silence could get awkward.

  “Nope. I don’t have the patience.”

  “Ha. Lie. You were plenty patient with the paddle and the tawse last weekend.”

  Cain wiggled his wrist from her grip and slid his hand down her back and over her ass. She tensed, waiting for the spank, but his big hand roamed over her butt as they kept walking, then settled in the small of her back.

  Her ass was covered by a short—very short—black lace bandage skirt. Under that she had on a basic black thong, and she was back in the leather bralette from their first night together.

  Normally she wouldn’t have done a bare midriff look for just walking around the club, but with Cain she felt comfortable enough that she didn’t care that her not-flat stomach was on display.

  “That’s because I like paddling asses and whipping thighs. Yours in particular.”

  Now it was her turn to stare. Gravel crunched under their feet as she studied his profile. She wasn’t stupid enough to ask herself what he’d meant by that. The meaning was fairly clear. He’d enjoyed topping her, despite her admission, despite how different she was from his regular submissives. The question wasn’t what he’d meant, but…what the implications of that meaning were.

  Cain wasn’t quite ridiculous enough to say that he was as excited as a kid on Christmas, but he was close.

  He’d parked the MG near the open-air horse arena, which wasn’t visible from the main arena thanks to a small rise.

  He’d come in the back access road, since he knew the overseers would be pissed if he tore through the landscaping, leaving wide tire marks in his wake. To his surprise, he hadn’t been the only one doing some behind the scenes work. Oliver Sanz had heavy machinery. The cherry picker was parked on the back side of the Conclave, and he was doing something in what looked like storage space on the upper back side of the former barn. Cain had just raised a hand in greeting as he rode past, the spare helmet placed strategically on the pillion seat to cover the modification.

  Vic’s bare back felt good under his palm. She’d surprised him with this outfit. He appreciated the stretchy lace skirt thing, which barely covered her ass, and that fun bra that looked like a corset she’d worn on the first night. He hadn’t had a chance to strip it off her last weekend, but he would today.

  Probably after he took her on a ride.

  “Why are you snickering?” she asked suspiciously.

  “I’m not snickering.”

  “That was a snicker.”

  “It was a malevolent chuckle.”

  “Mmmhmm.” Vic sounded dubious.

  She was staring at him. He could feel it.

  They crested the small rise and looked down a gradual slope to the horse arena. To their right, the utility buildings, including gardening sheds and a small garage for the ride-on mowers and golf carts the grounds crew used. To their left and behind them was the building with the sleeping rooms. Since traffic in LA was a god-damned nightmare, especially around Malibu, some people spent the night, not in playrooms, but in the very boring and functional bedrooms and bunk-rooms of the outbuilding.

  Half way down the gradual slope he realized that he was going a little too fast for her. She was nearly jogging to keep up. He’d warned her they were walking, so she had on a pair of flip-flops, but those weren’t exactly great jogging footgear.

  “Sorry, sugar.” He slowed.

  “Why sugar?” She glanced at him. “Sugar always seemed like a sort of Deep South nickname, and with your hint of a British accent…”

  “I could call you pretty girl again instead.”

  “I don’t object to sugar, I’m merely curious.” She glanced at him, her smile conspiratorial. “Curiosity is also why I didn’t object to jogging down this hill. I want to know where we’re going.” She cleared her throat, and then in a very lawyerly manner added. “Our destination actually isn’t in question any longer. I would be more accurate to say I want to know what it is we’re going to do in the arena.”

  Every time she used that stern voice, or looked at him with the calm command that he bet made her a damned good lawyer, he had some very inappropriate fantasies. Usually they involved bending her over a table in a courtroom and fucking her while the jury looked on.

  “Sugar,” he said, forcing himself not to lose focus. “You don’t remember, do you?”

  Now she stopped. “Remember what?”

  “It was the second or third time we talked. You were playing bartender and you—”

  “I put sugar in your whiskey.” Vic shook her head. “I’d forgotten about that. You said something dumb—”

  “Clever.”

  “—and so instead of a splash of water I put a finger of simple syrup in your next drink. Heh.”

  “I threatened to paddle your ass. And you know what you did?”

  They were almost there. The area was open on three sides, so there wasn’t much cover, but one side had a full wall, and he’d parked in the aisle there.

  “Whatever it was, I assure you it would have been something much different had I known exactly how hard you like to paddle.” She reached back and touched her butt with an exaggerated wince.

  “You raised your eyebrow, looked me up and down, and then turned away.”

  She winced. “Not very submissive.”

  “Exactly.
”

  “And what does that mean?” Her brow went up as she spoke.

  “Come on. I want to show you what I made.” He urged her forward.

  “What you made? Which item is this for?”

  “Leather.”

  “If this is some evil leather impact play implement you just created, I’m testing it on your ass first.” Vic’s voice was half an octave higher than normal, and she’d slowed her steps.

  She was genuinely nervous, maybe even scared. Cain looped his arm over her shoulder and her hand came up to grip his wrist once again. Not as if she were trying to push him away, but as if she were hanging on to him for safety.

  That was probably wishful thinking. Having a crush at his age was fucking ridiculous. It was making him stupid.

  They rounded the corner and his bike came into view.

  “You…built a motorcycle.” Vic was completely nonplused.

  “I have, but not this particular one. I took it apart a bit to do what I wanted.”

  They walked into the shade of the arena. Two-thirds of the space was a fenced off practice arena, where riders would have made circuits and trainers worked horses. It no longer had a dirt floor. Instead there was heavy rubber tarmac, the kind they put on playgrounds. A few forgotten bits of rope dangled from one of the half a dozen pulleys connected to the overhead grid system. The other third of the building was a long aisle where they now stood, which was between the fenced practice area and half a dozen rooms along one long side. There was a bathroom, changing room, supply room, and a few multi-use spaces, all of which had probably been stalls when this was a working horse property.

  Cain pulled Vic a little tighter against his side as they stopped beside the bike. His helmet was hanging from the handlebars, but he’d put the second helmet on the pillion seat, hiding the dildo.

  “Ah, I see.” Vic ran her hand over the leather of the main seat. “Leather. Are we going for a ride?”

  “We are.” He plucked his helmet off the handlebar while looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

  “I am not dressed for this.” She lifted the second helmet, looking at him as she spoke.

  “You’re dressed perfectly for this.” He couldn’t help it. He started grinning like an idiot.

  Victoria frowned at him, and then turned to look at the bike. She inhaled sharply when she saw the dildo.

  “I told you I made something,” he said with a smile.

  “You…made a dildo seat for a motorcycle.” She sounded shocked, and took a half step back.

  He wasn’t going to allow that. Cain slid behind her, bumping her forward so she was trapped between him and the bike. He rested his chin on her shoulder, and plucked the helmet from her grasp, setting it aside.

  Then he guided her hand to the dildo, wrapping her fingers around it.

  She breathed out from between her teeth, a hissing sound that made him want to press her against a wall and bite the pretty upper curve of her breast, which he had a very good view of from this angle.

  “I custom made this seat for you.” He kept his fingers on top of hers, guiding her hand up and down the leather-covered dildo. His cock twitched against her ass.

  “It’s part of the seat.” She sounded almost accusing. “You gave a motorcycle a dick.”

  “Yep. It’s a twelve inch dildo mounted on a ball joint that’s welded to the metal base of the seat. Because of the seat padding and the leather cover, we only get eight inches to play with.” He tightened their hold and then adjusted the angle of the dildo. Instead of pointing straight up, the leather-sheathed dick now pointed back at a forty-five degree angle. “This is the angle we’ll use when it’s in your pussy.”

  “I…you…”

  He’d rendered her speechless. He should savor this, tease her about it. He wouldn’t, because he didn’t have that much control. His cock was painfully hard, his breathing uneven, and the urge to be rough with her was beating at him.

  Cain put his hands on her thighs. She didn’t let go of the dildo, which was covered in a soft clothing-grade leather, while the rest of the seat was the thicker, stiff type.

  He shifted his hips away from her ass just enough that he could slide his hands up her thighs, then hips, taking her stretchy lace skirt on the journey up.

  She gasped when he tugged the rolled lace up to her waist. Cain pressed his palms against her belly, the tips of his fingers toying with the top of the black thong she wore.

  “This is coming off,” he murmured.

  “Pull it to the side.” Her words were breathy, and she was pressing her bare ass back against his dick.

  “Careful.” He’d meant the word to be teasing, but it came out hard. A reaction to her giving him an order. “That sounded like you were trying to tell me what to do.”

  “And if I was?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  “And…” She took a couple unsteady breaths.

  Beneath his chin, her shoulder muscles tensed. Later, he’d give her a massage the way he had last weekend. He’d take care of her, because she needed taking care of.

  But right now she was going to be obedient, or her ass, and maybe tits, were going to get a good spanking.

  He was contemplating going for the riding crop—leather, of course—he’d seen in one of the storage rooms, when she spoke again.

  “And if I want that?”

  “Want me to spank you? Sugar, I’m going to do that anyway, if I want to. If I think you need it.”

  “Not just…not just the spanking. But making me feel submissive.”

  Cain ran his tongue over his teeth and didn’t say anything for a minute. There was a lot going on in Vic’s head, and she, they, needed to talk about it.

  But not right now. It wouldn’t be fair to have that discussion like this.

  Cain slid his hands down her body, taking the thong down as he did, until the underwear fell to dangle around her ankles.

  “Spread your legs so I can see if you’re wet enough.”

  “Won’t it be dangerous to ride a motorcycle while…impaled on it?” She spread her legs, stepping out of the thong as she did. It lay on the hard packed dirt. That was fine; he had no intention of allowing her to put the panties back on.

  “We’re going to ride it nice and slow,” he assured her. “And the dildo itself is silicone. Flexible. It would flop if not for the leather covering it.”

  “Floppy dildo. How unfortunate.” Her hips shifted side to side.

  He gave her a squeeze, then lifted her slightly, urging her to throw her leg over the bike.

  The pillion was slightly higher than the driver’s seat. This meant that she couldn’t comfortably straddle the bike and keep her feet on the ground as it was a few inches too high. She sat on the pillion, as far back as she could go, and used one finger to angle the dildo away from her. Still, the base of it pressed against her plump vulva, the lips of her pussy just starting to spread.

  Vic shifted, hissing out a little breath. The sound made his cock throb.

  “I’m going to tip over.” She had her toes pointed and braced against the ground. “The kickstand…”

  “Will hold the bike, and you, up.” Cain reached down and hooked his hand behind her knee, lifting her leg and guiding her foot onto the foot rest.

  He felt her watching him as he circled around to help her position her other foot.

  Cain took a step back to look at her. A mostly naked, smart, curvy, sassy woman straddling his bike.

  Damn, he liked this view.

  The lace skirt had rolled into a rope around her waist, and he thought about pulling it off, but there were some possibilities there, so he left it.

  What he did do was to grab Vic’s wrists. She’d braced the heels of her hands on the seat in front of her, her arms partially obscuring his view of both the dildo and her plump pussy.

  “I don’t want to tie you up…” He smiled. “That’s a lie. I do want to tie you up, down, over.” Cain leaned in, pushing Vic’
s hands back, until her palms touched the small backrest. “Hold on.”

  She slitted her eyes to look at him. “And if I don’t?”

  The challenge, the defiance mixed with pretty submission, was beautiful.

  She was perfect.

  Chapter 11

  “You want to hear me say it?” Cain leaned in, lips brushing her cheek, then sliding down to her jaw.

  Victoria tipped her head to the side, giving him better access to her pretty neck. He hummed in approval and licked the skin under her ear, then nipped the lobe.

  “Want to hear how I’ll tie you down so you can’t move?” Her breathing sped up and the sound of her pants made his poor dick throb. “Then I’ll beat that pretty ass until I know, for sure, that you won’t be sitting without thinking of me for the whole week. Until the next time I see you and can redden that ass again.”

  She stiffened and shivered. A tiny little sound that might have been fear, but might also have been need, escaping from between her lips. With his face still against her neck he grimaced. That was way more than he should have said. Per the contract, tomorrow was their last day together.

  Maybe she’d think he was speaking rhetorically. Maybe she wouldn’t realize that he’d been voicing not just his fantasy…but an intention. He wanted her to be his, and only his, every time she drove through the Las Palmas gates.

  Cain shifted his hold to her hips and pulled his head back so he could see her face as he gave the next order. “Lift up.”

  Vic lifted her chin, her gaze meeting his. He was ready for an argument, looking forward to it even, but she surprised him. Feet and hands braced, Victoria lifted her ass off the seat.

  Obedient, but defiant as she stared at him. Challenging him to pleasure her, to use and abuse her.

  She was so fucking perfect.

  Cain palmed her pretty pussy, massaging it, playing with the labia a little, just because he could. Because he wanted her to know that right now, her pretty pussy was his.

  “I can’t hold this forever.” Vic’s voice was breathless, a little tense.