In the two days since he had asked her out, all communication between them was solely about Jenny and her needs. He didn’t give any indication that he wanted to cancel his appointment, but he had fallen into what she called “Iceman mode”. Direct, emotionless. Not a single warm glance or passion-filled word.
Which was how it should be when they were out in public.
An itch started over her right eye in response to the lie she kept telling herself. If she kept repeating it enough, maybe she’d convince herself it was the truth.
“Again, don’t rush her, Amaryllis. She’s not one of your projects.”
She smiled sweetly. “For now.”
“Oh God.” She rolled her eyes. Why did she ever teach the woman how to use that phrase to her benefit? “Then I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Amaryllis stuck out her tongue. “Go on and tame that delicious hunk of policeman. Do dirty deeds and show him who he needs to worship.”
“Good night, Amaryllis.” She waved and left the giggling woman to her profusion of fabric and footwear.
The Dominatrixes’ dressing room was empty and silent, which was why she loved coming to the club on off nights, however, the silence was too much for her taste that night. She turned up the speakers that piped in the tracks from the dance floor. Usually the constant thump-thump-thump of the bass annoyed her, but she needed the noise to cover the whispers running through her head that made her doubt her stance with the captain.
She had no reason to feel bad about turning down his request for dinner. She never lied or led him to believe their relationship extended beyond the walls of the club. Quiet opposite in fact.
He had to understand her refusal wasn’t because she didn’t like him. She did. Very much so. She liked how he could make her smile with a simple quirk of his brow and the way his eyes sparked when he was happy. And the way he treated Jenny most definitely caused her heart to flutter. He was so kind, so compassionate. Ready to slay the young girl’s demons at a moment’s notice. All very swoon-worthy qualities.
Gah! She shook her head and attacked her hair with extra-vigorous strokes of the hairbrush. What was she considering? She didn’t have time to rearrange her life. Besides, his job just hit a major turning point. It wouldn’t surprise her one bit if he had to cancel future meetings due to work. Then he’d understand why she kept her distance. Why she tried so diligently to keep her club and professional lives separate. Although the captain and all of his charms made crossing that line tempting, the cold reality was the next few hours were all she had to offer. It was time to remind them both of their place.
For the evening’s attire, she chose a wraparound dress in deep-purple silk. Underneath the sumptuous fabric she wore a lacy half-bra and matching boy-shorts for an added layer of texture. She went without her shoes, and if Marco had been paying any attention, that clue alone should be a warning as to her current frame of mind.
As she neared the door of her dungeon, she ignored the beads of sweat that trickled along her hairline. She refused to believe the captain would not show because she turned down his offer of a date. The man wasn’t that petty.
She hoped.
She paused with her hand on the doorknob and released a long breath then opened the door partway to peek around the edge. The sight of his bare feet made her heartbeat slow and her nerves settle. Thank the lord he was able to push past her refusal. Of course his pride had probably been stung, but their relationship worked best within The Cavern’s walls. All she had to do was reinforce that truth.
This was her dungeon, her sub, her rules. The control was in her hands.
The captain sat naked, on his knees, palms on his thighs, and awaiting her instructions like a good boy. However, his eyes slid in her direction and he watched her as she crossed the room to stand before him. That bold gaze looked its fill, burning through the fabric of her dress to touch her with a firm caress. His tongue swept over his lips and she saw his thumbs stroke the insides of his thighs, the tips grazing his erection.
Did the captain want to play a game? Oh, it was on.
“Let’s take a field trip,” she said and walked over to the wardrobe. From inside the cabinet she withdrew a pair of black cotton pants and a satin mask. She handed him the pants then stepped behind him to tie the mask around his head. “In case we run into anyone you know.”
He made a wicked-looking Zorro with the black fabric hiding the top half of his face and hair and nothing else covering his body. The slightest smirk tipped the corner of his lips and his eyes blazed from the mask’s open slits as he silently confirmed his intent to be ornery. Oh, yeah. The game was so on.
She held out the pants and ordered him to dress. He wasn’t going to reap the benefit of having her touch him yet. As a final accessory, she added a studded collar, complete with a leash, around his neck.
“Come along, boy.” She tugged on the leash and led him out of the room.
The main playroom was congested as a crowd gathered for the scheduled floor show. Madeline caught her eye and waved her over, gesturing for her to share her loveseat in the front row.
“Hello, handsome,” she greeted the captain as they neared. “Are you going to share your toy today, Jasmina?”
“Perhaps.” She sat and directed the captain to sit between them. The fit was tight and Madeline made sure to squeeze in extra close by pushing her lace-covered breasts into his sides. “No sub tonight, Mad?”
“Nope. I had to let Megabyte go and Ponyboy had to work, so I’m solo. What are your plans for the evening?”
“That depends.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Would I be correct in saying Lieutenant Coulter is aware of our arrangement?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he replied and his earlier confidence seemed to falter as his gaze fell to the floor.
“Did you two have a good laugh?”
“Absolutely not.” And his jaw clenched as if the idea were ludicrous.
She looked back to Madeline. “My plans are still in the works.”
“Come on, Jaz, let me touch him.” She stuck her nose under his chin and inhaled deep. “He smells so good. Please, please, please.”
“Begging does not become you. You can touch his right leg only. He’s been a bad boy.”
“Yay!” She clapped her hands then dug her fingernails into his quadriceps.
Marco grunted and flashed Jasmine a glare. She responded by offering a sweet smile and scored her own marks into the cotton covering his muscular thigh, except instead of flinching, his lashes fluttered and he sighed her name.
The lights dimmed and a spotlight highlighted Jorges, the club’s designer and sometime Master of Ceremonies, standing on the platform.
“Watch the show,” she said to Marco but kept caressing his thigh.
“I’d rather watch you,” he murmured in a voice so low, she could have imagined he said the words.
“Welcome, everyone,” Jorges greeted. “We have a real treat in store for you tonight. Joining us from the shores of the Baltic Sea, please welcome Vitaly and Katarina.”
He swept his hand toward stage right and a couple emerged from the shadows. Black spandex with splashes of red and blue glitter adhered to their bodies like a second skin from their necks down to their ankles. At their groins and Katarina’s breasts, the fabric was cut away, exposing their more interesting parts to the audience.
“My God,” Madeline muttered. “You can walk the plank on that erection. Yummy.”
Her observation wasn’t that far from the truth. The moment the music began, Vitaly lifted Katarina into the air. She placed her left hand on his head and stretched one foot behind her as her left foot perched upon his cock. Once she was settled, Vitaly let go and spread his arms wide. They held the pose for several seconds then moved on to the next strength move to a round of applause.
Over the notes of the gently swelling Gregorian chants, the couple lifted and twined around each other in a series of poses that appeared impossible for a human to atte
mpt, let alone accomplish. One of the more impressive moves was a vertical sixty-nine position with Katarina hanging upside down, legs in the air while holding on to her lover’s waist and Vitaly’s hands were up over his head. He then grasped her by the waist and with a flinch of muscle, he tossed her into the air and caught her by the hips as her legs wrapped around his waist. She notched his cock against her sheath and slowly impaled herself on his length. Once he was seated, they both leaned away from each other until they formed a tabletop supported only by Vitaly’s strong feet and calf muscles.
The duo was impressive and Jasmine would have been enthralled by their physicality but her attention was diverted by the man to her right who moaned in her ear as she massaged his thigh and belly. The texture of the hair covering his abdomen and the heat of his skin felt so nice against her palm. With the tight fit of the three of them on the couch, he had draped his arms across the back. His hand cupped her shoulders and his fingers dug into her skin as she alternated between light scratches and firm caresses.
“Please touch my cock,” he moaned in a whisper. “Please. Please.”
She lifted her gaze and saw him watching her with lust in his eyes. “Watch the show.”
“Please, Mistress.”
“Watch them. Not me.” She tugged at the hair around his navel in warning.
“I’m so hard for you.” He thrust his hips. The strength of his erection threatened the integrity of the fabric trapping his cock.
“Watch them,” she bit out and twisted his nipple.
Instead of flinching, he sucked in a breath and groaned, “Oh, yeah, baby.”
“You’re testing my patience, Rookie.”
“Why? Because I enjoy your touch and your touch alone?”
“Because you are being a brat and that’s unacceptable. Madeline, stop touching him. He doesn’t deserve such pleasure.”
Madeline ran her fingertip across his cheek. “Don’t play with the queen bee, Rookie, or you’ll get stung.”
“I like her sting,” he said with a laugh.
Jasmine cupped his jaw in a firm grip and drew him close until they were nose to nose. “Stop acting like a child. You are being disrespectful to our guests. Be quiet and watch the show.”
The smirk faded. “Yes, Mistress.”
It wasn’t unusual for submissives to test their master’s authority, but she never imagined the captain would resort to such childish behavior. The sulking was not in the lease bit attractive.
So far she had gone easy on the captain, breaking him in slowly into the lifestyle. Apparently he needed the more direct approach.
Behind his back, she stared hard at Madeline until the other woman turned her head and met her gaze. Jasmine lowered her lashes in a slow blink and Madeline’s smile curled with wicked intent. Her friend might not know the details, but she was aware that the hammer was about to be brought down hard.
Vitaly and Katarina ended their routine with a flurry of twists and stage dives as the music reached a crescendo and the audience burst into applause. Jasmine took that as her cue and stood. She walked toward the now-empty stage and the crowd sucked in a collective breath. She hadn’t planned on putting on a performance and she usually kept her public play contained in Amaryllis’s private room unless asked to specifically perform in the main area. This impromptu exhibition was an anomaly the club’s regulars were quick to relay to any newcomers in attendance.
She crooked her finger at Madeline. “Bring him here.”
“This is going to be good.” Madeline laughed and tugged on the captain’s leash. She pulled him onto the stage as Jasmine walked over to the controls on the wall and lowered a three-foot-long bar from the ceiling.
Jorges sidled up to her with a frown on his brow. “What’s up, Jasmine? I don’t like the look in your eyes.”
“Bring me my whip. The short one.”
“Jaz…”
“Jorges…I have a willful submissive that needs to be punished. Will you bring me my whip or do I send someone else?”
He let out a low whistle but nodded. “We’re not done with this conversation.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. My whip, please, or I start to improvise.”
“Coming right up, Mistress.”
Jorges was right. Something was up, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. The captain’s blatant disrespect made her mad enough to draw blood and see him grovel on his knees for forgiveness. Her present state of mind was probably not the best for wielding the whip, but she was still in control and if any part of their arrangement was salvageable, her show of dominance had to be big.
She joined the pair back on the stage and positioned the captain under the bar. “The one thing I will never tolerate is your disrespect. I have been kind to you and my kindness ends now. Grab on to the bar.”
The captain’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard, but he grabbed the bar without a word of protest.
She stepped behind him and said to Madeline, “Strip him. And take your time.”
“Yes ma’am.” Madeline giggled and ran her hands down his chest before grabbing the sides of his pants and lowering them to the floor in a long glide.
Jasmine focused on securing the straps around his wrists and not on the sight of Madeline’s hands on his skin. The two had participated together in play before, but seeing her friend score her nails down the captain’s naked backside made her throat burn and a pool of jealously swirl in her stomach.
The reaction was crazy. He wasn’t hers. Not in that sense. He was an object to find pleasure with and bring pleasure to. He was hers to do with as she wished, and if she wanted him to fuck every woman in the club, that was her prerogative. Right? Right?
“Your whip, Mistress.” Jorges appeared at her side with whip in hand.
“Thank you.”
The captain jerked his head around and looked at her in disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak then snapped it shut and turned back around. The muscles in his back bunched and rolled and his breathing quickened.
That’s right, pretty boy. Time to put up or shut up. “Stand back, Madeline. Let’s see just how much he likes my sting.”
Madeline backed up and sat on her knees. “He’s sweating already, Jasmina.”
“Good.”
Crack. Crack. A red “X” covered his entire back in razor-thin lines.
He gasped and jerked. His grip on the bar tightened as it swung back and forth with his movements.
“Don’t turn around,” she said as he turned his head to look back at her. “I wouldn’t want to mark that handsome face of yours.”
She let the whip fly three times in rapid succession. After counting to ten, she struck each butt cheek then again across his back.
“Hey, Maddie. Rookie here is a breast man. Show him how pretty your tits are.”
“With pleasure.” She pulled down the zipper on the front of her corset and parted the sides as if she were a flasher on a dark street corner. “Get a load of these babies.”
Jasmine went back to work, adding more strips of red to his skin. With each lash he let out moan and swayed on his feet. In the room of fifty-plus people, all were silent except for the players on the stage. Jasmine and the crack of her whip, the captain with his gasps of pleasure-pain and Madeline who cooed as she watched him absorb each stroke.
“God, you should see his face, Jaz. And his cock. He’s so hard and tasty looking. I want to suck him so bad.”
No!
The tip of the whip caught him over the shoulder harder than she intended, leaving a thick red welt.
Fuck.
Her hand went slack with shock. The whip hit the floor with thud as she struggled to catch her breath.
Get your shit together, Jasmine.
Doubt of her abilities, as a Dom, as a woman, circled her like a vulture ready to pick her apart down to the marrow. Her knees threatened to buckle, she was ready to fall at his feet and ask for his forgiveness, but she held her ground. Out here, in full view of
everyone was not the time to show any hesitation. It was in her power to pull back from the edge.
She left the whip where it lay and pressed her front along his sweaty back. His skin felt as if it were on fire and burned her through the silk and lace.
“How about it, Rookie? Would you like that?” she taunted even as the very thought made her stomach roll. “Do you want Madeline’s mouth on you?”
“No,” he panted. “Only yours.”
“You don’t get to choose.” She stepped to his side to reach around and grabbed his cock at the base in a rough grip. “You do as I say and I say you come. Now. I want you to come all over Maddie’s breasts.”
“No.” He turned his feverish eyes toward her. His hot breath washed over her lips as his cock kicked in her hand, but still he resisted. “I want you. Only you. You’re the only one who gets my cum.”
“Come on her now,” she snarled.
“Only you,” he growled back.
She brushed her lips against his ear and moaned, “Come for me. Marco.”
Marco.
For the first time, she called him by name. Not Captain. Not Rookie. But Marco. Addressing him as a person worthy enough to be granted the gift of familiarity and the reaction was just what she intended. The pupils of his eyes expanded, with realization before they rolled back and his cock jerked, spraying cum all over Madeline’s heaving breasts. Jasmine gritted her teeth and worked his cock, milking his erection for every drop as he shuddered in her arms.
“You bitch,” he mumbled as his head lolled upon his neck as if he were drunk. “Well played, Mistress. Well played.”
Instead of the euphoria of satisfaction at breaking him singing through her veins, it felt as if sand filled her body. Gritty, hot, itchy sand that made her limbs heavy with regret.
What the hell just happened? Where was her control?
There was no need to look any further than this moment as an example of how not to treat a submissive. She was unhappy. The captain was unhappy. The only person who had derived any pleasure was Madeline who was enthusiastically rubbing his cum into her nipples.
Tears blurred her vision as she realized the awful truth. She failed her submissive.
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