“Yes, Sir.” Her breathing is soft and she smells damn good. “Thank you, Sir.”
“No, thank you. Your body was as amazing as ever. Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Yes, Sir. Always with you. I love being used by a skilled Dominant.” She reaches up, puts a hand on either of my cheeks, and kisses me. It’s the first time a woman has kissed me since, well, in months, and she tastes like my cum and peppermint. What a combination, but it is what it is. “Your cock is amazing, Sir,”
“Thank you. You need to rest. Quit talking and rest, okay?”
“Yes, Sir.” She stops, then says, “Sir?”
“Yes?”
“I’m so sorry.”
There’s nothing for me to say. “Don’t be. It’s all okay.” But it’s not. And it never will be.
Once I’ve gotten her settled down and back to the locker room, I head back into the performance area. I get a couple of slaps on the back and “attaboys,” and I look around to see that Sheila’s nowhere in sight. But there’s something more interesting going on.
It’s Adele.
She’s strapped down to the spanking bench, and a wicked grin spreads across my face. I want to see this, but there’s something else I have to do. I jet down the hallway and call Michael Riley. “Hey, Mr. Riley, it’s Steffen Cothran. I just wanted you to know that Adele is here at the club.”
“Just getting started or finishing?”
“Just getting started.”
“Okay. We’ll make our move now. Thanks for keeping me posted. And can you call Mr. Winstead?”
“Oh, it would be my pleasure!” I hang up and call Clint, tell him what’s going on, then end the call and go out to watch the show.
And what a show it is, Adele and three Doms, one of whom is Reggie. I have to remember to thank him. The one under her fucks up into her pussy, Reggie behind her into her ass, and, after they’ve given her two orgasms, the third moves up and shoves his meaty cock down her throat. I love it. For the first time in weeks, I feel something, and it’s total and complete hatred. Watching those cocks tear into her gives me some kind of sick, perverse sense of satisfaction, but I’m unprepared for what happens next.
They finish with her and one of them leaves the scene, then comes back rolling some kind of apparatus, and when they get it up into the performance area, I realize what it is.
It’s a fucking machine. Yeah, I’ve seen them in porn videos, and I’ve even seen one in a store, but I’ve never seen one used before. And I’m thinking this may be the most entertaining thing I’ve ever watched. The crowd around me whispers as they unstrap her from the whipping horse, then carry her to the bondage table and place her on her back. One of them produces something I can’t make out, and I push closer so I can see.
They’re locking pliers. He sets the jaws, clamps them onto her nipples, and starts to tighten them down. We’re treated to the sound of her shrieks as the biting ends of the pliers tighten on her hard nubs. When she settles down, he tightens them another bit to hear her scream again. This process takes place at least five more times, and the pliers are getting tighter and tighter and she’s swearing and crying out. Just when I’m wondering where this is going, I get it as I hear Reggie, the oldest of the three Doms, the one in charge, growl, “Knees and forearms, sub. Immediately.”
When she moves, she screams as the pliers shift, but he uses his crop and slaps her ass several times, and she complies. They’ve placed a wide foam block in front of her, and her forearms rest on that. Once they’re flat, the straps on the block are placed around her forearms to keep her in place; her ankles and calves right below the knees are already secured. It’s painfully clear what they’re doing, no pun intended. When she drops onto her knees and forearms, the pliers are dangling. All that metal has to be fairly heavy, and the stretching of her nipples is exaggerated by it. As she positions herself, they swing, and with every sway, she cries out. And then it’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for.
Up rolls the machine. It’s a Tornado R95, the one I’ve been hearing murmuring about for weeks now. Something new, they say, but I’m not sure how. According to Clint, it’s something Dave had wanted for a long time, and he finally talked the club’s board of directors into buying it. The dildo mounted on the end is extended as far as possible from the machine and then unceremoniously shoved into her cunt as far as it will go. Another little cry breaks from her lips, and then I hold my breath as they hit the switch and start to dial it up.
The damn thing is fucking her so hard and fast that I don’t know how she’s taking it, not to mention those heavy pliers cutting into her nipples and pulling them down at the same time. She’s crying out and screaming, and they just turn the machine up. They’re chuckling as they watch until one of them pulls out one of the large wand vibrators and cranks it up. The minute they touch it to her clit, she starts to scream in earnest. Reggie growls out, “Do you want to safeword?”
Over the cries and screams she yells, “Hell no! Turn it up!”
So they do. I’ve never see anything like this before in my whole life, not even in porn movies. The thing is fucking her so fast that I can barely see it move, and those pliers are swinging painfully. I go looking for Dave and, when I find him, I blurt out, “Do you know what’s going on out there?”
He nods and for the first time ever, I see Dave Adams do something that I don’t think is entirely honorable but, by damn, I agree with him. “Oh, I know full well. And I’ve never let anyone do this before, but it’s fucking Adele. As long as they don’t permanently injure her, I’ll let them stay and torture her for the next twenty-four hours. That bitch deserves whatever she gets. Problem is, I think she’s enjoying it.” With that, he turns and heads back to his office, as furious as I think I’ve ever seen someone without them completely coming unhinged.
Wow. It’s been a long time since I’ve been that shocked. Usually, Dave would go out and tell them enough’s enough, but I don’t think he cares – at all. She’s shrieking, rocking with spasms, and obviously loving every minute of it. Her pussy and ass are so open that you could drive a damn tour bus into them.
And I don’t know how long this is going to go on, but I’m going to enjoy every minute of it. Every. Damn. Minute.
An hour later, the three Doms are sitting by the performance area, and the machine’s still going. She’s gone from screaming and swearing to muttering something that’s unintelligible. Every so often, one of them goes back, turns on the vibrator, and holds it on her clit long enough for her to come, plus another five minutes to drive her crazy, followed by leaving and going back to sit down with a beer. She’s still going after two hours with no sign of slowing, that dildo on that machine pounding into her. That’s not all they’ve got in store for her. The younger of the three Doms goes to her head, whispers something to her, and then stands back to watch her open her mouth. When she does, he rams his cock down her throat and she doesn’t even gag once. And it’s a substantial cock too, not as big as mine, but big enough. This goes on for awhile, and then someone pulls out a video camera.
That’s when something inside me goes dark with the knowledge that, regardless how I feel about her, this is a person, not some piece of meat that can be thrown in the garbage when they’re finished with her. Now I go back to Dave because I can’t help but believe this would be even too far out there for him with the way he feels about her right now, but when I stick my head in his office, he just waves me off. I’m kind of stunned. “Adams, you really need to . . .”
“Need to what?” He stands and gives me a steely look that really catches me completely off guard. I don’t know what to say, and then I feel the vibration as my text notification goes off. It’s Clint, and it’s short and sweet.
Morris is with ss. It’s done.
I go back to the bar, get another beer, settle down into a sofa, and watch every guy in the room but me fuck my soon-to-be ex-wife in some way. I’m now at the point where I’m not really sure how to feel. Betwe
en what’s happened with Sheila, what Adele’s put me through, put all of us through, actually, Dave’s unbelievable apathy, and what’s happening in front of me, I feel as though someone has just smashed me in the face with a skillet. Finally, just about the time I think I can’t take any more, Dave strides out of his office.
“That’s it, boys. Just cut it the hell out. I know she deserves it, but I’ve got some kind of reputation to maintain. Go home.” He turns to the woman with the giant rubber cock up her kootch. “And that goes for you too, you miserable bitch. Get the hell out of my club and don’t come back.”
To my amazement, when they’ve drawn the machine away and removed Adele’s restraints, she stands and leers at Dave. And the first thing out of her mouth?
“Where’s my aftercare?”
He laughs right in her face and points toward the front door. “You don’t get any. You get out of my club. Don’t you ever show your face here again. Oh, wait – I won’t have to worry about that. You won’t be around anymore anyway.” He smirks and starts walking away.
She’s furious as she yells back, “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Hey! Get back here! I wanna know what the hell that’s supposed to mean!” When he keeps walking, she looks around at the crowd, which has started to dwindle. She just stalks away to the locker room. I watch her with a measure of respect, because she’s not even walking funny. Anybody who can take that kind of fucking is either a saint or numb from the waist down. About that time, she catches me watching her. “What the hell is your problem?”
“I don’t have one.” I drain my drink and stand. “Not anymore. I don’t ever want to see you again. You’re history.” There’s a smug look on her face that tells me she has no idea what kind of hell is about to rain down on her. Good. Maybe she’ll get some idea what it felt like to me to find her standing at my door after all those years.
The purr of my car’s engine is music to me and I sit there, as smug and satisfied as a guy with a broken heart can be. Another text pings in on my phone, and I pull it up: Clint.
Riley says 4 days on DNA. We get to visit in the meantime. Everybody agrees he looks just like me. Thanks, Steffen. I hear you were treated to a great show tonight.
I text back: Never better.
There’s a pounding on my door. I look at the clock and it’s fucking three eighteen in the morning. Of course, I know who it is, but I go to the door anyway and look through the peephole. “Adele, get the fuck off my porch. I mean it. Go away.”
“Get out here, Cothran, you goddamn bastard! Where’s my kid? Where is he? WHERE IS HE?” she’s screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Where he needs to be. With his dad.”
“You’re his dad!”
That’s it – I’ve just officially had enough. One of the lights in the door shatters as I sling it open and it hits the wall behind it. Before she can even gasp, my hand is around Adele’s neck and I press her backward until she’s teetering on the edge of the porch, held only by the pressure of my hand on the underside of her chin and jaw. She looks terrified. Good.
My teeth are clenched so tightly I can barely speak, but I manage. “You listen to me, you skanky, worn out, sluttified piece of trash, you know damn good and well I’m not that kid’s father.” In my peripheral vision I can see that the lights have come on at several of the houses around mine, and at least one neighbor is out on their porch, but I’m way past the point of caring about any of that shit. This is it – The End. And I’m going to end it all right here, right now. “You know exactly who his father is – we all do. That’s where he is, with his father. And if you go over there and bother them, so help me, I’ll kill you with my bare hands. You’ve ruined the best thing I ever had in my life and I have no pity for you, nor will I show you any mercy. If you ever, ever, come back here, god help you for what I’m going to do to you.” I hear sirens and I’m beyond grateful because they just might save me from doing something that would put me in jail for a long time, and I certainly don’t want any more of my life to go down the drain because of this miserable bitch. “Just tell me one thing, Adele, just one thing before the cops get here and sort out this whole fucked up mess. Why? Why did you do this to me? I never did anything to you, never. I treated you good; hell, I gave you way more respect than you deserved. I gave you anything you wanted, including other men. Why? Why are you hell bent on fucking up my life? What did I EVER do to you?” I see red and blue lights coming up the street and I know I only have a minute or two, so I tighten my hold around her throat to encourage her to get it in gear. “Why Adele? I want to know!”
“Because,” she stammers out, her voice reedy from the chokehold I’ve got on it, “because you wouldn’t tell me that you loved me.”
Her words hit me like a runaway train. There’s a whirring sound as I speed flip through the pages in my mind, searching back over the years and thinking about our relationship. I did love her, had grown to love her despite the rocky start, loved her for years. How could I never have told her that? But I know in that instant that it’s true: In all the years Adele and I were together, not once did I ever say those three words. And that’s when I realize something tragically important.
I haven’t said them to Sheila. And now it may be too late.
The cops stop at the bottom of the steps. “Sir, turn loose of the lady and step away or we’ll have to Taser you, and we don’t want to have to do that.” But they needn’t have even said it. I’ve already pulled her forward so her feet are solidly on the porch. I turn loose and put my hands up in the air, and I’m on my face on the porch floor in an instant.
“She’s no lady. Her name is Adele Cothran. You guys need to check your information. There’s a warrant out for her arrest.”
“What? There is not!” I hear her shriek. “No one’s looking for me! That’s just nuts, Steffen. You’re crazy, you know that?”
Then I hear the other officer say, “Adele Cothran?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Ms. Cothran, turn with your back to me and put your hands behind you, please.” I hear the click of handcuffs locking. “You have the right to remain silent . . .”
“What the hell?” Adele is so loud now that the entire neighborhood can hear her, and every light that wasn’t already on is suddenly ablaze. “Why am I being arrested? He’s the one hurting ME! You should take him away!” she yells as the officer shoves her in the back of the cruiser and finishes his Miranda speech.
“Sir, I’m going to let you up slowly. Please don’t make me take any action against you,” the police officer says as he starts to release the pressure on my hands and back.
“No worries, officer. I’m not going to do anything but sit up. What I wanted most is done now. So everything’s good.” He turns loose of me and I push myself up to my hands and feet, then stand. “I’m sorry for the racket and that you guys had to come over here like this.”
“We started getting calls about a disturbance. I don’t know if she’ll want to file charges against you or not, but I’m betting what happened here is going to be the least of her problems.” He takes out his little pad and starts asking me questions. When he’s finished, he just says, “Glad we could be of assistance, sir. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.”
“Yes, please, officer, anytime. I’d be happy to help.” I watch as the first car drives away, and the officer who’s dealt with me climbs in his car and drives away too.
When the front door closes behind me, I sag against it and think back. Adele was right. I never once, in all those years, told her that I loved her. It was like I was waiting for that moment when she’d earned it, and she never did. But, in reality, she’d earned it over and over and over again, and I’d been too selfish and self-serving to give her that. Honestly, she’d done everything I’d ever asked her to do, almost eagerly, and I now know why.
That was all she wanted from me, and I’d withheld it. I’ve been doing the same with Sheila, dancing all around it but never rea
lly coming right out and saying it. It’s time for that to stop. It’s the only chance I have to salvage the relationship, if there’s even a chance that it can be salvaged. But I have to try.
“Thirty-four times, Trish, thirty-four goddamn times.” I’m pacing in their living room, running my hands through my hair and feeling more frantic with every passing moment. “Thirty-four times I’ve called, and she’s hung up every one of them. Answers them, mind you, so I know she’s there, but hangs up without even letting me say a word. I don’t know what else to do, I really don’t.”
“Sit down. You’re making me a nervous wreck,” Clint barks at me. I plop down on the sofa and drop my face into my hands.
“Steffen, there’s a distinct possibility that this can’t be fixed. I think you need to move on.”
“NO!” I wish I could explain how I feel right now. I left the hospital with the doctors telling me that my mother has terminal cancer. She’s not going to be around much longer. She’s the last person I have. Yeah, there’s my sister, but we really don’t talk much and we’ve never been close. Once Mom is gone, it’s just Trish and Clint, and Dave and the people at the club. I have no one else. No one. “I can’t just move on. She loves me, I know it. If she’d just talk to me . . .” I stop for a minute, then ask, “She knows all about Morris and how he came to be, and all of that stuff. What does she think about that?”
“She thinks Adele is a reprehensible human being. She feels sorry for Morris, and for us. And for you too, in that respect. But she doesn’t trust you anymore. You withheld a very important piece of information from her, and I don’t blame her for not trusting you. If I were her, I wouldn’t trust you either.”
Unforgettable You (Me, You, and Us Book 2) Page 16