Safe Mode: Deep Six Security Series Book 4

by Becky McGraw

  With an evil smile, he leaned across the aisle to pinch her right nipple hard and Grace groaned as he moved to kneel before her. “This is your punishment for defying me with your clothing choice,” he said, twisting her nipple hard before he applied the clothespin to hold it there.

  Excruciating pain ripped through her body and tears rushed to her eyes as her brain seized and her breath left her. Before she had time to recover, he pinched her left nipple and repeated the process, sending twin lightning bolts to electrocute her nerves. Whining, Grace dropped the vibrator to the seat and sat up to rock while she dug her nails into her palms to fight the pain, to fight her own instinct to rip them off.

  “Don’t do it or you won’t like the consequences,” Tim warned, his fingers digging into her thighs near her knees.

  She realized her short and uneven heaves for breath were making the clothespins dance and the pain worse, so squeezing her eyes shut, Grace tried to focus on slowing her breathing, on remaining perfectly still so the pins would settle. Finally, the sharp pain eased to a dull, burning thud and her breath rushed out.

  “Yes, Sir,” she wheezed.

  “Now, get on your knees and lean over the seat, Kitty. I’ll bet you’re a virgin there, aren’t you?” When her answer was a squeak, Tim clicked his tongue. “Well, I have something to help train you so you’re prepared for me.”

  Fear sliced through her, then shock and finally desperation as she clenched her ass cheeks and sat up straighter. “No, please—we have to negotiate hard limits first, don’t we, Sir?”

  This humiliation and torture was enough to deal with at the moment, without him taking it further. She definitely had hard limits, a long list of them, and needed to voice them before he did anything else to her. From the excited look in his eyes, anal sex would be a term of contention.

  Why in the hell had she agreed to this at all?

  “Oh, yes. Of course—the negotiations,” he replied calmly, but still he reached down to grab her ankles and bring her feet up to the edge of the seat. He shoved her knees apart, lifted her skirt and roughly tucked it in at her waist, then with a pleased smile, he leaned back on his heels to survey her inflamed flesh, making it quiver.

  He picked up the vibrator from the seat beside her and slowly skimmed it up her left inner thigh from her knee to her mound, dragging blood up the artery with it. He let it pulse at the crease and the buzz sizzled along her folds to tickle her clit. He moved the wand a millimeter closer, and she squirmed as her body went into overdrive.

  The intense vibrations sent the bundle of nerves between her legs into an excited frenzy, her inner walls flexed and released and she whimpered as a rush of unwanted moisture slickened her. He rotated the head of the wand in a small circle there and her thighs spread wider, her eyes closed and her head drifted back on her shoulders, but frustration built when he wouldn’t move it where she needed it.

  “A word of advice for our negotiations, pet. I’d be a lot more inclined to agree to your terms if you please me. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  What in the hell had she gotten herself into? What had Marcy gotten her into?

  The vibrator left her skin, but her flesh still buzzed as he moved away. Grace sat up, gasped, and clenched her teeth as the pins jiggled and stinging pain sliced through her breasts. Tim grabbed her hand then closed it around the shaft of the wand again.

  “It would please me to watch your pleasure yourself, but you are not to orgasm unless I give you permission. Understood?”

  That shouldn’t be a problem because all she could focus on now was how badly her nipples burned. She couldn’t imagine any amount of pleasure she dealt herself could overshadow that pain. The talking or thinking would be the problem.

  “Yes, Sir,” Grace croaked, her throat dry as dust, her fingers numb because she gripped the vibrating wand so tightly.

  You have to focus, Grace. You are negotiating for your safety and sanity here, buying yourself wiggle room out of this situation. Humor him, but remember the list of hard limits you made at home from the list he gave you.

  She’d checked off plenty of nastiness from the list in her suitcase. Enough that she felt safe in coming here, but that feeling could’ve been a mistake, she now realized. This man was an alpha predator, definitely not as comforting or concerned about her safety or feelings as he’d been in their online chats, and she needed to be damned careful with him.

  Grace’s arm protested, but she forced the bulb of the vibrator toward the apex of her thighs as she held his gaze. She stopped, let it hover over her flesh and clenched her teeth. His eyes darkened, and Grace swallowed hard before tensing her muscles and bringing the knob of the vibrator to the bundle of nerves at the top of her thighs. The intense vibrations zipped down her labia to her anus, making her insides hum too.

  When it connected fully with her inflamed flesh, her mind short circuited and her mouth opened to release a throaty, surprised moan. Her teeth chattered, her body shook and in two seconds she threw her head back on the seat to whine as a violent orgasm ripped through her.

  The nipple clamps pinched tighter as violent tremors rocked her. They burned like spicy peppers to mix with the incredibly sweet and intoxicating waves of pleasure that drowned her. It was a strange combination, but one that swirled together to produce the most intense and amazing orgasm she’d ever had in her life. She was drunk with sensation and lightheaded, but couldn’t make herself pull the wand away. Blood pounded in her ears, and her body jerked again as another tidal wave ripped through her.

  A throaty growl woke her up, and her eyes flew open to see Tim’s intense gaze focused between her legs. He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

  “Oh, I hope you enjoyed that, pet, because you’re going to pay for it when we get to the resort,” he said with relish in his tone. “It’s a good thing I don’t plan on letting you sit tonight at the munch.”

  It was obvious Master Tim had tricked her, turned the vibrator on high, so he could enjoy the consequences he dealt for her weakness. He knew she’d come immediately because, unlike her, this was not his first rodeo. But it was her first orgasm in a very long time, and she fully intended to enjoy every second.

  “Are you ready to talk about hard limits now, Kitty?” he asked with a snort. “Or are you having trouble focusing, pet?”

  Grace glared at him as she let her body slip lower on the seat and widened her thighs more to press the head of the vibrator closer.

  “You know I can’t focus—you did this on purpose,” she growled through chattering teeth, her eyes challenging him as she moved her hips in time with the wand to extend the intense pleasure, wallow in it, and moan her satisfaction.

  “Of course I did. You’ll learn that I don’t do things by accident, pet,” he replied smoothly. “I’m always in control, unlike you. We’ll have to work on that won’t we?”

  He reached over to his left, grabbed a hi-ball glass from the tray there and she was surprised to see his hand shake when he poured two fingers of whisky into the glass, before he lifted it to salute her.

  “Carry on, but know that I’m keeping count.” He winked and washed his threat down with a gulp of whisky then relaxed against the seat, his right hand drifting down to rub his obviously rigid cock through his leather pants.

  Damn straight she would. If she was going to be humiliated, tortured and punished by this man, she was damned well going to make it worth her while. Take that, asshole, she thought, as she arched her neck and screamed her pleasure when another mind-blowing wave crashed over her and her body vibrated.

  I like redheads—you’re more fun to break.

  Well, no matter what he dished out, this was one redhead he wasn’t going to break. Tonight, the joke would be on him, because Grace wouldn’t be there for his munch if she could find her sister fast and get the hell out of Vegas. And she might just take his amazing vibrator with her. At least then going without sex or even male companionship for eight years
wouldn’t be so difficult to endure.

  But hopefully it wouldn’t take another eight years to reclaim her life.

  When she got back to Baltimore, things were going to change. Her sister was going to become the mother she’d never been to Callie. An adult. The safety net of relying on Grace to pick up her slack would be gone.

  Grace was going to finish her research, nail the bastards who were still pushing drugs that damaged defenseless babies—then it was her turn to plug into life. She’d find a man she was compatible with to have more delicious, non-motorized orgasms. A loud moan slipped past her lips as another orgasm built. Ants crawled under her skin with the buzz, sound gurgled in her throat and she squirmed on the seat as she made slow circular motions to extend her pleasure.

  A pained roar came from the other side of the car, and Grace’s eyes popped open to find Master Tim pumping his shaft while he gritted his teeth and glared at her.

  “That’s enough!” he shouted and she flinched. Tim took several short, angry breaths. “Stop staring—get your ass over here and finish it, slut!”

  Grace swallowed hard and her hand stopped moving. She hoped like hell he was talking about a hand job. She could do that, but she would not—yes, she would—because this man wasn’t stable and she was even more afraid for her sister now. His air of calm tolerance and indulgence had evaporated and Master Tim looked like he could and would commit murder if she didn’t comply with his order.

  What in the hell have I gotten myself into? What has Marcy gotten me into?

  “Now!” Tim growled, pumping faster, breathing harder, his eyes narrowed. “Before I put my hands around your throat instead and choke the life out of you.”

  Fear paralyzed Grace, but she took a deep shuddering breath then laid the vibrator aside to slide off of the seat. Maybe she would kill Marcy after all, she thought, as she slowly crawled nearer to him until he grabbed the end of her braid and almost yanked it from her skull.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Dex couldn’t get rid of the sick feeling churning in his gut when the taxi stopped at the curb in front of the chrome and glass doors at the Silver Chains Resort. After skipping the meet-n-greet at his hotel to research this place, he knew for sure Grace had no idea what went on here.

  BDSM parties and playrooms? Porn films? Really? When he discovered the Silver Chains also produced porn films, had a phone sex line and an escort service, Dex knew he had to intervene to save Grace Wentworth from herself.

  Before he left his hotel, he also researched the woman he thought he knew, to see what in the hell had happened to her over the last eight years. He expected to find that she’d been admitted to a psych ward or something, but found nothing like that. After she graduated from MIT with honors and a Masters in biomedical engineering, she went to med school at Johns Hopkins and earned her M.D.

  Beyond her second year of residency at the hospital, though, there was no more information to be found on her for some reason. The trail just stopped. Is that where she went off track? Maybe had a burnout or breakdown? It wouldn’t surprise him in the least, considering how hard she’d always pushed herself.

  With those kind of credentials, though, wouldn’t she have more sense than this? Could he have been mistaken about the identity of the woman at the airport?

  That was the question he’d answer before he charged in to save her and made a fool of himself because he was mistaken. If that woman wasn’t his former lover, she had a twin, he thought, as he handed the driver forty bucks and exited the cab.

  Walking inside the wide lobby, Dex looked around and was awed at the opulence he found there. Providing a playground for the darkest of desires and making porn films must be extremely profitable, he thought, as he passed long, black leather sofas, beveled mirrors that looked to be framed in platinum and where there weren’t mirrors, he noticed what had to be original works of art featuring masked women and men in a variety of passionate poses.

  Before he reached the gilded front desk where a black-leather-clad clerk stood, a loud ding echoed off of the marble walls and Dex stopped to turn and look down the main hallway. A man dressed, not surprisingly, in tight leather pants strode out of an elevator dragging a half-naked woman with him.

  Dex’s fists curled when he recognized the stone-faced man from the airport, so he assumed the redhead with him must be the woman he thought was Grace. But she sure didn’t look like cardigan-wearing bookworm study-aholic Grace, he thought, taking in the slick, skin-tight black latex that covered the parts of her deliciously curved body that weren’t naked, and her auburn hair which was scraped back into a long ponytail.

  When she lifted her bent head to allow the man to clip a silver leash onto a two-inch thick band of studded leather bisecting her throat, Dex lurched forward, but stopped himself. When the man released the clip and his hand moved, the woman raised her hands to brush a strand of hair back from her flushed, overly made-up face, revealing her wrists were also bound with chrome cuffs attached to a chain at her waist.

  She looked like a sideshow freak who’d been arrested at a backstreet circus gone wrong. There was no way this woman could be Gracie, he thought, heaving a relieved breath.

  His former lover barely ever wore makeup, and when she did, it was light. She wore sensible, low-heeled pumps or sandals, flowery little dresses and skirts, not leather and latex. As self-conscious as she was about her body, there was no way she’d be out in public in that getup, letting a man lead her around on a leash.

  But his gut still said it was her. Or maybe you just want it to be. Maybe he did, because that would mean being able to reconnect with someone he’d been close to from his past. Perhaps that’s why he still stood there watching them.

  Her captor shot her a warning look before he jerked the chain leash, and the woman’s faint whimper danced down the hall. The man turned and she looked back over her shoulder at Dex as she followed him down the hallway. No recognition dawned in her eyes when they met his, but that wasn’t surprising. His beard and muscles could explain that.

  And you’re making excuses instead of getting the hell out of here and minding your own business, enjoying the vacation you’ve more than earned.

  Instead of turning around, his feet started moving to follow the couple without his permission. Halfway down the wide hall, the man jerked her to a stop using a strong hand on the silver leash that almost brought her to her knees and Dex’s jaw clenched as he stopped too.

  “Pay attention, Kitty,” he growled and his words rang inside Dex’s head.

  Kitty? His insides untwisted a little more, but then his eyes slid down her spine to the glowing red welts on her ass cheeks and his nails dug into his palms. The purple ridges that outlined each of the man’s fingers in a network of crisscrossed hash-marks on her white flesh, told Dex she’d had a hell of a spanking, no beating, probably more than with his hands, before they’d come downstairs.

  Why in the hell would any woman allow that?

  Dex knew from experience with Chandra that some women wanted it—begged for it—could only get off if they had that kind of pain. He knew without a doubt that Grace would never be one of those women. She was too independent and in control.

  The redhead’s slow, uncoordinated movements and slightly lethargic head bob before he dragged her down the hall made it seem almost as if she were drugged or something—or exhausted. Indecision warred inside of him and he hesitated to follow them again, but the sway of the round globes of her ass mesmerized him, drew him down the hall behind them like a cobra to a snake charmer’s flute.

  With every flex, the latex strip that bisected her ass shifted to reveal more of her flesh. When it rose up above the lower half of the heart-shaped birthmark at the top of her right cheek, he knew without a doubt this woman was his former college lover. That small tan imperfection on her otherwise perfect ass had provided Dex with hours of fascination in college. Acid burned a hole in his stomach as they made a left down another small hall and he leaned against the wall
behind a potted plant to watch them.

  What in the hell was she doing? What happened to her to bring her to this place? Dex wondered again for the millionth time.

  Maybe it wasn’t a breakdown. Perhaps she’d had a non-vanilla experience with another man and liked it. Why that thought made his insides clench, Dex didn’t know. He’d had enough non-vanilla experiences himself since they parted. But thinking of the woman who gave him her virginity enjoying this type of sex just didn’t fit with what he knew of her.

  He didn’t want it to fit, because the woman he knew before was special, different in a good way. He’d tried to find someone like her since he left MIT to replicate that intimately connected, but emotionally disconnected relationship with, but had failed miserably.

  People change, Dex, he reminded himself. You’ve surely changed since then. And she’s an adult and can do what she pleases. She’d probably get pissed if he interrupted her playtime here, because he was sure it didn’t come cheaply. But dammit—it looked like she was allowing herself to be abused, and he was not going to stand by and watch her do that.

  There were rules to this kind of sensual play, it had to be consensual, those rules agreed to and spelled out beforehand. Hell, if this was her first time at kinky play, Grace might not know that. She would before he left here, because if nothing else, he was going to pull her aside and tell her that—make sure she wanted to be here. He owed her, and knew he wouldn’t get any rest, much less relaxation in this town, until he did.

  The man fisted her ponytail to pull her to a stop outside a set of wide, wooden doors and her lips pinched as her chin snapped up. He dragged her to a corner and from his expression, it was obvious the Dom was correcting her about something—again.

  Other leather-clad couples passed by Dex to enter the alcove. Some stopped at the door to cast curious, bemused looks at them, but the Dom didn’t seem to notice. He continued raking Grace over the coals for long minutes. Her shoulders drooped lower by the second, until he finally stopped to glare at her. He yanked her hair again and she mouthed words Dex thought were yes sir. The man finally released her ponytail and Dex fought the urge to run down the hall to put his fist in the man’s face when he saw a tear slide down her face.