by Tawny Taylor
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Did I do something wrong?”
His expression softened for a fraction of a second but then, just when she was starting to appreciate it, it hardened again. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. Like I said, I don’t play with club members. I feel it’s better for the club and for both of us.”
“Okay.” His reasoning was a little vague but still understandable, she supposed. She tried to equate it to a bar owner drinking with his customers during business hours. Bad business. “I understand. I’m sorry I put you in an awkward situation, both in the club and…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. She felt like such an idiot.
He shook his head. “No harm, no foul.” He stepped around her open door, tipping his head. “Good night, Wynne.”
“Good night.” She sank into the driver’s seat, slid the key into the ignition, and, as Dierk closed her door, cranked it to start the engine. She watched him walk back into the club before she pulled out of the parking lot.
“How’d your session go? Wanna talk about it?” Kristy asked before Wynne was in the door. “Holy shit!” Kristy’s jaw just about hit the floor once she saw Wynne, and Wynne realized, belatedly, that she must look more roughed up than she thought. “What the hell happened to you?”
“I almost got hit by a car.”
“Ohmygod!” Kristy rushed to her, yanked the pile of things out of her arms, and dropped them onto the floor, then grabbed her hands and dragged her into the living room. “Are you hurt anywhere? Should I take you to the hospital?”
“No, I’m fine. Just shaken.”
“Okay.” Kristy visibly exhaled. “Shit, talk about giving a girl a scare. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Couldn’t get a signal on the cell phone.” Wynne pointed at the heap of mostly torn and broken things Dierk had recovered for her.
Kristy bent down, scowled and scooped up what remained of Wynne’s phone. “Um, I guess that should come as no surprise.” Kristy threw her arms around Wynne and squeezed her. “Ohmygod, you weren’t kidding! I’m so, so glad you weren’t hurt!”
“Does that mean you won’t be mad if one of your shoes is missing?”
She felt Kristy stiffen for a split second then soften again. “No, I won’t be mad. You had an accident.”
“I’ll replace them.”
“No, you won’t.” Kristy hurried to the couch and sat. “Come here, I TiVo’d this week’s episode of Tough Love.”
“I don’t know if I’m in the mood to watch television right now.” Wynne stooped next to the pile and started digging through it. Almost everything that had been in her duffle was either completely unusable or damaged. A few items were salvageable, like the leather flogger.
More than ever, she realized how close she’d come to losing her life. It was truly a miracle she wasn’t dead.
She went to the kitchen and got the trash can and, after changing into some pajamas, started sorting through her things, dumping the junk in the can.
Kristy came over, sat beside her, and started helping her. “Outside of the disaster, how did your session go? You called me, so I’m curious to hear what happened.”
“Well, the whole night was kind of a mess.”
“Oh, honey.” Kristy rubbed Wynne’s shoulder. “What happened?”
“Rolf didn’t show. Evidently there was a misunderstanding, although I don’t know how that was possible. Anyway, Dierk was the one who told me about Rolf, and I did as you suggested, thinking he might offer to take his brother’s place.”
Kristy grinned and poked her in the rib. “You like him, don’t you?”
Wynne shrugged. “I do.” She sighed. “But it doesn’t matter. He made it absolutely clear he isn’t interested.”
“Oh, no.” Kristy twisted her mouth into a scowl. “He’s an idiot if he doesn’t see what a prize you are.”
“Spoken like a true best friend.”
They continued to work in silence.
What was salvaged could fit in a shoebox. Kristy kept the orphaned shoe, just in case its match was found.
The box arrived just after five. It was large, brown, of a typical nondescript cardboard variety. The label had no return address.
Kristy wasn’t home when it arrived. Wynne decided she’d wait until Kristy came home from work to open it. That decision lasted for all of twenty minutes. Then she said to hell with that, went to the kitchen for a knife, and sliced open the tape.
It was full of bondage stuff, absolutely brimming. At the bottom, Wynne found a small envelope, taped to a shoebox. Inside was a gray note card with a handwritten message.
To replace the things you lost last night.
My apologies,
Dierk
Once again, he had to go and prove himself a good, kind, thoughtful guy. Didn’t he know what that was doing to her? Better for her if he’d be rude, an asshole, so she could shove him out of her mind, out of her dreams.
She checked the shoebox. The shoes weren’t exactly like the ones she’d been wearing, but if Wynne had to guess, they were much nicer. The name on the box told her that much: Manolo Blahnik.
What the hell was this man trying to do?
Because he was Twilight’s manager, Wynne could understand why he might think he should replace the things that were damaged, although even that was a stretch. But by sending all of this stuff, he’d gone way beyond what anybody would expect.
She set the shoes aside, settling on a compromise. Those were going back. The rest, she’d keep. But then, as she was showering later, she heard Kristy screeching, “Oh. My. Goddddd! He sent you Blahniks?”
Wynne mentally prepared herself for a wicked debate, knowing Kristy would think she was insane for wanting to return them.
By the time she was dressed, she was ready.
Kristy practically pounced on her the second she stepped out of the bathroom. And, of course, one of those damn pretty shoes was clutched to her chest. “They’re gorgeous!”
“I’m not keeping them.”
Kristy’s face went pale, more like bleached sheet, reflective white. “What?”
“I can’t keep them.”
Kristy gaped. She really did look funny, like a dying fish beached on a dock. “Why not?”
“Because they’re too expensive.” Wynne tried to snatch the shoe away from her friend, but Kristy jerked it out of her reach. “Now, hand over the shoe.”
“No. They’re a gift.” Kristy shook the shoe at her, stiletto pointing out. “You’re allowed to accept expensive gifts from men. You’re single. Ohmygod, they’re so prettyyyyy.”
“Yeah, but I don’t accept costly presents from men who don’t want anything to do with me.” She tried for the second time to get the shoe out of Kristy’s hand. This time, thanks to the fact that Kristy was too bewitched by the item in question to react, she succeeded. “I don’t get this guy.”
“Maybe you misunderstood. Maybe he likes you, but he doesn’t know how to show you. Guys are like that sometimes.”
Wynne shook her head. “Kristy, he grimaces when we get near each other, he does everything he can to avoid touching me, and he told me we could not scene again, ever. Doesn’t exactly sound like true love, does it?” She headed out to the living room to get the box of bondage gear.
“Hmmmm.” Kristy eyed the box. “And yet he goes out of his way to send you all this stuff.”
“Because he’s the manager of the club and I was almost killed. I’m sure he’s trying to avoid a lawsuit.”
“You think?”
“The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that must be it. There couldn’t be any other reason.”
“I don’t know.”
“Please, please, agree with me.” Holding the heavy box, she gave Kristy a pointed look. “I need to believe he did this for some rational reason. Or I’m going to go crazy, trying to figure him out.”
Kristy nodded. “Yes, you must be right. He’s afraid you’re going to sue him for negl
igence.”
“Yes. Negligence. There wasn’t a light. It was very dark. Extremely dangerous.”
Kristy nodded again. “Yes, that’s a very serious issue. He’d better get a light put back there pronto, before someone gets hurt.”
Wynne smiled, though she didn’t feel happy at all. Nor relieved. Just confused and frustrated. “Thanks, sweetie.”
“You’re welcome.” Kristy grabbed one side of the box, to help her. They shuffled down the narrow hallway toward Wynne’s bedroom. “Hey, when’re you headed back to Twilight?”
“Rolf called,” Wynne said over the box. “He rescheduled for tomorrow night.”
“Excellent!”
Wynne smiled as she dropped the heavy load onto the bed. The contents clanked and rattled. “At least I’ll have a well-stocked kit.”
Kristy sat on the bed and dug through the box, lifting a pair of thick leather wrist restraints. “He’s going to put you through hell with all this stuff.”
“Is that a good thing or bad?”
Kristy’s expression was undeniably wicked. “Most definitely good.”
11
Unlike last night, tonight Master Rolf was waiting for Wynne the moment she stepped through Twilight’s front door. He pretty much ambushed her the second her foot crossed the threshold. “I heard what happened! Are you okay?” Taking her hand, Rolf gave her a long, scrutinizing up and down look.
“I’m fine. Didn’t get a single scratch, thanks to your brother.” She did a little turn to let him see she was 100 percent injury-free.
“It was damn good he was out there.” Evidently convinced she was okay, he took her duffle bag and started toward the dungeon.
“Yes,” she agreed. “It was no less than a miracle.” She motioned toward the bag. “A lot of the things you bought for me were ruined, but Master Dierk replaced them and added a lot more. I think he’s feeling a little guilty.”
“Oh really?” That seemed to surprise Rolf, which, in turn, stunned her. Surely Dierk’s own brother knew what a caring man he was, how honorable and generous and kind.
“I guess he figured, since he’s the manager, he was somewhat responsible,” she reasoned, intentionally avoiding the mention of the shoes.
“Sure, that must be it.” The corner of Rolf’s mouth twitched. Turning around, he continued through the dungeon and out into the hallway leading to the private suites. He let them into his suite and Wynne presented, as she’d been taught, waiting for Rolf to tell her what to do next.
“Undress.” He took her kit to the raised table and began searching through the contents.
While he checked out her new gear, she removed her clothing, folded it, set it in a neat pile on a nearby chair, and returned to her position.
“This way.” He motioned toward a piece of furniture that looked like a two-sided bench. The horizontal kneeling surfaces were slanted slightly, angling down toward a raised, padded center beam. The beam’s sides angled out a little, reminding Wynne of a saddle stand. It was narrow enough for her legs to fit around it, but wide enough to support her bottom.
When Rolf walked toward her, he held a vibrator in his hands. Clearly, he had some more orgasm control training in mind.
Kristy’s words echoed in her ears. He’s going to put you through hell with all this stuff. Wasn’t that the truth. Kristy had known all too well how fiendish Rolf could be. There were quite a number of tools in that bag that could deliver downright painful lessons. Wynne was hoping he’d stick with the ones that would produce more pleasant sensations today.
“I sanitize this after every use. Down here.” He patted the top of the horse, near one end. “I want you lying face down, legs resting on the side supports.”
She swung up and took the position he described, back up, bottom toward him, pubic bone resting on the very edge of the cushion, knees bent, legs supported by the slanted side supports.
It was a very sexy position, making her feel vulnerable and exposed. Her pussy started to thrum, her inner walls clenching as she closed her eyes and imagined Dierk standing behind her, holding that vibrator.
“Whatever is said between us is kept between us, Wynne. There is no reason to keep secrets from me.”
“The cameras?” she pointed toward the visible equipment, mounted in the room’s corner.
“Off.” He dragged the vibe down her spine, little humming vibrations buzzing through her back.
“What do you want me to tell you, Master? What do you want to know?”
He moved the vibrator up, slowly, drawing lazy circles on the back of her neck. Little shivers skittered up and down her limbs. “All of your secrets. Every one of them, starting with who you think about as you masturbate.” He whispered. “What face do you see when you close your eyes and touch yourself?”
“M-Master Dierk’s.”
“As I suspected.” He slid the vibe down her side, skirting around the outer swell of a flattened breast. “Close your eyes now. Picture him.”
“Yes, Master.”
“You are under his control, powerless to escape. But even if you could, you wouldn’t want to, would you?”
“N-no.”
“You’re shaking from the need for his touch, his kiss, his dick thrusting inside your wet pussy.”
“Yes.” She rocked her hips forward, rubbing her aching groin against the leather. She bent her legs more, pulling her knees up toward her shoulders. “Yes.”
“He wants you, but he can’t have you. You’re his temptation, his weakness. He must fight his need.” Something touched her bottom. Hard. Vibrating. She shuddered and arched her back.
“Dierk, take me, please.”
The hard thing, the vibrator’s tip, found her clit, and a burst of erotic need shot through her body. She went instantly hot, tight, and breathless, for one, two, three seconds.
Then it was gone and she dragged in a deep breath.
Rolf teased her with the toy again, but just like last time, it wasn’t the buzzing, zapping sensation that was sending her blood pumping and heart racing, it was his words. “You torture him, Wynne, with your sweet face and wicked little body. Your tits. He aches to pull on those pink nubs. Feel them harden on his tongue. He can smell your need, and he draws in the scent, desperate for more. He hungers for a taste of your honey, the nectar like a gift from the gods. He needs to eat it away, to push his fingers into your slick pussy, to test your tight passage.”
She could see Dierk doing all those things, could feel him. It wasn’t a plastic toy circling her hot pussy; it was his fingers. And she was going to die if he didn’t take her now.
The touches stopped. She lay panting and tight and in agony, waiting for him to return. Up above her head, on the opposite end of the long horse, she heard something. She glanced up and through need-fogged eyes watched Rolf strap a thick dildo to the horse, positioning it straight up.
“Ride his cock,” Rolf demanded.
She was all too eager to obey. She sat up, straddled the dong, and slowly lowered herself onto it. Her breath left her in one drawn-out moan.
She curled the fingers of one hand into a fist, and bracing it against the horse’s padded top, used it to balance herself as she raised and lowered herself onto the rubber dong. With the other, she stroked her clit, quick, little circles, eager to reach release.
It didn’t take long, not with the image of Dierk playing in her mind. He was lying on his back and she was straddling his hips, not wood and leather and padding, and she was slamming down on him, his cock filling her so perfectly she had to grit her teeth against the temptation to scream his name.
“Don’t come,” he whispered. “Not until I tell you to.”
She felt her body go tight all over. She was close, so close. She dragged her fingernails down his chest, raking the smooth, tanned flesh.
He moaned, and she joined him, throwing her head back as she fought against her body.
“Don’t come.”
She clenched her knees, locking the
m against his hips, and stilled. Her pussy twitched around his hard cock. She sucked in a breath, two, jammed her fingers through her hair and squeezed her eyelids tighter.
He was such a cruel Master, denying her what she’d waited for, needed, for so long.
“Please, Master.” She tightened her inner muscles, imagining his eyes going dark with hard, male need.
“You may begin again.”
This time, she was determined to find release.
Letting herself be carried away by her fantasy, she vowed to drive him crazy so he couldn’t stop her. She rode him hard, bending over and flattening her tits against his slick, hard chest. Her racing heartbeat pounded in her ears. Her hands trembled. Her body quaked. She ground against him hard, rubbing her pussy against his groin, the delicious friction sending wave upon wave of erotic heat blazing up her chest.
“Do not come,” he repeated, sensing she was close again.
“Bastard,” she whispered.
“Do not come.” His voice was sharper.
She reached back and fingered her anus, dragging some of her cream back to lubricate it. “Will you fuck me here, Master?”
“Do. Not. Come.”
She pushed the tip of her finger into her anus. “Oooooh!” She squeezed her thighs and froze, unable to move a single muscle, not even to breathe. If she did, she knew she would come, and Dierk would be displeased, and she so wanted to please him. So, so badly.
“Now.” His voice was hoarse, gritty.
She pushed her finger deeper, and a light flashed behind her closed eyelids. A deep tingle erupted into a whole-body spasm.
“Sparrow,” he shouted, just as the spasm took hold of her. “Sparrow.”
She quaked and moaned and shook and shivered, completely lost in a tempest of ecstasy. She enjoyed every beautiful second until slowly the sensations eased, the heat cooled, the spasms gentled, and her mind cleared.
She opened her eyes.
She was alone. On top of her clothes, she found a note, succinct and emotionless and a tiny bit unsettling.