Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3

by Bianca Sommerland

  Picturing Noah strolling around a bunch of Medieval torture equipment in leather pants flooded his sore dick with heat. He bit back a groan as he turned to leave.

  “You can’t go into the dungeon without a Dom.”

  By the loft door he froze, hand on the knob. “Not even if Noah’s already in there?”

  Wren shook his head. “And when you do go in there with a Dom, remember you can’t speak unless spoken to and are given permission to address another Dom or sub. It’s pretty much a sacred rule. You don’t want to break it.”

  A weak smile curved his lips. “I seem to be pretty good at finding these unbreakable sacred rules.”

  “You’re fine.” Wren’s grin widened. “You should have seen me when I roomed with Noah in prison. Fucking unbelievable how many mistakes I made. Some of the other lifestyle guys nicknamed me Spanky because I couldn’t sit down. Noah’s pretty amazing though. He’ll make sure you’re set up. Just use your common sense and look out for the fuckers who want to trip you up on purpose and get you into trouble with him. It can be pretty intense when you first start. You don’t have to worry about the phones tonight, by the way. They’re being put in a basket at the door, and Reed is responsible for—”

  The way Wren spoke without drawing a breath made Jamie frown.

  “Hey.” He interrupted, wondering if maybe the guy wasn’t feeling well. “You okay?”

  A blush stained Wren’s cheeks. He snapped his mouth shut. “Yeah. Sorry.”

  Stepping back into his room, he shut the door. The lock clicked, a crystal clear message that Jamie shouldn’t try to follow him. He sighed, then forced himself to leave the safety of the loft. When he got to the landing, he tried the door to the second floor. Found it locked.

  What the hell?

  Back up on the third floor, a red EXIT sign glowed softly at the end of the corridor. He stepped outside onto the fire escape, high enough to get a good view of the chaos still lurking on the other side of the security fence. The parking lot was chock full of cars and motorcycles all around The Asylum on this side. How they all got past the news vans was beyond him. A few drones hovered overhead.

  Fucking great.

  On the way down the stairs he ducked his head, doing his best to keep to the shadows. The press always hounded him all the time, but this was a whole new level of insanity. Whatever blood he’d leaked into the shark-infested waters better be obliterated by some poor jerk’s fresher meat soon, so the fuckers would leave The Asylum and its members alone. Noah likely wouldn’t kick him out again, but man, he couldn’t be happy.

  At the club’s front entrance, he rang the bell while peering up at the camera. When the buzzer sounded, he slipped inside, barely opening the door so the drone cameras couldn’t get a clear shot. The bar itself was pretty quiet, only muted noise coming from the gym.

  Behind the bar, a man looked up in surprise. Round eyeglasses perched on a classically handsome nose gave the impression of bookish intelligence, upended by several sinister tats. A sick-as-fuck snake crawled up the man’s neck, more ink sprawling around the back. Jamie bet every inch of skin under that black button-down shirt was covered.

  “Hi.” He approached the bar, wearing an apologetic smile. “I’m Jamie. Do you happen to know where Noah is? I have some…things to talk with him about.”

  The words sounded way too formal. More than a little stiff. The bartender-du-jour put away a rag he’d been using to wipe down wet rings on the shiny surface. “You’re his new…?”

  He stared back, mind working to find a way to complete the man’s sentence. Fuck, he didn’t know what to call his status here. He wasn’t about to blurt that Noah had all but labeled him his new fuck toy. For all he knew, the possessive bit was just a mind fuck to make the sex better.

  “Boarder?” Jamie covered the answer with a cough. “Can I get a beer?”

  One brow popped up above those round rims. “Does he know you’re down here?”

  A conversation behind him delayed his reply. “He was buck-fucking-naked. Didn’t realize he had that tat. It’s adorable.”

  Heat hit Jamie’s cheeks.

  “Did you see Noah take that piece out of his ‘little bird’? Hottest fucking thing I’ve seen since he went in the joint.” Gruff chuckles rose up in answer. “I had to find a sub and lose my load.”

  Jaw working, Jamie straightened. Started to turn when a hand latched onto his wrist. Gripped tight enough his bones squeaked together.

  Not a giant like the other Doms, the guy was still at least a head taller than Jamie. With an unmistakable air of authority in his hard stare. “Open your mouth and I’ll take you upstairs and feed you to Noah myself.”

  “They can’t talk about Wren like that.” Jamie kept his voice low. “And I need to see Noah anyway. Maybe I’ll find him myself and tell him you’re letting Doms talk about a guy who’s under his protection like he’s nothing more than a porno rag they can wank their jizz on.”

  The bartender released him. Snapped his fingers, beckoning Reed over as the man stepped into the bar from the gym.

  Reed skipped his gaze from Jamie to the bartender, a quizzical frown on his face. “Yeah, Doc?”

  “Man the bar. I have to take care of something.”

  Paling, Reed cut his focus back to Jamie. “Dude. Can you stay out of trouble for like even an hour?”

  “I—”

  The rest of the sentence cut off as the man Reed had called Doc got Jamie in some kind of headlock. Bent low, his feet tripped in his effort to keep up while the man hauled his ass toward the stairs. Jamie grabbed a chair to give himself some leverage, but it only dragged along with him until Doc ran his head into the wall.

  “Ow. Motherfucker!” His knees sagged, the stars outlining his Vans not coming from the rhinestones.

  Not stopping as Jamie repeatedly stumbled up the stairs, Doc dragged right to the dungeon door. Knocked. The massive door swung open.

  “Doc. Is there a problem?” Lawson’s dry tone said he knew very well there was.

  “I didn’t—”

  Doc’s arm tightened, threatening to sprain his fucking neck. “Where’s Noah?”

  Lawson must’ve pointed or some shit, because they were moving again, through a dimly lit space that smelled like leather. Jamie would’ve appreciated the rich scent, drunk in the sounds of skin slapping, the other unfamiliar noises, except he had to conserve his energy for explaining his way out of the newest pile of shit he’d landed in.

  At the back of the space, Doc flung him to the floor, using his foot to trip him onto his face. He barely caught himself, landing hard next to a couple of chairs. Lifted his eyes to a pair of large black boots.

  “To coin a phrase of yours, Noah?” Doc got right in Noah’s face, pointing at Jamie. “Fix this.”

  “But—” Jamie started to get up.

  As Doc’s boot weighed heavy between Jamie’s shoulder blades, Noah stood.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, Jamie tried to remember what Wren had said. Something about not speaking in the dungeon unless spoken to. This was not the time to have his tongue in handcuffs. He really needed to explain. Noah would understand, wouldn’t he? The sex had been amazing, and he had to be feeling a little bit softer toward him, right?

  “What seems to be the problem, Jared?” Noah’s voice was a soft rumble that reminded Jamie of the calm before a summer rainstorm.

  The air in the dungeon had gone quiet. Jamie sensed every eye on him.

  And Noah.

  Shit.

  This was two nights in a row. No way would this go well for him. He stilled, trying not to breathe.

  “I don’t so much take exception to him circumventing club security as telling me, in the bar I was running… What was it?” Jamie felt Doc’s weight shift as he either cocked his head or considered him beneath his foot. “Oh, yes. That I was ‘letting Doms talk’ about Wren, who is under your protection, ‘like he’s nothing more than a porno rag they can wank their jizz on’.” Doc lifted h
is foot. “He wanted you to know, so I obliged him.”

  The man walked away, leaving Jamie flat on the floor. Everything Wren had told him over the past twenty-four hours about how things worked in The Asylum, came together. Instinct told him he’d better not move a fucking muscle without being told.

  Boots moved around him. Slow. Steady. Then Noah crouched. “I’ll do the talking. You’ll do the listening. You have no safeword. This is a punishment. Speak without permission again and I’ll gag you.”

  Noah’s voice was a cool drink Jamie soaked in. He didn’t care about the words so much as the fact Noah spoke to him. Whatever came next he could handle, because the man sounded calm. Not like he was going to knife him in an alley or go all prison gang on his ass.

  Breathing in the scent of floor polish, he remained silent. Noah hoisted him to his feet, reorienting his world to up and down instead of horizontal. He kept his gaze lowered, unable to meet the man’s eyes. No matter how much he wanted to apologize, he knew better.

  Way to fucking get a clue.

  A warm hand rested on the back of his neck, lacking the erotic energy pulsing across his skin in Noah’s arms only a few hours ago. Yeah, he wasn’t going to get himself in this much trouble again any time soon.

  This fucking sucks.

  They stopped in front of a wooden post. Jamie didn’t look up to see what was at the top. Or if there even was a top. For all he knew, it went to the moon. Noah grasped the hem of his sweater and tugged it over his head. World going fuzzy, he tilted a little when the sweater came off. A hand to his back, Noah steadied him until he stopped swaying. Let him breathe a bit before undoing the button at the top of jeans he’d only just put on.

  “Kick off your shoes,” Noah spoke quietly enough Jamie had to strain to hear him over the music.

  He complied as shapes and shadows gathered. Low voices slithered over his skin. Noah drew his pants down. He stepped out of them, keeping his hands in front of him, shielding his dick.

  And he’d thought he was so smart not wearing underwear.

  Lifting one wrist, Noah tugged him toward the post. A click and a creak before his chin was positioned, his wrists hooked over two semi-circles on either side of his head. His gaze hit the faces of the ten-deep crowd. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut.

  A wooden top piece descended over his head, locking into place. He jerked, attempting to skitter backward out of the device. Which was bolted to the floor. His feet wouldn’t move back without straining his neck, so he couldn’t pull.

  Panic kicked up his heart rate, his breaths quickening until a hand soothed down his back.

  Noah.

  Firm touches, gentle fingertips explored the skin along his back and sides, tender caresses he hadn’t expected, quieting him.

  His brain found a familiar groove and dove into it.

  You’re used to audiences. Pretend they’re here to see you perform. It’s a movie set. A stage.

  He put his ‘performance mode’ into gear, stepping to the right of himself in his head.

  Walking to his front, Noah smoothed back Jamie’s hair and took his chin in his fingers. “You understand why you’re being punished, yes?”

  Opening his eyes, Jamie licked his lips.

  Disappointment looked so wrong on the man it threw him out of the stage persona he’d been trying to cobble together for a role he hadn’t had nearly enough time to research. He nodded, not daring to speak, wishing he’d listened to Wren better.

  Oh fuck. Wren!

  Eyes wide, he shook his head. No way could Noah punish the man like this. It wasn’t his fault.

  Noah’s fingers went to his lips. “We will talk later. Right now, let’s get this over with.”

  Jamie heard him walk away and return, his shadow swinging something. Circling him, Noah ran his hands efficiently over his skin.

  Some weird metal tune ground over the sound system. Discordant and ugly.

  “I didn’t want to have to do this, but...perhaps it’s for the best. You’ll learn and we’ll move on.” Gray eyes regarded him, on his level. “This will hurt. Six strokes. I won’t make you count them.”

  When Noah retreated, Jamie closed his eyes again. For some fucked up reason, he pictured Trevor’s horrified face when he’d tried to kiss him. Twelve years of friendship and a career down the drain with one moment’s misjudgment. The comparison seemed so apt, he nearly laughed. Except something whistled through the air to strike his ass. The impact wasn’t so bad, but the second the instrument sprang back he shot forward, his shoulders banging into the stocks.

  Crying out, eyes flying open, tears already on his lashes smeared his vision.

  “Five more.” Noah’s voice anchored him.

  The next came before the first stopped blooming in waves of increasingly vicious pain across the crest of his sit spot. Three more fell in rapid succession, as if Noah couldn’t hit him fast enough. Each one cut below the last, none of them crossing, until his ass felt like it was a huge, glowing, ball of pain.

  “Two more.”

  He shook his head so hard stars exploded behind his lids, his neck protesting. Someone stood by him now, at his head, smoothing a hand over his hair. He chanced a peek.

  Reed…

  With Doc.

  Oh fuck. Not him.

  Doc stepped back as Noah’s next stroke landed. This time, Jamie couldn’t keep his lips sealed. A cry ripped from him openly, turning into a scream when the last stroke fell without warning.

  Noah unlatched the stocks, Reed catching Jamie as he slipped to his knees. His skin pulled as he moved, punishing him further. He shook, arms around his middle, wishing for his clothes. The air conditioning soothed his ass, but cold clung to the rest of him. Nausea rolled his stomach.

  Hand under Jamie’s chin, Noah spoke, gentle but firm. “Apologize.”

  Stepping forward, Doc cut a hard look to Noah. “Words.”

  The last, Jamie found confusing. Maybe some ritual he hadn’t been let in on yet? He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry for…” He did his best to get some moisture in his mouth, not sure if he was supposed to be specific here but rolled with it. “For disrespecting you, sir.”

  Leaning low, Doc brought his gaze level with Jamie’s. The glint in his eyes sent a shiver up Jamie’s spine. “I’ll let you know when you’re forgiven.”

  Hand falling to his side, Noah watched Doc walk away. His expression told Jamie whatever just went down was seriously not good. Helping Jamie to his feet, Reed draped a club robe over his shoulders. Gathered Jamie’s clothes under his right arm, the other around Jamie’s waist to support him as they left the dungeon, then went up the stairs.

  Each tread on the way to the third floor was agony. Jamie bit his lip, telling himself it was only what he deserved. When they didn’t go to the fourth floor, instead taking the first door on the left, he rolled with that too.

  If I were Noah, I wouldn’t want to see my face either.

  An easygoing Dom with sense of humor and kind, gold-specked brown eyes, Curtis, met them inside another loft. Took one look at him and swore. “What the fuck did you do, boy?”

  Reed answered before Jamie could even manage words. “He said stuff to Doc about Wren.”

  If the floor could just open up and flush him from this place now, that would be great.

  Flitting around him, Reed pulled out a sofa bed, spreading sheets and blankets with efficient movements. His clothes glittered like a Vegas casino sign, a giant orange pumpkin shimmered with TRICK on the front. TREAT with an arrow pointing to his ass on the back.

  He wasn’t in the mood to laugh, but the part of his brain not wrapped up in self-pity gave props for the adorable outfit, tipping his mental hat to the sub.

  “Doc didn’t forgive him.” Reed’s whispered words brought his chin up.

  “Is that bad?” He put out a hand to steady himself against the wall. “I mean beyond the normal not good?”

  If I’ve gotta get beat every night or some fucked up shit becau
se sorry wasn’t good enough…

  He’d have to leave. No way was he man enough to take that.

  “It’s…” Curtis ran a hand through his hair, head tilted. “Unusual. You must’ve hit some kind of nerve.”

  “Great.” Just his luck he’d pissed off a guy who liked to hold grudges.

  Reed motioned to the couch. “Face down. Curtis will take care of you.”

  Getting in position, he laughed, irony hitting him. “I went down to look for Noah so I could do the right thing.”

  “The right thing?” Reed sat next to him, then peeled open a lollipop, handing it to him.

  He took it, sticking it in his mouth on autopilot while Curtis lifted the robe.

  The Dom whistled low. “Nice work.”

  Which earned him a smack on the arm from his sub. “Shut up, Curtis.”

  “We’ll talk when I’m done.” The warning in Curtis’s voice had Reed lowering his head, but not like he was scared or particularly worried.

  He even shot Jamie a little wink, as though to reassure him.

  Fascinated by the exchange, Jamie almost forgot about the pain in his...everywhere. His muscles tightened as the ache began to spread from his ass down his legs. The pulled muscles in his upper back, his neck, throbbed in complaint as well. He popped the candy out of his mouth, unable to stomach the sweetness on his tongue.

  Up off the sofa with a little hop, Reed dashed out of sight, returning to exchange the lollipop for some pain reliever, with a sip from a glass of water while Curtis laid a cold cloth on his ass. Jamie hissed, but didn’t complain. They could have just left him to suffer.

  “You know…” Reed pet Jamie’s hair. “If Noah didn’t care, he just would’ve thrown you out for talking to Doc like that. He wouldn’t have bothered to punish you. He’s chucked members out for less.”

  “I’m so comforted.” Jamie buried his face in his arms.

  Curtis pinched one of his welts, making him yelp. “Be nice, or I’ll drag you back downstairs myself.”

  “Shi— Sorry.” Jamie shook his head at himself. “I am. Sorry, I mean. I just, everything is screwed up and I don’t know how to fix it.”