Tombstone shrugged. “He said she was a regular at her mom’s old club. I guess he didn’t realize it had been bought out and added onto.”
Ike stared at the two men. Even older, the black guy was a monster who had eyes that were as alert as his own. Jude raised an eyebrow at the bouncer. “Dungeon of Pleasure?”
The giant’s easy smile let Ike know they would not cause trouble. “Each to their own,” he chuckled. The second guy had creepy eyes, and although he did not do anything to overtly attract attention to himself, Ike had a feeling subs would be all over him. The guy reeked of silent power and domination.
A few hours later, Felicity arrived, with the same depressed look she had been wearing since Marcus had left town. Ike let her in without hassling her, and he wondered if she would find the pale blue-eyed man… if he had not already been seduced by one of the younger subs.
Tombstone and Jude sat in the corner, and while Jude fended off the girls and men that approached them, Tombstone watched the door. His breath caught when he saw her walk up to the bar. She had a sad, yearning look on her face while she searched the club. Eventually, her green gaze met his and their eyes locked. The twitch in his cock stroked a quick erection, pressing tighter than he could have imagined.
Jude turned to see where Tombstone was staring. There was no doubt that the young woman was Felicity. “What now, boss?” Jude had already mentioned that it would not be wise to let Felicity be seen with them.
“Bring the car around to the back of the old club. Can you get the door open?”
“No problem. I doubt they turn on the alarm system until after the club closes.” Jude and Tombstone both rose.
Jude walked out the front door and Tombstone made his way to the side of the stage where he had discovered the passageway to the old club earlier. He forced himself not to look back. She would follow. He had already seen disturbance on the stage of Room One. No one else would have a reason to go back there, other than employees during the day to restock the shelves at the bar.
Felicity watched the man. His steady gait and broad shoulders made her squirm. The muscles in his arms drew her attention, though she imagined most of the patrons would not notice them under his dark shirt. God, he was gorgeous, with shining black hair that she needed to run her fingers through. Felicity watched him cross the bar, traveling down the side wall so no one would notice. Oh my god. She rose slowly off the barstool when she watched him disappear into her private passageway.
Tombstone waited at the end of the hall in the shadows, leaning against the familiar wooden door of Room Five. Agonizing minutes passed by, and he wondered if he was wrong. A smile curled his lip when he heard the louder music. The door to the passageway had been opened. It muted again and he listened for her footsteps, staring down the hall for when she appeared under the light bulb.
She stopped at the door to Room One and her fingers raised to the copper plate. Tombstone studied her. She had slender legs with ankle high boots and shorts that hugged well shaped thighs. Her breasts were heaving nervously, stretching her tee shirt so her cropped jacket opened. Her fingers left the door and threaded through her spiked black hair, and she slowly turned to face him.
Felicity sensed him standing in the darkness, though she could not see him. Her nerves were tingling with warning, but the fear merely served to excite her. Something drew her towards him, though she was certain it could not be her own power. That was gone, banished to the back of her mind and sealing tightly behind banging, locking doors with each step she took.
Her hand reached into the shadows and he struck like a snake. He gripped her wrist and slammed her into the wall, crushing her into the rough planks, clasping his hand around her throat and forcing her to look into his incredible eyes. Felicity only gasped in helpless surprise while her pussy slickened and clenched.
Tombstone knew that she would not scream. Something within him told him she would not struggle. He looked into her eyes and saw fear, but it was an excited fear, dripping with desire. He released her and drew back his hands as if he had been scalded, but his body kept pressing her into the wall. Breasts heaved, panting against his chest, and their eyes remained locked.
Tombstone heard footsteps behind him, and then Jude said quietly, “We need to go. There was a bar on the back door, but someone forgot to put it back.”
“Me,” Felicity whispered. She left that way at dawn, as soon as she knew that the maintenance workers had disarmed the security system. Over the years, she figured Ike replaced it to cover for her.
Tombstone grabbed her wrist, and Felicity followed them on stiff legs. Tears began sliding silently down her cheeks, and the empty hollow feeling from years of waiting seemed to disappear. No matter what the man had planned for her, she knew that it was for him she had waited. Felicity had finally recognized his eyes.
When they were in the cool air of the ally, she stared at the opened trunk of the black car. She felt something jab into her arm and her mind began to fog. The steel grip was still on her wrist, and as her legs began to buckle an arm wrapped under her breasts. She looked up into the man’s eyes. “Jerald Fry,” she murmured.
As her eyes closed, she heard a deep voice whisper, “Tombstone.”
CHAPTER VII
While they began the flight home, Tombstone sat beside the sleeping woman. She was lying on a thick pad on the floor and he kept picturing the pleading in her eyes. More frightening than the passion he had seen in them was the uneasy thought that the girl had been waiting for him.
He ran his hand over her cheeks, around her jaw, and over breasts that were rising and lowering in an even rhythm with her breathing. Her skin was pale, not unpleasantly white, but definitely not tanned either. Tombstone trailed his fingers down her forearm, and on her wrist he felt a series of little ridges. Further exploration showed the thin scars on her thighs as well, and he knew they were not caused by an accident. These were shadow reminders from slicing herself, though none of the scars looked recent. He figured she had done it as an effort to feel something, in a world that had left her emotionally bereft.
After watching her for an hour, Tombstone concluded that the girl was a submissive, though fighting her desire to let anyone control her. If not, she would have settled with someone by now. Jude glanced down to see a strange smile cross Tombstone’s face. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, Jude.” Tombstone’s mind raced with thoughts of how he would train her and break her to his domination. “I’m fine,” he murmured.
After a quick ride from Strickland’s airstrip to the cemetery, Jude carried the young woman into Tombstone’s house and laid her on the cot. He told him not to worry about the club, because the ‘Fives’ and he could handle it. There were no orders from clients pending, so Tombstone would have time to work with the girl.
Tombstone sat at the table, sipping coffee and staring at the girl on his bed. It seemed strange that the event that kicked in his need to dominate had the opposite affect of her. He finally decided that if the most pleasurable experience for the girl was pain, he would make her earn it.
Tombstone rose and walked to the plain pine box he had settled on the sawhorses. In brown burned lettering he had inscribed. ‘Room Five’. Felicity would have to submit to him completely for the right to be sealed into ‘Room One’. He picked up the cuffs and gag and walked over to the sleeping girl. The change in the rising of her chest let him know that she would be rousing soon.
Tombstone began a slow process of undressing her, stroking her soft pale skin while he worked. When he removed the leather jacket, he searched her pockets. There was an expired state issued ID from California, three dollars and some change… and a little metal car.
Lightening seared through his mind with an excruciating throbbing migraine, and he saw a little hand cruising a shining red convertible around lipsticks and brushes. In the mirror above, he had no image, but he could clearly see the top of a head with bleached blonde hair, struggling behind a curtain across the
room. Just as quickly, the headache dissolved, and Tombstone laid the toy on the mantle of the fireplace.
When Felicity lay naked before him, Tombstone’s fingers trembled while he explored her body. Her neck was long and slender, her breasts firm and tipped by small, dark nipples. Even with her unconscious, they peeked in response to his fingers. His gaze traveled lower, his fingertips following down her flat belly. Her hipbones protruded a bit too sharply, and he realized she had been struggling to survive and was slightly undernourished.
He used both hands to spread her thighs, and he brushed through dark curls. Though unshaven, it was a sparse covering, and her pussy’s fat lips were visibly begging for attention. Tombstone looked up at her closed eyes and her slightly parted full lips sucking quiet breaths. He ran his fingers through her cropped dark hair. It would be brown, like her mother’s, if she had not dyed it charcoal. Her petite five and a half foot frame would lend well to her training.
Tombstone realized that she was the one he had always been waiting for. The others were to hone his skills to train his perfect woman. Felicity had been the missing ingredient for his talent, and she had been a gift to him from the events surrounding their mothers. If Tombstone had the capacity to love, if that small piece of light could burst through his dark thoughts, he thought that this would be how it would feel.
After securing the collar, he brushed across the thin scarring on her wrists while he cuffed them behind her back. He cuffed her ankles too, leaving a small amount of chain allowing her to walk. His creative mind worked at a spiraling frenetic pace, and he decided to make special restraints for her… permanent restraints… that would bind her to him forever. His thumb stroked her bottom lip until her eyes fluttered open in unfocused confusion, and she opened her mouth to speak. Before words could escape, he pushed the foam ball into her mouth.
Felicity woke to a finger tickling her lips, and her eyes flew open and tried to adjust. She felt herself gagging from a sponge being crammed into her mouth, and she screamed. After a few moments, her vision cleared and she was staring into an intense blue gaze.
Tombstone stroked her cheek with one hand and he rested the other on her pussy, cupping the soft fat lips. “You need pain,” he whispered. Her labia tightened and quivered under his fingers, even as she shook her head in denial. “I will show you such torment, Felicity, such agony that you will truly be able to feel to your soul.”
Felicity panicked. She craved pain, on her terms and with Masters she trusted. Oh god, this is wrong. I was wrong to go to him. Felicity felt tears filling her eyes. Her mother had done this. Bethany had made her wait for a man who would make her own daughter pay for sins. Was this how her mother sought redemption? The eyes gazing at her showed none of the amused passion that Marcus’ eyes held, though there was also no hate in this man’s eyes. The only emotion filling the stare was a terrifying determined desire and lust. Whatever was left of her, Felicity knew this man would take.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stand, holding her until her weak legs steadied. Without saying a word, he guided her to the door. It was dusk, and her bare feet struggled to walk over stones and high grass at the side of the old house. She looked behind her, down a hill, and she saw a sporadic dotting of headstones. Tombstone, her mind whispered… and she realized that Jerald Fry had become just as insane as she had wished.
Deeper towards the back of the house, past cracked granite pillars and other debris, towards a huge oak tree with twisted branches, she was finally pushed to her knees. In front of her rested a headstone, half buried in the dirt and listing to the side. Tombstone knelt behind her and reached in front of them, separating the grass that was hiding the words.
Felicity stared in horrified fascination. The headstone was made out of coarse cement and she could tell it had been recently carved and placed. There were no ornate decorations etched in the surface. It simply read, ‘Jerald Fry and Felicity Wilson. February 14, 1977 - February 14, 2001’.
Felicity trembled in his arms as he continued to expose the damning inscription. His voice was deep… calm and controlled in a way that made her want to curl into his chest, listen to his words, and never move. “A dark part of ourselves was born that day, nurtured by selfish whores for mothers and finally set free. Their lonely and abandoned children were released. Children with as much a need for the desires their mothers had sought in that damnable club, though we were left to flounder in the recesses of our minds to cultivate our twisted passions.”
“Perhaps, if you had been older, you would have demanded the control I crave. You were cast into the ally and into this perverse epitaph much too young, with no idea how to fulfill your desires. Your search is inscribed in the skin on your arms and thighs, and you still have not discovered how to feel. The discarded children of Susanne and Bethany are dead now, Felicity. We will learn to experience passion and life together.”
Felicity began sobbing and pushing against him. She was terrified of losing the precarious control that had kept her safe. He released the grass and it sprung back to hide the words while one of his arms wrapped tightly around her. The other coursed down her naked breasts, his forefinger and thumb stalling to grasp a tightened nipple. Twisting it harshly, she shrieked at the pain. The man leaned his head into the side of her neck, still holding her tight against his chest. “Is that the touch you crave, Felicity? Is your pussy already wet and gripping its emptiness?”
Tombstone ran his hand lower and he felt her shudder in his arms. The sobs were a mixture of pain and a gratitude she had not accepted. Felicity felt his fingers cup her pussy, and one finger dipped into the juice she had been leaking since he had first begun speaking his hypnotic words. The finger traveled up through her folds, spread wide by strong fingers. Grass tickled the clenching accesses to her channel and bottom.
He was slipping and stroking with a frustrating touch that was surely as demanding as any Master she had ever known. Felicity did not want it this way. She pressed back, pushing her pussy into his hand, trying to bruise herself against his fingers. His touch remained gentle, stroking and coaxing, and she had never felt such torment. Damn you. Felicity tried driving her head into his shoulder and eliciting a punishing response from the man.
Tombstone could feel her tortured confusion while he led her to an orgasm free from the pain she longed for. This manipulation opened another sadistic door in his mind, allowing him to experience a heady arousal without physical torture. The cruelest torment he could subject her to was forcing her passion with tenderness.
When a finger began pumping into her clasping wetness, Felicity moaned and wailed behind the gag. No. No, this is wrong. Why isn’t he punishing me? Felicity always thought that if Susanne’s son returned to find her, he would treat her with scathing harshness, perhaps ending with the ultimate pain she was unwilling to give herself. She truly believed he would kill her, slowly and with agonizing torture. No, not like this. You bastard. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
She shrieked angry curses behind the gag as her cream flowed down his fingers. Her whole body spasmed with the force of her climax, and he felt her terrified humiliation while she quivered in his arms. “This is the pain I’ll deliver to you, Felicity.” He leaned closer and murmured, “You will have to earn my whip.”
Felicity sobbed when he lifted her to her feet. Her green eyes were smeared with tracks of heavy liner and mascara disappearing under the strap of the gag, with some rolling over the surface and following the line under her jaw. Her back ached for the caress of his whip. She knew that his lashing would release an aching angry pleasure, yet he told her she had to earn this pleasure.
Tombstone chained her collar to the pipe, and he removed the gag and unlocked her cuffs. She sat quietly on the floor for a while, and he walked to the kitchen to get dinner. He caught the sound of the chain as she made her way to the stone bathroom, and he heard the water running in the sink. By the time he had set the table, she had washed the smeared makeup off her face. She
was beautiful, and it bothered him that she hid behind the cosmetic mask.
Felicity stood still, clenching her hands. All that she knew to do was to wait for his instructions. There was no stealing and running to hide in vacant buildings, no safety of Ike and the club. There was only this terrifying man reading into her mind with tormenting understanding.
Tombstone unhooked her collar and led her to the table. “Kneel.”
Felicity lowered in front of a bowl, and she whispered, “Yes, Master.”
Tombstone gazed down on her in stunned surprise. The club. It’s what she was getting from the club. He recovered quickly. “Place your palms on the floor on either side of the bowl and eat.”
The sight of her silently obeying his order had his cock throbbing angry, anxious beats. He sat down and tried to concentrate on his dinner. One of the ‘Fives’ delivered homemade meals that only required re-heating. Tombstone bit into a carrot while he considered Felicity. If she was already broken to pain and submission, the only thing left was pleasure. He thought back to his times with Teresa.
After they ate, he walked her over to the coffin. Her eyes widened, but she remained silent. He trailed his fingers over the wood burned letters. “Do you know the significance of Room Five, Felicity? I could see, like your mother, you want to believe you belong in Room One.”
“I don’t, Master,” she admitted in a small voice. “But my mom never would have been allowed to go to Room One.”
Tombstone wrapped his arms around her, and he pulled her back against his chest. His hands cupped her breasts and gently stroked her nipples, causing them to tighten and the woman to shudder, needing the stimulation of tight gripping. “You don’t think that Bethany wanted the back rooms?” There was obvious surprise in his voice.
“She wanted it.” Felicity pushed her chest forward and his strong hands moved with her, still not increasing their demand or pressure. “She died for her want.” Felicity whispered, “I killed her. I told her Susanne was talented enough to work her way to the back, and that she never could have… even if your mother was gone. She waited two days for the anniversary of the shooting and killed herself.”
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