Red Handed

by Shelly Bell

  Apparently finished with Danielle’s hair, Gracie leaped to stand in front of her, swiping Danielle’s makeup bag off the bed. She pulled out some eye shadow and tipped Danielle’s head up toward the light. Danielle shut her eyes, and Gracie swept the makeup across her lids. “Fantasy rooms. We have some downstairs in the dungeon, but those are mainly used for fire play, electrical play, and piercings. That’s also where we do our demonstrations, like the Shibari Sir Logan did with Cassandra. Upstairs you’ll find your fully equipped bedrooms, complete with built-in restraints and other amenities. Several of the rooms have themes. Medical, medieval, mirrors, and then of course, my favorite—the freeway.”

  Medical? Note to self: Stay out of the dungeon’s fantasy rooms. “Why do you refer to Logan as ‘Sir’ and Cole as ‘Master’?”

  “Different clubs may have different rules, but in Benediction, while both refer to Dominants, the title of Master is earned after a certain amount of experience. Logan’s fairly new to BDSM, which is why he’s a ‘Sir.’ To make things even more confusing, a Dominant may prefer his submissive or slave to call him ‘Master.’ However, the rest of us would address him as ‘Sir.’ And of course if it’s a woman, we’d use ‘Ma’am’ and ‘Mistress.’ ”

  “My head hurts from all these rules. What if I screw up and call someone the wrong name?” After Gracie applied mascara to Danielle’s lashes, Danielle opened her eyes for the liner.

  “It’s understood you’ll mess up protocol at first, and you may receive small punishments for correction, but nothing too severe. As long as you follow the ‘Safe, Sane, Consensual’ credo and don’t interfere with a scene, you’ll be fine.” She rifled through the makeup bag.

  “You mentioned the freeway earlier. What is it?”

  Gracie puckered her lips, silently instructing Danielle to do the same, and she smoothed lipstick across Danielle’s lips. “Simply put . . . it’s an orgy in the dark. Well, not complete darkness, but dark enough that you can’t make out a person’s features. It’s all about using your other senses and ridding yourself of societal constraints on sexual expression. For example, when I kissed you earlier, you knew it was me. But in the dark, a touch is a touch.” Gracie stood to Danielle’s side, allowing her to see the final results. “Ta-da!”

  Gracie had worked magic, transforming Danielle’s look from a bright-eyed innocent to a sultry siren, lining her eyes with black kohl and thickening and lengthening her lashes. She’d swept up Danielle’s black hair into a high ponytail, curling a couple of tendrils to frame her face.

  For the first time in years, Danielle actually liked her reflection. Her eyes misted, but she blinked back the tears of gratitude, no way willing to ruin all of Gracie’s hard work. She grabbed Gracie’s wrist. “Thank you.”

  Gracie smiled. “Anytime.”

  Arm in arm, they left the comfort of the bedroom and made their way through the house to the dungeon. Unlike earlier, the lights had been dimmed, sconces glowing on the walls and lighting their path. In only a couple of hours, the energy of the home had changed from innocent to sensual.

  Danielle decided to take advantage of Gracie’s eagerness to share her behind-the-scene knowledge of Benediction. “How many trainees are currently living here?”

  Gracie stopped at the bottom of the kitchen stairs and nibbled on her lower lip. “Normally he only trains a dozen at a time.”

  “Normally?”

  “Well, with you here, it’s thirteen.”

  Why did the unlucky number feel like an omen? Cole had obviously made concessions to bring her into the trainee program. Was he telling the truth that it was because of her father? Or was there another reason?

  “And where does Master DeMarco sleep?” Danielle asked.

  Gracie stumbled over her feet, but quickly recovered. “Oh, um, Master Cole has a private residence upstairs on the other side of the house from the trainees’ rooms.”

  “I must have missed the staircase to it.”

  Gracie stopped and whispered in Danielle’s ear. “Master has a secret room behind the bookcase in his office. I’ve never seen so many screens outside of a television store. It’s a voyeur’s dream. A couple of the dungeon monitors sit in there during Benediction’s business hours and watch what’s going on in every room. There’s not much privacy in this place, but privacy’s overrated, don’t you think? Anyways, the stairs to his residence are in there, although he’s very protective of his private space. He doesn’t let anyone up there and keeps it locked at all times. In fact, he’s the only one with the key.”

  She nodded absently, wondering if she somehow managed to get the key, how in hell she’d ever get into his residence without being caught. “What are dungeon monitors?”

  “Kind of like unpaid security guards. Several of the more experienced members volunteer a few hours every week to act as dungeon monitors and watch over the scenes to make sure everyone is safe. They’re also given the responsibility of watching the club monitors.”

  Aware of the video cameras all around her, Danielle discreetly assessed the area near Cole’s office. The hallway leading to it was empty. Maybe she didn’t need to seduce Cole. If no one monitored in the secret room during the day, she could find the key, then sneak into his residence when he was busy somewhere else in the mansion.

  Passing the den on the way to the staircases at the front of the home, Gracie waved to a group of people lounging on couches.

  “Those are a few of our regular members,” Gracie said. “They’re here several times a week. We caught them on the early side of the evening. Check them out when you go back to your room later.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Clothing is optional, but no sex is permitted. Fondling and petting, yes. Human tables, definitely.” She pointed to a wet bar on the side of the room covered by bottles of wine, spirits, and liquors. “There’s an open bar, but the rule is if you drink, you’re not sanctioned to enter the dungeon or the upstairs rooms. People can’t give consent if they’re inebriated, and no one plays without giving consent.”

  Human tables? She couldn’t imagine what that meant. Everything else sounded tolerable.

  Danielle noticed they all wore wristbands of different colors, similar to the silver slave band she wore on her wrist. “What do the wristbands mean?”

  “Benediction uses colored wristbands to identify people’s kinks.” Using her fingers, Gracie ticked off the kinks one by one. “You’re most likely to see black for Dominant, white for submissive, yellow for switches, green for partner swapping, and blue for ménage. There are several others. Master Cole’s aware of everyone’s tastes. That’s why he’s so good at matching his slave trainees with dominant partners.”

  “Cole—I mean, Master Cole—plays matchmaker?”

  “In a way. He’s very good at determining what a member—and for that matter, a trainee—requires in a partner. Almost like a sixth sense. Every few months, he invites the available Dominants to a slave auction for those trainees looking to enter a contract after graduation from the program.” Gracie’s almond eyes widened, and her lips tipped up in a wistful grin. “It’s a truly beautiful and thrilling event to watch.”

  At a loss for words, Danielle sputtered to a complete stop. A slave auction? Was that even legal?

  Luckily for her, Gracie was still talking and didn’t notice Danielle’s shock or her inability to form words. “We have a choice of going upstairs or downstairs. The fantasy rooms have windows and audio for those who like to watch. Do you like to watch? I’m more of a doer myself. Downstairs you get more than the sights and sounds. You get the scent of lust and fear and pain and sex. It’s intoxicating.”

  The more Danielle learned about Benediction and Cole DeMarco, the more questions she had. All of them jumbled in her mind, but Gracie was obviously so excited to show her the basement, she didn’t have the heart to stop and ask them. If anything, seeing the dungeon firsthand should answer several of them. “Downstairs then.”

  Gracie threw her arms around Danielle and
hugged her. “I promise you won’t regret this. Your life will never be the same.”

  That was exactly what she was afraid of.

  Chapter Six

  HE GLANCED AT his watch and clutched the tree cutter in his hand.

  Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

  The end was so close he could almost taste it.

  Despite the fact his dick throbbed, this act would give him no satisfaction. He loved the scent of fear. The sound of a defenseless woman crying for mercy. In the past, he’d been careful not to get caught, only killing the ones no one would miss. With the others, he’d inflicted just enough pain to bring him to climax. Those girls would never talk. Not if they wanted to stay breathing.

  Tasha sat slumped in the chair, unconscious. He’d strapped her arm to the table next to the empty bottle of vodka.

  They needed to send a strong message, one Danielle couldn’t ignore. He’d tried to come up with something less permanent, but credibility was key.

  In only a short few days, he’d make back their money. Then he’d spend hours torturing Danielle before he killed her. He’d bet she’d be hellfire to break, but it would make it all the sweeter to see the life ebb from her eyes.

  And if he got caught . . . he’d use his contacts to get him out of it. As he’d learned from his family, everyone had a secret, and blackmail was a great way to keep someone in your pocket for a rainy day.

  Too bad he couldn’t keep Danielle. All that training, gone to waste. But he’d promised to kill her as soon as they transferred the money, and he was a man of his word.

  He shook his head, clearing the arousing images of screaming women from his mind and focused on his task.

  He lifted Tasha’s limp hand off the table.

  And cut off her finger.

  Chapter Seven

  DANIELLE AND GRACIE descended the wrought-iron staircase. The flickering lanterns on the dark walls gave it a true dungeon feel, as though she was walking from the present world into the past.

  A low beat of a bass vibrated under her feet. Voices murmured underneath the various cries and moans and slaps and grunts. She hadn’t understood what Gracie had meant by her description of the smells, but as she neared the bottom, it began to make sense. Leather, sweat, and musk greeted her as her gaze fell on the scenes in front of her.

  An open floor plan lit by strategically placed replicas of old-fashioned candelabras and ceilings painted black further enhanced the dungeon environment. All the things she’d read about. The pictures she saw in those books Cole had given her and in her Internet research. It all existed live and in Technicolor. Leather and lace. Latex and rubber. Various collars around necks. Men and women being led around on leashes, including a few who crawled. She saw plenty of lingerie and lots and lots of skin.

  Men and women hung from the ceiling on some kind of harness made of rope. She pressed her thighs together, a rush of arousal so strong, she drenched her panties. Something about those bound people made her heart race.

  She didn’t understand. This wasn’t her. Not that she believed there was anything wrong with exposing your body and expressing your sexuality in a safe environment, but it wasn’t something she could ever imagine herself feeling comfortable enough to do. Even now, dressed in her panties and corset, she wore more than most of the submissives in the room, and still she wasn’t comfortable in her own body. She envied these people.

  Gracie led her by the hand and pointed out the different kinds of equipment. There were a few spanking benches littered around the room. All being used. She flinched as she watched a man hit another man’s ass with a rectangular wooden paddle. The pain didn’t tempt her, but she liked the way the bench was placed so everyone could see the ass turning red before their eyes.

  There were a couple men with lanyards around their neck with a round silver medallion hanging from it. She nudged Gracie and discreetly pointed to them. “What’s the significance of what those men are wearing?”

  “That’s Morgan and Ryder. They’re both dungeon monitors. Come with me, and I’ll introduce you to them. If you’re interested in a ménage, those are your guys.” She winked. “Trust me.”

  “I’d prefer to stand here for a few minutes, if that’s all right with you.”

  Gracie patted her on the back. “It’s a lot to take in all at once. I understand. I was gonna let them know I’m available later, but I’ll stay—”

  “Go. I’ll be fine on my own.”

  Gracie planted a kiss on Danielle’s cheek. “I’ll only be a minute.” She vaulted off in the direction of the dungeon monitors, leaving Danielle to do what she did best.

  Hide in the shadows and observe.

  There were several scenes going on throughout the room. Her gaze darted around and stopped on one in the back. A man was locked into a stockade, his erect cock sticking through one of the holes. Another man was behind him, and although she couldn’t see it, she guessed by the motion that he was fucking him. Yet another man was beating the man’s cock with a thin reed of some sort and commanding him not to come. Judging by the locked man’s expression of bliss, he wasn’t going to last for long.

  The dungeon was a feast for her senses. She’d watched porn before, but it had been simply a visual experience. Actors’ moans and dirty talk had always come off as insincere and almost comical. The sounds in this room were real, and the pleasure was so palpable, she could almost taste it in the air.

  A loud female cry coming from Danielle’s left caught her attention. A young blonde was cuffed to an X-shaped piece of equipment, which Danielle had learned from her reading was called a St. Andrew’s cross, and a handsome man stood behind her with a whip in his hands. Sweat trickled down his face as he spoke to a man beside him.

  Master Cole.

  He’d changed from what he wore earlier into a pair of leather pants and a leather vest over a red T-shirt. A dungeon monitor medallion hung from his neck. Even as he answered the other man, Cole never took his gaze off the blonde on the cross.

  The whip coiled so quickly Danielle barely saw it, but she couldn’t miss the cracking noise it made as it struck the woman’s back. The blonde’s body jerked, and she groaned as the man did it once more.

  Each time he struck, Danielle’s pussy clenched. Her clitoris pulsed as if keeping a beat for the whip. Her fingers drifted between her legs, and she rubbed her swollen clitoris through her panties. She was two seconds away from plunging her fingers inside and getting herself off in front of these people.

  Then the woman screamed. Her whole body writhed as she thrashed her head back and forth, crying the word “no” over and over.

  Danielle waited for the man to stop—for Cole to stop him—but the whipping continued. A bubbling rage built and overflowed. She pushed off the wall and ran over to the scene. “Stop! Didn’t your mother ever teach you ‘no means no’? She’s crying, for heaven’s sake! Why are you just standing there? What kind of monsters are you?”

  The room grew eerily quiet. Cole’s body was stiff and his jaw rigid, as if he were angry with her.

  Too bad. Since the dungeon monitors had failed to do their duty, someone had to step in and protect the woman.

  Gracie suddenly appeared and grabbed Danielle by her arm. “I’m sorry, Master. I take full responsibility for Danielle’s outburst and will take any punishment you believe I merit.”

  Cole’s eyes narrowed on Danielle. “While I appreciate the defense of your new friend, I will deal with Danielle.” He turned to the man. “Jaxon, please forgive me for the interruption. Feel free to use your choice of private room for Kate’s after-care and keep it for the rest of the night.” Jaxon went to the woman on the cross, where he proceeded to remove the cuffs from her ankles.

  Danielle folded her arms over her chest. “She’s not safe with him.”

  He splayed his hand on her lower back and led her through the club. “Come with me to my office.”

  Several of the people in the dungeon watched them with interest, but most of them had
returned to their scenes.

  “Do you know what ‘Safe, Sane, Consensual’ means?” Cole asked as they climbed the stairs. “It means the members of my club are held to a strict set of rules they must follow in order to sustain their membership. Let’s start with ‘consensual.’ Everything that happens in this club is negotiated and agreed upon by the parties. Nothing will happen without consent. Every person in Benediction may utilize the club-recognized safe word, ‘red,’ to terminate a scene and face no repercussion. Kate and Jaxon negotiated their scene prior to its commencement, whereby she consented to the whip.”

  She’d read about consent, and Gracie had mentioned it as well, but it was a difficult concept for her to understand. “How can someone give consent to being hurt? That’s crazy.”

  “I assure you, it’s not crazy. Only the sane can legally give consent, thus the ‘sane’ component to the standard. You may not get off on pain and I may not get off on giving it, but there are those like Kate and Jaxon who do. Benediction provides them a safe place to meet those with compatible sexual interests and indulge in the practices. It’s not your place to judge or impose on others’ sexual expression.”

  “She was screaming and crying. How was that sexual expression?”

  “In some, pain enhances the pleasure. Whether she chooses the pain because she’s a masochist or because she wishes to please her Master by taking the pain he wants to incur, it has nothing to do with you.” He frowned at her as he unlocked the door to his office. “You obviously failed to read the books I provided to you.”

  “I read them, but reading about it and the reality of it are two different things.”

  He waved her into the room and followed, circling behind his desk, then taking a seat behind the computer screen. “Go on.”

  She twirled a piece of her hair around her finger and sat in the chair in front of his desk. “Before I interrupted, I couldn’t tear my attention away.”

  “What did you feel as you watched?” he asked, softening his voice.