Red Handed

by Shelly Bell

  “There’s nothing wrong,” she said. “Thank you for staying and watching me this afternoon, but right now, I’d like to get ready for the club.”

  For a moment, she thought he’d call her out on her brisk dismissal. Instead, he planted a chaste kiss on her forehead and slid off her bed. “Get some dinner. You’ll need the strength. You’re on water duty tonight.”

  With a wicked smile promising a night filled with sensual surprises, the infuriating man strode out her door. The second he left, she blew out an exasperated breath and jumped off the bed.

  Her fevered body and her guilty mind waged war against one another as she attempted to decipher what he could possibly have planned for her tonight in the club. She couldn’t imagine anything sexy about serving cups of water to the members. It didn’t matter what he had planned, as long as they ended the night in his bedroom, so she could drug him and find that box.

  After applying some mascara, she threw on a black Lycra minidress, quickly pulled her hair into a ponytail, and checked herself in the mirror. She sighed. She didn’t look half as good as she had when Gracie had made her over, but frankly, she wasn’t going to the dungeon to pick up a Dom. There was only one man she needed to impress and only one man to whom she had to answer. And he didn’t seem to care if she wore makeup at all.

  After dinner with the other slave trainees, she went downstairs, eager to learn what Cole had planned for her service.

  The dungeon pulsed with energy, a sensual beat of music heightening the erotic atmosphere. She no longer blinked at the sexual acts going on around her, but she wasn't immune to it either. Instead, she became a part of it, a proud cog in the wheel of the club. Her hips swayed as she glided across the floor to serve the members their drinks, and a euphoric sense of belonging placed a lightness in her soul. In only a couple of days, she’d gone from an outsider to an interloper to a . . . slave.

  Before she’d experienced it, she would’ve never believed a slave in the BDSM world would mean anything more than a twenty-four/seven sexual object. But she enjoyed serving the members under Cole’s direction. Bringing water to them seemed like such a little thing when he’d assigned her the task earlier tonight, but after two hours, she truly felt as though she belonged here.

  Every member she’d served had shown her gratitude for her service, not only in their words of thanks, but in the tone of their voices and the kindness in their eyes. Most of them were Dominants—Masters, Sadists, Tops, and Daddies. She would’ve thought they’d see her as something lesser, but they made her feel worshipped. The exhilaration of pleasing so many people brought her a sense of peace and happiness she hadn’t experienced since before her father had gone to prison.

  Wearing the dungeon monitor medallion around his neck, Cole leaned against the wall, his feet crossed at his ankles and his arms folded over his chest. His stance said casual, but the sharpness of his eyes told her he was in tune to everything going on around him. After handing off cups of water to a Domme and her baby girl, Danielle took a moment to observe Cole in his natural habitat.

  He always exuded confidence, but here in the dungeon, he reminded her of a lion. Powerful. Graceful. Dangerous. In a room full of alphas, he was the king, and everyone acknowledged it in their subtle mannerisms when they were around him. Gazes lowered. Heads nodded in recognition. Spines straightened. And in turn, he acknowledged them with a smile, a handshake, or a comforting touch on their shoulders.

  Tonight, he was dressed in black leather pants and a vest over his bare chest. Her mouth watered as she drank in his six-pack, the muscles of his abdomen rippling with each inhalation, and the triangle of hair between his pecs that thinned into a line and disappeared below his waistband. Her fingers itched to delve into the hair and follow the trail down over those sharp muscles. She’d never found tattoos attractive, but his black tribal armband tattoos sent a delicious shiver down her spine. Her nipples tightened and her pussy moistened at the thought of tracing them with her tongue.

  She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She was on a mission to seduce Cole, but sex with him would only be a means to an end.

  She brought her gaze to his face and found him staring at her with a knowing glint in his eyes. Her cheeks heated from him catching her ogling him. He crooked his finger at her, silently commanding her to join him.

  Tossing her ponytail over her shoulder, she crossed the room, her sole focus on him. “Yes, Master. How may I please you?”

  His lips tilted up in a grin. “Oh, let me count the ways.” He pushed off the wall and took her hands, yanking her closer. “You already please me. Now it’s your turn.” He pulled her over to a row of cabinets bolted to the wall, then opened one and took out a pink box. He removed two silver balls, each the size of a Ping-Pong ball, and placed them in her sweaty palms. “Go to the ladies’ lounge and slip these both inside you. You may need to clench around them to keep them from falling out. When you’re done, you may resume serving the waters.”

  All sorts of questions popped into her head. What were these things, and why would she want to put them inside her? Since she wasn’t wearing panties, if the balls fell out of her, others would notice. Yes, it was a sex club, so it wasn’t the worst thing in the world if it happened, but she didn’t want to disappoint Cole. If he wanted her to prove to him she could do this, she would. And he did say it was for her pleasure . . .

  She stomped inside the locker room, almost running into Cassandra, who was gathering towels from the floor by the door. Expecting a sarcastic barb, Cassandra shocked her by remaining silent and ignoring her. Danielle wouldn’t have thought the woman was capable of following through with her punishment. Cassandra’s slumped shoulders and her bloodshot eyes, which could only have come from crying, almost made Danielle feel sorry for her. Almost.

  After shutting the bathroom stall door, Danielle tried to figure out the best way to get these balls in her pussy. Deciding to remain standing, she ripped off some toilet paper and covered the seat, then placed one foot on it. She took a deep breath and relaxed her muscles before pushing one ball inside her.

  It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t pleasurable either. Still, she followed Cole’s directions and slid the second ball inside, clamping down to keep it from popping back out. She lowered her leg to the floor and felt the ball go deeper into her channel. Her pelvic muscles tightened, and a pulse of arousal swirled in her belly.

  Cassandra had disappeared by the time she left the ladies’ lounge, but a couple of members she’d never met sat on the same couch where she’d masturbated for the camera. They both stared at her, and her heart immediately started to race. Could they notice she had the balls inside her? Did it matter to her if they could?

  It did matter, but not because it embarrassed her. She wanted them to know. It aroused her to think everyone knew Cole had ordered her to insert the metal balls into her pussy and she had followed his orders. The thought made her so slippery, she had to clench her muscles harder, which resulted in another flutter of arousal.

  Cole waited for her outside the lounge. “I’ve decided to add another requirement to your task. Don’t spill any of the water.”

  “And if I do spill, or if I release the balls?”

  “Punishment, of course. Perhaps a few minutes with your nose to the wall.”

  The image of standing in a corner with her nose pressed against the wall filled her with a sense of shame. He was right. Punishments inducing shame would always work on her.

  “I won’t fail, Master.”

  His eyes dilated, and his nostrils flared. “We’ll see. Better get going. We’ve got a lot of thirsty members looking for their water.”

  “Yes, Master.” She twirled on her bare feet and padded over to the table with the cups and pitcher of water. Each step caused the balls to rub against the inside of her pussy, stimulating her, but it wasn’t enough to cause her to lose the balls.

  She poured ten cups of water and grabbed the tray, balancing it on one hand like a waitress.
As she passed Cole, she threw him a little smile to let him know she was doing well. Something in the way he smirked hinted maybe she wasn’t seeing the whole picture.

  Only a few minutes later, that missing piece of the puzzle became clearer when a low buzzing began inside of her and she nearly tripped over her own feet. She snapped her head around and glared at Cole to find him laughing, shaking his head, and pointing to the cups. A mix of fear and arousal sent her pulse skyrocketing and her libido into overdrive. The balls vibrated, and Cole held the controls. No way could she hold the balls in or keep from spilling if he brought her to a full orgasm.

  She sighed and forged ahead, figuring at least she’d get an orgasm out of it before he punished her. Determined to last a little longer, she held her head high and her pussy clenched tight as she served a couple more members their water. Every minute or so, the vibrations grew stronger, creating a buzzing in both her pussy and her ass, a sensation so strong she had to grit her teeth to keep from crying out. Even with the music playing in the background and people’s grunts, moans, and shouts, Danielle could still hear the sound of the balls, and by the sympathetic smiles of the submissives, everyone close to her could hear it too. Cole wanted them to know and wanted her aware of it.

  Like Gracie had sworn, Cole knew the slaves better than they knew themselves.

  Cole didn’t just see her. He’d figured out what made her tick.

  Service gave her pride and a sense of belonging, but exhibitionism aroused her.

  Having delivered all the cups, she returned to the table and filled more, her hands shaking. She refused to look over at Cole, biting her lip and taking steady breaths to keep herself from losing control of her body.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her clit pulsated in time with her heart. Very carefully, she hefted the tray into the air and set off to finish her task.

  With his head in the lap of Mistress Casey, Adrian rested on a plush area rug, his eyes closed as the Domme sifted her fingers through his thick blond hair. Thin red lines marred his arms and his thighs as a result of his beating, but he appeared so peaceful. So content. Danielle almost didn’t want to disturb them, but both of them required water. Trying to ignore the fluttering in her pussy, she tiptoed over to them and handed over a cup to Mistress Casey, who then lovingly brought the water to his lips. Witnessing after-care from the outside, Danielle found it was so much more than simply a responsible person taking care of another after a scene. Mistress Casey didn’t seem eager to rid herself of Adrian anytime soon. She got as much from taking care of him as he did.

  But what did it mean? Was there anything more to Mistress Casey and Adrian’s relationship?

  Was there more to her and Cole’s?

  Her body lit up like a firecracker when she caught him staring at her from across the room with his cell to his ear. He hung up, then slid the phone into his pocket, exchanging the device for another. She had no doubt he’d palmed the remote for the balls inside her. As he mouthed the word “come,” he cranked up the vibration to what had to be full blast, and she lost control.

  Waves and waves of contractions bloomed outward from her core like hot lava flowing from a volcano, blazing upward to her chest and outward to her fingers. She moaned, loud enough and strong enough that everyone around her would know she was in the midst of a climax. Tremors rocked her legs, weakening her knees, and before she could catch herself, the tray tipped, spilling water over the rims of the cups. The buzzing stopped, but as the orgasm’s aftershocks pulsed, she wasn’t certain if it was due to Cole turning off the vibrators or them slipping out.

  To check, she squeezed her thighs together and clenched her pelvic muscles, gasping when it set off another climax, this one small in comparison, but stronger than any she’d ever given herself.

  The tray suddenly left her hand, and Cole’s hand encircled her waist, steadying her. His scent tantalized her, and she burrowed into his side, accepting his comfort and care as Adrian had with Mistress Casey.

  “You did very well, Danielle.”

  She peeked up at him. “I spilled the water. Did the balls stay inside?”

  “What do you think?” The hand at her waist revealed two silver balls. “Was the game worth the punishment?”

  The satisfaction of exhibition plus two amazing orgasms? “Um . . . I’m going with yes. Totally worth it.”

  “I’m glad.” He kissed her forehead. “I have to go upstairs. Go to the corner and touch your nose against the wall. Count to one thousand, and then you can finish up your night’s assignment.”

  “Will you be back down tonight?” she asked. If he left for the night, she’d lose her chance to convince him to take her upstairs to his residence.

  “I’m not sure.” He swept some stray hairs off her face, and a slight frown etched lines on his forehead. “I’ve got a meeting, and I’m not sure how long it will take. That doesn’t mean you get out of your punishment. I trust you.”

  Guilt over lying to him and panic that she’d miss an opportunity to seduce him slammed into her, causing her stomach to churn and her chest to constrict. After she finished her service for the night, she’d search him out. It wasn’t as if she wanted to go back alone to her room, where she didn’t feel safe.

  Unable to form a reply, she simply nodded and padded off to stand in the corner. As she silently counted to one thousand, her breathing stabilized and her body relaxed. By the time she finished, she felt reenergized.

  Danielle handed a good-looking man working with ropes a cup of water and headed back to pour additional drinks for the members. Waitressing sure beat cleaning bathrooms.

  Bending to retrieve ice from a small cooler, she felt a shift in the club’s energy, and her body shivered as if she’d submerged herself in ice. She sensed someone watching her, and she intuitively knew it wasn’t Cole. She slammed the cooler shut and twirled on her bare feet, scanning the room for the threat.

  At first glance, there was nothing out of the ordinary. A Domme pegged her sub while another man slapped his face with his cock. From her front and her back, Ryder and Morgan flogged a blissed-out looking Gracie, who was clearly floating in sub-space from the beating. A woman dressed as a cat licked a man’s feet. There were several other scenes, but none of the individuals paid Danielle any attention.

  A large man led a skinny blonde by a leash that was attached to her metal chain collar. She crawled across the floor, red welts and perfectly round bruises covering most of her body. Recognition slammed into her as he steered the woman toward a hallway. This was Rinaldi’s bodyguard. That meant . . .

  Rinaldi stepped out of the shadow, his gaze planted on Danielle.

  Even as the naked blonde passed him on her knees and he spoke to the bodyguard who then took the slave inside a private room, he never took his eyes off Danielle.

  He smiled at her, a smile filled with promises of pain and suffering.

  He obviously wanted her to know he was watching her, but why? It was as if he was waving a red cape to entice the bull, but who was the bull?

  Cole had warned Rinaldi to stay away from her, and though he’d brushed it off when she’d pressed, she couldn’t help thinking Cole knew more than he’d said about the sadistic man. Although it was possible she was overacting, her instincts encouraged her to tell Cole about . . . what exactly? That he’d stared and smiled at her? It sounded so silly in her head, but then she remembered how enraged Cole had become when Rinaldi had spoken to her. Besides, this gave her the excuse she needed to go upstairs and see him.

  She scoped out the room and spotted Master Michael by the women’s lounge. Requiring approval of a dungeon monitor, she sidled up to him. “May I be excused from my duties for a few minutes while I go upstairs? I need to speak with Master Cole.” When he frowned, she added, “It’s urgent.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes. You’re to go to his office, and if he’s not there, you must immediately return to the dungeon. No running around Benediction looking for him.”<
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  “Thank you. I’ll be right back.” She headed for the stairs. Unease slid down her spine as the feeling of being watched continued. But when she looked over her shoulder to where Rinaldi had been standing, he was gone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  NIBBLING ON HER thumbnail, Danielle passed the full den of mingling members and headed toward Cole’s office. She rounded the corner of the hallway and stopped short at the sight of Cole hugging and kissing the cheek of a woman she didn’t recognize. A heaviness settled in Danielle’s chest, and her stomach burned as if she’d swallowed acid.

  Like a spy, Danielle hid her body behind the wall and peeked to ascertain the stranger’s identity. She was a knockout dressed in a modest off-white pant suit that accentuated her flawless mocha skin and feminine curves. Around her neck, she wore a stunning triple-stranded diamond choker. In her hand was a black duffel bag, similar to the ones the Doms carried with their toys and equipment.

  Cole ushered the woman into his office and spoke on his cell as he shut the door. “Elena and I will be upstairs in my residence. Please ensure I’m not disturbed for any reason.”

  The engagement of the lock on his door sounded like a boulder dropped from a mountain.

  She stopped short at the recognition that she was jealous. So jealous she wanted to storm into his office and lay claim to him. Which of course would be ridiculous and foolhardy, since not only did she not have a claim on him, he belonged to everyone and no one. He could have almost any submissive in Benediction, but they could never have him. His boundaries had assured him of that. But then who was the woman?

  Someone poked her in the back. “Gorgeous, isn’t she?”

  Startled, Danielle flipped around and found Sedona and Cassandra standing behind her.

  Had they been there the whole time? “Who is she?”

  Cassandra rolled her eyes. “She’s Master Cole’s collared submissive, of course.”

  Although Danielle didn’t trust a word out of Cassandra’s mouth, she couldn’t help the doubt from creeping into her thoughts. “He doesn’t have a collared submissive.”