Jack Stone - Deadly Revenge

by Vivien Sparx

  There was a long silence. Stone said nothing.

  “You’re an experienced BDSM master, right?” Celia persisted.

  Stone nodded cautiously.

  Celia nodded back. “Peter Boltz told me,” she explained. “He told me you became involved in the lifestyle to get a better understanding of the people your sister became involved with.”

  Stone said nothing.

  “So teach me. Train me,” Celia said. “At least teach me how to act, and how a submissive behaves with her Master. Show me what I would have to do to be convincing – because we have to get inside that club. It’s our only hope of avenging Katrina’s death.”

  Stone shook his head. “Celia, I can’t train you to be a submissive. Not in one day – and not if you’re heart’s not in it,” Stone said dismissively. He saw the expression on Celia’s face alter, as though he was rejecting her. She looked suddenly crestfallen.

  “Submission is something very powerful, and very personal. For many women it’s a journey of self-discovery and discipline that takes years,” Stone explained. “This is not something you can go into on a whim. For many women submission defines them – it’s at the core of their soul. It’s a significant shift in mindset, often liberating, but always a challenge. It’s about discovering the joy of surrendering yourself in every way – mentally, physically and sexually. You can’t hope to – ”

  She cut him off, her dark eyes snapping with sudden defiance. “Dammit, Jack. I’m not trying to learn the art of submission.” Her cheeks flushed red with temper and helpless frustration. “I’m trying to find the man who killed my sister. All I want you to do is to teach me everything you can in the hope that it will be enough for me to be convincing.”

  “You want to fake it?”

  “Yes, dammit,” Celia said bitterly. “I told you I would do whatever it takes. Just teach me, please! ” She came to him then, desperate and driven. She dropped to her knees before him. She reached out for his hands and her expression was pleading. “I’m begging you,” she said.

  Stone stared into her eyes. Said nothing for a long, long time.

  “Do you know what you’re asking, Celia? Do you have any idea what to expect?”

  Celia shook her head. “No,” she said. “I don’t.”

  The silence dragged out.

  Finally he gave a curt nod of his head. “We’ll need some things,” he said.

  Fourteen.

  Celia was gone for an hour. In the meantime Stone went back to his room. As he opened the door he found the magazine image of Katrina Walker inside an envelope that had been slid across the floor. On the front of the envelope in a woman’s looped handwriting was the message, ‘I made a copy. I’ll ask around for you. Megan.’

  Stone put the image back into his wallet. Sat on the bed and waited.

  Celia came into his room carrying two small shopping bags. She upended the contents of one bag onto the bed.

  The first thing Stone noticed was a black collar, decorated with silver studs. Attached to it by a retractable clip was a three foot long black leash. There was also a coil of white rope and three candles. In the second bag was a black sports jacket. Stone set the bag aside.

  “The candles are paraffin wax, just as you asked,” Celia said, standing back from the bed, arms folded across her chest with a look of satisfaction. “The rope came from the local hardware store… and the collar and leash came from the pet store. It was the best I could do.”

  Stone nodded. He picked up the collar and detached it from the leash. It was about an inch thick. The leather was a little stiff, and the edges were not completely smooth. There was a silver buckle and six holes in the leather to adjust the fit.

  He held the collar in his hands and looked at Celia for long seconds. “Are you sure…?”

  Celia nodded. “Yes.”

  Stone took a deep breath and sighed – and within the exhalation of that single breath, a dramatic transformation came over him. His eyes seemed to grow darker. His expression changed, transforming and hardening. The thrust of his jaw and the set of his shoulders altered his body language; altered his very presence.

  “Strip!” he said the word as a command, his voice a deep rasping growl. “Now!”

  Celia’s eyes flashed with a spark of surprise and shock. Jack Stone was suddenly a very different man.

  Her first instinct was to resist. Her second instinct was to question. But she saw the look in Stone’s eyes and felt a sudden clench of warm desire somewhere deep down in the pit of her stomach. She began to unbutton her blouse.

  It was sheer, transparent fabric. Celia undid the last button and slipped it off her shoulders. She draped the blouse over the back of a chair and stood for a moment uncertainly.

  “The bra?”

  “Yes,” Stone said. “And the slacks. Keep your panties on.”

  Celia nodded. She unclasped her bra and slid it off her shoulders. Her breasts were not large. They were firm and pointed. A sudden rash of goose bumps tingled along the length of her arms and she felt her nipples hardening. She closed her eyes. She could almost feel Stone’s gaze upon her and she sensed the first stir of his interest. She felt for the button and zipper of her slacks. Tugged the pants over her hips and slid them down her thighs.

  She was wearing brief pink panties. Maybe satin, or maybe silk. Stone wasn’t sure. They were cut high and trimmed with delicate lace.

  “Turn around.”

  Celia turned. Felt his eyes burning on her skin. Felt the clench of her own body’s wicked arousal grip tightly within her.

  “Turn back.”

  She turned back to face him again. Then she lifted her head and stared at him with sudden bold defiance and bravado, refusing to let her embarrassment burn her cheeks bright red.

  There was a tense tight silence. Stone’s eyes slammed into her as his gaze striped down every inch of her body. He smiled grimly and prowled closer. Celia sensed the raw energy of him arc towards her like an electric current. She felt frozen in place. She didn’t dare to move. He was close – so close that she sensed the raw masculine menace he exuded like a cologne. Stone reached out and cupped the soft smooth shape of her femininity within his hand. Celia gasped in shock. His hand was possessive, demanding – as though he was casually taking hold of something that belonged to him.

  Celia felt a tremble of arousal and excitement start in the back of her knee, and shake uncontrollably.

  “Spread your legs – and lower your eyes,” Stone said, whispering the words in her ear with such menace that Celia obeyed him instinctively.

  “Think of yourself as my property for the next twenty-four hours,” Stone said. “Consider yourself just a mouth and breasts and a tight wet body for me to use when I want, and how I want. There is no time for us to form a relationship, or to build the emotional bonds needed to create trust – so let’s just keep this physical. You belong to me. I own you. You will obey my every command, and you will spend every moment thinking of ways you can pleasure me. Use your imagination. Fill it with images of you surrendering yourself to me, and of me taking you.”

  As Stone spoke, Celia felt herself responding to the sound of his voice, the primal magnetism of him, and the slow gentle slide of his fingers along the moist folds of her sex through her panties. She could feel her heart pounding within the cage of her ribs. She could feel her nipples begin to ache, and the rising tide of her wet excitement. She could feel the trembles of her desire rising up her thighs so that she felt she was shaking like a woman in the grips of a fever.

  “Nod once if you understand.”

  Celia nodded. A chill ran through her – and then a rush of sudden, unexpected warmth. Never had she felt so aroused. It was so strong, so overpowering. She was aware of the dark intensity of his eyes as they burned into hers, and the insistent torture of his fingers across the heat between her legs.

  “Good girl,” he said, and his voice became suddenly softer. He buckled the collar around her neck and then looped his
finger through the silver leash ring and pulled her closer to him until their lips were just inches apart. She gasped, and it was a breathless, tremulous little sound.

  Her face was tilted up to him, her eyes enormous and glittering, like deep pools of crystal water, shaded by depths of longing and excitement and uncertainty and something close to panic.

  “What happens next,” Stone said softly “is not about love, Celia. It’s not about desire or even passion or lust. What happens next is about power. It’s about you surrendering to me, and me taking ownership of you.”

  And then he kissed her.

  He took her mouth without hesitation – as if it was his. As if she was his. As if possessing her was his right.

  The shocking intensity of his mouth on hers was an assault on all her senses. Celia felt her lips parting, and her body leaning in towards him. She felt his tongue flickering and exploring, stroking hers in a slow, deliberate way that seized her breath. She felt the crush of his mouth against hers. His free hand fisted into her hair and she whimpered as every inch of her body caught fire.

  And still he kissed her, becoming an overpowering force that she hungered for. She felt her body arching, bending backwards by the relentless arrogant certainty of the kiss that she wished would never end. She felt her nipples brushing against the hard muscles of his chest and the press of his lower body against the heat that was simmering between her parted thighs. She threw her arm around his neck to hold herself to him, but suddenly Stone flinched. He broke the kiss, his eyes piercing her like daggers.

  “Put your arms by your side,” he growled. She obeyed instantly, strangely sick with fear that she had upset him. Suddenly crazily concerned that he was displeased with her, and the guilt that this man could have taken such a hold on her emotions with just a kiss maddened and outraged her.

  She lowered her arms as he ordered, dizzy with sudden conflict and turmoil.

  “Now get on your knees.”

  She fell to the floor. Stone put his hands on his hips. “Use your hands,” he said. “Feel me.”

  Celia reached up and slid her hands across the front of Stone’s jeans. He was hard – a long thick bulge beneath the stretched denim of his jeans. She traced the length of him, feeling the swell of his erection, sliding and pressing and feeling him pulse and come alive beneath the sensations of her touch.

  A wicked, indecent urge welled up within Celia with red-hot ferocity. She felt weak and dizzy with the force of her sudden need and she drew an uneven shudder of breath.

  Celia’s heart was a frantic pounding beat against her chest. She bit her lip. Her hands had a will of their own, and suddenly they began to reach for the brass button and zipper. She wanted to hold him. More than anything else, she wanted to feel the heat of his hardness and take it deep within her mouth. The urge was instinctive and compelling – a desire that she had no will to resist.

  Stone trapped her hands.

  “No,” he said.

  Rejection again? Was she doing it wrong? Was she not pleasing him? The turmoil of questions was dragged down into the whirlpool of her emotions.

  “What did I do wrong?” she sat back on her haunches and asked Stone softly.

  “You’re thinking. You’re feeling,” Stone said. “Don’t. Just obey. Just react and respond to my voice. You are a body and your only task is to please and obey me.”

  He pulled her to her feet, and wrapped his arm tight around her narrow waist. He lifted her up onto her tip-toes and kissed her again. Took her mouth and dominated her with the strength and force of his will. Celia went limp in his arms, and as the turmoil melted away, so her sense of physical arousal seemed to magnify and multiply a thousand times.

  She had never felt so alive or so sexual. She had never experienced the sweet pain of hungry need so intensely. It was an exquisite torture of anticipation that left her breathless and desperate.

  She could feel his strong hands, digging into the flesh of her waist, and his touch was like the brand of his possession. Celia felt herself reeling, a sensory surge that left her flushed and breathless and trembling like a leaf.

  He drew her down again onto her knees and bent her forward over the end of the bed. She lay her face against the soft mattress. Felt Stone slide down onto his knees behind her. She spread her legs and her breath hitched in the back of her throat. She felt so exposed – so open and vulnerable and submissive.

  She clenched her hands into the coverlet and closed her eyes. Stone slid his fingers up along the inside of her thighs, and then rubbed his palm firmly across the gap of her sex that was covered by the thin fabric of her panties. The material was damp and warm with her arousal. He pressed two fingers against the pouting folds of flesh and felt her shudder.

  Then he grabbed her hips and positioned himself behind her.

  He was still in his jeans, but as he thrust himself against her, grinding his hips and lunging, he felt Celia push back to meet him. He planted one hand in the middle of her back, forcing her to be still, pressing her down. Then he thrust again. She moaned softly. Her hand flew to her mouth and she bit down on her knuckle. Despite herself, she felt her body swaying and responding. Her breasts were pressed against the mattress, Stone’s hand like a mighty weight that kept her pinned. She gasped again and again as he thrust against her until she felt the first dull sense of her body beginning to thrill.

  She flexed the muscles in her thighs, and lifted herself just a fraction of an inch so that each of his thrusts rubbed against the hard aching nub that was swollen and on edge. The stirrings of her orgasm began to build. She tossed her head and tried to look back over her shoulder. Stone move his hand from her back and forced her face against the mattress. She was powerless – unable to resist. Unwilling to protest.

  Unbelievably aroused.

  Stone’s hand reached down until it was wrapped around her throat and he gripped firmly and then released, like a pulsing pounding heartbeat that matched the grind of his hips. Celia felt like her whole body was responding and reacting to the melting rise of passion between her thighs. It became something more – something that was not isolated to the clench of her sex, but seemed somehow to overwhelm every part of her body.

  She spasmed. Her whole body locked in the grips of a seizure – and then her hips began to undulate in a series of orgasmic waves and panting ragged breaths.

  Stone got to his feet and left Celia gasping on her knees, folded over the bed.

  “Don’t make the mistake of thinking your orgasm was sexual, Celia,” Stone said. “It wasn’t. We barely touched each other. What triggered your release was the way you responded to being dominated. It was your reaction to surrendering and submitting. The thrill is very powerful.”

  Celia tried to get to her feet, but her legs were weak and trembling and so she sat on the bed instead. Her heart was still racing, fluttering out of rhythm and the whole world seemed slightly askew and off balance.

  “All you did was kiss me…. touch me…” she said, a trace of bewilderment and wonder in her tone. “And yet I’ve never felt anything quite like it.”

  Stone nodded. “Welcome to the world of BDSM,” he said.

  For the rest of the day Stone drilled Celia in simple acts of submission until she had the basic positions memorized, and had learned to keep her eyes lowered, even when he addressed her.

  Lunch arrived on trays and they ate absently, their minds pre-occupied with the challenges ahead. Then they went back over everything again throughout the afternoon, until finally Stone was confident Celia would respond and react to any basic commands.

  Sandwiches were delivered at sunset, and then Celia went back to her room to shower and change. Stone switched on the television in his room for background noise and fetched the sports coat from the second bag of purchases Celia had made. He tried it on. It was black – a good fit across the shoulders and sleeves, but maybe a little snug in the back. It would do. He left it unbuttoned over the top of his white t-shirt and spent twenty minutes cleanin
g his boots.

  Celia knocked on his door at 8pm. Stone leaned against the doorframe, his muscled arms folded across his chest. His gaze swept approvingly down her body, studying her from head to toe. Her hair was brushed out, loose over her shoulders, and her makeup had been applied with such skill that she seemed to be wearing none at all. The collar was around her throat. She was wearing a black lace bra, the cups cut low and the fabric sheer so that her nipples showed as intriguing dark shadows and the soft silky flesh of her breasts bulged in two smooth mounds of cleavage. She wore no top.

  A short black skirt hugged her narrow waist, cut at mid-thigh, so that the fasteners of her suspenders showed below the hem where they clipped to sheer black stockings.

  Her shoes were black, the heel high. She turned around for his inspection and he nodded approvingly.

  Stone rolled the leash up and stuffed it into one of his coat pockets. Downstairs, Celia handed him the keys to the Lexus and he slid behind the wheel. The interior smelled of perfume. There were less than a thousand miles on the clock. It was practically brand new. The dash was a mass of consoles and buttons and lights. He started the motor and let the big luxury car idle for a moment.

  “We only get one chance at this,” Stone said. “If we get inside, stay in character, no matter what happens.”

  Celia nodded. She was nervous. Stone could see it in the way she clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

  He drove past The Cage slowly. There was a man standing on the sidewalk outside the door. He was a big man. Stone drove all the way to the end of the road and made a U-turn. He parked up about a hundred feet away from the club, on the same side of the road. There were closer parking spaces. Stone had chosen this one deliberately. Celia glanced at him.

  “The show starts now,” he said. “There is a guy on the door. He’s going to be watching us as we approach. Hopefully, by the time we reach the club, he’ll be convinced we’re the real thing and we’ll have no troubles getting inside.”

  He killed the engine. Got out of the car and walked around the hood. Pulled open the passenger side door and leaned in to clip the leash onto Celia’s collar. She slid out of the car and stood perfectly still while Stone took a moment to look around like he had all the time in the world. Then, without even glancing at Celia, he stepped onto the sidewalk and headed towards the club. Celia followed obedient and silent, walking one pace behind Stone and on his left hand side, keeping in step, with her eyes down on the ground at her feet.