Secrets Dispatched

by Raven McAllan

  Now though, everything had changed. The only connection with Jase and Troy was his knowledge that if he messed her up, they’d string him up by the balls. He might like Shibari and love rigging, but having it happen to him around those valuable nuts didn’t bear thinking about. It was all he could do not to cup his palm over that area of his body.

  “Do you mean that, kitten? You’re happy to sub to me? Because if you do, we start now.” He was damned sure that she’d probably cry red, now or after she saw what he liked.

  “Ross, please be a Dom to me.”

  She’d remembered his promise. Once again she surprised him. Her eyes widened and she leaned into him, seemingly unheeding of the sting it must give her scalp.

  “I’m happy, Sir, because I trust you to listen to me. Even though I’d promised myself nothing until I speak to Jess.”

  There was definitely an undercurrent. All tied in with her need to speak to Jess? No matter, I’ll be patient. He hoped. Although he had infinite patience in a scene and drew out the best in every one he played with, outside that sphere, Ross knew he wasn’t renowned for his patience.

  “I will never ignore you or give you a reason to doubt me, kitten. That’s a promise. So, up you get.” He tugged on her hair, and Shane stood up straight in front of him. She blinked, swallowed and looked down at the floor once more.

  “Kitten, there’s only us here, no need to do that. Although when we scene in the club with others around, I’d expect it.”

  She paled. “Red.”

  “Red? Red what?” He would make her spell it out, even if it ended there and then.

  “Nothing in public. Hard limit there. I am not showing my wobbly bits or my vulnerability to any old passerby with a hint of kink in them. If, and I’m stressing the if, we do anything beyond tonight, I’m for you to see and you only.”

  Ross wondered if she truly thought that. Her skin was once more glowing and her ashen hue had disappeared. If she did, then there would need to be a lot of hard thinking done by both of them.

  “If you’re for me to see, then strip.” He hadn’t known that he was going to say that until the words were spoken.

  “Strip?” She squeaked the words. “As in, take this apology for a dress off? It’s see-through, so why take it off?”

  “Why keep it on? If it’s see–through, then there’s no point in wearing it. It’s not cold in here. And we won’t be doing anything other than looking around, kitten. Here… Arms up.” He took hold of the hem of her dress and began to lift it over her body.

  “We won’t?” Shane lifted her arms obediently and stood still until he removed the dress.

  “No, we won’t.”

  She began to move her arms over her boobs and pussy.

  “Kitten.”

  She stopped instantly and let them drop to her sides.

  “If we were to play tonight,” Ross said as he urged her forward with a none too soft tap to her arse—damned if he didn’t ache to do more than a tap, “then I’d tie your arms behind you. Your body is beautiful, and once we get rid of your pussy hair, it’ll be even more so.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue or protest as he pushed her out of the control room and along the corridor to the nearest stairs.

  “Of course we could take the lift, but I’d rather see you sway as you go down the stairs.”

  She sniggered. “Sway is an understatement. You do know my boobs will ache without any upholstery?”

  “You should have chosen the corset then. Your choice, your suffering. Accept it or red.”

  Shane descended five or six stairs and turned round to look at him. “You’re a sadist.”

  “Of course, and that’s sadist, Sir, to you. Go through the door at the bottom and turn left. You’ll come to the lounge.”

  “Yes, sadist, Sir.”

  Damned if he didn’t want to laugh. Scared stiff, aroused—her pert nipples and the damp hair on her pussy showed that—she still gave him backchat. Good for her. His Shane was one spunky sub.

  My Shane? He thought about it. He damned well hoped so. Ross waited with scarcely concealed impatience as Shane nodded, turned around and continued down the stairs. Next time, he vowed, he’d have her walk up the stairs in front of him, then back down again, just so he got a perfect view of her in all her naked glory. Even thinking about it made his cock twitch.

  Shane disappeared from view and Ross took the remaining stairs two at a time and caught up with her as she entered the lounge and did a slow circle to take everything in. He tried to see it through her eyes. Gray leather settees—easy to wipe down and sanitize—rings on the floor next to some of them, the sort you’d tie a dog to, lots of large soft cushions and plenty of low tables. Apart from the hooks, it was just what you’d see in any lounge.

  “Normal,” Shane said, surprise in her voice. “It could be anywhere. Posh hotel, squash club, anywhere.”

  “What did you expect? This is as vanilla as anywhere outside. Nothing happens in here, except chatting, eating and if you’re not playing, a drink. Except the subs may be half naked, and on a leash. Each to their own. Leashes are not my thing.”

  Shane wandered from the bar to the long, squashy settees, looked at the ring hooks in the floor and shuddered. “Thank goodness for some small mercies then. Now, I guess this is the time to ask you that all important question. Sir, what is your thing?”

  He’d wondered when she was going to broach that subject.

  Chapter Seven

  The long heard and never understood phrase, ‘a pregnant silence’ suddenly became clear to Shane. Ross studied her as if he’d never seen her before and rolled his shoulders as if to de-knot the muscles. Eventually he beckoned to her.

  “Follow me.” He turned on his bare heel without waiting to see if she obeyed him or not.

  Shane walked after him. Her bare feet slapped on the floor, just as Ross’ had and she was glad the surface looked spotless. Unfortunately she could see her reflection in the polished surface and watch her boobs and arse jiggle as she walked. Sleek and svelte she wasn’t. However, as it didn’t seem to bother Ross—just the opposite—why should she worry? She was what she was, and diet didn’t enter her vocabulary. She ate sensibly and that was it.

  Ross walked to the far end of a softly lit corridor and waited until she reached him. “Up ourselves or what, but through this door are our private rooms—rooms that are strictly used by a selected few people only, and ones we never share. I was lucky enough to be given one.”

  “Is that normal, Sir?”

  His smile gave Shane a soft, tingly sensation, and made her wetter to the extent she knew damn well if he glanced down it’d be easily visible on her thighs. If one look did that, heaven help her if they ever did play. She’d need wringing out.

  “Define normal.”

  He had a point.

  “Do many clubs do that? Give rooms to one person only?”

  Ross shrugged. “I’ve no idea. This is all down to the lady you want to meet, and her buddy. Jess and Kath decided we need our own dungeons, because sometimes being the boss or whatever means no peace for the wicked. You’d come to play and be stopped to give advice or have people wanting to watch, that you’d not even get started before it was time to stop. Because none of us only want to be able to play on the nights the club is closed, unless we want to scene in public, we created this area. There’s another stair from the control room corridor as well, so we have the option to bypass the club. My room has been little used lately. My last sub and I parted ways—amicably, I may add—a few months ago, before we really got into a Dom/sub relationship. We found we worked better as friends. She’s pretty busy with her job, so we don’t see that much of her. Before you ask, if I have needed a sub for a demo, Connie has obliged, but that’s it. Who knows, now you might do it for me.”

  “I’ll be back in Freo.”

  Not if I have my way, you won’t. “Maybe. Maybe not. So, kitten, would you like to see my dungeon? Then we’ll do the public ones.” Why ha
d he decided to do what most people would say was the suicidal way round? Because he wanted her to know him and his ways first and foremost. Then if it was an ‘oh, no, not in a million years’, he’d give her the tamer view, before showing her to her bedroom.

  “You know, I think I would.” She sounded surprised, as if she hadn’t known she was going to say that. “Sir.”

  Ross tapped her on the nose. “Remembered just in time, eh, kitten?”

  “Yup, it’s alien to me. The only Sir I remember is the stupid sodding classics teacher at uni, and why I had to take a module in classics, God only knows. I was studying politics. Anyway, Sir, lead on.”

  Amused by her ramblings, her out and out challenge of everything they did plus her unexpected acceptance of what they were doing, Ross mentally laughed and swiped his thumb over the pad by the door handle.

  The click as the lock disengaged was loud in the quiet corridor, and Shane jumped. “Is this where you do the ‘come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly’ bit?”

  “Maybe my room is your room?” Ross said as he stood back to let her precede him into his dungeon. “Or make yourself at home.”

  “Ha, I don’t think comfortable is what you have in mind in here—not in the conventional sense anyway.” She walked passed Ross and stopped dead, before she turned around, arms spread wide. The pose exposed every inch and cranny of her, and Ross swallowed as his body tightened as he admired all of her.

  Shane giggled and curtseyed. Her self-consciousness about her nakedness seemed to be a thing of the past. “Sh…sugarooney.”

  He hadn’t heard that expression of astonishment for years, but he could well echo it.

  Shane pointed toward the narrow bed with its firm mattress and carved wooden fittings situated at the rear of the room. “Nice one. But I bet it’s not for sleeping on.”

  “You can if you want. I prefer to use it for orgasm denial.”

  “Oh, blimey. I don’t have enough to be denied those I do get.” She put her hand over her mouth. “Sheesh, verbal diarrhea or what? Scratch that. Delete it from your mind, please, Sir.”

  “Not a chance, kitten. Are you telling me you don’t do self help? That you do your own self-denial?”

  “I’m saying nothing.” She mimed zipping her lips. “Not on that subject anyway.”

  “You think?” He had to prod her. She rose so beautifully to his teasing.

  “I know. Anyway, changing the subject somewhat, can I touch things?”

  He inclined his head. “If you ask nicely and tell me why, kitten.”

  Shane nodded and looked up above her head where a large metal ring and bar hung attached to a pulley system on the wall.

  “Shibari? I’ve never seen stuff in reality.”

  “Yes. Want to try?”

  She shook her head and once more created a cape with her hair. Ross muttered to himself. He’d meant to tie it up earlier, just to show her every facet of how they would play—if they ever did. His usually level mood was mercurial, to say the least. It seesawed between positive and negative thoughts with regards to whether they’d play or not, that it was a wonder he wasn’t giddy. Should he ask why? Ross decided to leave his questions until she’d asked all of hers. For one moment he wondered if it wise. From what he’d seen, she could ask questions until the cows came home, and probably would if she had an inkling it would save her from answering any herself.

  “Can I look in the cupboard?”

  “Help yourself, kitten. But remember, curiosity killed the cat.”

  She snorted. “And maimed the kitten?”

  “Let’s hope not. You’re welcome to look anywhere. I have no secrets from you.”

  The words, ‘not like you have from me’, hung in the air over them, like a black cloud of doubt. Once again Ross had the gut churning sensation of losing control, and it didn’t sit well on him. He was a Dom, for heaven’s sake, and should be in a position to take care of his sub, and sort out her worries and fears. The niggling voice telling him she wasn’t his sub, he ignored. She would be. She had to be.

  “Oh, hell…p, Sir, I hope I won’t soon with you.” Shane unlatched the floor to ceiling cupboard door and looked at the contents. “You like your floggers then?” She put her head into the cupboard and her voice became muffled. “There’s enough stuff in here to open a saddlery or an ironmonger. Why do you need it all?”

  “My crops, whips, blindfolds and shackles?” Ross asked. “To say nothing of my Shibari ropes? I like to be well prepared. I’m a simple soul, with simple tastes.”

  “Yeah, and the moon is made of cream cheese, Sir.” Shane closed the door and leaned on the varnished wood surface, her legs close together. “So, Sir, what would you say you’re a master in?”

  Ross studied her flushed face and noticed how her breasts heaved as she breathed erratically. Her skin was covered in a soft bloom, which he was sure was due to her arousal, and he’d bet she stood as she did to hide the evidence that confirmed it.

  “Rigging and flogging. Spanking and Shibari. Oh, and a little bit of orgasm denial.” He studied her face as her mouth opened in a silent gasp. “Or forced orgasm. It depends on my mood.”

  “A bit of a sadist, Sir?”

  “Not a bit, kitten.” He waited until her eyes widened and she shut her mouth and blinked. “Totally.” It was an exaggeration, but Ross had decided to go to the extremes of his tastes and see if it fazed her. “There’s something so beautiful and satisfying in knowing I’ve pushed my sub way past what she thought she’d accept and more, without her even thinking of safe-wording out. Pain is pleasure. Believe me.”

  “You reckon? There’s pain and there’s pain, Sir. I don’t do pain—or bondage.” Shane whispered something and Ross strained to hear what she said. It sounded like, ‘not any more’.

  “You will, kitten. Once you decide to trust me to know what you want and how to give it to you.”

  “Ah, well, who knows? However, as an observer, your dungeon is very you,” Shane said somewhat cryptically. “Sir, can we go back to hypothetically again?”

  Shane pushed herself up off the door and stood straight in front of him, with her hands neatly tucked behind her back. She was, Ross decided, such a mass of contradictions. One moment scared, uncertain, questioning every last thing and looking as if she’d love to whip the subbie blanket off the back of the chair and cover herself, the next unconscious of her surroundings and state of dress, and so much a sub, it was beautiful to see. The sooner she spoke to Jess and got whatever it was sorted out, the better.

  “When we get out of here, why not?” If it was the way to get answers, Ross was all for hypothetical. “Have you seen enough, kitten?” He moved toward her and held his hand out. She took it and let him cuddle her in. Her hair tickled his arms, and her breath caressed his skin like a lover. Her hands at the base of his spine were warm, and gave him hope.

  “Because standing in here with you is testing my patience to the limit,” Ross went on. “This is my dungeon, where I know I can make you enjoy things you’ve probably never dreamed of. Show you what a perfect sub you are and how good we would be together.” Never again was he going to give her a chance to doubt his intentions. It would be will and when, not maybe or if. “Apart from that, I’m so fucking hard, I’m the one in pain. I can’t make up my mind in what order I’d like to do first. Fuck you or make you fly.”

  Chapter Eight

  Well that was telling her his intentions with a vengeance. Shane put her arms around Ross, and decided naked or not, she liked being close to him. Of course it would be easier in clothes—her wet legs and damp pussy hair wouldn’t be so obvious then. Every word he’d said curled around her like a warm blanket and increased her arousal. It was getting harder and harder not to just give in and sub liked she wanted to.

  It was something she’d never thought could or would happen, and here she was denying herself the chance to experience everything her dreams were made of. One of the reasons she’d been attracted to Pete
the Plonker was she’d thought he reminded her of Ross. Now of course she wondered how she’d deluded herself so easily. They were chalk and cheese.

  Shane almost bit her lip but stopped herself just in time. Damn it, why couldn’t Jess have been around? More to the point, why was it so damned important she made certain Jess had moved on and her brothers hadn’t scared or scarred her in any way, before she, Shane, moved on herself?

  “Sir, can you tell me honestly without sharing stuff you shouldn’t, how Jess is?” Shit, I sound needy and weedy and pathetic. And I can’t even say pull up my big girl panties, I’m not wearing any. “It’s really important.”

  “Hypothetically?”

  “No, really. Hypothetical is if I did say I’d sub, could we go slowly?”

  The look he gave her could shrivel leaves faster than the sun back home.

  “If you have to ask that, there’s no point in continuing.”

  Shane lost her temper. “Fuck you, Mr. up-his-own-arse-so-far-he’s-blind Mackie.” She screamed the words, pushed his arms off her, stalked stiff legged to the bed and thumped the mattress. It was that or him and at least the mattress wouldn’t hit back. As her hand met the surface, she wasn’t so sure. There wasn’t a lot of give in it, and the jolt went right up her arm. She bit back even more swear words.

  “I want to say yes. I want to roll over onto my back and shout, take me I’m yours, but I can’t, not yet. I want to keep saying, Ross, please be a Dom to me until you believe me and do it. But, how the hell can I have my happiness when I don’t know if Jess has hers? And if she hasn’t, is it all my fault for not speaking out? I need to know first. I need to know.”