by Linda Barlow
“What the fuck were you thinking? You don't ever mess with someone’s scene.”
“I know, I know, but that guy was really hurting that woman.”
His eyebrows went up in a duh expression. “Jeez, Rory, I thought you knew something about this stuff. I wouldn't have brought you if I thought you couldn't handle it.”
“He was beating her with a—” I stopped because I wasn't sure what that thing had been. Not a soft leather flogger, that was for sure.
“A cane, yes. They hurt. They leave marks. Bruises. Maybe he was punishing her for something. Or maybe she just gets off on caning.”
“I thought this was supposed to be safe, sane and consensual!”
“It is. He was very careful about where he struck her. Only where it is safe to do so. He gave her time to recover between each blow. You saw him speak to her? He was probably asking her if she wanted to use her safeword. She shook her head no.”
That kinda stopped me in my tracks. Okay, maybe he was right. I started to feel embarrassed. I understood giving up power and control. Orders and obedience and even bondage or light flogging. But I couldn't imagine how it could ever feel good to be stretched up naked in front of strangers and beaten until I was screaming and tears were pouring down my cheeks.
“That was sadistic,” I muttered.
“Sadomasochism is just another aspect of the lifestyle. As long as it’s consensual and no real harm is done, there’s nothing wrong with it.”
I knew that intellectually, sure. I just hadn't expected to have such a strong gut reaction to the sight of somebody being hurt. “It’s hard to believe she was enjoying that. She was flinching, bucking, screaming.”
“Even so, we can't judge. They had a big audience. They may have been exaggerating, putting on a show.”
I nodded. In fairness, I’d read about whipping and flogging scenes. I’d watched porn…I knew a lot of this stuff appeared to be more brutal than it actually was. And some people really did get off on the pain. I even did myself when I was turned on. Pain didn’t feel so much like pain when it was coupled with strong sexual sensations.
“I’m sorry. I think it’s just instinct for me to go to someone’s defense if I think they’re being hurt. Thanks for stopping me before I made a fool of myself.”
He tipped my face up and looked down into my eyes. I was afraid he might be mad, but his gaze looked tender. “You okay, babe? We needn't stay. That was a heavy scene. Things wouldn't be so intense at a public club, but this place is private and they clearly take their sadomasochism seriously. Want to go home?”
I shook my head. I was not going to be a wimp about this. From what he’d told me, Hadley had taken her sadomasochism seriously, too, so all the more reason why she might have frequented this place.
When we entered one of the other rooms, things were a lot more playful. People were quietly doing their own scenes—mostly light spanking or service submission with the dominants being waited on by their partners. There were several groups of people chatting with one another.
A couple of people came up to us and asked if we were new. I said we were. I was afraid we’d get grilled about who we knew or who had invited us, but that didn’t happen. We were welcomed, and one chatty submissive explained that this was the meet-and-greet area, but that we were welcome to play if that was our desire or just watch and hang out if that made us more comfortable. There were some technique demos going on in one of the adjoining rooms, if we wanted to learn anything new.
I quickly realized that I couldn’t just plunge in and start asking questions about Hadley Allison. The lack of questions about Griff and me made it clear that privacy was considered important here. Most people were wearing the little half mask we also wore, but they were too small and flimsy to provide any real disguise. If I was going to play amateur detective, I’d have to be more subtle about it.
The thing was, though, I wanted to enjoy this rather unique experience with my boyfriend rather than keep wondering what had happened to his ex.
My boyfriend. I like the sound of that. I repeated it in my head a couple times.
I knew it was probably a bad idea to think of Griff this way. But it felt as if we had grown so close in the week we spent together. Even though we didn’t have much in common, we seemed to fit. To suit each other.
Temperamentally, we were good together. Even know I’m kind of weird and geeky, I’m basically a happy person. I take things as they come and don’t get easily rattled. Well, unless someone is being unfairly or unjustly treated—that makes me burn and turns me into a crusader.
Griff’s more serious and a bit more gloomy than I am, but he has reason to be. And it's easy to coax him into a cheery mood, so I don't think he’s really gloomy. He’s cynical, but I would be too, in his shoes.
And despite that rough-tough persona he puts on, he’s a sweetheart. He could be gentle and kindhearted even when he was pretending to be a hardass.
The better I got to know him, the crazier it seemed that anyone could suspect him of being a killer.
Chapter 25
Griff
Rory touched my arm, her fingers digging into my skin. “Look who’s up next.” We had just watched a hot waxing demo, which had been both exciting and instructive. Apparently, this was demo hour. She jerked her head toward the area just beside the little stage.
Even with the half-masks, I knew him—that rich guy, Silas Marks.
He was clad, like most of the other Doms, in a simple black shirt and black trousers. No skin was showing except on his forearms where his sleeves were rolled up. As he mounted the stage, his black boots gleamed. They looked like riding boots. Probably cost a fortune.
He was leading a woman dressed in nothing but a black thong and 5-inch black heels. Her arms were secured behind her back. She had a choke chain dog collar around her throat.
He walked quickly to the center of the stage and jerked on her lead when she was slow. Her collar tightened and she moved a whole lot faster to join him, dropping to her knees in front of him, her head bowed.
“I’ve been asked to discuss breath play,” said Marks.
Rory stiffened beside me and my own heart throbbed. Breath play was what Hadley had been into. What she had wanted and I had refused to do.
“You’ll note that this slave is wearing a choke collar,” he said, yanking on the leash to tighten the chain. “Another alternative would be a rope that could be tightened at will. However, depriving a submissive of air is not something I would recommend to a beginner. The dangers should be obvious.”
He pulled harder and the woman’s head lifted. She was grimacing, obviously uncomfortable with the chain digging into her neck. “Some people get high from oxygen deprivation, but you don’t want to kill your partner. Presumably,” he added, which made most of the crowd laugh uneasily.
It chilled me, though. The dude’s voice was icy and his submissive looked as if she might pass out.
He released the tension and she sagged, once again bowing her head. Her arms were tied behind her back so her elbows were forced together in what I knew must be a painful position. Looking down at her submissive posture, Marks dropped one hand to his crotch and absently rubbed his dick through his trousers.
Was this guy trying to show us what a harsh, cruel Dom he was?
Admittedly, my own dick had been straining at my seams ever since I’d entered this place, but I wasn't gonna be so obvious about it.
It struck me that Marks was precisely the type Hadley would have gone for. Had it been him she’d been with that time she’d avoided me because her body was covered with bruises? Had he been the one who’d given her that rope burn around her throat?
“There are several ways to induce oxygen shortage in your partner, but keep in mind that this is high risk behavior.” Marks took a hunk of the woman’s hair in his hand and pulled her head back. “If you just want to make it a little difficult for her to breathe, you could try this.”
He reached behi
nd him where there was a small table on the stage with toys. He held up a dildo, anatomically shaped like a large penis. It had a harness and at first I thought it was a strap-on, but then I realized it was a particularly nasty gag. “The length and thickness of this gag will feel uncomfortable to the submissive. Open your mouth, slave.”
The girl obeyed without hesitation, and Marks inserted the hard rubber cock. He didn’t do it gently. From the way her eyes widened, the thing must be going right to the back of her throat. She was clearly doing her best to breathe through her nose. He pulled the straps around to the back of her head and fastened them, then he turned the woman to face the audience.
“She can still breathe, of course, but with her mouth blocked up she’ll have to use her nose. She might feel a little lightheaded, especially if she is being fucked or flogged. And of course, if you are into group play, the gag could be a real penis. Or a succession of them.”
Rory was squeezing my hand. I wasn’t sure if she was turned on or disgusted. Probably the latter. Marks came across as a callous bastard, not a loving, caring Dom.
He forced the woman’s chin up and then ran his fingers down her throat all the way to her breast bone. With the gag in her mouth, the trussed up arms, and the collar and leash, she looked helpless, vulnerable, and very submissive.
“There is only one pathway for air to reach and enter the lungs, and that is through the delicate tissues in the throat. Also running through the throat are the blood vessels that supply oxygen to the brain. Think carefully before you deprive your partner’s brain of blood and oxygen. The tiniest mistake could send him or her to the hospital. Or even the morgue. And you to prison for the rest of your life.”
He removed the penis gag, unclipped the leash, and lifted the choke chain collar over her head. Then he unbound her arms. “I’m finished with you,” he informed the woman. “You may go.”
“Thank you, Master,” she said softly. But I thought she looked a bit disappointed as she rose and walked down from the stage. Maybe she wanted to be humiliated a little more?
“There is no absolutely safe way to demonstrate breath play,” Silas Marks added coldly. “My advice to you? Don’t do it unless you’re a fucking expert.”
There was some confused murmuring among the crowd, who had perhaps expected more of a demonstration. Someone called out, “I thought you were an expert? Isn’t that why they asked you to give a demo?”
Marks gave a cold smile. “My expert advice is don’t try it.” With that, he left the stage.
“He’s not exactly a people person, is he?” Rory said.
“He’s a condescending prick. But he got off on that, no matter what his views are on its safety.”
“I noticed. Let’s go talk to him.”
I wanted to smash him, not chat with the guy. The thought that he might have been mixed up with Hadley…that he might have hurt her or even killed her had taken over my brain. In fact, I was already lunging in the direction he’d gone when Rory grabbed my arm. “Take it easy. Don't lose your cool, Griff.”
“He had something to do with it,” I growled. The other night at the restaurant, I’d discounted her assertion about the billionaires being involved. But I’d fucking changed my mind.
It took money to make someone completely disappear.
And the bastard had plenty of that.
Chapter 26
Griff
Dragging Rory along behind me, I pushed through the crowd to the side of the small stage. As door was just closing behind Marks, who had exited the dungeon area.
“He’s taking off.”
“Wait. We have to think this through.”
Fuck that. I was going to grab the guy before he escaped. He probably had a car waiting outside the house to whisk him off to his estate. I didn’t know if he owned an estate, but he was rich as fuck, so he probably did, right? Maybe he had a bunch of sex slaves imprisoned there.
The side door led into a long, dark corridor. No one was back there, but a couple of other doors, all closed, lined the hallway.
I tried the first one I came to. It was locked.
“Griff,” Rory said. “You can’t just go barging into someone’s room. They said there were private rooms where people could, you know, do private stuff.”
I didn’t listen. Marching down to the next door, I twisted the handle. It turned smoothly and the door opened. It was a dimly-lit office of some kind. I saw a large, old-fashioned desk, a couple of easy chairs, a large computer screen, and, turning sharply, eyes narrowed, Silas Marks.
Yes.
“Get out.” He strode toward me. Well, us, since Rory squeezed in beside me. “No one’s allowed in here.”
“Ask me if I give a shit.” I slammed the door closed behind us.
Marks took me in. His gaze then flicked to Rory. His lips parted, but that was the only sign of recognition.
He was no longer wearing his half-mask. I ripped mine off and flung it on the oriental rug. Rory followed my lead.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” I said. “Hadley’s breath play dude. Is that what happened to her? You got careless? Dangerous stuff—you could kill someone.”
I was ready to attack the creep, and it must have been obvious, since Rory again put her hand on my arm. “Griff.” Her voice was calm and surprisingly soothing.
“How the fuck did you two get in here?” said Marks. He stepped back to the desk, swept up a smartphone and pushed a button. Calling in the reinforcements, the coward.
“I hacked our way in,” Rory said, walking right up to him and peering at the screen on his desk. “You should upgrade your security.”
I had the brilliant idea to lock the door behind me. Maybe that would hold off the troops for a few minutes.
Marks raised his eyebrows. “I will. We’re supposed to be proof against hackers. Want a job?” Then, super fast, he reached out and grabbed Rory by her wrist and jerked her to his side. A moment later, his arm was around her throat and he held her body against his like a shield.
I was lunging for the bastard when the way he was twisting Rory’s neck registered.
“Stop right there, O’Malley.”
I did. Forget Hadley—if he hurt Rory, I’d rip out his fucking heart.
Rory squeaked. When she kicked back with one high heel at his knee, he did something to her that turned the squeak into a yelp of pain. He was twisting her neck, and he looked fucking competent. He might be a nerd billionaire, but he had some moves.
The sick realization shot through me that if he’d killed one girl and made her disappear, he could probably do it again.
The arm that wasn’t around her neck was around her waist. He deliberately put his fingers on the front of her hip, almost into her crotch and she yelped again. Her face was turning red, but she looked more pissed than afraid.
I was so enraged steam must have been coming out of my nostrils. “Let her go, you fuck.”
“I’ll let her go when cooler heads prevail.”
“You’re hurting her.”
You’re touching her. No one touches Rory but me. She’s mine.
“She’s a submissive, right? You’ve got her decked out like one. She should enjoy an experienced Dom’s attentions.”
“Let her the fuck go.”
He didn’t. I was terrified that he’d go ahead and break her neck and then call in his goons to get rid of the evidence.
“Or do the two of you idiots imagine yourselves to be a couple of amateur cops? What the fuck do you think you’re doing sneaking into my place and daring to question me?”
“So it’s your place now? You own the fucking club?” Finlay had said something about that. Marks, Cranmore and the Swan bitch owned the place now. “Was it yours back when Hadley was coming here? Answer my fucking question—you were with her, weren’t you?”
“A few times, yes. It’s not a secret.”
Whew, that took some of the breeze out of my canvas. He was admitting it?
Instead of followin
g up on whatever the hell he’d done to my old girlfriend, I was sweating over what he was doing to my current girl. His hands on her body was bad enough, but I was terrified that he might be hurting her or freaking her out. “Let Rory go, asshole.”
“You ready to talk about this man to man?”
The question startled me. Man to man? No doubt he saw it as rich-ass tech billionaire to college drop-out fuck-up? But he didn’t sound as condescending as I’d have expected.
“I am if you are.”
“Okay, then.”
With a smoothness of movement that reminded me of Sean, he loosened the neck-hold. He released Rory in such a way that she was not only free but steady. Her eyes met mine and she nodded, a bit shakily. I guess she looked okay.
I grabbed her arm and pulled her to me. Her heart was pounding. So was mine. She hugged me hard.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me. Well, not much.”
I found myself plastering kisses on her upturned face. Her eyes were shining and my cock picked this absurd moment to jerk into hardness. I wanted to throw her down on the floor and thrust into her. Show this pretentious fucker that Hadley might not have been mine, all mine, but Rory was. No other Dom was touching Rory.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
Marks took advantage of the pause to move around behind his desk. “Have a seat, both of you, Mr. O’Malley, Ms. McKenna.”
Rory stiffened.
“Her name’s McKay,” I said, wondering how he’d even come that close. Oh, right. Connor Finlay. He’d put her picture on his fucking server and he was obviously tight with Marks.
“McKay, is it? Have a seat, Ms. McKay.”
Rory and Marks stared at each other and I swear something passed silently between them, although I had no clue what.
Whatever, we sat down together on the leather love-seat across from the desk. The three of us stared at each other. Hostility and aggression still clouded the room.