The Delicious Torment

by Alison Tyler

  “Jack’s asked me to take care of you,” she explained, her voice cold. “While he’s busy.”

  I nodded, quickly, trying to catch up with the script that seemed to be moving in fast-forward. Alex was groaning. Not loudly, but loud enough for me to hear. I really wanted to know what Jack was saying to him. The burn of jealousy intensified, and I would have wept had the lady before me not forced my focus on her deep-green eyes. Fake green, I saw immediately. Too emerald to be true.

  To my horror, she released the cuffs and the bindings holding me in place. She was going to take me somewhere else, somewhere away from Jack. I pulled back from her immediately. No thought of what might happen. No consideration of who she was, who she might be. I could not leave Jack and Alex by themselves—even if they were “by themselves” in a room of people. I wanted to see how Jack touched Alex afterward. Would he be gentle with him? Would he wrap Alex in his arms? That thought made me want to double over, my stomach clenched.

  The woman was not someone to mess with. I should have understood this by the fact that she’d slapped my face within seconds of “meeting” me. She gripped my hair in her hand and pulled back hard, and in seconds, she had assistants at her side, two men who crowded close to me. They didn’t touch me. But their sheer size was intimidating. I looked from her to the men and then back to her again.

  “Jack has asked that we take care of you,” she said, and her voice was lulling now, as if she intended to quiet me, the way you’d soothe a spooked animal. “Will you come on your own?”

  I looked at the men, looked through the gap between them to Jack and Alex, and I felt myself digging in my heels. Quite literally. I was going nowhere until Jack told me to. They could drag me out, and I’d cause a scene, and maybe that’s what people around here lived for, but I’d take the risk.

  “Jack has to tell me himself,” I said, and I saw a glimmer of something in the woman’s faux jewel eyes. A flicker of understanding. She touched one of the men’s shoulders and nodded, and he headed over to where Jack was now methodically cropping Alex. I could see the marks, the welts, and I felt a shudder work through me.

  There was a hushed conversation out of my earshot, and then Jack leaned against Alex once more, and I knew in my head he was promising pain, more pain, in a moment. Then Jack was at my side, and the lady and her enforcers gave us space. “They’re to get you ready for me,” he said. “Don’t worry so much.”

  My eyes pleaded with him. “I want to stay, Jack.”

  He shook his head.

  “I want to stay.” I couldn’t make myself say, “I want to watch,” because that hurt too much somehow. But I couldn’t bear to leave Jack’s side.

  “They’ll take care of you.” Jack’s hand stroked my cheek exactly where the lady had slapped me. So he’d been paying attention—at least, peripherally, perhaps in the mirror on the rear wall—even while he’d been working over Alex. “I won’t be long.”

  And I lowered my head and let the lady grip my wrist and take me down the hall…

  Chapter Twelve:

  Jealousy

  I can’t describe the intensity—the blood-red anger, the black wave of jealousy—I felt at watching Jack whip Alex. It was worse than if I’d caught him kissing someone else. Worse than if I’d watched him in the sweetest embrace. I wanted to pull the crop from his hand, to make him stop, to drag him back to my world. My face was hot, and when I pushed the hair out of my eyes, I saw that my hand was trembling.

  “This way, Samantha.”

  Somewhere in myself I knew I could leave. I could always leave. If I didn’t like what was going on, that was my ace in the hole. Jack didn’t own me. He couldn’t stop me. If he wanted to be with Alex, be Alex’s Master (oh, the thought sent a wave of nausea through me), then let him, right? I could walk.

  But the ties went deeper than that.

  “This way,” the woman repeated, and I knew I wouldn’t run. Knew I was committed. I couldn’t be broken that easily. Or that I was broken too much already. Too shattered to flee.

  “Now.” Her voice, slightly cajoling at first, had hardened, but it wasn’t until Jack turned and looked at me once more that I let myself be led from the dungeon.

  I felt as if I were in a dream—a fantasy come to life—as the lady took me through one room after another. We moved quickly past pictures in motion—images that would normally not only have captured my attention but made me so extremely aroused I would have had a difficult time taking a single step. The majority of the girls I’d seen upon entering the building were subs like me. I could tell from their attitude and attire. Some were now over their owners’ laps. Others were being led around by leash and collar. Still more were being punished in the same sorts of ways that Jack was currently taking care of Alex. But it seemed as if the women employed by the club were nearly all Dominatrixes, and they stood out boldly in their sexy outfits, painful gear in hand. Some putting on shows for the crowd. Others simply mingling. You could tell these women from the rest because their outfits were all made from the same black satin cloth as the outfit worn by the lady leading me through the festivities.

  Yet, although I processed bits of what I saw, my mind was focused on the activities in the room I’d been led from.

  What was Jack going to do to Alex next?

  And why the fuck couldn’t I watch?

  The chilly blonde moved me through the throngs easily. People deferred to her, stepping back out of her way. I’d thought she was queenly on first sight, and that image remained. She led me without speaking until we reached a door at the end of a hall, and here she took a key on a chain around her neck and opened the lock.

  Inside was a private bondage room, much like the one at Jack’s place in Malibu. But even more intricately designed. As Jack’s had been decorated by Alex—my guess, of course, but that’s what I was fairly sure of—it lacked a woman’s touch. This room was done in extreme detail. There was sumptuous fabric on the wall, rich scarlet and midnight black. A glass chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, casting diamonds of light throughout the room. Roses stood in a vase on a white marble pedestal. Their fragrance was strong and heady enough to reach me in the doorway. Ivory candles burned in several corners, enhancing the atmosphere, yet I also saw strategic electric lighting placed throughout. You could have as much or as little light as you wanted in this environment.

  The devices on display were as frightening to a newcomer as any I could imagine. But truthfully, I’ve never gotten over the first shock at seeing furniture intended solely for the binding of trembling limbs. Gear created with the purpose of inflicting pain. There was a large steel chair that made my legs weak—a chair with straps to hold ankles and wrists, with a place to bind a collar around a slave’s neck. Across from the chair stood a spanking bench. Nearby was a leather-padded examination table. In one corner of the room dangled a cage suspended from the ceiling. A wardrobe stood with doors open to reveal what appeared to be every cane ever created, every type of crop, quirt, paddle…

  “Jack’s asked that I prepare you.”

  I turned to look at the lady, her words awakening me from my daze. I was seeing this room, yet still lost in the vision of Jack punishing Alex. Was he trying to spare me by sending me away? Was he worried I would be unable to take the sight? That I would break down?

  Whatever happened, I promised myself, I would make Jack proud. I stood a little taller at the thought, my back straight, my head up. Proud for the second or so I had until the lady at my side said, “Take off your clothes.”

  And then I was scared once more.

  At my hesitation, she moved forward, her hands on my cardigan, pulling it off me. Her fingers working the buttons on my shirt. I felt two shadows enter the room and saw the men she’d been flanked by earlier. The large, well-muscled men. Why were they here? There was no way she’d need their power to subdue me. She had six inches and a good forty pounds on me.

  Her hands were rough, ripping my skirt off, until I was
wearing only my white bra and those day-of-the-week panties, thigh-high fishnets, and heels. I knew better than to cross my arms over my chest, to hide myself in any way. With every bit of inner strength I had, I stared into her eyes.

  The nearest man immediately grabbed my arms, pulling them behind my back and forcing me down to my knees. “Show your obedience.” He sounded more amused than angry, as if my naïveté was somehow charming.

  I realized that my goal of being strong and proud had failed. I was to show this lady the same deference I would show Jack. And the look I’d given her was anything but submissive.

  From my spot on the floor, I saw the woman’s foot come forward, clad in a lace-up, high-heeled granny boot. I didn’t need her goon’s hand on the back of my head to know that I was to go forward, to kiss the toe. I did so automatically, realizing this put me in a completely open position. My ass rising up in the air as my head came down. She laughed at my display. Perhaps experienced slaves show their submission more easily than I did. Or perhaps she caught the joke of Jack giving me Thursday panties on a Friday.

  In an instant, she had pulled me upright, and was quick-stepping me to the spanking horse. I didn’t fight, and she laughed again—this time for the audience of her two sidekicks, I was sure. “Jack said she was spirited,” she said. “But she seems plenty docile to me.”

  Had I failed already? I wanted to please Jack. I wanted him to come in here and have the lady tell him that I’d done what he said, and yet my good behavior was winning me no points. Did he want me to fight her? Struggle with her? If he did, it was too late now. The woman had already gotten me in place, binding my wrists herself then kicking apart my legs so that she could fix my ankles.

  Then she started, paddle in hand, meeting my ass with sure, stinging strokes. She began strong, yet managed to build in intensity, and the pain ricocheted through my body. Again and again she let the spanks rain down, and I gasped for breath, but did not moan. Did not cry out. I played games with myself—I told myself she’d stop at twenty, and then counted backward with each blow.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  But of course I was wrong.

  I pretended Jack was the one spanking me, and that worked for another few strokes, imagining my man wielding the paddle, doing my best to behave for him. But then my mind turned to Jack and Alex—and I started to lose myself.

  Alex hadn’t cried out. Hadn’t even seemed to do more than flinch as the crop connected with his naked skin. Was that why Jack had made me watch? Was he my model? Was I supposed to learn from Alex?

  The paddle slammed against me, and I closed my eyes, tears streaking my face, as the lady forced me to pay attention to her. I felt cold metal against my thigh, as without a word, she slit the sides of my panties and pulled the fabric free. Then she laughed once more, and I knew she was admiring the stripes left by Jack earlier in the evening—god, it felt like years ago that I’d played the role of the brat.

  Jack had definitely managed to erase that mood, hadn’t he?

  The woman was on me once more, this time with a new paddle against my bare skin. I could hear the eerie whistle before the paddle connected, and I knew she’d chosen one drilled through with holes. Jack owned a similar paddle at home. I shut my eyes tight, I bit my bottom lip, and I braved my way through the punishment—thoughts of Jack and Alex and the whole world driven from my mind by the pain.

  “No begging,” the woman whispered when she was through. “Impressive. Jack’s spoken so highly of you. But it’s nice to see for myself.”

  Her words sent new ripples of fear through me. When did Jack speak to her? Did he come here often without me? Who was she to him?

  My head spun with problems for which I had no solutions.

  No answers.

  And then I felt a change in the room, in the very temperature of the place.

  Jack had arrived. I could tell.

  “She ready for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you tell her what to expect?”

  “I thought you’d rather it be a surprise.” The woman’s voice held a musical note, as if she were flirting with a good friend.

  “Just as well,” Jack said, and he sounded as if he were smiling when he responded. “I can take things from here…”

  Chapter Thirteen:

  Pain of Love

  When Jack and I were alone in the room, he freed me, undoing the bindings on my wrists and ankles and returning me to a standing position. He put his hands on my shoulders, steadying me on my crazy-high heels, and then he spun me around and stroked my well-warmed rear.

  “Juliette is a pro, as always,” he said, and I could tell he was admiring the fresh color of my skin. I stayed as still and quiet as I could, my mind positively screaming with questions for him.

  Why had he made me leave the room?

  Why bother having me watching in the first place?

  Did he want me to know that he truly was Alex’s Master, a concept I’d always secretly thought?

  But more pressingly—prepare me for what?

  Faced away from Jack, I thought of the various devices in the room, and I tried to guess which one might bring Jack the most pleasure. Would he place me in that scary chair? Or stretch me out on the padded table? Or…

  Jack went on his knees and parted the cheeks of my ass, and I sucked in my breath. I reached forward, straining for balance, wanting to at least place my fingers on the spanking horse. But Jack wouldn’t let me fall. I knew that. He spread the cheeks of my ass and licked between them, and all thoughts and all fears momentarily disappeared, replaced solely by the intensity of pure pleasure. By that kinky sort of pleasure of being touched there. And knowing what that touch meant for my future.

  The door to the room wasn’t fully closed. I remembered that. Jack had walked in and taken over from the arctic blonde. But he hadn’t pushed the door shut behind her after she’d left. Anyone could walk in and watch. Anyone could see what Jack was doing to me. Which was spreading my rear cheeks wide and licking around my hole. Around and around, with tantalizing slowness, knowing exactly what the sensation was doing to me.

  Because fuck, I was floored by the bliss. The shock of it was almost numbing after swallowing the physical pain of the paddle and the emotional pain of watching Jack whip Alex.

  After raising me close to climax, without letting me come, Jack stood and led me to the padded table. This was his choice. But he didn’t bind me down. He simply pushed me against it, and I felt him behind me, working his slacks open, releasing his cock. He’d gotten hard punishing Alex—that was no surprise to me—and he was ready for release. Without hesitation, he slid into me, hard from the start, pounding me against the leather table. Slamming into my ass with the same intensity that Juliette—I had a name for her now—had paddled me.

  I was breathless in moments and so turned on I could hardly stand it. The table pressed against my clit in the most delicious way with each forward thrust, and then I closed my eyes as Jack gripped into my hips and groaned, sealing himself to me, fucking me over the edge so that we were coming together—coming hard.

  He pulled out almost immediately, tucking himself back into his slacks and regarding me from a foot away. I stared at him over my shoulder, feeling undone and exposed. I was wearing only the fishnets now, and my bra, and the heels, and I felt as if I’d been through some sort of sexual battle. Soiled. Used. Demolished.

  And yet…my mind was working…. That can’t be what he meant when he asked Juliette if she’d prepared me. There must be something else. Something more.

  Jack walked to the wardrobe featuring the range of gear, and he stopped in front of it. My heart sped up at the sight of him regarding the different toys and tools, but then he bent down, doing something I couldn’t see. And then Juliette and her minions were suddenly in the room—had Jack pressed a button? Given them a signal that I’d missed?—and Jack nodded to them.

  “Come with me,” Juliette purre
d, leading me into an adjoining bathroom I’d missed before. The door was covered with the same luxurious fabric as the room itself. A hidden door. I wondered how many of those secret entrances and exits existed in the club. I entered meekly after her, and she nodded toward the shower, turning on the hot water for me. “Clean yourself up. I’ll wait.”

  This room was as well designed as the one we’d recently left—a lady’s boudoir, with a lounge for Juliette to relax upon, a vanity mirror, a breathtaking array of perfumes and fancy soaps.

  While she watched, I kicked off my shoes and pulled down the stockings, then removed my bra. She nodded toward the sink and I saw a basket filled with hair accessories. I pulled my long hair into a ponytail then stepped into the steamy shower.

  When I emerged, Juliette was still there, holding a cherry-hued towel. She dried me off, and I waited, humble still, wondering what was going to happen next. Would she give me new clothes? I hoped so but didn’t ask.

  She didn’t say a word now, simply led me back into the room, where I saw that Alex had been brought during my absence. He was a sight, stripped down himself, and positioned on that chair—the one I’d been praying didn’t have my name on it. The thing was a cruel-looking bondage device, and Alex’s wrists and ankles were firmly attached to the arms and legs of the chair. He had a collar in place, and this was attached to the neck of the chair. He’d been allowed more dignity than I had, however. He still had on his boxers.

  I felt weak at this image of him, the Baby Dom transformed into a sub. Alex didn’t look at me once. His eyes were fixed on the floor in front of him. I saw that his cheeks were as blazing red as the roses in the corner. And—I hate to say it, but that made me pleased. I wouldn’t feel sorry for him. No matter how humiliated he must be feeling.

  Jack wasn’t in the room, but Juliette’s male assistants were, and at her beckoning, they came forward. I was entirely naked, but not in the least bit cold. This room was more than comfortably warm.