by Jane Henry
“Boys caught a suspect. Your team is cleared for the time being, but tomorrow, you and I talk. Got it? Travis alerted your team on my instruction, so you can tell them all clear.”
“Got it,” I respond, grateful that the danger has apparently passed. I pull out my phone and start sending messages to my staff.
Lock down over. Open the doors. Notify me or Zack immediately with anything out of place and tell the others.
I scrub a hand across my eyes, then pinch my nose, inhaling deeply. I’m so fucking ready to go home. I groan inwardly when I remember my desecrated Maserati.
It’s then I notice she’s gone.
“No fucking way.”
Travis returns to the bar, welcomes me with a chin lift, and pulls the next round of drinks, assuming his role at the bar once more.
I told her to stay put.
She wants a tour? I’ll give her a fucking tour. The special edition, demonstrations provided free of charge.
Chapter 5
I walk beside Philippa with my head down, feeling like a high-schooler sneaking to the back of the school for a forbidden smoke, knowing the potential for getting caught is high, riding the adrenaline rush. I only just met the stern man they call Master, but I already know he doesn’t take too kindly to defiance. My conscience pricks me a bit.
You wrecked his car, and now you’re pushing your luck.
But it’s almost as if I can’t help myself, like the pulse of music and crush of people in the room beyond the bar beckons me, promising me a dose of excitement in my lackluster life filled with endless work and stress.
After all, hasn’t the entire night been like a scene out of some weird movie?
“You’ve never been here before?” Philippa’s soft voice is edged with a slight accent.
“Well, no.”
Least said, soonest mended.
“Have you ever been to a BDSM club before?” The petite woman looks at me curiously, her brows elevated in surprise. Her chestnut-colored hair hits her chin as she swings her head to me, her dark brown eyes apprehensive. “Are you sure Master Tobias is okay with you being here without his permission?”
For Christ’s sake, she has to be such a rule follower?
“Why would he bring me here if he didn’t want me to see the place?” I respond. It surprises me how easily I’m able to mislead the girl. But I have to know. I have to see. I fear that tomorrow, I’ll wake up and this will be all over, a mirage, the product of too much tequila and a full moon. Tomorrow, I’ll mourn opportunity lost.
I need to see now.
“Well, okay.” Philippa chews her lip and stands in the darkened hallway, crossing her arms over her chest, surveying the room beyond us. The sound of something striking something else catches my attention, and I swing my eyes to the scene just beyond the doorway. A large man wearing all black holds a long, flexible something in his hand. It’s cylindrical and narrow, but at the very end is a little square of what looks like leather. He points to the bench. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but the woman he points to is rubbing her ass. She nods, turns, and leans over the bench.
My heartbeat races, my breath caught in my throat. Holy shit. He’s going to spank her. Right here. In front of me, and everyone. I have to admire the woman. She’s scantily clad and lusciously curvy, wearing fishnets and heels and some sort of short skirt and top that barely covers her. He stands beside her, places a hand on her lower back, brings the thing in his hand back, and snaps it across her ass. I stand, frozen in shock, not sure what surprises me most: that this takes place in front of a crowded room, or that for some reason I can’t even begin to understand, I’m turned on. My panties dampen between my thighs, my clit throbs. I can hardly breathe.
The woman flinches but then arches her back, like she wants him to spank her again. He smacks her ass again, and again, and again, each smack ratcheting my heartbeat up, blood pounding in my ears. I can’t hear anything, I can barely see, my vision growing hazy with a rush of arousal and anticipation. I’ve never seen anything like this. I’ve never been into this. And yet, my whole body is on fire.
I become aware of the fact that Philippa is talking. “Master Braxton has been here since the founding of Verge. Master Tobias and Braxton are dependable, upright men, and other than my own dominant, I trust no one more than them.” She smiles. “C’mon. This is where the kinky fun happens.” Her dark eyes light up and her lips quirk up at the edges. “Remember to stay out of scenes and to do your best to reserve judgment.” She pauses and tips her head to the side, her voice softening. “I remember my first night here as well. It was overwhelming, and some things that I saw were very much out of my comfort zone. Now, though, the people here are like family.”
My heart slams against my rib cage, and my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls.
“Go on,” I say in a husky whisper.
I follow her. Low voices and a hum of background music lend a sense of intimacy to the room despite the obvious presence of so many. My gaze follows the clink of metal. To the right, a man stands behind a woman, fastening her wrist to some sort of pole. She’s covered from head to toe in black, her hair in pigtails, but I can’t see her eyes because she wears a blindfold. Is it a whipping post or something? He lifts something in his hand, something black with folded strips of leather. Oh my God. With his foot, he nudges her feet apart so that her stance widens, her wrists above her head secured in the cuffs, but before I see what he does, I notice a woman in the corner leaning down and gently stroking her hand through the hair of a man who kneels at her feet. She looks younger than he is, but she’s clearly the one who holds the power here, as he takes her hand and brings her fingers to his mouth in a kiss that’s at once tender and hot.
To the left of them, a woman kneels on the floor beside a man who holds a stout chain that ends in a collar around the woman’s neck. He tugs the collar, and she frowns at him, earning her a sharp pull of her hair. It’s degrading and yet, somehow… the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. My skin prickles with nerves, a flush of warmth and excitement heating me through.
Swallowing my gasp, I concentrate on following the nonplussed Philippa, who charges ahead like we’re power walking at the local mall.
This isn’t right, I tell myself, yet the image of the collared woman on her knees makes my breath catch.
It’s the outrage, I tell myself. You’re horrified.
But I’m… not. And the next sight makes my confused jumble of thoughts still. A small loveseat sits in the corner of the room, away from the circular tables where couples sit, mingling. A large man with tribal tattoos along his neck, snaking down and peeking out from the tight sleeves of his t-shirt, sits with a woman on his lap. His face bends down to hers, whispering in her ear, and the way he cradles her on his lap is so intimate and moving, a lump forms in my throat. The woman, dressed in black, slings her arms around the neck of the man who holds her. She whispers something in his ear, and his head falls back, his whole frame shaking with laughter before he tips her to the side and gives her ass a playful smack.
I want that.
The sudden, impulsive thought startles me.
“This is our main play area,” Philippa says. She stands close to me but I can hardly hear her because of the hum of music, laughter, and chatter. “We have several lounge areas, tables for guests to mingle, demonstrations frequently, and lots of…” she pauses, as if looking for the right words, then smiles and continues, “equipment in our playground.” I notice against one wall is an x-shaped wooden frame with straps attached at the top and bottom, as well as a table covered in velvet, and several padded benches. Close to the benches I see a string of hooks attached to the wall, and from the hooks hang various… weapons? What are they?
“Regulars like to use their own toys,” she says. “But we have plenty here for exploration.”
“Exploration,” I repeat.
“Well, not everyone comes prepared,” Philippa says with a small smile, then her
face lights up. “Oh. He’s here!”
My heartbeat spikes. Tobias? But no, a man who looks a good deal older than Philippa with a shaved head and thin goatee along the edge of a strong jaw comes to Philippa. She runs to him, practically leaping into his arms. He holds her close to his chest and kisses her forehead. Once more, my heart twists.
“They absolutely do not come prepared. In fact, I can say with certainty that you did not.” The deep voice by my ear startles me so much I nearly scream as I whip my head around. I meet the fuming gaze of Tobias. His eyes are storm clouds, narrow and dark, his jaw so tight I swear I can hear the gnashing of his teeth. His arms are crossed on his chest, biceps bulging. My gaze drops to the floor, falling on his feet decked in pitch black boots, planted like solid trees.
Shit.
This was maybe not a super smart move.
“I would… likely agree with that,” I say in a ragged breath. Wiping my clammy hands on my thighs, my heart pounds so hard I fear he’ll hear it. What was I thinking? Why did I come here?
He leans in, his voice a dangerous purr as he speaks in my ear. “How was your tour, Diana? Like what you see here?”
“Oh, it’s lovely,” I chatter nervously, trying to sidestep him and head to the door. “Everyone is… lovely, just… lovely,” I stammer. I look helplessly at the door with the brilliant fluorescent “exit” sign to my right, and then back to the door we entered. “I think it’s time I go. Thanks for your hospitality. But I’ll just be…”
His low, dark chuckle arrests me, making my nipples furl and my panties dampen.
Shit.
“You think you’ll disobey a direct instruction, after vandalizing my car, come in here despite my admonition not to, and I’ll let you go with such a cursory tour?” He laughs, wrinkles forming around his eyes. “Hell no. You wanted a tour, honey? I’m going to give you a tour.”
I spin around to get away but he grabs me by the arm, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough I can’t get away. “You’ll come with me now.”
Ho-ly shit. No!
He half-drags me to a vacant padded bench, the furthest away from the crowd. “I’ll be easy on you, though, babe.”
Babe?
“You can leave your clothes on.”
Fuck!
That’s an option?
I want to protest. I want to tell him no and shove him away, keep my dignity and leave with my head held high, but somehow, I can’t. Caught up in nervous excitement, in the presence of a pissed-off dominant. A dim part of my brain says no, don’t do this, but my body has other thoughts.
“And this, my friend, is a spanking bench.”
I shiver, trying to quell my nerves, but it’s fruitless. He continues like a realtor. “This is where submissives assume the position. A nicely padded, comfortable place for discipline, especially of the long, drawn-out variety. Not as comfortable as, say, a dominant’s lap, but a classic piece of furniture hand-crafted from solid wood.” He speaks in a friendly salesman tone, as if he’s showing me the in-ground pool of a swanky estate, or the vaulted ceiling of a mansion. Suddenly, his voice hardens and he barks out, “On the table.”
I spin around to look at him but he shakes his head, one sharp no, and points to the padded bench.
It’s got to be the tequila. I, Diana McAdams, am not the kind of girl who takes orders from a caveman. Yet, somehow, it’s exactly what I do. The cool, padded bench beneath me presses up against my belly and breasts, my hands somehow knowing to grasp the little handles at the far end.
I squeal when his firm hands take my ankles and pry my legs apart, the soft clink of metal then a sharp tug reminding me of the restraints attached to the bench. Next, he does the same to my wrists. Once secured, I can’t budge. It’s then I begin to panic.
“Tobias. I don’t need a… a… tour quite as… as thorough as this one.”
His large, powerful body leans in close to me, and I’m momentarily dazzled by the scent of strength and masculinity, the brisk musk waking my senses and turning my sex into molten lava. The deep sound of his voice washes over me as he speaks in my ear. “Babe, this is exactly what you need.”
So, clearly pissed-off Tobias exudes testosterone in waves.
I try to clench my legs together, but spread out and strapped down like this, I can’t move. I’m afraid he’ll realize my panties are soaked, like he’ll smell the arousal on me. My clit throbs and my breasts tingle, and I need to somehow get away from this, it’s too intense.
What. The. Fuck.
“And this,” he continues, back to pleasant realtor tone, “is a wooden paddle, made of the finest varnished pine. This is a beginner’s implement, thin and lightweight, capable of packing a solid sting without much lasting effect. I’m sure the acrylic or a leather-covered oak would be more appropriate for the tour you so desperately need, but I feel a beginner’s demonstration would suit you best at this juncture.”
God. No! A paddle? How will I be able to look at myself in the mirror tomorrow? “What? I—I think I’m fine,” I stammer. “Really, Tobias, this is—this is not something I’m—I don’t need.”
“Oh you do.”
“You can’t!”
“Do you refuse consent?” he asks, the question taking me by surprise. What will he do if I do refuse? Call the cops?
I shake my head once, and that’s all he needs.
The solid whack of the paddle on my upturned ass takes me more by surprise than anything. I utter an involuntary little squeak. But before I recover from the first smack, he brings the paddle down a second time, harder, the solid wood smacking against both of my cheeks at once.
“Ow!”
Without a word, as I pull against the restraints in stunned silence, he delivers four hard, firm smacks, pausing several seconds between strokes. No one around us even looks at us, but I feel as if they do, like there’s a spotlight on my humiliating position. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to instinctively block my ass, forgetting that my wrists are bound.
“And that’ll do for our tour,” he says, replacing the paddle on the demonstration table beside us. The fire has gone out of his eyes, his voice softer now, no longer tight and angry. His anger is gone, but mine’s just beginning.
“Let me outta these restraints, Tobias. I swear to God. I can’t believe you did that.” I hiss, trying to avoid anyone noticing us. I need to hide my arousal with my indignation.
“Excuse me?” He walks to the head of the table and stands where I can see him. Crossing his arms on his broad chest, he eyes me with a stern, slightly amused smile. “You can’t believe I did that? What exactly do you think you deserve for disobeying me and trespassing on my property?”
Disobeying him? Trespassing?
He shakes his head, eyes darkening as he stares at me. “I don’t know where you come from, honey, but where I’m from, there are rules that govern behavior.” He leans in, his low voice tight with authority. “We met because you vandalized my car. The only reason you were allowed past my office was because I brought you here. The rules of membership here state that only members and members’ guests are allowed access to the dungeon. You were not brought here by me. Therefore, you trespassed.”
My jaw drops, and I blink up at him, so shocked by the accusation I’m stunned into silence.
Still eyeing me, he reaches for my wrists and unfastens the cuffs, first my left hand, then my right. I push myself up but realize I’m still bound at the ankles, so I’m forced to lay and wait for him to set me free. A thousand reasons why I should protest flit through my mind, but I can’t reasonably grasp a single one. When my ankles are free, I swing myself off the bench and whip around, no longer giving him access to my scorched ass. I glare at him.
He lifts a brow. “You’ve got something to say? Or do we need another round with my paddle?”
“You—I—I don’t even know what to say!”
“I’m sorry, would be a good start.”
“You just—spanked me!”
He
nods. “Yes, we’ve covered this. I did not spank you for vandalizing my car, because I’m not sure you’re up for taking the kind of spanking that would require.”
Oh. My. God!
“What!”
“So we’ll still deal with that in a traditional, though not quite as old-fashioned, way.”
I blink. “What… what method might that be?” I’m almost afraid to ask.
He smirks, his lips quirking up at the edges. “The method we already agreed on, Ms. McAdams. In which I get an estimate for the damage and you pay me back.”
That makes me feel stupid. My cheeks heat. “Oh. Right.” I clear my throat. “Well, I’m not sure if your old-fashioned methods involve assault, I’d ever want to experience that again.”
He purses his lips. “Right. You know, you’ve worn out your welcome here, Diana. It’s time to go.”
And for some reason, that stings.
But I have to save face. I storm toward the door. I’ll die if he suspects his manhandling has turned me on. I need to get the hell out of here and go home. “I don’t need your help. I can get home on my own.”
“Stop.” His deep command freezes me in place, and once more I feel the responding twinge in my belly, my panties dampening. Oh God.
I clear my throat. “Excuse me?”
“I’ll take you home. I need to contact the rest of my staff and notify them that I’m leaving.” Before I can protest he waves his hand and the man I saw earlier with the spiky gray hair and tattoos along his neck walks over.
“Boss?”
“Axle, need assistance. I have a guest I need to take home. Make sure we follow protocol tonight, and tomorrow we have an all-staff meeting with Zack. Got it?”
The man he calls Axle nods.
“Much appreciated.”
Axle heads toward the bar.
Cabs are easy enough to get, or an Uber, but it would cost me money I don’t have, especially now that I have to pay for the stupid repair for the stupid car I keyed.
Tobias joins me and grabs my hand. “Don’t fucking care if you wanna hold my hand. I wanna be sure you don’t go running off and do something else stupid, so you’ll hold my hand.”