by Leah Braemel
Chapter Twenty-One
“Aside from the armed patrols with trained guard dogs patrolling the perimeter, there are security cameras installed on all access points and in all the public areas,” Sam told Rosie as they walked up to the double front doors, Andy trailing behind. The brass door handle shone against the crimson wood panels. “There are alarms at various points in each wing as well as in each room. And you saw the manned security gates on the way in that require everyone to surrender any weapons and cell phones before they are allowed on the grounds.”
She felt naked without her gun, but at least if they even took weapons from a founding member and Hauberk employees, everyone would be equally disarmed. Not that you needed a gun to kill. “Why take away people’s cell phones though?”
“Too many have cameras built in.” Ah, possible blackmail. Right.
One of the front doors opened without a sound and a man about two inches shorter than Sam but with muscles to match blocked their way—she would have felt comfortable using him as a brick wall to stop a mortar attack.
“Good morning, Mr. Watson.” He greeted Andy familiarly then turned to her and gave her a half-bow. “Miss Ramos, welcome to La Porte Rouge. Mrs. Harper is expecting you. Will you be showing Miss Ramos the way, Mr. Watson, or do you wish me to accompany her?”
“I’ll take her myself, Igor.”
She waited until the bouncer—she refused to think of him as a butler no matter what his tuxedo—was out of earshot before murmuring, “Is Igor his real name?”
“Nah, his real name’s Fred Fredriksson. Everyone just calls him Igor because he looks like a big Russian bear.”
She followed him into the foyer. “You don’t have to stay with me, Sam. Those hostages in Colombia need you more than I do.”
Sam let out a soft exhalation before stroking the side of her neck. Though his face betrayed nothing, something flickered in his eyes but she couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or downright frustration that she’d insisted on coming to the club instead of with him to the office.
“You go on to your meeting with Troy. I’ll be fine. Besides, Andy will be here with me.”
“I’m just going to make sure you’re set up with Thalia, and then I’ll leave you to your research. But remember, do not go out into the common areas, you’re to stay in the office.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Rosie…”
She waved off his warning. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just take me to the office. I won’t wander where I’m not supposed to be.”
Instead of taking her through the stained glass doors at the end of the vestibule where Igor had disappeared, Sam opened a plain white Colonial door to her left revealing a corridor done tastefully in muted tans with lots of polished wood trim.
The photographs mounted on the walls took Rosie’s breath away. Black and white nudes—tasteful close ups of women’s breasts, and a few other body parts that weren’t as readily identifiable. She paused in front of one.
“That isn’t a…is it?”
“A close-up of the head of a guy’s dick?” Something rumbled deep in Sam’s chest but when she looked at him she wasn’t sure if it was a chuckle or a sound of embarrassment. “Yeah, Jocelyne’s husband, Robert, is a professional photographer. Nobody’ll own up to posing for him, so there’s a bet that he used a macro lens on his own.”
She continued walking down the hall then realized he hadn’t followed her.
“Come with me to the office, Rosie. Let Andy go through the files. Please.”
She walked back to where he stood and put her hand on his chest, felt the strength in the muscles beneath her fingers. Remembered how they’d flexed over her the night before, how they’d glistened with sweat while he made love to her. Make-up sex with him was better than the best sex she’d ever had with anyone else. “It’s safe here, Sam. You designed the security on this place yourself. You don’t have to worry about me.”
He fingered the thick gold choker he’d insisted she wear while she was at the club. A strange look—one of possessiveness, but also sadness—crossed his face before he dragged her against him, wrapping his arms about her.
She’d only had a momentary chance to examine the pendant dangling from the necklace before he’d clasped it around her neck. From what she had been able to see, one side held a circle divided into three swirling parts, but she hadn’t had a chance to examine it close up. “Why’s it so important I wear this anyway? Does it tell everyone else I’m your property or something?”
“It’ll ensure no one else will bother you without my permission,” he grunted. “Just make sure you don’t take it off until you’re off the grounds. In fact, don’t take it off until you’re back at the apartment, all right?”
“Let me guess, if I do, I’ll find myself tied up in a dungeon?” She looked off to the side, thrown off by the heat that flooded her pussy at the image of being at Sam’s mercy. “How about we go to your suite and you work off a little of your concern? I’ll let you tie me up and blindfold me again.”
Sam exhaled quietly and pinched the bridge of his nose for what had to be the fifth time that morning. “You’re just trying to distract me again.”
“Is it working?”
“Yeah.” His gaze flicked to Andy before returning to set firmly on her. “But if I show you my suite, will you promise me you won’t leave the office area once I leave?”
A sense of excitement, of expectation, set her heart racing. “I promise.”
He sighed again then relented and spoke to Andy, “Go tell Thalia we’ll be there in a half hour or so.”
Sam led her back into the atrium then through the double set of stained glass doors and down a wide hallway. More photographs hung on the cream colored walls—more nudes, most were men suckling women’s breasts, but a few were of lips, male or female, licking or kissing engorged cocks. A number were of couples actually copulating. But on the whole she had to admit they were tastefully shot with soft focus and careful composition. Artistic, but not something she would feel comfortable hanging in her front room. However, she wouldn’t object to displaying a few in her bedroom—as long as her mother never came to stay with her.
At the end of the hallway was another pair of stained glass doors. Sam swung them wide, revealing an ornate rotunda at least seventy feet in diameter with a dome rivaling the Capital Building. Three levels of balconies looked down upon a round dais ringed with vases of roses. More of the roses had been artfully woven through an archway over the dais, but they couldn’t disguise a pair of leather cuffs dangling from the centre.
Sam dropped back, letting her explore the room on her own.
Numerous doors opened off each balcony, as well as three arched openings to more corridors. Craning her neck back, Rosie examined the erotic murals decorating the dome that soared high above.
On the far side was a smaller glass-enclosed grotto that jutted into a garden. From what she could see through the numerous plants, water trickled down a rough rock wall at the far side. Entranced, she wandered closer and discovered several benches and padded chairs, some with steel rings or hooks. She fingered one as she remembered Mandy saying she’d missed Sam’s visits to the grotto. It disturbed her to think of Sam playing with other women here.
“Doms attach the subs’ restraints to them depending upon what position they want them in,” Sam said from the doorway. “Would you like to try them out?”
She could picture being tied up to the bench with Sam pounding into her from behind. As long as there was no one around. But yet…the idea of someone watching… Damn, her panties were wet at the idea. Would he think less of her if she said yes? But why should he, considering he founded this place?
Too confused to answer, she moved deeper into the room, following its curving path. At the end, she discovered a window that peered not to the outside, but to another room—from the looks of it, a communal shower.
“There are those who like to watch others bathing. Or being pleasure
d.” Sam moved behind her and nodded to the far end of the shower room where there was an etched glass wall with holes at various heights. She didn’t need an explanation for what would be done there. Especially with the leather kneeling pads in front of each hole.
Rubbing her arms, she eased past him and walked back to the rotunda. “Do you…do you use that room much?”
“The grotto?”
“No, the shower room.” Why had she asked because she didn’t want to know. She couldn’t bear the thought of his cock being in another woman’s mouth whether others watched or not.
“I prefer to see the woman pleasuring me, not hidden behind a wall. But no, I don’t use this area much. I have my own private suite.”
She fingered the necklace, suddenly wanting to claim ownership of him the way he had of her. “Show me?”
Something flared in his eyes before he banked whatever emotion wanted out. He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. When she did, he laced their fingers together. “Come with me.”
He led her up the stairs to the top balcony, slowing so she could peer through the open doors. Some rooms were luxurious bedrooms not much different than Sam’s penthouse. Some had X-shaped frames and strange benches, and one had a wrought iron cage like a jail. And almost all of them had mirrors or reflective metal on the walls or the ceilings. A whistling sound followed by a muffled cry came from behind one closed door.
Moving faster, as if he wanted to hurry her past that room, Sam turned right and headed down the last corridor. Bright sunlight streamed through the windows on the right hand side, overlooking a garden where many of the trees and shrubs had been planted to form private areas with more benches. In the centre of the garden was a Japanese style garden with an enclosed pavilion.
On the inner wall, the rooms were further apart than the ones ringing the rotunda. Gold Roman numerals had been mounted on the doors. X. IX. VIII. The founding members’ personal suites. Beneath the numerals were stripes—but the colors varied for each member, some had only one or two colors, most had a half a dozen or more. “Is there a significance to the colors?”
“Yeah, it’s a code that tells you what type of play the member is into.”
She looked at the large V on the door where he’d stopped. So he was Member number five of the dozen. The stripes on his door were a veritable rainbow. “What do they mean?”
“Black means I like to use a singletail or flogger,” he growled. “Do you really want to know this about me?”
“I want to know everything about you.” She ran a finger along the array. “Grey?”
His eyes hooded and he pressed her body until she was flat against the wall. He ground against her so she could feel his erection. “Grey means I’m into bondage—in my case that means tying other people up, not being tied up myself. The other colors mean I enjoy oral sex, I like to use clamps on my partner’s nipples and various other body parts,” his voice grew flatter with each recitation, “and I love fucking not only your pussy but your tight little rosebud ass.” He captured her hand and flattened it over his fly. “And according to my partners, I’ve got a big cock.”
He certainly did.
Her breasts heavy and aching, her nipples taut against his chest, it took an effort to raise her eyes to his. “How about we go inside?”
“You sure you wanna be alone in the private suite of a loco pervertido?”
“I’m sorry about calling you that but I was angry. You were right. I was jealous—I hated the thought that you might choose another woman over me.”
His smug smile matched the sparkle in his eyes. “Shoot, you mean you don’t think I’m a pervert anymore?”
“After what we’ve done already, if you’re perverted then you’re the pot and I’m the kettle.”
Chuckling, Sam led her inside. The wider her eyes got, the lower her jaw dropped. “Holy crap.”
She stopped in the middle of the room and did a complete circle standing in place, taking in the glass fronted cabinets on one wall, one displaying a variety of dildos and butt plugs, and another containing a variety of leather and latex hoods and ball gags.
He didn’t say a word or move a muscle as she slowly wandered around the room.
Her palm skidded lightly over the padded leather bench that resembled a sawhorse. And again over the St. Andrew’s cross that stood against the far wall. But the purpose of the strange padded leather bench that resembled something from either her gynecologist’s office or a sci fi medical bay wasn’t as obvious.
If she’d seen this room before she’d agreed to his accord, she would have thought twice about knocking on his door that night. And here she’d thought she was so liberal, so open-minded. So daring for having gone down on Tony on the ferry. She was a rank amateur compared to Sam.
She peered in to examine the erotic carvings on the end posts of the bed, her gaze lingering on the hooks and restraints mounted high and low. When she paused in front of the whips and floggers arranged in patterns worthy of a medieval castle, she touched the carved handle of one of the paddles mounted on the wall and flicked the ends of a leather flogger with one finger.
“When you did your training, did Thalia use a flogger or whip on you?” She still couldn’t picture him allowing himself to be beaten.
“Yes. I’d never ask you—someone,” he amended, “to do something I haven’t done myself.” He took a step closer. Then another until he was standing directly in front of her. “That’s why I’m a stickler about safe words and slow words being used. And why our members have to fill out contracts with other members before they engage in any play so they’ll know exactly what their partner will or won’t allow.”
“It sounds so…businesslike. So detached.”
“Not between us, baby.” He cupped her jaw with his palm. “I don’t know what you do to me, but it’s more than sex with you, Rosie. I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you. You don’t want me to do anything just tell me no, and I’ll stop.”
She knew he would too. “Would you show me? Teach me?”
“Do you remember your safe word?”
“Cochino.”
Before she’d finished the word, he reached back to the door and flipped a switch to set the lock. When he spoke, his voice was a rough growl. “Take off your clothes, Princesa.”
Thirty seconds later, she stood in the middle of the room completely naked, her clothes in a heap by her feet.
“See that bench?” He pointed to what looked like a wide padded sawhorse with leather restraints on each leg. “Lean over it. Face down.”
“What is this thing?” Butterflies jumped in her stomach as she positioned herself against the cold surface. She’d never felt so exposed. Especially when he nudged her legs apart and fastened her wrists and ankles into the restraints. Considering the way her ass was high in the air, it didn’t take much imagination. But was he going to fuck her pussy or her ass, the way he’d wanted to the night before?
He squatted down in front of her. “Why don’t you tell me what you think it’s for?”
“Um, so you can fuck me?”
A bright grin flashed across his face. “That’s one side use, yes.” His grin faded as he cupped her jaw in one hand. “But it’s not fucking when I’m with you, Rosie. It never has been.”
Did that mean he loved her?
He broke the connection by standing up and moving out of her line of sight. “As to your question, this is a spanking bench, Princesa. I use it when I have to punish my partner because they’ve disobeyed me.” She jerked when he slapped first one ass cheek then the other.
“¡Cabrón!” Damn, her ass stung.
“That’s for believing Lee-Anne instead of trusting me.”
His hand struck twice more. He cooled the building heat by smoothing his palm over what had to be reddening flesh. It flared back up again when he trailed his fingers between thighs and tickled her clit. She squirmed at the building sensation. “That’s for taking the butt plug out last night
when you’d promised to leave it in.”
The teasing stopped, and she cursed under her breath, but her pussy pulsed in anticipation of what might come next. It wasn’t what she expected.
Instead of fucking her, Sam crouched down in front of her, holding up a paddle with holes in it. “I should be using this on you for what you put me through last night.”
“But you’re not?” Please, don’t use it, that sucker looked like it would hurt.
He reached behind him and pulled out what looked like a whip. “I could also use a single tail—I’m a pretty good hand with them.”
Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “No. No whips.”
Multiple tails tickled the back of her thighs, were dragged across her back. She opened her eyes and discovered he’d moved behind her again.
“What about my flogger, Princesa? Would you like to meet one of them? I’ve got rabbit skin and deerskin and moose hide. Do you think you might like to try one of them today?”
“No. I don’t think so.” Her breath came in short gasps, partly because of her stomach being pressed into the bench, but partly from…damn, she wasn’t afraid, she was excited.
His fingers played with her labia. “You’re wet for me already. I think you like the idea of being punished. I think you find it exciting.”
“You’re crazy.” Her hips arched against his touch, trying to force them over her pulsing bundle of nerves, needing him buried inside her.
“Yeah, you’re ready for me, Princesa, and I’ve barely had to touch you.”
She nearly screeched in frustration when he withdrew from her. A cupboard door opened. What was he doing? What was he planning?
“Last night you judged me guilty without a fair hearing. I think I deserve some recompense, don’t you?”
“I take it I don’t get a say in how you plan to extract your pound of flesh?”
He chuckled—but there was very little humor within it. “You gave up that right when you believed Lee-Anne instead of me.”
Something cold and hard slid into her vagina. Damn it, a dildo? It started vibrating, teasing her deep inside, driving her crazy. She wanted him inside her, not some damned toy.