Hard Limits

by Anna Parsons

  “Oh, Mister…I mean, Master Dylan, you startled me,” Evie said with a smile.

  “I didn’t mean to.” He touched her shoulder. “Just checking on you.”

  “I’m fine.” She looked up into his dark eyes, noting sadness. “The question is are you okay?” She placed her hand on top of his on her shoulder. They both felt a spark. “Sorry. I think I shocked you.”

  “Yes, Miss Hope, it appears that you have.” He smiled and removed his hand. “And yes, I’m fine.” But I’m really not…“Do you know your safe word?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, if you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to find me or have one of the Observers find me.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that, but am not sure that Peter would be happy about that.” She turned to see Peter watching their discussion. When she turned back around, Dylan was gone. She shrugged and entered the lounge.

  Chapter 6:

  Evie’s Pain

  After a long night at the club, Dylan stayed in the third floor apartment instead of driving to his Galveston beach house. He stood in his shower, water from the mounted jets hitting his body from all directions. One hand was against the wall, the other was stroking his massive cock. His hand stroked the entire ten inches, twisting as he moved from head to root. He placed his head against the wall, dreaming about the same woman as he had every day since he first laid eyes on her. Evangeline Hope consumed his thoughts, her perfection kept him from ever thinking of anyone else. He stroked himself, groaning as he thought of her luscious body rubbing against his, dropping to her knees in front of him and taking the head of his cock into her mouth. He dreamed of pushing more of himself into her, making her gag around the length and girth of him. He rarely gave more than his head to a woman, orally, vaginally, or anally, without her protesting at his size. The woman of his dreams would take him, all of him, without objecting. She would accept him into her body, making her his, and him hers. He threw his head back and wailed her name as he did every day. “Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope.” He screamed her name as he released his seed into the running water. He could barely stand and held onto the wall to keep from collapsing from the sheer weight of his orgasm. She was his hope for his future. He told himself that every day, but Hope was not his, she belonged to another. He had to covet her from afar, praying for an opening.

  After drying off, he ran his fingers through his dark hair before pulling on comfortable, well-worn jeans and a black T-shirt. He had to adjust his still- hard erection down his leg in order to zip up. I’ve got to get past this…past her. Moving through the hallways of Exxcess, he straightened paintings and ran his fingers along surfaces, looking for dust. He nodded toward the cleaning crew as they went about their business, cleaning and sanitizing every inch of the thirty-thousand-square-foot mansion, as they did each day.

  Dylan entered his office suite. A large mahogany desk took up a good portion of the far side of the room. In front of the desk were two overstuffed leather chairs. The anterior contained a dozen screens with images from the security cameras that covered the interior from every angle, including the private rooms. A security office down the hall duplicated the interior surveillance, and included images from the cameras covering each entrance, the parking lot, and most of the grounds. He and his security staff protected not only the property, but those indulging in all the club’s offerings.

  The phone rang just as he sat behind the desk. “Exxcess,” he said, sounding a bit irritated.

  “Dylan, Nash.” Peter didn’t bother with niceties like “hello.”

  “Yeah, Nash. What’s up?” Dylan tried to sound cheerful, but instead he sounded deranged. “What’s up?” Really?

  “I need to understand what the fuck is going on.” Knowing exactly what Peter was speaking of, Dylan knew that the space between his eyebrows had come together in a frown.

  “Okay,” Dylan said. “Not sure what you mean. Unless you are speaking about Miss Hope.”

  Peter chuckled. “You slick son of a bitch. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Every fucking time I turn around, you’re whispering in her ear. What’s that shit all about?” Peter was not shouting, nor did he sound angry. In fact, he laughed throughout the conversation.

  “She works at my clinic. I’m just looking out for her,” Dylan said calmly, as he tapped his pen on his desk, sounding cooler than he actually was. “We know how you are, Peter. When are you gonna show your true nature?”

  “How do you know I haven’t?” Peter asked, knowing he had the upper hand at that moment. “Look, man. Whatever happens between us is my fucking business. Talk about me breaking the rules, you’re breaking your own rules by trying to interfere.” Peter knew he had him.

  “So, why are you calling me today?” Dylan just wanted the conversation to end.

  “Just telling you to back off. We’re coming in tonight, and I want you to keep your ass away from Evie.” Peter was yelling into his blue tooth as he maneuvered his black BMW through the streets of downtown Houston.

  “Look, Nash,” Dylan started. “She’s a member of my staff, and I will be watching over her whether you like it or not.”

  “Whether I like it or not?” Peter repeated. “Is that what you just said?” Silence. “You know what? She’ll pay for that. Matter of fact…when I’m done with her, you can have whatever’s left. You got it?”

  “Naw, man. You got it.” You motherfucker. Dylan hung up before Peter had the chance to respond. Nash is a fool.

  Working was out of the question now. Dylan moved to the door and headed toward the garage. He needed to clear his head. He maneuvered the Corvette Z06 from the ten-car garage, punching to full-throttle as soon as the turned onto the snaking curves of the desolate farm to market road, hugging the bends at speeds that bordered on reckless. The thought of his Hope being hurt tore at this heart. He needed to clear his head and calm his anger before returning to the club, or else bodily injury might ensue. An hour of country rambling helped but didn’t completely relieve the pressure, which returned with a vengeance as soon as he returned to the garage. She deserves better. She deserves me.

  Hours later, Dylan stood in the foyer of Exxcess, watching the crowd. The only full-time BDSM club in Houston was usually busy on Saturday nights, and tonight was full of activity. Half of the first floor contained a large bar area and restaurant, which was hosting a chef’s tasting. The other half was used as a training area for new Doms, Dommes, and subs to learn the rules of the club, how to use the toys, and how to safely maneuver the BDSM lifestyle. A wide staircase led to the main play area on the second floor. At the top of the stairs, a closed door separated the play area from the rest of the club. Dylan ascended the stairs, speaking to some, nodding to others, including the police chief, a world-renowned cardiologist, a couple of judges, and other Houston elite.

  Immediately to the right was a door to the subs’ lounge. Inside was like a gym locker room, lockers with digital locks lined the walls, showers were straight ahead, restrooms to the right. Male and female subs shared the same lounge, and it was usually filled with both in various states of undress, as the club rule for sub clothing was simple, the skimpier the better, or none, if it pleased the Dom/me.

  Dylan saw Evie enter on the arm of Peter Nash. There she was, entering the upper floor of his club, wearing a skintight dress that had her full breasts almost spilling over, blushing all over her perfect, lush, curvy body. She stepped away from him to stow her wrap and purse in the lounge, while Nash strutted around, accepting accolades from the men around him as they watched Evie walk away. When she returned, she clutched his arm, clearly uncomfortable. Dylan clenched and unclenched his fists, resisting the urge to rip out Peter’s throat. He turned to walk away. “Protect her, Dylan.” Anne’s voice cut through the throbbing music that poured from the mounted speakers. “She needs you.”

  The main play chamber was just one large room, with leather sofas and chairs interspersed throughout. Walls were black with sconces
positioned every few feet. A bar area surrounded by high bar stools dominated one corner of the room. Near every sitting area was an elevated play area. Various scenes were being played out while others watched, some silently, some offering comments to both the sub and the Dom. Large plants gave the illusion of privacy in some of the sitting areas. They did little to hide the variety of sex acts happening at that moment. In one corner, Allison Peron, the club’s secretary, was on her knees before Ben Hammond, one of Dylan’s closest friends, with his cock in her mouth, while he engaged in a conversation with two other men. A gay couple was having sex with one partner draped over the back of a sofa while the other pounded his ass. A man near the bar was taking a woman doggie-style, while she sucked off another. No one seemed to care.

  The pair walked through the exclusive, members-only club, which catered to a variety of extreme or fetish gatherings. Evie clutched his arm. As a long-time member, Peter could sponsor Evie’s membership, and after an extensive background check and interview, she could be granted a platinum key of her own. She didn’t want membership. In her mind, their relationship was private so she avoided the club. Evie knew that this was a disappointment to Peter, though he rarely mentioned it, but tonight, he insisted that they spend the evening in the club. They maneuvered through the main gathering area, Evie inhaling sharply more than once at the activities happening around her as she clung to Nash.

  Evie looked around the club Peter loved so much. Each step brought her deeper into his world, one that piqued her interest, but was still frightening. In her previous visits, Dylan Rankin had made it a point to say hello, much to Peter’s chagrin. But tonight, he was nowhere to be found, which disappointed Evie. She followed Peter’s lead as they maneuvered through the active play area.

  Peter led her down a long hallway with closed doors on either side, as though it was something he had done a hundred times, stopping in front of a door and turning the knob. When she stepped into the room, the light automatically turned on, revealing a room with no windows and that smelled of leather and some other fragrance that Evie could not place. Two beams crossed like the letter X stood in one corner, a cage in another. Shackles hung from the ceiling, and something resembling an Olympic pommel horse drew her attention. What the hell? In the center of the room was a round bed covered in black satin. It was not a large one, just big enough for two. Each of the strange pieces of equipment had some type of restraint attached. Evie was enthralled. Her curiosity pulled her deeper into the room as Peter leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching as she touched each piece of equipment, wondering its purpose. Only the cage and the bed left no room for confusion. A cabinet stood against one wall, and Evie could not resist opening it. The shocks just keep coming. Inside the carved-wood wardrobe was an assortment of whips, flogs, chains, and dildos. The wood handles were polished and the leather well tanned. It was obvious that the tools were well cared for. Evie shuddered at the thought of how Peter might try to use these on her. She selected a crop, testing the weight in her hand, and swiped it through the air, surprised at the sound it made as it sliced. Paying less attention than she should, she accidentally hit her thigh. “Son of a bitch, that hurts,” she said as she rubbed the spot on her thigh. Looking down, she saw a thin red line appear. She continued to rub the red spot as she replaced the crop and turned to join Peter at the door.

  He nonchalantly closed the door and met her in the center of the room. She looked up into his blue eyes and he smiled. “Not so fast,” he teased. “We’re going to have some fun.” He turned her around and started at the beginning, pointing out each apparatus, its purpose, and what he planned to do to her. “This is a spanking bench. You kneel here,” he said, pointing to two leather platforms that extended from the side of the pommel horse. “Bindings are here for your legs, and your torso goes here, bound of course.” He took her hand and rubbed it across the top of the apparatus. “This is a St. Andrew’s cross,” he said, moving to the crossed wooden beams in the corner. “You can either face it or have your back to it. I prefer you to face it, so I can have your ass for my use,” he said matter-of-factly, causing Evie to gasp. “The cage is simple. You do as I ask, or I will put you in your cage until you do. If I need to, I am sure I could find a willing partner to play with me while you watch from your cage.” He smiled and touched her cheek. “But it won’t come to that, will it Evie?”

  “I…I…I’m not sure about this, Peter,” Evie said before taking a seat on the edge of the bed and nervously rubbing her thighs.

  “Master,” Peter said as he sat next to her. “This is what I want, Evie. And I know you want this, too.” His voice calmed her, along with the hand stroking up and down her back, petting her as one would a cat. Up until this moment, he had taken her foray into the lifestyle in baby steps. He introduced her to light spanking, which turned up the excitement level for her. But this…this was the deep end of the pool when up to now she had stayed in the shallow end. She rose and shook her head to protest, but he was lightning fast with the leather bonds. Before Evie realized it, her hands were securely tied behind her back.

  “No! Cotton Candy! Cotton Candy!” She yelled their safe words. Peter spun her around, and, grabbing her by the upper arms, he drew her close to his face.

  “Do not in your life tell me ‘no,’ ever! And I don’t give a shit about your safe words. Not tonight.” He spat the words into her face. Anne made her way into his thoughts. “She wants this. She wants you to hurt her. You want this. Do it.” Anne’s spirit stood behind him, holding his hand in her own, as a parent would when teaching a child to write. He paused before drawing back and slapping Evie’s face with such force that she landed on the bed before rolling to the floor, unable to brace herself because of her bound hands. He reached down and lifted her by her hair before slapping her again, holding her hair to keep her upright. She cried out in shock and hurt. Instantly, he shoved the ball gag into her mouth, and tried to secure it behind her head. Evie fought against him, leaning into him with her shoulder, trying to knock him over. A knee to her stomach ended her protests as she doubled over, heaving. “I’m gonna beat your ass for fighting me.”

  She dropped to her knees, gasping for air. He quickly shoved the ball gag into her mouth and buckled it before ripping the dress from her body. He pulled her to her feet and dragged her to the spanking bench, pushing her onto it, kneeling on the leather pads. Peter expertly placed leather restraints around her thighs and just above her ankles before pressing her face-first into the bench and buckling a thick leather strap around her torso. He pulled at the straps to make sure that she was completely immobile before moving to the cabinet to select his instruments. He returned with a long, thin cane, whipping it through the air, causing Evie to flinch. The feel of something soft against her back, then her shoulder, then his voice came, eerily calm. “Since you are gagged, you can’t say your safe words.” He chuckled. “Oh wait, you already tried.” He laughed again as he moved the red scarf before her eyes. “Since you can’t speak, normally you would be given an object, like this scarf, to drop in case things get too intense. Believe me, Evie, tonight things will get very, very intense.” He moved to stand in front of her, holding one end of the long red scarf near his face. She lifted her head to look up into his eyes. “So I’ll take the liberty of dropping this, kind of as your proxy.” Evie watched as the fabric wafted to the floor. “It’s time for you to learn what I want.” He paused. “No, not what I want. What I need from you.” He walked to a panel on the wall, turning on a stereo, pumping hard rock. Returning to her, he didn’t hesitate before bringing the cane down onto her flesh. Without Anne behind him, the force of the blows would have tired him quickly, but she was there, showing him what he needed to do.

  Evie struggled against her bonds to no avail, expecting that the cane would connect with her flesh again and again, until he tired. Thwack! Another blow. He said he would teach me about dominance and submission. But this? Evie’s sobs were almost inaudible because o
f the ball gag stuffed in her mouth and the loud music that throbbed in the background. The voice returned to her. “Be easy, my sister. Your hero is coming.” The voice in Evie’s head usually helped to keep her calm, but tonight, Evie struggled to concentrate on the words. Evie’s mother, Shawna, studied cultures that believed in faeries, and she convinced Evie that she wasn’t losing her mind the first time that she heard the voice. “You have a faerie godmother, child,” Shawna said. “Consider yourself blessed.” Thwack! The cane sliced across her back. She had stopped counting at fourteen…or fifteen.