by Anna Parsons
He said we would discover my limits. Thwack! I discovered two tonight…or is it three? Evie could feel the bile rising in her throat. She was not a pain slut, though she did enjoy the intense pleasure that came with the little spankings at Peter’s hand, but the cane was too much. It was torture for her. Thwack! This time he brought the cane down across her tender and tormented ass. She could almost feel the welt beginning to rise. Thwack! Thwack! My God, I think I’m bleeding.
She was starting to choke behind the gag, as she looked down at the red scarf that was mocking her from the floor below the apparatus she straddled in a room somewhere deep within the halls of Exxcess. Her tears were blinding her, her body shook with sobs as she struggled to breathe. With one last hard lash across her tender buttocks, he dropped the cane to the floor in front of her. She shuddered as she focused on the implement of torture that he had tormented her with for what seemed like hours but was likely minutes. The lashing stopped, causing her to look back at him, unsure of his next move.
“Don’t fucking eyeball me!” He spat the words at her before he brought his hand down onto her pulsating behind. He used all of his strength, slightly moving her against the bench with each blow. As suddenly as it started, the blows to her backside stopped. For an unknown amount of time, he just stood there. The music drowned out his breathing, but she knew he was there. Her breathing, though still shallow, had steadied along with her heart rate. She opened her eyes, not realizing that they had been clenched shut. Her vision cleared as before her was the dreaded cane, lying across the red scarf, scornfully watching her. She tensed ever so slightly, sure he noticed.
The music finally turned off. He walked slowly back to her, humming the same tune that had just been silenced, making Evie feel more uneasy. “Thank you, Evie. That was delicious.” He whispered into her ear, as he leaned over her, his talented tongue darting out to tease her lobe. “You know just how to take the tension of the day away.” He kissed her cheek, stood up, and stalked toward the door. “I need a break.” Evie struggled against her bonds, the leather straps cutting into her skin. She grunted against the ball that held her jaws open. As a nurse, she knew the beginnings of a panic attack. Her eyes, wide as saucers stared in his direction, pleading for him to turn around. When he did, the look on his face finally stole her breath away. His beautiful face was contorted into an intense mask of hatred. She stilled, shocked, as she watched him turn out the lights and leave.
He is testing me, right? He’ll be back. Won’t he? Why is he doing this to me? How could he? Evie’s thoughts were a jumble as she knelt, tied to the beams of the horse with long leather straps that crisscrossed from thigh to ankle, and her breasts pressed uncomfortably against the leather-covered bench. He’ll be back in a minute. She hoped. Focusing on the puddle of drool that formed as a result of the saliva droplets from around her ball gag, she closed her eyes and prayed. Only the voice in her head remained. “Be easy. He is coming, mi hermana.”
Anne watched the aftermath of the scene, and the events she helped put into motion, confident that the outcome would justify her actions.
Chapter 7:
The Rescue
“Boss, you gotta snap out of it.” Chris Shelley, the manager of Exxcess, stood next to Dylan who looked over the crowd.
“Stop calling me ‘Boss,’ Chris. You know I hate that shit.” Dylan looked over at his longtime friend. Chris agreed to manage Exxcess as soon as Dylan decided to open it. Chris stood eye to eye with Dylan, though he was about sixty pounds lighter. He stood next to his friend in a black leather vest, which displayed a chest and arms of lean muscle. His brown hair was cut short, with blond highlights and a tousled look. The ladies drooled over him, with his easy manner and soft brown eyes. Unlike Dylan, Chris seemed more approachable, which made him the ideal manager.
“Okay. Dylan, you really gotta snap out of it,” Chris said, smiling. “Grab yourself a sub and have at it. Any number of them, men and women, would be happy to comply.” Dylan grunted at his friend. “I saw Evie come in with Nash.”
“So,” Dylan said, looking around.
“So?” Chris turned to look into Dylan’s dark eyes. “Really, Dylan?”
“Let it go, Chris. She’s taken.” For now, anyway. “Where is your sub, anyway? Go harass him.”
“Antonio is off somewhere,” Chris said as he gazed around the room, checking out the activities, looking for his sub. “He’ll be back when he gets bored…or when I get bored.” Chris chuckled and slapped Dylan on his back. “You can feel free to join us later.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I have some things to do. Rain check?” Chris nodded as Dylan walked away, heading to the bar. After a few paces, Dylan saw Bruce Chaney, one of his long-time Observers, moving quickly toward him. At six-six, easily topping two hundred seventy-five pounds, a former defensive lineman, Chaney rarely moved quickly. Combine the movement with the look on his face, and Dylan knew that something was terribly wrong. “Chaney, what’s going on?”
Sweat beaded on Chaney’s dark face. “It’s Evie. Was skimming the monitors and saw Peter leave her alone, tied in room four.” Earlier, Dylan had taken his position in front of the monitors and watched Hope’s movement through the club, saw the areas where her eyes rested for more than a moment. He abandoned his post to greet his VIP visitors, leaving Chaney to watch. Few knew of his desire for Evie…Hope, or so he thought. Up until this moment, he hadn’t realized that Chaney was amongst the privileged few. Dylan moved swiftly through the main area back to the private rooms. On his way, he noticed Peter sitting at the bar, casually sipping a drink, rubbing the inner arm of one of the bartenders. Setting up his next scene already. Stupid asshole. Dylan rushed to his Hope.
* * * *
Evie started when she heard the door open. The brightness of the lights made her squeeze her eyes shut at the invasion in the darkened room. She heard heavy steps approach her but could not bring herself to lift her head, unsure if it was physically or mentally impossible for her to move. She felt fingers brush her skin as they began untying the knots, beginning with the hands. Her arms fell limply toward the floor. A moment later, the stinging began as her circulation returned. Her limbs were massaged to help aid the blood flow, and then went the binding around her waist that buckled under the bench. Bending down, he unbound both legs and moved to remove the ball gag before helping her to stand, which proved impossible. He caught her in his arms just before she hit the floor. Wrapping her in a soft pink blanket, he easily lifted her into his arms and moved toward the door. Not Peter. Dylan? Everything that was light about Peter was dark about Dylan. Dark hair that he wore a little too short and dark eyes through which Evie was sure she could see her reflection. Where Peter was soft, Dylan was hard. He was in all black, which stood out against his tanned skin. His chin usually showed a day or more of growth. He was easily the most handsome man she had ever met, which caused her heart to pound every time she was near him. Evie gasped. Dear Lord, he owns the clinic. What must he think? Say something. But she could not form words. Evie placed her head against his chest and closed her eyes. She lacked the strength to cry even though her heart was breaking.
Moments later, Dylan set her on the bench inside of the subs’ lounge. A hand reached for her. “No!” Evie yelled and pulled herself away. “I’m leaving.” She ran into one of the restroom stalls. Leaning against the door, Evie sobbed openly. Why? Why is this happening?
There was a light knock on the stall door. “Dear heart, are you okay?” A man’s voice asked.
“I’ll be fine. Thank you.” Ever polite, Evie’s mother had raised her well.
“Master Dylan sent me in to check on you. Open the door, sweetie.” Evie slowly opened the door, trying to pull the blanket closer, and looked at the man. He was probably Evie’s age, she guessed, wearing more eye makeup than she ever dared. His pitch-black hair was spiked all over his head. His bright blue eyes were tenderly gazing at her. “I’m Antonio. I know you are Hope.”
“That
’s my last name. Evangeline Hope,” she corrected him.
“Well, Big Badass Master Dylan called you Hope. So, sister, your name is Hope.” He returned her to the bench and reached for a box of tissue. “Now tell me everything.” Antonio was tall and slim, wearing what appeared to Evie to be latex shorts in royal blue and a blue-and-white striped tank top. He was not the person she ever expected to tell her troubles to.
“It’s just a misunderstanding. I need to go home now.” Evie rose and walked to her locker. She was still wrapped in the soft blanket. She retrieved her robe, wrapping it around herself.
“Oh no, girlfriend, you will not put that on until you wash that makeup off your face. Here let me get you some of the good soap.” He opened a cabinet and presented her with a pump bottle of Clinique. He took the robe from her, holding it up to himself. “Sister, I would look good in this.” He walked with her to the sink area, obviously resisting the urge to wrap himself in the luxurious silk. He watched her reflection in the mirror as she scrubbed her face. “I’ve seen you before, ya know.” Evie stopped scrubbing to look up at him. “Outside of here, I mean. I saw you at the hospital. Last month a friend of mine fell down a flight of stairs after drinking way too much, and he ended up in the ER. You were there.”
“Did I help you?” Evie asked between splashes of water to rinse her face.
“No. We had a different nurse,” he said as he played with one of the many rings on his polished fingers.
“Then how do you remember me?” Evie dried her face on one of the fluffy towels on the counter, holding it close to her to cover her breasts.
Antonio cocked his head to one side and, using one long finger, pointed up and down her body. “You stand out, sister.” He held up the robe, and Evie stepped into it, placing the towel into the hamper near the row of sinks. “OK. There you go. Master Dylan is waiting just outside for you.” He handed her the purse from her locker.
“What? Why is he waiting for me?” She almost panicked.
“Well, had he told me, I would tell you, but the big boss doesn’t share his innermost thoughts and feelings with me. That’s my cute way of saying that I have no idea, other than…” He again pointed his finger from the tip of her nose to the tip of her toes. Her gaze followed his finger to her bare feet.
“I need my shoes. I left them in…” She pointed toward the lounge door. Her stilettos and the remnants of her dress were on the floor of the room in which Peter had left her.
“Size seven, right?” She nodded and he opened the same cabinet, bringing out a pair of flip-flops. That cabinet must be a wish chest. Everything you could ever need at your fingertips. Evie was never more grateful. “I will get your shoes to you. Jimmy Choo shoes should never be abandoned. I’m on it.”
“How did you know…?” Before Evie could finish her question, Antonio again pointed up and down her body. She sighed and smiled up at him. “Thank you so much, Antonio. It was lovely to meet you.” Forever polite.
As she moved to the door, Antonio handed her a card with his number. “You call me, girlfriend, if you need to talk to, a girlfriend.” Evie nodded and headed toward the door.
As Antonio said, Dylan was waiting for her. He stepped forward. “Hope, I am so sorry. Are you okay?” Her eyes were swimming with unshed tears and looked like soft grass after a rain shower. She had washed off the makeup and looked young and vulnerable. If he was not careful, she would certainly bewitch him. She would be his. My Hope.
“Hope is not my name.” She hugged herself and didn’t look up.
“I’m taking you home.” He reached for her, and she pulled back.
“No, thank you. I have my car.” She tried to walk around him. Given his size and latent strength, there was no way. He stood over six feet tall and, best she could tell, was all muscle.
“Hope, I’m not letting you drive. You can get your car tomorrow. Tonight, I am taking you home, even if I have to carry you.” He smiled as he placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and guided her out of the door and down the stairs. Instead of going through the front entrance, he steered her to a door marked “private.” Down a hallway, they entered a garage with several cars. He selected a set of keys and walked her down a walkway to a large Mercedes. After settling her into the passenger seat and buckling her in, she watched him walk to the driver’s side and slide behind the wheel.
“Thank you for doing this. I’m sure that you have better things to do. It’s very nice of you.” Evie tugged on her seat belt as he started the engine. Seat belts always seemed to hit me in the wrong spot.
“Hope, there’s no need to thank me. Glad to help.” He looked over his shoulder and backed out of the space.
“Why do you call me by my last name? You told Antonio that my name is ‘Hope.’ Why?”
“Well, my grandmother’s name was Evangeline, and there is absolutely no resemblance between you two. And I really like the way ‘Hope’ rolls off my tongue.” He smiled at her when he glanced from the road ahead.
She could understand his disappointment at having someone like her share a name with one of his relatives. Oil and water. “I live in the Summit,” Evie said quietly.
They rode in silence. Dylan was having trouble focusing on the road in front of him when the woman of his dreams was within arm’s reach. She sniffled every few minutes, which tugged at his heart. Dylan glanced over at the beautiful woman sitting next to him. After so long, he finally had hope…Hope.
Chapter 8:
How Far is Heaven?
He turned into the entrance of The Summit luxury high-rise complex. “You can just drop me off in front,” Evie said, reaching for the seat belt.
“No,” was all Dylan said. The tone of his strong baritone voice caused her to pause and sit back. He pulled the Mercedes up to the garage. Rolling down the window, he pressed a code into the box.
“You know someone who lives here?” she asked. How else would he have a garage code?
“No.” He looked at her with a sly smile. “I own the building.”
“Oh.” Evie tried to sink further into her seat. He entered the underground garage and parked in one of two reserved spots. She always wondered to whom they belonged. Now she knew, and another question had been answered…the “DR Holdings” she paid rent to was Dylan Rankin. “It’s a nice building. I like it here.” She released the seat belt and reached for the door.
“Stay,” he said, placing his hand on her arm to still her. She stayed put. In a moment, he was opening her door and handing her out into the warm garage. “I’m glad you like The Summit. We’ve considered converting to condos or selling it outright, but the time just never seems right.” He walked her to the elevator lobby, her hand again placed on his arm. She looked up at him as they walked. She noticed the dimple in his left cheek when he smiled. Why didn’t I notice that before? Why is he being so nice to me?
Entering another code into the elevator security pad, he punched her floor, seventeen. Evie started to fidget. “You really don’t have to walk me to the door. I’m fine now.”
He looked down at her, his lips pursed into a thin line. “I said that I would see you home and I will. You suffered a trauma tonight and you are most certainly not fine. I’ll stay until I’m satisfied that you are fine. Got it?”
“Yes…Sir?” She looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Just Dylan.” He petted the hand that was on his arm.
“Yes, Dylan,” she said more confidently. The elevator door opened on her floor and they stepped into the red paisley carpeted hallway. There were four apartments on each floor from fifteen to the penthouse on twenty-five. Smaller apartments were on the lower floors. Of course, he knew what apartment she lived in, he knew that she had been in residence for fourteen months, and he knew she completed an upgrade to the sound proofing at her own expense. At the time of the request, he had no idea who she was, but it was smart business to approve the request. Once the resident moved out, he could rent the apartment for a premium. Now that he
knew her and believed he understood why she would need soundproofing, it angered him every time he thought of Nash exercising his control over her.
She hesitated a moment before inserting her key into the lock. She stepped aside once she entered to allow him inside. She placed her key ring into the dish on the long table near the door, as always. She paused, staring down into the dish.
“Is everything okay?” Dylan walked up beside her, placing his hand on her lower back. She reached into the dish and lifted out the horseshoe key ring.
“He was here. This is the key I gave him.” She started looking around the large living room area. Her mother said that her apartment looked too manly. A rust-colored leather sectional sat in the middle of the room, and a huge flat-screen television hung between two large floor-to-ceiling windows. An overstuffed, comfortable chair sat near the fireplace in the corner, where she liked to sit and read in front of the fire. In the other corner was a baby grand piano with a dark wood finish. It took her only a moment to find the box sitting on the corner of the dining room table. She opened the top and peered inside, finding all of the things from Peter’s house that belonged to her. It wasn’t much, just some toiletries and such. A tear slid down her cheek. “He planned this. He knew what he was going to do all along. He didn’t just leave me there, he dumped me!”