Her mouth opened, snapping shut and biting her tongue the next moment when she thought better of what she was going to say. He obviously had the training and knew what he was talking about. Heaven knows no one and nothing else had helped her improve. So, she stashed smart-ass-Angie away for the time being, cleared her head and body of the strong attraction she felt for him, and listened.
*****
T spent the next half hour showing her what he meant. Most importantly, he adjusted her hold and hand position on the gun. With his big hands moving over her smaller ones, he taught her the straight thumb grip.
“This will have the gun tracking up with the recoil. You’ll find it comes right back to the same spot after you fire, or very near to it. Stop focusing on your weapon so much. Think of it as an extension of your arm. The target is your focus. Got it?”
She nodded, having carefully attended to every word, which he liked, except she was much too tense, her habit of biting her bottom lip not the only sign. She needed to relax. He tried to keep it light, continuing with his teasing banter, which he also enjoyed, especially when Angie tended to give as good as she got and wasn’t intimidated by him as women often were.
“Ready to give it a try?”
Again, she bobbed her head in agreement, remaining surprisingly silent. She seemed pensive, no doubt concentrating on all she had learned, but to lift the mood, he couldn’t resist a dig.
“What? No questions, comments, wise ass remarks?”
She released her lip and wrinkled her nose at him, then promptly stuck out her tongue.
He laughed. “Okay, detective sassy britches. Here comes round two. Remember, grip, focus, follow through… let’s see how you do.”
She got into a ready stance and waited for the lights to flash as the countdown started.
“One other thing about follow through. From now on you get a swat for every miss.”
Her head jerked his way.
A target flashed and she didn’t take a shot. “That’s one, Angie.”
“T!” she squealed in protest, as another flash lit up the room.
“Now you’re up to two. Concentrate, or you’ll be standing through lunch.”
“Threatening to spank me is not helping me focus.” Despite her complaints, she had a lock on a target and took a shot. She scored a hit, which made him grin.
“Good shot. I must be helping a little. Keep going.” Standing behind her, he watched over her head, as she fired again with greatly improved accuracy. Despite the noise of the simulator and her weapon discharging, he could hear her quietly talking to herself, recognizing some of his words verbatim. Truly liking what he saw, he admired her determination and fearlessness as much as her beauty and womanly softness, and wished fervently that things could be different.
He shut that line of thinking down fast. No good could come of it.
In the end, she shot sixty percent.
“I can’t believe changing my grip helped so much,” she said, barely able to contain her exuberance. Damn, she was gorgeous, and that smile lit up her entire face. He hadn’t seen her do much of that. “You were right,” she acknowledged. “I shifted my focus right before I took a shot, only for a split second, but it was there. I never noticed.”
“Accuracy is in the smallest detail,” he advised, enjoying the satisfaction shining in her eyes. “There might be hope for you yet, trainee.”
Spirits improved, her features became more animated and he returned her infectious grin.
“We’ve got time for two more rounds. Do you want your penalty spanks now, or for me to hold them all to the end?”
She blinked, her jaw dropping. “You were serious?”
“You’ll find I’m always serious about spankings.” Keeping her on her toes, he further confused her with a wink.
Her beautiful brow creased in a frown. “We’re not at the club, T.”
“We have little time for training, Angie. I’ve decided to combine the two whenever possible. So what’s it going to be? Pay in small installments now? Or, pay really big later.”
“You’re assuming I’ll miss. Where’s your confidence in your training techniques?”
“Perfecting your shot is going to take days and weeks, not hours. I foresee considerable penalties piling up while you work on a consistent passing score.”
She glared at him.
“Did we discuss the penalties for frowning at your Dom?” His smile deepened when her glare morphed into a scowl. “What’s it going to be, darlin’?”
“Pay now.”
“So be it. Pants down and grip your ankles.”
“Here? Someone could come in!”
“Which is why you get to keep your panties.” He knew his benevolence in letting her keep them would be lost on her and was proved right the next moment when she opened her mouth to let more sass fly. Again, being generous, he issued a warning to his newbie sub. “Any more lip or further delays, and you’ll lose those too.”
She blew out her breath so hard her cheeks puffed. Still, she turned and skimmed her jeans down to her knees. With cheeks flushed, she glanced over her shoulder.
“All the way over.”
He steadied her with a hand across her lower back as she got into position. His gaze moved over the silky pink panties that only covered half of her satiny cheeks. Before he began, he straightened the material, smoothing his hand over her glorious ass.
“Twenty-four spanks for as many misses. Ready?”
“Wait. Is your math right? I thought I did better.”
“I didn’t do the math, darlin’, the computer did. The simulation went further this time because you had better accuracy.” He lifted his hand and brought it down, connecting with a firm smack.
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
He smacked her again on the other cheek, then applied three more in quick succession.
“Neither does this, I might add.” This came out in a shaky exhale.
Despite her protests and insisting that she wasn’t bent, she was. He could tell by more than her accelerated breathing, it was also in the flush in her cheeks, the way her eyes brightened, and he couldn’t miss the seductive scent of her arousal. If he ran his fingers along the crotch of her panties, she’d be as wet as last night, no doubt about it. Angie liked a spanking.
“Haven’t you ever heard of positive reinforcement to get results?” He noticed his tone of voice had lowered in direct response to her excitement.
“Positive?” she replied with a shake of her head that sent her long ponytail bouncing. “You need to review your basic psychology. What, may I ask is positive about a spanking?”
He pulled the back of her panties in between her flushed globes and gave her five more whacks, enough to sting, nothing more. She squealed on the tenth one, whether from discomfort or his fingers sliding down the line of fabric until it disappeared inside her cleft, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he found the wetness he’d anticipated.
“I believe this is definitely a positive response for you, little bit.”
Before she could mount another token protest, he continued delivering the next fourteen swats evenly across her behind, the final few low across her bottom cheeks. When he was done, he held her in place with a firm hand as he rubbed her heated skin while admiring its rosy glow. Following a few moments of gentle massage, he helped her to stand.
“Take a deep breath and we’ll begin round three.”
Her hands instantly went to pull up her jeans.
“Leave them,” he ordered. “It will save us time. We’ve got our meeting in thirty.”
“You’re making this difficult on purpose.” Her tone was so full of outrage, he was surprised she didn’t stomp her foot. Damn, she wasn’t merely cute, she was fucking adorable. He had a hard time containing a grin; her narrowed eyes told him he wasn’t entirely successful. “I don’t find this amusing one bit, Sarge. Besides, when am I going to be shooting with my pants around my knees?”
“Adversi
ty, baby. When are you going to have perps in a controlled environment? I’m trying to up the game a bit.” She didn’t say anything to that, although he thought he heard a little grunt. This time he held his grin until she had faced front again and she couldn’t see. He punched in the code for a new series. “Get ready.”
In round three she scored seventy percent, earning eighteen more swats, dropping a bit in the final round and receiving nineteen more.
As she pulled up her jeans twenty minutes later, hissing as she eased them over her pink, heated ass, her tally came to a total of ninety-nine hits, unfortunately the miss column had numbered sixty-one as did her spankings.
“Much better,” he nodded with approval. “Your goal is one hundred percent. I’ll settle for ninety-eight since you’re a beginner.”
“Near perfect, you don’t expect much, do you?”
“I do, but you’re new and I’m cutting you some slack. We’ll get there, however.”
“Hm,” she grunted again, as she zipped and buttoned her pants. “If you don’t mind my asking, what was your last score?”
Ah, a test, cheeky girl. He so loved a challenge. “I haven’t run the simulator in a while. Shall we see?” He punched in his employee code and brought up another test mode. “To be fair, I’ll take it off novice.”
“Do I get to swat your ass for missed shots?”
“Think you can handle my ass?”
“Definitely.” Although she was behind him, he could hear the grin in her voice.
“You’re on then.”
The lights flashed the countdown. Three seconds later he instinctively reacted. Sixty rounds later, the lights flashed green as the simulation ended. When he turned, he saw Angie staring gape mouthed at the screen which flashed expert level and a score of one hundred percent.
“You aren’t human,” she breathed.
He laughed, shutting down the computer and stowing the gear. With a long arm, he reached out and hooked her around the neck as he began walking toward the door. “With eight years of training, more practice sessions than I can count, and real life application, little bit, I for damn sure better be able to beat a computer simulation.”
“You really are a guru of the gunnery. I bow to your expertise oh, Maharishi of Munitions.” She gave him a little bow waving her hand from her forehead with a flourish.
Softly chuckling at her daring after receiving sixty odd swats, he opened the door and with his hand on her backside in gentle warning, guided her through.
They met Cap coming down the stairs from the observation booth.
“We’ve had a change in plans,” he announced without a greeting, all business. “You’ve got a flight out tonight. Eric called. A fourth girl is missing.”
Chapter Eight
Unlike San Antonio, where Club Decadence was situated in a discreet location on acres of private property without a nosy neighbor in sight, Decadence L.A. was right in the middle of downtown. Technically in West Hollywood, three blocks from the post office and no more than a half mile from the well-known Beverly Center, the club was situated on famous Beverly Boulevard surrounded by every day stores and run of the mill businesses whose owners and patrons had no idea, or simply didn’t care, that an exclusive sex club had set up shop in their backyard.
Once inside, she and T were greeted by Eric and his fiancée Val, who reminded Angie of a slightly older version of Megan. Petite, long blonde curls, killer curves and the same sass. Okay, maybe not quite the same sass. Megan seemed to have perfected that attitude since finding her Dom. Val was a bit more discreet.
T had gone immediately to meet with Eric, while Val showed Angie to the third floor apartment to which she’d been assigned. It was spacious and tastefully decorated with no BDSM furniture or implements in plain sight, except for the eye bolts drilled into the head and foot boards of the king size bed, which she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t deliberately looked. Her luggage was there alongside T’s duffle.
“Um, Val,” she began, “there’s been a mistake. T and I aren’t a couple.”
Her expression was one of complete surprise. “But I thought— I mean, from what Eric told me you were here in the role of his submissive. Surely they wouldn’t expect you to, um,” she blushed here, in a shade that could only be called cherry red, “well, you know, if you two weren’t—” Stopping with a grimace, she shook her head. “Geez, I’m usually more eloquent than this, sorry. I’m just surprised. Are you an experienced submissive, then?”
“Yep. I’ve got a whole three and a half days under my belt, this week alone.” Angie’s attempt at humor fell flat. Val didn’t smile or laugh, frowning instead with concern. “Don’t worry about it. This is an assignment, like any other. That’s all.”
Val gave her a disbelieving look.
“Okay, maybe not quite like any other.”
“Have you any idea what’s in store for you here, Angie?”
“Yes, uh, that is to say, I’ve never done this type of undercover work, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I know T and have been going to Club Decadence for years on their open, submissive nights to hear a friend of mine perform.”
“Elena, yes, I had the pleasure of catching a show once. She’s amazing. But the lounge is a far cry from the dungeon.”
“True, but I got a taste of that the past three nights and have done a few scenes. I have also been pretty much submersed in the whole D/s theme lately, what with working at Rossi and several of my family being active members.”
Clearly troubled, her frown deepened as she murmured, “I’m afraid you’re in for a shock, honey. I’ve been to the club in San Antonio, L.A. is nowhere near as tame.”
That got her attention. Public spankings, floggings, wax play, whipping posts, and people openly having sex in front of huge crowds was tame? Good heavens!
“T will take care of you, though. He’s a good guy.” With an assessing look and a soft smile, she pressed forward a bit as she continued. “I have to admit I’m disappointed. I thought he’d finally gotten his head out of his… well, his ass and found himself a good woman. His wandering ways, with a different sub every night is never going to bring him happiness.” The last part was muttered under her breath, but Angie still heard. “I’ll move him to the room across the hall.”
A few minutes later, she was following Val down to administration. In the conference room, they joined T and Eric, who were already pouring over the case files.
A solemn faced Eric started right in as soon as they were seated. “Val knew the three— sorry, the four missing subs personally, so I’m going to let her fill you in on their backgrounds.”
He passed her the stack of folders and she opened the first one, withdrawing a picture. “Elaine Danson.” Like Eric, her face was serious as she began, impressing Angie by not wasting time with unimportant details. “A tall, red head with green eyes. Unattached. She’s been a club member since it opened. By day she was, um, I mean, she is a street cop with the LAPD.”
Angie glanced up at that and met Val’s troubled gaze. Eric, who sat beside her, slid closer, catching her hand in his and giving it a firm squeeze. She didn’t let go as she continued.
“She said being a badass and dealing with thugs all day made her yearn for a place where she could be the complete opposite. She wasn’t into anything too heavy, preferring light play and bondage. Elaine was a sexual submissive, not 24/7, in search of a sensual, romantic Dom. She told me once she wanted long-term, hoping to find that special Dom who could also be a husband and father one day.”
Elaine’s story hit too close to home for Angie.
“Got it,” she acknowledged with a nod, trying to move Val along to the next victim. Her intelligent and very perceptive eyes rose to Angie’s face, studying her speculatively for a moment. Angie felt an urge to explain, had opened her mouth to, in fact, but Val shook her head subtly, stopping her before she’d begun, and moved on without comment.
Sitting back, Angie thought of all the times,
she could have used Val’s remarkable insight in an interrogation room in the past. Suspects would have been squirming and spilling their guts in seconds under her gentle but expert analysis, without realizing how or why they were doing it.
“Marilee Phelps,” she said quietly, continuing on with victim number two. “Age thirty-two, also tall and curvaceous, but she was a blonde with hazel eyes. She and her former Dom recently divorced. Of course, the police questioned him first, but he had a solid alibi. Eric and I knew them fairly well. Their break up was a surprise to everyone. I’m thinking it was at her insistence because it’s obvious he still loves her and is inconsolable. Those poor little girls.” Her voice broke at the end.
Eric’s free hand swept up her back. “If this is too much, little one…”
“No,” she cut in with a sniffle. “I want to help find them, this is nothing compared to what they must have had—I mean, what they are enduring.”
He nodded, squeezing her hand and brushing her long curls with affection. Then, as if to say to hell with this, Eric pulled her into his lap.
“Continue, but you’ll do so from right here.”
She gave him a watery smile while stroking her hand lightly across his cheek. Resuming her task with his supportive arms around her, she slid the next photo toward Angie and T.
“Felicia Mulrooney, the youngest at twenty-six. She was a budding author. One book published last year that did quite well, another due out in a few weeks. I have her first book, though haven’t had time to read it.”
“Let me guess,” Angie cut in gently. “Also tall, curvy and unattached.”
“Yes. A pattern does seem to be emerging.” Val opened the last folder, the thinnest. “The latest victim is Alisha Gray. Age twenty-nine. Also, tall, in fact, I’d guess she’s the tallest of them all, at least six feet with long wavy brown hair. When she joined, she had a Dom. That ended about six months ago and she’s been actively looking. I don’t know much else about her except she’s an actress. You might recognize her from TV. She has a supporting role in a popular drama. I’ve never seen it, although I’ve heard it’s a very good show.”
What About Love (Club Decadence Book 6) Page 11