Lace Underground: The Complete Trilogy

by Oliver, Tess

  I laugh and slap him on the shoulder.

  "Well, I'll at least give it a good fucking try," he says to my back as I walk out.

  22

  Angie

  I haven't eaten eggs Benedict often. I'm more of a strawberry waffle kind of girl, but the food Blake brought me was melt in my mouth delicious. My extreme hunger probably added to its perceived divineness.

  Blake removed the plates and returned with a zipped up garment bag and rolling suitcase. "Here are a few things to put in the closet, then we can get you out of that towel." He opens a door that leads to a walk-in closet and disappears inside with the garment bag and suitcase before I can even see what's inside of them. Blake still seems tenser than he was earlier and that makes me edgy.

  "Mr. Freestone has given specific instructions," he calls from inside the closet. He walks out carrying a sheer white lace teddy on a satin hanger. He's carrying something in his other hand that I can only make out as strips of leather. "You'll find soon enough he's very particular and likes things just so."

  I'm absorbing the information. Freestone might have obsessive compulsive disorder but that new detail has less of my focus than the sheer lingerie in Blake's hand. "Is that tonight's party dress?" I ask with humor but there's plenty of hesitation in my tone.

  "Yes." The garment looks as if it weighs no more than a butterfly's wings. "It's pretty, don't you think?"

  "I suppose."

  Blake seems to let go of some of the tension that had seized him since he walked in on his boss overseeing my bath. He smiles and shuffles in his unique, graceful way toward the vanity. "Look, darlin', I know this whole thing takes a little getting used to but at least you're off the street. You're safe and clean and well fed." He seems to be trying to reassure himself about something. "And besides, Mr. Freestone rarely chooses a girl for himself. Even then, when he does, he gets distracted quickly. He always has so much going on, he just doesn't have time for—you know—pleasure."

  "So what you're telling me is not to get too used to my lovely room and the marvelous bathtub because I'll be back in my tent just as soon as he tires of me?"

  Blake motions me to sit at the vanity and starts brushing my hair with a silver brush. "No, that won't happen. I mean he might get tired of you soon. Although I have to say I've never known him to sneak in and watch one of the new girl's bathe. That's why it took me by surprise. Anyhow, he won't toss you back onto the streets. He'll keep you here for the club members."

  I stare at his reflection in the mirror. He pretends to be concentrating on my hair, but there's more behind his expression. "And that's better than being his personal pleasure toy?" I ask.

  He laughs at the name I've given it, but he certainly doesn't try to argue against it. "No, it'll be fine."

  "You said that with about as much conviction as a serial murderer telling the judge he's innocent."

  "Well, if I'm being totally honest, and I read you right away as a girl who prefers all the cards up front, it's just more stressful and frankly a little lonely when you're here for the boss. The other girls have a blast. They share rooms and they have almost all the same luxuries as this room. Club activities are only twice a week. And the security team, like the driver you saw on the night of the party, they make sure the club members behave. If one girl gets so much as a bruise or scratch or is mistreated, the offending member risks being kicked out."

  It seems I didn't need to go to the pool after all. Blake is a huge source of seemingly unfiltered information.

  "I guess some of these club members get pretty kinky, eh?"

  Blake leans back to admire his handiwork. He pulls my hair around my shoulders. "He likes the hair down," he adds. "Every club member is different. Most of them are high powered businessmen with stressful jobs who come here to relax unfettered by the usual constraints of society. Some like to be the dominant and some prefer to be on the receiving end of a good erotic punishment."

  The word dominant clicks in my head. My gaze lands on the pile of leather strips Blake had dropped on the vanity. I reach forward and pick one up. The leather is soft and supple, cool to the touch. It's short enough to fit around my wrist and is tethered together with a crisscrossed leather lace. There is a silver ring attached to each. In addition, there are two slightly longer and more narrow leather straps. Anklets, I conclude. The silver rings around the room begin to make sense and at the same time send a cold chill through me.

  Blake and I look at each other through our mirror reflections. "You'll enjoy yourself, darlin'. I promise. Besides, that's what the nectar is for. It warms you up, if you catch my meaning."

  "The nectar? It wasn't my imagination then," I say. "It has aphrodisiac qualities."

  "Yes, compliments of our brilliant leader. He formulated the perfect sexual stimulant for women, but the pharmaceutical companies decided not to release it. They claimed it was not tested enough and it was too addictive. Mr. Freestone says it was because of male dominance."

  "I don't understand. Don't men want women walking around hot and horny? After all, they've got pills for men that can make a mummy have a four hour erection."

  Blake laughs. "You're asking the wrong man. The boss says it's because men want to keep control of everything. Who knows, maybe they'll feel like they lose that when women start initiating sex all the time." He reaches for a lipstick and then thinks better of it. "Those lips of yours are attention grabbers without all the paint."

  The last thing I need is to feel off balance and heady like I did with the champagne. I need to be fully aware of everything going on. "I can't drink any more of that champagne. We'll just pretend that I'm high," I suggest confidently. Blake doesn't seem to be buying it.

  He quickly changes the subject. "I had to guess on the size. I picked small, deciding you had just a little too much curve for petite. Drop the terry cloth, darlin'." He holds up the lingerie. It's just a slight step above being naked.

  "I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself. In fact, you go on and enjoy the pool party or whatever else you do when you're not pampering me. I'll get ready for Mr. Freestone's visit on my own."

  He laughs again but it's not a humorous sound. "Sorry, sweets, but I have specific instructions."

  I tighten the towel around me. A flicker of anger crosses his face. "Look, darlin', if we don't do this exactly the way he's instructed, then you will be back on the street and I'll be right behind you. And I spent the last five years living in shady motel rooms and blowing stranger's dicks for money. I will drown myself in that big bathtub before I ever have to live like that again. So drop the towel." It is the first time he orders me to do something.

  I drop the towel not because of his command but because of the short summary of his past life. I don't want to be responsible for him losing his job.

  I lift my arms and he drops the garment over my head. The fabric is luxuriously soft and silky. It's nearly as transparent as glass. The thin ribbon shoulder straps look as if they could break with a harsh sneeze. The front two panels open up to the top of the bodice. Blake hands me a matching string bikini bottom that is merely a white silk triangle connected by a series of lacey elastic. A strand of ribbon cuts my bottom into two cheeks and holds the flimsy triangle in place over my pussy.

  Blake walks to the vanity. "Now don't freak out. This is all part of the fun." He turns around with the leather cuffs and anklets.

  My heart starts racing. I tighten my fists to fight the natural urge to put up all my defenses. Each breath I take grows deeper and comes quicker as Blake approaches me. "You won't be hurt. I promise. If you just let yourself relax and go along with it, you'll soon find that you made the right decision coming here." As he speaks, he deftly ties the cuffs around my wrists, lacing them up just tight enough that my hand can't slip out and loose enough so as not to cut off circulation. They look entirely out of place with the shimmery lingerie.

  I lift one arm and look at the cuff. "I feel a little like Wonder Woman but without the cool outfit
and invisible plane." Humor is the only thing helping me hold it together. If I let the gravity of the situation get into my head, I'll lose it.

  Blake drops to his knees and ties on the anklets.

  "How long do I have to wear these?" I ask.

  "Until Mr. Freestone tells me to take them off of you."

  I laugh and then realize he's serious when he looks up at me from below. His face has taken on some of the stonier appearance from earlier.

  Blake pushes to his feet. "I need you to follow me, and again, don't freak out. It's just a precaution."

  "A precaution? You know, if there's one word in the English language that always precedes the phrase freak out, it's precaution."

  Blake is not amused by my comment. He heads over to the recess in the wall that has a silver ring at each corner of the opening. While I've been slightly naive about the situation I'm in, it doesn't take long for me to figure out what's going on. I rub one of the cuffs on my wrist to make sure I'm not just imagining the whole damn thing. I'm not.

  I grow stiff with tension. "Blake, you can't be serious."

  "Step right here." He points to a spot on the carpet. "I won't be leaving you here, I promise. Mr. Freestone has asked that you be in bed when he arrives. I just need—" he pauses. "It's a precaution."

  "You said that. But what if I promise to be a good girl and just lay nicely on the bed."

  He continues to point at the spot on the carpet without lifting his purple eyes to me. "Please, this will only take a second."

  If I don't comply, I will most likely be drugged and dumped back off on some sidewalk in the middle of nowhere. Something tells me they won't even have the decency to dress me before they toss me out. I chose this. I pleaded with Clark.

  I move to the magic spot on the carpet and turn to face Blake. He still avoids eye contact, which is just as well. I don't want him to see that I'm holding my breath in anticipation of what might happen next. I feel slightly nauseous. A small tremor of nerves starts in my legs and works its way up my body.

  Blake fastens each wrist cuff to the rings on the wall. I'm standing with my arms outstretched and slightly above my head. Instinctively, I tug at my constraints to see just how fast they are holding me. The only movement is in the minuscule stretch of the supple leather around my wrists. My feet are frozen to the spot, but Blake patiently pries each one loose. Seconds later, my feet are wide and secured to the rings near the floor. I'm standing like a near naked human X in the opening of the wall. The feeling of helplessness floods over me, and a short sob bursts from my lips.

  "Don't cry, darlin'. You're fine." Blake walks to the bathroom and seconds later returns with his hands suspiciously hidden behind his back. His movement toward me is deliberate now. No more hesitation.

  "I'm sorry, but boss's orders." The glint of a needle catches my eye. I squirm in my constraints but it's useless. I gave up all chance at defending myself when I allowed myself to be shackled to the wall.

  "I don't need any nectar," I sob. "I'll do whatever he wants." I wince as he ties off my upper arm and pushes the needle into my skin. A warm stinging sensation spikes up and down my arm. "Shit, fuck you. You know that, Blake? Fuck you." I try to cut short the sobs, but they shoot out like bullets.

  Blake pulls the needle free and stops in front of me. "I'm truly sorry. Trust me, you'll be glad. It's the old song in reverse. Instead of sugar to make the medicine go down. It's medicine to make the sugar go down."

  "What the fuck does that even mean, you twit?" I've lost my grip on my naive street girl character, and the real deal, Detective Tennyson, is emerging. I don't know how to stop it.

  "You'll learn to love the nectar like the other girls. Soon you'll be begging me for it," he says darkly.

  Blake leaves my field of vision. I hear him moving around in the bathroom. My heart rate slows some and the warmth that tingled through the vein in my arm starts to spread through my entire body. I'm not dizzy but a heady buzz makes me feel like I could just float off on a cloud. A feeling of security and a lazy serenity replace the terrible fear and anxiety I'd experienced just seconds before. Suddenly, I'm extra aware of how the silky fabric of the teddy feels on my nipples. They grow tighter with each slight movement. My pussy feels naked and exposed in the tiny string panties. All I can think about is having those strings ripped free.

  My eyes close naturally as the drug pulls me into a super relaxed state. My pussy tingles and clenches with hot moisture. I'm instantly drawn into a fantasy that seems far too real. I'm stretched wide on a bed. Maddox walks into the room naked and erect. He kneels down between my legs. I clench my fingers into fists above the leather cuffs as I imagine my hands tangling in Maddox's thick hair. My head drops back. The restraints keep me from falling. Maddox's tongue flicks across my clit and his tongue dives deep inside of me.

  "Oh shit," I cry. "Yes." I suck in a deep breath and open my eyes. Everything but the orgasm was a daydream, best damn daydream I've ever had.

  My body is still recovering when Blake returns. He has a slim smile. Even though I'm pissed as hell at him, I prefer his smile to his dark mood face.

  "That was fast," Blake quips. "Most girls don't spontaneously come until two or three doses. You must have had an erotic fantasy all lined up and ready to go." His reminder makes me think of Maddox and how much I wish he were here with me right now. My eyes tear up. I'm a fucking emotional and physical snowflake.

  Blake grabs a tissue from the vanity and blots my eyes. "The emotional roller coaster is one of the less desirable side effects, but you'll learn to control it. Especially once the outside world and all your friends and connections start to fade in the distance."

  I shake my head weakly. "Not everyone will fade away."

  My mind is splintering in so many directions I wonder how I will keep from revealing myself. How will I stay undercover with Freestone's powerful drug coursing through my body?

  23

  Angie

  I wake up from a lusciously deep sleep but the room is dark. I move to stretch and find that the leather cuff on my right arm is tethered to the post of the bed. I can still feel the pin prick from the syringe. My body is still warm with an aroused flush. I'm hyper aware of my naked skin beneath the flimsy lingerie and the soft down quilt someone, Blake it seems, has thrown over me. The rest of my limbs are free, and as I stretch out my leg, I come in contact with something solid. Someone is sitting on the edge of the bed. I should be startled, but the drug mutes my reaction.

  The mattress beneath me shifts as the broad shouldered figure leans over to the nightstand. A warm glow fills the room. Kane's striking features come into focus. He's still dressed but his white shirt hangs open. I catch a glimpse of a muscular chest and rippled abdomen. It's not surprising. The man seems to strive for perfection, and his physique matches that quest.

  My eyes linger on the round smooth pectoral muscle as he reaches for something else in the nightstand. I'm surprised to find myself imagining my tongue trailing across his chest. The thought makes my pussy pulse with an urge to be satisfied.

  The black scrolling lines of ink on his forearm draw my gaze away from his bare chest. "Reality is merely an illusion," I read in a near whisper. It is all the voice I can muster in my over relaxed state.

  "Einstein," he says. I'd nearly forgotten how intriguing and smooth his voice is.

  I'm too focused on every physical detail of the man to pay attention to what he's doing. The nectar, as Blake calls it, makes it hard to focus on more than one thing. And that one thing becomes a momentary obsession. The strange striations on his right arm, the deep scars that look planned and purposeful, stay in perfect formation as his forearm muscles move. I fixate on the lines, eight of them, each the same length, as he continues with his task.

  "I once knew a girl who cut herself on purpose. Turns out her stepfather was abusing her." My voice sounds unfamiliar, softer and less strident than usual.

  Kane doesn't answer but turns to me. His eyes remind me o
f the dark blue crystal ornaments my mom used to hang on the Christmas tree. His mouth is full and set firmly. I imagine, briefly, what it might be like to kiss him.

  His eyes lock with mine. It seems he's gauging my reaction as his fingers take hold of the quilt. It glides down to my feet. I'm covered only by the see-through lingerie and the teensy pair of panties. But instead of curling up to hide my body, I arch my back to lift my breasts. My thighs fall open, exposing my pussy to the cool air of the room.

  "Are you going to undress?" I hear the question coming from my own lips but have no idea where it came from. It's as if the nectar has let loose a hidden personality, a side of me where inhibitions are a nuisance and only get in the way.

  "Tonight is exploration night," he says.

  A sigh ushers from my lips. "Exploration sounds fun."

  "Glad you are game. This always goes better with an open mind. How does the nectar make you feel?"

  The question and the answer in my head send more heat through my core. I arch my back again to show him. Every one of my responses is unexpected. I can't stop myself.

  Kane's long fingers brush apart the panels of the sheer fabric. My exposed breasts pucker in response and ache to be teased and pinched. His hand lifts over me. In the golden glow, I see a silver clip, a shiny clamp. A chain hangs from the clip and attaches to a matching clip.

  One arm is still tethered to the bed, holding me captive to his whims. Kane watches me, waiting for my reaction as he squeezes open the clip and lowers it to my erect nipple. I suck in a breath and am internally debating what my reaction should be. I'm tense with fear at the pain it will bring and yet strangely excited for the same reason. The metal of the clip is cold. I flinch before holding perfectly still in anticipation. I curl my fists at the intense pinch as the clip tightens around my nipple. It's the ultimate tease, the perfectly exquisite feeling that sits right at the line between erotic pleasure and pain.