by EM BROWN
Ben forgot how many times he had orgasmed in Kimani’s mouth before he had finally ejaculated. It hadn’t been easy for her to keep up with him, but she had been a trooper, sucking him hard in an effort to pull him over the edge. The visual of her supple lips wrapped about his shaft was almost enough to make him come, but he wasn’t going to let Eumie off that easy.
Eumie continued to gag, and she hadn’t yet mastered how to keep her teeth from scraping him, but he pressed himself farther into her mouth anyway. Cupping the back of her head, he guided her up and down his length, occasionally giving her a break to recover from her choking.
“Learned your lesson yet?” he asked.
Saliva and pre-cum glistened on her lower lip. She nodded.
“Let’s be extra sure,” he said, shoving his cock back into her mouth.
By the time he decided she’d had enough, tears had formed in the corners of her eyes. He dragged her over to the bed, sat down, and hauled her face down over his lap. He yanked her leggings down past her rump.
“What—what are you doing now?” she asked in a panic.
“Continuing your lesson,” he answered, then gave a buttock a sound smack.
She yelped. “Don’t you bruise me!”
“Unless you’re modeling naked, a bruise on your arse isn’t going to hurt.”
Well, it might hurt receiving one.
“Ai-yah!” she cried out when he spanked her.
Unlike their sex in Tokyo last week, he managed to keep his frustrations under control this time. Sparring with Bataar had released some of his inner turmoil, though hearing that Kimani had been walking Havenscourt at night had set off a new round of stress.
Kimani should be the one splayed over his knees, Kimani receiving the spanking, Kimani whimpering beneath his hand, moaning at his touch, orgasming around his cock, coming undone in his arms.
He took a break from spanking Eumie to fit his hand between her arse cheeks and the waistband of her leggings and found that, despite her crying and wailing, she was wet. He teased more wetness from her by playing with her clit. She whimpered, this time from pleasure.
As he stood, he pulled her up and saw that her tears had fallen, bringing a little of her mascara down toward her cheeks. His cock fully hard now, he pushed her face down onto the bed and pulled her onto her knees by her hips. He could teach her a really hard lesson by taking her arse. Her pale white backside, now glowing pink and crimson, beckoned, but he would bet that Eumie was not a virgin there.
After getting on a condom, he sank his cock into her pussy. She was nice and hot.
He was about to lean over and fondled her clit when a short bell went off on his mobile. It was a text from Bataar:
Kimani and her roommate left the house.
Placing one hand on Eumie’s lower back to hold her in place, he went slow and gentle till he had her purring. With his other hand, he picked up his mobile and texted back:
Where are they headed?
He waited a long two minutes before Bataar replied:
Bill heard them mention someplace called The Lair.
Chapter Ten
“Am I sure I want to do this?” Kimani asked herself in the mirror. She reviewed her outfit. What did one wear to a BDSM club? In her skinny jeans and cold-shoulder top, she looked like she could be headed to a ballgame. She wore her hair down with minimal styling and a headband to keep her curls from falling into her face. She looked over at Marissa, who wore leather leggings and a red strapless top.
“We don’t have to do anything. In fact, these days I just go to watch. I haven’t played since...” began Marissa, as she touched up her makeup. “I’m hoping I can play someday soon. If I can do that, I’ll be back to the way I was.”
Kimani bit her bottom lip. After what Marissa had been through, could one ever go back to being the way they were?
“I’m sorry,” Kimani said. “I’m sure the break-in isn’t helping things.”
Marissa put her lipstick back in her purse. “Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault our place got broken into.”
Kimani drew in a deep breath. It wasn’t right not telling Marissa. “It is my fault. It’s because I did the Scarlet Auction.”
Marissa tilted her head. “You did what?”
“After you told me what had happened to you, I started looking into the Scarlet Auction. It sounded really shady to me, so I went undercover to try to expose them. I didn’t bring you up at all, and I wasn’t going to mention you in the scoop. I was going to keep you out of everything.”
“What do you mean? How were you going to expose the Scarlet Auction?”
“I pretended to be a participant. I got bid on and bought by a guy who turned out to be a total asshole. He’s the one behind the break-in. The only thing taken was my laptop. The guy’s probably worried I’m going to write a tell-all article about him.”
Marissa sat down at the kitchen table as she tried to take in everything.
“I ended up pressing charges against him up in Trinity County.”
“So that’s how you really got your bruise?”
Kimani nodded, also taking a seat at the table.
“Your guy was just like mine? I wonder if he’s the same guy?”
“Yours sounded older, but I’m not surprised I found a jerk. It was just like I expected or hoping for. Guess I gotta be careful what I wish for. I didn’t get beat up as much as you did, thanks to another guy who intervened. If that guy hadn’t been there... I try not to think about it. It rattles you to the core. At first, I started seeing every guy as if he were Jake, the guy who bought me. Even now, I wonder about men—the guy behind me in the grocery line, or the pedestrian yelling into his cellphone, I wonder if these men are like him deep down.”
“What happened when you pressed charges?”
“He reached a plea deal with the district attorney for a fine and a restraining order.”
“See, that’s probably what would happen if I tried to press charges. It’s not worth it.”
“Well, if you change your mind—”
“Why would I want to do that? I’d have to give the Scarlet Auction back their money if they found out I broke the nondisclosure agreement. I can’t afford it. I’d have to stop seeing my therapist. Besides, I’m trying to put it behind me, not relive the shit.”
Kimani said nothing. When Marissa had first confessed what had truly happened to her, she had been appalled that her roommate wasn’t pressing charges against her abuser, but she was now more sympathetic toward Marissa’s position. Having gone through the process, it hadn’t been fun, to say the least. And the result was hardly satisfying. Still, she wouldn’t have done it any other way. The public needed to know what Jake was capable of, and hopefully soon, the Scarlet Auction would be held publicly accountable as well.
“So are you, like, doing a story on the Scarlet Auction?” Marissa asked.
“Not yet. I passed the info on to the San Francisco D.A., and she asked the paper to hold off on anything, so you can’t tell anyone that the D.A. is investigating the Scarlet Auction.”
“It’s too bad. It was a neat concept. I guess we weren’t one of the luckier women.”
“I don’t know if there are any lucky women in this whole setup.”
Silence settled between them until Kimani said, “I did get something out of it though—a newfound appreciation for kink.”
“You mean tonight wouldn’t be your first night with BDSM?”
“The guy who saved me from Jake, he showed me a thing or two.”
Marissa’s mood lightened. “Really? Do tell.”
“I think our ride is here.”
They gathered their things and stepped outside to find their taxi waiting for them.
“But I’m going with you to The Lair to provide moral support,” Kimani added before getting into the taxi.
“Well, maybe you’ll decide to join in.”
Kimani smiled. “That’s a big maybe.”
Chapter Elev
en
Ben had stopped thrusting, the whirling of his mind taking precedent. He was fully familiar with The Lair. Why was Kimani headed there? Was she a member? He had gotten the impression she was a BDSM novice. Her answers saying she was into all sorts of kink on the Scarlet Auction questionnaire, from multiple partners to golden showers, had all been lies.
But maybe she was more interested in BDSM than he had thought. After all, she’d been receptive to everything he had done with and to her.
Jealousy simmered as he wondered if she had a partner at The Lair—not something he wanted to be thinking about.
“Benji?” Eumie murmured, her face still smushed into his comforter.
He texted Bataar back:
You sure?
Bataar responded:
I’ll have Bill confirm when they arrive at their destination.
Setting down his mobile, he pulled out of Eumie to reach into his bedside drawer and pull out a cordless vibrator. Switching it on, he held it between her legs. She immediately began purring. Her moans doubled in volume when he sank himself back into her wet heat. While holding the vibrator between her pussy lips, he rolled his hips.
He thought about asking Bataar if Bill planned to go into The Lair with Kimani, then he could report back with what she did, who she was with.
But that would be stalking, and it would make him as much of a creep as Jake. And what did he care what she did and whom she did it with? He was responsible for keeping her safe from Jake. That was it. If she wanted to be foolhardy and walk Havenscourt at night, that shit was on her.
Eumie started screaming and convulsing. He held the wand in place till she couldn’t stand the vibrations, then he lowered the setting and eventually withdrew the device. Pulling out of her, he jacked himself off. For a few minutes, nothing but pleasure rippled through him, washing away all thoughts of Kimani and The Lair.
Eumie had collapsed onto the bed, her arms still pinioned behind her by her top. Tossing the condom, Ben lay down on the bed. Maybe it hadn’t been wise to come back to the Bay Area, but he couldn’t have predicted that he would bump into Kimani. And at Uncle Gordon’s campaign headquarters, of all places.
She had walked the entire day. In East Oakland. There weren’t that many volunteers who would do that. Maybe she was sincere in her desire to help Uncle Gordon.
He picked up his mobile and texted Bataar:
Tell me about her walk.
Bataar returned:
She hung doorhangers and talked to people.
Ben texted:
Your guy Moe hear what she said?
Bataar replied:
He got close once when he saw a pit bull come around a house. Luckily, the owner was able to call the dog back. She talked about how your uncle was the right person to be mayor.
Eumie snuggled up to him.
“I’ve got to make a call,” he said, getting up.
“At least help me with my top,” she said.
He pulled her garment down her arms and went into the bathroom.
“Our hacker got into the Tribune’s server,” Stephens said. “There’s a document that looks like a draft of the article you’re looking for. I’ll send it to you.”
She was working as a volunteer and writing an article on Uncle Gordon? That had to be a conflict of interest. But he felt less anxious about the need to shut down the paper. Maybe she’d been telling the truth in that letter she’d sent him. She really did feel bad about that article on Gordon and Oakland Forward.
He hadn’t believed her. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to believe her. He hadn’t forgiven himself for what had happened, so why should he forgive her?
“See if you can find out when the article is scheduled to run,” he instructed Stephens.
Eumie entered then. She had stripped down to nothing and looked at herself in the mirror, her favorite activity of all time.
“Did you have to spank so hard?” she asked as she examined the reflection of her arse.
“Be happy I didn’t spank you hard enough to bruise,” he replied.
She pouted at him before turning on the shower. “You want to take one together?”
He instantly recalled the time he and Kimani had showered together. He had held her up by the legs to one of the jets. Her wet body quaking in his arms had been one of his favorite moments. So was the time he’d bound her to a chair on Jake’s boat. She had been wearing a bikini borrowed from Jason’s sub, Lisa, a waif compared to the other women. Kimani’s baps were overflowing the top, and the boyshorts molded her arse like second skin. He had stuffed the bikini bottom into her mouth before pumping himself into her.
He had taught her how to water-ski that day. The glow of accomplishment when she had learned to get up on the water had been beautiful. Almost as good as fucking her.
Then there was the time they’d shot hoops together on his patio. The time he’d aroused her in the bathroom of a coffee shop. Their dinner at a hole-in-the-wall in Chinatown. The first time she’d begged for his cock. The sound of her calling him “Master.”
Bloody good times.
“You go ahead,” Ben told Eumie. “I need to review a document.”
On his mobile, he pulled up the file Stephens had sent him. The article started with Gordon’s past, how he put himself through college and law school while working two low-wage jobs; his work as an attorney representing tenants, which included Maybelle, with quotes of her praising Gordon; and other pro-bono jobs he had taken on. But the article also quoted his critics, including community advocates who felt he had approved too many pro-business projects during his time on the Planning Commission. The article also cited the ongoing FPPC investigation.
As far as reporting went, Ben had to admit it was a fair and unbiased article, and it showed a side of Gordon many may not have been aware of, the human side of a man who came across as a nerdy bureaucrat.
But voters didn’t need to be reminded of the FPPC investigation. And this article was in draft form. Who knew what it would read like after it was finalized and edited?
Better to be safe than sorry.
Ben dialed the attorney. “Shut the paper down.”
Chapter Twelve
To protect the confidentiality of its patrons, The Lair required all guests to put their phones, cameras and other valuables in cubbies near the entrance. Kimani didn’t know what to expect, since Marissa had never described the place in detail, but the woman who greeted them was friendly and dressed as if she were a hostess at a restaurant.
“Are we in need of partners this evening?” asked the greeter, holding up different colored wristbands.
Marissa hesitated.
“This is my first time,” Kimani replied, “so I guess I’m just checking things out.”
The woman handed her a white wristband and a green one. “The green one is for first-timers. The white one signals that you’re not playing tonight. If you change your mind, just come see me.”
She turned to Marissa, who said, “I’ll take a white one for now.”
As Kimani put on her wristbands, she observed a woman wearing a trench coat and black leather boots.
“Good evening, ma’am,” the greeter said to the woman with a regal carriage.
The woman looked over at Marissa and Kimani before settling her gaze on Marissa. The right corner of her lips curled slightly, and her eyes brightened with appreciation. But she said nothing as she went up a set of stairs behind the greeter.
Kimani turned to Marissa. “Where do the stairs lead to?”
“The Upper Balcony,” Marissa replied as she led Kimani past the greeter and down the steps to the main area. “Upper Balcony is for the VIP members only. I’d like to go up there one day, but I’m not even sure how one gets to be a VIP member.”
Kimani had half expected to walk into a room full of BDSM equipment not unlike what she’d seen in Ben’s playroom, but the main floor resembled a hotel lobby with nicely appointed sitting areas and a sideboard with a water dispen
ser and bowls of gummy bears. Nondescript music with a throbbing beat played in the background.
“Why gummy bears?” Kimani asked as she helped herself to a cup of water at the sideboard.
“Sugar helps keep your energy level up,” Marissa explained, “and you really don’t want to eat anything too substantive, especially if you’re doing a long anal session.”
Kimani remembered the time Ben had sank himself there. It had been more amazing than she’d ever thought possible.
“Cold?” Marissa asked after noticing Kimani had shivered.
“I’m good,” Kimani answered.
A woman wearing a black bustier and five-inch stilettos came up to the sideboard. She gave Kimani a broad smile before checking out the wristbands she wore.
“First time? Welcome,” she said. “I hope you like what you see.”
“Thanks,” Kimani replied.
The woman swept her gaze over Kimani and flashed her another smile before wandering off.
“Oh my God, she was totally checking you out,” Marissa giggled. “I thought she was going to hit on you, even though you’re wearing a white wristband.”
Kimani fingered the wristband. “So this is my shield?”
“Sort of.”
“So where does all the, uh, action happen?”
Marissa pointed to the far wall of curtains. “Behind there.”
“Do you want to go there now?”
Marissa hesitated again. “Let’s just finish our water here first.”
They sat down on a divan. Kimani looked at the oil paintings on the walls. One was of a naked woman dangling upside down from the ceiling high above a crowd of people in an 18th-century ballroom. Beside it was a painting of a naked man bent and tied to an A-frame. On the opposite wall, one painting depicted a woman being ravished by a satyr, while, in another, three nymphs bathed near a waterfall while three men looked on, their hands around their cocks.