by Qwillia Rain
A little nudge, a gasp from her, a whispered word of praise from him, and Mattie could feel a generous amount of cool gel filling her. Still more gel was applied to the tight rosette before the cap was snapped shut and the blunt tip of Bryce’s finger massaged the exposed puckered flesh.
“Should I remind you that sharing you with Richard has always been part of my plan?” Bryce suggested as he slowly circled, then pressed against her. “Don’t fight it, Lawrence. Push back a little as I press in.”
Mattie heard herself whimper, but it wasn’t a pained or frightened sound. It sounded to her more like a pleading sound. She was surprised at the anticipation spiraling through her as she did as Bryce told her and pushed back as he pressed his finger into her ass up to the first knuckle. Sensitive tissue protested the invasion, but the sound of Bryce’s voice as he began to speak distracted her.
“Over the years he and I have discussed it.”
Mattie’s head snapped around to meet his gaze over her shoulder. The motions of his finger as he pressed it deeper, massaging past gripping muscles, weren’t nearly as distracting, nor as arousing, as the look she saw reflected in Bryce’s gaze while he watched himself slowly, seductively accustom her back entrance for his use.
Looking up to see her watching him, Bryce nodded at her. “I’d always imagined fucking you here.” His finger pressed deeper, spreading the lubricant as it advanced. “The tight grip, the expression on your face. I could see those. But the realization that you might take to your training so quickly, that I wondered about. There are other things we have yet to try.”
He clucked his tongue at her and eased his finger out, then back in, sending a shiver rippling down Mattie’s spine. As she bit her lip, he listened to Mattie attempt to stifle the moan building in her chest at the same time she became aware of the growing heat in her pussy, the tightening tension low in her belly.
“Take a deep breath, baby,” he warned. A second finger began working its way in to join the first. The moan broke free and slipped past Mattie’s parted lips while her need to push back, aiding the penetration of his fingers, increased.
“You take well to the flogger and my hand, Lawrence. The next thing you need to work on is your ability to hold off your orgasm. Your pleasure isn’t our primary concern. You’ve read that, I’m sure.” Her gasps and moans made his dick twitch, protesting its confinement, but Bryce ignored it. “As master, my needs supersede yours. Pleasing me is what should bring you pleasure.” He watched as he buried both fingers in her tight passage, her hips rocking beneath his hands, part of the rhythm he’d built. It would probably take more than the remaining two days to prepare her, he reminded himself as he scissored his fingers inside her, stretching the passage gripping him.
He continued his instructions. “Although I enjoy watching you come”—at her confused look, he smiled—“breaking you of the habit of climaxing when you want should prove to be very satisfying for both of us.”
Breathless and fighting the knot twisting in her belly, Mattie asked, “Do I always have to ask permission to do something?”
Bryce didn’t hesitate in his answer. “No. Permission is only necessary as it pertains to the rules we’ve established.”
“Meaning, if I’m going to go somewhere with men, I can’t be alone with any of them?”
“Yes.”
“And I can’t masturbate or come without gaining your approval first.”
“Yes.”
Remembering his comments about whose pleasure was more important, she asked, “What if the thing I want to do brings me pleasure?”
“Is it likely to make you orgasm?”
Recalling the sensations she’d experienced as she sucked him off, she nodded, then groaned as the increased pace of his fingers in her ass had her clutching at the iron bar on the sofa frame. “Y…ye…yes.”
“Then you would have to consider carefully before doing it.”
“And if I wanted to bring you pleasure?”
“Permission wouldn’t be necessary. Unless seeking your own satisfaction is the primary motivator for pleasing me.”
Mattie whimpered, her mind spinning with the concepts as well as the sensations racking her body. “I…I don’t know… I can’t…” She wasn’t sure what she was trying to say and that very frustration had tears clogging her throat.
“Shhh.” He soothed her, the pace of his thrusts slowing as he leaned over her. “As your master, it’s my responsibility to guide you, baby. To show you how to exceed the limitations you’ve placed on yourself. All you need to do is trust me.”
Mattie could feel the anxiety ease, the slow stroke of his fingers over her head and along her back, coupled with the rhythm of his fingers in her ass, calmed her despite the building need to come rising within her.
“Was there something you needed?” Bryce queried.
Mattie refrained from saying what she was thinking, but just barely. It wouldn’t serve her plans if he was forewarned of her intent. The man was brilliant. He didn’t need to know what she planned. “No,” she assured him.
* * *
Having planned his approach carefully, Victor was taken aback when he stepped out of the elevator on the executive floor and spotted Bryce Halsey in the doorway between the reception area and Mattilda’s office. Another nagging call, this time from Lionel Makepeace, had him stepping up his plans to ingratiate himself with Mattilda. He was sure the old bitch had put her husband up to making the call. If she’d just back off for one fucking minute, things would all fall into place. But she had her damned panties in a wad over this retirement business…
His thoughts veered from Frieda and Lionel to Halsey when the other man started to turn around. The whisper of the elevator doors behind him followed by the distinctive sound of the car descending blocked that avenue of retreat. Around the corner was the entrance to the stairwell, if he hurried… Keeping one eye on Halsey, Victor barely made it to the door before the older man headed for the double doors to the hall with his administrative assistant at his heels.
Keeping out of sight, Victor followed their progress along the hall and then cursed again when Halsey headed for the door he hid behind. Taking the stairs two at a time, he barely made it to the next landing before the door below opened. With the door to the private apartments on the top floor locked, Victor was trapped until Halsey had gone down to the next floor or two. Why the bastard had to be so health conscious…
“Baby, I’m already late.”
Halsey’s voice floated up to Victor as he rested on the stairs. The throaty rasp could in no way be considered businesslike. Leaning to the side, he watched as the target of his employers’ wrath backed Mattilda into the corner and kissed her. From above, he could clearly see the open blouse and bra, and the way Halsey’s hands fondled her breasts.
Hell. Victor adjusted his thickening cock. If he’d known her tits were that nice, he’d’ve done more than just cop a feel the other day. His arousal grew when he spotted the flash of metal and realized that the woman who wouldn’t even allow him to stroke her thigh had clamps on her nipples.
“I’m not the one who dragged you in here,” Mattilda moaned as Halsey released her.
“Self-preservation.” A hum of appreciation floated up to Victor along with a gasp from Mattilda when Halsey tugged on the nipple chain before righting her bra and blouse. “Leave this on for another ten minutes, then take it off.” His head dipped for another kiss. “No coming.”
“I remember rule number four, Bryce.” Her tone was more compliant than sarcastic, surprising Victor.
“Don’t forget your appointment with Sarah at the spa.” Halsey smoothed his tie and jacket before tugging open the stairwell door. “I won’t be in at all tomorrow.”
Mattilda nodded. “I remember the meeting in Andevine. I don’t know why you…”
“If I had you along, Lawrence”—he eased the door shut, pulling Mattilda close—“I’d be spending the entire time trying to figure out a way to finger
fuck you under the conference room table.”
“Please.” The moan in her voice assured Victor that her plea was an approval rather than a denial.
For several minutes after the door closed behind them, Victor remained in place. Not because he worried about being discovered, but because the beginnings of a plan had begun to surface. If the Makepeaces wanted Halsey off-kilter, focused outside the business, perhaps Mattilda Lawrence was the tool to make that happen. Victor rose, brushing the seat of his pants off and descending the stairs slowly. If he wasn’t mistaken, Halsey was working on his own method of circumventing the worries the Makepeaces had stirred up with the board.
Bypassing the doorway to the executive level, Victor went down another level and exited the stairwell. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he hit the redial and waited. Before the person on the other end could say more than “hello,” he asked, “What information can you get me on Mattilda Lawrence?”
“Why?” Lionel’s nasally voice whined in his ear.
“Because I think Bryce Halsey’s resignation is going to be a moot point in the very near future.” He grinned at the invectives spilling from the other man’s mouth. “Get as much dirt on her as you can, then call me.” Victor slid the phone closed as he pressed the elevator call button.
During his time working for Halsey’s, he’d discovered there were a number of people who enjoyed humiliating others. It should be easy enough to use them to get what he needed.
Chapter Nine
“You know,” Lyssa whispered in Mattie’s ear as they approached the doors separating the reception area from the main lounge of the Diablo Blanco Club. “If you wanted to find the perfect way to piss off a Dominant, I think this would be it.”
“How so?” Mattie couldn’t stem the excitement shivering through her. Eight years of curiosity were about to be satisfied, and all Lyssa wanted was to discuss Bryce’s possible reaction. Stifling the snort of exasperation, she reminded her sister, “I’ve been invited here several times over the years.”
“To the annual ‘select a sub’ night,” Lyssa retorted.
“The Midnight Masquerade on Halloween is not”—she stopped, then revised—“okay, it may be a night where any unescorted or unclaimed submissive is available for the taking, but not without that sub’s permission.” Turning back to her sister, she grinned. “Besides, you’ve been just as curious as me. Admit it.”
Lyssa didn’t bother to answer. Instead she rolled her eyes. “Just open the damned door already.”
The door swung open silently as Mattie twisted the antique crystal knob. At first it reminded her of Bryce’s home, Pirate’s Folly, with the crown molding, high ceiling, and distinctive early-nineteenth-century design. But the differences soon became apparent. The lounge would have easily made up the formal parlor, sitting room, and dining room at the Folly. The furniture, though comfortable looking as well as tasteful, was definitely contemporary rather than the antiques that decorated Bryce’s home.
Then, of course, there were the numerous guests sprinkled about the room and the bar. Settled between the curving staircases that formed a unique X as they led down from the second floor and met in a wide landing before splitting again into two separate staircases, the bar was a beautiful, polished teak expanse, easily twenty feet long with only a few bar stools arranged around it. As she and Lyssa entered, several heads turned, both male and female.
“I feel like someone just announced, ‘fresh meat,’” Lyssa groused as she settled beside Mattie at the bar.
“And you are,” a friendly voice teased.
The deep red, green, and royal blue lettering on the coasters he set on the bar held Mattie’s attention before the bartender set two tall tumblers over them. Looking up, she couldn’t shake the disturbing notion that she’d met him before. The amusement in his gray eyes and the cheeky grin on his handsome face only reinforced her suspicions.
“So, what can we expect?”
Lyssa’s query intruded on Mattie’s mental shuffling to try to fit a name to his face.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Mattie could have cursed at the sound of disappointment filling her voice. It didn’t help that the gray eyes twinkled even more brightly with amusement at her response.
“Because you’re first timers, other members will hover and maybe ask a few questions, buy you a drink or two, but nothing will happen unless you indicate you’re interested,” he assured them, before stepping away to help another patron at the other end of the bar.
“Well, that blows all my preconceived notions,” Lyssa grumbled as she lifted the glass to her nose and sniffed.
Mattie did the same as she carefully surveyed their surroundings.
“So, Miss Mattie.” The blond bartender leaned against the counter and grinned at her. “What brings you to the DBC without the boss man in tow?”
“You know me?” Mattie still couldn’t place his face, although he seemed so familiar.
“Six months ago, I treated you for a mild concussion after one of Bryce’s horses threw you,” he reminded her. Looking at their untouched drinks, he assured them, “The drinks are safe, I promise. Just soda and ice. No alcohol. Club rule.”
“What do you mean?” Lyssa asked.
“You’re a doctor?” Mattie was surprised.
Both of them spoke at the same time, pulling an amused chuckle from the bartender. “No, not a doctor. A physician assistant.” Holding out his hand, he reintroduced himself. “Ben Murphy.”
Mattie took his hand, surprised at the restrained strength and the calluses that neither medicine nor bartending would have created. “So I guess being a physician assistant doesn’t pay enough?”
Ben laughed. “Nah, I just like to blow off a little steam here.” He nodded toward a woman settled on the lap of one man, his long, dark hair pulled back and secured in a ponytail with a leather tie, and a goatee framing his sensual mouth, lips curved in a wry smile. The woman’s skirt was pushed up around her hips, her blouse hung open. The hands caressing her breasts looked dark against the pale mounds. Bent at the waist, she seemed to be enjoying herself while her mouth worked voraciously on the thick cock of another man who stood in front of her. His faded jeans were open, allowing her access to him, but the blue and black flannel shirt remained buttoned. The broad shoulders and straight stance of the man identified him as young, belying the impression his collar-length gray hair gave.
“What do you mean about no alcohol?” Lyssa asked again.
Mattie heard her but was still watching the threesome across the room. There was something familiar about the men, but she couldn’t quite place it. Turning back to the bar, her mind still churning through the faces she saw on a daily basis, Mattie couldn’t help but grin at the response Ben gave her sister’s question.
“Inhibitions. Decisions here need to be made with a clear head. First-time visitors are only allowed nonalcoholic drinks until they’ve decided if they’re going to stay or leave.”
“And then what?”
“If you leave, no problem. If you stay and are interested, you can negotiate a scene with a member. After you make your decision, then the Club rules say you can have no more than two drinks with alcohol—but nothing that would impair judgment.”
Drink halfway to her mouth, Mattie hesitated as she realized she knew both of the men and the woman they were engaged with. Turning back to the trio, she had to stifle her amusement at the realization of who they were.
“What’s so funny?” Lyssa leaned over to ask.
Mattie gestured over her shoulder to the threesome. “I just figured out who they are.”
“And?”
“The guy with the ponytail is a private investigator. David Henderson. Bryce sometimes uses him and his brother to process background checks for new employees.”
Lyssa turned to look at the trio. “Interesting. What about the other two?”
“I think you’d recognize the woman. She’s a model. Bryce dated her for a
few months about three years ago. I’m not sure, but I think her name is Terese or LaTreace.”
A sharp cry from the woman had both Mattie and Lyssa turning. Body arched, face suffused with color, it was obvious the blonde was in the throes of climax as David held her still on his lap. The man in front of her had obviously finished and was righting his clothes.
“This gets better and better.” Lyssa swallowed another sip of her soda as she turned back to face Mattie. “So who’s the other guy?”
Amusement twinkled in Mattie’s eyes. “Dayton Kringle.”
“You mean the Dayton Kringle that everyone calls the Santa of San Diablo?”
Mattie grinned.
“My, oh my.” Lyssa took a moment to watch the group, heat stealing into her cheeks. Mattie noticed when David looked their way and gave them a wicked smile and a wink.
Turning back to the bar, Lyssa swallowed some of her soda and chuckled. “Wonder what it must be like to be caught between a private dick and a hard Saint Nick.”
Even Ben laughed. The cheesy grin Lyssa gave as she glanced back over her shoulder and lifted her glass in a silent toast had the private investigator nodding even as his hands smoothed the edges of his companion’s shirt back over her bare breasts.
Looking around the room, Mattie realized how many people were either watching the threesome or were participating in their own activities. Several times she noticed the various collars adorning the throats of the members. Some resembled jewelry, while others were similar to leather dog collars. Some even sported gleaming spikes or studs. In many cases, matching bindings were attached to wrists and even ankles.