“Thank you, sir,” I managed. “Will you stay?”
“I always do, my sweetling.”
He disappeared from my sight, but I could smell the odd honey-tobacco flavor of his cigar a moment later. I heard him pour his two fingers of scotch over the whiskey stones and move to the chair.
I knew his routine as well he knew mine. He would put the whiskey glass down, sit himself, and then open whatever tome of literature he was currently engrossed in. He might or might not speak—I would remain silent. At the end of the half an hour we had decided was best for me, he would close the book and stand, walking over to me.
It surprised me when I felt his hand on my shoulder. I was sure I hadn’t phased out of reality that time.
“But you did, sweetling. It’s okay. Subspace is your good place. Time for the clamps, Vanity. Would you like another orgasm, dear?”
“Yes, sir, please.”
I loved the ones that hurt.
The Hitachi wand made its humming sound as Master turned it on. It hit my entrance first, full power, and I screamed from the shock of it.
Moving it slowly, he pushed a vibrator egg into me and turned it on. Everything was humming now, and I was exhausted from several orgasms already—but I wanted this one. I loved this one.
Master passed the wand over the clamp that was gripped on my clitoris. It was an earthquake through my entire body, and even though I wasn’t sure I could have another, the shaking in my legs told me I was wrong. There was going to be another one.
The vibrations between my clit and the egg were nearly unbearable. I felt a new wave of tears and sobs rip up my throat, but they were of desperation for that explosion, for that complete release of pain-turned-to-pleasure.
“Oh, sweetling, you are so amazing in your pleasure,” Master whispered in my ear.
I got no warning, and he pulled the clip off. The rush of blood was a sharp pain, stabbing through me. He covered my throbbing bud with the vibrating head of the massager after a few seconds, ramping up the pain, until it slipped over the edge and I screamed the orgasm as loud as it wanted to be.
With a quick tug, Master also pulled the clamps from my nipples and sent a second wave of pain-pleasure through my body. It caught the orgasm and forced it to last.
I must have passed out, because I was on my stomach in the bed when I opened my eyes again. The cool of the peppermint and arnica was fresh on my back and covered with a new fresh towel.
The bed dipped near me. “Did you have a good nap, sweetling?”
“Mmm, yes, Master. Thank you.”
“I enjoyed this evening, my dear. As I always do. Will you be okay to sleep if I slip downstairs for a few to make sure everything is in order?”
“Yes, Master Darien. Thank you.”
“When I return, we will run you a bath and I will tuck you in. Do you have anywhere to be tomorrow, Vanity?”
“Work at noon,” I managed.
“Good. I will set the alarms. Nap, sweetling. I will be back.”
He pressed a kiss to my head, and quietly left the room. Darien was such a good Dom. He gave me what I needed—endless orgasms—and never took. I’d always offered to give him an orgasm, or to help him in whatever way I could, but he didn’t seem interested in it.
His climax and pleasure, he said, was seeing me sated.
Safely.
There had been a time before I knew what was going on with me, that I didn’t seek safe or sane ways to get what my mind craved. Thanks to Darien and Franz, now I knew and now I was smart about what I needed for gratification.
And so, after what some people would call a torture session, I rested, relaxed. The chain flogger was the best. I adored its brutal sting, and it was a reward for listening to Master Darien well as he built me up to it.
I dozed lightly. I always slept well after the chain flogger. I didn’t get to experience the chains very often because it was dangerous. More than a lot of things used in the lifestyle, because it was so heavy and hard. Darien and I had come to the schedule as once every other week under the condition that there were no lingering bruises.
He’d made me wait before. I had asked a Dom, not nearly as skilled with the chains, to satisfy my craving. I had shown up with terrible bruises and Master was pissed beyond reason.
That was the first night I had ever known what sexual torture was. And that I did not enjoy it, at all. It wasn’t that I couldn’t handle it, but it was that my body never got to where it wanted. It never got the climaxes. He withheld all night. I wasn’t even a good sub yet. Not even close, and he withheld and made me withhold for hours. I was wrung dry, contrite, and wound tighter than a drum.
It had been at the very end of our session, six hours later, that he finally let me come. It had been the worst orgasm I’d ever had. I could barely get myself to come because I had been holding them all back. Everything hurt, and I trembled and shook and squirted—which I never did. I was just done.
And I never asked anyone to take Darien’s place again. Mostly because he was right, and partly that the other Dom hadn’t been as expert as Darien. It was one of the last reckless sexual things I did.
“Anticipation, sweetling,” he’d whispered in my ear that night as I calmed. “That is also part of the game. If you want to play, you’ll play by the rules. I can and will help you with your masochism, but as long as you follow the rules. No rules, no chains.”
I couldn’t agree fast enough, all to make sure I still got the brutal flogger.
Every time he left me after a play date, I went over why I was there. And every time, I came back to the same conclusion: I needed this, and he was the right one for the job.
It wasn’t long before Darien appeared in the room again, and he grinned at me. “Everything is all settled, as usual. Are you ready for your bath, sweetling?”
“I am, sir.” I nodded. “Will you join me, sir?”
He paused. I expected the same answer as usual, but he shocked me. “Yes, Vanity, I think I will.”
Smiling, I sat up, and he helped me to the bathroom. Maybe, just maybe, I could return some of the pleasure he gave me.
Whiskey smiled and put a glass of my favorite wine in front of me.
“Looks like you had a good night.”
“Favorite night of the week.” I took the glass and sipped it.
“Chain night.” She nodded.
Putting the glass back on the table, I considered her. “Do you think I’m absolutely insane for liking such a terrible flogger?”
“I’ll be honest that I don’t understand why you like it, but it’s not my place to say you’re insane. I leave the psychoanalysis to my boyfriend.”
Chuckling, I sipped again. “How is that going?”
She looked around. “I get a lot more of what goes on around here. Girl, we are just damn wild in the bedroom. It is just unrestrained, wall to wall sex.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Somehow I don’t think it’s only unrestrained. I think there’s a lot of restraints.”
Whiskey went bright red and cleared her throat.
“So, it’s going well.”
“Very.”
“And you don’t mind him working here?”
“Not at all. He’s exclusively mine. His clients come to play, but since there’s no sex on premises, it’s not an issue.” A smirk crossed her lips. “He added me to his Vault membership, since we can’t keep more than a few simple toys in the house.”
“Oh my God, you guys go to the Vault.” I didn’t know why I was so surprised. Darcy was a real-life psychiatrist, and it made sense to keep all the big toys out of the house.
“It’s a great place. If you ever need to get away. I’m sure we can probably get you in there. But you’re also the only person I would do that for. Your proclivities can be dangerous anywhere else.”
I nodded. She was right. I didn’t even keep some of the stuff in my house, and I was nothing more than a Costco cashier and nighttime sub here at Imperial. I didn’t have
the need for the Vault. Yet. I might in the future.
“Is it fun having an exclusive?” I asked.
“Yes.” Her grin was infectious. “I don’t know how much my sister is comfortable with this, but she’s not saying anything.”
“Your sister is amazing,” I said. I didn’t even try to hide my jealousy and wistfulness. “I wish I had one who cared at all.”
“Can’t be that bad, can it?”
I shrugged. “She left the foster system six years before me. I haven’t heard from her since.”
“Well, you can borrow Ol’ Iron Ovaries if you need a sister.”
I choked on the drink. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah, apparently, she’s got a rep in the office already. They call her Iron Ovaries. She thinks it’s hilarious, and I’m inclined to agree—both with her and the fact they call her that.”
“Your sister is going to be amazing, you know that.”
“I know.” Whiskey grinned. “I’m so damn proud of her. She had it rough for a while there. We both did.”
“When are you done nursing school?”
“I’ll be graduating in three months with my RN and I’m going to get PRN, which is another three years of school. And I’m fine with that.”
“Good.”
“How about you? Any schooling?”
I shook my head. “I tried. It’s not my thing. Working here and my day job is just fine. I don’t need much more than this.”
“I’m kind of jealous. School is great, but exhausting. I’m glad you didn’t waste time trying to force through something that didn’t work for you.”
“Never really had the money to do that anyway.” I shrugged.
“Don’t need a degree to be a productive member of society,” came a new voice.
My stomach plunged. I knew that voice, too well. It was the stuff of haunting dreams and filthy fantasy. I forced myself to turn and look, just on the hope that I heard wrong.
I hadn’t.
Detective Garabaldi had taken the stool next to mine at the bar. I had thought for a while I was safe in Club Imperial, that he would never, ever come in here unless someone had called him and asked for his help.
But somewhere in the past three years, he’d made Imperial one of his off-the-clock haunts, even more in the past six months or so. I didn’t understand, and I was ripped in half about the whole thing.
He was a dirty fantasy of mine that I couldn’t have. Because how could I ask a cop to take Darien’s place? They were supposed to serve and protect, not beat and discipline.
“You have a good job, Vanity. We don’t all need to go to college.”
“I’m not ashamed of it,” I said, a little hostile.
“I know.” He flashed me a grin. He was so damn good-looking. Dark, clean cut hair, with just a hint of a few grays, dark black eyes. Tanned, Mediterranean skin, which gave away his first-generation American status—radically different from my pale, Slavic ancestry.
The only man I’d ever seen come close to the unbelievable, understated sexiness of Simon Garabaldi was the unrepentant, unrestrained sexuality of his brother, Salvatore—Vatori. The infamous pantsless drummer for Silver Soul. But Vatori just wasn’t the same as his brother.
“What can I do for you, Joe Friday?” Whiskey asked.
I laughed, and he tossed me a dirty look. “What? You don’t like my club name?”
“No, it’s perfect for you.” It really was. Everyone had a nickname, so they didn’t risk being known outside the community. Joe Friday was the perfect name for our resident police detective.
He tapped the bar top and looked at the bar. “Eh, scotch, neat. Make it a double.”
Whiskey lifted an eyebrow but didn’t ask. So, I did.
“Tough day?”
“Bad, bad beating at Sadique. I was called in for consult.”
“I heard about that,” Darcy L’Amour said, sitting down on his other side.
“We’ll need you at the hospital, Darcy,” Simon said. “Not yet, though. She’s unconscious and they’re waiting to see if she’ll be able to at least walk.”
“Damn,” I whispered.
He nodded. “It was bad.”
“That’s a bad note for Sadique to have in their house,” Darcy said. He grabbed Whiskey’s hand after she put the scotch on the bar top and kissed her knuckles carefully.
I made a gagging sound. He offered a middle finger. Whiskey and Simon laughed.
“Somewhat fortuitous that you sat down, Darcy,” Simon said. “I was going to ask you a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“If I could borrow your woman here, for a night.”
Whiskey gasped. “At Sadique?”
“Just for show,” he said. “For a few nights. We’re trying to see if we can spot this psychopath.”
Darcy looked like a deer in headlights. He wanted to help, but he didn’t necessarily want Nicci—Whiskey—exposed to such hardcore sadism. It was pretty clear she wasn’t too sure about it either. It was, even being part of that scene, hard to watch. Club Imperial was not hard core—it was a commercial enterprise that allowed the curious to participate and get a taste of what the lifestyle was. Sadique was nothing like soft-edged Club Imperial.
I leaned forward. “What about me?”
Did I just say that?
Darcy, Whiskey, and Joe Friday all looked over at me. I looked back and shrugged. “What? It’s a fair question. I’ve been to Sadique. I know what goes on there.”
Whiskey looked relieved. She would have gone after she and Darcy had talked it out. “She’d fit in better than I would. That attitude comes more naturally to Vanity.”
Simon turned that dark, intense gaze on me. “You’d go with me? We have to go a few nights.”
“You’re probably better off going with me. I know you’re supposed to be a hardened cop, but you’re going to get distracted when you see the sadism and masochism in action. So would Whiskey. I won’t. I know what’s going on. I’d be able to spot someone acting out of character as opposed to someone just uncomfortable with the activities.”
The three of them looked at each other and seemed to come to an agreement a moment later.
“You don’t mind?”
“Not really. We just have to pick nights that I’m not here at Imperial. I might have a good job, but I need the jobs and the money.”
“That’s fair, because this is a favor for a friend, so I’m off the clock, too.” He nodded. “When’s your next day off?”
“Tuesday.”
“How are we going to do this?”
“Call me. I’ll talk you through what you need to wear, and you can pick me up.”
He handed over his cell and I typed the number into his phone and saved it.
He checked the screen. “Good deal.”
What the hell was I doing? Handing my number over to the man I had many a filthy fantasy about? This was just asking for trouble.
Simon
It was Donny who found us at the door, looking completely lost.
Well, I looked completely lost. Vanity didn’t look at anything. She had her head down.
The humor in his voice was tough to miss. “Detective?”
I stuck my hand out. “Good evening, Gordon. Thank you for allowing me and my pet in.” Ack. Those words.
He gave me a hardy handshake and motioned me to the same office we’d been in late last week. He pulled the door closed. “It’s good to see you.”
“I’m glad I could help.” I hadn’t really wanted to take anyone with me, but two sets of eyes were better than one. I wasn’t sure that bringing Nicci had been a good idea, but Vanity volunteering saved me there.
I still wasn’t thrilled about anyone being with me.
“Vanity, good to see you, too,” Donny said.
She lifted her head and smiled at him. “Thank you, Donny. I figured I’d be the best person to help Detective Garabaldi on this.”
He nodded. “Good call. Vanity knows a lo
t about the harder aspects of the club. So. For the first visit, how hard are you willing to go?”
I grimaced. “I don’t know. I mean, I see some shit at work every day…”
“Let’s start you on the bottom. It’s all sensual BD down there. I don’t want to put you on the SM level if you don’t think you can handle that. But you’re welcome to move up at any point. The middle two are more hardcore, and there’s lots of fucking going on there. The top level is the SM stuff. That’s…hard to handle for a lot of voyeurs.”
Vanity put her hand on Donny’s arm. “No, that’s not a good idea. We have to be able to see everything, especially that top floor. If this guy is a hardcore S and M, he’s going to lurk up there. I know that Detect—I mean Simon, isn’t used to this, but the sooner we get the whole place monitored, the better it is.”
“She has a point,” I said.
“I can walk him through anything that makes him really uncomfortable.”
I coughed, and Donny laughed. “You mean like the outfit you’re wearing right now?”
Jesus, that outfit. I had nearly choked on my tongue when she walked out in it. There wasn’t much to it, really. A tight pair of leather daisy dukes, a tight bustier that didn’t go down, or up, very far, a pair of lace lace-up knee-high boots, and a collar.
She looked absolutely sinful. Like I wanted to lick her off my fingers. It was the very first time since Cam left that I felt any kind of desire—and man it was a doozy of a hit.
Worse, she smiled at me shyly and handed me a leash.
“What the hell is this?”
“My leash. Sometime a master will lead their sub around as if they were a pet. It’s very serious submission and wouldn’t be out of place at Sadique House. I just wanted to cover all the bases.”
“I’m…I’m not comfortable with leading you around like that.” There was no way I was going to do that.
“That’s fine. You’re not in the lifestyle. You’ll have to compromise a bit on your comfort, and I’m sorry about that. But we need to blend in.”
Did blending in mean walking around with a permanent hard-on for the amount of beautiful smooth skin this woman was showing me? Because, ouch.
Double Entendre: (City of Steel 2) (The Vault) Page 3