by Kate Allure
Then the gentleman lowered his hand, a morsel of food resting on his fingers. The slave opened her mouth and sucked the sustenance from him. Carefully, she licked his hand clean.
“Thank you, Sir.” Her voice was a cultured, pleasant murmur. The man never once looked down or acknowledged he’d heard her.
Tori gasped again, drawing glances from other diners.
It was the most debased, degrading display she’d ever witnessed.
It was also, perhaps, the most erotic.
Unbidden and unwanted, she imagined she was the slave, stripped bare and kneeling on the floor, eating from a disinterested man’s fingers. Ian’s fingers. A wave of pure longing washed through her, making her instantly wet. She clenched her thighs against the throbbing in her sex.
Rupert put his hand on hers. “Finish your drink, dearest. I’ve ordered wine for our dinner.”
Her empty stomach didn’t need more alcohol, nor did her muddled brain, but she needed something to calm her flaming arousal. She tipped the martini back and downed it. She looked around for a glass of water, expecting that such a top-notch place would have supplied it without asking.
Almost immediately, a filled wineglass appeared along with an appetizer. She grabbed it up, barely noticing anymore what she ate or drank. She couldn’t take her eyes off the docile slave being fed random bits of food by hand.
The slave suddenly shifted into a different position. Moving quickly, she rose up on her knees, tilting her face and thrusting her breasts high toward the man. The slave’s owner must have issued a command, although she hadn’t heard anything. He then used a small butter knife to spread some thick brown sauce—chocolate, perhaps—around the areolae of her breasts, while the seated woman watched with an air of sophisticated disinterest.
Tori all but stopped breathing as she stared at the erotic tableau before her. The slave held absolutely still, her nipples now slick and brown. The man leaned down and began to lick one breast clean while the slave held her uncomfortable, tightly arched posture. He took his sweet time, laving and swirling with his tongue before sucking the nipple into his mouth. Then he dined on her other breast.
Tori leaned forward in her seat, forgetting Rupert was sitting next to her, forgetting why she was there, forgetting everything but the riveting act before her. The man finished with the slave’s second breast, but unexpectedly he bit down on the nipple before releasing it. The slave shuddered and cried out—just once—but she never broke her pose.
Tori erupted in one brief, outraged shriek.
The gentleman turned back to his dining companion, as if the slave had ceased to exist, and said something quietly. They both laughed. He patted his slave on the head as if she were a good puppy, and she lowered back to her original pose.
Then the man turned slightly, his eyes flicking to Tori, and made a small motion with his hand while speaking to the Dominatrix.
Startled, she squirmed in her seat, realizing that the powerful woman was watching her and not the slave. Their gazes locked momentarily across the room, then the other woman grinned and spoke blithely to the man. They both laughed again, louder this time.
Suddenly, she understood with sober clarity that the entire thing, the dirty little show, had been done solely for her benefit. The gentleman had bitten the woman for no other reason than to get a reaction out of the newbie, the outsider in their midst. Both offended and aroused, the surreal situation left Tori panting. She hoped Rupert couldn’t see her clenching and unclenching her thighs to fight the urgent demands of her body.
His slightly knowing grin told her he was completely aware of how much the slave treatment had aroused her. “Eat, Josephine. We have to finish our dinner before we can have our…dessert.”
He cast a glance down toward the slave.
Tori’s eyes widened. He couldn’t mean—
Hell’s bells. She was in way over her head. Her stomach churned, warning her that he had ulterior motives, but her heart wanted to believe he simply cared for her and didn’t want to lose their friendship, as he’d kept saying.
She looked down at her plate. It was empty, but she couldn’t remember eating the appetizer. Rupert droned on about everything and nothing—their careers, his boys, even the weather. She had trouble following what he said. She needed some food and fast.
“It seems strange that the food izz— That it’s taking so-oo…um.” Everything had become fuzzy, and her mouth didn’t seem to work right.
“Are you asking why it’s taking so long?”
She nodded, relieved to leave all the conversation to him.
“Didn’t you hear me tell the maître d’ that we preferred a leisurely meal this evening?”
“No, I—” She searched her memory and felt her face flush. “I was a little distracted.”
“Yes, it was charming. You were charming, watching them play their naughty games. There is much more to you than I ever realized. I find it—you—very exciting.”
“Oh!” She wanted to stop this kind of talk, but it was too difficult to form a sentence.
The waiter arrived with their entrees—very small entrees—and more wine.
“I think…um, maybe I’ve had enough drinks,” she mumbled.
“Of course. This vintage is the perfect accompaniment for your palate, but I can order you something else if you prefer. Fizzy water, perhaps? It’s just that I chose it especially because I thought you would like it.”
“Oh, it’s fine.” Her words were slurred. “Since you went to so-oo much trouble.”
“Excellent.” He smiled at her.
She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around his solicitous behavior and the vague sense that something wasn’t right. But now seemed as good a time as any to bring up her remaining concern.
Without preamble, she asked, “Why-zit okay for you to be here and not me? And…” She paused, struggling to remember. “Oh. Yeah. Why’d you bring me here, if you don’t think it’s appro—appro—” She snorted, giving up.
“Those are excellent questions.” He laughed. “Let me say it flat out. I was wrong. Completely wrong. I’ll admit I was utterly flummoxed to find you here. And, if I am being completely honest, I was jealous. I don’t even want to think about who you were meeting here. No one, I hope?” His tone held a question.
Disinclined to tell him about Ian, she stalled by taking a sip of the port that had arrived with their desserts.
Rupert turned serious and leaned toward her. “After I got over the shock, I realized how ridiculous and rude I had been. It is my hope that you can forgive my lapse.”
He looked sincere, and she responded easily, “Yes, of course. I’m pleased you aren’t angry anymore that I was there in the club—I mean, here.” She pushed the port away from her. “May I have some water, please?”
“Of course.” He signaled, and a waiter appeared instantly.
He reached over to touch her hand. “I am glad you agreed to go out with me tonight. This is a side to our relationship we’ve never explored. In retrospect, I think that was the reason our relationship failed.”
No shit.
“I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“What can I say? I was wrong.” He squeezed her hand. “Please forgive me.”
Relief flowed through her. She didn’t want him sexually. Not anymore. But after feeling like a slutty freak in his eyes, it was nice to hear he understood.
“I forgive you.”
“I’m pleased to hear you say that.” He looked it, too. “I think we should try again. I find you incredibly sexy. Especially in the attire you wore the last time you were here. Now that we know each other’s naughty secrets, we can truly be open with each other.”
She drew back, pulling her hand free. “That wasn’t—”
He took hold of her hand again. “Tell me what you were feeling when you saw the naked slave woman being fed.” He looked extremely interested in what she would say.
She looked over at the now empt
y table but didn’t answer. Her hidden desires were too private to share.
Again, he spoke for her. “I found the scene extremely hot. Her subservience, the way she was displayed for him. Didn’t you?”
Still, Tori refused to speak.
“I understand your reticence about saying it out loud, but I think you can agree it was very erotic.”
“Well, yes.”
“You are probably wondering why I asked, but there is a method to my madness,” he said with boyish enthusiasm. “Here, let me show you.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Rupert walked briskly down Bush Walk, practically pulling Tori along. Vaguely, it occurred to her that she should object to being led deeper into the club, but she was happy that he didn’t mind her getting tipsy in public anymore.
“I like the new you,” she told him. “Not such a fuddy-duddy.” She giggled.
They took an elevator, and she suddenly found herself back in the secret dungeon. “I’ve been here before,” she pronounced dizzily. “Naughty things in here.”
She stopped walking to stare at a hanging, bound man being flayed by a uniformed staff member. The upside-down man wore a ball gag.
Rupert tugged her along, and she yelled back, “Doesn’t that hurt?”
The bound man didn’t answer.
Then they were in the private BDSM suite. But they weren’t alone. A woman waited there on a leather wing-back throne in the corner. She was about Tori’s age and dressed like the black-haired Dominatrix from Sadie’s, except this woman dangled a black whip from her hand.
After Rupert shut the door behind them, the striking woman rose from her throne and snapped the whip on the floor.
Thwack!
Tori jumped at the loud crack.
“Nappie, you’ve kept me waiting,” the woman scolded.
“I’m sorry, Mistress. It took longer than expected.” Rupert’s gaze dropped to the floor, and his voice turned soft and agreeable, unlike anything Tori had heard from him before.
She looked back and forth between the two, utterly confused by his deferential demeanor…until understanding finally dawned. A grin parted her lips.
“Ohh,” she warbled. “I get it. You’re a Dominatrix and he’s your sub!” Proud of herself for figuring it out, she beamed and attempted to walk toward the beautiful creature, but the room was making it difficult by tilting sideways.
The Domme strode down the steps toward them. Reaching Rupert, she murmured sotto voce, “I will take extra pleasure in correcting your behavior tonight, and maybe you won’t keep me waiting in the future.”
The Domme switched her gaze to Tori. “Now, who do we have here?”
“Mistress, may I introduce Josephine?”
“Welcome to my dungeon. I’ve heard all about you from Nappie. You broke his heart, you know.” Her concern seemed odd, given the gleeful look on her face. “I think you’ll make a fine addition to my harem.”
“Wha—?” Tori lurched backward and turned to Rupert. “What does she mean?”
“I have a playmate here who likes to rule over me. It’s fun and exciting,” he replied.
Shocked, Tori took a sideways step away from him. “I don’t understand.” She looked back at the Domme, who was slowly circling them, looking annoyed.
He spoke rapidly to the impatient woman. “Mistress, please forgive her impudence. She is a newbie. But I know Josephine will love serving you, as I do. At dinner, she practically popped just from watching a slave serving her master.”
Tori attempted to respond. “No-oht true. I didn’t…um.”
“Do you mean to tell me this woman doesn’t know why she is here?” The Domme cracked the whip again. Harder.
Thwack!
Both Rupert and Tori jumped.
“Join us, Josephine,” he urged. “Think about it—you naked, trussed up, and under Mistress Polly’s special tutelage. The idea excites me greatly.”
Tori slowly backed toward the door—the tilting room the least of her problems now. “Is that the reason you brought me here? To invite me to join your ménage?” Nausea flooded her, as stinky and sickening as a wave of raw sewage.
“I did it for us. Please give it a try. For us.” He dropped to the ground and kissed her shoe, then gazed up at her. “Or you can dominate me, if you prefer. I might enjoy that even more.”
Tori stared down at him, disbelief whipping her brain about like a tornado. “Ain’t gonna happen.”
“Be careful, dearest. Your common upbringing is show—”
A whip crack sliced through the room. Mistress Polly stared at him, then flicked her hand down her front.
Troy watched, fascinated, as he shut his mouth and rose to begin rapidly shedding his clothing.
The authoritative woman strode up to Tori and slowly looked her up and down. Tori’s gaze dropped to the floor.
The Domme said to Rupert, “You’re wrong, my pet. This one’s a natural submissive. It may take a strong hand to make her realize it, but she’s not ready to rule over you…or anyone. Yet.”
Tori tried to step away, but Rupert, now naked, had come up directly behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. He pushed himself against her, and his erection pressed against her ass cheeks. She shuddered while her drunken mind tried to come up with an appropriately withering response.
Mistress Polly smiled at her. “I would love to train you, Josephine. You might even rise to be my consort, but I’m the only empress around here.”
For the briefest instant, visions of Ian training her in this room swept through Tori’s mind. She saw herself on her knees, naked and serving him.
I’m angry at him! she reminded herself firmly. But the images kept coming. Would he like it better if she came to him already trained, or would he wish to train her himself?
She shuddered again, but this time for an entirely different reason.
“Take your hands off her,” Mistress Polly ordered Rupert.
Immediately, he let go. He turned and knelt at the woman’s feet.
Utterly flabbergasted, Tori found it hard to breathe. Rupert really was a submissive. Never would she have guessed that about him.
Circling Tori, Mistress Polly continued, “Oh, he’s got it bad for you, Josephine. We’re going to have so much fun tonight denying Nappie the pleasure of touching you. Painfully denying.”
Tori took another step toward the door. “I’ll just be go—”
Mistress Polly ignored her, her eyes narrowing on Rupert. “Spanking bench. Now. I would be deficient delaying your punishment any longer.”
He practically ran to the padded structure.
She returned her gaze to Tori. “Why don’t you give it a try? Let me tie you up and play with your body. I can see it in your eyes, you’re tempted.”
Tori looked at the aroused, naked man who’d been her boyfriend for so long but was now obediently positioning himself on the bench, his ass in the air, waiting to be whipped.
She lurched toward the door, shocked into sobriety. “I’m leaving. I didn’t come here to have sex with you, Rupert, and certainly not to be tied up and flogged by a stranger.”
Opening the door, she yelled back at him, “Pervert!”
Mistress Polly ignored her outburst as she began to strap him down, but he sent her a parting shot. “Victoria! You know as well as I do, submission arouses you. You can pretend all you want, but you’re a slut just like the rest of the women here. No different.”
Tori didn’t respond, but Mistress Polly did. “Rupert, is it? Well, Rupert, tonight you’re going to learn not to call women names, and it’s going to be a painful lesson.”
“No, wait!” he cried. “I didn’t mean you!”
Thwack!
Tori didn’t look back, not even when he howled in pain. She pulled the door shut and rushed up the stairs to the exit, avoiding making eye contact with any of the sex-crazed members of the club. Tonight had been a dreadful mistake.
She burst out the front door and saw R
inaldo waiting by the curb next to the limo. He insisted on giving her a ride home.
A weird kind of peace filled her. She now understood something she hadn’t known for certain at the start of the evening. She and Rupert were a thing of the past, finally and absolutely. It shocked her how little she’d known the real man.
It also rankled that he seemed to know her so well, because he’d been spot-on about one thing: deep inside, surprising her by its intensity, there was a previously unknown craving to be sexually dominated. But not by Rupert or his beautiful Dominatrix.
Tori wanted only one person to rule over her. Wanted to serve only one person.
However, first she’d have to decide whether she could find it in herself to forgive him, once and for all.
And again become more than just friends.
Much, much more.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Thursday afternoon arrived, and Tori hadn’t heard from Ian since Monday. No texts or gifts had interrupted her day, and his court appearance on Tuesday had been postponed. She missed their playful communication via text, but it was all good. He must have finally accepted that they would only be friends.
Now, why didn’t that make her happy?
She went home early, deciding a run would ease her melancholy. Before heading out in her running clothes, she grabbed the MP3 loaded with music from Ian. She hadn’t yet played it, and a wistful desire to be closer to him filled her.
Stepping out the door, she waved at Johnny, and the beautiful spring evening immediately lifted her spirits. She ran fast and hard, listening to the eclectic collection he’d made for her. Some were obvious love songs and others were dance tunes. Almost an hour into her run, the music changed to something familiar…but she couldn’t quite place it at first. Her jogging slowed to the new, more seductive rhythm.
Then it hit her. This was the soundtrack from their private suite at the club.
She stopped dead on the running track and pulled the earbuds from her ears as joggers ran around her.
Blast!
She’d worked so hard to banish from her mind the erotic images of them together screwing on that huge bed. Now, their lovemaking played vibrantly through her mind, as real as if she sat in a movie theater watching it. Once again, her body tingled and ached and yearned for him.