by Joey W. Hill
Yes, it could work, if it was all about her. But it wasn't. Being a Master was so much his nature, it didn't matter what he told her, she was not going to be talked into signing him up for three hundred years of doing exactly what she'd been doing, pretending to the world. Especially in the brutal vampire world, which made her current locale look like the "you-must-be-under-48-inches-to-ride-these" kiddie area at Disneyland. She couldn't ask him to do that.
He'd realized she'd shut him out and was giving her that Master look that reminded her that was one of his non-negotiable points. Open your fucking mind. She didn't have to read it from his mind to read it from his face.
He must have read something from hers, however, because he straightened from the pillar, concern creasing his brow as he half turned toward her. She shook herself out of it.
Turn all the way toward me.
He stayed still, didn't twitch. It took her a beat to realize she hadn't said it aloud. Out of the two of them, he was the one keeping his wits about him for this hazardous game of Simon Says. That proved it. She couldn't even keep her mind straight about him in a human environment. What if she let it slip in the vampire world who was the true Master and who was the slave? They'd tear him to pieces.
Kaela, we deal with this first. His mind voice was even, firm, as if they had all the time in the world, as if she wasn't on the edge of losing it. You can do whatever you need to do. I've got you.
"Turn toward me," she said quietly. Probably too quiet for any human to hear and definitely too soft for him, but the third mark, temporary though it was, had also helped his hearing. Plus he was looking at her face. He complied and faced her, an exceptionally intimidating-looking male thanks to his size and scarring. As well as that jutting cock, still hard and unsatisfied, a different, delicious form of intimidation, because he'd made it clear he was waiting to take her, would fuck her senseless when this was over. He'd said he'd remind her who he was, but she didn't need to be reminded he was her Master. Every vibrating, yearning cell of her body, heart and soul knew.
His gaze flickered, his jaw flexing. She felt the flood of emotion from his mind, nothing in words, but nothing needed. She'd just stepped into a boat, and he was the water that surrounded it, bearing her aloft, pulling her into the center of his being so she could do this.
She tested the whip a few times, loosening up her wrist. Then she positioned herself, focused on her canvas. She flicked the whip toward him, worked her way forward until the end was snaking out to tease his chest, his lower abdomen, his upper thigh. Then she cracked it, the popper snapping inches from his flesh with that startling gunshot noise.
It was deceptive, using a whip. When pain was involved, the whip appeared to tease and caress, just whispers of noise. A crack usually meant nothing had been touched. He knew that, but it was instinct to flinch.
He didn't.
He trusted her. She stepped into the role she knew, giving out quite a few of those caresses, until his flesh showed the crisscrossing of faint red lines, and he was twitching with it. She'd worried about irritating his scars, but he let her know they weren't a problem.
Do your worst, my lady. I'm all yours.
His gaze never left hers, and his erection never flagged. It seemed with every strike, every flex of his muscles, the rock set of his jaw, she was getting more aroused. Her nipples were tight, her pussy wet, her body aching for his touch.
When she couldn't bear it any longer, she caught the fall, coiled the whip and set it aside. Moving in, she pressed her body against his, wanting to put herself against all those red marks she'd caused. She wanted to kiss every one of them, finish on her knees, take him in her mouth, bring him to climax. Lifting her face, she kissed him, clasping the side of his throat with one hand to delve deep. He made a growl against her mouth and she answered it, pricking him with her fangs.
Tell me to keep my hands down, my lady.
I don't want to. But she said it aloud, as he started to raise them. "Hands down."
He put them down but clenched his fists, conveying a note of impatience, a promise of retribution for ordering him around, even though he was the one who commanded the order. The dichotomy of it made her dizzy. She was happy to be punished for obeying him, for not obeying him, for the pleasure of serving his pleasure, his desire to inflict pain and drive her to screaming climax with it.
You are a temptation like no other, my lady. Ease back, now. That's enough.
A vampire wouldn't prolong the intimacy of a kiss, but there was something reckless and dangerous brewing inside her, a macabre ebullience that wanted to test the boundaries of her life, tell all of them to go fuck themselves and immerse herself in him.
You'll behave, my lady. There will be time for you to act out later. When I can deal with it in full measure.
She met his gaze with a glinting one of her own, and he almost gave her a savage grin, anticipating it. God, she needed him. Needed him forever.
But she couldn't have him. The pain of that came back like the thrust of a stake. His eyes darkened, his mouth tightened, but she stepped back, averting her gaze and facing Lord Richard, who stood with his hand out.
"You did promise me, my lady."
"I don't recall a promise, Lord Richard. I remember an assumption on your part."
Tara's attention snapped to her. Liam and Seanna did the same before quickly looking down, the typical reaction of most servants when vampires squared off. Duck and cover.
Dealing with servants touching her Master, binding him, was one thing. Difficult enough. But a vampire handling him, inflicting pain on him, was an entirely different matter. Faced with the reality, a wall came down inside her. Not just no, but hell, fucking, over-my-dead-body no. She'd seen vampires do things to servants that surpassed the tortures of the damned. But hey, it was okay, because with a little blood from the Master or Mistress, the servant would be fine, hunky dory. Maybe some pesky mental scarring, but that was on the inside, so everything outside stayed pretty. Had to keep priorities straight, after all.
Garron had been through hell physically, emotionally. Whether or not he accepted it, she was as responsible for protecting him as he was for protecting her. Thanks to her most recent disagreement with Fran, that dear beloved woman who was the closest thing Kaela had to a real friend, she knew those two things weren't in conflict. Hadn't Fran stepped over the line of her stringent InhServ training because of her concern about her Mistress going somewhere she couldn't watch after her?
Kaela. Give him the whip. Remember, according to club rules here, I can call a halt to it if I desire, no reflection on you.
She knew enough about men and their testosterone surges to know how likely that would be. She would have rolled her eyes at him if she wasn't in the process of holding a staring contest with Lord Richard.
"My lady?" He had a brow raised, his eyes glittering but his expression suggesting he was giving her the chance to correct the impression she'd just given, that she was refusing him.
Kaela, I mean it. There's no risk in this for me. You're endangering yourself needlessly, which will piss me off more than anything else you could possibly do. Give him the fucking whip.
He was telling her what to do and expecting her to obey. But stepping out of the path between Richard and Garron... a mental quiver went through her. It was the same shiver of nerves she usually cast in iron in the blink before she decided whether or not the vampire in front of her needed to be taken down.
You're a vampire overlord. You control every situation. That's what you do every day of your life. This is when you decide how much you trust me or if you've just been playing sub the past few days. Honor your Master.
The arctic coldness of those three words shot up her spine. She glanced over her shoulder. His face had gone impassive, entirely unreadable. She felt like snarling in frustration, but an icy calm stole over her, numbing everything.
"My apologies, my lord." She channeled every facade she'd ever pasted on her face to fool a Unio
n general or a vampire. The result was a beatific smile, laced with a good deal of unbridled lust. For the first time with respect to Garron it was a feigned reaction, because there was nothing arousing to her about this. "My servant is quite worked up, and I intend to make good use of that impressive hard on." She handed over the whip. "If you deflate it, I'll be annoyed. I'd appreciate your consideration of that."
"I haven't seen your passionate side before, my lady. Usually you're so in control." Richard's expression eased. "I'll try to resist my baser urges, but I also know you're quite capable of returning a man to full attention with no more than a smile."
Tara rolled her eyes. "Charmer," she said, nudging Kaela when she came to stand beside her. Kaela responded with a faint smile, but everything else in her was concentrated on Garron.
When he met Richard's gaze, Richard gave her Master a humorless smile. "Definitely not used to playing the submissive, are you, boy? If you lower your eyes, I might have mercy."
Garron didn't lower his gaze.
Richard gave a nasty chuckle. "Lady Kaela, if you should decide to make your arrangement with this one...permanent, I think we'll be in for some interesting social events."
The Region Master pointed to a frame positioned to the left of the spanking bench. "I want you there. Seanna, come bind his arms on either side of him. Ankles, too. Stretch him out."
As Seanna moved forward to comply, Richard went back to the panel and switched out the six-footer for two four-footer single tails. He preferred a Florentine method, Kaela recalled, and he could cut into flesh or barely brush it, flicking a fly from the air.
Close your mind if you need to do so, my lady. I'm fine. There's nothing he can do to me that should cause you distress. It certainly won't cause me any, unless it upsets you.
Her mind started to narrow down to a thin crack of light, but for different reasons. Things were getting far more still inside of her, everything focused on what would happen next.
The first time Richard drew blood, he would die where he stood, no matter what she had to do to accomplish it.
Garron had heard that. His gaze flicked to her, startled, but then Richard began. He hadn't warmed up like Kaela had, but maybe he was just that familiar with whip play. Or maybe he'd intended to make his first strike exceptionally memorable.
He threw hard and fast. The two whips snaked out and sliced into Garron's back, both direct strikes on his scars. Garron arched up against his bonds, all his muscles bunching into rock hard tension to absorb the pain, his mouth stretched back in a snarl. The crowd let out a startled gasp as the skin split, crimson gashes that would draw blood.
Fucking bastard. Stand down, my lady. Stand. Down.
Only two things saved Richard from her wrath. Her initial moment of shock that he truly had dared something that brazen in a human environment, and the instant response of the two staff members who'd been standing inside the cordoned area to ensure people didn't lean over the velvet ropes too far. They'd shifted forward as immediately as if they'd been police trained, and perhaps Vardalos ensured that very thing, given what contingencies they might face in a BDSM club with a wide variety of guests.
Regardless, they'd cut into her path. She still might have mowed them down without impunity if one of them hadn't spoken up sharply. And if Garron hadn't repeated his explosive command in her head.
Tara reached out, caught her hand and tugged her back. "It's okay, you won't get into trouble," she whispered. "Richard knows what he's doing. It's not the first time he's played in a human club."
She could care less about being in trouble with the club, but she managed not to jerk her hand from Tara's grasp, instead extricating it with a stiff nod. She remained on her feet, though.
The staff member who had spoken up was Louis, the fire play Dom. His blue eyes sparked, his dark-stubbled jaw set. "Sir, blood play has to be sanctioned by a staff member, prior to execution."
"My bad, Lou." Garron cleared his throat. "I'm one of those who can sanction it, and I told him he could."
Louis's gaze slid over his fellow Dom, noting how Garron straightened stiffly. He didn't have to have Kaela's inside view to register the agony pin-balling through her Master. Louis's lips twisted, but Garron held his gaze in a lock, giving him a slight head shake. The Dom sighed, nodded grudgingly. "My apologies, sir," he said to Richard, though there was no apology in his hard tone. "But keep in mind we monitor this kind of play closely. Regardless of Master Garron's sanction, we will stop the session if it becomes excessive."
Tara bit back a sigh. "Human clubs," she muttered to Kaela.
Thank God for them. Kaela shifted her attention to Richard. He'd paused during the interruption, his expression neutral, almost bored. He acknowledged the warning and set his stance again.
I won't stand here and allow him to cut you up, Garron.
He was just proving a point, my lady. Watch.
Kaela remained tense, standing, but as Richard resumed, she saw Garron was correct. Richard used the blood running down Garron's back as his pallet. As he flicked the two popper ends along Garron's back, he started to spread those drops in a brush-like pattern, around Garron's original tattoo and then lower, an artistic display that impressed the crowd and had them leaning out against the velvet ropes for a better look.
In other circumstances, the artistry might have impressed her as well, but Kaela knew that flicking motion came with a repetitive sting, a pain that mounted as the whipping continued. The way Garron started jerking against the manacles was expected, though she hated it. But she also noticed something else. With his legs bound shoulder length apart, it made his genitals far more vulnerable. Yet though Richard occasionally licked those poppers against his testicles, Garron remained as hard and aroused as if Richard wasn't threatening his genitals at all.
She had to know where his headspace was, so she broke the rules and delved into his mind. Immediately she was surrounded by an array of erotic images, none of which included Richard or registered the pain of the flogger. Garron was imagining her straddling him as he made her ride him hard in their bed. Naked, her body oiled and slick as she rose and fell upon him. She was so aroused she was out of control, bending to bite him like a wild animal. Her ankles were chained to the bed, her wrists manacled behind her back. She was his prisoner...
Some pain finally penetrated, the grimace on his face becoming a snarl as Richard flicked the lash with extra enthusiasm over Garron's torso, his thighs, snapped at his balls with too much zeal. Kaela almost moved forward again, Louis tensing to her left to do the same, but in that brief second, Richard stopped. He surveyed his handiwork, stepping over to the table to pick up his wine glass, take a sip. As he circled to the front to consider Garron, her Master's gaze locked with the Region Master's once more.
Tara slid her hand into the crook of Kaela's elbow, squeezing. "Look at that hard cock, the way he's looking at Richard. You should keep him, my lady. After all these years, you know we have a sense for the humans that are meant to be a part of our world. Every time he looks at you, it's as obvious as a thunderstorm."
She raised her voice. "I think this one is a draw, my lord. I don't think it matters whether he's being whipped by a Master or Mistress. He only belongs to one person here, and I think we know who it is."
"Yeah. Himself." Richard took another sip of wine. "A true Dom."
He tossed the whips to Louis. "I assume you have to have those cleaned," he said dismissively, and then nodded toward Liam and Seanna. "Let him loose."
Kaela took no small satisfaction at the look Louis aimed at Richard, an expression the vampire missed only because he turned away from him. Though she'd enjoyed watching the fire play, she'd kept her distance. Most vampires didn't like close proximity to flame, and Louis looked like he'd happily find a couple blow torches to teach Richard some manners.
Then Richard's focus was on Kaela, drawing her attention. "He's a stubborn one, my lady. All cock and attitude. Tara tends to be a bit more romantic about
these things. The weakness of women."
"Chauvinist," Tara said without malice. A faint smile crossed Richard's face, but Kaela wasn't fooled. His eyes stayed cool.
"Stubbornness in a servant can be a challenge at best, a curse at worst. There's a high percentage of servants who have to be killed by their vampire within the first five years of their lives because they don't work out."
"Lord Brian has that serum that separates a vampire and servant now," Tara reminded him, speaking low enough only the three of them and the servants could follow the conversation. "And the memory serum that erases the servant's memory of our world."
"Which has only partially effective results, if the data coming back is any indication. Most of the Council still thinks execution is the safest course of action." Richard shook his head. "I wasn't making light of him, Lady Kaela. That one is a true Master. He won't be able to bend enough to be part of our world."
"It doesn't matter," Kaela said. Her voice was hollow in her head, even as it came out the way she intended. Casual, indifferent. "I'm enjoying him only on the island."
"Well, if you're leaving tonight, maybe we'll enjoy him for the rest of the week," Tara said with a wink.
She needed to leave. She couldn't bear to be here any longer. "You'll have to take that up with Garron, my lady. My understanding is he's engaged with other clients throughout the rest of the week."
She squared off with both vampires, gave them a courteous bow. "My apologies, but this is where we part ways. It's well past midnight and I need to prepare for my early evening departure. It's been a pleasure seeing you."
She said a few more things along those lines. Though she knew she seemed abrupt, her words a little forced, it didn't really matter, did it? If she wasn't taking him with her, he was in no danger from her erratic behavior. And she wasn't lying. She had something vital to do before dawn came, something that was boiling up in her breast and would no longer be denied.
Richard had said the obvious, yet the shock of hearing him say it aloud told her she'd almost let herself believe otherwise. Which brought back the anger that this situation had occurred at all, that what had started out as a fantasy had had to be ruined by her reality.
