by Mandy Harbin
“A family one. Why are you here?”
“To support my friend. What’s it to you?”
“Viola!” Shelby squeaked. She looked at Jedrek, but he was glaring at Viola still. “I’m sorry, Sir. She doesn’t mean anything by that. She’s just worried about me.” She looked at Viola and whispered, “Knock it off.”
“Why? I’m just being honest. It’s one thing to engage in kink in the privacy of your own room, but another to make someone do it in public.”
Jedrek raised an eyebrow. “No one is making Shelby do anything. She’s free to leave at any time.”
“Yes,” Shelby said. “And I don’t want to.” She looked at Viola, but her friend hadn’t taken her eyes off Jedrek.
“Whatever you say, Sir.” She sneered the title. Shelby blanched at the tick in Jedrek’s jaw.
“It’s Sir for her. Master for you.”
“In your dreams, buddy.”
Shelby had to defuse this situation before Jedrek snatched up her friend and hogtied her. He could do it. She knew first hand. “Viola, we should find Dave. Remember, you were the one who said maybe he will get inspired tonight,” she said, trying a different tactic by mentioning her husband and the interest she had in the lifestyle.
It worked. She finally gave Shelby her attention. Shelby watched Jedrek, though, as he covertly scanned the crowd. Probably looking for Dave, but she wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to know where Shelby was headed since Mason wasn’t here…or if he wanted to scope out Viola’s husband. Not that it mattered if that was the case.
He looked at Shelby again, but she wasn’t sure if he’d found his target. “Does Master Mason know you’re drinking tonight?”
“No, Sir. Um, he didn’t say I couldn’t. He’s going to be late, so I thought it’d be okay.”
“And it’s a free country,” Viola said.
Jedrek growled. As in an I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned into a huge grizzly bear sound. She was so going to hurt Viola for poking him. His gaze snapped to Shelby. “You can have two. No more.”
Viola’s jaw dropped and she started to protest as he turned to leave, but Shelby grabbed her arm with her free hand and yanked her away. “Quit pissing off the big, bad Dom.”
“What a dick!”
“Cool it.”
They wound their way around the crowd to the table Dave had secured. He pocketed his phone and grabbed his beer as they sat.
“This was the best I could do,” he said before taking a sip.
“It’s fine, babe.” She pushed a shot toward Shelby. “Here. Drink as much as you want. That guy isn’t your boss.”
Shelby picked up the shot glass and downed it, enjoying the burn. “I’m not disobeying him. That’s one of Showalter’s friends. Besides, he was the one who tied me up last week. I don’t want on his bad side.”
Viola’s eyes grew wide, but Shelby shook her head, knowing where her thoughts were going. She knew Shelby had slept with Mason that night, but she’d never gone into any details with Viola or her team. “He wasn’t there for the other stuff.”
“Well, I still don’t like him.”
“Who?” Dave asked.
“Some jerk at the bar.”
“Drop it, Viola. We’re here to work, not bitch about the partners of Scene.”
“Fine,” she grumbled, picking up a shot glass. “I still say you should drink as much as you want.”
“Not if she knows what’s good for her,” another man said from the side, and they all snapped their heads in his direction. She gaped at him, another man she recognized, but this one wasn’t from a previous scene.
“Master Emory,” she breathed. He was her tormentor for tonight.
“Emory Strom,” he said, offering his hand to Dave. He looked at Shelby after shaking the man’s hand. “Mason called. He said for us to get started.”
She blinked, not understanding. “Huh?”
He smiled, and under different circumstances, she’d find him attractive in that pretty-boy kind of way. “He booked the main viewing room. If we start late, we might not finish before the next scheduled scene.”
Uh-oh. “He wants me to start without him?” Saying the words aloud didn’t help her grasp the concept. It was if she was talking about someone else, something totally different.
“Yes.” His eyes never left hers as she absorbed this. He was serious. She and Mason had not planned on her doing any scenes without him. That hadn’t been part of the deal. Could she do this? She looked at Viola who was watching the man acutely, taking him in and probably cataloging all his features. She was a hell of a field agent. Right. Because they were both here to do a job. Hell, I don’t have a choice.
Then her heart fell. Was Mason making her do this without him as part of her punishment? To prove to her that he could still control the situation without actually participating? Was this another sign that he didn’t want to have anything to do with her? How many times did he have to spell it out? If that was the reason, he was being loud and clear now.
“You’ll be in good hands,” Emory said softly. She got the feeling he was the one who coaxed the unwilling into the begging-for-more category. He was that convincing. She appreciated the sincerity since she had no other alternative but to follow through.
She slowly stood.
“You look lovely, by the way. Thank for you doing this for me.” He cocked his head to the side and smiled as he took in her outfit.
She nodded without saying anything. She feared no words would actually come out.
“Here,” Viola said, passing a shot of tequila to her. “For luck.”
Shelby grabbed it and downed the precious liquid before giving her friend one last look.
Emory chuckled as they stepped away. “It might help your nerves, but it won’t bring you the luck you need. There is no helping the pain from my whip.”
The whip. She’d been so focused on being on display that she’d forgotten she was to be whipped tonight. Crap! How could she not remember something like that? It had taken her days to get over the spanking scene. This was sure to hurt a lot more.
Hmm…it was going to hurt again, no doubt, but maybe he’d go easy on her. Bondage had been difficult, but it showed her that BDSM was more about the mental and less about the physical. Pain wasn’t a requirement.
And Emory seemed like an easygoing guy.
He picked up some kind of whipping tool and her jaw dropped. He swung it, and it snapped in the air, cracking the stillness like thunder. He smiled and crooked his finger at her to come closer. The smile on his face was anything but friendly. He seemed more than just willing to do this for Mason. He looked eager. It was then she realized he wanted to inflict pain on her. There was a word for Doms like that. Her eyelids fluttered shut as the term filtered through her mind.
He was a sadist. A real sadist.
The crack of the whip jolted her to open her eyes and stare at him.
“Now, Shelby,” he said sternly, no longer wearing a smile.
Oh, fuck.
Mason hit the alarm on his Porsche and strode to the back entrance of the club. The meeting with their Tokyo office hadn’t lasted as long as he’d feared. In fact, it almost seemed pointless. The discussion of last month’s quarterly earnings was old news, in his opinion, and the projections for this quarter weren’t out yet. What was discussed could’ve been covered in an email or postponed until this quarter’s predictions were finished. Time was money, and that meeting had been a waste of both.
Just another example of why William needed to be removed from his position, and Mason would be damn glad when that happened. Not that he’d gotten word yet from his silent helper. He didn’t know how the man worked, and frankly, he didn’t care. As long he got him something he could use.
The club was packed, but he knew it would be. In the years since they’d opened Scene, it had grown in regular membership at a steady pace, but it wasn’t cheap. Not everybody had the cash or assets to join, so open night w
as always a success, regardless of the admission cost. But he wanted to consider a different business model, change the number of times they were open to the public from once a week to once a month. As long as memberships continued to increase based on previous trends, he figured they could do this next year. Limiting the number of nights they were open to the public would increase demand, so they could charge a premium for the admission to offset the loss of income from the other nights.
A scream from around the corner jolted him out of his money-making thoughts. Shelby.
He checked his watch. He was only forty minutes later than he’d planned on being here originally. He’d called Emory after he left the office, so he could start the scene. He wanted to be here for it, but knew he’d only miss a few minutes, if any. Jackson had the room booked months ago for his anniversary, and Mason wasn’t going to do anything to screw up his member’s plans. It was either start Shelby’s scene without him or reschedule. Ultimately, he knew he would be seeing her tonight anyway, and he didn’t want to risk spending more time with her than he needed to. His instincts had screamed for him to not make the call to Emory, demanding that Mason be there for every second she was with another Dom.
So he did it anyway.
When he rounded the corner and came to the roped off area where the crowed had gathered, the air locked in his lungs. Emory had her strapped to a St. Andrews cross. The costume he’d instructed her to wear had been unzipped, the top half hanging over the skirt, but she still had on an apron. Her full breasts had engulfed the top of it. Seeing her partially clothed was sexier than if she’d been completely naked.
Her head hung down, hair covering her face.
Her welt-covered back exposed.
She was fucking beautiful.
Emory swung and tagged her again, and she screamed, her hands fisted, neck corded. The silver streaks lining her face sucker punched him.
“I-I can’t,” she sobbed.
He struck her again. “The only word out of your mouth should be your safe word.” He whipped her again.
“Oh God,” she screeched.
Mason shucked his jacket as he stormed over there and tossed it to the floor. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. She needed grounding because when he’d seen her begging, she’d looked lost. This was what she needed him for. To help her accept the way of life, learn how beautiful it could be.
“M-Master,” she sobbed.
His heart seized, and he stroked her hair. “You can do it, pet.”
She shook her head. “It hurts. It hurts.”
He looked to the side at Emory and lifted a finger for him to wait. The man nodded back at him.
Mason kissed her tears as she sobbed against him, and he kept kissing her cheeks and neck, trying to soothe her, until her crying finally eased. When she took in a stuttering breath, he moved his lips to hers and claimed her mouth. It was difficult to connect with her while she was strapped to the cross, but he needed to touch her, to comfort her. As she relaxed into him, he knew he’d gotten through her haze of pain and pulled away slowly to gaze into her wet eyes.
“Tell me why it hurts,” he whispered.
Her breath stuttered as new tears formed, and he immediately knew he wouldn’t like the answer. But, somehow, he already knew. It was why he’d asked why and not where.
“You weren’t here,” she whispered.
“Ahh, pet, I’m sorry.” He kissed her cheek again. “I wanted to be.”
“Really?” she asked, her eyes hopeful, and the pain in his chest shredded him. She was too vulnerable, too beautiful to play with like this. Pushing her away wasn’t the right answer. He didn’t know what was, but he knew he’d royally fucked up. Again.
“Yes, really. We’re going to have a long discussion when this is through. I have much to apologize for,” he murmured. Her smile was timid, and because he couldn’t help himself, he kissed her again. “Are you ready to continue?” Her eyes grew, but he stroked her face to keep her from panicking. “I’m here now, pet. You have me to lean on.”
She bit her lip and nodded.
“What’s your safe word?”
“Red.”
“Good girl.” Mason glanced at Emory and gave him the go ahead to continue.
When the next lash came, he was right there with her, watching her, relishing her beauty, absorbing her pain. He held her face, refusing to break the eye contact he had with her, the view into her soul too precious to lose. He murmured words of encouragement, told her how wonderful she was. How perfect. Still he watched as tears streamed down her face, but no other reaction came from her. No more screaming. When her eyes glossed over, he knew she’d reached the sweetest nirvana reserved for subs, and she’d done so without one sexual touch from him. His chest expanded with pride for her because she’d let herself go and allowed it to happen…and for himself for being the reason she’d achieved it. Yes, Emory wielded the whip, but Mason mastered the girl.
One more strike, and he signaled his partner to halt. Any cheers and verbal encouragements the audience gave Shelby during her scene hushed to a quiet respect as they continued to regard her. He and Emory worked methodically to release her from the cross, and Mason wrapped her as if she was precious cargo before carting her toward the private room off the staged area. He needed his time with her, and her care wasn’t for public display.
She remained dazed as he held her on his lap, and he simply caressed her tear-stained cheeks. She was a vision, and he’d be lying to himself if he pretended he wasn’t turned on by her in this state. It was who he was. He loved a woman’s complete submission, but something about her in this moment made it so much more….more. He didn’t know what exactly. He was a sexual man, and he preferred the scenes he conducted to be physically gratifying in that respect. When a scene ended without that erotic connection, he didn’t feel completely fulfilled. He would be pleased if the sub achieved her goals because it was his duty as a Dom to see to those needs first, but he would come away lacking that completeness too.
Until now.
This was the first time since he’d enjoyed play that he hadn’t needed that physical release. The scene had been complete without it. She had been perfection. What did it say about him? What did any of his reactions to her say about him? He didn’t know. God, he didn’t fucking know. But they couldn’t avoid what was happening anymore.
Before this night was through, they’d have that talk he mentioned. Maybe by then he’d know what he was going to tell her.
Chapter Fourteen
A dull ache roused Shelby from her trance. The mellow feeling that had engulfed her was quickly turning into a burning on her backside. She shifted and blinked, the room she’d been staring at coming into focus for the first time. Where was she?
And why had a swarm of bees attacked her back? Jesus, it was on fire. She hissed and turned to look over her shoulder. Her gaze immediately locked with Mason’s concerned one.
Oh God, it all came rushing back to her. The whipping. The pain. She moved her hand to feel her back. Was she bleeding? It felt as if she’d been ripped to shreds.
“Don’t, baby,” he whispered, and she immediately stilled.
“It hurts.”
“I need to put some ointment on it, but I didn’t want to disturb you. C’mon. Let me get you upstairs.” He rose and cradled her in his arms. “After I finish tending to you, we’ll go to bed, and I’ll hold you all night.”
“Viola,” she gasped. Where was her friend? Where was Dave? Had they watched and wondered where she was now, or was her partner too busying snooping around? She couldn’t concentrate on that right now, but she also couldn’t leave without talking to Viola. “Where is she?”
“Who?” he asked, frowning at her. He put his hand on her forehead and rubbed. “You might still be out of it, baby. It’s just us.”
“No. I mean…” She shook her head to get the cobwebs out of it. She couldn’t do anything about her dry mouth. “My friend Viola and her husb
and came with me tonight. She was worried about the public scene and wanted to be here for support. I can’t leave without talking to her. She’ll be worried.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay, pet.” He put her down, and she very gently settled onto the couch. “I’ll find out who’s working the front door and have him point them out to me. You stay here and rest. I’ll bring them to you.”
She swallowed, trying to get saliva to form in her mouth. He seemed to notice her need, bent over to retrieve a water bottle, and handed it to her. “Thanks,” she whispered as she opened it. “Master Emory met them before the scene. You can ask him.” That was all she could say before she guzzled a third of the bottle.
He stroked her hair until she pulled the bottle away from her lips. Without a word, he nodded at her and left.
She stared after him, wondering how long they’d been alone in this room. After looking around, she confirmed that she hadn’t seen it before, so he must have brought her in here. She shifted and winced. Damn, but her flesh was screaming. That scene had been pure torture. She understood why Mason wanted her to experience it.
Because some people got off on pain, and she wouldn’t know what she liked until she tried it. The spanking had been tolerable. Hell, it had been hot, but she doubted she’d like the whipping even if he’d been the one striking her.
In fact, she knew she wouldn’t have.
With the first lash, she knew Hell had found her. There’d been no escape. No enjoyment, not even toleration.
Not until Mason had shown up. After he’d soothed her and touched her, she no longer had control of her body, her desires. She’d become his vessel of pleasure, and her instinct had been to satisfy his needs, regardless of what they were. She shivered as she accepted the fact that she would’ve had sex with him right there in front of everybody if he’d wanted it. Though sex wasn’t what he’d sought.
She almost wished it had been. Him holding her, comforting her had touched her in a place she’d never felt before. It had felt completely foreign. And beautiful.
