Black Light: Brave

by Smith, Maren

  Spencer wasn’t impressed.

  Mouth flattening, he swiveled his chair around, dug back into his desk and pulled out another Band-Aid. “Hand,” he ordered.

  She kept her arms folded, but tucked her hands protectively underneath and did her best not to sound completely mutinous. “So you can slap me again?”

  “If you’re trying to get me to slap you, you’re going about it the right way. Better yet,” Spencer said pointedly, “let’s call your Dom in here. Show him what you’ve done to yourself and see what he has to say.”

  She had a funny feeling she knew exactly what Carlson would say. She already had a set of lines regarding the matter waiting to be worked on. He wasn’t likely to give her more for the same offense. She squirmed, still feeling all those places where the tenderness from last night’s caning had been the worst.

  “Hand,” Spencer repeated.

  Fully expecting him to slap the back with another hard reprimand, she reluctantly held it out. Although no longer bleeding, he bandaged her thumb, then gave her back both the clipboard and pen. Standing, he fished his wallet out of his back pocket.

  “Second reference,” he said, tossing his own business card on her application. “Note the spelling and make sure you get the number right.”

  Blinking, Puppy picked it up, re-reading several times before turning her puzzled stare back on him. “But… you don’t like me.”

  “I don’t like anyone, so don’t go thinking you’re special,” he assured. “Your third reference.”

  He lay another card on her clipboard.

  “Klara?” she asked, confusion deepening.

  “Put me down as the manager, and her as your supervisor.”

  She hesitated. “You… want me to lie?”

  “No,” he replied, shoving his wallet back into his pants before sitting down again. “What I want is for you to stop shaking like a scared little girl without a bed to hide under. Until that happens, you’ll work for me. Washing dishes, doing laundry, disinfecting equipment. Wherever you can help, whenever anyone asks. Got it?”

  Mouth gaping, she stared from the business cards, to her waiting application, and back to him again. She waited, barely breathing for him to call ‘April Fools,’ ‘got you,’ or even a smirking ‘just kidding.’

  He didn’t.

  Tapping the form, he said, “This isn’t going to fill itself out.”

  She hurried to fill in the waiting blanks. Her hand was still shaking, although for a different reason now. No longer angry, but every bit as rattled, she could barely keep her thoughts straight.

  “Here’s what you want to write for previous work history.” He flipped over his business card, providing the club’s address.

  She turned the page and copied it down precisely.

  “This isn’t just for practice,” he said, watching her write. “Keep the information with you and use it on any other jobs you apply for. From here on, I expect you ten minutes early on the days you work. You and I are going to repeat this interview until you’ve got it down. As soon as I think you can make it, I will boot your baby bird butt out of this nest. It’s up to you whether you decide to fall or fly, so don’t get comfortable. Also, don’t forget the W-2.”

  Finished, she handed the clipboard back and then sat frozen where she was, at a loss for what to say or do. She ought to thank him, but she couldn’t stop thinking this had to be a trick. Any minute now, he was going to start laughing.

  Staring back at her, Spencer finally checked his watch. “Your shift started five minutes ago. If you’re still sitting here ten seconds from now, this is going to go down in Black Light history as the fastest hire-to-fire employment on record. Ten… nine…”

  Jumping up, she yanked the door open and quickly squeezed out. Menagerie girls didn’t run, but the only reason she didn’t was because her unsteady legs couldn’t take it.

  Carlson was still sitting at the bar, watching and waiting for her. He grinned as soon as he saw her. “How did it go?”

  Hands clutched over her chest, she hesitated, waiting for the panic to hit her. Maybe it would hit faster if she said it out loud. “He hired me.”

  His eyebrows shot up.

  “I… I have to stock the bar.” Worrying her hands, she looked from him to Klara.

  “Ha, ha,” Klara smirked at Carlson, and then to her said, “Right this way, hun. I’ll show you where to get started.”

  * * *

  “You’ve got this,” Carlson called, as Klara led Puppy through the door behind the bar and into the back. “I’m proud of you!”

  He kept himself glued to his barstool, the curiosity positively killing him until he was sure she wasn’t going to come charging back, her anxieties at full gallop. Once he heard the clatter of glasses as Klara set her on her first task, however, he was off the stool and down the hall. He didn’t bother knocking before throwing open Spencer’s office door.

  “You hired her?”

  Slipping papers into the bottom file drawer, the dungeon master slammed it shut and swiveled his chair around to face Carlson. “Just come on in. Closed doors don’t mean privacy or I’m busy or anything, not at all. By the way, let me just take this moment to tell you how much I love the fact that I’m your boss and you’re giving me assignments.”

  Squeezing into the tiny office, Carlson quickly shut the door so they wouldn’t be overheard. “I wanted you to interview her. She’s trying to get a job at the library. Why would you hire her?”

  “It’s going to take more than one fake interview to straighten that mess out.”

  “She’s not a mess,” he said, trying not to be offended.

  Spencer gave him a knowing glare.

  “Yeah, all right,” Carlson said. “She’s a bit of a mess, but she’s my mess and it’s a work in progress.”

  “Only now I’m also involved. So that makes it partly my mess too. FYI, I slapped her hand and you owe me a box of Band-Aids.”

  That got his attention. “You slapped her hand?”

  Annoyed, Spencer measured a scant half inch between two fingers. “I came this close to busting her ass when she threw her fit.”

  “She threw a fit?”

  “Hit me with a Band-Aid. I had to use my last one on her. Like I said, you owe me a box.”

  “She hit you?” His jaw dropped.

  “With a Band-Aid,” Spencer said dryly. “You’re a lot less annoying when you don’t echo everything I say.”

  “I am so proud of her,” Carlson breathed. “I really need to tell her so.”

  “Of for fuck’s sa—what you need to do is get to work!” Spencer yelled as Carlson whipped open the door and squeezed back out of the small office. “You’re late!”

  “Give me a minute to slap your submissive and I’ll get right to it.”

  Erupting out of his chair, Spencer charged after him, whipping around the corner into the hallway so fast that he nearly plowed right into Carlson, who stood waiting for him with hands thrown up in surrender.

  Giving his boss time to come back off that instant temper high, Carlson said, “Point taken?”

  “Like I said,” Spencer breathed, rolling his shoulders in an effort to self-soothe his thoroughly ruffled dominant feathers. “It wasn’t like I had a plan to follow.”

  Lowering his hands, he nodded. “I realize that. Thank you for what you’ve done for her. I wasn’t expecting all that, but I’m grateful.”

  Rolling his shoulders again, he visibly let it go. “Sorry I swatted her hand. When I saw her bleeding, I just reacted. Wasn’t my place.”

  More than willing to let it go now that he’d made his point, Carlson stuck out his hand.

  All but rolling his eyes, Spencer shook it. “God, I hate the mushy shit. Can you please get to work already?”

  Chuckling, Carlson turned and headed back out onto the main dungeon floor, but Spencer stopped him again.

  “Hey.”

  He turned to find Spencer standing half in and half out of his
office, holding a familiar backpack purse aloft.

  “Your girl forgot something.”

  “Right, thanks.”

  As he came back to collect it, Spencer unzipped the bag and dug inside, pulling out her cellphone. “I didn’t notice it until it started vibrating.” Handing over the bag first and then the contraband phone, he said, “Make sure she knows if she does this again, she’s fired on the spot.”

  “Right,” Carlson said, already making that mental note before he noticed the blinking blue light that signaled a missed communication. It was a text message. “Crap,” he sighed, reading who it was from.

  “Ethen,” Spencer guessed.

  “Nope.” It was worse than that. It was Pony.

  His shoulders slumped. Swearing under his breath, he took both the phone and the pack and headed out in search of his submissive. Every time he managed to get Cynthia out of that place, Pony always found a way to pull her back in.

  He found Klara behind the bar, but not Cynthia. “Is she back there?” he asked, trying to see into the little closet he knew was behind the bar.

  “I’ve got her cleaning the suck and fuck rooms,” the bartender said. “Not that I don’t trust her with the bottles, but I’ve already stocked.”

  Not at all looking forward to turning the focus of their evening back to Pony, he made his way through the dungeon to the semi-private cubicles that offered more privacy for sexual escapades than any other station in the place. He found her on her hands and knees in the second one, busily searching under the bed for anything that shouldn’t be there. She was humming, her bottom moving back and forth before she re-emerged with an unused condom packet clutched in her hand.

  He’d never heard her hum before. He’d never heard her sing either, and it was still such a rare thing when she let anyone catch her in an unguarded moment. Hell, she was even smiling. She had a pretty voice, but it was her smile that he loved the most.

  He almost smiled too, except that’s when she saw him. It was his instinct to think it had just gotten awkward, except awkward wasn’t exactly what he felt when he saw the smile fade from her lips. She watched him, a hint of pink touching her cheeks before she looked away. She looked at the bed, and then the condom packet, and then, almost hesitantly, her smile returned.

  “What,” he said, liking the obvious direction her thoughts had just taken as she got down on her hands and knees, “is going through your head right now?”

  “I-is this wrong?” she asked, hesitating.

  “Not in the slightest.”

  She crawled to him every bit as sinuously as any kitten he’d seen playing down here. Oh now, he liked this. Standing in the doorway, he watched her come until she’d settled on her knees directly before him.

  She reached for him but stopped, her hands just shy of his belt.

  “You’re all right,” he assured.

  She leaned in, pressing her lips to the bulge already growing quickly in the front of his jeans. Looking up at him, she stroked her bottom lip ever so subtly back and forth across his fly. God help him, but he could feel that touch burning all the way through his jeans into the head of his cock.

  “Is there something I can do for you?” she asked.

  She was seductive as hell when she was trying to be coy. Or was this playful? He didn’t know, but he liked it.

  “You can do anything you feel like.”

  “Anything?” Her hands softly framed to either side of his cock, rubbed up and down once. She bit her bottom lip. “W-will you please fuck my mouth? I really want to taste my Sir’s cum.”

  He chuckled, a low and breathy sound. “You may taste your Sir’s precum while I happily fuck your mouth. But I’m not promising I’ll cum there.”

  She shivered, stroking the bulge of his cock once more with her lips before pulling back to unfasten his belt, then his fly.

  “Back up,” he told her, edging her deep enough into the tiny room for him to shut them in. He’d never had a problem fucking a submissive in a public dungeon before, but Puppy wasn’t just any submissive and frankly, he wasn’t in a mood to share her. Not even visually with anyone who might happen to glance their way. That they were both supposed to be on the clock wouldn’t occur to him until later. For now, he dropped her purse on the bed and stood there, letting her do all the work as she took his jeans down his hips far enough for his cock to spring free.

  Puppy was a cock worshiper if ever he knew one. Her eyes damn near glazed with pleasure just in gazing her fill. When she reached for him, she did that sexy, mini-orgasmic shiver thing again, and then the heat of her hand closed around his shaft.

  She touched the head of him to her lips, and sighed. Soft and breathy, an expression of pure longing that quickly evolved into something much more carnal as she took that first taste.

  His cock twitched at a touch from her tongue, a pulse of lust thumping in the ever-tightening base as her tentative taste turned into a flick, then a slow suckling kiss at the very head of him, before the full heavenly heat of her mouth engulfed him. He refused to think about who taught her this. Combing his fingers into her hair, he simply closed his eyes and enjoyed the magic as she explored him. From head to shaft to balls, she stroked him with her hands and mouth, and her delightfully wicked tongue.

  This was hard to hold still for, but he did it. Pants sagging around his thighs, he stood like a rock—so fucking hard—while she turned her mouth into a willing sheath. She almost got her wish too. The longer it went on, the more exuberant she became and the closer he got to that point of no return. His hands on her head became less holding and more restraining, and the minute twitches of his hips as she bobbed on his cock devolved into jabbing thrusts.

  He couldn’t help it. She wanted him to fuck her mouth, and he was more than happy to let her take him to that point where he was helpless to do anything but comply. She cupped his hips, opening her mouth, relaxing her throat, willingly choking on his cock until her eyes teared and he had to stop. He had to, or despite his earlier edict, he’d have cum on her tongue. The thought of watching as she then sucked him dry nearly took him to his breaking point. He quickly pulled out of her mouth instead.

  “Give me your ass,” he ordered.

  If she had any reluctance at all, she hid it in how quickly she obeyed. Turning, she shucked both her pants and underwear to her knees, dropped her head onto her arms, and spread her legs as wide as her half-off clothes would allow.

  That she’d been every bit as into that blowjob was evident in the glistening wetness of her folds. Her clit was swollen, the lips framing the pink slit of her pussy engorged and so responsive to the stroke of his fingers as he sank them deep into her that he could have sworn she came right then. The tightness of her silken flesh clamped onto him in fluttering spasms. He pumped them in and out of her, feeling the tension inside her building in intensifying spasms that soon had her unable to hold still.

  Her soft gasps became pants, and then moans that she kept trying to muffle in her hands as his thumb replaced his fingers. He got it wet in her seductive wetness and the only sound she made when he withdrew to spread that moisture all around the puckered rim of her back hole was little more than a hitch of shaky breath.

  The condom was lubricated, and thank God for that, because he wasn’t in any mood to go even so short a distance as the K-Y on the floor at the head of the narrow bed. He tore the package with his teeth and got it on. Her gasp when he sank his thumb into her ass was all the encouragement he needed. He buried his cock into her twitchy pussy, letting her take all of him without gentleness or warning. His thumb read every twitchy response that his thrusts brought as he rode her. Hers was a cry of pleasure that she immediately tried to muffle, but too late. He’d heard it. He liked it, and he meant to hear more.

  Grabbing as much of her hair as he could, he yanked her head back, freeing all the sharp cries that shoving his thumb that much deeper could inspire. His hips pounded into hers, her pussy taking the hungry force of his abuse while his
thumb mimicked every pump and her body shook.

  “Please, Sir…” she panted. “Please, please, please…”

  “Come,” he ordered, just before she did. He doubted the timing was anything more than coincidence, but it was still beautiful how she bore down on the wracking spasms. The clutch of her wildly contracting pussy felt every bit as intense as her hard-suckling mouth had been and it brought him crashing into his own orgasm.

  He came every bit as hard as she had, the unexpected intensity of it almost winning a shout from him as he slammed into her as deep and as hard as he could. His need was savage, and the force of it took her all the way down to her belly on the floor.

  The incredibly well-used, if clean floor of one of Black Light’s aftercare rooms. He ought to be ashamed of himself for that, but it was hard to summon the strength.

  Easing back off her, Carlson crawled to his knees. A shudder of pure pleasure washed through him at the friction of his cock sliding out of her. He would have apologized for his roughness, but panting, her eyes closed, Puppy was already rolling onto her side. One small hand cupped her asshole; the other found its way to her wet, swollen pussy, and God if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d seen all day.

  She moaned, a sound that would have made him hard all over again were he only ten years younger than he was. At forty, he was going to need a minute.

  Thirty seconds, at the very least, especially if she kept rolling around like that, caressing the folds of her own pussy as if she could still feel him there.

  This was not playtime, for either one of them.

  Smacking her on the ass, he both stood and quickly yanked his pants up before he took them off altogether. “Get dressed. Neither one of us needs to give Spencer any more reasons to regret having us working under his roof. Especially after the one you just gave him.”