His Pleasures and Pain (Book II) (Allen Trilogy 2)

by Chevelle Allen

“I was beginning to wonder if we’d ever get our schedules right. It’s been bugging the hell out of me.”

  “Me too, but we said we’d work it out. We just have to be a little more patient and flexible given our current circumstances, okay Baby?”

  They talked a little longer, each recapping their workweek and the quirky things that happened along the way. He savored their calls because they gave him a glimpse of the life she now led.

  “Okay. Well, I’ll let you go, I don’t want to throw off your club groove for the night. Sunday night call?”

  “Of course. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  When she hung up he felt better knowing he’d see her soon. He thought about getting another beer, but given the forty-five-minute drive ahead of him, he decided against it. He showered, dressed and was out the door within twenty minutes. He rarely came on Friday or Saturday nights because the weekend fetish warriors gave the place a different vibe. But he also knew the regulars were likely the only ones using the dungeons. That’s where he intended to hang out.

  He walked up to the entrance, handed his member card to the attendant and went inside. He moved down the narrow hallway towards the clubs velvet-lined swing door. Passing through it, the thumping music became far more apparent. The place was packed with people of every description engaged in a variety of activities. Some danced to the pulsating House Music, others talked at tables, still others were “scening” and just having a good time. There was a freedom to this place. Everyone seemed to enjoy it and take full advantage of its vibe as if the outside world didn’t exist.

  He made his way to the loft bar, ordered a juice with tonic and found an empty barstool. There were six opened-ceiling dungeons below the loft—each one designed pretty much the same. Cross bars and open grates in the ceiling allowed Subs to be suspended without blocking views from above. The rooms were outfitted with St. Andrew’s Crosses, Spanking Benches, platform or medical beds, cages and racks along with custom devices. Anyone using the spaces had to bring their own gear as well as cleansers to disinfect the room before and after each use.

  The best views were certainly against the railings, but when it was crowded like this, most people stayed seated allowing others to enjoy what was taking place below. He shifted his barstool to improve his view and watched a Fem couple prepare to play. Both women were striking, but the Dom was stunning. As many times as he had been to the club, he couldn’t recall ever seeing her. He was immediately drawn by her technique and command of her Sub.

  She was a whisperer, so it was very difficult to hear exactly what she was saying. Gently stroking her Sub with a crop, she instructed her to stand on a small box. The Dom then applied an intricate pattern of Chinese binding on her Sub’s arms, shoulders and under her breasts. The Dom was meticulous, whispering enticements and instructions while clearly making sure her Sub was okay. Even from this distance, he could see the Sub’s nipples hardening and her breath quickening. Her flesh was getting pink in anticipation as the flush spread throughout her upper body.

  Retrieving a small electric wand, the Dom began zapping her Sub’s body. Demanding she stay completely still as the shocks moved through her, it was damn near impossible. He’d never used wands before. By accounts from others, the general consensus was it felt like a bad static shock one might get walking across a carpeted floor in the winter.

  He was so intrigued by the scene between the women he hadn’t noticed what was happening in the adjacent dungeon. His attention was only drawn to it when he heard the loud crack of a paddle followed by a male Sub’s wail. While he wasn’t aroused watching Gay men engage in play, he could appreciate good technique when he saw it. The redness on the Sub’s ass would easily fade within a few hours. An amateur could strike incorrectly causing serious and permanent damage. Michael shifted on the stool trying to see what was happening in the third room, but something flashed in the corner of his eye. Turning to the direction of the flash, he looked up.

  He couldn’t believe he had never noticed it before. Hidden very well in the rafters were small mounted cameras capturing everything in the dungeons. Son of a Bitch! He got up making his way down to the main floor. He walked through the crowds finally spotting Spectra with one of her Subs dutifully collared and leashed following close behind her.

  “Good evening, Mistress.” He knew he had to maintain discretion and calm about his discovery.

  “Good evening, M. I’m so glad you could join us tonight.”

  “Can I have a moment of your time? Privately.“ His eyes were intense as he tried to convey to her the gravity of his need to speak with her alone.

  “Of course.” She pulled on the leash and the man stood up. She said to him, “Wait for me at my table and behave yourself or there will be hell to pay.” The man did as he was told. Spectra leaned into Michael while diverting her eyes. “What can I do for you, M? Or should I refer to you as Mr. Josey?”

  “How long have the cameras been installed?” He wasn’t in the mood for any evasive reply from her.

  As she shifted to look him the eyes, she must have known diversion wouldn’t be tolerated. “I prefer not to discuss this in the open, if you don’t mind.”

  “Fine. But we do need to discuss it. Now,” he replied sternly.

  “Follow me.”

  She led him away from the crowds and through another hallway leading to a series of locked doors. She walked up to one of the doors punching in a code to unlock it. Inside was an office with several computer monitors. Two were standard desktops and the others were clearly surveillance monitors with recording equipment.

  “I need an answer,” he demanded.

  “Be very careful, Mr. Josey. I’m the client. You work for me. M likes to play in my establishment too.”

  Her threat had little impact on him in that moment. “How long have the cameras been installed, Spectra?” He repeated without adjusting his tone or attitude. She would tell him or the deal to protect her and the club was off. It would be every person for themselves.

  “The past year or so.”

  “They’re a violation of people’s privacy. We come here because of the discretion and anonymity you promised in the member agreement.”

  “Which also makes clear I will use what ever legal means necessary to ensure members are safe and protected against any criminal activity.”

  “You don’t explicitly tell them you’re recording them either.”

  “You’re a lawyer. As the proprietress of a private establishment, I set the rules. Everything is perfectly legal. Now is this going to be a problem for you?”

  “When were you going to tell me about the cameras?”

  “I didn’t think it was necessary.”

  “I told you from the beginning, if you wanted to be kept out of it, you had to tell me everything. You lied to me.”

  “I never lied to you.”

  “I need to trust you to make this work.”

  “That’s interesting because I’m trusting you with all this—my life!”

  “Failure to reveal pertinent information to your attorney is lying.”

  “Why is it pertinent?” she asked as she sat down at the desk obviously trying to remain calm.

  “Don’t play stupid. You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

  “What do you need from me that I haven’t given you?”

  “It’s simple. Did the Congressman engage in penile intercourse or play with other women in the dungeons?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have proof of that?”

  “Yes.”

  Shit! His mind was reeling and this case had become exponentially more complicated. Camera evidence would certainly out the Congressman, the club and its members. It was harder for him to maintain his dispassion given what he now knew. For a moment, he found it difficult to contain his own panic. But he settled down, trying to stay focused.

  “Who are the women?”

  “You know I can’t tell you that. It’s
a breach of the confidentiality I’m paying and trusting you to protect.”

  He took a deep breath, observing her carefully. He couldn’t shake the feeling she was withholding something even more important.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “What do you need to know?”

  As he examined Spectra more closely, he realized she wasn’t evading him at all. Her sense of ethics wouldn’t allow her to reveal anything directly. He needed to ask. Carefully.

  “Are they the same women?”

  “Yes.”

  “Two women, three... how many?”

  “Just three in the past few years,” she said with her grin growing wider.

  “Do the women know each other?” he queried further.

  “Oh yes. Two of them used to be quite friendly.”

  “He was with them both in the dungeon?”

  “Yes.”

  “But he’s a Sub, right?” Michael had grown less angry and more intrigued.

  “That’s correct,” she said leaning back in the chair.

  He paused for a moment thinking, Doms rarely like to share. Then he asked, “Was his wife the other woman…the other Sub?”

  A broad smile took over Spectra’s face confirming his deduction.

  “Are we done here, Mr. Josey?” she said as she rose from the chair. “I can’t possibly keep my other guests waiting. Plus my Slave will certainly think he can misbehave if I’m gone for too long.”

  “I need those recordings Spectra and this will all be over.”

  “They’re automatically deleted every ninety days…unless I need them. Besides, you don’t need them. All M needs to do is lead her on a clear path to understanding why involving me is out of the question. Am I clear?”

  He knew exactly what she was suggesting. “Absolutely.”

  “Now if you will excuse me.” She gestured towards the door leading him out.

  “Of course. Enjoy the rest of your night,” he said.

  “Aren’t you going to stay and enjoy the rest of yours?”

  “No. I got more than I came for…as usual.”

  “Well then, good night, M.”

  “Good night, Mistress.”

  CHAPTER 21

  He awakened with the sun peeking through the blinds shining a sliver of light across his face. He turned on his side trying desperately to fall back to sleep. He hadn’t rested well the night before. Increasing anxiety brought on by the knowledge Spectra had been recording activities in the club made him toss and turn all night. He couldn’t stop thinking about all that could go wrong if anyone found out about them. How they might be used. Even though she claimed the recordings automatically deleted every ninety days, he still felt very uneasy.

  In all the years he’d known her, he could have never predicted she’d do such a thing. Prior to this revelation, she was by far the most ethical and trustworthy of all the people he knew in the life. Club Spectra was touted as one of the best in the scene. People clamored to join, but the fees were high but not so much that its exclusivity was based on wealth. Membership was only offered to those who were friends of existing members at least twenty-five years old. As much as he fought against it, for a variety of reasons he felt personally betrayed because he’d known Spectra for years.

  Returning to D.C. for law school, he reached out to her. She was gracious with her time and instruction just as she’d been during her sessions in New York. Much to his surprise he learned she had kept tabs on him from others in her network. When the club started, she waived the age requirement for him because as she put it, “you display a maturity and skill some Doms take decades to master.” Even with the accolade, she required him to attend a series of member-only sessions to learn the house rules. He also attended sessions about new techniques and devices being introduced in the scene. Above all, Spectra wanted whatever happened in her establishment to be fully consensual, safe and sane.

  With all he knew, he continued to struggle. He was having a much harder time separating his personal feelings with what he needed to do as her attorney. A part of him was angry he had agreed to take her case. The more he considered it all, he wasn’t certain he’d be comfortable knowing another lawyer was representing her for something so delicate. There was little doubt in his mind it needed to be handled by someone “in the family.”

  Laying there, he tried to squelch thoughts of how his world might be upended with this kind of exposure. He had always been so careful to protect the worlds he moved in and out of. Now he felt as if they were all about to collide and he had little control over any of it. He was exhausted and emotionally drained but somehow managed to drift back to sleep.

  When he finally climbed out of bed, he walked to the kitchen to get a bite to eat. Glancing at the clock, he was surprised it was almost noon. Settling on the couch with an apple and a protein bar, his cell phone rang. Ignoring her call would be far more problematic than simply answering.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Sweetheart!”

  “Hi, Mom. How’re you doing?”

  “I’m doing well, thank you. Listen, I’m coming to the city for a board meeting at the shelter. I was wondering if I could stop by before heading home.”

  “Today might not be the best for a visit.”

  “I won’t stay long. I promise.”

  “What time are you thinking?”

  “Around four. My meeting should be over by three-thirty.”

  “Okay.”

  “Wonderful! I’ll see you then.”

  “See you then.”

  Even though he had spoken with his parents earlier the previous week, he hadn’t actually seen them since the party. Like him, they were busy even if it theirs was by choice. Each simply took for granted they’d get together when the mood and opportunity struck. He assumed this was one of those times even though he really wasn’t in the mood. But he’d muddle through it with all the expected pleasantries.

  When she arrived, he took her coat, kissed her on the cheek and offered her a glass of wine.

  “Oh no, Sweetie! I’d better not, I’ve got an hour-plus drive ahead of me.”

  “You’ve always been able to hold your liquor,” he chuckled as he put the glass back in the cabinet.

  “Michael!” she smiled and headed to the sofa to sit.

  “So, how was your meeting?” he asked as he poured himself a glass.

  “This time of year we see an uptick in women seeking refuge at the shelter with their children. We’re nearing capacity. Heartbreaking really. But every time a woman breaks free of domestic violence, my faith is restored.”

  “Then let’s talk about more pleasant things,” he said joining her on the sofa. “What’s Dad up to today?”

  “When I left, he was sprawled on the couch in the family room watching sports and smoking one of those stinky cigars of his!” she laughed.

  He loved to see her laugh. Her face took on an endearing softness.

  “You’re letting him smoke in the house now? When did that happen?”

  “The house is big enough. Besides it’s still chilly out on the patio this time of year. As long as he only smokes one or two during the day, I can manage the stench...or I try to anyway.” She smiled again and her eyes reflected a sweetness that warmed his heart. It had been a very long time since it was just the two of them. “So, how’ve you been…besides ‘busy.’”

  “I’m good.”

  “And happy?”

  Subtlety wasn’t her strong suit. In fact, she often said there was no point in being subtle or coy when there were things to say.

  “I’m all right. Why?”

  “Are you dating?”

  “Really, Mom? Are we going to have this conversation again?” He shook his head, chuckled and took a long swig of his wine nearly finishing it.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You.”

  “You’ve been working so hard. I just don’t want you to put your happiness on hold because of work. I want yo
u to find love...start your own family.”

  “If it happens, it happens.” As much as he appreciated her concern, he wasn’t prepared to share his relationship status with her. The one and only time she met Janine it didn’t go well. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her she was back in his life even if they were still working out what that meant.

  “I just want all my grandchildren here before the great-grand children start coming. Justin and Caitlin will be out of college before you know it.”

  “They don’t strike me as being eager to get married and have kids right out of school.”

  “Maybe not, but you get my point.”

  “Can’t make you any promises.” Hoping to change the subject he asked, “Do you want a little something to eat?” He walked over to the kitchen and began searching through the refrigerator for snacks for them to share.

  “No, thank you. And don’t change the subject Michael.”

  “I’m changing the subject, Mom!” He toyed while retrieving sandwich fixings from the fridge.

  “Fine. So tell me more about this case that’s taken so much of your time. I can’t seem to pick up a paper and not see some tidbit about the Sorenson House.”

  “I’ve been trying to limit media exposure as much as possible. I think things will die down soon. News cycles come and go and they only cover us when things are slow.” With sandwich in hand, he rejoined her on the sofa. “But the case is solid.”

  “Well, we couldn’t be prouder of you!” Her tone altered considerably when she added, “Just be careful.” She looked deeply concerned and it was perplexing.

  “Be careful about what?”

  “You don’t want anything to take away from the good work you’re doing.”

  “What do you mean?” He leaned back into the sofa.

  “I don’t want anything to derail your case or have your character called into question.”

  “Stop being obtuse. It’s not your style.”

  She sighed and looked him squarely in the eyes. “I had a very disconcerting chat with Christine.”

  “Why are you talking to her?” His curiosity was piqued even in the midst of annoyance at the revelation.