by Nina Pierce
“Meghan, what are you doing?” Doc McCarty’s soft blue eyes stared down at her. “Oh, my dear, you’re chilled to the bone.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “The cooler door … broken … jammed … cold … stuck … I could have…” Words fell from her frozen lips through the sobs of relief.
“Hey, Meghan, you need a ride…” Deirdre came bounding through the back door of the shop, but the words clogged in her throat at the sight of Meghan crumpled on the floor, cradled in the older man’s arms. “What’s happened?” Deirdre knelt on the floor next to them. “Meg, are you all right? Where’s all this blood coming from? What the hell happened here, Doc?”
* * * *
“Welcome to the dungeon, sir.” The beauty standing before him wore a black corset, her breasts spilling pleasantly over the top.
Peter’s eyes scanned down the length of her long legs, hugged in thigh-high leather boots, and back up to the collar around her neck. It looked more like a show piece than a useful bondage tool. But what did he know? He forced his eyes to meet the cherry-red lipstick smile before he spoke. “I … I’m looking for someone.”
“Aren’t we all?” Her voice was a sultry breath of sound that heated his blood. “I’m Mima, one of the hostesses. Have you ever been to one of our soirees?”
“No, I…” Peter shook his head. This was wrong on so many levels. The main room in front of him was filled with twenty or so people of both sexes in various stages of dress. No one, except Mima, seemed interested in his arrival. But the activities taking place on the couches and chairs scattered throughout the space begged for his attention.
“Are you a guest or client?” Mima’s hand wrapped around his forearm, forcing him to concentrate on her.
“A what?” Tearing his gaze from a man leading a naked woman on a leash, he finally found his tongue. “A client? No … I, I’m a guest of Crystal Ice.”
“Of course.” She inclined her head. “May I check your coat and get you a drink? They are complimentary for our guests.”
“May I see Crystal?” he asked, removing the coat and laying it over her outstretched arm, his fingers maintaining possession of the sleeve.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. She has many clients…” She paused and winked. “…and guests to entertain this evening, and she is still working to get everything ready. Now, about that drink?” She lilted the last words into a question.
“Scotch on the rocks.” He wanted to ask for a double, but he wasn’t sure how long he was staying.
“Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll get that drink and a menu.” Mima gently squeezed his hand before brushing it from the coat. “You might as well have a look before you decide to leave.”
He let out a laugh of disgust. He wanted to tell the hostess he wasn’t here to eat, but she turned and walked from him before he could mention that detail.
Settling onto one of the plush leather chairs, Peter pulled the red handkerchief from his front pocket, allowing it to spill over his thigh. It was stupid, but he couldn’t think of another way to help the woman from the chat room identify him. He rubbed nervously at the sweat glistening on his upper lip. The moustache that had been there only this morning was gone. He’d grown it in an attempt to look older. Tonight he wanted to look like a college kid at his first titty bar.
Nervously scanning the room, Peter swallowed his revulsion—and guilt. The two emotions warred in his belly, burning through the lining of his stomach. He’d been popping antacids like a chain smoker with cigarettes since hatching this little scheme of his. What kind of den of iniquity had he walked into?
A few people, like himself, sat alone, sipping drinks and accepting hors d’oeuvres from naked waitstaff. Others focused their attention on what he could only assume was the menu. Several small groups were seated at other chairs and couches scattered throughout the room. One lovely brunette, sitting with two men in business suits, caught his eye and winked. Crystal? But when she turned back to her companions, seemingly uninterested, he turned away from her and focused his attention on the rich wood bar running along the wall to the right of him.
The bartender’s substantial torso was bare save for the black leather straps crisscrossed over his well-defined pecs and abdomen. Leather armbands spanned both biceps. A dark mane of hair swept over his broad shoulders. The man leisurely dried and hung glasses, his gaze never roaming over the clientele. It seemed anonymity was important to everyone.
Peter tried to relax and let the subdued jazz music and sensuous atmosphere settle his jangled nerves. Lit by filigree sconces mounted on the red walls, the room oozed old money. This wasn’t any typical honeymoon suite, and Crystal obviously wasn’t the typical professional working girl he had expected to meet.
Perhaps he had it wrong. No one had spotted the bandana and attempted to approach him. Save for Mima and the brunette who was currently being escorted into another room by her companions, no one had paid any attention to him. Peter had questioned both his sanity and naiveté countless times. The woman from the chat room had no intention of meeting him here. In his desperation, he had let himself be duped. What a fool. He slid to the edge of the chair, thinking he should just go home to Meghan.
“Every time I come, you look ready to bolt for the door.” The leggy woman returned. “Here’s your drink and a menu.”
Peter settled back into the chair. “I don’t need the menu. I’m not eating.”
She leaned over and pressed her cheek to his, the corset losing the battle to contain her tits. “The first time’s the best. Give it a chance.” Her tongue flicked his lobe before she straightened. “The menu isn’t for ordering food.” Her mouth curved in one of those breathtaking smiles she kept flashing him. “Crystal’s selections are on the right-hand side, but if you desire something else, it can be arranged.”
Relief flooded through him. At least the woman in the chat room hadn’t lied about her working name or her place of employment.
“Why don’t you have a look at that menu?” Mima asked. “I’ll come back shortly to take your order.” She turned on her heel and left him again.
Peter drank deeply of the liquid courage in the highball glass. How unfortunate the woman sashaying her nearly naked ass provocatively around the room wasn’t the one he’d been chatting online with. She certainly was beautiful and pleasant to talk with—the type of woman he was looking for. He watched her escort a man through a side door, wondering what sort of treats the other rooms offered. Obviously, that’s where all the major action was located.
Peter opened the menu. It didn’t hold the usual selection of appetizers, salads, and entrees. There were titles that brought heat to his face: Whips and Chains, Fantasy Role Play, and Doms and Subs. Peter closed the placard and drained the scotch.
He knew this foray into something dark and mysterious was exactly where he was headed when he’d made plans for this road trip. His pulse quickened at the thought of having a woman trust him so completely that she would give up all control in the bedroom for him. He’d fantasized about how it would be to know a woman’s sexual pleasure was his sole responsibility. Blood throbbed painfully between his thighs. This situation certainly hadn’t started that way. But as his cock jumped at seeing what this hotel suite promised, he wondered if SingleandLooking21 was more than just a display name.
Chapter 3
Crystal huddled in the darkness of the tiny back room, peering out through the one-way glass. The guests she stared at saw only the antique mirror hanging on the wall, not the eyes of staff members checking out their clientele. A person working in this profession couldn’t be too cautious when a customer asked for them by name.
Too many new customers didn’t understand the BDSM lifestyle. Her employer provided services at top dollar that other establishments found repulsive. Crystal had stripped for a short time, but the money hadn’t been enough to satisfy both the bill collectors and the university bursar’s office. This job provided her that comfort and more.<
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Being a submissive to her Dominant wasn’t about being naughty just to receive punishment. Nor was it an opportunity to try and convert her and overpower. It was all about letting go and giving up control for the pleasure of oneself and another. The pain, when done correctly, increased the level of gratification exponentially. Some people just didn’t get that.
Pleased with the number of guests who had accepted tonight’s invitation, Crystal had eyes for only one man. Her breath caught when she finally spotted the bandana hanging from his pocket. The man’s face said college boy, but the camel-colored coat and elegant way he moved through the room spoke of a maturity she hadn’t expected. In her two years working these private parties, she’d become an astute observer of people. And this guy with the butterscotch hair and mouthwatering physique surely had the means to pay big bucks for services. She’d done some digging into his background and understood enough about him to know she’d prefer meeting him in private, rather than display her talents in the presence of others.
Crystal wondered why he’d chosen to come all the way from Maine on a day like this and how much he truly knew about her. Whatever the reason—curiosity or a need for a relationship—she realized she wanted a more personal involvement in this man’s life.
Perhaps that was why she’d invited this guy to MIRL. After all, she already had enough fulltime customers who paid her good money, but somehow it still wasn’t enough. Her eagerness for a deeper relationship had overridden her normally cautious nature. Something about this guy’s conversations in the chat rooms had made him sound sad, lonely—desperate. At this point in her life she needed to be needed. A sigh escaped her lips. That was too deep for her to contemplate tonight.
Mima stepped through the door to the back room. “Did you spot the hunky guy asking for you?”
Crystal nodded and smiled, but didn’t take her eyes off the prize. “Did you explain the menu to him?”
“He understands what’s available, yes. He wasn’t very interested in the rodeo, but his eyes sparkled when I mentioned the braided eye candy.”
She turned away from the window to catch the wink from the hostess. “Very well, give me twenty minutes, then bring all my guests back.”
* * * *
The guilt mixing with his second scotch churned unpleasantly in Peter’s gut. He’d discussed his options with the hostess nearly fifteen minutes ago, and he was quickly loosing both his patience and his nerve. This whole thing had been a stupid idea. He didn’t need another woman in his life. Meghan and her family were enough. Peter slammed his glass down on the table beside him and stood.
“Now what’s your rush?” The question came from a diminutive redhead who had sidled up to his table. Her breasts seemed much too large for her petite body.
“I just stopped in for a drink,” Peter said, absently shoving the bandana back into his pocket before picking up the highball glass.
“But Mima mentioned you were interested in a little braided eye candy?”
He paused, the glass of scotch suspended halfway to his mouth. “Crystal?”
The young woman stepped up to him. He could smell the floral shampoo and feel the heat of her skin pressed to his. “She’s asked me to show you to her room.”
He set the glass down and stared at her. A private room—well, when it came right down to it—it’s what he wanted. Though it probably wasn’t the best way to meet the woman, in this place, with so many people around, but at the moment, he didn’t see any other options. His fingers plowed through his hair, and nervousness burst from his lungs, puffing his cheeks. He needed to get a hold on his emotions. He’d come this far. Peter forced his lips into a smile and stared down into dark eyes outlined provocatively in black. “How do I know you’re taking me to her?”
She laid a gloved hand on his chest and tipped up on her booted toes, bringing her lips a breath from his. “Because, Single and Looking Twenty-one, she’s been waiting for you and your red bandana to come through that door.” The screen name slipped seductively over her lips before she nipped at his chin, and Peter’s cock jumped in reply.
One elegant eyebrow arched. “She thought that was you.” The woman shot a look over her shoulder at the mirror on the wall. “She’s been watching.” She smiled as understanding dropped his jaw. He was too dumbfounded to speak, so she continued. “Crystal told me all about you. How lonely you are. How you need a little extra attention.” Like a cat in heat, she slithered against him, pressing her caged pubic bone against his thigh. Blood pooled in his groin.
“I told Crystal only her.”
“And she sent me to retrieve you.” She pointed to several people being escorted out of the main room. “Crystal is a little busy tying up some loose ends at the moment, but as you can see, her other guests are already making their way to her.”
“Where is she exactly?”
The seductive smile slid over her full lips. “In one of the private viewing rooms, of course.”
Even with his limited knowledge of strip joints, Peter knew this would cost him a lot of money. “How much?”
“Tonight she offers you a sample viewing. If you choose something more,” her hand slid up his bicep, “that can be negotiated.”
Guilt clogged his throat, but curiosity had him extending his hand in an invitation for the woman to lead the way.
She turned, the opaque thigh-highs making a pleasant sound as she led him through the maze of chairs and couches toward the side door; his gaze focused on the garters and her naked ass swaying pleasantly in front of him. It kept him from catching the eye of the other patrons. He’d jumped so many hurdles to get here, there was no turning back, but he didn’t need to know that others watched him. Peter’s need to meet Crystal outweighed any compunction he had to retreat from his embarrassment—or the unknown.
He followed the redhead through the door into the semi-darkness of a large, converted bedroom. Comfortable chairs tucked into the shadows lined the wall to his left. He shot a glance to his right, swallowing the swell of lust that bubbled through him.
“Over there will give you a wonderful view.” The redhead’s voice dropped to a husky whisper as she pointed to the far side of the room.
“I prefer to be near the door.” Peter indicated the chair next to them, nestled in the shadowed corner.
“Whatever you wish.” When he was settled, she bent low, her lips a whisper away from his ear, her peaked nipples brushing pleasantly over his shirt sleeve. “Is there anything else you desire of me?”
“Another scotch.”
“For the safety of all, alcohol is not allowed in the private rooms. The show will be enough of a stimulus.” She dragged her nail down his chest and retreated from the room.
Peter leaned back in his chair, unsure what to expect, but the unhurried activity in front of him took him by surprise. He’d been told Crystal would offer her guests braided eye candy this evening. He’d figured he’d get nothing more than a nice bump-and-grind striptease against a metal pole, but the scenes laid out before him brought back—in stark reality—to where he’d chosen to MIRL.
A dark-haired man knelt in a metal cage in the corner, his head sticking up through the top. Even from this distance, Peter could see the ropes knotted around his sizeable erection, and the eager anticipation in his eyes.
Next to the cage, the brunette who had winked at him in the great room stood bound and gagged in all her naked wonder. Her arms were lifted high above her head, tied at the wrists to a contraption hanging from the ceiling. Ropes snaked around her torso, tightly enveloping her breasts, making them jut out proudly from her body. Her rosy nipples were peaked with excitement. A pole held her legs wide, leather straps binding it to her ankles, exposing the shaved mound of her sex. Even now, just bound and exposed, her thighs glistened with her excitement.
Peter shifted in his chair, making room in his pants for his expanding erection.
A lithe Dominatrix checked the ropes on the woman. Leather sheathed up the lengt
h of one leg, wrapping around her hips, in a tiny bikini-type bottom. The top was a mirror image, with the scant leather barely covering her breasts, extending to encase one supple arm down to the fingers deftly tying a blindfold on the woman. Her mouth moved, but Peter couldn’t hear the words, but as the brunette nodded her head, clenching and unclenching a fist, he wondered if they were going over the woman’s safe signals.
It disgusted him that he should be so mesmerized by the swish and sway of the Dominatrix’s long, blond hair. She bent to check the bindings around the bound woman’s wrists and ankles before taking a leather flogger from a second man stepping out of the corner. Black leather came down hard, a flash of fuchsia straps appearing as the flogger spread wide over the woman’s ass. Interesting visual.
These must have been the men in business suits who had been with brunette. Who knew they’d be part of the show?
“Welcome to my lair,” said the Dominatrix; the flogger once again flashed fuchsia and came down with a snap on the brunette’s ass. “I am Mistress Crystal, and these are my slaves. We have, for your viewing pleasure this evening, braided eye candy.” Music started, soft and slow. “And my rodeo.” She pointed to the man in the cage.
With the flare of a stage performer, Crystal began directing her puppets. Her male assistant wheeled over a wooden chest of drawers. As he opened each one, he selected sex toys from them and set them on top; his erection, bound in leather, bounced with anticipation. Crystal chose a set of clamps from the paraphernalia and attached them to the woman’s nipples. Tugging gently on the chain hanging between them, she elicited a low groan from the woman. More juices poured down the woman’s thighs.
The Dominatrix nodded to the man, and she took up position behind the woman, bringing the leather straps of the flogger down hard once again on the brunette’s backside. The brunette arched into the pain, her body begging for more.
