Well that’s an interesting idea. Pascal does keep telling me to do the dominant thing, which does work with Alex. I’m not sure about Pascal, though, not that I care quite as much about that. Actually, it would be quite entertaining to watch Alex beg. He said he’d do it for me. Maybe it’s time to make that happen. He can stick his games up his arse. I shall be feistier. He made me this way, so now he can have me.
“You think I could?” Why I’m suddenly asking her advice is utterly beyond me, but she certainly seems like she knows what she’s doing.
“Nah, afraid not if I’m honest. Likelihood is, if you try, he’ll hang you from the ceiling until you scream, and then keep going until you can’t anymore. That’s his normal MO. Actually, when the right mood sets in, sometimes that doesn’t even stop him. Have you seen it yet? They’re quite a sight when they get going together. I wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of it myself, to be honest. That’s why we’ve never fucked. But then, I’m clearly not a pain slut, which I can only assume you are. ‘Cause you definitely shouldn’t be playing with boys like that if you’re not.”
“Umm...” Yep, that’s all I’ve got. The widening of my eyes must show my naivety in these matters because she’s suddenly narrowing her eyes and staring quite strangely at me.
“You do know what you’re messing with here, don’t you?”
It appears not. Well, I thought I did. He told me, and I’ve certainly seen small pieces of that side of him, but whether I’ve scratched the surface of his true nature, I don’t know. I believed I’d thought about it enough, but now, standing here in Pascal’s room with its instruments of doom and gazing across at a woman who has clearly witnessed it all, I’m suddenly not sure at all.
My eyes scan the room again and land on what can only be described as a black dentist’s chair – a dentist’s chair that appears to have straps and buckles, loops and ropes. It also appears to have a seat that separates. My mind races with all kinds of thoughts and visions as I lift my head to look at the bench close to it, which is padded with nails. Nails? I wander across to it and find myself pricking my finger on the top of it, then look at the locked cabinet beside it.
“What’s in there?” I mumble to myself as my eyes scan more interesting – if not quite as scary looking – gadgets and leather implements hanging next to the bench. Alex’s room in Rome was different somehow. Maybe it was the lighting, or the mood, or the fact that I’d been drinking and was so intent on giving him what he wanted that I didn’t really stop to think about what I was doing. But this all looks worrying, strange. Is it because he’s not here to make me feel at ease about it? He whipped me and I loved it, for God’s sake. Why am I so shocked by these things all of a sudden?
“I’d say knives, maybe other blood play things, needles etcetera. Pascal may be abnormally vicious in our world, and he’s not known for any sort of rules, but he’s actually damn squeamish about infections and stuff. As we all should be really.”
Knives… The vision of Alex slicing my dress off is immediate. The shiver that follows along my spine can only be described as chilling. Unfortunately, my thighs clamp at the thought. Not the knife, but his eyes when he was doing it – almost gone, but just managing to hold onto reality somehow. To me, maybe?
“Is Alex into that?”
“What? Cutting? Never seen it firsthand but I’ve seen the results of his handiwork. Talented boy, if you like that sort of thing.” She’s staring at me again, and I know this because the thought of ‘the results’ had me spinning with a gaping mouth to face her so quickly I almost fell over. Okay, he may have amused himself with frightening me on the plane. I get that, sort of, but actually enjoying slicing skin? “You haven’t got a clue, have you, lovey? These fucking morons and their vagina toys. Come on. Get dressed. I’m getting you out of here,” she snaps as she storms around the room and picks up various clothes. “You’re not ready for this sort of stuff, and both of them should know better. He can’t do this sort of thing any more. It’s starting to give us all a bad name. He should be teaching the newbies the right way and protecting them, not scaring the living shite out of them every ten minutes. I mean, poor Reubin is bad enough.” Does she mean Alex? Is this normal for him? Surely not. And who the hell is Reubin? “I’ve told him time and time again, fucking with children is not acceptable.” What? Children?
“Stop, Vixon, Clarissa, whatever your name is. Who exactly are you talking about? And what have children got to do with anything?” I interject into her irritated babbling as she continues to slam things around the room. It’s starting to become a little on the scary side if I’m honest, but the thought of children being involved in any of this bizarre world is damn disturbing, enough so that my hackles stand to attention.
“Come on, clothes on. I’ve just got to make a phone call and we’ll be sorted.”
“What the fuck do children have to do with this?” She spins to face me and stops her whirling dervish movements.
“Turn of phrase, lovey. You, you’re a child. Naïve, immature, not yet developed,” she says smoothly as she puts her phone to her ear and points at the clothes. It’s clear from her dominant pose that she must be a dominatrix. I’ve never met one of those before. Another notch on my bedpost. Well, not literally.
My body automatically finds its way into the scrap of leather that’s considered a dress of sorts at her command. I cross the room to the mirror, trying to make it more presentable somehow and sigh out a breath. I slip my feet into the sky-high shoes and gaze at myself. Sex goddess is probably appropriate for the reflected result. My inner slut is putting me in all sorts of poses, regardless of the fact that we’re apparently leaving, and at the moment, I couldn’t give a damn how either of them thinks I look. I’m still angry with both of them, but obviously more so with Alex. I roll my eyes at myself and try to tie my hair up. Christ knows where my clip has gone, and frankly, I don’t care.
I watch her reflection in the mirror and wonder what the hell is going on. I don’t even know where it is that she says she’s taking me, or why, and I don’t know if I want to go. I need Alex to get me home. It’s that simple. What the hell am I doing? I may still be on the furious side of irritated, but nothing she’s said has scared me – surprised me maybe, but I’m actually quite calm about his preferences. I’m still moving around and contemplating what I should do next, and still thinking about the fact that I miss those hands, his smell, his size, his very presence near me.
She closes her phone after a few moments of talking to someone in the background and comes across to stand behind me.
“You ready, lovey? Looking hot by the way. You could be either this way. You know the term switch? Mean anything to you? I can smell it on you. He must, too. Wonder if that bothers him as much as it would me?” Another new expression to deal with.
“Okay, what the hell is going on here? Why am I going anywhere with you? Who the hell are you? And is Alex a fucking monster of some sort that I should be worried about? I know he’s a sadist. He’s told me that, and other stuff, which is none of your concern. But he’s also a normal man who’s told me he loves me, on several occasions actually, regardless of this weird sodding game he’s trying to play with me. I just want to go fucking home. Do you hear me? I’m tired of all this bullshit, and all these new terms and words that I have no idea about.” My hands find my hips as I stare her down and watch her eyes widen a little at my venom. “Enough is enough, for Christ’s sake. Is it too much to ask for some normalcy around here? Unless you can get me on a plane back to the UK without a passport then I just need to get to him, not go somewhere else to be put under more pressure.”
“Woohoo, watch you go. All hair and talons. There’s the reason Pascal’s so interested in you, lovey. Has he had you yet, or has Alexander stopped him?” she says as she steps closer. My feet stay planted and I even feel my lip curl at her. Lord knows where that’s come from, but screw her. It’s none of her business anyway. “He’s never not shared anything with P
ascal before. Usually he enjoys watching it happen, lets him play first before he finishes them off.”
I haven’t got a clue how I’m supposed to react to that. My eyes are like slits as I stare at her and refuse to show any emotion at all other than contempt. Should I be surprised, sad, upset at the carnage they may have caused together? Probably, but I’m not. Funnily enough, I recognise instantly the familiarity of this happening for both of them, the reassurance that they both must get in that type of scenario. I even smile a little at the thought of them being together and enjoying something, using something together to rid themselves of their demons. I can see it so clearly in my mind. I can still feel Pascal’s hands on me, his lips, his breath against my neck. I can still see the intensity in Alex’s eyes as he watched and tried to stay in control of the situation in front of him. Yet, in reality, it was all for Alex because we both love him. And Pascal’s feelings for him, while odd and still not entirely comfortable, are in no way doubted by me. He will probably always do whatever he needs to in order to keep Alex safe and contented, just as I would have done, still would if I’m honest. That’s why he’s brought me here, isn’t it? To help him in his pain, and that’s why I came. Arsehole.
“Roxanne can get you home without a passport, lovey. Roxanne can do anything. So can Pascal, which tells me he’s under Alexander’s control at the moment, otherwise he would have helped you,” she says as she buttons up her corset thingy again and licks her lips. “So, you can either go down there and take them both on – happy to watch that by the way – or we can meet Rox at the door and she’ll have you back on a plane within two hours. The choice is yours. She’s coming either way.”
My mouth falls open as my eyebrows shoot up.
I can get home? Without Alex? Utter confusion swallows every corner of my mind as I try to find some sense to my decision. Regardless of Pascal saying Alex needs me, he has been a bastard, treated me appallingly, kidnapped me for fuck’s sake, and then made me watch whatever that was on the plane with Tara the slut. And now she tells me I can get away from him if I want. Who the hell Roxanne is, I don’t know, but the woman sounds completely fabulous at the moment. I could have that time to think, find a way past this without having to actually deal with Alex again. I’m sure he’ll come after me, but at least I’ll be home by then, where I can feel safe to some degree. But if he sees me, he won’t let me go, will he? Especially not to some random woman. My head falls again at the thought.
“He won’t let me go. You know that. There’s no way I’ll get out of this club.”
“Trust me, neither of them will mess with her. If she says you’re leaving, then that’s exactly what you’ll be doing. I may also have to leave for a while, which is a shame, but hey ho, there’s plenty of other places for me to have fun.”
“Why are you doing this for me? Won’t you get in trouble?”
“Sometimes, and only sometimes, Pascal needs standing up to, and you clearly need time to prepare yourself for them. Whatever it is that’s going on, it’s not normal playtime. And if you want to leave, you should be given a chance to do just that,” she replies as she grabs a bullwhip from the wall. “Besides, it’ll be funny to watch him squirm.”
“Oh,” I respond as she expertly cracks it at a lamp and sends it tumbling to the floor. “And the whip is for what, exactly?” She glances me up and down then opens the door and extends a hand to me.
“We have to get past them first. Rox won’t go any further than the lobby so we need to get to her.”
I grab hold of her offered hand and follow the sea of red hair into the lift, which opens the moment we close the suite door. A very quick few seconds later and we’re walking along a green corridor, which has some kind of chanting music going on. It instantly reminds me of the atrium at Alex’s house when we fought. It’s not quite as aggressive but definitely hypnotic it its rhythm. My feisty Beth comes racing back to me at the memory of fighting with him. He made that happen, turned that switch on in me and allowed it free. And it appears I might need some of it right now to help me get to the door of this establishment. I crack my neck from side to side as we approach a set of dark wood doors, and involuntarily squeeze Vixon’s hand, probably more for my benefit than hers because she certainly knows how to handle herself. She smiles over her shoulder at me. It’s disturbingly evil, somewhat like Pascal’s in certain moments.
“You’re going to be fine, lovey. Stay close behind me unless I tell you to run, and do that disgusted look you did upstairs. It could be useful for his henchmen.”
“Umm, okay,” I reply with a pant as my heartbeat increases and I try to find my disgusted face. I only have to picture Alex with his damn cock anywhere near Tara the slut’s mouth and it comes rushing back.
“Perfect. You ready?” she says as she presses the door forward and doesn’t give me a chance to reply.
The heat and noise hit me instantly, lights flashing everywhere to illuminate the very nearly pitch black space. Vixon keeps moving forward so I stride my best to keep up and keep my disgusted face firmly planted on. I am strong. I am in control. She flicks the whip casually in my direction and two men appear and flank me at her order. I have no fucking clue who they are but they’re both big enough to eclipse the bloody sun so I keep my chin up and storm onwards. I can’t stop my eyes from looking everywhere for both of them, and I also can’t stop myself from noticing all the sex that’s happening around me. The space is filled with bodies in various positions, nearly all naked or at least half naked. Why they have rooms here is completely unknown, but this is definitely Pascal’s world, full of depravity with that ‘nothing’s off limits’ type of feeling going on. It’s very similar to Rome, albeit slightly more polished, shiny even, somehow not managing that old European feeling. We continue down a small staircase where I’m suddenly squirted with something. My head spins at the same moment as Vixon reaches for the culprit and quite literally throws him down the stairs.
“Fucking cum whore.” She sneers as she walks straight over his cock in her heels and he winces in pain beneath her. “Open your mouth wider next time.” I can only assume the wet patch on my arm is someone’s semen, so I rapidly go to brush it off, only to have big chap number one lick it off my arm for me. I stop and stare at him as he smiles at me shyly and dips his head into a bow before extending an arm to point me forward again. Who would lick unknown semen off someone else’s arm? I’m not even sure I’m happy with the cleanliness of his mouth. “Lovey, come. I’ll get you a fucking wet wipe when we get out,” Vixon snarls at me.
Oh, yes, leaving. Quite right.
I quickly catch up to her as she turns another corner, which appears to bypass a small pool full of yet more debauchery. I can’t help my small gasp as I watch a woman being lowered under the water by her throat while a gang of men watch on. I’m so consumed by the vision that I don’t realise Vixon has stopped until I nearly slam into her back, and big chap two grabs my arm. My head comes up to find her halted with her legs two feet apart, staring straight at the one person we really didn’t want to bump into. And, damn it, why does he have to look so sodding intoxicating?
He’s standing there, cane in hand, full-on Edwardian suit with white frilly shirt completely open, chest on display for the whole bloody world to see. My thighs do that ridiculous clenching thing before I’ve even had a chance to pull myself together. Apart from the length of his hair, he’s exactly like the man I met in Rome for the first time – eyes lifeless and devoid of compassion or kindness as he glances at me across her shoulder and then returns his amused glare to her.
“Clarissa, I believe you have something there that does not belong to you. What exactly do you think you are doing with it?” he asks as he leans against the glass window beside him and crosses his legs. Vixon widens her stance slightly and raises the whip until only the end dangles on the floor.
“She’s leaving. We’re leaving,” she replies. That’s it, no other explanation. He smirks at the whip and then back at her.
“Are you planning on using that to defend yourselves? You should know I’ll have it around your throat in a matter of seconds. It will give me the greatest pleasure to show you how it feels.”
To be fair on Vixon, she doesn’t even budge, not even a flicker of movement.
“Possibly, Pascal, but she will get away while you’re trying. And a very special person is coming to pick her up. Also, there are three of us to defend her. Even you’re not that good.”
“You misplace your trust too easily, Clarissa,” he says as he flicks his hands in the direction of the two big men behind me and then waves them away as if they should go, and they do. Both of them instantly drop to the floor and crawl off down the corridor, arses wiggling. I watch them crawl away and wonder what the hell to do now. I’m certainly not going to put her in danger because of whatever is happening here.
She backs up to me and pushes me towards the wall, then begins to sidestep us along it with her arm outstretched. I can see a pair of doors in the distance, about twenty metres away, and assume that’s where she’s heading for. I quicken my steps somewhat in the hope that we can get there before Pascal pounces. He, of course, is watching us like a hawk and casually following us as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He probably doesn’t, and I’m under no illusions that we’ll actually make it, but I’m giving it my best shot as she steadily walks backwards away from him.
“Do you think this will end because you run from him again, my rose? Hmm? He will not let you go. You know this. Why would you leave him in pain?” My feet stop at the thought of Alex in pain. I so want to make him happy again. I don’t even know why, given his behaviour.
“Don’t listen to him,” Vixon says as she keeps backing into me. “He’s trying to confuse you, manipulate you.” The word manipulate has my heels moving again in seconds as I shake my head to clear the fog that’s descending and make for the door again.
Absorbing White Page 10
