“He’s pretty,” she said to Kingsley behind her fan. “Who is he?”
“You like him?” Kingsley asked.
“Who wouldn’t?”
“His name is Thorny.”
“I love his ink,” she said, eyeing his tattoos.
“You want him?” Kingsley asked.
“I might not say no if he offered,” she readily admitted. “If he’s a sub.”
“Oh, he’s a sub. For two thousand dollars.”
“He’s a pro-sub?”
Kingsley shook his head.
“Pro-dom?”
Kingsley shook his head again.
“Pro-switch?”
“He’s a pro...pro. And for two thousand dollars he’ll be almost anything you want him to be.”
Nora’s eyes widened.
“He’s a prostitute?” Nora asked. Kingsley nodded. “The Body House... Bawdy house... King, did you bring me to a brothel?”
Again he nodded.
With her mouth hidden by the fan she whispered a question to Kingsley.
“Why the hell did you bring me to a brothel? I’ve been arrested before, you know. I don’t want to get arrested again.”
She had nothing against sex workers, especially since she was training to be one herself. But kink for money was legal in New York. Sex for money wasn’t.
Kingsley took the leash and put it between her teeth again. Next time they went undercover he could wear the wig and play the sub, and she would stick a leather rope in his mouth.
Nora kept her eyes on the handsome silver fox below her. She wished he could see her. She’d like to look in his eyes and take her measure of him. Even with the blindfold on, she could see he was nervous. His chest panted with quick breaths. Perhaps he was excited? Or perhaps he was scared?
Scared of whom?
That was when Nora smelled the cherry blossoms. She inhaled deeply. Such a marvelous sweet scent. The scent of a new spring.
Nora turned and behind her stood a woman. And such a woman she was. Like French royalty she wore a gown of silver silk. Over the gown she wore a hooded pelisse. Under the hood was a face, girlish and fine, wearing little makeup apart from red lipstick. She looked so young, so painfully young and innocent. She smiled and Nora knew she was in the presence of a rather cold-blooded sadist.
“Kingsley Edge?” the young woman said. “Or am I mistaken?”
Her voice was entirely without an accent, which was an accent in itself. Despite her girlish look, she had a woman’s voice. And she did not smile or laugh. Nora had a feeling she’d never giggled in her life.
“At your service, Milady.” Kingsley held out his hand and she slipped hers into his palm. He turned her hand up and kissed the inside of her wrist.
“A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is all mine. I would introduce you to my submissive, but she isn’t allowed to speak.”
He inclined his head toward Nora, who gave a little curtsy behind her fan. It would all be so silly and ridiculous if it weren’t so deadly serious. This woman knew almost as many secrets as Kingsley did, but unlike Kingsley, she was willing to tell them to serve her own purposes.
“Does she have a name?” Milady asked. “Or has she not earned one yet?”
“It’s Nora,” Kingsley said, grasping the back of her neck lightly, a sign of claiming. “Nora Sutherlin. And I assure you, she has earned her name.”
Nora turned her head sharply toward Kingsley, who didn’t even meet her eyes. Oh, he was going to get it... As soon as they were alone she would tear him up and burn him like an old love letter from a cheating lover. He’d given her the same last name as her college boyfriend. She’d warned him that if he ever called her by the name Sutherlin again she’d slap him into the next century. No doubt that’s why he’d done it.
“Nora...lovely.” Milady didn’t glance at Nora but she kept her eyes trained on Kingsley. She looked him up and down, perusing him like a piece of merchandise that she might want to buy if the price was right. “Would you allow your submissive to assist me?”
“She’s new,” Kingsley said. “I’m not sure she could be of much help to you.”
“Oh, but she could. Don’t worry. I’ll keep her out of harm’s way.”
Kingsley seemed reluctant to let Nora go. “Of course. I only hope she behaves.”
“I’m sure she will.”
Nora wasn’t so sure.
Kingsley snapped his fingers and Nora obediently faced him. Since Milady watched her so closely she did her best to keep her eyes low and her attitude biddable. In the past, such a dutiful air would have been her natural state at a kink party. When around Søren she submitted because it was simply what one did in his presence. Now it felt like a costume she’d put on along with her cancan dress and mask.
Kingsley unhooked the leash from the collar and gave her a kiss on the lips, a convincing one. Even Nora was convinced that Kingsley considered her his passion and his property tonight. Then he gave her a swat on the cancan and said, “Go with Milady. Be a good girl and make me proud.”
She gave Kingsley a curtsy, too, and followed Milady down the stairs.
Everyone watched them as they entered the play area although Nora noted that most eyes were on Milady. From the arched doorway emerged one of her burly trio carrying a large white velvet bag in one hand and a small flat stool in the other. He set them both a few feet back from the blindfolded man.
“Nora,” Milady said, taking her by the wrist, “I want you to meet someone. This is Thorny, not his real name, of course.” The reason for the name was obvious, as Thorny’s tattoos on both of his arms were of vines covered in thorns. All vines. No roses. “I want you to stand behind the cross and keep an eye on Thorny. He’s not very fond of whips. If he passes out, you should let me know. What’s that English saying? No use beating a dead whore?”
“Horse,” Nora said, her jaw clenching.
“Ah, she speaks.”
“I do. And if he doesn’t like whipping, why are you whipping him?”
“Because I like whipping.” Milady’s tone suggested Nora had asked the stupidest question in the entire world.
“Shouldn’t you find someone who likes whips and whip him instead?”
“He’s being well compensated for his troubles.”
“Does he have a safe word?”
“I have a safe word. It’s roses. The whips are loud. If he says my safe word I might not hear him so you’ll have to find a way to let me know. It’s your responsibility to keep him safe. Do you accept that?”
“I guess I will since you don’t seem very interested in his safety.”
“I must say...you don’t behave like any submissive I’ve ever met.”
“I’m not like any submissive you’ve ever met,” Nora said, feeling a surge of protectiveness toward the man at the cross. Kingsley or Søren would never whip anyone who didn’t like being whipped. That was serious pain and if done incorrectly, it could leave open wounds and scars.
“No...no you aren’t,” Milady said, looking Nora up and down this time, studying her. “Let me tell you a little secret about myself. I have a particular kink. I enjoy paying men money to do things they wouldn’t ordinarily do. Like Thorny here—he hates whips with a passion. He told me it was a hard limit. I offered one thousand dollars to let me whip him. He said no. Two thousand? No. Four thousand? Yes. With enough money every hard limit becomes a soft limit. And everyone has a price. My kink is finding it. What’s your price, Nora?”
“I’m not for sale.”
“Everyone’s for sale. What if I paid you two thousand dollars to whip our friend Thorny, would you do it?”
“No. He doesn’t want to be whipped.”
“You wouldn’t hurt someone against their will?”
“Only to protect myself or someone else.”
“Money might not be your price, then. Would you hurt someone against their will to keep a secret?”
“Depe
nds on the secret.”
Milady gave her a little smile, an impish grin that made Nora want to rip Milady’s lips off.
“Would you hurt someone against their will to keep your priest’s secret?”
11
White Whips Red Blood
IT WAS A good thing Nora had spent nine years of her life obeying Søren’s every order. Had she not been so well trained, she likely would have ripped Milady’s face off and put it in a jar. Or at the very least let loose a litany of profanity to make a sailor clutch his pearls. Instead, and because she had learned a modicum of self-control as Søren’s property, she kept her mouth shut while on the inside she plotted murder.
Milady ignored the stare of pure burning hatred Nora shot at her while she untied her pelisse and passed it to one of her burly trio. She took Thorny by the hand and turned him to face the cross. With her hands and not her words, Milady directed Thorny into place. She cuffed his ankles to chains and bound his wrists high on the cross. Nora knew she should be paying attention to Thorny but she spared a glance up at Kingsley. He looked at her with narrowed curious eyes. Did he sense her distress? She hoped this show didn’t last long. They needed to get out of here now. Milady knew who she was and what she was and that she had been Søren’s lover. And if she knew all of that, she might know Søren’s real name and if she did...she could get him into a whole world of trouble.
Or...was this just a mind game designed to scare Nora off? Nora wasn’t scared off but she was angry. Søren might be a hypocritical, pretentious, arrogant, insufferably possessive bastard but he was her hypocritical, pretentious, arrogant, insufferably possessive bastard.
She couldn’t worry about that right now. Milady had opened the white velvet bag and pulled out two matching whips—white whips. Pure white with white crackers on the ends of the tails. Consummate show-woman that she was, Milady walked the perimeter of the room, whips extended to the side as if measuring the space. Would she miss and accidentally hit a spectator? Milady wanted the crowd to be afraid she would miss so they would be so terribly impressed when she didn’t.
Nora had the worst seat in the house. She would see the tips of the whips but not the action, but this was fine by her. Thorny had to be her priority, not watching the show. A man who’d never been whipped before was about to get whipped in public by a woman wielding not one, but two single-tails.
“Scared?” Nora whispered to Thorny.
“Terrified,” he said with a brash grin. She wondered how long that grin would last.
Milady finished her circuit of the room and stood six feet or so away from the cross and Thorny. Before Søren whipped her or flogged her or hurt her, he’d almost always touched her, held her or spoke a few choice whispered words to her. Sometimes he’d claim her, saying, “You’re mine, Little One. Mine to hurt and mine to heal.” Sometimes he’d confess, “I’ve been dreaming of hurting you all day.” Sometimes he’d touch her inside and tease her: “As wet as you are I think you want this as much as I do.” Sometimes he’d simply say, “I love you, Little One” or “Jeg elsker dig, min lille en” before he brought the pain down.
Nora watched and Milady didn’t whisper a single word of warning to Thorny. Instead she cracked the first whip and then the second in rapid succession. Everyone in the room jumped, everyone but Nora and Kingsley, who were accustomed to the sound. Thorny flinched although he hadn’t been struck yet. Milady was merely warming up. And what a warm-up it was. She sent the whips, both of them, in graceful tandem flicking high and low and along the floor and toward the ceiling. They snapped and cracked and swirled and twirled like white smoke around her. She drew lines in the air, wrote words and made figure eights. Every turn ended with another sonic crack.
Then Milady turned her attention to Thorny. First she flicked the whip around the outline of his body, missing him on purpose to show that she could. Many of the cracks were concentrated around his head. Nora watched his face closely. He breathed heavily but his face was set in stone.
The stone broke at the first strike of the whip on his back. Nora knew that pain, like being stung by a bee. A big fucking vicious demon bee. Thorny gasped, winced, grunted, groaned...but he didn’t say roses or red or stop so she simply stood there, monitoring his breathing, praying it would be over soon.
Milady made the whip dance and it danced all over Thorny’s body. Up his arms to his wrists and down again. Over his shoulders, across his neck, down his spine and back up again. She avoided the kidneys, which was a good sign that she had a modicum of respect for the rules of safe play. Otherwise she shredded Thorny’s body.
Søren had never whipped her for this long. Maybe Kingsley could have taken a beating this severe, but not someone who’d never been whipped before. Thorny had had enough. Nora could tell. Finally he uttered a desperate “roses.”
“Louder,” Nora said. “She didn’t hear you.”
“Roses!” Thorny called out, loud enough anyone in the room could hear him.
Milady didn’t stop, and Nora knew she had no intention of stopping. So she did the only thing she could do.
Nora stepped under the cross and held out her arm, catching the end of one whip around her wrist. She yanked it from Milady’s grasp before she realized what she’d done.
An audible gasp echoed through the room, the sound of two dozen people in shock.
Milady didn’t look shocked, however. But she didn’t look happy.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Milady asked, her voice still light and sweet even as her eyes blazed.
“I believe your friend said his safe word,” Kingsley said from the top of the stairs. Milady turned and looked up at him. “And you ignored it. Didn’t you?”
No one spoke but no one contradicted him, either. Nora saw a few nods, a few nervous glances. Behind her Thorny panted loudly. He needed to be taken down immediately and tended to. Blood seeped from the wounds on his back. Shallow cuts that would heal quickly, but there were dozens of them.
“Take him down,” Kingsley ordered as he descended the stairs.
“He’s my toy tonight.” Milady coiled her remaining white whip. “I say when he comes down.”
“No, I believe he says when he wants down. Mister Thorny? Yes? No?”
“Please,” Thorny said between breaths. “Take me down.”
Kingsley nodded at Nora, who worked quickly, unbuckling his wrists first and then unchaining his ankles. She yanked the blindfold off him and met him eye to eye. He had startling blue eyes that almost seemed to glow in the dark. But she didn’t attribute that to any supernatural powers. He’d been in so much pain his eyes were rimmed with red, which made the blue that much more vibrant in contrast.
“God, you’re pretty,” he said. Men. She rolled her eyes as she set him in a chair. “How bad is it?”
She looked at his back. Every square inch of skin was burning scarlet and blood seeped out from roughly two dozen tiny cuts. She chucked him under the chin and smiled.
“You’ll live,” she said.
“I wish.” Thorny laughed at a joke she didn’t get.
“My apologies, darling,” Milady said. “My lovely assistant was supposed to let me know when he’d had enough.”
“She did,” Kingsley said. “And so did he. Are you all right?” Kingsley directed the question at Thorny, acting as though Milady were beneath his notice.
“I could use a drink.”
“We’ll take him home,” Kingsley said. “We’re leaving anyway. Thank you for an...evening.”
The lack of an adjective was evidently noted.
“You didn’t enjoy the show?” Milady asked, wearing a faux pout.
“I thought the finale was dazzling,” Kingsley said, looking at Nora. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. Søren had taught her how to catch a whip on her arm and around her waist. He’d sometimes wrap her with a whip and reel her in when he was in a playful mood. Catching the whip had stung and she could have been hurt badly, but she’d
acted on pure instinct.
“Of course she’s not hurt,” Milady said, raising her voice so the entire room heard her. “She’s the property of the priest. She can take a whipping with the best of them. Can’t she?”
Kingsley’s eyebrow lifted a discernible millimeter.
“Oh, Kingsley,” Milady said, lowering her voice. “You thought I didn’t know who she was? I know everything. I know she’s training to be a dominatrix, which is hilarious. The priest’s little girl? The girl he used to drag through your club by her hair and publicly beat?”
Nora rolled her eyes. Søren had never dragged her by her hair through The 8th Circle. He’d dragged her by her collar, yes, but not her hair.
“You ignored a submissive’s safe word,” Kingsley said. “While she put herself between him and a whip. She’s already a better dominatrix than you are.”
“My clients would say otherwise.”
“Because your clients haven’t been with her yet.” Kingsley held out his arm and Nora took it. “We’ll be going. Shall we?” he said to Thorny.
“It’s okay,” he said looking up at Kingsley. “Thank you. I’ve got a ride.”
“Of course.” Kingsley reached into his breast pocket and produced his business card. He passed it to Thorny. “If you’re looking for a new domme, call me.”
“No offense,” Thorny said. “I’d rather call her.” He pointed at Nora.
“None taken,” Kingsley said. “So would I.”
“I’ll have my whip back, please.” Milady said please to Nora but there was no graciousness in her tone. It wasn’t a request.
Nora looped it neatly in her hands but before she handed it back, she ripped off the long white cracker at the end, a four-inch nylon string. With a twist and a knot, Nora tied the nylon cord around Thorny’s index finger, a reminder.
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