“Well, a good friend of mine has placed a fantasy, and I have a few Doms interested in her that wouldn’t be a good mesh.”
‘Not mesh’ he knew used to be Craig-code for a terrifying clash of titans. “Where do I come in?”
“I want you to bid on her for me and deliver the fantasy.”
“Why not do it yourself?”
“My sadist nature doesn’t stretch that far.”
“Why? What the hell is the fantasy? You know I haven’t been in the scene for a while, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. But you know how to ride a bike, so the saying goes.”
Craig then continued to tell him all about the offering. Kyle understood why Craig was worried. Hell, he didn’t even know the girl, and he was worried.
“So who are you worried will get her?”
“Master Greg.”
“You still haven’t got rid of that prick?”
“Now, not everyone is as lovely as you. I’ve already made an offer to another Dom this morning who I know would be perfect. So I’ll only need you if he drops out. He has till two o’clock today to give me his decision.”
“Craig, as much as I’d love to help you out, I’m worried I’m a little too rusty for this. You know, you should ask Caleb.”
“He’s the other Dom I just mentioned.”
Great minds think alike. Caleb would be perfect for this. He’d get such a kick out of it, and his best friend certainly needed a kick right now. Hell, Kyle would get a kick out of just watching it. Maybe he could become a voyeur. That way he wasn’t actually playing. He could still enjoy watching.
“Well, leave it to me. I’ll make sure he’s the one who wins. Even if I have to hold his hand while he does it.” Okay that sounded a tad gay. Not that he had a problem with that. Still.
“Perfect. I’ll have your new membership card waiting at the door. I know everyone’s going to love seeing you back at the club again.”
“Okay, I look forward to it.”
For the first time he really felt like that was true. Looking up, he saw Caleb standing at the nurses’ station. As though the universe had aligned the perfect timing, Celeb walked toward him.
“Caleb.”
“Kyle, how are you today?”
“Good. I just got a call from Craig.” Did he just see a twitch at the corner of Caleb’s eye?
“Really, what did he have to say for himself?”
“He wants me to bid in an auction.”
“What? Let me guess, Submissive Petra.”
“Yeah, do you know her?”
“I know of her, but I don’t know her very well.”
Why the hell not? Why would Caleb, a sadist to the core like himself, not know of a masochist submissive member of the club?
“Is she ugly or does she have a third nipple or something?”
“No, she’s beautiful. She’s little though.”
Ah, so that’s the problem. Caleb liked his women big and strong.
“Well, I can deal with that.”
“You aren’t thinking of bidding, are you? I mean, you haven’t been in the lifestyle for years.”
“Yes, but I can’t not help a friend.”
“You know you’re not the first one he’s asked.”
“Yeah, he said I was second in line. If some other Dom doesn’t agree by two o’clock then I’m it.” God, it was fun to bait someone. He’d forgotten how to have fun.
“Well, I hope you’re not disappointed if the other Dom accepts.”
“I’ll try not to be.”
Caught the fish, hook, line, and sinker. As he walked away from the nurses’ station, Kyle watched with glee as Caleb pulled out his cell phone to make a call. He would bet one hundred dollars that the call was to Locks and Chains to accept Craig’s offer. Now he couldn’t wait for the auction. It was going to be a great night.
Chapter Five
Petra wanted to throw up. The nerves in her stomach felt like a herd of buffalo running wild. Her mouth was dry, and her throat felt scratchy. Her skin felt as though it wanted to crawl right off her body. She again thought of a visit to the ladies’ room. Her bladder was reporting a need that she could not fulfill. It must be her nerves. She was finally going to do this tonight. She would show all her friends and herself that she could do it. No one would ever think of her as a delicate little doll again. The bidding for the latest submissive gave her hope that somebody would also bid on her. The worst that could happen was nobody would bid, and she would be left up on stage in front of everyone feeling utterly humiliated. Really, that wasn’t so bad. Fuck! Maybe she shouldn’t be doing this. Maybe she should…Fuck, what the hell. She was no greenhorn. She’d been in the lifestyle for a long time. Calm down and focus. Breathe deep and wait. Low and slow. Low and slow.
“You’re up, chickadee.”
“Thanks.” She kissed Master Dylan, the husband of her friend Peter and of her new friend Mia, on the cheek as she walked toward the stage. She’d spent many happy hours playing in the club over the years with Master Dylan, and she had a real soft spot for him.
“The next up for auction is number fourteen. This fantasy is titled ‘To Be Punished.’
“This submissive’s fantasy is to be lashed twenty times. All delivered with a single-tailed whip on the Saint Andrew’s cross on the center stage of the club. Attire, positioning, et cetera are all Master or Mistress’s choice. She has requested the removal of her safe word until every lash has been completed.”
The audience was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Had she done the wrong thing? Was this fantasy too much for even the Doms? Maybe she should consider running? She could jump from the stage and run to—where? Where could she run that she would no longer have to worry about the shame of backing out? How long would she have to travel before the memories of failing would no longer haunt her? It wasn’t an option, and she knew it. If she ran from this challenge, from the gauntlet she’d set herself, she would never respect herself again. She would be lost in a haze of disgust and self-loathing. Okay, Petra, a bit melodramatic don’t you think? Swallowing the new wave of bile that rose in her throat, she stood stock-still and held her head high with dignity and confidence. If you don’t have it, fake it.
Caleb sat in his seat, watching the offerings of fantasies, one after the other. As he’d already thought, they were nothing but the usual spanking and bondage dreams. He held all respect for the participants for going after what they wanted and being honest and proud of their desires. But he was here on a mission. He was here to save a silly little sub from a disaster. Also, as a doctor he had a code of ethics to uphold. He could not willingly allow harm to come to another human being. Granted, it conflicted with his sadistic nature and his desire and need to hurt. He justified it to himself that he was in fact delivering a service by satisfying the needs of another human being in a safe and pleasurable manner. He knew how to cause pain and also pleasure-pain without causing harm.
Petra walked up onto the stage, and he realized he’d never noticed how truly exotic she was. She stood there, proud and aggressive, her head held high, daring everyone to take her on. The Dom who would take her on board would have to train her to submit to him. She, unlike so many others, would be a joy to get to her knees. This was no shrinking violet. This wouldn’t be a sub who’d be begging to kneel. No, she’d need to be forced. She’d have to be shown power before she’d agree to submit. She could never be made to gift her submission. She would on the surface do all the right things, say the right things, but her heart would be held in an iron case, guarded against any intruders. He shook his head. Why the hell was he thinking about her like this? Hell, how did he know all this stuff about her? For all he knew she was as soft as putty. He never cared about anyone’s heart. He was a lone wolf, a lone hunter. Love and forever were not an option. Again he wondered why he hadn’t considered her before now. Maybe this was a sign? This was what he’d been waiting for, this time and this place. Maybe God or whoever was the grand de
signer of the universe had predestined this moment.
Okay, Caleb, get a grip, man. He truly must be going through a midlife crisis. Next it was going to be the red sports car and the twenty-year-old on his arm. He really didn’t need this shit. He didn’t have time to have a meltdown. Maybe he could go on antidepressants and medicate himself through it? Maybe he should go on that vacation? So lost in thought, he’d lost sight of the fact that bidding had started. If it hadn’t been for Kyle sitting beside him raising his hand to make a bid, he may never have noticed.
“Ten thousand dollars.” Okay, this was going much faster than he’d planned or imagined. He had already budgeted $10,000 of his own money and then the $10,000 from Craig. That gave him an upper limit of $20,000. What the hell would happen if that wasn’t enough? Now he really wanted to drape her over his knee and spank her for even allowing him to feel the thread of fear that he might not win.
“Twelve thousand by Master Frank.”
What the hell. He raised his hand ready to place his first bid. He turned in his seat and looked around the room, making sure to make eye contact with each bidder. He wanted them to know he was in the running. Five of the eight bidding nodded out. Kyle was one of the remaining three, and he had no concerns about Master Frank either, although Master Greg was another story.
“We currently have fourteen thousand dollars.”
Raising his hand again, he tapped Kyle on the leg, which was their signal for him to drop out of the bidding. It was now down to him and Master Greg.
“Twenty thousand,” he called in his deepest Dom voice. The audience gasped, this was by far the highest bid tonight. Would Master Greg continue, he wondered?
“Twenty-one thousand.” Shit, shit, shit, what to do. Should he let it go or should he push the envelope just that little bit further?
“Twenty-two thousand,” he called out.
He watched Master Greg cringe. That had him. He probably had a stopping point of twenty thousand, too. Who would have thought the extra thousand would get him his prize. And a prize she was.
“Calling twenty-two thousand once, twenty-two thousand twice, and sold to Master Caleb for twenty-two thousand dollars.”
He stood up from his seat and bowed to the audience. There was clapping and murmuring. He knew they were all wondering if he would do it. He also knew there were many who hoped he wouldn’t.
Petra wanted to run screaming in fear but at the same time cheer with victory at winning what she’d ultimately wanted. She’d conquered her fear and stayed head held high on the stage, and she was proud. Even when the fear turned her body into one massive nerve ending and she literally shook from the pain. She watched as Caleb bid and prayed that some higher being interceded on her behalf to ensure he owned her, if only for one night. To be owned by him was literally a dream come true. She wasn’t some stupid, lovesick idiot. She knew it wouldn’t last longer than this night. She knew he wouldn’t want her after the whipping. He would have chosen her years before for some club play if he was in any way attracted to her. She understood that he only did it because he was a supreme sadist and the temptation of her offer was too good of an opportunity to miss. But she didn’t care. Just to be connected to him, even through a whip, would be enough for now, maybe enough for eternity. Okay, enough morose thoughts. Time to focus on enjoying the experience.
For her own protection, she’d arranged for the delivery of the lashes to be performed on stage. Granted, she may end up naked in front of the entire club, but that was nothing new. She’d done it a number of times before. She wasn’t an exhibitionist. She just simply didn’t care. She was comfortable in her own skin, and nudity didn’t bother her in the least in the comfort and safety of the club.
She moved off the stage so it could be set up for the delivery of her lashes. She stood nearby, shaking and watching as the Saint Andrew’s cross was wheeled in and secured in place.
“It’s time, chickadee, let’s go,” Master Dylan, who was assisting Master Craig tonight, gently told her, as he led her onto the stage in front of the cross. She then watched as Caleb stalked up and onto the stage toward her. At the sight of him she forgot to breathe. The aura of power and strength that he projected was mind-blowing. He was the ultimate alpha Dom, the sadist of her fantasies. If only if only she was taller or prettier or something then she could call him her own.
“Sub Petra, as of this moment until the end of this scene, you are mine.”
“Yes, Master,” she dutifully answered.
“You’ve chosen to have no safe word. You have chosen to have no rights for the delivery of your punishment.”
“Yes, Master.”
“It will be done,” he commanded with the finality of a reaper. “Strip.”
Her hands shook as she started to remove the final pieces of her clothing. Not that she was wearing much to start with. The black corset and boy shorts covered enough skin for her to feel comfortable out on the street, and the tight fit accentuated her curves enough to entice. Her hands were shaking so much that the hooks of the corset were impossible to undo. Caleb moved toward her, and at first she thought he was going to help. But he simply stood in front of her, staring down into her eyes. She stopped struggling and took a deep breath to calm her breathing.
“Good girl.”
The deep-voiced compliment was like balm to her soul. It calmed her more than any medication or meditation. Slowly removing the corset, she continued to stare deeply into his eyes, never flinching as she stripped herself of her armor. The cool blue lakes of his eyes soothed and comforted her. Finally she stood naked and vulnerable in front of him, still looking deeply into his eyes and daring him to take her or reject her. Whatever he chose to do with her was out of her power.
“Turn and get into position.”
She immediately turned and took four steps toward the Saint Andrew’s cross. She counted each step in her mind, as if she were walking to the gallows. Looking at the deep black tone of the polished wood of the cross, she wondered who had lovingly carved it. Who had taken it upon himself or herself to make such a fine piece? Did they, like her, believe in the lifestyle? Or were they just trying to make ends meet? Was this an ancient piece or was it carved in modern times? She had to remember to ask Craig. Never before when she’d been strapped to the cross had she thought about its creator. Was the adrenaline that was coursing through her veins taking her to a place where she could think of things greater than herself? Was she slipping into subspace just by having Caleb present? Or was she just trying to distract herself from what was happening? Realizing how truly dangerous he could be to her, she raised her hands into position. Her wrists were cuffed and positioned on the mounted clips, and her legs spread wide so each ankle cuff could also be clipped to the cross. She felt his power as Caleb walked up behind her, and her skin prickled and goose bumps covered her flesh with the thought of him just looking at her naked body. The desire to fall to her knees and beg him to own her was overpowering. She really needed to get over this addiction to him. It was getting to the point of obsession, which wasn’t healthy.
Each cuff was locked into place, and she felt her mind begin to slip, and she struggled to keep herself in the present. Never before had she been able to slip into subspace just by a person being in the room. Was it even possible? Was she hallucinating, or had the fear driven her over the edge?
Over the years she had watched as new subs came to the club and found their soul mates. She’d spent years writing romance novels, never having loved anyone herself. Never having had the hero come and sweep her off her feet. Had all the disappointments of the past finally taken their toll? More likely she was just making a hell of a lot out of a small event. She was simply high on adrenaline and fear at the thought that she was about to be whipped twenty times naked in a public BDSM nightclub. She was helpless without the protection of a safe word. She couldn’t tap out, she would suffer her punishment. The part of her soul that she tried so hard to deny was cheering in joy.
Chapter Six
Caleb looked at the luscious morsel tied to the Saint Andrew’s cross in front of him. He had to give it to Petra. Although she was small, in fact tiny, she was built for pleasure. Her body was near sinful. Why hadn’t he noticed her before now? It must have been her size. Or maybe it was a closet racist thing? No, that couldn’t have been it. He loved her exotic looks. Her Spanish ancestry gave her a warmth and sexiness that couldn’t be ignored. He and Kyle had played with every nationality while at college, and it became a bit of a game for them. During summer each year they travelled to different continents and tasted the women of the world. So why had he missed her? He pushed his questions aside and focused back on the scene at hand. He had a role to play, and he took pride in playing it well. Stalking up to Petra’s splayed form, he said in his most commanding Dom voice, more for the audience’s benefit than anything else.
“So, Petra, my dear, you think you can handle twenty lashes from my whip, do you?” The power that vibrated through the air from the scene was palpable. It flowed over his body like silk, seeping into the very pores of his skin, and he lost himself in the sense of power and lust. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself even if he wanted to now. And he didn’t want to. Whipping a submissive with a single tail whip was like drugs to an addict. He needed to get his fix of her.
Holding the whip in his hand, he’d never felt more alive. He’d never had the opportunity to deliver twenty lashes before. The few submissives who’d agreed to the punishment had all safe-worded. He’d never gotten past twelve. He’d spent endless hours training with a whip. In the wrong hands, a whip could not only be dangerous, it could be deadly. The human body, while extremely resilient, had many weak spots. Vital organs could easily be damaged with a strike in the wrong place. He smiled, remembering back to his med school days, when he’d used the whip to study human anatomy. Calling each organ and their function as he lashed the area. It was many years ago, but the lessons learned enabled him to be confident that he wouldn’t cause Petra any permanent or even short-term damage.
Punishing Petra [Locks and Chains 3] Page 4
