by Claire Marta
“In Vegas.” The color ebbed from her friend’s cheeks and her eyes widened further.
Goddammit. Casey stared at her, wondering what the fuck was going on. “Where did you hear about Vegas? You sure as hell didn’t hear it from me.”
Morgan tried for an innocent look. “The luggage tag on your purse?”
A quick glance confirmed that she hadn’t forgotten to remove it. “Nice try, cupcake. I fucking knew it.” Leaving the remains of the baseball bat on the table, Casey began to hunt around. Searching behind picture frames, she felt along the edge of a cupboard. Malik and Iosefa had spent hours in the apartment. Plenty of times to plant listening devices—or had they done it earlier than that? They could have been in and out while she and Morgan were gone. Were there hidden cameras watching them, too?
“What are you doing?” Morgan sounded perplexed at her behavior.
“Looking for listening devices. I’ll check out here for bugs, then do our rooms. I’ll need to check your purse and backpack, too.”
The sweep was clean, which confused the shit out of Casey. How the hell had they known about Vegas? Morgan had to have heard it from the clients she was seeing at the Citadel, part of Malik and Iosefa’s group. But how had they known where she was? It made no sense.
Morgan didn’t try to deny her source. “Look, I don’t know where or how they get their information, but they seem to keep their fingers on the pulse of things around here. They’re like a local version of Homeland Security, pledged with keeping everyone safe and kicking themselves when they don’t. There was a kid killed this weekend, found dead in an alley with his throat slit. They were upset. Worried about us. I learned you were in Las Vegas from them. They heard it from someone they knew.”
“Yeah, well, someone else heard, too. The raid was a bust. They knew we were coming. Someone tipped them off, and now the last month’s work has been for nothing. We’ll have to start all over again,” Casey grumbled. “That’s all I can tell you with the investigation ongoing. As far as you know, I was away last weekend having hot sex with my secret boyfriend. If anyone asks, whatever you do, don’t mention Vegas. The less you know, the safer you’ll be.”
Morgan sank onto the couch. “I doubt they’d have told anyone and, yes, I’ll stick to the usual story.”
Casey shot her a disbelieving look. “They told you.”
Morgan sighed but didn’t reply. Instead, she turned on the television and flipped through the channels. When Sex in the City reruns came on, Casey slowly began to unwind from the tension gripping her body.
By the time bedtime came around, Casey was feeling only a little less tense. Morgan had another damn session tomorrow night. Maybe she could sneak away to The Secret Garden Club for a play session with her favorite Dom. Hopefully, the Russian Bear would be there and make time for her like always. She had the highest pain tolerance of any sub in the club. Unlike most of the other Doms, he never pulled punches with her. He gave her what she needed, each and every time.
Except for sex. So far, she’d declined every invitation to visit Master S’s private room at the club. But she’d just experienced the fiasco in Vegas, the desecration of her bedroom, and her brother’s bat breaking near the anniversary of his death. The way that she was feeling, Tuesday just might be the Russian’s lucky night.
The following evening, as soon as Morgan left for the Citadel, Casey emerged from the bedroom where she’d been hiding, dressed in her corset and lace-up leather pants. Wearing ballet flats, she carried her subbie shoes, mask, and a change of clothes in her tote bag. She was leaving behind her gun, but the heels she’d picked out were lethal enough to classify as a weapon.
All she needed to do now was make it to her car and lose her tail. Once she knew that she wasn’t being followed, she’d avoid the Citadel and take the long way to the far side of MacArthur Park where The Secret Garden Club was located.
She put on a full-length coat that hid her fetishwear and protected her from the cold. A quick glance out the window showed Malik and Iosefa on duty. Casey glared at them, wishing she could give them a piece of her mind. And they weren’t alone. Their fangirls were there with steaming cups of coffee in their hot little hands. Normally, she’d be pissed to see them, but tonight, their distraction would work in her favor. She might actually be able to slip away unnoticed.
Locking up, she hurried down the steps to the main door. Another peek through the security glass, and she saw Malik and Iosefa were still immersed in their groupies.
Perfect.
Swinging open the door, Casey made a dash for her car, keys in hand. Diving in, she had the doors locked and the engine started in record time. The guys didn’t catch on until she peeled out of the parking lot. Giving them a middle finger salute, she took off down the street.
Fuckers.
It served them right. They’d touched her stuff. They’d lain on her pillows, for fuck’s sake. Why the hell couldn’t they have used Morgan’s room? It was her fault that they were always hanging around in the first place.
The traffic wasn’t bad. Weaving through the side streets, Casey kept checking her rearview mirror to make certain that she wasn’t being followed. She didn’t need a tail. Imagining them at the club was her worst nightmare. It was not going to happen on her watch.
After a good twenty minutes, she backtracked to her destination. Putting on her mask, she exited her car and handed the keys to one of the club’s valets. Cars were parked several blocks away at a former church. Now owned by the club, the building was used for social gatherings and off-site taboo scenes with kinksters playing priests and nuns.
When she was done for the night, she would wait under the covered carriage entrance at the side of the mansion for her car to be brought back. The overhead roof and privacy fence enclosing the property further insured that members remained anonymous. The place was run by a friend of Casey’s late parents. When they had passed away, she had taken her to a munch—a social get-together of people in the BDSM lifestyle. After assessing her interest, she had invited her to The Secret Garden Club. The experience was life-changing. Casey knew that she had finally found what she’d been looking for.
Her first play session as a submissive had introduced her to kink. The next time she’d come as a member. Inside, they could be whoever they chose to be. Casey’s inner submissive was named Dora. Her favorite Dom was the Russian, Master Smirnoff (or Master S).
Master S was just as intoxicating as the vodka he was named for. She’d played with him a few times. Well-built and muscular, he took very good care of himself. It didn’t matter that she’d never seen his face. His whiskey brown eyes gleaming through the slits in his bear mask had an effect on her. That and his gravel-roughened, accented voice.
He never called her Dora. He always called her kiska—Russian for kitten, he’d said.
Hurrying up the steps to the club, she shouldered her tote bag and tugged the door open. To reach the main area, members had to go through a security check at the front desk. Finding her membership card, Casey presented it to the receptionist and gave tonight’s password with a growing sense of anticipation. Once everything was approved, the security guard waved her through. Heading for the women's changing area, she found a locker to use and stowed her things. The key was on a rubber bracelet that she secured to her wrist.
The wide, long, hall was decorated with thick green vibrant vines entwined with bright silk flowers. Heading for the most popular room, she saw a few public scenes taking place as she entered. Skipping those, she searched the crowd for any sign of Master S. Part of Casey was worried he’d already found a playmate for the evening. She didn’t want to miss her chance and knew that no one else could give her what she craved tonight.
“Looking for someone, kiska?”
The familiar voice sent a shiver down her spine. Turning with a demure smile, Casey found the man she was looking for directly behind her, dressed to kill in a perfectly tailored tux. His intense stare swept over her corset
and lace-up leather pants with decidedly masculine approval.
“You, Sir. If it pleases you, Sir.”
He nodded his dark head. “Come.”
Casey flushed with pleasure. Master S turned and headed for his favorite room. Observing protocol, Casey walked to his right one step behind him with her downcast gaze on his heels.
He stopped beside the St. Andrew’s cross where his personal toys and tools were arranged on a nearby table.
“Clothes off,” he ordered, “then standing presentation pose.”
Nudity was something that Casey had had to get used to. She still wasn’t perfectly comfortable with it, but she did it anyway. It was required if she wanted to play with Master S, and she did with something akin to desperation. She craved the release that she knew he could give her.
He never failed to deliver.
Picking up a set of fur-lined leather cuffs from his collection, he turned to see her bared C-cup breasts and wet, swollen sex and nodded his approval. He fastened one cuff around each of her wrists and knelt to fasten them around her ankles. Done, he slid his fingers up the back of her legs as he rose, breathing in the scent of her arousal and stealing a taste of it as he passed.
That simple swipe of his tongue nearly undid her. It had been too long since she’d been fucked. Longer yet since a man had eaten her out and made her orgasm. The way she was feeling, it wouldn’t take much to come all over his face.
Rising to his full commanding height, Master S fastened his gaze on the globes of her breasts and pinched her nipple. He tightened his fingers and used his grip to pull her into place facing the wall. Grasping her wrists, he raised her arms over her head and splayed them on the X-shaped cross, fastening one cuff to the top of each side. He kicked her feet apart and fastened her cuffed ankles as well.
Master S left for a moment and returned with more things. Her brow creased when she felt him press a handkerchief into her hand. She shuddered to see a ball gag dangling from his fingers.
Casey loathed gags with a passion that bordered on hatred. It was one of her near-limits, allowed only with prior negotiation and with someone she implicitly trusted. She’d played with Master S for three months now, public scenes only with orgasm control but no sex. He knew how she felt about ball gags. Was this a test to see how much control she was willing to let him have? To judge how much power he’d gained over her? Just how far would she let him go?
Before tonight, each time he invited her to his private room, she’d said no.
Tonight, she could feel her resolve weakening. Flog her right, and she might just crumble.
Master S arched a brow.
Casey nodded her acquiescence, not having permission to speak.
His expressive mouth canted upward. If a ball gag earned her half a smile, what would it take to make him happy?
Fisting her hair, he held her head immobile with one hand and pushed the ball between her lips with his other. He released his grip long enough to fasten the gag and took hold of her hair again. Wrapping his other hand around her throat, he tightened his fingers possessively—a not-so-subtle reminder of who was calling the shots in this scene. As a sub, the ultimate control rested with her, but during the scene, he was in command.
She welcomed surrender. She needed to empty her mind and let go of everything that she’d been carrying these past few weeks. Worry about Morgan. Suspicions about the Citadel. Concern for the growing illegal arms trade.
Knowing that Malik and Iosefa had been in her room and uncovered her secret.
She needed this. Needed the release that Master S could give her.
He took off his tailored coat and hung it on a wall hook. Unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves, he rolled them halfway to his elbow, exposing colorful tattoos on his forearms.
Casey eyed the muscle definition and thought of all the times that she’d seen him flogging and whipping other submissives in the club. There was an artistry to his scenes, poetry in motion when he got in the zone. Tonight, she had the chance to experience it with him. After months of playing coy, she was ready for more.
The Russian Bear did not disappoint.
He spanked her with his hand. Put clothespins on her body and ripped them away. Added nipple clamps and sent her nearly into subspace with a flogging. The single-tail whip did it. The pain of its bite transformed into pleasure. Casey found that delicious disconnect and started to float away. Only Master S’s presence kept her there. Stepping closer, he pressed his hips against her sore behind and pushed his erection into her crack, letting her feel his arousal. Caging her ear in his teeth, he grazed the tips of her nipples with his fingernails and made her whimper past the drool that escaped to drip from her chin onto the floor.
“Kiska,” he murmured, sending a riot of goosebumps cascading up her arm. “Would you like to come? Shall I give you the release you crave? Come to my room, and I will do more than that. Da?”
God, she was tempted. They were both vetted. There was nothing to stop her except her need for control that she could never quite fully surrender.
He thrust a finger into her pussy and started fucking her with it. “I’d love to plug you,” he growled, pumping his hand. “Adorn you with a jewel and sink my prick into your cunt and spend myself inside you. I’ll use a condom this time, but I’d love to see your thighs dripping with my seed.”
Casey whimpered, so empty, it hurt.
Master S ground his hips against her bottom, his thumb dancing over her clit. It was all she needed. Screaming behind the rubber ball wedged between her lips, Casey came hard and fast, eyes rolling back in her head. Her body stiffened and shook with the force of her release.
Sex wasn’t allowed on the floor but masturbation was. Master S normally left it at this, seeing to her pleasure and returning to his room to take care of things himself or finding another sub when they were done. Tonight, though, he fisted himself, squeezing his shaft and milking his length until he exploded onto her back, shooting ropes of cum and marking her with his seed.
Done, he dropped his forehead to the curve of her neck and reached around to undo her nipple clamps. Claiming her breasts with his splayed hands, he tightened his fingers and held her, panting against her skin.
As much as he’d given her, Casey wanted more. It felt like they’d been working up to this moment. He’d been patiently waiting for her to take the next step. Master S didn’t have a permanent submissive. He played with whoever was available who could handle his strength. He didn’t pull punches, and Casey appreciated that.
She’d reached a point, she was willing to see where things led.
She would have told him, but the ball gag was still firmly in place.
“Kiska,” he rumbled in her ear. “Or should I call you Dora?”
Sighing at the sound, she felt herself melt against him. Her brother had nicknamed her Dora after she’d gotten lost in the woods as a child, exploring while on vacation. It was the reason she used it as her sub name here. A tiny part of her was still that little girl who’d gotten lost.
She’d gotten lost again after Ben had been murdered, but this time there was no big brother to find her. He was gone.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Did you like the pretty red bag he bought you?”
Casey went still as death. The only red bag she’d ever owned was the one her brother Ben had given her after that summer vacation.
What. The. Fuck?
“He filled it with all the supplies you’d need if you ever got lost again. Your father’s compass, his flashlight, energy bars, a solar blanket, matches…,” Master S murmured, his breath warming her ear.
A chill enveloped Casey. Only she and Ben knew about her emergency kit. It had been their secret. How the hell had the Russian Dom learned about it?
Ben?
She pulled against her wrist cuffs, desperate to be free. She wanted to rip off the ball gag and demand answers to the questions swirling in her head, first and foremost, who the fuck was Master S and how long
had he known about her? If he knew about the bag, he knew who she was in real life.
He knew she was a Special Agent for the ATF and frequented a kink club. She could lose her chance of going after the Bratva. Christ, she’d be lucky to not lose her job.
His large frame prevented her from moving too much. “Careful, kiska. You do not want to hurt yourself.”
Casey growled behind the rubber gag in her mouth, narrowing her eyes behind the slits in her cat mask. She wanted freedom and she wanted it now.
She dropped the handkerchief, hoping someone would see it.
He caught it well before reached the floor and tucked it in his pocket.
She felt suddenly helpless. Panic clawed at her, raking her inside.
Master S fisted her hair and put his lips against her ear. “If you wish to know about your brother’s death, you will come with me to my room. Now. Tonight. Deny me, and I will not offer again.”
Every atom inside Casey stilled. Ben? He knew who had killed him? Vengeance simmered in her blood. A desperate need to put a face to the monster who had stolen the life of her big brother.
Resolve settling in and panic lessening, she nodded in agreement. Whoever the fuck Master S was, he had gone to the trouble to seek her out and try to gain her trust. Casey needed to know who she was dealing with.
Something soft wiped her spine as he cleaned the drips of semen from her skin. He kept his touch gentle, sensitive to her tender backside after her flogging. If she thought he was going to make it easy, she was wrong. He crouched and unlocked her ankles from the cross but left the cuffs on. Unfastening her wrist cuffs from the cross, he clipped them together, took off his belt, and looped it through the handcuffs she was wearing to use as a leash.
He left in the gag. Probably a wise move on his part. She had too many questions ready to spill.
Casey was forced to walk naked behind him when he gave a small tug. They headed upstairs where the private rooms were situated. He unlocked the door to one and led her inside, locking it behind them. Eyeing her handcuffs, the Russian Dom captured her gaze with his own, his face still disguised by his bear mask. “I free your hands, but the gag stays in. I need you to listen to what I have to say, da? I know about your brother. I have information that you wish to hear. I would have given it to you before tonight, but each time I asked you to come with me, you refused. Things are happening. There is no more time. Be a good girl for me. Listen first. Then we talk.”
