The King of Infierno

by Jasmine Hill

  “Careful of the goods, baby.” He grimaced. “I’m hard but I won’t be touching you this morning, you need time to recover. I fucked you hard last night.”

  She giggled. “You did, and you are the one who insists on delayed gratification.” She adjusted her position on his lap so as not to make him uncomfortable. “Can we go shopping today? I want to buy an outfit like the ones I saw the women wearing at Infierno.”

  He looked at her in horror. “You are not dressing in flimsy, barely-there clothes.”

  “Everyone else does.” She scowled at him. “I’ll stand out terribly if you don’t let me dress appropriately.”

  He dropped his head back to rest on the edge of the tub and closed his eyes. Makayla waited with bated breath. She was prepared to argue this point. She knew that she was supposed to be doing what Donovan ordered in relation to these issues, but she didn’t want to be conspicuous and she wanted him to relax his stance on her wardrobe.

  Finally, he raised his head and looked at her. “Fine,” he said tersely. “But I get the final say.”

  Makayla grinned, happy that she hadn’t needed to push the issue. She was excited about going to Infierno, she wanted to observe the BDSM scenes and play, but this time she’d be with Donovan and not feeling like an interloper, as she had when she’d followed him that night. Another part of her wanted to stamp her ownership on Donovan. She wanted to show the other submissives that he was no longer available to them. At least, that’s what she expected, but she realized suddenly that they hadn’t discussed it.

  She gave him a serious look. “Donovan, you don’t want to play with other submissives, do you? While you’re with me?” She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

  His eyes widened. “Of course not.” He looked at her intently. “Only you, baby. The only reason that I was dominating that other submissive was because I needed the release and I wanted to ensure that my willpower and my self-discipline hadn’t completely deserted me. I told you that. I admit it was a serious error in judgment on my part, but I had no other mechanism for dealing with all the foreign emotions I was feeling.”

  She leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips, relief coursing through her. He grasped her backside and tugged her tighter to him, rubbing his hard cock between the lips of her pussy. She moaned into his mouth and he chuckled.

  “Don’t get too comfortable,” he mumbled against her lips. “We need to get organized if you want to hit the shops.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  A fierce fluttering sensation had taken root in Makayla’s belly and her hands felt clammy. She took deep breaths, willing her heart rate to calm.

  She studied her reflection in the mirror, still dismayed at the difference in her appearance. She wore black, skintight leather pants that had taken her an age to wriggle into. Her latex halter-neck plunged low in the front and gripped her breasts like two firm hands, sending her cleavage spilling over the top. The back of the halter-neck dipped to tie in a short corset style, low on her spine. She sported sky-high platform heels in scarlet red, the same shade as her lipstick. She’d tied her thick blonde hair into a high plait, the end hitting just below her bare shoulder blades. In truth, she felt that she looked more like a Dominatrix than a submissive. She cocked her head to one side and assessed her image.

  “You look…gorgeous,” a deep voice said from behind her. “Like fucking sex personified!”

  She turned to face Donovan and his gaze raked her body from head to toe.

  “That outfit should be illegal,” he whispered, stepping closer to her.

  She frowned. “I was just thinking that I look like a Dominatrix.”

  Donovan produced a box from his inside pocket. “That’s why you’ll be wearing this.” He opened the box, removed a necklace and turned her so that she was once more facing the mirror. He placed the necklace around her and locked it in place with a soft click. It sat high on her throat, like a choker, thick and smooth, the links fastened closely together in a snake chain. A ring encircled the chain to sit snugly at the base of her throat. She caressed the cold metal in admiration.

  Donovan stood behind her, a hand on each of her shoulders. Her heels made her taller, her head reaching to his chin. He bent a little to speak in her ear. “It’s platinum and it signifies that you belong to me.” He met her eyes in the mirror. “Did you read about being collared, baby?”

  She nodded, mesmerized and rendered silent by his intense gaze.

  “It means that no one else may touch you without my permission. There are a number of different types of collar, and strictly speaking, as a novice submissive, you should have a training collar. But these things can be done differently—the wearing of the collar and how it’s worn is up to the Dominant, and I need everyone to know that you’re mine, and as such, untouchable. Do you agree?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. At the moment, you’re able to take it off, I haven’t locked it into place. That won’t happen until we’re both ready. You need to be certain that it’s what you want and I need to be certain that you’re ready.”

  At the mention of collars and submissive behavior, Makayla had bowed her head, reminded from her brief study of the lifestyle that she shouldn’t look directly at Donovan.

  He hooked her chin with his index finger and tipped her head up so that she was once more meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I like your subservient attitude, baby. But I need you to look at me when I talk about this issue. It’s important that you understand and I need to be sure that you’re in agreement.”

  “I understand, Sir,” she murmured, suddenly overwhelmed by the magnitude of their situation, but also turned on by the fact that Donovan had collared her. It was a heady feeling, knowing that she belonged to someone as dominant and powerfully masculine as Donovan. “I like the collar, Sir. Very much.”

  He gave her a devilish smile. “That’s good, angel. You’ve made me very happy.” He looked at his watch. “It’s nine-thirty, so we should leave.” He retrieved a light coat from the foot of the bed. “Wear this until we reach the club.”

  * * * *

  Donovan stepped inside Infierno with Makayla tucked tightly under his arm.

  Carlos greeted him from behind the desk. “El Rey. Buenas noches.”

  Donovan nodded curtly and made his way behind the curtain. He still hadn’t gotten over the fact that Carlos had basically announced to Makayla who and what he was. It hadn’t been the doorman’s fault entirely. He hadn’t known who Makayla was and had probably assumed that she was just another woman looking to learn from The King of Infierno. But the prudent thing would have been for Carlos to have found him before allowing her to waltz into the club unannounced.

  He tugged Makayla in behind him, keeping a tight hold on her hand. All chatter ceased as they appeared at the entrance to the bar area, and people turned their heads to stare. Makayla shrank beside him at the attention they were receiving. He pulled her close and dropped his mouth to her head, speaking into her hair.

  “They’re curious, baby. They’ve never seen me bring anyone here before.”

  “Rey.” Various men nodded in greeting, their gazes darting over Makayla inquisitively.

  Donovan nodded curtly in response, winding his way through the tables and chairs.

  “There’s a dressing room and bathroom in there.” He pointed to the right. “Freshen up, remove your jacket and meet me back here. Don’t go anywhere else.”

  She nodded meekly, dropped his hand and headed in the direction he’d indicated. He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. This was going to be harder than he’d initially anticipated. He didn’t need to change, since he’d dressed in black pants and a white cotton, collarless shirt. He rolled his sleeves to his elbows and paced up and down, waiting for Makayla to reappear.

  She returned some minutes later, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Christ, she was so fucking hot. Those leather pants and the sky-high fuck-me heels made her legs seem a mile long.
Her breasts spilled enticingly over her top, her cleavage smooth and plump, giving him the sudden urge to shove his head between her tits. His collar sparkled clearly and brightly around her neck. He glanced over his shoulder to the bar area, where once again everything had stopped and all eyes were on Makayla.

  He was standing in front of her in two strides. He pulled her close and glared around, a fierce possessiveness taking hold of him. He was glad he’d thought to collar her before they came. It meant that there was no doubt that she was taken. He took her hand in his and headed toward one of the play areas. He wanted her to observe and take note of the things the Dom did and how the sub responded.

  He stopped in front of a St. Andrew’s Cross. A woman, bound with her back to the apparatus stood naked except for a tiny pair of panties and nipple clamps. She wore a black blindfold and gag, her head bowed as she waited for her Dom.

  Donovan positioned Makayla in front of him. “Kneel,” he instructed, pushing gently on her shoulders. She stiffened and looked around at him, her eyes wide. He needed her to understand that in the club it was expected that a submissive acted as such and should always obey his or her Dom without question. He could stretch the guidelines, of course, it wasn’t written in stone. He wanted her to understand the entire experience and to appreciate the practice of being a submissive.

  He arched an eyebrow at her. “Are you defying me?”

  She shook her head and sank slowly to her knees. “No, Sir.”

  He widened his stance, his legs on the outside of hers, and nestled the back of her head at his crotch. Not the best position for maintaining his self-control, but Makayla would feel him behind her and be reassured by his physical presence. He placed his hands on her shoulders and her body started to loosen under his touch. He rubbed his thumbs along the column of her throat and she moaned quietly. Good, she was calm and relaxed. Now that she’d accepted her position, he’d sit. He caught the eye of a staff member and motioned his head toward a chair. A moment later, a comfortable-looking armchair was positioned at his side. He sat and pulled Makayla’s braid, directing her body backward until she was pressed against his left thigh.

  The crowd quieted as a tall, lean man stepped into the circle of light and strode toward the St. Andrew’s Cross.

  Donovan bent his head and spoke quietly to Makayla. “The man’s name is Manuel Sanchez. He’s a good Dom, adept at reading his sub’s needs.”

  It would be good for Makayla to watch this particular scene.

  The bound woman lifted her head subtly, aware of the approach of her Dom. He circled her, whip in hand, and tested her restraints, pulling on the nipple clamps until she groaned and shuddered. He ran the whip handle across her cleavage, around each of her breasts and down her torso, stopping at the juncture of her thighs. He rubbed the handle over her pussy, massaging her over the fabric of her panties. She pulled on her bindings and moaned, the sound muffled through her gag.

  Suddenly Manuel drew the whip back and sent it cracking through the air to land across her torso, following it with a second rapid flick of his wrist, landing the whip just above the first lash.

  Makayla stiffened beside him. He placed his palm on her head and caressed her hair soothingly until she relaxed once more.

  Manuel started a rapid flow of lashes placed strategically over the sub’s body, not any one striking the same piece of flesh twice. Donovan could tell that he was skilled in the use of the whip, wielding the device with expert precision. His sub groaned, but Donovan could tell that her breathing was even, her hands steady and relaxed in the bindings, indicating that she wasn’t thinking of using hand signals to convey her safe word. And Manuel watched her intently, gauging the strength of his lashes to his sub’s physical cues, knowing when to back off and when to make the next strike a little harder.

  Donovan leaned down and spoke softly in Makayla’s ear, explaining the Dom’s approach and the sub’s response to him.

  The Dom finally dropped the whip, his chest glistening with perspiration, his breathing hard. He bent and released a nipple clamp then gently sucked the taut peak into his mouth. The sub arched in her restraints, her mouth wide around her gag.

  “When the pressure is released, blood rushes to the nipple and the pain is intense for a moment. Her Dom is sucking and licking her to ease her discomfort,” Donovan told Makayla quietly. He gazed at her profile and was gratified to see that she seemed aroused by what she was witnessing. Her face flushed a rosy pink and her chest heaved slightly from her increased breathing. “See how the sub has relaxed already?” he continued. “The initial bite of pain has gone and Manuel is being careful to be gentle with her nipples. He knows they’ll be very sensitive.”

  Makayla squirmed and gripped his thigh, her nails biting into his flesh through his pants.

  “Do you like what you see, baby?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she murmured. “I’d like you to do that to me.”

  “Look at me,” he demanded. She turned her head toward him, her violet eyes wide and glazed with desire. “Would you like to be on display for all to see, wearing nothing but your panties?”

  She lowered her eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

  Fuck, he’d asked her to be honest, but he didn’t like her answer—at all. He fisted his hands on the armrest and ground his teeth together. He wouldn’t be able to cope with that. Perhaps he could reason with her, offer her a compromise.

  “What if I, as your Dom, don’t want you displayed like that?”

  She looked up. “I would only do what you wanted, Sir.”

  “Good answer. We’ll discuss it later.” He marveled at how quickly she was falling into the submissive frame of mind. He suspected the club was helping with that. She was taking her cues from the other submissives and the BDSM environment was stimulating to say the least. To a novice like Makayla, it was like stepping into another world. People in training often felt the change come over them just by walking into a club.

  The observers of Manuel’s scene started drifting away, speaking quietly among themselves. The Dom, having released his sub, was striding with her in his arms to a quiet corner.

  “He will look after her now,” Donovan explained. “Aftercare of the submissive by the Dom is very important.”

  Donovan stood and tugged lightly on Makayla’s braid, encouraging her to stand with him. She rose gracefully and stopped beside him. He traced his index finger along her cleavage, enjoying the feel of her soft skin.

  A shadow fell over them, and he looked up and into familiar brown eyes.

  “Well, well, El Rey is back.” He’d recognize her accent anywhere, a cross between Spanish and French that he’d once found immensely sexy.

  “Dolores.” He nodded curtly and attempted to sidestep her, gripping Makayla’s hand tightly.

  But Dolores wasn’t finished with him. “You know I prefer Lola.” Her lips curled into a sly smile. “Is that any way to treat your ex?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Makayla stood frozen to the spot. Where had this woman come from? And what did she want with Donovan? Makayla glanced across at Donovan, who was scowling at the woman, his hand tightening around Makayla’s own. Makayla’s attention returned to the beauty standing in front of them. She had an exotic look with high cheekbones, caramel-colored eyes and long, silky black hair. And she wore the most outrageously skimpy outfit that Makayla could never imagine being worn outside a bedroom. She may as well have been walking around in the nude—that wasn’t too outrageous given their environment. But there was something about her ensemble that covered—though not entirely—her private parts, which made it look more obscene. The corset she wore had cutouts around her nipples, making the pointed tips all the more prominent and drawing the eye to the turgid peaks. Her pierced nipples sported gold rings, and from them dangled a string of beads. The corset ended just above a pair of brief panties that displayed more than they covered.

  Makayla blushed and focused her attention on the carpet. The situation was awkward to
say the least and making it worse was the fact that Donovan hadn’t said anything to disabuse her of the things that this Dolores—or Lola, or whatever her name was—was saying. Obviously, she was Donovan’s ex-something, probably his ex-submissive, which wasn’t surprising. He’d already admitted that he’d had a couple of serious relationships, it was just that this woman was so obviously experienced in the BDSM lifestyle, and beautiful with it and, when combined, it all just added to Makayla’s insecurities.

  As if sensing that his presence was required, Fernando suddenly appeared at their side. “Makayla,” he murmured, picking up her hand and kissing the back. He turned his attention to Dolores. “Lola, it’s been a while.” He nodded at the other woman.

  “Hello, Fernando,” she purred.

  Fernando looked at Donovan. “Perhaps you need a moment with Lola. I’ll keep Makayla company.”

  Donovan glared at the man, his jaw tight with tension, but he didn’t object as Fernando led her away.

  Fernando settled them into seats at the bar then left to order. Makayla studied him as he chatted to the bartender. He wore black leather pants and a billowy black shirt. It was so odd to see him in anything but his conservative suits and ties that a spontaneous giggle erupted from her.

  “What are you laughing about?” Fernando asked, having returned with their wine.

  “Nothing,” she assured him, not wanting him to think she was laughing at him. She took a sip of wine, her gaze wandering to where they’d left Donovan speaking to Dolores, but she could no longer see them. “Who was that woman?”

  Fernando sighed. “You should ask Donovan that question, Makayla. It is not for me to talk about.”

  Makayla huffed out a breath in frustration. “She said that she was his ex.”

  Fernando hummed noncommittally and it was clear that he wasn’t going to comment any further.

  She glanced around once more, searching for Donovan, but she couldn’t see him. Where have they gone? She suddenly felt awkward, out of place and irritated. Donovan had made it clear that she wasn’t to leave his side, but it seemed okay for him to leave her.