Betrayed by Love

by Lila Dubois

  Savannah had just opened her mouth to tell the bitch off when someone touched her shoulder.

  “It is not a submissive’s place to be possessive.” It was Mr. Wilcox. Despite the nice weather and the general state of undress among the guests, he wore slacks and a long-sleeve shirt complete with cufflinks.

  Savannah was sitting on the edge of the pool, her skirt pulled up, legs dangling in the water. Mr. Wilcox pulled up a chair, placing it beside Savannah, and took a seat. She didn’t like the way he’d positioned himself so he was looming over her.

  “We’re more than a submissive and Master,” she said coolly. “Outside the scene we’re boyfriend and girlfriend.” At the last moment she remembered to tack on, “Master Wilcox.”

  “How quaint.” He steepled his fingers and watched the game. He looked ridiculous sitting beside the pool dressed and behaving as if he were in some corporate meeting. “There are some, including myself, who think it impossible for a Dominant and his submissive to be anything but that.”

  “Then I guess Roman and I are the exception,” she said, looking him in the eye. She did not like his tone or his attitude. Savannah boldly stared him down, breaking rules left and right in the process. Though there was no reason to be, she was afraid of Mr. Wilcox. Before this weekend she’d found him simply creepy, but sitting here in the sunlight, even with Roman only a few feet away, she was scared.

  There was something heartlessly cold in his eyes. He tilted his head and looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts above the bodice of her sundress. He appraised her as if she were a piece of beef, with no emotion or desire.

  “You could be great,” he told her. “He is too soft with you. I will teach him to break you.”

  On that disturbing note, Mr. Wilcox got up and walked away.

  “Hey, babe.” Roman swam over. Bracing one hand on the edge of the pool, he pushed his cool, wet finger under the hem of her dress, tracing a pattern on her thigh. “You okay?”

  Savannah looked over her shoulder. Mr. Wilcox was watching her.

  “I’m fine,” she said, waving him back into the game. She didn’t want Wilcox to know he’d rattled her. There would be time later to tell Roman what he’d said.

  That afternoon the play became more serious. Mr. Wilcox gave a long lecture on the importance of having true “punishment” for when a “slave’s” behavior was unacceptable, as opposed to play punishment, which involved the erotic use of a variety of weapons and scary-looking things.

  Mr. Wilcox showed everyone the dog kennel he locked his slaves in when they truly needed punishment. Savannah was so horrified that she nearly got up and left, but one couple laughed, saying they had a kennel which they used for play—not punishment. The man, who was the sub, said that twenty minutes locked in there with a vibrator going in his ass was sweet torment. Once he was out, they always had amazing sex.

  Savannah reminded herself that different people like different things, and Mr. Wilcox’s “slaves” probably got off on all the stuff he did.

  Once Mr. Wilcox was done with his pompous lecture, which reminded Savannah of a dog training show she’d once seen, Karen and Robert got up on stage. They both looked nervous. Robert was white as a sheet, and Karen’s fingers fumbled with the tie of her robe. When they glanced her way, Savannah gave them a thumbs-up and a friendly smile.

  Karen rolled her eyes and dropped her robe. She wasn’t young, and her body showed its age. There was a slight pooch to her belly and her thighs were heavy, but when she once more looked Savannah’s way, Savannah licked her lips in an exaggerated manner. Karen smiled and turned back to Robert.

  Pleased with herself for helping her friend, Savannah watched more with an eye for how she could help them be successful than for what she could learn. Robert began by stroking Karen, concentrating on her back and thighs. Soon Karen was pressing into his hands, aroused by what was nearly a platonic touch.

  He started massaging her ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pulled his hand away and spanked her, a firm swat to her left ass cheek. Karen jumped, then moaned. Robert spanked her nine more times, five to each cheek.

  There was nothing nervous or unsure about them. They were in their element, and it had transformed them. Karen’s cheeks were flushed with color, her lips full and pink. Robert appeared taller, stronger than normal. Savannah stopped seeing them as her friends and started seeing what it was they were trying to show.

  Robert picked up a wooden hairbrush. “There are many variations to spanking.” He smoothed the wooden back of the brush over Karen’s ass. “From positions—standing, kneeling or the classic over the knee—to implements. My favorite implements are the hand, a hairbrush and a ruler.

  “The key to spanking is to go slow, to draw it out. It is not the pain that arouses the sub, as much as they might think that.” He winked at Karen, who stood perfectly still, her hands clasped together and resting on top of her head. “It’s the heat that spreads after the blow. It’s the knowledge that you are willing and able to do something so forbidden to them.”

  He smacked her ass with the hairbrush. Savannah jumped. She shifted on the pad she knelt on. She was painfully aroused. Her sex was so wet she could feel it seeping down the insides of her thighs. Her nipples, barely visible through the see-through black teddy she wore—which showed just enough to meet Mr. Wilcox’s rules—were hard as diamonds.

  Robert paddled Karen’s ass with the hairbrush, showing how the color was deeper than that caused by his hand. When he’d done ten strokes with the brush he pressed the bristles between Karen’s spread legs, pushing the sharp points against her pussy.

  Next, he picked up a ruler.

  Savannah would have shied away from something as harsh as a ruler normally, but now she couldn’t wait to see it used.

  She’d never been a fan of spanking. Roman had tried it a few times, but usually he’d take so long talking about it that she wasn’t fired up by the time he got around to it. She did like a few swats during sex, especially if he was fucking her from behind, but after watching this she knew those spanks hardly counted. She wanted to experience what Karen was experiencing; she wanted Roman to spank her like that, with a firm hand and steady knowledge of what he was doing.

  Kneeling beside him, Savannah ran one hand up the inside of his thigh and laid her palm over his groin. His cock was rock hard. He raised a brow and Savannah slid her right hand down the center of her body, then between her legs. She closed her eyes as she stroked her clit a few times. She pulled her fingers from her sex, rubbing them together to show him how slippery and wet she was, then slid her fingers into her mouth, licking them clean.

  Roman leaned forward, a hand braced on the arm of the chair as if he were going to push himself up. Savannah imagined him throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to their room where he would ravish her.

  Roman shot her a stern look and settled back in his chair. She widened her eyes innocently and turned back to the show.

  The ruler left long, pink stripes on Karen’s already colorful ass.

  After the ruler, Robert moved on to other implements, things that would never be used in conjunction with a relatively harmless spanking. He had a paddle, a cane, a tawse, a flogger and a cat-o’-nine.

  Out of context, each implement seemed more fit for a torture chamber than the bedroom, but in the warm hush of that room, Savannah saw the beauty and eroticism in each. She watched greedily as the cat-o’-nine flicked over Karen’s breasts.

  Faint pink lines appeared, decorating the other woman’s flesh. Savannah’s hands moved to her own breasts but Roman caught them. He pulled her wrists up and over her head, forcing them behind her neck where he bound them in place with the leash that dangled from the back of her collar.

  “Watch,” he growled in her ear.

  “Touch me,” she begged him. She’d never needed to come as desperately as she did in that moment.

  Their byplay caught the attention of the
performers.

  “Roman, your slave looks eager to experience punishment. You can be the first to try what I’ve shown you,” Robert said.

  Roman rose from his chair, pulling Savannah to her feet. She was unsteady, her legs gone numb from kneeling for too long, so he threw her over his shoulder, carrying her to the stage.

  The world spun dizzyingly as Savannah was set down. Soft hands replaced Roman’s and Karen whispered, “Are you sure you want this?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Oh yes. Does it hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Then Roman was there, stripped to the waist. He sat and drew her down over his lap. He untied her hands and then forced them together at the small of her back, holding them in place.

  He adjusted his knees so his legs were spread, one under her hips, the other under her ribs, pressing her breasts toward her chin.

  His hand smoothed over her ass and Savannah pushed up on her toes, pressing her ass up into his hand. He pushed down, forcing her back into position.

  “Oh yes,” someone murmured. Savannah looked up to see Mr. Wilcox standing in a pool of shadow. He was watching her avidly. One of his slaves knelt at his feet, sucking his erect cock.

  Roman spanked her. The flat of his hand landed with a solid thump on her right ass cheek. Savannah jumped, more from surprise than pain. He smacked her left cheek with a bit more force. This time she really felt it. Pleasant heat radiated from the handprint he’d left.

  She could hear Robert coaching him, occasionally turning and addressing the audience. Despite these reminders that they were not alone, Savannah wasn’t scared or embarrassed. She was in the arms of the man she loved, being pleasured in a way most people would never experience.

  He cracked her ass again, harder than ever, and she cried out, but it was in relief. Now he was doing it, pushing her, making her feel. Soon the blows landed hard and steady. When she struggled to get away he held her still. When she panted and begged he pushed a finger into her sex or rubbed her clit, but never enough to make her come.

  Her ass was on fire, the heat of the blows was constant now, spiking when a new blow landed but never fading.

  Then it changed, the blows louder, the sting sharper. She struggled to look over her shoulder and saw him holding the hairbrush. She met his gaze and there was something dark and frightening in it. She loved him.

  He beat her with the brush until she was thrashing, her toes kicking the floor, her face wet with tears. If she’d been able to speak she would have begged for the cane or the whip. She was sure that if he would just hurt her a little more, she would come.

  His left hand held her wrists together, his right was kneading her flaming ass, so when other fingers pried apart the cheeks of her bottom and ran slippery lubricant over her anus, Savannah jerked in real surprise.

  “Be still,” he barked, swatting her ass sharply.

  Something cool and wide pressed against her anus. Savannah sobbed as a glass plug was forced into her. The contrast of the cold in her ass and her burning cheeks was startling.

  Roman pinched her ass cheeks together around the plug, then put two fingers into her sex, probing the plug from within her body.

  He went back to spanking her with his hand, each blow shifting the plug. She was shaking and shivering. The room seemed dim and her head was spinning. She worried she might pass out.

  Then she was sliding from his lap, on her knees before him. His cock was out of his pants and without a second thought she leaned forward and took it in her mouth. She sucked and licked him, feeling grounded now that she could touch him.

  “Lift your ass,” he barked and she shifted position. Laying her arms along the tops of his thighs, she arched her back, thrusting her ass up as she continued sucking his cock. A white-hot line of pain sizzled across her ass. She cried out around his cock. She twisted to see what it was but he forced her head down onto his shaft. She caught a glimpse of a slim whip from the corner of her eye and then the pain came again.

  She was shivering, racked with emotions and sensations she could no longer name. Roman lifted her head from his cock.

  “Your breasts have been ignored,” he said. “Beg me to hurt them.”

  “Please, please, my love,” she begged, too far gone to remember silly titles or trite manners of address, “I need it. I need to come. I need you to make me come. I need you to hurt me. I want you to touch my breasts. I want you to pinch my nipples, the way you do, the way I like.”

  She massaged his cock with her fingers as the words tumbled from her mouth. Roman smiled, a savage, frightening thing, then nodded to someone she could not see before forcing her mouth onto his cock once more.

  Soft hands stroked her dangling breasts, pulling and twisting. There was a sharp pinch and then hard downward pull as weighted clamps were attached to each nipple.

  The weights swung as she bobbed up and down on his cock. They jumped wildly when the lash of the whip caused her to jerk.

  Roman said something she couldn’t hear, but in the next instant her mouth was filled with his salty come. She swallowed it down, cupping his balls with gentle fingers as his hand clenched painfully in her hair.

  Roman’s voice again, then a vibrator was against her clit. Savannah had to stop herself from biting down on Roman’s softening cock as a wave of blissful pleasure washed over her. The weights abraded her nipples, the plug stretched her ass and the vibrator buzzed at her clit.

  At the moment of orgasm, Savannah ripped her mouth from his cock, screaming in savage pleasure as she came. Her toes curled, her belly clenched. The weights were pulled from her nipples and that sent her higher. The vibe stayed on her clit, and now the plug was jerked from her ass only to be forced in again.

  The pleasure was continuous, like a tidal wave, rising impossibly high. She could hear voices directing the action. Keep the vibe on her clit. Grab the ruler, slap her breasts. Pinch her ass.

  Through it all she held him, her fingers digging into Roman’s waist, her nails scratching him.

  “Enough.”

  His voice echoed weirdly through the ringing in her ears. The vibe left her clit, the plug was drawn from her ass. Savannah started to slide to the floor but Roman scooped her up, cradling her to his chest.

  “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

  “I love you,” she whispered in reply.

  He returned to his seat, Savannah on his lap. She drifted into a waking doze, ignoring the claps of the audience. If she’d opened her eyes, Savannah might have caught Mr. Wilcox’s thoughtful gaze.

  Chapter Five

  Savannah was napping, curled up in the sun like a kitten. Roman sat on the bed beside her and stroked her long hair. He could barely believe what she’d done, what he’d done.

  The session they’d just been through was more than Roman had ever hoped to experience with Savannah. He would never have done that to her without the prompting and assistance of Robert. He’d tried spanking before in the past, but it never got a reaction like today.

  There was a gentle knock on the door. Roman answered it, slipping out into the hall so the visitor wouldn’t wake Savannah.

  Mr. Wilcox silently motioned for Roman to follow. Most of the other doors along the hallway were closed, and Roman remembered several other couples had said they were planning to nap before that evening’s entertainments.

  Once they were away from the bedrooms, Mr. Wilcox said, “Follow. There is something you need to see.”

  He took Roman to one of the other playrooms. Unlike the two he’d seen so far, this one had a lock on the door.

  It was a small, comfortable lounge. There were two plush chairs flanking a small end table. A sideboard held crystal decanters and an array of glasses. The wall opposite the door they’d come in had a floor-to-ceiling picture window in it. But this window didn’t look out on the garden.

  Roman glanced from the window to Mr. Wilcox and back.

  “Let me show you,” he said. He led Roman to a do
or in the wall next to the picture window. It too was locked.

  “This is my real training room,” Mr. Wilcox said as they entered the inner room. “This is where a woman can truly find her potential.”

  The walls were painted cream, with snowy-white crown molding. There were oil paintings, nudes of voluptuous women, in heavy wood frames. A brocade armchair sat in one corner.

  Those elements would not be out of place in the elegant lounge next door, but they were a small dash of normalcy in what was an otherwise sinister scene.

  The floor was concrete, sloped toward the drain in the center. An elaborate medical chair, almost like a dentist’s but studded with straps, levers and gears, stood in the middle. Mr. Wilcox opened a wardrobe, displaying a collection of floggers and whips dangling from the inside of the doors. Each of the drawers was full, one with vibrators and glass dildos and plugs, another with medical equipment—speculums, scopes and surgical needles.

  Below that was a drawer of more common toys—gags and hoods, and finally a drawer with pony-play equipment.

  “Pony play is a new interest of mine. My slave girls are still learning, and I have yet to find tails I am completely satisfied with.” He took out a tail attached to a large glass dildo. “I like this one, but it is heavy and it falls out of their asses.”

  Mr. Wilcox sighed and put the tail back in its place. He closed the drawer and then the wardrobe doors.

  Roman’s stomach was in knots. He was torn between curiosity, arousal and trepidation. There were things in this room he would desperately like to try with Savannah, and there were things too extreme for his tastes. He again looked at the medical chair.

  Following his gaze, Mr. Wilcox moved to a small control box. He showed Roman the various capabilities of the chair. It could fold completely flat into a table and the arm pads rotated separate from the body of the chair, as did the leg pads.

  Roman was only half listening. He wasn’t stupid, and he knew Mr. Wilcox was showing him all this for a reason. He looked around again, imagining Savannah in the room with him. He imagined her giggles at seeing some of the things, and her moans if he strapped her to the chair and knelt between her legs, pleasuring her with his tongue.