by Tina Donahue
Nikki’s body jewelry.
Turned to the next monitor, Connor stared at those glittering gems and what else she’d chosen to wear. He gripped the edge of the desk to keep steady. With her back to the bar, Nikki waited for the order she’d put in, her attention darting about the shadowy room as though she were looking for someone.
Old boyfriends from high school? If any of them showed up tonight, they sure as hell wouldn’t recognize her.
“What the fuck?”
Connor didn’t bother to acknowledge his brother’s sudden presence. Mitch strode to the monitors, squinting for a better look, his murderous expression saying he didn’t like what he saw. “Was it your idea to have her work in that room?”
As though he had the power to make her do anything he wanted? “Shoshana said it was Nikki’s. I didn’t think she’d even show up, remember?”
“She shouldn’t be anywhere in this club.”
No, she should not.
Connor’s jaw clenched as two guys eyed her hungrily. They leaned toward each other, exchanging comments that made both of them smile, then one flagged down a server. With a nod, the young woman acknowledged whatever they’d asked for, writing it on her notepad.
The bartender delivered Nikki’s drink order. She headed for the two men, each step causing her sleek muscles to ripple slightly, enhanced by the candlelight. It didn’t take a psychic to know what was going to happen next. Connor saw the truth of it in those guys’ expressions. Shit.
Why in the fuck did she show up? Why in the hell was she continuing to do this? Why couldn’t she be like the Nikki he recalled, the one he thought he knew? The girl he didn’t want to care about any longer. The one he wasn’t about to forgive and didn’t want to protect.
“Crap,” Mitch said, leaving the office.
Metallica’s Frantic pumped through the BDSM Room, raw and provoking. The scents of male musk, leather, smoke and hard liquor overwhelmed the more delicate female fragrances. Against the wall were several young women chained in various positions. Some faced the crowd, arms shackled above their heads, their naked breasts or cunts a sensual feast for every patron to observe. Others faced the wall, exposing their asses to discipline.
The frame on the platform was still empty, but now bathed in the haze of cigar smoke and the glow of an overhead spotlight, as soft as the candles’ illumination. An earlier announcement revealed that tonight the patrons could bid on it and the young woman they wanted to see punished there.
With her tray held slightly above her shoulder and her body exposed, Nikki reached her customers. Young men her age, possibly investment bankers dressed in expensive suits. They didn’t bother to glance at their drinks, eyeing her instead as animals do in the wild, seeing something they want and intend to take.
Their male hunger gave Nikki an acute sense of being helpless. Her costume ensured it.
She wore the leather half mask that hid enough of her features to prevent identification, while making her feel somehow captive. The brazen bustier didn’t protect her at all. Stopping at her navel, it not only revealed her body jewelry, its half cups supported her breasts while flaunting her naked nipples. Her tips were erect and hard even though the crowd and her own heightened breathing made the room’s air steamy. Below the garment and her gems, Nikki sported thigh-high spike heel boots. Nothing else.
Her naked cunt was available for scrutiny by these two guys and anyone else. Her slit was moist with lubrication the other girls suggested she use to make the men believe she was ready for a man’s cock. She wanted it.
Oh God, she did, as long as it was from the right men. Had Shoshana’s cryptic answer led her to the wrong room? Nikki didn’t see Mitch anywhere. Or Connor. His film played on the back wall, these images lustier than the ones she’d viewed previously. Chastised by the strap and spent, the young woman submitted to the man who’d punished her, her lids fluttering as he suckled her throat and slipped his hand between her legs, his thumb running up and down her baby-smooth cleft.
Nikki bit her bottom lip to hold back a wanting moan. Never had she experienced such carnal need mixed in with true longing. At Ty’s parties, it was nothing but wild monkey sex, the kind that leaves a woman’s flesh humming. She remembered none of it, only her intolerable yearning for someone to love her, to have the emptiness inside drained away for at least a short while.
The same as now.
She wondered if Connor and Mitch were even at the club. If so, were they watching her? Shoshana said there were monitors in her office. Were they all there now, discussing business, teasing each other as friends and lovers do, not giving her a second thought?
The pain in her gut was so intense, Nikki whimpered. She’d missed Mitch and Connor like crazy over the years. It would have driven her insane if not for the fact that she was in New York, far enough away from them for her to function. Back in Atlanta, the emotional separation was severe and devastating. Not that she could expect better after treating them so horribly.
Too late to make amends for that with so many years gone by. She should have contacted them sooner, when things were going well in her world. They might have accepted her apology then and her reasoning for what she’d done. Not now. The best she could do was perform well in her job.
She took the scotch and soda from the tray and slapped on her most seductive smile, honed while entertaining Ty’s clients. “For you,” she purred, handing the drink to the guy on the right. He had wavy brown hair and dark-blue eyes, his features handsome enough for him to ditch his chosen profession and model in a men’s fashion magazine or work here.
“Why thank you, hon.” His accent was all Southern gentleman, his attention to her nipples no better than a rutting hound dog. “What did you say your name was?”
Nikki hadn’t offered it. Twice she’d had to ask both of them what they wanted to drink before either seemed to hear or understand her question. “Cherry,” she said, heeding the other girls’ advice about using a fake name.
The guy on her left, equally good-looking with sandy-blond hair and just the right amount of stubble, trailed his fingers down her arm. “Nice.”
It was. She’d denied carnal need for so long, even a stranger’s touch made her teeth tingle. Not that Nikki was about to act on it, remembering Shoshana’s admonishment and her own good sense. Deftly, she delivered his vodka gimlet, giving his hand something to do, then stepped back to service the rest of her stations.
“Don’t go,” the one with the scotch and soda said, reducing the space between them.
“Stay,” his friend chimed in and also advanced. “We came here tonight just to see you.”
Such pretty liars. Not direct and unyielding like Connor or Mitch. When it came to foreplay with them, Nikki envisioned what she wanted. The brothers stating their minds, taking what they required, no BS, just ballsy lust.
Mitch would haul her to one of the wingchairs where Connor already sat, naked and insolent, his stiffened cock in one hand, his thumb stroking the head, appeasing it until she tended to him. On her knees, she’d bury her face in his groin, inhaling his luscious scent while Mitch positioned her body, making certain her thighs were parted widely, her buttocks lifted, her openings available.
As he settled in behind her doggie style, she’d lick the length of Connor’s rod, hot and faintly salty, swirling her tongue around his fleshy crown, enjoying his surprised gasp, taking his full length into her mouth.
Mitch would plunge into her then, testing her endurance and obedience, his fingers rubbing her clit in time with his unhurried thrusts, demanding she pay attention to him and to his brother.
She would, releasing Connor’s cock to lick his lightly furred balls, wonderfully wrinkled and—
“So do you?” Mr. Scotch and Soda asked, interrupting her wayward thoughts.
Nikki offered a blank look and considered whether she should give him a frown for having slipped his arm around her waist. A definite no-no in this club, especially with his fingers so pe
rilously close to her cunt. Before they dipped there, she removed his hand from her.
“Careful,” his friend said, “or you’ll get us thrown out.” To her, he asked, “Do you like to be spanked?”
Her entire body got hot, increasing the intensity of her magnolia scent and wild fantasies of Mitch and Connor hauling her away from the wingchair toward the shackles. Nikki’s arm fell to her side, her fingers barely holding onto the tray as she stared at the instruments of punishment on the wall, the manacles and the young women already there moaning in delight at each lick of the strap.
“I think she does,” the friend added, then murmured to her, “say yes.”
“To the frame,” Mr. S&S cut in. “We’ve already paid for it, outbidding everyone else while you were getting our drinks.”
Efficient bastards, weren’t they. Probably great at their jobs. Nikki forced a peek at the frame, all those eyebolts, chains, shackles and the inescapable light pouring down. Unlike the servers manacled to the wall and observed by a few, any woman who agreed to punishment on The Frame would capture everyone’s attention…even from the monitors in Shoshana’s office.
“Yes,” Nikki breathed before she knew she would.
“Excellent,” Mr. S&S said, gesturing for one of the male performers, another perfect specimen clad only in a leather G-string.
He gave Nikki’s tray to another server, then took Nikki’s upper arm, leading her toward the platform. Iron Maiden’s Out of the Shadows cut off at “surely there is pain”. A female voice came on the sound system. “We have a winner for tonight’s performance,” she cooed, her pronunciation Dixie thick and sultry. “Let the punishment begin.”
Every guy who didn’t have liquor, a smoke or his date’s tongue in his mouth let out a wild cheer. The music came back on, throbbing, insistent. The male performer ascended the first step of the platform. There were only four, but to Nikki she might as well have been facing Mt. Everest. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her heart slammed into her throat.
At her hesitation, the young man turned, pretending to be dominant even though his whisper was super nice. “Do you want to change your mind, sugar?”
Yes—no—maybe—then again, maybe not. If Mitch and Connor had been leading her up to the platform, this would be an easy decision. She would’ve raced them to the top. Reminding herself how unlikely that was to happen and that this performance would earn her extra dough, Nikki pulled in as much air as she could to calm herself. “Let’s do it.”
On the platform, he circled her wrists with the manacles, snapping them shut, then pulled on the chains until Nikki’s arms were slightly above her shoulders and held out at both sides. In this position, her breasts lifted above the cups, offering more of her nudity.
Men surrounded the stage, watching the preparations with the same fervor they would a hotly contested Super Bowl. Mr. S&S and his friend were at the front of the crowd, rough grins cutting across their faces.
Nikki’s breath caught at the male performer running his hands down the insides of her thighs, parting them. Several men lifted their glasses in a toast of appreciation. Mr. S&S and his buddy studied the straps and whips on the wall, obviously deciding which one they wanted used on her.
“That one,” Mr. S&S called out to another server, pointing to a length of leather that resembled a man’s belt. “It’ll pink up her ass nicely.”
“And have her begging for more,” his friend commented, then asked her, “Isn’t that right, hon?”
Closing her eyes, Nikki resisted the urge to tug on her arms. Her head fell back, exposing her throat. The male performer stepped into her, the meaty package between his legs brushing her naked ass. Startled, Nikki rose to her toes. The audience laughed and whooped. The performer clamped his hand on Nikki’s shoulder, bringing her back down, his body heat making her even warmer. Beneath the leather bustier, sweat ran down her torso. She heard the clink of chains as he lifted the collar, prepared to slip it around her throat, trapping her further. Next, he’d secure her waist, thighs and ankles, pulling on the chains until she couldn’t move while all the men could.
Would one of them forget the club’s rules and try to touch or lick her cunt? Would others follow, undeterred by the strap repeatedly striking her ass?
A rush of desire mixed with a thread of panic raced through Nikki.
The male performer lifted her hair, moving it out of the way as he brought the collar closer. She whimpered, then moaned, uncertain of her reaction.
Mr. S&S shouted above the crowd, “That’s it, baby. We got you now. Time for you to be spanked good and hard by—hey!”
At his sudden surprise, Nikki’s eyes snapped open. She gaped at Mitch hauling the guy away from the platform, then climbing the steps, frowning like he wanted to be the one to punish her.
“Whoa there,” Mr. S&S said, grabbing Mitch’s sleeve. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Pick another girl,” Mitch growled.
“Hell no. I like her.”
“She’s not available to you.” He pulled his arm free.
The guy reached out to grab it again. Mitch’s bunched shoulders and tightened fists stopped him. Dropping his hand, Mr. S&S backed up several steps, pushing into the crowd. “Easy, man. No need to get violent. My friend and I did pay to have her punished. We won the bid, and I do believe it is our right to—”
“Forget it. I own this place and I know what everyone’s rights are. She’s mine. Understand?”
Nikki stared at him. What was he talking about? She was his? Since when and to do what with? Discipline her?
Mitch didn’t wait for his patron’s answer. He reached the platform, not stopping until he and Nikki were face to face.
Never had she seen him so pissed, not even in school after all the shit happened. Seldom had she been more aware of her female vulnerability when faced with such a potent male. Several strands of Mitch’s dark hair hung over his forehead, dangling above his hooded eyes. His chest pumped hard with his strained breathing, making his black dress shirt quiver slightly.
He edged so close, their thighs just about touched. Nikki went weak with submission. The room grew quiet, even the music seemed tamed.
Searching his face, Nikki saw no tenderness or understanding, just a hard edge that excited her beyond reason. She expected him to grab the belt the female server had placed at the edge of the platform, wrapping one end of the leather around his hand, preparing it for use.
Ignoring everything except her, Mitch cupped the back of her head in his hand, tilting it to his, claiming her mouth.
Dear sweet God. His kiss was unrestrained, his lips as soft as she recalled, his stubble scouring her skin. He seemed unconcerned about that and the crowd. He fondled her breast, playing with her nipple. Sparks of delight made her tremble. He answered by settling his other hand on her ass, his fingers trailing down the furrow between her cheeks, an indelicate, possessive gesture. She moaned, the sound muffled by his lips and tongue. He drove it deeper, his hand urging her closer, demanding she press into his beefy cock.
Sagging into him, Nikki sucked his tongue, imprisoning it between her lips. He tasted minty clean and smelled even better, all woodsy with a hint of leather. His body was solid beyond belief. His shaft, ungodly rigid and thick, strained against his pants. His breathing was as ragged as hers. It wasn’t enough. She wanted to wreathe her arms around his powerful shoulders, getting as close as she could.
The chains rattled with her brutal attempts to get free. At the noise, Mitch pulled his mouth from hers, ending their kiss.
No. Nikki brushed her lips against his cheek. She burrowed her face in his collar’s opening, suckling his throat as he unlocked her shackles. With each of his movements, she caught a hint of his musk, whimpering in response. The bristly hairs on his jaw urged Nikki nearer. Freed, she pushed her fingers through his silky hair, using it to anchor him to her for another kiss.
Not having it, Mitch swept her into his arms, carrying her down the ste
ps and to the room’s double doors. The women giggled and squealed. The men were less romantically inclined, complaining loudly that they’d come here for a damn show.
The hall was cooler, the air less smoky, the patrons looking at her and Mitch in bewilderment. He carried her to another door Nikki hadn’t noticed before. It opened onto a back stairway lit by bulbs, not candles. Was he going to mount her in here? Did he want that as badly as she did? And what about Connor, where was he?
Mitch lowered Nikki to her feet and grabbed her wrist, using it to lead her down the stairs.
Not understanding, she held back. “What are you doing? Where are we going? Was what you just did a part of the perform—”
“Shut up,” he said, stopping abruptly, using his body to force hers against the wall. “Just shut up.”
He gave her no choice, his tongue was back in her mouth, his groin grinding against hers with a frenzy she’d received from few men. Heat poured through her. The world spun. To keep from sagging to her knees, Nikki slipped her arms around his shoulders.
Mitch grunted, thrusting his tongue even deeper to tame her uncivilized groan. He wrapped his hands around her wrists, pulling her arms from him, pinning them to the wall instead.
Wild, appreciative sounds spilled from her that his kiss couldn’t quiet. They went at it like school kids on a hormone high, neither of them wanting it to end. His tongue filled her mouth, hers filled his. They groaned and grunted, each of their bodies growing damp with raw lust fueled by too much previous heartache and need.
When Mitch was finally as breathless as she was and finished their kiss, Nikki snuggled her face to his neck, loving the sound of his pounding heart, how he held her protectively, almost tenderly, his hand stroking her hair. Her throat tightened with emotion, precluding any words, so she spoke with her body, rubbing her nipples gently against his chest, wrapping her leg around his.
That broke the magic. Once more, he grabbed her wrist.
“Wait,” she said.
