She joined her friend Lindsey, who sat with a few others, watching from a bench as Lindsey’s boyfriend Ben and the Professor took turns practicing with a pair of floggers. Cami, shackled face-in to the big I-beam column the club members used as a whipping post, seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. The Professor was showing Ben techniques, not going for power, so their willing victim wasn’t even breaking a sweat.
Beth stretched, trying to ignore the ache in her hands; she wanted to be the one giving that whipping. “I was going to ask if y’all wanted to throw on some civvies and go for coffee and dessert, but it looks like Cami’s enjoying her light massage too much to leave.”
Ben attempted a figure eight pattern just then, and Cami yipped as she flinched. “Fuck a duck, you wrapped one on the side of my boob! I was not expecting that.”
“Camilla,” the Professor chided.
“Fuck a duck, sir. Seriously, Ben, I’m not in a space to enjoy that at all. Try not to wrap unless you mean to. Depth perception is your friend.”
Beth and Lindsey had winced in unison along with Cami. Having a whip land where it shouldn’t was rarely fun, and without the endorphin haze of a typical scene she must have felt every bit of that sting in the least sexy way possible. A wrapped fall usually slapped around the body with unexpected force, and Cami wasn’t wearing much to protect her from misplaced throws. Tiny glossy-red boy shorts and a matching collar, that was all. It was a good look on her.
“Sorry, Cami.” Ben flexed his shoulders, twirling the floggers a few times and shifting his grip. “This is harder than it looks.”
“Can I have a turn, Professor?” Beth called to Ivan.
He glanced toward her, and she could see his mouth doing its not-quite-smiling thing at the corners. The look he got when he was thinking about what he was supposed to say, as opposed to what he really wanted to say.
“May I have a turn,” he finally corrected her, deadpanning the delivery. Or maybe he was just that serious about grammar. With Ivan, it could be hard to tell. “If it’s all right with Camilla.”
“Who? Beth?” Cami craned her neck to see, then smiled. “Oh, hell yeah!”
Ben handed over the floggers with good grace. Beth weighed them in her hands, finding the balance, letting her fingers curve into the warm leather grips as she stepped into place behind Cami’s slender bare back. Cami wound her hands around her rope restraints, bracing herself for a moment, then exhaling slowly as Beth took a practice swing in the air to gauge her distance.
She’d been where Cami was, so many times. Beth still loved the wicked kiss of the whip, the slice of the cane on her thighs or the snap of a riding crop on the curve of her ass. But lately, she had needed this more. Letting her shoulders relax, she flicked the twin floggers in a quick volley of figure-eight blows. Cami gasped, and the tiny sound of pain and surprise was like a shot of pure adrenaline to Beth’s libido. She would have liked to lean in, to press things and cause some actual pain, but Cami was only on loan. One didn’t damage the toys of others without express permission. Easing up a little, Beth warmed up her borrowed sub’s back, letting her work her way slowly into headspace where the pain could mean something else.
Cami, her friend and sometime shopping partner, didn’t really appeal to Beth sexually. But as a platonic sub, she was delightful. Earnest, responsive, eager to please and cheerfully wicked. Beth laid a pattern of fine red welts on Cami’s back and thighs, wishing she could find someone like that...wishing she could be someone like that. By the time the welts had merged into a field of angry pink, Cami was moving with her and meeting each strike with a needy whimper. It was the whimper that came right before she started flinching away, Beth could tell. If Cami were her own sub she would switch gears now, move to some alternate form of torture, or perhaps reward her in some way. It wasn’t her place to do that, however. Regretfully, she handed the floggers back to the Professor, thanking him.
“You’re welcome.” He was already moving past her as he said it, ignoring the whips and heading for his submissive to press the length of his body against hers. Wrapping one hand around her ponytail, whispering into her ear. Beth caught herself staring and deliberately looked away.
No help there. Ben and Lindsey were sitting on the spectator’s bench, making out like teenagers, oblivious to their surroundings.
Gross. Get a room.
She wiped a tear away and swallowed hard, realizing it was absolutely time to go.
* * *
Big Dog and Sir Tobias were blocking the door when Beth tried to exit the club. Confronting some nonmember, it sounded like. She rolled her eyes at their broad backs, wondering whether to wait it out or push her way through the two-man blockade. Normally she was the first to appreciate the tight security at the club, but right now she just wanted to go home and they were in the way.
Peeking between the two massive bodies, she spied their target just as he did something incredibly stupid.
“I just. Want. My. Phone.”
Ed crossed his arms and glared at the big men, as if he wanted to be tossed on his ass.
“Ed!”
“Huh?” Big Dog swiveled to look at Beth, bringing her into the scene. “Oh. Sorry, ma’am. I’ll walk you to your car as soon as we deal with this.”
She’d come to the club first as a submissive, not a Dominant or even a switch, so the “ma’am” thing was recent and still tickled her pink. As pink as Big Dog’s naked butt the time she’d paddled him over the spanking horse. On duty he was a terrifying bouncer, but once inside the club he was happy to be just about anybody’s bitch. God love him.
“You can stand down. He’s a friend of mine.”
Sir Tobias was still facing off against Ed. “It doesn’t matter whose friend he is, if he’s not on the list. And there was no one on the list tonight. Rules are rules—nonmembers need to be sponsored.”
Ed had dropped his belligerent stance and was gawking at Beth. He looked like a mouth-breather again. It was gratifying, though, she had to admit. If nothing else, she knew somebody found her attractive this evening.
“I left my phone in Ivan’s car,” Ed mumbled. “I wasn’t following you or anything.”
A deep, almost subsonic thumping announced another car before it turned the corner and cruised past them.
“That’s his second pass tonight,” Big Dog remarked.
“Can I at least sponsor Ed as far as the entryway, so he won’t get drive-by shot while I’m tracking down the Professor to find his keys?”
“There hasn’t been a shooting on this block in years,” Sir Tobias protested, but he stepped back. “If we let him in, it’s on you, Beth.”
“Gotcha. C’mon, Ed.”
“I...” He clamped his mouth shut and looked at the bouncers on the step above him. After a few seconds he continued in a whisper directed toward Beth, as if the guys couldn’t hear it perfectly well. “Is this some sort of fight club? Because I heard some weird noises coming from in there.”
Oh, Ed. Beth snickered despite herself and extended a hand between Big Dog and Sir Tobias. “Not exactly. Except for the part where we don’t talk about what happens. And sometimes the bruising. Come with me.”
* * *
Ed extended his hand, clasping Beth’s slender fingers and allowing her to tug him between the two bouncers and into the dimly lit front hallway of the building.
This must have led to offices, once. There was a corridor with some doors leading off it, a stairway leading up into darkness. The one light fixture was industrial, a single bulb hanging under a galvanized shade, with a wire cage around it.
Double wooden doors, covered in strata of peeling paint like a geological map, led to the space where the music was coming from. Not Latin techno, at the moment, but a fast-paced drum and stringed instrument piece that Ed could only classify as “world music.” Each door sported a row of multipaned windows near the top, and Ed could see the flashing lights he’d spotted from his car. He noticed all that on one level,
but most of his other levels were occupied noticing how good Beth’s hand felt. Long, strong fingers. Skin warm but dry, even though her forehead and chest—so much chest, oh my God—bore a light sheen of sweat.
“Sounds perky for a fight club,” he quipped. A muffled wail punctuated his remark, followed by a series of moans and sharp cracking noises. Crack! Moan... Crack! Moan...
Beth smiled, so cool butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “Probably best if you wait out here.”
“Yeah, but—”
“There’s stuff you won’t be able to unsee.”
But I don’t want to stop holding your hand.
He hadn’t held a girl’s hand in...forever, pretty much. High school, freshman year of college? He hadn’t thought about it, but his more recent girlfriends hadn’t been girlfriends. He’d had a roommate with benefits who left after she got her master’s, then an infrequent fuckbuddy arrangement with one of the other aerospace engineers at work. But no holding hands. Suddenly it seemed like the greatest thing, the thing he’d been missing most. Beth’s hand felt really, really nice. He wished they were in a park or something, just walking.
She’s got cleavage down to there, no bra, boots like a Dominatrix in a porno...and I want to hold her hand. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Um. You planning to let go any time soon?”
“Oh. Sorry.”
She gave his fingers a squeeze before slipping through the door. Freaking about the squeeze carried Ed through almost a solid thirty seconds of waiting before he gave in to temptation and went after her.
One foot in the door, and Ed was slammed with sensations he had no capacity to process. Sight. Sound. Smell. Context.
His brain went through a series of adjustments, realizations, questions, in an instant. Oh. Ah! Oh...oooohhhh. Okay. Wait, what the actual fuck?
It was his friend Cami doing all that moaning. Cami, chained to a pillar halfway across the warehouse floor. Moaning because she was getting whipped. With a bullwhip. By...Ivan?
“What the fucking fuck?”
He didn’t mean to say it aloud, but he drew attention. A guy in leather pants and a bright orange vest strode toward him, glaring daggers. “Private club. You have about one second to leave before I call the cops. And where the hell are Dog and Tobias?” The last part seemed directed at the room in general, not at Ed, but the guy’s tone was so insistent he found himself answering anyway.
Ed pointed in the direction of the front step. “They’re out there.”
“Carlos, he’s with me.” Beth walked over from the little group near Cami and Ivan, dangling car keys. “This is Ed. Ed, this is Master Carlos. He’s the DM tonight.”
“DM? Dungeon Master? What?”
“Dungeon monitor,” she explained, failing to bite back a smile. “He makes sure the rules are followed and all the equipment is being used properly.”
“Was he on the list?” Carlos demanded.
“No, he just came by to get his phone from the Professor’s car. I thought he would wait in the hallway where I put him, but I guess he got curious. I can’t really blame him. I’ll give him the grand tour if he likes.”
“You’re vouching for him, then?”
Beth nodded, giving Ed a once-over. “Yeah, I think he’s trustworthy.”
“Aegis isn’t going to like it.”
Ed had no idea who Aegis was, but Beth didn’t seem thrilled with Carlos bringing him up, and she lit into him. Ed tuned their heated conversation out, taking the room in one guarded glance at a time. Cami and Ivan with the whip. And that was Lindsey’s too-red hair, so the guy whose lap she was straddling was probably Ben. A big wooden X stood in one corner of the vast room, with chains and shackles hanging off it where wrists and ankles would logically go. Nobody was fastened to it at the moment.
To his left, half a dozen people watched as a guy paddled another guy who was strapped to a spanking horse. Ed knew it was a spanking horse because he’d seen one in Balls ‘n’ Chain, a kinky comic that was popular with the gamer set. And he’d seen Lindsey cuffed over a real one at the latest BeastCon, dressed as a character from that very comic. Any hint of sophistication he thought he’d gained by reading the thing had vanished when he walked through the door to the not-fight club. This was real. From where Ed stood, he could see multiple whips, at least four sets of naked boobs, and a bare cock in a metal restraining device. Breaking it down that way was the only way he could register it. One dick, hard and in torture device. Eight—no, ten boobs, six saggy, two perky, two Cami’s so I can’t look over there. Four pairs leather pants. Two pairs chaps with nothing under them. Twelve pairs black boots, various. So many butts. Holy mackerel, all those naked butts...
Oh God, and he’d missed the entire corner over to his right, where another handful of people were hanging out on couches next to a mini-fridge, drinking sodas and water from bottles. Not nearly as interesting as the rest of the room, so Ed turned his attention back to the closest vignette. The paddle guy was unshackling his friend from the spanking horse and pulling him up into a kiss.
Oh hey, make that two dicks in torture devices.
Holy shit.
“Ed? You gonna make it?”
“Holy shit.”
Beth laughed, the sound ringing in the sex-scented air. “Come on. I’m going to ask you to sign a confidentiality agreement in a minute anyway, so you might as well see what you’re agreeing not to talk about.”
Carlos shook his head, backing off. “But the next time your Mistress tells you to stay somewhere, you stay, got it?”
“Carlos! I can handle this. Thank you.”
As Carlos walked away, Beth gripped Ed’s wrist, not just leading him but practically dragging him away in the direction of the couch area.
Ed dug in his heels, resisting until Beth turned to face him again. “Did he just call you my Mistress?”
Chapter Four
Beth hadn’t thought of Ed as big before that moment. She was on the tall side, he was five foot ten or so, and in her dangerous heels she looked him straight in the eye. More important, Ed didn’t usually put himself out there to be noticed. He was the grumpy, scruffy guy in the corner. Presence simply wasn’t his thing.
Or so she’d thought. Now he was standing up for himself, and it made all the difference in the world. He’d become an immovable object, which made her perverse self long to become the countering immutable force. Not her role, though. She let go and kept walking toward the neutral zone, where a small filing cabinet stood beside the fridge. Ed was forced to follow or be left standing alone.
“He probably made the assumption based on our body language,” she continued when he caught up. “Plus we don’t get vanilla people in here, so it was natural for Carlos to think of assigning you a role that made sense in this context.” Rifling through the cabinet’s top drawer, she pulled out a confidentiality release, a liability waiver, an emergency contact form, and two copies of the club’s rules.
Ed lifted his eyebrows. “I give off the submissive vibe? I mean, I’ve read that comic, I know what he was implying.” He took the documents and looked them over while she rooted in the drawer for a clipboard and pen.
Did he give off that vibe? No, not particularly. She could picture it, though. Ed pulling against restraints, cords on his neck standing out as he took a lashing. Ed on his knees, begging to serve her. Begging to come. It could go that way—she could chisel away the disinterested, grumpy surface and find Ed’s presence. Once the image lodged itself in her mind, she couldn’t shake it loose. Nor could she quell the stirring of wet, heated interest at the idea.
“You don’t give off a vibe at all. Carlos could see I’m in more of a Domme mode tonight, so he made the logical leap.” Finding only a pen, she handed him that and offered her back as a flat surface for signing. The paper was cool against her skin, but Ed’s hand was warm as he held it in place and filled out the contact information, then scratched his signature on each page.
“Tonight?
Wait, so you have different modes for different nights?”
“I swing both ways,” she admitted, straightening and taking the signed pages back from Ed. “Not on any particular schedule or anything. That copy of the rules is yours.” Unsure what to do with the paperwork, Beth shoved it all into the drawer for somebody else to deal with later. At least Ed was now official. He folded the rules page and put it in his pocket. She hoped it wouldn’t fall out.
“Like having different characters for LARPing.”
“Uh...” Looking around the club, Beth couldn’t deny the analogy was apt. “Yes. LARPing for cool, sexy people, though.”
Ed chuckled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it in a pejorative way. I’ve been known to LARP.”
“Of course you have.”
Still smiling, Ed leaned in as if he were sharing a confidence. “It’s all about those giant foam weapons.”
He’s flirting. Beth’s inner teenager flailed and squealed, forcing her to accept that she’d wanted him to do so. Tonight, however, she was inclined to wield power, not cede it. She took his wrist again, daring him with her eyes to pull back. “We have giant weapons too. If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll demonstrate a few of them.”
“Oh. Wow.”
Over Ed’s shoulder, Beth saw a wave of heads turning as a murmur of interest fluttered through the room. Aaron had just walked through the door, like a king returning to the castle after a tough few weeks of battle.
“Oh, fuck.”
“What?”
“Don’t turn around. Aaron just showed up. My ex.”
“Awkward.”
“I was worried he might. What’s awkward is he doesn’t accept that we’re done.” Awkward wasn’t the right word, but it would do in the moment.
“So you were his Mistress? Did you fire him?”
The Principle of Desire (The Science of Temptation) Page 3
