Entrusted: A Drug of Desire Novel

by Sidney Bristol

  Raven stared at Lillian, so many questions knocking around in her head. How could she do that? How did it work? Why didn’t she fight for the man? But what really mattered, what she realized more than her questions was that Lillian was hurting. Her face was creased in sadness, her eyes were full of tears. She was strong in a way Raven didn’t know how to be. She struggled with her feelings, where Lillian owned them.

  What the hell.

  Raven crossed the space and wrapped her arms around the other woman. Lillian returned the hug, squeezing her tight. A sense of peace descended, and Raven took an easier breath. They stayed like that for several, long moments. Neither speaking, because they didn’t have to or need to.

  Lillian pulled away first, snagging a tissue off the vanity to blot her eyes.

  Raven searching the woman’s face for—something. Instead, Lillian smiled at Raven. She liked Lillian. She got Lillian in a way she hadn’t expected. Because of that bone headed man.

  “Give him hell, okay?” Lillian whispered.

  “Are you going to be okay?” There was no good reason for Raven to feel the familiarity she did with Lillian, and yet, spirits recognized each other, so who was she to judge?

  “Oh, I’ll be fine. I get weepy after I play sometimes. Are you playing tonight?”

  “Poppy wants me to play with her friend Kyle, but I’m not sure about it. I’ve only ever played with—you know.” Raven leaned against the counter and shrugged. This whole exchange felt oddly normal. It was as though a sense of kinship laced them together.

  “Playing with friends is different than playing with lovers. With a lover, there’s a give and take, a push and pull. Playing with friends is about meeting a need, or having fun, sometimes trying new things. It’s different, but they all serve a purpose.”

  “And you? What is it you do?”

  “Here? I’m a house slave, something like hotel staff, I guess.”

  “So people can just…what? Play with you if they want?”

  “No.” Lillian chuckled. “It’s our prerogative if we play or not. I choose to. More than the others. Is that healthy? Maybe—maybe not.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be? Sorry, I’m asking a lot of questions.”

  “It’s fine. So, there’s this thing called sub frenzy. Or top frenzy. It’s chasing the high you experience when playing. You see it a lot in new people who will play with everyone and anyone. I’ve never really grown out of it, or maybe I just enjoy it. Either way, it means there’s always someone in my partner pool to fall in love with.”

  “Partner pool?”

  “It’s what I call the people I’m currently playing with.”

  “Oh. Well…how many do you play with?”

  “No more than ten, no less than three. More than ten and it gets hard to manage schedules. Less than three and…I’m going to do what I did with him.”

  “Oh.”

  “And just because those are my rules doesn’t mean they’re right for you.”

  Raven nodded, mulling things over. She wasn’t sure she’d ever really understand.

  Raven flicked her thigh with the tiniest of canes and hissed. “Ouch.”

  “Stings, doesn’t it?” The woman Poppy had introduced as her best friend, Kyle, held out her hand for the evil stick.

  “It does.” Raven pulled the end back once more and popped her leg with it. Yup. It stung. “I might like it.”

  “You and Poppy, you bitches love this thing. It’s not my favorite.” Kyle accepted the toy and put it back in her bag.

  “Oh, whatever. You like it, too.” Poppy rolled her eyes.

  “Not like you do.” Kyle waggled her finger at Poppy.

  Poppy merely laughed.

  “Okay, what else do you want to see? I didn’t bring a lot of stuff tonight because, well…” Kyle shrugged. She appeared to know what was happening, but Raven wasn’t sure if it was because everyone knew, or because Kyle was Poppy’s best friend.

  “Why all the kitchen utensils?” Raven asked.

  “Oh, my pervertables collection.” Kyle grabbed a bunch of spatulas, spoons and other common utensils and laid them on the table they’d confiscated for this show and tell. She laid the bundle out and picked up a plastic spoon, except the spoon part of it was larger and almost flat. “This is just a rice paddle. It’s really evil to use for spanking. These little bumps on this side? They’re really good for dragging across skin and giving someone a more extreme spanking.”

  One by one, Kyle took Raven through the varied uses for the kitchen utensils. She’d never look at a spatula the same way ever again. The girls were opening her mind to the unorthodox use of just about everything she’d ever come into contact with.

  “Want to try anything out? Play with it? Do you have any interest in using it on me?” Kyle asked when they’d emptied the bag.

  Raven considered the last question. Poppy and Kyle had explained to her in greater detail that there were roles beyond the male Dominant and female submissive in their circles. Kyle was a switch, an interesting paradox of everything, it seemed like.

  While the idea of telling another person what to do sounded interesting to Raven, in theory …there was no desire in her to be the one doing stuff to another person. She was perfectly happy where she was, on the receiving end of things. Though she wasn’t sure she wanted more than one play partner, she also wanted to explore more of this part of herself. Her conversation with Lillian was on repeat in her mind.

  “I think I’d like to feel some of these. Is that okay?” She picked up the rice paddle and ran her fingers over the bumps. It didn’t seem all that bad.

  “Is your guy okay with that?” Kyle asked.

  “Why would I need his permission?” Raven frowned.

  Kyle glanced at Poppy, brows lifting.

  “What she means is, you and—José—have been playing together. He might not want you to play with anyone else without being asked about it,” Poppy explained.

  “I don’t need his permission to do anything.” If Raven’s hair wasn’t up, she’d have tossed it over her shoulder. Sure, she’d messed up and lied to Matías. She owned her mistakes. But in a few weeks—she could be Lillian. Another woman he’d discarded in his whirlwind lifestyle. Her heart ached for Lillian, and herself.

  “Okay,” Kyle said, drawing the one word out. “If that’s what you want to do. I just don’t want to get my head snapped off because some guy didn’t want to share his toys.”

  “I’m not his to share.” The words stung, but Raven knew there was truth to them. If he’d wanted her, he’d have at least admitted it earlier. Instead, he wanted to wait until this was all over to decide what they were. In other words, he wanted to have his cake and eat it, without committing to buying the whole thing.

  “All right, then. You want to do this over your clothes? Or take them off?” Kyle held out her hand for the paddle.

  The idea of being even semi-nude, despite the dimness of the room and the state of undress of the other players, still made Raven nervous. It was silly to play over the dress, though. It was expensive enough she didn’t want it ruined, and on the off-chance Matías let her keep the wardrobe, it might be the nicest thing she owned.

  “I think I’ll take the dress off, but keep the slip on. Will you get the zipper for me?”

  Poppy stepped in to help her out of the dress. The thin, black silk slip could have passed for a nightgown, but it at least covered her from thigh to breast, even if it didn’t feel like it.

  Kyle held two loops of leather in her hand and a couple of metal carabineer snaps.

  “Okay, I want you to stand facing this cross. These are suspension cuffs. They don’t fasten, they just slip around your wrists and give you something to hold onto. This way, if you want to get away, you slide your hands out and we’re done. But if you want to kind of fight back or have something to restrain you, they’re there.” Kyle clipped two blue loops of leather to the eyebolts mounted into the St. Andrew’s cross and held one out for Rav
en to see.

  Raven stepped toward the cross, eyeing the cuffs. Matías hadn’t restrained her yet, but it wasn’t that big of a deal, was it? She wiggled her hands into each loop and grasped the tail of leather, giving them a tug. The cuffs tightened a little, but held her securely.

  “You know the traffic light system? Red means stop. Yellow’s I’m not sure about this?” Kyle asked.

  “Yes,” Raven replied.

  “Do you have any limits you want to tell me about? We aren’t going to do much, mostly sensation on your back, ass and legs, but if there’s something I should know—tell me.”

  “I don’t think so.” Raven shook her head. “Am I supposed to call you Ma’am?”

  “Oh, fuck no.” Kyle nearly bent over double laughing. “I don’t do the title bullshit unless it’s someone I’m really involved with. Kyle is fine.”

  “Okay.” Inwardly Raven breathed a sigh of relief. It felt wrong to call anyone but Matías ‘Sir’ or any other honorific.

  “Oh, and if you’re the type that needs to cuddle and be held after playing, that’s what Poppy is for. I’m not good at that stuff.” Kyle had a gruff personality, but Raven liked her abrasiveness. Kyle would let you know exactly where you stood with her, and there were no questions about it. “Sound good?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Give me a second to arrange everything, and we’ll get started.” Kyle turned around and stepped out of Raven’s field of vision. She could hear Kyle at the table, setting up and chatting with Poppy, which left Raven free to settle into the moment.

  From Raven’s position on the cross, she could look through the arms to see the rest of the dungeon. Her back was toward a corner, which gave her some measure of privacy. Considering some of the nude women playing though, she doubted anyone would recognize her.

  She kept her gaze away from the cluster of men at the farthest point in the dungeon, in an alcove of sofas. The lights there were lower, providing some anonymity for their criminal guests. Matías was there. In her mind, he watched her, but in reality, he was probably too busy to notice she existed. She was part of the story, a piece of the background, nothing worth paying attention to. It stung, but she shouldn’t have expected—or hoped—for more. She could only blame herself for creating a budding romance in her head.

  “Okay, ready?” Kyle asked from directly behind her.

  “I am.” Raven blew out a breath and shoved her nerves aside.

  “I’m not going to tell you what I’m using on you. You have to guess what toy it is, and when you do, we’ll change it up.” Kyle grabbed the hem of her slip and pulled it up, exposing her bottom. She smacked one cheek then the other, repeatedly.

  Raven grasped the leather strap, trying to hold back her yelp of surprise, but it came out through her clenched teeth anyway.

  “The rice spoon. Paddle. Rice paddle.” Raven tripped over her words getting it out.

  “You’re right.” Kyle stepped to the side of the cross and showed her the white paddle. She grinned and turned toward the rest of her implements. “Okay, see if you can tell me what…this is.”

  Raven took a deep breath. She could hear movement behind her, but there was no whoosh like with the flogger or belt.

  A single stroke of white-hot pain licked up the back of her left thigh. Raven screamed, arching her back and kicking her foot up.

  “Hey, no kicking.” Whatever Kyle was using, she flicked it against the back of Raven’s ankle.

  The pain was immediate, sharp and bright. It registered at that uncomfortable line between pain and pleasure. She pressed her thighs together, unable to determine if she liked it, or if it was the most evil creation in all the world.

  Evil.

  “Evil stick!”

  “Damn, you’re too good at this game. I’ll just have to pick something harder…”

  Lillian was right. There was a different feel to this experience than with Matías, but there was no denying that she liked it just the same.

  Matías peered through the people at the scene across the dungeon. He couldn’t see what Kyle was doing, but he had a perfect view of Raven’s face as she tensed in pain and threw her head back in laughter. His fist curled and uncurled.

  When he got his hands on her…

  “Hey, José, man, can I get a word with you?” Damien’s voice sliced through the conversation, arresting Matías’ attention.

  “Sure.”

  Damien nodded toward the archway leaning to the terrace over the gardens.

  “Excuse us,” Matías said to the group at large. Victor merely nodded at him, as if he were the keeper of them all.

  Matías and Damien strolled through the archway. A few people had dispersed to here for conversation. It was amazing the crowd Yamamoto had pulled together for this.

  “You’re slipping,” Damien said in a low voice as they exited onto the terrace.

  In the daylight, the gardens were a work of art. At night, it was full of looming shadows. On some of the largest retreats, Yamamoto would have a lighting ceremony and gas lamps illuminated the gardens. He hadn’t seen one of the ceremonies, but if they were something Yamamoto had put together, it would be breathtaking. The man had a flare for the dramatic.

  “I know.” Matías knew it, but he’d hoped he was able to hold it together a little while longer.

  “What’s wrong?” Damien asked.

  “Raven.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Damien’s brows rose.

  “Not wrong with her. Wrong with me.” Matías sighed and leaned against the banister.

  “Oh. I didn’t realize it was that bad. Kind of quick, don’t you think?” Damien rested his hip on the rail next to Matías.

  “You’re one to talk.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m just worried about you.” Damien held up his hands.

  “Someone should be.” Matías scrubbed his face. He’d plunged down this slippery slope and there was no going back. He was in love with a woman he might not be able to trust, and one who didn’t know the rules. Like, No playing without Sir’s permission.

  “How can we fix it?”

  Take out my heart?

  “I’ve got to get my head into the op. It wasn’t supposed to be deep cover like this. I wasn’t really ready. I thought I’d be on a beach, sipping a beer by now.”

  “Game face,” Damien whispered.

  Matías shoved his problems deep down.

  “I’m good. Now, about that deal?” Matías pitched his voice lower.

  “I don’t know, man. I’m just not sold on this guy.” Damien shook his head and glanced toward the door.

  Matías followed his gaze and found Victor standing in the doorway, his face in profile, lit by moonlight.

  “José, a word?” Victor said.

  “We’ll finish this later.” Damien held out his hand and performed a series of palm slaps before making his stage exit back into the house.

  “This home is lush and luxurious,” Victor said when they were alone.

  “Yamamoto spares nothing.” Matías leaned his arm on the banister and waited. Victor wouldn’t have followed him out here if there wasn’t something he wanted to say in private.

  The man slowly approached him, swirling another glass of wine. The man had put back at least two bottles since the beginning of the evening, which was unusual.

  “Our time is growing short,” Victor said, switching to Spanish.

  “Is it? The evening just began.”

  “I’m not talking about tonight.” Victor placed his glass on the banister and leaned against it, surveying the gardens. “I’m concerned about your buyers. Tyrone, he’s a man of the streets. Maybe not a good business man. Not right for the job.”

  Shit.

  “I’ve seen Tyrone handle business. He’s worked his way up. He knows how to run things.”

  Victor shook his head, still not convinced. “I don’t like the Yamamoto ties. It would be a boon to be able to sell to the Japanese, but what if we sell to the wro
ng brother?”

  Shit and fuck.

  “I’ve been selling to these men for years. I’m offended, Victor. You come to me, wanting me to sell your product, to partner with you, and now you have issue with who I sell to?” Matías shook his head and scowled. “You said you wanted to meet my biggest buyers. Well, now you have.”

  “I’m concerned about the longevity of their business. Tyrone will be replaced by the next thug with some business sense and ambition. Yamamoto?” Victor shook his head. “The Japanese work differently than we do. If we make the wrong move with them, we might find ourselves with direct opposition. This is too important.”

  “You clearly don’t need me, if you already know who to sell to.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. As my partner, we need to be able to discuss these things.”

  “I thought you were bringing me in to sell and deliver.”

  “That’s not just it.” Victor straightened and turned toward him. “We’re bringing many operations back in-house. We need people we can trust, that I can work with.”

  In-house? What the fuck? Seriously?

  Forty years ago, in the 70s, the cartels had a monopoly on the production process for heroin. They owned the fields, paid the workers, the harvesters, the trucks that transported the crop to the plant, everything up to distributing to their buyers. When the War on Drugs was declared that model of business became an easy target, so they’d chopped it all up. This way, if a plantation was taken out, it didn’t halt business. It was a smart way of operating—if expensive. Prices were rising across the world, and South America was a hotbed of activity. Were they trying to lower costs by controlling more of the process?

  “I think I’ve proven that I’m trustful.” He gestured to the house. Matías had allowed Victor into his most personal life.

  “You have, which is why I think you should come visit me. In Columbia. We’re building something new. You should be part of it.” Victor took a business card out of his suit pocket and jotted down a bunch of numbers on the back. “Here. We’re leaving. If you want to continue this partnership, you will have to act fast. Consider this your second interview.”