Second Chances (Blood Brothers #3)

by Manda Mellett

  Master Jonathan, co-owner of both Grade A Security and Club Tiacapan is a close friend of the Kassis family. Therefore, I am only too well aware his wife recently suffered an early miscarriage which her doctors have sadly put down to damage left over from the abuse she suffered when only a teenager. The fact Mia became pregnant at all is a medical miracle, and to lose the baby was devastating for the couple and particularly hard on Mia. But she’s a strong woman, brave enough to rise above the horrors of her past and Master Jonathan is an exceptional Dom. And, if I’m any judge of the matter, he’s already got Mia close to subspace where she’ll be able to let go of her pent up emotions, if only for tonight.

  The depth of their relationship makes me examine my predicament. Even if I wasn’t about to enter into a political arrangement tied up with a marital bow, would it have ever been possible for me to love a woman as much as Jon loves Mia? The depth of affection I can see clearly demonstrated by the light touch, though heavy mind fuck, of the man whipping his wife across the room? Have I even got that much emotion in me, or has the ability to feel anything been killed off by my single-focused upbringing? I’ve never cared for anyone in my life, except so far as it was obligatory. Raised separately, and differently from my brothers, it’s only in adult life that we’ve developed any closeness, but even now I would be hard pressed to say I regarded them in any other way except as the best of friends. Am I capable of feeling that elusive emotion, love?

  Shaking my head, I try to rid myself of self-analytical thoughts. I’m here to have fun, and forget everything else. Turning back to the bar, I watch Master Ralph pour drinks in his role as the bartender for the night and let my mind drift as the screams and sighs of submissives and the clear odours of sex and arousal waft across the room. I was right to come here tonight; I needed this.

  “Master K?”

  A soft voice at my elbow brings me out of my thoughts, and the sight causes a smile to come to my face. The girl, now kneeling in a perfect submissive pose at my feet is someone I know well, a regular in the club, and I’ve played with her on a number of occasions in the past. She’s my kind of sub, able to cope with and enjoy some of my more extreme tendencies. “Diamond. It’s lovely to see you. Stand, let me look at you!”

  Diamond, an experienced submissive, gracefully unfolds herself and rises to her feet, her head still bowed. She’s wearing one of her favoured baby doll costumes. I had been in two minds whether I was going to play tonight or simply enjoy the atmosphere and imbibe my senses, feeding on others’ pleasure, but suddenly I realise I can’t turn down the blatant offer in front of me. Placing my finger under her chin, I tilt her head towards mine, turning it this way and that, soaking up and enjoying the beauty in front of me. I know what I want to do. “Would you enjoy being bound tonight?”

  Her breathy voice and the dilation of her pupils would give me the answer even if she didn’t give voice to the words. “If it pleases you, Master K.”

  I find it pleases me very much. “Your limits the same as they were?”

  “Yes, Master K.” Her face is already growing flushed with excitement, and I suspect she’s already aroused.

  I regard her for a moment. “Are you comfortable with Shibari? With RACK?” From previous experience, I know that she is, but still have to check that she understands the concept of risk–aware consensual kink, and will place her total trust in me.

  She nods, then immediately corrects herself, knowing I need a verbal answer. “Yes, Master K. Thank you.” Now her cheeks take an even pinker tinge and I hear the slight breathlessness in her voice; her growing anticipation is impossible to miss. I have a well-earned reputation as a proficient rigger, having taken years to study and perfect the art, a sideline followed during my diplomatic trips abroad and knots being something I can practice in privacy, even in the palace. Her glazed eyes show me she is eagerly looking forward to giving me her complete submission tonight.

  With a nod and quick grin at Ralph—Diamond’s not the only one looking forward to this—I pick up my bag in one hand, take hers in the other, and lead her to an empty stage that I can see is already equipped with what I need.

  The babydoll costume looks good on her, but it has to go. My voice lowers to a dominant tone, “Strip!”

  I don’t wait to see her obey me. I know that she will, and from previous play, I’ve seen she’s an exhibitionist and not worried about showing her skin in public. Leaving her to undress, I open my bag and take out a coiled length of rope. Glancing behind and eying her, I realise the eight metres of red silk is going to enhance her flawless pale skin perfectly. I’m going to thoroughly enjoy myself tonight.

  She stands, naked, feet apart, hands grasped behind her in the small of her back, her eyes lowered to the floor, breathing deeply in and out as she gets herself into the correct mindset for our activity. I take a moment to enjoy the view, my eyes feasting on her generous curves; not a model-thin body, but one I know will become even more beautiful with the careful placement of my ropes. I drink in her the splendour of the exquisiteness nature gave her, considering how best to enhance it. As I take my time deciding the effect I’ll be aiming for; I sense people gathering around us, taking the opportunity to see a skilled rigger at work. I don’t object to an audience, they know as well as I do that it’s not just the end product which will be a thing of beauty, but the steps I’ll take to get there, and I’ve no objection to others sharing the experience with me. I may not have played here for a while, but my reputation hasn’t faded.

  Taking myself to a place generally kept hidden deep inside of me, I mimic her deep breathing for a short while, clearing my mind of everything else and ignoring the appreciative mutterings around us, focusing solely on her, my subject, my blank canvas. Moving slightly back from her, examining her from head to toe, I begin to see in my mind not only where I want to get to, but how I’m going to arrive there.

  At no point does Diamond raise her eyes or show impatience at my delay, which only heightens her level of expectation. If the red flush now spreading all over her body is anything to go by, she’s already enjoying the undivided attention of her Dom, even though, as yet, I haven’t laid a finger on her. My one word of command has readied her and excited her.

  The music changes, a rock ballad starts, its melodic beat with gentle rhythm increasing the air of entrancement surrounding us. It is time to begin. I inhale deeply once more then, taking a firm hold of the rope, I close the gap between us and start wrapping the red length around her wrists, fastening them in position, slipping my fingers between the silk and her skin to ensure the knot is firm, but not too tight. Her posture shows she trusts me implicitly, but her breathing has speeded up. She’s beginning to succumb to my control. Giving oneself totally over to a Dom, however experienced the sub, is a step full of anxiety, much like climbing over a barrier and launching into space for a bungee jump. Deep down she knows it’s safe, but the subconscious desire for survival makes her question the decision to take that leap, or, in this case, to give over her power. I smile to myself, knowing as she’s bound more tightly and I take more and more control, such fears will disappear, and there will be no room for nervous thoughts in her head, no room for thoughts at all. And on her journey to subspace, I’ll be rewarded by sinking into Dom space, a place where I’ll no longer be contemplating the burdens that otherwise plague me.

  Breathing in and out, letting all tensions fade away, I bring the rope around her body, binding it above and below her breasts, and tie a knot in the middle. I step away for a moment, taking a second to examine my handiwork. Diamond is tall for a woman, and her shapely curves cry out for the caress of my rope. Already her breasts protrude nicely, her nipples even now erect and just right for clamps. But refusing to be distracted from my primary task I make myself wait before adding such adornments. Moving back to her luscious form, mindful of the advanced state of relaxation I’ll be putting her in, I adjust the suspension hook above her and, utilising the loop I created while binding her chest,
attach her, so the hook is taking her weight. Using the pulley at the side of the stage, I hoist her up until her feet are just above the ground.

  Next, I draw the rope around her slender neck, taking care to tie it off so that the knot cannot slip and tighten, leaving it lying around her throat like a necklace. The rope lies loose, but the veiled threat of strangulation causes her breath to quicken. After ensuring there can be no pressure on her tender throat I lose no time as I move on, taking the red silk around her back and looping it tightly around her waist, and then around her ample hips.

  With a grin, I hold the rope against her measuring it and then place a knot in its length. Passing it under her crotch I know the place where I’ve tied it will rest against her clit when it’s secured it to the binding around her waist. At the moment, it’s only touching it gently, but any movement will cause stimulation. As my hand brushes against her, I check how wet she is, then give another satisfied smile. There’s no doubt she’s enjoying this.

  As I start to bind her left leg creating red diamond patterns, a beautiful contrast against her creamy white skin, I feel the transfer of power between us as though it is a physical thing. With my rope I’m embracing her, gradually taking away any opportunity for her to move, but we both know she retains all control. A mere uttering of her safeword would have her free in an instant, but she won’t need to use it, and neither will I have to use the sharp knife I’ve got ready, close at hand should I need it. Diamond is no stranger to suspension play or the feeling of giving her total trust to someone else. As I truss her tighter, she’ll lose any ability to move, and will achieve an endorphin high that, at this precise moment, is only in my hands to gift.

  So far I have avoided binding her knee, so when I reach her ankle, I’m able to bend it up. Sliding the silk up and through the pattern I’ve made I tie it off, her leg bent, and positioned slightly to the side. I then give the other leg the same treatment. It’s not only her getting high; I’m also achieving that incredible state as I feed off the total submission she’s offering to me so beautifully.

  Finally, I tie off the rope, tucking the end neatly against her body, and step back to better admire my handiwork, appreciating the red diamond patterns covering her skin, marking her as mine if only for tonight. I don’t hurry but take my time. A small step to my right which me to my toy bag, now unable to resist decorating her. I have a new pair of nipple clamps with red beads on the chains that will provide the finishing touch on my completed canvas. Her erect nipples don’t need much attention before I clamp them, they are already begging for my touch, her body tenses, and a small gasp escapes her lips as I pull and tweak them, and then at the sharp bite, she briefly tenses then relaxes again with a sigh. I grin, seeing her rush of arousal, my nostrils inhaling her personal scent; it’s heady stuff.

  Now she’s properly adorned I hoist her up higher into the air, and the action causes her to spin slightly. She’s an incredible sight; her legs are stretched wide, allowing me a full view of the moisture dripping from her pussy snaking like a snail trail down her thighs, glistening in the lighting as she rotates. I can’t suppress a smirk, knowing that the knot I placed above her clit will be rubbing against her gently as she swings, not enough to cause her to orgasm, but keeping her level of arousal high. The dazed expression and beatific smile on her face show me I’ve achieved my objective. She’s now deep in rope space.

  A gasp of approval from behind reminds me I have an audience, in all honesty, I’d forgotten they were there, and that they’re enjoying the same sight as me. As I’m viewing my subject and handiwork with pride, a voice sounds at my elbow.

  “Another faultless display, Master K. It’s inspiring to watch a master rigger at work.”

  “Thank you.” I turn and acknowledge Ralph, noting that he’s left his bartending role and is now wearing a red dungeon monitor’s vest. I can’t leave Diamond tied up for too long, and if I did, Ralph would soon be on my back reminding me to cut her down as the woman herself is in no state to be able to safeword out. The close attention paid to all subs is one of the reasons Club Tiacapan is such a safe and popular place to play.

  I almost wish I had a camera with me to record my work for prosperity, the artwork I’ve created tonight is one of my masterpieces, though it owes much to the curvaceous beauty who’s allowed me to shape her. But cameras and phones are strictly forbidden in the club for a very good reason. Not everyone appreciates the kink we engage in.

  After one last lingering look on my beautiful sub for the night, I bring her down, taking her off the suspension hook and gently lowering her to the floor. Using the knife, I quickly cut her out of her bindings, rubbing her legs and arms gently to get the blood flowing again. As she comes back to herself, she has tears coming from her eyes―clearly experiencing the highly emotional feeling reported by subs as the ropes are removed―protesting the sudden lack of restraint, so I replace the sense of the bindings by holding her tightly in my arms. Master Ralph appears with a bottle of water in hand, and I encourage her to take a good, long drink. I hold her for a long time until she’s moving, trying to straighten of her own volition.

  “Master K!” She turns her dazzling blue eyes onto mine, “That was, that…”

  I laugh softly, knowing she’s unable to describe the experience and sensations she’s just been through. For myself, the intense concentration the task involved and the feeling of inebriation as though I was drunk on her submission had certainly lessened the degree of tension that had its hold on me when I entered the club tonight. She doesn’t have to thank me; I should be the one thanking her.

  Chapter 11

  Zoe

  Although a million miles away from the expensive designer clothing I used to wear, I’m dressed smartly enough in a black trouser suit with a white blouse underneath and turned out better than I have been for months. I’m also wearing my dark-haired curly wig, thick dark foundation that hopefully hides the natural fairness of my skin tone, bright red lipstick and heavy eye makeup that unfortunately makes me look only just the right side of a whore. But I’ve achieved an image unlikely to be associated with that the old photograph of me displayed on the numerous posters I’ve spotted plastered all over the place. Some faded and weathered tattered and torn bearing witness to Ethan’s long search for me. But many are fresh, showing he’s still looking, and warning me—I can’t afford to relax.

  My journey to London, though stressful, is without incident, and I arrive safely at the Amahadian embassy without hassle at eleven forty-five for my twelve o’clock interview with Mr Kassis. Reporting to the reception desk, I can’t interpret the rather odd look I get from the receptionist when I identify myself, ask for the man in question and say why I’m there. But when he looks it up on the screen in front of him, he finds my name easily enough and confirms my appointment. Still throwing a strange glance at me, he nevertheless points the way I need to take. That necessitates, apparently, a rather thorough security check, requiring me to remove my jacket and shoes, and having to submit to being patted down, luckily by a female guard. But of course, I’ve never been to an embassy before, so assume they take security very seriously in this type of place.

  While they subject me to the measures designed to give them a feeling of safety, it has the opposite effect on me, and I start thinking about the lies I’ve told about my identity and the fact I’ve nothing with me to prove who I am. Would it be viewed as a crime that I’m asking for a job under false pretences?

  As I’m escorted up in a lift to the second floor, I worry I might fold and admit my deception if I’m questioned too hard, or will inadvertently give something away. On the other hand, if by some miracle I can pull this off and land the job I may have no need ever to worry about Ethan again. This contract is only for six months, but who knows? I might be able to get further work out there, or, with the money I could save from the generous salary, go somewhere different in the world. With those more positive thoughts in my head, I pull my shoulders back and do my be
st to look the confident professional I used to be. There’s too much riding on this for me to fail.

  The lift stops with an abrupt jolt, and after the seemingly necessary brief pause the doors slide open, and I step out into a waiting area where I’m politely invited to take a seat; presumably the downstairs reception has reported my arrival. At twelve noon precisely, the person with the plaque on the front of his desk announcing his name as Richard, and showing his job title as ‘Personal Assistant,’ gets to his feet and tells me, “His Excellency will see you now.”

  Excellency? What’s going on? Hang on; there’s been a mistake. I get to my feet but make no immediate a move to follow the man. Realising I’m not following, he turns back to gesture me forwards.

  “Er, sorry, I think there might be a mistake,” I start, rummaging in my bag as I scramble to get the copy of the email out, “I’m here to meet a Mr Kadar Kassis.”

  The look of disbelief he throws me is comical, and as I’m expecting him to apologise and take me to a different office, his next words floor me when he replies in a rather bored voice, “Yes, His Excellency, Sheikh Kadar Rushdi Sadiq al Kassis, Emir of Amahad is the man you’re meeting with today, madam.” He shakes his head as if I’m stupid.