Celebrating it All (Punishment Pit Book 8)

by Livia Grant

  While Dimitri was a handsome blond and the ladies of the club would love his charm, he was way too shy and reserved to be a showman. Lukus didn’t spend too much time with him.

  He spent the most time with Myles who was the oldest and most experienced Dom with a lot of the more hardcore kinks that members of the Punishment Pit played in. On the surface that made him a good candidate. His favorite kinks were blood play, edge play with knives and needles, and he was even into branding. All of that was in his pro column. In the con column was that many of the submissives at The Pit weren’t as hardcore and when questioned, Lukus doubted Myles would be able to adjust his style for the many other types of submissives.

  Next, he’d met Kaiden, a good looking Asian-American who on the surface seemed a possibility. Unlike everyone else, Kaiden hadn’t always lived in California and was open to moving nearer his family on the East Coast. The fact that he was an EMT during the day was a great plus for Lukus since safety was always important, and his kink experience seemed pretty mainstream. There was just something he couldn’t put his finger on, and when he glanced at Tiffany as Kaiden left, she wrinkled her nose and shook her head slightly.

  There went Kaiden from his list.

  While he enjoyed talking to Weston, Black Light’s Shibari expert, Lukus knew in his gut the Dom would be great at the art and showmanship part of running the shows, but a few simple questions uncovered that Weston hated to see submissives cry. Since literally every sub punished center stage at The Pit cried… it eliminated Weston from contention.

  That left Santiago, a tall, burly Hispanic. As the interview opened, Lukus liked that Santiago proved he knew a lot about the lifestyle in general. In fact, as he dug in, he found Santiago was into the more high-protocol rules of the BDSM world which was a good fit for The Pit. Lukus wasn’t upset at all that he admitted to having a full-time sub and they were in a TPE, total power exchange, relationship. Santiago even assured him that playing with other subs wouldn’t be a problem at all as he set the rules in their relationship.

  That was when things started to go off the rails a bit and within a few minutes, he felt Tiffany squeezing his thigh under the table hard enough that he got her message loud and clear.

  Listening to Santiago talk about his sub sleeping in cages, being whipped during pony play, and having extended periods of extreme chastity scared the shit out of his wife. That meant he’d scare many of the submissives at The Pit, which on the surface wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, since it was after all a place for hardcore punishments. It was more that his mannerisms reminded him too much of the Dom he’d already fired.

  Santiago was off the list.

  Lukus would be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed after meeting the DMs. He’d known it would be a long shot to find the perfect Dom, but he had at least hoped to find someone groomable that he could start training for the future. One thing he had successfully learned in this visit was just how hard it would be to find the right leader for the shows at The Punishment Pit. As much as he’d hated hearing it, Elijah was right. He was looking for the Goldilocks of Doms—they had to be just right.

  “I’m really sorry things didn’t turn out.”

  He heard the twang of regret in Tiffany’s voice as she laid her head on his shoulder, leaning in closer, reminding him what was really important right now—and it wasn’t The Pit.

  Wrapping his arm around her and pulling her closer, he replied, “I’m sorry, too, but I have more important things to worry about anyway.”

  “You do, Sir?” She smiled up at him.

  “Many more important things.” When she remained quiet, he added. “For starters, I haven’t played with this luscious body in hours. How am I going to make sure you go home walking funny if I don’t service you properly and often?”

  Lukus loved the full-body shiver he felt quivering through her.

  I can smell her excitement and we haven’t even made it to play in the main part of the club yet.

  “Second, there is this matter of the forty-seven cuss words I’ve allowed to go unchecked over the last month that need to be resolved. I think the proper way of describing this is that your sassy mouth has cashed a check that your beautiful ass is about to pay the price for.”

  As expected, that got her attention. Her sexual shivers turned to squeezes as she hugged him tighter. It didn’t escape him that she wasn’t trying to change his mind about being punished. She may not be ready to say it out loud yet, but he’d known for some time that his previously novice submissive had started craving the sweet bite of pain he delivered. Tiff may never be a hard-core masochist like her best friend, Brianna, but he’d learned how to play her body perfectly to wring every ounce of pleasure out of her through his special brand of dominance and intimacy.

  He was about to add a new twist to their plot.

  “But perhaps most important, I see you’re in desperate need of a reminder that every inch of this body is mine, and mine alone. I know you’re self-conscious when we play at The Pit because you know so many people there, but we don’t have that problem here. And I’m going to enjoy demonstrating my ownership over you, especially with that asshole you couldn’t stop ogling at the bar about fifteen minutes ago. Don’t think for one minute I didn’t see you checking him out.”

  That got her sitting bolt upright. Interesting that she remained silent.

  “Good girl. I see you aren’t going to deny it.”

  He adored the blush on her cheeks as she finally tried to defend herself. “But I do deny it. I was just looking to see if there was someone else here who might be able to take the Master Dom job, since it was clear the DMs we had met weren’t going to work out.”

  “Sure… likely story,” he retorted, but even as he teased her, something clicked into place. Maybe she was onto something. “Wait, are you just joking around with me, or… what even made you think that about the guy?”

  His wife was sizing him up, trying to decide if they were still slipping into play mode or if it was a serious question. Proving she could read his body language every bit as much as he could read hers, she answered seriously.

  “I guess he just exudes that same kind of Alpha ‘I’m in charge here’ vibe that you do when you walk into a room. It’s the same kind of vibe Jaxson puts out. And Elijah. And while they were all nice guys, none of the DMs you talked to tonight had the kind of confidence it takes to lead the shows.”

  “Oh, and from across the room, you think that asshole who kept eyeing you up has what it takes?”

  Tiffany grinned, proving once again she was fearless. “Well, as you pointed out, I was checking him pretty carefully… you know… for research purposes. And…”

  “Some bride you are, looking at other men on our honeymoon.” Her body language told him she was holding back something. “What aren’t you telling me?” he prodded her.

  “Well, that guy might have winked at me when you weren’t watching.”

  Lukus’s blood pressure shot up. No one at The Pit would dare make a move on Tiffany. He stayed calm, reminding himself that he didn’t mind other Doms looking. They just not better touch.

  Unaware of his internal conflict, Tiffany added. “You did bring me to a sex club, and let’s not forget, the entire reason The Pit is so successful is there are a lot of voyeurs just like me who get turned on by their surroundings.”

  Lukus couldn’t help but chuckle at her accurate logic. “That all may be factually accurate, but I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that this lovely mouth of yours is once again getting that butt of yours in a bit of trouble.”

  Mischief danced in her eyes as she teased, “What was it again that Chase said earlier? Oh yeah—promises, promises.”

  Oh baby, you’re on. Challenge accepted.

  They were done chatting. In one fluid motion, Lukus pulled Tiffany along the bench behind him as he pushed to his feet. He only stopped long enough to reattach the leather leash to Tiffany’s collar and then pick up his
duffle bag of goodies.

  He felt the tug on his arm as Tiffany panicked. Little did she know, he wasn’t angry at her at all. Tiffany’s daring verbal banter was one of the first things he’d loved about his now wife. She was so much more than just his submissive, and he couldn’t wait another minute to start reminding her.

  They were almost to the velvet curtain that separated the social bar area from the main floor of the club when Tiff yanked him to a stop.

  “Lukus… I…”

  He turned towards her, lifting his finger to her lips, effectively shushing her. Leaning in closer, he waited several long seconds before quietly adding, “From this moment until we’re back upstairs in our suite, I am Sir. As you accurately pointed out, I have a few promises to keep to this luscious body of yours, and you, my submissive, owe me a few tears, and if you’re lucky, an orgasm or two.”

  Her eyes widened, but she wisely said nothing. He raised his eyebrow in warning, daring her to object.

  Her submissive “Yes, Sir,” was like music to his ears.

  Chapter Seven

  Tiffany

  As soon as her husband pulled the heavy curtain aside so they could pass into the main club, the entire atmosphere changed. Gone was the amicable casualness of the social club, replaced with the kind of hardcore kink they’d enjoyed on their tour. They stepped a few feet into the room, moving out of the thoroughfare, to give their eyes time to adjust to the dim lighting. The soft background music of the bar had been swapped out with an almost tribal kind of song with a fast, heavy beat that was perfect to play hard to.

  The place might have been sparsely occupied when they’d gotten off the elevator, but now, several hours later, the club was filling up nicely. Several of the platforms around the space were now occupied with an array of kinky scenes already in progress.

  Tiffany felt her body swaying to the music, letting the sexual submission she had tucked away in the crazy busy last month start seeping back in. It wasn’t just her body that felt the change. The feel of Lukus’s possessive grip on the back of her neck helped her relax into him. Despite the action all around them, her mind quieted as she pushed out the litany of stressful things that had been running on an autoloop in her brain for weeks. She could pick up her travel anxiety again the next day when they went back to the airport to head to Hawaii. Here… tonight at Black Light… it was time to turn herself over to the man she loved. The man she trusted.

  With each scene they passed, Tiff started to feel more at home. The club interior may have looked unique, but the tantalizing scenes were not terribly different from The Pit. That the realization brought her comfort was telling. On the weekend she’d met her now husband, his domineering personality had scared the bejesus out of her—tonight, he made her feel loved and protected.

  And if she was halfway honest, his dominance made her feel horny and excited as well.

  Pulling gently on the leash attached to her collar, Lukus commanded, “Let’s go see what that big crowd is all about on the platform near the pool.”

  She fell in behind him, grasping his black T-shirt to keep them in contact as he weaved a path through the dozen or so spectators. He pulled her in front of him once he stopped. His six-inch height difference allowed him to look over her shoulder as he spoke intimately against the shell of her ear.

  “Oh look, it’s the asshole you had the hots for in the bar,” he deadpanned.

  Months ago, she might have been nervous with his observation, but she’d seen Lukus furious more times than she cared to remember since they’d met—especially on the few occasions his anger had been pointed in her direction.

  Tonight was not one of those occasions. He was teasing her.

  Turning to talk so he might hear, she baited him. “I’m sorry, Sir, but if you can’t keep me satisfied, I might have to keep my options open.”

  Lukus’s growl made her tummy flutter. She was playing with fire and better be careful, or her ass would be feeling the singe of her earned burn.

  They stood shoulder to shoulder with the other spectators watching the dark-haired Dom with his perfectly groomed beard and his tanned, tattooed muscles as he mastered a petite submissive. She was as light as he was dark.

  The Dom had restrained the naked blonde flat on her back on an old-fashioned rack like those used in medieval times to torture victims before death. Unlike most of the deviant furniture in both the Punishment Pit and Black Light, this device looked frighteningly authentic. The metal frame barely supported the splayed, lithe body as her limbs were spread uncomfortably wide in four directions. The spotlights above the platform shone down on them, highlighting the red welts already decorating her body.

  Tiffany was more familiar with having her backside warmed during sessions with her Dom, so seeing the crisscrossing lines on the sub’s breasts, thighs, and even stomach got her own heartrate up. The angry, red patches encircling both of the captive’s tits told the story of agony that the vicious clamps latched there divulged.

  As intense as those observations were, it was the fact that the dangerous Dom had a leather strap wrapped tight enough around her neck to cut off her airstream that pushed this scene into the taboo category for Tiff. The quiet crowd watched transfixed as he held her precious life in his hands, literally. His gaze was intense as he watched his submissive’s every twitch… somehow knowing exactly when he needed to loosen the leather’s grip, allowing the restrained woman to gasp for air until the leather cut off her oxygen supply again.

  Tiffany’s heart raced, afraid for the sub. Sensing her anxiety, Lukus wrapped his arms around her tighter, pulling her against his chest as they both watched the scene play out in front of them. Between allowing gulps of air, the Dom picked up a flogger from a nearby table and started spinning the heavy stripes in a perfect circular motion, landing leather against the submissive’s unprotected pussy.

  Three strikes of leather—two gulps of air. Two strikes of leather—one gulp of air. On and on the assault went as droplets of perspiration shone gathering on her stomach under the spotlight. The only thing wetter were the strings of juice visibly seeping from her punished pussy. A deaf person might think the scene abusive, but anyone within twenty feet heard her low growls and escalating groans of sexual arousal. The Dom was literally playing her body like a master conductor, knowing precisely the moment it was time to drop the leather strap from around her neck with a clunk to the wooden floor of the platform.

  At first Tiffany was disappointed at the thought that he might be bringing the scene to an end but was instead treated to him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. His long cock sprang out at attention the second he’d pushed his pants down a few inches.

  “I feel you trembling in my arms. This scene is really doing it for you, isn’t it baby? Or is it just that asshole’s cock you’re enjoying?” Her husband growled against her ear.

  While it had taken her years to work up the courage to live a kinky lifestyle, she’d known she loved being a voyeur from her very first visit to a BDSM club years before. Her husband knew her well, knowing how thrilled his wife was to have a front-row seat for the passionate show in progress.

  She thought the hot Dom would rush to fuck the punished pussy, but instead, he unexpectedly leaned down to whisper something to his submissive, taking a second to wipe away some of the tears she’d shed.

  “He’s being careful, checking in with her.” This time Lukus’s words felt more like a compliment to the Dom than a tease to his wife.

  That didn’t stop her from jabbing him back. “Does this mean you don’t think he’s an asshole for winking at me earlier?”

  Lukus chuckled. “Oh no, he’s most definitely still an asshole, but at least he’s a responsible one.”

  Seconds later, that long cock was shoved down the subdued woman’s throat. It was surely cutting off her ability to breathe every bit as much as the leather strap strangling her had moments before. After face fucking her for what felt like a full minute, he allowed his sub
to gasp for air—wet strings of spittle tied them together until he buried his rod balls-deep again. The woman tried valiantly to arch her back, writhing on the table just as the flogger struck her pussy again.

  Even if Tiffany hadn’t heard the woman’s scream as she detonated into an explosive orgasm in front of them, she knew she would never forget the look of utter bliss on the handsome Dom’s face as his submissive squeezed his cock with her throat. The submissive shuddered as much as the restraints allowed as the waves of her climax shook through her body.

  Once he’d thrown her body into ecstasy, the Dom dropped the flogger to the floor, gripping the metal rack on either side of the woman’s reclined head and started pistoning his hips with a near fury. With each thrust of his shaft down the sub’s throat, Tiffany’s own excitement climbed higher. Understanding exactly what pushed his wife’s buttons, Lukus leaned down and cupped her pussy through the sheer panties she wore under her baby-doll negligée. His fingers pressed against her clit with just enough pressure to amp her higher, but not enough umph to detonate her own bomb.

  “Do not come. Do you hear me?” He growled against her ear.

  Her resounding whine was the only answer she could muster. Just a little bit more pressure—a bit of movement—but her Dom only edged her higher as she watched the Dom on stage give the sub more air before fucking her throat to his own finale. As tempting as it was to watch his cock going in and out of the woman, Tiffany dragged her attention higher to watch his jaw lock, his face contorting in the rawest of releases as he shouted his own climax.

  Around them, the gathering of spectators broke out into a smattering of applause, clearly showing their approval of the hot scene. It was the first time she’d heard applause at Black Light and it reminded her of The Pit back home, when the audience always ended each show with their appreciation for the center-stage punishment of the night.

  Unlike The Pit, there was no curtain to pull to mark the ending of the show. Instead, the crowd just started to peel away, shuffling off to find another sexy scene to watch or better, an open platform to create their own fun. When Tiffany tried to wriggle free, assuming they too would move on, Lukus hugged her tighter.