by Lila Dubois
He was back to seeming so normal, so approachable, that Christiana hesitated again. How much of what she was feeling right now was a knee-jerk reaction to him not being James? Maybe if she gave him a chance, this would work out.
“I’m not even really sure what I like,” she said softly. “I’ve only been with one Dom.”
Dino pursed his lips. “Ah, I think I understand. Okay, let’s go over some rules.”
“Just for tonight, please.”
“I can do that.” Dino took another step back. “What would you be comfortable with?”
That surprised her. “You’re letting me decide?”
He got that Master-and-commander look again. “Not decide, sla—Christina, just tell me what you’re comfortable with.”
Christiana looked around the room, then back to Dino. “I won’t take off any more clothes.”
He nodded.
“No touching,” she said next.
Dino raised both eyebrows. “I’m afraid that won’t work for me.”
“I mean no, um, sexual touching, not tonight.” She knew from her research and reading that BDSM scenes could be nonsexual.
“You’ll have to make it up to me, but I agree.”
“And no bondage. I don’t want to be really tied down.” She forced herself to laugh a little. “I don’t want to be made into a skin suit.”
Rather than laughing with her, or teasing her, Dino nodded seriously. “Again, that’s not normally something I’d allow, but it’s an understandable precaution. Anything else?”
There were a million other things she could say, but if she was going to go through with this, they needed to start soon, before her courage failed her. She shook her head.
“Ready to begin?”
“Yes…” she almost said Sir, but that felt wrong. That’s what she’d called James. She certainly wasn’t going to use “Master”, but she had to use something. “Yes, Master Dino.”
“Well done, sla—Christina.”
He stepped forward, into her personal space. He wasn’t much taller than her, but he was big. He could easily hurt her, if he wanted to.
She reminded herself that the munch organizer said she vetted people before they were allowed to come, so Dino wasn’t a serial killer.
That doesn’t mean he can’t hurt you.
He circled around her, looking her over from head to toe. “Have you ever had a slapper used on you?”
Christiana shook her head again, her mouth too dry to speak.
Dino smiled and walked over to the wall of implements. “I’m assuming you like impact play.”
It wasn’t a question, and he wasn’t even looking at her, so she didn’t bother to respond.
“This is new. You’ll be the first slave I’ve used it on. It’s a three-layered slapper.” He selected an item from the wall display and brought it over, showing it off to her. In that moment he reminded her of a friend from work who would gush over a new piece of surveying equipment or software, lovingly explaining its features.
“Eighteen inches, with three graduated pieces of premium black leather.” He raised it and slapped it against his leg. It made a loud crack, and she jumped. The thing looked surprisingly simple—a short wooden handle, then the three stiff, flat, layered pieces of leather, all the same width, but in graduated lengths lying on top of each other.
Dino grinned. “Nice, right? It produces different sensations depending on which side you use. One impact point.” He held it up so the single longest piece was facing her. “Or three.” He flipped it around in his hand so she could see all three pieces.
“It’s very nice. A bit scary,” she admitted in a raspy voice.
“Aren’t all the best things scary?”
You weren’t scared with James. Not like this.
Christiana forced herself to nod.
Dino’s face hardened. “Enough talking. I want you to go over to the St. Andrew’s Cross.”
Christiana hesitated. Was she really going to let a virtual stranger do something so blatantly dangerous to her?
She had before, with James. Why was this any different?
It is. It is so different. That little voice inside her head wouldn’t shut up, but she ignored it and walked over to the large X of wood. There were thick-link chains dangling from the top of the X, and eyebolts sunk into the wood near the bottom. She faced the X, staring at it for a moment, then stepped up to it, until she was close enough that her bare stomach brushed the center of the X.
“Reach up and hold the chains. If you let go, I’ll add swats. I’m agreeing not to bind you, but you have to hold on.”
Christiana reached up and out to the sides, grabbing the dangling chains. The links were heavy and cold in her hands.
“Spread your legs,” he demanded.
She stepped out to the sides, and started to tremble.
Please be like it was with James, please, please.
She heard the air move as Dino pulled back his arm. The first slap hit her right upper thigh.
Christiana sucked in air and then let it out on a scream. That hurt.
The second landed on her other leg, and she hadn’t yet recovered her breath enough from the first one enough to cry out again.
Why did this hurt so much?
Because he’s hitting you, stupid.
Another blow, and this time she couldn’t keep still. She yelped and danced away, though she didn’t let go of the chains, merely twisting her lower body. He took advantage of that, landing a blow to the side of her thigh, just below the edge of her panties.
Christiana yelped, then twisted her hips and glanced down to see a perfect red imprint of the curved end of the longest piece.
“How does it feel?” he asked
“I-it hur-rts,” she stammered.
Dino grunted. “Good.”
The slapper landed again, this time on her panty-covered ass. It felt like she’d been hit by a fastball. Christiana screamed, pressing her face into her arm.
Use your safe word! the rational voice inside her screamed. This is hurting you!
Stay, another part of her urged. You deserve this.
That thought shocked her so much that she didn’t scream when he once again stuck her ass. He must have taken that as some sort of sign, because he picked up the pace.
You deserve this, for what you did to James.
Was that why she was here? Had she put herself in this position because of the guilt she felt over how she’d left James?
Dino continued to whale on her ass with the slapper, but that strange feeling of detachment had returned and muted the pain. She hung her head forward between her spread arms and let herself sink into her own thoughts.
She’d lain awake in bed the past two nights wondering what James had felt, had said, when he realized she wasn’t going to show up. She’d imagined him sad and feeling rejected. That was the one that made her feel the worst. He was so wonderful, she hated that she might have made him feel like he was anything less than that. Maybe he shrugged and picked another woman. When she wanted to torture herself, she pictured him casually moving on, finding another woman—someone who really was who she said she was, someone who was a member of the club and his equal. And then she imagined him angry, his intense eyes glittering with rage. That always made her shiver. Sometimes she followed that up with a fantasy about him punishing her, perhaps doing something much like Dino was doing now. Except in her fantasy the pain was tempered by arousal.
“Christina, how are you doing?” Dino’s voice broke through her detachment. He sounded out of breath.
She turned her head, looking back at him through a tangle of hair. He was breathing heavily and had transferred the slapper from his right hand to his left and was shaking out his right arm.
He’d beaten her so hard he was tired.
It was as if that realization destroyed the detachment, she’d been hiding in. A rush of pain overwhelmed her. Her ass and thighs were on fire.
She releas
ed the chains and staggered back from the St. Andrew’s. Her shaking legs couldn’t hold her, and she dropped to her hands and knees.
She took a deep breath, and when she released it, it was a sob.
“That’s right,” Dino crooned. “Let it out.”
This hurt. This hurt so much.
Dino took a knee beside her and stroked her back. Christiana scrambled away.
“I need to give you some aftercare.”
“N-no,” she stammered. “This was… this was a mistake.”
“Christina—”
“That’s not even my name,” she sobbed. “You didn’t even learn my name.” She crawled across the floor toward her dress.
He stepped around her, picked up the dress, and crouched, handing it to her. “That’s the name you had on your nametag.” He sounded worried.
Christiana pushed up so she was kneeling, then shrugged her dress on, shivering as it brushed against her ass and thighs. “I need to leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave when you’re like this, and you shouldn’t go until I give you permission.”
Christiana didn’t reply. She staggered to her feet. Dino was looking at her with a mixture of concern and irritation.
She met his gaze and knew that she could never submit to him the way she had to James.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Dino took a step toward her. Christiana held up her hands. “Engineer.”
He stopped, mouth hardening into a flat line. “Fine.”
She turned and scooped up her purse, then walked out of the room. She staggered down the stairs, and was running by the time she hit the front door. She didn’t stop to put her shoes on until she was outside.
It was nearly 2:00 a.m. when she thrust open the gate and raced out onto the sidewalk. She looked around, realizing it might have been better to wait inside. She’d left her jacket and shivered as she pulled her phone out of her purse and ordered a car to take her back across the bridge to her apartment.
James was pacing the center aisle of the small jet. It was going to take him nearly twenty hours to get to San Francisco and there was not a damned thing he could do about it. This jet didn’t have the range capacity to go straight from Luxembourg to California, so they were making two stops, one in London since it was the point of origin, and another in Chicago, where they’d refuel. He possibly could have switched to a commercial airline in Chicago, but that might have only gained him an hour or two, and he wouldn’t be able to pace the aisle and make calls to his lawyer in the U.S.
He’d pulled the man out of a meeting, which James didn’t feel the least bit sorry about given the billable hours rate, and he’d demanded the name and contact information of the top PI firm serving the San Francisco Bay area. That had been twenty minutes ago, and he was waiting for a call back. When his phone rang, he leapt for it.
“Nolen,” he said in terse greeting.
“Mr. Nolen, this is Lillian.”
James sank into one of the seats, bracing his elbow on his knee. “Lillian.”
“Security in San Francisco was… challenging.” She was speaking slowly and deliberately, as if she was trying to tell him something without coming right out and saying it.
“How so?” he asked.
“The location was a building scheduled to be demolished. It was supposed to have its final inspection by the city engineers only a few days after we left.”
Where was she going with this?
“On the first night, we noticed a truck with markings from the state agency in the upper parking lot. You’ll have to forgive me, I don’t know the name of that agency.”
“Oh?” James was mystified as to the point, but didn’t dare rush Lillian.
“I was concerned. I mentioned it to the owner, but our host in San Francisco assured me that she’d arranged with the head of the state agency that the building wouldn’t be inspected until after we were gone. The host said that the agency may have been using the space as extra parking for their vehicles.”
“Given the parking situation in San Francisco, that’s plausible,” James said with deliberate patience.
“Yes,” Lillian said. “We continued with the event, though the host did check to see that no formal inspection papers had been filed.”
“Did you have cameras on the property?” he asked.
“Video surveillance was not part of the security system, due to the host’s privacy concerns.”
James rubbed his head. “You think this has something to do with Christiana?”
Lillian cleared her throat. “The name of the engineer assigned to assess the building and give final approval on the demolition is listed on the forms as Chris Dell.”
“Chris?” he asked softly.
“I’m afraid that’s all the information I was able to gather from here.”
“Thank you, this helps.”
“This will mean the end of the Orchid Club.” Lillian spoke softly. “I should have investigated further upon seeing the truck, but there were so many other—” She stopped herself. “No excuses. It was my job and I failed.”
“Don’t do anything yet,” James urged. “Let me find her. I’ll call you once I know what’s going on.”
“Thank you, Mr. Nolen.”
James ended the call, then sat there, turning the phone end over end in his hand. Chris Dell? As soon as the PI called, he could have them look into it and…
James frowned, then stood, reaching for his travel case and the slim tablet within. He sat down and pulled up a search engine. It took him a few minutes to figure out the likely state agency—something called Caltrans—and then he clicked onto the website. He typed in Chris Dell.
A photo popped up. It was a group shot of twenty smiling people, all posed in front of rows of matching white agency trucks. They wore matching uniform shirts and hard hats. They were all men, except one. Front and center was a slim, dark-haired woman. Her face was shadowed by the hard hat, so he couldn’t see her features well. The caption below listed the names. He counted and cross referenced. The woman was Chris Dell.
“My God.” James stared at the picture.
That was his Christiana.
How had a woman sent to inspect the building ended up participating? It didn’t make any sense. Looking at the photo, he was now sure why she’d been so sad the last night. Their time together had been a lark, a little adventure, one she hadn’t wanted to end, that much was clear, but not something she would pursue.
She’d let him make a damned fool of himself, gushing over her and making plans. The jeweled collar he still had in his pocket seemed to grow heavy.
When the phone rang again, his voice was hard with anger. “Nolen,” he barked in greeting.
“Mr. Nolen, this is Timothy with Bay Investigations. How can I help you?”
Good. His lawyer hadn’t just given him a name, he’d preemptively contacted the firm. James didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I need you to find someone.”
“We can do that for you.”
“I’m going to land about 2:00 p.m. your time,” he said. “I want to know where she’ll be when I land. I want a car waiting at the airport to take me to her location.”
“Assuming I’m able to find her in that amount of time, that should be possible.”
“Find her,” James all but snarled.
“I’ll need whatever information you have.”
“Her name is Christiana Dell. She goes by Chris.” He checked the website. “She’s an engineer for Caltrans. Or so it seems.”
There was a barely perceptible pause. “In that case, I’m confident we’ll have a location for you. I’ll meet you at the airport myself.”
“Good.” James hung up.
He threw his phone onto the seat across from him, then turned back to his computer. He knew her name and where she worked. He was going to find out everything he could about the woman who’d tricked him before he confronted her. It was possible the engineering job was just a cove
r for her real occupation, but he still had trouble believing she was a corporate spy, or an investigative journalist. If she had infiltrated the club with the intent of exposing them, he’d let Lillian do her worst, and someone with Lillian’s resources and connections would be able to make sure that Christiana rued her deception until the day she died.
He didn’t want that.
James pushed to his feet and resumed pacing, damning himself for a fool. He was angrier now that he had proof she had lied and it wasn’t some sort of misunderstanding. Yet, through the anger, there was still a thread of worry for her.
He wanted to confront her, to demand she explain herself.
He wanted to look at her, touch her, make sure she was okay.
It was utterly ridiculous. They’d spent three nights together, and on the surface, there hadn’t been anything particularly extraordinary, yet those nights had impacted him in a way no other scenes had before. Perhaps it was just chemistry; there was no denying they had it. Maybe her deception, unknown to him at the time, had added something to their time together.
Whatever it was, he wouldn’t be free of this feeling until he saw her, until he confronted her.
James walked to the bar at the back of the plane and poured himself a drink. He still had hours of travel, so he needed to sleep, but he doubted sleep would come easily. His thoughts were moving at light speed. He downed the first drink in a few long swallows and poured a second.
Christiana lowered herself into the tub of cool water, hissing in relief as her thighs and abused butt sank into the numbing cold.
She crossed her arms over her chest, shivering as goose bumps pebbled every inch of skin. The expensive cab ride across the bay to her apartment in Oakland had been torture, and the driver asked her several times if she was okay as she shifted from side to side, trying to find a way to sit that didn’t hurt. She’d stripped the moment she came in, then started filling the bath. She didn’t look in the mirror. She didn’t want to see the marks Dino had left.
