Cowboy Casanova (40 page)

“Mary Jane? You have permission to speak to Bennett.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Mary Jane raised her eyes to Ben’s. “What may I help you with?”

“This might sound like a strange question, but would your job be affected if anyone you worked with discovered you were a sexual submissive?”

“In my job right now? Probably not.”

See? Ainsley was just making up excuses not to be with you.

“But bear in mind I’m five years from retirement. If I was a young woman just starting out? Especially in a male-dominated industry? That would be the kiss of death for my career.”

Ben froze.

“Also remember I’m a sexual submissive to my husband of three decades. I’m not a single woman being passed from Dom to Dom in this sex club. That’s also an entirely different situation.”

Ben’s hopes that the obstacles he and Ainsley faced would somehow magically work out, given time and distance, began to fade.

Mary Jane tapped her fingernails on the table. “The reason Cliff and I insist on almost total privacy here is because of my professional position. I wouldn’t be keen on anyone finding out I liked to be whipped by a stranger. And I’m sure your outside friends don’t know that you get…something from whipping the crap out of women you have no sexual interest in.”

Ben frowned.

“No offense, Bennett, but I don’t want to get to know you. Emotional ties change things. I’m fine with Cliff spanking or flogging me. But there’s something sadistic about telling the man I love to whip me until I almost pass out.”

“But it’s different when I wield the whip?”

“Yes. Because when you’re landing strikes on my body I bear them for him. To show him I can take it. I share the joy and pain with Cliff, not with you. To put it in the simplest terms, you’re the bad guy beating me and Cliff is the good guy who will take care of me when it’s all done.”

Holy shit. Was that really how she saw him? As the bad guy?

“Mary Jane. Apologize to Bennett for insulting him,” Cliff demanded.

He said, “It’s all right, Cliff,” even when it wasn’t. Fuck. He felt he’d just been kicked in the teeth and kneed in the nads.

“I’ll be honest, Bennett. Your blows sting like hell. I’ve been tempted to run, especially in the beginning. Me getting whipped does nothing for Cliff, but he understands it does something for me.”

“Would you miss it if you didn’t have it?” Ben asked.

“Maybe. Would you miss it if you didn’t do it?”

I don’t know
.

But he hadn’t missed it in the month he’d been involved with Ainsley.

Cliff said, “We hoped to utilize your whip skills tonight. But given what you’re wrestling with, we’d understand if you opt not to.”

In his frame of mind, he’d take validation where he could get it. “Which room?”

“Seven. In about thirty minutes?”

“I’ll be there.”

Sending out bad vibes kept subs at bay as Ben attempted to get his head in the game. Holding his whip, he bypassed a public scene where the woman getting flogged looked totally bored.

Ah hell. Was that…Zoe?

He ducked from view and hustled down the hallway. He peeked in the window to see if they were ready for him and stepped inside.

Mary Jane was blindfolded, naked and secured facedown to the bed.

Cliff gave Ben the instructions in low tones. The scene went better for Mary Jane if she didn’t know where the blows would strike or how many.

Ben walked the perimeter of the bed. That too, heightened her senses. The fall of his boots on the carpet. The jostling of the bed as he bumped into it. And then that first whip crack. Rarely did he land the first blow. He loved the sound it made, the leather whistling through the air before the end connected with solid mass and a sharp
crack
.

That’s when he found his headspace. The intense focus needed to keep his aim true and please both Cliff and Mary Jane.

But what had he gotten from the scene?

Ben’s shirt was sweat-soaked and he floated on the buzz of adrenaline when Cliff said, “Red. She’s done in, Bennett. Thank you.”

He nodded and slipped from the room, the edgy feeling still riding him hard. As he skirted the crowd, he couldn’t believe Zoe’s scene was still playing out. Their eyes met.

Hers held a look of frustration. She said, “Please. Bennett. Show him. Help me.”

The weight of onlookers’ stares didn’t faze him. He crossed his arms over his chest and let the whip dangle. “Say your safe word.”

“No. Just help me.” She didn’t even flinch when her Dom landed two hard swats on the backs of her legs.

“Rules are rules. Say your safe word and I’ll step in.”

Zoe screamed, “Red! Red! Goddammit!”

The guy halted mid-swat. The same frustration burned in his eyes as in Zoe’s when Ben stepped from the edge of the crowd. “You’re in charge of this scene?”

“Yes. Who the hell are you?”

“Bennett. And you?”

“Brian.”

“Well, Brian, I hafta ask. Have you played in public with her before?”

“Only once.”

“Is this a pain with sex scene or just pain?”

“Pain with sex.”

“I have history with Zoe, and I might be able to help you both out. I’ll give her the pain if you’ll handle the sex and aftercare.”

Brian actually looked relieved. “Sounds fair.”

Ben kept his gaze on Brian’s as he spoke to the sub. “Zoe, I’ve already warmed up with the single tail. You ready?”

“Yes. Sir. Please, Sir.”

“How many?” he murmured to Brian.

“Twenty-three,” Brian whispered back. “You choose the spots. If she stops counting then you stop.”

“Agreed.” Ben walked forward and slowly ran the whip handle down Zoe’s spine and the crack of her ass. Her whole body jerked, the chains rattled and she strained to look over her shoulder at him.

When he moved, her head tried to follow his movement.

“You oughten be watchin’ me, Zoe. You oughta be focused on how you’re gonna breathe through the first blow. ’Cause I guarantee it’s gonna hurt.”

The crowd murmured behind them.

“Blindfold her.”

Zoe gasped and turned to glare at Ben. “What? No, you can’t—”

Ben grabbed her jaw, tilting her face up. “I most certainly can, because you’re the one trussed up in chains, not me. And if you don’t show me respect, since this is now
my
scene? When I’ve deemed that you are done with the pain portion? I won’t let Brian touch you. At all. All you’ll feel is pain. Nothin’ else. So choose.”

She lowered her eyes. “I apologize for my behavior, Sir.”

Brian tied on the blindfold.

At the first whip crack, the crowd moved back.

“Brian. Distract her.”

As soon as Brian’s lips touched hers, Zoe relaxed. She arched into him, making soft noises as he broke the kiss.

“Count. Starting from one.” Ben placed the first blow on the fleshy part of Zoe’s right shoulder.

“One. Thank you, Sir.”

Ben kept moving, walking closer, letting Brian offer soothing words and caresses as he marked her skin with random stinging blows. He concentrated the hits on her buttocks and the backs of her thighs, remembering those as her hot spots. But he felt no stirring of arousal. No need to caress her skin or take her to the next level. He felt…tired. Maybe a little used. More than ready to be done with this night.

At Zoe’s full body slump, he let his whip fall to the side. Brian moved in and gave his sub what she needed.

The crowd parted for him, but all eyes returned to the action at the front.

Ben wanted a shot of whiskey and the comfort of his own bed. He cut down the hallway when a hand landed on his shoulder, jerking him to a stop. He whirled around and his cousin Dalton was in his face, wearing a look of disgust.

“What the fuck was that I just saw, Bennett?”

“Dalton?” Ben glanced at the crowd to see if a monitor was close by. “How did you get in here?”

“I dropped your name at the door. They let me in with a guest pass.”

He’d asked for that pass for Ainsley. The fact she’d never use it made him lash out. “Go away. I ain’t in the mood to deal with you right now.” Ben sidestepped him.

But Dalton anticipated the move. “What are you in the mood for? Beating on another helpless woman? With a fucking bullwhip, for Christsake?”

“Keep your goddamn voice down.”

“The fuck I will. I want some fuckin’ answers on why you get off whipping women as they cry out for you to stop hitting them! I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you with that older couple. I looked in the window and watched you beat her. And then I saw you immediately jump at the chance to beat another chick. Jesus. What did either of those women do to you?”

Dalton was more muscle bound, but Ben had more experience dealing with hotheads, so he grabbed his cousin by his shirt and shoved him into room three.

Ben would’ve welcomed Dalton taking a swing at him. But Dalton paced. Muttered to himself. Ben had wondered how he’d handle it if this day came. How he’d explain. If he even wanted to try.

Then Dalton invaded his space. “How long have you been comin’ to this place?”

“I helped start this club six years ago.”

“So how many women have you tortured and raped during that time?”

Ben shoved Dalton and held the whip handle against his throat. “Back the fuck off, Dalton. You don’t have the first fuckin’ clue what you’re talking about. You’re just flapping your gums, spouting bullshit and proving your ignorance.”

“I know what I saw.”

“Do you? If what I was doing was so unwanted or wrong, then why the hell didn’t the woman’s husband stop me? Then why didn’t any one of the fifty other members watching the last scene step in and stop me? Not because they were scared I’d turn the whip on them. They didn’t stop it because they understood what I was doin’. You don’t.”

“You’re goddamned right I don’t,” Dalton retorted. “What kind of man does this? And do you know the really sick part? You didn’t get off doin’ it.”

“So you’re saying you’d understand it more if I would’ve fucked those women afterward?”

“Yes. No. Maybe. Fuck, I don’t know. This makes no sense to me.” Dalton paced to the back of the room and jammed a hand through his hair. “I don’t get it. Why?”

Ben dropped into the chair. “You think I can explain it enough to satisfy you? I recognize that look in your eyes, Dalton and that is the reason I don’t broadcast this. Here at the club I find women who are looking for the same thing.”

“Lookin’ to get their asses whaled on?” Dalton sneered.

“Sometimes.”

“So you’re tellin’ me this private club is a real freak parade.”

“This place is no more a freak parade than the Golden Boot, where you troll for pussy every weekend.”

Dalton took a belligerent stance, arms crossed over his chest, feet braced wide. “Wrong. This ain’t normal.”

“You’ve never tied a woman up during sex?”

“Ah. Sure. Who hasn’t?” Dalton shifted his stance, then his eyes. “So I oughta be afraid the next step will be shackling a woman in chains and beating on her in front of a room full of strangers?”

He sank into the closest chair. “This is pointless.”

“Does your family know?”

Ben shook his head.

“They should. Maybe they can get you some help, cuz, ’cause this is seriously fucked up.”

He thought he’d conquered the fear of being outed to his family. But the idea of his brothers and parents staring at him, with Dalton’s same judgmental eyes, made him physically ill. His voice came out a hoarse whisper. “You gonna take it upon yourself to tell them?”

“I don’t know. But you can’t deny the reason
you
haven’t told them is because you know it’s wrong.”

Now he had to worry that Dalton would blab to the entire McKay family.

“Look at yourself, Ben. Sitting there holding a whip, a whip that you used on not one, but two women tonight. And you’re tellin’ me
I’m
the one with the problem.” He shook his head. “It’d be funny if it wasn’t so sad.” Dalton stormed out.

There was the game-ending blow. It’d been ages since he’d felt such a wash of shame. Since he’d felt like an outcast. And then he topped off those failings with the fear that no decent woman—like Ainsley—would ever love him because of his tendencies. Hidden fears that smacked him in the face today from his cousin’s accusations.

Ben remained in the room a long time, emotions warring. He fingered the beautifully made whip. Device of torture? Instrument of pleasure? His supposed expertise gnawed at him. He’d honed his skills on cattle. What would his family say if they knew he regularly used it on people? On women? Would they be ashamed? Should he be ashamed?

So Dalton hadn’t been totally off base.