French Kiss (Decadence Nights Book 2) (6 page)

“Excellent. I see station four coming open, Arturo. I’ll have it flagged as reserved. Mari, we will talk soon, yes?” With that, Master Dex, powerful, confident and having ultimate authority in the club, strode away, leaving her with little choice, scene with the utterly appealing Frenchman, or have a chat with a man who would expect her to divulge all of her secrets or be booted out, for good.

Maybe that would be for the best.

Like Dex, she had often questioned why she came here. She was frustrated, didn’t enjoy what the others obviously got out of the club beyond the scenes, and since she couldn’t allow herself to relinquish enough control to experience gratifying sex, let alone the orgasmic highs the other subs did, what was the point? It was little more than a temporary escape, a very expensive one at that, from a chronic situation for which she couldn’t seem to find a remedy.

“You’ve avoided me on previous visits. Why?”

She stiffened beneath the hand that rode low on her back as he guided her to the reserved station.

“I haven’t.”

“Even if this is our one and only scene together,
ma colombe
, let’s keep it honest, shall we?”

He caught a flash of azure blue eyes as she cast a sidelong glance his way, but when she found him studying her, she hid them behind her long, midnight lashes. He was looking forward to their scene for several reasons, primarily he found her extremely attractive. Her above average height suited his taller frame perfectly, he wouldn’t have to bend in half to speak in her ear or kiss her, and her head would tuck in just right beneath his chin. She was also all curves and softness, although he loved women of all shapes and sizes, hers was the figure type he preferred.

The sadness in her eyes and the history Dex had relayed were a secondary concern. After three years spent alone, she hadn’t assimilated into the active group of subs at the club. She didn’t socialize before or after play, never left with a dom for the night, or with anyone else for that matter, and as far as he knew, had no contact with any of the members outside the club. She was a loner, isolative, and as such, lacked the support a BDSM community could provide.

When Dex approached him to work with her this evening, he readily agreed. But this was more than a simple scene with a lonely submissive. The owner’s purpose in linking them wasn’t solely to provide a replacement, it was more specific. As a sadist, he could provide what she needed, but also as an intelligence expert, he could use his skill to learn more about what was going on inside this beautiful, yet very private and closed mouth submissive. That suited his own agenda for the evening perfectly.

Arriving at their station, Arturo led her behind the velvet ropes, coming to a stop in front of the tall, imposing St. Andrew’s cross, the sight of which caused a tremor to run through her body as he watched her stare up at it. A small smile tipped the corner of his mouth, a bit of fear was perfect for a scene. Next, he’d see how she responded to gentle interrogation while under dominant intimidation.

With one index finger, he tipped her face his way. As he searched her upturned face, he made his expectations clear. “I tire of having to repeat myself, sub. I expect prompt answers to my questions and obedience, is that clear?”

She blinked up at him, her cloudy-eyed expression revealing how much his stern directive affected her.

“Yes, sir,” she replied softly.

“
Très bien.
Let’s begin anew. Why have you been avoiding me, Mari?”

“I wasn’t—”

His warning frown stopped her. “Consequences for disobedience in your experience include what?”

“Punishment, sir.”

“And how was that carried out?”

“Withholding pleasure, most often.”

He arched a brow. “That is quite harsh. Were you not spanked?”

She flushed prettily as she nodded.

“I require to hear your lovely voice when you answer me.”

“I was spanked, sir, but not often as punishment.”

He smiled slightly in full understanding. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you, Mari?” A masochist would. “Still you have limits, I’m sure.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Some of which we will explore tonight.”

“No!”

His fingers tightened on her chin. She was out of practice to defy him so.

“Um, rather, I have limits, sir. I didn’t think to bring my list since I have played with Master Reyn before.”

“I hadn’t planned anything too extreme for a first session. However, since I haven’t had a chance to look at your file, we must negotiate,
n’est-ce pas
?”

“Yes, please, sir.” Her reply sounded relieved.

“Just so, there is the matter of my question, first. And when I ask for a third time, which is unprecedented, I urge you to recall our discussion on disobedience and reciprocal punishment, and in light of the fact that further prevarication will be deemed as defiance, I urge you to answer carefully. Why have you avoided me,
belle Mari
?”

“Because I didn’t think we had the same interests. You’re a known sadist, sir.”

“Yin and yang, a good match for the masochist that you are,
oui
?”

“Not anymore,” she blurted out, but then her eyes darted away. “I don’t want that. I don’t want pain. I like bondage and perhaps a light spanking, nothing more.”

“So you say. Then why list it at all? Which you did, at first.”

“But—” She blinked up at him wide eyed. “I thought you said you hadn’t read my file.”

“Master Dex mentioned your uncertainty.”

She shook her head, her delicate brows gathering in a frown. “I was confused when I joined, but not anymore. I come for light to moderate play, that is all.”

“And sex.”

Again, she glanced away, her fair skin unable to hide the slight blush that colored her cheeks. “Yes.” Her affirmative response little more than a whisper of breath.

His hand moved for the first time since they’d begun this discussion, which was proving both awkward and uncomfortable for her. In a slow sweep of his thumb, he brushed over the rosy apple of her cheek, watching with interest as her pupils dilated. He pushed on, glad that she enjoyed his touch. “What about submission? Is that also something you don’t want anymore?”

The beginnings of a smile tipped her lips, but it was fleeting and never quite took hold. “In this place, I doubt if that’s an option.”

“Ah, but there are sadists who aren’t dominant and by the same token, masochists who chose not to submit. Before we move forward, I’m asking you what you want.”

She closed her eyes as his thumb grazed along her lower lip.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered. As her lashes flew up, her rapid response, the rush of indrawn breath, and the flutter of the pulse in her throat told him more than any words possibly could. Yes, indeed, his little masochist in denial was submissive as well.

“
C’est vrai ma bonne fille
, I prefer that you not hide anything from me.”

Her brows gathered for a moment. “My school girl French is twenty years old, I didn’t catch that.”

“
Pardon
, Mari. I said that you’re my good girl.”

He smiled slightly as she flushed with pleasure at the slight praise. He almost hated to take that away from her.

“I should qualify that by saying,
parfois
, which means sometimes, when you aren’t stalling and forgetting your manners. As an experienced sub, you know how to address your dom, even one for a night.”

Her mouth rounded prettily as she realized her error. “I’m sorry for the disrespect, sir.”

He nodded in acceptance of her apology before stroking his fingers down the side of her cheek. He felt her tremble as she leaned into his tender touch as though starved for affection. It stirred the protective side in him, as well as his indignation, that such a gentle soul was going without something so basic as a caring touch. That was not something she would lack, while in a scene with him. But the unguarded moment passed, as her brain seemed to switch back on. She tensed and with great reluctance pulled away.

His hand wrapped around her neck and with slight, but insistent pressure, drew her nearer. “French lesson number one, e
mbrasse-moi, ma petite.
That means kiss me, little one. Lesson number two is
baiser-moi
, which means fuck me, which you will be screaming before the night is out.”

He lowered his mouth, but at the last moment she turned her face away. “Please, sir. I prefer not to kiss on the mouth. It’s too intimate.”

Shocked, he raised his head. What the fuck? Pulling her face around, he searched her troubled blue eyes. A range of emotions flickered through him, first anger, then annoyance, taking serious offense, but when he looked deeper and saw the shadow in her eyes, he remembered her loss and from what Dex had said, her ongoing distress.

“It’s to be cold and impersonal then? That is how you want it?”

“Not cold, sir.”

With a faint smile, he searched her face for a moment before inclining his head. “So at odds with yourself, aren’t you? So be it.” He turned her to face the cross. “Strip off everything, Mari. I am anxious to get started.”

* * *

The silicone lashes cut through the air with a whoosh then connected with a resounding thwap as they struck bare skin. A hot sizzle of fire flared out across both of her cheeks as she arched in reaction. Her head flew back, hands fisted as her nails dug into her palms. Drawing up tight like a bow, her legs tensed and her toes curled inward. Her pelvis arced forward bringing her hipbones into contact with the hard, unyielding wood of the cross allowing no retreat. She remained that way, poised tense and quivering, but only for an instant before unbelievably, against all semblance of self-preservation, she relaxed and presented her ass, back and thighs for more.

It had been the same through at least two dozen lashes.

“Ma gamine, tu es magnifique!”
Although the deep voice murmured incomprehensible words, his tone was unmistakably approving. “I believe you can take more.”

Breathing deeply, Mari opened her half-lidded eyes, but didn’t answer, although a definitive yes echoed in her head. He hadn’t posed a question, so being the good submissive that she was, she remained silent, savoring the exhilarating sensations coursing through her body. There was a pause as he walked away for a moment. When he returned and the next stroke fell, she hissed in a breath, as a delicious tremor wracked her body. True to his word, the bite was different, sharper… and much, much more.

She twisted her head trying to see what had replaced the silicone flogger.

“Eyes front,
ma belle
.” The quiet command in his low husky voice compelled her to turn around as more delicious heat exploded across the lower curves of her cheeks.

With a carnal groan from deep in her chest, she obeyed, resting her forehead against the cross as her body processed the intensified pain. Behind her, he waited, allowing time for her body to assimilate each exquisite nuance before whipping her again.

Master Arturo was good, as skilled as the whispered rumors had implied, for he didn’t rush the next lash, knowing too soon wouldn’t allow her already excited nerve endings to respond quite yet. Instead, when the ache reached a stunning plateau, then gradually receded to the point where she craved more, only then did he strike again. A novice would not know that he must wait in order for her to experience it to the fullest, only a skilled master would. What’s more, he would crave it himself.

Three more lashes with pauses in between, then she heard him cross to her other side. She angled her head enough to catch a glimpse as he took his stance, pulled back his left hand, and let loose. She gasped as the twin tails of what she recognized now as a leather quirt landed across both cheeks with the same searing force and intensity as it had with his right. He was ambidextrous, equally skilled with both hands. Her heart thrilled at the possibilities. This was a very unique dom— No, she should call him what he was, a unique sadist, unrivaled by any other she’d been with, even Derek.

No! She wouldn’t think it.

This was the exact reason she had sought to avoid him. Damn, Master Dex for putting her in this position.

For as long as she’d been aware of her unusual desire for pain, it had been this way. She wanted more, another bite of harsh leather, another slap of rigid wood, a sharp smack, slap or spank of a hard hand, a rigid cane, or a cutting whip on her quivering flesh. Others would have pleaded for mercy by now, but not her, a true masochist needed the tactile intensity, beyond that of what others found acceptable, to truly find satiation.

Her master had known that about her and was always the one to say when enough was enough. Random players at a club, strangers, wouldn’t know that. In part, this was the reason she restricted her play to moderate pain. Too much with someone who didn’t know that about her, who didn’t know she was unable to shut it down when she slid into sub space, could be dangerous.

The other part was the danger to her fragile heart. She couldn’t live through the agony of losing another master. It would kill her. The last time almost had, so she vowed to satisfy herself, as best she could, with random partners, but no sadists like Arturo Durand.

After tonight, no more. He was too damn dangerous. But, as long as she was here, strung up and under his masterful lash, she could enjoy what he was dishing out, couldn’t she? For tonight, just this one time. So she took more. Savoring the bite as the twelve-inch twin tails descended again, and again.

As he halted briefly, checking in, running a broad hand over her abraded skin, then humming a sound of approval before stepping back, she took stock as she waited, trembling in anticipation of the next stroke.

Around her, everything was muted, but she was still aware. She could hear the low moans and harsh cries of the other submissives receiving both pleasure and pain, the crack of whips and paddles, and the metallic ring of rattling chains. Her other senses were still functional. When she inhaled, the pervasive scents of leather and raw sex were easily identifiable, and when her lashes fluttered open, the spanking bench next to her was crystal clear as was the bright red ass of the male sub who was getting lick upon lick from his mistress’ heavy hand.