Slave To Love (16 page)

“Taren, look.” Jace wanted Taren’s faith in BDSM renewed. He wanted her to believe that the credo “safe, sane, and consensual” meant something. “He does care. He does love her.”

Taren sat up and watched as Eagan carried her limp body up the stairs to his bedroom. Then the scene faded to black.

“That was hard to watch.” She wiped her face. “Just goes to show you that you should always be honest or risk losing the thing you want most.”

“The true lesson is to not expect to fall in love in the lifestyle. Go in it with your eyes wide open.” Jace turned off the TV. “I want you to come with me.”

Taren blinked. “Go where?” She glanced at the clock beside the bed. “At one in the morning?”

“You asked me to watch something with you. Now I want you to see something with me.” If he could get her beyond the fanfare, he would see if she really wanted to be a part of this world.

Chapter Ten

Taren gritted her teeth the longer the ride went with Jace. She wanted to be impressed by his Mercedes SUV, which looked like something that would haul around the Commander in Chief. Her mind had been consumed with thoughts of Eagan caring for Ananda after a harsh punishment.

Instead of being turned off and disgusted, her body had reacted differently. Her pulse raced. Her legs hadn’t stopped shaking even when she’d walked to Jace’s vehicle and sat in it. She felt her hardened nipples pressed down hard by her lace bra. Her throbbing clit bothered her the most. She wouldn’t be able to sleep off this level of excitement.

Taren needed some quality alone time right now. As Jace had reminded her, she had made him watch a TV show he had no desire watching. She had to endure this trip with him to wherever it may be.

“Where are we going?” Taren hoped Jace didn’t hear her voice quivering.

“We’re almost there.” Jace kept his stare on the road ahead.

Taren had no idea where he’d taken her. After he’d gotten off Shore Drive, she couldn’t keep her concentration on the different road names. Based on the green-and-white street signs, she assumed he still had her somewhere in Virginia Beach and hadn’t crossed over to the Norfolk side.

“I need to tell you something.” Jace glanced at her as he slowed down close to a large building.

“What is it?” She tried facing him, but when the seatbelt strap brushed roughly against her breast, she settled back against the seat. She didn’t need any more stimuli.

Jace pulled into a parking lot full of vehicles. He parked at the side of the building, not for privacy. The only spots left existed there.

He turned off his vehicle and faced her. Pretty soon it would get overwhelmingly hot inside so she hoped he would blurt out his secret soon and get her in the building.

“I used to be a Dom.” He stared at her as though waiting for her to react.

Taren didn’t know what to say. She had a feeling from the way he acted and the knowledge he’d revealed during dinner that he had those tendencies. To hear him admit it made her pause. She had expected something else when she envisioned a Dominant. Maybe she thought he should have been clad in leather pants at all times.

“Oh.” She could only muster that one word. When she got her thoughts together, she managed to press him for more information. “Why are you telling me this now?”

He glanced at the building that had no signage at the street or on the building except for a building number, 4400. “I’ve brought you to a dungeon. It’s a members-only dungeon. I haven’t been here in a long time.”

“Why bring me here now?” She chewed the inside of her cheek.

“I don’t want you to experience BDSM from books or a TV show before you meet the contestants. You should be prepared.” He glanced away from her. “You should see what it’s really like and decide for yourself. I’m assuming from the few times we talked that you haven’t ventured into a real club or dungeon.”

She swallowed hard. “You are right about that.” She exhaled. “Time escaped me. I also wanted to go with someone. Dori would never come with me. She doesn’t want to participate in this lifestyle ever again.”

Jace turned back to her and leaned in close. “Thanks for trusting me.”

He hopped out of his slick, black vehicle and went around to her side. He opened her door and helped her out. As she walked up to the door with him, she felt his hand at the small of her back. All at once she felt like he owned her. She liked the sensation. With his touch, she seemed tethered to something, to someone.

Jace went to the door and pressed his thumb against the keypad. Within seconds, a face populated in the screen. It looked like a stern woman, but it could have been a man in drag. Taren couldn’t be sure.

Jace turned to Taren and looked back at the screen. “Master Christian.”

The person on the screen looked over her sunglasses. “You look old.”

Jace snickered. “We all get old, don’t we?”

After a beat, a loud buzzing sounded and Jace pulled on the door.

“You were known as Master Christian?” Taren reached for his hand to hold it, but felt the connection would be too intimate. She held his upper arm instead.

“My first real name.” He led her down a darkened hallway. “I go by my middle name now.”

“Too religious?” She moved in closer to him.

“Too much of something else.” It surprised her that he kissed her forehead as though rewarding her for something.

She liked the expression, feeling his warm lips against her skin. Or maybe she had still been worked up from watching the full season of
Love My Way
and viewing the last episode.

Taren worked up the nerve to scan her surroundings. The black walls and concrete floor reminded her of what her bedroom had looked like before she’d changed it. Thin chains dangled down at each doorway instead of doors. She looked into rooms they walked past to see half-naked men crouching on the floor and begging, either for mercy, forgiveness, or pain. She saw women strung up on devices that she’d remembered seeing in the family room at the house.

The pungent aroma of leather, sweat, and sex wafted through the air. The combination of scents caused her entire body to throb. Her clit begged to be touched. She wanted so much to duck in a private area to pinch her nipples or delve her fingers inside of her vagina to stimulate her spot until she became one of the quivering masses.

Those sights didn’t get to her as much as hearing the moans and cries. Whip cracks and flogger smacks against bare skin echoed through the hallways. A naked man crawled past them while his Mistress held his leash.

“Welcome back, Master Christian.” The thin woman with the spiked platinum blonde Mohawk kissed his cheek. “Montana said she’d let you in.”

“Great to be here again, Miss Hate. And call me Jace. Not going by Christian anymore.” He wrapped his arm around Taren’s waist and pulled her close. “Bringing a friend here to check out the scene.”

“Sub?” Miss Hate stared at Taren like she wanted to eat her alive. It didn’t help that she snaked her tongue out and caressed her lips with it.

“Yes. Still learning.” He patted Taren’s hip.

The gesture must have meant something to Miss Hate. She bowed her head and kept on down the hall with her pet.

“Are you okay?” Jace whispered in her ear.

“I feel overdressed.” Still in her shorts and T-shirt, she noticed that most of the submissives and slaves wore little to no clothes, while the Doms and Dommes all wore some form of leather, either pants or a tight skirt or straps going across their bodies.

“Don’t worry about your attire. I want you to take everything in.” Jace got to the end of the hallway and opened the door for her. “Go in.”

Taren took a careful step into the darkened room. It took a while for her eyes to adjust. The light in the center of the room helped. When she scanned the place, she felt like she’d stepped into a medical school where students sat in auditorium-style seating above to observe an operation or procedure in the center of the room below.

People sat in sporadic spots throughout the circular seating area. Jace led her to a fairly secluded section.

“If you can’t see the action down there, look at the TV screen up there.” He pointed up to a large screen that reminded her of being at a basketball game.

She peered up and saw a man wearing surgical scrubs looming over a woman reclined back on a medical examination table with her feet in stirrups. He opened her gown in the front, slipped on a pair of surgical gloves, and started giving her a breast exam. He made small, circular motions around each breast until he got to her nipple. There, he pinched it, which made her arch her back and moan.

Not until she did that did Taren notice that her hands had been bound by leather cuffs to the exam table. Each time she moved her hands the chains connecting her cuffs clinked against the metal side railing. The man playing doctor moved around to the other side of the table and did the same motions to that breast, finishing it by squeezing that nipple as well.

Jace leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Is this what you imagined would be a part of BDSM play?”

Taren shrugged. “I had read about medical exams in books, but to see it in person doesn’t really do anything for me. You’re talking to someone who has spent a lot of time in doctors’ offices and operating rooms. This isn’t sexy to me.”

“Good. I want you to see that BDSM is not about sex. It’s not about love. It’s about sensations. Keep watching Doc Doc.”

Taren blinked. “Did you say Doc Doc?”

Jace nodded. “Watch.”

Doc Doc looked up at the observers. His eye color matched his silver gray hair. “This woman has been brought to me to be given a general exam and treated for hysteria.” He managed to keep his face straight as he announced her condition.

Taren turned to Jace. “Is he being serious?”

“For this scene, yes.” He stretched his arm out across the back of her chair and patted her shoulder.

Doc Doc walked over to a raised tray table and uncovered tools he would need to treat this woman’s diagnosed condition. Underneath hid a speculum, forceps, and a sleek, long dildo.

Taren had expected to see him open her up with the speculum and then go in with the dildo. Instead he picked up the silver fake phallus and twisted the end. The buzzing sound echoed throughout the theater. It might have been in her mind, but Taren could have sworn her chair vibrated. She crossed her legs as Doc Doc approached the woman.

“Just relax and let your legs fall open.” He put one hand on her knee while he held onto to the vibrating device in his other.

The woman spread her legs as much as she could. The distinguished, older gentleman, who could have been a doctor in his vanilla life, moved in between her legs and slid the tip of the dildo around and around her clit, a view caught by the overhead camera. The mysterious person operating it zoomed in close to view Doc Doc’s handy work.

The woman writhed on the table as much as Taren squirmed in her chair. By the time Doc Doc slid the device inside her vagina, Taren wanted to crawl out of her skin or, better yet, jump in Jace’s lap. She squeezed her legs together, hoping to tamp down her pulsating clit. No such luck.

He moved in and out of her in a slow fashion at first. Then the tempo sped up. The poor submissive pulled on her restraints.

“Okay, my dear, release your hysteria.” Doc Doc patted her knee.

That must have signaled her to come. She screamed at the top of her lungs and arched her back as much as she could in her position.

Taren twirled her finger around her hair as she watched the action. Sweat covered her forehead and back. She needed some relief from the heat and the tension and the orgasm building up inside her. If Jace brought her to this place to turn her off, he’d made a huge mistake.

Once the submissive settled down on the table, the observers applauded Doc Doc’s efforts. He bowed and released the woman. Two hooded slaves helped her down from the table, loaded her onto a wheelchair, and pushed her out of the observation area.

“Was that it?” Taren started to stand.

“No.” Jace put his hand on top of hers to keep her seated. “This is the room to watch anything and everything. It’s not all medical play.”

Taren peered up at the screen and saw a naked African-American woman walking into the room. She stood in the center of the area until a bar lowered down over her head. A tall, dark-haired white man walked into the room carrying what looked to be a gym bag. Like the other people Taren had seen, he wore black leather pants, black boots, and a black executioner-style mask.

In a rough manner, he yanked the woman’s arms up and secured each wrist to restraints. Then the bar raised a little so that her feet barely touched the ground. The executioner opened his bag and removed a cane.

Taren’s heart raced even more. She gripped the chair arm as she waited for the Dom to make his first move. He grabbed her face and licked the side of it before any action happened. Then he whispered something in her ear. She nodded before he let her face go and circled her body.

As he stood behind her, he first started tapping her over her shoulders with the cane. Taren heard the taps from where she sat. He moved the tapping down her back to her ass. He continued that motion for a while until the woman started moaning. She nodded her head.

That must have been the signal to get the executioner to do more. He brought his hand back and spanked her with the cane. The scene seemed brutal, but what Taren saw had her juices flowing from her core.

Taren flinched when she felt Jace’s thumb touch the back of her neck. He kept his hand there without permission or apology. He swept his large digit over her skin, back and forth. With each motion, she felt her leg trembling even more.

As she watched the scene, she replaced the woman with herself. The executioner turned into Jace, without a mask. He used that cane on her until she broke. The woman in the scene screamed. In response, Taren gasped. She couldn’t take watching this anymore.

Before the scene ended, Taren stood. “I need to go.” She didn’t wait to hear from Jace. She moved past him and headed to the door.