What About Love (Club Decadence Book 6) (11 page)

He stared at her for a moment, then laid it out bluntly. “No offense, little bit, but your cousins are the least discreet subs of the lot. Elena is a close third. It’s a well-known fact, and they have no qualms admitting it, that when Sean wanted to spread the word of Mara’s secret a few months back, Cap and Dex deliberately shared it with the twins. It spread faster than hell and high lightning.”

“They’re not so bad, back in high school though...” She shook her head. “Their daddy used to say that a secret to the twins is like a wildfire burning bright inside them, the more they try to contain it, the more fiery it gets until the only way to quash the blaze is to tell someone else, thereby disbursing the heat.”

Knowing the twins well, he didn’t find the story at all surprising. He grinned. “Major Sinclair sounds like a wise man.”

“Yeah, too bad they didn’t listen. It would have spared them many a meal standing up. At least in Regan’s case, I know.”

He caught her chin gently with his fingers and tilted it upward. “They’ll forgive you this deception considering the purpose.”

“I suppose.”

“Tell you what. They’ll be dressed up, front and center, guzzling margaritas by now as they do for all Elena’s shows. We’ll go straight to the dungeon. That way you don’t have to make any excuses.”

“Now why does that sound like I’m going from the frying pan straight into the fire?”

“More like being up the proverbial creek without a paddle, but don’t fret about that. I’ve got several in my bag.”

“T!” She choked, as he winked at her. Strangely amused by the whole bizarre situation, she stifled a giggle. “If you’re trying to be reassuring, you’re failing miserably.”

“I was trying to bring a sparkle to those pretty hazel eyes and the bloom back into your cheeks. And it worked.” He leaned in and kissed her gently on the forehead. In a blink, he was out of the car and circling the hood. When he grinned at her through the windshield, he was rewarded yet again with a small smile.

*****

As expected, entering the club with Master T drew curious looks, especially when he didn’t stop to talk with the many members who waved him over, instead, whisking her right through the bar and through the medieval dungeon doors. He moved fast, with a heavy arm clamped securely around her waist. It hadn’t prevented Angie from seeing the gape mouthed stares angled her way from the front table. Both Megan and Regan had waved at her frantically, attempting to signal her over, but she had shrugged, walking faster in her spiked heels, to keep up with T. Not an easy task.

Like Master Dan, he’d picked out black ankle strap stilettos with a five inch heel. Something she wouldn’t have chosen for herself because they placed her over six feet, taller than most of her dates in the past. With T that wasn’t a problem. She was surprised at first by his choice, thinking they were fairly conservative. That was until she turned them over and saw the scarlet red on the soles and the laces that adorned the back of each heel.

“Dungeon pumps,” she’d commented when he’d handed her the open box.

“Sorry, darlin’. These beauties won’t see any action in the playroom, club rules.”

She knew that, having been barefoot for two days with Dan. As she scurried along beside him, she wondered aloud why they bothered with shoes at all.

“Seems a shame,” he replied, “but stilettoes pointed up in the air can blind a Dom if he’s not careful.” They’d arrived at the doors, pausing as T pressed his thumb to the scanner. “Barefoot seems to set the submissive mood, as well.”

Once through the doors, he crouched and unbuckled her straps, steadying her at the hips as she stepped out of the killer heels. She sighed as he handed them over to an attendant. She could get used to the shoes and the dresses. T had picked out her little black dress for the night. She could go to dinner at any five-star restaurant in this dress and no one would bat an eye. Made of form fitting poly/spandex, the front had a laser cut faux leather overlay in an hourglass shape that accentuated her curves further. In back, the high-banded neck opened in a small keyhole. That was about it, except for the fact that the stretchy material hugged and flattered her curves. Tasteful and classy, compared to what she’d worn the two nights with Dan, it was almost prim.

T’s taste ran more to sexy chic, while Dan’s was more like trashy slut. As long as no one knew she wore practically nothing underneath—which she feared wouldn’t last much longer—no one would have guessed her destination for the evening.

With his hand riding low on her back, the tip of his pinky grazing the uppermost curve of her ass, T guided her out of the alcove and onto the main floor.

“Skipping the show is a good thing,” he said, glancing around. “With everyone crowding the bar and lounge to see Elena, we have our pick of stations.”

“Lucky us.” Angie deadpanned.

“Sarcasm isn’t appreciated by Doms and usually earns prompt retribution,” he advised in warning. “Relax, I promise you’ll enjoy yourself more if you do.”

She rolled her eyes at the arrogance of his statement.

“Uh-uh! Eye rolling is another definite no-no. Didn’t Master Dan teach you about basic respect?”

“He did. I guess I forgot now that it’s show time.”

“As soon as we enter the club, whether here or in LA—” He paused, fist pounding his chest as he grunted, “me dominant.” Rotating his hand, he poked two fingers lightly against her chest and finished, “You submissive.”

She couldn’t keep from giggling at his Tarzan, king of the jungle impersonation. “Ah, so that’s what the “T” stands for.”

“Come along, Jane,” he ordered, in the same laconic manner. “Me want to play.”

The cross he led her to, stood at least eight feet tall. It was black, thickly padded and scared the crap out of her. Angie felt T move in close behind her, his big body towering over her as he enveloped her in his arms. They hugged her waist tightly and pulled her back firmly against his front. With his chin, he brushed the hair away from her neck, his warm breath fanning across her cheek and ear, sending a shiver coursing through her body when he spoke.

“Nice and slow tonight. You don’t worry about anything except the sound of my voice, responding to my commands and feeling my control in the restraints.”

He eased away, hands moving up to her zipper and eased it down. She stiffened, opening her mouth to protest. Beneath her dress she wore nothing except a skimpy lace thong. She’d be more exposed than on the bench, for all to see. T sensed her distress and was quick to reassure her.

“Easy, little bit. We’ll start out facing the cross, panties on. No one will see anything other than your lovely back. I’m going to touch you, everywhere, including over your panties, but I won’t do more unless you ask me to.”

Lulled by his deep, seductive voice, she wasn’t aware that her dress was undone until it fell with a whoosh to her feet.

“Step out,” he ordered low against her ear, his sultry tone unchanged.

She found herself obeying without question, though her hands rose instinctively to cover her breasts.

He didn’t say a word as he stooped to pick up her dress and draped it over a nearby table with care. As she watched, Angie noticed a black bag lying open on the same table. She’d seen other Doms, including Dan, carry a bag like his, filled with all sorts of BDSM toys. It seemed odd to call whips and straps toys. A leather wrapped handle was sticking out of the top. Was it the paddle he’d mentioned earlier?

“Where did that bag come from?”

“One of the attendants brought it to me.”

“I didn’t see you ask anyone for it.”

“That’s because I didn’t have to. Our attendants are efficient, silent and nearly invisible.”

“There wasn’t any nearly about it.” Her focus hadn’t moved from the handle. “Are you going to spank me with whatever that is in your bag?” she asked abruptly, needing to know with an urgency bordering on desperation what lay ahead for her.

“Sir.”

“Pardon?”

“Respect, Angie. You’re in the club. How do you address your Dom?”

“Oh, of course. You are Sir.”

“That’s it. As for the spanking, it’s a very common type of play. Did Dan give you a sample?”

She nodded. “He spanked me while tied over a bench, and—” Her voice trailed off as she wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself. Never in her life had she imagined being a part of such a conversation.

T was in front of her, his hands cupping her jaw, angling her face up to his.

“And?” he prompted, his voice insistent.

“Punished me with a paddle.”

“When? Last night?”

“Yes.”

He turned her gently, his hand gliding over her back as he bent her over his forearm. Cool air brushed her bottom as he tugged down her panties to mid-thigh. His hand ran over each cheek lightly.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, thoroughly shocked.

“Checking for bruises or welts. I don’t see any. Are you still tender?”

Stunned at the unexpected inspection, her jaw dropped open and she stammered her answer. “No, er… Well, um, yes,” she paused, knowing she sounded like a ninny. “I mean the paddle stung quite a bit during, but it didn’t last long and wasn’t nearly so bad to leave marks.”

“Good. I won’t have to kick his ass when he gets back.” He said this softly, and although she could hear the smile in his voice, she got a feeling he wasn’t kidding. He pulled the barely there scrap of lace back in place and turned her to face him once again as he pressed for more. “So, if it didn’t hurt too badly, did it perhaps feel good?”

Her cheeks flamed. How did she answer that?

“Never mind.” The edge of one thumb came up and swept over the crest of her flushed cheek in the softest of caresses. “This pretty blush is answer enough. Let’s get you up on the cross and explore. I think we might find other things that feel just as good, if not better.” He produced a pair of white leather fleece lined wrist cuffs from his bag. Once applied snugly, he walked her forward, his hands guiding her by the hips. As he attached her cuffs to hooks high above her head, he explained. “These are stiff because they’re new. If they pinch or hurt in anyway, I expect you to tell me.”

She nodded.

“Your answers are to be verbal, little bit.”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied back.

“Again, these are the basics. I’m beginning to think Dan didn’t teach you anything.”

“He did, but I’ve been on edge, so I’ve forgotten some of them.”

“Respect, verbal responses, and safewords are rules you cannot forget.”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll remember this time.”

Moving a half step back, his touch didn’t leave her. He gathered her hair, pulling it forward over one shoulder, thereby exposing her back. With fingers splayed wide, his hands slid down slowly, along either side of her spine, dipping low until they stopped at the waistband of her panties. “You have beautiful skin. Smooth and flawless.” One hand dropped lower, stroking over first one cheek than the other. “It’s nothing compared to this ass,” his fingers flexed, as if testing the suppleness, “which is simply stunning.”

Angie quivered, his touch igniting a fire in her body. She bit the inside of her lip, successfully suppressing the moan that rose up and threatened to burst free, but she had no control of her hips which thrust forward reflexively, nudging the padded cross.

“Did Master Dan use a flogger on these gorgeous cheeks?”

“Yes, Sir, he used two, suede and nylon.” The breathy quality of her voice could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was—desire.

“A very good start for a novice.” His head bent and she felt his lips brush softly across her shoulder. His whispered breath followed, making her shiver. “Your body’s vibrating with need after only a few light touches. A taste of my lash will have you soaring.”

From the corner of her eye she saw him twist, his long arm easily reaching his bag without leaving her. He withdrew an ominous looking multi-tailed whip.

She tensed. Missing nothing, his hand squeezed her hip. “Trust me, Angie.” A fraction of a second later the lash stroked across her bottom. Prepared for much worse than the paddle, a ragged low cry escaped her lips despite the sensation being soft and light.

“Relax,” he murmured as the leather connected again. There was no bite or sting, instead, the tails thumped, curling around her curves like massaging fingers.

Her head fell back. The long fall of her hair sweeping down her back as T methodically lashed her ass and down her thighs with the heavenly flogger. Alive with sensation, a moan rose from her chest. As if by design, his hand sank into her hair, coiling it around and around his wrist, baring her back once again. Without releasing his firm hold, the flogger fell higher, connecting lightly along the base of her ribs. She’d witnessed a similar scene each of the past two nights, thinking it must be painful to take a lashing across the back and shoulders, but she was wrong. There was no pain, only pleasure, at least in the way T was doing it.

Under his control, his focus solely on her, his lash caressed her naked body, making her feel—really feel—sensations she’d never experienced before. She was starting to realize why all of this was so compelling, why some of her friends craved it like a drug, pursuing it, reveling in it, submitting to its power. She didn’t want him to stop, ever. She felt alive, her body vibrating as he’d said it would, her hard nipples rubbing against the cross with every stroke, her pussy drenched with need. The strokes began to fall across her ass once again, meeting her lowermost cheeks this time, the thud of the tails driving her arousal even higher.

“T, please.”

“Please what, baby?” His voice rasped in reply, not breaking the pattern of his strokes.

“I need—”

“Ask for what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“I need to come.”

“Mm… try again. This time be specific in what you want and ask with respect.”

The lash zipped a bit harder, bringing her up on her toes, not with biting pain, rather with intensity as the muscles of her thighs, buttocks, and those deep within her contracted.

“Touch me, Sir, make me come.”