Without a Net (15 page)

“Most people tell me that. Adelaide insisted she never wanted this lifestyle, and look at her now. Do you ever see your sister?”

“She’s my friend, not my sister. I am not one of yours, and you could always read me well enough that I think you knew from the start I wouldn’t stay.” There was a strange sort of regret in those words. Maybe Travis wasn’t one of Milan’s scary, brainwashed minions, but Ollie suspected the man wouldn’t stick his neck out to help a kidnapped cop either.
Wait.
He said he’d been a cop, but there was no way someone with a history hanging out with a shade Dom got through the interview process. Shading might be legal, but it wasn’t exactly mainstream.

Not that Travis had to tell the truth. So maybe he had been a cop. And maybe he’d been lying the whole time, although Ollie couldn’t get that to fit into any logical picture. If he assumed Milan had someone on the inside at the police department, then maybe Milan knew about Ollie’s assignment, but how did Milan get Travis into that apartment so quickly, and why would he bother? The other law-enforcement agencies that tried to get in at the club hit a brick wall, but none of their people vanished.

“Do you see her?” Milan asked again.

“Yes. I do. We often have lunch, but none of this changes the danger you’re in. You called me. Why the hell did you bother if you planned to ignore every piece of advice I offered?”

“Would you like a blowjob? Mandy, come here, boy,” Milan called.

“No,” Travis said. “I’m not here for pleasure. Things are getting dangerous, and there are too many innocent people here who are right in the middle, so if you won’t take care of yourself, take care of them.”

“I am. I called you.”

Travis surged to his feet, and Ollie could have cheered with relief, because his arms were trembling. “You are the most annoying man in the universe. This is not a game. I can’t walk in and snap my fingers to rearrange the universe to suit your mood.”

“I don’t expect that.”

“The hell you don’t.” Travis walked past Ollie’s nose with his sensible, flat shoes and their well-worn right heel. This guy spent time on his feet, but he didn’t have the sort of money Ollie expected from Milan’s crowd. Weird.

“I don’t,” Milan said firmly. “I still say we should convince them they have the upper hand. Those who believe they hold all the power rarely remember to keep an eye on it.”

“They aren’t stupid.”

“Nor am I,” Milan said softly, and Ollie could hear the challenge. He believed Milan, and he wondered if Travis felt the power in Milan’s words the way Ollie could.

“No,” Travis said after a long silence, “you aren’t. These people do not play by your rules. They won’t wait for you to do something illegal. They’re going to cheat.”

“Then we change the game,” Milan said. “Now, I have responsibilities, and I won’t put my life or the lives of my beauties here on hold so you and I can continue having this same argument. Go back to your room, take a walk, fuck that beautiful little toy waiting for your attention—do whatever interests you, my pet. However, I will not continue this conversation now.”

Ollie had no idea how Travis took that news, but he could hear footsteps walking away.

“Sunshine, Travis is not well-known for his patience. Do hurry after him,” Milan said.

Ollie struggled to kneel up with his body so tightly constricted, and after giving Milan one searching look, he rose and went after Travis. Maybe he could find a piece of paper and write a question—like,
Hey, are you a cop, or are you one of the bad guys?
Maybe he could ask,
Would you call the police if I asked you nicely?
Yep, that was a great plan. It ranked up there with going undercover at the Happy Whip in the first place and trusting the captain.

At this rate, he was probably safer with Milan, and that was Stockholm syndrome showing up on schedule. Ollie hated being right sometimes.

By the time Ollie reached the house, he was out of breath and he didn’t see Travis. He stopped at the door to the house and felt utterly lost. He also felt utterly stupid, because now would be an excellent time to run for it, but he wanted answers more than he wanted freedom at this point. He didn’t know which direction held any safety, and if he didn’t figure some stuff out, he wouldn’t live long.

This whole operation was so large that the local police might be on Milan’s payroll. That actually made a lot of sense. So even if Ollie escaped and someone called the local law enforcement, he might end up back here. Ollie felt like he was on a tiny spot of solid ground in the middle of quicksand. While he couldn’t survive here forever, movement in any direction could lead to a quick and messy death.

“There you are. Come on,” Dan said. He seemed to appear out of nowhere. Ollie noticed a hole in the wall behind Dan, and then a mirror slid into place to cover the opening. Of course Milan had secret passages. Ollie followed Dan to an old-fashioned elevator that was open and required someone to pull the gate closed. They went to the top floor—the third one—and Dan led the way down thickly carpeted corridors that silenced even their breathing. It was eerily still.

Dan hesitated for a moment in front of one door. Then, taking a deep breath, he softly knocked.

“Come,” Travis called from inside.

Dan opened the door and gestured for Ollie to go first. Nothing like getting thrown to the wolves. Ollie gave Dan a dirty look before schooling his features into something respectful and going inside. The guest room was larger than Ollie’s apartment with weird gables and angles that often showed up in old houses. A four-poster bed stood on the same wall with the door, and a breeze made the white curtains sway.

Travis sat at a heavy, carved desk set in front of an oversize window. “I have a question for you,” Travis said, and Ollie assumed he was speaking to Dan. Ollie sure couldn’t answer any questions.

“Sir?” Dan asked, and Ollie could hear the unease.

“Did Milan order you to escort my toy in here?”

Dan swallowed. “No, sir.”

Travis raised an eyebrow, and Ollie had never felt so much disapproval from one gray, slightly shaggy eyebrow. “Were you under the impression that I wanted to be interrupted?”

“No, sir,” Dan said.

That led Travis to lean back in the office chair. He looked supremely amused and absolutely in charge. Ollie wasn’t exactly sure how Travis and Milan could be in the same space without some sort of universal law of dominance being violated and a hole ripping in the space-time continuum. “Explain your actions, slave.”

Dan had lost most of his color, but when he went to speak, Travis held up a hand to stop him. “Keep in mind that honesty is the safest policy with me. It’s not safe, but it’s the safest you’re going to get at this point.”

Ollie could tell from the expression on Dan’s face that he had made the decision to change his story. “I thought if you had a toy to amuse you in the room, you would be more relaxed downstairs, sir.”

“So, you’re attempting to manage me and my emotions,” Travis summarized.

Dan turned utterly white, but he straightened up and answered with a simple, “Yes, sir.”

Travis nodded. “Report to the house disciplinarian. The next time I see you, I want twelve perfect stripes across that ass of yours, clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Dan said, and he seemed to relax a fraction of an inch.

“And after that, report to Milan and explain your transgression and show him your punishment,” Travis added, and Dan stopped breathing. He took several seconds to begin again.

“Yes, sir,” he said in a far weaker voice.

“Dismissed,” Travis said and then swung his chair back around to face the desk. Ollie didn’t know whether or not he was included in that dismissal. Suddenly getting information out of this guy didn’t seem like such a great idea. Ollie took one step toward the door, and Travis swung his chair around again.

“Toy, in position,” he ordered.

Ollie wasn’t sure what that command meant, but he settled back against the wall and spread his legs out to shoulder width. When all else failed with dominants, Ollie knew that showing them a vulnerable cock made them appreciate a sub’s willingness to offer up his body. It worked with Travis too, because he took out his phone. Of course, he also put the controller Dan had given him right on the desk.

Ollie watched Travis dial while he ran his fingers over the controls that could leave Ollie panting in pain.

“Hey,” Travis said into the phone. “Any movement?” He listened for a time, his index finger stroking a dial on Ollie’s controller. He glanced over at Ollie before his gaze slid away.

“He’s stubborn as ever,” Travis told the person on the other end. “But I’m working on him. He said we can talk at dinner.”

Travis hated the answer he got, and Ollie prayed he wouldn’t suffer because Travis was pissed at someone on the phone.

“He takes his work seriously, and he won’t postpone for anyone, including me.”

Travis paused again, and this time, he seemed almost amused in a dark and frustrated sort of way.

“Right, sure,” he said dismissively. “You wouldn’t be able to handle the subs around here, much less Milan.”

Someone didn’t like that—Ollie could read it in Travis’s expression.

“I’m not,” he said firmly. “I’m telling you the truth. The subs around here are tough as nails, and the second you tried to baby one, they’d gut you and leave your intestines hanging from the third-floor balcony, so don’t even pretend you can handle Milan or any of his dominants. You can’t.”

He paused briefly.

“Because I know you, and I know Milan. If I was being unfair, the director would have stepped in and ordered me to let you play with Milan. She didn’t because she knows the same thing I do—you’re not prepared to deal with hard-core shade Doms and subs.” Travis ran a thumb over the dial on Ollie’s controller before he slowly turned it.

The plug in Ollie’s ass began to undulate, pressing his prostate and making flares of pleasure shoot up. Ollie clasped his hands behind his back and tried to ignore his body and focus on the intelligence he was gathering.

Travis had a director—that implied he was a fed, not a cop. The FBI had jurisdiction only if local law enforcement had invited them in, if the crime went over state boundaries, or if the law-enforcement agency was the target and the Justice Department had a secret grand jury impaneled. Travis turned the dial more, and the plug vibrated as it writhed. Ollie bit down on his gag and tried to contain the lust that was sending too much blood straight to his cock.

“He still wants to make himself the bait,” Travis said. The sweat began to break out on Ollie’s back. Standing still was getting harder and harder.

“Nothing else?” Travis asked, and this time the answer appeared to bore him. He turned a critical eye in Ollie’s direction and then touched another switch.

Pain slammed into Ollie, setting his balls on fire. He jerked and would have screamed if he hadn’t been biting down on his gag already. As it was, he made a low keening noise and almost grabbed for his cock. Weeks of training and following orders had burned themselves into Ollie’s brain, though, and he rode out the sensation as it slowly subsided, leaving him weak and trembling. And horny. In the aftermath, the pleasure of the vibrating plug was even more intense.

Travis sent another jolt of electricity through Ollie’s balls, but this time it built in small increments. The hurt crackled across his nerves, fighting against the pleasure until Ollie was caught in the middle. The electrical charge heated the skin, and the hotter his balls got, the more they ached, and the more the vibration from the plug sank into every cell. The pain opened him in a way he couldn’t defend himself against.

Despite his desire to gather as much information as he could, Ollie couldn’t make out the words as Travis finished his conversation. English was far too complex a subject for Ollie to comprehend while his whole life had narrowed down to the pleasure in his ass and his overstimulated balls.

Travis ended the call, and for a time he watched Ollie. Ollie panted through his nose, and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, and then everything was gone—the agony and the pleasure. And he was empty. His scrambled brain tried to sort through how to identify himself to Travis, but he couldn’t keep any rational thoughts together long enough to make a plan. Besides, being a fed didn’t make Travis an honest fed. He might be on Milan’s payroll. Ollie had some pretty good evidence to support that assumption.

“Now, let’s discuss your disobedience,” Travis said. “You failed to keep up with me, you required another slave to leave his duties to tend to you, and you are clearly no more than raw-broken because you seem to have a case of ants-in-the-pants, although you’re missing the pants. That requires punishment, yes?”

Ollie could neither answer nor nod, so he kept his expression neutral and let Travis draw his own assumptions.

“I thought you would agree.” Travis stood and moved over to the bed, where he sat on the corner. “Come put yourself across my lap,” he ordered.

It was like having the vibrator and the electrical punishment turned on at once, only this time the pain and the pleasure—the fear and the anticipation—came from Travis’s words. Travis raised an eyebrow, and Ollie was moving before he thought his actions through. He walked to Travis, and when Travis grabbed him with large, strong hands, a shiver went through Ollie’s whole body. This was so much more intimate than with Milan. The natural attraction Ollie had felt from the first moment surged forward. He’d had a spark with Travis, and now that translated into a deeper need for a connection. Either that or Ollie’s mental screws were coming loose, and Ollie had to admit that was a possibility. Either way, the simple touch made Ollie tremble. Travis chuckled, but he didn’t hesitate to pull Ollie down over his lap. At first Ollie kept his hands behind his back, but Travis took him by the wrists and moved his arms so Ollie could brace himself on the bed. His toes barely brushed the ground; however, Travis had an arm around Ollie’s waist, holding him firmly.

Ollie had played with spanking in the past, and he expected the first tentative blows and the soft reassurances. Instead, Travis brought his hand down hard. The slap echoed in Ollie’s ears. The heat came a few moments later, and Travis didn’t hurry. He left his palm resting on the hot, abused skin and waited as the blood rushed to Ollie’s ass and the sting slowly built. Long seconds passed, and then Travis brought his hand down again. Ollie arched his back, but escape wasn’t possible. He could only endure as the heat built. And now the first spot throbbed. The dull ache distracted him until the third hit landed right on the base of the plug.