Frisky Business (2 page)

“NEED HELP, MISS?”

Claire looked up, her finger hovering above the Lucius’s speed dial number. A young man, probably in his early twenties, stood in front of her. He wore his blond hair in a crew cut. With his square jaw and buff body, he seemed almost militaristic. Except that he wore no shirt and his nipples were pierced with silver hoops, which were linked together by a thin silver chain. He also wore black leather pants and black biker boots with big silver buckles.

She gaped at his chest. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Pain and pleasure are twins,” he said.

“Right,” she agreed, utterly unconvinced. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named had tried to tell her the same load of shit. Once again, her gaze fell to the guy’s chained pectorals.

“Do you want to pull on the chain?”

Yes, she did, but only to be perverse. She supposed that was the whole point of staying at a hotel called Bondage Bay.

“No, thanks.” She smiled weakly. “Maybe next time.”

“You bet.” He looked her over, his gaze lingering on her choker. “Let me guess. Can’t find the right room?”

“Yeah.” Relief rushed through her. If he could tell her how to get to the dungeon, she’d make it in time and wouldn’t have to call Lucius.

“Keep going until you reach the third hallway on the left. Go all the way to end. The door is on the right. You better get going or you’ll be late.”

“Thanks.” Claire hurried away, wondering how Nipple Boy knew she was going to be late. Oh, lord. Was he one of the models? Or one of Bad Boy’s many underlings?

When she reached the door, she slipped inside, only to bounce face-first off the muscled chest of a mountainous man. He wore black leather pants and a black vest. Doesn’t anyone like blue around here? He had long dark hair, dark eyes, and pierced lips. He grabbed her by the elbows as her planner, cell phone, and shopping bag went flying. “Whoa now, sugar,” he drawled. “You just made it.” He handed her a fan with a number on it. “Hurry on up to the stage now.” He twirled her around and gently shoved her toward a row of platform steps.

“But my—”

“I got ’em, honey. I’ll make sure you get ’em back after the auction.”

Auction? Goddamn Lucius. Had he switched gears again? The man often changed times, days, locations, meetings … anything on a whim. Everyone hopped aboard the insanity train, too, because he made what should’ve been a pain-in-the-ass into a party. She hated it when he got all impetuous. Internally grousing, she weaved through the models looking for a familiar face. Where was Macintosh? For that matter, where was His Highness, King Lucius?

“Stand here,” demanded a woman dressed in a pink latex dress and thigh-high pink boots. Her entire body sparkled gold in the overhead lights. Even her long, black hair glittered.

Claire blinked at her. “Oh. I’m not a—”

The woman snapped a pink whip at Claire’s feet. “Now.”

Meekly, Claire inserted herself into the spot between a tiny blonde in a nurse’s costume and a redhead wearing nothing but a yellow mini skirt and black high heels.

“The auction will begin momentarily, ladies. You know the rules. Stand still. Hold your sign in your right hand, breast level. Do not move until you are purchased.”

As she did what the woman said, foreboding sat heavy in her stomach. This is so wrong. Unless … Lucius had set her up. He liked teasing her, but he had never outright embarrassed her. Oh, God. Was he pranking her? With his twisted sense of humor, he might very well do some whacked-out bon voyage stunt. Maybe just to punish her a little for her abandonment. Because she’d done the one thing no one ever had: Leave him first.

But, no. That was her ego, not the reality. Whatever Lucius’s faults, holding grudges was not among them. If she wanted to go, he would let her go.

And she wanted to go.

If only to keep what wisps of integrity and self-esteem she had left.

She stared at the plush curtains, doubt nibbling on her confidence. Lucius might not arrange this sort of nefarious send-off, but Macintosh would. When the curtains opened, would she see Macintosh, Lucius, and other Bad Boy staff waiting for her to make a fool of herself? The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Suddenly, everything seemed rehearsed—from the young man finding her in the hall, to the mountain man getting her onto the stage.

You are a dead man, Macintosh!

Before she could decide whether to tough it out or to take the chicken’s way out—right out of the line and off the stage, music blared and the curtains rolled back. As she looked out into the sea of people who’d packed the room, Claire felt the blood rush from her face. This wasn’t the dungeon. And it wasn’t an elaborate prank.

Claire’s heart flipped over in her chest then did the mambo up to her throat. Shit … oh shit. She’d made a mistake. A terrible mistake.

A female voice purred, “Welcome Doms and Dommes! Thank you for attending Lady Pink’s nightly slave auction!”

“CLAIRE’S BEING AUCTIONED,” said Mac, his English accent deliberately cockney, as he strolled into the dungeon ten minutes late. Mac was short, but buff, with a shaved head and pierced ears—three hoops in each lobe. He wore ripped jeans and a black T-shirt that read “Porn Star” in big white letters.

Lucius’s temper was about to snap. Mac thought arriving on time for anything was terribly droll, but Claire would get hit by car and still drag her carcass into the office rather than be a millisecond late. But she was late and he was worried.

Had she booked that flight home after all?

“Damn it, Mac! I know you’re the best photographer in the biz, but we only have two hours and you’re costing—” Lucius stared at his friend’s smug expression. “What did you say?”

“Your executive assistant is on Lady Pink’s auction block. She looks delish, I must say.” Mac whistled. Then he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Across the hallway. I peeked in to see what’s what.”

For a moment, Lucius simply could not wrap his mind around the idea that Claire had volunteered for a BDSM slave auction. “What the bloody hell is she doing!?”

“Sellin’ herself to the highest bidder.” Mac grinned. “What’s wrong, mate? Afraid someone else will get your submissive?”

“Shut up.”

Mac laughed, unafraid of Lucius’s ire. “Here you are, a Dom without a sub. And there she is—”

“A woman who doesn’t recognize her own nature.” Lucius rubbed his temples. “She’s not mine. Hell, she wants to get away from me so badly she quit her job!”

“That’s what you think?” Mac shook his head. Then he slapped Lucius on the shoulder. “I was only havin’ you on, Lucius. I bet our Claire got her directions mixed up. Maybe she thought we’d changed the shoot’s location. Not out of the realm of possibility, mate. You’re as likely to change your mind as the sun is to shine.”

That explanation made a helluva lot more sense. Claire had not shown an interest in the BDSM lifestyle. But even if she’d decided it was time to unleash her inner naughty girl, she wouldn’t have ditched work.

Lucius strode toward the door, but Mac grabbed him by the arm. “Hold on there. Don’t embarrass yourself or Claire by doing something impetuous.” Mac gestured to the rack of costumes they’d brought in for the models. “If you want to rescue your damsel, you gotta look the part of the knight.”

Lucius gestured to the black leather outfit he already wore. “You’re the only one who refuses to wear the right clothing here.”

“I’ll walk around in the buff before I put on a nancy-boy costume like yours,” exclaimed Mac with a shit-eating grin. “Claire will throw herself off the top of the hotel if she figures out you bought her.” He pointed to the row of black hoods meant to cover everything but the eyes and mouth.

“What the hell makes you think I’m going to buy Claire?”

“It’s what you’ve been trying to do since she quit.”

“That’s crossing the line,” said Lucius through clenched teeth. He hated that his friend was right. He’d been trying to figure out a way to keep Claire near him. She was sensitive to his moods, remembered what he liked and what he didn’t, and often gave him the kind of hard-ons that required cold showers. He sensed her natural submissive tendencies, but had never pushed the issue with her.

Until now.

When she’d given him two weeks’ notice, he’d been shell-shocked. Maybe that’s why he’d done everything his power to get her to Bondage Bay. He’d been telling himself that he only wanted to convince her to stay as his assistant.

But maybe he’d really been hoping for this kind of opportunity. He had a chance to explore a deeper relationship with her. No. This was crazy. He would simply buy her anonymously and let her go. Unless she wanted to be his slave … yeah, if she accepted him as her Dom then he would take her.

She’ll never agree. Why would Claire show her vulnerability and pain to a stranger when she wouldn’t open up to him? Surely she knew that he cared deeply for her.

“Better get going, mate.”

Lucius glanced at the row of leather masks. “Fine. I’ll do whatever it takes to save her, but you stay here and take some damned pictures.”

“Aye-aye, cap’n.”

CLAIRE HAD TRIED twice to leave, but Lady Pink snapped the whip on her exposed upper thigh. It stung like hell. She desperately wanted to tell someone that a huge mistake had been made. Lady Pink was busy listing the attributes of the slaves, but she was keeping an eagle eye on Claire. Honestly, Claire really didn’t want any more of the woman’s attention.

Bad Boy had agreed not to interrupt ongoing activities. As much as Claire wanted to leap off the stage and run away, she didn’t want to do something that would affect Bad Boy or Lucius negatively. Besides, she was a little scared of Lady Pink. And she was a lot scared of being someone’s sexual property.

So, she decided that she would negotiate with whoever bought her. The “sales” were really charitable donations, and she was a sucker for supporting good causes. All she had to do was explain to her purchaser that she was not a slave and offer to reimburse the price paid. She’d figure out something to tell Lucius about her late arrival. Then she could forget about this humiliating experience.

“Sold!” purred Lady Pink. “Our first sale of the evening, ladies and gentlemen, for two thousand, three hundred dollars.”

She drew the pink whip over the young woman’s shoulder. “Step forward, slave.”

The woman moved out of the line-up. She was dressed in a red mini skirt and thigh-high boots. Her small breasts were barely covered by a strip of red fabric. She wore a hair band that sported two red horns.

“What’s your name?” asked Lady Pink.

“Devil Girl.”

Lady Pink gestured to someone on the side of the stage. A man strode toward them. He wore an elaborate yellow mask that looked like a sunburst; his vinyl outfit had gradient shades of yellow, orange and red.

“This is your Master, Devil Girl. He has purchased you for the next twenty-four hours. Do you agree to be his?”

“Yes.”

“Show your Master homage.”

Devil Girl kneeled before the tall sun god and kissed his booted feet.

“Does she meet your approval, Master?” asked Lady Pink.

“Yes,” said the man.

“Everyone knows the rules.” Lady Pink smiled seductively and snapped the whip in the air. “A Master and his slave must entertain us. Whet our appetites, beloved ones. Give us a hot scene.”

The crowd cheered and clapped.

Claire felt her stomach drop to her toes. What fresh hell was this?

“Stand up,” demanded the Master.

His slave stood immediately and kept her eyes cast down.

“Turn around so that your back faces the audience.”

Again, Devil Girl did exactly as the man directed.

“Bend over and grab your ankles.”

The woman bent over and wrapped her hands around the red boots.

Claire watched in breathless anticipation. What would the Master demand next? And why was the woman complying so readily? She didn’t seem to mind being bossed around at all. Claire didn’t want to contemplate the idea that her own reaction was skewed. Her heart pounded and sweat dotted her brow.

The Master flipped up Devil Girl’s skirt and revealed her naked ass to the people watching. Claire’s face went hot with embarrassment as she realized the woman wore no underwear at all.

“Would you like an instrument of torture?” asked Lady Pink. She wheeled over a tray filled with items that looked like surgical tools. Claire also noticed a couple of floggers, a selection of dildos, several thin metal rods, and a Taser.

Her gaze switched to the poor woman. Claire wondered how Devil Girl could tolerate standing in that position. All the blood was rushing to her head and surely, she would pass out.

The Master chose a slim metal piece that was flat and about as long as his arm. He held it at one end then placed it across Devil Girl’s exposed buttocks.

A hush descended on the crowd. Seconds ticked by and Claire realized the man was making his slave wait. Was she dreading the impact? Or would she relish it?

Whack! The metal slapped her pale flesh and left a thin, red welt. Claire nearly swallowed her tongue.

Whack! Whack! Whack!

The girl didn’t flinch, but Claire did. Then she swore she heard a low moan. She’s enjoying it! Claire’s heart thundered in her chest. She was willing to go through the charade to a point, but the idea of doing BDSM play with a complete stranger terrified her.

It also excited her.

Whoa. What? No. Okay. Yes. But it only intrigued her a little. Had her ex-lover been right about her? Did she deny her sexual needs because they seemed wrong? No. Phillip pushed and pushed until she’d caved and then … well, it had ended badly. If Phillip had truly loved her, he wouldn’t have prodded her into those circumstances.

The Master whacked the woman’s ass another five times. Claire tried to control her breathing. God, it was hot in here. She didn’t dare move, not with Lady Pink so close and her whip so ready.

Finally the Master finished. He traced every welt lovingly then flipped down the skirt. “You may stand.”

Devil Girl rose, standing still, and waited. The Master rubbed her ass and said, “You have pleased me.”