Sweet and Dirty (11 page)

Little Peter nodded, hunched his shoulders pathetically.

“Good. Now, get on with serving; you’ve wasted enough of everyone’s time.”

Nora watched as everyone was served, chatting amiably as if nothing had happened and there wasn’t a full-grown man with a penis gag in his mouth placing food before them.

She swallowed, hoping she didn’t offend someone and get a gag stuffed into her mouth too. Her appetite fled.

Sylvester spoke softly with Mistress Kiana for a short time, making Nora wonder if they were a pair. She felt an odd sense of loss at the thought. In fact, she felt odd in general. Shy. She managed to speak briefly about her job. People seemed interested enough when she discussed the ups and downs of travel marketing. Slowly, when nothing else bad happened, the excellent food seduced her appetite into returning.

The courses pleased her enormously. Mistress Kiana was an accomplished cook. The woman barely glanced at the man she’d gagged.

Nora wasn’t at all certain about the protocol of things, here. When not serving, the service submissives knelt in opposite corners, attentive, occasionally rising to fill water glasses or remove plates.

Ryan radiated tension, she suddenly noticed. Clearly he was even more uncomfortable than she was.

It was too quiet. But if she spoke up too often, or complimented the intimidating chef, might she get a gag put in her mouth?

Nora snorted, tired of feeling afraid. She decided to chance it: “Mistress Kiana, may I compliment you on an exceptional meal?”

“Certainly.” The woman smiled at her, and it transformed her face into something much more accessible. “Thank you. Cooking is my second-favorite hobby.”

“Her first favorite is ‘beating the bottom.’ Little Peter is in for it later.” Master Andre grinned. “Maybe Kitten, too, if Mage is still being antisocial.”

Sylvester spoke to Nora directly, explaining. “Mage lives here part of the year. He often has Kitten bring him a late dinner up in his Painloft.”

“Antisocial.” Master Andre repeated. He offered Nora a small smile. “More fun for us having Kitten all to ourselves. Perhaps as a toy for Black and White. What do you say, Kitten?”

Kitten started to nod eagerly, then checked herself and looked to Mistress Kiana. “If it pleases you, Mistress Kiana?”

“I’ll be busy attending to Little Peter’s punishment,” the dominatrix agreed. “A caning, I think. Leave him something lasting to remind him of his disobedience.” She frowned slightly, rubbed her temples. “And then perhaps a long, soothing massage.”

Ryan put down his wineglass and spoke too loudly. “Isn’t that a bit excessive for the crime? The poor guy’s already wearing a dick in his mouth.”

Everyone turned to stare at Ryan.

“We haven’t gotten to know our newest guests yet.” Sylvester’s voice rolled across the room, compelling. “I’ve explained my role as dungeon monitor and general consultant, in the welcome brochure. Perhaps you have questions.”

Nora frowned. “I didn’t see any—”

“Yes, you explained everything,” Ryan interrupted. “When does the role playing start?”

Sylvester stared at Ryan. “I’m not sure you do understand. And why such a hurry? The activities on your play checklist don’t even involve role play. Unlike Nora’s.”

She could suddenly smell the nervous sweat coming off Ryan. Why was he afraid? And what was this checklist they were talking about? “Ryan, what’s going on? Why didn’t you tell me about…hey!” she slapped his hand away as he pawed at her face.

He tried again to stuff his wadded-up linen napkin in her mouth. “You’ve been bad, very bad. Your goal was to give good service, and, uh, you didn’t. You’ve failed me.” Though his mimicking words were ludicrous, the look in his eyes as he tried again to force her mouth full of napkin reflected some strong emotion. She smelled the alcohol on his breath. “You’ve failed me,” he moaned.

She didn’t understand his pain, but she did understand he was trying to gag her. “Ryan, stop it!”

“Stop.”

Ryan did, panting. He glanced at Sylvester, who’d risen.

Sylvester enunciated clearly. His eyes shot sparks. “In BDSM fetish circles—Bondage, Domination, Sadism, Masochism—we have a creed we follow. Everything we do must be safe, sane, and consensual.
Consensual
. That did not look consensual.”

“No, it didn’t.” Master Andre stared coldly at Ryan.

“No,” Mistress Kiana agreed. She looked at Ryan as if he were a bug.

“We should leave.” Ryan stood.

“Wait.” Nora remained seated. “Why did you just do that? What is the checklist you were talking about?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you.” Ryan began to stalk away.

“Black, White? Fetch.” Master Andre smiled as his companions moved swiftly after Ryan. Nora watched, too surprised to move, as White headed Ryan off, then tripped him, even as Black pinned his arms behind his back as he stumbled and sank to his knees. They dragged him back, struggling and cursing, but when Black sat on him with his arms held firmly he subsided. He couldn’t see White behind him shaking her head, a slow gesture of amazement. The woman left the room, then returned with steel manacles, which she quickly snapped onto his wrists.

“Un-freakin’-believable,” said Little Peter, before he remembered himself. “Sorry, Mistress Kiana.”

“Understandable,” she murmured.

Nora sat rooted in her seat, staring at her fiancé. His arms were twisted back behind him, the wrists overlapping each other and fastened securely with handcuffs that didn’t have any give at all. He struggled to his feet…then sat down heavily in the nearest chair. “That didn’t work out quite the way I’d planned.”

“What the hell is going on!” Now that everyone else sat motionless and silent, Nora felt her own fury build. “Explain what this is about!”

The crinkle of paper sounded loud in the silence. Sylvester unfolded it, brought it to her. “This isn’t yours, I take it.”

She scanned the stapled pages, then slowed and actually read some of it. “This has my old knee injury on it? How did you get my medical records? A BDSM Play Partner Checklist? Anal plugs? Golden showers? Electric torture?” She saw something that made her go faint with shock. “Chase and Capture rape fantasy?”

S
he stared at Ryan. “This was your idea. You made this list up for me. After I told you about my fantasy.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“A dozen red roses is a surprise. A long, romantic weekend at a bed-and-breakfast is a surprise. Rape isn’t a goddamn surprise. It’s assault. Were you going to do the honors yourself?”

“You think I don’t know you’re a million miles away when we do it, in your spare scraps of time?” Ryan screamed at her. “Off in fantasyland. Who can compete with that?”

“Whoa.” Her world felt as if it were tilting sideways. “It was never supposed to be a competition. Hey…Please excuse me, I need some air,” she told everyone as she stood and walked unsteadily from the room. She walked blindly, only by luck ending up by the back upper deck. Sliding the glass door to the right, she stepped through onto the wooden planks and let the cool twilight air caress her.

Her heart hurt. Another part of her felt vindicated by the justification of certain suspicions. Ryan’s competitiveness, Ryan’s secretiveness, Ryan’s easily bruised ego…He hated her long hours, and her success. The problem was obvious, in retrospect.

She heard the door slide open behind her. Ryan stepped through. She saw the others slowly gather just inside the doorway, silent. Curious. She could hardly blame them.

Ryan tried to shrug, but his pinned wrists made the gesture awkward. “I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, I probably wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

“Probably. Great.”

“It’s just that, you know, you’re this ice queen.”

She started. Ice queen? Her?

“You have this fabulous vacation-marketing job where you get to fantasy-travel to all corners of the world. You have this bold attitude, living life on your own terms instead of settling down and raising two kids in a suburb like all your friends. You want adventures, new experiences, despite your crazy hours at work. And now, you’re going to be vice president of the company and make shitloads of money…
and I never see you anymore
. What am I, next to all that? An aging has-been of a race-car driver who can’t even make you come.”

She made a small sound of demurral, but he was continuing. “So I just figured if you got taken down a notch or two, you might realize I’m better than fantasyland. You might actually, you know. Appreciate me. Love me.”

“I said yes to you, didn’t I?” She held up her left hand, ring on display.

“I should take it back. I don’t deserve you.”

She yanked it off, in full agreement. What he’d said had turned her stomach. “No. You don’t.” And yet, her heart ached seeing the lost, agonized look when she handed him back the ring.

“Ryan, you signed me up for rape,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Yes. I’m sorry for that now.”

This conversation was insane. “Sorry for it? Enough to maybe take one for the team yourself? Huh?”

He looked at her steadily. “If that’s what it takes.”

She threw up her hands. “Oh my god, we’re both crazy. You know what? It wouldn’t be enough now.”

“Anything you ask. Anything on that sheet. I’m so fucking sorry, I’ll do anything. Put me under a golden shower. Lock me in a cell. Whip me till I’m bloody.”

“Asphyxiation!” called out Black.

“Pony play!” called out White.

“Anal fisting!” called out Kitten.

Everyone looked at Kitten. “What? It’s on the list.”

“Do you wish to make amends to Nora?” Sylvester stepped forward, alongside Black and White. The others fell silent. “Do you wish to put yourself, as the lowest of slaves, into the hands of these two switches? Assuming Master Andre has no objection,” he added.

Master Andre shook his head. “They’ve been bottoming too much lately anyway, wearing me out. Let them top for a change.” He grinned at Ryan. “Oh, they have plenty of nasty tricks. I should know; they learned them from me.”

“Ryan, it must be consensual. You have to negotiate your limits with those whom you play, but considering what you did I’d seriously consider agreeing to remove any and all limits. However, a safe word is mandatory. Say it, and all play stops. Safe words are respected here. Choose one now, in my presence. Any word.”

“‘Nora’ is my safe word. And I agree, no limits.”

Sylvester’s lip quirked down on one side. The hint of contempt was the only emotion he’d shown. “Heard and witnessed. For the next three days and nights, Ryan is everyone’s property and may be punished by anyone present, at any time, in any way they wish. Three days from now, Nora will decide if his penitence is sufficient reason to take him back.” He nodded to Black and White.

The two women surged to Ryan, touching him, pinching. “Hey!” he slapped Black’s hand away from his nipple. She immediately slapped his face. Then pinched his nipple, twisting cruelly.

“Whoa.” Nora froze.

Then, as Black’s handprint rose in a palm-shaped red mark on Ryan’s cheek, he smiled at Nora. “For you.”

“Oh, man. You don’t have to do this.” She looked at him pityingly.

“Yeah, I do. Oh. Um.” He tried to turn the front of his body away from Nora as White tugged his pants down.

Not fast enough. Nora gasped. “You’re hard! You
like
it!”

Ryan blushed.

As they collared and bound him, he began to look as if he had regrets, but Nora no longer worried too much about him.

As they tugged on his leash to lead him away, she even giggled.

“I’m glad to see this isn’t traumatizing you.” Sylvester watched her from the edge of the deck, smoothing his hand once over the railing as if calming it. She noticed the deeper silence and saw everyone else had vanished. He interpreted her gaze correctly. “Mistress Kiana is in the dungeon disciplining Little Peter. Black and White probably can’t wait to get Ryan over to the flesh hook clearing, to terrify him. Kitten is cleaning up after dinner. Master Andre hopes to spend time with you later. And I…I want to have a little chat with you.”

“Good idea.”

“Would you like some water?”

“Got anything stronger?” She knew he did, the good red wine that had accompanied dinner. She licked her lips when he nodded. He preceded her inside. “Actually, you’re wrong. I am a little bit traumatized. Ryan and I dated for two years. How could he do something like this?” When offered a choice of wines, she pointed to the bottle of Cabernet. “Thanks. He and I had our problems, sure. I guess we had more problems than I knew. He hides a lot,” she said, the full impact hitting her of just how much he’d hidden from her.

She gulped her wine.

“Easy, there.” He glanced up at sudden movement. Master Andre flipped channels from a couch in the middle of the open room. The TV was a strangely normal sound, but it made Sylvester frown. “Come with me.”

She did, still sipping. A pleasant warmth filled her stomach. She felt the stirrings of excitement as she followed the man down another hallway and into a large room far enough from the TV to renew the silence. Which ended when he flipped on the lights. The soft wail and steady beat of Enigma accompanied the warm, recessed-lighting glow.

He immediately turned it down, but Nora smiled. “I’ve heard Enigma is like the national anthem for BDSM.”

He made a noncommittal sound. Then, “I don’t invite people into my suite, as a rule.”

“I like Enigma.” She liked him, too, but she didn’t tell him that. His reticence was kind of cute, especially paired with the commanding way he’d taken control of the situation earlier.

He wasn’t ugly after all, she realized, trying to look at him surreptitiously. It was difficult with those eyes of his trained on her. Not ugly at all, just unusual. His dark brows made him look intense. The shaggy hair made him seem a bit wild. Masculine. Tempting, in a dangerous way.

“So…you own this place?” She moved farther from him, sat down on a silk print–covered chair. Only after placing her drink on the low table did she realize she had a clear view of the adjacent bedroom.

A large, four-poster bed. Of course. She caught herself squinting at the sturdy-looking posts to see if they had eyebolts on them.

“Yes.”

She started. “Yes? Oh.” He was responding to her question: he owned the place.

He walked toward her. Sat in the companion chair. She felt her body tighten in reaction to his proximity. She nudged her wine away.

“You don’t like it?”

“I like it fine. Just need to clear my head.” He wasn’t going to carry her off to his lair, she wasn’t going to do anything stupid, and why couldn’t she look away from his bedroom? She glanced around. Bookshelves. She was up and at them in a heartbeat. She recognized many of the books, too. Favorites of hers. Disconcerting, this particular man owning so many of the same titles. Exciting how she may have found a kindred spirit. Literarily speaking.

“How are you feeling?”

She considered. “Healthy. Recovering. Slightly buzzed. You’re very polite.”

“Politeness is desirable.” Sylvester sounded amused. It pulled her away from her head-tilted review of his book spines. “Common courtesy goes a long way toward avoiding misunderstandings and preserving people’s feelings. Would you like to talk?”

“Yes, please.” She strode back to her chair and folded herself into it with a sigh at how comfortable it was. She smiled at him, more relaxed than she should probably feel. Just being in his presence was at once stimulating and soothing. At the moment she didn’t care to examine the pleasant new feeling too closely, but after all she’d been through in the past hour she appreciated it greatly.

He looked at her without expression. “Just because sexual conventions are freer here doesn’t mean social conventions aren’t used.” He placed his own glass of wine gracefully opposite hers. “Your Ryan’s actions appalled me.”

“Me, too. That checklist. He made me sound like a perverted slut.”

“That’s not what I found appalling.” Sylvester smiled at her for the first time. “I don’t judge people’s kinks. Even when I strongly don’t share them….”

“Such as golden showers?”

“A fine example.” He sobered, stared at her seriously. “What do you want from the next three days? You expected something quite different, I realize that. It’s my hope you don’t wish to leave.”

She felt her heart leap, a little. He didn’t want her to leave. “Well, that’s good. Because I don’t want to leave.” She thought about it. “I honestly don’t. I find this environment very interesting. Foreign in the extreme, but interesting. The slaves bowing to Mistress Kiana, for example. And those two women—Black and White. Ryan’s in for a wild ride, isn’t he?”

She searched herself for jealousy but didn’t find it. She wondered what that meant. Maybe she was still in shock.

“You’re not involved in the local BDSM community.” It wasn’t a question. “But you’re curious. Okay. Let’s find out what sorts of things interest you.”

“What are you, some kind of…” Pimp, she was going to say, but that didn’t sound right. Or polite. “Facilitator?” she finished.

His raised eyebrow let her know he’d tracked her thought. “I bring together like-minded people, and make sure no one gets hurt. I host the party. I had this property built on twenty-one secluded acres to create a big retreat center that’s sex positive but not sleazy. Guests are usually friends of friends in the local leather and fetish community, real free spirits—I don’t have the inclination to host an overnight just for some businessman who wants to check in for a spanking. I enjoy watching. I like the diversity. But now it’s your turn to talk. What are your fantasies, Nora?”

“Well, you get right to the point, don’t you?” And yet she felt the warm glow in her belly expand to heat her nether regions as well. The way he looked at her, as if he knew her dirtiest secret, made her hot as hell.

But she wasn’t going to repeat the mistake of telling someone her biggest fantasy.

“I’m curious about bondage.” There, that wasn’t so hard. But she felt her face heat with embarrassment for admitting it out loud like that.

“Giving or receiving?”

“Receiving…Maybe a little giving, too.” It could be interesting to have someone all tied up and at her mercy. Maybe someone like Sylvester. She gave him a flirtatious smile.

His expression didn’t change. “What else?”

“Um. I heard flogging could be sort of fun. And being blindfolded. And, uh, nipple clamps.”

“What else?”

She blinked. “I’m not sure there is anything.” Except the Chase and Capture rape fantasy specter she couldn’t evict from her mind. The very idea of something so violent was abhorrent, and yet, just knowing it existed as one of the possible fantasies made her wet.

“This is fun,” she told him, admitting that much at least.

“Negotiating is supposed to be.”

“We’re negotiating?” Her breath came faster.

“That’s what it’s called in the scene when you discuss play limits.”

“Oh.”

He stared hard at her. “Let’s go down a checklist of things, the way you normally would have before you arrived. You can tell me a number between one and five to indicate how you feel about that activity: one means no way, five means it’s a wild turn-on for you. Are you ready?”

“Who would I be…playing…with?”

“That depends on your answers. And their wishes, too.”

His calm, aloof demeanor both set her at ease and excited her. She thought of the other men at the dinner table, evaluating them. Master Andre seemed cute. Little Peter seemed harmless. Sylvester attracted her the most. “I guess I’m ready.” She returned his stare, feeling bold.

“Spanking.”

“Okay.”

He waited.

“Oh. Four?”

“Tickling.” “Three.”

“Branding.”

She cringed. “One!”

“Electrical torture.”

“Isn’t that the same as branding?”

Sylvester shook his head. “Not at all. For example, Mage has an elaborate muscle stimulation kit, with attachments I’d never seen before. And he has an astonishing number of other electrical toys. It can be quite sensual.”

“Do you know this from personal experience?”

“We’re not discussing me right now. A number, please?”

Her curiosity spiked again. Damn but this conversation was making her want to try everything…with him. “Four.”