Unbound (The Braille Club #2) (12 page)

Her face puckered in surprise as she dropped the card and opened her eyes. Benedict was beside her, his eyes and face expectant, but she turned away. She wanted to run, to get as far away as she could, but his hand caught her wrist. His thumb traced back and forth across her skin; his touch paralysed her. Longing surged through her body as they sat in the tense silence. When his hand released her wrist and rested on her knee, she shivered. She bit her lip to stop the moan escaping as his hand slipped further up her dress, her mind no longer in control as her body took over.

“Think about it,” he breathed.

Siena couldn’t think about anything but the hand on her leg, his thumb moving between her thighs until it grazed the silk of her underwear. It was the most amazing sensation, and she gasped but did not move, using every ounce of self-control. Benedict removed his hand and cupped her face, his thumb rubbing along her bottom lip.

“Don’t you want me?” he whispered, then kissed her.

Chapter 23

The Braille Club, London, One Year On: The Stoicum Zone, there are no whips, clamps, or plugs. Seasoned enthusiasts must evaluate if this zone delivers for them. Newcomers must try to find the courage to indulge. With this new game…comes pain.

London 2014

Guy

Guy stared at the form in front of him, unable to tear his eyes away from the name…Anna Dunbar. His heart was doing several things at the same time—fluttering, racing, and skipping. He took a deep breath, probably a coincidence, and anyway, he was over Anna—wasn’t he? His fingers only trembled slightly as he read the application. His pulse quickened as his mind absorbed it was her…his Anna. A hurricane of emotions swept over him but the most persistent one was excitement. He knew then he still wanted her, would probably always want her because he couldn’t have her.

If she walked into his office right now he would be utterly at her mercy…and he knew how cruel Anna could be. Her sponsor was influential. Benedict had allowed her membership fees to be paid in kind. She would provide legal services for the Braille Club. He could see that Benedict had marked “confidentiality agreements” on the office section of the form. How to proceed? Should he interview Anna like any potential member? Or get his second in command to do it, thus concealing his identity? He wanted to see her very badly, her appointment was scheduled for later this week. He didn’t have long to wait.

Again, Anna would cloud his judgement. Unable to decide, he struggled to make the situation work for him. He held all the cards but did he want that? Anna normally rendered him powerless; she was always in complete control, but not anymore. Things had changed. He made his decision. Everything shifted in his life and weighed heavily on his shoulders. The meeting would either be the start or the finish of them, and he was happy either way.

Distracted all week, he nervously checked and rechecked his watch, conscious that she was due any minute. The phone when it rang made him jump, even though he was expecting it. He listened to the receptionist inform him that Anna had arrived and told her he would be there shortly. Putting the phone down, he took a deep breath, then stood. He went to the mirror and looked at his reflection. His eyes were bright with a slight flush to his cheeks; he smoothed his hair, adjusted his tie, and stepped out of the office.

His breath caught as he saw her. She had her back to him and he did a double take. She was in casual clothes and it took him by surprise. Used to seeing her in either suits or nothing at all, this new Anna threw him. Her hair was loose and gleamed under the lights, its glossy richness exactly how he remembered. She sensed him and turned, her face flickering imperceptibly as their eyes connected. If he hadn’t known her, he would have missed the second of shock that registered there. Her smile was brief as she took his outstretched hand and still he hadn’t dared to breathe, but at last he gulped before he spoke.

“Anna?” His voice was hoarse.

She merely nodded and held his gaze, her green eyes alight and quizzical.

“Can you come with me, please?” His voice sounded a little stronger as he guided her towards his office. Every nerve ending in his body was alert, his mind sensing imminent danger, and the rush was exquisite. He was aroused as they stood inches apart, his hands itching to touch her but instead he opened the door and asked her to have a seat.

As usual she volunteered no conversation; she didn’t indulge in mundane pleasantries, she simply crossed her slim legs and looked at him. Beads of sweat had formed under his arms and his hands felt damp as he picked up her form.

“Your membership approval requires you know certain facts, thereafter you’ll receive an orientation tour of the club. You can book the in-house sensory lessons at your own convenience,” said Guy, watching Anna’s mouth.

When she licked her lips, he almost lost his train of thought. She seemed to ooze sex although her clothes were demure; the blue blouse and beige skirt neither revealing nor overly sexy. No, it came from Anna herself; it filled the room and the surrounding air. His body responded, his erection pulsed hotly in his trousers, and he was glad of the desk between them. He tried to focus and tore his gaze from her face to the paperwork that needed completion.

Locating the areas that required her signature, he pushed the forms and pen towards her. She reached out and took them, her eyes dropping to scan the contracts. He took the opportunity to study her more closely. He stared at the length of her eyelashes, the curve of her lips, the tip of her tongue, visible as she read. He admired her slender neck and longed to kiss it, to leave his imprint on her skin. She looked up as if she could read his mind and smiled. She sat forward and he could see the hint of her underwear as the fabric of her blouse shifted. She lifted the pen and unconsciously put it in her mouth as she continued to read. He swallowed, suppressing the groan that threatened to burst out of him. He wanted to walk around the desk and devour her but he turned instead to his computer. At last she signed where required and put the paperwork and pen neatly back onto the desk. She still hadn’t spoken. The room seemed stifling as Guy checked everything was in order, although the words were blurred and meaningless to him.

“Are you ready for your tour?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes not meeting his.

She stood and turned, crossing the room. Her hand reached for the door and opened it. Guy, bereft she was leaving, took a moment to collect himself. He stood up and followed her. Her gaze was trained on the very obvious bulge in his trousers. A flush spread over his face as she laughed. The timbre in her voice was as erotic as the lust in her eyes and then she left without a backward glance as he hurried to catch up.

He felt the familiar annoyance, the need to dominate and control her. It was as strong as ever. He would never use the word punish, although she brought out the beast in him. He always felt at the end of it, he was the one left hurting.

Her membership card was in his jacket pocket as he drew level with her. Her eyes lingered on his crotch, taunting him, and he struggled for control. He would not allow this; he pulled himself together,
he
had the power now, as she would soon find out. Pulling the card from his pocket, he slid it into the switch.

“This is where I leave you, Anna. Do you have the code?” he asked.

She was already reaching for the number pad, punching in the digits confidently, eagerly. As the door popped open, she lifted her card and slipped inside. Guy took out his phone and made a call. He then turned and raced to the Braille reception, arriving slightly out of breath. Anna’s face registered nothing as he led her into a zone. The room was dim but pristine, the chairs neatly standing beside one another.

“Sit down, Anna,” he replied, his emotions in turmoil.

She sat in the chair, every movement of her body provocative, from the thrust of her breasts to her eyes that challenged him to touch her.

“Give me your card,” Guy asked. She handed it to him and watched as he unwound the ribbon from its centre. Pulling the ribbons apart, he secured her wrists first, the bell tinkling in the quiet atmosphere of the room. He felt better after he had pulled the blindfold over her eyes. Her chest heaved up and down and her hardened nipples tantalised through the fabric of her blouse.

“Anna, I will leave you in the capable hands of Grace. She will explain everything to you.”

“I’m ready,” she replied.

Grace came into the room and smiled as Guy slipped out. He was shaking as he slipped into the observation room. Nothing had changed—it was just the sex she needed, not him. He wondered what she was thinking as she sat there. She had been unperturbed by the constraints or the blindfold, her body tense and still. When the touch came she only murmured. Grace took her through her paces and she impressed Guy with her composure but then, he hadn’t expected anything less. He had told Grace he needed a quick demo but to throw everything at her at once before sending Anna back to his office.

He wanted to see her react. To lose control and she didn’t disappoint him. Entranced, he watched each reaction as it happened, raw and powerful, and when she did finally succumb, his own climax ripped through him as her bells rang. Stunned by his reaction, he cleaned himself up in his office as he waited for her to return. Something niggled in the back of his mind, but distracted, he dismissed it. When she knocked and stepped inside, she had the ribbon in her hand. When she locked the door, his body tightened. A frisson of fear and anticipation raced through him. This would hurt; he had seen that look in Anna’s eyes before. She would punish him for Grace.
Game on
, he thought as he braced himself.

Chapter 24

The Braille Club, London, One Year On: The Stoicum Sensory Suit leaves certain parts of the body exposed and has been altered to apply suction at higher than normal levels, to even the most sensitive of areas so that pleasure and pain will fuse. The suit has three settings. Assignees’ choices are dependant of their appetites and selected at booking, unless they choose to waive this right.

London 2014

Nick

Nick’s cell was neat and tidy. He somehow managed a clinical air, which suited his purposes perfectly. Inmates lay on his bed while he sat behind them in a chair, notepad in hand, recording the session. He didn’t ask for permission, just clicked on the phone and got to work.

His sessions lasted an hour and his work was productive. He couldn’t prescribe medication but used his hypnosis as an alternative solution. It was getting good results. Results he hadn’t achieved in his practice because medication had been his first choice. He was learning perhaps that wasn’t always necessary.

His patients wanted to talk, and he was an excellent listener. He encouraged them to unload their feelings of guilt, rage, and despair. This cathartic process did in fact help them. Combined with the hypnosis to balance out their prominent emotions, prisoners were responding. His status and power grew, and requests for appointments increased. However, it was always the prisoners that didn’t talk that interested him. The ones that avoided his services. They had an inner self that lacked emotion. They felt no guilt or remorse, no shame or compassion, they consisted only of purpose. He was desperate to tap into this psyche. To unravel the mysteries that lay beneath their façade. Thus far he had been unsuccessful but a new challenge had come to his attention.

Nick had been drawn to the handsome but troubled young man immediately. His training and experience told him he was dangerous, perhaps deadly. He could sense a deep underlying psychosis. He, unlike others, had never come to Nick for help…until now. Excitement bubbled inside him as his newest case wandered about his cell picking things up and putting them down.

When Nick asked him to lie on the bed he refused, turning to face him, trapping him against his desk. He grabbed Nick’s damaged hand, making him gasp.

“Don’t try any psycho shit on me,” he breathed.

Nick, taken by surprise, froze; a flicker of genuine fear passed through him. He didn’t say another word, merely nodding. He cursed himself for underestimating the prisoner in front of him and vowed there and then it wouldn’t happen again.

“I know you use hypnosis. If you ever try that crap on me…it will be the last thing you do, understand?” he said, squeezing Nick’s hand harder and ramming his knee against his weakened leg.

Nick nodded vigorously, the pain robbing him of speech as sweat appeared on his face. He stared into a set of soulless eyes and just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. He was released, and the inmate sauntered away, then paused. “There is something you can do for me…”

Nick stood waiting, his mouth dry. “What do you want?” he croaked.

“I want you to do your stuff…your hypnosis on certain prisoners. Tell them to stay away from me; do you think you can do that?”

“Y-yes, if they’re receptive,” Nick stuttered.

“I don’t want you thinking I can’t handle these guys on my own…that I’m weak.”

“No, of course not,” Nick squeaked.

“I can look after myself, but these arseholes are time consuming. I want peace until I get out.”

“Give me their names,” Nick whispered.

The inmate threw a piece of paper on the makeshift desk. Nick picked it up, his eyes scanning the list, his face expressionless.

“These men are not my patients, how do I get to them?”

The young man shrugged. “That’s your problem.”

Nick scowled but quickly became impassive again. “This might take time; I will need to see them individually. I don’t want to arouse suspicion.”

“Okay, but don’t take too long. Don’t make me come back here and hurt you.” He smiled. “You’re not my type but I’ve learned to be less choosy. I’ve not killed in a while but I’ve got the itch again…going to need scratching soon.”

With those words left hanging in the air, he walked out of the cell.

Nick breathed out as his mind reeled with the task he had been given. He must find the weakest link in the group and start there. He went to his prison diary and flicked through his appointments. The person he needed to see who could help him infiltrate this group was not due till next week. He would need to cancel and rearrange several patients. A difficult exercise but necessary. He got to work emailing one of his more amiable patients with a new appointment time.

Nick offered his apologies, citing circumstances out of his control, but as a show of good faith he offered to extend the original appointment by a further thirty minutes. The email system was heavily monitored. However, it was an approved method of communication used in prisoner rehabilitation. He sent a second mail to the prisoner he needed and waited. It took time, as predicted, but gradually he made progress. One by one they started to leave the young man alone. He dropped by Nick’s cell to say he was happy with what he had done. Several weeks went by and all was quiet until Nick gave the nod. The young inmate had relaxed and let his guard down. He didn’t notice how quiet the room had become, and when he did it was too late—they had him surrounded. Nick stepped out from the shadows at that point to watch.

When it came, the punch was brutal, directed into his back and kidneys; the air knocked from his lungs, his legs buckled. Several punches followed until Nick whistled and they all stopped and stepped away.

Nick moved closer to the figure lying face down in a pool of his own blood. He grabbed the boy’s hair with his good hand and yanked up his head.

“Don’t make me come back and hurt you,” he laughed in his face. “You’re
my bitch
now.”