How much of it, she now wondered, and not for the first time, was in fact due to her foolishly confiding that she was new to the city, single and living alone in a furnished studio apartment she’d only been renting for a few weeks? How he must have rubbed his filthy, criminal hands together when she admitted she had no ties and no family to speak of, save for her estranged father who lived in California, and a sister who was presently in the Peace Corps overseas.
The shoes fit, though the heels were at least two inches higher than she was used to wearing. Master Phillip looked her over, his eyes gliding from her feet to her head and back again. He nodded in apparent satisfaction, and then turned back to the closet, from which he extracted a bucket containing various sprays, brushes and sponges. He handed the bucket to Eva.
It was surprisingly heavy, at least it seemed so in her weakened state. She stared down at the contents, briefly considering if there was anything there she could use as a weapon. Her contemplation was interrupted as he jerked the leash, yanking her forward.
Her effort to walk in the heels was not improved by the hobble chain, and she stumbled, nearly losing her footing. Master Phillip looked back and snapped, “Watch your step. Shoulders back, remember your posture. It’s a privilege to wear those shoes. Don’t make me regret allowing you out.”
“No, Sir, I’m sorry, Sir!” she cried. “I will do better, Sir. I promise.” She moved toward him, shoulders back, stepping carefully in the heels and chains. She was determined not to screw up this respite from the attic, however short- lived it might be.
They entered the main dungeon, the room where she’d foolishly allowed him to cuff her, ostensibly as part of a demonstration of her ease with bondage. He’d caught her in a chokehold, a knife suddenly at her throat as he informed her she’d been “chosen” to become his personal slave.
“Provided you behave,” he said now, “you will be responsible for keeping the dungeons and bathrooms spotless. I can save a pretty penny using you instead of the cleaning crew that comes in here now, not to mention it gives us more privacy.”
Eva couldn’t stop the small shudder of disgust that moved through her at his statement, as if she had any desire whatsoever for privacy with this bastard. Fortunately, Master Phillip didn’t seem to notice her slip, and she struggled to keep her expression blank as he continued, “I will inspect your work and reward or punish accordingly. We’ll start with—”
He stopped suddenly, whipping his head toward the open door. A fist clutched around Eva’s heart at the distant but audible sound of a heavy knocker against wood.
“Shit,” Master Phillip cursed, fury mottling his features. “Good thing I put the fucking bolt on. Why do those jerks keep showing up without clearing it with me?”
Eva could barely breathe. There was someone down there! Someone just on the other side of the front door! Did she dare to scream? Her mouth had opened of its own accord, but before she could react, Phillip grabbed the leash and jerked her roughly from the room. Eva stumbled forward in her effort to keep from being choked.
“Move it,” he snarled urgently, dragging her toward the attic. “Take off the fucking shoes.” He kicked sharply at her ankle. Eva struggled to obey, pushing the shoes from her feet without the benefit of her hands.
The knocking grew more persistent. “Coming!” Master Phillip shouted. “I’ll be right down!”
Eva whimpered as he hauled her roughly up the stairs, her ankles still hobbled by the chain. He pushed her ahead of him and thrust her into the tiny attic room. As he always did when someone was in the house, he quickly cuffed her arms behind her back and shoved the nasty rubber ball gag between her teeth, buckling it tightly behind her head.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and left, slamming the door and turning the lock. Eva stood for a long moment, too stunned to move, defeat at her missed opportunity weighing her down like a stone. Finally she slid slowly to the floor, dropped her head to her chest, and sobbed.
Chapter 5
“It was unanimous.” Harry lifted his mug of beer in a congratulatory salute and Jack smiled. It was going to be interesting to scene with Harry. Though Jack had casually checked out some of the local BDSM clubs since arriving in the city, he was more than ready to take his place as a keyholder at Hawthorne Dungeon.
Harry and he had agreed to meet at a small local pub nearby before heading over to break in two of the three submissives Phillip had hired. Harry had been telling Jack about the member dinner that had been held at a favorite restaurant the week before, at which they’d discussed Jack’s application for membership. “Charles and Nora gave you glowing reviews regarding character and suitability, and Jessica and I were able to add our two cents since we got to meet you at the sub interviews.”
“Well, I’m delighted to be an official keyholder,” Jack said, clinking his mug against Harry’s.
Harry drank deeply from his beer and set the empty mug down on the table. He lifted his finger toward a waitress, who nodded and smiled. She looked inquiringly at Jack, who put his hand over his still half-full mug and shook his head.
Harry continued, “From what I’ve seen, it’s the subs who tend to have reservations about the guy. I’ve never had a problem with him, but then”—Harry laughed—“I’m not very observant when it comes to guys. Especially when there are sexy sub girls in the room. Speaking of which”—he rubbed his hands together in an exaggerated way—“I can’t wait to get my hands on those two girls this evening.”
Jack laughed. Harry regarded him a moment and asked, “What about you, Jack? I know you’re experienced in the scene. You’re single, right? No wife or girlfriend waiting in the wings we haven’t heard about?”
Jack shook his head. “Nope. I never married either. I guess I’ve been so busy with my career and travel that I never found the time to settle down or meet that one special person. But now that I’ve taken a teaching position at the university, I think I’m ready to put down some roots. I’d love to find a woman to share my life with.”
Harry laughed. “Why limit yourself to just one?” He waved his hand expansively around the room. “You’re still young. You’re what, thirty-three, thirty-four?”
“Just turned thirty-four,” Jack corroborated with a nod.
“Still a kid,” Harry laughed. “There’s a whole delicious world of delectable sub girls out there.” He shook his head with mock sorrow. “So many sub girls, so little time.”
Jack grinned. “If you know so many sub girls, no offense, why are you paying for the girls tonight?”
“No strings,” Harry replied promptly. “Sometimes it’s nice to keep things simple, ya know? You scene, you get off, you go home. End of story. Nobody in your bed in the morning who doesn’t look nearly as hot in the daylight as she did when your dick was hard and you had a whip in your hand.” He took another swig of his beer and set the mug down with a thunk. “What about you? Have you used subs for hire before?”
“This’ll be my first time to actually pay someone. If it wasn’t being offered through Hawthorne Dungeon, no way would I even consider it,” Jack admitted. “I’ve been in a few D/s relationships when I’ve lived in a city long enough to make connections. Even when traveling extensively, I’d play with women I met at the clubs. When I lived in Amsterdam, I got pretty involved at a particular club. I even did some training while I was there, which I found to be very rewarding, as far as it went, but nothing romantic came out of it, at least nothing that lasted. I wasn’t ready yet back then, I guess.”
Jack took another sip of his beer, continuing, “Since I got to New York, I’ve been with Charles and Nora to a couple of the clubs, but I haven’t played with anyone.” He shrugged philosophically. “I’ve been kind of preoccupied for the past few months—busy with getting my studio and living space renovated, and gearing up to teach graduate seminars. I’m more than ready to get back into the swing. I figured a controlled scene like this would be a good way to kind of ease myself back into things.”
Harry nodded. “Makes sense. Charles and Nora are great, don’t get me wrong, but I know what a drag it can be when you’re the third wheel. If you want, I’d be happy to take you to some of the lesser-known, more exclusive underground BDSM clubs. I have an in because of my Shibari work. You’re a good-looking guy. If you’re any good with a whip, trust me, you’ll have ‘em lining up around the block to scene with you.”
Jack laughed. He didn’t want them lining up. Just one girl—the right girl—was all he really wanted. Now he just had to find her. Meanwhile, tonight, he reassured himself, would be an adventure. It would be fun.
The waitress brought Harry a fresh beer. They talked for a while about what they both envisioned for the upcoming scene, finished their beers, paid the tab, and walked the three blocks from the pub to the brownstone.
Jack, who wasn’t yet sure of protocol, was glad Phillip Duncan didn’t appear when they entered the front hall. “As long as you have an appointment, Phillip will make himself scarce,” Harry explained when Jack mentioned his absence. “It’s when you just show up that the guy tends to kind of flip out.” He grinned and shrugged. “We had to read the guy the riot act, though, when he pulled that stunt the other day, bolting the door like he did. The dude needs to remember we’re keyholders, not guests. That means we have a key. We enter at will, not when it suits the caretaker.”‘
“I heard about that,” Jack said. “Strange guy.”
“Just a little too big for his britches. I think his official title of Master Keyholder has gone to his head or something. But he got the message all right,” Harry said. “He was very apologetic. Promised it wouldn’t happen again.” Harry shrugged. “In all fairness, George was almost too relaxed. He didn’t do a very good job of keeping track of who came and went. At least with Phillip running things, there’s never a fear you’re going to walk in on someone else’s scene, which used to happen a little too often, to tell you the truth.”
Harry glanced at his watch. “Two minutes to eight. They better not be late. We’ll have to punish them,” he said with a gleeful grin.
Jack peered out the front door, which, in spite of the cool autumn air, they’d left ajar as they waited. “I think I see them.” He opened the door wider and Harry looked out too. “That cab there. Isn’t that them?”
Harry nodded. “Dibs on the blonde,” he said, rubbing his hands together. They watched as the subs climbed the steps to the front door, their high heels clicking against the stone as they walked. They were both smiling nervously as Harry gestured them inside.
Harry and Jack escorted the women down to the basement. Payment had already been handled through the Master Keyholder, as well as the basic scene negotiation, which for tonight included the hard limits of no blood drawn, and no sexual intercourse, though oral was okay with both girls.
The girls stood side by side in the center of the medical dungeon, the blond, Leah, looking a little nervous, the brunette, Brooke, alert but calm. Harry produced a small single tail whip from the duffel he’d brought along and snapped it in the air, making Leah jump slightly, and Brooke’s eyes widen.
Harry had dressed for the evening in black leather pants and a black knit turtleneck. Jack had worn jeans and work boots, a black T-shirt beneath his leather jacket. “Stand at attention, arms behind your backs,” Harry snapped, punctuating his words with another crack of the whip.
Leah was wearing a red leather bustier and matching miniskirt, her pale, slender legs bare, her high heels also of red leather. Brooke wore a cream-colored satiny blouse, beneath which it was evident she wore no bra. Her large, heavy breasts strained against the fabric, her dark nipples clearly outlined. The blouse was tucked into a black velvet skirt that went to her knees, but was slit up either side to mid-thigh. They both looked good—very good—and Jack’s cock hardened with anticipation of the evening’s fun.
After making sure everyone was on the same page regarding the girls’ stated limits and the guys’ expectations, Harry outlined the terms of the scene. “We’ve decided to engage in a little friendly competition,” he said. “But the competition won’t be between Master Jack and me. It will be between the two of you. You’ll both strip naked and we’ll cuff one wrist, while leaving the other free. You will stand side by side and each hold on to either end of this.” He pulled a curled length of red ribbon from his pocket and shook it out to its three-foot length.
“Master Jack and I will put you through a few, uh, exercises”—an evil grin flashed white against his olive skin—“and the first girl to drop the ribbon loses. So no matter what we do to you, your goal is to hold on to that ribbon. Any questions?”
“Uh, what happens to the loser?” Leah asked. Her voice was small and high and Jack wondered suddenly how old she was. He was glad he would be paired with Brooke, who looked closer to thirty than twenty, which suited him better.
“She will be punished, of course,” Harry replied, not elaborating. Leah bit her lip and fidgeted. Brooke’s expression remained calm. She didn’t plan to lose, Jack could see.
The girls stripped, revealing their pretty, smooth bodies. They were a lovely study in contrasts—Leah petite, small-breasted and blond, Brooke taller, more curvaceous, her skin a rich caramel hue. Brooke had a small tattoo of a butterfly on her left hip. Leah had the words Master’s Property tattooed over her small, pert ass. Where was that Master now, Jack wondered, though of course he didn’t ask. It was none of his business. They were there to scene, nothing more.
Harry selected two butterfly vibrators along with their remote controls from an old-fashioned, freestanding porcelain medical cabinet. He removed the sterilized toys from their packaging. “You know what these are, right?”
Leah nodded.
“Yes, Sir,” Brooke replied.
“Let’s make this fun,” Harry said, flashing a grin at the girls. “You’ll put these on each other,” he instructed as he handed each girl a butterfly. Jack and Harry watched as first Brooke, and then Leah, held out the panty-like contraption comprised of elastic bands that slipped over the hips and each thigh, the soft rubber butterfly-shaped vibrator serving as its crotch.
Brooke was fairly no-nonsense in her approach, arranging the elastic bands over Leah’s narrow hips and slender thighs and then positioning the butterfly between her legs. “Arch forward,” she instructed Leah, who complied, giving a little theatrical shudder as Brooke pressed the soft rubber between her labia.
When it was Leah’s turn, she knelt submissively before Brooke and drew the bands slowly and suggestively up the brunette’s long, lovely legs. She glanced back coquettishly at the men as she worked. Once the vibrator was in place, she leaned forward and kissed the purple plastic butterfly.
“Nice touch,” Harry said approvingly. “I like a girl who shows a little enthusiasm.” Leah beamed. Brooke’s face remained impassive. What was going on in her head, Jack wondered.
The girls stood side by side as Harry and Jack cuffed Leah’s left wrist and Brooke’s right wrist to chains hanging from the ceiling for the purpose. Harry had each girl take hold of one end of the ribbon with her free hand.
As they stood in front of the beautiful, naked girls, Jack tried to imagine signing on as a sub for hire, agreeing to scene with a stranger for money. While he could call the shots and control the scene, these young women were putting themselves in a far more vulnerable position, though at least in this situation they knew the players could be trusted and the scenes would be safe, sane and consensual. Still, theirs was a particular sort of courage he honestly didn’t know if he had, and he silently admired them for it.
“Remind us of your safewords,” he said. “Leah?”
“Tomato,” she said, looking pleased with herself.
He nodded toward Brooke. “And you?”
“Ice water, Sir.”
“Tomato. Ice water,” he repeated, wondering how they’d picked their words. “Okay. We don’t expect you to have to use them, but if, at any point, you feel the
action is too intense, and we aren’t getting your cues that it needs to stop, you use your safeword, okay?”
“Yes, Master Jack,” Leah replied, her cornflower blue eyes wide.
“Yes, Sir,” Brooke agreed with a small nod.
Satisfied, Jack went to the whip rack and selected two floggers, as well as a second single tail that matched the one Harry had brought with him. Harry turned the remotes on low, and the butterflies whirred to life. Leah giggled again and shifted from foot to foot. Brooke drew in a breath.
“This is not about getting you off,” Jack informed them, his dominant persona now fully engaged. “The intent here is to mix the pleasure with the pain, and thus heighten the experience of both. If you feel you are about to come, you will tell us immediately. If you do orgasm without permission, it’s an automatic disqualifier. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” the girls replied in unison, Leah a little breathily, Brooke in a low, self-assured voice that was in itself a sort of challenge, one Jack looked forward to taking.
The men took up their positions behind the subs, floggers at the ready. They spent several pleasurable minutes warming the girls’ asses and thighs. Leah’s fair skin reddened quickly. Brooke’s took longer to darken, the result less obvious against her tan flesh.
Once they were thoroughly warmed up, Jack said to Harry, “Ready to ratchet things up a notch?”
“You bet,” Harry enthused, and Jack couldn’t help but notice the sizable bulge at the other man’s groin, which matched his own raging erection. Harry increased the intensity level on the butterfly remotes to medium. Both girls reacted, Leah with a titter and more fidgeting, Brooke with a sudden clench of her ass cheeks, though after a moment she relaxed again. The ribbon, Jack noted, was still taut between them.