Indulgence (115 page)

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there. And thank you again.” With that,
the call ends.

I stand and try to catch my breath. God, his voice is hot
molten sex; it made me want to rip my clothes off. And then I laugh because I
know he’s probably short and broad and has a beer belly. Isn’t that always the
way?

The drive home is uneventful. As soon as I make it through
the door, I send Michael a text:
Could you please call me if possible, sir?
I need to ask a question. Thank you.

In about two minutes, the phone rings. Before I can say
anything, he barks out, “I’ve
told
you not to call me sir. It’s not
necessary. I swear, Kimmer, you are the most hard-headed woman I’ve ever met.”

“Good to hear from you too, sir,” I mock back.

“Oh, stuff it. What’s up?”

“Jasper Givens.”

He starts to laugh. “Oh, I see he called you!”

I snort. “Yes, sir, he did.”

Still laughing, he wheezes out, “Well, whenever he’s
supposed to be there, just make sure you have an ample supply of cold water.”

That doesn’t make any sense. “Why?”

“Because you’ll need it. That’s all I’m saying.” He sobers,
then says, “And listen, he’s a genuinely nice guy. I wouldn’t have given him
your number if he wasn’t.”

“I know. I trust you, sir.”

“Would you quit with that already?” Laughter shoots out of
the phone, and then, all of a sudden, he asks in a voice that’s almost a
whisper, “Are you doing okay?”

“Yes, sir. As well as can be expected.”

“Still coming to lunch Sunday?”

“Of course, sir. If I weren’t, I’d be sure to let you know.”

Michael sighs. “Of course you would. You’re just like that,
the model of responsibility. You really should cut loose sometime.” When I
don’t respond, he sighs. “Okay, Kimmer, I’ll quit ragging you. Call if you need
anything. And we’ll see you Sunday.”

“Sure. Thank you, sir. See you then.” Feeling another
lecture coming on, I hang up before he gets the chance.

Sunday dinner. I’ve got to be sure to ask about Jasper
Givens.

For a Saturday night, the club is too quiet. Then I
remember: Ballgame. Everyone’s somewhere watching it. The club management
doesn’t allow TVs here. They say people are coming to watch scening, not soap
operas. Funny but true.

A look around doesn’t give me much hope. I’m about to just
give up and order a drink when I notice Alexander on the other side of the
room, talking up some girl who’s wearing nothing but a smile and a belly chain.
To my surprise, he says something to her and I watch her face contort in
disgust, which draws a huge frown from him. Casting his eyes around the room,
he spots me and makes a beeline. And I’m okay with that.

“Good evening, sub,” he says with a nod.

“Good evening, sir.” My mind floods with memories of scening
with Alexander in the past. Not only is he very good looking, but he’s very,
very proficient with a single tail, and another member in good standing. With
my eyes cast downward, I ask, “How are you this evening?”

He takes a seat on the stool next to me and, this time, I
see from my peripheral vision that the corners of his lips turn upward. “Quite
well, thank you. You’re looking very pretty.”

“Why, thank you, sir.” He doesn’t have to blow smoke up my
ass. I’ll take him on regardless. The wait is excruciating. Finally, he throws
me a bone.

“Would you like to scene this evening?”

I try not to break out in a huge grin. “Yes, sir! I
certainly would.”

With a nod, he adds, “And as I recall, you’re an enormous
pain slut.”

My head bobs. “Yes, sir. That’s correct.”

Standing from his seat on the bar stool, he reaches for my
hand. “I think I can satisfy that urge. Last time I scened with you, you made
it clear that you didn’t want a safeword.”

“That still holds true, sir.”

“Very well. I think I can make you regret that.” Tingling
starts all over my body, and I can feel my clit swelling. “Green card on file?”

I nod. “Yes, sir. Submitted last Monday. Yours?”

“Yes. Submitted Thursday before last. We both in the clear?”
I nod. “Good. Let’s go.” He leads the way, and I walk a couple of feet behind.

Taking care to sway my hips seductively as I walk to the
platform, my arousal is in full swing when we reach the play area, my juices
almost rolling down my legs. Nerve endings crackle on the surface of my skin,
and I want to grab his hand and force his fingers up my pussy. I wait
patiently, or as patiently as I can, squirming the whole time like the wobble
of a gelatin shot. “To the cross, submissive. Face in.” I head straight over,
step up onto the footrests, and let him bind my wrists and ankles to it. When
I’m secured, he leans in and whispers, “Sure you don’t want a safeword?”

There’s not a hint of trepidation when I answer back, “Yes,
sir. I’m sure.”

“Okay then. I’m starting with the flogger, then I’ll move to
the single tail.” I hear him behind me, feel the
whoosh
of air as he
drags the flogger’s falls in a pattern, and then it makes contact.

I almost cry out, not from surprise or pain, but from pure
bliss. Every cell in my body is singing, and I can’t help but drop into that
bottomless pit that is agony-induced relief. And this is nothing compared to
what I’ll feel when he starts with that whip. My skin is growing warm and
tingly, and I think about that vampire movie where their skin is sparkly. I
wonder if mine looks like that, and I imagine that it does, that everywhere the
light hits it, it looks like it’s been sprinkled with diamond dust that shoots
out into a tiny cloud in the spotlights.

Just when I’m about to zone out, he stops. I know what’s
coming even before he says anything. And the only words he speaks are, “I hope
you’re ready.” In my stupor, I don’t have time to answer before I hear the
whistling of the leather cutting through the air, and then the first strike
falls.

I hear my own voice cry out as the tip of the single tail
makes that
pop
against my skin, and where it connects, I experience
ecstasy in the form of red-hot pain. I doubt that a glowing branding iron could
hurt any more than this, and yet I want more, need more. As the pops grow more
distant in my ears and the silence grows deeper, a million images blow through
my mind. Me, walking up the aisle on my wedding day, looking toward the altar.
A man stands there, and I know it’s Phil, but he has no face – it’s blank. In
every image – us at our son Jeffrey’s graduation, us at the beach in Florida,
us at the car lot buying Phil’s truck – there’s no face on the man there with
me. And I love it, the pain erasing his memory, blotting out his likeness, until
all I feel is a numbness that smothers me. I feel my consciousness hovering
above me, looking down and watching for the perfect time to escape. In a few
minutes, it’s gone.

In what seems like the next instant, I find myself warm and
wrapped up like a mummy. Alexander’s just a few feet away, coiling up the whip
and putting it into his gig bag, and when I wiggle a tiny bit, I suppose I make
a little noise, because he turns to look at me and smiles. All he says is,
“Hey!”

“Hey.” I’m still groggy and before I can ask anything, he
slides back under the covers next to me and pulls me up against him, and I
suddenly remember that we haven’t even had sex. He doesn’t even seem interested
in it. One thing I can say for Alexander – regardless of his sadistic streak, he
really is a conscientious, caring person. “Kimberly, you have an amazing
tolerance for pain. I really don’t know what to think.”

“Think I’m crazy, because I am. I want more right now. If
you asked me to go right back out there and . . .”

“But I won’t.” His brow wrinkles and so do the corners of
his mouth as he half frowns, half scowls at me. “You’ve had enough for one
night . . .” he starts, and when I try to interrupt him, he puts a finger to my
lips. “And you don’t need any more. You need to rest. Just lie here with me and
stare at the ceiling. Look at the pinholes in the tiles. I see a dog, and a
car, and the Empire State Building.” He’s smiling gently and pointing, but all
I can do is lie there and stare. It’s all starting to come back now.

And my brain screams,
Please, take me back out there and
beat me.

*****

“Hi! Oh, no, Kimmer, I wasn’t expecting you to bring
anything with you! You shouldn’t have done that!” Robyn greets me at the door
and gives me a huge hug. “What is that?”

“It’s this slaw that I make. Angel hair shredded cabbage, a
tablespoon of minced garlic, and enough balsamic vinaigrette to coat it. It
looks horrible, but it tastes divine.”

“That’s great! I know Master will love it. Sir, Kimmer’s
here!” she calls out as she takes the bowl from me.

I hear footsteps on the stairs and Michael strides across
the room to hug me. “I’m so glad to see you, babe.”

“Thanks, sir. I’m glad to see you too.”

“Would you
please
cut it out with the sir? I’m your
friend, Kimmer. I swear.” He huffs and puffs and grabs a bowl of pretzels. “I’m
sitting it out in the den. Call me when it’s done, little one.” He drops a kiss
on Robyn’s cheek and heads out of the room.

I should wait, but I just can’t. “So, Robyn, who’s this
Jasper guy?”

She peers over her shoulder at the door to the den, then
turns back to me with a naughty gleam in her eye. “Oh, god, Kimmer, he’s
fucking gorgeous.” He must be fucking gorgeous; Robyn never, ever talks like
that.

“Gorgeous, huh?”

“Oh, god, yes. Holy shitballs. The guy is unbelievable. And
super, super sweet. You’ll love him, I promise.”

“And he’s a Dominant?”

Robyn nods. “Yep. Was a member of some big club out in
Hollywood.”

I have to ask the obvious. “What the hell’s he doing here?”

“Well, the company he worked for closed up shop. He looked
for over a year and couldn’t find anything. When he found this job, he jumped
on it.”

I toy with a twist tie while I talk. My hands always need
something to do. “So what exactly does he do?” I know Michael’s company makes
automotive parts. He came from Hollywood to make automotive parts? That sounds
pretty odd.

“He goes from plant to plant to see what their production is
like, then goes from company to company to figure out how to pair supply with
demand.”

I nod absentmindedly. “Kind of like a salesman.”

“No, not at all, from what Michael says.” She’s spooning
filling into deviled eggs, and it’s all I can do to keep from reaching for one.
“It’s like, well, he goes to a production plant and checks to see which parts
they use on the products they’re making, then ties them in directly to the
plant in the company that makes those parts. It’s all computerized. The parts
have these codes on them that a scanner can read. So all of their computers
have these scanners, and as they use the parts, they scan them to take them out
of inventory. Then, when they need a new item, he comes back in, takes the
specifications, brings them back to the factory, and helps the engineers
translate it into a product they can sell. I guess you’d call him some kind of
coordinator.”

I shake my head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know. I don’t really understand it either. But what I
do
know is that he travels a lot, and I do mean a lot. He’s probably got a woman
in every damn town.”

I lick what’s left of the deviled egg filling off my finger
as I scoop it out of the bowl. “So have you scened with him?”

“I wish!” She leans in and whispers, “Michael’s made it
very, very clear that it’s never going to happen. I think he’s intimidated.”

“Michael? Intimidated?” She has to be joking.

“I think so. I think he’s afraid I’d fall for the guy. And,
in reality, it could happen. You just haven’t seen him, Kimmer. Just wait.”

Oh, god. Now I don’t want to see him. The last thing I need
is some self-absorbed player coming into my life. I wish I’d told him I didn’t
have time for him, but Tuesday’s just around the corner. He can’t be all that
great.

Can he?

*****

“Frankly, I’ve never fitted a pregnant woman before. I’ll
try, but I don’t know what’ll happen.” I’ve got Candy’s new corset finished,
and we’re in the studio, working hard to get the desired effect without
potentially harming the baby with far-too-tight lacing. “How does that feel?”

“Like I’ve got on a pair of leather baby doll pajamas.”
She’s wiggling and squirming, and I can tell she’s uncomfortable.

I step back and take a look, and I see it – too much flare
at the hips and not enough at the waist. And then I realize what it needs:
Gussets. I’ve got to put gussets in it. I help her out of it, then fold it
carefully. She looks relieved that it’s off. “I promise you, when I get it
finished, it’ll be comfortable.”

“I believe you.” She smiles gently at me and then, to my
surprise, leans over and gives me a peck on the cheek. “Thank you for being
kind to me. Most of the women are really nasty to me. They think I’m a gold
digger. But I really do love Mr. Augustino.”

“Why do you call him Mr. Augustino?” I have to ask.

She giggles. “Because his name is Waldo. And I can’t bring
myself to call him that.”

I laugh out loud at that. Bless his heart. “Ah! I see your
predicament!” But I feel my face fall, and I have another question I just have
to ask her. “Candy, why the baby?”

“Because I have no one – well, no one except Mr. Augustino.
And he wanted me to have someone, some kind of family, so that if something
happens to him, I won’t be alone.” Her eyes are sad, and I know what she’s
thinking. Same thing I was thinking, only for her, it’ll be devastating.

“What about the actual father?”

“Nope. He signed away everything before he bred me. So
that’s that.”