OnlyatTheCavern (6 page)

The hanging submissive released a whimper that turned into a
cry as Jasmina released the whip and struck him across the back then let the
leather fly three more times in quick succession. She walked up behind the man
to press her breasts against the pink welts and grabbed his hair in her hand.

“Watch her and take your punishment,” she growled in his
ear. “See what happens when you disrespect your mistress with your childish
games. Watch as another man takes what is supposed to be yours.”

Madeline sat down in the chair and hooked her leg over each
arm, spreading her thighs wide apart. Her skirt was rucked up to her waist,
exposing the slick folds of her bare sex. She motioned to Army who fell to his
knees and dived into the offered treat.

Jasmina took a step back and readied her stance for another
strike. As she raised her hand, she glanced out into the audience, her dark
gaze landed on Marco and her eyes widened with surprise. For several seconds
they breathed as one, his fingers curling around the back of the couch as he
waited for her next move.

“Well, well, well,” Amaryllis sighed and nudged him with her
hip, breaking the spell.

Jasmina’s gaze narrowed and her upper lip ticked with a
snarl. Marco silently apologized to the hanging man, afraid that whatever
emotion his mere presence ignited within her was going to be taken out on his
hide.

* * * **

Marco DeWinter. The man was like a virus she couldn’t shake.

What was he thinking, up on his feet and standing in her
club watching her at work? And hanging on to Amaryllis as well? Grrr.

She already told him she wasn’t interested in being his
intro into the BDSM lifestyle. Or was he here to scout for another Mistress? In
her domain? If so, he was even more arrogant than she imagined and long overdue
for a lesson in respecting her wishes.

Crack. Crack.
With a flick of her wrist she created
matching welts on each of Megabyte’s butt cheeks. She wove a crisscross pattern
from shoulder to hip then worked the back of each thigh. Between lashes she glanced
in Marco’s direction and took great delight in how he flinched with each lash.
Sweat glistened on his forehead and he was all but panting as she delivered her
punishment.

Madeline did her part, moaning her pleasure as Army used his
talented tongue on her clit.

“That’s so good,” she cried and pulled at her nipples. “I’m
going to come all over his face.”

Army groaned and his head moved back and forth in an effort
to bring Madeline to her orgasm.

“Oh yes. Oh, yes!” Her head fell back and her thighs squeezed
Army’s head.

Jasmine dropped the whip. She stepped forward and ground her
rough corset-covered breasts against Megabyte’s ravaged back. She reached
around his waist and found his cock, rock hard and slick to the touch.

“Look what your arrogance cost you,” she said and worked his
cock with her palm. “Her orgasm could have been yours. That could have been
your mouth tasting her flesh.”

A sob broke past his lips. “I’m sorry. Sorry.”

“Are you? I don’t think you deserve a Mistress as fine as
Madeline.”

“No! I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise. I promise.”

“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet.” She squeezed
the base of his cock and stemmed the tide of cum from erupting. “Army, show
Mistress Madeline what she could be playing with instead.”

Madeline reached for the straining fly of Army’s jeans with
eager hands. She licked her lips as she drew out his erection, hard with a
shiny, plum-shaped head ready to release his cum at her command.

“Ooo, she likes this new toy,” Jasmine taunted and matched
the strokes of Madeline’s hands on Megabyte’s cock. “Do you want to see your
new toy come, Mistress?”

“Absolutely.” She reclined back in her seat and resumed
palming her breasts. She nodded at Army. “Stroke your cock.”

Immediately he complied. “Like this, Mistress?”

“Yes. Good boy. Make it feel good, but don’t come until I
say.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he grunted.

“That is how a sub behaves,” Jasmine said in the weeping
computer technician’s ear. “Your sole purpose is to please your Mistress. Look
at the strain on his face. Look at how tight the muscles are on his forearms.
He wants to come so bad, but he will wait. And wait. And wait. The anticipation
is maddening, isn’t it?”

From the corner of her eye she scanned the audience. Gazes
were torn, switching back and forth between Army masturbating before Madeline
and Jasmine’s hand pumping Megabyte. But the only person’s attention she was
really interested in was Marco. His eyes never left her, touching on her from
the top of her head to the points of her bare feet. He was with her, feeling
her. It was as if he were the one in her arms, bearing her marks on his back,
cock throbbing in her fist. Waiting for her command.

“Come, Army,” Madeline barked. “Come on my tits.”

A strangled cry broke past Army’s lips as he released a
stream of cum on Madeline’s breasts. She twirled her fingers in the milky
liquid, rubbing it into her skin. When the last drop fell on her pink nipple,
Madeline sent him a pleased smile and nodded her head. He dropped to his knees
and bowed his head, awaiting his next instruction.

“See, Megabyte. He came on what was yours.” Jasmine
quickened her strokes. “He got to come on your Mistress’s tits. And you get to
come on the floor. Come for me. Now.”

Megabyte bellowed and shot several jets of cum at his Mistress’s
feet. Jasmine searched again for Marco and their gazes locked. “Come,” she said
again.

Marco’s eyes widened and he jerked as if he’d been poked in
the gut. He hunched over the couch, his jaw clenched tight and his lips pressed
in a firm line. Those dark eyes of his glittered up at her with want, hunger,
and the need for more.

Heaven help her, she wanted to give it to him.

Between her legs she was completely drenched. Her sheath
pulsed and flexed. She wanted to fuck and be fucked with a level of desperation
she never felt before. The muscles in her thighs twitched, ready to jump off
that stage, march over to Marco and throw him onto the floor. She’d lick his
cum from his belly and ride him into the ground.

The click of Madeline’s heels on the floor snapped her back
into the right frame of mind. She jumped back and shook her head, dissipating
the cloud of lust toying with her control. Yes, a sub was meant to provide
their Master pleasure, and yes, she sometimes referred to her men as toys, but
she never treated them as objects. She took her time learning exactly how to
extract the last bit of enjoyment from her subs before allowing them to
penetrate her body. It wasn’t like her to want to abuse Marco in such a manner.

Madeline approached her sub, who swayed in his bonds and
sucked in great gulps of air. She tilted his chin up with her finger and leaned
in ’til the tips of their noses touched.

“This is your only warning, Megabyte. I don’t suffer fools,
and your childish games are not welcomed here. I accepted you as my sub because
I saw a need within you to be seen. I still believe that, and I can make all of
your wishes come true. But on my terms. If you are ready to be the submissive I
need, I will see you on Saturday at nine sharp. If not, don’t come back. Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he stuttered. His voice sounded hoarse and
he kept his gaze directed at the floor.

“Thank Mistress Jasmina for her instruction.”

“Thank you, Mistress Jasmina.”

Jasmine trailed her fingers across his shoulders, horrified
at how badly her hands trembled. She curled them into a fist. “You’re welcome.”

Madeline gave the signal, and three of the club stewards
climbed onto the stage to assist with bringing Megabyte down from his
restraints. The lesson was over, but the aftercare was just beginning.

As the men worked on Megabyte, Jasmine walked over to Army
who sat on his knees, exactly as he had been instructed.

She ran her fingers through his short blond hair and cupped
his cheek. “You did well. I’m so proud of you.”

His eyelashes fluttered and against her palm the muscles of
his face flinched with a brief smile.

“Every Dom here is going to want you now.”

He sucked in a sharp breath and his startled gaze flew to
hers before he remembered his place and dropped his head.

“You may speak,” she said.

“Do you think so?”

“Ah, honey.” She smoothed her thumb over his wrinkled brow.
He had had such a difficult start at the beginning as he struggled to accept
his true nature. And just as Madeline had seen something in Megabyte, Jasmine
had seen the man Army could become. It saddened her to see how he still didn’t
see it in himself. “You have no idea. I’ve already had several people asking me
if they can take you on. After this demonstration, I’m going to be hounded
until I narrow the finalists down for your choosing.”

The happiness that infused him was like a million-watt light
bulb, straightening his spine and shining from his eyes in a golden glow. His
smile was wide, and no matter how hard he tried, he simply could not contain
his joy. She rubbed his head again and commanded him to stand.

“Come on, Mitch. Let’s go unwind.” She grasped his biceps
and led him off the stage.

Just like that, her submissive disappeared and in his place
was her friend. “What about you, Jasmine? Do you have my replacement picked out
yet? I saw the line parked outside your dungeon when I arrived. It was crazy.”

News of their separation had spread through the club as fast
as an embarrassing photo on social media. The line of eager subs in the hallway
outside her personal dungeon had shocked her. She knew she was good but not
that popular. So many faces, yet at that moment she couldn’t remember one of
them. The only face haunting her at the moment belonged to a certain police
officer with salt-and-pepper hair and dark eyes that pleaded for her to show
him the way.

Did she have the courage to take him on the journey or would
she play it safe with someone already accustomed to the lifestyle?

She looked up at Mitch and drew a deep breath. “I think I
do.”

Marco’s stomach growled the second he stepped through the
front door of his home. Abby was cooking something yummy and by the scent he
could tell that it was meat and delicious. Since he had skipped lunch, she
could have made tofu and bean sprouts and he’d still wolf it down. Thank
goodness she had taken a break from her usual campaign to get him to eat a
healthier diet.

“Hey,” he called out and hung up his jacket on the coat
tree. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you kidding me?” She stepped out of the kitchen,
spatula in hand and a scowl on her pretty face. “You went to work. You’re
supposed to be resting. You’re lucky I didn’t come down to the station and drag
you back home by the ear.”

“I did rest. For four days.” He kissed her cheek and went to
the stove and lifted the lid. “Smells good. Seriously, Abby, I appreciate it,
but you don’t have to take care of me. I know you probably have better stuff to
do than watch my ass.”

“You almost died. Of course I’m going to take care of you.
And it looks like you need taking care of. Sit. I’ll get you some stew. How are
your legs?”

“They’re fine. I told you. I’m fine.” He snagged a bottle of
beer for himself and a soda for Abby and settled in at the kitchen table. “How
was work?”

“Same old, same old. All of the girls think you’re a hero
and wanted to come over and help take care of you. Jeez. It’s creepy when your
friends want to give your brother a sponge bath.”

He choked on a sip of beer and chuckled. “Sorry. Can’t help
it if the ladies love me.”

“Eww.” She stuck out her tongue and shook her head.

Well, at least those girls were interested in him. Marco
picked at the label on his bottle and recalled the sight of Mistress Jasmina in
all her glory as she broke that man down with her whip. It was one thing to
imagine what exactly it meant to be a submissive, and another, more terrifying
thing to see it with your own eyes. To hear the crack of leather on flesh and
skin slapping skin. To smell the salty, musky scent of sweat and sex. To see
the wave of lust as it consumed every person in that room until they writhed as
one in sexual torment until she released them all with power of one word.
Absolutely mind blowing.

He hadn’t been the only one to come in his pants at her
command. The couple who had been hot and heavy on the loveseat had fallen onto
the floor and fucked like beasts along with several others who joined them. To
his right several men had their cocks out, timing their strokes to match
Jasmina’s, all of them enthralled in her performance. If it hadn’t been for Amaryllis’s
presence at his side, he might have forgotten who he was and joined them in
their circle jerk. In a word, Jasmina had been magnificent.

And absolute hell on his libido. After she had walked off
arm in arm with her sub, he ran out of there so fast, he barely said goodbye to
Mrs. Kilsgaard. He jerked off twice the moment he walked through his front
door, and again in the shower just that morning. Never had he been so hot for a
woman that she infiltrated his every thought.

When he had reached for his dick for the fourth time in
twelve hours, he said fuck it and went into work, even though his muscles were
sore from venturing out the night before. His body wasn’t bouncing back as
quickly as it had when he was younger, and he felt the strain as if he’d climbed
up Mt. Rainier. Nonetheless, there was no way he was going to spend the entire
day jerking off to a fantasy, so he had hobbled into the office, only to be
tormented by lingering arousal while in the midst of his coworkers instead of
the privacy of his home.

There had to be a way to get Mistress Jasmina off his mind.

Abby set a thick manila envelope on the table. “This was on
the porch when I arrived.”

He righted the envelope to see his name and address scrawled
in an elegant script across the front. In the corner was an address. No name,
only a return address that he recognized.

The Cavern.

Immediately his dick began to harden and he jumped from his
seat to race out of the room towards his office. “Be right back,” he mumbled.

His hands shook as he practically mauled the fastener and
withdrew a black folder. Purple feathers framed his name, which was written in
gold ink in the same script as the envelope. Inside were what looked like legal
documents, and his eyes were immediately drawn to the two names on top. Marco
DeWinter and Mistress Jasmina.

“Hot damn,” he groaned and fell into his chair behind his
desk.

In the left pocket was a typewritten letter on heavy
cream-colored stock. The purple feather image was stamped on the top in
metallic ink. The paper fluttered as he withdrew it from the pocket and held it
up to the light.

My dearest Captain,

You have been invited to join me in my dungeon at The
Cavern to begin your introduction into the bondage, domination, sadist,
masochist lifestyle in which you recently expressed an interest. Under my
tutelage you will receive the proper instruction and guidance on how to behave
as a submissive and the skills to please your Mistress. All of our interactions
will be conducted with safety and respect as the utmost priorities.

In this folder you will find the contract outlining the
exact details of our arrangement. Read this document in its entirety and answer
all questions honestly. Any false answers or hedging could lead to serious
complications or dangerous situations, and could be grounds for immediate
termination of the agreement.

The journey to accepting one’s submissive nature is
difficult and mentally taxing. You will experience highs and lows you have
never imagined. This lifestyle is not for everyone, and I will understand if
you decide not to accept my invitation. You will learn that in all things, you
always have a choice.

Please text me your response to the number listed below.
If you wish to continue, bring the completed contract to the bar at Tutala,
Thursday evening at 8pm to discuss your answers and solidify our arrangement.
If your work schedule does not allow for this time, please let me know of an
alternative.

I look forward to your reply.

Mistress Jasmina’s signature was scrawled across the bottom
in purple ink along with a phone number.

“Wow.” Marco blew out a breath and wiped his hand over the
back of his neck. “Wow.”

This chick was serious. If he hadn’t seen her in action the
night before, he might have thought she was acting way over the top with this
entire dominatrix persona. If anything, this letter coupled with the sight of
her cracking that whip confirmed she was one hundred percent committed to her
role. One miscalculation on her part and that sub could have been castrated on
the spot.

And you want a piece of that?

Yeah. Maybe. Hell, he wasn’t certain. After what he had
witnessed along with that letter, it was crystal clear this was no game to
Mistress Jasmina. If he was in, he had to be in one hundred percent. If not,
then he needed to leave her the hell alone and stop tormenting himself with
fantasies of what might have been.

He pulled out the contract and flipped through the pages.
His balls drew up into his body and he felt his eyes bug out of their sockets
the more he read. Mistress Jasmina was certainly thorough. There was a section
for his medical history, which was left for him to fill out, but under the
instructions on how to obtain a blood test for any sexually transmitted
diseases, she had marked “already fulfilled”. His blood must have been tested
when he was in the hospital.

“Whoa.”

While it was comforting to know he wasn’t carrying any STDs,
he was horrified to realize he hadn’t even thought about the consequences of
engaging in this sort of activity. When she said safety was a priority, she was
leaving no stone unturned.

After the section on the cancellation policy and
communication protocols (sexting was allowed, photos were not) came the list of
likes and dislikes.

“Oh. My. God,” he groaned and dropped his head in his hands.
“What the fuck is a Gates of Hell?”

Rope bondage. Prison scene. Shibari. He didn’t know what
two-thirds of the items were and the rest just fucking blew his mind. Whatever
they were, his cock was ready to try all of them out. It was practically
bursting from his pants as if it wanted to read the list itself.

“Marco. Dinner’s ready.” The patter of Abby’s footsteps drew
near.

“Fuck.” He slid the fancy folder under the ink blotter and
covered the contract with his arms. “I’ll be right there.”

Her cute little face appeared in the doorway. “Are you
working?”

“Kinda of. Just some L&I paperwork.”

Poor girl. She had idea her brother was such a pervert.

“You need to take it easy. In fact, you don’t look so well.
Are you getting sick? Your forehead is all sweaty.”

“Yes! No. I mean, I’m not sick-sick, just tired. I think
I’ll turn in early.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll leave the stew in the crockpot in case you
get hungry later.”

“Thanks. Oh, and Abby? Thanks for everything. The cooking,
cleaning. All of it. I really do appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” She rocked back on her heels with a
delighted smile.

He reached for his wallet and pulled out all of the cash
inside. “Here. Call your friends and go have some fun. Within reason. Enjoy
being young while you can.”

“Really? Wow. I think I like sick Marco.” She took the money
from his hand. “What about you? Are you ever going to have any fun while you’re
not yet ancient?”

The papers under his arms seemed to catch fire and burn his
skin. “I’m working on that.”

“Goodnight.” She mussed the top of his hair. “Call me if you
need anything.”

“Will do.”

He waited for the sound of the door closing behind her
before reaching for his computer. As the fan whirled and the tower booted up,
he dialed the number on the letter into his cellphone. His thumbs hovered over
the keys as nerves and excitement played tag in his gut.

Abby’s words rang in his ears. One word, really. Ancient.

Time was passing him by. His body wasn’t springing back as
it once had. All too soon he was going to wake up old and weary with nothing
but memories of dark alleys, courtrooms and Coulter’s wisecracks to warm his
bones.

God, how depressing.

In his hands the phone vibrated with a text from his team.
They had intel on Smithwick’s return.

What the hell was he doing? He was weeks away from closing
the biggest case of his life. Every second of his day should be devoted to
nailing down details in Smithwick’s takedown. Nothing else was supposed to
matter but seeing that asshole’s dynasty turn into ashes.

Contract. Phone. Contract. Phone. Back and forth his eyes
danced. What to do? What to do?

“Fuck it,” he bit out and typed out his response then hit
“send”. Never before had such a tiny word affect him so greatly.

* * * * *

Marco reached for the burnished gold handle on the door to
Tutala only to drop his hand within millimeters of the shiny surface. Where was
the unusual bout of indecisiveness coming from? He was the captain. He gave
orders. He made life-and-death decisions all of the time. He had made
this
decision. All he had to do was go inside.

And have his life change forever.

In the past, he had always trusted his instincts, and right
then they were wide awake and flashing their red and blues. He had two choices,
pull over or try to outrun ‘em. Did he have the guts to walk across that threshold?

A couple appeared on the opposite side of the glass door and
stared at him with puzzled frowns. He flashed him a weak grin and opened the
door to allow them to pass.

“Stop being a chicken-shit and get your ass inside,” he
muttered under his breath.

Once inside the entry, he paused and waited for lightning to
strike or the blare of trumpets to herald the monumental accomplishment. Nope.
Nothing but the soft strands of Mozart or some other dead composer filtering
through the sound system and the fresh-faced hostess standing at the ready with
an armful of menus.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“No, thank you. I’m meeting someone in the bar.”

She gestured in that direction with an open palm. “Then have
a good evening.”

“Thanks.”

Tutala was one of the premier restaurants in the city,
catering to both the über-rich and upper-middle-class set with its modern,
clean décor and French-influenced menu. There was an air of sophistication one
felt upon entering, a sense of style that inspired you to be on your best behavior.
Quite opposite of The Cavern, which infused one with the sense of letting
loose. Since both establishments were owned by the Kilsgaards, he found the
dichotomy amusing.

At this time of night, the bar was filled with the
suit-and-tie crowd, schmoosing each other with the next big investment
opportunity. Marco straightened the lapels of his black sport coat one more
time and smoothed the front of his white dress shirt for good measure. Earlier
when he had dressed and shaved, he felt as if he were getting ready for junior
prom, only this time he was a thousand times more nervous. Back then he knew
the night was going to end with a heavy make-out session and perhaps a chance
at second base. After the research he did on that list Mistress Jasmina had
sent him, he hadn’t clue as to what this evening would bring.

A quartet of men who had been vacating their table parted,
revealing Jasmine sitting at a corner table. The bolt of lightning he had
expected when he entered struck and stopped him dead in his tracks. The room
faded like in those cheesy chick flicks and the din of clinking silverware and
inane conversation faded away to a dull roar.