Red Handed (7 page)

In only a short few days, he'd make back their money. Then he'd spend hours torturing Danielle before he killed her. He'd bet she'd be hellfire to break, but it would make it all the sweeter to see the life ebb from her eyes.

And if he got caught . . . he'd use his contacts to get him out of it. As he'd learned from his family, everyone had a secret, and blackmail was a great way to keep someone in your pocket for a rainy day.

Too bad he couldn't keep Danielle. All that training, gone to waste. But he'd promised to kill her as soon as they transferred the money, and he was a man of his word.

He shook his head, clearing the arousing images of screaming women from his mind and focused on his task.

He lifted Tasha's limp hand off the table.

And cut off her finger.

Chapter Seven

D
ANIELLE AND
G
RACIE
descended the wrought-iron staircase. The flickering lanterns on the dark walls gave it a true dungeon feel, as though she was walking from the present world into the past.

A low beat of a bass vibrated under her feet. Voices murmured underneath the various cries and moans and slaps and grunts. She hadn't understood what Gracie had meant by her description of the smells, but as she neared the bottom, it began to make sense. Leather, sweat, and musk greeted her as her gaze fell on the scenes in front of her.

An open floor plan lit by strategically placed replicas of old-fashioned candelabras and ceilings painted black further enhanced the dungeon environment. All the things she'd read about. The pictures she saw in those books Cole had given her and in her Internet research. It all existed live and in Technicolor. Leather and lace. Latex and rubber. Various collars around necks. Men and women being led around on leashes, including a few who crawled. She saw plenty of lingerie and lots and lots of skin.

Men and women hung from the ceiling on some kind of harness made of rope. She pressed her thighs together, a rush of arousal so strong, she drenched her panties. Something about those bound people made her heart race.

She didn't understand. This wasn't her. Not that she believed there was anything wrong with exposing your body and expressing your sexuality in a safe environment, but it wasn't something she could ever imagine herself feeling comfortable enough to do. Even now, dressed in her panties and corset, she wore more than most of the submissives in the room, and still she wasn't comfortable in her own body. She envied these people.

Gracie led her by the hand and pointed out the different kinds of equipment. There were a few spanking benches littered around the room. All being used. She flinched as she watched a man hit another man's ass with a rectangular wooden paddle. The pain didn't tempt her, but she liked the way the bench was placed so everyone could see the ass turning red before their eyes.

There were a couple men with lanyards around their neck with a round silver medallion hanging from it. She nudged Gracie and discreetly pointed to them. “What's the significance of what those men are wearing?”

“That's Morgan and Ryder. They're both dungeon monitors. Come with me, and I'll introduce you to them. If you're interested in a ménage, those are your guys.” She winked. “Trust me.”

“I'd prefer to stand here for a few minutes, if that's all right with you.”

Gracie patted her on the back. “It's a lot to take in all at once. I understand. I was gonna let them know I'm available later, but I'll stay—”

“Go. I'll be fine on my own.”

Gracie planted a kiss on Danielle's cheek. “I'll only be a minute.” She vaulted off in the direction of the dungeon monitors, leaving Danielle to do what she did best.

Hide in the shadows and observe.

There were several scenes going on throughout the room. Her gaze darted around and stopped on one in the back. A man was locked into a stockade, his erect cock sticking through one of the holes. Another man was behind him, and although she couldn't see it, she guessed by the motion that he was fucking him. Yet another man was beating the man's cock with a thin reed of some sort and commanding him not to come. Judging by the locked man's expression of bliss, he wasn't going to last for long.

The dungeon was a feast for her senses. She'd watched porn before, but it had been simply a visual experience. Actors' moans and dirty talk had always come off as insincere and almost comical. The sounds in this room were real, and the pleasure was so palpable, she could almost taste it in the air.

A loud female cry coming from Danielle's left caught her attention. A young blonde was cuffed to an X-shaped piece of equipment, which Danielle had learned from her reading was called a St. Andrew's cross, and a handsome man stood behind her with a whip in his hands. Sweat trickled down his face as he spoke to a man beside him.

Master Cole.

He'd changed from what he wore earlier into a pair of leather pants and a leather vest over a red T-shirt. A dungeon monitor medallion hung from his neck. Even as he answered the other man, Cole never took his gaze off the blonde on the cross.

The whip coiled so quickly Danielle barely saw it, but she couldn't miss the cracking noise it made as it struck the woman's back. The blonde's body jerked, and she groaned as the man did it once more.

Each time he struck, Danielle's pussy clenched. Her clitoris pulsed as if keeping a beat for the whip. Her fingers drifted between her legs, and she rubbed her swollen clitoris through her panties. She was two seconds away from plunging her fingers inside and getting herself off in front of these people.

Then the woman screamed. Her whole body writhed as she thrashed her head back and forth, crying the word “no” over and over.

Danielle waited for the man to stop—for Cole to stop him—but the whipping continued. A bubbling rage built and overflowed. She pushed off the wall and ran over to the scene. “Stop! Didn't your mother ever teach you ‘no means no'? She's crying, for heaven's sake! Why are you just standing there? What kind of monsters are you?”

The room grew eerily quiet. Cole's body was stiff and his jaw rigid, as if he were angry with her.

Too bad. Since the dungeon monitors had failed to do their duty, someone had to step in and protect the woman.

Gracie suddenly appeared and grabbed Danielle by her arm. “I'm sorry, Master. I take full responsibility for Danielle's outburst and will take any punishment you believe I merit.”

Cole's eyes narrowed on Danielle. “While I appreciate the defense of your new friend, I will deal with Danielle.” He turned to the man. “Jaxon, please forgive me for the interruption. Feel free to use your choice of private room for Kate's after-care and keep it for the rest of the night.” Jaxon went to the woman on the cross, where he proceeded to remove the cuffs from her ankles.

Danielle folded her arms over her chest. “She's not safe with him.”

He splayed his hand on her lower back and led her through the club. “Come with me to my office.”

Several of the people in the dungeon watched them with interest, but most of them had returned to their scenes.

“Do you know what ‘Safe, Sane, Consensual' means?” Cole asked as they climbed the stairs. “It means the members of my club are held to a strict set of rules they must follow in order to sustain their membership. Let's start with ‘consensual.' Everything that happens in this club is negotiated and agreed upon by the parties. Nothing will happen without consent. Every person in Benediction may utilize the club-recognized safe word, ‘red,' to terminate a scene and face no repercussion. Kate and Jaxon negotiated their scene prior to its commencement, whereby she consented to the whip.”

She'd read about consent, and Gracie had mentioned it as well, but it was a difficult concept for her to understand. “How can someone give consent to being hurt? That's crazy.”

“I assure you, it's not crazy. Only the sane can legally give consent, thus the ‘sane' component to the standard. You may not get off on pain and I may not get off on giving it, but there are those like Kate and Jaxon who do. Benediction provides them a safe place to meet those with compatible sexual interests and indulge in the practices. It's not your place to judge or impose on others' sexual expression.”

“She was screaming and crying. How was that sexual expression?”

“In some, pain enhances the pleasure. Whether she chooses the pain because she's a masochist or because she wishes to please her Master by taking the pain he wants to incur, it has nothing to do with you.” He frowned at her as he unlocked the door to his office. “You obviously failed to read the books I provided to you.”

“I read them, but reading about it and the reality of it are two different things.”

He waved her into the room and followed, circling behind his desk, then taking a seat behind the computer screen. “Go on.”

She twirled a piece of her hair around her finger and sat in the chair in front of his desk. “Before I interrupted, I couldn't tear my attention away.”

“What did you feel as you watched?” he asked, softening his voice.

She thought about her body's response to the scene and how she'd been only seconds away from shoving her hand between her thighs to ease the ache. “Hot. Tingly. Breathless . . . ” That wasn't all she'd felt. Her chest had tightened at the sight of Cole with Jaxon and Kate. “Jealous.”

He shifted in his chair and ran his hand down his scalp. “Jealous?”

“Of Kate,” she said, immediately kicking herself for admitting it. “All that attention focused solely on her. The way Jaxon looked at her as if she were the only person in the room.”

“But she wasn't. Kate and Jaxon chose a public scene rather than a private room or their home so that anyone could watch.” He rose from his chair and rounded the desk, stopping in front of her. Her pulse went crazy as he leaned forward, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair, effectively caging her in. “Tell me, Danielle. Has a man ever held your back against his front at a concert, slipped his hand under your short skirt, and fingered your hot pussy until you shook from climax?”

His face moved closer, almost as if he was going to kiss her, but at the last moment, he turned his head and he whispered into her ear, his hot breath causing her to shudder from the chills sweeping her body. “Have you ever kneeled on the floor and sucked off a man in the back of a dark movie theater? Does the idea of being caught get you wet? Did you wish to be in Kate's place and be watched?”

She swallowed hard and licked her suddenly dry lips. The images his words created spun like a carousel in her imagination. Her fantasies had never involved public sex, but she couldn't deny the ideas he'd painted aroused her. But she'd never feel comfortable enough in her skin to actually do those things. “I'm not into pain. Anything more than a spanking is at least a soft limit for me.”

He pulled back with a frown. “That wasn't what I asked, and you know it.” He removed his arms from her chair and casually perched himself on the corner of the desk, leaving one leg on the ground. “But that's okay for now. You're obviously not ready to accept it. I understand you've got societal rules about what's wrong and what's right guiding your thoughts and behaviors. However, Benediction doesn't follow those rules. We have our own. Rules you acknowledged to abide when you completed your application.”

His expression darkened, and contrary to his relaxed posture, all signs of the flirtatious and mellow man vanished. “Because you interrupted a scene”—he folded his arms over his chest—“I must punish you.”

Chapter Eight

P
OOR
C
INDERELLA MAY
have had to do her chores in rags, but at least she didn't have to wear a corset and panties when she cleaned the bathroom. Even after losing her father and his millions, Tasha had continued paying a maid to clean their home. It wasn't as if Danielle had never cleaned before, but she'd never gotten on her knees and scrubbed the toilets.

Cole couldn't have chosen a better punishment. At this point, she would've rather been spanked again.

Unsurprisingly, Benediction's ladies' room was reminiscent of an upscale spa with a lounge area complete with full-sized lockers made from dark wood, cream-colored leather couches, and cushiony chairs. A long counter with a mirror above it spanned the length of the room, providing a space for women to do their hair and makeup, and beige and cream Italian marble floors and walls added to the ritzy ambiance.

Adjacent to the lounge was the bathroom. Decorated with marble and dark wood, it contained showers, toilets, and sinks each with a well-lit mirror over it. The mirrors were the last item she needed to clean to complete her punishment.

She blew an errant piece of hair off her face. So much for the makeup Gracie had applied and the hair she'd brushed. Danielle was a sweaty mess.

If Cole's purpose had been to shame her, it had worked. None of the members or trainees who had come into the ladies' room would talk to her. In fact, they completely ignored her. Even Gracie. Her lips had parted as if she had been about to speak, but then she covered her mouth with her hand and marched out of the room. Knowing Gracie's penchant for talking, that had been a punishment for her as well.

Danielle plunked the toilet brush into the plastic bucket and stood, her knees cracking. She rolled her shoulders and peeled off her rubber gloves. One more task on the list Cole had provided and then she could go back to her room to get some sleep. There was no way she had the energy to read tonight. She'd been up for twenty-four hours straight and had only gotten a few hours of sleep before the kidnappers had woken her in her bed, so it felt much, much longer. She'd set her alarm and get up in the morning to read before her first class.

She lifted a cloth and the glass cleaner out of the bucket and went to tackle the mirrors over the sinks. A glance in the glass brought her to laughter. Pieces of her hair stuck to the side of her face, and her eyeliner was so smudged, it appeared as though she had two black eyes. Good thing she wasn't vain, or she'd be in tears.