Savior (An Impossible Novel) (16 page)

My heart was racing.  It beat madly against my ribcage as I watched Clayton fold over his belt before he disappeared behind me.  I tri
ed to crane my head back so I could see him, but my bindings prevented me from doing so.  My breasts throbbed delectably where they pressed into the couch cushions.  The men were silent behind me, and the sound of my rapid breaths seemed to echo around the room.

When they finally did touch me, I jumped at the shock of the sudden contact.  The supple leather of Clayton’s belt glided across my ass.  Despite the gentleness of its touch, it communicated a silent threat of what was to come.  In contrast, Smith’s fingernails raked down my back, confusing my senses and jumbling my ability to think as the men inflicted two diametrically opposed sensations on me simultaneously.

My hips ground against the couch as my body instinctively sought the release I so desperately needed.  I heard the
snap
of the belt just before the pain registered.  God, it
hurt. 
A stripe of searing heat bloomed deep within my flesh.  It spread rapidly to the surface and made my skin sting something fierce.  But at the same time, the heat raced to my pussy, and I could feel wetness trickling onto my thighs.  My body’s visceral reaction to the pain was so shocking that I couldn’t even cry out; all I could do was draw in a ragged gasp.

“Don’t move.”  Clayton’s cold command drifted down to me through the fog that was beginning to roll over my mind, stifling my ability to think.  “This is a punishment.  You won’t receive pleasure until I decide to give it to you.  That was a warning.  You still have six more.”

I whimpered, torn between fear and carnal hunger. 

“Don’t worry,” Smith said to Clayton.  “My neighbors are accustomed to hearing screams coming from my apartment.”  I heard his soft laugh just before the sound was drowned out by the second
snap
of the belt.  The hits came in rapid, merciless succession, and the world fell away as the pleasure/pain consumed me.  I desperately wanted it to stop, and I never wanted it to end.

When the blows ceased, the pain lingered as my ass throbbed and burned.  My sense of sight was obscured by a red haze, but I could still hear Smith’s command.

“Apologize.”

“I’m…”  I struggled to find my voice.  “I’m sorry, Clayton.”  Despite my pain – or perhaps because of it – I was still burning with desperate desire.  “Please,” I begged.  “I need…  I’m sorry.”

“That’s a good girl,” Smith rumbled his approval.  I gasped and my back arched as his nails gently raked across my enflamed skin.

Yes!  Touch me.  Please…

Clayton responded to my silent pleading, and he roughly drove two fingers between my desire-slicked folds.  At the same time, he pinched my clit sharply as Smith continued to stroke me.

My orgasm hit me with the force of a mac truck, and I screamed as my inner walls contracted.  It went on and on, Clayton’s fingers continuing to pump in and out of me until he had wrung every last drop of pleasure from me.

I was trembling as Smith released me from my bonds.  Clayton gathered me up in his arms and cradled me to his chest as I floated in my bliss-filled haze.

“Thank you,” I whispered mindlessly as I snuggled into him.  He kissed the top of my head affectionately, and I relished the feeling of being warm and safe and cared for.

Chapter 10

I was a nervous wreck.  Three days had passed since my incredibly hot night with Clayton and Smith, and Clayton was falling into his new Dominant persona far too quickly for my comfort levels.  Every night, passion would cloud my judgment and I would find myself in his arms, cherishing the heady release and the feeling of being cared for.

But during the day, my mind would backpedal, making me question the prudence of my actions.  I was rapidly becoming addicted to him, becoming dependent on him.  That was disconcerting.  I had taken care of myself for my entire life and had taken on the responsibility of caring for my kid brother as well.  If I lost my independence, would I be capable of looking after Greg?  He had been my whole life for so long, and I didn’t know how to function without him.  I felt guilty for spending so much time with Clayton.  Greg was twisted and cruel right now, but he didn’t deserve my abandonment.

Selfishly, I tried to push him from my mind.  He would need me again when he quit the drugs, but right now my presence in his life only seemed to make him more crazed.  And that was Clayton’s fault as well.  Greg felt like I had betrayed him by taking up a relationship with the FBI agent who was going to force him to get clean.

But no, it wasn’t Clayton’s fault.  It was
my
fault for giving in to his advances.

Tonight I found myself callously surrendering to my lusts once again.  Smith had suggested that Clayton try out a BDSM club, and to my surprise, he had been game for it.  It was one thing to engage in kinky acts in the privacy of his friend’s apartment, but another thing entirely to step out in public.

He was examining our surroundings with open curiosity as we stepped into Decadence, my favorite BDSM club.  Smith had said he hadn’t been there in a while, but I had requested that we come here.  The rules had gotten a little looser at Decadence in the last few months; I knew I would be able to throw back a few shots if I needed them in order to calm my nerves.  Most clubs had a three drink maximum, and they didn’t serve shots.

Clayton looked powerful and sexy in his usual sharp black suit.  Smith’s leather pants and tight black t-shirt were a little more on the fetish-wear side, and he wore his customary mask.  He had told me that because he worked for the government, he had felt the need to conceal his identity.  Clayton asked if he should do the same, but
Smith just laughed, saying it was no longer necessary.

“Women read
Fifty Shades of Grey
on the subway these days.  Kink is ‘in,’ and the negative social stigma is fading.  I just keep this up because everyone knows me as ‘Master S’ now.  And I rather like my reputation.”  The man was cocky, but I couldn’t deny that he had earned the right to be that way.

“Rose!”  The man’s pleased voice called me back to the present.  “It’s great to see you again.”

I grinned at Derek, the sexy owner of Decadence.  His reputation as a skilled Dominant rivaled Smith’s, but he rarely played with submissives these days.  Not that it would have been difficult for him to ensnare one.  The guy was a former Marine, and he had stayed fit since his term of service had ended five years ago.  His method of barking orders militarily had brought dozens of subs oh-so-willingly to their knees.  Plus, the man was
hot. 
His light brown hair was always mussed in a rough-and-tumble way that made him look like he had just enjoyed a good fuck, and his caramel-colored eyes often sparked with a playful light that put his customers at ease.

“It’s good to see you too,” I replied truthfully as I hugged him with easy familiarity.

“Master S,” he nodded respectfully at Smith.  “I haven’t seen you in a while.  It’s good to have you back.”

Smith’s expression was difficult to read with half of his face hidden, but he seemed genial enough. 
“Always a pleasure, Derek.”

I turned to Clayton.  “This is Derek Carter.  He owns Decadence,” I introduced.  “Derek, this is my friend Clayton.”

Derek smiled warmly and shook Clayton’s hand.  “Any friend of Rose’s is more than welcome here.  Thanks for coming.  Here, have a drink on the house.”  He waved down a bartender, and I ordered a double rum and coke.  Clayton gave me a disapproving look, but he didn’t say anything.  He and Smith ordered non-alcoholic beverages.  I knew Smith didn’t believe in drinking and playing; he said it was irresponsible and clouded a Dom’s senses.  But he hadn’t said anything about submissives not being allowed to drink, so I chose to ignore his censorious look.

“Would you like for me to show you around?”  Derek asked, ever the gracious host.

Clayton returned his smile, but he declined.  “I think Rose knows her way around.”

Derek laughed.  “That’s true.  Just let me know if you have any questions.”

“Talk to you later, Derek,” I promised as Clayton led me away.

“You had better!”  He called after me.

I had always liked Derek, but I had never done anything sexual with him.  I didn’t want to make a mess of things so that I couldn’t come back to my favorite club.  Even I wasn’t that reckless.  Maybe that was why I hadn’t seen Derek play with anyone for a while.  He might be playing it safe for the sake of his business.

Smith led the way from the bar to the main dungeon.  It was well-equipped, with several different
apparatuses for bondage so a Dom could put his sub on display.  Some found the humiliating experience arousing.  And I had to admit that I was one of them.

Clayton seemed interested too.  He paused near the St.
Andrew’s Cross, watching a Dom flog his sub.  She was covered in red stripes from her shoulders to her thighs, but she moaned pleasurably as the wicked implement thudded against her skin in rapid, figure-of-eight strokes.

My sex pulsed at the sight, and I couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to have Clayton do that to me.  His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me tightly against his body as he bent to whisper in my ear.  “See something you like?”  He asked.

I drew in a shuddering breath.  “Yes,” I admitted quietly, my voice tinged with longing.  I craved to feel the touch of his skin against mine as he held me, but my burgundy corset was a thick barrier between us.  He seemed to feel the same need, because his hand slipped beneath my tight leather skirt to roughly grab my ass.  The feeling of his fingers digging into the fading bruises inflicted by his belt made me wet, and I pushed back into his hold.

“I think another demonstration from Smith might be in order.”  As he spoke, his warm breath fanned across my neck, and I shivered in delight.

Smith grinned at me.  “I heard that.  And I would be more than happy to oblige.”  He looked at Clayton questioningly.  “Are you up for it now?”

Clayton considered for a moment, but then he shook his head.  “I think I’d like to have her to myself tonight.”  He squeezed my ass harder, and I yelped at the zing of pain.

“I understand.  We’ll arrange another time,” Smith replied easily.  “I’ll show you the private rooms, if you’d be interested in that?”

“Definitely.”

Clayton maintained his grip on me as he guided me along in Smith’s wake.  But as we neared the private rooms, my nervousness came creeping back.  Going into that room with Clayton would be tantamount to a public declaration that I was his sub; I never played in the private rooms.  And I wasn’t ready for that.  As much as I relished the sexual dynamic I shared with Clayton, accepting him as
my
Dom would be a big step.  Too big.  It was a commitment I wasn’t ready to make.

But the insistent throbb
ing between my legs told me I wanted him so badly…

I needed a moment to myself in order to sort out my tangled thoughts.  And I needed some liquid courage if I was going to see this through.

I stopped dead in my tracks.  “Um, I need the restroom,” I told Clayton.

He released me instantly.  “Okay,” he agreed.  He planted a swift, sweet kiss on my lips.  “Hurry back.”

I nodded, desperate to get away.

“You should use Room 3,” Smith advised.  “I think it’ll best suit your needs.”

“I’ll meet you there,” I promised Clayton quickly.  It took effort to walk away casually so as not to betray my anxiety.

Peeking over my shoulder to make s
ure they weren’t watching me, I changed my course and headed for the bar.

“A double shot of
Cuervo and another rum and coke, please,” I requested.  The bartender poured without question, but I was glad Derek wasn’t around to see me.  Even though the rules were more lax lately, I had a feeling he might have something to say about me getting plastered in his club.  I grimaced slightly as the tequila burned its way down my throat, but the harsh bite was comforting in its own way.  I needed it to relax.

Grabbing up my rum and coke, I headed for the bathroom.  If I chugged it in front of the bartender, he might be less willing to look the other way.  I was t
hin, so most people assumed I couldn’t handle my liquor.  But I had been drinking like a fish for years, so I knew I would be able to hold it together.

As soon as I had reached my refuge, I tipped the plastic cup back and poured the sweet drink down my throat with practiced ease.  Just as I was polishing it off, a woman emerged from one of the stalls.
  I was relieved to realize she was someone I knew.  We weren’t anything more than acquaintances, but I had seen Gemma at Decadence before with her Dom, Garrett.  I had also seen her trip her way tipsily across the dungeon.  She wasn’t going to judge me for my drinking.

“Hi,” she said brightly.  “It’s Rose, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I replied, trying to summon up a smile and failing miserably.  I was practically shaking with nerves now.  The alcohol just wasn’t doing the trick.

She looked at me sympathetically.  “Man trouble?”  She asked.  “Who’s the big bad Dom?”

“He’s not bad,” I admitted, the alcohol loosening my tongue.  “He’s too damn good.  That’s the problem.”