Sweet Backlash (4 page)

"Sorry. My apartment became Grand
Central Station." For the Irritation Express.

Her friend hesitated. "George is here.
He's all weepy and pale. Did you break it off with him?"

"Yeah." Really? Weepy? She didn't
think he would take it so hard.

"You scared him? Made sure he won't
come looking for you when your guard is down?" Kathy thrust out a
hip and punched it with a fist.

Melony chuckled. "Threatened to fry
his nads with a cattle prod."

Her friend threw arms wide and bear
hugged her. "That's my girl. You make a mamma proud."

"You're not my mother," Melony said
dryly.

"Thank goodness," snapped Kathy. "I'd
have beat your skinny, sassy ass every day. But I did teach you
everything you know."

"I'll give you that one. Have I missed
anything interesting?"

"No way. Just George whining about how
nobody loves him the way he needs to be loved. You weren't hard
enough on him. He needs a Dom who'll shut down his whine and teach
him a proper, subservient attitude." Her friend let disappointment
show in her expression for a second before beaming. "So let's go
find you another victim, shall we? Somebody raw, like George, who
you can practice molding through discipline."

Inside, the greeters waved them in.
Familiar faces drank beer from longneck bottles and milled about
tables displaying x-rated candies and cookies. First-timers and
inductees sat in chairs along the back wall and listened to a talk
on ethics and rules of conduct. Melony remembered listening to the
speech close to a year ago. Half the attendees wore leather,
chains, and spiked accessories, while the others had come in street
attire. She fit right in.

Scanning the newbie's faces, she tried
to determine if anyone struck her fancy. As much as Kathy pushed
her to take on a new partner, however, she thought she might like a
break. Live for herself for a while. She got a glass of cola from
the bar then chose a length of white chocolate shaped like a penis
before sinking into a plush, red armchair in a nook near the main
entrance. Her feet hurt.

Hushed voices at the door let her know
a newbie had arrived late. First-timers had to sign in, fill out a
waiver, and wear a name badge. Slipping the tip of the penis
confection between her lips, she cut her gaze sideways to see if
the newcomer would welcome a flirt. She almost choked on the candy.
Her boss stood alone, looking lost and not a little
angry.

A tiny piece of chocolate found its
way to the back of her throat, activating her gag reflex, and she
hacked. He pinned her with his gaze. Even in the low, nightclub
lighting, his intensity reached out and touched palpable fingers to
her chest. So much for keeping her lifestyle a secret from the
workplace. She dropped the chocolate penis next to her soda on a
table.

Anger surged through her, fueling her
already sour mood. In three strides, she thrust her nose in his
face. "Who do you think you are? You son of a bitch!" She poked him
in the chest and sneered when he winced. "What's the matter? Can't
take the pain? Isn't that what you came here for?"

In a lightening move, he took her face
in both hands and smashed his lips to hers. She shoved at his
shoulders, but he sent his fingers into her hair, massaging her
scalp, and softened the kiss. With an expertise that turned her
mind to mush, he worked his lips over hers. He eased her into the
nook and bent her backward over the chair. Through her leather
pants, his hard cock ground against her clit as he urged her lips
open and thrust his tongue inside.

She had never let a man get this far.
Men scared her. Their strength caused pain. Their aggression
overpowered and demanded submission. Like now. No!

But he caused no pain. He pushed her
coat off her shoulders and skimmed his fingertips across her hot
skin. His tongue caressed hers and he traced the outline of her
breasts above the hard edge of her bodice. No! She tensed. She was
the dominatrix. Her control ruled.

She wilted. Just a little longer. He
tasted so good. Carmel, coffee, and a hint of dry roasted peanuts.
She had never tasted a man. He smelled good, too. Sandalwood and
vanilla. And his left hand smelled like leather from his briefcase
handle.

His hips ground harder, hurting a bit,
and he bent her further over the chair back. Her spine protested
and she whimpered.
Stop it. Stop it!
She slapped him.
Hard.

Lifting off her, he stared with
stunned, passion-misted eyes. "Oh, God, Melony. I'm
sorry."

He offered a hand to help her, but she
smacked it and heaved off the chair. Ow! She put her fingers on her
lumbar and squeezed to cease a muscle spasm.

One of the bouncers rushed over and
put Chip in a headlock. "You seemed to be having fun, Melony. I
didn't know you were in trouble."

"I'm okay, Frank."

Chip struggled in vain against the
burly biker. She suspected the bouncer's spiked wristbands hurt
where they dug into her boss's neck. Let him suffer a
minute.

"So, how's Velma? I don't see her at
the meetings much these days." The spasm stopped and she twisted
her torso to release the last of the tension. She tried not to
smile as Chip swung wild, impotent punches in every direction, his
head cocked by Frank's elbow so he couldn't see much of
anything.

"She's got a new job. Nightshift down
at the bottling plant." He hitched a thumb over his
shoulder.

"Does she like it?" She didn't
care.

"Sure does, sweetheart. Best money
she's made yet. And her days are free to go riding with me, among
other things." He waggled his eyebrows.

She smiled. He looked fierce, but he
loved his wife like nothing she'd ever seen. And he treated Melony
like precious cargo.

"You want me to break his neck?" he
asked, tightening his hold.

Chip went still, his face turning
lavender and his eyes popping. "No. I think he's learned his
lesson. You can let him go."

"You sure about that, sweetheart?" He
loosened his grip a fraction, and her boss gasped.

"Yeah, go ahead. I've got him from
here. Where's a whip when ya need one, huh?" She shrugged and
grinned.

"Right." Frank released a hearty
laugh. "You take him home, now. Take good care of him."

What did he think? That she took Chip
on as a partner? "Oh, I'm not—"

The bouncer froze, refusing to release
her boss. Scowling, he said, "Nobody comes in here and treats us
like he just did to you. Now you tell me he's your new slave or I'm
taking him out back, snapping his neck, and dumping him at the
railroad tracks."

Chip sent her a desperate look, his
lips opening and closing like a fish out of water. He had a
muscular build, but he didn't stand a chance against the biker's
sheer brawn. Damn it. She couldn't let Frank kill him. And Kathy
would never let her get away with lying about taking on a new
partner. The society would kick her out of membership, and they
provided the only support she had ever known. They were friends. An
adoptive family of sorts. No, she had no choice.

Waving a hand in the air, she faked a
lighthearted laugh. "He's mine alright. He's really raw. I've got
to teach him some manners. I was going to say I'm not ready to
leave yet. But if you think we should go…"

"I think that would be best. He's made
enough trouble for one night." Frank growled, reached for the back
of his belt, and produced a collar and leash. He clamped the
harness around Chip's neck and handed the leash to Melony. "See you
both next month." The bouncer saluted her and headed into the heart
of the meeting.

"Come on, slave," she said, giving the
leash a tug. "Let's get you settled at my place."

"What?" Chip rasped, trying to insert
his fingers under the edge of the collar.

"You heard me. My place." She shrugged
into her coat and ripped his nametag off his lapel.

He followed her outside, giving her no
trouble. Chill March air cleared her head, and she tried to imagine
how they would establish boundaries between the workplace and
home.

"I can't go home with you. I've got a
room at a hotel that's paid through the week." His voice still
rattled.

"You don't understand. You just sold
your soul to the devil for one kiss."

"You've got a twisted sense of humor."
Chip wasn't amused. Trying to locate the collar's fastener, he
slowed and said, "Take this thing off of me."

His secretary gave the leader a tug.
"If you value your life, don't fight me." She passed him a
meaningful look then glanced at the warehouse's
entrance.

He followed her line of vision to
where Frank glared, arms crossed over a bulging chest. The
expression on the biker's haggard features made it clear he'd
gladly repeat the choking torture.

Chip rubbed his bruised neck and
increased his pace. "You're going to take this thing off,
right?"

"Maybe. If you're a very, very good
slave."

She showed no sign she joked, and he
began to comprehend he'd been thrust into an alternate reality.
"Please tell me this is a game."

"It's no game. You shouldn't have
followed me. And you really shouldn't have done what you did. Now
you're my slave. Something neither of us wants." Melony unlocked
her car and opened the passenger side door. "Get in."

"I'm not leaving my car. I'm not your
slave. And I'm not afraid of Frank." He pulled on the neckband with
no result.

She arched her eyebrows and shifted
her weight onto one foot. "You will leave your car. You are my
slave. And Frank's headed our way."

Alarmed, Chip turned. The bouncer
stepped off the sidewalk. "Okay. I'm afraid of Frank. But I'm not
leaving my car."

"Then it's your car and your death, or
it's my car and your life."

His fantasy had become a nightmare. He
ducked into her car and wondered how fast the biker could run. He'd
bet he could outpace the guy. Melony tossed the leader into his lap
and shut the door. Freedom! He tugged the door handle a fraction
too late. She had hit the lock button on her remote. Unlocking it
manually, he reached for the handle again, but she hit the button
once more as she rounded the front of the car.

When he unlocked it a second time, she
opened the driver's side door and said, "Your car will be fine.
I'll bring you back to get it another day."

Frank had grown too near, so running
would do him no good. He settled against the seatback and fingered
the end of the leash. "This really sucks." He shrugged out of his
jacket as boiling anger made him warmer.

"You have no idea. I didn't want a new
partner. Not right now, anyway." She started the car and backed out
of the space.

Frank stopped, watching them leave,
and Chip resisted the urge to shoot him the bird. "This isn't all
about you," he bit out.

"Here's your first lesson as a slave.
It
is
all about me. You do not exist except to serve me. The
sooner you learn this, the easier your month will go."

A month! He nearly choked on his
disbelief.

She pulled onto the street and
accelerated past the speed limit. As the streetlights provided a
strobe effect across the dash and their laps, his mind
whirled.

"I'm not doing this," he insisted,
heat suffusing his face. "I'm not your slave. I'm not going to
serve you. And what's this business about a month?"

She punched his shoulder, her knuckles
amplifying pain to the bone. Grabbing the joint, he stared. She
sure could deliver a blow for such a tiny thing.

"You don't get it," she said, her tone
dripping danger. "Frank will kill you. He works for very bad
people. He will hunt you down and murder you in a slow, painful
manner. He gets off on it. So listen up. According to the rules of
the society, the waiver you signed makes you an inductee. Your
behavior at the meeting partnered you with me. Since I'm a
dominatrix, that makes you my slave. First-time slaves are required
to live with their doms for a month to receive their initial
training." She pulled into the apartment building parking lot. "So,
welcome home. Slave."

His ears buzzed and a sharp pain
spiked through his temple. "Take me to my hotel. I'll get a cab to
drive me to my car."

She parked and jerked her keys from
the ignition. "Are you deaf? You're a dead man if you leave." She
tapped a fingertip on his forehead, sending new shockwaves through
his brain. "You did this to yourself. Now pay the price for your
mistakes."

"This is crap." Chip shook with rage.
Nobody had ever treated him, talked to him, like that. "I don't
deserve this."

"Neither do I," she grumbled. Melony
got out and gave the leader a tug. "Come on."

"Are you kidding?" Did she expect him
to crawl over the parking brake and driver's seat like a
dog?

"No. I'm not giving you a chance to
run. I'd never catch you on these stilts." She lifted a foot for
emphasis. "Come on. My feet hurt."