Without a Net (16 page)

The force of it drove the plug deep into Ollie’s ass, and the ring of muscle spasmed from the sting. It left Ollie breathless. His toes lost their grip on the floor, and Travis alone kept Ollie from rolling off the bed. Travis got a pattern going—a slow rhythm that contrasted against the randomness of the placement. One blow caught him on the upper thighs, the next hit the base of the plug, the next overlapped the first. Ollie tried to catalog each small pain. He tried to distract himself by cataloguing each strike and trying to predict the next.

Instead he ended up lost in the sounds of his own moans and the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Travis’s arm held him so tightly Ollie could feel it, despite the corset. His legs trembled and his ass was on fire, and all that heat went straight to his cock. The gates might have been loose earlier, but now Ollie was so hard that each metal ring pressed against his shaft. The tight band around the base of his balls tormented him more than the bondage or the pain from the spanking.

Ollie’s cock was caught awkwardly under him; each blow pushed it against Travis’s thigh. Ollie was dizzy with lust and lack of oxygen. He wanted more. So much more. With Milan, Ollie was a means to an end. Travis made it clear that mutual pleasure was his end, and that was infinitely more sensual. Ollie didn’t have to worry about the game because sex was the goal here. Travis stopped suddenly and rested his fingertips against Ollie’s ass. Each one became an island of heat.

“You might be raw-broken, but you suffer so very beautifully, toy,” Travis said, and the words sent a frisson of pleasure through Ollie. It was so strong that his muscles jerked. That distracted him, and then Travis was dropping him stomach down onto the bed next to him. There was the crinkle of a condom wrapper and a quick click. The strap holding the plug in came loose. Ollie fisted the sheets as Travis pulled the plug out, and then he was sliding in, ramming in, pounding Ollie so hard that Ollie was forced up the bed.

The sheets came loose from one corner of the bed, and Ollie flailed for a moment before Travis grabbed him by both wrists and pinned them to the mattress. The thrusts changed angle after that, and Ollie arched his back, desperate for more pressure against his prostate. Then he drove his groin down into the mattress.

“Oh, no, none of that, toy. You’re here for me,” Travis said. He pulled Ollie up off the bed and shoved him toward the wall. Ollie put up his hands to catch himself, and then Travis grabbed Ollie’s hips and jerked them back. Ollie moaned as Travis thrust into him again, slamming into him so hard Ollie’s eyes watered. After the manipulation and denial he’d suffered at Milan’s hands, this uncomplicated connection fed Ollie’s soul. Travis came with a low moan that made the hair on the back of Ollie’s neck stand up, but Ollie couldn’t finish with him. His neglected cock was locked in the gates, untouched and hard as Travis pulled a condom out of Ollie’s ass and held it out.

“Take it,” Travis ordered.

Ollie grabbed it by the end to keep from spilling any of the contents. That left Travis free to put the plug back in and then lock the strap back to the corset so Ollie was trussed up again.

“Next time you lose me, you will kneel outside my room until I bother with you. If you are very good, I might let you come.” Travis put his hands on Ollie’s shoulders and turned him around. “I might not because you are very beautiful when you’re hard and suffering, and I suspect Milan has told you that more than once. Now kneel.” Milan’s denial had felt like torture; this felt like a challenge.

Ollie slid to his knees and chose a spot on the wall to stare at. Whatever else Travis might be, he was definitely a shade Dom. Ollie wished he hadn’t enjoyed that so damn much. Something in the measured way Travis had used Ollie spoke of control and respect, and Ollie should signal his need for help. However, Ollie wasn’t sure how to communicate his problem. Worse, he wasn’t sure how Milan would react if he did. Maybe Ollie’s unwillingness to upset the status quo had more to do with a desperate need to avoid ruining the illusion of security. Ollie was well aware of his own questionable mental state, but for now he remained obedient.

Leaving Ollie with a hard cock and a condom full of Travis’s spunk, Travis returned to his desk and took out a datapad. Clearly he planned to work. That was fine with Ollie, at least until the vibrating started in his ass. However, all he could do was groan and endure.

Chapter Thirteen

By the time an intercom announced that dinner was ready, Ollie’s erection had subsided some. The sun was almost down. Just a few streaks of red stained the glass doors as Travis stood and arched his back. “I think I’ll teach you some massage later,” Travis said without glancing toward Ollie. Still gagged, Ollie didn’t have a chance to say that massage was one of the skills he already had. He adored bringing a lover that sort of pleasure.

Not that Travis was a lover. Not really.

He’d used Ollie, and if Ollie had even half a chance, he would have come like a fucking rocket. But that didn’t make them lovers, not in Ollie’s book.

“Heel,” Travis said as he walked past Ollie. Ollie rose with as much grace as he could with aching knees and followed as Travis headed for the elevator. Maybe he’d gather more details. Right now, Ollie could only make guesses. Clearly Travis was a fed, but given his attitude on shade clubs and unsafe sex, Ollie had to assume he wasn’t an honest one. He hated the thought, because a few hours ago he’d been convinced Travis was his savior.

Either Milan knew about Travis’s real identify, or someone was a real idiot. If Travis was undercover, he wouldn’t have called his partner from the target’s house.

Travis appeared to know the layout of the house as he led them to the first floor and turned left. When Travis stopped unexpectedly, Ollie barely avoided crashing into his backside. Slipping to his knees, he prayed that Travis ignored the mistake, but he didn’t have anything to worry about.

Dan stood with his back to the wall and his gaze on the floor.

“Show me,” Travis ordered.

Without saying a word, Dan turned and pushed his pants down, revealing angry welts across his butt. He lifted the bottom of his shirt, showing the full extent of the damage. Ollie cringed. Whoever had taken the whip to him hadn’t shown any mercy.

Travis moved closer and then pressed his fingers against the highest mark. Dan made a small hissing noise, but he didn’t move. Hell, he didn’t even twitch, and Ollie knew that had to hurt. “Beautiful,” Travis said in an admiring tone. “Have you spoken to Milan yet?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what punishment did he assign?” Travis asked.

“He requires time to plan a punishment.”

Travis made a clucking sound like a disapproving mother. “You are in trouble when you force Milan to think about punishment.”

Dan didn’t answer, but Travis stepped back and then started down the hall. Dan looked over his shoulder, and Ollie was surprised to see an almost blissed-out expression on his face. Under other circumstances, Ollie would have followed up on that bit of strangeness, but this wasn’t an investigation, and he didn’t have a lot of choices.

Instead he shadowed Travis as he walked into an elaborate dining room. Milan was already seated at the end of an ornate table with a silver cloche in front of him. A second cloche waited in front of a seat to his right. Travis hesitated at the door to the dining room, but then he turned and Ollie shifted to the side so Travis could close the doors.

“It is so nice to see you back here. It’s been too long,” Milan said.

“I don’t like the circumstances,” Travis said, but he moved to the chair with the place setting.

“But I notice that has not prevented you from taking some pleasure from my staff. I’m afraid Dan is quite in love with you right now.”

“He’ll change his mind as soon as you punish him.” Travis pointed at the floor. Ollie knelt at his side.

“No doubt,” Milan said. “His dynamic is rather predictable. Are you enjoying the rest of the lovely submissives?” If Ollie could lift his head enough to look at Milan, he would have sent the man a deadly glare.

“He’s not far along in training, is he?”

“Raw-broken,” Milan said. “I remember how you liked to train them to your own specifications.”

“I’m not keeping him.” Travis said that, but then he rested his hand on Ollie’s head, which seemed like a bit of a mixed message.

“It’s not good for you to be without some sort of companionship.”

“I’m a federal agent. What am I supposed to do when I get called out in the middle of the night or I end up working all hours?”

Milan sighed. “A submissive is not a dog. You don’t have to go home at lunch and let them out to do their business on the lawn.”

“And it’s not fair to ask them to wait for me when I don’t have the time to invest in the relationship, and this conversation is over,” Travis said firmly. “You called me here saying you had something on the case, and that is all I’m interested in discussing with you.”

For a long time, the room went silent. Travis ran his fingers through Ollie’s hair, but other than that point of contact, Ollie felt completely cut off. The neck brace kept his face forward, and kneeling beside Travis meant that Ollie had an up-close view of the tablecloth and almost nothing else.

Eventually Milan spoke again. “We need these cretins to incriminate themselves.”

“I agree, but the fact that they’re cops makes that difficult,” Travis said. Ollie did an internal cheer. If these two would talk about something important, maybe he could figure out what was going on.

“We simply have to make them incautious.” Silverware clicked against dishes.

Travis moved his hand. “Christ. This again. I’m telling you that these guys are going to spot a setup.”

“So, that means we need to do something wildly illegal to make them feel secure enough to be more brazen in their threats,” Milan said, and the tone he used with the word “wildly” scared the snot out of Ollie. As a cop he was against any sort of illegal activity, but when someone like Milan suggested a
wildly
illegal action, that was enough to turn a man’s hair gray.

“That’s your big plan?” Travis asked, and he didn’t sound impressed. “It sounds a lot like your old plan, the one I told you wasn’t appropriate.”

“The advantage of my plan is that we can gather the precious evidence you require before you will agree to take action.”

“It’s more like the evidence the law requires. This is not about me. I’m not trying to leave you dangling here, but you don’t have any plan that will end well. These cops are dangerous, and I’m not convinced you understand how dangerous.”

“Your concern is gratifying, but believe me when I say that these officers have gravely underestimated my ability to protect myself. My vote is that we turn their own ploy back on them.”

“Their ploy?” Travis sounded confused. “What did they do?”

“They attempted to infiltrate my organization.” Milan made a sound that came uncomfortably close to a growl.

“You say that like you’re a mafia don,” Travis said drily.

“Obviously, I am not. However, what we do here is sacred. You know how seriously I take the job of being a Dom, of training subs to let go of their inhibitions.”

Travis began to stroke Ollie’s head again. “I know more than most, but I also know the only way people get in here is by paying through the nose and passing one of your background checks, so what do you mean, they tried to infiltrate?”

Ollie frowned. People paid to come to Milan’s place? Prostitution was legal unless it crossed certain lines, and Ollie hadn’t seen drug use or underage sex workers, so that pretty much left physical harm and sadism as the only reasons why Milan’s place would be illegal. And it had to be illegal, because Ollie didn’t see any licenses displayed. Legal brothels had to post conspicuous signs with information on licensing and medical testing of employees.

“They attempted to get me to hire one of theirs.”

“And…” Travis let his word trail off meaningfully. He clearly thought that was a rather unimpressive piece of information, or maybe his derision was for the bad guys.

“And they are getting more aggressive about trying to track my movements.”

“They’re going after you. You already knew that, so what’s changed?”

“Their tactics,” Milan said. “They planned to catch me doing something illegal, but I suspect that faced with my own lack of lawlessness, they were planning to frame me for actions I did not take.”

“And then use that to blackmail you into working for them,” Travis said. “Okay, that’s a shift in tactics. All the other businesses they took over did break the law. But you have enough supporters that blackmailing you would be very dangerous.” Travis paused in his petting. “But these idiots may not realize how many people owe you. They may see you as nothing more than a high-priced doxy-house owner with a list of clients that would give them leverage over some powerful people.” Travis laughed. “Hell, I’m not sure I even want to know how many congressional leaders have come through this house.”

“If someone got my membership list, congressional leaders would rank rather low on the totem pole for potential blackmail victims. Their power is rather more illusory than actual. But the number of admirals and generals and chiefs I have visit me poses a temptation, and I will not have my people put in a position where criminals can try to harm them.”

Ollie blew air out as he parsed the words. None of it made any sense. None. Milan was trying to protect his people from criminals? And unless Ollie had lost track of the pieces, these two were implying that the captain was setting up his own version of a crime family. That was stupid, because criminal enterprises always turned on one another. Sometimes families managed to hold on for a few generations, but the more mundane criminal masterminds were always brought down by their own underlings and greed.

Except that cops stuck together. Cops generally valued loyalty more than the law, and that wasn’t a problem because the mutual respect for the law kept the bad ones in line. But if Captain Greyson had brought together a group of loyal cops who had turned their backs on the law altogether, would that same brothers-in-blue mentality hold the group together? Ollie wished he knew more about the psychology of criminals and cops, because he didn’t know—and he didn’t know how much of this conversation he could trust.