Settled wasn"t as horrible as it sounded. Like sediment at the bottom of the lake, she could look up and appreciate the sparkles of sunlight on the water, the change in seasons. The things that flitted by so fast, so vibrantly, leaving her behind, she"d accepted. There was no getting it all. She"d traded everything for peace, because her life had literally depended on it. She refused to regret it. Couldn"t afford to regret it.
He was still lying on his side, his head propped on his hand, and it flustered her, that he could lay there, looking up at her, and still seem so in control. That steady gaze was taking in every detail of her flustered condition, lingering over her breasts, their rise and fall betraying the shortness of her breath. Then he rose, one graceful flow of motion that nevertheless had her skittering back two steps as if he"d leapt toward her like a wild animal. He cocked his head.
“Do you want to know what I want?”
She couldn"t answer, but it didn"t matter. He took silence as assent.
“I"d like to do that routine we just did, but I"d like to see you do it naked. I"d like to see you in that Sleeping Thunderbolt pose, make you hold it while I stroked your thighs, and let my fingers stray up your body, from your clit to the base of your throat. I want to feel you quiver under my touch.”
Her mouth opened, soundless. But he was continuing. “I"d do that for as long as I liked, then I"d take you into the shower. I"d blindfold you, make you kneel in the corner where the steam would keep you warm. I"d enjoy looking at you while I washed myself. You"d sit up straight, your hands clasped at your lower back, your breasts thrust out for me. Your knees would be spread, steam teasing your cunt lips, making you even wetter. You"d stay in that position, knowing nothing was required but to sit like that while I took my fill of viewing what was mine. And it would drive you as crazy as it would drive me, until I"d be so hard I"d have to fuck you against the shower wall.”
As he"d spoken, he"d started moving toward her. Slow, deliberate steps, and it wasn"t until her back hit two walls she realized she"d matched his pace, letting him back her into a corner. He laid a palm against one wall, then the other, so she"d have to duck under those long arms to get past him. Nothing was touching her, but she could feel every plane and curve of him, wanted all of it.
When she moistened her lips, she could tell his eyes registered not only the motion but the thoughts behind it. It wouldn"t surprise her if his mind could follow hers like a hound tracking a scent, see what she was imagining in such detail.
I want to be on my knees in that shower. If I stayed very still and on display for him, he might give me permission to taste his cock, make him even harder. And when he came, I’d take every drop down my throat. Then he’d lift me up on the wall and pin me there, take me hard as he said, until I screamed out with every raw, painful need bottled inside for way too long. I would die that way, and that would be okay.
He leaned up close, breath a heated touch on her face like the imagined shower steam. “Your eyes are so hungry, Rachel. You hear what I want and you tremble, your skin flushing and nipples hardening.” His body was against hers, a brush of contact against the tight points, and she bit down on a moan. “You say you"ve learned not to want things so fiercely. Next time I see you, I dare you to say that to me again.” She closed her eyes. His mouth touched hers, another featherlight contact. Then coolness enveloped her, a draft of air. When she opened her eyes, the heavy sense of loss warning her, she was alone. Her body was doing everything he"d said it was, but it was her heart that reacted the most strongly.
It ached, as if engulfed in an oil fire that would never stop burning.
Chapter Three
She did her job on Monday, but it was like a hive of bees had been loosed in her head, driving her to distraction with their frenetic buzzing. As the day progressed, they migrated out through her body, crawling under her skin until she wanted to scream and claw the incessant irritation away. Sunday night she"d put her hands between her legs, rubbing uselessly, nothing there responding, even though she was wet just from the memory of Jon curved behind her, his cock against her ass. She"d known this would happen, hadn"t she? She was back in that place where her whole world seemed to be narrowing, darkening, and it scared her. She had so many feelings running through her she didn"t know whether to eat a consolation tub of ice cream or throw up what little she"d been able to eat.
All through her morning therapy sessions, she had a steel spring in her lower belly, tight enough to launch a cannonball. By lunch, she couldn"t handle anymore. She had to act or she would go insane.
There was a BDSM club in Baton Rouge. She"d found out about it a long time ago, when she"d lurked on D/s sites. Places where the open chat rooms felt like virtual meat markets, and the Doms" online personas made her feel small and shrinking. She hadn"t been to such sites in a very long time, but during her sleepless Sunday night, she"d searched on the name of the club specifically—Club More, Baton Rouge. Perversely, she hoped it had closed down, putting it beyond the reach of temptation, but it was still there, with a current revision date for the website. Very little other information was provided, except the cover charge, operation hours and an offer to join the club mailing list she declined.
Regardless, the name— More—felt like a sign, an arrow demanding she go in that direction. She knew she was feverish, manic and it was the wrong thing to do, but no one would know her, and if it was a complete disaster, she could put this to rest once and for all. Jon called late afternoon when she was handling another appointment.
When she saw the message show up on her cell phone, she forced herself to hit the delete button, even as her heart screamed at her as if betrayed.
She had to get herself back in control before she exposed herself to more of his irresistible persuasion. He didn"t understand that she couldn"t do this. Unfortunately, the rest of her didn"t understand either, and she had to fix that. Prove it was a mistake or see if she was strong enough to go down the path he"d re-opened in front of her. And she wanted to take that test alone, away from the eyes of anyone who knew her.
She had no idea what to wear. When she got home, she settled for a pair of dark slacks she thought hugged her curves in the right places and a thin white blouse. Under it, she wore a sexy black demi-cup bra. Severe blacks and whites, like her severe state of mind. Until she"d pawed through her mostly mundane underwear drawer, she hadn"t realized she still had the bra. It was something she"d worn for Cole a few times. It seemed patently appropriate to wear something of that life, so that she could remember why she couldn"t do this. Which of course didn"t quell her wary anticipation, her determination to go forward with it, test it under extreme circumstances. She didn"t know if she wanted to pass or fail this test, or if it would be the same thing either way.
God, she was a pathetic fool.
It was in a seedy area of town, but that didn"t concern her. She knew as well as anyone that adult clubs weren"t accepted by the mainstream, fetish clubs least of all, and so they were relegated to industrial districts and trashy areas frequented by the criminal element. She had a Taser and pepper spray in her purse, and she knew to stay alert. There were about fifty cars in the parking lot, and at least there was a doorman.
She saw him when she pulled up, a bouncer type all in black, with the club logo on his shirt. It was reassuring, but it was the only thing that was. She sat in her car, staring at that door. A black, one-story rectangular building with metal sides, like a squat warehouse. No windows of course. The chat rooms had said the appearance of such places could be deceptive, right?
That doorman was approaching her car. She had a flash of panic, then she rolled down the window. His day"s growth of beard made him look even more intimidating.
Before she could speak, he assessed her in one glance. “You here to find a Master?” She moistened her lips. “I…yes. I think so. I"ve never—”
“Shut up, slut. You"ll speak when spoken to. Give me twenty dollars for the cover charge.”
She pulled it out with shaking fingers. There were safe words, boundaries. They would observe them. This was part of the role playing, getting into the atmosphere. She got out, prudent enough to lock the car, but then she gasped as he shoved her back against the closed car door. “Put your hands on your head. I"m going to frisk you for weapons.”
Okay, now she wasn"t sure. Her mind wasn"t keeping up though. He took hold of the front of her blouse and ripped it open with one jerk, his gaze crawling over her breasts, quivering in the demi-cups. “Nice tits. They"ll like that. Want to clamp those babies, make them black and blue.” He put his hands on them, squeezing them as if they were market produce, in an efficient, functional manner, then worked his hands down her body, over her hips, bringing one large hand up between her legs. “Spread them,” he barked. “This cunt is up for grabs tonight. You keep these legs open for any Master who wants to feel.”
He spun her then, ran his hands over her ass. Her heart was rabbiting in her throat, but she couldn"t stop him. She didn"t know how to say no. Which was exactly what she"d feared, right? She"d wanted to bring this into her life so badly, she would take even this in silence, for the hope that something better, something more “right”, was behind that door. She yelped as he snagged the upswept twist she"d done with her hair and dragged her by it toward the door. “When we walk in, you get on your knees, in line with the others. You"re late. You must not have gotten the latest from Mistress Natasha about the time change. They"re about to assign the meat for the night. You almost missed your chance.”
There was no time to stammer out a reply or question. She was thrust into gloom.
Sweat and alcohol permeated the atmosphere, as well as a dank underside, perhaps from a past flooding that had gotten into the carpet, seeping under the cheap metal walls. She had a brief impression of a narrow stage, where a naked girl was suspended by her wrists. She cried out as she was tapped by what appeared to be a cattle prod.
