11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Gracie
It’s a small thing, but I’m grateful that Victor handed Lili off to Luke to keep an eye on during our scene.
I know I have no claim to his time or attention, but it would have thrown off my mental headspace to see the two of them walk in together again.
She looks different. Pale. Maybe a little scared. Did Victor or one of the others frighten her?
“What’s wrong with Lili?” I whisper when Victor approaches the massage table set up at the front of the room. I’ve laid out his needles and other supplies needed and have been waiting patiently for him to arrive.
“It’s nothing, butterfly.”
I frown at him. “Are you sure you didn’t threaten her in Matteo’s office?”
He cups my cheek. “Stop worrying. Focus on the present moment. Luke is keeping an eye on her.”
When I don’t budge, he sighs. “Something seems off to me as well, but I don’t know what caused it. I swear. We can sort it out after we’re done. Now be a good girl and take your dress off and lay on the table.”
“Yes, Sir,” I mutter.
“Gracie, let’s not start the scene like this. Come here.”
He pulls me into a gentle hug, and I drink in his scent. It’s possible that I’ve grown more addicted to it since he left his jacket in my car the other night.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against his chest. “I’m ready now.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Good girl.”
As I pull my dress off and climb on the table, I look over to where Luke was sitting with Lili only to find them hurrying from the room.
Victor caresses my back. “She must have changed her mind. We can check on her later.”
Why am I even so worried about her? She almost got me in trouble, and I’m still unclear where we stand on whether or not she’s the enemy or merely associated with the enemy. Either way, I’m sitting here worried about a woman that Victor kidnapped.
I pull my thoughts back to the present moment as Victor tears open a sterilizing wipe to clean my back and upper thighs.
A small crowd has gathered, and because this is a demo, he explains his process and the importance of keeping things sterile. At the beginning of every demo I do with Victor, I have to suppress a smirk because it’s hard picturing him—a known member of a major crime family—as an educator discussing kink safety. But he’s actually fantastic at it, and soon his voice relaxes me fully.
“Needles are not something you jump into without basic anatomy knowledge,” he says as he picks up a sterile marker. “Isn’t that right, doc?”
The gorgeous doctor who sometimes provides her services to us agrees and offers a basic anatomy lesson for anyone interested later.
“Tonight, I’ve chosen needles with some purple tips since that’s this lovely creature’s favorite color. But you can get them in all different colors and gauge sizes. Needles are a particularly delightful way to inflict pain because it’s also a way to turn your subject into a piece of art. Gracie has kindly offered her back, bottom, and thighs as our canvas tonight. I’ll do a less painful ribbon lacing on her back, a small heart on her ass, and after that I’ll use her thighs to show you a few more slightly… sadistic techniques.”
My body ignites at that last phrase. I would be completely OK with an entire scene of nothing but the latter, but I’ll enjoy all of it.
As he speaks, he’s using the marker to put guide marks on my skin for the heart and the ribbon lacing. He has on gloves, so his nails aren’t scratching me, but I can feel them as he moves the pen around.
When he’s done, he picks up the tray of needles to begin.
I can sense the eyes of everyone on us, and it gives me a little thrill. Some people are close enough that air moves across my body as they shift to get a better view of what he’s doing, but when Victor pulls my skin taut with one gloved hand, all of that falls away, and I breathe in right as the metal tip of the sterile needle touches me. The little pinch as it slides in one portion of skin and out the other is my cue to exhale.
It’s a slow process at first, because Victor is explaining the angle of the tip, how to make sure you don’t go too deep, and other important details for safe needle play.
“Now that I’ve done the first few slowly for everyone to see, I’m going to do it the way I would if this were a private scene. Once you get competent at placement, you can go at speed and get all the needles done in a couple of minutes.”
He squeezes my shoulder. “Are you ready to fly for me, Mariposa?”
I exhale long and slow before I answer. “Yes, Master Victor. Very ready.”
He pats my bottom before he places the tray of needles on the small of my back for quicker access. My back is suddenly a sea of sensation, pinch after pinch biting into me as he quickly places the needles. The sharp sensations send little shocks of pain and pleasure through my system. The endorphins and other feel-good brain chemicals are flooding my system, and I’m almost sad when he places the last one.
“Such a good little pincushion,” he murmurs in my ear as he leans across me to pick up some ribbon—also in purple—to lace around the plastic heads of the needles.
The sensation of him lacing the ribbon is not painful, but there is a definite sense of danger knowing he could accidentally pull a needle up too much and tear skin. He’s never done that, of course, because he’s incredibly careful, but he’s casually explaining to the audience how badly such a mistake would hurt, and my body is reacting as if it sounds like fun. Or more likely it’s reacting to Victor when he says, “Most of the dominants in this room enjoy the cries of pain the illicit from their subs. You simply want to make sure you’re hurting them the right way, so they keep coming back for more.”
When he’s done with the ribbons, he pulls out his phone. He and the other owners and a few key staffers are the only ones allowed to have phones on the club floor, and he shows everyone that he’s only photographing my back so I can see the fruit of my suffering.
My eyes nearly tear up when I see what he’s done with the ribbon. The way he’s placed the needles and looped the ribbon makes a simple but gorgeous butterfly design.
“Thank you, I love it,” I manage to say without actually crying.
The needles in my ass barely register as anything, until he criss-crosses some needles over themselves. When he does that, it makes what he calls a button in the center of the heart, and he demonstrates how tapping on it can cause interesting sensations for the submissive.
He gives it a final hard tap to make me yelp before moving on to the thighs.
“Now, Gracie got out of a punishment earlier tonight—I know, I know it’s very unlike me,” he adds at the exaggerated gasps of shock that come from members of the audience who know him well. “But then she had the nerve to get a little sassy about it after the fact. So now I get to have my payback on her thighs.”
“Shit,” I say loud enough for the crowd to hear me, sending laughter rippling through the small crowd.
Victor shows them how to use the tip of the needle for abrasion play on one thigh. It’s not a kink that is for the faint of heart, but I like the little marks it leaves. The tip of a hypodermic needle is very sharp, and barely grazing it across sensitive skin can leave a small abrasion. They heal quickly, but they sting like a bitch.
I hiss as he quickly scratches out a small design on the skin.
“If you’re into blood play, this is the fun part,” he says, his voice filled with a little too much wicked glee for me.
He smacks his hand down on one of the scratches, and the sensation changes. He holds his hand up to the audience. “As you can see, it breaks the skin enough to ooze a bit of blood but not actively bleed, and from there, you can do whatever you want to with it. Grace and I don’t have an agreement about fluid, so my hand stays gloved, and I’ll wipe it off. Or I could show it to her as part of fucking with her head. But if we did have an agreement, I could enjoy a taste, or even better, I would offer her one.”
He called me Grace. Not Gracie. Why is that making my heart hammer like I’ve got some kind of teenage crush?
“I’d like to try that sometime,” I murmur, with my face turned away from the audience.
“We’ll talk about it when you aren’t high on the pain, to make sure you mean that, butterfly.”
I smile to myself, because I figured that would be his answer. “We don’t renegotiate in the middle of a scene,” is something I’ve heard him say a dozen times to other people he’s played with.
He gives caution not to do too many types of damage to the skin at once and shows everyone how to clean the skin once the play is done.
“When the needles come out, a small amount of blood is normal, but it shouldn’t be much because you’re not piercing deep into the skin. And for all you sadists, you get one more bit of fun after they’re all out because you need to wipe the entire surface down thoroughly with something like an alcohol wipe.”
He chuckles as I tense up when he demonstrates on my ass.
The needles in my back are still in place because he wants me to stand up so everyone can see his handiwork a little more clearly, and also demonstrate how it’s possible to walk around the room with the needles in place.
“Someday, we’ll give you proper butterfly wings,” he promises as he helps me carefully sit up. I’m not quite sure what he means by that, but I like the sound of it.
Everyone applauds, and a few people approach to get a closer look at my back. I am flying high from all the sensation, and part of me wants to find a private place to get myself off, but I’m sure I’ll wait until I get home like I always do.
Victor stays close since I’m naked with sharp needles still in my back, and we make small talk with the other partygoers who aren’t playing.
After a little while, I ask if he’ll take them out, and I’m surprised when he pulls me into his office instead of doing it out in the dungeon.
He washes his hand and turns me so my back is to him.
“Do you really want a taste of your own blood, butterfly?” he asks as he pulls the needles free one at a time.
“I’ve kind of always wanted to since the first time we did needles. I was just afraid to admit it.”
Without warning, his hand lands hard on my ass. Surprised, I reach back and rub the stinging cheek. “What the heck was that for?” I whine.
“Keeping something like that from me all this time. I can’t take proper care of you as a submissive if you don’t tell me what you desire.”
You. I desire you. But I don’t say that part out loud. It’s definitely an inside thought.
One index finger slides up my back as he scoops up a drop or two of blood. Then he steps in front of me and holds it to my lips.
I dart my tongue out, nervous at first. But the nerves quickly vanish when I taste the blood. It’s slightly metallic and warm. Not quite what I was expecting, but it feels dangerous and thrilling, and I’m suddenly flooded with visions of Victor rubbing my own blood on my nipples then licking it off.
Victor lets out a dark chuckle. “Something good just happened in your head, Mariposa. And I must say I like it a lot.”
I blush and look away. “It’s just causing… inappropriate thoughts about my boss.”
He laughs. “Careful Gracie. You’ll make me rethink my policy on not mixing business and pleasure.”
If that statement was supposed to make me want to be careful, it backfired. Horribly.
But I stay quiet and let him clean my back with alcohol, my brain barely registering the sting as I think about what just transpired between us.
My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door.
“That better not be fucking Harper,” he grumbles.
“Who is it?” he shouts as he walks toward the door.
“It’s Bellamy, Master Victor.”
He pulls the door open, seeming to forget that I’m naked. Though I don’t know why that would matter. I’ve been naked in the dungeon dozens of times.
“What is it?” he snaps when she steps into the room.
“I’m sorry to interrupt. It’s just that your guest seems rather restless judging from the sounds coming from her room. Master Luke wanted me to come and ask you to check on her.”
I frown. “I’m sorry I left her mic open.”
Bellamy smiles. “It’s fine. My tablet has just been getting a workout tonight with all the extra suite notifications.”
She raises an eyebrow and backs toward the door. “Looks like you two are getting cozy in here, so I’ll leave you to it.”
I wish I’d grabbed my dress before Victor pulled me in here. Now I’m naked and having lustful thoughts about a man I shouldn’t be thinking that way about.
When she’s gone, he turns to me and his eyes are dark with lust of his own. At least I know he wants me as much as I want him. His sense of responsibility both to me and to his family keeps him from acting. At least, that’s what I suspect.
“Stop looking at me like that, Mariposa. I’m weak right now.”
“Maybe I want you weak,” I say as confidently as I can manage.
He chuckles and stalks toward me. “I didn’t take you for a temptress, Gracie.”
He kisses my cheek and shakes his head. “I’m a fool for not just making you mine. But I don’t want to mess anything up between us. Can you understand that, butterfly? You mean so much to me.”
I put a hand on his chest. “It’s fine, Victor. I understand. Will you get me my dress? You need to check on Lili, and I promised Bellamy some help in her office tonight.”
He looks relieved that I’ve let him off the hook, and he squeezes my shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”
When he’s left me alone, I squeeze my shoulders tight and bring them up toward my ears for several seconds before letting them relax entirely.
Victor returns in record time with my dress and shoes and helps me zip it up in the back.
“You did well tonight, Gracie. I always enjoy playing with you. Stay here as long as you need and then rejoin the party. We’ll catch up again before the night is done. I’d like to talk about us a little more.”
He… wants to talk about us? Am I dreaming right now? It probably looks crazy, but there is a happy smile on my face as he walks out the door, leaving me in his office to process what just happened.