Chapter Two
Violet
Barbed wire was the devil’s tool.
Personally, she hated the damn stuff, but James was a fan.
She supposed it was his genitals taking the brunt of those brutal little barbs, although her hands were not happy with the nicks in her skin.
It wasn’t the easiest thing to wrap around something short and half-floppy either, which was why she’d chosen to anchor the wire around the base of his testicles first.
By the time it was secured in place, the barbs digging into his skin deep enough to draw tiny drops of blood along the shaft, James was fully erect and leaking precum like a faucet. Not to mention, moaning like some kind of bison.
“Thank you, Mistress.”
Violet cracked her hand down on his ass hard enough for her palm to sting. “Did I tell you to talk?”
Another low moan. “N-No, Mistr—”
Crack. The second, voiceless reprimand got the message across, it seemed.
Pushing out of the crouch, Violet narrowed her eyes at the pasty white ass adorned with her handprint. It was tempting to use the cane to light it up further, leave lovely red welts across that unappealing backside, but that would be unfair and a breach of her duty to him as his Domme.
Just because he liked pain didn’t mean she could take her foul mood out on his ass under the guise of a scene.
Instead, she chose a flogger, one most subs would never dream of requesting. It wasn’t as harsh as the chain link flogger Merrick used on certain masochistic subs who craved pain like narcotics, but it was up there on the Ouchie scale.
A dozen eighteen-inch fronds—each one formed from three thin strips of leather plaited by hand and interspersed with a steel ball every six inches—whistled lightly through the air as she tested the weight and accuracy before bringing it down on flesh.
Leather lashed over exposed skin, the balls thudded into flesh.
James yelped, then moaned as though she’d given him the greatest gift.
Some of the tension in her muscles relaxed, loosening with each back and forth swing, until she lost herself in the rhythm instead of the constant, creeping paranoia.
She swore she felt eyes on her, but it was ridiculous to believe it was anything more than a shy voyeur observing from the shadows; it wasn’t unheard of, some watchers preferred the darkness.
James’ skin acquired the faintest blush of color, deepening as flogging continued. Pale pink to dusky rose, darkening as his moans became lower and more guttural. His hips rocked and thrust against nothing, flexing his cock deeper into the painful prison keeping it captive.
Slowly, Violet extended the reach of her tool, roaming down the backs of his thighs, thudding the balls over his shoulders while his back arched in delight.
Exchanging a glance with Reuben, the monitor on duty, she gave him the signal to plug in the fucking machine he’d kindly brought over for her; she disliked leaving equipment plugged in when not in active use, just in case someone tripped over the wire.
When James shuddered and precum splattered over the floor, she let the flogger fall still at her side. Maybe she relished his sob of disappointment, that sorrowful sound of an orgasm halted in its tracks, but she wouldn’t confess to it.
“Something you want to say, James?” She stroked her hand over his heated flesh, sliding it over the curve of his ass, then twisted her hand and dug her nails into the crease between his buttock and thigh, dragging them back up and over the tender area. “It sounded like you wanted to… protest?”
He gasped, his hands fisting. “N-No, Mistress. N-No complaints here.”
“Good boy. Now, are you going to keep on being a good boy for me when I shove this rather oversized dildo up your ass, or be a bad, bad boy and spray the floor with your cum like you did last time?”
“Good boy, Mistress. Always your good boy.”
“Hmm.” Violet tsked softly, walking her index and middle fingers across his flesh, making sure her nails bit into his skin.
“I do believe you told me that last time, too. Didn’t work out too well, did it?
You ended our time together on your hands and knees, licking your own dirty mess off the mats. ”
Another shudder, another quick spurt of precum to join the rest.
“I’ll tell you what I think, James. I think the moment that dildo stretches your filthy back hole wide and fills up your ass, it’s going to be game over.
I’m not even going to have a chance to turn on the fucking machine, am I, before it’s all over?
” Shaking her head in disgust, Violet bent over gracefully and studied the situation critically.
“That barbed wire is strangling your cock. Biting into it. Are you ready for it to hurt more, James? For those nasty metal barbs to bite like teeth when your cock starts jerking and—”
Evidently, she’d underestimated the effect her voice had on him, Violet realized when the tortured appendage did just that, ejaculating thin, paltry bursts of semen onto the dark rubber matting beneath him.
She checked her watch. A session with James usually lasted around an hour and… yes, they were ten minutes shy. Tsking in disapproval, she added a cold edge to her voice. “Well, well, well. Spoiling my fun again, James. Did you enjoy taking that liberty?”
“No, Mistress.” Relaxed from head to toe, shuddering hard, he sighed contentedly. “Thank you, Mistress Violet.”
Recognizing the end of the scene, and that further humiliation wasn’t needed, she smiled sadly and stroked her hand over his hair.
At this point, it wasn’t unusual for him to start crying, and she hadn’t lost touch with her humanity so much that compassion was alien to her, even if it felt like it the past few months.
“What do you need from me now, James?” she asked quietly as Reuben stepped up to wheel away the unneeded machine. Her fingers deftly unfastened the straps around James’s wrists, automatically rubbing the faint red marks left behind.
Once his limbs were unrestrained, he sat up gingerly, his eyes damp and red rimmed. When she reached to detangle his cock from the barbed wire, he set his hand gently on her wrist; she looked at him expectantly.
“Leave it, please? I-I’d like to try something.”
Okay, that was her cue to leave. She had a pretty good idea what he’d like to try, and she wanted no part of that brand of masochism. “All right, I’ll give you some privacy, but I’m leaving Reuben here in case… well, just in case.”
He smiled gratefully. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“Anytime, James.” Violet stepped back and walked away, joining Reuben in the shadows. “Let me know when he’s done. I’ll come back and tidy the station. For God’s sake, don’t let him deglove his penis or something equally ridiculous.”
“It’s his penis,” Reuben pointed out soberly.
“Unfortunately, under this roof, he’s still our responsibility. I don’t believe Evander would be thrilled if the club was swarmed with EMTs due to our guest self-mutilating his penis.”
Reuben just smirked. “I’ll keep my eye on him, Mistress. Just like your admirer.”
The smart ass response she had on the tip of her tongue withered and died, tasting like ash in her mouth. The well of dread and paranoia deepened as she scanned the area a second time. “Who?”
He jerked his chin toward the balcony. “Someone was up there watching you the whole time. Didn’t get the creepy vibe off them, so maybe a new guest scoping you out before they book a session?”
She knew she’d felt eyes on her, Violet thought.
At least she wasn’t as crazy as she imagined.
Reuben was probably right—many new guests asked the receptionists which Masters or Mistresses would fulfill their requirements during their stay and were given a list of the appropriate names.
Scoping out a potential Dominant during a scene wasn’t uncommon, especially in public areas, and at least the person had been respectful, staying out of distraction range.
“Yeah, maybe,” she murmured. That damned scent was really fucking up her perception of her world, she mused. One sniff triggered all her goddamn insecurities.
Still, she couldn’t help but stare up at the observation balcony above, at the darkness and shadows. She was being foolish, that was all—he would never be able to stay quietly in the background; his ego was too loud, his need to be in the spotlight as blatant as his arrogance.
If he was here, she would know about it.
*
The next afternoon, Jennifer was manning the desk again, and Violet’s mood hadn’t improved. After choosing to forego her usual Friday night ritual of socializing with her friends, she’d spent the evening spiraling in her own head until she’d done the unthinkable and started packing.
Her handwritten resignation was sitting in an envelope on her desk with Evander’s name on it.
Everything just felt wrong, inside and out.
By rights, she probably shouldn’t be dealing with club guests. She couldn’t stand being in her own company, let alone handling the pathetic whims of the needy, clingy… and that train of thought right there was exactly why things needed to change.
“Jennifer, I—”
The redhead beamed at Violet. “Oh, Mistress, you’re right on time! Wonderful. Your guest is waiting for you upstairs in the Garden Room; he is very excited to meet you.”
Damn it, she’d wanted to cancel the appointment before the guest arrived. It would be unspeakably rude—not to mention against Evander’s and her own professional code—to step out on a session at such short notice when the client was already waiting.
Resigned to an afternoon of biting her tongue and fighting to keep her internal thoughts where they belonged, Violet nodded. “Thank you. Any pertinent details I should know about?”
Jennifer pulled the client data up on her screen, her eyes darting back and forth as she read. “Derek Close—I met him the other day, he was nice. Polite, well-spoken. No limits on file, and I did advise him to update the list before noon.”