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“Likedbest? Don’t write me off quite yet, Miss Kink. I’m dormant, not fucking extinct.”
Heat. You could feel it between us. A flame smouldering without oxygen, waiting to explode. A clack of heels broke the tension, Topaz with keys in her hand.
“We’re all done,” she said. “See you in the morning, Faye…” she looked from Andy’s feet to his face and back again, “Goodnight, Mr Morgan.”
“Goodnight, Topaz,” he said.
I waved her goodbye, then readied myself for leaving. Bed was calling, loud. Blissful bed for aching feet. Fucking heels. “Time for a cab,Mr Morgan,” I said. “I’m absolutely pooped.”
I could’ve smacked him across the mouth for the cheek in his smirk. “Not quite,” he said. “Playroom three’s flogging bench needs washing down before tomorrow. Someone forgot club etiquette; it’s rathersticky, apparently. You’d better grab another pair of gloves.”
My eyes widened. “You are shitting me?”
“Afraid not,” he said. “This is club life, Faye, you wanted in, you can pull your weight.”
“This isn’t about pulling my weight,” I snapped. “It’s about you proving a stupid point.”
“Think what you want, but that bench isn’t going to clean itself. Gloves. Bench.Thentaxi. And don’t be late in the morning.” He walked away without so much as a backwards glance, leaving me to simmer in the wet room with a temper fit to burst.
I stomped through the club to the supply room, gathering up antibacterial spray, and steriliser, and gloves, and wipes and bleach and a commiseration glass of vodka Coke before tracking back through to playroom three.
I flicked the lights back on, slamming the door behind me and downing my drink in one. The room was immaculate, the fresh smell of pine steriliser still ripe in the air. I approached the flogging bench with confusion; it was perfectly fucking clean. I cursed under my breath that the asshole had sent me on a fool’s errand, when the door creaked behind me.
I didn’t bother turning around. “No need to check up on me. It’s already been done,” I said. “It doesn’t even need cleaning.”
“I know it doesn’t,” he said, and his voice was low, gravelly… threatening. The hairs on my neck prickled, pulse accelerating, mouth clammy.
I held my breath as his footsteps came closer, and even though I knew what was coming, it still made me jump.
The leather of the crop tickled my shoulder blade. It crept up slowly, then grazed a path right the way down my arm.
“I want your back against the wall, Miss Devere. Right fucking now.”
***
Andy
I tapped the crop against her wrist, hard enough that she let the cleaning supplies clatter to the floor. She took a breath, then moved as instructed, long graceful steps like a gazelle until her back was pressed flat to the wall. I tapped the crop against my thigh as I looked her over. She was still made up from her stint behind the bar, eyes heavy with black glitter and ridiculous false lashes. Her mouth was a vicious scarlet; lips slightly parted and sheened heavy with gloss. I loosened my tie and pulled it free, running the burgundy silk across my palm as I approached. Her heels made us a perfect height match as I squared up to her, eye to eye, close enough that I could feel her breath on my face. I hooked the crop on a rail to the side, well within easy reach.
“Give me your wrists.”
She offered them up without argument, keeping quiet while I bound them together with my tie. I pinned them against the wall above her head.
“Keep them there. Don’t move.”
I tugged at the front lacing of her corset, and she struggled to stay still as I wrenched it away from her skin. Her tits spilled loose, and her nipples were pert little buds just begging to be punished. The sight made my mouth water. I yanked her corset free and threw it aside, then bunched her tight little skirt around her waist. Sheer black lace covered the sweet mound of her cunt. I hooked my fingers inside the gusset and pulled until the lace cut tight between her pussy lips.
“Such a pretty wet slit you’ve got for me, Faye. You didn’t think I was going to let you walk out of here, did you? Not on my fucking weekend. You should know me better than that.”
She squirmed, grinding her clit against the fabric. “Fuck, Andy, that feels so good.”
I pressed my mouth to her ear. “I’m going to teach you a lesson in manners. It’s going to really fucking hurt, and you’re going to be really fucking grateful.” I tugged on the fabric between her legs until she squeaked. “Tell me you’re going to be grateful, Faye.”
The softest moan before she replied. “Yes…”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Andy. Yes, I’m going to be grateful!”
