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“Thank you,” I say, but my words melt in my throat as he lays my hand flat on the bed, moving his touch to my waist. His oiled fingers move higher, rolling over my ribs, finding my breasts, encased between thin lines of black leather. He takes a nipple between his slippery fingers, rolling it until I feel the touch deep within my core—
A familiar voice booms through the room. “Enough.”
Ricky’s hands leave my body. Nooo!
“Would you look at the time? Madam Tasha always arrives early. She’s one of our most important clients. We can’t provide excellent service if we’re just standing around here playing when she shows up, can we?” Cannon throws back the rest of his drink and turns on the heel of his heavy boot, leaving the room.
Ricky shrugs. “Guess we’ll have to cut it short.”
I shrug off my disappointment. After a quick shower I take the softly lit path to the carriage house, garden pebbles crunching under my feet. I spend the rest of the evening playing Scrabble with Nonna and Booker, a familiar game for Nonna and me, but with the added pleasure of whiskey and a saucy South African, it’s double the fun.
The two of them have become the best of friends. Booker, missing his own grandparents back home, has slipped into calling NonnaOuma, the South African equivalent of grandmother. Nonna’s afghans are spread over the backs of the couch and armchairs, and a few of her crocheted doilies protect the wood of the side tables from drinks.
Nonna wins with her last two words, fornicate and threesome. She laughs herself all the way to bed. Booker walks me home and I crawl into Cannon’s bed, half-hoping he’ll crawl in after me. He doesn’t. I wake to the soft close of the guest room door when he comes in hours later.
The next day Cannon gives me an additional duty of ordering the fresh flower arrangements for every room each week.
He hands me the crisp order form, pinned to a clipboard, each room labeled neatly in an empty rectangle. “I think you have an eye for this kind of thing. And we’ve had late deliveries in the past. I can tell with you everything will be right as well as right on time. Just as I like it.”
“Of course, sir.” I take the board from him.
He stares at me a beat longer than a boss might an employee before turning on his heel and leaving the room.
I exhale a long breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding. “Peonies for the Pink Room, red roses for the Garden of Eden, orchids for the Black Leather Room, hanging ivy for the Green Room…” I go down the list, easily filling in my vision for each space. I call the vendors, chilling my tone a bit as I inform them that I’ll be holding them to their promised delivery times.
After placing my orders, I can’t help but to go back to that naughty list that hangs in the staff room, tempting me at all hours of the day. I sign myself up for a half-hour long session with Rapture, a six-foot-seven-inch (according to Keisha’s American measuring) man who wields a long black cat-o-nine tails, remembering how warm and stinging Cannon’s paddle felt landing across the curves of my ass.
Keisha dresses me in a pair of black leather, full-cut panties and a matching high-cup bra for the evening. Fishnet stockings and patent leather stiletto-heeled boots complete the outfit. I drag my long hair up into a high ponytail, smoothing it back before securing it with several hair bands.
Keisha gives a wolf whistle of approval. “You’re no longer Kylie V, that’s for sure.”
She has no idea…
“Thanks for your help.” I slap her a high five as I strut out of the room.
“Get it, girl! You’re on fire tonight, Miss Kylie.”
“Thanks, Keisha.” Confidence radiates from me as I clip-clop down the hallway on the heels of my fuck-me power boots.
After making very pleasant introductions and exchanging our thoughts on today’s mild weather, Rapture secures my wrists in the cuffs in the wall of the Garden of Eden. This time, I’m facing the black leather wall.
I can hear the crowd of people behind me, murmuring about their days, my clothing, the way Rapture commands the respect of a room. As soon as the swish of his cat-o-nines is heard, the room falls into a silent hush.
“Ladies and Gents. My deepest gratitude goes out to you tonight for joining me and Miss Kylie in our half-hour adventure into the land that borders pleasure and pain. Or not borders, exactly, more brings the two together, fusing them as one into the body’s memory.”
I grit my teeth, readying for the impact of the leather tails to come screaming across my backside. Instead, there’s the soft sound of a swish in the air and the pleasant sting of several strands landing softly over my curves.
“That wasn’t too bad,” I say.
“It should never be bad. It should either be pleasure or invited pain. I like to warm my clients up first,” he says, dragging the leather across my panties.
I hear a hiss from the crowd as if someone else has been hit by this thing, much harder than I was. I glance over my shoulder. I only see the happy faces of my fellow staff members.
I turn back around, training my gaze on one of the black buttons on the leather wall. Will it hurt? Will I cry out?Deep breaths, deep breaths. But I find I don’t need them. There’s a calmness in the unknown, the uncertainty of what’s to come. I trust Rapture to guide my body in this experience.
The delicate ends of the lash come down again, this time harder than the first. Bright sparks of pain dash over me. I suck air in between my teeth, fast and sharp.
“I think it’s time we remove these leather panties. What you say, Fire?”
