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“Are you done scolding me? I told you I didn't come here to get drunk. I just need a session with Master Spider, then I’ll—”
“You’re not getting it. Put your fucking ass in a cab, right this minute, and come home now before Arian shows up. You know as well as I do the moment you step inside that club, someone will alert him of your presence.”
“No, they won’t.”
In a feeble attempt to intimidate her, a torrent of invectives burst from his mouth only to subside into a humiliating trickle. He knew she was right. As a submissive, she was well-liked at the club. Most of the Doms and Masters would give their eye teeth to score a scene with her. Tattling to Arian was not in their best interests.
Vanya listened impassively on her end of the phone. There was nothing. Silence. It was her cue to impugn his patriarchal-infused outburst.
“Well... that was quite the tantrum. Are you feeling better, Boggie? Listen carefully. Take a deep breath, then without entertaining another thought, treat yourself to a yummy lunch. If I may suggest The Cov. Great bar where you should indulge in at least two generous, nicely chilled vodka gimlets. For me, part of the allure is when that cosmic moment arrives. Not in the form of the bright flash of a comet’s tail but instead, a display of fluid dynamics. Isn’t it surreal watching in the blink of an eye as the beads of condensation expand and balloon up to collide together, then suddenly in a freefall, silently streaking down the stem of the glass to their end? Death. It almost feels sacrificial.” She exhales as if in a trance.
“A final display of selflessness. Whaddaya think? Protest or is it performance art? God! The finality of it. A kind of ephemeral beauty, almost. Whoosh! Remember the footage of that Vietnamese monk in Saigon during the war who doused himself in kerosene then set himself alight? Whoa. No way to unfuck yourself after seeing that.”
Ignoring Bogdan’s strangled mumbling, she released a tingling laugh.
“Okay, I’ll be home soon.” With his furious protest still ringing in her ears, she hung up.
With long strides, she made her way toward the dungeon where Master Spider, the Training Master, stood waiting for her. A delicious shiver shot down her spine as she watched the loop of his whip let out a loud crack as it accelerated past the speed of sound. The resulting ‘sonic snap’ slapped the hard granite walls of the dungeon with a sharp echo.
The dexterity of Master Spider’s artistry was legendary among the cognoscenti of the BDSM world. He was considered a magician with a whip. That he was also a sadist only compounded the manic enthusiasm from the inevitable throng of devotees who would show up and cause a crush to witness his genius. His reputation for being able to read the unique emotional psychology of a sub and indefinitely maintain her pain/pleasure threshold to bring her to the apex of a sustained mental and physical euphoria brought out the most starry-eyed practitioners from every corner of the globe.
Those who made the pilgrimage were at once awestruck and envious of the few who were rewarded with a scene with the Master. Vanya had joined those chosen few who became favorites. His exquisite methodology was exactly what she needed. He would be the Part A of a bipartite solution.
“Master Spider,” she said as a way of greeting. “Thanks so much for fitting me in while you’ve got a training group waiting.”
“I have a couple of assistants who can continue with the class,” he said, unsmiling as he watched her with narrowed eyes. “So, you wish to receive an erotic whipping?”
“A hard masochistic whipping, yes.”
“You do realize I am a sadist, Vanya. If I agree to this, what you’re asking for is exactly what you’ll get. There will be no mercy from me.”
“Good. It’s exactly what I need.”
A smile of anticipation lit up her face, which slipped momentarily as a vision of Andrei with the whip in his hand soured her mood. He was the true whipping Master and knew exactly how to make her scream without brute impact from the leather.
Get the bastard out of your head. He’s not worth your tears.
No kidding, bitch, especially since he’s your brother!
Fuck off! He’s not my brother.
Apparently, DNA testing said otherwise.
Vanya shut out the annoying voice of her subconscious mind, fully aware of the truth it carried. It was precisely why she had been relentlessly searching for something, anything, to pull her back from the precipice that had loomed before her for months. She had teetered perilously close to losing all control.
Excruciating pain would loosen the relentless grip of sorrow and loss that held dominion over her every waking moment. She needed to relax her mind and reach a level of euphoria that could release her from the relentless pull toward the abyss.… even if only momentarily.
“Very well.” He gestured toward the Saint Andrew’s Cross. “If that’s what you want, I need you naked.” He called over a club coordinator who was busy cleaning equipment. “Sub Willow, please rub oil over Vanya’s body, then strap her in.”
“I don’t need to be tied up. I’ll be fine.”
“If that’s what you prefer.” Master Spider continued his meticulous practice snaps as she quickly undressed. Standing quietly under Willow’s hands as a layer of oil was spread all over her skin, she could feel the tension inside her begin to build.
“That’ll do,” Master Spider said. “Get on the cross, please.”
With feet spread wide on the step-ups, she pressed herself against the diamond-shaped leather padding in the center of the cross and grasped the large O-rings above her head.
“I’m ready, Master Spider.” Vanya held steady, quietly waiting for the first brutal strike against her back. She shivered as she felt a warm presence behind her.
