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“Ssshhh... Not a sound or the session will last much longer.” Christopher removed his hands and walked past her, heading for the bank of stairs. His favorite room had been reserved for an undisclosed period of time. He’d never sought comfort in a submissive, preferring to use and nothing else. Perhaps Ginger would be different, resilient in her masochism. Time would tell.
He didn’t turn back to see if she was following. He merely took the stairs two at a time, sliding the access card into the slot and opening the door. The room was exactly as he’d requested. An ‘X’ cross loomed in the center, the massive wood and steel piece gleaming in the spotlight. The only other furniture in the space was a large metal table. Positioned strategically on top were a myriad of implements including whips, floggers, canes, butt plugs, dildos and various clamps.
The sound of the door closing, the lock in place, Christopher smiled. Tonight was going to scintillate the man inside, perhaps allowing sexual pleasure. Very slowly he removed his suit jacket and unbuttoned the cuffs of his crisp, white shirt, rolling the sleeves to just beneath his elbow.
She didn’t ask any questions or give him any sign she was concerned. There were no safe words nor were there any conditions. The girls who applied for the selective positions were tested, trained and screened. They were also paid very well for their work.
Removing his tie, he placed the expensive silk on top of his coat, pressing his and down on the material before turning to face her. He narrowed his eyes and moved to the table, admiring the collection of whipping implements and clamps. He had one similar in a room in his house used exclusively for the same purpose, yet he’d never had a submissive enter his playroom. No one had been deemed special enough. “Your back against the cross.”
Ginger obeyed instantly, positioning her arms above her head and spreading her legs wide.
He casually strolled toward her. When he stood in front, he rubbed the back of his hand up along the underside of her arm. Securing first one wrist then the other, he patted her face before slowly dropping to his knees. Clamping the ankle restraints, he paused for a full minute, drinking in the atmosphere. A deep-seeded need remained churning inside. When he rose to his feet he faltered, almost stumbling. He glanced at Ginger, realizing the event wasn’t going to soothe him in the least. Snarling, he looked away.
As he walked around the table, his tension eased, a chill sweeping through his bloodstream. The gleaming metal of the ‘Y’ clamps drew his attention. He played with the steel chain, squeezing the clover tips. The creaking sound drew a single whimper from Ginger’s mouth.
Christopher snapped his head in her direction, glaring at her harshly. She dropped her chin and slumped against the cross. Sniffing, he grabbed the vice, his testicles swelling to the aching point. While he was in no hurry, his mind was reeling with thoughts, vile visions of what he was going to do.
Swirling the tip of his index finger around her nipple, the moment she moaned he took a step back.
Whap!
The force of his hard slap slammed her head against the wood.
“No noise! Do you understand me?”
Ginger opened her mouth then nodded once, her eyes beseeching.
“You’re going to learn, or the pain will be much worse.” He pinched and pulled her nipple until it was red. As he opened the clamp and slid the tips over her rosy bud he inhaled. Satisfied of the placement, he released his hold. She shivered but remained silent. “Good girl.” He walked behind the cross to get to the other side, repeating the move. The chain dangled between her breasts, the third clamp dropping between her legs. He traced the coiled metal all the down then rubbed his hand between her legs.
Ginger bristled and closed her eyes.
“Look at me! Never take your eyes off of me. Am I clear?” He wanted nothing more than to wrap his hand around her neck, squeezing until she was unable to breathe. He curtailed the action by rubbing his hand back and forth across his thigh. He was intoxicated with need.
Her eyes opened and she stared wide-eyed.
“Better.” An unsettling sensation washed into his system as a series of vivid visions took his breath away. The girl was tied naked to a tree, her blond hair matted with sweat and blood, her body covered in welts. In front of her stood a man in a leather hood, a bullwhip in his hand. He growled and calmed his raging libido. “Soon.”
Blinking, she swallowed hard.
Christopher gave her a commanding expression and shoved three fingers into her cunt. “So wet. You desire the feel of my whip.” The scent of her pussy wafted up to his nose. “A good whore always appreciates her Master.” He toyed with her pussy lips before gripping them between his fingers and attaching the third clamp. When he stood back, admiring his work, he pulled the chain taut. “Incredible.”
Ginger’s chest heaved but she remained quiet.
“An obedient slut knows her place. I can help you learn, guide you.” He gathered the weights in his hand, rolling the cylinders between his fingers. As he attached one to each breast clamp and the final to the labia vice, his blood pressure soared. “You’re the perfect specimen. Now we begin.”
Every move calculated he selected a flogger. Lifting the strap into the light, he brought the implement to his face, inhaling the rich leather. There was nothing like wielding a whip.
A single tear slipping from her right eye and her clenched fists were the only indication of her apprehension. She kept her eyes pinned on him as he advanced.
“Some say the art of inflicting pain frees a submissive from every tension, providing a heightened sense of need buried in the darkest places within. What few realize is that the hunger to mark a woman, creating welts on every inch of her body is the most sublime release of all.” His voice was barely audible, the tone husky. He closed his eyes. Gone was the professional man who commanded a boardroom. Tonight, he was nothing more than a sadist. He issued two brutal strikes in a row, drinking in the scent of her fear.
As obvious anguish tore through her system, he shuddered, his body electrified. He could almost taste her blood.
CHAPTER 4
“Detective Givens.” Montana slid into his seat and winked at Grant, who stood shaking his head.
“Detective, my name is Jade Devereaux.”
