Chapter Four
Boone rattled the ice in his glass, and then set it on the bar.
“Another, Mr. Benoit?”
At the bartender’s question, Boone shook his head. If he accepted another, he wouldn’t be permitted past the secret door at the back of The Platform’s busy lounge. He’d downed a single scotch on the rocks—just enough alcohol to soften the rough edges the day had left. Any more than that and he’d be banned from playing. The club’s strict code of conduct was the reason he’d joined in the first place. Boone didn’t like messy.
He straightened his tie and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Port of New Orleans, barely registering the tinkling of piano keys and the soft croon of a blues singer everyone else in the crowded upscale lounge ignored. Beneath him, barges with blinking lights slid into the dock while dockhands worked around the clock to unload their cargo. Moonlight glinted on the crests of the large boats’ wakes.
The Platform had been built in the sixties to accommodate the exclusive tastes of oil executives and transportation scions. As a businessman who served the security needs of both those industries, he’d earned an invitation several years ago.
“Your room’s ready,” Serge said as he stepped close to Boone’s elbow.
Without shifting his gaze from the window, Boone asked, “Did you find something special for me?”
“She’s new. Blonde. Says she likes a little pain.” Serge grunted. “Nothing heavy, but enjoys a flogging and some pinching.”
Boone’s lips curved in a smile he didn’t really feel. Still, his cock stirred and filled. The image of another young blonde’s wide blue eyes sent his libido into a pleasant state of arousal. He drew in a sharp breath and met Serge’s dark gaze. “What’s her name?”
“Mandy,” he drawled, then smirked.
Likely a pseudonym. Many prospective subs assumed girl-next-door names to imply an innocence they didn’t possess. Then again, few of the wealthy clientele who played here ever gave their true names either. Since he didn’t have any political aspirations, or a family who might be shamed if his proclivities ever came to light, he never bothered to build a fictional persona. “Would you like to join me?”
“Seeing as how I don’t have any other plans…” Serge shrugged, his lips twitching.
The two men strode through the main salon, past the bar to the guarded door hidden behind it. After a nod, a heavily built guard buzzed the door to allow them through.
Inside was another lounge, similarly decorated, with plush seating areas and a juice bar. While the two lounges shared physical similarities, here the atmosphere was heavier, scented with sex and sweat. His heartbeat kicked up a notch, an automatic response whenever he entered a club designed to cater to his particular needs. His body moved more fluidly through the room, and his glance noted the platforms sitting in the four corners of the large room and the players performing scenes for those gathered around the stages.
Muted techno played in the background, the bass a deep throbbing beat that pulled at his groin. Lights dimmed around pockets of plush seating, an invitation to leave behind any inhibitions and make use of the chaises, chairs, and sofas.
Boone’s gaze flicked over a threesome—a naked redhead seated in the center of a red velvet sofa, sandwiched between two businessmen whose shirts and pants lay open. The woman’s hands pumped on both their cocks as she kissed one then the other, her legs splayed to allow one to fondle her bare p-ssy while the other massaged her plump breasts. His mouth twisted in a snarling smile when the woman glanced at him, licking her lips.
Boone skirted a platform where a blindfolded woman, whose manacled wrists were attached to chains extending from the ceiling, bent over a padded sawhorse. Her bottom was plugged, and the Dom standing behind flicked her with the end of a short whip. One of her thighs gleamed with the fluid dripping from her swollen cunt as her reedy voice warbled with delight. He slowed, studying the careful strokes the Dom delivered, approval curving his mouth.
He veered toward the hallway and the long line of private rooms. At one door, he stopped, punched in the key code, waited for the lock to gleam green, and then pushed open the door.
When he stepped inside, he scanned the room. All was in order. The walls were painted a soothing sage. All the furnishings were dark teak; upholstery was black leather. Recessed lighting added an air of intimacy. The glassed-in shower had a stack of clean towels waiting on the bench beside it. The platform bed against one wall was covered in a fresh Egyptian cotton sheet. Cabinets that held his implements gleamed from a fresh application of polish.
The woman kneeling on the pad in the center of the room was nude, hands on her thighs, her head bent, gaze cast dutifully toward the floor.
Serge had done well. Boone scanned her with a practiced eye. She was cute, not too slender, with large, pink-tipped breasts. Her skin was creamy pale—not a tan line in sight—and her hair a silky blonde. Her triangular-shaped face gave her a kittenish look. His gaze halted on her hands—short, bare nails. Nice. He hated polish on fingernails.
Boone drew in a breath and began to disrobe, hanging his jacket and his shirt on a coat tree next to the cabinets. Behind him, he heard the sounds of Serge washing his hands in the sink set in a bureau, and then sliding open drawers.
Boone toed off his shoes, slipped off his socks, and then padded barefoot toward the woman. He bent and tucked a finger under her chin to lift her face.
She tilted her head, her blue eyes blinking.
He studied her. Midtwenties. Dark brows. Not a natural blonde, but her hair hung just past her shoulders, and the length pleased him. Her expression, however, did not.
Her eyes glittered with excitement; her lush, painted-red mouth pouted.
He had no doubts she’d try to top him at least once during their session. He didn’t have the patience to deal with any brattiness tonight. Any attempt by the woman to direct the outcome of their session was doomed for failure. “Serge tells me you like nominal pain. Flogging, pinching. Any prohibitions?”
“I told him no vaginal intercourse,” she said huskily, then bit her bottom lip as her gaze swept his frame. “Although I could make an exception.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” His mouth curved, and he dropped his hand. “Get up now.”
“Yes, sir.” She moaned a little as she pushed up from the ground.
He wondered how long she’d been waiting like that and whether her muscles were prickling as blood circulated back into her long legs. Glancing at Serge, he tipped his chin toward the chains dangling from the ceiling. She wouldn’t have to kneel again any time soon.
Serge had stripped as well, retaining only his trousers. He stepped toward the woman and led her, a hand politely cupping her elbow, toward the chains. With his expression neutral, he lifted her slender wrists one at a time and secured them in leather-padded cuffs. Then he walked to the wall and turned the wheel that drew up the chains. He didn’t stop until Mandy stood on tiptoe, her arms stretched toward the ceiling.
Boone admired the arch of her back, the thrust of her round buttocks, and the curve of her large, uptilted breasts. He strode toward her, cupped one fleshy cheek, pleased with the firmness of her bottom. “A spreader bar between her knees, I think.”
“Yes, boss,” Serge said, his voice quiet and tight.
His friend’s tension was unusual, almost disapproving. He seemed to like the girl, and that surprised Boone. Serge had always thought of women as mere conveniences and nothing more. And because Boone wasn’t all that interested in Mandy, he decided Serge would take a more active role than usual.
Boone circled her, studying her body—her toned legs, her tight abdomen, her freshly waxed p-ssy.
Serge walked behind her, nudged her feet farther apart with his toes, and then bent to attach a spreader bar, wrapping leather bands around her knees that closed with the crisp crunch of Velcro. His hands lingered on her knees, and then slid up her inner thighs.
The woman’s breath hitched. The position couldn’t have been comfortable, because she hung now by her wrists, her body contorting to stretch higher on her toes to relieve the pull.
But Boone didn’t want her comfortable. He wanted to see whether she’d complain.
He touched her between her legs and found her dry, her lips cool, showing no sign of arousal. But that was changing.
Mandy’s breasts quivered with her quickening breaths. Her nipples beaded prettily.
He flicked one with his thumbnail.
Without a word, Serge stepped beside him and offered him a set of feathered clamps.
Ignoring her widening glance, Boone teased her nipples with brushes of the feathers, waiting patiently as her breasts tightened and her nipples extended. Then he pressed open one clamp and attached it to a red tip, using the screw on the side of the clamp to tighten it. He attached the second clamp and tightened it too.
“How’s that feel? Is it too much?” he asked softly, glancing at her face to gauge her expression.
Her mouth opened, jaw sagging just a bit with pleasure, but she shook her head. “Tighten it a little more.”
Disgusted at her lack of manners, Boone dropped his hands and walked away, listening for her reaction, knowing she wouldn’t be able to control her temper.
Sure enough, her breath huffed out. Her feet shifted. A thin, gritted groan sounded.
With slow strides, he walked to an armchair and settled in, facing her, his expression perfectly blank.
Her eyes shot daggers at him. Her bottom lip stuck out like a stoop.
Behind her, Serge lifted a brow.
With a slight lift of his chin, Boone gave the signal.
Serge raised his arm and swung a bare wooden paddle at her backside. The oak paddle with its drilled holes made a satisfying whack.
Mandy gasped at the stroke and tried to turn her head toward Serge, but her arms were extended too high for her to do anything but dangle as he landed more slaps on her backside.
Boone suppressed a smile as her eyes grew wider and wider, the pout wiped off her face as swats from the paddle warmed her bottom. As Serge continued, she twisted her body slightly to the right and left now, trying to avoid his steady strokes.
Boone didn’t doubt her distress, but since she didn’t ask for Serge to stop, he allowed his friend to continue dishing swats, watching Mandy with growing approval as her body shivered and soft hiccuping sobs sounded, while at the same time, her breasts hardened, and her p-ssy pulsed with the tensing of her thighs. Mandy was thoroughly aroused.
Serge paused and patted her bottom with his palm. “Skin’s nice and red.” He slipped his hand lower and cupped her p-ssy from behind. “Not dry anymore either.”
“Huh?” Mandy twisted, her toes balancing comically beneath her spread knees. “Bastard!”
Boone watched his friend dip a finger inside her cunt and swirl it. “But not nearly ready for you, sir.”
Serge glanced toward Boone, who gave him a nod to continue.
Her p-ssy made a wet clasping sound as it clenched around Serge’s fingers, and he plunged them deeper. Her body sagged. Her next indrawn breath was edged with a cry and her p-ssy clenched moistly again and again.
Boone cleared his throat.
Serge withdrew his fingers and gave her hip an approving pat.
“Release her,” Boone said, keeping his voice uninflected.
While Serge lowered her hands and unwrapped the cuffs from her wrists, Boone opened his pants, pushed them down just far enough to free his cock, and waited, keeping his breaths even and his cock uninterested. His concern was for whether she’d give him what he wanted most right now: complete, utter submission.
Freed, Mandy swayed on her feet for a moment, rubbing her wrists, her gaze falling to Boone’s soft shaft. Her cheeks reddened, nostrils flaring with desire, as she slid her tongue across her lower lip. She didn’t lift her gaze to lock with his, something he was glad of because if she did, no doubt her pride would demand she preen just a bit.
Boone placed both hands on the chair arms. “Come to me on your knees,” he said softly.
Mandy glanced back at Serge.
At the narrowing of his friend’s eyes, Boone’s belly tightened. Had she given him a smug smile?
Her expression didn’t give away her true mood as she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled slowly toward Boone. For now, she behaved.
Serge’s gaze dropped to her bottom and p-ssy. His eyelids dipped and a smile played on his mouth. He was likely enjoying the results of his efforts. The sight of a reddened bottom and lush, wet p-ssy were their own rewards.
Mandy’s breasts swayed beneath her, her head dipped, more lioness than kitten, because her eyes were narrowing as she drew closer. When she reached Boone, she bent lower to rest her head on his bare foot.
Boone held his breath, waiting. A test he was sure she’d fail.
When he didn’t immediately acknowledge her presence, her tongue licked the top of his foot tentatively. When he still failed to respond, she drew his big toe into her mouth.
What the hell? Boone’s eyebrows shot up.
Serge grinned and shrugged his shoulders.
“Give me a plug,” Boone mouthed, as he frowned down at the girl who was doing everything she could to tempt him into letting her have her way with him. Each pull on his toe caused an answering throb in his dick. He nearly laughed at his predicament, but because he meant to retain control of this session, he tamped down his sudden pleasure, concentrating instead on his growing irritation.
He sighed. He’d wanted her to suck his cock, but her blatant teasing called for more punishment. No wonder she’d been available for play, unclaimed. Mandy didn’t understand the nuances of the game they played. Didn’t have a true sub’s heart.
Serge padded close, a tube and a thick black plug in his hands.
“Take her to the bench,” Boone said, his tone sharp.
Her head bobbed up, a hint of anger in her eyes. The pout returned to her lips.
When she stood and walked woodenly to the spanking bench, Boone stripped off his pants. His nudity would make her think he was more interested than he actually was, and he liked the feel of the air-conditioned air wafting over his steamy sex. His interest in her needs and pleasure was quickly fading.
With a hand resting at her back to guide her down, Serge bent her over the bench and secured her hands and ankles.
Boone accepted the lube, spread her buttocks with his fingers, and then squeezed the tube to lay a stripe atop her tiny hole. He rubbed the gel into her with his thumb, his motions quick and clinical. Then he accepted the plug, coated it with more lube, and slowly tried to insert it inside her.
Her a*shole clenched, resisting the intrusion.
Boone grunted. Perhaps she wasn’t as experienced as she pretended. His irritation softened. “Breathe, Mandy. Unless you want this to stop now.”
Her indrawn breath was a little more ragged this time, but she took another deep breath, and her bottom relaxed.
He slid the plug inside her, the narrowing at the base ensuring she couldn’t easily expel it. Then he stood back, admiring the view. The ugly black plug stretched her hole—something she obviously enjoyed, because her pretty sex swelled even more. Moisture was beginning to trickle from between her folds. He dipped his fingers inside her and swirled, satisfied with the fluid slicking his fingers.
Her body was primed. Her feminine heat softening, and the thought of how snug and tight she’d be surrounding him, tugged at his cock.
Standing back, he caressed the pinkened skin of her ass, enjoying the feverish heat. The state of her bottom was symbolic of their exchange. Mandy hoped for a firm partner, someone who would push her beyond herself, fulfilling needs deeper than the transitory pleasure of release, something she likely didn’t yet understand. For him, he needed the focus this session brought. For their time together, he craved control—over her body, over his, but especially over his mind. Here, he could concentrate on the raw emotions he produced, guiding Mandy through the power exchange—taking hers, but giving her pleasure and fulfilling her deeper need to surrender her trust. The moment a partner gave that trust, a rush like no other, a deeply satisfying pleasure eased the grip of his tightly held pain. He wasn’t Boone, the boy who’d fled his home in shame. He was a man in charge of his own fate. However, he doubted he’d achieve that state of nirvana this night.
Sighing, he raised his hand and gave each pink globe a stinging clap that rocked her against the bench.
Mandy groaned, and her head dropped. Her back shivered.
He walked around the bench and knelt in front of her, studying her face.
Gone was her bravado. Her blue eyes were moist.
Boone softened at her tears. “Sweetheart, do you know what you did to displease me?”
Her lower lip trembled. “I sucked your toe when you didn’t ask.”
“That’s not everything, dear. Your expressions give you away. When you really want something, you try to maneuver your Dom into giving it to you. It’s called topping. You play at submitting, but you haven’t learned any discipline.”
“But I want to learn.” She bit her lower lip, likely knowing she’d once again broken protocol by speaking out of turn.
He arched a brow. “Do you? Really?”
“Yes, please, sir,” she whispered. “Teach me?”
He shook his head. “I’m not taking you on, Mandy. I don’t have the time. But I don’t want to leave you unfulfilled. The next time you play, watch that mouth,” he said, tapping her bottom lip. “No pouting. No glaring. Don’t make a move unless you’re instructed. How’s your bottom feel?”
Her lips twisted. “Burns, sir.” Her gaze went to his flagging cock and she sighed. “I don’t want to leave you disappointed in me.”
His lips quirked at her childish tone. “Then there’s hope for you. Will you do whatever I ask? No complaints or pouting?”
She nodded, her expression growing more hopeful.
“I need a bit of a workout.”
Her eyes brightened. “I’d enjoy a flogging, sir.”
Really? Boone grunted. The lesson had gone completely over her head. He heard Serge’s chuckles and shook his head. “Then how about practicing a bit with me. I’ll flog you until I think you’ve had enough. You’ll forget all about rules and simply give yourself to me. No holding back. We’ll both get what we need for now.”
Sniffing, she nodded.
Boone went to the cupboard and opened it, searching among the implements mounted on pegboard backing for just the right flogger. He chose one with long purple strands made of deer hide and another of a stiffer suede.
When Boone returned, Serge stood beside her with his arms crossed over his chest.
Boone leaned toward him and whispered, “Get a bench ready to place in front of her. I want you to f*ck her mouth.” He tapped Mandy’s ass. “Don’t you dare bite my friend.”
A choked giggle made him smile, and Boone relaxed, forgetting about the problems waiting at Maison Plaisir.
Summoning a pleasant image of Tilly Floret with her clothing askew, her dewy eyes wide, and her mouth begging, he swatted Mandy’s sweetly rounded bottom with the deer-hide flogger, striking side to side in a steady rhythm that had her moaning in delight, her p-ssy drenched. While careful not to strike one spot too often, he worked, warming her backside, her back and thighs, the steady strokes calming his mind.
When she lay limply draped over the bench, her sighs soft and thready, he bent toward her ear, whispering, “Serge will give you his cock. Pleasure him with that pretty red mouth.”
He nodded to Serge, who placed a bench in front of Mandy’s lowered head and dropped his trousers. Taking a seat, he gripped his cock and slowly fed it into Mandy’s waiting mouth.
Boone tossed down the deer-hide flogger and picked up the next one. He slapped the flanges against his palm, liking the sting and the sharper sound it made.
Mandy’s bottom lifted, anticipating the first stroke.
The marks he and Serge had left so far would fade quickly. Her skin was warm, but not a single welt had been raised. That was about to change. By the time they left her, she’d have tender stripes and knots she’d feel acutely for days. Then perhaps the point he wanted made would stick.
Mandy had a fiery spirit. Some Dom might treasure it, but she wasn’t a true submissive. If someone wanted a woman who begged for punishment but would never truly give herself into another’s care, she’d be perfect.
She wasn’t for him, though. Before he’d even entered the room, he’d known it. His interest was locked on a different target—Tilly Floret. He wouldn’t find true satisfaction until Tilly knelt at his feet and declared her willingness to serve. It would probably be a long seduction, requiring patience on his part, as he introduced her to his world and peeled away her layers to hold her mind and body in thrall.
At the thought of Tilly, a fierce hunger coursed through Boone. His cock stirred, filling and lengthening. He paused in the whipping to stroke his shaft with the suede flanges, root to tip, then gave Mandy’s ass straight up-and-down pops with the ends of the flanges.
She gave a muffled cry and her bottom wriggled.
Serge gritted his teach and petted her head. “Watch the teeth, sweetheart.”
Boone watched her head as it bobbed over his friend’s rigid shaft, and imagined his own being sucked just as eagerly, wet slurps and thick groans accompanying each strong tug of a feminine mouth.
Again, he popped her, choosing a new spot, and then rubbed it, feeling the heat and the slight rounding. She’d have a bruise there. He pushed his thumb at the center of the rising knot and watched as her p-ssy released a fresh wash of fluid.
She’d said she was willing, liked a little pain. She certainly hadn’t been lying.
He dropped the flogger, her lesson forgotten as his own lust deepened. How long would it take to lure Tilly to his bed? How many nights would he sit before the security monitor, watching her bedroom, imagining every faint moan she made in her sleep bore his name?
With quick moves, he rolled a condom onto his dick, lubed up, and knelt on the bench behind her. He pulled the plug from her ass and nudged the widened hole. Then, with a narrowed glance at Serge, whose mouth was smirking, he thrust slowly inside her ass.
The grip of her tiny muscles caused his breath to hiss between his teeth. He palmed both cheeks and pressed them apart to ease the constriction around him as he tunneled deeper.
Her buttocks quivered, her thin moans coming faster as her head continued to move up and down at the same speed.
“Jesus, she’s gonna suck me dry,” Serge groaned, his eyes squeezing shut.
Boone dug deeper, giving her short, deepening thrusts until his groin was snug against her. He slipped a hand between her body and the bench, curling his fingers to find her *.
At first contact, her body jerked, and a shiver worked its way down her spine. She was plenty wet, her p-ssy soaked with silky fluid. He dipped his fingers inside, keeping time with the gentle rocking of his hips, and fingered her tightening little bud.
Mandy’s cries became muffled, choking sobs.
Serge wouldn’t let her up. He palmed the back of her head and kept her working, even while she quickly flew apart.
Boone leaned over her back and gave her sore bottom a hard pinch. “You can’t come until Serge does. Do you hear me?”
She bobbed her head, and then wagged her face side to side, sinking deeper on Serge’s shaft.
His friend’s body hardened, the muscles of his chest and abdomen bunching, sweat gleaming on his skin. “Close,” he gritted out.
Boone leaned away and slipped three fingers in Mandy’s p-ssy while applying pressure to her * with his thumb, and continued f*cking her with ever-sharpening strokes. He’d force her over the edge—see if she could hold back just long enough to first give Serge what he needed.
Serge’s head fell back, a low groan sounding. His fists gripped the bench where he sat as he pumped up into her mouth, spending himself inside her.
The moment the tension in Serge’s body eased, Mandy sobbed and bounced shallowly on the bench, grinding her ass against Boone, her p-ssy clenching hard around his fingers. Her orgasm was fierce and hard.
When she peaked, Boone pulled free and bent to release her hands and ankles. He slid off the used condom, and rolled another on. “Push up on your arms.”
“Can’t,” she sobbed. “I’m shaking.”
“Do it anyway if you want me to f*ck you.”
Mandy shook her head in silent protest, but pushed up, changing the angle of his thrusts.
Boone pressed against her engorged lips, and pushed between them, sinking deep. He had a straight shot toward her womb. Her engorged slit cushioned the end of his hard strokes.
Boone gripped her hips. “Serge, flick her nipples.”
As Serge leaned forward to play with her clamped breasts, Boone gathered her hips and pulled her down his cock at the same time he thrust upward. Hammering hard, he bounced her against his groin. When her cries grew louder, he slipped a hand around her belly and toggled her *. His body tightened the moment she screamed and crested again. His balls exploded; cum spurted in steady scalding spurts.
When he could draw a breath, he pulled out and padded toward the shower. He shook out a towel and wrapped it around his waist. As he walked toward the door, Serge rose and lifted an exhausted Mandy in his arms to carry her to the bed and give her the gentle aftercare she’d earned. He gave Boone a wink and then gently removed the clamps from her nipples.
With the sound of her heartfelt groan of appreciation, Boone let himself out the door and headed to the locker room. His body was sated, but his mind was already racing. Making plans for a sexy campaign to bind a woman to him—one who didn’t have clue how to handle his darker appetites.
He’d show no remorse. But he would give her gentleness. He’d be merciless, relentless in his pursuit, but she’d be lavishly rewarded.
Smiling to himself, he reached into a stall and turned on the spigot. Tilly Floret might suspect he wanted her, but she didn’t know just how far he’d go to possess her.