Tell Me (17 page)

“Please, Sir…” Her tone was ragged, her desperation mounting.

“First you have to please me. I have more for you yet.”

“What? What more…?”

“This.” He bent to pick up the tawse and drew the rigid handle across her shoulder. “Do you know what it is?”

She shook her head.

Tony held the leather under her nose. “Sniff it. Breathe it in. Now do you know?”

“A… a whip, Sir?”

“Almost. Try again.”

“Your belt? It’s leather.”

“It is. You’re close. One more try, then I’ll show you what this little beauty can do.”

“A strap? A spanking crop?”

“That was two tries. Cheating, my little pain slut. You do need a demonstration, don’t you?”

“Yes Sir. Anything. Just—please, do it now.”

“Oh no, that’s not how this works, is it? I decide what happens, and when. You just wait until I’m ready.”

“I apologise, Sir.” She allowed her head to droop, her distress obvious at having earned a rebuke.

Tony wasn’t having that. He cupped her chin to raise her face towards his, and laid his lips across hers. The kiss was gentle, just the merest brush of his mouth at first. Her lips parted and he dipped his tongue inside, stroking her inner cheeks, her teeth, tangling his tongue with hers. He shifted in closer, his chest pressed against her clamped nipples. She winced, he caught the sharp intake of breath, but didn't break the kiss or soften the contact. He knew she needed this, craved the extreme of it. The rush of endorphins would calm and ground her, the euphoria when she came and the subsequent deep sleep he knew would follow would replenish her. His beautiful Thea might be bruised and sore tomorrow, but she’d be purring like a kitten.

At last he lifted his head. Her lips were swollen, pink from his kiss. He kissed her forehead for good measure, and moved around to stand behind her.

He swung the tawse and landed it hard across both buttocks. Thea cried out, her body jerking forward. He waited for several moments, watching the vivid red stripe bloom across her skin, then he shifted to deliver the next stroke. Thea shrieked, dancing on the ring which held her suspended. Tony gauged her response. Thea was an experienced submissive, but the tawse was a harsh instrument. He would check after every stroke, and stop when he believed she’d had enough, whatever she might have to say about that.

He positioned himself for the next stroke and delivered it with absolute precision, just parallel to the first two, on the spot where her bum and thighs met. That had to hurt, she would be sore for days. One more, perhaps two. He raised his arm—

A bright flash halted his stroke in mid air. He whirled, angry.

“What the…”

“Tony, what is it?” Thea was thrashing her head from side to side, unable to see what had disturbed his concentration, but aware that something was amiss. He went straight to her, his arms around her calming her instantly.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Someone messing about, that’s all.”

“What did they do? I didn't hear anything.”

She hadn’t seen the flash, the blindfold took care of that. She had no idea that someone had just used a camera in here, a cardinal sin, flouting all the club rules. As he wrapped her in his arms, his instinct to protect kicked into overdrive, Tony watched over her shoulder as two dungeon masters descended on a group of members across the room. There was a lot of head-shaking, angry gesturing, the murmur of voices though nothing more than that. The two members of staff appeared satisfied and returned to their stations at opposite ends of the dungeon.

“Sir?”

Tony brought himself back into the moment fast. Thea still needed him, demanded his entire concentration. He had a scene to conclude, a sub to care for. Anything else would have to wait.

“Two more strokes. Hard ones. Then we stop. Yes?”

“Yes please, Sir.”

Yes please!
She never failed to delight him. Tony returned to his position behind her, the tawse dangling from his hand. He raised the implement and brought it down hard on her right buttock, leaving a diagonal stripe across the others already there.

Thea’s scream reverberated around the room, attracting the attention of both dungeon masters and most of their fellow members. He was aware they’d drawn an audience as he eyed her quivering left buttock, picking his spot.

The tawse whistled through the air, and Thea’s cry when it sliced across her skin was nothing short of blood-curdling. It was followed by a series of little yelps as she processed the sensation, her body absorbing the punishment.

Enough.

Tony grabbed the blanket he had folded beside his bag and tossed that over his shoulder. He reached above Thea to release her wrists, and caught her as her legs buckled. In seconds she was enveloped in the blanket and he sank to the floor with her in his arms.

“Okay baby, I have you. Just take a moment. Let me take these off.”

He tugged at the knot at the back of her head and the scarf fell away. She blinked at him, her expression startled but happy. Next he opened the blanket to reveal her still clamped nipples. It was the work of a moment to loosen the screws and slip the rings off, but he knew it would hurt her. Sure enough, she sobbed as the blood flow was restored. Tony rubbed both nipples hard to help speed the process along. But still, afterwards, she lay shivering in his arms.

“Are you cold?”

“No Sir. Just…”

“You want your orgasm? Is that it?”

“Have I earned it?” Her tone was hopeful.

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “I’d say so. I reserved a private recovery room.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

The rules about nudity were less rigid outside the main dungeon, and non-existent in the private areas. Tony wanted his sub naked for this. He stood and helped Thea to her feet too, steadying her when her legs threatened to give out again. He was quick about collecting up his kit and slinging his bag over his shoulder, then scooped her into his arms again.

As they entered the recovery room he was pleased to see they had the place to themselves. He deposited Thea on one of the long couches and knelt on the floor beside her.

“I’ll get you a drink.” He helped himself from the fridge full of bottles of water provided for members’ use and unsnapped the top from one of them. He held it to Thea’s lips. She sucked at it, swallowing greedily.

When she’d had enough he emptied the remainder of the bottle down his own throat. He swept her hair from her face with his hand, tucking it behind her ear. “Do you want anything else? Apart from a rocking orgasm?”

“Do you have chocolate?”

“Is the Pope a catholic?” He peered into his bag, and produced a pack of chocolate digestive biscuits. He handed one to Thea and waited until she munched her way through it. “Another?”

She nodded, so he handed her the packet. Far be it from him to come between a sated sub and her sugar rush.

Thea made short work of another three biscuits, then offered him the pack. He took it from her and placed it on the floor. “If you want another just say so. Now, I’ll be having that thong please.”

She wriggled out of the blanket and lifted her bum up to slip the thong down her legs. Tony took it from her and that too found its way into his holdall.

Tony could have instructed her regarding the position he wanted her to adopt, but instead he arranged her himself. She was utterly compliant as he lifted her knees up and pushed them wide, opening and exposing her smooth pussy. Her labia were glistening, slick with her juices. Her clit peeped out from under the hood which partly covered it, and he swore it was becoming plumper before his eyes. Her arousal was obvious, blatant, her need approaching desperate.

He took her clit in his mouth and sucked hard.

“Oh, God. Oh, Sir…”

He eased three fingers into her entrance, and pushed them deep. Her pussy was already contracting around his hand, spasming as she succumbed to the climax which had been gathering force as he tormented her in the dungeon. He wouldn't make her wait this time. He wanted her to experience the release, the total abandonment of just letting go.

Moments later, her orgasm engulfed her. She went rigid, her face contorting as he sunk his fingers into her drooling pussy and rubbed her G-spot. He never let up the pressure on her clit, adding his tongue and teeth to the mix as he pleasured her, coaxing every last tremble and shiver and ripple of ecstasy from her.

Only when her body was finally still, her muscles relaxed, her limbs boneless, did he snap open a condom, sheath himself, and drive his cock into her. She wrapped herself around him, clinging to him, her legs around his waist, her ankles crossed in the small of his back. She gripped his shoulders, her face buried against his chest as he rocked his hips slowly. He’d done the hard, intense stuff for this evening, now he just wanted to make love to her.

“Sir, I love you. I love my collar.” She moaned the words, muffled in his shirt. He heard her though.

“I love you too, little sub. My slut. My own beautiful whore.”

He thrust harder, deeper, the head of his cock nudging her cervix as he buried himself as deep as he could get inside her. His balls tightened, started to contract. Within moments his semen spurted to fill the latex. He held still and let the sensation wash over him.

This was what love felt like, and he was going to get very used to it.

Tony ended the call and tossed his phone onto the sofa beside him. He’d received some of the answers he expected, but he remained far from happy. He cocked his head, listening, but heard no sound from upstairs. Thea must still be sleeping. He wasn’t surprised, she’d been exhausted when they returned to his house in the small hours of this morning. Their session at the club had been intense, both physically and emotionally. He didn't really expect her to surface until noon, perhaps later still. He’d let her sleep. She needed it.

He sipped his coffee and contemplated the explanation he’d extracted from Jerome, the owner of The Wicked Club. Tony was well aware that the dungeon staff would have reported the flash photography incident, and there would be some sort of investigation. There had to be, the club’s membership would demand it. Discretion and privacy were watchwords in the BDSM community and any club unable to guarantee those would be out of business in no time.

Jerome had assured him that Wicked took security seriously, and there would be no repetition of the problem. New signage was even now being displayed, and all members would receive an email by the end of the day reminding them of the absolute ban on taking pictures within the establishment or anywhere in the vicinity. Any member who disregarded this rule could expect to have their membership revoked. The club did reserve the right to conduct random bag searches, and would exercise that right with increased vigilance. Jerome had dismissed the incident as some idiot taking a selfie. A number of guest members had been present the previous evening, and one of them had failed to properly comprehend the regulations regarding use of phones. It was amazing how many people thought selfies didn't count, but the revised signage and the email to members would set them straight. The guest involved had been identified and warned. Jerome had had his assurance that the picture had been deleted. He was confident the matter had been addressed and no further action would be required. He hoped this unfortunate episode would not affect Tony’s continued enjoyment of the facilities.

Tony rather thought it might. He was not convinced by the explanation, nor did he really believe that anyone would be so naive as to disregard the no photographs rule. Adequate signage was already in place, the rules were made clear to all guests as they signed in
. Selfies don't count? Whoever heard such bollocks?
Had the phone been checked? No. They only seemed to have this idiot’s word for it that the picture had been deleted. He would never have left it at that, not if he’d been in charge.

But he’d had other priorities last night, namely a confused and distressed submissive whose care was his primary concern, then and now. Should he tell her what had happened?

Probably not. She’d be distraught at the possible implications, and would be imagining all sorts of nightmare scenarios. Images posted on social media, blackmail threats, he groaned at the prospect. Thea adored her kink, but she’d probably never go near a club again if she knew about this. Still, it rankled. He was being less than honest with her and that didn't sit well.

*****

“I did what you wanted.”

At Tony’s words Thea glanced across the office at him, her attention dragged from the third incarnation of the risk assessment policy she was trying to draft. Sometime these things just flowed for her, others, like this one, were squeezed out like blood from a stone. She was glad of the break. Risk management was not the most riveting subject, even on a good day, and she’d be at it all afternoon. Still, she had an entertaining evening to look forward to, with luck. She intended to stay at Tony’s again tonight, even though she was due at Kershaw’s in the morning.

She removed her glasses and peered at him. “Sorry, what?”

“I did as you suggested. I went to see Jeremy Malone.”

“
You
went to see him?”

Tony nodded. “I did. He took some convincing to even agree to that, but I can be persuasive.”

“True, you can. But I didn't expect
you
to go. I would have done it.”

“I know. You said. But it was my responsibility. And I wanted to find out for myself what sort of bloke he really was.”

“And?”

“And you got it right. As usual.”

She let that remark pass, resisted the urge to preen. No one likes
I told you so
. “How was he?”

“In what sense?”

“I mean, is he all right? Has he found another job?”

Tony shook his head. “No, It seems the taint of a tribunal isn’t easy to shake off. He reckons that any potential employer will perceive him as a trouble-maker, no smoke without fire, that sort of thing. Even though Mr Malone won his case, and was shown to be the injured party, he’s been out of work since he left here, almost eight months now.”