Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 (17 page)

I scowled, letting my two-ton eyelids
close again. “It’s Fizz’s body, and you didn’t want it when she was
in control.”

“I like a woman who gives good brain,
you know? Giving good head was just the icing on the
cake.”

I could hear how badly my words were
slurring. “You’re a pig. A pig in wolf’s clothing. I’ve got to get
out now before the drugs take me with her.”

“This should keep her down for at least
seven hours. Get back before then just to be safe.”

I was slipping down a long tunnel,
Bane’s words getting farther and farther away. It took real effort
to yank myself out of the body tumbling into drugged sleep. But I
jerked free, and I found myself standing next to Bane and Fizz,
alert once more.

Fizz fought the drug for a moment,
muttering something profane about Bane’s mother before
succumbing.

The agent shook his head, grabbing an
afghan off the back of the couch to cover her with. “Welcome back,
chick. Not very nice of you, trying to turn me in.” He tucked her
in. “Have a good nap, Fizz.”

He went to the kitchen, eating old,
cold pizza in front of the open refrigerator door in silence, the
expression on his face telling me his thoughts were a million miles
away. I waited a few minutes to make sure Fizz was down for the
count before heading to the library.

Chapter 9

“You never punish a sub when you’re
angry,” Tristan told Dan.

I’d come to the library to discover
both men waiting for me. Tristan had decided it was time to deal
out the discipline for my infidelity to Dan. I knew Tristan was
upset too, but with his blood groupies he didn’t have a leg to
stand on as far as chastising me. So this was to repair my
relationship with our Dom-in-training.

I can’t say I was happy to be facing
punishment, but I was eager to make amends somehow. Especially
since I had committed extra misbehavior by getting off on a dry
hump with Bane, which I had no intention of sharing with either
boyfriend. I just couldn’t handle hurting them anymore than I had.
The guilt I felt was huge.

So here I was, kneeling naked on the
wood floor of the library at their feet, my hands bound behind me
and a ball gag shoved in my mouth. I kept my head bowed down
subserviently as I waited to find out what sentence Tristan had
decided upon. I prayed that whatever it was, it would be enough for
Dan to feel we could start over.

I watched one of Dan’s loafered feet
tap impatiently in front of me. “I’m angry all right. So what does
that mean? We don’t discipline her for misbehavior?”

“Think about it, Dan. Can you trust
yourself not to lose control right now?”

I heard real heat in Dan’s voice. “It’s
low to wave that in my face.”

He was referring to the desperate,
panicked anger that had made him take the life of a crooked IRS
agent who was looking to blackmail him. Dan had died in prison
while serving a life sentence. The fear of losing everything; his
wife, children, home, and business had driven him to do the
unthinkable. His uncharacteristic actions haunted him to this
day.

Tristan’s tone stayed even. “I’m not
waving anything in your face. It’s a valid concern. If I laid my
hands on her right now I’d not just hurt her, I’d damage our
relationship. I’m that angry.”

My heart was heavy to hear him say
that. Nothing hurts a sub worse than her Dom’s disappointment. I
really deserved whatever punishment he had decided on. Not to
mention I couldn’t seem to curb my fascination with Bane. Maybe a
good round of harsh discipline would cure that.

Dan sighed. “Okay. So what do we do
with her then?”

“We leave it to others to punish her,
those who can be subjective about it.”

I started. He was going to have another
Dom reprimand me? I swallowed hard against the gag. Someone with no
emotional involvement could be a harsh taskmaster. Maybe Tristan
had a sadist in mind. I turned cold. Light pain was one thing, but
I’m not really a masochist.

Dan’s tone echoed my worried thoughts.
“Like who?”

“Grab on and come with me.”

Tristan grasped my shoulder, and after
a moment’s hesitation, so did Dan. The pant legs and shoes before
me smeared as we started our transport, and I closed my eyes,
afraid of where Tristan would take me.

I heard rather than felt our arrival. I
smelled sweat, cologne, leather, and sex. The familiar sounds of
club music, things hitting flesh, and eager moans and sighs popped
my eyes wide open. We were at a BDSM club.

Well, there were certainly worse places
to end up. Warm fuzzies tumbled in my belly to see a gleaming bar
area tended by a bulldoggish man in black leather with Doms and
Dommes lined up, sipping drinks and exchanging comfortable
conversation. Subs knelt at their feet, many wearing collars and
little else. Some were on leashes. Still more people sat around
tables. Everyone had that ghostly sense of otherness, that
insubstantiality that souls possess even though we appear solid to
one another.

Dan’s voice was hushed with shock.
“Good night.”

I dared to peek up at him, and saw he
stared at something behind me. I cautiously turned my head to have
a glance at what had caught his attention.

Ah, the play area.

My lower parts really heated up to see
several scenes acted out under bright spotlights. A naked sub was
spread out on a St. Andrews Cross, her buttocks and thighs wearing
the stripes of the expertly wielded whip flicked by a bare-chested
Dom. As I watched, the whip snapped her rear, and she moaned with
trembling delight. She strained to push her hips back, begging for
more.

Next to them, a male sub was strapped
to what looked like a padded sawhorse. His Domme, gorgeous in a
rubber suit that looked like black liquid, paddled him thoroughly
while pumping his cock in one tight fist. Through his sobs I heard
him say, “Please Mistress, may I come?” over and over. She said
nothing, just continued to punish and delight as he wept, tears
rolling down his strained face.

Further over, ropes knotted in what
looked like a giant spider’s web snared a plus-sized blond beauty.
Her wide open thighs were twined in the web, leaving her vulnerable
to the vibrator her tall, thin Dom pressed to her swollen clit. She
couldn’t beg for release for the ball gag stuffed in her mouth, but
her shrieks of agony were plain to hear as the Dom, wearing a cape
and leather pants, removed the humming instrument as soon as she
neared climax.

I would have loved to be any of those
subs right now, especially since I knew whatever I was about to
endure wouldn’t be nearly as enthralling.

It was no surprise to me that a BDSM
club existed on the ghost plain. There was probably a solid version
right here on this spot, existing in the mundane reality and
entertaining the living version of the kinky underworld. The kind
of emotion that comes from BDSM play is extreme in that so much of
the artifice we display to others is stripped away in these places.
Playing out scenes exposes us, subs and Doms alike, in ways that
can bring euphoria and agony of an emotional sort, far stronger
than what we experience physically.

A solid wall of man approached us. I
dropped my eyes instantly after catching a glimpse of wiry black
hair peppered with gray surrounding a craggy dark face with
piercing eyes. This man exuded power, the kind of Dom subs dream of
serving and other Doms aspire to be like. I prayed he wouldn’t be
in charge of my punishment. The thought made me tremble.

His voice was strong enough to have
weight. “Tristan! I haven’t seen you in forever. How are things out
your way?”

I sensed them shaking hands. “It’s been
better, Miguel, but I’m glad to see you. How have you
been?”

“Wonderful, wonderful. And your
friend?”

“Dan Saling.” More hand shaking. “He’s
new to the scene, but learning quickly.”

“Good to meet you, Miguel.”

“And you, Dan. Is training what brings
you to Atlanta?”

Tristan sighed. “I wish. This sub needs
punishment, and we’re too emotionally involved to carry it out. You
always get such good results. Do you have the time?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I was in so
much trouble. All the arousal I’d gotten from watching others play
was gone.

“I always have time to correct a
disobedient sub. What’s her weakness? I have a lovely cane I
wouldn’t mind using on such a soft, perfect butt.”

“That would be a reward. She’s a bit of
a pain slut. What she hates is humiliation.”

Oh please no. I moaned.

“Silence,” Tristan ordered, and I
smothered my agony.

“Ah, then a group scene would work
well. I’m thinking some time front and center in the stocks will do
her good. We’ll share out the naughty girl’s beautiful back yard.
We’ll turn what she likes into a torment.”

Tristan’s molasses-smooth voice held a
note of approval. “Yes, that should work fine. Thank
you.”

“No problem. I’ll be the first to set
the tone of the discipline. It’s so good to see you, and to help
you out is always a pleasure. Sub, on your feet and follow
me.”

There was harsh command in that voice,
and I knew I’d find no sympathy from Master Miguel. I could only
hope obedience would afford me some small concession.

I followed the barrel-shaped Dom to the
play area where a set of stocks materialized in front of all the
other apparatuses. I shuddered. I would be the center of attention,
made an example of in front of everyone. A disobedient sub, an
object of disdain. I would rather be beaten until my skin hung in
ribbons from my body than shamed like this.

Tears were already welling in my eyes
when Master Miguel opened the stocks. Behind me, Tristan untied my
wrists. I kept my head down, not daring to look up into anyone’s
face. This was awful. I so wanted to dematerialize right
now.

“Into the stocks, sub,” Master Miguel
ordered.

The only thing that made me obey was
the desperate need to make things right again with Dan and Tristan.
I had to acknowledge the damage I’d dealt in this public forum even
though it made me feel sick inside. I placed my neck and wrists in
the waiting slots. Master Miguel closed the stocks and locked them
shut.

I saw others gathering around, and my
apprehension jumped a hundredfold. The onlookers were quiet,
anticipating something beyond a play scene was about to commence.
My face heated to roasting as more people crowded
around.

“Feet apart.” I felt something wedge
between my ankles, something hard. A spreader bar was snapped to
them, keeping my legs splayed far apart and opening my
buttocks.

Master Miguel’s bulk moved before me.
His wide chest and abdomen filled my vision, looking like a
fortress wall. Something smooth and round was placed in my
hand.

“Squeeze this in place of your
safeword. Squeeze it now if you understand.”

I clenched the rubber ball in my fist
and it squeaked. The broad torso turned away.

Master Miguel’s mighty voice could have
been heard in the club’s farthest corner, over Katy Perry’s
beautifully warbled ‘E.T.’ “Your attention, please. This sub has
disobeyed her masters to the point where they cannot trust
themselves to issue discipline.”

The mutters from the crowd, Doms and
subs alike, were a flood of disapproval. I felt something inside me
shrink at their censure.

“You may punish her for the next five
minutes with paddles, floggers, canes, or barehanded spankings.
Limits, Tristan?”

My beloved vampire’s volume matched
Master Miguel’s. “Don’t break the skin.”

Doms and Dommes lined up. My disgrace
was complete. I had never done anything as a sub to warrant this
kind of punishment before. I was shaking as I waited to be taken to
task, the first tear finally slipping down my cheek. Master Miguel
approached with a thin cane, his mouth set in displeasure as he
looked at me.

Dan’s whisper reached my ears. “Hey
Tristan, don’t you think that might be too much?”

I finally looked at my sweeties’ faces
and wished I hadn’t. Dan looked stricken, as if he was about to
view medical experiments carried out on a puppy. Tristan’s
expression was set, but he was blinking hard and fast.

He swallowed and answered, “You know
she won’t be really injured, my friend. I’m not looking to see her
physically hurt beyond turning her rear red since humiliation is
actually her big sticking point.” Tristan sounded like he was
trying to convince himself as much as Dan.

I heard the cane’s first strike on my
vulnerable flesh before I felt it. It was explosively loud. Then
the pain came, a shrieking, searing thing that dug into my flesh
then burrowed deep into it.

Master Miguel’s tone was as deadly as a
rattlesnake’s strike. “I don’t need to know the nature of your
offense, girl. The fact that your masters are too angry to trust
themselves to carry out your punishment is enough for
me.”

He whacked me with his cane again, and
my face clenched like a fist with the agony. I bit into the ball
gag, making an ugly sound deep in my throat.