The Plume: The First Anthology (15 page)

What would the Master do if he caught them? The rhythmic bump felt delicious and forbidden, but Joanna eased away from the amorous slave.

She didn’t want to defy the Master, not yet.

She wanted him to choose her first, most and best. Joanna wanted to be his captive and his alone, but as she rode toward the Dungeon in the company of countless other slaves, it seemed that particular fantasy might not be fulfilled.

Because it was while she was bound in that accelerating van that Joanna remembered that it had been part of pledge she’d made on her first arrival at the Plume to be shackled and shared.

The Master, she was certain, hadn’t forgotten about that.

Chapter Two

Mike was nervous, as nervous as if he didn’t know what was ahead of him. It made no sense. He’d spent years visiting the Plume. He’d played every game; he’d known every inch of the place; he’d submitted and claimed and had more orgasms in rapid succession there than during any other period of his life.

When it had begun to feel unreal and contrived, he had left. He’d thought he was seeking authenticity.

What he’d found was that he had missed the Plume.

And now that he was returning, Mike was afraid that his memories of that fabled place were maybe more than the truth. Maybe he’d embellished his recollections of his experiences.

Maybe he’d be disappointed.

He stood on the street corner, exactly where he’d been directed to wait, and watched the traffic slide past him. It was a late Saturday afternoon in early November. People were rushing home from their shopping, gathering children, making their way to dinner engagements.

The city swirled around him, clusters of people living their lives while he waited. He knew better than to leave – he was returning to the Plume as a slave and the best submissives did what they were told. He didn’t want to risk losing this chance of defending Joanna. The streetlights came on, the sky turning to indigo already and he heard the tinkle of Christmas music from the coffee shop on the corner.

He wasn’t surprised when the black stretch limo pulled up to the curb beside him. The window descended on the front passenger door and a liveried driver in sunglasses leaned across the seat. “Mike?” he asked.

“Hi Rafe,” Mike said. “I’ll get the door myself.”

Rafe’s grin flashed. “Good to have you back.”

The window rose smoothly and Mike heard the locks click on the doors. He opened the door to the back seat and closed his eyes at the waft of exotic perfume that erupted from the space. His heart skipped.

It figured that she would bring him in.

She’d probably volunteered.

There were some issues outstanding between them, after all.

Mike got into the back seat, the perfume having prepared him for the sight of Athena lounging in the back corner of the car. Rex’s partner in ownership of the Plume, she was the best at pursuing sensation.

She looked as delicious as ever.

On this occasion, Athena was encased in red latex, a bodysuit that showed her perfect figure to advantage with long matching gloves. Her high red boots had the spike heels she favored, and the black corset that cinched her waist perfectly matched the black domino mask she wore. Her lipstick shone in the same glistening red as the latex and her auburn hair hung wild over her shoulders. Just the way Mike had always liked it best. She held a black riding crop, rapping it against her other palm as she smiled at him.

Athena wasn’t delicately built woman. She was a virtual Amazon, tall and robust. Her curves were ripe and her waist narrow. Her face was beautiful and she could be completely merciless. In this outfit, she looked like a super heroine – or the star of a wet dream. She was larger than life, a sexual fantasy sitting four feet away from him, her knowing smile making his throat tight.

And his jeans. He remembered what they’d done together, what he’d done to her, and his imagination fired with the possibilities.

“And so we meet again,” she said, her voice husky. “I’m looking forward to balancing our accounts, Michael.” She said his name slowly, dragging it out in an exotic and possessive way. She made a dismissive gesture with the crop. “Everything off. I’m taking you in just the way I want you.”

Once, Athena had been the slave and Mike had been her master. Once she had submitted to him. This time, the tables were turned. He knew all the drill, he knew how to ensure that pleasure was made to last, he knew how to push a submissive a little farther. He’d taught everything he knew to Athena.

And now she was going to reciprocate in kind.

The prospect made him dizzy. He got more dizzy when she flicked open the bag she’d brought and showed him the shackles she’d chosen just for him. Mike reminded himself that he was doing this for Joanna, to see Joanna and ensure her safety.

But by the time Athena had him restrained beside her, he’d forgotten everything except his new mistress.

Who had once been his most promising slave.

* * *

The hint of red was perfect. Athena congratulated herself on her foresight. The restraints she’d brought for Mike were black leather with a thin line of red leather along each edge. The black leather looked savage against Mike’s golden tan, the red making the look distinctive. She’d chosen the widest restraints, the ones with the heaviest stainless hardware. The red detail was playful in comparison.

And with her wearing red, it marked him as her toy.

Her accessory.

Athena liked that a lot.

She loved that he’d kept himself trim. If anything, he’d bulked up a little bit more, which worked for her, too.

The ankle restraints were four inch wide bands and they locked around his ankles with gleaming stainless buckles. She made him put them on himself, watching greedily as he bent over to fasten them. He was all muscle, a magnificent male specimen and her equal in every way. He already had a powerful erection and she looked forward to tormenting him.

She was pretty aroused herself. She locked the wide restraints around his wrists, stroking his back as he leaned forward for her to fasten them together behind his back. He slanted a look at her, his hair disheveled and his eyes very blue. It wasn’t easy for him, shifting roles, accepting that he wasn’t in charge this time.

She showed him the collar, as wide as the restraints, shaped and lined with velvet. He swallowed, watching her as she locked it around his neck.

“No leash?” he murmured, teasing and playful.

Athena smiled as she showed him the cock ring. He swallowed, his gaze dancing over it, and she knew he hadn’t been expecting that. She fastened it around his erection, locking the ball band around his scrotum. He was gritting his teeth when she had secured it firmly.

“We might as well make it last,” she said, sliding her gloved fingers over him. He swallowed again, so agitated that she bent impulsively and took him in her mouth. She licked him and caressed him, coaxing him to throbbing power, letting her hair fall across him. She could feel the heat of his reaction, the thunder of his pulse. His hips began to pump involuntarily and she knew she’d lose him early if she didn’t pace herself. Athena sat up, slapping the riding crop once across his thighs.

“Don’t be naughty just yet,” she said, and clipped the leash to the bottom of the cock ring. The stainless clasp would be cold against his balls, a jarring reminder of who was in charge. She smiled at him as he tested his bonds – it was intuitive – and came to terms with his situation. “No blindfold?” he asked.

Athena smiled. “You know the Plume already.” She ran a fingertip over him, admiring as she touched. “And I know how you love to see the eye candy.” She grasped his cock again, squeezing and caressing, making him harder and harder.

“Do you surrender?” Athena asked. The ritual question and answer session was always arousing for her.

“I surrender,” Mike agreed.

She ran her hands over him, proving with her touch that he was her possession. “Do you vow to be my obedient sex slave?”

“I vow to be your obedient sex slave.”

Athena pinched his nipple hard and he jumped slightly. As responsive as ever. She rolled the nipple between her finger and thumb, alternatively pinching and caressing. Mike’s nostrils flared and she saw the muscles in his shoulders bunch. “You pledge to follow my every command.”

“I pledge to follow your every command,” he repeated, his voice more strained than before.

Athena slid her hand down his chest and his belly, watching him. “To do whatever I request in the name of pleasure.”

“To do whatever you request in the name of pleasure.” He caught his breath, anticipating her touch before she closed her hand around him. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, lost in the pleasure she gave him. Athena felt powerful.

And so excited that she itched for him. It was all she could do to not straddle him in the car and take him inside her, fast and furious. “And you agree I can do whatever I want to you.”

“You can do whatever you want to me.”

Mike was breathing heavily, his muscles clenched and his jaw tight. Athena leaned over and kissed him on the mouth, pushing her tongue between his teeth. He kissed her back, his ardor showing that he, too, was loving this. Yes, he really was one of them. That would never change. Athena ran her fingers through his hair, making him look tousled and so adorable that her heart clenched.

“Mine,” she whispered, staring into the endless blue of his eyes.

He closed his eyes, took a breath, then met her gaze again. “Yours,” he agreed, then added the title she liked best. “Countess.” He dropped his gaze and bowed his head, the picture of obedience.

He looked so delicious that Athena would have had him right then and there.

If they hadn’t arrived at the Plume.

* * *

It seemed to Joanna that the van drove on forever. She had no clear idea of the time, much less of the distance they’d travelled. They could have been driving in circles, for all she knew, although the van’s speed had been steady for a long time, as if they’d been on the highway.

When it stopped and the engine turned off, she felt the ripple of agitation pass through the other slaves. How many were there? Why had they joined? What were their expectations? The journalist in her wanted to interview them all, compare their perspectives, look for common elements.

But mostly she wanted to know what would happen next.

The door to the van was opened noisily and she heard two people come into the van. They didn’t speak, which made their presence seem more ominous. Joanna felt herself trembling. Was one the Master? The bound slave beside her, the one with the erection, was removed. She heard him moan as his heat slid away from her side. She felt her own bonds unclipped, then she too was hefted out of the van like a sack of grain.

Her hips briefly collided with a man’s chest and she felt his arms around her. She was placed upright, her hands held high over her head and secured to something overhead. His hands worked at her wrists, but he wasn’t untying the rope. Suddenly the zipper in the cloth that surrounded her was opened. It parted right down the front, creating a slit from her elbows to her waist and baring her chest to chilly air.

She saw her jailors then, eight or ten muscled men of all heights and shapes. They wore black leather hoods that obscured all of their faces, black leather gloves that came up to their elbows, black combat boots and heavy black belts. From the sides of each man’s belt hung an array of clips and clasps, ropes and harnesses. They were all shaved smooth and tanned; some were tattooed and some were pierced. Some were Caucasian, others had skin of deeper gold, several were black. Their erections were large, some thicker and some thinner, and she caught her breath at the reality of being in their possession.

They obviously loved their work.

They looked like executioners, faceless and powerful. Even more terrifying, she couldn’t identify the Master among them.

They could do anything they wanted to this load of slaves. Joanna trembled.

The cloth was tugged from beneath the rope bonds at her wrists and dropped to her waist. Two guards towered over her, their eyes glinting through the holes in their hoods as they efficiently exposed her. One worked at unknotting the rope at her waist, while the other caressed her breasts. The zipper was opened to her ankles, leaving those rope bonds in place. The first worked at working the lower part of the silken sack free of the rope.

The other continued to run his hands over her. The hoods worn by the guards even obscured their mouths, a dark net obscuring their mouths and eyes, so she had no idea whether he was pleased by the feel of her or not. His hands fondled and pinched, he framed her waist in his hands and bent to bite one of her nipples. The netting cushioned the blow but still Joanna jumped. He pushed his hand between her thighs, rubbing his fingers against her pulsing sex.

His companion stood up behind her, gripping her buttocks in his hands. “Nice tight one, here,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Too bad she hasn’t had time to misbehave.”

The one in front of her licked her wet heat from his gloved fingers as Joanna watched. He glanced around. “Not like she can tell if we break the rules,” he whispered and reached for her again.

“Others will,” his companion chided. “Wait for it. It’s sweeter that way.”

The first guard chuckled, tracing Joanna’s nipple with one fingertip. “I’ll be watching for you,” he murmured, so low that his words made her shiver. She shivered at the threat in his tone.

The guard behind Joanna slapped her butt hard enough to make her cry out into her gag.

The blow must have been a signal because the chain from which she was suspended was suddenly lifted into the air. The guard in front of her locked his hands around her waist and let them slide over her as she was lifted high. He made an appreciative sound as she was lifted through his grasp. Her toes rose from the ground, until she dangled from a chain on an overhead track. The building must have been a factory, one with an overhead delivery system. Joanna doubted it had been designed for human cargo.