Authors: Lilli Feisty
“Oh, look!” Meg said, pointing at a sign. “Flogging lesson starting in ten minutes! Wanna go with me?”
“Do you mind if I take a look around instead?” Ruby’s pulse had begun to buzz, the sexual energy of the place seeping into her system, rushing through her. She found herself curious to explore, to see everything in the club.
“Of course not. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Meg said with a wink and tottered off to learn how to whip her husband.
The music beat a steady rhythm, and Ruby found her confidence going up as she made her way through the crowd. She could do this. Chin lifted, she continued on through the space.
But she stopped when a particular scene caught her eye. A naked man lay strapped to a table. He was shorter than Mark, but his body was tight and muscular. His skin was olive-toned, and his hair was golden, everywhere. His prick sprang from a blond thatch of pubic hair.
A thin woman holding a candle walked around the man’s supine form, watching him intently. Finally, she stopped at the head of the table and raised the candle high above the man’s chest. Slowly, so slowly Ruby found herself holding her breath, the woman tilted the tall votive and let the hot wax spill onto the man’s nipples. Ruby’s own nipples tightened as she watched the man gasp and squirm. Ruby had never experienced anything like it herself, yet she could almost feel the molten heat on her own breasts. Her pussy throbbed as she imagined how the hot wax would feel hitting her body.
But strangely, it was the woman she envied. She imagined what it would be like to strap a man down, to make him gasp.
The woman walked around the table as she held the candle over the man’s now-writhing body. She painted his ribs, his chest, and his stomach with the melting wax. The group of observers watched quietly, all eyes fixated on the way the domme could bring her subject to such an obvious state of arousal with a simple candle.
Ruby felt her own sex dampen as sweat beaded under her breasts. Thinking of Mark, she wondered if he’d ever done anything like this. Or had it done to him.
She looked away. With a deep breath, she went on through the party, watching an assortment of sexual scenarios unfurl. She hadn’t expected the party to be so shocking, so bold. To her left a man stood, stroking his exposed cock as he watched two women rub their breasts together. To her right a man wearing a G-string and a dog collar licked water out of a bowl. The place smelled like sex and lube and leather, and it thrilled her even as it scared her.
The next room looked quite tame at first glance. Two stunning women with sleek ponytails sat on a burgundy brocade sofa. Wearing matching short spandex dresses, they sipped wine and talked in quiet, whispered tones. The thing that made the little scene less than normal was the naked man on his hands and knees before them. On his back rested a tray weighted down with a bowl of grapes and a bottle of wine. The man was sideways to the crowd and Ruby could see his rather impressive erection.
But he didn’t move at all. Staring straight ahead, he was like a statue. The women completely ignored him. To them, he was a piece of furniture.
Slap.
A shudder raced up her spine at the sound, the sound of a palm landing on someone’s ass. Turning, she followed the rhythmic noise.
Her stomach was in knots. Nerves twisted in her gut even as a little thrill kept her sex wet. She kept walking, following those magic sounds of slapping skin.
She saw a curvy blonde woman in a G-string kneeling over a simple red bench. Her ass was pink, and the cause of this was obvious. Behind her a tall, gray-haired man held a long-handled leather paddle. He wasn’t using it, though; he was using his other hand to spank her. His back was to the crowd, but she could read the experience in his authoritative stance.
He must be aware of the crowd, but he didn’t show it, instead focusing fully on the woman who knelt before him. He hit the lower part of her ass, her upper thighs. Each time his hand came down on her skin, the woman jerked and gasped, the flesh beneath her skin tensing.
Ruby’s pussy throbbed steadily as she watched him spank the woman one, two, three times, quickly, making Ruby recall the time when Mark had pulled her into the storage closet. The memory sent a jolt through her and she watched as the blonde woman clenched her hands together and tossed her head back. The look of pure euphoria on her face made Ruby’s sex go even hotter, and each time the woman cried out, each time the man slapped her skin, Ruby felt her own pussy clench.
The man eased up, taking the paddle and slowly tapping the blonde’s shoulder in light, rhythmic slaps. Ruby gasped; she could nearly feel the leather on her own skin. The man continued, trailing a rhythm across the woman’s upper back, slowly increasing pressure until she was visibly trembling.
The woman stuck her ass in the air, higher than before. She was begging for it. Begging to be hit with the paddle. Ruby knew exactly what the woman wanted. Ruby wanted it, too.
Just watching the scene before her took her there a little. She was already feeling that surrender, that need to escape. Ruby’s heartbeat went a little erratic, her breath caught. She watched as the man ceased the spanking and started gently stroking the woman’s back. She whispered something in his ear, and the man nodded. The woman looked over her shoulder and met Ruby’s gaze. Something passed between them, some kind of connection, as if the woman saw the longing Ruby was sure she couldn’t hide.
Then the man looked at her. She saw the authority in his eyes, in his demeanor. He reminded her of Mark in that way.
“Would you like to join us?” he asked.
Could she do this? Play with two strangers this way? Her palms were damp at the thought, and her heart raced. But then she looked back at the other woman and saw the euphoria in her eyes.
She wanted to feel that euphoria again.
Needed
to feel it.
But not like this. Not without Mark.
“I’m sorry…” She turned and pushed through the crowd.
The place was more crowded now, more noisy. She heard someone cry out, from pain or pleasure—probably both. Unfamiliar faces walked through the warehouse, gazing at the various displays of kink.
Her gaze fell on an older, slightly frumpy-looking couple passing by, clothed in nothing more than a few draping, clamoring chains.
She had to get out.
What had earlier seemed like a maze was now easily navigated if she just stayed around the perimeter. Her boots thudded on the floor as she ran toward the room where she’d last seen Meg. She found her, a long-handled flogger in her hand. Meg stood about four feet from a man with his arms chained above his head, waving the leather tails at his back with a flick of her wrist, as if she were a kinky Zorro. But Meg immediately caught her eye, put down the flogger, and a second later was at Ruby’s side.
“What’s wrong?” Meg asked.
“Can we just go?” Ruby begged.
“Yeah, of course, sweetie.” Meg retrieved their coats and, holding her hand, pushed through the front door. Fresh, moist air hit Ruby’s face, and she sucked in deep lungfuls of it.
Then the scent of smoke reached her. Rich, the manager, was watching her, and then, without a word, he stepped into the street and hailed a taxi. He held open the door and Ruby slid inside after Meg.
“Thank you,” she said to the doorman.
Looking down at her, he nodded and blew out a lungful of smoke. “Good-bye, Ruby Tuesday,” he sang in tune.
The taxi door shut with a solid clunk.
They sat there for a second, the song echoing in Ruby’s head. It was just a song, a familiar melody. And yet the words had new meaning to her. Was she changing with every day? She felt like it. She certainly wasn’t the person she’d been two weeks ago.
“Where are you headed?”
Meg gave the driver Ruby’s address and turned to her. “What happened?”
Ruby shook her head. “I am so fucked.”
“What?” Meg took her hand. “What did you do?”
But Ruby could only smile ruefully. “It’s not what I did, Meg. It’s what I didn’t do.”
M
ark was high.
It was Saturday, and they were in Michigan. At the last minute they’d been called in to play a music festival, filling in for a headline band whose singer had succumbed to “exhaustion,” also known as rehab. Now, as he and Yvette hopped into the limo, pure energy rushed through his veins in crashing waves. His heart pounded loud in his chest, louder even than the crowd of five thousand people hoping for a third encore. He could still hear them. But the Riders were done for the night.
The show had gone well. It had gone especially well for Jake. The drummer had stayed behind with a pair of tall, beautiful locals.
They’d invited Mark, but he declined. Although he’d distanced himself from Ruby over the past week, he still felt her presence, and no other girl would substitute, not yet.
“I officially love Detroit.” Yvette grabbed an already-opened champagne bottle out of a bucket of ice. Her long hair clung to her face in sweaty strands, and her black makeup was smeared around her sparkling green eyes. His best friend was as stunning now as she had been the first time he’d seen her all those years ago.
Looking back, Mark was glad they had never hooked up. If they had, he doubted they would be as close as they were today. And he needed that closeness. With their world becoming crazier every day, their friendship was practically the only stability in his life.
And, he supposed, that was how it would always be.
He held a glass as Yvette poured him some champagne. “It was definitely a good show.”
She took a slow sip and held his gaze. “I’m surprised you didn’t hang around with Jake. There were a number of lovely ladies eager to show their appreciation.”
“I guess I wasn’t in the mood.”
She just watched him with those ever-seeing eyes of hers.
He leaned back into the plush leather seat, hoping she’d let it drop. Mark’s hand went to his jacket pocket, and he reached inside to palm his cell phone. His fingers itched to call Ruby, but he resisted. She’d sent him one e-mail with details on the preparty before the Spring Fling, but other than that they hadn’t had any communication since last week. And no matter how many times he picked up his phone to call her, he couldn’t do it. That look in her eyes when he’d had to leave for the interview haunted him. He never wanted to see it again.
“Does she know you’re here?” Yvette asked with a raised brow.
“Nope. I didn’t get around to telling her.”
“You mean you avoided it. Why?”
“I was just busy, that’s all,” he said.
“And this is why I’m a lesbian.”
“What are you talking about?”
She smirked. “Men. You’re all just little boys, scared of your own feelings. Scared to commit.”
“I’m not scared of anything.”
“Of course not—’cause you’re a
big, tough man
.”
His body tensed and he leaned forward. “I don’t get you. One minute you’re telling me to not get distracted. The next you’re giving me shit about commitment. Make up your mind.”
“Well, in that regard I’m a female as well. I retain the right to change my mind on a dime.”
“Fuckin’ A.”
“Exactly.”
He threw himself back against the seat. “You’re totally losing it.”
“Could be. But here’s the thing. Over these past few weeks I’ve seen a change in you. You’ve gone…” She gave a mock shudder. “Mushy.”
“And this is a good thing?”
“Much to my dismay, it could be. See, I think you found a girl you really like. And I think she inspires you.” Her gaze went soft. “I’ve seen the way she acts around you. I think she actually likes you, and not just because you’re gonna be a star. She makes you happy.”
Mark glanced out the window. “I think the problem is more of me making her happy.”
“So why are you pushing her away?”
“I told you. She doesn’t want to get hurt.”
“And you’re so sure you’d do that?”
He thought of his parents. Yeah, they’d made it work, and there had even been happy times. But there was always that quiet resentment between them.
And Mark thought of the band, of how with each success the stakes got higher. “I’m not sure I wouldn’t hurt her. She deserves better.”
Yvette reached out and touched his knee. “Honey, you’re the best there is.”
They pulled up in front of the hotel. Seconds later the driver opened the door for them, and Mark followed Yvette into the lobby. They didn’t have bodyguards and generally hadn’t needed any, but Yvette had a few crazies that came out of the woodwork every once in a while, and Mark always made sure he had her back.
Once in the elevator, she turned to him. “You want to come to my room for a drink?”
He considered it. Thinking about Ruby had made him feel restless, and he wasn’t ready to wind down yet. But having a drink with Yvette didn’t seem appealing for some reason. The only thing that sounded good was talking to Ruby.
He touched his cell phone, thinking he’d call her when he got to the room. Even though she’d told him not to call, it was fucked of him to leave the way he had. He owed her an apology.
The elevator stopped at the top floor, and they stepped into the hallway. “Nah. I think I’m gonna crash.” He waited until Yvette’s door clicked shut, and then he went a few doors down to his own room.
He paused outside the door. A muffled female voice seemed to be coming from inside his. And he could have sworn she was saying, “Help.”
Sliding his card into the lock, he burst inside. The lights were low, but he could make out the form of a woman on his bed.
“What the fuck?” He flipped on the light.
“Mark! Help me!”
“What the hell is going on here?” A blonde woman was tied spread-eagled to his bed. She was naked. She was gorgeous. And she looked vaguely familiar.
“Mark! I’m so glad you’re here—”
“Shut up, bitch!”
He turned as a second woman emerged from the bathroom. She was a petite brunette wearing a black lace bra, garter belts attached to black stockings, and black panties. She carried a long-handled leather crop in one hand. She walked straight up to him. “Bad boy. You kept us waiting. Shame on you.” She stood on her tiptoes and leaned in close. “I need help disciplining my naughty little girlfriend.”