The Parlour (VDB #1) (13 page)

Oh God, I can feel my orgasm chasing me as his hand begins ramming in slowly. It’s bruising in its delivery, and Christ, he smells so good. The room starts clouding over before my eyes, and all I can hear is his voice taunting me. That European haze lingers in his tone more prevalently now, as if his excitement brings it to the fore. His hand squeezes at my wrist so brutally that I scream out and quiver around his still pumping fingers.

“Sweet,” I mumble out through the cane. He pinches my clit and releases it instantly, causing pain to shoot across my skin, every nerve suddenly alight and begging for more. He wrenches at my dress until I feel the fabric tear, only to bite down on my exposed nipple so violently I swear he’s bitten it off. My thighs clench and I grip them together to haul them up to my chest, desperately trying to get away from the sensations. They’re beautiful, debilitating, undeniably confusing and overwhelming, and I can’t cope with them. Pleasure, pain, they’re everywhere, all over me and in me and swirling through me like nothing I’ve ever had before. His hold is fierce and deliberate as he prises them apart again and leans his whole body weight into my groin.

“Are you ready, my dear? Hmm? Beg me for it, and call me Sir while you do,” he says, hovering in front of my face, watching me with that interested expression. My eyes widen at the thought but I can’t take any more of the pressure. My body’s on fire, my skin alight and tingling with need for an orgasm I know will be explosive if he just speeds his hand up, just twists a little more. I’m so close, so very close, and he fucking well knows it. I’m all in his hands, panting, groaning, and moaning for the final result. “Beg me, my dear,” he says smoothly, his voice calm and eerily composed again. I shake my head and try to pull my legs together to no avail. “You will beg, Lilah. You will learn what to say when told. Say, ‘please, Sir, let me come’.” I shake my head again and moan as he somehow twists his hand inside me to cause a sharp pain. I scream through the pain and stare at him in shock, even though my body calls for him to do it again. “Again, Lilah, hmm?” Before I know it, he does just that and my desperation screams at him once more.

“Sir, please let me…” I shout out around the wood embedded in my mouth. Everything softens instantly, and his face smirks at me from above. Dazzling green eyes penetrate me to my very core as he licks his lips and moves his fingers within me.

“Count to five, my dear,” he says with a wink. I know I have to do it, and I somehow know he’ll honour it. My reward is at five. I can feel it in his amused smile as he watches my eyes and strokes his fingers in and out of me.

“One, Sir.” He applies more pressure to my clit and my insides clench.

“Two, Sir.” He turns his hand and wrenches it back out to slam it back in again at a different angle.

“Three, Sir.” Oh God, I can’t hold on anymore. I can’t. I can feel my whole body trembling, coiling. My nails scratch at the leather surface of the desk as I pant into his face. I can’t speak. There’s a feeling spinning in my stomach, chasing and riding all over my skin. A current of lust is being created by just him. I try to open my mouth but all that comes out is more heated panting and another moan as he increases his pace.

“Four, my dear, hmm?” he says, pushing me up the table again and dropping his head between my legs. I can’t breathe. Oh dear God, I can’t even move anymore. My back seems to be stuck to the table, and as his tongue swipes across me, all conscious thought disappears. My hands are instantly in his hair, grasping tightly and holding him down on me as I grind him into my orgasm.

“Five,” I scream out as he bites at my clit and ravages it with licks and nips of lust. Everything goes foggy. Everything other than the pulsing sensation streaming over my skin evaporates into nothingness. There is only his mouth on me, and my blinding, thigh trembling orgasm as I continue to push myself against his face and wrap my legs around his head. It’s just him and a calming wave of tranquillity. It’s a new feeling, an experience I’ve never even dreamed of. Bliss, I think.

The space seems quiet around me again, serene, like I’m lingering in some kind of tranquil pool in the South of France. It’s warm, soothing, relaxing, and my mind seems peaceful, more so than it’s ever been. There are no problems or things to worry about. There’s no running the streets to get away from danger. No rape, nothing to be scared of. It is safe here, secure, and there’s this wonderful sense of serenity sweeping across my skin and holding me still on his desk. It’s quite lovely, and feels like the first time I’ve been happy for well over a year, maybe ever.

I eventually open my eyes to find him standing over me and staring at my now undulating body. It appears I’m now in writhing mode as I let the last of the shockwaves roll across my skin, still totally exposed in front of him. That fact suddenly strikes me and I rapidly grab the remnants of my dress and close my legs. He simply raises a brow and reaches for the cane in my mouth with a very wicked smirk. He takes it from me and taps at the hand that is trying to cover my breasts until I release the material and let it fall away again. Then he draws the cool metal end down my body until he reaches the closed gap between my thighs and applies pressure. My legs steadily fall open as his smile increases. It’s truly breath-taking, and I can’t help but smile back through my slight embarrassment.

“Better, my dear. Never be ashamed of a truly enchanting body. Always show yourself when you have come. It pleases a dominant to see the pleasure he has created. If that was indeed the outcome he was looking for. Luckily for you, that is exactly what I was after this time.”

His eyes wander over me again. He just keeps staring and pushing the end of that cane around my skin, lifting my dress higher and occasionally tapping the metal end on what must be pressure points. I know this because my nerves are waking up again. Each and every fibre of my being is suddenly begging for him to do something more. And he’s still fully dressed, for God’s sake. I’m lying here like the whore I am, legs spread and open for him as he travels a piece of wood and metal across me leisurely, and for whatever reason, I can’t move. I’m mesmerised. Maybe it’s fucking magic.

Whore.

The thought disturbs me enough that it brings me out of my slight haze and makes me remove my eyes from his and stare at the cane instead. What is that on the end of it?

“Is that a bat?” I question, before I apply any sense of reason to the situation.

“Mmm,” is all he gives me in reply as he draws it down towards my open legs, softly. My body flinches a little as he makes contact with my still throbbing clit and presses against it.

“You may choose a safeword if you wish, my dear. I cannot promise I will listen to it, but I may try to hear you if you scream it loud enough.”

“I’m not sure I need one, do I? We did okay, didn’t we?”

“
We
did nothing, my dear.
I
controlled you, and myself for you. I am not always so well behaved. I am perplexed and feeling obliging, it seems. Choose.”

“But you did, so I don’t see why I need one.” Maybe if I do something a little unusual it will cause him to think more of me, keep me closer, safer. Then I’ll know he needs me, and he’ll realise it, too. I can make him care for me, perhaps force some kind of bond that ensures I can work here until I make enough money. He smirks, removes the cane and then turns for his jacket.

“The woman that was here a short while ago softens me, my dear. She has the ability to weave her way into my mind and talk to me. As she just did. You do not. You are also unaware of the harm I may cause you. I will give you one last chance to choose a word before I take that privilege from you and do as I wish.” Right. Well, that didn’t work then. Maybe I just need more time.

“Okay. Bat.” I can’t think of anything else, and for God’s sake, what sort of harm can he do? He couldn’t be any firmer than he’s just been and I enjoyed it, so what’s the problem?

“No, choose something else,” he says as he turns for the door. I sit up and watch him leave, once again grabbing at my top and trying to cover my exposed skin.

“But you said I could–” He turns sharply and walks back toward me with a scowl of annoyance and a quickened gait.

“Open up,” he says as he stops two feet in front of me and points his cane at my mouth. I do, slowly, and as I stare at it, I feel the end of the cane slowly pushed inside my mouth to an uncomfortable depth. I gag slightly and try to move away. “Be still, my dear.” I halt my movement and endure the discomfort. “Good girl. Now, listen extremely carefully. If you use that particular word, it will surely remind me of my cane, which in turn will remind me of Elizabeth. With Elizabeth comes Alexander. They are one and the same. The very last person you require me to be imagining when I have you spread, bare and in pain is Alexander. Do you understand?” My throat gulps a little at the thought and I gently nod my head in response. He’s more than likely right if those chilling blue eyes are anything to go by.

“Wonderful,” he says as he snatches the cane out of my throat and smiles. I swear the devil lives in that smile. I’m seriously beginning to believe in them – devils and angels and Gods, that is. “I have work to do. Choose a word and tell me in the morning. Can you find your way to my suite? The club is a little more robust now. In full swing, should I say? Do you need escorting?”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll find my way,” I reply quietly as I slip off the desk and try to hold my dress intact. I definitely don’t need him thinking I’m weak or useless. Besides, what could go wrong? I only have to get through two doors and a probably crowded dance floor, then press some buttons. I lift my head a little at his outstretched arm and walk past him. Sleep would be good actually, after a shower and something to change into. Oh, clothes... “I don’t have anything to wear. In bed, I mean. I don’t have any...” Actually, I don’t have anything with me at all.

“I will send Emanuelle shopping for you on the morrow. And you are not permitted to slumber in anything at all. Bare, my dear, exposed,” he says, walking behind me and then moving to another door in the hallway without looking at me. “Goodnight.” And with that, he’s gone, the door closing behind him as his frame disappears into an unknown space. I stare at it for a moment and listen to the laughter emulating from within, loud, amused, and raucous. He’s probably laughing at me. Stupid Lilah and her thoughts of controlling her situation. I have a feeling nothing controls this man or his emotions, if he has any.

I shake my head at myself and try to tighten the ripped fabric of my dress to make it appear less, well, ripped, and head along the hall toward the main club entrance. A flight of downward stairs later and I’m hit by the heat of the basement. Swarthy sounds of sensual music linger in the space, some type of a Gregorian chant melody engulfing the dark. I begin to hear laughter and the clinking of glasses ahead. The wide doors open on my arrival and I’m immediately in shock. This is not a normal club. The first thing I notice is two women leaning over a man. One has her mouth around his cock while the other is grinding her crotch into his face. I quickly remove my stunned gaze and find two men bending over a high table as a woman spanks their backsides with a large, wide piece of wood. What the hell? They look like they’re in ecstasy. Their bodies ooze contentment and pleasure, their faces very nearly delirious as they pant and groan for more. Oh good God, where am I? I knew these people were all kinky. I’ve very clearly been told, but this is obscene and actually quite repulsive to watch. I tip my head away from them and stare at the door on the other side of the large expanse. That’s where I need to get to, and then there will be some peace from this horrendous situation. My feet gingerly carry me around all the obstacles in my way. More men and women are grunting and moaning as they’re beaten with implements or tied into interesting knots with rope or chains. And then I damn near fall over a large man with a whip of some description coiled on his belt. My eyes shoot up to him as he steadies my fall and stares down at me.

“Sorry, thank you,” I squeak out as I try to keep moving forward. He holds me firm and nods at the floor. I don’t know what that means so try to pull myself from his grasp again. He just tightens his hold and licks his lips at me. It’s decidedly unattractive, and worrying beyond belief. What does he expect me to do, kneel on the floor so he can whip me? That’s certainly not going to happen, no matter how much brute strength he has. But I seriously don’t have the vocabulary to get me out of this.

“Are you a stupid one?” he says in a thick Texan drawl as his almost black eyes bore into me. He has that same look about him as Alex – dead, or at the very least, evil. Perhaps not quite as deeply entrenched, but it’s still there, twinkling nothingness in his gaze.

“No, I just… I’ve got to get to my suite.”

“You’re not going anywhere, kitten,” he says as he unclasps a lead and collar from the other side of his belt. Really? I stare at them in shock and then nervously try to back away from him again. I may not know much about this world, but I thought I was supposed to have a say in things at least. I was led to believe I’d be able to make my own decisions. Vixon told me that, and I’m not technically on the payroll over here for anyone other than Pascal, am I?”

“I’m... I’m Pascal’s,” I sputter out in a rush as I attempt another shrug of my upper arm to get away. It’s all I’ve got other than
no
, which I’m entirely sure won’t work at all. He just keeps me beside him and lifts the collar to my neck.

“Not for the next hour, you’re not,” he replies, grabbing at my neck and trying to get the black leather around me without letting me go. My hands automatically lift to defend myself and the material falls and exposes my breast. Oh good God, a collar or my breast exposed? My fingers fumble around as I try to fight him off, defend my neck and somehow keep my boob covered. Laughter ensues behind me and I can hear jeering and heckling for him to get me on the floor. I swing my head around to scowl at them, but the moment I do, I feel the leather snap into place around my throat. “Better. Come now, Kitten,” he says, dragging on the lead and pulling me behind him.

“No, please,” I shout over the noise as I wrench at the leather and try to remove it. Nothing moves. It doesn’t even appear to have a fastening on it as I tug and pull. “Please! Pascal wouldn’t want this. He said I should go to his suite.” It’s all I’ve got to get me out of this – the simple hope that his name is enough to make this man listen to me. He doesn’t. He just keeps pushing his way through the crowd while my feet trip over themselves and other people continue with their acts of Sodom and Gomorrah all around me.

“Here, Kitty, Kitty,” someone calls from my side as I go past him. His fingers grab at my arse. I scuttle forward to avoid the contact, but before I know it, he’s grabbed hold of my leg and won’t let me go. The Texan is pulling me from in front and this other guy is now tugging violently at my ankle.

“STOP!” I scream at the Texan, hoping he’ll hear me. Nothing. He just keeps going, and I try to stretch my body to get some air to my gasping lungs. Heat consumes me as panic sets in. I don’t know what to do or how to get out of this. “PLEASE, STOP,” I shout again, trying desperately to dislodge the hand on my foot as I’m stretched further. Eventually, my body can’t take anymore and I feel myself falling into the collar. My knee hits the ground first, sending a wave of pain radiating up my leg. I scream in response to it as my hipbone collides with the floor, too, and rallies agony to consume my senses. My throat chokes on the strangling collar and I just lie there being tugged and heaved between the two of them like a ragdoll. My mind closes down on the sensations as my hip continues to grate on the floor and I feel my ankle being wrenched about. Unyielding pain rolls across me, and as I lie there, I find myself thinking of Pascal’s hands and the pain he created. It was nothing like this. It was a good pain, a sensual one. This is violent. Maybe I deserve that for being so fucking useless, for being a whore. Perhaps this is what whores deserve.

“If you pull on my property one more time, Jackson, I will beat you, repeatedly, and with the greatest of pleasure.” Pascal’s beautifully firm voice rings out above the din. The moment he finishes the sentence, all the tension is released from me. The collar goes slack and the hand on my ankle drops away. I sag onto the sticky floor and suck in lungfuls of air. Hands bracing the floor, I try to push myself up but my hip and knee remind me of the agony they’re currently in. I fall back against the surface and pull my body into a defensive ball instead, then close my eyes to the visions around me.

“Can you stand, my dear?” he questions from above me, still with a voice full of anger. I shake my head into the floor and carefully open my eyes to look at him. I see his black and cream shoes first, followed by his legs, still encased in those cream trousers, one either side of my body as he protects that which is his. Then, as I travel my gaze up his towering frame, I find the cane precariously balanced on the throat of another man who is leaning away in fear. I presume he was the one who had my ankle. His hand suddenly appears in front of my face with beckoning fingers. I grab hold of it and try to move, but the pain screams at me again.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, but I…” Oh God, what a fool I must look here on the dirty floor. What must he think of me and my pathetic state? His cane is suddenly put in my hand and two arms scoop me from the floor. I slump into the relative safety and let him take all my weight off the ground beneath us until we’re finally upright. I flick my eyes to his to find him still looking at the Texan and sneering in disgust.

“You will leave, now. She voiced that she was not to be touched. You directly disobeyed me.” My frown descends rapidly. If he knows that, it means he watched what was happening and did nothing about it.

“They all say that when they’re not interested, and she isn’t cuffed,” the Texan replies, his tone full of sarcasm. “You can’t keep them all to yourself.”

“This should make it all the more clear that you are not welcome then, yes? Exit from my building, and Jackson, do not try to re-enter it. The result will not be pleasant,” he says as he shrugs me up again and turns away from the man.

He mumbles something in a foreign language as we cross the space towards the exit and doesn’t look at me at all. He just keeps going and carries my weight as if I’m not even there.

“Thank you for saving me,” I eventually say quietly as he manoeuvres me around so he can press a panel on the wall. He still doesn’t say a word or acknowledge me. He just strides along the green corridor from earlier until we reach the lift.

“Your handling of that predicament was senseless. Why did you not kneel for him and beg for your freedom?” he snaps out as the top door opens and we enter the small foyer area with two doors. He moves to the left and presses his thumb against it. I just stay quiet and look at his chest rather than opening my apparently stupid mouth. “Did you not assume your yielding would afford you a better response than fighting him? Idiotic girl.” Now I’m an idiot, too? I struggle in his grasp until he releases his hold of me and, quite gently for him, allows me to slide to the chair beneath me.