Wallbanger (16 page)

Damn. What’d you do now?

Sacha pushed past him, reached down and
yanked the prostrate girl up by her hair, fist connecting hard with
her face. Blood trickled from her nose. “You stay in your fucking
place, syestra!”

Xander blinked, so stunned he didn’t respond
to the abuse. He couldn’t have heard that right, or his translation
was wrong.

Sacha tossed the girl aside. “I’ll deal with
you later,” he threatened. “Move from this spot and I’ll kill
you.”

Pudgy walked up to Sacha, jabbing a finger
toward Kizzie. “That bitch hit me.”

Together, Sacha and Xander spun toward her.
“Is that true?” Sacha barked.

“Whoa,” Xander cut in. “She’s still not
yours, Sacha.”

“Then handle your bitch!”

He fixed Sacha with a deadly glare, holding
it until the other man backed down. Then he returned his attention
to their situation. If she’d hit the guy, it would be a huge
problem.

“Gigi.” Head bowed, Kizzie approached. He
frowned at the red welt on her face, and tilted her chin up to
study it closer, a new wave of anger washing over him. His body
tensed, prepared to beat the man where he stood. “Did you mark my
sub?” It came out a low growl, and the complainant took a step
back.

“She hit me. She said she wasn’t Sacha’s
and—”

Xander held up a hand, cutting the man’s
sniveling short. “Did you strike this man?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Why?”

“He grabbed me, Sir,” she said, eyes averted,
voice docile enough to relay her submission. “I was coming back
from the restroom and he blocked my path. He pulled my collar, Sir,
and his hand touched your body.”

Your body
. Xander fought the chill
that gave him. “Is that all?”

“No, Sir. I told him I was returning to you,
but he didn’t listen; said he would play with me first.”

“You know they all lie,” Sacha spat. “The
whole lot of them, worthless, disobedient cunts! Never trust a
woman!”

“You can plainly see she’s collared,” Xander
said, turning on the man with the crop. “But I’m feeling nice, so
we’ll do it the easy way. You forget she hit you; I let you keep
your head on your shoulders.”

Eyes wide, the man nodded with shaky jerks of
his thick skull.

“No,” Sacha rubbed his nose. “That’s not how
we’ll do this.”

Xander shrugged. “Guess that means you’ll be
short a head.” He glared at Pudgy trying to ease away.

“But this is my house, Xander. That means I’m
the lead Dom and decisions like this fall to me.”

Kizzie shifted behind him—
probably ready
to fight
—but Sacha was right. If there was a disagreement, the
hosting Dominant had the final word. Those were the rules, no
matter the club. Xander had been there himself a couple of times,
but knew at this moment Sacha was using the power to put him in his
place. His hands were tied.

Sacha looked to the other man. “Since Vadim
is the one who has been injured, I’ll discuss the punishment with
him.”

The two men stepped a ways down the hall to
talk over the situation, and Xander took Kizzie’s elbow, pushed her
in the opposite direction out of earshot of the two puppets.

“Did you have to hit him?” he mumbled.

“Reflex?” She kept her eyes to the ground as
though she was being punished, but her lips curved up in a smile.
“You should probably know, I had a reflex with a guard, too.”

He managed not to laugh, pressed closer to
block her from any onlookers. “What were you really doing?”

“Went to check Sacha’s bedroom. Locked. But
Phil got there. Didn’t find anything. By the way, I could’ve sworn
planting cameras was my idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I have my reasons. Just like I’m sure you
have your reasons for disobeying me. I told you no touching.” He
ignored her insolent grunt, hand firmly searching her belly.
Feeling the metal lock picks, he shook his head and said, “Anything
else?”

“On my way back, the girl on the
floor—Zlata—comes running from somewhere looking guilty as sin. Was
gonna chase her down when this idiot jumps at me.”

“And put his hand on
my
body,” Xander
emphasized. He ran his fingertips along her shoulder blade. “I did
like the sound of that, you know.”

She pursed her lips. “Focus…. The
meeting?”

“Tried to change the terms—and threatened to
kill me.”

“I thought he was the bad guy.”

“Words hurt, Kiz,” he deadpanned. “Change of
plans, you’re not staying.”

Her brow knit. “Why not?”

“Don’t argue with me. I leave you here you’re
good as dead.”

“Didn’t know you cared, Sir.” A response sat
on Xander’s lips, but she continued with an insistent edge to her
voice, “
I
take care of me, Xander, regardless of this pretty
golden noose. Now, were you lying, or is Sacha really the only one
who knows about Harvey?”

“Far as I know, just Sacha.”

“So it’s here somewhere—on a computer or a
jump drive. You want it; I’ll get it. But I need time to access it.
This place is huge but I’ve mapped it out. There’s a chance—”

“It’s not here at all,” he said, that
suspicion niggling again.

Kizzie’s voice stayed low but incredulous.
“Why me?”

“What?”

“Why me? Why’d you drag me into this?”

“You’re the perfect Trojan horse. I get you
through the gate, you work your magic.”

“Then drop the caring Dom act and let me do
my job,” her gaze lifted, “Sir. This punishment, what am I lookin’
at?”

Movement to his right.

“On your knees.” She lowered without arguing,
surprising him. He turned back to the approaching men. “Have you
come to a decision?”

“Vadim believes she should be punished by the
whip,” Sacha said, “and I agree.”

Xander nodded. He could work with the whip.
Give her a couple licks and that’d be that. “I didn’t plan on this
tonight. I’ll have to borrow—”

“Her punishment,” Sacha interrupted, bland
face split with a sickening smile, “is to be at
my
hand.”

10

Kizzie glared at the ball of human waste that
had caused this trouble. Had he kept his grubby little hands to
himself, she wouldn’t be standing on her toes with her legs
separated wide by a spreader bar, arms cinched behind her and
yanked up in the air. A position Xander called the strappado. Hips
tilted downward, her ass was exposed even more than it had been in
just the thong, her shoulders uncomfortable.

She’d deal.

The pudgy Dom licked his fleshy lips in a
move she was sure he thought attractive. Kizzie committed his face
to memory and added him to her ever-expanding shit list.

Across the room, the anger was plain on
Xander’s face. She wasn’t sure how much was an act for Sacha’s
benefit, but it was nice to know she wasn’t the only one pissed at
the moment.
Now if he could just take this lashing for
me.

Wall-to-wall, strangers stood around in a
wide circle, watching eagerly like a bloodthirsty mob at a
beheading. Sacha waltzed in, long whip in one hand, his other
preoccupied with rubbing at his nose. Sumi was just behind, and
Zlata was absent, no doubt manning her post at the office door.
Kizzie wondered what the girl had been up to when she was running
down the hallway. Zlata was a sneaky one.

The angle of her raised arms made holding her
head up too much to handle, and Kizzie let it fall forward, view
forced to the ground. Xander had warned her Sacha’s intent was to
harm. She expected nothing less. And while she’d never been
whipped, she figured it couldn’t be worse than a bare-knuckle brawl
with a Ranger. She’d gotten her ass kicked, but survived that. How
bad could this be?

Her mind raced with possibilities.

In her training as an agent, she’d learned a
variety of rules about dealing with torture, the first being don’t
panic. Panic made things ten times worse than they were. Unless you
were having your toes removed by an insensitive brute with a bone
cutter. Then you could panic all you wanted. Hell, you could even
scream for your mommy.

The other useful technique was to
disassociate from the pain and go to a happy place, and in rare
moments like these, that technique usually worked. She slowed her
breathing, steeling her body for the blows she knew would soon
come, and started singing in her head:
Asante sana, squash
banana….

The crack of the whip and a laugh energized
the crowd. “This
bitch
raised her hand to a Master,” Sacha
slurred. “Do you think that’s acceptable?” A few “no’s” flitted
through the group and he continued. “For that, she’ll be punished.
Fifty lashes.”

Fifty? You muthaf—

The curse was cut off as a hiss broke the
air. The leather cord landed over Kizzie’s back, wrapped around her
middle and caught, the very end snapping hard and fast over her
left kidney. She wanted to scream, squeezed her eyes tight.

Muthaf—

It happened again. Just as painful. Same
spot. For a functioning coke addict Sacha sure was accurate.

Asante sana…

“Enough.”

There was so much authority behind that
single word the murmurs stopped. Her gaze lifted to find Xander
coming into the circle, long-legged, navy blue stride purposeful.
He continued past her and out of her small field of vision, leaving
her to wonder what he was doing.

“You agreed—”

“Because I thought you could handle a whip,”
Xander said. The handful of individuals who risked a chuckle made
poor attempts at disguising them as coughs. “With a stroke like
that she’ll be done in seconds.

“Technically, she was punished as you
ordered—by your hand. And out of respect for you, I allowed it even
though
Master
Vadim touched
my
collared sub.
Something I’m sure he’ll never do again.” The threat was clear.
“Now, you wanted to see her dance at a tail, I’ll do that for you.
Maybe you’ll learn something.”

Footfalls approached from behind and the warm
touch she’d come to recognize lightly rubbed the spot where the hit
had landed. With her head forced down she could see a bit behind
her, eyes picking up the whip Xander held so comfortably. His
jacket was off, a detail she discerned from the rolled sleeve
revealing his strong, milky brown forearm. Her gaze fell to the
watch she hadn’t noticed before, and she frowned.

“You all right?” he breathed.

His warm scent invaded her nose, scrambling
her brain and momentarily deflecting from the fire on her back.
“Yes, Sir,” she said just as softly. “Hurt like a bi—. It hurt a
bit.”

Xander chuckled. “I’m much better,
sweetheart.” His free hand smoothed up between her retracted
shoulder blades and she shivered. “Anything I should know
about?”

One time…at band—
She had no idea what
he meant but answered, “No, Sir.” Why was he making this a project?
Just whip me and be done with it.

“Remember what I told you about
safewords?”

“Yes.” Bless her detail-oriented brain.

“Good, use the standards. I want you to
relax. Breathe. Focus on my voice and the sensations…. Trust
me.”

Any other circumstance she would have
laughed. This was their very problem—she didn’t trust him, and he
didn’t trust her. They couldn’t. They were approaching the same cut
of steak from opposite ends of the cow, yet he said the last like
he meant it.

The people were still watching, she could
feel their eyes while Xander continued murmuring to her. Busy
fingers grazed over her spread cheeks, trailed along her inner
thigh. Her body responded to the caresses, nipples tightening to
peaks. The stimulation made keeping focused on the mission a
secondary objective.

Xander moved in front of her, teased her full
breasts with the rigid handle of the whip, pussy clenching with
every flick over the points. He was doing that thing again, where
he spoke in a voice so calm, so low, she was almost in a trance.
One hot hand lifted her chin and he asked, “Are you afraid of me,
Princess?”

That chocolate gaze was too intense,
shrinking the room to just the two of them. Xander had a knack for
bringing the truth out of her where he was concerned. Of course she
was usually bound to something when he worked that minor miracle,
but still, it was unnerving. And yet, regardless of their real
situation, the stark truth of the matter was that she did trust
him—
in this precise moment only
—not to hurt her.

Kizzie licked her lips. “I’m not afraid of
you, Sir.” He stroked his hand over her head and her eyes drifted
closed. Those hands of his were dangerous, indeed.

Cool air filled the space when he moved away;
chilled her. She grounded herself by inhaling a breath.

The whip cracked once, twice, landing so
close on either side of her but not connecting. She flinched at the
whoosh rushing by, expecting a pain that didn’t come.

“The key,” Xander said, addressing the crowd,
“is to start off
slowly
. Warm up the flesh.”

This time the leather met her skin; a soft
brush with just a mild bite. It repeated on the other cheek,
returned to the first, slow and steady, rhythmic, like the swing of
a pendulum. The stings made her shift her feet. Not so much
uncomfortable, just…different. As soon as one slap melted in
another connected, and her body heated to a low burn.

Focus on his voice.

“Vary the points of contact,” Xander
instructed, “And the intensity.”

The fall landed on her upper thigh, and
Kizzie pushed back, adding to the stress on her shoulders. She
registered the pain, but the sharp licks on her legs overrode the
sensation. They weren’t feather-light, but they weren’t hard
either. Just enough for her to know they were there, striking with
the steady pulse of a sultry blues song. She followed that thread,
hearing the up beat just before the whip played the downbeat on her
skin. It connected high on her rounded ass and she gasped at the
bite.