Ice Queen (26 page)

She’d just found the perfect sub for her mood.

* * * * *

She chose one of the smaller medieval torture rooms since most of the rooms were already occupied tonight. When he stripped at her command, she saw his physique was similar to Brendan’s. Like most men at The Zone who enjoyed the touch of other men and had the income for a gym membership, he stayed in excellent shape.

Shackling him face forward on a vertical rack, she moved to the side table and the tools laid out there. Not sure what she’d intended tonight, she’d only brought a small bag of her own items, so she’d reserved the room with its standard accoutrements.

Floggers, paddles, a seven-ring gates of hell cock ring.

As her fingers caressed the gates of hell, she laid her purse on top of the table, retrieved a small box from within it.

Tyler would have been amused, considering her comment about the pronged choke collar. She had something similar in a cock ring, with a second pronged loop attached to it for the testicles. It was a toy she’d used in the past on her subs with a leash. When used correctly, it created anxiety and discomfort. But for a submissive who liked to play on the edge, it could make him even harder. Fortunately, it was one of the few items she’d brought tonight.

Turning, she found Tim already erect and his eyes down, the obedient submissive.

“So will you please me as much as Brendan, Tim?”

“More, Mistress. You won’t even remember his name.”

“Hmm.” She put the cock choker on him, adjusted the lower loop around the testicles, the prongs digging in. Then she put the rings of the gates of hell over him, one 163

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after another, watching his expression as each size went on. His erection, thickening from her touch, quickly increased the constriction. Typically she would have done more to warm him up before dressing his cock in the restraints. Raising the pleasure threshold so the endorphins would balance the pain the rings and prongs caused.

“You’re keeping your eyes down. Is that for me, Tim, or to hide who you are?” She pushed on two of the middle rings of the gates of hell, bringing them together, pinching his skin. His breath drew in sharply.

“Mistress, your forgiveness, but that hurts.”

“Really? It doesn’t hurt me at all.” Picking up a ball gag, she caught her finger in the corner of his mouth, wrenched it open in a practiced move that he apparently had not anticipated. Jamming the ball past his teeth, she cinched the gag around his head hard enough to pull the skin back from his mouth, baring his teeth in a grimace.

His eyes flicked up, showing her he was startled, a little afraid. Her lips curved in an expression that no one would have called a smile. “There you are. Think I don’t see you, monster? Crouching back there, hiding behind a human façade?” Reaching down, she closed her hand over the choker and began to squeeze, digging the blunt prongs into his tender genitals. His breath whistled through his nose, a grunt of pain making its way past the gag. A quiver ran through his muscles. She could see all the frantic thoughts behind his eyes. Wondering if this was part of her act, if he just needed to tough it out.

“How does it feel for someone to hurt you and not give a damn about how you’re feeling?”

She stepped closer so her body was pressed against his bare chest, her leg against his thigh, her hand gripping him in a way that looked intimate and pleasurable to the security cameras. “I have the power to do anything I wish to you, Tim,” she whispered, her eyes no more than an inch from his, eyes that had fully registered the danger he was in. The quiver had become violent shaking, his hands closing into fists, body straining against restraints that would not give an inch, the body’s irrational way of driving up its own panic quotient. “Do you know I could emasculate you with one…good…hard…squeeze?” Her hand tightened incrementally and his eyes widened in terror. “Just pop those balls off and let them roll right across the floor. Grind them under my stiletto while you watch.”

She stroked the line of his jaw. His breath was coming so hard through his nose that clear phlegm ran down over the rubber ball, mixing with his saliva. “You can smell fear in sweat,” she mused. “And you stink of it, Tim.” He made an incoherent sound as her thumb began to press down on one single prong at the base of his cock.

“I have no tolerance for cruelty committed against an innocent. But cruelty against those who commit the crime…well, that’s something else entirely.” She pressed harder against that one prong. His body jerked against the rack, an inarticulate plea coming from behind the gag. She kept her gaze locked on his, making 164

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it terrifyingly clear to him she was conscious of his distress and was not going to do anything to alleviate it.

“You know why it stirs a Mistress so when a sub surrenders? You will nod your head, Tim.”

He nodded, a quick jerk. Tears of pain ran down his face.

“Because that’s the place of stillness for both of us, where it all comes together.

Where it all makes sense, where thought simply becomes feeling. It’s all about existing in that second, for however long it stretches. Would you like to exist in this second forever?”

He shook his head.

“I’m hurt, Tim. Especially since Brendan said you didn’t feel he deserved my attentions. I figured you had something extra special to offer me.” Her grip clamped down on the pronged restraint like the jaws of a pit bull. Her nails dug into his shoulder, cutting into skin.

Tim screamed. His chest expanded, muscles straining against the pain. While he bucked and cried out against the gag she leaned in, nuzzled his throat and the line of his shoulder where the blood welled up from her nail gouging. Twenty seconds later, which she well knew was an eternity for extreme pain, she eased her hold. His head dropped down against the side of hers as he breathed heavily, rasping around the gag, an oddly intimate pose to anyone watching. She put her lips to his ear, making sure her voice hissed like a serpent’s tongue.

“This is my practice playground, Tim. When I die, I’ll serve as a Mistress in hell, torturing the damned for all eternity. And I’ll be waiting especially for you.” She caught his chin, pulled his head up roughly, made him meet her frigid blue eyes.

“You can save your soul by obeying me now. You will move out of Brendan’s apartment, leave his life. I don’t care if he begs you to stay. You leave and you never contact him again. You don’t deserve him. If you ever hurt him again, these past ten minutes will seem like the best memory of your life.” There was a beep as the lock on the door was bypassed and it opened, a two-man security contingent entering. Ryan and Dan, both regular bouncers at the club.

“Mistress, you need to step back from him. Right now.” Their tones were respectful, courteous but their alert stances told her they were trained to move in if she gave them cause.

“Is there a problem here?”

Brendan stepped in behind them as Marguerite moved back from Tim, a calm three steps.

“No sir, but you need to leave this area.”

“But that’s my roommate. Tim, have you talked the Mistress into going too far with you?”

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When Dan turned and looked at him, brow raised, Brendan nodded. “He’s a pain junkie. May I go to him, calm him down?”

The man’s eyes shifted to Marguerite, who kept her expression blank, unreadable.

“Ma’am, you’re aware if you’ve harmed this man without his consent, you face permanent expulsion from the club and possible criminal charges?” Dan knew her reputation here. She wasn’t going to offer anything about her intentions or motives. She inclined her head, simple acknowledgement.

At a nod from Ryan, Brendan went to Tim and removed the choker and the gates of hell. Putting them to the side, he took Tim’s face in his hands, leaned in to murmur reassurances to him.

Tim’s expression changed. Marguerite heard six of the words.

“…if you love me at all…”

Then Brendan reached up, removed the gag.

Tim cleared his throat as Brendan solicitously took a towel, wiped his mouth, his nose.

“Sir, are you all right?”

Tim looked from Brendan to Marguerite and back again. Dan proved that he was well worth the money he was paid and no idiot. “Mistress Marguerite, Brendan, you need to step outside and let us talk to this gentleman alone.” Marguerite nodded, picked up the cock choker, slipped it in her bag, put it on her shoulder. Brendan extended a fresh towel to her and put his fingers to his lips, indicating she had something on her mouth. Marguerite pressed her lips together, tasting the metallic flavor of Tim’s blood. Turning suddenly on her heel, she spat it in Tim’s face, making him flinch and cry out in fear.

“Mistress,” Dan snapped as he stepped forward.

She held up a hand. Giving Tim a disdainful look, she strode from the room, aware of Brendan following at a respectful distance as they exited and the security team closed the door.

“He could press charges against you for assault.”

“And have to state in court where he was and how it happened? Not likely. Did you call the security team?”

“Mistress,” he said, carefully, quietly. “I thought…someone came into the first aid area, told me that Tim had lucked out, that you had picked him up. I thought it might be best if…I just buzzed them from down here, told them there might be a problem. I didn’t say who I was, just hung up, so I could intervene the way I did.” For the first time without permission or command, he met her eyes. As he held her gaze, he reached out with the towel and pressed it to her lips. She saw the red stain on the white terrycloth. “You shouldn’t have done this,” he said.

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“He’s not permanently damaged. I only broke the skin in one place on his genitals and he’ll need some antiseptic for the nail gouges.”

“Mistress…” Brendan shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. You shouldn’t have done this.”

His knowing eyes elicited a weariness in her from somewhere low in her stomach.

She was tired. She wanted to go home.

She wanted Tyler.

“You shouldn’t have let him hurt you,” she responded.

Before he could reply, the door opened. Dan emerged with Ryan a close step behind.

“Tim is getting his clothes back on. He says he doesn’t feel he needs any medical treatment other than some first aid here.” Marguerite felt his cool eyes on her face and examined the pattern of the wallpaper just to the right of his ear. “He also says that he asked for the blood play. That it was with his consent. However you’re fully aware that blood play is not sanctioned at this club. Special performances including it require management approval. I’ll need to report this.” She inclined her head. “I’ll accept whatever management decides. I apologize for inconveniencing you and them.”

He studied her for a long moment. “I appreciate that,” he responded with equally formal courtesy. “And I need to ask that you please leave the club until Mr. Stevens or another member of management contacts you and indicates you may utilize your privileges again.”

“But she—”

“That’s a reasonable request.” Marguerite shot Brendan a quelling look. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take a moment with Brendan here and leave. Unless you feel I need to be escorted?”

“Yes, Mistress. You will be monitored until you leave the grounds. For your safety as much as anyone else’s.”

She nodded, not offended. After all, Dan had worked at a maximum-security prison before taking the job at The Zone. He had to have realized she’d been out of control, read it in the unnatural stillness of her body. The fury that was just now beginning to draw back inside her like a deadly sea snake retreating to its lair.

With a measuring look, Dan moved off, headed back up the stairs. She felt Brendan step closer to her, his hand hovering an uncertain moment in her peripheral vision before it dropped to his side without touching her. “Mistress, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, Brendan, you weren’t wrong. Turn around and let me see the brand.”

“I’m fine.” He took her cold hands in his, surprising her. “Stop worrying about me.

I’ll take care of this.” He cocked a brow. “I’m a grown man, Mistress, and I let a lover go too far with me. It’s up to me to deal with it. I’m more worried about you.” 167

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“No one needs to worry about me.” Pulling away, she shouldered the bag. “Thank you for intervening on my behalf, Brendan.” She turned away from his concerned and unhappy gaze. “If you hadn’t come into the room, I’d probably have gone much farther than I did.”

With that, she turned and ascended the stairs, followed closely by a watchful Ryan.

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She’d planned Natalie Moorefield’s birthday tea party down to every detail. For the first part of the week the activity helped calm her, helped her reclaim her routine as she brought all those details together. On Wednesday morning, the date of the party, she ran through the last preparations, checking the table settings, the decorations, the frosted cakes and assortment of cookies that were Natalie’s favorites. She’d placed glass bowls of daisies on each table, bright and fresh, the way a little girl’s life should be, full of smiles and hopes.

“It must have been quite a weekend. You’ve had that summer love look off and on all week.” Chloe watched her boss step back and judge if the tablecloth at station four was perfectly even on all edges.

“What’s a summer love look?”

“That’s somewhere between euphoria and abject misery. Panic and happiness. Like your face is about to break out from too much chocolate. You’re exhausted and disheveled inside, even if everything is physically in place on the outside. Not sure if you want to laugh or cry, or shut yourself in your room all day with a bathtub and a good showerhead. Plus, you had a whisker burn along your throat.” Marguerite’s hand flew to her neck and Chloe grinned. But as she saw misery take precedence in the blue-eyed gaze, she reached out, put a hand on Marguerite’s arm.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I was just teasing. Was it that gorgeous tiger from last week? He seemed like a good guy—”

“He is. He’s a good man.” Marguerite nodded, smoothing the tablecloth that Chloe noted had no wrinkles. “For the right woman. That’s enough about that, now. Natalie’s coming up the walkway. Did you put the little glass fish in the bowls?” Despite Gen’s warning look, Chloe opened her mouth to pursue it further but the front screen door slammed.

“Miss M!” Natalie, looking like a seven-year-old princess in a pink dress with a lace crinoline and pink and white ribbons in her hair, did a spin for Marguerite’s benefit.

“Look, Miss M! Mommy let me pierce my ears and took me to have a mani…manc…

My nails!” She thrust them out, the tiny cuticles covered with a light pink frost of polish. A set of small pink rhinestones glittered at her ears as she turned her head left and right, making the curls bounce.

To the jaded, the cynical, she would look a cliché, a gender-enforced stereotype. To Marguerite, she looked like happiness. She squatted, smoothing the fitted silk of her black cheongsam with its embroidered pattern of silver dragons beneath her hips in order to take the little face in her hands and turn it left and right. “Oh, they’re so pretty.

And you’re so pretty.”

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“That’s you. How come you don’t have your ears pierced? You don’t even wear jewelry. Most times.”

“I’m too much of a scaredy-cat,” Marguerite confided, slanting a smile at Natalie’s mother. Tina Moorefield was in a pale pink linen dress with a matching ribbon in her fall of chestnut hair. An early thirties bank executive, she looked a bit embarrassed but equally lovely, with a light tinge in her cheeks.

“Natalie said we had to match today.”

“Show her your fingers, Mommy.”

The mother smiled and dutifully extended her manicured fingers in a matching shade of pink.

“Here comes Ria, Sylvia and Mary!”

“I’m afraid she’s been speaking in exclamation mode all day.” Tina laughed, watching her only child fly out the front door.

Indeed it seemed the party of eleven little girls all arrived at once, punctually on the heels of the guest of honor. There was a great deal of squealing and giggling as the children compared finery.

“This is wonderful.” Tina looked around the room, a mixture of elegance and fantasy. Sheer drapes hung in waves from the ceiling, sewn with silver stars, some of which hung free on threads to turn and throw their sparkle over the three round tables.

Each was set for five, the tablecloths strewn with rose petals and sprinkles shaped like stars. The three tea sets Marguerite had chosen to use were floral-pattern English bone china. One with deep pink roses at Natalie’s table, one with bluebells and one with yellow daffodils.

“Marguerite, I never realized you would go to so much trouble. This is beyond my wildest dreams. I think I owe you more money.” Marguerite shook her head. “Natalie is compensation enough.” Tina’s eyes glowed. “Isn’t she something? Some days all I have to do is look at her to know my life’s worth something.” There was a sudden mist in her eyes. “And to think at one time I thought it would be best if the both of us were dead.” Marguerite reached out, covered her hands with one of hers, squeezed firmly.

“None of that, now. That’s past.”

Tina nodded. “Sorry. You’re right. It happens so much less now, but it happens.

Perversely, on days when I’m so happy. And it always revolves around her.” The two women watched Natalie and the girls moving from table to table,

“helping” Chloe drop the party favors, fish made of colored glass, into the bowls next to the daisies in the center of each table. Each girl had her opinion of where she wanted to sit and what fish should be in her bowl.

A teenage girl came in, carrying a load of presents. She laid them down where Gen directed, then took a self-conscious position against the wall, looking bored. “That’s Debra.” There was an apology in Tina’s voice. “I know you said I needed to bring an 170

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additional adult to sit at the third table but my friend called just an hour ago. Her son fell off the swings and needed a few stitches and, well, I brought her teenager, Debra.” She nodded at the girl, looking sloppy and out of place at the formal affair in her hip-hugger jeans and crop top. “I honestly don’t know how much help she’ll be but she’s been in trouble a lot, so her mother couldn’t leave her at home. Dealing with her at the hospital wasn’t an option, so I told her I’d bring her to ‘help’ me.” She waved her hands helplessly. “But don’t worry. I can just sit my chair between two tables and watch both…”

“Can I be of assistance?”

Marguerite, startled, turned nearly into Tyler, who apparently had come in through the side porch door. Because she was startled, she took a deep breath as she turned. The aftershave, skin, soap, shampoo…all of him.

Chloe was right. The want and longing, banked up and building since the moment she’d left his house, just flooded out through her, making her feel better and yet far more flustered, all at once. His amber eyes were warm and intent on her, taking in everything about her appearance. He wore slacks and shirt, blazer and a
tie
. She wondered if he had a crystal ball.

“I’ll be happy to sit at the third table,” he said, his attention moving over the Japanese fashion she’d worn that fitted her body with elegant sensuality. He lifted her limp hand in his, kissed her knuckles. “If Mrs…” He turned his gaze to Tina, lifted a brow, his lips curving in a charming smile.

“Moorefield. Tina Moorefield.” Tina found her tongue after only a brief hesitation, which Marguerite admired, since she was still looking for hers. “And it’s Ms.”

“If Ms. Moorefield doesn’t object.”

“No…objections. If you’re a friend of Marguerite’s.” Tina added it hastily, apparently just managing to remember that she shouldn’t be entrusting her charges to a total stranger.

“Well, that’s debatable but I’m sure she’ll vouch that I can be trusted with the well-being of a group of little girls.”

While destroying the sanity of an adult woman, Marguerite thought, but she pulled it together enough to nod.

“I’ve been trying to talk Marguerite into performing a Japanese tea ceremony for me but she tells me she reserves it only for her special customers.”

“A properly done
chaji
takes four hours.” His teeth flashed at her. “I have the stamina.” Tina stifled a chuckle. Eyes glinting, Tyler inclined his head to her and moved to a wide-eyed Chloe, asking her if she needed any help as if he’d worked there all his life.

“I’d offer to catch you if you need to swoon,” Tina said under her breath. “Except my knees went weak watching him kiss
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“He is
so
irritating,” Marguerite said, trying not to grit her teeth. Tina grinned, as though there was a joke everyone understood but Marguerite did not find the least bit funny.

“Men like that are always a handful. There was a bank president after me for a while. I didn’t pursue it. Of course, if he’d been able to do
that
to me…”

“What?”

Tina ran a finger up the gooseflesh that still hadn’t settled on Marguerite’s skin.

“That.”

“Excuse me. I just need to go settle some things and then we’ll get started.” She courteously extricated herself from the amused mother and stepped to Tyler’s side, catching his sleeve and drawing him into the kitchen.

“What are you doing here?” She tried to keep her tone even, instead of snapping it out like an accusation. “I thought we were done.”

“I have a proposition for you. One I think you’ll like. But it can keep until later.” He nodded at the swinging door, behind which the chatter of Natalie and her friends continued unabated, covering their conversation. “Let’s not keep the birthday girl waiting.”

“Have you heard of the phone?”

He gave her an appraising look. “Would you have taken my call?” His intuition was getting on her nerves. She turned on her heel.

She let out a surprised squeak as his hands caught her waist, pulled her back against him. He bent to her ear, his grip appropriately placed, but her skin heated as if he were touching her in far more intimate places.

“I missed you.”

She closed her eyes, knowing he was saying what was resonating in her own heart.

“Tyler, I told you I can’t do this.”

“I don’t believe that. And I think you missed me, too.”

“I left your house just a few days ago. You’re not that impressive.” He smiled against her throat. “You were so tight when I slid into you, angel.” He nipped at the skin just below the lobe and her nipples tightened traitorously. “So wet and hot.”

“Let go of me, you bully.”

He chuckled as she wrested herself away with a well-placed elbow to his ribs.

But as she moved away, his eyes sobered, all teasing humor dying away. He’d gotten the report of what had happened at The Zone, talked to Jeremy about Brendan’s visit to the first aid area. It wasn’t hard to put it together. He still felt it radiating off her.

While he hadn’t been there for the incident, it did not make him feel any less responsible.

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He’d let her walk away, only concerned about losing ground on the advances he’d made through her shields, not about the vulnerabilities his attack on her walls might have left. He vowed he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. First he’d talked with Perry and gotten him to agree to lift the suspension of her member privileges. Then he’d checked in with Gen to find out Marguerite’s schedule for the week. He’d intentionally come on this day, to see her in a situation where courtesy demanded that she’d have to give him time to make amends.

When he stepped back out onto the floor, Marguerite had the girls gathering around the sideboard to show them the process of prepping the tea, steeping it, explaining the purpose of the utensils.

“That’s a pretty color, Miss M. What color is that?”

“Blue, silly,” one of Natalie’s friends said, rolling her eyes.

“No, it’s a very good question,” Marguerite said. “It’s cobalt. See this texture? It’s called a Cobalt Net because it’s a netlike pattern with touches of gold. It’s been hand-painted, is made out of porcelain and it came all the way from St. Petersburg. Who knows what country that’s in?”

“Russia!” Two girls called out. Marguerite nodded.

“It still looks like blue to me,” the child who’d teased Natalie said.

“It is blue, you’re correct.” Marguerite agreed. “But isn’t it wonderful that we have so many wonderful names and variations of one color?” Marguerite was aware of Tyler, leaning against the wall watching her as she stood among the rapt children, pouring tea, showing them how to use the strainer. She was also aware of Debra, standing off to the side, trying not to look interested, trying to hold on to her petulant apathy.

“Now, you want your teapot to be clay or porcelain, to bring out the best flavor of whatever tea you choose to put in it. If you want to figure out if a teapot has good balance, you fill it seventy-five percent of the way full. About how high is that?” One of the children nearest her touched the outside of the teapot, about two-thirds up. “Very good. A little higher but that’s close. When it’s that full, if you lift the teapot and try to pour the water out and it feels a bit unbalanced, it’s not a good teapot.”

“Oh, Jesus.” The teenaged girl rolled her eyes, apparently about to burst with her irritation. “Why is this important? I mean, who the hell cares, really?”

“Debra,” Tina began sharply.

“No, it’s all right.” Marguerite gave Tina a reassuring glance. She finished the pouring, considered the question in silence.

“Are you going to answer?”

“Yes. I like to think things through. While you were rude about it, you’ve asked a very intelligent, thought-provoking question. I assume you’re interested in the answer, so I want to give you a thorough and accurate reply.” She registered the girl’s surprised expression and cocked her head, giving her a direct glance that Tyler suspected had 173

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made grown men drop to their knees in a heartbeat, so he wasn’t surprised to see it have a quelling effect on an unhappy teenager. “And please don’t curse in here. I don’t allow cursing in the tearoom.” She sent a significant glance over to Tyler. “Those who do are served a tea of dish soap and water, regardless of the age and size of the offender.”

He raised an intrigued brow, a spark of challenge in his eye. She looked away hastily.

“You can’t make me not curse.”

“No.” She faced Debra again, folding her hands in front of her. “You’re right. Only you can do that. Only you can impose self-respect and therefore earn the respect of others. Now, you asked the question ‘why is this important’?