Scarlet Assassin (6 page)

Jax slid the drinks towards the woman and took her cash. She looked bewildered, trying to figure out how to get so many drinks to the table of screaming women.

“Here let me help you with those,” Jax said, seeing a
creeper
opportunity.

“I’ll get ’em. You stay behind the bar.” Selene grabbed three of the drinks before the woman had a chance to reject her help.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, I can come back and get the rest.” A slight blush colored her pale skin. Skin that obviously hadn’t been kissed by the sun in years, if ever. Selene didn’t pick-up anything earlier when she scanned the club, so she wasn’t one of hers.

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.

“Just doing my job.” Selene smiled.

“I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.” the woman said, trying not to make eye contact.

Selene could feel the woman’s pulse quicken, her body shooting off pheromones and a rush of blood colored her checks.

“It’s no trouble, I assure you miss…”

“Oh, Francesca, but my friends call me Francesca.” Another blush.

“Well Francesca, if I can be of further service.” Selene sat the drinks on the table. “Please let me know.”

“Hello, tall dark and gorgeous. Are you part of the entertainment tonight?” One of the women at the table touched Selene’s hand. The heat from the woman pelted Selene as she looked down at the slightly plump, sweating woman.

Ignoring the slight, Selene patted the hand and tried to be charming to the paying patrons. “No, I’m the owner. I don’t —” She often liked to work the back rooms, opting not to mention it for fear she might find the overzealous woman waiting for her in the back.

“Oh, with those looks and that killer body.” The woman stood, and grabbed Selene’s biceps. “You work out don’tcha? Girls, check out these arms.” She ran her hand down Selene’s stomach. “Oh, abs of steel, too.”

Selene grabbed the hand, stopping it from going any further. “Careful, miss. You might bite off more than you can chew.”

“Oh god that voice, sexy. You could read the phone book to me and I would swoon.”

“Well, if you think you can
handle
me, I give private lessons in the back, if you’re interested.” Selene leaned down and growled into the woman’s ear, loud enough for all at the table to hear.

The woman fell back into her seat as if she’d been blown over and fanned herself.

“Hey, boss?” Jax yelled for her.

“Sorry, ladies, duty calls.” Selene nodded at the women. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

A chorus of
aahhhss
followed her as she weaved her way through the crowded floor.

She could hear the women whisper about private lessons and wanting to play
student
to Selene’s
teacher
. Thoughts of the heavy woman in a school girl outfit flashed in Selene’s mind and was just as quickly dismissed when the image made her want to gag. The only voice not saying anything was Francesca’s, but Selene could feel her eyes watching as she walked to the bar.

“Thank you,” Selene said to Jax, appreciative of the
save
.

“No problem,” Jax said. “You looked a little uncomfortable. When I saw that woman put her hands on your stomach I thought, ‘oh man that chick is going to lose a hand’, good self-control, boss.”

“She was going to lose more than a hand if she kept pawing me.”

Leaning against the bar, Selene watched the stage and then scanned the crowd. Her gaze sought out Francesca’s, an apologetic smile seemed to be her reward for the glance. She dipped her head in thanks and lifted her glass towards Francesca. Oddly, she felt Francesca knew exactly what she was thinking. God, what she wouldn’t do to give
her
private lessons.

Chapter Seven

The women at the table embarrassed Francesca. How could such highly educated, hardworking researchers act like teenage boys with their first girlie magazine? Only this girlie magazine walked and talked. Well, more like stroked their ears with the low tenor of her voice, but it had the desired affect if that was what she was going for. Their overt ogling of the Dungeon’s owner had her mentally apologizing for such crass behavior. The owner was gracious as Dorothy ran her hands over her arms and stomach. The owner advertised her intentions when she whispered in Dorothy’s ear, and it had shut the bitch up in an instant. Francesca’s mind reeled at the possibilities. What lay behind the back doors of the club? More of what she saw on stage? Coming to the club wasn’t exactly her idea. It had started as a dare and ended here tonight. Suddenly, without reason, she was intrigued by the possibilities of anonymity and experimentation.

“Hey girls, check this out,” Dorothy said waving the shiny club card around. “This was on my car this morning.”

The women in the lunchroom bunched around to get a look.

“Ooo, it’s for one of those bondage clubs,” said one of the gals as she ran her finger over the muscled man in leather.

Flipping the card over Dorothy read the writing on the back, “Check this out, free lady’s night. They call it—Thirsty Thursdays. Come quench your thirst and feed your appetite for whips, leather and sin. Hmm, sounds fun. Who’s in?” Dorothy glanced at the women who were still huddled around the card.

“I wanna go,” said one gal.

“Well…okay if you go, Millie, I’ll go,” a blonde said as she wiggled her eyebrows. “This might be fun. I’ve never been to a place like that. I’ll tell Tim I’m going to a candle party. He won’t care.”

“How about you Francesca? Wanna go?” Dorothy looked at Francesca and smiled.

“Francesca won’t go, she’s too practical.”

“What? What are you talking about Millie?” Francesca tried to look indignant, but Millie was right, this wasn’t Francesca’s idea of a good time. Sweat, leather and watching people being tied up and spanked just didn’t appeal to her.

“Look, you’re predictable. Every Monday for the past three years, you bring tuna on whole wheat, a green apple sliced in six pieces and a diet coke. On Tuesday, you bring a turkey on rye with mustard on the side, because you don’t want it to get soggy, cheddar potato chips and a diet coke. On Wednesday you—”

“I get it. Fine, I’m in. Just don’t ask me to do anything. Okay?” Francesca instantly regretted her decision. She was not predictable, just practical, there was a difference.

“Ten bucks says, she backs out,” someone whispered.

“Okay I’ll take that bet, I won’t back out. You just make sure you don’t, ’kay?”

By Thursday, the women were thoroughly worked up about their date at the Dungeon—everyone but Francesca. She had tried to think of a way to get out of tonight, but by the time they  finished lunch everyone had taken the ten dollar bet and now if anyone backed out they would all owe the others eighty bucks. She would never live down backing out on a bet.

Eighty bucks, how did I let myself be talked into this?
Thought Francesca as she changed her clothes.

Amateur night was something the Dungeon did once a month for those that wanted to see what BDSM was like. The women grabbed a table close to the stage and ordered drinks over the erotic beat with too much bass. The darkened room made it difficult to see anything or anyone. Francesca was thankful, although it made no sense, since all of her co-workers were already there.

The lights dimmed even further, if that was possible, and the spotlight hit a tall, slim man dressed in leather.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Dungeon. How many are here for the first time?” He surveyed the darkened room. “Hmm, I see a lot of hands. Well, welcome to your first experience in bondage. If you’re squeamish, feel light headed or need assistance, we have people around the room that can help you get some fresh air.” Chuckling at his own joke he continued, “It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

As he walked off the stage, a man strapped to an X was wheeled out, his backside shown to the audience. A woman in a tight leather bustier and stiletto heels, brandishing a whip, came on stage from the other side. Crack, and then another crack rang out as the woman skillfully snapped the whip over the crowd.

“Ooooo,” everyone whispered as the audience ducked their heads, afraid they might be accidentally hit by the long menacing whip.

From across the stage, the woman criss-crossed the man’s now shimmering back. Each time he asked the woman for another lash.

“One ma’am,” he said, until he had counted off thirty strikes.

“Should we give him more ladies?”

“Noooo!” screamed the crowd as the man was wheeled off the stage.

“Well, who’s next, then?” She gazed out into the audience. “Perhaps we have volunteers?” She gave the ladies’ table a smile and winked. Raising a suggestive eyebrow, she moved to the next table. With no takers for her offer, she waved at the crowd, flashed a final smile and left the stage.

The tall, leather clad gentleman returned to the stage, slapping a short handled flogger against his hand.

“Ladies, are you having fun tonight?” Cupping his ear, he winced when they all yelled and clapped. “Good, remember this is amateur night and all of these participants are new to this experience. If you would like to be part of this experience we have a sign-up sheet going around.” He pointed to a buxom woman in a mask, who held up a clipboard. “If you’re the shy type, you can sign-up in the back of the room. We even have private rooms for those that don’t like the spotlight, but want to try it. Now, if you will permit me…” He slowly bowed to the crowd.

A beautiful brunette was led onto the stage, blindfolded and naked from the waist up, pasties covering her nipples. She stood in the center of the stage facing the crowd.

“Holy shit,” Francesca whispered.

“Hot huh,” Dorothy said, watching the scene unfold before her.

A chorus of wows reverberated around the room as another petite woman in spiked boots, a cupless bustier and a leather mask appeared with an arm full of bondage gear.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. It’s nice to see the house full of such beautiful women.” Smiling, she looked again at the tables in the front. “My name is Mistress Rose and this is my pet, Iris. Tonight, she has agreed to receive her discipline in public. Now, I must warn you that she likes it little rough, but since this is your first time, we’ll go easy on her.”

“Holy shit,” another woman at the table whispered. “This is some crazy ass-shit.”

“Ten bucks and you can go,” Dorothy said putting her hand out.

“No way, I’m good. I’m just sayin’ this is some freaky shit.”

“Iris, your safe word is….”

“Red, Mistress.”

“Ladies and Gentleman, if you hear the word Red, your job is to yell, RED. Okay?” Mistress Kitty said. She smiled and licked her lips.

A low hum washed across the room.

“I’m sorry. I can’t hear you.” Mistress Kitty cupped her ear and pitched forward dramatically.

“RED.”

Goose bumps covered Francesca’s arms as she watched the mistress apply clamps to the woman’s nipples. Next, the woman’s hands were placed in an iron bar contraption, exposing her chest and back more. The mistress tugged on the clamps to check their security and ran her hand over the woman’s tight stomach. Slowly, she caressed the woman’s ass and then removed her short skirt, exposing a leather thong to the audience. 

The crowd watched the mistress skillfully work the flogger over the woman’s chest and ass. A bright shade of pink worked its way around her slender body. Francesca watched the intricate pattern of red welts that crisscrossed the naked woman’s body and wondered if it hurt. The woman licked her lips and then bit her lower lip. It was clear that Iris was enjoying this torture, and it sent a shiver through Francesca’s body. She felt shame when her body tingled in response to seeing the blindfolded woman whipped. Francesca gasped, had she heard her right? Surely, she had been mistaken. Then it happened again. 

“Please, ma’am, one more.”

Her masked torturer obliged the request, striking at another clear swath on her body.

“I bet you a hundred bucks you couldn’t do that.” Dorothy whispered in Francesca’s ear.

“I bet
you
couldn’t do that,” Francesca said, pissed that her friend was acting like she could do it.

“I could do that, piece of cake,” Dorothy smiled, meeting Francesca’s eyes and then ran her tongue over her lips.

Francesca had heard enough. She needed a break and a trip to the ladies room was just what the doctor ordered. Fighting her way past the crowd at the back of the club, she pushed the bathroom door open and sighed.
No line.
The air-conditioned coolness of the bathroom felt refreshing and lucky for her, quieter. Resting against the wall, the chilly tile was a welcome cooling on her back. Her mind was on overload - the flashing lights, the booming bass of the music vibrated through her. The tall, swaggering, darkness of the club owner, Selene, was sexy as hell. She had total bad girl written all over her—so not Francesca’s type. Her dark eyes pulled at Francesca. Francesca was naïve when it came to bondage. She’d thought when she entered the club tonight she wanted to keep it that way. Now she wasn’t so sure.

The voyeur inside kept her glued to her seat as the scene unfolded before her. Each time the whip landed on its target, it sent a rush through her. She couldn’t explain it. Pain wasn’t an aphrodisiac to her, but thinking about someone else controlling her had a certain appeal, a certain detachment she might enjoy. Her neat, nice little life was so orderly, it begged for something or someone to come in and turn it upside down. Pulling the stall door shut, she sat down and rested her head in her hands. A few minutes, she only needed a few minutes to recover before rejoining the rowdy table.