ShotgunRelations (9 page)

Jack pulled a chair up close to the table
and laid his tattooed arm across her body. “Can you see it now?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Don’t move, though,
while I’m drawing the outline.”

A tickling sensation hinted to Liz that
Thad was using something that felt like the tip of a fine ballpoint pen to draw
a dagger on her mound, and she felt his warm breath pass over her clit when he
spoke. “Whoever did that tattoo was a real pro, my friend.”

“I had it done in Boston when I was in
college.” Jack mentioned the name of an artist that must have impressed Thad
because he let out a whistle that made her pussy tingle.

She needed to touch Jack, reassure herself
he was the same wonderful master who’d made love to her with wild abandon a few
hours ago. “May I touch you, Master?”

“Feel free. Jack’s getting the needles
ready now.”

Her stomach turned somersaults at the
prospect of being pricked. She felt clammy all over, though the air in the room
was cold and dry. She tried to concentrate on the warmth of Jack’s muscular arm
on her belly as she found his hand and laced their fingers together.

Soft music invaded the silence. Thad must
have sensed her nervousness and wanted to calm her, but she found the most
comfort in the weight of Jack’s arm, the tickle of his breath on her throat as
he bent and whispered in her ear. “Calm down, honey. Thad’s ready to ink in the
outline.”

“All right. This will be the worst of it,
the outlining part. I’ll be using a very fine needle with black ink and
saturating it pretty thoroughly.” Thad’s breath tickled her thighs when he
talked.

She wished he’d just get it done. Until the
needle gun started with a whirring noise and it felt as though Thad were
dragging a piece of sharp metal across her skin.

Jack squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. The
noise from the machine is worse than the little pricks in the skin. You’re
going to look so fucking hot wearing my mark.”

It felt as if a thousand tiny needles were
boring into the skin of her mound as Thad outlined the dagger with meticulous
care. There were a lot of outlines for such a small tattoo. “Yes, Master,” she
said in a voice that wasn’t close to steady.

“I went through the same thing, remember? I
lived through it. So will you.” Jack’s words sounded harsh but he spoke them
softly as he stroked her neck and throat as though she were a horse in need of
gentling.

Uncharitably, she imagined him getting his
tattoos after drinking lots of alcohol beforehand to build up courage and ease
the pain. Well, she allowed that it wasn’t
that
much pain, just a queasy
feeling brought on by the pricks and the noise, and an uneasy realization that
something foreign was being injected into her body.

Thad cleared his throat. “Most places,
getting tattooed hardly hurts at all. The closer the tattoos are to bone, the
more you feel the ink going in. Your master chose a place that’s almost as
sensitive as an ankle or wrist. Relax now, I’ve finished the outline. The color
fill won’t sting nearly as much.”

He was right. By the time Thad had finished
filling in the dagger to match the red-and-gold pattern of the one on Jack’s
arm, the butterflies had fled and she no longer felt as clammy. Getting the
pretty little dagger that pointed at her clit was worth the pain.

She now had visible proof that she belonged
to her master, who was pulling on a black leather vest that left his arms and
most of his hard-muscled chest bare. She loved that she bore his mark, though
she couldn’t lift her skirt and see it now because Thad had put a light coat of
oil-based moisturizer on her new tattoo and covered it with a loose gauze
bandage. “No friction on my handiwork for at least a month,” he told them as
they left the shop.

“You know what that means, don’t you?” Jack
asked as he helped her into his car.

When he slipped behind the wheel and shot
her a lascivious grin, she felt her cheeks grow warm. “No missionary position?”

“More like lots of back door play. I’ll
survive. I love the feel of your nipples in my hands and your sweet ass warming
my cock. How do you feel, realizing that when we go play at the Neon Lasso,
everybody will know you belong to me?”

“Proud.”
Ecstatically happy and scared
shitless too.
Liz fastened her seat belt, then, after he started the car
and pulled onto the street, laid her hand on her master’s thigh.

Darkness had fallen, enveloping them in a
cocoon of black velvet illuminated by a harvest moon. The miles flew by and
Liz’s heartbeat accelerated when she thought of the next step in her
submission.

Chapter Six

A small airfield behind the Neon Lasso held
half a dozen single- and twin-engine planes. “I doubt we could land Mom’s plane
there,” Liz commented as Jack pulled into a spot in the nearly empty parking
lot across from the club entrance.

“I don’t imagine we could.” Jack hadn’t
seen the Laughing Wolf’s plane but he recalled Bye having mentioned one time
that it was a Gulfstream model that wasn’t much smaller than the Bar C’s
Learjet. “Buck put this strip in for a little plane he had before he sold it to
buy equipment for the dungeon. It doesn’t matter though. When I bring you here
it will be in a car.

“I don’t own a plane. I’ve never even had
occasion to learn how to fly one, and I wouldn’t like having to let you ferry
me around the countryside.” Though Jack considered himself a proponent of equal
rights for women, he wasn’t anxious to prove it by sitting back and letting his
sex slave fly him around the countryside.

Liz shook her head. “The only plane I can
fly is the old Piper Cub we use to dust the wheat field. Frank’s the one who
went to school and got the commercial license that’s required for small jets.
He pilots the Gulfstream whenever Mom wants to go somewhere.”

One more way the man has ingratiated
himself with Mavis.
Jack didn’t like it, but then
his concern about Liz’s foreman wasn’t high on his list of priorities at the
moment. Grateful that there didn’t seem to be many players here tonight, he got
out of the car and walked around to help Liz out. “You know this is a BDSM
club, right?”

“Yes. I’d heard it was even before you told
me. Before I went to sleep last night I read a little bit about them on the
internet.” When she looked up at him he thought she seemed overly quiet.
Nervous. A natural feeling since her only introduction to the lifestyle had
been at his place, with him the only other person around. “Don’t we need to
change into costumes or something?” she asked, sounding a little worried.

He kissed her hard then took her hand.
“We’re going to take it easy tonight. I want you to get used to pleasing me in
front of others and having me pleasure you. We’ll start out in what we’re
wearing and work our way down to skin.” They were both wearing black, his
favorite color for BDSM play. Her loose skirt and the blouse with elastic
around the neck would pose no access problems, since she’d followed his order
and not worn a bra or panties. All he’d have to do was unfasten his jeans and
whip out his dick when the time came, unless he had an urge to feel skin on
skin all over. If so, his T-shirt would come off with one hard tug. Or a rip,
if he was in a big-ass hurry.

“Thank you, Master.”

For the first time since he’d been an
eighteen-year-old making his first visit to that club in Boston, Jack felt
uneasy. He’d been initiated into dungeon play roughly, and he’d survived. He’d
taken to the lifestyle like a duck to water, but he was a guy and a natural
exhibitionist, even though he’d almost balked at assuming the submissive role
assigned to him at first. Tonight he wanted to introduce Liz to club play in
such a way that she’d be aroused, not humiliated. He’d keep them off the stage
and make sure they avoided attracting the attention he usually enjoyed when his
fellow members stopped to watch. “If anything disturbs you, say my name and
we’ll stop.”

“Otherwise I say nothing and follow your
lead, right Master?”

“Pretty much. Even if you see other Doms
using them, you don’t need to worry about me using the whips and chains.
They’re part of almost every dungeon’s equipment but I’ve never been much for
causing a sub serious pain, even if the sub has asked for it. There’s something
about being trained as a lawyer that makes me cringe at the idea of assaulting
people, even with their consent.”

She looked up at him, her expression
unconcerned. “I trust you, Master. I know you’ll give me incredible pleasure
and that you’ll never harm me.”

“Thank you.” Her trust humbled him yet made
him want to give her sexual satisfaction greater than she’d ever known. “Come
on, let’s go inside.” When she smiled he started moving with her toward the
door. “Sometimes it gets loud in here. Buck thinks country rock makes good
background music for sex.”

Her nervous laugh almost made him turn
around and go back to the car, but when he inserted his key card into the slot
beside the door, she pushed the door open. Before he could hold her back she
stepped inside the club. Multicolored lights flooded the public dungeon with a
rainbow of purple, red and gold in turn, to the rhythm from an instrumental
version of
Desperado
that blared from Buck’s prized Wurlitzer jukebox.
When Jack quickly scanned the dungeon, he saw that only a few couples and one
threesome were playing on the various furniture and equipment designed for
sensual restraint.

“Evenin’, Jack. It’s quiet in here
tonight.” Buck Oakley looked up from the laptop on his desk.

“Yeah, seems to be. Liz, this is Buck
Oakley, Karen’s cousin. He owns the place. Buck, Liz.”

Buck shot a grin toward Liz. “Welcome to
the Neon Lasso. Jack, have you told her the rules?”

“She knows nothing that goes on here leaves
here. And that all she has to do if she doesn’t like something I’m doing with
her is to say my name.”

“You’d better read them anyhow, Liz.” Buck
shoved a paper in front of her and went over what he apparently considered
salient points before handing her a pen and pointing out where she needed to
sign. “Any questions?”

“I think she’s got it. Can we dispense with
the rest of the legalities?” Jack knew the rules by heart. Buck knew he knew
them because he’d written them soon after joining, to keep the club on the
right side of the law.

“I guess so. Neither of you has a camera
phone, right?” Buck looked pointedly at Liz’s loose skirt, where any number of
things might be concealed.

“No. We left them in the car.”

Buck grinned. “Have fun then. Don’t do
anything I wouldn’t do,” he added with a chuckle.

A faint odor of incense filled Liz’s
nostrils when she stepped into the public dungeon beside Jack. On center
stage—or rather the only stage—a Domme clad in a red leather bodysuit stood,
her thighs locked around the head of a kneeling, naked male slave. She held his
head in place with a leash attached to a studded, black leather collar that
stood out starkly against his pale, shaved head and back.

Liz gasped when she noticed the slave wore
matching black leather around his scrotum. Though he was up on his knees, his
testicles hung almost to the floor below the leather device. A burly Dom strode
onstage, knelt and gave the slave’s balls a vicious squeeze. Amazingly, the
slave shifted his ass, as though to give the Dom better access—as if he craved
the pain the way an addict craved his next fix.

In response the Dom grasped the slave’s
butt and packed his ass with lubricant while the slave seemed to focus even
more on servicing his mistress’s cunt. The Dom smeared more of the slick
substance over his pierced cock before slamming into the slave’s ass and
fucking him with rough, hard strokes.

She couldn’t help shuddering, pitying the
slave when the Domme clasped his ears to hold his face to her pussy while the
Dom pounded his ass. Though she tried to stay quiet Liz whispered, “No.”

Jack grasped her hand, and when he spoke he
kept his voice low. “Don’t worry about the slave. He gets off on pain. Besides,
what they’re doing isn’t all that strange. Think, honey. You like having me eat
your pussy, and I enjoy doing it—a lot. You may not admit it but you liked
having me fuck you in the ass, and ass-fucking turns me on almost as much as
fucking your wet, slick cunt. Is it so strange to think everybody on that stage
is enjoying the scene immensely? Can you honestly say that watching them isn’t
making you hot?”

Though the scene shocked her, Liz tried to
set aside the beliefs she’d had beaten into her since childhood, that what was
happening onstage was wrong. Sinful. Against the rules of Nature. Forbidden.

Yes, it was forbidden, and that was a big
part of what made it so intensely arousing, watching the three players onstage
doing what she’d considered should never be done. Could never be done. Before
she realized what Jack was doing, he had her restrained against a steel frame
in the center of the room, her arms and legs shackled so she was open for
whatever sensual torture he might have in mind.

“Watching them is making you wet, isn’t
it?”

“N-no, Master.”

He bunched her skirt up around her waist
and tucked it into bars on the frame where she was bound. “Don’t lie. And don’t
stop watching them. Your cunt’s soaking wet and I haven’t even touched you yet.”
As the slave onstage tongued the Domme’s exposed cunt while the Dom fucked his
helpless ass, Jack knelt and buried his face between Liz’s legs. The short
stubble on the crown of his head tickled her thighs as he licked her clit with
his long, slick tongue and used his fingers to stimulate her cunt and ass.

When the sub onstage stopped eating his
mistress’s pussy she began flogging him across his back. He writhed in apparent
pain but the Dom didn’t miss a beat, pounding into the slave’s asshole with wild
abandon. The Domme bent and kissed the top of the Dom’s bald head before he
took the flogger from her and began administering what looked like bruising
blows to the slave’s outer thighs.

As she watched the show Liz became more and
more aroused. All her nerve endings seemed to have settled between her legs. On
her clit and her cunt. Her ass. Mostly though on her master.

His mouth and his hands on her body drove
her higher as she watched the scene play out onstage. Her ass contracted around
his fingers and her pussy juices soaked his hands and her thighs while he
flailed her clit with his tongue.

She imagined him topping another man the
way the Dom onstage was doing, fantasizing that she was the woman being
pleasured at the same time. Her nipples ached even though he hadn’t touched
them. She strained against her bonds, wanting to touch herself and ease the
intense arousal that was spreading from her cunt, overtaking her entire body
with a need—no, a compulsion—to experience for real what she was seeing as a spectator.

Jack would order a sub to kiss her and
play with her nipples while he claimed her cunt and ass. She’d try to hold back
her climax, awaiting his order…

She couldn’t wait. Her brain screamed for
her to relieve the pressure that threatened to shatter her into a million
pieces. The patterned motions of the strobe lights intensified, bathing her
world in shades of purple, red and gold. Passionate colors that hung before
her, taunting her with unfulfilled promise. “Please, Master.”

Her master’s hot breath tickled her
sensitive mound. “Come for me.”

“Oh yes, Master.” He knew her better than
she knew herself. All her pent-up arousal shattered when he stood and moved
behind her, fitting his throbbing cock into her cunt and sinking into the slick
wet passage.

“You like my cock. Say it.”

“I love your cock, Master.”

He slammed into her harder. “Tell me how
you want it.”

“Fast. Deep. Omigod.” She shuddered. Never
before had it been so intense. Her pussy clenched around his cock. “Please,
Master.”

“Tell me you want me to come inside you,”
he commanded, his voice ragged.

“Oh yes. I want your come.” The first hot
burst of his semen into her body had her coming all over again, the feeling
even more intense than before as she watched the sub trembling in apparent ecstasy
while the Dom shuddered and came and the Domme used her mouth to soothe the
welts where the flogger had marred the sub’s back.

As Liz collapsed against her bonds Jack
supported her weight against his body so the shackles wouldn’t dig into her
skin.

* * * * *

She’d taken to the club scene, tentatively
at first but with unmistakable enthusiasm. As they lay together in his bed
several hours later, Jack watched Liz sleep and wondered how he could have been
so lucky as to find a woman whose libido meshed so perfectly with his own.

His dick swelled against her slender
buttocks when he fantasized about sharing her with another Dom. As hot as any
sub he’d ever topped, she’d get incredible pleasure from being stimulated by
two strong Doms. He’d share her mouth and her breasts and her ass, but her cunt
was his. Only his.

Bye had said something similar to that
while they’d planned the ménage scene with Karen—before those two had fallen in
love, hard, in spite of the longstanding enmity between their families. Jack figured
he was experiencing a similar possessiveness to what Bye had felt then,
although Jack doubted he’d ever go so far as to turn his back on the BDSM
lifestyle the way it seemed Bye had done.

Jack wanted to marry Liz, to be her master
always, not just for the term of a contract for sexual possession. Hell, he’d
already gone a long way toward committing to her when he’d come in her earlier
without protection. Twice, yet. That realization should have had him shaking
with terror but it didn’t. He wasn’t so far gone as to hope she was pregnant,
but the possibility didn’t make him want to run away as far and as fast as he
could.

If she’s pregnant we’ll get married
right away. No child of mine will be a bastard.
He’d like it better if they were married in front of God and the whole
community, an established couple long before his seed started growing inside
her.

I guess feeling that way is the curse of
being a bastard yourself.

Jack stroked along the delicate curve of
Liz’s back, his touch light so as not to wake her. He considered how his
feelings for her had evolved in the short time they’d been together.

Guilt washed over him when he thought of
why he’d come on to Liz at first, with the idea of thwarting Four, keeping his
old man from getting his hands on the Laughing Wolf through her mother. He
tried to figure out why, during the nearly two years he’d seen Liz occasionally
in The Corral, he’d never realized he ought to go after her strictly because
she attracted him. He’d ignored her as though she’d been one of the many
cowhands who often dropped in at the bar after a long day’s work.