The Businessman's Tie (The Power to Please, Book 1) (6 page)

I didn’t know what to say to him.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to come up with anything.

“It would be a simple thing,” he said. “Right before I came
over here I saw some old friends heading to the back. We could go watch them.
Trust me when I tell you, they wouldn’t mind. It’s why they’re here, after
all.”

I couldn’t deny that I was tempted. Hell, Michael was a
seductive enticement in his own right.

“How would it work?” I asked. “Is it like an arena or
something? Or do we just knock on the door and say, hey there, we want to watch
you do whatever it is you’re doing?”

He smiled. “No. We’d be in a different room. Just you and
me. Alone.”

He waved his hand in the air, as if to brush aside any
further questions or objections I might have. “It’s no big deal. You’ll see.
We’ll just go back there and you can take a look around. If you don’t want to
stay, you’re always free to walk away. Consider it a complimentary tour of the
club.”

“Well ...”

Then he sealed the deal. “You enjoyed pleasing me before.
Say yes, and you’ll please me again.”

I weakened. “Maybe, but first, I need a drink.” I said it in
a teasing way, but I was serious too. Had I ever needed a drink more? I didn’t
think so.

Michael’s flirtatious demeanor changed. His brows lowered.
“How many drinks have you already had tonight?”

“Three, maybe four. I don’t see how it’s any concern of —”

“Then you’ve had more than plenty. And it is my concern. You
want another drink so that when you wake up with a hangover tomorrow morning
you can blame whatever happens tonight on the alcohol. If you do that, you’ll
cheat yourself out of what you learn here, and make it a waste of time. Are you
wanting to waste my time?”

“No, of course not. I was just ...” I almost said “kidding
around,” but that wasn’t true. I thought I was kidding around, but maybe he was
right. I didn’t know. Once again, he was a persuasive man, and he elicited an
inexplicable urge in me to give him what he wanted.

“Do you still want that drink?” he asked.

“I guess not.”

I felt a small flutter when, at my answer, he smiled. “Good,
let’s go.”

I thought, I guess I’m doing this thing. I could always
leave. That’s what he promised. I’d hold him to it.

We slid out of the booth, and he pressed his hand against
the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd to the rear of the room,
then through the open doorframe marked VIP. Not far inside, the short hallway
ended in a closed door which was attended by a man who might have been a twin
of the beefy bouncer guarding the club’s entrance.

Michael nodded at the man. The guard returned his nod,
opened the door then stepped aside to allow us to enter.

My nerves a-jangle, I allowed Michael to lead me into the
unknown.

Chapter 5

We entered a hallway which was surprisingly well-lit. I
guess I’d been expecting cheesy red lights, paintings of nude women and worn
runner carpets, your basic movie-whorehouse decor. There weren’t even any
tables crowded with celebrity wannabes swilling down over-priced champagne.

Instead I was met with a wide hallway that could be found in
any modern business complex. The walls were covered with beige textured
wallpaper that would be at home in a nice office. The carpeting was deep blue
and of the sturdy variety you see in public places. A pleasant citrus aroma
filled the air.

I could have been walking down this hallway to visit an
accountant, or a doctor.

We made a left turn and came upon a young woman seated at a
desk. She was a sweet-looking girl, with bouncy brown curls, and freckles
scattered across her nose. She wore a demure cotton dress and was painting her
nails a garish purple, though she stopped immediately when she saw us turn the
corner.

She glanced up at us, then immediately back down to the
desk, where she quickly put the top back on the bottle of polish.

She stood as if she were at military attention. “Sir,” was
the only word she said when we stopped in front of her. She kept her eyes on
the desk and didn’t look up at us again.

“Are the Hoytes in a session?” Michael asked.

“Yes, Sir. They’re in room seven.”

“I’d like a viewing room, then, if one’s open.”

“Yes, Sir.”

She reached into a desk drawer and came up with a card that
reminded me of the kind you get at hotels, an electronic door key. “Room 7E,
Sir.”

Michael took the key and thanked her. The girl’s posture
relaxed. She stiffened again when he said, “By the way, Sarah, I didn’t ask
what room the Hoytes were in. I’m not a big stickler on these things, but there
are others who wouldn’t appreciate your presumption.”

She looked aghast. “I’m sorry, Sir. I should have been more
careful. I know I shouldn’t presume.”

Michael blew out a bored-sounding sigh. “I said it’s not
about me. Go back to your nails.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” And she dropped back into her
chair and grabbed the bottle of polish as if her life depended on it.

We walked off. When we were far enough away that I figured
Sarah wouldn’t be able to hear, I whispered, “What was that about?”

“It was nothing. The owners like using trainees to man the
desk and we’re supposed to do our parts in their training. It’s a bother.”

“Training?”

“It’s a formal thing that some Doms do. It’s not important
right now.”

We took several more turns down lengthy hallways until we
came to a door marked with the number seven, and then past number seven to a
door with a sign that read, “Viewing Rooms,” and underneath that, “7A - 7E and
8A - 8E.”

Michael opened the door and we entered into another hallway,
this one narrower and lined with doors, seven’s on one side, eight’s on the
other. We went to the one labeled 7E, where Michael used his card key and
ushered me inside.

It was a small room, only large enough to hold an oversized
recliner, a cushioned bench, a small end table, and of all things, a chaise
longue. The furniture was covered in a sturdy, black vinyl. I thought it was a
good choice, that it would be easy to keep clean. This was not a strange
thought to have, considering one of the odors in the room.

Mostly, the room smelled of an exotic Asian blend of
incense. But under that smell was the barely perceptible tang of disinfectant,
an obvious declaration of the room’s purpose. I should have been comforted and
reassured by this sign of cleanliness. Instead, I became a tangle of nerves and
anticipation, a condition that worsened the longer I examined the room.

It was as brightly lit as a kitchen, the walls and floor
shining pristine white under the glare. The huge curtain was white, too,
stretching from sidewall to sidewall and ceiling to floor on the far side. I
assumed the curtain covered the window into Room 7.

In all, it reminded me of a surgical viewing room, not
comforting in the slightest.

Michael gave me a reassuring smile. He took my purse and
laid it on the little table, then turned a knob on the wall, a dimmer for the
lights as it turned out. As shadows took shape around the furniture, the softer
light soothed the harsh sterility of the room.

“Better?” he asked.

I nodded.

“I know, the decorating scheme is austere. In its defense, it’s
intended to let you know how clean it is, so there’s no doubt.”

“Mission accomplished,” I said.

He opened a door in the base of the side table. It was a
mini fridge. “Are you thirsty? Water, juice, soda?”

I shook my head no.

He closed the door and walked over to me. The demeanor of
polite cordiality dropped away as he reached out and ran his fingers down the
length of my bare arm.

His voice was low and warm. “It’s okay if you’re nervous,
and a bit scared. It excites me.”

He put his arms around my waist and gently pulled me closer.
“Remember, you can always walk away. The door is only locked to the outside.
You’re free to leave any time you wish.”

“I’ll remember,” I said, my voice sounding strange in my
head, reedy and thin.

He was tall, my head reaching just shy of his chin. He
leaned down and whispered near my ear, “You don’t have to do anything. I know
what needs to be done. Trust me and let me guide you. You’ll be fine.”

He soothed me with more honeyed words, and pressed soft
kisses on my ear lobe. He told me to relax, to enjoy the moment. I put my arms
around his neck and did as he said. It was easy, with him.

Apparently, we were here to do more than watch, but I was no
fool. I’d figured as much. And Michael was handsome, thrilling in a new way. It
was no difficult task to enjoy what he did to me.

His warm breath played across my neck and his hands caressed
my back. Then he kissed me, his lips light and gentle on my own. His scent was
a masculine musk.

Then his tongue reached out to test me. We tasted one
another. He tasted of fresh oranges, rum and a hint of mint.

He unbuttoned my shirt, kissing me all the while. I let it
happen, wanted it to happen, so when he slipped it from my shoulders, and
headed straight for the clasp of my bra, I didn’t try to slow him down. Slow
was the last thing I wanted.

He unclasped the bra and whisked it away, then cupped my
breasts, lifting them, feeling the weight. When he had touched me earlier in
the evening, I hoped there might be more. Here was the more. I sighed and pressed
against him.

He tasted my breasts with lips and tongue and made a sound
that might have been “yes,” but I couldn’t be sure. My breath grew ragged and
loud.

I wanted his skin next to mine, so I reached out and tugged
at his shirt. He stopped nuzzling me long enough to let me remove his shirt,
then he returned his attention to my breasts. I ran my hands over his smooth
chest, my palms playing over the defined muscles of his lean torso.

While he sucked my hard nipples into his mouth, his hands
moved to my waist, and in a moment, he unzipped my skirt and let it pool around
my feet.

I reached for his belt then, wanting to see more of him, but
I had no more than touched the buckle when Michael grabbed my wrists. “No.”

He pushed my arms behind my back and restrained them with
one of his large hands clamped around my wrists. With his other hand, he
grabbed the hair at the nape of my neck and pulled my head back until I was
looking up into his cold blue eyes. I felt a shiver of delicious fear rush over
me.

“Time to lay down some ground rules,” he said. “This isn’t
what you’re used to, I know, but I bet you’re a quick learner. Are you?”

I said I was. I damned well hoped I was.

“I allowed you to take off my shirt,” he said. “That was the
only boon you’ll get from me tonight. Anything else that happens, and I do mean
anything, will be at my direction, my command. You’ll do nothing without my
permission. Do you understand?”

His gaze bore into mine. I wanted this. Strange and
unfamiliar as it was, I wanted it, like I’d wanted The Businessman to have his
way with me in the hall. I wanted to give myself over to something bigger and
stronger than myself. To let him take charge.

“Yes, I understand,” I said.

He claimed my mouth, his tongue thrusting past my lips.

He released my hair and grasped one of my breasts, squeezing
tighter than before. He kneaded my flesh between his fingers. Mmm. It was good
to be taken by him.

Then he stopped kissing and massaging. He released my
wrists.

He stepped back from me. “Put your hands behind your head.
Yes, like that. Kick away the skirt. Now spread your legs. A little wider. Yes,
like that. Put more arch in your back. I want your ass and tits out. Do it!”

I complied with his orders as quickly as I could. He moved
various parts of me around until he had me in the pose he wanted.

He slowly circled me then, eyeing me up and down. It was
embarrassing, but sensual too, standing here in front of him, wearing only
panties.

“Look at the floor, or the ceiling,” he said. “I don’t care
which. Just don’t look at me unless I tell you to.”

I did as he asked, staring at the floor, and though I wasn’t
allowed to watch him directly, I could see what he was doing well enough with
my peripheral vision.

He stood beside me. “This is position number one.” He
reached out and rubbed my ass cheek. With his other hand he cupped one of my
breasts then ran his fingers down my abdomen, pausing above the flimsy triangle
of white silk between my legs.

“Remember this pose,” he said.

“Yes.” I wanted his hand to slip lower, under the silk.

“Don’t move,” he said.

Then he moved. I kept my eyes on the floor until I heard a
loud sound behind me, a scraping sound. Without moving my torso, I turned my
head a fraction of an inch to see what he was doing. He was pushing the
cushioned bench into the center of the room. I returned my gaze to the floor in
front of me.

When he finished, he slipped an arm around my waist from
behind and pulled me against him. His other hand roamed freely over my breasts.
I arched my back, a subconscious push of my breasts into his hand. We both
breathed harder. I thought this was because of what he was doing to me, but I
was wrong, about him, anyway.

His whisper was filled with menace. “I told you not to move,
and you’ve already disobeyed me twice.”

I shivered. “I didn’t mean to, I —”

“Don’t make it worse with excuses, Sweet. I don’t tolerate
disobedience. If you weren’t a beginner, this might have gone very, very badly
for you. But as it is, your punishment will be light.”

I thought, my punishment? Oh, hell.

“Now listen closely, because I won’t repeat this warning,”
he continued, still using that menacing whisper. “Do not disobey me a third
time. If you do, the repercussions will be ... severe. Do you understand?”

I nodded, my head feeling big and wobbly on my neck.

“Words,” he said.

“Yes,” I managed to say, somehow.

“Good.” He abruptly released me. “Now go straddle that
bench.”

I moved as if I were in someone else’s body, someone else’s
dream. It seemed as if the more demanding Michael became, the more I wanted to
obey. My reaction to him flew in the face of what I thought I knew about my
character, defied who I thought I was. I felt much the same way as I did when I
was with The Businessman. I’d think, why am I doing this? And then I’d go do it
without pausing for an answer.

Michael instructed me in how he wanted me to straddle the
backless bench. It sat in the center of the room, lengthwise, with one end
facing the curtained wall. I was forced to spread my legs wide to straddle the
bench and didn’t feel wholly secure on my feet when Michael nudged me to move
up more.

Attached to the end of the bench was a raised bar which I
had originally thought was an arm rest. Perhaps it was an arm rest, but that
wasn’t the purpose Michael had for it. He instructed me to bend over and grab
the bar with both hands. He adjusted the position of my feet and the arch of my
back and neck, the straightness of my legs, until he had me where he wanted me.

It was a position of intimate exposure. I wasn’t tied or
restrained in any way, but he made me feel as if I were. The muscles in my
calves and thighs stretched taut from the angle of my heels conflicting with my
bent torso and arched back, from the extreme spread demanded by the width of
the bench. My ass jutted out, my pussy and anus covered only by the thinnest of
silk.

Michael made a grunt which I assumed meant he was satisfied,
then stood in front of me. “Don’t remove your hands from that bar unless I tell
you to. Do you understand?”

I told him I did then watched, fascinated when he began to
unbuckle his belt, his crotch mere inches from my face. I felt a rush of
wetness between my legs.

He pulled his belt from the loops of his jeans. He didn’t
drop the belt as I thought he would, nor did he begin to unfasten his jeans.
Instead, he doubled the belt between his hands.

After walking around behind me, he massaged one of my ass
cheeks.

“Before we can watch the show in the main room, there’s
something you have to understand,” he said.

He squeezed and rubbed each of my buttocks in turn, like he
was testing my flesh, testing the spring of skin and muscle over bone. “You’re
going to see a woman getting whipped. Have you ever been whipped, Sweet?”

I managed to say no, not easy since I’d been holding my
breath.

“To have any chance of understanding what the woman in the
other room is feeling,” he said, “you need to have some experience. Not a great
deal, but some point of reference. I’m not going to whip you, of course. It’s
too soon for that. A few light rounds with my belt, however, might be of some
use to you.”