The Plume: The First Anthology (25 page)

Exactly how he'd fantasized about her.

"Scream," he said.

Joanna managed only to make a slight moan.

"Perfect." Mike kissed her cheek, then urged her out of the foyer. Her heels clicked on the floor as they went into the kitchen.

He leaned her hips up against the island. He stood behind her, fondling her breasts, running his hands over her bound body. He loved the look of the corset and was glad she'd chosen it. He liked having Joanna captive in his home even more than he'd expected.

Which was saying something.

"I could secure you here, and ensure that you were powerless to move," he whispered into her ear. "Instead, I want you to willingly hold the pose - simply because I'm commanding you to do it. It will be a test of your submission."

She flicked a glance at him and nodded understanding.

He bent her over at the waist then, hearing how she caught her breath when the cold marble counter collided with her breasts. Her cheek was on the counter. He eased her hips back and lifted her pelvis, so that her back was arched and her ass was higher.

Like a ripe peach, inviting his blows.

He crossed the kitchen so she could see him, then peeled off his own jacket and shirt. He stripped down to nothing, letting her look, letting her see how hard he was. He walked around her, ran his fingertip over her lightly, and felt her shiver.

He crouched down behind her, spread her wide and began to eat her.

Joanna jumped in surprise. Mike let his tongue slide over her clitoris, glad that she was already hot and wet. He suckled her and licked her, his heart skipping when she made that low moan. She twitched and wiggled, then remembered her promise. He felt the determination slip through her body, ensuring that she remained exactly as he'd positioned her.

He'd drive her wild before he took her, and leave her begging for more.

Then he'd give her that, too.

Tonight, they'd blur the line between pleasure and pain.

This night would be everything Mike had dreamed it could be.

Joanna shuddered in his grip, but held the pose. She obviously ried to cry out but could only make that low incoherent moan. Her skin flushed as he tormented her, but there was nothing she could do about it – and she loved it. Mike could tell by the taste of her, by the way she was flowing hot and sweet, but the hardening but of her clitoris. This was exactly what she wanted and needed. This was what he wanted and needed. Joanna was completely captive and utterly his.

It was perfect – and it would only get better.

He took her to the cusp of orgasm, left her hungry and trembling, then put on his leather gloves. He put one hand on the back of her waist, forcing her sweet butt into the air again, then slapped her with the other hand open wide. The first smack made a resounding crack and turned the flesh an enticing pink. Joanna made as much of a yelp as she could manage and jumped a bit.

Then she arched her back, anticipating the next slap and Mike knew they were in perfect synch.

He'd always known she was the woman for him.

And he was going to prove it to her.

* * *

The last thing Rex wanted to do on this Friday night at the Plume was mediate disputes between members, but that was what he was stuck doing anyway. It came with the territory of being one of the partners who owned the club.

This pair of lovers - Tess and Mark - had already talked to his partner Athena and she’d washed her hands of them completely. It wasn’t easy to frustrate Athena, still Rex wished she’d tried a little harder. She’d disappeared into bar, looking for trouble and lots of sex, and he knew her well enough that there’d only be one way he’d get her back into the office.

And he didn’t want to get involved with Athena again.

He would prefer to be in the bar himself. The Plume was looking festive, decorated for Christmas in red and white. The serving slaves were dressed as naughty elves, corseted in red velvet with their nipples surrounded by fluffy white fur. Their red velvet skirts were short, hemmed with white fur and cut to swirl as they walked, giving tempting glimpses of their bare butts. He'd chosen white fishnet stockings and garters for them and high-heeled red boots. They wore wrist-length white mesh gloves, Santa hats and red lipstick.

Rex found the outfit particularly striking on the women with darker skin and there were two he would have liked to have been watching in this very moment.

He was thinking of taking photographs of them, together. Chocolate and caramel.

But he was stuck with administrative details. The music from the bar taunted him with what he was missing, and the sound of Athena's laughter didn't help. Rex turned a grim glance on the pair in front of him and ensured that his mood wasn't encouraging. This didn't have to take all night. "So, what's the problem?"

The slave was sulky, her master no better. Tess and Mark. They stood before Rex in the back office of the Plume, the slave tossing rebellious glances at her master.

Tess was a gorgeous girl, although that wasn't a surprise. Beauty was a precondition of membership in the Plume, after all. Her hair was long and wavy, the chestnut lit with gold. Her eyes were clear blue and thickly lashed, her lips ripe. She was tall and slender, more willowy than Rex usually preferred his slaves, but her breasts were delicious and large, their surprisingly dark nipples tempting him to caress them.

Tess wore a black leather shackle around her neck that was chained to matching shackles on her wrists. Her bound wrists were then clipped to wide black belt around her waist. It wasn’t the most flattering posture for a woman with such magnificent breasts and overall, Rex thought Mark could have been more imaginative.

That appeared to be the issue.

“She never orgasms,” Mark complained, “even when I command her to do so.” He was a tall and well-muscled specimen, attractive himself, but apparently bewildered by his slave of choice. “I get no satisfaction!”

“Welcome to the club,” Tess said, her tone wry.

"Don't be impertinent.”

She bared her teeth at him with a lack of respect that surprised Rex. Things had degenerated quite far, then.

Mark tugged on her harness, to no effect. “And this attitude! She’s always talking back to me. I can’t stand it.”

“You could give her up.” Rex made his suggestion in a mild tone, guessing what the response might be. He recalled that possessiveness was one of Mark’s traits.

Mark glared at Rex. “She’s mine. I won her and I claimed her. She’s mine for the rest of the month. That’s the deal.” His voice rose slightly in a whine. “She should do what I want her to do.”

Tess rolled her eyes with such forbearance that Rex stifled a smile.

Rex strode around the desk, giving the appearance of consideration. He already knew what he was going to do. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned his hips on the desk, then looked between the pair. Mark obviously thought Rex could fix anything and while he could fix a lot, he couldn’t repair a lack of respect between sexual partners. “Let me talk to her for a moment,” Rex said and Mark straightened, preparing to decline.

Rex gave him a hot look, silently reminded Mark how he had been disciplined himself by Rex, once upon a time.

Mark blinked first. He looked between Tess and Rex with dissatisfaction, then tossed the end of her leash to Rex. “I suppose it can’t hurt,” he said and marched back into the bar.

When the door had shut behind him, Rex met Tess’s gaze. “Who’s dominating who?” he asked softly.

She swore softly, then she shook her head, obviously unhappy with the situation. “I expected better when he won me at that competition. He showed real promise then, and I was excited. I thought we were going to have a great time.”

“But?”

“He wilts.”

Rex grimaced. “Does he like to harness you?”

“Yeah,” Tess admitted. “That does seem to get him going, as long as I don’t fight back.”

Rex waited, guessing she’d tell him more.

Tess sighed, then met his gaze. “The thing is I like to be overcome.”

“You like to fight all the way down,” Rex agreed. He’d reviewed Tess’s application before this interview. The competition in the bar the previous month had been just her kind of event. Members had to fight each other to get to the volunteer slave and on some occasions, fight the slaves themselves. A triumphant master captures and claimed the slave he wanted, securing his win with sex before the entire membership.

That was how Mark had won her.

Tess nodded. “But as soon as I struggle or fight, he loses it. Completely.”

Rex nodded. “Maybe a bad match, then.”

Tess wrinkled her nose. “Maybe he only likes fighting other guys.”

It wouldn’t surprise Rex, given his own memories of Mark’s training. He knew exactly what he would do to please both of them, but to make it work, he had to lie. He sighed and looked unhappy. “The problem is that my hands are tied.”

“Ha ha,” Tess said, jingling her harness.

“More figuratively than that. The Plume runs on rules, rules that are agreed upon consensually. You volunteered for the slave grab. Mark signed up to compete. He won you and, by the terms of the contest, you’re his for the month.”

“Three more weeks of this?” Tess said, incredulous.

“I’m sorry that you’re disappointed.” Rex sighed and forced a smile. “But even I can’t break the rules of the Plume.”

Tess swore again. She looked to be fighting tears as she averted her gaze, then glanced back suddenly at Rex. “Can’t you discipline me a little while I’m here? I mean, you are the Master and I have been bad.”

Rex smiled. “Maybe at the end of the month. Go on now, back to your master.”

She grimaced, then turned to leave, obviously disheartened. Rex opened the door for her, then closed it and leaned back against it. He touched his ear bud, summoning the bartender Tony on the Plume’s closed communications system.

“Yes, sir.”

“Isn’t Tex in the bar tonight?”

“Yes, sir.” There was click. Rex had time to savor the way that the guys who worked in the stables took such appropriate nicknames before Tex’s firm tones echoed in Rex’s ear.

“Sir?”

“Tex, there’s a slave coming down the corridor. Her name’s Tess, and she's wearing black leather and chains.”

“I see her, sir.”

“I want you and your boys to steal her.”

“Now, sir?”

“Before she gets back to Mark, her master. He's in the bar, waiting. Steal her and ship her to the stables. She’s yours until someone steals her back.”

“Yes, sir!”

“And Tex? The lady likes to be overwhelmed.”

“We’re on it, sir.”

Rex disconnected the call and smiled. He checked his watch, deciding when he should send Mark after Tess. He was pretty sure she would love it there, and could appreciate her frustration with Mark. Rex wondered how long he could keep her location secret.

He'd give it his best shot.

* * *

Tess was livid. She’d expected the great Rex to set everything straight for her and ensure that her particular fantasy was fulfilled – but no, he was going to follow the rules. Unbelievable. And now she had to go back to the limp-dicked loser, the guy who lost his erection if she so much as whimpered.

It was going to be a long three weeks until her liberation from Mark.

She was tempted to not go back to the bar, to not report for duty as it were. Maybe Rex would discipline her then. No, he'd kick her out of the Plume and that would be a special kind of hell. Other than Mark, the Plume had been an awesome experience – Tess only wanted more. Defiance wouldn’t do anything for Mr. Limp Noodle, either – she’d tried that before.

It was too bad really. Mark was pretty cute and he was hung when he was... interested. She still thrilled at the memory of him seizing her and fighting for her in the ring at the bar, the sight of him coming straight for her with that raging erection. Oh yeah. Then he'd banged her so hard, holding her down and filling her to capacity. Wow. She shivered in recollection and wished he’d been like that just once since.

Three more weeks.

Tess heard footfalls behind her and didn’t think much of it. There was a lot of traffic back and forth to the office, with Rex holding court tonight. The Christmas music from the bar were louder and she consoled herself with the prospect of a pinch, a swat or a kiss from a stranger on her way back to Mark. Maybe that would rile him up.

Maybe she'd sign up for waitress duty again after this ordeal was over.

Two men stepped into the corridor ahead of Tess, one on either side of the doorway that led to the bar. They were the Plume’s versions of cowboys, dressed in leather chaps and boots, wide leather belts around their waists and holding up the chaps. Tess loved the cowboy costumes and had a good look at this pair. Their chests bare and bronzed, their erections massive. They both wore Stetson hats – one white, one tawny brown – and had bandanas tied over the lower parts of their faces. One navy, one red. Like bandits.

They strode straight toward her, their spurs jingling.

Tess’s heart skipped.

She glanced back to find two more Plume cowboys behind her, one black and one tanned as gold as the two in front of her. The Negro one wore a black hat and a gold bandana, while the tanned one had a taupe hat and red bandana. Their chaps were worn leather that gleamed and their spurs also jingled as they walked closer.

The one behind her with the red bandana unhooked a coil of rope from his belt and started to swing it in anticipation. She looked forward and the one coming from the bar with the navy bandana was twisting a length of white cotton in his hands, rolling it into a cylinder and tugging it tight. He had wavy hair, that one, and it was a russet color, thick enough to swallow a girl's fingers. Tess liked that he looked like trouble.

The cowboys were closing in on her with long strides, their boots echoing on the floor.

Tess couldn’t believe her luck. She’d heard so many times about the stables, yearned to go there, and realized that this couldn’t be a coincidence. No, Rex was arranging for her to be kidnapped by four hot cowboys, so they could do whatever they wanted to her.