The Plume: The First Anthology (4 page)

Rex pulled a pair of tiny shackles from his pocket. They had two rings each, each so small that they wouldn’t fit any wrist, and a third clip. There was red velvet padding the inside of each of the larger rings. Rex pivoted and scooped up Sonja, seating her on the silver platter. Her eyes rounded in surprise and her breasts rose quickly as she caught her breath, but she didn’t dare defy the Master.

Rex locked the cuffs around her thumbs, securing them together, gave her a kiss, then leaned her back on the platter. Her head nestled into one of the curves shaped into the platter, as did her buttocks. There was a loop shaped into the platter just over her head and Rex locked the thumb cuffs to it. That pose arched her back in a most beguiling way. She shivered, swallowed, and Rex ran a reassuring hand down her length. Athena watched how his caress soothed Sonja, but also made her nipples tight.

Rex moved around the table and caught Sonja’s ankles in his hands. He placed her soles flat against each other, pulled another miniature set of cuffs from his pocket, and locked her big toes together. He clipped them to a second metal loop that was about a foot below her buttocks.

Athena strolled around the table, admiring the view. Sonja was displayed beautifully, her legs open and her cunt gleaming red and wet. She struggled a little, instinctively fighting her bonds, but couldn’t escape. Her breath came in anxious gasps.

Athena was transfixed.

Aroused.

“Melon and honey,” Rex said. Athena was astounded, but the kitchen staff stepped forward, ready to do just that. They drizzled honey all over Sonja, the golden shine of it dripping over her breasts and belly, slipping between her legs and making her skin shine. She gasped and wriggled, her mouth opening and closing in her mingled pleasure and dismay.

They brought honeydew melon, already peeled and sliced into crescents. Athena’s mouth went dry, imagining what they would do with them. The kitchen staff arranged melon around Sonja on the sides of the platter, drizzling it with more honey.

Rex took a slice of melon, dipped it in honey as Sonja watched him, then wedged it under her breast like the cup of a corset. He did the same with her other breast, as if creating an exhibit of her. The third slide he slid over her clitoris, honey dripping from it over her labia. He moved it back and forth, caressing her and watching her blush as her desire grew. She gasped as he worked it against her.

“You are the daily special,” he told her. “A feast for our members.”

Someone translated that into Swedish and her cheeks burned vivid red.

Rex slipped the end of the melon slice inside her, leaving its tip protruding, and she quivered from thumbs to toes. He added another slice, running his hands through the honey that coated her labia and licking his fingers.

Sonja writhed.

Athena itched to bend down and remove that slice of melon with her teeth. There’d be a feeding frenzy when Sonja was carried out into the club like this.

But that desire was nothing compared to her reaction when Rex turned his green gaze upon her and smiled. “The other platter is for you,” he murmured.

Shock froze Athena for a moment, but she met Rex’s gaze and saw the mischief in his expression. She smiled, indicating her agreement, then pivoted to run. He knew how she liked to be captured.

The kitchen slaves were on her in a moment, physically subduing her with their sheer numbers. That didn’t stop her from fighting and struggling. A dozen hands – Rex’s included – stripped away Athena’s clothes, and held her down on the golden platter as Rex himself secured her toes. He came around to do the same to her thumbs.

“Demon,” she charged and he laughed.

“You love it,” he chided, putting out one hand. A slave put a peach into it and he placed it into her mouth, silencing her with its sweet softness. “Be quiet and enjoy yourself,” he instructed.

Athena fought against the peach, its warm juice running down her cheek, the fuzz from its skin tickling her lips. She struggled against the two pairs of cuffs, knowing she’d never break free. She was securely bound. Helpless.

Dessert.

“Chocolate and peaches,” Rex said mildly and Athena was shocked again. She felt him slide the peach halves into her and moaned in pleasure. She rocked her hips when he spread the dark chocolate over her labia, caressing and teasing her as he did so. She luxuriated in the warm trickle of chocolate falling on her breasts, her belly, her thighs, her lungs filling with the sweet decadent scent of it.

Bittersweet.

She almost laughed at how perfect a choice it was.

And Rex had known that she was frustrated from her interview with Joanna, brought to a simmer and left without satisfaction. As the naked slave boys hefted first her tray and then Sonja’s, carrying them out to the pack of salivating members, Athena knew her evening couldn’t have had a better ending.

When the first masked man bent and licked her cunt, sucking chocolate and peach juice out of her, it was all Athena could do to not come in a frenzy.

But no. She’d hang on, somehow, and make the sweet torture last.

And love Rex just a little bit more for giving her precisely what she needed.

Chapter Two

Mike followed Joanna down the block the next morning, more interested in his companion than her destination. It was a gusty fall day, the sky filled with golden leaves and slate clouds. Even though she was a foot shorter than him – maybe more than that – petite Joanna walked so fast that Mike was always a bit behind her.

He’d never met anyone so ambitious in his life.

He’d never met anyone so insanely sexy in his life.

He’d never met anyone less interested in sex either.

But Mike knew that his mellow nature would never be of interest to a super-achiever like Joanna. Nope, she’d marry some guy who made kajillions of dollars a year and won triathlons on the side.

Never mind his other secret. A woman who didn’t have an interest in sex was never going to accept his enthusiasm for it in any way, shape or form.

“It was right here,” she insisted, striding ahead of him. “You should have seen it. This woman was crazy. Dressed like something out of a play. The mask and her nipples showing and the corset. It was so theatrical. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Mike had, but he thought it a bad time to bring up such details. The reason he hadn’t wanted to go after the story at the Plume was that he was pretty sure he knew some of the people involved.

And he’d left that life – and its pleasures – far behind.

He tried not to regret it. He knew it was a smart choice. But there were times…

Joanna charged to a doorway, coming to a sudden halt. “This is it,” she said, her gaze dancing over the façade. “This is the restaurant.”

“Doesn’t look like much of a restaurant,” Mike said. The windows were boarded over and the awning was torn. There was no signage and the place smelled of abandonment. Joanna tried the door but it was locked.

“I know they’re in there,” she said with a ferocity that surprised him. She tipped her head back to look up the facade. Even without make-up, with her hair tightly pulled back, she was gorgeous. “Maybe we can get in through a window.” She turned an expectant gaze upon him. “Do you think anyone would lend us a ladder?”

Mike sighed at her innocence. Giving Joanna what she wanted was too much temptation for him. “Just look away,” he said gruffly.

“What? What are you going to do?”

Mike met her gaze. “Just look away.”

She exhaled, never liking anyone else taking charge, and deliberately turned her face away. Mike knew she wouldn’t keep her gaze averted for long. He pulled the pick from his pocket, hid it in his hand, and worked the lock quickly. He turned the knob and opened the door. “After you,” he said.

Joanna looked from his hand to the door and back to his eyes. “I thought you were Mr. Clean.”

He smiled and shrugged.

She dropped the subject, too excited about the story to think about him.

There was a message he should take to heart.

Joanna lunged into the darkened space like a hound on the hunt. Of course, she had a flashlight in her purse – this woman was always ready for everything – and she shone it around the space with purpose.

It was empty. Mike could see the bare floorboards underfoot. The walls had been stripped down to plaster, plaster that was cracked and yellowed. There were a couple of stray chairs, old metal ones, and a lot of broken wood. It smelled like dust and decay, probably because of the hole in the floor to the basement, a hole big enough that it could swallow a pick-up.

Mike was sure he could hear the scuttling of rats. If this had looked like a restaurant the night before, Rex must have more money to burn than was once the case. He became curious about the Plume and its fortunes, more curious than he should be.

He was done with that life. It was over.

“Nice place,” he said as Joanna stared around herself in dismay.

“It was here,” she said. “I know it was here. And there were booths and the walls were lined with velvet and there were rugs and, and…” She turned to look at him. “Do you believe me?”

Mike did believe her, but only because he knew Rex. “It doesn’t look like much of a restaurant, Joanna. Could they really have torn all of that out that fast?”

Yes. He’d helped do similar things in his days at the Plume.

Her shoulders drooped and he hated that he was responsible for disappointing her. Then she illuminated the back wall with her flashlight. “I met her in a room, back there.”

“Joanna, I think we should go. This is a dead end.”

“Just one look. Please?”

He couldn’t resist her. He could never resist her. Even if all she wanted was a byline.

He couldn’t even give her that.

She headed for the back corner, the beam of the flashlight darting this way and that as she sought some sign of what she was sure she’d witnessed.

Mike worked his way around the hole in the floor. He could see something glistening down there and it smelled bad enough that he didn’t want to investigate.

He found her in the back corner, standing dejected. “You know what this means, right?” she said when he got to her side.

He did. Rex was messing with her, getting rid of her and her curiosity, ensuring she didn’t get a story. Mike didn’t want to be the one to tell Joanna that she’d failed.

“Go ahead and tell me.” Mike could see something in the corner, something that looked like it didn’t belong in this place. He took the flashlight from her limp fingers and moved closer to investigate.

“I failed the interview.” She couldn’t have sounded more defeated. “I hate failing. I wanted this story so much. This was my
chance
.”

Mike smiled at the legal-sized manila envelope tacked to the lathe in the corner, then removed it with care.

Of course, it was addressed to Joanna. That’s how they worked.

Rex was taking her in. The realization gave him an erection. How would Rex do it? What would Rex do? Damn, but Mike wanted to be there and see it all.

Did Rex still love taking pictures of his conquests? Mike gritted his teeth. He could hit his old pal up for a slideshow. He nearly lost his load at the idea of Joanna bound and photographed.

Then he realized she’d never let it happen.

“They’re shutting me out,” Joanna continued, oblivious to what he was doing. He could hear the tears in her voice. “I won’t get the story. Ever. I won’t get promoted to hard news ever. I’ll be writing articles about five no-miss Christmas gifts for your office mates
forever
.” She flung out her hands and started back toward the street.

“Sure about that?” Mike asked.

She spun to face him, a wild hope in her eyes that made his heart skip a beat. He grinned and held up the envelope.

“What is it?”

“Probably your contract.”

He realized he’d slipped too late to pull back the words, but Joanna never caught it.

She seized the envelope and tore it open, her dark eyes filling with delight. “You’re right. It’s the contract for my submission to the Plume as a slave! Look at this! There’s a list of rules and regulations, and instructions for delivering the signed contract, waivers for allergies, forms for blood tests and a physical exam.” She looked up at him, as thrilled as a kid on Christmas morning.

Their gazes locked and held. There was a frisson of electricity between them, excitement from her and understanding from him. He remembered his first envelope, how obsessed and excited he had been, and the echo of that in her eyes made him take a step forward. He wanted to be there when she experienced the Plume. He wanted to be part of the welcoming committee.

He wanted to see her there.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth and her lips parted. Mike had a moment to hope that she would kiss him, or at least hug him, but she laughed.

“I’d better get started.” Joanna pivoted and raced out of the space.

Running to the Plume or away from him?

Mike sighed. The fact was that Joanna wasn’t really into any of this. It was a job for her, a research assignment, and if she had any idea about his own erotic history – if she had any clue what he’d done - she’d refuse to even speak to him again. If she had any idea what she was getting herself into, she wouldn’t have been so excited about the envelope. She was innocent in way too many ways.

He tapped the flashlight in his hand, and followed her more slowly.

For the first time in a long time, Mike was tempted to revisit his past.

But he wouldn’t go there. He’d said he was done, and he always meant what he said.

Maybe he’d become Mr. Clean, after all.

* * *

The lawyer’s office had been a dead end. As high as Joanna’s hopes had been, it had become clear within moments that either the lawyers knew nothing about their clients or – more likely – they’d been paid enough to ensure their silence. She hadn’t wanted to push for information because it might blow her cover.

So, she’d pretended to just be nervous. The kindly older gentleman had walked her through the contract, ensuring that she understood that everything that occurred at the Plume was consensual, that no one was ever physically injured and confirming her list of supposed fantasies. Joanna had thought the list looked a bit thin, so she’d checked off a few more options, choosing from the more mundane possibilities, before signing the document. There were waivers to sign and consent forms to complete. The report from her doctor and the results of the blood tests were compiled into the package.