“I’ll tell you what I think, James. I think the moment that dildo stretches your filthy back hole wide and fills up your ass, it’s going to be game over. I’m not even going to have a chance to turn on the fucking machine, am I, before it’s all over?” Shaking her head in disgust, Violet bent over gracefully and studied the situation critically. “That barbed wire is strangling your cock. Biting into it. Are you ready for it to hurt more, James? For those nasty metal barbs to bite like teeth when your cock starts jerking and—”
Evidently, she’d underestimated the effect her voice had on him, Violet realized when the tortured appendage did just that, ejaculating thin, paltry bursts of semen onto the dark rubber matting beneath him.
She checked her watch. A session with James usually lasted around an hour and… yes, they were ten minutes shy. Tsking in disapproval, she added a cold edge to her voice. “Well, well, well. Spoiling my fun again, James. Did you enjoy taking that liberty?”
“No, Mistress.” Relaxed from head to toe, shuddering hard, he sighed contentedly. “Thank you, Mistress Violet.”
Recognizing the end of the scene, and that further humiliation wasn’t needed, she smiled sadly and stroked her hand over his hair. At this point, it wasn’t unusual for him to start crying, and she hadn’t lost touch with her humanity so much that compassion was alien to her, even if it felt like it the past few months.
“What do you need from me now, James?” she asked quietly as Reuben stepped up to wheel away the unneeded machine.Her fingers deftly unfastened the straps around James’s wrists, automatically rubbing the faint red marks left behind.
Once his limbs were unrestrained, he sat up gingerly, his eyes damp and red rimmed. When she reached to detangle his cock from the barbed wire, he set his hand gently on her wrist; she looked at him expectantly.
“Leave it, please? I-I’d like to try something.”
Okay, that was her cue to leave. She had a pretty good idea what he’d like to try, and she wanted no part of that brand of masochism. “All right, I’ll give you some privacy, but I’m leaving Reuben here in case… well, just in case.”
He smiled gratefully. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“Anytime, James.” Violet stepped back and walked away, joining Reuben in the shadows. “Let me know when he’s done. I’ll come back and tidy the station. For God’s sake, don’t let him deglove his penis or something equally ridiculous.”
“It’s his penis,” Reuben pointed out soberly.
“Unfortunately, under this roof, he’s still our responsibility. I don’t believe Evander would be thrilled if the club was swarmed with EMTs due to our guest self-mutilating his penis.”
Reuben just smirked. “I’ll keep my eye on him, Mistress. Just like your admirer.”
The smart ass response she had on the tip of her tongue withered and died, tasting like ash in her mouth. The well of dread and paranoia deepened as she scanned the area a second time. “Who?”
He jerked his chin toward the balcony. “Someone was up there watching you the whole time. Didn’t get the creepy vibe off them, so maybe a new guest scoping you out before they book a session?”
She knew she’d felt eyes on her, Violet thought. At least she wasn’t as crazy as she imagined. Reuben was probably right—many new guests asked the receptionists which Masters orMistresses would fulfill their requirements during their stay and were given a list of the appropriate names. Scoping out a potential Dominant during a scene wasn’t uncommon, especially in public areas, and at least the person had been respectful, staying out of distraction range.
“Yeah, maybe,” she murmured. That damned scent was really fucking up her perception of her world, she mused. One sniff triggered all her goddamn insecurities.
Still, she couldn’t help but stare up at the observation balcony above, at the darkness and shadows. She was being foolish, that was all—hewould never be able to stay quietly in the background; his ego was too loud, his need to be in the spotlight as blatant as his arrogance.
If he was here, she would know about it.
*
The next afternoon, Jennifer was manning the desk again, and Violet’s mood hadn’t improved. After choosing to forego her usual Friday night ritual of socializing with her friends, she’d spent the evening spiraling in her own head until she’d done the unthinkable and started packing.
Her handwritten resignation was sitting in an envelope on her desk with Evander’s name on it.
Everything just felt wrong, inside and out.
By rights, she probably shouldn’t be dealing with club guests. She couldn’t stand being in her own company, let alone handling the pathetic whims of the needy, clingy… and that train of thought right there was exactly why things needed to change.
“Jennifer, I—”
The redhead beamed at Violet. “Oh, Mistress, you’re right on time! Wonderful. Your guest is waiting for you upstairs in the Garden Room; he is very excited to meet you.”
Damn it, she’d wanted to cancel the appointment before the guest arrived. It would be unspeakably rude—not to mentionagainst Evander’s and her own professional code—to step out on a session at such short notice when the client was already waiting.
Resigned to an afternoon of biting her tongue and fighting to keep her internal thoughts where they belonged, Violet nodded. “Thank you. Any pertinent details I should know about?”
Jennifer pulled the client data up on her screen, her eyes darting back and forth as she read. “Derek Close—I met him the other day, he was nice. Polite, well-spoken. No limits on file, and I did advise him to update the list before noon.”
