OnlyatTheCavern (9 page)

“That’s right.” Her breath ghosted across his shoulder as
she whispered in his ear. “When I give the order, you will fill this glass with
your cum.”

She pressed the glass into his left hand, then sauntered
over to the chair and took a seat.

Having her sitting there, watching him masturbate with rapt
attention brought him to the edge much too quickly. He tried to pull back and
make it last until she gave the order, but she kicked the end of the table with
her foot. “Make it feel good, Rookie. I want you in tears.”

Done and done. He held his breath and clenched his jaw,
pumping his cock until his forearm ached. Mistress Jasmina watched his hand and
studied his every stroke, her breasts rose and fell with bated breaths. Her
lower lip fell open followed by the tip of her tongue peeking out to sweep the
plump little pillow as if she could taste him on her palate.

“Ah, God,” he gritted out. A tear slipped down his cheek and
his body tightened to the point of breaking.

Jasmina’s head tipped back and she moaned as if she were
inhaling his torture. Then she snapped forward and nailed him with a hot stare.
“Come.”

Fire erupted out his cock in great bursts of energy. He
barely remembered to catch the milky fluid in the crystal glass before he shot
all over his legs, and stuffed the head of his cock into the opening.

“Keep going.” Jasmina jumped up and rushed to his side.
Laying her hand over his, she continued to stroke his dick. “Every drop,
Rookie. Every drop belongs to me.”

On and on his orgasm went, leaving him too weak to do
anything more than moan and lie there in his own sweat as more cum dribbled
into the glass. Just as well, he still hadn’t been given permission to speak.

When his cock had nothing left to give, Jasmina took the
glass from his hand and held it up to the light. It shocked him to see how much
fluid he had produced. Truthfully, he didn’t think he had that much in him.

Way to go, you.

She tipped the glass, this way and that, even going so far
as to sniff the rim. Holy hell, was she going to drain the glass? That would be
as hot as fuck.

Instead she lowered the glass and dipped her finger into the
cream. She rubbed the tips together as if testing the texture. She dipped again
then proceeded to rub his cum onto her wrists and the base of her neck as if it
were perfume.

Knowing that she was marked in his cum sent a primal surge
of lust through his depleted body, and to his surprise arousal stirred anew.
Dear God, she was going to kill him.

Yeah, but he’d have the biggest grin on his face when they
laid him in his grave.

Once she was painted to her liking, she went to the bar and
set the glass to the side. Through sleepy eyes he watched her take out several
white towels from what looked like a crockpot then retrieve a bottle of water
from the mini-fridge.

“Drink.” She cracked the top open and handed it to him.

He guzzled the water so quickly, he suffered from brain
freeze. “Ah.”

“Easy there, Rookie.” She wiped the sweat from his brow with
the warm towel then continued to swab his chest and legs. Before the cloth had
a chance to cool, she swapped it for another.

A monster orgasm and a sponge bath? He definitely could get
used to this.

“Lift forward,” she said and worked on his back. “How do you
feel?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I can’t explain it.”

“Try.” He heard the grin in her command.

“I feel…alive.”

Yeah. It could have been minutes or hours since he walked
through that door. He felt as if he’d been dragged over hot coals, shot to the
heavens, electrocuted, enveloped in a warm hug, torn apart at the seams and
sewn back together all at the same time. Only once before had he experienced
such an extreme range of emotions. The night he almost had Smithwick. But that
night had ended in bitter disappointment. This euphoric feeling was completely
unknown.

“I didn’t know.” He paused to wet his lips. “I didn’t
realize…”

“Letting go does that to a person. You did well, Rookie. I
have hope for you yet.”

Thank you, Mistress.

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to do a lot of things, like
reach out and touch her arm. He wanted to remove the towel from her hand so
that her bare palm was stroking his cock and not through the textured cotton.
He wanted her kiss. He wanted to know what she tasted like, how her lips felt
on his skin.

He wanted Jasmina.

The plastic bottle crinkled in his grip as he restrained the
urge to sweep her up and take her to the floor. That wasn’t their deal. She
controlled him. And so far, he loved it. He hungered for it. And he was ready
for more.

“Drink up.” She guided the bottle back to his mouth. “I
don’t want you fading from dehydration.”

He did as he was told and watched her walk to the phone
attached to the wall and pick up the receiver. “You may enter,” she said to
whoever picked up on the other end.

What was his Mistress planning now? He jerked up from his
seat and bit his tongue to keep from asking.

A moment later the lock to the door disengaged and a woman
walked in. With a fuchsia-pink bobbed haircut and matching pink lace bodysuit,
she looked like an X-rated version of a little girl’s doll. From the way she
stood with her spine straight and her gaze aimed at the floor, he figured her
to be another sub. Who was curious about his cock if the way she snuck a peek
at his lap was any indication.

“Don’t you dare.” Jasmina slapped at his hand as he moved to
cover up. “Rookie, this is Pixie. Her master has loaned her to me for the
moment. She will dress you and see that you can walk without falling over.
You’re still dealing with a huge rush of endorphins and I don’t want you to
crash on your way out.”

His Mistress was leaving him? Alone with another woman?

Disappointment cooled his lust. Just a week ago the idea of
being fondled by two women on the same night would have been an epic fantasy,
but now the thought left him cold. Mistress Jasmina had branded him as hers,
and her touch was the only one he craved.

Wow. He closed his eyes and drew in a breath to help clear
his head. He had fallen. And fallen hard.

The brush of fingers on his cheek had his eyes flying open
in alarm. When he realized it was Jasmina, he relaxed.

“Will I see you on Tuesday?” she asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Good.” She brushed the hair off his forehead and softly
bade him goodnight.

The click of her heels on the floor as she walked out the
door made his chest go tight, and that scared the hell out of him.

Not even his infatuation with Brett made him want to drop to
his knees and crawl after her to beg for one more touch. And to think, they had
only had one session. A session when they really hadn’t done anything all that
kinky. Damn, emotionally he not only jumped into the deep end of the pool, he’d
done a frickin’ cannonball and was drowning.

“If you are able to stand, I will dress you now.”

With his Mistress out of the room, the girl looked him up
and down with a hungry gaze that said she couldn’t wait to get her hands on
him.

“Pixie. Is that your real name or do you still have to earn
it?”

“It’s my sub name.”

Right. “Look, Pixie, I am perfectly able to dress myself.
You can turn around and it will be all good.”

The ends of her pink hair flicked her cheeks as she shook
her hair. “Mistress Jasmina said for me dress you.”

“I understand. But with all due respect, I’d rather dress
myself.”

“If she finds out, she’ll punish me and then my Master will
punish me, and he hits hard.” Her hand went to her backside and rubbed up and
down.

“How about a compromise? I’ll put on my pants and you can
help with my shirt. That way, we’re both happy and no one has to know the
truth.”

She popped her hip out and shot him a grin. “You’re brand
new, aren’t you? The truth always comes out.”

“That’s why we’re going to keep our mouths shut. Or else
I’ll tell Mistress Jasmina you tried to do more than just dress me.”

Her mouth dropped into an “O” and she sucked in a breath.
“Are you a switch?”

“A switch?”

“Yeah. Both Dom and sub? ‘Cause let me tell you, you just
got me hot and subs don’t do that to me.”

Well, that wasn’t something he’d thought about. He shrugged.
“Maybe.”

“Well, don’t be. Mistress Jasmina is in no way a submissive.
If you want to keep her happy, I’d squash that instinct.”

“I think I’ll do just fine being myself. So are you turning
around or not?”

“Not. I’ll let you put on your underwear. But I get to
watch.”

Hey, if all she wanted was to take a peek, he’d take the
concession.

He turned to the side to keep her in his peripheral vision
while he reached for his clothes and slipped on his boxers. Pixie beat him to
the rest of his garments and knelt on the floor, holding open his pants. She
took too much pleasure drawing them up his legs and pulling the tag over his
cock.

“Nice undies,” she cooed.

“Just get on with it or I’ll dress myself,” he bit out.

“I’m working on it.” She winked then worked his t-shirt over
his head and smoothed the cotton over his chest with swirling motions of her
palms. His white button-down was treated with the same extra attention.

“She mentioned nothing of the shoes,” he said and took his
loafers from her hand. “I got it from here.”

“Ooo, you are a feisty one. I hope our Masters put us
together in a scene sometime soon.”

His heart stopped. “Does Mistress Jasmina share her subs a
lot?”

“Rarely. But it’s been known to happen.”

Then he was going to have to do his damnedest to make sure
she wanted him all to herself, for Mistress Jasmina belonged to him and no one
else.

Jasmine nodded at the doorman and swept through the entrance
to the sanctuary of Amaryllis’s private suite. In actuality the inner lair
wasn’t all that private. There was always someone doing something to someone
within the penthouse loft, and most of the time the persons involved weren’t
Amaryllis. Ever since she married Lucian, she spent more time in their
apartment, and Jasmine didn’t blame her for wanting to keep such a tasty morsel
all to herself.

Tonight was ladies’ night in the suite, with Mistresses
enjoying the peace and quiet away from the noise of the dance floor or party
rooms. Some had their subs at their feet or chained to an apparatus while
others, like herself, were solo.

She spotted Madeline resting on a couch, using her sub as an
ottoman while watching a Mistress play tic-tac-toe with a riding crop across
the back of a man suspended from the ceiling. On her way to join them, she
stopped by the bar and asked for a bottle of water and a ginger ale, which she
received with a smile from the cute bartender.

At last count there were about twenty Masters and Mistresses
who utilized The Cavern’s facilities, but only a few were considered permanent
residents, and she was lucky enough to be counted as one of them. The title
granted her the use of her own playroom and the ability to come and go as she
pleased. Invaluable freedoms in her opinion.

She loved it here. Within these walls she was not alone in
her desires. She was respected and admired. There was always new knowledge to
be gained and interesting people to talk to. She could lose herself in the sway
of the crowded dance floor or find clarity when focused on one person. Sure,
the club was dark, and at times the stench of sweat and sex was overwhelming.
But that’s what she liked best. The teaming mass of humanity who said “fuck it
all” and lived for the moment. In a word, The Cavern was heaven.

“Well…” Madeline said as Jasmine sat down next to her. “How
did it go with the new sub?”

“Good.” She took a sip of her soda and turned her attention
to the floor show.

“Good? That’s all?”

“Yep.”

“Liar. I can smell your pussy from here.” She reached
between Jasmine’s legs and copped a feel. “And your pants are soaked through.
Honey, that is more than just good.”

“Keep your hands to yourself, missy.” She slapped at
Madeline’s arm with a chuckle. “Okay. It was really good.”

“Spill it. I want to hear all of the juicy details.”

“You know I don’t tell.”

“Come on. Give me something. Cock size? Any special talent?
Did he at least make you come hard?”

“I didn’t let him make me come.”

Madeline’s eyes boggled. “Are you serious? Why not?”

“Because the anticipation is just as sweet for me as it is
for him.”

“That’s insane. I can’t go one day without coming. Keep your
head down, Megabyte. Mommy is talking.” She used the sole of her boot to push
the sub’s head down. “So. Is he a keeper?”

Million-dollar question. “I don’t know. He responded
beautifully, but I didn’t push him that hard. He’s new. Really new. Time will
tell.”

“Hmmm. But you want him. You want him bad. I can see it in
your eyes. You act all calm and untouchable, but you want to ride that man into
the ground.”

Jasmine couldn’t help but smile at Madeline’s words. The
woman was incorrigible.

Of course she wanted to ride the captain’s cock. It was
quite lovely, and the way his body rolled with the sensations she inflicted
upon him was absolutely delicious. That’s why she had worn pants, to remind
herself that the evening was about seeing to his needs and not hers.

“As I said, he’s new. The moment I really drag him over the
coals he may balk and become a complete disappointment.”

Madeline nodded. “Like what happened to Elizabetta earlier.”

“What happened to Lizzie?”

“You didn’t hear? Her new sub tried to Dom her and turned
into a big bully when she wouldn’t play his game.”

“Is she all right?”

“Physically, oh yeah. She had him on his knees real quick
when he tried to tackle her. She’s been taking those self-defense classes from
Bale, you know. And Lucian and Jax were there right away. But mentally, I don’t
think she’s taking it too well. She really liked this guy.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jasmine muttered and twisted the cap off
the bottle of water as if it were the asshole’s head.

Why did men think they had to physically assault someone to
show their strength? Elizabetta wasn’t the first one to have a male sub try to
prove his manhood by taking it out on his Mistress, and unfortunately she
wouldn’t be the last. As long as men questioned their sexuality, there was
going to be some dumbass who turned violent when faced with the truth.

Lizzie was a good Mistress, just starry-eyed and young. She
liked them big and muscle-bound. Alphas begging to be mastered. Except she
doubted her abilities and suffered from low self-esteem. Jasmine saw she did
her best to hide her insecurities, but when a sub who wasn’t fully invested in
the relationship sensed a weakness, more often than not, they exploited it. She
had potential. She only had to believe in it.

“Where is she now?”

Madeline shrugged. “I saw her leave with Amaryllis.”

“Poor kid. At least Amaryllis has a way making things
better.”

“True that. Now I’m depressed. I hate that. Megabyte.” She
nudged him with her heel. “I’m horny. Crawl over here and lick my pussy.”

And that was her cue to leave. “I’m outta here. See you
later.”

“Are you going to find a man to satisfy that itch? Or better
yet, a woman?”

“No.” Madeline was all about instant gratification and never
appreciated the torture of holding out. “I’ll be heading out soon, but first I
have a pixie to interrogate.”

* * * * *

Marco snapped his gum and tried to instill a sense of calm
into his twitchy muscles. This meeting was dragging on for what felt like
forever and it was obvious to everyone in the room, except the commander, that
nothing constructive was going to be resolved.

Ever since the state decided to legalize marijuana, the
department had had monthly meetings as to what was considered legal and illegal
when complying with federal law.

In other words, government officials didn’t know whether to
shit or get off the pot and refused to make a decision that might damage them
in the polls.

To make it look as if they were making an effort, the
commander tasked them with these monthly sessions. It was all bullshit and
Marco found them tedious on a good day.

But tonight was a Mistress Jasmina night. In two short hours
he’d be submerged in her world. All day long his skin tingled with
anticipation, his body anxious to feel her hands on his flesh, and his eyes
kept skipping to every clock and timepiece in the vicinity. The only time he felt
the least bit calm was while working on details of the Smithwick case.

They were homing in on his capture and the minute that
rat-bastard stepped back on city soil, his ass was grass.

But Smithwick was not in the city. And all of Marco’s daily
work was caught up. Funny how the prospect of mind-blowing sex motivated a man.
The only thing standing in his way was Commander Asswipe and his long-winded
speeches.

The commander lifted is eyes from the stack of papers on the
podium and heaved a sigh. “Are there any questions?”

If any of you shitheads makes a sound, I’ll kick your ass
into next week.

Marco held his breath and counted to ten. A quick glance
around confirmed that almost every man in that room was just as tense as he.

Asante sighed again. “You’re dismissed.”

Hot damn.

Marco was the first one to the door and halfway down the
hall when Coulter caught up to him. “Good lord. I thought he’d never shut up.”

“You and me both, kid.”

He stopped by his desk to do a quick scan to ensure
everything was locked, off and put away. Of course anything of real importance
was hidden where snoopy bosses couldn’t find it.

“Spectacles, testicles, wallet, watch,” he mumbled as he
slapped those areas. He was good to go. “See ya, Coulter.”

“Wait, wait, wait. What’s the rush? Trent’s poker game
doesn’t start until eight.”

“I told Trent I’m not going to make it. You guys have fun.”

“What do you mean? You’re always there.” He followed Marco
to the elevator. “What’s more interesting than Samuel’s melt-your-face-off
chicken wings?”

Marco paused with his hand over the down button. “I can
think of a thousand things more interesting.”

Coulter shrugged. “I can only think of one. Women. Oh, hey.
Are you meeting a woman?”

“On a Tuesday? No.” He felt his face heat with the lie and
pressed the button several times in rapid succession.

“Holy shit. You’re blushing. It must be a woman. Who is
she?”

The doors swooshed open. About damn time. “Goodnight,
Coulter.”

He slapped the doors back open. “Come on, Cap. A name,
description, something.”

“Move your hand.”

“A name.”

“Look.” Marco pointed over Coulter’s shoulder. “Boobs.”

The man fell for it and turned. “What?”

Marco knocked Coulter’s hand away so the doors could close
then sagged against the wall with a sigh. Coulter was going to be worse than
the paparazzi on the trail of a juicy scandal. An annoyance for certain, but
for Mistress Jasmina, completely worth it.

The heavy rush-hour traffic had his hand reaching for his
flashing light, but he left it in its holder. She already had enough power over
him as it was. No need to prove how desperate he was for more of her attention.

The gate for the private parking garage under The Cavern
lifted with the swipe of his entry card and reminded him of the parting of the
red curtain before the feature presentation. The card was a perk of being
Mistress Jasmina’s submissive. Private parking and backdoor access to the club.

He breezed past the doorman at the entrance without making
eye contact and headed straight for the dungeon. The guy knew what he was there
for and didn’t need to know any more.

To his surprise, Mistress Jasmina was already seated in her
chair when he opened the door.

She was dressed in his favorite mesh halter top and a skirt
that was so short, it appeared as if she wore nothing from the waist down.

He shut the door behind him and dropped to his knees before
her as he had been instructed. As much as he wanted to follow the long line of
her bare legs with his gaze, he kept his head down and waited and waited. And
waited.

“Rise and undress,” she said without the slightest
inflection to give away her mood. He rose and reached for the top button of his
shirt. “Like last time.”

The act was like last time, but there was a different, tense
vibe in the air that made his mouth go dry. At any moment he expected the
proverbial other shoe to drop, and he didn’t mean his wingtip or the stiletto
balanced on the end of her foot.

Once bared, he knelt on the floor and waited for further
instructions. Jasmina crossed then re-crossed her legs and watched him in silence
for several long minutes. Her intense gaze on his naked body felt as strong as
her hands actually touching his flesh.

After a slow blink of her eyelids, she rose to her feet and
stood above him like an Amazon warrior. She crossed to the wet bar and poured a
glass of yellowish liquid into a crystal tumbler.

“Have a drink, Rookie. You’re going to need the calories
tonight.” She handed him the glass with a daring smirk. “Don’t worry. It’s only
pineapple juice.”

He took the offered cup and brought it to his lips. As
discreetly as possible, he took an exploratory sniff for good measure and
breathed a slight sigh of relief at the familiar but unexpected sent of
pineapple. Liquor made sense, but why pineapple juice?

When the glass was drained, she took it from his grasp and
licked her lips while tapping a steady rhythm on the crystal with her short
fingernails.

“Last week when I left you, I had given you specific
instructions. Did you follow them? And I suggest you think carefully before you
answer, Rookie.” Her softly spoken question cracked in the air as effectively
as a whip.

Shit. The pixie squealed. Panic beat in his chest, and a
thousand excuses flew to his lips. But Mistress did not suffer excuses. If he
dared to utter them, there was nothing stopping her from walking out that door.

He swallowed down his nerves and answered, “Not exactly.”

“Explain.”

“I helped Pixie to dress me.”

“I see,” she sighed with disappointment. “It appears as if
you require another method of training for you to understand my word is to be
obeyed. Forehead to the floor, hands by your head. I want that delicious ass
pointed to the sky.”

Marco bent over as a new wave of panic washed over him.
There was no doubt in his mind that this time she was going to punish him with
more than a pinched nipple.

The click of her heels against the floor sent shivers down
his spine. The creak of the wardrobe cabinet doors opening and the clunk of
unseen items as she sorted through her equipment made his gut clench with
anticipation.

“I knew you hadn’t followed my orders the moment I looked at
Pixie’s face. The way she held her breath told me she had something to hide.
Plus if she had gotten her hands your body, she would have been wet and ready
to fuck. I’m sorry it has to come to this, but you have to learn. Now, what
should I choose? Ah. A good old-fashioned wooden spoon will do nicely.”

Oh my God, she’s really going to spank my ass.

He gulped and tried to relax. The last time he’d been
spanked with a wooden spoon was when his mom caught him dumping food coloring
into his sister’s bottle of hairspray. He doubted this experience was going to
be the same.