Traded for Love Read online

  “Are you wearing the belt?” I asked.

  Her cheeks turned red. “Yes, Master.”

  “Show me.”

  She lifted the brim of the dress' skirt to reveal the black leather and metal chastity belt I'd bought for her a year before. When she was locked up, the device ensured that nobody could access her pussy except me. She'd been in it for a week or so. I'd lost count of the days.

  I tugged on the lock to make sure it hadn't been tampered with. “Good. Lower your skirt.” I couldn't help but notice that though she was happy to see me, she was also tense. “Relax.”

  Her shoulders sank and she settled against the backrest. She turned her head and smiled warmly at me. “I missed you,” she moaned.

  I smirked at the road, put the car in drive, and rested my hand on her upper thigh. “I know.”

  We drove to the address Julia had given me. Even though we had to cross the bridge into the city, it was a quick trip.

  When we pulled up to the building, I couldn't help but stare.

  "Savage Sweets." I couldn't hide my incredulity. "This is a bakery."

  "It's not what it looks like," Julia said, handing me a piece of paper. "We go here, then we go around to the back entrance and knock. They let you in."

  I laughed. "What's the secret password for this clubhouse? Are boys allowed?"

  "Actually, there is a password."

  I shook my head with a smile. "Where do we park?"

  "Around the back." She pointed to the parking lot entrance.

  The single-story bakery shared a building with two other outlets. One was available for lease and the other was occupied by a dry cleaners. The lot wrapped around the building. There was only a narrow alley around the back side of the place. Quite a few cars were parked near the back entrance. I managed to find a narrow spot and squeezed in beside a Hummer and a Maserati.

  "Do these people have money?" I asked.

  She shrugged. "I've never been here before. Apparently they meet once a week. There is usually a show of some kind, and a bar."

  That piqued my curiosity. "A show, hm? What kind of show?"

  "I heard that the owner and his girlfriend sometimes perform. I don't have a lot of details."

  I nodded. "I suppose it's worth a try."

  We got out and I offered her my arm as we walked. She virtually wrapped herself around it, giggling as if we were on our first date together. I didn't want her to get the wrong idea. I wasn't here for her.

  The back of the building was neither seedy nor fancy. In fact, it was so ordinary that nobody could have guessed what took place inside.

  Julia rapped on the door and it opened a crack.

  A single blue eye looked out. "Password?" asked a deep male voice.

  "Tiramisu," she answered.

  At first, I thought it was strange, but I quickly remembered we were at a bakery after all.

  The door swung open and a man in black stood there. He let us pass through.

  We found ourselves in the kitchen. The smell of sugar, flour and syrups invaded my nostrils. My stomach complained of hunger. I'd missed dinner, so I wasn't too surprised.

  The bouncer stepped in front of us. “Would you like masks?”

  “Masks?” I asked.

  “Some patrons prefer to be anonymous,” he said, holding out two black eye-masks.

  At first I was going to refuse, but then I remembered it might affect my seat race. I took the mask and fixed it over my face. Julia shook her head and the second mask disappeared at the bouncer's side.

  He led us to another door, one which had escaped my notice. He unlocked it and held it open for us.

  We stood on a landing, with a staircase in front us, comprised of two separate flights. "Down the steps,” he said.

  The door closed, and we were left in the almost perfect darkness. All we could see was illuminated by a single flickering bulb above us.

  “This place is safe, right?” I asked Julia.

  She cleared her throat. “I think so.”

  We carefully took the steps down. It got progressively colder and darker as we went along. Once or twice, I almost suggested we turn around; however, I didn't worry long for our safety. Soon, I was distracted by the sound of hard, grungy music, and the scent of liquor and—cookies?

  The way was open at the bottom landing. Around the corner, we came into a large converted basement with a twenty-foot ceiling (give or take a few feet). I expected it to be dank and humid, but there were large vents and cool air was blowing.

  The cinder-block had been covered by false walls which had been painted white. At intervals, the creamy white was interrupted by floor-to-ceiling lengths of dramatic red fabric. A half-round stage was on one side of the room, which was empty at the time of our entrance. Round tables and chairs were set up in front of the stage for viewers. As Julia had promised, there was a bar with an extensive selection of wine, liquor and beer displayed on mounted shelves. The rest of the room had what looked like separate stations or sections. Two or three had stripper poles and were flanked by large black leather couches.

  “Is everything done out in the open? I'm not sure I like that,” I whispered in her ear.

  She bristled, I assumed, in anticipation of the punishment she'd receive if this experience was not pleasurable.

  We sat down at a couch some distance from the stage.

  “I wonder what we're supposed to do.” Julia cast a furtive glance around the room.

  Patrons sat drinking at the other stations, but we were alone, a fact of which I was glad. I could only imagine how awkward the conversations might get. 'So, you're here to fuck strangers? Me too!'

  I sat back against our couch's cushioned backrest and pulled out my wallet. I handed her a fifty. “Here. Go and get us some drinks.”

  She walked off toward the bar. We'd spent enough time together that I trusted her with buying my drink of choice.

  I let my eyes float closed, took a deep breath and lost myself in the music. It wasn't the type I usually listened to. I was struck by how remarkably soothing it was. Underneath the grunge was a steady drum riff and a heavy bass line. A few minutes passed and I could feel my heart-rate slowing. There was tension in my shoulders that I hadn't even realized was there until it began melting away.

  “You look relaxed.”

  Startled out of my trance, I opened my eyes.

  The voice's owner was a petite woman in a white dress. She tucked a lock of her honey-blonde hair behind her ear.

  Her amber eyes, skirted by long black lashes, surveyed me from head to toe.

  I performed the same scan she had on me. She smiled, her pink glossy lips spreading between the dimples in the apples of her cheeks. Above her pronounced cupid's bow was a button nose. My eyes followed her slender neck to the dip between her collarbones and out over the graceful slope of her shoulders. Her chest was small. Almost everything about her appeared small, from her height to her features.

  She was not my type.

  Which is precisely why it confused me that I suddenly wanted her so badly.

  The truth was, she looked devastatingly sweet.

  She tipped her head. “Did I disturb you?” Her smile widened.

  Her eyes gleamed, and her skin seemed to glow with warmth. It was then I realized that though she appeared pure and innocent on the outside, her sexuality was merely layered underneath that exterior. Underneath her mask was something mysterious, something that called out to me. There was no doubt in my mind that discovering everything she was hiding could ruin me.

  I'd never volunteered to be ruined, but I was beginning to consider it …

  “I am relaxed,” I finally said, “but I wasn't asleep. And as far as you disturbing me, it's hard to imagine a girl as pretty as you disturbing anyone.”

  She chuckled.

  A man came from the direction of the stage. He was fair, handsome and tall. As he put his arm around her, he smiled at me. “I'm sorry to interrupt. I need to borrow this lovely lad
y.”

  Just as soon as he'd whisked her away, I wanted to snatch her back. My instincts were rarely wrong, and they told me that I had to have her. I watched her walk away and was caught by surprise when she glanced back at me over her shoulder.

  Something in my chest jumped. If I hadn't been so sure I didn't have one, I'd have imagined it was my heart.

  I heard something like a whimper behind me, and I turned to see Julia staring at me. She had my whiskey-sour in her left hand and a fruit-filled cocktail in her right.

  “Something wrong?” I asked, my commanding tone taking over.

  “No.” She sounded sad. Maybe she could sense it, too—that I wanted that woman.

  “Well? Don't just stand there. Come sit down.” I motioned her over.

  She came around to the spot beside me and settled down, holding up my drink for me.

  When her eyes met mine, instead of her usual submissive sweetness, I saw an anger that hardened her features.

  I took my drink from her. “If you've got something to say, you'd better come out and say it.”

  Unblinking, her gaze bore into mine. “Who was that?”

  “I have no idea. I just met her.” The whiskey burned down my throat and into my empty stomach.

  “I want to leave.” She set her cocktail down and tugged her purse strap over her shoulder.

  “Well, I don't.” I sipped my drink, trying not to let on that she was testing my patience.

  “I thought we came here to have fun together,” she pointed out.

  “You're jealous.” I drained my glass.

  She scowled. “What? Don't be ridiculous. That skinny, little thing? She couldn't satisfy you in a million years, not like I can.”

  I arched an eyebrow at her. “Do you satisfy me, Julia?”

  Her mouth clamped shut and her bottom lip trembled as her eyes teared up. I hated it when women cried. The last thing I needed was to deal with silly emotional shit tonight, not when I was sure I was about to have some fun in a few hours.

  She started to stand, but I yanked her down to the couch and took hold of her wrists. I looked her straight in the eye. “I know you don't really want to leave. Even if I fucked every single woman in here, you'd still want my dick.” I gently wrapped my hand around her neck. She liked being choked and I knew it was making her ridiculously wet. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she gave in. So easy. “You want it right now, don't you?”

  With my free hand I gripped her chin and pulled her mouth open a half-inch. “I bet if I took it out right now you'd suck it … even with everybody watching.”

  Her body visibly shuddered.

  “I'm right, aren't I?”

  “Y—yes, Master,” she replied.

  I leaned in close enough to kiss her. Instead, I brushed my tongue over her bottom lip and whispered, “Don't worry, slut, our arrangement is still the same. As long as you're a good girl, you'll get to suck it. Even if it is another woman making it hard.”

  She was gripping the couch by the time I let her go. Even though she bored me, I still enjoyed tormenting her from time to time. The intensity as she begged was always at least mildly entertaining.

  I let her go and she slumped against the couch, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

  Feeling particularly genteel, I picked up her glass and held it out for her. “Here.” She received the drink and took a small sip. I sat back and put my arm around her. “Relax. I think the show is starting in a few minutes.”

  As if I'd willed them to go out, the house lights dropped and the stage lights came up.

  The single set of curtains parted, and there she was, the devastatingly sweet girl, tied to a St. Andrew's Cross at center stage, on display for all to see.

  She wore a black latex bra and panties. They barely covered a thing, but it was the covered parts I was interested in seeing. It whet my appetite to see her like that, completely helpless.

  The fair-haired man I'd seen before stepped out from behind the cross. He was shirtless, sporting an enviable physique. Working out had taken a back seat to the campaign, so my arms and chest weren't as well-defined as before. I suddenly wanted to work on it—call it my competitive spirit.

  A song began playing over the speakers, one I didn't recognize, but its lyrics struck me to my core.

  “I fuck you because you're famous.

  I fuck you for your money.

  I fuck you to control you.”

  As the vocalist's reasons for fucking the subject of her repetitive poem continued, the tall man, obviously the Master in this scene, pulled a flogger from a kind of utility belt around his waist. He began working her body, landing the straps against her stretched limbs.

  “I fuck you 'til I find someone better.

  I fuck you in secret.

  I fuck you because I can't remember if I already fucked you before.”

  God damn it. He timed his strikes perfectly. Every time the word fuck came up in the song, his whip left red stripes across her thighs. And every single time, her lip would quiver, her chest would heave. It was driving me insane.

  “I fuck you out of boredom.

  I fuck you because I can't feel it anyway.

  I fuck you to make the pain go away.”

  Though the song shifted into a harder, grungier gear, the beginning of the song kept repeating in my head.

  The Dom's flogger was his brush, and the patterns he left behind on her skin, his art. I could do little more than sit there, speechless, mesmerized by the way her body jumped every time he whipped her, the way her mouth stayed open as she gasped for air.

  Before I knew it, the mere desire I'd had for her before had grown into something much greater. I craved her, and the pure sensual surrender she was giving her Master. For the first time since I met Emily, I truly wanted to own another woman.

  In my silence, I made calculations, imagined myself paying money just to get a taste of her. I'd hand over double or triple digits just to feel her quiver beneath my fingertips, to see her bow and offer me her body.

  The scene ended, and something happened then that both confused and sent me into a jealous rage. The Master leaned in, tipped up the girl's chin, and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. I'd never given any of my subs that type of treatment. I'd never been a cuddler. I wasn't that type of lover.

  The Master unfastened the leather cuffs that fastened her to the cross and helped her down. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the back of the stage where the curtains closed behind them. How gallant, I thought.

  As soon as they'd disappeared, my trance was broken. I'd been so enthralled that I'd been brought to the edge of my seat, literally. I sank back against the couch to recollect myself. I had been so preoccupied with watching the show, that I'd lost track of my own body. Hard was a weak term for the state of my cock. The strain was painful.

  “You might want to wipe the drool off your chin,” Julia said. There was so much bile in her statement, I was sure if I said the wrong thing, she'd call a taxi and go home.

  Being the smartass I was, I couldn't help but point out her tone. “I thought you said you weren't jealous?”

  “How can I help it?” She sounded sad as her hand crept over my thigh to the throbbing bulge in my pants. “I wish this was for me.”

  “I won't apologize for my body's reaction.” I remained calm and reserved. “It isn't for you, but there might be a way you can still serve me—that is if your jealousy hasn't made having fun an impossibility.”

  “You know I'd do anything for you,” she said with ardent devotion. Through my pants, she pressed her fingers against my aching dick. My heart raced for a moment. If Julia finished me off, it'd be purely mechanical. No, I wouldn't settle for anything less than the sweet girl's touch, even if it only lasted a night. It was the only way I'd truly be satisfied.

  I stood and buttoned my sport coat, hoping its length might canvas the intense erection I was sporting.

  “Follow me,” I told Julia
.

  She got up without a word. There were times like this that her absolute obedience was advantageous.

  I headed for the door to the left of the stage.

  (Drake)

  Chastity lay on her back across the queen-size bed, her eyes closed.

  I sat down beside her and stroked her cheek. “How are you doing?”

  She smiled dreamily. “Fine. Could I have some water?”

  I'd already thought of that and handed her a frosty bottle of her favorite flavored water. “Was I too hard on you?”

  She chuckled. “It was good,” she assured me. “Don't worry so much.”

  “I'm not worried. You know how I am, though.” I rubbed the flat of my palm over her stomach.

  “I know.” She smiled.

  That expression on her face—I'd seen it just before I'd snatched her away from that patron. “Who was the guy you were talking to before I came over earlier?”

  Her eyes cracked open. “I don't know.”

  “Do you like him?”

  “He was dark and mysterious. When I first saw him, I thought he was asleep.” She giggled, propping her head up on her hand. “I think like is a strong word.”

  “I think he was into you.”

  “Maybe.” She offered me a sip of her drink, and I took it gratefully.

  From the other side of the dressing room, there was a knock at the door. I went to answer it.

  When I saw who was on the other side, I couldn't say I was surprised. It was Mr. Dark and Mysterious, accompanied by a dark-haired beauty. From his clothing, I could tell he was made of money, but it was his bearing that told me he had an underlying power.

  “Hello. Can I help you?”

  He cleared his throat. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

  “Sure.” I stepped out and closed the door behind me. “What can I do for you?”

  “I'm not sure how all this works, but I was wondering how I might have time alone with your slave.”

  “You sure get right to the point, don't you, first-timer?” I crossed my arms. “You might have started by telling me your name.”

  He bristled with indignation, his eyes glinting through the holes in his mask. “John Doe.”