Bonds of Need Read online

  Kendra gave a knowing grin. Allie liked what she saw, whether she would admit it or not. Cali had taken a risk, bringing them to this private world of hers. They both could’ve easily condemned and scorned her. Many would. Thankfully it appeared that Allie wasn’t going to do so. But then, Kendra hadn’t really thought Allie would, no matter what she personally felt.

  Kendra certainly couldn’t condemn what she herself craved.

  The intensity had increased on stage, with the Dom pinching, sucking and pulling on the sub’s nipples until the woman was in a state of wound-up oblivion. Her toes were curled tight to match the strain of her leg muscles against the ankle cuffs and chains that held her captive.

  Unable to take any more without combusting herself, Kendra made a quick excuse to Allie, who barely acknowledged her, and stood to leave. Jake caught her wrist as she moved to pass him, his grip strong as he looked into her heart in a brief instant. He nodded then tilted his head, indicating the far end of the hallway. His eyes transferred his meaning, even if he remained silent.

  Her pussy clenched, a ripple of longing flashing to her nipples that was chased by disgust at her own weakness. She cast her eyes down in acknowledgement, and Jake let go. She mouthed the word “bathroom” to Cali’s inquisitive look and eased out of the aisle. A quick glance back showed Jake tapping on his phone. She didn’t have to be genius to know what he was sending. Permission.

  God. Did she dare? Could she not?

  A gulp of fresh air filled her lungs the second she entered the hallway. She stalled there, shaking as she slumped against the wall. She locked her knees to keep herself upright, an act that brought a smirk to her lips. Eric always punished her for locking her knees. One of the first lessons she was taught as a sub was to keep her knees loose to limit the chance of fainting.

  She took a moment to people-watch. Some gave her notice. Most were too focused on their partner to care. In general, the clothing choices behind the red doors were more revealing, most aligning to the leather and latex that dominated the BDSM scene. Although a number of people still wore the colorful masks like herself, maintaining the role-playing theme of the evening, the aura only adding to the excitement.

  She turned her head and stared down the long hallway to the stairway at the end. The faint sounds of the Dungeon drifted down to her like a lure, pulling her in, closer to temptation, to the forbidden acts taking place just beyond her reach.

  Closing her eyes, she centered in on the distant crack of a whip, the smack of a paddle against flesh, the wail of a sub timed with the clinking of chains. Her lips compressed as she struggled against the desire to join. The need that tugged at her to walk up the stairs and take what her body so desperately wanted.

  She twisted the black band on her wrist, her mark as a visitor to The Den. But her status had been elevated, the red light having changed to green. She could play if she wanted. Her safety catch had been released, and now there was nothing stopping her but free will.

  Her decision to make.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the beckoning stairs. The choice was hers. One made of her own desire. Not out of obligation or forced complacency. That made it different. Right? Her mind said yes, but was it the answer she wanted to hear in the moment? One she would regret come morning?

  She turned her head in the other direction, the back of the red doors beckoning. That was the way she should go. The smart choice. But was it braver to run or to succumb?

  Straightening, she squared her shoulders and pushed away from the wall. Her call. Her choice.

  Kendra lifted her chin and walked down the hall, the stairway coming closer with each committed step. Tonight, for one night, she would play once again.

  * * *

  Deklan shot out of the chair, the object wheeling back to crash into the table behind him. He didn’t care. He was absorbed by the lethal movements of the woman as she moved down the hallway toward the stairway that led to the Dungeon. The screen didn’t do her justice, but it adequately captured her determination, the set of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin, the long strides that surely clicked on the hard flooring beneath the boot heels.

  Fuck. His hands fisted against the counter he leaned on, pulling his arm muscles taut with the tension. She was going up alone. What did Jake do?

  Deklan hadn’t responded when he’d received Jake’s text authorizing Kendra to play. Overriding the other man wasn’t in his protocol, but he hadn’t anticipated Kendra following through on the opportunity.

  His focus was glued to the security screen as she ascended the stairs and entered the Dungeon. His gaze jumped to another screen and found her instantly. She paused for a moment, her head moving as she took in the large room, scanning over the equipment and Scenes taking place.

  Tapping a button, he forced a camera to zoom in on her face. Behind the mask her eyes were intent, heavy with smoldering desire. Her lips were parted and forming small O shapes with each deep exhale. Another click and tap, and he pulled up the wide-angle view on a second screen, his attention flicking between the two.

  He stiffened and went completely still as he watched Lucas swoop in on the new prey. She’d moved to the wall and assumed the submissive pose in an open invitation to all Doms that she was willing to play.

  Lucas was an employee, on the newer side, but he’d been a member for a number of years before they’d hired him. He was a hard but fair Dom who held an edge of the little-man syndrome that he carried around. With her heels, she stood a couple of inches taller than the blond Dom, which Lucas would only take as an added challenge.

  Deklan couldn’t hear their conversation, but damn, he wanted to. Why hadn’t he installed audio on the Dungeon cameras? Because this was the first instance in over five years that he’d ever had a desire to hear what was going on in the public room. Generally there was no need, with the Dungeon Masters on the floor.

  She gave a short nod, her eyes still downcast. A smile painted over Lucas’s face, a gleam of anticipation lighting his eyes. He reached out to caress the black cuff, his finger touching the green light, indicating a point of their discussion.

  Deklan spun away from the security monitors and stalked to the door of the small room. His movements were tracked by his second in command of security, Rock. A man he trusted from their years of shared service in the military.

  “Problem, boss?” The man glanced to the screens Deklan had just left.

  “No.” Deklan paused, his hand on the door. “Buzz me if I’m needed.”

  “Right.” The brief reply didn’t withhold the skepticism, but the man was wise enough to keep any thoughts to himself.

  Making his way down the back hallways and employee-only areas, Deklan struggled to rein in the raging beast that slithered under his skin. It made no sense, this predatory, protective instinct that was digging into his gut and pushing him toward her.

  She was an adult with the right to do as she wished. She could take care of herself.

  The logic didn’t stop his progress.

  He entered the Dungeon through a side door and paused until he found her. The negotiations had finished, and the two had moved to an area that contained a spanking bench and stockade. He eased along the wall to stake out a corner near the couple, keeping to the fringes. The sounds of the Dungeon—the slap of paddles, hiss of whips, moans of pleasure—faded to background noise as Deklan zeroed in on Kendra.

  “Dress off, on the bench.”

  He was close enough to hear the commands as the other Dom pointed to the spanking bench.

  She slipped an arm into her dress, hesitating for a second before she grabbed the cotton and pulled it over her head, ensuring her mask stayed in place. Deklan responded almost instantly to the sight she revealed.

  His gaze traveled up her long legs, encased in royal blue silk to her thighs. The matching undergarments made her skin glow like pearls against the bright color. The low-rise garter belt contained a lace ruffle that teased with the illusion of coverage without
concealing the tiny attached thong visible behind the layer of fluff.

  His scrutiny continued over her toned stomach and held on her round breasts, pushed up and on display. The shelf bra cupped the underside of the mounds, leaving her nipples exposed, the deep rose-colored buds puckered tight in arousal. But it was the unexpected bonus of the weighted gold and silver suns hanging from her nipple piercings that made him groan.

  She was a vision of innocence and mischief. Naughty, but nice.

  Something Lucas honed in on immediately. “Wait.” He stopped her before she could finish his command and lie on the bench. The Dom stepped forward to stand before Kendra.

  Her eyes closed behind the mask, her nostrils flaring slightly when Lucas lifted his hand to tug on the nipple jewelry. Her fist tightened around the material of the dress she still clenched, but other than that she didn’t move.

  “Lovely,” Lucas praised. “So much to play with.” The off-handed murmur applied to more than the jewelry he held. It was clear that he was referring to the entire package Kendra presented.

  She was new, fresh to the club, but experienced. Already there were a number of members edging closer to see what would happen. What would Lucas do and how would she respond? The fresh reaction was always so alluring.

  Every sub responded differently when under the control of a Dom. Would she comply with meek acceptance, or would she hold a hint of defiance just under the layer of submission? What was her pain tolerance, her triggers, her unspoken desires that she hoped the Dom would find?

  Cursing silently, Deklan pulled in the feral urge to shove the other Dom aside so he could discover those answers himself. But she wasn’t his. He had no right and wouldn’t overstep his bounds just because he was the owner. He’d never abused his power in that manner.

  Lucas gave the nipples a sharp tug, which forced Kendra to arch her back against the sudden pain that would’ve shot through her sensitive nubs. She withheld a gasp, and the clean line of her throat undulated as she swallowed.

  She was beautiful.

  Stepping back, Lucas took her dress from the clutch of her hand. “Safe word.”

  The curt demand pried her eyes open, her gaze landing directly on Deklan. Her eyes widened in an instant of recognition, the artful application of makeup making them appear larger than normal behind the mask before they zoomed downward to stare at the floor.

  “Lilac,” she answered, the low word drifting over the sex-laden air to sink into Deklan like the scent of the fragrant flower.

  He inhaled automatically in a fool’s attempt to catch a wisp of the nonexistent aroma.

  She shivered, the action rippling down her body, making the suns charms shimmy and bob and the ruffle on her low garter-belt flutter. The movement made all the more enchanting because it was natural. There was no pretense or forced reactions coming from her. A grunt of appreciation sounded from a Dom standing behind her, his focus clearly on her ass cheeks, which Deklan assumed were on display. But the other man’s face stilled and hardened as his eyes lifted to her back. An unheard curse left his lips, the definition clear on the defined movements of his lips.

  Lucas turned from hanging her dress on the wall hook and paused to admire his sub, his erection outlined in the tight leather pants he wore. “Bench, my dear.”

  She nodded and moved to the designated piece of equipment. It was one of Jake’s designs, the back elevated with the bench sloping down at an angle that would fully expose a sub’s bottom while adding to his or her vulnerability in a forced pose of submission. The bench seat was wider at the base to support the hips and then narrowed near the front. It was broad enough to hold the frame of a sub but allowed for a woman’s breasts to hang off the sides, granting easy access to the Dom.

  Lucas let her keep her lingerie on instead of making her strip, and Deklan wondered if that was part of the negotiations. Now more than ever he wished for the audio that would’ve allowed him to hear their exchange, know the rules they both established before playing.

  Her chest rose and fell with each breath in a rhythm that seemed to match her steps. There was a predatory grace to her stride, the same one he’d noticed in the main room. Another shiver rattled through her, her fist clenching at her sides as she grimaced.

  Deklan straightened but he remained rooted in the corner. The warning hairs on the back of his neck rose to tingle over his flesh. Something was off. Exactly what he’d sensed since she’d entered the club. She was here willing, but there was more to the Scene than what was playing out.

  Lucas’s eyes narrowed, the intent Dom having caught the same vibe as Deklan. “Kneel, sub. Your disobedience is begging for punishment.” Lucas’s command was presented as a challenge. A demand to see if she would comply or run, the tension holding her body indicating the latter was a viable option.

  One last inhale, and she dropped, her knees hitting the soft pad of the knee ledge with a thud. Her breasts jiggled with the impact, her eyes closing again as she leaned forward and braced her hands on the floor, the definition of her ribs and the stark outline of her hipbone showing as she sank to the bench.

  She was model thin, but the muscles defined in her arms and legs gave proof of her dedication to the long runs he’d seen her take religiously, no matter the weather. Her stomach displayed the contours of each muscle in a way that only the truly fit achieved.

  She was thin, but she wasn’t weak.

  The curve of her back compressed in a sigh as she laid her cheek against the bench, her face turned toward the wall, depriving the spectators of the view. Deklan gritted his teeth against the infraction. He wanted to see her every reaction. But what he wanted even more desperately was to be the only one to see them.

  Cursing himself for the unattainable desire, he forced his face to remain emotionless, a tactic he’d mastered years ago.

  Lucas moved to Kendra, his boots clumping forcibly on the wood floor. Her muscles twitched and tensed with each step he took. He stopped beside her, knees in her line of sight, eyes scanning from her head down the length of her back. The Dom stilled, his mouth thinning before his gaze shot up, seeking, until he met Deklan’s. His eyes did a quick flick down and up in an unspoken message that had Deklan stepping out of the shadows.

  Lucas stroked his fingers down the sub’s spine in a light caress that was gentle in its barely there touch. Kendra shook, a full-body reaction to the soothing touch that was in direct contrast to the desired response. Lucas removed his hand, but she continued to shake in an apparent uncontrollable manner.

  The Dom eased back, his eyes holding on the sub’s face before he looked to Deklan. Luke tipped his head down in indication of Kendra before he took another step away and moved out of the Scene area. A movement that was choreographed to match Deklan’s entrance.

  A Dom who was an employee of the club only stepped aside in an instance when a sub was in danger. No safe word had been said, but there was something wrong. One of the Dungeon Masters was already at Lucas’s side, his head bent in muted conversation over the situation.

  Deklan tuned out the others as he neared Kendra. She trembled almost convulsively now. Her legs were still spread on the kneeling pad, the globes of her ass cheeks on high display. He swallowed a curse, not wanting to frighten her when his eyes landed on the long expanse of her back and saw what had angered the other Doms.

  Criss-crossed over the smooth, pearly skin of Kendra’s back were stripes of white. The unmistakable scars layered in the imprecise pattern of someone inexperienced with a whip. His hands instantly tightened into fists, wanting to deck the sadist who had done that to her.

  A choking sob jerked Deklan’s attention from Kendra’s scarred back. He stepped around the bench, his chest squeezing at what he saw.

  She still trembled, small vibrations that shivered over her back. Her hands gripped the bench handles, making her knuckles white and the tendons on her wrists bulge. But it was her face that had him dropping to his knee. The anguish displayed behind the hidden feature
s hit him like a kick to his balls.

  Her eyes were squeezed shut in the clamped denial of a child, her lips compressed to a slit between her teeth to hold back the quiver. It was the tears that broke it all. The large drops of liquid rolled from her eyes, despite her effort to hold them in. They ran down the side of her face and over the bridge of her nose in a trail of blue and black makeup until they disappeared under the edge of the mask.

  Compassion and an unwavering need to protect, to hold her until the pain eased and her body stilled, had him lifting his hand to rest his palm against the back of her neck. The move deliberate in its authority but soft in its touch.

  “Kendra,” he said just as gently as his palm settled against her skin.

  Her eyes flew open to stare at him. The anxiety, mixed with fear, almost cut him down.

  He sucked in his breath and said, “Lilac.”

  There was a brief flash of panic, much like a cornered animal, that had him soothing her with soft sounds and murmurs of comfort. She swiveled her head in denial, her mouth working before she cleared her throat.

  Her gaze held his, the pleading look in her eyes kicking him as hard as the anguish that edged her raspy words. “Please, sir. I need this.”

  Chapter Five

  No. He couldn’t stop her now. Not after she’d made it this far. Kendra shook, and she stiffened her muscles in an effort to halt the fear that had overtaken her. The warmth of his palm baked into her nape in a press of dominance that made her ache for more, regardless of her reaction.

  Despite her every resolve never to beg again, she licked her lips and did it anyway. “Sir, please. Don’t stop it. Not now. Please.” Every ounce of urgency she felt went into the low plea that made her voice quiver almost as much as her body.

  Another tear fell, but she refused to let go of the bench handles to wipe it away. Her hands weren’t buckled down. They were held there by the lack of permission to let go.