“Where exactly is this punishment taking place?” They were driving out of town, down a dark country road with no illumination but the glow of the moon and the car’s headlights.
“Now, why would I tell you and spoil all of my fun? Besides, the anticipation’s part of your punishment.”
“You’re kind of a sadist, you know that?” she grumbled.
“Is that right? Think about that before you smart-mouth someone, next time.” He was grinning hugely, enjoying himself way too much.
He took her down a small country road and into a wooded cove, to a non-descript warehouse style building. There were several dozen cars in the dimly lit parking lot.
“What is this place?” she asked him as they climbed out.
“It’s a private, members only club. I wanted to bring you here for a couple of reasons. I know you tend to bristle at authority sometimes, that you think I’m too dominant and overbearing.”
“Sometimes,” she muttered, blushing.
“I wanted to show you that being dominant isn’t all bad. It has its place, and its purpose. It can be very…pleasurable under the right circumstances.”
She stared up at him. Did he mean what she thought he meant? Was it…that kind of club?
Her heart was beating a million miles a minute, and she felt moisture soaking her panties. She didn’t bother to fold her arms over her nipples, which were swollen and straining against the fabric of her t-shirt, two sensitive pink nubs that yearned for Loch’s mouth to suck on them.
“I…” she was speechless.
“But if you don’t want to go in, that’s all right too. I would only want you to go in if you feel comfortable doing it.”
She swallowed hard.
“Will you be with me the whole time?” she asked, her heart hammering against her rib cage.
“Of course. Every second. I wouldn’t leave you.”
“I want to go in,” she breathed.
She followed him through the doorway, in a daze.
They walked down a long hallway, and inside, they stepped into a very large open room.
A room that was a dominant’s heaven. And a submissive’s too, for that matter.
There were padded benches and pommel horses and restraint stations of all type set up around the room. Chains dangled from the ceiling. On the walls were racks holding floggers and paddles and ball gags. The lighting was low and red-tinged. Music drifted from hidden speakers, an ominous instrumental soundtrack that Ginger didn’t recognize.
Muscular men in leather were enthusiastically punishing women who were tied down in various positions…and the women were moaning with pleasure.
The sheriff glanced over at her. “You okay with this?”
“I…yes. I mean, I’ve never done anything like this, but…yes.”
Her voice was husky with desire. She was surprised with how okay with it she was. More than okay. The idea of Loch tying her to one of those frameworks and caressing her with the leather tendrils of a flogger…she let out a small involuntary whimper of desire as she pictured it.
“I’m glad I’m your first.” His eyes twinkled as he looked down at her.
“Me too. I trust you. I couldn’t do this with anyone else,” she told him, looking around the room.
She suddenly realized that she recognized someone…Jax. He was stripped to the waist, revealing magnificent muscles. His partner was a beautiful redhead, naked except for a tiny g-string and a pair of spike heels. Her hands were tied together and stretched above her head, as she dangled from an overhead chain. Jax was standing back, flicking at her back with a rawhide whip that left red stripes criss-crossing her back.
With every strike of the whip, she let out an orgasmic cry.
Loch skimmed his fingers lightly over Ginger’s back, and she shivered and bit her lip, her breath quickening. “This way,” he said.
He led her over to a wooden frame that had metal rings fixed to it at strategic places, with ropes dangling from them, and he positioned her by two of the metal rings.
Then, he tied each wrist to a rope and adjusted them until her arms were stretched over her head. She was facing the wall, with no idea of what he’d do next. The anticipation made her shiver. She wanted his hands on her so badly, wanted to feel his muscular body crushing her up against him…
He grabbed the waistband of her skirt and pulled it down until it lay on the floor, puddled around her ankles. She was wearing pink lacy hipster underwear that exposed most of her generously sized rear end.
He ran his fingers slowly over the skin of her right butt cheek, fingers lovingly tracing the ivory globe. Trails of pleasure sizzled in the path of his fingers, shooting through all the nerves in her body, down to her fingertips and toes. Her * throbbed with need. She bit back a moan and squirmed where she stood.
“You’re going to count out loud for each stroke,” he told her. She glanced back and realized that he was holding a paddle in his hand, and she tensed in anticipation. “If you don’t count, then the stroke doesn’t count. Got it?” His voice cracked through the air, stern and authoritative.
“Yes,” she whimpered.
Please. Do it, she thought.
“Yes, what?”