“I’ve got it covered. I’ve made certain no one in our circle can tie me to what I am about to do.”
“All right. So nothing new from the Wicked ‘Switch’ of the East?”
“Not after her little stunt the other day. But knowing Katherine, I don’t expect the calm to last.”
***
Later that night, the stream of people entering Halo ebbed and flowed. Declan wasn’t into the whole dungeon scene per se, but he could see how it could draw one in. The main room wasn’t a large one, and yet so much seemed to happen there—the tumult of people, the punishments, the creativity, the spectacle. The “B” film version of cold damp, slimed walls and rats scurrying with their nails clicking on damp cobblestones couldn’t have been further from the truth. No, Lila’s club oozed sumptuousness. The main room was dark, warm, and womb-like. The tangy smell of leather emanated from the furniture, heightening the senses. All the pieces were massive leather except for two enormous thrones, which elsewhere may have looked kitsch but here reigned with suitable aplomb.
Declan scanned the scene unfolding as he made his way back to the private rooms. An occupied grope box, the submissive’s Mistress inviting people all around to poke and prod her naughty plaything. With gusto, people pushed fingers and entire hands through all the holes. The St. Andrews Cross was no less an object of interest. A rather burly male adorned the heavy wooden frame with his hands and legs locked by ropes woven through “O” rings. The man’s naked backside faced the audience while he awaited his punishment. A violet wand tormented a blonde on the suspension swing. Heavy silver weights hung like Christmas decorations from her nipple and clit rings. Her Master wielded the electric wand as deftly as a magician; violet electric lines danced over her pale skin. Declan stopped, momentarily caught up in their spell. The electric lines both caressed and tortured her with their exacting demand of self.
Pulling himself out of the mesmerizing scene, he found the door where Lila said he could observe Griffin’s punishment. Lila was going to mete out his punishment herself, and when she was done with him, Declan could say his peace. Lila took orders from no one except for Owen, so Declan’s specific desires were, of course, mere suggestions. Owen had said being with Lila was akin to whiplash. Owen had never considered himself in a submissive role, but Lila had changed all that. He allowed her to beat him, but only for pleasure and not for punishment. He had informed her in exacting terms that they could continue to play together as long as she understood the rules were flexible and she could only be his Mistress when he said she could.
Declan smiled at that thought, knocked lightly on the door, and it opened slowly. Inside, the room smelled like sweat. It was a cold room with one light overhead and a rough-hewn wooden table in its center. Thick leather straps, the kind that cut into flesh, bound Griffin to its unforgiving surface. A ball gag rested in his mouth, and his legs were spread open and secured to a titanium spreader bar, which rendered him immobile. A hulk of a man had the skin of Griffin’s forehead pulled taught as he pressed the tattoo needle into his flesh.
“Good evening,” Lila spoke warmly to Declan. “Our Mr. Cohen is just putting the finishing touches on the tattoo for poor Mr. Griffin here.”
“It is a rather nice evening. I knew you provided excellent entertainment here, but I had no idea of your meticulous attention to detail until just now.” Declan moved closer to the table, inspecting the tattooist’s handiwork.
“Yes. Mr. Cohen is highly skilled when it comes to such delicate and discrete work.” Lila set one high-heeled leather boot atop Griffin’s thigh and dug in with the six-inch spike, making him groan as the point pierced his flesh, drawing blood. “Now, Mr. Griffin you must hold still, you wouldn’t want Mr. Cohen here to accidentally slip and hit your eye with that tattoo gun, would you? That might smart a bit, don’t you think?”
Declan stared as Griffin blinked as if in agreement. Whatever had gone on in this room in the past hour had obviously won him over to Lila’s unique methods for acquiescing.
“What do you think? Shall we have him pierced while Mr. Cohen is here?”
Declan gripped Griffin’s arm tightly as the talented Mr. Cohen carefully displayed a piece of cork, a rather interesting looking needle, and a rather painful looking receiving tube. “What do you think, Griffin? Do you think we should show you mercy and allow Mr. Cohen to pack up?”
Lila chimed in. “You certainly don’t show any of your submissives any mercy, do you, Mr. Griffin? I’m quite surprised it’s taken this long for anyone to exact revenge on you.”
Declan removed the ball gag from Griffin’s mouth. “You fucking whore, where the hell are you going to pierce me?” Griffin spat out.
“Now, now, Mr. Griffin, is that any way to speak to someone who holds your rather painful future in the palm of her hands?”
Declan replaced the gag as Lila held up a thick gauged silver ring and Griffin’s eyes grew wide. “Time to remove those oh so attractive boxers, Mr. Griffin.”
Griffin writhed in panic the best he could against his restraints as Mr. Cohen placed a meaty hand on his thigh.
“On second thought, I think we should be merciful this evening.” Declan released his grip on Griffin’s arm and extended his hand to shake Mr. Cohen’s. “Thank you for your fine work, Mr. Cohen. We will call you shall we require your services in the future.” The linebacker sized artist nodded and packed up his things.
Declan assisted Lila in removing Griffin’s gag, and then his restraints, sitting him up while Lila held a mirror out so Griffin could see the ink embedded in his forehead. Permanently front and center were the words “Punish Me” in a heavy, thick font.
“You forget you ever knew Charlotte Flynn. Do I make myself clear?”
Griffin nodded, spitting saliva from the side of his mouth. “Fuck, fine! Yes!”
“I protect what’s mine. Charlotte belongs to me. If you even so much as think of contacting the authorities about this, like she should have when you tortured her, I’ll fucking destroy you.”
Griffin nodded again, fear blazing in his eyes. Declan released his grip on him, rapping on the door to signal to Lila’s security team so they could remove Griffin.
Declan slipped into the back of the vehicle where Owen was waiting. There was a long silent moment before Owen broke it. “Any trouble?”
Declan shook his head. “Nope. Everything went as planned. The piece of shit is dealt with, and he’ll have to deal with the physical side effects of his haircut longer than Charlotte had to. Your Lila is something else.”
“That she is. And I’m ready to get home to her. I’m sure you’re more than ready to head home to Charlotte as well.”
Declan relaxed as the car crept out of the alley and into the night.
Chapter Fifteen
Who in their right mind goes running the week of Thanksgiving? Emerson, that’s who. It was freezing out. Charlie cursed him out as she glanced over the text message again. Not only did he insist she go running with him this morning, he instructed they meet in front of her favorite bakery. The hot and cold torture ate away at her. The arctic air burned her face and lashed at her legs through the fabric of her running pants while the smell of freshly baked pastry and hot espresso taunted her.
Charlie started to open the door to the bakery when she caught a glimpse of Emerson walking toward her.
“Charlie!”
“Morning.” She walked to meet him, stepping forward to wrap her arms around him, hugging him tightly.
“So six miles this morning?” Emerson smiled down at her.