Chapter Six

Wick

Not needy enough! Not fucking needing enough!What the hell did he know about her pussy clenching incessantly? Or her clit throbbing faster than the blood pumping through her veins. I'm needy, Master M. So goddamn needy I could scream.

Which didn't sit well with Wick, especially so soon after the hard climax she had in his office. A climax that still caused her heart to flutter just thinking about it.

What the hell kind of plane is this? It was a question that had been milling through her mind too many times to count. The red devil on her shoulder had been whispering the answer in her ear, but she refused to consider it.

There is no way in hell this could be a sex club. Who would dare operate one in the skies? It can't be legal, can it?

She had read about BDSM clubs—bondage, domination, submission, and masochism. Although it had intrigued her enough to do some further research, Wick had never felt the desire to dip her toes in the unknown world of pleasure through pain and domination. The clubs weren't illegal, as long as the proper licenses and laws were followed, but one in a plane? It bent her mind. As they approached the bottom of the stairs into the lower level of the plane, sounds of laughter and the drone of voices penetrated her flustered mind. Unconsciously, her hands crept behind her to clasp the opposite elbows in the position Master M had her earlier.

"Well, now that warms my heart, Wick. It truly does," he murmured in a dark, deep voice close to her ears. "I'm very happy that my instincts about you were right." He chuckled. "You're even comfortable walking around half naked."

Before Wick could protest and deny his claim, he opened the door and, with his hand resting lightly on her nape, prodded her into a cabin that could only be described as an opulent club.

The transformation from a standard plane cabin to this lavish sanctuary was astounding. The ceiling, lined with soft, ambient lighting, cast a warm glow over the rich black, gold, and deep burgundy hues that dominated the interior. The walls were adorned with intricate paneling, giving the space an air of old-world elegance mingled with modern luxury.

To the left, a polished dance floor gleamed under a gentle spotlight, hosting couples swaying gracefully to the smooth, soulful strains of live jazz emanating from a grand piano in the corner. The music was soft yet invigorating, infusing the room with an intimate, almost hypnotic atmosphere. Nearby, a handful of people stood in small groups, engrossed in conversation, their laughter and low murmurs adding to the convivial hum.

Stretching the length of the cabin was an exquisite bar, its surface a mirror-like expanse of black marble veined with gold. Behind it, shelves stocked with an array of top-shelf liquors and crystal decanters sparkled invitingly. Two bartenders, clad in crisp white shirts and black vests, moved with practiced efficiency, crafting cocktails with a flair that suggested both skill and passion.

Plush seating areas, upholstered in velvet and leather, were strategically placed at intervals, creating intimate enclaves for those seeking privacy amidst the social whirl. The seats were oversized, beckoning with promises of comfort and discretion, their rich textures inviting to the touch.

The most unsettling aspect, and confirmation of exactly what kind of plane this was, was the attire of the patrons. Most of the women were dressed in either elegant lingerie or intricately designed leather harnesses that enhanced their assets rather than covered them, leaving little to the imagination. Some, like her, were naked. The men presented a striking contrast, their outfits ranging from sleek black suits to leather pants and vests or casual jeans paired with silk shirts. The diversity of attire underscored the club's unique blend of sophistication and hedonism.

As Wick took in the scene, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of awe and apprehension. The luxurious surroundings clashed with the provocative atmosphere, creating a disorienting blend of high society and raw sensuality.

"Breathe, Wick," Max cooed with a chuckle as he returned greetings on their way deeper into the plane. His hand on her nape, though gentle, was a firm reminder of his control and the unfamiliar world she had just stepped into. "You're on GoldenEye Airbus I, home of Club Decadent Skies."

"Sky Dungeon," she read the sign above the door they were approaching. "This is a sex club."

"BDSM club." He glanced at her. "Since you're not asking, I assume you know what it means?"

"Of course I do. I don't live under a rock."

"Glad to hear that. To put your mind at ease, this is a registered club. All legal, I assure you. Everyone aboard this plane has signed an NDA, and every member and employee adheres to safety and FAA regulations. The plane has been specifically designed to keep cabin pressure as close to normal as possible. It's crucial since what happens behind this door could be dangerous if not. So, are you ready?"

"Does it matter?" She glanced at the door, imagining what awaited her behind its thick panels.

"Not really. You trespassed, and now you will take accountability for that. Boarding this plane automatically puts you in the same boat as everyone else. You will adhere to all the rules and protocol, including the details of our NDA, which you will sign before you're allowed to leave this plane."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I guess you will become my permanent guest."

"You're kidding, right? You won't keep me a prisoner on this plane indefinitely." Wicked searched his eyes but couldn't penetrate the shield she had noticed was wrapped around his emotions.

"I won't? I suppose you'll have to wait and see."

"Ehm… I'm not… we're not going to… I mean…"

"Indulge in a BDSM scene?" He brushed his fingers over her cheek. The caress was brief but left her feeling warm and cared for. "Not unless it's something you truly want. BDSM isn't forced on anyone, Wick. It's a choice. For some, it's a lifestyle. For you, it's new." He smiled. "But I daresay it's not something you would be opposed to. Your reaction to my unspoken commands earlier is proof of that." His large hand swallowed her chin as he tilted her head to capture her full attention. "As did your climax from my kiss."

"And yet you said no to more," she croaked, overwhelmed by the seam of lust that ripped loose inside her to settle in her throbbing womb. His closeness had an adverse effect on her libido, to the likes she had never experienced before.

"I said no to sex, which is what you offered. I don't do sex, Wick. I fuck, and when I do fuck you, it'll be because nothing else in this world would matter more at that moment. You would quiver, beg, and breathe only me. Then, and only then, will I give you what you need."

"You said when, not if." Wick could hardly breathe as she waited for his response. He was the total opposite of the type of men she usually dated. She didn't like bulging muscles. Big men like him scared the shit out of her, not because of his size but because of how small and vulnerable he made her feel. It wasn't a feeling Wick was used to. She was always in charge of her own destiny, her feelings, and choosing who she reacted to. Why she was so drawn to this man was a mystery, but there was no denying the magnetism between them.

His gaze was enigmatic, promising, and filled with so much heat, she felt scorched. He leaned closer and growled close to her lips, "Because we are going to fuck, Wick. I have no doubt about that."

The brief, hard kiss he took from her stole more than her breath. It yanked her off center, leaving her to dangle haphazardly in the aftermath of promised bliss as he pushed open the door and prodded her to enter the Sky Dungeon.

"Welcome to my world, Wick."

Wick's hands released her elbows. Shocked, she realized she had been walking around in a submission position all the time. "Oh, my," she whispered as she looked around with her jaw slack. Stumbling, she took the first hesitant step inside a world as dark and dangerous as the man who had controlled her with nothing more than the lyrics of a song.

Her head whipped this way and that as she took in the aluminum frames of the benches, crosses, tables, horses, and God knows what else. She had seen pictures of BDSM equipment when she had delved into the lifestyle, but these were clearly on a completely different level. She was ignorant of the fact that Master M allowed her to roam the dungeon, following close behind since the chain of her collar was still attached to the loop of his jeans.

Her hands fluttered wildly as she openly stared at the scenes unfolding all around her. First, they clamped together, then they wrapped around her waist as she stared at a hanging Shibari in process, and finally, they covered her mouth as she came to stop at a flogging scene.

"No! Oh, sweet, holy heaven, he's hurting her!" She looked around, her eyes as wide as saucers as she reached for him and dragged him closer. "You have to stop him! Look at her, she's screaming. Stop him, please."

Max pressed his body close to her side and placed one large hand on the small of her back and the other covering her belly button.

"Breathe, Wick, and look. Don't see what your mind tells you society expects you to see. Look and see what she feels. What she desires, but most of all, what she needs."

"She… she's aroused." Wick shook her head, completely discombobulated by what she was seeing. "How can anyone find pleasure or become aroused by pain that has to be excruciating? Her ass is covered in red stripes from the lashes, and he's not stopping!"

"No, keep watching." His hands tightened as she turned her head. "Watch him, see what her needs are doing to him."

"I don't… he's aroused, too, but that's to be expected," she scoffed. "Men, as far back as the medieval ages, have found pleasure in whipping women for fun."

"You're not looking deep enough, Wick. You saw it with her. See it with him. It goes far beyond arousal. Look, see what he feels. What he needs. What it is they offer each other."

"For God's sake, Master M. I don't see anything other than her face contorted in tears. He's ripping her ass to shreds. You have to… Oh—" Wick pressed her fingers over her lips as the submissive in the scene finally gave over to what she had been holding out for. Her pleas to be fucked echoed through Wick's mind. The Dominant immediately complied, and no matter how much her brain shouted at her to look away, she couldn't. Their coupling was rough, wild… and beautifully raw.

"I… he… they…"

"Yes, Wick. Their emotions and needs feed off each other. That's what the exchange of power offers in this lifestyle. She gave him the power to give her body what it needed and trusted him not to abuse that power. He accepted the gift. To a Dom watching a submissive reach that level of euphoria is the ultimate achievement of his goal… to push his sub over the barriers that kept her from achieving the ultimate aim… to be free, to not think. Only to feel." His voice darkened. "That, my dear Wick, is how you'll be when I fuck you."