Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty One

Andy

Topaz smiled as she slid over a whisky, and her eyes spoke too much. Way too much.

“Is she upset with me?” I asked. “Clearly she is.”

“She’s upset,” she said. “She worked hard on this.”

“I can tell.” I took a sip. “Tell me, Topaz. In two years have you ever seen the place like this? This… alive?”

She shook her head. “No, Mr Morgan. Not in my recollection. We have heavy nights, and quieter nights but this night… this is something else.”

Bloody masks were everywhere, and it made it hard to see what the hell was going on on the dancefloor. Some groups had broken off alone, indulging in kinky filth games brought about by Topaz’s cards, but the main thrum was packed thick with revelling dancers. I could just about make out Raven and Cara amongst it, and a few seconds later I spotted Masque at the back, tall enough to see over the rest of the bodies. He was pointing at me, and I raised my glass, only for my breath to catch as I saw Faye alongside him.

I’d been such a fucking asshole.

I downed my shot and got to my feet, heading in her direction at the same time she headed in mine. We met by the playroom corridors, and I was already speaking as I reached her, blabbering a load of crappy excuses about workload, that she didn’t hear because she was blabbering, too.

We both stopped. Took a breath. And she took mine. She was radiant, stunning, fucking perfect. Everything I ever fucking wanted.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m really sorry, Andy.”

It took me aback. “Actually, I was going to say sorry. It’s me who should be sorry, Faye. I’ve been a sour-faced cunt tonight.”

“You have every right to be,” she said, sadly. “This club is a massive beast, I never really gave you credit for how hard it must have been to fly solo. I never even said thanks. So, thanks.” She smiled. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to say that.”

“Faye, look at this place. Look at what you’ve done here.” I gestured to the balloons all around us, to the crowd going wild. “This is amazing. It’s fantastic. You’ve done yourself proud, you’ve done us proud. I was just too much of a sulky, bitter sack of shit to give credit where it’s due. I’m not used to needing to, but that’s no excuse.” She pressed her fingers to her lips, and her eyes were welling, but she was smiling.

“That means a lot,” she managed, but her voice was thick with emotion.

I reached out for her hand, squeezed it in mine. “I’m proud. Proud of our club, and proud of you. I’m so proud, Faye. This is exceptional, you’ve brought the place to life.”

“And you,” she said. “This is our club, Andy, you did it too.”

I shook my head. “No, I didn’t do this, I wouldn’t even know how.” I risked a laugh. “You still can’t seem to get the fucking banking in on time, but I think I can let you off that.” I offered my hand for a handshake, and fluttery eyes met mine so nervously. “Partners?” I said. “Real partners. No stupid coin tossing, or tit for tat.”

Her smile lit up the whole fucking world. She took my hand in hers and she shook it well, just like she had when we first took the plunge on this crazy place. “Partners,” she said. “So, what now?” She looked me up and down. “Where do we go from here, partner?”

I smiled and let go of her hand. “I think it’s about time I contributed a little something to our big birthday bash, don’t you?”

It was all hands on deck to shift the crates, but we made short work of it. Champagne by the bottle, over two hundred of them, all lined up and ready to go. Topaz filled flutes, and Demelza and the other hostesses handed them out, and Faye and I did just like old times, we joined forces behind that bar, and we popped corks and lined up those glasses, and made sure our guests had a damn good time. Twenty bottles remained when the toasts were filled, and we dished those out too, handing them out to randoms on the dancefloor as Faye and I made our way to the middle of the throng.

“Wait!” she said, and she was off, darting back through the masses to our sweet little Topaz. She led her by the hand, delivering her at my side, and the poor girl looked confused.

“I need to be on bar…” she said.

I shook my head. “You can take five,” I smiled. “This is your club too, Topaz. It’s a celebration for all of us. Even spunky little barmaids who are getting a bit too big for their boots.”

She blushed and it was delicious, and on cue, the DJ announced the toast, the fourth year of Club Explicit and all its blissfully decadent filthy fucking fun.

We raised our glasses and the crowd went wild, and it really was a birthday to remember. They fired up the very first song we played, and Faye’s face was a picture.

“We danced to this!” she squealed. “Me and you! Can you remember?”

I leaned in close. “Of course I remember. How could I ever forget?”

And just like back then she was a livewire, a jumping, writhing, hot minx with her arms around my neck as she dragged me along with her euphoria. She grabbed a bottle of champagne from a passing Demelza and the crazy cow shook that thing right up and popped the cork so hard it bashed off the lighting rig, and how it fucking sprayed. It sprayed me, it sprayed her, it soaked poor little Topaz so badly that her peachy nipples darkened through her blouse, but it was awesome. Truly fucking awesome.

And then the floor was alive with bubbles and fizz as popping corks went off all over the fucking place and our dancefloor turned into a champagne fucking sea.

“This is a health and safety fucking nightmare!” I yelled, but she was smiling, pressing her soaking wet body to mine, scorching my skin through my shirt.

“I don’t care,” she hissed. “Kiss me, Andy, just stop talking and fucking kiss me, will you?”

“My pleasure.” She tasted of champagne and sin. She tasted fucking wonderful.

Topaz did a little whoop before she was swallowed up by the crowd, and the whole place went wild around us, but I was done here. I wanted more.

I took Faye’s hand.

“Everyone’s here,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Her smile was devilish. “Go where?”

I pointed across the floor.

“Are you serious?”

I nodded and dragged her behind me, picking up a lonely bottle of champers from the edge of the dancefloor.

As anticipated, the wet room was empty. I slammed her back against the tiles and her glossy red lips were ready to consume me. I tangled my tongue with hers, exhaling into her mouth as I pressed myself between her thighs. I was pent up, horny as I ground against her, and she was already wanting, tipping her head back and pinching her nipples through her soaking wet blouse. I tore the blouse from her and licked the champagne from her cleavage, pulling her corset low enough to free her pretty tits for me. And she moaned, oh fuck, how she moaned.

She hitched her skirt, and teased down her panties, and she was so hot for me, so fucking wet.

I was about to make her a whole lot fucking wetter.

“Stay still,” I growled. “Legs spread.”

I shook up the champagne and she squealed and flinched as I popped the cork, but it wasn’t aimed at her. Only the jet was aimed her way, and I aimed it good, sliding it between her soft pussy lips to spurt against her clit. She bucked and hissed, rubbing herself against the stream, and how glorious a sound it made, splashing down her thighs to pool at her feet.

“Drink,” she hissed, and she grabbed my head and pushed me to my knees. “Drink it from me, drink it from my pussy.”

She took the bottle from me as I began to lick her clean, catching all the beautiful droplets from her slick wet cunt and swallowing them down. She tipped the rest of the bottle over her tits, and the cascade soaked me, it soaked me to the skin, plastered my hair to my scalp and stung my eyes. I didn’t fucking care.

“Open wide,” she said, and I did open wide, tipping my head back to catch the final dregs from the bottle. She forced the neck to the back of my throat with a giggle, then made me suck it, and I was past giving a shit, lost in the insanity of Faye and her whirlwind of crazy.

“Good,” she breathed, pressing her clit to my mouth. “I fucking love you like this, Andy Morgan.”

I fucking loved her any which way she fucking came, and I was done fighting it. I’d have taken anything from her pussy right there, anything, on my knees with that gorgeous creature above me, needy and wet and glazed with lust.

Maybe the wet room wasn’t a Masque-only zone, after all.

And that’s when my good friend James decided to make an appearance. His pretty girl, Cat, was on his arm, and aside from a nod in our direction they were oblivious to us. Faye stroked my hair as she watched them, and soon I’d turned far enough to watch them, too.

Masque was on his knees, as I was, but it wasn’t a golden stream of champagne he was taking from Cat’s wet cunt, it was the real deal. She jerked in release, her face screwed tight with the feeling, and she was gasping, writhing, pressing his mouth to her pussy as she pissed straight down his throat.

Dear fucking God. It was disgusting, and intimate, and way too voyeuristic for fucking words, but the way he took it from her, his cock like a fucking beast between his legs as he chugged down on her filthy fucking offering, his eyes fixed on hers, needy, and desperate and hungry. Like she was a goddess, like she was everything.

Faye’s fingers were gripped tight in my hair, her whole body rigid as she watched the scene unfold. I got to my feet, gliding my hands all the way up her slick, wet body, and kissed her open mouth.

“I’ll do it,” I breathed, and felt her startle.

She pushed me away until she could see my expression. “You’ll do it?”

I nodded. “I’ll do it, and I’ll be real, on one condition.”

She looked wary, but smiled anyway. “What condition?”

I tipped her face to mine and looked right the way through her, right the way into those dark eyes and all their secrets. “I want you to be real, too.”

***

Faye

“Now?” I said, as he dragged me back through the club. “Are you serious? Right here, right now?”

“Everyone’s over there.” He gestured back to the main bar. “So, I’m hedging my bets that the playrooms will be relatively quiet.” He wasn’t wrong. He tried the door to playroom four, the only one with any privacy. “Perfect,” he said. “How about I get myself comfortable, and you go and get whatever devious fucking toys you’re determined to use on me.”

My smile must have lit up the corridor. “Really?”

“Really.”

He pulled me back by my elbow. “And Faye, one more thing.”

“Yes, Andy?”

He looked awkward, like the words were heavy. “This thing needs to be real for me, you’re going to have to push me. Do you understand what that means, Faye? Can you do that?”

I swallowed, but nodded. I knew exactly what that meant. “I can do that.”

“Good,” he said. “In that case you’d better get something that will do the job. I’m sure you have some ideas.”

I had a few. They made my tummy flutter. My clit, too. “I’ll see you in a minute.” I pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, and I was off before he could add any more conditions.

I grabbed my box of tricks from the office, checking to make sure the Emperor was still ready to go, and then I went through his selection. A decent cane and a strap, but they weren’t going to cut it, he was too used to them. He’d take a cane for a fuck of a long time, too long.

I needed more. I needed something that would break him, send him toppling over the edge.

I smiled when it dawned, but I was nervous. Really nervous.

I only hoped I could go through with it, enough to break him before restraint got the better of me.

I reached for his telephone handset, and took what I needed.

He was waiting for me, just as he said he would be. His belt was unbuckled, and his suit bottoms were ready to drop. He slid them down as I watched, kicking them aside with his shoes and socks. I placed my selection on the nearest bench, and put the staff key in the lock. We were in, just us, undisturbed until I decided we were done, and it felt like Heaven. I turned my attention to the perfect specimen of alpha male dominance before me, except now he wasn’t. Now he was all mine.

“Shirt next,” I said. “I want you naked.”

“As you wish.” He had to peel if off his skin, and it looked delicious. His skin was damp and hot, perfect for my touch. I ran my hands up his chest, all over him.

“You’re sure about this?”

“Perfectly,” he said. “I’ll do this, Faye, just tell me what you want.” His lip curled up. “I’m not promising I’ll be doing it again, mind you. We’ll have to see where this goes.”

“Deal. That’s good enough for me.”

I pressed my lips to his nipple. Nipped him just enough to feel him flinch. “You’re so beautiful,” I hissed. “Seriously, Andy, you drive me crazy.” He was nervous, it was in his eyes, and it made it all the better. “I’m going to enjoy this. You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy this. I’ve dreamed of this.”

I kicked a simple padded mat across to the middle of the room, and pulled the ceiling-strung shackles from their fastening at the wall. I locked them into place between us, and silently he offered me his wrists. My clit pulsed like a crazy thing as I fastened him in, and my breath was ragged as I raised the chains until he was on his toes. I could see every muscle in his arms, every ripple of his chest, and it was gorgeous. I walked around him, running a hand up the plains of his back and giving his ass a good squeeze.

“I’m ready,” he said. “Do it, Faye.”

I took out the strap and landed it across his shoulders. Just enough of a bite for a warm up. His skin flashed pink all the same and oh fuck, my pussy was wet. “I’m going to hurt you,” I said, softly. “It’s going to really hurt, Andy.”

He nodded. “I know.”

I pinked him up with the strap, and gave him ten hard strikes with the cane, but this was all common ground. He flinched, breath heavy, but he didn’t falter, didn’t even break up a sweat. I snaked my hands around his waist and took his cock in my hand, and he was hard. He wasn’t going to break easily, not at all.

I gave him another ten and these were quicker, harder. He grunted and gritted his teeth, but he didn’t say a word. The next five I landed on his thighs, and he moved in his chains, just a step. He took a breath, recomposed himself. But I didn’t want him composed. I wanted him broken.

I knew what I had to do, but I was nervous. Really nervous. I unravelled the telephone cable and doubled it, wrapping one end around my hand. I tested it through the air and it made a savage whirring noise. It would bite, and mark, and cut. It would hurt, too. It would hurt so fucking bad.

His eyes widened as he saw it, and he swallowed. “Good choice.”

“You’ll bleed,” I said, but my voice was firm.

“Yes.”

“Don’t fight it,” I whispered. “Don’t wait for it to be over. It won’t be over until you give up.”

“I know.” He took a breath. “Do it.”

I took a breath, too. Then took up position at his side, just a pace behind him. I tightened my grip on the wire, and aimed steady. It cracked diagonally across his back, and he jerked forwards, clenching his fists around the chains. The stripe was instant, red and angry. I crossed it with the second, and he grunted. The chains rattled. The next one curled, and he twisted in the cuffs, the loop of the wire biting the tender flesh of his ribcage.

He was tense, so tense, and my mouth turned dry at the realisation he was fighting.

“Don’t fight,” I breathed. “Andy, don’t fight this.”

But he couldn’t help it. The next one coiled around his waist, and he did cry out then, a sharp yowl as it landed. I followed it quickly, and his breath turned shallow.

“Fuck,” he snapped. “Fuck, that fucking hurts.”

I gritted my teeth at his tone, and picked up pace, and he twisted, arms straining but going nowhere.

“Come on,” I said. “Give it up.”

He cried out properly as I curled a lash around his hips, and again as I doubled up on the lashes across his back, and he was shaking, sweating, but still fucking fighting. The next drew blood for the first time, just a fleck, the first cut, but it must have hurt him, as he lowered his head, hissing out expletives under his breath.

I pressed myself against his back and he flinched. His marks were beautiful, loops of raw red pain, a stunning pattern. I traced a loop with my tongue, wrapping my arms around to squeeze his cock. It sprang back to full hardness, and I jerked him off until he relaxed. And that’s when I fucking hit him, over and over until the chains were straining and his knuckles were white. He’d lurch forward with every lash, and his legs were shaking.

“Please,” I hissed. “Please just give it up.”

“I don’t know how,” he growled, and he meant it. “Jesus, Faye, I don’t know how.” It nearly broke me. I lowered the cable and sighed, and his eyes met mine over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not sure.” I shrugged. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Darkness flashed in his stare, goading me, driving me. “Do it,” he snarled. “You wanted this, you see it fucking through. No fucking chicken shit here, Faye. Just me and you. This is your fucking fantasy. Take it.”

I raised the cable, but my stance was weak. “It’s ok,” he said, and his voice was softer. “Do this, Faye, don’t fucking stop.”

I kissed his shoulder, and it was all me in charge, not some ridiculous Vincent-style protégé. There was only me.

And then I did it, I did what I needed to do. I whipped him without mercy, without restraint, and he snarled, and howled and jerked. And then he shook, really shook, and his back was a beautiful crosshatch of pain, blood pooling and spilling, and it was stunning.

“Good,” I hissed. “That’s right.”

I whipped him until his knuckles loosened around the chains, until he was limp and willing, taking whatever came without fight, just grunting with the pain, and then I stood before him, and his eyes were glazed.

“Are you ready?” I cupped his chin. “Andy, are you ready?”

His eyes closed and he shook his head, and my heart lurched. “No. I’m not ready.”

I stayed where I was, and recoiled the cable. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “This is really going to hurt.”

I whipped his front, and it flamed red. His knees buckled as I caught a nipple, and he didn’t recover. He hung slack, panting hard, covered in angry red welts, and still I whipped him. My eyes welled and still I kept those lashes coming, and it was the most intimate thing I’d ever experienced, the greatest gift he could have offered.

Finally, when I didn’t think I could hit him anymore he said the words.

“Stop,” he said. “Please, stop. Faye, stop. I’m done.”

I looked into his eyes. “You’re not ready, Andy. I know you’re not ready.”

“Wait,” he said, then caught himself. “Oh fuck, Faye, just do it. Fucking hit me.”

I hit him again and again, and we got somewhere. He looked at me through every lash, and he stopped crying out. His body was mine. Acceptance of his fate in my hands, acceptance of my punishment.

My eyes welled up, and I smiled, and pressed my lips to his chest. “Oh God,” I breathed. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful as you are now.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t ask for anything. Didn’t ask for more, didn’t ask to stop. I ran my fingers down his chest and took his cock, gripped him tight until he moaned. I pushed my fingers in his mouth. “Make them wet.”

He did as he was told, and didn’t even flinch as I slid two fingers in his ass, he just groaned, pleasure and pain inseparable. His endorphins would be spiking, and his mind still, I knew exactly how it was in that place.

I smiled.

He was ready.

I lowered the shackles until he was on his knees, and pressed his mouth tight against my pussy. “Lick me,” I hissed. “Love me.”

His eyes were like coal, as they stared up at me, hazy but full of willing. He looked up at me like I was everything, like I was all he’d ever need, and it made me cry.

“I’m going to take you now,” I said. “And I’m going to make it feel good, I promise.”

I fell to my knees and kissed his mouth, and he was right there, loving me, wanting me.

“It’s time,” I said, and he nodded.

***