Taken by the Renegade (Rise of the Sadecs Book 2) Read online

  As they approached, the club cleaning bots skittered into sight. They vaguely resembled metallic spiders as they clambered all over the furniture cleaning it quickly. They vanished as quickly as they'd appeared, leaving only a faint scent of rapidly dissipating disinfectant. She wrinkled her nose at the astringent smell as she paused to give the fake leather a second to dry fully.

  He obviously had plenty of experience both with implements and with kinky furniture and it showed as he expertly settled her face-down on the spanking bench, shifting the braces on either side to the right height for her knees. He moved around to the front and looked at her questioningly as he tugged at the attached cuffs, but she shook her head. She wouldn't need to be cuffed for this.

  He made some minute adjustments so that she was positioned the way he wanted her, and then he ran a hand up her back, sliding the shirt along with it to expose her ass. With nothing in his way, he went right to work bringing up a nice deep shade of rose on her skin. He proved to be an excellent spanker along with his other skills, and his broad palm bounced from cheek to cheek with precision.

  It was actually kind of refreshing to be bent over and spanked for a change. It had been so long since she'd had a regular spanking. Once people knew you had a reputation for a high pain tolerance, they tended to jump right to other things. Everyone enjoyed putting on a show with a submissive who could take a whip and writhe with the mix of pleasure and pain, so casual low-key kinds of play tended to be left by the wayside. She settled down, ready to enjoy the change of pace—literally.

  His hand slapped down across her bare ass at a nice steady pace that made her cheeks jiggle as they quickly heated. She appreciated him starting with his hand because that meant it would last longer, but it felt—different. His palm felt like it was prickling slightly when it moved across her skin. Rough from working with his hands, she thought, but decided she liked the sensation. It added something special, especially when it stroked across the welts the whip had left—and she had a fair number of those across her ass.

  She'd never understood why some people found a good hand spanking too childish for their taste. Spanking children had been outlawed since before she was born, and with the right spanker, it could hit all the high notes without leaving a girl too welted or bruised to continue playing. Nothing ticked her off more than having her playtime cut off early because a monitor decided she'd had enough, and spanking was a good way to get a longer experience without having to be gentle.

  Plus—she'd always just enjoyed it. It was different from the whips with their sharp and sudden bite, but it could be just as devastating even if it took longer to get there. Her new play partner seemed to be enjoying the slow build, but again he'd taken her at her word, and he hadn't started off with the light, almost pointless, slaps that most Doms tended to begin with.

  From the first smack, she'd known he was an expert at this too, and when his hand had cracked down with an especially hard snap that sent her rocking forward on the padded leather, she groaned and dragged a breath in through her teeth as she struggled to acclimate. She could take more, and would, but, whew, it was a shock to have someone actually give her what she wanted without repeated prodding.

  For a man she'd only just met that night, he seemed to have an uncanny ability to know when to slow down, when to pause, and when to up the intensity until she was writhing and making inhuman noises as she fought to accept the pain, to swallow it down and make it part of herself. Every time she came close to calling a halt, she found he was already reacting and easing off so she could catch her breath.

  And his hand felt so good when it caressed and kneaded her ass to soothe the sting between rounds. That strange roughness to his palm sent the most delicious sensations rolling over her body. By the time the spanking was over, and it seemed to go on for ages, she was practically limp and boneless. She was so woozy, she could barely even think, but she could feel the goofy dazed smile on her face as he helped her off the spanking bench and held her steady until she was able to stand on her own.

  "Had enough, girl, or should we continue? We've got plenty of time to keep playing," he said. He gave her a wicked smile, and suddenly she had an urge to cover it with her lips—which was a shock even in her hazy post-play blur.

  She swallowed hard and licked her bottom lip as she considered her options. Her entire body was pulsing with need and what she wanted more than anything was to drag him back to her place for an all-night sex marathon, but…but she'd never played with someone so in-synch with her needs before, and if he was just passing through, this might be her only chance to experience that.

  "How long are you going to be in town, uh, uh—" She stopped, a frown on her face, and he laughed.

  "You've forgotten my name, haven't you?" he asked, sounding amused.

  She tugged her shirt back down and leaned against the spanking horse as she tried not to look embarrassed. She remembered the brief introduction and exchange of names, but she'd been eager to get started and hadn't really been paying attention. Who knew she'd actually need to remember?

  "I guess the endorphins must have pushed it out of my head," she suggested with a slight shrug of her shoulders. She'd forgotten more important things while under the influence of endorphins, so it was entirely plausible.

  "It's Trev."

  "I'm Samantha."

  He laughed. "Yes, I remember. 'Samantha call me Sam'." Where most men would be looking at her body, especially since she was only half-dressed, he seemed intently interested in her hair, and after a second, he reached out and tugged a handful of blonde strands playfully. "You were saying?"

  The prompt reminded her of where she'd left off. "Oh, right. So how long are you in town, Trev?" She resisted the urge to let her head lean into his hand though she really loved having her hair pulled like that.

  "Not sure. It depends on a few things. I'm hoping to stay at least a week, though," he said.

  "Only a week, huh?" She rolled her bottom lip under with a thoughtful hmming sound. She was tempted in two directions: stay and play more and then go back to her place, or just go back now. Either sounded enticing at the moment, and she was torn.

  "Tell you what—how about if I get you something cool to drink and we can relax for a few minutes while you decide what you want to do?" he suggested, but even though it was phrased like a question, he had already taken her arm and settled her onto the nearest couch without giving her a chance to protest.

  And normally, she would have because she didn't like being manhandled or pushed around, but somehow, she didn't think to complain until his back was to her as he strode purposefully away toward the bar and its selection of juices and soda. She shook her head, scolding herself for being so malleable. It was his voice. There was something almost hypnotic about his voice, she decided. The way it rose and fell so smoothly, was almost musical. Even with the slow cadence and the way he seemed to hesitate over a word now and then.

  He returned a few minutes later with a cup full of cold juice, and she reached for it quickly. Half of it was gone in one gulp, but then she slowed and sipped the rest. It wouldn't do to have a full bladder if they were going to scene again—and she was still unsure about that. Her ass was throbbing pleasantly, but she could handle more if they stayed.

  "Thanks," she said belatedly. She didn't usually encourage much aftercare, which for too many Tops seemed to include cuddling and fussing at her like she was a child. It was all far too personal for her and she preferred to just sit alone until she got her bearings back, but she was always thirsty after a good scene.

  He seemed to understand that she didn't want him pressed too close to her so when he took a seat on the couch next to her, he left room between them. Sprawled casually with his arm draped over the back, he seemed content to watch her drink the juice, and mercifully he didn't chatter inanely. She was liking him more every minute.

  She relaxed as the silence stretched out, waiting until the cup was empty before she turned her head and gave
him a curious once-over. And since he was looking at her, she decided to take the time to do the same for him now that she wasn't so distracted. Her first impression had been accurate; he was attractive enough, and she liked that he had some muscle but wasn't too bulky. Not the slightest hint of facial hair, though, which was a real shame with that strong jawline. Most men chose to get rid of it permanently these days, but she liked a little scruff on the jaw. His eyes were so dark, she could barely make out the pupils, and they seemed to be regarding her with such intensity that she felt like she was being appraised.

  "Like what you see?" she asked finally. There was a hint of challenge there, though she wasn't annoyed so much as curious about what he'd say.

  "You are attractive." He stopped there as one side of his mouth turned up in a smirk "But then you knew that. When you were fighting to accept the pain without begging me to stop, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. You were…" he paused, thinking, "…vulnerable and honest. There's a different person underneath the snapping, I think."

  She frowned, tilting her head and squinting until her eyebrows almost met at the bridge of her nose. "Well, that's the weirdest compliment I've ever gotten but thanks—I think." She really wasn't sure what to make of him or what he'd said.

  "When you're in pain, you open up and that kind of vulnerability is beautiful, but now you're rebuilding the wall around yourself. It's like watching someone get dressed. Interesting," he said with a shrug. He sounded like it was a small matter, but his expression hinted at so much more.

  She felt like she almost grasped what he was saying, though she still wasn't sure she liked it much. Did it mean she was letting too much of herself show during play? After all, if you couldn't be vulnerable while tied up and whipped, exactly when was it okay? Maybe never, but she wasn't going to give up her one emotional outlet just because a stranger thought he was seeing deep inside of her. It was probably all some line anyway.

  Part of the reason she enjoyed hardcore playing was because it did force her to trust. She was safe at the club. There were monitors, and one word would stop things. She'd never had that kind of security anywhere else in her life. If only she'd had a safeword as a new adult, she'd have used it so many times. She'd been hurt, scarred, and when she was all used up, she'd been thrown away. Through all that, never once had there been some magical word to stop the pain—but there was now.

  It was part of the thrill, feeling like she was in danger but in a safe environment. There weren't many ways to experience such radically different feelings at the same time, but here? Here, she could let all the primal emotions boil out and no one judged her.

  And she didn't have to let her walls down, something she couldn't seem to manage deliberately anyway, because they were torn down. Broken and pulled apart one brick at a time, one lash or spank at a time, until—yes, he was probably right—until she was raw, and open, and vulnerable.

  The people surging around them intent on their own activities now that her show was over—they chatted, and laughed, cried and begged, enjoying themselves, but none of them judged her for needing this. It was nice to feel a part of something, but at the same time, she knew she kept her distance. They were playmates, or compatriots in the land of sadomasochism, but not friends.

  Not really. None of them had been to her residential quarters. She didn't call them to go out to dinner. They knew her by face and name, but that was about it. So how was it that this stranger thought he could look inside and see so much? There was probably no answer to that question, or to why she'd broken her personal rule and told him he could come back to her place afterward even though it was unlike her to be so impulsive.

  She tried to look casual and less guarded as she leaned back and stretched her bare legs out in front of her. Her toenails sparkled and caught the light with the semi-permanent glitter stain she'd applied a few days before. She wiggled them to make them flash more and pretended that she was too busy looking at them to pay him any attention.

  "Have you decided if you want to play again tonight?" he asked. He sounded amused, which wasn't her goal.

  A flash of annoyance went through her and she decided to tease him a little. "I'm not sure. I mean, it was a nice spanking but not really a reason to stop playing. I've had harder." She very deliberately didn't look at him and her hair was just long enough to sweep forward when she tilted her head, covering the grin she didn't bother to hold back.

  He barked a laugh full of amusement, and her head snapped up.

  "What's so funny?" she demanded. Her eyes narrowed in irritation. Why wouldn't this guy react to anything right?

  "If you wanted to be spanked harder, you could have just said so, Sam. I went for slow and easy to make sure you were up for more playing. Most…" There was another one of those odd pauses where he seemed to be choosing his next words carefully, and then he continued. "…most women appreciate that, and I didn't want to break you too early. After all, we have all night and you're welted from the whip too."

  "What makes you think you're the one I want to do another round with?" she demanded. She didn't have to fake the haughty tone; it came naturally out of her annoyance.

  He sat up quickly, the whole casual act tossed to the side like a piece of trash as his fingers tangled in her hair and tugged her head toward him. His words tickled as he growled into her ear softly, "Oh, I know, Sam. I can smell how much you want me. I know what you're trying to do, and it probably works on these idiots, but it won't work on me. I'm the one in control tonight." He let her go abruptly and she almost fell across his lap in surprise.

  The breath had been knocked right out of her, figuratively. She had to fight back the needy whimper that filled her throat, refusing to let him know how much that display had excited her—and why? She wasn't a submissive; she was a masochist, and she usually hated that dominant posturing. But apparently, her body had forgotten because she was trembling, not with fear, but with desire.

  It was a long moment before she realized her mouth was hanging open as she gaped at him. She couldn't muster up the words to even reply as he sat back looking pleased with himself and smiled.

  "So? Staying or going?" he asked. "If it makes it easier to decide, I've got nothing planned for tomorrow night and I'm hoping you'll be back here to play."

  She swallowed hard and managed, "going," in a hoarse voice. Her mouth might have been dry, but her panties were anything but, and as much as she wanted to play more—the need to quench that fire was too intense to ignore. Besides, she wanted to be in perfect shape for round two with her sadistic new friend. "Definitely ready to go now," she added as she got to her feet and turned toward the door.

  He stood up and then leaned over to snag her jeans, tossing them to her with a laugh. "Might want to get dressed first. It's chilly out there."

  She caught them with one hand and dressed quickly without looking his way, so he couldn't see the embarrassed flush on her face. She actually had completely forgotten she wasn't wearing pants—which was his fault. He was making her too distracted; she was never like this and it annoyed her so much she headed straight for the door without looking back.

  Outside, the cool air felt blissful in comparison to the overly warm club. The temperatures inside were set with nearly naked people in mind which meant it could get hot fairly quickly on crowded nights. She tipped her head back and sighed as she stared up into the inky blackness and enjoyed the fresh air.

  She pointedly ignored him stopping right behind her. Petty maybe but she didn't want him to know how good he was at making her react. When she felt that he'd been shunned enough, she turned, giving him a casual look. "Do you want to follow me to my house in your SDV?"

  He frowned, eyes narrowing as he gave her a puzzled look. "My…SDV?"

  One eyebrow went up in surprise. "Your vehicle? I assume you have a Self-Driving one. I mean, ever since they banned manuals from the highways, no one uses them anymore." Well, only the really stubborn ones still used them anyway
. She wouldn't be surprised to find out he was one of those who tried to avoid the new tech because he liked to be in control.

  It was a fairly new changeover and some people still complained about it, but she hadn't minded. She hated to drive; it was such a waste of time when she could be doing other things as a passenger.

  His expression cleared. "Oh, right. No, I don't have my own vehicle. I took a public car here."

  "I hate public cars. They always smell funny from the sanitizer," she said, wrinkling her nose as she pointed her key fob toward the parking lot across the street and clicked the retrieval button. Headlights flashed to life as her SDV backed smoothly out of its dock, and a few seconds later, it had coasted to a stop in front of them.

  She reached for the front door and then hesitated, wondering if it would be rude to sit in front and leave him in back alone. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd had other people in her vehicle, and it had felt weird to sit up front each time. She made a fast course correction and opened the back door instead. "After you," she said with a gesture toward the inside.

  Suddenly, she felt tense and awkward about everything. She almost couldn't believe she'd invited a stranger, or anyone really, home. It was starting to sink in that they'd be completely alone together. She was slowly realizing what a dangerous thing she was doing; even though she had the usual panic devices that everyone carried, those could be disabled. She couldn't back out now, or rather wouldn't, but it did make her nervous.

  He had an odd look of interest on his face as he climbed in and slid to the far side to make room for her to settle in next to him. The small seat didn't leave much space between them and she found herself accidentally bumping him while she got comfortable. Her backside ached pleasantly as her weight settled directly onto the seat. It was still warm and tingly from the long spanking he'd given her. She was glad the effects were lasting—usually, they faded too quickly, but then he'd been very thorough with his work.

  She was reminded of the whip lines on her back when she moved. That slight pulling and tugging of the welts would remain long after the sting of the spanking had vanished, but they were no longer throbbing as persistently as her ass was. Her back was made of tougher stuff she supposed.