I turn Samantha away from the room, back toward the hall and all its doorways, and we walk to the next one. Inside it is a woman, bound and gagged, on all fours in the center of a bare floor. Behind her is a man, gripping her hip with one hand and slapping her bright pink ass with the other as he thrusts into her. The woman moans and grunts behind her gag.
“Others like to be spanked,” I explain. I move Samantha on to the next door. “It’s impossible to know what you like until you try…everything.”
We pass three more doors, each one making me harder and harder, thinking of Samantha in the various positions, bound and completely under my control. And loving it. Giving me orgasm after orgasm as I work her body in ways she never dreamed.
When we reach the last set of rooms, two of them are empty. One has a bed with smooth, clean, black sheets that would be the perfect backdrop for Samantha’s pale skin and vibrant hair. The second is a smaller room with hooks on the wall and floor, as well as chains suspended from the ceiling. I can also easily picture Samantha here. Against the wall. Facing away. Chained and unable to move. Her dressed unzipped all the way to her delicious ass. Her skin coated in a fine sheen of sweat. And me. Behind her. Pumping into her. My fingers biting into her flesh. Her moans filling the air. Her body squeezing around mine.
“Let me show you how good I can make you feel,” I say, moving around in front of her, tugging her with me as I back into the room.
A muffled scream echoes down the hall. I know no one is being hurt. Not really. Everyone here is consensual.
Samantha stops. I see her chest rise and fall quickly with her accelerated breathing. I see the unusual pallor of her skin. I see the look of terror in her eyes. I see the tremor of her lower lip. This is beyond the fear I wanted her to feel. A fear like this won’t allow pleasure to pass. And that’s not what I’m into at all.
“I won’t hurt you, Samantha,” I pledge quietly, stepping closer to her, reaching up to take her chin between my fingers. It trembles in my grasp. “This is all about pleasure, pleasure you’ve never known before, pleasure I want to introduce you to. A little fear can heighten the senses; a little pain can feel like ecstasy. Would you like me to show you?”
As I watch her in her silence, I see something surge to the surface, breaking through her upset. It’s something unwanted.
Emotional pain. And, with it, tears.
“What’s the m—”
“Get me out of here,” she says so softly I can hardly hear her.
“Samantha, I—”
“Please, Alec,” she pleads, her voice quivering with barely suppressed distress. “Take me home. Right. Now.”
“Okay,” I say immediately. “We’ll go home. There’s no reason for you to be upset. I—”
“No, not we. Me. I want to go to my house. Alone. I’ll get my car tomorrow.”
I feel the frown settle over my forehead. “Samantha, I—”
Before I can even really begin to apologize and explain, she’s turning and heading for the door. She practically runs down the hall toward the exit. I reach her before she can yank open the door.
“Samantha, stop!” I hiss quietly. “I’ll take you home. Just calm down. Don’t forget that we aren’t alone.”
I don’t want anyone thinking I’ve brought an unwilling person to the club and I don’t want to draw any undue attention to her. To either of us.
She won’t meet my eyes, but I hear her take a deep, shaky breath as she reaches for the door knob. More steadily. She turns it and steps through, pausing only long enough for me to close it behind us, and then she’s heading for the stairs.
She descends them calmly and makes her way toward the front door without appearing to be running for her life, which I get the feeling she thinks she is. But when we are outside, away from curious eyes, she takes off at a sprint toward the car.
I walk slowly in her wake, giving her the space she obviously needs. Meanwhile, all sorts of things are going through my head, all sorts of theories and unanswered questions. I’m already formulating new analyses to add to my Laura Drake file, and I’m mulling the new insights I’ve been given to Samantha Jansen. She’s quite the contradiction.
She seemed so ready, so open to me. How could I have been so wrong?
I hit the button to unlock the doors and Samantha ducks inside before I can reach the car to open the door for her. I don’t suppress my sigh.
After I slide in behind the wheel, I start the engine and get us back on the road to her place before I speak. I figure she needs distance from the club before she’ll feel any better.
“What happened back there?” I ask finally. When she says nothing, I continue. “You can tell me. I want to know your feelings about it.” Still she says nothing. “Samantha, I—”
“You said you would help me,” she interrupts, anger and hurt oozing from her tone. “But you don’t want to help me. All you want is a toy. A sick, twisted sexual toy to play with in your little clubhouse. Why did I ever trust you?” she cries, her voice breaking on the last word.
“I was up front with you from the beginning,” I reply, my tone harsh. And honest. “You can hardly blame me because you bit off more than you could chew. I told you what I wanted. I told you what you could expect.”
“You never told me to expect that.”
“It’s not like I took you there to cut you or hurt you, for God’s sake. It’s harmless, every bit of it. Any venue that conducts activities more extreme is not going to be found in such an…open location. Those places are hidden. And for good reason.”
“And I’m sure you know about all of them,” she says waspishly.
“I might like a little bondage and a little domination, but I’m hardly a sadist. Maybe all this judgment would be better served turned inwardly.”
“Oh trust me,” she retorts, her eyes flashing in the dim dashboard lights. “I’ve looked inwardly most of my life. I’ve had to come to terms with a whole lot of stuff that someone like you wouldn’t know the first thing about. That doesn’t change the facts. You’re a predator. You take nice girls and you turn them into the main attraction at a freak show.”
“I don’t turn anybody into anything. I simply unlock doors and…set things free.”
“Put whatever pretty face you want to on it. It won’t change the truth.”