“Well Ginger, you’re absolutely correct. Tonight you do belong to me.” Christopher leaned back in his chair, surveying the other patrons as she slid his shaft inside her wet mouth. Club Noir was packed with men, all hungering for the same objective, allowing their demons to play. He chuckled at the thought and wrapped his hand around her long locks, keeping her in place.

  Ginger sucked on his balls as her fingers pumped the base of his shaft, her hand twisting back and forth.

  The friction created gave him tingles. He did love a good blowjob.

  “Christopher Worth. I certainly didn’t expect to see you in a kink club.”

  The snicker drew bile into the back of Christopher’s throat. He sniffed and glanced only once at the man who’d been his business partner almost ten years before. Now bitter enemies, they remained only cordial for certain media events. “Stephen Drummand. I should have realized your proclivities were on the extreme. At least you have some sort of passion. You certainly have zero verve in your professional life. I daresay your sadistic conquests might be the only ones you garner in the upcoming weeks.” The barb was pathetic, merely an attempt to ruffle the man’s feathers. Vying for the same contract, one that could potentially bring in millions, their contempt of one another was cataclysmic. The submissive in Stephen’s control remained unblinking, yet her lips quivered. Was there fear in her expression?

  Stephen laughed and grabbed the girl’s neck, digging his fingers into her skin. He pressed his lips against her cheek as he cupped and squeezed her lace-covered breast with the other hand. “Two days. Then we’ll see who is the better man.” He swept his gaze down to Ginger as her lips worked on Christopher’s cock and snickered. “Go back to your whore, the only pleasure you’re going to receive.” He turned sharply, dragging the girl across the floor and into the shadows.

  For several reasons Christopher tensed. If he lost the upcoming deal his credibility was shot. He’d risked too much in order to land this contract. The entire development had been held up for months already. Hissing, he pushed Ginger’s head down, forcing her to take every inch of his cock.

  She gagged, her hand flailing against his leg. Then she dropped her arm as if realizing her faux pa.

  “Keep sucking. I need to come.” He glanced at the men closest to him, half expecting an audience. The majority of Dom’s he knew in the business world. This was their place of respite, a walk away from their daily concerns. He remained edgy, Stephen’s words lingering in the back of his mind.

  “Sir, your drink.” Ryan offered.

  “Indeed.” Christopher grabbed the glass, waving the servant away. After taking two gulps, he eased the drink onto the table and closed his eyes in an attempt to relax. He hadn’t been able to come in over three months, no matter the woman or the circumstance. His cock remained firm, throbbing as she used her strong jaw muscles, clamping around his thickness.

  Ginger mewed as she sucked, swirling her tongue around his flesh.

  He was able to drown out the noise, his mind easing into a place of peace. The pleasure was delicious but after several minutes he pushed her away.

  She landed on her ass and pressed her hand across her mouth. Her eyes were imploring, searching for his reaction.

  The submissive had failed, just like the others. Disgusted, he polished off his drink, slipped his dick back into his pants and rose to his feet. Glaring down at her, he zipped his pants and nodded toward the back of the club. Tonight he would take out his aggression on her flesh. “Get up, slut.”

  Lowering her eyes, she rose to her feet. “Yes, Sir.”

  Christopher studied her porcelain skin. She was beautiful and no doubt was in a position of authority in her vanilla life. The women who submitted to sadistic men such as him were all looking for the same thing, release. He closed the distance and fingered the thin satin string holding her bustier together. He loathed the trite costumes, leather and lace other men seemed to enjoy. He could care less what the whores wore. The piece untied easily, exposing her full breasts. “Beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He tugged the ribbon until the crimson corset fell to the floor. While others looked, there were no gestures or words spoken. Club Noir offered every aspect of sex as well as kink, and the women who’d signed a contract knew exactly what they could expect, total degradation.

  Ginger’s skin glistened in the dim lighting, a single bead of perspiration trickling down her forehead. She swallowed and parted her legs, keeping her gaze averted.

  Christopher drank in her scent, an exotic musk. In fact, the perfume she wore was his favorite. The color she wore was a requirement. He’d expect nothing less given the hefty price he paid on a monthly basis to frequent the secretive consortium, even though his visits had been infrequent. He allowed his eyes to fall to the matching thong and wrapped his index finger around the elastic. A quick snap of his wrist and the panties were ripped from her hips.

  She bit back a moan as she tumbled forward from the force.

  Exhaling slowly, he gripped her chin, pulling her toward him. “Tonight I’m going to hurt you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I’m going to whip you until your skin is raw. You’ll wear my marks for days.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her lower lip trembling.

  Using just his thumb, he rubbed the tip across the seam of her mouth until she parted her lips. He darted his finger inside, savoring the joy she seemed to have in sucking him. A tingle slithered down his spine, a burning desire to beat her unconscious keeping his shaft rock hard. He cupped her breast, pinching her nipple. Dark visions rushed into the back of his mind. For a few seconds he remained unable to focus as his brutal thoughts continued to spiral. His mouth was dry as anticipation of using every inch of her body gave him an adrenaline rush.

  Ginger whimpered as he twisted her tender bud.

  “Ssshhh... Not a sound or the session will last much longer.” Christopher removed his hands and walked past her, heading for the bank of stairs. His favorite room had been reserved for an undisclosed period of time. He’d never sought comfort in a submissive, preferring to use and nothing else. Perhaps Ginger would be different, resilient in her masochism. Time would tell.

  He didn’t turn back to see if she was following. He merely took the stairs two at a time, sliding the access card into the slot and opening the door. The room was exactly as he’d requested. An ‘X’ cross loomed in the center, the massive wood and steel piece gleaming in the spotlight. The only other furniture in the space was a large metal table. Positioned strategically on top were a myriad of implements including whips, floggers, canes, butt plugs, dildos and various clamps.

  The sound of the door closing, the lock in place, Christopher smiled. Tonight was going to scintillate the man inside, perhaps allowing sexual pleasure. Very slowly he removed his suit jacket and unbuttoned the cuffs of his crisp, white shirt, rolling the sleeves to just beneath his elbow.

  She didn’t ask any questions or give him any sign she was concerned. There were no safe words nor were there any conditions. The girls who applied for the selective positions were tested, trained and screened. They were also paid very well for their work.

  Removing his tie, he placed the expensive silk on top of his coat, pressing his and down on the material before turning to face her. He narrowed his eyes and moved to the table, admiring the collection of whipping implements and clamps. He had one similar in a room in his house used exclusively for the same purpose, yet he’d never had a submissive enter his playroom. No one had been deemed special enough. “Your back against the cross.”

  Ginger obeyed instantly, positioning her arms above her head and spreading her legs wide.

  He casually strolled toward her. When he stood in front, he rubbed the back of his hand up along the underside of her arm. Securing first one wrist then the other, he patted her face before slowly dropping to his knees. Clamping the ankle restraints, he paused for a full minute, drinking in the atmosphere. A deep-seeded need remained churning inside. When he rose to his feet he faltered, almost stumbling. He glanced at Ginger, realizing the event wasn’t going to soothe him in the least. Snarling, he looked away.

  As he walked around the table, his tension eased, a chill sweeping through his bloodstream. The gleaming metal of the ‘Y’ clamps drew his attention. He played with the steel chain, squeezing the clover tips. The creaking sound drew a single whimper from Ginger’s mouth.

  Christopher snapped his head in her direction, glaring at her harshly. She dropped her chin and slumped against the cross. Sniffing, he grabbed the vice, his testicles swelling to the aching point. While he was in no hurry, his mind was reeling with thoughts, vile visions of what he was going to do.

  Swirling the tip of his index finger around her nipple, the moment she moaned he took a step back.

  Whap!

  The force of his hard slap slammed her head against the wood.

  “No noise! Do you understand me?”

  Ginger opened her mouth then nodded once, her eyes beseeching.

  “You’re going to learn, or the pain will be much worse.” He pinched and pulled her nipple until it was red. As he opened the clamp and slid the tips over her rosy bud he inhaled. Satisfied of the placement, he released his hold. She shivered but remained silent. “Good girl.” He walked behind the cross to get to the other side, repeating the move. The chain dangled between her breasts, the third clamp dropping between her legs. He traced the coiled metal all the down then rubbed his hand between her legs.

  Ginger bristled and closed her eyes.

  “Look at me! Never take your eyes off of me. Am I clear?” He wanted nothing more than to wrap his hand around her neck, squeezing until she was unable to breathe. He curtailed the action by rubbing his hand back and forth across his thigh. He was intoxicated with need.

  Her eyes opened and she stared wide-eyed.

  “Better.” An unsettling sensation washed into his system as a series of vivid visions took his breath away. The girl was tied naked to a tree, her blond hair matted with sweat and blood, her body covered in welts. In front of her stood a man in a leather hood, a bullwhip in his hand. He growled and calmed his raging libido. “Soon.”

  Blinking, she swallowed hard.

  Christopher gave her a commanding expression and shoved three fingers into her cunt. “So wet. You desire the feel of my whip.” The scent of her pussy wafted up to his nose. “A good whore always appreciates her Master.” He toyed with her pussy lips before gripping them between his fingers and attaching the third clamp. When he stood back, admiring his work, he pulled the chain taut. “Incredible.”

  Ginger’s chest heaved but she remained quiet.

  “An obedient slut knows her place. I can help you learn, guide you.” He gathered the weights in his hand, rolling the cylinders between his fingers. As he attached one to each breast clamp and the final to the labia vice, his blood pressure soared. “You’re the perfect specimen. Now we begin.”

  Every move calculated he selected a flogger. Lifting the strap into the light, he brought the implement to his face, inhaling the rich leather. There was nothing like wielding a whip.

  A single tear slipping from her right eye and her clenched fists were the only indication of her apprehension. She kept her eyes pinned on him as he advanced.

  “Some say the art of inflicting pain frees a submissive from every tension, providing a heightened sense of need buried in the darkest places within. What few realize is that the hunger to mark a woman, creating welts on every inch of her body is the most sublime release of all.” His voice was barely audible, the tone husky. He closed his eyes. Gone was the professional man who commanded a boardroom. Tonight, he was nothing more than a sadist. He issued two brutal strikes in a row, drinking in the scent of her fear.

  As obvious anguish tore through her system, he shuddered, his body electrified. He could almost taste her blood.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Detective Givens.” Montana slid into his seat and winked at Grant, who stood shaking his head.

  “Detective, my name is Jade Devereaux.”

  “What can I do for you, Mistress Jade?”

  She laughed. “My reputation precedes me.”

  “I know the city well, Mistress Jade, including Club Noir. I understand you have some information for me?” Montana flicked off the top of his pen, jerking a pad from his top desk drawer.

  “More of a concern and given the recent murder of Mark Ramos, I fear one of my girls may have been hurt, or God forbid, worse.”

  A chill trickled down the back of Montana’s spine. The identification of the victims had yet to be released pending notification of relatives. No one could have found out. Unless there was a snitch in the department. “Murder? I’m not following you.”

  “Let’s not play any games, detective. Since you’ve obviously taken the time research my club, you’ve certainly investigated my background and realize I have very influential friends. They afford me information in exchange for anonymity. Mark Ramos was brutally killed, tortured. What you’ll soon learn is that he was one of my newest patrons. The blubbering girl who woke up next to his bloody corpse worked for me.”

  He appreciated her direct nature and couldn’t help but smile. “Worked?” He sat up in his seat, the hair on the back of his neck standing up on end. The scene was for too reminiscent of the one a year earlier. The girl had already been questioned. She knew nothing given the drugs in her system.

  “She’s compromised my organization. Therefore, she is no longer in my employ. However, I realize you’ll need to talk with her.”

  “We already have and may do so again.” Montana heard the glitch in her voice. The lovely Mistress was only being but so truthful. “However, we are investigating his murder. If there’s something you know, evidence regarding the case, I suggest you tell me now.” The girl was of little use. Hysterical, she’d only been able to affirm she’d been with Mr. Ramos during the evening before. Her statement was marginally credible.

  Jade exhaled.

  After a few seconds he thought he’d lost her. “Mistress Jade, let’s cut through the bullshit. Do you have a suspect in mind? Is that why you’re calling, to do your civic duty?”

  “Hardly, detective. I’m calling because one of my girls has gone missing. My instinct tells me there’s been foul play. You are well aware the BDSM community is a tight knit group. A call and subsequent business proposition were made from a relative newcomer to my club. He came highly recommended. Ordinarily I wouldn’t allow any of my girls to accept a private offer unless the Dom had been vetted out completely. I’m quite frankly worried you may have another victim on your hands.”

  “Private?” Another victim? Her fear was evident in her breath sounds.

  “Yes. Don’t be coy. Some men prefer to enjoy their particular kinks in total privacy. I offer the service for a hefty price,” Jade stated, her tone full of arrogance.

  Now they were getting somewhere. He raised his eyebrows as he wrote several notes. A submissive for hire? Was she shitting him? This was nothing more than glorified prostitution. “Hold on here? You’re actually telling me you allow your employees to be hired out for private sessions?”

  “What?” Grant asked under his breath.

  “I’m a Domme, Detective, not a pimp. The men who come to my club and the few allowed privacy are required to follow rules.”

  “Uh-huh. Of course. And what they do behind closed doors in nobody else’s business. Am I correct?” He’d heard just about every kinky freak show in the world of sex, but this was something new.

  Jade merely chuckled, infuriating him.

  Grant moved closer. “What are we dealing with?”

  Montana shook his head. “I need the name of the girl as well as the…Dom.”

  “Not over the phone. I’ll meet you tomorrow, my office on the fifteenth floor of the James Center, nine sharp. I detest tardiness.” Abruptly she hung up the phone.

  “Well then.” Montana eased the phone into the cradle and swiveled his chair. “I think we have more going on here than just murder.” Would they be able to make the connection with the second victim? He suspected the answer would be yes.

  “Spill it. What are we talking about?” Grant eased back against the desk.

  “Our Mistress Jade knows more than she’s willing to admit on the phone and she has a swanky address for an office. The James Center.”

  “S & M on steroids?” Grant laughed.

  Montana rubbed his chin and flipped open the paper file. The pictures were graphic, the details depicting a methodical kill. Whoever had completed the deed knew what he or she was doing, and the act wasn’t done in anger. “My honest guess is we have a city full of men who crave the BDSM subculture.”

  “Tell me something I don’t already know. I’ve heard even the mayor enjoys frequenting various locations in and around Shockoe Bottom.”

  “Yeah?” Montana rose to his feet. “I have a feeling their secretive society is covering up a series of murders.”

  “Series?”

  He shoved his badge into his pocket, his gun into his holster and closed the file. “Going back to last year.”

  “Ah shit. I was afraid you were going to say that. The kills are similar. Can she ID the female victim?” Grant snorted.

  “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

  “Who is this ‘she’?”

  Montana smiled. “Mistress Jade.”

  “As awful as it sounds, I’ve heard of her. She’s well known in the BDSM world.”

  “We’re going to have to talk about your extracurricular activities,” Montana teased.

  “Funny guy. Let’s grab a beer. It’s already after nine.” Grant brushed his hand through his hair. “This crap can really get to you.”

  “Later. I still have work to do.” The graphic images rolled through his mind and the bloody victims gaping mouths were moving. Talking. He wiped his brow and shook off an eerie sensation.

  “You’re really going to try and talk to the doctor. Aren’t you?” Grant shook his head. “I know you far too well, partner.”