Dirty Bad Secrets(101)

I looped the telephone cable into a ball, and gathered up the lube and the strap-on and dumped them back in the box, starting in horror as some poor unsuspecting deviant tried the door. It was still open.

“Room’s busy, sorry!” I called. “I’ll have it ready just as soon as I can.”

I closed the box, shielding the toys from view, and just as well I did, as the person had taken no fucking notice whatsoever.

I pasted on a smile as I turned to face them. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I will be as quick as…”

My heart stopped. It stopped dead.

The mask was intricate, professional, authentic… and terrifying.

Terrifying because of the man underneath it, not because of its smiling moon face.

“Good evening, pretty bird,” the man said. “It appears someone’s been a very, very naughty girl.” He turned the key in the lock and dropped it into his pocket. “And we all know what happens to naughty girls now, don’t we, Magpie?”



***



“You can’t be here,” I said. “He’ll kill you.” My voice sounded more confident than I was, but still I was backing away, short little steps until I pressed up against the flogging bench.

He took off the mask, dropped it to the floor. “Tut tut, Magpie, you really think I’m afraid of Andy Morgan? He’s hardly intimidating, pretty bird. He’s very much the reserved type, I feel, all work and no play.”

I was shaking, but I couldn’t show it. I mustn’t show it. “You really don’t know him, Vincent. I think you should go.”

“You’re quite right, Magpie, I don’t know him.” His smile was nasty. Horrible. “But neither do you.”

“Of course I know him,” I spat. “I know him better than you could possibly know.”

Vincent looked so big in here, so broad. He filled the space, made it hard to breathe. He looked about the room, and I looked to the door. It was heavy, there was no way I’d get through it without the key. “How are you enjoying your little dash back to England, Faye? Is it everything you hoped for?”

“More than I hoped for.” I smiled. “I belong here, Vincent. I always belonged here. This is my club, my place, my life. All of it, right here.”

“Your club?” he said, and his eyebrows were raised.

“Yes, Vincent. My club, and I’d like you to leave it now.”

“That’s a funny thing, pretty bird, because I checked out your club, your beautiful Club Explicit.”

“Good for you, you checked it out. Now leave!”

He dug in his pocket, and for a second I thought he was relenting, going for the key, but he pulled out a piece of paper instead. He held it out. “Andrew William Morgan,” he smirked. “Sole Director. The records make it very clear whose club it is, Magpie, and it’s not yours. You’re not even listed, you haven’t been a director for almost three years.”

I laughed. “Whatever you say, Vincent. I’m sick of being manipulated by you, those days are done.”

“Read it for yourself, sweet one. It’s right there, in black and white.” He tossed me the paper and I couldn’t help but catch it. The official logo was clear, and my hands shook as I unfolded it. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news.”

He was right. He was horribly awfully fucking right. My blood chilled, but I kept up my bravado. “I knew about this,” I said. “A paperwork error.”

His eyes met mine. “When did you learn to lie to me, pretty bird? That isn’t how we work.”

“I knew,” I said, but my eyes were welling. “It’s my club, Vincent, just fucking leave.”

“It isn’t,” he snarled, and he was at me, on me, pressing me back over the bench with his face in mine.

“Get off me,” I hissed, but my legs were shaking, buckling. His presence was so familiar, too familiar. “I mean it, Vincent, leave me alone.”

“I’ve missed you.” His mouth was hot on my neck. “I’ve missed you so much, pretty bird. You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted me to run after you. Don’t worry, beautiful bird, I’m taking you home, and you’ll never leave my side again. I’ll make sure of it. We’ll keep you caged, where you belong.”

“No.”

“Oh yes, Magpie. Yes.” His fingers on my thigh, sliding up. I tried to push him away but he was solid. I squeaked as they reached their target, he forced them between my thighs, rubbing at my clit.

“No!” I cried. “No! Vincent, I don’t want you. Not anymore.”