Manipulated [The Masters Series 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  “Sorry kid, the boss man has been advertising this scene for months, besides, you are the one who talked him into it. I don’t care what’s going on in that head of yours, but you have to do this scene. So go take a walk, go to the gym and pump it out, do whatever you need to, but your ass better be in that dungeon at eight o’clock tonight,” Matthias grumbled, standing his ground.

  “Fine,” he grumbled, uncurling his whip. With no one in front of him, he gave it a wicked flip, and the air cracked ominously as the tip of his leather whip snuffed out the flame on a wall sconce.

  “Damn, man, you keep getting better and better with that thing. You should know that your class is already full for next month, and there’s a waiting list for the next.”

  “Whatever,” he muttered under his breath, curling his whip back up and checking the tip. With nothing else to say to Matthias, Jason turned and walked back into the elevator. If there was no way he was going to get out of tonight’s scene, then he needed to clear his head, and he needed complete silence to do it.

  * * * *

  The club was packed. Standing room only remained. They were all there to see him do what he did best. Not that it bothered him to have an audience, but for some reason it did tonight. He had planned and prepared for this scene for months with Sara, a resident submissive and good friend, and tonight all their hard work was going to pay off. If he could figure out what was bothering him. He thought that spending the day in total silence up in his apartment would be enough to clear his mind, and it worked until he entered the Dungeon.

  The room felt off, sinister, evil, as if someone was boring a hole into his head. He couldn’t shake the feeling as he looked around the room, as if someone was watching him. Jason saw many faces he knew and some that he didn’t. Strangers never bothered him, and with tonight’s large gathering, he should have been in his element. However, when Sara walked up to him and said his name, he jumped as if burned.

  “I’m sorry, Master Jason. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Jason looked at his beautiful friend and smiled. “It’s all right, Sara, and what have I said about calling me Jason?”

  “Sorry, Jason.” She smiled up at him.

  Jason wasn’t like most of the dominants that roamed the halls of the Pleasure Cave. Yes, he was the master of his craft, and yes he was a Dom, but unlike most, he was no one’s master…he was just Jason.

  “Master Gabriel asked me to tell you that we could start whenever you’re ready,” Sara whispered, standing close to him, dressed in a black silk robe, her bare feet sticking out at the bottom. Sara Joseph was a sweetheart, and the best friend he had at the Pleasure Cave. Moreover, she was the only one who looked him in the eyes and not at his scars. He didn’t mind when people took a quick glance, but when they stared blatantly, well, he had issues with that. It was hard at first when he came to the club. None of the submissives would work with him, that and he had a really hard time training couples. It wasn’t the men who balked. Well they did, but it was mainly the women. Apparently, he intimidated them.

  That was when Sara suggested the mask. At first Jason thought she, too, wanted him to hide his scars from the world, but she explained that he wasn’t hiding anything. He was just giving them the full experience of a secure and prominent Master of his craft. After donning the mask, his days were filled with clients. Jason had to admit that the mask he wore was liberating and freed him to be anyone he wanted.

  However, right now, his mask was doing nothing to camouflage the feeling of being watched. When a light shiver ran down his spine, he turned and gave the crowd his back, taking a deep breath.

  “Jason, are you okay?” Sara asked, taking his hand in hers. Jason didn’t want to look her in the eyes. Sara had known him long enough to know when he was lying, and the thought of lying to her now churned his gut. Slowly shaking his head, he didn’t stop her when she lightly pulled him away from the crowd, behind the stage that was set up for just them.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know. The room feels off, like something’s wrong, and I feel as if someone is watching me,” Jason tried to explain.

  Sara grinned, “Well, silly, the whole room was looking at you. You are a handsome man, and all these people came to watch you do what you do best tonight. As for the room, Jason, we set this up. I helped you, remember?”

  “I know, I just feel as if someone knows me, the real me, and he’s out there, watching me, waiting for me to screw up.”

  “Did you notice anyone in the crowd?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to cancel?”

  “No, Gabriel has new clients in the club with big bank accounts. I can’t reschedule the scene. But mainly, I’m afraid I’ll…” Jason said, his voice trailing off.

  Sara reached up and grabbed his face in her little hands, making him look at her. When Jason’s eyes locked on her baby blues, she said firmly, “Jason Kilpatrick Ramsey. You get that thought out of your head right now, mister. You would never hurt me. I trust you. You are the best friend a girl could ever have. I know what today is, and I’m sorry I didn’t catch it before we scheduled this scene, but I know you are strong enough to push past this. Focus on me and only me. Watch my body, and concentrate on my breathing. I will help you get through this scene. We can do anything we put our minds to, as long as we work together, okay?”

  Before he could say anything, Sara reached up, kissed him softly on his lips, and then smiled, and for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself, and he smiled, too.

  “There’s my best friend. Now be a good boy and get out your whip, and whip me.”

  * * * *

  Sara Joseph was in seventh heaven. She said absolutely nothing as Jason helped her place her hands and feet in the holders as she stood front and center on the middle of the stage. Standing spread eagle like some offering to a pagan God, her body hummed in delight. Everyone was looking at her. Women interested and intrigued, men smiling lustfully, wishing they were the ones administering the scene. However, none of them mattered.

  Only Jason.

  Her Jason.

  Well he wasn’t her Jason, but oh, how she wanted him to be. Sara Joseph knew she wasn’t the smartest woman in the world, nor was she the prettiest, but the moment she met Jason Ramsey, she just knew that he was the Dom for her. She never saw the scars that marred his beautiful body, though he brooded about them all of the time. What she saw was a kind, loving, funny man who cared about her and others. That’s what most people didn’t see when they looked at Jason. If they would stop and just look past the scars, they would find a man who would do anything just to put a smile on someone’s face. He was an attentive Dom, a caring Dom, but in her mind an intimidating Dom. Oh, she loved that the most about him.

  His brooding nature and grumpy face could clear rooms in a heartbeat. He was forever irritable about something, and that persona seemed to radiate off him wherever he went. However, she knew the real truth about him, and someday, she hoped that just maybe, he would let her soothe whatever ailed him. She longed for that day, and until it happened, she was content being his best friend and part time whipping buddy.

  “You’re not paying attention, sub.” His voice oozed disapproval and abrasiveness. Turning her head slowly towards his harsh voice, she blinked and shyly smiled. “Sorry, Master.”

  Jason huffed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t forget to use your safeword if it becomes too much,” He finished, turned, and gave her a delicious look at his very muscular back. Ripped and corded, his back looked more like a map of rolling hills and valleys than the scared and damaged view most people saw. She loved watching him as he moved, each muscle tensing and relaxing, as he took a step or waived his arm. God, just looking at his back made her pussy quiver with need, and her mouth water of thirst.

  “Thank you all for coming tonight. Tonight’s scene is extremely dangerous and not without a certain degree of pain. Please do not try this at home, unless you have been spec
ifically trained, and are proficient with whips. I would like to thank my submissive Sara for helping me out with tonight’s scene. I will be demonstrating the correct technique and application with several whips tonight. I will start with the five-foot leather-plaited bullwhip and work my way up to the twelve-foot leather-plaited snake whip. Please do not speak during the scene. I will answer all your questions afterward,” Jason said clearly to the audience, then turned to Master Gabriel and bowed. “With your permission, Master Gabriel, I would like to begin.”

  “Permission granted, Master Jason.” Gabriel nodded. Jason turned, giving Sara a magnificent look at his chest. Her heart picked up and her breathing increased. She had trained for this moment with him for months, and now it was finally here. She was going to get to show him what she was made of, what she could take, what she could endure, but mostly she was doing this for him, because she wanted to show him that she loved him.

  “Don’t move,” he mouthed, and she slightly nodded. His deep, somewhat gravelly voice seemed to hover around her long after he made that statement so emphatically. It embraced her with an echo in her mind of those words repeatedly as reinforcement. The words, don’t move, weren’t advice or suggestion, not even a command, but rather a fact, with a well-understood background. It meant that she would not be harmed if she remained in exactly the same place, the same pose, the same attitude even in which he had placed her. However, if she moved, even a little, she was at risk. She knew that he sincerely never wanted to harm her, but he would unintentionally hurt her…a lot, if she didn’t heed his warning.

  Her mind immediately drifted into to that surreal place she loved, and waited. It couldn’t have been about twenty seconds from the time Jason stated that absolute truth, to when the tip of his whip first struck her skin. Yet, it seemed as if it were hours or even days that she had last felt the delicious flick and bite of his leather.

  Nothing at all forced her to stay still, no restraints, physical or otherwise. She was free to move, leave, and mostly, she was free to stop this scene at any moment by uttering one little well-practiced word. There would be no repercussions, no guilt, or whining, she knew that. Jason would just simply accept her decision, and move on.

  That’s what she worried about, him moving on.

  She knew what she was about to do would not only hurt her, but him, yet the conviction of her power in the situation, the power to stop, enabled her to stay until she was ready to make her move. While Jason had prepared for this scene for months, she too had been preparing for her own scene, one she prayed would wield the right results. However, for the time being, she elected to feel intense pain for as long as she thought Jason could handle it, even though she fought every day in every way she knew to prevent herself from seeking out the pain herself. However, this time she was left with no choice. She had to do this, and had to do it now. He needed to know what she could really handle.

  She wasn’t the novice to the Lifestyle Jason assumed. She did a good job at hiding her true self, playing the shy, timid, little introvert. She listened and absorbed everything Jason taught her of the taboo lifestyle, explaining the more she learned, the more at home she felt and with Jason’s friendship. She led him to believe many things that were wrong, but mainly, she let him believe the whole everything of BDSM seemed both foreign to her, yet oddly comfortable, like home. Over the last few months, she asked him questions constantly, or so it seemed to her, of what to expect, what it would feel like, and was he sure he wanted her help. She let him know that she ached to know more about bondage, dominance, submission, masters and slaves, sadism and masochism, and Jason assured her he would help her along her path of self-discovery. Most of all, she led him to believe that on some intrinsic level, she simply couldn’t think her way to understanding sadism and masochism. Asking such questions as, “How could someone possibly enjoy pain?”, “Why would someone inflict intense or even agonizing pain on one who they knew, and cared deeply about?”, “Why did this get started?”, “How was it done?”, and “What was it like?”, and her personal favorite, “Could pain and hurting someone really be so very pleasurable?”

  When he insisted she visit the local therapist, she endured countless hours of in-depth conversations with Kelly O’Brian, she had asked all the questions she could think of, and she expertly, calmly, and gently answered them all, and more, with fully apparent sincerity plus raw exposure of life experiences and knowledge. Days, weeks, months of education passed, during which time Sara learned, examined, and pondered…but still hid the fact that she didn’t understand. That was until Kelly told her that unless she tried it, she would never fully comprehend. When she found out that Jason was looking for a partner in a new scene he was working on, she eagerly jumped at the chance and begged him until he accepted. She wanted to know more about the man she secretly loved, and if this brought them closer, then she was willing to endure some pain for the sake of love and she was going to love every minute of it.

  Months of training and preparing had all finally evolved to this. It was now or never. She had asked him to whip her, actually begged for it, because the need for pain outweighed her fear of him finding out how much she actually craved it. She wondered for the longest time, if not having her daily dose of pain could be causing her mental anguish?

  She had listened to Jason as he discussed the “what” and “how” of it so thoroughly that she practically saw and felt the event weeks in advance, salivating over the pain she was about to receive. Her safety was at all times utmost according to him, and she appreciated that, but now, standing on the stage, all she wanted was the bite. However, she knew she needed to be careful, because if he felt for one second that she felt unsafe, unsure, he had told her numerous times that nothing would happen at all, and that was something she didn’t want.

  So now, she stood in a room amongst strangers, on a stage wearing a see-through, cream-colored negligee that showed her body off to all that looked upon her, her head straight, eyes focused on his, her arms stretched out, hands holding onto a harness and her feet spread about shoulder-width apart, on display for all to see. Her eyes never left his until he walked around her, and then she focused on a wall sconce on the far wall.

  However, the sconce was gone, replaced by a piercing set of electric-green eyes that seemed to ignite every time the tip of Jason’s whip touched her skin. She knew those eyes. She had stared into them for years, wanting nothing but those eyes looking back at her. Then one day, those very eyes dimmed, and she hadn’t looked upon them since. What he was doing here, she had no clue. What she did know was that he was blocking her focal point, and without it, she didn’t know what to do. For months, Jason had drummed it into her head that focusing on one item and concentrating solely on it would alleviate and trick the mind, therefore relaxing her body, so she wouldn’t tense when the tip of the whip touched her. She believed Jason, trusted him, and agreed. Sara hardened her eyes, daring those eyes to move, knowing damn well they wouldn’t.

  He never moved, but glared hungrily at her.

  She heard the swish of Jason’s whip.

  Sara closed her eyes, mentally and physically reading herself to the best of her abilities for that pain that was about to happen.

  She heard the crack.

  She flinched.

  A stinging pain.

  Sara gasped, audibly.

  The room stilled. The man standing in front of her sconce moved, taking a step forward. She blinked, took a deep breath, and tried to calm her anxious nerves as the pain spread. She smiled, absorbing the sting she had so longed for. She focused on the stranger’s green eyes and challenged him, knowing it would anger him, as a tear rolled down her cheek. She felt hot, sticky sweat dripping down her back, but her body felt cold. Sara heard the swish of Jason’s whip and braced herself for what was to come.

  A loud crack filled the room.

  She flinched again, then more pain.

  Her tears were coming in earnest now. Gone was the desire to please Jaso
n. A craving she had long forgotten about surfaced. A yearning so deep, the hunger rose from unfathomable depths, clawing its way up from her soul. She barely heard Jason when he whispered to her, asking if she wanted to continue. Nodding, perhaps amazing them both, she confirmed her desire to be whipped.

  Earlier he had let her choose and examine the identical, masterfully crafted, braided leather, single-tail whips that he would use. She had caressed each of them and thereby ascertained their unyielding strength yet flexibility, their harsh yet sensual texture. Each whip had a foot-long leather handle from which gradually tapered the three-foot-long, intricately braided portion that comprised the single “tail” of each whip. Each tail had two very thin strips of stringy cotton after the knotted end, barely an inch long. It was these tips that would create the stinging sensation, while the braided portion could produce a thudding feeling. She would have a stinging sensation, so she knew, or thought she knew, what to expect next.

  The warm-up was over. She knew that Jason held one whip in each hand now. Each balanced equally, as he practiced a few snaps near her, slowly approaching her with each throw of the whip. He had previously demonstrated how the feathery-soft cotton tip could act like a sharpened knife when wielded in a certain way, and he even proved that it would cleanly cut through an eight-and-a-half-by-eleven-inch piece of paper he had told her to hold in her hands the other day. She hoped it would not do that to her. She trusted him that it would not.

  She sensed him settling further into his steady stance, his focus more intensely on her.

  Now the real pain was about to begin.

  The first snaps hit her on the ass, almost perfectly mirroring each other, and they hurt! She had no time to think much about this because those two were immediately followed by several more, possibly ten, although she would never be able to calculate anything beyond the feelings of before, during, and after. The pain was fresh, frightening, yet becoming physically possible, predictable, as he maintained such a steady rate it reminded her of the sounds of cards woven between the spokes of a bicycle she had as a child, a consistent thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack.