Chapter Seventeen

Mike Bellamy left Gillian to the chaos boiling inside her, and to the gentle hands of a woman that loosened her bonds. It was odd to feel a woman’s presence, when she expected one of the masters to be attending her. This silent redhead had a winsome face, looking as though she’d like to speak but didn’t dare.

“What happens to me now?” Gillian asked.

“Shush,” she answered her.

Led by her tether to a small room off the cabin’s great room, she was motioned to a wooden bench where she could sit. The redhead was about to close the door after her, leaving her in darkness, but then she turned back.

“The masters only bring us to the hideaway when we deserve a reprimand,” she whispered. She gave her a half-smile and the room went dark a second later as she closed the door.

Gillian woke with her body cramped, her muscles aching, the skin of her backside stiff and sore from being lashed. It was not a painful rush of energy, but one mellow and even comforting, something that might have aroused her, but there was a glare in her eyes. The door was opening and the light shining in blinded her vision. She was led from the room by the same gentle woman that had pulled her off the rack. Moving outside into the brisk night air—her naked body felt like ice before they reached their destination—some sort of tack house or woodshed. It was difficult to see in the dark. She measured the altitude by the stars, thinking she was somewhere in the mountains with the sky so clear on a summer night, and a brilliant array of stars twinkling above. Inside the rough shack, there was a single gleaming light from an oil lamp and several masters in jeans or leather pants and rough shirts, looking quite unlike the same men that wore their corporate suits so well by day. Mike Bellamy was there, appearing to brood by himself in the corner. Thaddeus Chamberlain was there as well, and he addressed her first.

“Drop to your knees, Brahms,” he said.

Gillian immediately obeyed, though following the order, her knees felt as though she’d fallen on rocks, the dirt floor was so immovably hard. “Kiss the ground, your hands clasped behind you.” She signed relieved for just that moment not to have to face their condemning eyes.

“You are now front and center, a pose that you’ll come to know well, considering the way you’ve managed to so flagrantly violate the rules and trust of this society.” The tone of his voice was chilling. Was this really the man Kate McPherson loved? “Normally such rituals are unnecessary to train our members, but you, Brahms, have mapped out new territory in your association with us—finding it no problem to screw a ‘non-member’ while engaging in your initiation. That would make us think that any edicts we pronounce, and laws we establish are totally inconsequential to you. You’ve failed your initiation miserably and should be expelled.” If she could have seen Thad’s face, she would have seen a twisted smile. “But then, your failure is what we all expected. No one believed you’d make a good member, no one had faith in you—least of all the master that pleaded your cause with the rest of us.”

The master that pleaded her cause? Did he mean the deceitful bastard, Mike Bellamy? Gillian bit hard into her lip, as she felt the anger in her breeding with an unwanted feeling of shame. It was so like her to disregard the rules of any game, skirt around any law if she so chose. She did it in her law practice, and the rest of her life. But she’d been caught this time, by someone more sly than she. Anger. Humiliation—yes. And a trace of admiration. It was as nasty combination working her mind.

“We can see your anger, Brahms, “you must feel betrayed. Yet, I choose to think of your dalliance with our friend Bellamy rather inspired on his part, don’t you? It served a useful purpose. Got to the heart of the matter with you right off the bat—the cruel fact that you have been, since the moment you walked into my office and announced your intentions, completely unsuitable club material.” While he paused his lecture, she heard his boots creaking in the remaining silence, and the sound of the others shifting their weight. She waited anxiously, her head pounding, her stomach grabbing hard, her exposed pussy clenching as though she was aroused. Could she be? she wondered. Did this embarrassing rebuke really turn her on?

“Fortunately for you, however, there are methods to redeem you available to us, if we think they might have some effect. First, your offenses will require punishment, and then, you’ll be schooled in the laws of this club, having them drilled into your brain and body, so you won’t even think, or act, or speak the way you do now. If there is a submissive streak in these rebellious, rule breaking bones, it will surface. You’ll either hate us, or love us. But I assure you, and Mr. Bellamy assures you, the truth about Gillian Brahms will rise from your wounds.

“I would ask you now, if you agree to this, but then you’ve already agreed to give yourself to us on many occasions. Just in the spirit of good faith, I’ll accept that your desire for membership remains as previously stated and we’ll simply proceed with your punishment.

“And, Brahms, as you’ve undoubtedly heard before, obey the instructions we give you to the letter. If you’re ever in doubt, err in the direction of the extreme. I’m sure no one will fault you for going overboard in your enthusiasm for obedience.”

Gillian stirred in the uncomfortable pose. Her eyes could only glance around at the feet of these men. Their boots made her tremble. The strap she could see dangling from Thad’s hand made her quake, and the paddle that she glanced at hanging on the far wall seemed able to make her pussy juice just seeing the austere look of it.

“We punish the unfaithful in our club the old-fashioned way, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed. A good strapping, a heavy wood paddle, maybe even a cane—all that is up to the masters in this room to choose for themselves. It’s too bad there aren’t more here, but I imagine the five of us will make your sorry ass smart. If this becomes a sexual rush for you, because you like the pain, all the better, I suppose. But understand, it’s not meant for sex in any way, and no master will be with you afterwards to take off the steamy edge that might arise. This is a reprimand, the severest we mete out. Take it that way. Take it to heart. Understand the spirit of it, and perhaps you will cement your relationship with our club. I truly don’t think you’d like the outcome if you’re determined to be incorrigible, Brahms. I assume you’ve understood from the outset that our tentacles reach far and wide in the venue in which you play, and we wouldn’t hesitate to stretch our influence should you have a sudden change of heart. We’ve done it before. A rare thing, yes, but we do have the power to shake the foundations of your world with a vigorous hand.”

Thad paused again, while Gillian trembled at the darkness of these men’s hearts. Would Thad realize that his stunning threats were music to a soul at one time lost? She should rebel against their power over her—for the way Mike betrayed her—for the cunning way she’d been drawn to them. But now, she only wanted to give in to a feeling she longed for, but never truly experienced until this moment. Her anger was moving swiftly on its way, pure desire remaining in its place, tinged with fear.

“Get up,” Thad ordered her sharply.

Rising, Gillian felt the frozen blood in her veins begin to move again, the warmth welcoming, though she had little time to enjoy it. Two masters came to her from behind and grabbed her arms, forcing her toward the sawhorse where Thad had been sitting. He was now behind her, his strap swishing through the air, deliberately to arouse her fear. Drawn over the crude bar, the two men pulled her feet wide and secured them with rope so she couldn’t move. One directed her to grasp a low bar on the other side of the sawhorse—to keep her balance.

Thaddeus Chamberlain wasted no time delivering his biting message with an old-fashioned strapping of her behind. He laid in to her hard with the leather nipping the surface of her skin at times, and other times striking full on, all three inches wide smacking her reddening behind.

“Oh, please, gaaaawd, nooooo,” she gasped, frightfully pained.

He struck again, letting her round rear feel the full measure of his righteous indignation. The air was crisp and agonized from her vile cries. When he backed off she drew into herself silently and clenched all the more. “Please, no more!” she managed one useless plea. Looking once from the corner of her eye, she caught Mike’s impassive gaze. The strength of his authoritative verve had never been so apparent. It stunned her, remembering well that the man had been such a delightful and spirited scamp. Now, he looked on her as judgmentally as Thaddeus. She closed her eyes, to close him out, unsure how she could deal with the conflicting emotions that his presence raised in her.

With Thad finished, she watched long enough to see him hand the strap to another master and leave the shack with Mike at his side. A curious fear jumped in with all the others moving through her restless body—had Bellamy’s affections for her been just an act, and now he was throwing her to these wolves with no plan to enjoy her as his own?

Her ass was suddenly struck again, this time with the wooden paddle now missing from the shack’s far wall. The master was brief with his punishment of her, though his was a harrowing sixty seconds of mind numbing pain she would hope never to repeat in her life.

“You disobey, Brahms, your ass is going to be aching for the rest of your life. You got that?” The unseen man struck her burning cheeks with tremendous force. “You got that!”

“Yes!” she replied.

He shot off a blistering attack. “What did you say!”

“Yes, sir!” she corrected her err. “Yes, sir.”

“Better, much better.” He smacked the paddle on her another five times and strode to the wall where he hung the blasted thing on its nail.

Another master approached her as the last one left, this man the kind, grey-haired Judge Dent. Lingering for a while before proceeding, he let the ferocity of the last spanking fade a bit from both her ass and mind. While he waited, he rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbow. Gillian viewing the awesome moment, found a shooting spasm of arousal make her belly clench. Formal and frighteningly cold, the Judge reminded her of a reprimanding father or a reform school head-master. Reaching back to one of the remaining masters he was handed a flexible stick. The thin tool, perhaps a half inch in width, seemed perfectly suitable to this severe discipline. Hearing it cut through the air so she could hear the swish, Gillian winced. Then when the master took his position behind her, she closed her eyes and clenched up tight in anticipation of the first strike.

“It is a sorrowful day when we’re forced to punish a woman as lovely as you,” he spoke. “I hope this will clarify the life you’ve chosen. I would hate to see you need this cure on a daily basis, but I would welcome it if it would correct your blatant disregard for rules. How amazing to see such a willful disregard for authority in such a fine attorney as you. Though perhaps that will change after tonight.”

Finished speaking, Judge Dent drew his arm back, planning a very severe strike to her already red ass cheeks. And as the first cut landed, Gillian’s cry could be heard far outside the woodshed.

The painful wail from the censured young attorney reached the two masters as they strode together up the hill on their way back to the hideaway.

“So, you think I scared the shit out of her?” Thad asked his friend. There was still the grim and righteous look of a reproving master on his face. He took his task seriously.

“You did well,” Mike answered him.

“She’s going to be hard for you to love and punish at the same time,” he advised him.

“Perhaps. But at least, I don’t take the coward’s way out,” Mike said, Thad laughing in response. “I can’t understand why you want to give your dirty work up to Vitorio.”

“It’s what she chose,” Thad answered.

“But wouldn’t you like to see her suffer yourself?”

“I see plenty. She’s not a Gillian. She’s a Kate, and this Kate is a soft white lamb with a black streak that needs a little playtime now and again. Right now, she needs a ruthless ass of a man, not the man that loves her, taking her that deeply. Vitorio does it with such finesse … it makes her happy, and she’ll come home more content, and well …”

“Truth is you just hate to punish her.”

“Of course, I do—never said I didn’t have my own soft streak amidst my black heart. But I did love lambasting your wolf in sheep’s clothing. Little bitch,” he murmured under his breath. “Tell me, are you going to enjoy punishing Gillian?”

“If it gives a woman what she needs, then I have no problem. I’m certainly not going to give her up to Vitorio.”

“Then punish her hard. Make her sweat a bit before you use that charm on her again.”

“I don’t doubt I’ll have to,” Mike replied. “Right now, I have a feeling that she’s pissed as hell at me.” The two men parted when they reached the cabin—Thad had to catch a late plane to Milan. And Mike retrieved his favorite punishment paddle, then returned to the woodshed to finish off Gillian’s trial by fire.

***

There was a breathless quiet in the shack when Mike Bellamy entered. No smacks, no wails, no sizzling implement, no desperate wails—just a submissively reposed woman waiting for her ordeal to end. Mike almost winced seeing the state of Gillian’s ass. The deep scarlet hue was etched with streaks where the paddles, straps and the nasty rod had roughed her skin.

Vince Calleoni was just finishing, the last of four before a dreadful finale. Mike was sure she didn’t need more, but then that wasn’t the point. A errant member always took the whole of the masters available when the punishment was agreed on by the membership. Gillian was in luck that only five could be there—in the past he’d seen twenty masters paddle, strap and cane a needy submissive. Yet, what these men lacked in numbers, they made up for in efficiency. The treatment would be enough to wipe the slate clean between him and Gillian, so they could start again—or as was more appropriate—start over.

Vince left the shack nodding his head grimly at Mike. He still wasn’t convinced that Bellamy was right about this new member. The look on his face spoke volumes about his disapproval, but then, he didn’t understand how Mike had so brilliantly orchestrated Gillian’s failed first initiation. Mike knew that this initiate needed to flounder miserably. She needed to see for herself why no master thought she was right for the life she claimed she wanted.

“You have a hot burn on your ass, Brahms,” he said. Her eyes immediately shot open hearing his voice rise out of the smoldering darkness, interrupting her momentary repose.

Gillian watched the man take a position nearby, leaning against an old table, looking as though he could instantly break out into one of his signature jaunty smiles—or as was likely the case—turn vile and hard like the chill look of his deep amber eyes.

“You look good,” he said. Obviously he admired her pose, now a strained and painful one.

“I would have thought you might have had a clue,” he began. “I signed every note to you with my first initial. I didn’t wear the ring or douse myself with my cologne when I was going to spend time with you, but there was the sound of my voice. I thought eventually you’d find that distinctive enough. I guess I practiced well, I certainly tried. Maybe I’m even better than I thought.”

His mockery annoyed her, and the anger she thought had fled, now started to churn again in her sour stomach. To her further dismay, the realized the desire along side that anger. She hated the vile combination because it meant that he would win. He’d always win with her, being just the kind of man that she needed. Worse still, Mike Bellamy knew this as well as she did.

“You’re pissed, aren’t you?” he asked, just rhetorically. “And you’d probably like to spit in my face.”

He was so right.

“But I bet you’re turned on?”

Right about that too, she told herself.

“So, Gillian, your thighs must be burning by now, tell me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Yes, what!” he snapped, his voice bit. “Are you ever going to learn?”

“Yes, sir.”

He stared at her eyes, venom seeming to pour from his. He was displeased with her still. “Maybe not in the conference room,” he began to speak, “or in your office, or in court—yes, you might even in court address me with that term of respect, but you will, when we’re alone, never fail to recognize that I am the master and you a mere wanting member. If I have to spank that truth into you, imprint it on your sorry little bottom daily for a year, I will. You’ll get so sick of being spanked, you will eventually learn. You don’t have a master that will take less than complete obedience. You adhere to the rules or you’ll get another smarting bottom.

“The only reason that you have a second chance with us is because my friends respect the fact that it was Mike Bellamy that wanted the challenge of the brash attorney, Gillian Brahms, and they allowed me the latitude to bring you in. You’re here because of me, and not what you’ll ever do. Get that straight from the start. You may be pissed at me for seducing you, but you know the truth. You were so easy, I thought I was dealing with a free woman, not one that had rashly given her life over to my sex club.

“I set you up, I encouraged you, cajoled you, wooed you, and enjoyed your pretty cunt. I played you like a finely preserved Stradivarius, and you fell into my hands.”

He paused, moving toward her, squatting down, his hand reaching to touch her upside down face.

“The fact is, you didn’t have a prayer. I knew I had you won. Between my cunning and your flagrant need, there was no way I’d lose the bet I made with my friends. I told you before that I would win, and so I have. Oh, some still aren’t convinced. But Thad is. He’s the only one that really matters, since he had such faith in me.”

Mike’s touch bordered on affectionate, but it was short-lived.

“Your life isn’t going to be easy for the next few months. In fact, I’d say you’re going to fail with me more than you’ll succeed, but you will have lots of sex and a raging cunt and a master that you’ll obey. He’ll make sure you feel everything as sweetly as you’re feeling in your poor liquefied cunt right now.” He paused, and his lips turned into a gentle sneer. “I know what you’re thinking. You wish I’d touch it.”

He was right. She felt a spasm but there was no pleasurable end, just raw agitation.

“You’re likely to get sick of me before our mutual business and pleasure are over, but trust me, Brahms, this will be six months you’ll never forget.”

Every word and phrase echoed in her ear—both the melody and the discordant, grating noise.

He rose from his squat, and then like his gray-haired friend before him, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to above the elbows, all within sight of her mesmerized eyes. She had almost become immune to the pain of this punishment. But now she winced with fear, believing that this master would bring the chastisement to a new level she couldn’t bear. The thrill of arousal was astounding. And all this, Mike Bellamy knew just by watching the subtle shifts in her expression. Being so utterly embarrassed by his knowledge of her, she closed her eyes.

“You can close out the sight of me, Brahms, but not the spanking you’ll receive. And you’re not going to be able to deny what happens afterwards.”

Turning, Mike picked up the paddle he retrieved from the cabin and slapped it against his hand with a resounding smack. Gillian heard it, actually wondering if the smack had been against her ass. But there was no stinging pain.

Taking his position behind her, they both enjoyed the still of the air, the breathless excitement of raw anticipation and then, that first exhilarating whack of the wood against her skin.

“Aaaaah!” she moaned.

Mike danced the paddle off her naked ass, bringing back the raw rich glow of agony to a bottom that had, for a brief time, paled in the waiting. He now covered spots where the other punishments had marred the surface, and made his own mark on the two sore cheeks, while listening to her terrible cries of woe.

Gillian was in agony start to finish—but even so, there seemed to be some curious erotic bliss to this finale. Despite the pain of it, she had a master delivering the blows who was supremely interested in her, in her. If he didn’t care in some small corner of his masterful, wily, crafty, despicable soul, then why would he put so much effort and enthusiasm into his task? He may have the truth about her in his back pocket, but she had a few about him to nurture in the dreadful moment. The punishment proceeded without much further fanfare. It was strictly a paddle to ass spanking of unrelenting quality. It was a burning, tear-provoking, wailing, struggling, wriggling battle to bear what was truly unbearable.

And when he finally stopped, her tears began to flow.

It was quiet again. He still held the paddle when he squatted again beside her, lifting a lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. The gesture was kind enough, but not his words.

“Don’t disappoint me, Brahms,” he said. “Don’t ever disappoint me. I win. I always win. You may be a mean bitch in court—and I hope you are for the sake of Bellamy Ltd.—but you shall be a submissive lamb to me. You’ll obey me like an old-world wife obeys her husband. You’ll squelch your turmoil and serve my needs. This is my club, and we play by my rules.”

Moving to each ankle, he released the ropes, then backed off. “Leanne will be here to show you where you’ll sleep.”

As Gillian struggled to rise, struggled to work the kinks out of her aching body, and soothe her ass with the palm of her hand, Mike Bellamy slipped into the night.

If nothing else, this startling episode refreshed her memory of Kate McPherson’s diary, and the feelings of fear and terror that her friend had felt. It also reminded her of the excellent fire between her thighs on reading her friend’s outrageous exploits, and the fire she was feeling now as the sensation of punishment made its way from her bottom to every raw nerve ending in her exhausted body. She would sleep well.