Shockwave (Impulse Book 1) Read online

  Alani took in a couple of breaths to steady her nerves.

  “I can’t wait for tonight.”

  “The scene?”

  “That. And after, at my house.”

  Good thing she had an extra pair of panties in her locker.

  She was too well trained to hurry away, even though that was what she wanted to do. Instead, she took her time gathering her purse and coat. As she left the room, she was aware of his gaze on her.

  Once the door closed behind her, she exhaled.

  Willow was talking to some guests at the podium as Alani slipped into the ladies’ locker room.

  Minutes later, the rush of adrenaline ebbed and she realized her pussy was still wet. His high-handed treatment had turned her on. He’d managed to work himself inside her head, remind her of her submissiveness.

  She stowed her belongings in her locker. As she was checking her clothing in the mirror, Willow joined her a few moments later. “I heard you’re doing a demo with Master Nathaniel tonight.”

  “What else have you heard?”

  “If you’re wondering if I know about your retraining, yes. I don’t know why, but—”

  “I yawned during a scene with Master Richard.”

  “Get out!”

  “And I rolled my eyes. Master Nathaniel caught me.”

  Alani looked at Willow. She wasn’t sure if Willow was her real name or not, but it certainly fit. Tall, blonde, leggy, with green eyes and natural grace, Willow was lovely.

  “Who wouldn’t? Mister Limp Wrist is a total bore.”

  “Mister Limp Wrist?” Alani repeated.

  “Oh!” Willow made a show of covering her mouth. “Did I say that out loud?”

  Alani laughed, tension leaving her body.

  Willow dropped her hand. “He’s a wannabe but never-gonna-be. At least you’ll still scene with him. But if yawning will get me a spanking from Master Nathaniel, I’ll never drink coffee again.”

  “It wasn’t intentional.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if it was. He’s freaking gorgeous. You’re the envy of every sub here tonight, do you know that?”

  “Even though I’m in trouble and got written up?”

  “Every one of us would trade places with you. The write-up means nothing. You’re good. Everyone knows it. It will be forgotten in a couple of days. Much better gossip will come along and you’ll be yesterday’s news.”

  Alani hadn’t known whether to expect support from her fellow employees or not. She’d been a bit embarrassed to return to the club, but Willow made it painless. “I thought he was a bit of an ass yesterday.”

  “But so incredible. C’mon, Alani, admit it. He’s hot.”

  She shrugged.

  “C’mon.”

  “Yeah,” Alani agreed a few seconds later. “All right. He’s hot. If you go for that type.”

  “What type is that? The tall, dark and dangerous? Hell, I’d sign up, but turns out, he’s only interested in you.”

  “Not true.”

  “So true. All of our other subs are available, and I’d be willing to bet a bunch of our guests would raise their hands and volunteer to help him with the scene. But Master Nathaniel said he’d selected you. He said it was part of your retraining.” Willow rolled her eyes. “As if. He just wants a chance to play with you. The other subs said they’re going to start misbehaving if scening with Master Nathaniel is part of the punishment.”

  Alani laughed.

  “Anyway, all of us are turning green with envy. Not a good color for us.”

  A patron walked into the dressing room.

  “If I get a chance, I’ll pop in and check out your demo,” Willow said. “Have fun!”

  Nerves slammed into Alani again. It was becoming a regular occurrence where this man was concerned. If she wasn’t careful, she could become addicted to his punishments.

  She combed her hair, freshened her makeup, then checked her clothing.

  So far, Master Nathaniel had found her submissive skills lacking. And she intended to prove herself. She didn’t need retraining. She just needed to avoid Mister Limp Wrist.

  Alani visited with several guests, answered questions and offered some pointers. Then, a few minutes ahead of schedule, she took the elevators to the second floor and entered the classroom. Just inside the door, she paused, mesmerized.

  Master Nathaniel was already on the stage, and a spotlight shone on him. Behind him, a St. Andrew’s cross loomed, half threat, half promise.

  He’d turned the cross sideways so that the attendees would be able to see more of her body, more of what he was doing to her, and some of her facial expressions as well.

  During the time they’d been apart, he’d changed into a snug black T-shirt. He was shaking a flogger at his side as he looked toward the entrance, at her. Rational thought told her that the spotlight blinded him, that he really couldn’t see her. But it was as if he sensed her presence.

  She stood there for a moment until a couple of attendees asked if they could pass. Then, having no other choice, she entered.

  Drawing a fortifying breath, she walked to the stage, shoulders held back, determined to cover her emotional vulnerability. She climbed the stairs, trying to take in everything. There was a small table off to one side with a bottle of water on top of it. A large container of lube sat next to it. A small drawer was partially open, and she guessed he had an assortment of torture devices in there. And she wanted him to use them on her.

  When she stepped onto the riser, he motioned her forward. He pointed to a spot on the floor, about a foot in front of where he was standing. He purposefully cast his gaze at the floor.

  He didn’t need words to communicate his intention, and she lowered herself to her knees, facing the people already taking their chairs.

  He moved in front of her. She noticed he checked to make sure the lapel microphone was switched off before speaking. “How are you doing? Nervous?”

  “A little. More excited than anything, if I’m honest.”

  He smiled. “Good. Me, too.”

  At his admission, she frowned with doubt.

  “I’m being honest.” Master Nathaniel held up a hand.

  He said all the right words to relax and reassure her. Confound him.

  “Is there anything you need to tell me or want to add to your limits list for the duration of this demonstration?”

  “I’m good.”

  “What safe words do you want to use?”

  “Same ones that I told you. Yellow and ‘ula.”

  He glanced at his sophisticated, space-age wristwatch with the recognizable lightning bolt and wave logo that indicated it was a model manufactured by the self-proclaimed genius of the known universe, Julien Bonds. “Tonight’s demo is an advanced class.”

  “You’ve said so, yes.”

  “I intend to use devices on you, including a gag if you’re too noisy.”

  “I understand, Sir.”

  “The demo will start soon. You’re free to relax until about two minutes before we start. But at that time, I’d like you to kneel in a waiting position.”

  She nodded then left the platform to mingle with a few guests, aware of Master Nathaniel’s movements and his gaze on her.

  As one of the monitors encouraged people to take their seats, she headed back to the dais.

  He shot her a conspiratorial look. “You’re going to be perfect.”

  “Thank you.” She intended to do her best.

  He folded his arms and watched as she knelt, then he crouched in front of her, bringing them face-to-face.

  God, he was overwhelming.

  This close, she inhaled the scent of him, his raw, untamed power. His biceps were well-defined in a way she hadn’t noticed before now.

  Dressed all in black, he resembled the warrior he was, someone who fearlessly sought out the darkest and most dangerous men on the planet.

  His attire wasn’t aimed just at creating the illusion the attendees expected. It more aut
hentically expressed who he really was. Tonight he was unleashing the Dom who merely wore a veil of civility.

  What the hell had she been thinking in challenging him?

  “Spread your legs farther apart.”

  She did.

  “Hands behind your head. And kneel up.” As he stood, he looked at her. “Oh, and, Alani?”

  She met his gaze. Beneath the lights, his green eyes took on an edge of steel.

  “Later this evening, you’re going to suck my cock. After that, I’m going to fuck you hard.” He fisted her hair, not in a painful way, but in one that spoke of intimacy laced with promise.

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, secretly thrilled by his unspoken reassurance that this was about more than punishment. He desired her. More and more, she wanted to please this man.

  At eight o’clock, one of the monitors slowly dimmed the house lights. Alani’s heart thundered, seeming to amplify noise.

  She was hyperaware of him and his dominance.

  Master Nathaniel turned on the microphone that was attached to his T-shirt and welcomed the guests as he laid the flogger on the tabletop.

  He informed them the demonstration was for experienced players only. He encouraged first-time attendees to work up to this kind of scene. “This takes trust between experienced players,” he explained. “If the things that happen on the stage are too much for you, please feel free to leave. Our feelings won’t be hurt.”

  There was a smattering of laughter. Some of it sounded nervous, matching her mental state.

  “My sub tonight is one of the club’s professionals, the beautiful Alani Dane.”

  She remained exactly where she was and didn’t acknowledge the few wolf whistles.

  “We always recommend having a discussion beforehand, and it’s essential if you’re playing with a new sub. I know some of you, many of you, are experienced and have been with your partners for a long time. But I always want to remind you that at Limits, skiing is our club safe word. Any sub can use it to immediately stop a scene. Failure to follow the rules can cause your membership to be revoked. Alani, tell the audience your safe word.”

  “’Ula, Sir.”

  “You’re aware that you can also use the club safe word of skiing?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Do you have any health concerns I need to know about? Any problems with muscles? Anything that’s impossible or unduly difficult for you to do?”

  She knew they had to go through this but she wished they didn’t. “Nothing, Sir.”

  “Anything particular you want me to know?” He knew she was a painslut. The question was how much he’d exploit that knowledge.

  “No, Sir.”

  “And do you consent to this scene between us?”

  “I do, Master Nathaniel.”

  Though most of the guests had attended other workshops and all of them understood club rules, demonstrations were always preceded by reminders that scenes were to be safe, sane and consensual, or, for more experienced players, risk-aware and consensual. “Are you ready to proceed?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He slid a warm, approving glance down her body. In that moment, she would do anything for him.

  “Please stand and remove your skirt.”

  She accepted his hand. His strength comforted her, gave her courage. Kneeling with her legs so far apart had fatigued her muscles, so getting to her feet took a few moments longer than she would have liked.

  He covered the microphone. “Every eye is on you, Alani. You’re sensational.”

  She was careful to keep her gaze downcast as she removed the skirt.

  Master Nathaniel scooped it up from the floor and placed it on a small side table. “Now the top, if you please.”

  The skintight material had seemed like a good idea when she’d been getting dressed. Now that she was struggling in front of an audience, she wished she had chosen something else.

  Master Nathaniel ignored her and addressed the room. “Doms, here’s a moment of decision. You can help your submissive. Or you can enjoy watching her struggle. And you can punish her for the fact she wore something that kept her body inaccessible.”

  “Punish her,” one helpful man called out.

  “Excellent idea,” Master Nathaniel said. “Stay still, Alani,” he told her. “Since you kept your breasts covered, I’ll punish them specifically. Raise your arms.”

  He pulled off her top before depositing the garment on the side table.

  She had on her heels, stockings and a garter belt, and she knew he would leave her thong on, as per club guidelines.

  He turned sideways so he had full access to her body without blocking anyone’s view. “I want your hands behind your neck, and I want to see you stick out your chest.”

  Once she had, he captured her right breast and held it in his palm, as if weighing it. Then he squeezed her nipple. Hard.

  She gasped.

  He almost pulled her off balance, and her eyes watered.

  “Are you forgetting something, Alani?”

  Forgetting something? Oh, God, yes! “Thank you for removing my top, Sir.”

  He tweaked her nipple again, but this time not quite as hard. “Much better.” To the crowd, he said, “A proper sub always expresses her gratitude, and if he or she doesn’t, it’s your responsibility to remind them.”

  She kept her gaze focused on the ground. Stupid. How could she have been so stupid? The scene had barely started and she’d already forgotten his cardinal rule.

  “You have lovely breasts, Alani.”

  His voice soothed her, brought her back to the scene from her self-recrimination. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “While I pull on your right nipple, I want you to squeeze your left one.”

  The pain and pleasure were exquisite.

  He squeezed her harder than she possibly could. He was relentless.

  A few seconds later, he released his grip. “You may stop now,” he told her.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Some subs are quicker studies than others,” he told the audience as she linked her hands behind her head again. “Do remember, Doms, if you have rules that are inflexible, enforce them with quick and immediate punishment.”

  There were noises of assent.

  Because of the lighting, it was difficult to see anyone watching her. Even though they were in front of dozens of people, it was almost as if she were here with him alone.

  “Are your nipples tender, Alani?”

  “Not terribly, Sir.”

  “Then clamping them wouldn’t be much of a problem for you?”

  Her pussy pulsed with anticipation. “No, Sir.”

  “Good.”

  He moved toward the table and pulled out several sets of clamps. He held up a pair of tweezer clamps. “If you prefer to give your sub a light-to-medium amount of pressure, these clamps are good. The trouble is, if you tug on them, they can come off. That’s not all bad,” he said. “For example… Alani, if you please, cup your breasts and offer them to me.”

  “Yes, Sir.” When she’d said she was into pain, he’d taken her at her word.

  He pinched her right nipple viciously, compressing it. Before she could gasp, he’d affixed a clamp and tightened it until she winced. Then, because he knew she’d want it, he tightened it a bit more.

  “Thank you, Sir,” she managed.

  He repeated the process with her left nipple. And she gritted out her gratitude.

  “Sway from side to side, Alani, so the audience can see the chain move.”

  The pressure, although it wasn’t terrible, hurt. Normally she’d barely register it, but damn, he’d already tortured her.

  “And to demonstrate what I mean…” He tugged the chain and pulled the clamps off.

  She pitched forward and gasped. It took all of her effort to mumble her thanks.

  “Back into position, sub.”

  Instinct and self-preservation warred with her craving to accept everything he h
ad to offer. Instead of wrapping her arms across her breasts, she did as he instructed.

  When she saw the next clamps, she glanced away. Japanese clovers.

  He held them up so the audience could see them.

  Some of the clovers were more brutal than others. She wondered which he’d selected.

  “These are my personal favorites,” he said. “Sub, offer me your right tit.”

  She cupped her breast, squeezed and lifted. He twisted her nipple before attaching the nasty rubber-tipped clamp. Shocked by its bite, she gulped in air then expelled it in a rush.

  “Breathe through the pain,” he coached, his gaze snaring hers. “I love the way your tit looks when it’s clamped like that, and I appreciate you doing it for me.”

  She managed a short nod.

  “Now the left one.”

  Alani worried her lower lip as the pain settled in.

  Before she’d fully absorbed it, before she could formulate the words to let him know she was okay, he addressed the audience. “Now, Doms, this is why I prefer this particular style.”

  He tugged on the chain.

  She cried out as she was jerked forward.

  “Rather than releasing like the tweezer-style, these get tighter. And that means you can also add weights to them.”

  She forced herself into a standing position. She blinked away the tears that stung her eyes.

  “Would you like that, Alani?”

  When she didn’t answer, he cupped her chin and looked deep into her eyes. The connection strengthened her, emboldened her.

  “Do you need to use your safe word?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Would you like me to add weights to your clamps?”

  “Whatever you prefer, Sir.”

  He covered the mic long enough to say, “That’s my girl.”

  His approval made her heart do flip-flops.

  As she concentrated and the blood flow to her nipples constricted, the pain receded.

  “As it’s my preference, I want you to add the weights.”

  In the back of the room, a man gasped.

  “Beast,” she muttered.

  He grinned then covered the mic. “That’ll cost you later.” The threat was delivered without any real heat, converting it into something to look forward to rather than something to dread.

  He handed her a weight. She struggled a bit, ending up tugging on the clamp. She set her jaw against the pain and focused on the task.