Glen Cove

Chapter 4: Let Me Go

Squirming, I manage to free myself enough for my toes to hit the floor. I spin around on the balls of my feet and come face to face with a red-headed man dressed in tight-fitted leather pants.

"Let go." I push away from his hairy chest and take a step back, but the man counters my move. He blocks my path with a braided leather flogger that makes a cracking noise in the air.

"Are you looking for a Dom, sweetness?" He licks his lips, grins, and then reaches out for me. "Or are you looking for a Master?" A reddish hue flashes across his eyes, and the lights in the room strobe.

"No, I'm not looking for anything." I step to the right but end up toe to toe with him. "Now, please, let me pass."

He grabs my wrist, drawing me to his body. "You have very pretty skin." He cups my chin in his hand. Then, he tilts my head from side to side. "Nice and paleÑ"

His treatment makes me feel like livestock in a public auction.

What's next, she thinks to herself, an examination of my teeth?

"Stop it!" I twist in his arms. "Let go of me. I already told you no."

"I know what you want," he whispers, slurring the words in my ear. "Trust me. I can give it to you. I can show you things you never thought possible." A smirk smears across his face. And his canines protrude from under his upper lip. They're long and pointed.

Those must be fake. The thought smacks my brain.

"Let go."

The putrid smell of alcohol lingers on his breath.

"You know that you want to give in to the darkness." He pulls me tighter into his frame then sniffs my neck.

"Stop it," I yell again with a tremor in my voice. "Do you know what the word 'no' means?"

He licks the side of my face and neck. "You smell sweet."

"What the f**k is wrong with you?" I shove his face away from mine.

His hand roughly gropes at my left breast. "You know you want it." The black pupils of his eyes seem to expand in the dim lighting, making his eyes look black. "And I'm the Master to give it to you."

"Let. Me. Go."

The man wrestles me against the wooden post I was standing by. I look up and cringe. To be more precise, it's a whipping pole, and if my prior research is correct, it's not a place I want to be. Especially, with a psychotic freak hellbent on doing God knows what.

"Alexandre." Tears brim my eyes, blurring my vision. "Master Alex, please."

"That's it, scream for me."

The man binds my hands above my head with a rope at the top of the pole. Eyes focusing on the restraints, I work to free my hands.

A stinging sensation streaks across my bare upper thighs, and I scream. Looking down, I squirm in place, helplessly as the loose leather straps of the flogger wrap around the front of one upper thigh then the other. The strips continue to bite into my skin as they circle, whipping around to the back of my legs.

"No, no, no, stop, please. I don't want to . . ."

My heart hammers in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

"Master Alex, help me, please!"

"Not Alex, Chris," he says in a firm voice. "Call me Master Chris."

Tears spill onto my cheeks. "Alexandre De La Fontaine," the name rips free from my lips in scream that makes my throat feel raw.

The leather tips of the flogger tails bite into my thighs again, causing a deep-seated sting that continues long after the leather leaves my skin. The colors of the room and furnishing swirl around me along with the sea of people.

"Oh God," a sob breaks loose, "please, stop."

He wraps a hand around my waist, pulling my body against him. His eyes bore down at me, cold and unforgiving, reminding of someone else who couldn't take no for an answer.

"Relax and enjoy the ride," he whispers, then brings his mouth down over my lips.

"Stop." The smell of alcohol and sour body odor makes me gag. "Let me go, please."

"The lady said stop," Alexandre's voice booms, and the man is peeled off my body.

"But she wants it. Look at her," the man says. "We can share her if you want."

"No, I do not think so." Alexandre grabs the man by the arm.

"What's it to you, anyway?" The red-headed man yanks his arm free. "I paid good money to come in here and play, so either join us or get lost."

"It seems you are new to this town," says Alexandre, "to this establishment."

Alexandre grabs the man by the neck, shoves him against a wall, and then lifts him off the floor.

"Need I remind you, this patch identifies me as the Master of Arms? Money or not, you violated a house rule because the lady, she belongs to me. And you did not have permission to touch her."

He releases his hold and the man tumbles to the floor.

A few other men dressed in black slacks and dark dress shirts walk up. Alexandre nods at them and makes a gesture with his hand.

"Consider yourself band from the establishment."

The men lift the guy up off the floor, then drag him toward the exit, kicking and screaming.

"Ma petite chere, are you okay?" Alexandre asks softly.

He leans down close to my face. The light stubble on his chin brushes against my cheek. He unties my hands and draws me into his arms, cradling me to his chest.

"I am sorry this happened. However, you were not where I left you, pet. You should have never been standing near the whipping pole in the first place."

"I want to leave?" I swallow hard. "I don't want to be in here."

"Shh." He wipes the tears from my face. "Please, do not cry, ma belle."