Vaughn's Awakening [The Black Dahlia Hotel 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Page 9
Alexa was grinning. “Excellent plan. Let’s go.”
They returned to their room to change and gather the necessities before heading down to the area that had been set aside for nude sunbathing. It was sequestered and screened with heavy foliage and had rows of comfy chaises set out facing the sun.
* * * *
Jeremiah Wade turned around in his seat. The table he had been occupying was one over and slightly behind Vaughn. A wide smile creased his face as he noticed the corner of Proffit’s cell phone peeking out from underneath his napkin. Perfect. He signed his check, stood, dropped a tip on the table, and quickly walked over to Vaughn’s table where he casually scooped up Paul Proffit’s cell phone. It wouldn’t do for the server to find the forgotten phone and return it to Proffit. Jeremiah loved it when a plan came together.
Jeremiah returned to his room, took off his polo shirt, and put a black leather vest on over his naked chest. He looked down. The black jeans and cowboy boots would do. He opened his toy bag to be sure he had everything he needed—ball gag for Vaughn, mask for himself, some other toys, and his trusty short-tail whip. Masks and cuffs would be available in the cabinet in the dungeon theme room. That should do it. He was ready. He took Proffit’s phone out of his pocket and examined it. It was the same model as his. Convenient. He powered it up. Good, it was fully charged with no password required. He quickly scanned the text messages back and forth between Paul and Vaughn. Her number was conveniently displayed under the Messages icon.
He laid down on the bed to wait. He’d give them about an hour to get it together and get situated in the sunbathing area. In the meantime he would plan his moves. With a little luck, Vaughn would never even know it wasn’t Proffit in the dungeon with her. He didn’t know if he would reveal himself or not. What fun was it if she didn’t know he’d had her? He had to think that part out. He’d wait and see how it went.
After about forty-five minutes he picked up Proffit’s phone and texted Vaughn. Apparently Proffit texted and phoned her frequently. She wouldn’t be surprised to receive a command from him to meet in the theme room he’d heard them discussing at breakfast. Meet me in the dungeon theme room in half an hour. Don’t be late. Be in position under the hanging chains wearing wrist and ankle cuffs and blackout mask you will find in the cabinet. Can’t wait to see you on your knees. PPP.
Now the pieces were all in place, although he still wasn’t sure how this was going to solve his Ella-Emma situation. He’d work that out as he went along. No problem. He was good at thinking on his feet.
* * * *
Vaughn and the girls were stretched out naked on the padded chaises. They had liberally coated themselves with forty-five SPF sunscreen. Vaughn picked up her phone when the text signal binged. She looked at the screen. “It’s Paul. That was a fast set.” She opened the message and read. She laughed. “He wants me to meet him in the dungeon theme room. He says he can’t wait. I thought I’d have some more time to sun, but he seems excited.”
“Oh, pooh. We’ve hardly had any time to work on these tan lines.” Alexa looked disappointed.
“You guys can stay. Just don’t overdo it. You don’t want to have sunburns when you have to meet Master Dane upstairs for your punishments.” Vaughn enjoyed Alexa’s momentary discomfort.
Cyndy giggled. “Don’t remind us. I really wasn’t bratty. It was all Alexa.”
Vaughn shook her head. “Don’t tell him that, or he’ll likely double your punishment for failure to take responsibility or something crazy like that. I haven’t quite figured out how these guys think.”
“That’s true,” Alexa said. “You’d better suck it up and not make any excuses, Cyndy.”
“I’m going to run upstairs and take a quick shower and then meet Paul in the dungeon theme room. See you later—maybe in the dungeon.”
* * * *
Jeremiah watched as Vaughn Rawlston entered the dungeon theme room. He’d give her a few minutes to get undressed, cuffed, and into position. He couldn’t believe how well this was working out. Smooth as silk.
He put on his mask and then swiped his Black Dahlia bracelet in front of the reader. He walked through the door, and Vaughn was kneeling under the hanging chains with her cuffs on and the blackout mask in place as directed. This was going even better than he had anticipated. He dropped his toy bag near the door and whispered, “Stand, sub. I’m going to attach your cuffs to the chains and spreader bar.” He waited while she stood and then quickly bound her in position. Her body was even more sumptuous than he had anticipated. She was round and soft all over with a small waist, and abundant tits and ass. He usually didn’t go for the more rounded subs, but it was going to be a pleasure to whip her.
He stood close behind her, letting her anxiety build by his silence and his heated presence. He knew how to crank up a sub’s fear, and he got off on it. He ran his hands over her breasts and then over her back and shapely ass. Maybe he’d been missing something by always choosing the model-thin subs. Vaughn could have stepped out of a painting from the Middle Ages.
* * * *
Vaughn was getting nervous. She thought she trusted Paul implicitly, but this didn’t feel like it usually did. Maybe it was being blindfolded that had her so anxious. Something was off, but the blackout mask did its job. She couldn’t see a thing. As they said, restriction of one sense brought the others into fuller focus. Paul didn’t smell the same, and his body against her back didn’t feel like she expected it to. He mysteriously felt more hairy than she remembered. She didn’t understand what was happening.
“Master? I don’t think…”
“Quiet, sub. I have not given you permission to speak,” he hissed. His voice, while low and raspy, did not have the deep resonance that she expected. Before she could think this through, she felt the first strike of the whip across her ass, and then two quick strikes against both her sides. She gasped. The pain was white hot—nothing like she had experienced at Paul’s hand before. She was getting scared. She didn’t want to safe word, but she might have to. This was totally unexpected. Maybe she had been wrong about him all along, and he wasn’t the man she thought he was. She didn’t understand what was going on. She was afraid, and she had never been afraid of Paul, even when he’d used all of the different impact toys on her. She expected some sting, but not this searing pain that was ripping across her back. She didn’t want to do this.
* * * *
In the security command center behind the administrative offices at The Black Dahlia Hotel, Fort Lauderdale Beach, Florida, Thursday late morning, December 31, 2015
Ernesto Blanco was watching the security monitors and the GPS tracking system for all of the people registered or employed at the hotel looking for anything unusual or out of the ordinary. He saw that Dane Dunross, Paul Proffit, Beau Bainbridge, and Sy Blackthorn were on the tennis courts. Alexa Baker and Cynthia Adams were enjoying the nude sunning terrace. Hmm, he’d like to enjoy that scene but there were no cameras in that enclosure. Cassandra Bainbridge and Devon Blackthorn were off property at the mall down on Ocean Boulevard. And Vaughn Rawlston was in the dungeon theme room with—Jeremiah Wade. That wasn’t right. She had seemed to be paired up pretty tight with Paul Proffit all week. Dunross had left a note for all of the security people to keep an eye on Wade as pertained to Rawlston. Dunross hadn’t been explicit, but Ernesto got the picture. Wade might be a problem.
Ernesto knew that Wade had been playing with various uncollared subs since he arrived the day after Christmas, but he had not seen him alone with Rawlston before. There were no surveillance cameras in the theme rooms, so he couldn’t tell what was going on in there. Rawlston seemed to be stationary in the room and didn’t appear to be in distress, but it just didn’t look right to him. He might need to alert the dungeon monitor on duty. He wound the video feed back and watched Wade put on his mask before he entered the room. He wound back further and watched Rawlston go into the room by herself.
He left a message for Dane Dunross, but
when it went right to voicemail, he texted the hotel manager. Boss, might have situation in DTR. Guests JWade and VRawlston are there together. He didn’t want to leave his post in the security command center, but he might have to if Dunross didn’t respond—that, or send someone down to the tennis courts. He continued to watch the monitors. This just wasn’t right. Wade was circling around Rawlston and then their signals merged into one, and then he stepped away again. Ernesto buzzed the front desk. When the concierge answered he said, “Send someone to the tennis courts ASAP to get Dunross and Proffit. I think there’s a situation in the dungeon theme room.”
He picked up his walkie-talkie and tried to contact the dungeon monitor. He didn’t respond immediately, and Ernesto was getting more and more uncomfortable with the situation by the moment. The concierge called him back and told him that he had rounded up a bellman to run down to the tennis courts. Ernesto tried the dungeon monitor again. No response on the walkie.
* * * *
Dane Dunross looked over when the out-of-breath bellman skidded to a halt outside the chain link fence surrounding the tennis courts. “Boss…problem in the dungeon. Security has been trying to reach you.”
Dane bounded over to his racket bag and pulled his cell phone out of the side pocket. He immediately checked the text before he listened to the voicemail. “Let’s go, Proffit. Vaughn is in the dungeon with Wade. Is there any reason that should be happening?”
“No. Vaughn and I were going to meet up there later this afternoon.” He dropped his racket next to his bag and reached into his pocket for his cell phone. “I’ll call Vaughn just to verify that she’s okay.” The phone wasn’t in his pocket. “Shit. I must have left my phone on the table at breakfast. The last time I remember using it was when I talked to Peter at the restaurant. Let’s go.”
They hopped into their golf cart while the bellman hung off the back. Both men were running toward the elevator before the golf cart had coasted to a halt in front of the lobby. Dane used his access card to call the elevator car directly to the lobby and then hit the necessary controls to bypass all the floor calls on the way to the top floor and the main dungeon. Once inside they headed down the corridor leading to the dungeon theme room. Dane swiped his access card and disengaged the locks. The two men burst through the door together in time to see the whip land across Vaughn’s back again and hear her scream in pain.
“Red, red, red. Stop this, Paul. Stop right now.”
Dane ran up behind Wade and took him to the ground and pulled the mask off his face while Proffit went to the hanging chains to disengage Vaughn’s cuffs. He removed her blackout mask and gathered her into his arms. “Baby, it’s okay. I’m here now. Everything will be okay.”
In the meantime, Dane had pulled Wade around and slammed a hard fist into his jaw stunning him. It was his personal philosophy that when in doubt, throw the first punch. “Watch him, Paul, while I get a set of cuffs from the cabinet.” He quickly had Wade secured and lying on the dungeon floor.
* * * *
Vaughn leaned against Paul’s chest while he murmured soothing words in her ear. She struggled in his arms while she looked around the room in terror. Then she saw Wade lying on the floor in handcuffs with Dane Dunross standing over him. She relaxed against Paul’s chest. He hadn’t been the one wielding the vicious whip on her back. Thank God. She didn’t think she could have processed that horror. To have the man she was pretty sure she loved inflict that kind of harsh pain would have been the ultimate betrayal. She knew she wasn’t a masochist, and she was pretty sure Paul wasn’t a sadist. The pain was still burning through her muscles. It had been nothing like the butterfly kisses that Paul had given her with the whip the other day.
* * * *
Paul was shaking with rage. Dane motioned the dungeon monitor into the room. “Take him down to the security command center and secure him in a room there. No calls. I’ll contact Jack Brown and Jamie Devereau and fill them in. They are both leaving on the Golden Dolphin for Cozumel later this afternoon.”
Jeremiah Wade was beginning to come around and struggle against the cuffs behind his back. “Let me loose. This is an outrage.”
Paul put Vaughn down on the chaise lounge in the corner of the dungeon and looked at Wade. “I’ll tell you what’s an outrage, you asshole. You putting your hands and implements on my woman. That’s the outrage.”
“She came in here and got naked of her own free will.”
Paul asked, “Under false pretenses? Did she know it was you in here with her instead of me? Or was she blindfolded when you came in?” When Wade didn’t respond to his question, Paul went back to Vaughn. He turned her around and examined her back, which was crisscrossed with ugly red welts. Only a few of the welts had some blood oozing. He wrapped her in a blanket, picked her up, and then sat back down with her in his lap. She was his priority. Dane and the dungeon monitor could take care of Wade for the moment.
Dane said, “I’ll have the concierge get the doctor we have on retainer over here to check her out and treat her back. Just get her calmed down for now. Her back looks painful, but it’s not life threatening.” Nonetheless, Paul felt like he was going to be sick. How could he have let this happen to her? He’d had a feeling Wade was going to be a problem. He should have been more vigilant. Instead he’d been playing tennis, and she’d been on her own, unprotected. Dane must be feeling guilty too—as the man in charge when this happened to Vaughn. Paul didn’t think it had been Dane’s fault, although they didn’t have the whole story yet.
Chapter Nine
In the administrative offices at The Black Dahlia Hotel, Fort Lauderdale Beach, Florida, Thursday early afternoon, December 31, 2015
Vaughn was sitting up in a chair in Dane Dunross’s office wearing one of the hotel robes. Dr. John Semanski, the doctor on retainer to the hotel for medical emergencies not requiring a trip to the emergency room, had just left the room to talk to Paul and the other men in the outer office. He had cleaned the wounds on Vaughn’s back, treated them with a soothing antibiotic cream, and loosely bandaged them with gauze dressing. Then he had given her something for the pain and to settle her nerves. Now she felt slightly woozy. She just wanted to lie down and go to sleep—preferably for a very long time—like, at least until next month. She got up, walked over the sofa against the wall, and lay down. She wasn’t sure she could make it back to their suite under her own power. She would just close her eyes for a few minutes. She had to keep alert so she would know what was going on out there. How the hell had this happened to her? She had seen Paul’s text on her phone. She had expected to meet him in the dungeon theme room not that nut case Jeremiah Wade. She vividly recalled the sound of his voice and his smell and the burning pain on her back and butt. She didn’t think she would ever forget how frightened she had been, especially when screaming her safe word had not stopped the whip. The safe word was sacred. It should have been her protection, but it hadn’t worked.
Vaughn could hear Paul’s raised voice in the other room. Boy, he sounded angry. She should have been more careful instead of just blindly trusting—the situation or the man. Intellectually she knew this incident wasn’t Paul’s fault. How could it be? It was hers. She had been incredibly stupid and naïve. What had she expected? This BDSM was a dangerous practice, and apparently it attracted some dangerous people—sexual predators and psychopaths—as well as the regular people who practiced the lifestyle.
God she’d been so scared. It had hurt so badly. And she’d thought Paul, someone she cared for and trusted, was doing it to her. Logically, she knew that wasn’t true, but while it was happening and she’d been blindfolded that was her perception of the situation and what she’d believed. She had cried “red” but it hadn’t stopped the pain. Now, she just wanted to go home and sleep.
* * * *
Paul stood back as Jeremiah Wade was pushed down into a metal office chair in an empty room in the security center. His hands were cuffed to the armrests.
“You’d
better let me out of here. I have rights. I’m an attorney.”
Jack Dalton Brown stepped up and put his face into Wade’s. “Well, then you’re a really stupid and inept one if you don’t know you’re guilty of false imprisonment, assault, and any number of other offenses up to attempted sexual assault.”
“It was consensual. She went into the dungeon of her own free will. She put on the blindfold and cuffs herself.”
“That’s crap and you know it. She had the expectation that she was meeting her Dom, not you. She had the right to be safe in this environment where ‘safe, sane, and consensual’ trumps every other tenant. You’re a disgrace to your profession and to this lifestyle.”
Jack and Jamie searched Wade. They found Paul’s cell phone in his pocket and quickly reviewed the text history. Jamie turned to Paul. “Did you text Vaughn to meet you in the dungeon theme room?”
“No. We had plans to meet up there later, but I was playing tennis with Dane, Beau and Sy when security sent a bellman to get us.”
Jamie Devereau said, “You’re done here, Wade. It’s up to Vaughn as to whether she wants to press charges or not, but regardless I will personally see that your name is put on the undesirable and dangerous watch list of every club and on every lifestyle website in this country. You will be blackballed. You are going to find it very hard to find knowledgeable people in the lifestyle to play with.”
“You can’t do that. That is slander and defamation of character. If she presses charges, I’ll out this whole place—the hotel, the club, the ship. Vaughn will lose her job.”