I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder then tossed the icepack over onto the coffee table. It wasn’t doing much good; besides, my brain was now far too occupied to focus on the pain. I hated to admit it but Ben was correct. I was never going to be able to distance myself from this sort of thing, no matter how much I tried.
Stretching the cord out, I stepped over and scanned the next set of shelves, systematically moving stacks of books which were two and three deep until I found the volume I was searching for.
“You still there?” Ben asked.
“Yeah, hang on,” I told him as I flipped to the index of the selected text, noted the page number for crossings, and began thumbing back through. “Okay…here it is. My guess would be she’s going to use them for some more gris-gris. There’s a crossing here that calls for drying chicken bones, crushing them up, then using them as a component for a curse.”
“I’ll let Baton Rouge PD know that,” Ben replied.
“So, is that where the body was found?” I asked.
“Yeah… Motel just like all the others, ‘cept it was room three instead of seven.”
“Sacred space.”
“Come again?”
“Three would be a number equated with protection. She wanted a safe place to do the cross.”
“Stickler for detail, ain’t she?”
“It’s all part of working magick.”
“‘Kay, we’re back ta’ that. So if she’s tryin’ ta’ kill ya’ with magic, what happens when it doesn’t work? I mean, it ain’t gonna, is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You mean you don’t know what she’ll do if it doesn’t work, right?”
“I mean I don’t know on either one, Ben.”
Monday, December 12
10:02 P.M.
The Whine Cellar Bondage Club
Private Playroom C
Bridge, Illinois
CHAPTER 24:
Annalise reached over her head and grasped the suspension cuffs, which were securely attached to an overhead beam, then gave them a tug. You never knew what the state of the equipment might be in some of these clubs. Not all of them were maintained as well as they should be. But, this place actually appeared to be properly cared for. In some ways it even reminded her of her own.
She gave the hardware a second tug, and the shiny chains rattled against one another. The metallic clinking noise made her heart race with anticipation.
Steadying herself, she looked down at the mostly nude man lying spread-eagle in front of her. She had only just finished locking him into the floor-mounted restraints moments before. He stared back up at her, adoration in his eyes.
“Did I say you could look at me?” she demanded.
“No, Mistress,” the man whispered.
His display of subservience ignited the tickle deep inside. This was the first time she had felt the desire in several days, and to her relief, it was actually pleasurable. Not like it had been before, when she was being punished. Still, the sensation gave her a moment’s pause. Those days of torment had been almost more than she could bear, and the thought of facing it again frightened her more than anything.
But, this time it would be different. Miranda promised release. She had promised the reward.
Using the suspension cuffs to maintain her balance, Annalise stepped up onto the man’s bare chest and twisted slowly, rocking back on her stiletto heels and digging them into his flesh. He groaned as she swayed back and forth, walking in place on his prone body.
And, the tickle continued to flare. She knew the itch wouldn’t be very far behind.
This particular sub was a trample fetishist whose kink was being used as a woman’s doormat. In fact, he even went by the name “mat.” Annalise had always found this particular display of dominance enjoyable, just as she did now. However, truth be told, tonight she had been more in the mood to mete out a good flogging. There was certainly no shortage of bare backs here that she would have relished marking with the sting of braided leather. From what she had seen in the club proper, it was obvious that there were several who would have gladly submitted to that torture as well. However, Miranda had said no. She had a specific purpose for Annalise being here, and “mat” was it. She had yet to tell her why. Only that for the moment, she was to seek him out, and him alone.
It had been a long drive to get here from Baton Rouge. With restroom breaks and fuel stops, almost eleven hours to be exact. Annalise had been up and on the road several hours before dawn. She knew full well she should be exhausted, but she wasn’t. She hadn’t even napped after checking into her hotel. She had merely freshened up, changed into suitable attire, and brought herself here to do Miranda’s bidding, though she was still at some loss as to what that bidding was.
Stepping hard, she continued grinding her heels into the man beneath her, reveling in the way his soft flesh gave way to her weight. He moaned as he tensed against his bonds. She wasn’t far behind him in the endorphin rush. The tickle had become the itch, and her breaths were now coming in shallow pants.
“Thank you,” the man gasped. “Thank you for coming back, Mistress Felicity…”
Annalise stopped moving.
She stood there, frozen in place at the sound of the name-the name of the other.
After a moment she shifted her weight then slipped the toe of her shoe beneath his chin and lifted, rolling his head so that she could look directly into his face.
“What did you call me?” she asked, her tone this time far more inquisitive than demanding.
“I’m sorry, Mistress…” the man apologized meekly. “Mistress Miranda.”
“No,” Annalise said firmly. “Tell me what you called me.”
He continued looking up at her but didn’t answer.
She carefully stepped down from his chest then lowered herself until she was seated on his stomach. Smiling sweetly, she reached out and grasped one of his nipples between her thumb and forefinger. Pinching hard, she began to twist and pull the tender flesh.
“I said,” she growled, emphasizing each word. “Tell… Me… What… You… Called… Me.”
The man tensed and groaned heavily, his face screwed into a mask of pain.
“Yes… yes… Mistress…” he stammered through the grimace. “I… I said, Felicity… I… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have used…your… real name…”
Annalise eased off on the nipple, but not without giving it a final rough tweak. She remained sitting as she continued staring blankly into his face. Now she knew why Miranda had insisted she come here in search of him in particular. He must have a connection to the other.
The itch faded quickly upon the revelation, completely bypassing the tickle in reverse and becoming no more than a hollow numbness in the pit of her stomach. Anger welled inside her, and she felt her cheeks flush with its heat.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured. “Why do you think I’m her?”
“Mistress?”
“Why do you think I’m her?” she said again, louder.
“Mistress? But I don’t…”
She didn’t hear the rest of his answer as it was drowned out by the voice inside her skull.
“You will… When it is time…” Miranda said.
