Authors: Patricia Harkins-Bradley

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #Romantic, #Romance, #FICTION/Romance/General

The Diamond Club (24 page)

I stood up, undid Romans gag, and gave him a deep, passionate kiss—it put him off guard for just long enough for me to spit his own junior juice back into his mouth. Surprised, he gagged as I pulled my mouth away from his and snapped his ball gag back into place. Suddenly unable to spit, he must have accidently inhaled some of it because he began coughing violently. I let him recover just long enough to believe his ordeal might be over, then I smiled and walked back to the tray of leather toys.

I grabbed a large black dildo complete with painful looking spikes studded all around its sides.

“Well, Roman,” I said through a smile, “Let’s get started. We’ve only got all night.”

I paddled, whipped and punished my way to daybreak. After an hour, I even got the idea to call in some old friends. I went back to the party for long enough to find some helpful “volunteers” to help me “punish my disobedient slave”. And since everyone was wearing masks, they were only too happy to let me take pictures of every depraved sex act we forced on Roman.

When the night was over, I undid Roman’s gag and started to show him my extensive collection of photographs on my new iPhone.

“This one, I think, is particularly nice.” I said, commenting on one where a fat old man smacked Roman’s ass with a spiked paddle.

For the first time since I’ve known him, Roman didn’t have anything to say. He was a beaten shell of a man. Maybe I should have felt bad, but I didn’t. Roman deserved it all—besides, there was something poetic about the situation. The Romans had tortured Christ, and now I, a woman of deep Christian conviction, had given a little payback to this particular Roman.

“I think your new wife might really appreciate this one.” I said holding my phone up to show another, “I wonder whose dog that was . . .” Roman reinflated just enough to look at me in horror. I took off his ball gag. “What do you think? Maybe I’ll just send them all to her.”

“You’re crazy! That’s all evidence!”

“Evidence of what? How big of a manslut you are? You came to a sex club to have sex, obviously. Nobody is going to believe you didn’t want it.”

“Hey, and you know what?” I continued, “This state is a community property state. So when you get divorced you’re going to lose half of everything—including half of your 80% stake in FullyDateable.com.”

“No!” cried Roman, “she will understand. She knows that I can’t be tied down—that sometimes she has to share.”

“Share with this guy?” I said holding up my phone so Roman could see yet another photo of him with a 300 pound black man. Despite the mask, he was obviously an NFL player I had seen around the club before. “No, I don’t think so, Roman. I think you’re about to lose 40% of FullyDateable. Serves you right too, for screwing me out of my 20%.”

“Wait! The IPO paperwork isn’t finalized.” Roman practically gibbered, “I can get your stock options put back in! I can get your 20% back!” It was obvious that I’d won. Roman’s eyes were wild with panic.

“It’s 30%, now”, I said smiling beatifically.

“But, but!” Roman spluttered, “That only leaves me with 50%!”

“Which is more than 40%, last time I checked . . .”

Roman looked down, defeated. “Fine,” he said, “Thirty percent. But you have to delete the pictures after.”

“Deal,” I replied. My hands quested in his pants pocket and held out his phone, turned it on, and began looking for his lawyer’s contact number.

“What are you doing?!” a visibly nervous Roman asked.

“What do you think? Calling your lawyer. You’re going to tell him to change the paperwork immediately.”

“And then you’ll delete the pictures?”

“I’m not stupid, Roman. I’m not some naive little girl fresh out of college that you can manipulate anymore. I’ll delete the pictures after the IPO is finished and I have my money. Not a moment sooner.”

And so, like a kicked puppy, Roman rolled over. I held the phone while Roman, still shackled, gave him new instructions. Then I started for the door.

“Hey! Wait, Bri, where you are going? Unshackle me!”

“Sorry, I don’t have the key! But the Diamond Club is closing for the day, so I’m sure someone will unlock you eventually.”

I walked out and never saw Roman again. That was six months ago. The IPO went through and I got paid, then I deleted the photos as promised—right after emailing them all to her.

So what do you do when you’re one of the richest women on the planet? Well, I bought a few bakeries to start. My cupcakes are selling like hotcakes. But lately baking has seemed a bit more boring to me. I’m thinking about maybe expanding into other markets—perhaps some angel investing.

Also, I recently heard that a certain exclusive nightclub might be for sale to the right owner. And I’m starting to think that since I’m in there every night, I might as well own the place. For someone looking for excitement, I highly recommend it. Anything can happen . . . at the Diamond Club.