Beast (Salvations Bane 2) Read online

  Beast (Salvation’s Bane 2)

  Marteeka Karland

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2020 Marteeka Karland

  BIN: 009394-03043

  Formats Available:

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  Mobi/PRC

  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  315 N. Centre St.

  Martinsburg, WV 25404

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Katriena Knights

  Cover Artists: Angela Knight and Marteeka Karland

  Adult Sexual Content

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  Table of Contents

  Beast (Salvation’s Bane 2)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Marteeka Karland

  Beast (Salvation’s Bane 2)

  Marteeka Karland

  Fleur: Never in a million years would I have expected a woman I considered a friend to betray me in the worst possible way. Yet it happened. Drugged and in the back room of a BDSM club, I was about to be used in a brutal way. Until he exploded to my rescue.

  Beast: I’m Salvation’s Bane’s enforcer. My job is to protect. So when I notice something amiss in the BDSM club Bane owns, I’m there to shut that shit down. What I find is a woman who ignites passions inside me better left alone. What will she think when she finds out the lengths I’ll go to protect what’s mine? I come by my name honestly. When it comes to protecting my club, or my woman, I’m the most ferocious beast you could ever imagine.

  Chapter One

  The second Fleur stepped into the darkened interior of the Playground club, she knew she’d made a huge mistake. At first, the fact that she’d been ushered to the head of the line… No. Ushered wasn’t the word for it. A big man had grabbed her upper arm and dragged her from her place halfway back and to the front. From there she’d been passed off from one person to another -- most of the time she wasn’t sure if a man or woman had her -- until she’d been shoved up to the bar inside the most infamous club in Palm Beach.

  The base from the music thumped through her body like a massive shockwave. She wasn’t used to the club life. Had never been to a club in her life. It was like her ears were stunned and she couldn’t actually hear the bass, but she could feel it as it threatened to pulverize her insides.

  “What will the lovely little pretty-pretty have?”

  The bartender was tall and slender. Like most everyone at the club, he wore an elaborate mask to cover his face. His voice was a grating tenor in an over-the-top English accent. His creepy tone made Fleur shiver. No. This definitely wasn’t the place for her. Why had she let Debbie talk her into coming here? Because she was a pushover. That’s why. Fleur wanted to please. If that meant she did things she didn’t really want to do, she sucked it up and did them. Unfortunately, Debbie was still waiting halfway down the line to get in. Fleur was on her own.

  “Uh, just water, please,” she said softly, knowing the bartender probably wouldn’t hear her. The noise was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. With the music and the shrieks as women were spanked, whipped, caned, and/or fucked, it was hard to hear herself think, much less carry on a conversation, no matter how brief.

  “Of course, my pretty-pretty.” The smile the bartender gave her was as evil as they came. At least, to Fleur it was. There was probably nothing sinister about it, but she was already creeped out. It seemed that everywhere she looked there were people leering at her. It was probably her imagination, but she felt like a bug under a microscope.

  The bartender set a tall glass of ice water in front of her. “Drink up, pretty-pretty. It gets hot in here.” He gave her a lascivious wink. Even through the mask she could make out a sort of disturbing interest. Like he was already doing things to her that were unmentionable. The thought nearly made her heave in disgust. She needed to get the hell out of there. Fast.

  “Thanks,” she all but whispered, her eyes downcast as she picked up her drink and sipped. It was cold, but not refreshing at all. In fact, she tasted something else. Something… sour?

  As if reading her mind, the bartender smiled. His eyes through the mask were practically gleaming. “It’s lemon, my pretty-pretty. Lemon with a dash of lime. The lemon in the water helps prevent dehydration. You’ll need it in here.” He nodded to her glass. “Drink up, pretty-pretty.”

  The way he said “pretty-pretty” gave her a decidedly uneasy feeling. She tried to tell herself that was just his culture. He was obviously not native to America, given his accent. Perhaps it was just a term of endearment she wasn’t used to. True to form, unwilling to make someone else uncomfortable or risk hurting another’s feelings, she simply smiled and drank the water. She didn’t like it, preferring plain, cold water, but she drank anyway.

  Once she’d finished the glass, he smiled at her. The gleam in his eyes now positively fevered. “That’s a good little pretty-pretty.”

  She turned to leave, but the movement caused a slight wave of dizziness. She tried not to be obvious about it, but she held on to the bar a few seconds until the feeling passed. Once she was sure it was just the quick movement, she headed through the crowd back to the door.

  At least, she thought that was the way she was headed. Somehow, Fleur must have gotten turned around, because the next thing she knew she was standing not ten feet away from a raised dais where a man was having sex with a woman on her hands and knees. The woman had a black collar buckled around her throat, attached to a chain held by the man. He was on one knee, the other leg bent. One hand gripped her hip while the other pulled on the chain to force her head back and her back to arch. He pounded into her with such force Fleur winced.

  She felt the room spin again, this time more pronouncedly than at the bar. It was the shock of seeing such a blatant display. Had to be. Both the man and woman were covered in sweat, the lights beating down on them for all to see their show. Several people surrounded the dais, urging them on. A couple of assertive men even reached under the woman to tweak her nipples, to her obvious delight. To Fleur’s utter shock, another man stepped in front of the woman and unfastened his pants, pulling out an impressive-looking cock. He gripped the woman’s hair, leaning down to say something to her. The woman nodded and immediately opened her mouth wide to accept him. Her ruby-red lips closed around his member and she began to bob her head, sucking him with abandon.

  Fleur couldn’t seem to look away no matter how much she wanted to. The sight both fascinate
d and repulsed her. This was so not the place for her. Debbie kept telling Fleur she was a submissive, that she would enjoy the Playground if she’d just give it a try. Maybe even find a Dom to take her in hand and show her the darker side of sex, but Fleur knew this wasn’t for her.

  She whirled around…

  And nearly hit the ground as her knees buckled. She found herself pulled against a man’s hard body. Silver buckles holding together leather straps over his chest dug into her skin painfully. He was lean, but not overly muscled, his chest and arms free of hair and oiled so that she could feel the vile stuff on her face where she touched his skin.

  “There, there,” he soothed, pulling her more firmly against him. “Did you see something that shocked you, pretty little thing?”

  “I -- yes. Pleas…” She pushed against him slightly, suddenly unable to struggle. “I need… I need to go. This isn’t for me.”

  “But you’ve only just arrived. Come with me. I’ll show you around, and you can get more comfortable. I believe you’d be perfect for the Playground. A perfect little plaything.”

  “No! I-I don’t want to be here.” Fleur was becoming desperate. She shouldn’t be there.

  “Nonsense. You’ll love it.” The man’s breath was hot on her face. His scent, while not unpleasant, was strong with cologne. With the body heat around her and the increasing dizziness, it nauseated her.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Fleur whimpered, trying to get away. She had no idea where the bathroom might be, but knew she couldn’t stay where she was. If she could make it to a wall, at least she wouldn’t vomit in the middle of the floor.

  “Come with me, pretty thing. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

  That was what she wanted to hear. What she needed to hear. Fleur had been waiting to hear those words forever. At least it seemed that way. She’d been on her own since she was thirteen and knew she didn’t want to go on like this. A man to take care of her was her deepest, most fervent dream. At least, that was what she thought. Right? It was all so fuzzy. But this man would take care of her. Right?

  “That’s right, love.” He picked her up and carried her out of the main room. “I’m going to take such good care of you.”

  Fleur whimpered. She wanted to believe. Wanted the fairytale. But something in the back of her mind told her this wasn’t the man for her. She needed to get away, but her body betrayed her, going limp against him. She had no strength left to resist. Her mind was telling her this was what she wanted, but her instincts were telling her something altogether different. With a strangled cry, Fleur let the blackness -- and the strange man -- have her.

  * * *

  Her mind in a fog, her mouth dry as dust, Fleur tried to open her eyes. They felt like someone had thrown sand into them. When she moved her hand to try to rub her eyes, she couldn’t. Something held her down, prevented her from moving her arms or legs. Fleur knew she should panic, that something was very, very wrong, but she couldn’t seem to force her brain to work. The room spun. Any movement of her head made the sensation worse. She tried to speak, but there was something in her mouth. A cloth? Struggling was out of the question, but the adrenaline surge seemed to focus things around her. Not clearly, but at least she could take stock of her body.

  She was lying on her front, head turned to the side. A large, soft pillow cradled her head, but it was so deep it nearly covered her nose. With the cloth in her mouth, the fear of smothering was starting to kick in.

  Smothering was one of Fleur’s worst fears. She’d been trapped once as a child in an old, discarded freezer, the top locked. She could remember how the air had grown stale and it had been hot. She remembered thinking she couldn’t breathe. It had been terrifying. And an experience she had avoided repeating at all costs.

  Then, as now, she had to fight for the next breath. Even though Fleur tried to raise her head, she was just too weak. She tried turning slightly on her side, but her arms had been stretched in a V over her head.

  “Ah, the pretty little submissive is awake at last.” The voice was familiar. So was the scent. Sickly sweet cologne. Something trailed over her shoulders… Was she naked?

  “Oh, God.” Her voice was muffled, and she remembered the gag.

  “Just relax. I’ve given you a little something to help you fly, my pretty little toy. I promise you’ll enjoy everything I do to you. Eventually.”

  The first strike hit without warning, taking her breath. Pain exploded over her buttocks. A second strike got her right upper thigh, just at the skin where her buttocks started. Fleur wanted to scream, but the gag held in most of the noise. She was still dizzy, but it wasn’t enough for her to just pass out, much as she wanted to. She knew what was about to happen and wanted with everything in her not to experience it.

  Tears formed, but the pillow soaked them up. The next strike hit vertically down the left side of her back. Then the right. The sting was unimaginable. She’d had beatings before, but nothing like this. She was certain the man had drawn blood. Her skin would be shredded.

  All Fleur could do was tense up. Screams tried to emerge from her throat, but the gag muffled them. The more she struggled, the harder he beat her. The sound of his sadistic chuckle was sinister and loud in the small room. And still her head spun. Had she not been in so much pain and shock, she might have simply passed out. For some reason, she couldn’t. Her mind remained stubbornly at the fore, taking all the man had to give and refusing to give her the blissful darkness she desperately needed.

  Fleur sobbed, closing her eyes tightly against the pain. She bit down on her gag until her jaw and teeth hurt. She tried to make noise. Any noise. Anything that would hopefully bring someone to help. But then, who in this place would aid her? And exactly how were they supposed to distinguish any noise she made from the normal atmosphere if they did choose to help? No. She was on her own. Which meant she was well and truly fucked.

  * * *

  The Playground was hopping tonight. Gideon “Beast” Leigh sat at a bar on the far end of the club, watching the various scenes play out before him. He drank a cup of black coffee because he refused to drink a Coke unless it was liberally laced with Jack. Since they didn’t serve alcohol at the club -- alcohol and BDSM didn’t mix well -- he made do with the coffee.

  Beast had seen several women he’d considered introducing himself to, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Most of the time, he loved getting bouncer duty at the Playground, but tonight wasn’t one of them. His mind kept drifting back to an incident that had happened earlier in the day. One that had left him speechless and more than a little unnerved.

  Besides the Playground, Salvation’s Bane owned a couple of gyms in Palm Beach as well as a strip club. All but Playground were more for money laundering if they needed it, but all had to be monitored and policed. Last thing they wanted was to give the fuzz a reason to look at them too closely. Beast was at the gym, running diagnostics on their security system and generally scoping out the place. He always liked to keep tabs on their members and know who were regulars and who were fading on their New Year’s resolutions. He was just about to go for his own workout when he saw… her.

  This petite little thing with curly chestnut hair pulled back in a knot on top of her head. With unusual silver-green eyes and pale, thin limbs, she looked like she belonged in high school instead of the fucking gym. Which made Beast more than a little uncomfortable.

  Instead of being on a treadmill or something light to go with her frame and lack of musculature, the girl was on the bench press, her friend spotting her with only the bar. Which was still too fucking heavy for her. She was obviously struggling, but her friend, though encouraging her to push it up, wasn’t watching her. She was watching a group of young men in the corner. Watching… intently.

  Beast focused on the girl. The more she strained to push up the bar over and over, the more she wiggled, giving everyone a good view when her gym shorts gaped. Normally, he’d have thought her “friend” was letting the j
ocks across the room look their fill at her expense, making fun of her behind her back, but none of them pointed or laughed. Instead, they looked intently, speaking in low tones. When one of them nodded, the girl’s friend called it, praising her for a job well done as she helped her put the bar back in the rack.

  “I can’t believe they load those heavy bars down with weights,” she panted. “I can barely lift it as it is.”

  “You’ll get used to it, Fleur.” Her friend patted Fleur on the shoulder as the girl sat up, obviously winded from her efforts. “We both will.” She smiled at Fleur before taking her own place on the bench. Fleur seemed oblivious to the men in the corner talking and continuing to watch her.

  Beast sensed a trap, and he always trusted his instincts. Something was off about the whole situation. So he did what any self-respecting enforcer would do. He made a big deal about flexing his muscles as he moved to the free weights stationed between the two groups. Beast could be intimidating when he wanted to be. Just then, he wanted to be.

  The boys had tried to hold his gaze, thinking themselves safe in a group. Once Beast began curling an insanely heavy dumbbell, they decided against confronting him. Then Beast shifted his gaze to Debbie, not a veiled threat but a notice that he was on to her. The girl had the good sense to realize she was in trouble. If they were setting the young woman up for something nefarious, they weren’t going to do it in his fucking gym.

  Once the immediate threat was contained, he pulled the gym roster up and looked everyone up. The girl was Fleur Durand, guest of her friend, Debbie Johnson. Debbie’s mother and father worked for Argent Tech way the fuck up in Rockwell. Debbie had recently moved to their residence in Palm Springs, apparently so her parties didn’t inconvenience her parents. The men were Ben and Jeremy Hay, brothers and sons of Jeremiah Hay, the president of a local bank, big in local politics, and their crony, Greg Kinson. While Greg’s parents were affluent, they weren’t as well off or as well-known as Jerimiah Hay. All three boys were prone to getting into trouble their parents were continually having to bail them out of. Once, Greg’s father had refused to bond him out of jail. The Hay brothers, however, had bailed him out once they’d posted their own bond, and the lesson was never learned.