Frost (Rolling Thunder MC Birmingham #3) - Candace Blevins Page 0,76

were harsh, and as far as she knew, this was just a hallway to my ammo safe, which was now empty because my weapons and ammo were now in a giant safe in her basement.

But she only gave a slight pause before she stripped and knelt on the cold concrete.

She focused on my feet, and I said, “Eye contact for this.”

My heart skipped a beat when those beautiful green eyes met mine. Would I ever get used to the feeling? I hoped to hell not.

“I’m going to show you a club secret. Several, actually. If you tell the secret, it will be the same as me telling it. My brothers will see me as the traitor. They deal with me, I deal with you. Those are the rules. The traditions. If you do something that hurts the club badly enough though, then they deal with both of us and I can’t stop that. Do you understand?”

“Yes. It’s a level beyond trust.”

“When Banshee was taken for her initiation weekend, what color were the walls?”

“Black.”

Right. “What color was the trim?”

“Oh. The line around the wall? It was purple. The only color in the room. Why are you asking?”

“Give me about five minutes, and you’ll see.”

We have three dungeon rooms that our pro-subs and pro-Doms use. The walls are all black, but they are trimmed in different colors — purple, red, and blue. We usually use the purple room for initiations since it’s the biggest, but sometimes it’s been promised to a client, and we have to use another. None of my brothers had remembered for sure, so I’d needed to ask.

I walked to the hidden door, pressed near the top of the ceiling, pushed, and the entire portion of the wall moved. My door is mechanical but not motorized. It’s balanced, but it still takes superhuman strength to move it, which. I consider a security feature. I slid it to the side, turned, and helped her stand.

“The lights are motion activated. They’ll turn on as we walk, and then turn off behind us.”

We were about two hundred yards from the dungeon rooms, and we walked the underground hallway with only the sounds of my boots on concrete, her bare feet, and our heartbeats. Mine was calm, and hers sped a few times, but mostly stayed in sync with mine. I was calm, so she decided to be calm.

When we finally stood in front of three doors — red, purple, and blue — she spoke.

“I take it this is the dungeon I was brought to for my initiation weekend?”

“Banshee was taken to the purple room. Cheyenne is going into the blue room.”

“Why not the red room?”

“It’s occupied.”

“Oh.”

I turned her around. “See the golf cart? That’s how customers are brought down from the spa. We have pro-subs and pro-Doms who use these rooms for paying customers. One of these rooms is reserved for later, we worked it so they use whichever one we don’t. I needed to be certain I took you to a different room than Banshee was taken.”

“You know I’m Banshee.”

“Not anymore. Not entirely. That woman was in transition, separating from an unhealthy relationship. Not horrible, but not healthy. It didn’t help you thrive.”

She turned and looked up at me. “You’re right. I do feel as if I’m thriving now. My art, my work, my relationship with the kids, and most of all, the give and take of our relationship.”

Cheyenne walked to the blue door and turned to me. “I’m ready, Frost. Whatever you need to do to claim me, I embrace it. Whatever parts of you I haven’t met yet, it’s time I did. The blue isn’t the same color as your eyes, but that’s okay. It’s still fitting that this happens in the blue room.”

I hadn’t been certain how I’d start, but the blue room has a breast torture device that the other rooms lack, and it seemed as if fate had decided it for me.

This equipment is actually for both objectification and breast torture fetishes, since the only thing the Dom sees is the breasts, as if the rest of the woman doesn’t exist.

I walked her to the back corner of the room and had her step into the small, boxlike space. She was enclosed on three sides, and there was another piece I could engage, to completely enclose her if I wanted, but I wouldn’t. This wasn’t about objectification with Cheyenne.

I adjusted the height of the vertical, reinforced steel sheet she was facing, and then worked her boobs

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