Manwhore 2: The Ferro Family by H.M. Ward Read Free Book Online Page B

for every floor and then lean back against the railing. “I’m going to nine, but you don’t have to. You should probably observe on two and see if this is your thing.”
    Her eyes nearly bug out of her head. “You’re going to nine?”
    I nod. “Yes, and you should get off here.” The doors open and the pale blue lights spill into the room. She doesn’t move. The doors slide shut, and we continue up another floor.
    I shake my head, allowing my hair to fall into my eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.”
    “Why did you say that?” She laughs nervously and tucks a strand of red hair behind her pale ear.
    “It’s not your thing. You’re afraid.”
    “So. Aren’t you?” She’s visibly trembling by this point.
    I feel bad for her. “No, I’m not. I’m here because I want to be. I think you’re here because that guy wanted it. This isn’t for everyone. What’s your name, anyway?”
    “Claire.” She looks at the floor and seems sad. “We’ve been together for a long time, and I don’t want to lose him. If I have to start doing this, well, how do I do it?”
    I groan inwardly. That is the worst possible reason to show up here. “As a voyeur. Then try some of the mini public shows. If that doesn’t make you leave, try the third floor. But not before watching.”
    “Can I watch you?” Her face turns bright red when she asks me. I want to smash my head into the wall for pulling her up here with me. “Please?”
    I glance over at her again and consider it. She won’t be in the way and maybe if she sees what I’m into she’ll think twice about doing something like this for someone else. “Fine, but don’t ask me anything until later.”
    Claire smiles and nods. “I can do that. So, where are we going?”
    “Apparently to the fourth-floor lounge. I need to find a partner and sign you in.”
    I feel skittish tonight. That meeting with Ferro has my head spinning. I can’t concentrate on the newbie--or anything else for that matter. The doors slide open, and I head over to the desk in the golden room and check in.
    Behind the counter is a tall, extremely thin man with a shaved head. His lanky body is covered in tattoos and piercings. “It’ll be about an hour before we can get you on stage. There aren’t too many niners here tonight. What kind of partner do you want?”
    Claire whispers to me, “What’s a niner?”
    The man laughs and shakes his head. “How’d you get stuck with her?”
    “A niner is a black collar, someone who’s done all this before,” I tell her before responding to the guy. “Don’t be a prick. Everyone starts somewhere.”
    “And you’re Mother Teresa helping her out like this. Club Noir thanks you for making a new patron.” His tone is somewhere between sarcastic and serious. “So, for you, oh, I see a good one—unless you already have a partner in mind?”
    “Just assign someone.”
    He types quickly into the computer and then says, “Done.” We’re both given a keycard and allowed to roam the floor in public and private areas.
    I walk straight back with the newbie on my heels, slowing as we approach a seating area around a stage. Two women are up there right now. One has a cane in her hand. She’s wearing a dark leather bodysuit. The other woman is laying on the couch, face down, watching the audience, wearing only a leather harness. Her pale cheeks flush red, and several raised welts mark her thighs. They’re almost done.
    I sit at a small table toward the back, one reserved for black collars and their tops. Claire tries to sit next to me. “No, over there. You have to stand and watch.”
    She nods and backs away, standing by the wall. She winces when the cane comes down. Her eyes widen, shocked, as the sound of it striking flesh makes other viewers lean in. I remember doing this. I liked being on the receiving end, but not the cane—I preferred the cat. The way the tails feel stinging nine different places at once makes it impossible to think about