Bound Obsession (BDSM Erotica) (Club Taboo Book 1) by Veronica Wilder Page B

women. Some were scantily clad in thigh highs and heels below a series of leather bustiers. Some were wearing much less. In the still photos, they were smiling and licking their lips, every one as beautiful as Mariah and---
    And then her familiar face joined the slideshow.
    “What are you doing on this site?” Abigail asked, a hot blush turning her cheeks scarlet.
    “Now don’t be a wimp about it,” Mariah said. “Just watch.”
    Flipping to a video, Abigail bit down on her tongue and saw the girls mingling with men in suits, their faces blurred. At first there was nothing but close dancing and hands moving where they shouldn’t. Not that Abigail didn’t know what it was to feel a firm hand on her own thigh, but there had to be dinner or at least a proper conversation before---
    “Whoa! Wait a minute!” Abigail cried out. “What is---?”
    The dancing transitioned to dark rooms where the girls, Mariah among them, allowed their wrists to be tied to hooks protruding from the ceiling or brass bed posts. The ones that were not already naked were skillfully stripped. It was a sex club, and Mariah was selling herself to turn a profit.
    “You can do this?” Abigail demanded as she wrestled the phone from Mariah’s grip and paused the video. She was in no position to judge, but Mariah was taking too many risks.
    “What exactly do you think I’m doing?” Mariah challenged.
    Was she really going to make her say it?
    “You’re… you’re like sleeping with men for money!”
    “Trust me, Abby. Very little sleeping goes on at Club Taboo.”
    “You know what I mean---”
    “And you don’t. Now look closer.”
    Mariah started the video up again, and Abigail trembled as the image came to life. The naked girls writhed and squealed and talked of lessons needing to be leaned. Did she have it wrong? Was his some crazy counterculture where the most skilled one night stands instructed sad sacks in the ways of the flesh? That almost justified Mariah’s presence on the site. She always told stories about her adventures in the back seats of cars or alleyways as she came to the point of bursting while one lover or another climaxed and shattered at her feet in a puddle of grateful moans.
    “So you’re pleasuring them,” Abigail said as she had to look away. “Good for you, but let’s be real. Me... doing that…”
    She was average in bed. That’s why no man had ever stayed with her past the third, sometimes the fourth date. Whatever Mariah was mixed up in was not for her. She’d never make it past the first thrust.
    “Look,” Abigail said, “you do what you need to. But I… wait… wait a minute.”
    The scene swiftly transitioned into acts that she had not anticipated. Abigail watched without blinking as the girls on screen were subjected to what at first sight looked like torture. Belts hit their flesh; real live whips bruised their unblemished backs. But there was more. She saw ice cubes pressed between thighs, flames grazed over their captive bodies, and she saw stress positions so tight that the faceless men came without even touching them. One blindfolded girl kept screaming out for more as a man told her not to orgasm until he touched her hair, and when his fingers met her auburn locks, the girl screamed out in ecstasy as the man clasped her close.
    “I… I don’t understand…”
    But she was growing damp as she kept watching. Her fingers curled around Mariah’s wrist as her body turned to the point of swooning, and Mariah steadied her with a firm arm and light lips against her ear.
    “I know it looks scary at first,” she whispered. “But it’s not just about their pleasure.”
    She pulled up one of her own videos, and Abigail was transfixed as she saw Mariah tied to a chair, her legs spread wide. A smooth weapon grazed her cunt repeatedly, and she tossed her head back in what looked like pain, but when the leather left her mound, she was begging for another strike, calling the unseen man sir , and