by Lynda Aicher
“What’s that for?” Her voice was definitely weak, dang it. That wasn’t good.
“It’s for your protection.” He gave a small tug, and the collar tightened across her nape. She had to will her eyes to stay open and not squeeze shut at the clear loss of power. She’d had little to begin with, but this was absolute. “We’ll only observe tonight. You will follow my lead. Listen to my word. Do as I command.”
This was it. “Yes, sir,” she finally managed to say. His pleased smile was her reward, and it warmed the chill that had crept under her skin.
“Use your safe word if you’re truly stressed. But kitten...” he paused until she gave a nod, “...don’t use it unless you’re absolutely certain you want out. It’s an immediate stop to whatever we’re doing. Understood?”
She blew out a breath. “Yes.”
“If you need to pause, get a breath, whatever, say ‘yellow.’ Tonight, you can ask all the questions you want. To me. You’ll only talk to other Doms if I consent. Other subs should know better.”
The rapid delivery of orders had her mind reeling. She almost wanted to balk at the restrictions, but why? Who would she talk to anyway? “Yes, sir.”
“When we step out of this room, you are my submissive. The private contract you just signed agreed to your complete submission to me.”
Her eyes darted to the papers stacked on the table. The newly signed document sitting on top was solely between Marcus and her. With one stroke of her signature, she’d given herself to him.
“I know,” she snapped, forgetting her role as the nerves took over. “I was there when I signed it.” He raised a brow—that was all—and she knew she’d gone too far. “Sorry, sir.” The words were out before she’d even thought to say them. Her stomach churned in that queasy way that appeared whenever someone was upset or angry or disappointed or just about anything but pleased with her.
He tilted her chin back up until she was forced to look at him. “This would be a good time to talk about consequences.”
As a child, she would get physically sick when she was reprimanded and she didn’t relish reliving that feeling. She swallowed, the collar seeming to compress around her windpipe once again. “I don’t think I like that idea.”
He lips quirked up in a half smile. “Most people don’t. But some actually do.” His thumb caressed the rounded tip of her chin. “You’d be surprised at the number of subs who misbehave to get punished. Of course, they rarely get the punishment they’re expecting. A good Dom sees right through the stunt.” His eyes narrowed, contemplation marring his brow. “I don’t know you well enough to understand your motivators. So for tonight, we’ll go with warnings. Maybe a spanking if you’re really bad.”
Spanking?
This was a role. She forced the thought to the front and shoved the lick of desire to the back. The continued stroke of his thumb over her chin made that hard. His every touch seemed to scorch her skin and leave a lingering burn.
“Yes, sir.”
“Come along, pussy.” He stepped back, tugging on the leash, his smirk growing. “Let’s go play.”
She gaped, shocked at hearing that word used on her. Pussy? Was he serious? A sharp jerk on the leash told her he was. She stumbled after him, her feet missing the command to move.
She fell in behind him, thinking back to his instructions to keep her eyes down and stay at his heel. Like a dog. She puffed out a derisive snort. No, she’d definitely set herself up as the pussy. Stupid costume.
They entered the dance area, and the room closed in on her. The music thumped loudly, drowning out her thoughts as the press of people crowded around them. The heat hit her and she lost her focus. They could see her. Quinn Andrews was on display and she wasn’t prepared for that. The sensation that everyone was staring at her threatened to overwhelm her thin streak of bravado.
Her face burned with the humiliation of being led on a leash. Her breath quickened and her skin heated then chilled with the slow narrowing of her vision. The panic was so close, closing in to take her.
Before she could say anything, Marcus was there, arms around her, the smooth surface of his cotton shirt caressing her cheek.
“Breathe, kitten.” The firm command in his voice reached into the darkness to find her. Breathe. She inhaled and was overwhelmed with the clean masculine scent of him. The fresh laundry smell had the edge of male sweat that had her turning her face into his hard chest for more.
“Stop worrying,” he continued in the same firm tone. “Trust me.”
How? How not? It was the catch she had to vault over or bail. And she’d already determined she wasn’t doing the second option. She could do this. She had to do this.
Schooling herself, she mentally descended into her role. For real this time. She completed the breathing exercises honed by one of her many acting coaches and searched for that quiet space that let her feel the character she was becoming.
The strong touch of his palm at her nape became her centering point. She imagined the warmth flowing from his hand and spreading down her body until every last toe was under his control.
She belonged to him.
It was those thoughts, the realization that here—now—it was true, that completed the transformation. She belonged to him. She pressed her lips to his chest, the kiss a declaration of what she couldn’t say.
“Very good, kitten.”
People still closed in around them, the music blared and none of it mattered anymore. She looked up and saw only him. His strong jaw, arched brows, firm lips that seemed to warn of the dominance that was within him. But mostly she focused on his eyes. The deep truth of who he was, of what this world meant to him, shining in the dark depths.
“I’m here,” he said. “Never doubt that.”
“Yes, sir.” She didn’t think he heard her low answer, but his eyes flashed as if he had.
“Focus on me.” He placed a finger over her lips. “I’m the only one you have to please. No one else matters.”
It sounded so simple. Just one thing to do. Nothing else to worry about but that one task. Simplified, it was freeing. She nodded, her words frozen again.
They continued through the room to the bar area. He paused to talk to others along the way, but she never looked up to see who they were. Instead of curiosity like she’d had the first night with Vanessa, there was nothing in her but the desire to please her Dom.
Whatever it took.
* * *
Marcus led his little sub through the bar and headed toward the back area. After her brief freak-out, she’d calmed into the perfect submissive. Too perfect.
Always at his side but never obtrusive. No questions or even a wince when other Doms commented on her. She was fantastic. New and stunning in her daring outfit, of course people noticed her. With each utterance of appreciation, his own pride grew.
He wrapped the leash around his fist and pulled her tight to his side. Her bare arm brushed his, the heat transferring to send a flush over his skin. He leaned down. “Is my pussy doing okay?”
Her nostrils flared with her inhale. “I didn’t know you had a pussy, sir.”
His snort of laughter was out before he could stop it. The little brat. Her lips quirked around the smile she was trying to withhold. A sharp jerk of the leash had her snapping around, eyes wide, mouth gaping. “Are you asking for a punishment already?”
“No, sir.” She shook her head. “I was only clarifying your question. You asked if your pussy was okay.” She glanced away then back. “Do you have a pussy...sir?”
She had him. He wanted to spank her and applaud her at the same time. When was the last time he’d laughed with a sub? Had he ever? “Your mouth is going to get you in trouble.”
She licked her lips, the humor dancing in her eyes. “Is that a warning?”
“I only make promises,” he gritted out in an attempt to keep his smile hidden.
“Then, sir...” her lips quirked again, “...I promise your pussy is fine.”
He gave up the pretense and let his laughter go. It tumbled out of him, causing several people to stare. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She giggled, the light sound lifting up to mingle with his. After a moment, he finally controlled himself to lean down and growl, “Brats like you get spanked.”
Her laughter faded. “I thought you were only giving warnings tonight. Or was that a promise?”
“Keep pushing and you’ll find out.” With any other sub, he’d have her over his knee right now, demonstrating just how serious he was. So why was he balking? In one motion, he tossed her over his shoulder and stalked across the room.
She gasped and pushed on his back. “What are you doing?”
A smack to her ass was his answer, the light crack sounding precise next to his ear. He found a chair and had her splayed across his lap, bare ass up and on display before she could protest. “You’ve forgotten your place, sub.”
“But...I...” She struggled for a moment before going still. Panting, she gripped his calf, her head dropping forward. “I’m sorry, sir.”
He smoothed his palm over the firm globes of her bottom, the silkiness tempting him to play when he shouldn’t. Not yet. The light swat he landed cracked through the air. She stiffened, and he ran his hand up her spine then down to spank her again, once on each cheek.
She wiggled, her chest still heaving. “Sir?” Her confusion was clear, but about what?
“Yes?” He rubbed his palm in circular motions over the pink marks that had bloomed where he’d spanked her. They were amazing on her, and he wanted to make them darker, rosier until her skin burned hot and red under his hand.
She moaned. The soft rumble vibrated into his thighs and headed straight to his dick. “Why does that feel good?”
Well, fuck. He cleared his throat and covered the sound by spanking her again. Her whimper was unmistakable and it wasn’t in fear. He lifted her up and eased her around until she straddled his lap. One hard glare over her shoulder had the voyeurs moving away. This wasn’t a Scene, but it was a public area. Thankfully with her outfit and makeup, she look nothing like the sweet little princess she’d played on television.
Her face was flushed and her pupils were huge, making her eyes appear larger. The questions were there, yet she remained silent. He found her pulse on her wrist to confirm the rapid beat. Why it was spiked was for her to define. He could lead her, but she would have to understand and accept on her own or it would be pointless.
“You’ll have to answer that question yourself,” he told her. “That link between pain and pleasure is different for everyone.” He squeezed her ass cheeks to prove his point. She gasped and lifted away before relaxing into his grip. Her skin was warm beneath his palms, the firm mounds clenching as the confusion passed across her face.
After a long moment, she dropped her head to his shoulder. “I never imagined this.”
“Oh, my little kitten.” He chuckled, holding her close. She was the very essence of innocence, waiting to be exploited or protected, and she didn’t even realize it. Thank fuck she was wearing his collar. “You have so much to learn.”
Chapter Six
Quinn tipped her head then switched it the other way, but it didn’t make a bit of difference. There was absolutely nothing about the position that looked remotely comfortable. Marcus had said that was part of the point and that the sub was doing it for her Master, but it didn’t compute for her. The submissive was tied with her arms behind her back, legs spread wide with an intricate series of knots that ran around her body and between her legs. The pattern was incredibly detailed and had to have taken forever to tie. Japanese robe bondage, Marcus had called it. It was oddly beautiful in an artistic way and the look on the sub’s face was completely serene. Still...
“That is not my thing,” she told him quietly. The last thing she wanted was for the submissive to hear her. Or worse, the very proud Dom.
Marcus cracked a brief smile before he squashed it back. “Noted.”
Noted. That was it. All of his responses had been short and clipped for the last two nights. He’d said she could ask questions, but his answers had been sparingly limited. He stepped away from the Scene and tugged on the leash. She followed behind him obediently but couldn’t stop from looking back at the woman.
What would Marcus ask her to do? After everything she’d seen and learned, she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to do anything. But then she remembered the brief spanking and thought differently.
About half of the dungeon equipment was in use that night, and she was almost embarrassed to admit that she was becoming numb to it all. The shock factor had worn off by the end of her first night with Marcus and now it was just part of the landscape of her role.
“Questions?”
She was used to his clipped tone, but part of her wondered where the gentler, kinder man who laughed had gone. “No, sir.”
He pointed to the ground, and she went to her knees next to him. In many ways, this was better. She assumed her position and exhaled. With her eyes on the ground, she didn’t have to think about anything except him. That was easier than trying to process her feelings. The role was so much better when she didn’t have to remember it.
He was talking to another Dom, but his hand casually petted over the top of her head like she was his good little pussy. Oddly it was both annoying and comforting. What would he do if she struck out and scratched him? She didn’t bother to analyze the shiver that passed through her. She’d given up on the battle of denial. She was more than intrigued with the prospect of doing a real Scene with Marcus. Of being tied down by him and having him spank her again.
Not that she could admit that to him. Then again, he hadn’t asked. Was that all part of the dominance and submission game? Of course he wouldn’t ask her what she wanted, Doms didn’t do that. But if she couldn’t ask either, how did anyone ever get what they wanted?
“Come here, kitten.”
His command snapped her out of her circular thoughts and she rose immediately. It was almost automatic now. He spoke, she acted. It surprised her how quickly she had fallen into the routine and the comfort it provided. It was simple in an often complicated world and in many ways, liberating.
He led her into one of the voyeur rooms, where he took a seat off to the side before tugging her in his lap. With her back to his chest and her legs spread over his knees, she was open to him. The thin barrier of the thong did little to stop the flow of air as it rushed under her mini skirt.
“Relax,” he murmured into her ear.
Her breath hitched at the warmth of his exhale and she arched her neck in a silent request for more. His low chuckle rumbled down her ear canal to light up the nerve endings through her whole body. The bite to her lobe was hard enough to make her wince before he sucked on it to sooth away the sting.
Oh, that was good. As were his hands that were smoothing up and down her thighs in slow, sensual strokes. This was the most that he’d touched her since the first night and it was truly heavenly. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted him to touch her until now. After multiple days of almost clinical distance, this was like being dipped in a hot bath of sensation.
“Are you watching?”
Her eyes flew open and she had to force her attention to the stage. Watching? Heck no. She’d been too busy feeling. This wasn’t the first Scene he’d brought her to view, but it was the first one she didn’t care about.
“No, sir,” she answered honestly.
“You should.”
“But why, sir?”
He nipped her shoulder. “So you can learn.”
“Why don’t you show me...sir?”
“Are you ready for that?” His tongue traced one long path over her bare shoulder, and she couldn’t hold back the shiver that followed it.
Maybe it was the dimness of the room or her growing frustration, but she couldn’t suppress her words behind the role of obedience. “Are you?”
“Ah, there’s my feisty
kitten.” He cupped her breasts, and she automatically arched into his hands. The lace tube top was a dismal barrier against the heat and pressure of his touch. “I was afraid she was gone.” He worked his fingers over her nipples, and she bit her lip to withhold her gasp. She couldn’t answer when he was doing that. When they were beady tips ready for him, he pinched and twirled them until she was squirming on his lap. “Hold still.”
She did, instantly. The pressure increased, her back arched and she pressed her head against his shoulder in order to comply with his demand. The whimper leaked out as little needles tingled and picked at her tender tips. It was a strange mix of good and bad, of wanting and not.
“Breathe.”
She inhaled, and he let go. A warm band of pain descended outward from her chest. The clamp of his hand over her mouth hushed her moan as she slumped against him. She sucked air through her nose and tried to understand what she was feeling. Like the spanking, it hurt and she shouldn’t like it, yet it was also good in an intense way.
He removed his hand when her breathing slowed and she turned her head toward him, a little dazed and even more confused. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“What?”
“How it’s both good and bad.”
He flicked her nipples and the instant zing of pleasure-pain made her pussy clench. “Are you ready for more of that?”
Was she? It was why she was here, right? The reason she impulsively signed the contract with him was to experience, not just watch. Here was her chance if she was brave enough to jump. “Yes, sir.”
* * *
Yes, sir—two simple words that blazed a trail of liquid desire through Marcus and threatened to melt the hard front he’d adopted with Quinn. The distance he had to keep was slipping away the more he was with her. She’d been the model submissive since his little spanking that first night, following every rule, heeding his command, making him want more than he could have.
