by Kitty Thomas
He knew exactly when to shift his focus to licking and sucking her clit. Again, he brought her to the very brink. Her moans and whimpers echoed off the stone walls as she writhed for him in earnest this time.
Then he pulled away.
“No, no, no,” she said plaintively. “Please. Please,”
“I find myself troubled, kitten. You see, you have these three lovely marks on one thigh, but the other is just so pale and untouched. I really need them to match. It's possible I may have a touch of OCD. You want them to match, right?”
She let out another shriek and thrashed. He knew she hated the cane. Feared it. It was a sort of searing pain that made everything inside her clench in order to escape it. But bound to this bed, there was no escape. With the blindfold in place, she couldn't even see it coming. And her inner thighs were so sensitive. “Please master.”
She wasn't sure which thing was the punishment, bringing her to the edge of orgasm and then pulling away... or the cane. Or the combination of both.
Long moments of absolute silence passed. Then his mouth was upon her again, devouring her sex, driving her to the edge. He seemed to know exactly the moment to pull back.
Now she was actually crying from the lack of completion.
“I'll make you an offer,” he said finally. “I can give you three more cane welts on your other thigh to match the first, then let you come. Or no orgasm now or for the rest of the day.”
She was aching for him. She needed to come. She needed him inside her. She was so slippery wet, when he finally released her from the ropes she knew she wouldn't be able to walk quite right.
He leaned close to her ear... “Just three more slivers of pain then pleasure all day for the rest of the day. We'll all make you come. You just have to be brave and take three more strikes.”
When he removed the blindfold, she found a challenge in his eyes.
“It's up to you, kitten. Choose. Tell me you want the stinging kiss of the cane and you can have pleasure after.”
She glanced at the men surrounding the bed. They were absolutely riveted to this show. She longed for the safety and privacy of the blindfold shielding her from their hungry gazes.
Lindsay's fingers dipped inside her again. She arched and bucked off the bed fighting for deeper contact. “Beg me sweetly for the cane,” he demanded.
She shook her head... “I-I can't.”
He withdrew his finger and began to drag her wetness over her folds and to her swollen bud, circling lightly... slowly over it—the exact pressure and speed to drive her crazy without letting her come. Then he pulled away.
“M-master, please.”
“Please what?”
She closed her eyes, tears tracking down her cheeks. “Please, cane me, Master.”
“Holy, shit,” one of the men said in clear disbelief.
Lindsay held his hand out. “Jack? The cane.”
She watched this time as one of the men passed the cane to Lindsay. This time he dragged the tip over her other thigh, so lightly the touch brought goose bumps to prickle out over her flesh. Then he stroked the bamboo across her wetness.
Off her terrified expression he said, “Don't worry, I'm not that much of a sadist.”
The wet cane struck her inner thigh wrenching a scream from her.
“We can stop any time you like, kitten. But if you don't have three welts on each thigh, you can't have an orgasm. Should we stop or do you want the cane again?”
Again he stroked her clit in agonizing slow circles wringing another whimper from her.
He pulled his hand away. “Beg me again. Do you want the cane?”
“Yes, Master. Please.”
“Good girl.”
The cane came down a second time, harder than the first or any of the strikes before it. Shannon writhed as if she could move away from the pain that seemed to still claw through her several seconds after the strike.
“Do you want to stop now? Maybe this is too much for you.”
She did want him to stop but if he stopped he wouldn't let her come. She was too close to wimp out now. She shook her head. “No, Master.”
He moved to the head of the bed and held the cane out in front of her mouth. “Lick it.”
She ran her tongue slowly down the length.
He moved back to his original position. “Now, beg me for another.”
“Please, Master, may I have another?”
“Yes, you may.” The last strike came down as hard as the second causing her to buck off the bed, straining against the ropes.
“Are you ever going to fake another orgasm?” he asked again.
“N-no, Master. Never.”
He moved back between her legs, dragging his tongue over her wetness, tasting her, savoring her. He moaned against her skin, the vibration causing her to shiver and press herself harder against his soothing kiss.
“Look at them while I make you come.”
Her eyes went to Jack. He gripped the cane so hard his knuckles went white as he held her desperate gaze in his hungry one.
Lindsay didn't tease her this time. This time he kissed and licked and sucked and stroked and finger fucked her until she came bucking against him. He wrung every ounce of pleasure from her, urging her to take more until her body was completely wrung out.
He pulled away from her, licking his finger absently. “Now she's had a real orgasm. Who wants to give her the next one?”
Five hands shot in the air at once.
***
Lindsay watched as Jack dragged his tongue over Shannon's wetness, her thighs spread wide to accommodate his seeking mouth. She bucked and arched off the bed, straining for completion.
“More, please please more,” she whimpered.
“She's a greedy little bitch,” Jack said.
Lindsay rolled his eyes. “They're all greedy little bitches when you know what the fuck you're doing.”
Jack stopped and shot him a dirty glare. Lindsay raised an eyebrow. “Did I tell you you could stop?”
Jack seemed indignant at being ordered around. What did he think the word job meant? These young men had no work ethic. It seemed to Lindsay that this new batch of trainers had come in with the mistaken notion that they were to get paid to receive blow jobs all day. Certainly they would receive frequent blow jobs from the girls at the house, but that wasn't the point. And it wasn't the only thing they were here to do.
“Well?” Lindsay asked. “That wasn't a rhetorical question. Did I tell you you could stop?”
“No,” Jack grated out.
“No, Sir,” Lindsay corrected. The owners weren't about to put up with this sort of disrespect from the trainers. They were being paid well for a job that was every young man's wet dream. And they would do it without a fucking attitude or the consequences would make them regret ever crossing paths with Anton.
“No, Sir,” Jack ground out before turning his attention back to Shannon's pussy.
Lindsay's pet had spent the last two hours being thoroughly pleasured by all five of the new trainers, Jack being the last to have his turn at her. Lindsay decided this much pleasure made up for the nasty business of the cane. He had set her up after all. It was the entire point of the lesson plan. Set her up to displease him, punishment, then pleasure training, as much for Shannon as for the men.
While she might be amazing at giving head, she sometimes held herself back when receiving. And that just didn't work for him. A couple of hours of the constant attention of warm eager tongues between her legs had caused her to loosen up to his satisfaction.
“Finger-fuck her,” Lindsay said, almost a growl, his own erection straining again against his jeans.
Jack pushed two fingers inside her and she pushed back, fucking herself on his fingers, unable to wait for his speed to catch up to how deep she liked it.
“Withdraw and make her beg you to go deeper.”
Jack pulled back.
Lindsay turned to Shannon. “Kitten, we are not going to develop b
ad habits in here. If you want someone to go deeper, you beg sweetly, you do not try to do it yourself. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” she whimpered. Then she turned to Jack, “Please, Sir, deeper.”
Jack thrust his fingers inside her to the hilt and moved them deep inside her. She moaned and gripped the sheets, bucking and squirming against him once more.
“Mouth on her clit, now,” Lindsay demanded.
Jack suckled her clit while she continued to thrash and whimper beneath his ministrations.
As soon as this guy was finished making her come, Lindsay was going to fuck her again. He needed to bury himself inside the wetness created by so many different tongues and fuck his wanton little slut into oblivion. She'd better come for him when he fucked her this time to make up for the insult of faking her orgasm the first time. It didn't matter that he'd set her up. And it didn't matter that he'd needed her to fall into that set-up for his lesson plan to work. She should have known better. She did know better.
He wondered where on earth Anton had found these new trainers and if they fully understood what they'd signed on for. If they breathed a word about the house, the house would know, and then Brian and Mina would go out on a clean-up mission and erase them and anyone they'd spoken to from the face of the earth. The gleam Lindsay had caught in Brian's eyes earlier at the fresh meat trainers made it clear that he was dying for some carnage.
The new trainers had been instructed to leave their cell phones in a box at the front door on arrival. There was no recording or photography allowed inside the house and they would be escorted well beyond the gates each day before their phones were returned to them.
But that wasn't the main reason the phones had been taken today. While the trainers were down here pleasuring his pet, Brian was installing listening and tracking spyware onto their phones. If any of them said anything to anyone about the house while that phone was anywhere with them—and what man in his early twenties went anywhere without his phone anymore?—Brian would know about it, and that man would be a dead man.
So these guys better take everything at this house seriously. Otherwise, they'd just payed a very high price to play with some well-trained sluts.
Shannon screamed out her release, but Jack wouldn't let her go. He kept going until she begged him to stop.
“Are you going for extra credit?” Lindsay asked, amused.
“No, Sir, just doing the job properly,” Jack said, getting up and giving Shannon a smirk. “I'll see you, later, kitten.”
Lindsay grabbed the cane off the bed and slammed it down on Jack's bare arm. The man howled and held his arm like a wounded animal.
“What the fuck?” he shouted.
“What the fuck is right,” Lindsay said. “You will see her if I want you to see her and at no other time. She's mine. And nobody calls her kitten but me. Are we clear?”
“Yes,” he said, angrily rubbing at the mark. A red welt had already formed along the length of his forearm.
“Yes, what?” Lindsay said, raising the cane again, happy to deliver more.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good boy,” Lindsay said with a patronizing smile. “Now go upstairs with your friends.”
Jack stomped off out of the dungeon room and slammed the door behind him. Lindsay turned to find Shannon staring after him, eyes wide.
Then she busted out laughing.
“Never thought you'd see me cane a man, I'll bet,” Lindsay said, smiling down at her.
“Never in a million years,” she agreed.
Lindsay untied her wrists and ankles, rubbing them gently. “Kitten we're going to need to put something on these. You chafed yourself struggling.”
“I'm sorry, Master, I couldn't help it.”
He pressed a kiss to each of her wrists. “I know.” He flipped her to her hands and knees and smacked her ass. “Don't move.”
“Master, please, I'm exhausted. I can't take anymore.”
“You'll take what I give you. Besides, you owe me an honest orgasm while I'm inside you for the one you lied about.”
He stripped off his jeans. Shannon gasped when his hard erection thrust inside her. He felt her tight little cunt grip him immediately as if it were happy to see an old friend. He waited for her to adjust to him and then he slowly began to fuck her, his body rocking with hers until she moaned and cried out, bucking her hips against him, begging him for more even though she'd begged for it all to stop only moments before.
After so much stimulation, it only took a minute for the pulsing flutters to start inside her, and then the moans. Lindsay snaked one hand underneath her and smiled when he felt her erect nipples as she came for him again, appeasing him for her earlier indiscretion.
Chapter Ten
Shannon had started to appreciate Lindsay's pet name for her. It was appropriate. No longer did it feel like a mockery. She was beginning to truly feel like his pampered pet. He couldn't seem to keep his hands off her. And he gave her everything. Luxuries, comforts, pleasure, dominance, control, boundaries. Safety. She might be starting to fall in love with him.
It had been several weeks since the encounter with Damian Brand at the office, and although Shannon was very happy with Lindsay, she found herself strangely missing him. At the time, it had seemed like she'd be seeing him again, and soon. But weeks had passed and the subject hadn't been brought up again. Had Lindsay decided he wasn't into sharing her after all? He seemed to have no problem passing her between the trainers.
But the Damian situation was different. It was as though Damian had never existed as anything but a figment of her suddenly oversexed mind. And Shannon wasn't going to bring him up. She didn't want the doctor to think he wasn't enough for her. He was. Still. She'd spent nights fantasizing about the two of them taking her together, both of them inside her at once. And she couldn't seem to shake the fantasy no matter how hard she tried.
On her afternoons off she'd developed a relaxed and comforting routine. She deposited her check, went to Dome for lunch and a massage and mani-pedi, shopped a little, had a light dinner and then met Lindsay back in his office at nine, refreshed and ready for the long drive home. She sometimes napped on the way, knowing he'd keep her up half the night with his insatiable demands.
Lindsay worked late on Fridays, and she was grateful for the time to be able to go out and feel like a normal person for once. She'd started bringing a change of clothes on Fridays so she wouldn't feel so self-conscious in public, dressed in the high-end slut wear he liked to keep her in at the office. For her afternoons off it was soft comfy blue-jeans and a T-shirt.
But today was different. Lindsay had told her to be back at six-thirty but hadn't said why. Maybe a couple of his appointments had canceled and he wanted to go home early.
When Shannon got back to the office a few minutes before he'd asked, she found Lindsay standing in his office, waiting. She gulped in air at the sight of him. He wore a tux. She'd never seen him this dressed up before, and he made it look good.
He glanced down at a gold watch on his wrist. “Cutting it close aren't you?”
She didn't reply because she didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound sarcastic and just get her in trouble. He tolerated a lot of snark from her and even seemed to enjoy it, but this evening his mood was different. She could tell he just wanted her to do whatever he asked and not make a fuss about it.
That was when she noticed the large box sitting on his desk. It was black with a fat pink satin bow and a logo from one of the fancy boutique shops downtown. Going by his attire, she could guess the contents of the box.
“Are we going out?” She asked stupidly, unable to think of a single more intelligent thing to say. The surprise of the turn of the evening's events had apparently leeched all the smart out of her brain.
Even though they were in the city three days a week, he'd never taken her out anywhere fancy before. Lindsay looked really good in a tux. Even more posh and sophisticated than normal. The idea of being on
this man's arm in some fancy public place sent a thrill of anticipation through her.
“We're going to a private art show opening at a nearby gallery,” he said. “It's invitation only, and the artist will be there. He doesn't mingle with the public.”
“Oh?” Shannon asked, curious.
“He's a big deal in the tech industry. But his art is under another name. He likes to keep things private and separate.” Lindsay's gaze shifted to the box on his desk. “Open the box and put the dress on.”
Had he gone and shopped for it himself? Maybe he'd finished with patients much earlier today than she thought. Or maybe he'd paid someone to go get it?
Shannon carefully untied the ribbon and opened the box, pushing aside silver and black tissue paper. What she found inside was the most gorgeous red evening gown she'd ever seen. She pulled it out of the box to get a better look, but then her face fell.
“I c-can't wear this. It's backless.” She wished she could wear it. She wanted to wear it. It was stunning and perfect. But there was just no way. People would stare. You couldn't wear a formal evening gown that showcased scars like that. It would be ugly. She would be ugly.
“There's more,” he said, ignoring her protest.
Shannon pulled away another layer of tissue paper to find an elegant black silk wrap.
“You won't need it most of the night,” he continued. “It's dark outside, and I'm told the exhibit room will be dark as well—it's part of the show. Trust me, no one will be focused on you at the opening, and even if they were, they wouldn't notice the scars in the dark.”
Lindsay placed a pair of black heels on the desk beside the open box. “Get dressed. No bra tonight, but you will wear this under the dress.” He took a sexy black thong from his pocket and dropped it beside the shoes.
She expected him to stay and watch her dress like some sort of reverse strip-tease, but he left her alone to get ready. She wished she could look at the dress in a full-length mirror, though as soon as she had that thought she was grateful that she couldn't because even with the comfort of a wrap to cover up and the darkness he promised, Shannon wasn't sure she'd have the nerve to wear this dress if she looked at herself in a mirror first.
