Gabriella's Prosecution [The Black Iris Club 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Skye Michaels

  Miguel leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I’ve booked a theme room for our first time here. We can walk through the main dungeon so you can see what goes on there and start to get comfortable with it, but I thought you would be more at ease with some privacy for this first trip.”

  “That is very thoughtful, Miguel, and I really appreciate that. I was just thinking I didn’t want to act like a tourist in Disney World on my first trip.” She giggled. “Does Jack have guys walking around in mouse costumes?”

  He pulled her tightly into his side for a quick hug. “Everything will be fine, querida. You still have your safe word just like at home. Don’t be nervous.”

  Gabby didn’t share with him that sometimes she was still nervous at home. Although she found the BDSM scene very erotic, she was still a little leery. She knew she had to learn to really trust her Master. She hadn’t progressed to calling him that in the dungeon yet. She still went with “Sir.” They followed the other two couples into the main dungeon of the club and looked around. Gabby was surprised. The dungeon area was open and spacious, but the heavy black equipment, chains, and general ambiance were intimidating.

  Jack made the rounds and greeted the members with Kaylin walking a step behind him. The girls had briefed her on sub and club protocol, and she knew to do the same. It just seemed odd because Miguel never treated her that way at home. J.J. and Chloe had broken off to claim one of the sets of hanging chains. Gabby could see that Chloe was removing her dress and shoes while J.J. rummaged in his toy bag.

  Miguel took her arm and led her down a corridor containing several locked doors. He swiped a plastic I.D. card through the reader and opened one of the doors. They walked in, and she knew her eyes popped wide open. She didn’t know what she had expected, but this decadent, French-inspired boudoir was not it. It was elegant and sensuous. The furniture was very “Louis,” and the bed clothes were red and gold silk brocade. The walls had ornate, gilt-framed mirrors to highlight the scene. There was a smaller version of a St. Andrew’s Cross in the corner with a set of hanging chains, a spanking bench, and a luxurious, soft leather-covered French-style chaise lounge in one of the corners. A bottle of champagne in an ice bucket rested on an elaborate credenza near the door next to a platter of chocolate-covered strawberries.

  Miguel pulled her into his arms and said, “We’re in the scene, querida. Remove your clothes, put them in the armoire, and put on your wrist and ankle cuffs. Then you will greet me as is appropriate,” he ordered, his deep Dom voice rumbling.

  “Yes, Sir.” She hastened to obey and was quickly buck naked and in the slave position in the center of the room. Her hands were trembling slightly.

  “It’s okay, Gabriella. Relax. This is something I need and want. It means so much that you would give me your implicit trust. We’re going to do something different tonight. I want to push your boundaries a little.”

  That sounded ominous, but she had decided before they even came into town for dinner that she was just going to go with the flow and see what happened.

  * * * *

  Miguel pulled Gabriella up and into his arms roughly and kissed her with a mind-numbing intensity, and she melted against him helplessly. He plundered her warm, wet mouth. Miguel motioned for her to stand under the hanging chains. The ruby necklace between her breasts caught the light from the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and he got a funny feeling around his heart. This was such a very important part of him, and he was afraid to screw it up. He looked at the necklace again and felt strangely comforted. Gabriella wouldn’t be wearing it if it wasn’t important to her. He secured her wrists to the chains and her ankle cuffs to the bolts recessed into the floor. He gathered her mane of dark-brown hair into a tail and draped it over her shoulder out of the way. Once she was bound to his satisfaction, he gave her a quick hard kiss meant to reassure. Then he stood back with his arms crossed over his broad chest and the short tail whip in his hand. He knew his dominant posture would heighten Gabriella’s tension and hence her ultimate pleasure. He had a personal ten-stroke limit on punishments, but he knew that was too much for Gabriella’s first whipping. Before he was done here she would be screaming her orgasm.

  He ran the supple tail of the whip through his hands. Gabriella watched him from under her thick, black eyelashes. The fear and anxiety in her expressive eyes was palpable as the braided leather slipped through his fingers. She trembled before him as he slowly and gently ran the whip over her body, skimming lightly over the creamy skin of her breasts and belly and down her thighs. He walked behind her and repeated the process over her back and butt. She was so aroused that he could see her pussy clench and moisture flood from her sex. “Oh, please, Sir.”

  He strode around her, trailing the flexible, petal-shaped tip of the whip on the floor. He took the time to appreciate her beautiful body. He ran his big hands up and down her spine and over her butt, kneading and massaging the muscles to warm them. Without warning, he cracked the whip, and she involuntarily flinched.

  “Are you ready for your punishment, sub?” he asked unnecessarily.

  “Yes, Sir,” she said submissively. He knew the response had cost her and that she was extremely nervous. He continued to circle her naked form, letting the tension build ominously.

  When the first stroke of the whip kissed her right butt cheek, she cried out in surprise. He took his time and let the drama of the scene do its work. The second stroke nipped her left cheek, and she gasped at the sharp sting of the leather clapper. The third stroke was on her right side and the fourth on the left side. The supple whip curled around her middle like a lover’s caress. The final stroke was across her thighs just below her butt. His strokes were enough to get her attention but not excessive—really no more than a bee sting. He knew his delivery was extremely accurate. He practiced often. He never overlapped strokes, and no strokes hit over bone or near sensitive internal organs. By the time the five strokes of the punishment had been rendered, Miguel could see that she was on the verge of a massive orgasm. As endorphins pumped through her system, she gasped for air and tried to regain control of herself.

  “Sub, you may not come until I give my permission,” he warned. Forcing her to wait for her pleasure added another edge to the experience. He released her bindings and her long hair, picked her up, and carried her to the chaise in the corner of the room. He settled her on the chaise and came down on top of her. Her pussy was quivering, and his engorged cock was straining for release from the tight, black leather pants he had donned before coming into the club. Gabriella looked at Miguel as though her very life depended on his actions. She was breathing heavily. He knew she had never taken part in such an intense scene and might slip into sub space if he didn’t keep her engaged.

  She leaned back and spread her legs, opening her drenched pussy to his gaze. Miguel opened the crotch of his leather pants, freeing his pounding erection. He couldn’t even wait to undress. He imbedded his hard cock in her pussy up to the hilt as she screamed out her pleasure. “Love me, Sir,” she implored.

  He stroked his cock in and out of her wet, silky pussy again and again, increasing the pace and depth of penetration until he could no longer hold back. His cock throbbed with his heartbeat. “Come now, Gabriella,” he ordered as she reached her final barrier and rolled into a stunning orgasm that crashed through her system without mercy. He followed her over the brink with a shout of triumph as his own completion spasmed through his body like the breath of a fire-breathing dragon. With his cock still hard within her, he picked up the rhythm and continued the stroking, and each of them came again.

  As the frantic beating of their hearts slowed, he brushed the hair back from her face and gently kissed her temple. “I love you, querida. I appreciate the trust you placed in me tonight. That is the most extreme of the sadistic punishments you can expect to receive from me. I wanted you to experience it and know that. Are you okay?”

  She laughed weakly. “No, but ask me again tomorrow.”


  “Can I ask you to marry me tomorrow, as well?”

  She looked up at him with surprise on her face. Maybe it was a little soon for this, but he knew deep in his heart—and he had for a long time—that Gabriella was the woman for him for the long run. There wouldn’t be anyone but her. His heart pounded for her and her alone.

  * * * *

  “Miguel, why don’t we move up the schedule on that question? I know you have issues with your family history and sexual tendencies, but I really don’t think you are a true sadist. You are certainly not a textbook sexual sadist. You are more concerned with how I am feeling than a real sadist would be.”

  “I don’t want to sugarcoat my tastes, querida, but I want you to know I would never really hurt you. You are precious to me. Are you sure you’re ready to hear that question?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Well, then, Gabriella Maria Delaveccia, are you prepared to become Señora Gabriella Maria Delaveccia de Gatto? I love you and want to make a life with you. I want the children God gives us, but most of all, I want you to be happy and satisfied with our life together.”

  “Oh, yes, Sir.” She paused to think a moment—how much should she say? Then she decided this was the moment for complete honesty. “Miguel, I love you, and I think I have for a long time, although I was too frightened to admit it to myself or to you. I love what we do together, and I had these fantasies about you long before we ever dated.”

  He looked surprised. “Really? I had no idea. Think of all the time we wasted.” He kissed her deep and sweet to seal their bargain. He got up and walked to the credenza where he popped the cork in the bottle of champagne. He filled the two flutes and brought them back to the chaise. He handed her one of the flutes.

  “To us, and to a long, happy, and fruitful life together.” They clinked their glasses and then both drank. Miguel retrieved the tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries. He picked one up and held it to her lips.

  “Oh, yum. Those are delicious.” Strangely enough, she felt the ruby necklace that was all she wore at the moment pulse with heat between her breasts. “So, Miguel, do I ever get to be on top?”

  He laughed delightedly. “I promise to let you be on top—once in a while.”

  THE END

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I was born in New Jersey and grew up an only child on a small farm in the “Garden State.” My father grew acres and acres of flowers for commercial florists and various produce, such as tomatoes. My high school years were spent at Wayne Hills High School, where I was not one of the popular, preppy kids, or one of the hoods—which kind of left me in limbo as I wasn’t one of the brainiacs either. Weekends were spent going into “the City” and Greenwich Village with my friends and doing a lot of things I probably shouldn’t have—don’t tell my grandkids!

  After attending Katharine Gibbs School in Montclair, New Jersey, I began a career as a legal secretary and then a paralegal. I moved to Florida and currently live in Davie, Florida, with my dog, Snickerdoodles, aka The Dude. I was married for eight years but have been single for many years. My major addiction is jewelry, but any kind of shopping will do for a fix!

  After my longtime job as a paralegal was ended by the economic downturn, I decided to turn lemons into lemonade and finally write the stories I’d had in my head for many years. I had always wanted to write romance novels, but my family and job kept me too busy.

  My major interest aside from my family and friends is horses. I enjoy putting an animal character into my stories if possible. I am extremely “low-tech” and probably should have been born in the 1800s, as I enjoy driving a horse and buggy for fun. I also enjoy horseback riding, but the ground has gotten harder and further away over the years.

  I have a small farm and vacation home in Ocala, Florida, which is my favorite place in the world. There’s nothing as wonderful as swinging in the hammock in the shade and listening to the music of the wind in the pines while cuddled under a quilt reading a good book.

  Books have always been my escape into love and adventure, and through reading, I have been able to be many people, do many things, and go to many wonderful places I wouldn’t have otherwise been able to be, do, or see.

  I hope that all hardworking women who have a moment to put up their tired feet and relax with a cup of coffee—or a glass of wine—will feel like they have had the opportunity to enjoy a trip to beautiful South Florida, my own backyard. I hope they also enjoy getting to meet my fantasy friends and experiencing something new and different with a touch of hot romance thrown in for good measure!

  For all titles by Skye Michaels, please visit

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