by Brynley Bush
“Stay here,” Roman murmurs in my ear. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch Sophie’s Dom, John, tug one of her nipples as he holds a vibrating wand to her sex while she writhes helplessly in the stockade, and my breath hitches. A Dom I don’t know is spanking Sabrina with a paddle, and Tessa has three men fondling her as she’s held immobile in the pillory.
“It looks like they’re having fun,” a soft voice next to me observes.
I turn to find Logan’s wife, Rachel, standing next to me, watching the submissives in the stockades with a look of wistful envy.
“You think?” I ask skeptically.
“Oh, yes,” she says with a smile. “I know.” She turns to me. “It’s Ava, right?”
I nod.
“There’s a heady eroticism in having the choice taken from you and just giving yourself over to pleasure.” She fingers the unique-looking silver necklace that encircles her throat. “I love being married to Logan, and I love what we have together, but sometimes I miss those days and the thrill of the chase.”
“Some parts of the chase are more fun than others,” I say wryly.
She laughs. “That’s true, and a good Dom knows exactly what his submissive needs and when to push her and when not to. Roman must have known you weren’t cut out to be a saloon girl.”
I look at her in surprise. “He got to choose?”
She nods and then winks. “You didn’t hear that from me.”
“Hear what?” I say innocently.
Our attention is diverted by the other saloon girls, who are now being strapped to the wooden windmills that have leather restraints attached to them. Their arms are cuffed over their heads, and their legs are spread and secured to the legs of the windmills as their Doms gleefully take their places in front of them. Now I see why Logan said at the pool party that it would be in the Doms’ best interest not to allow their subs to orgasm. I’m guessing it won’t take long for them to come if their Doms have kept them as on edge as Roman has kept me for the past few days.
The Doms are allowed to use whatever they want to bring their submissives to orgasm, and all three choose vibrators. I feel like a voyeur watching them climax, Megan first, followed closely by Rose and then Eva. I couldn’t come earlier, even with the potent sensation of Roman’s mouth devouring me in semiprivacy after the roping event. Despite the way he seems to be able to reach some ridiculously oversexed part of me that I didn’t know existed, I’m certain I couldn’t orgasm in front of a crowd of people. I’m far too reserved. A woman is at her most vulnerable when she comes, and I can’t imagine being exposed that way. I’m once again relieved I wasn’t chosen as a saloon girl. Maybe I’ll thank Roman properly later, I think with a secret smile.
Rachel murmurs good-bye to me and moves away as Logan announces the winners of the events. Megan and Tessa have both earned one hundred extra points, and so, unfortunately, has Rebecca, who apparently stayed on the mechanical bull three seconds longer than I did.
I’m waiting for Roman, eager to go back to the suite with him, when Logan says, “The last event for Western Night will be our rodeo event, with our cowgirl contestants racing each other to the finish line.”
What is he talking about? And where the hell is Roman?
“Cowgirls. Come up here, please.”
I look around wildly, but there’s still no sign of Roman, and I reluctantly join Desiree, Rebecca, Carly, Bella, and an older submissive named Lindsey near the bar area, where six sawhorses are lined up with a saddle affixed to each. My throat constricts as I realize each saddle has a long, thick shaft protruding straight up from the middle of the seat.
No, no, no, no, no. My mind refuses to acknowledge that I’m somehow supposed to sit on the saddle with that thing buried in me, but my body knows the truth and tightens in response, although fear is definitely trumping arousal.
“Of course our little cowgirls might need some added incentive to ride as hard as they can, so we’ve added an assortment of enticements. I believe both Lindsey and Carly will be riding double?” Logan looks to Michael and Lindsey’s Dom, Marcus, for confirmation, and both Doms nod. I think I’m going to pass out when I notice that two of the saddles have not one but two projections coming off them.
Michael grabs Carly, dragging her to the sawhorse. She blushes furiously as he bends her over, squirts some lube between her cheeks, and positions her none too gently on the saddle. She grimaces as she eases herself onto the double protrusions. Marcus is gentler but still firm as he settles Lindsey on the saddle.
“Stefan and Karl, you may help your cowgirls onto their horses.”
The two Doms pull their submissives onto the stage and lift them onto their saddles, and both Desiree and Bella carefully maneuver themselves onto the protruding shafts, a look of trepidation coupled with excitement in their eyes as they wait to find out what their incentive is.
“These girls will get reins,” Logan says wickedly, handing a set of nipple clamps to Stefan and Karl. The Doms apply the clamps, and both Desiree and Bella breathe faster, their eyes widening as the chains attached to the clamps are clipped to a bar in front of them, pulling their nipples up and out slightly.
“The last two submissives may mount their horses now,” Logan says.
Roman materializes at my side, nudging me forward. Fingers of panic grip me, and I clutch his arm. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” he says confidently, lifting me onto the saddle. I’m still wet from his tongue after the calf roping, and I slide easily onto the thick shaft, but it feels intrusive and wrong and not at all like I had imagined Roman would feel inside me when I’d been daydreaming of him just minutes ago. I’m dimly aware of Rebecca taking her place on the horse next to me.
“I don’t want to do this,” I whisper.
But Roman either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care. With his back to the crowd, he places his lips near my ear, his strong, comforting hands on my shoulders the only thing keeping me from bolting off the saddle. “You’ve been ready for this for two days. You’ve got this, Avalon.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me alone on the stage, although I can see him standing in front of the crowd, his gaze never leaving my face.
“When the bell rings, our cowgirls will start to ride,” Logan says. He turns to us and says, “Submissives, you may begin working yourself up and down on the shaft on your saddle as soon as the first bell rings. The first girl to bring herself to orgasm wins one hundred extra points. However”—he holds up a hand—“a second bell will ring three minutes in. If you come before the second bell rings, you’re disqualified. Do you all understand?”
We all nod, and I realize with a little stab of sadness that Roman hadn’t lost the calf roping because he wanted to taste me; he’d sacrificed the battle to win the war, taking the opportunity to make me even more aroused so I’d be able to orgasm faster and win the event. Except his plan backfired, because I’ve never felt less aroused than I do right now. In fact, I feel downright miserable.
“Excellent.” Turning back to the rowdy crowd that has gathered, Logan adds, “As I mentioned, our cowgirls will be encouraged with the incentive of their Dom’s choice. Carly and Lindsey will work both ends as they ride.” Carly’s face pales, but her mouth tightens into a determined line as she grips the pommel. Lindsey looks slightly bored.
“Desiree and Bella will have a little pull on their reins, so to speak, as they ride,” Logan continues wickedly. Bella lifts herself experimentally off the saddle and winces as her nipples are jerked forward with the motion, and there’s a rumble of male laughter.
Oh, God. What about me and Rebecca? I dart a glance at her, but she’s focused on Emmett, looking completely unperturbed. I’m aware of a slight movement behind me, and I turn to see Master Collin, the Dom who’d prepared me for the auction, take his place behind me, holding a barbaric-looking leather-handled whip with a dozen leather strips cascading from it.
“Our final two submissives will rece
ive the more traditional incentive of a whip,” Logan says. “Riders, on your mark, get set, go.”
I look around wildly for Roman. He meets my gaze and mouths again, You’ve got this.
He’s wrong. I don’t have this at all.
The bell rings, and the submissives around me start gyrating their hips, working themselves up and down on their shafts with gusto. Using the pommel of the saddle for leverage, I cautiously shift so the shaft slides in and out of me, but there’s nothing arousing about it. It’s humiliating, and I want to get off the saddle and the stage. I had wanted to feel Roman inside me in the intimacy of our suite, not the violation of this impersonal, thick dildo that’s stretching me almost painfully while a crowd of strangers watches and cheers.
The first lick of the leather tails across my back is shocking, and it hurts. I grit my teeth and continue to move halfheartedly on the shaft. All I have to do is make three minutes and someone’s bound to win, although it sure as hell isn’t going to be me. I can’t wait to get off this fucking saddle. The whip falls across my back again, and I feel the tears gather in my eyes. Don’t let them see you cry. I grit my teeth and move slowly but steadily, fucking myself on the saddle as the leather kisses my upper back, my shoulder blades, and the curve of my ass each time it comes off the saddle. With each thrust of the shaft inside me, I feel myself receding, taking refuge behind the walls that have kept me safe for the past two years.
I hear the bell ring, alerting us that the requisite three minutes are up, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m somewhere else, someplace where I can’t feel anything. I’m dimly aware of Rebecca next to me bringing herself to a loud and shuddering orgasm with a cry of triumph, bliss suffusing her face as the crowd cheers enthusiastically. Several other cries of pleasure echo to my right, but it sounds muffled like I’m in a tunnel.
Then Roman’s there, his strong hands lifting me off the saddle.
“Don’t touch me!” I hiss, pushing away from him. He looks at me bewilderedly. Emmett, who’s standing next to us with Rebecca, takes a step toward me, but Roman stops him.
“See to your own submissive,” he growls. “I’ve got her.”
But he doesn’t. Roman Castile never had me, and he never will.
Emmett looks back and forth between me and Rebecca, clearly torn, and I give him a tremulous smile. “I’m fine,” I say resolutely. He looks unconvinced, but Rebecca quickly claims his attention, and I turn to leave. I just want to get out of here and as far away from Roman as I can.
“Avalon.” Roman tries to grab my arm, but I fling it off as I turn on him angrily.
“Why did you do that to me?” I demand. “Why? I told you I didn’t want that!”
He glances around us and then abruptly grasps my upper arm firmly, half carrying and half dragging me out of the ballroom. I struggle, trying to get away from him, but his grip is like a steel vise. “Not here,” he commands sternly under his breath. “Not with the cameras rolling. I don’t know what the hell you’re so mad about, but I’ll listen to what you have to say once we’re out of here.”
I bite my tongue as we wordlessly take the elevator up to our suite, but once the door closes, I turn to him furiously.
“How could you do that to me?” I’m practically spitting with anger.
“Do what?” he asks, his tone measured and rational. “Everything we did was just part of the games, Ava. All the submissives had to participate.”
“But you chose that! Rachel told me you did. You chose for me to fuck myself in front of a crowd!” I say accusingly.
“Would you have rather me signed you up as a saloon girl?” he demands. “Would you have preferred to suck other men’s cocks?”
“Yes! No! I don’t know,” I say miserably. “I just know I didn’t want that. I tried to tell you that, but you didn’t listen; you put me up there anyway, and you left me. You let someone whip me!” I feel my eyelids prick with tears of anger and hurt and humiliation, and I will them away. I will not let him see me cry!
“I made what I thought was the best choice given the options. I know you, Ava. You like a little pain. And you’re so damn responsive. You always come.” He looks utterly baffled by the fact that I didn’t.
“For you, Roman,” I say vehemently as a solitary, unwanted tear spills down my cheek. “I come for you.”
“Me, Emmett, Anthony. What difference does it make?”
I can physically feel the air whoosh out of me as if he’d punched me in the gut.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I say quietly, my voice lethal. “Just stay away from me.”
He stands perfectly still, studying me intently. “I’m not sure exactly what happened in there, but we should talk about it and work it out.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say woodenly. “I just want you to leave me the hell alone.” I look him in the eye. “I want you to go. Now.”
“You’re my submissive. And this is my suite.”
“Fine. Then I’ll leave,” I say resolutely, heading toward the door. I don’t know where I’ll go, but it hurts too much to be near Roman. His betrayal cuts me to the quick. I never should have allowed him to make me feel anything in the first place. I snort derisively. Not that I ever really had a choice.
“Ava, stop!” His authoritative tone stops me in my tracks. “I’ll leave tonight. But we’re going to talk about this tomorrow.” And with the soft click of the door closing behind him, I’m finally alone again, just like I’ve always been.
Chapter Thirteen
Roman
It’s been almost twenty-four hours since the group event, and Ava’s still refusing to talk to me. She’s spent the entire day huddled in a chair in the corner of the bedroom staring out the window. I have no idea what happened last night that made my little spitfire more furious than I’ve ever seen her and then, seconds later, more distant and unreachable. She’d been anxious, for sure, during the mechanical-bull and calf-roping scenes, but she’d also been having fun. I could see it on her face and in the way her eyes had darkened when I’d pinned her during the calf roping, and afterward when I’d laid her across the barrel and devoured her sweetness. But something had happened during the riding scene, something more than just losing to Rebecca, although I’ve noticed there’s no love lost between those two. However, I don’t know what it is, and it’s driving me fucking crazy.
As her Dom, it bothers me to see her hurting, but it’s ten times worse knowing she thinks I’m somehow responsible for it, although I sure as hell can’t figure out how. And she certainly isn’t telling me. I’ve tried giving her some space to get over it, but after twenty-four hours, I’ve had enough.
“Ava, we have to talk,” I say, sitting down on the bed so I’m facing her.
She doesn’t turn to look at me. “There’s nothing to say,” she says mechanically.
“There’s apparently a lot to say. You’re just not saying it. Tell me what happened last night,” I say a little more firmly.
She levels those enormous green eyes at me, and the bleakness in them crushes me. “Or what? You’ll punish me? Spank me?”
“Don’t tempt me,” I say starkly. “The next couples to be voted off will be announced in half an hour, and we have our next group event tomorrow. We don’t have the luxury of time. We need to work this out so we can move forward.”
She looks away. “What if I don’t want to move forward?”
My heart squeezes. “What do you mean? Do you want to quit?”
“Maybe,” she says indifferently. “I haven’t decided yet.”
I take a deep breath. I don’t know what’s put that look in her eyes, but I can’t stand seeing her defeated. She’s a fighter, whether she knows it or not, and I’m not going to let her wallow in whatever has its hold on her. And the only way I know to pull her out of it is to push her until that spark that’s pure Ava catches fire.
“Well, you let me know when you decide. But until then, I’m still your Dom. Although I ca
n’t make you talk to me, you do have to obey me.” I invade her space, grasping her chin and forcing her to look at me. “Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” she says quietly, and somehow I feel like I just lost.
However, she does accompany me to dinner and to the rooftop bar where it’s announced that John and Sophie and Marcus and Lindsey have been voted off. Her friends come over, laughingly begging us to come join them and their Doms for a game of darts, but she pleads a headache, and we’re back in our suite by ten thirty. She’s barely said two words to me.
The more determined she is to shut me out, the more determined I am to try to penetrate that armor of hers and get through to her. Although she seems intent on disappearing behind that mask of feigned composure she puts on to hide her true feelings, I’m not about to let her go without a fight. It’s not healthy for anyone to suppress what they’re feeling the way my little submissive does, and she has it down to an art.
I drag her against me as I climb into bed next to her, and although she doesn’t fight me, she doesn’t melt into me the way she has the past few nights either. I lie awake next to her until her breathing becomes deep and even and her body finally relaxes. Then I quietly slip out of bed and go to find the one person who can help me.
I find Emmett at the bar alone, nursing a glass of whiskey. He eyes me warily as I take a seat next to him.
“Where’s Rebecca?” I ask as the bartender sets a glass of whiskey in front of me.
“Sleeping,” he says tersely. “Where’s Ava?”
“Same. I need your help.”
He looks at me cynically. “You need my help? Well, isn’t that rich.” He takes a gulp of whiskey.
“It’s Ava. Something happened last night during the last event. I don’t know what, but she was different afterward. She was pissed at me and insinuated I had betrayed her somehow, and now she won’t talk to me at all. She won’t tell me what’s wrong, and she’s completely closed herself off.” I rub my neck in frustration. “She’s thinking about quitting.”
