Auctioned to the Spanish Dom [The Spectrum Auctions 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Doris O'Connor

  Pedro smiled and let her buzz about. Clearly she needed to keep busy to calm herself, and sure enough by the time she had poured them both a cup and sat back down again, her breathing followed a more normal pattern. He didn’t miss her slight wince when she sat back down on the hard stool, however.

  “Did you use the cream I left you?”

  “Yes, Sir.” His dick jerked to attention at lightning speed at her breathy reply, and he was incredibly grateful for his joggers. They made this whole teenage boy act easier to cope with. At least he wouldn’t be left with zipper marks on his cock this time.

  “I hope you like chocolate, Sir. The cake is rather rich, hence I brought the brownies too, and—”

  “I like chocolate just fine.” Pedro interrupted her, and to prove his point he speared a generous forkful and shoved it in his mouth. Instantly, the chocolate melted on his tongue and Peyton’s face lit up in the hugest smile when he grunted his approval.

  “This is delicious. If that reporting lark doesn’t work out, you could run your own cake shop, I reckon.”

  Peyton laughed and shook her head.

  “Hardly. It’s just something I enjoy doing for fun.”

  A comfortable silence fell between them while they ate. Pedro helped himself to another slice of cake and several brownies, much to his little subbie’s delight, before he patted his stomach and pushed back from the breakfast bar.

  “So, pequeña, tell me why are you really here?”

  Chapter Six

  As gentle as that question was, delivered in his soft voice, Peyton still broke out in a cold sweat. Pinned by the intensity of his gaze, her well-rehearsed little speech flew out of her befuddled brain.

  “I–I…I don’t know, why.”

  Pedro didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at her, and Peyton fidgeted in her seat. The action hurt as the marks on her back she hadn’t been able to reach protested and she bit her lip to stop herself from reacting.

  “I thought you said you used the cream,” Pedro said, and the hint of annoyance in his tone made her feel all kinds of miserable inside.

  “I did, but I couldn’t reach all of them without help.”

  Pedro swore softly, and before she could blink he was stood next to her.

  “Show me.” The curt command startled her, and she slid off her chair and backed away from him. The worktop stopped her, and he crossed the distance in just two long-legged strides, until he towered over her again. Or at least it seemed that way. He looked bigger and more menacing all of a sudden, and it dawned on Peyton that she was utterly on her own with him. Sure, Scarlett knew she was here, but it wasn’t like they were at the club, where she knew all sort of safety measures were in place for everyone’s safety.

  Why then, did her panties get wetter and her nipples firmed into hard little bullet points against her bra? Surely she shouldn’t be turned on by the thought that he literally could do anything with her he pleased and no one would come to her rescue?

  “I said, show me.” His voice had dropped further, taking on that edge that she knew meant he was in full Dom mode and she nervously glanced out of the window.

  “Here, now?”

  He smiled at her breathy question, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “We’re not overlooked, if that’s what you’re worrying about. Don’t make me ask you again. I’m not in the habit of repeating myself, girl.”

  The girl stung. It’s as though she was just another sub to him, and Peyton blinked back unexpected tears, while calling herself all kinds of a fool. Of course she was, she had to remember this. What had she been thinking in coming here?

  “Perhaps I ought to just go. I only came to give you your cake after all, and—”

  “Fine.” Pedro’s curt reply cut her short and he stepped away from her. The sudden move made her feel even more off-balance. “Leave. If you can’t be honest with yourself about your reason for being here, then there is no point in continuing this.” He leant back against the worktop, arms crossed over his chest. It was only his clenched jaw that gave away the fact that he wasn’t as unaffected as he made out to be. Surely that meant he wanted her to stay?

  Utterly miserable and unsure, she took a step toward the door, only for Pedro’s warm hand on her shoulder to stop her.

  “Wait. I really do need to see the marks to make sure you’re okay. May I?”

  He ran his hands slowly down her arms and then tugged her T-shirt up slowly.

  When she didn’t respond, he stopped and just rested his hands on her hips underneath the tee. Goose bumps broke out on her skin at the feel of his slightly rough hands on her flesh, innocent as the contact was.

  “At least tell me you have someone who can apply that cream I gave you.”

  Peyton shook her head, not trusting her voice to work, and he sighed.

  “No one? No best friend you could call on? Relative? Boyfriend lurking in the corners?”

  Peyton snorted in disgust, wrenched herself out of his grasp, and turned around to face him. A smile kicked up the corners of his mouth, and there was a suspicious twinkle in his brown eyes that meant she found her backbone.

  “Do you seriously want me to show those to my family? They’ll have you arrested for GBH, and if I had a boyfriend I would never have signed up for that damn auction. What sort of a woman do you think I am? I’ve never cheated on anyone and I’m certainly not starting now.”

  Pedro put his hands up and his infuriating smile deepened.

  “Point taken. Why no boyfriend? Someone as beautiful and successful as you are would have men flocking after her left right and center.”

  Peyton blew her breath out on a huff and shook her head.

  “And? That doesn’t mean I’m interested, for fuck’s sake.”

  His eyebrow rose and too late she remembered that he didn’t like her swearing, but then so what? They weren’t in a damn scene, and she would damn well do as she pleased.

  “Such a typical male response. What, a woman can’t be complete unless she has a man? Jesus, Pedro, wake up it’s the 21st century.”

  She ran out of steam and the two of them stood staring at each other for what seemed like ages.

  “Finished your rant?” he finally asked, and Peyton barely resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. Such childish actions wouldn’t help her now, but, boy how she wished she could just stomp her feet and rally and scream like her little nephew always did.

  “For the record, I would never presume that a woman cannot be complete without a man. I was merely ensuring there was someone who could take care of you, and as there isn’t, I really do need to see those bruises. They shouldn’t hurt that much, and as you so aptly pointed out, I do not wish to find myself at the end of an assault charge, so—”

  “Damn you, Pedro.” She interrupted his own little tirade and stepped right up to him. “I have no idea who or what made you so jaded, but I would never scream assault when you did nothing I didn’t agree to. Again, who the fuck do you think I am? And fine, look at the damn bruises, so I can get out of here.”

  Without thinking, she yanked the tee over her head, and turned her back on him. His sharp intake of breath made her tummy tighten in need, and the careful way in which his fingers slid over her welts did nothing to help her regain her equilibrium.

  The act wasn’t painful as such, and the slight sting just served to send moisture into her already sodden panties. How could she be so angry with him, yet melt at the simplest touch of his on her skin?

  Pedro cleared his throat several times before he spoke, and there was that curious undertone again that made her wonder what he was thinking.

  “I knew your delicate skin would mark easily, but these…. Me cago en la leche pequeña.” He lifted her hair over her shoulder and out of the way. “Stay here, while I get some of that cream to help soothe those, and then you can curse and rally and leave, if you want to.”

  He didn’t wait for her reply, just stepped past her and left her on
her own.

  * * * *

  Pedro took the stairs three at a time, cursing under his breath the entire time. He’d gone hard as fucking nails when he’d seen her back. The sadist in him loved the marks he’d left behind on her skin. He hadn’t missed her reaction to his light pressure on her welts either. Pain turned his pequeña on as much it turned him on delivering it. If only she wasn’t so damn prickly with it. Pedro unlocked the door to his playroom and strode up to the cabinet where he kept his salve. His reflection in the glass gave him pause for thought. He was grinning from ear to ear, and he hadn’t even realized he was doing it. Opening the glass door, he froze with his hand on the pot of salve when he heard the soft gasp behind him.

  He should have known she wouldn’t stay put. Her fiery nature was one of the things that drew him to her, after all. His little subbie was no doormat. Not that submissives usually were. It was another common misconception in the vanilla world. Of course some subs needed more, but Pedro couldn’t stand the needy ones. He preferred a strong, independent woman, who gave her submission freely without needing him to micromanage every second of her day. He turned round slowly to see Peyton clutching her tee to her front to cover up her breasts, as she panted for breath, as though she’d run up the stairs after him.

  Her gaze seemed fixed on the St. Andrew’s cross in the corner of the room. Heavily padded, it was specially made and could be tilted to give easy access and give the person tied to it a feeling of flying. Next to it was his assortment of impact tools. Various floggers, crops, canes, paddles, and a collection of whips. He grew even harder at the thought of using them on her. He was still perfecting his throw with the whips, so to use them on Peyton’s delicate skin was out of the question, but he was certainly a Master at all the other implements.

  “Like what you see?” he asked, and smirked when she visibly startled. Peyton entered further into the room, still clutching that damn tee. Pedro wanted to step up to her and rip it out her hands, but she hadn’t given him permission to do that. The tantalizing glimpses he caught of her no-nonsense nude bra were enough to raise his blood pressure a few notches. He had clearly developed a new fetish for plain underwear, at least when Peyton was wearing them. What were those figure-hugging jeans hiding, he wondered? Another thong, or big knickers?

  Peyton spun around and paused under the suspension kit in the middle of the room.

  “I don’t understand. Scarlett said you never played at home, so why…” She paused and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “Why, all this?”

  Pedro shrugged his shoulders.

  “Why not? I had the room, and I thought it was about time I got one of my own, just in case….”

  He paused, unsure of how much he was willing to share. Then again, he was expecting honesty from her, so it was only fair he put his cards on the table.

  “In case I ever took on a full-time submissive.”

  Peyton’s mouth fell open, and he could almost see the wheels turn in her head.

  “You haven’t had one?” she asked.

  Pedro shook his head and slowly stepped up to her.

  “No, I haven’t. I get my needs met at the club. I have…had no wish to settle down.”

  “Why? And does that mean you now are?”

  Of course Peyton latched onto that little nugget of information. Her reporter side was showing, and he grinned at that thought. Of all the subs he could have picked, he had to have chosen a nosy reporter. Life would never be simple again, he was sure. Not that she has agreed to be your sub yet.

  For all he knew she could still bolt.

  “Sir, please answer me.”

  It was the hesitant Sir that did it. Pedro tugged at her tee, and she let it go after a moment’s hesitation. Her breathing hitched when he ran his gaze over her curves and then skimmed his knuckles across the hard buds pressing against the fabric of her bra.

  “So responsive, pequeña. We need to sort your back out, however, so turn around for me.”

  “I will when you answer my question.” Peyton put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

  Pedro grinned, and wrapping his hands in her hair, tugged her closer, so that her breasts were squashed against his chest and his cock dug into her belly. Her expressive eyes widened and clouded over when he yanked her head back and pulled her hips closer still by hooking his fingers through one of her belt loops. He marched her back slowly until her back made contact with the cross and a hiss escaped her.

  “That depends, pequeña. Did you come here, looking for a Dom?”

  He pushed her further into the cross and squeezed her ass, where he knew one of her biggest bruises would be, and she went limp against him. He almost didn’t hear her whispered, “Yes, Sir.”

  Pedro’s guts tightened in sheer relief and his balls drew tight.

  “Well then.” He bit down lightly on her neck and nibbled his way up to her jaw until he could run his tongue along the seam of her mouth. She opened up for him instantly, and he took his time teasing her, until she groaned and shook in need. Her fingernails dug into his biceps and he kicked her legs apart and, grasping her wrists, pulled them up to secure them on the cross above her head.

  “No hands.” He smiled at her feminine growl, and cupping her breasts, pulled them over her bra cups until they were exposed to his hungry gaze.

  “Much better, but I think we’re going to need some nipple clamps for those just as soon, as we’ve got rid of these jeans. How’s the back like that, pequeña? Give me a color.”

  “It hurts, but…” Heat rose in her cheeks and she couldn’t quite bring herself to look him in the eye.

  “But?” he asked. “I’m not a mind reader, tell me.” Pedro had a fairly good idea what she was going to say, but he wanted her to admit it.

  “I like it,” she finally whispered.

  “Why?” he asked, and she groaned. Such a deep-throated sound that it shot straight to his balls. He needed to hurry this along, so he could fuck the brains out of her, but he needed to hear her say the words more.

  “Jesus, please don’t make me say it.”

  Pedro laughed and stepped away from her.

  “Oh, I am making you say it, or I’ll untie you and send you home, wet and horny as you are. Is that what you want me to do?”

  Peyton shook her head with so much force her hair whipped through the air and hid her face. Pedro drew it back for her and smiled at her flushed expression.

  “No, Sir, I don’t want you do that.”

  “Good girl, so? How does it make you feel?”

  Pedro took her nipples between his fingers and rolled the tight buds. A renewed shudder went through her frame, and she tried to close her legs, but he shoved his thigh between them and rubbed along the seam of her jeans. Peyton pulled on her restraints, and even through their combined clothing, he could feel her heat. So damn responsive.

  “Wet and horny for you, Sir. Please, will you fuck me? I need your cock inside of me, stretching me, making me yours. Please, I—”

  She screwed her eyes shut while the words tumbled out her mouth, and Pedro shut her up by kissing her. Grabbing her hips, he rotated them over his thigh and Peyton groaned into his mouth. Faster and faster he moved those hips while he fucked her mouth with his tongue, until Peyton came with a gasp and a gush of her juices left a wet stain on his thigh. He kept up a slower rhythm until the last of her shudders abated and then stepped back to look at her.

  Her skin a delightful rosy sheen, Peyton panted, eyes closed, breasts heaving. Such a beautiful sight.

  “That one was for telling me truth, pequeña.” He dropped a kiss on her nose and her eyes fluttered open. “And for begging so nicely for my cock, especially when you informed me in no uncertain terms that you would never beg for it.”

  Peyton tried to shrug her shoulders, and the shy smile she gave him was his undoing.

  “That was then, this is now, Sir. Please, I still want your cock.” She let her gaze drop to where he was tenting his joggers and lic
ked her lips. “If I may make an observation, Sir, you’re wearing far too many clothes, still.”

  Pedro laughed. There was his cheeky minx.

  “You may, but then again so are you. We’re going to have to do something about that.”

  He dropped to his knees in front of her, and her eyes widened when he inhaled against her wet crotch.

  “I’m afraid these jeans may be ruined forever. I hope they’re not a favorite pair?” He looked up at her to see her shake her head, and he grinned as an idea occurred to him.

  “Good.”

  She tensed when he slipped her trainers and socks off of her and then fastened her ankle to the restraint attached to the cross. He repeated the action on the other side and then stood slowly.

  Peyton looked so utterly confused by his actions that he had to hide his smile. Sure enough, her next words confirmed it.

  “Erm, Sir? How is this helping with the getting me naked bit?” she asked.

  “Oh, that’s easy, pequeñita.”

  He stepped away, and took out one of his collection of knives out of the bottom drawer of his cabinet. Peyton went as white as a sheet when she saw what he held in his hand.

  “Yellow.”

  Pedro smiled, and she looked even more confused. Peyton kept a wary eye on him, as he approached her slowly, knife held loosely in his left hand, and cupped her cheek with his right hand. He knew cutting was one of her hard limits, but he had no intention of drawing blood. Just to fuck with her mind a little.

  “Sir?” she asked, leaning into his touch and he rubbed his stubble across her other cheek.

  “What, pequeñita? Talk to me.”

  “I don’t like knives, Sir.”

  He nuzzled closer into her, loving the slight tremble of fear that shook her frame, as he brought the knife between them until the cold steel rested on her bare tummy.

  “I know, but trust me?”

  Pedro pulled back slightly to read her expression, and she bit her lip and nodded.

  “Good girl, I’ll make this good for you, I promise, and I never draw blood.”