Finally, after swallowing, she reached the right choice and said, “Yes, my Liege. We're partners.”
“Then the decision to engage in a scene with Master Blake was not yours to make?”
Any other time he might have acknowledged Xavier's skill. As it was, with Blake standing there, onlookers greedily drinking in the scene, and Mira on her knees needing to be punished for her behavior, Torin wanted the drama to be finished and wanted her alone, subjected to his wrath.
“Mira?” Xavier prompted.
“Technically he—”
“Mira!” Torin snapped.
She swallowed and then licked her lower lip. She tipped back her head and looked directly at Xavier, avoiding all contact with Torin. “No, my Liege. As you said, the decision to give myself to Master Blake was not mine to make.” She bowed her head. “I'm sorry, my Liege.” She then looked at Blake. “I apologize, Master Blake.”
Apologizing to the whiny bastard who'd been beating her? Torin closed the distance between them and dug his hand in her hair. Pins scattered across the ceramic-tiled floor.
“You broke the rules of the club, Ms. Araceli,” Xavier said.
“I will deal with my sub,” Torin said.
Always the professional, no matter how much it pissed off Torin, Xavier crouched in front of her. Only the three of them could hear what was being said. “Since it's your first visit to my club, you need to know that Master Torin is well within his rights to punish you for your behavior. It's also at my discretion as to whether or not I will personally punish you.”
Torin felt her tremble.
“I'm going to give you a choice. I can turn you over to Master Torin, or I can call you a taxi. If you decide that I should call you a taxi, you will not be welcome at Dark Haven again.”
Torin tightened his fist in her hair and saw her wince.
“Thank you, my Liege.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I was disobedient to Master Torin.”
Master Torin.
Goddamn, his cock throbbed.
She glanced at him. “I'm sorry…Sir.”
“I'll leave this between the two of you, then?” Xavier said, standing and looking at Torin.
“I'll be taking my sub to the Medieval Room, if you'll excuse us?” He nodded to Xavier and to Blake. Easy to be magnanimous when you'd won, especially when the loser was cradling his wrist.
Torin kept his fist in her hair, not pulling, just exerting a small amount of pressure.
In all his years practicing BDSM, he'd never touched a sub in anger. He refused to allow her to be the exception. He would punish her because she deserved it, needed it, wanted it, and because it was a house expectation. But he wouldn't do it until his temper was fully contained.
He looked at the blond dungeon monitor and said, “I need a collar and a leash.”
Mira gasped. He tightened his grip, silently warning her to keep quiet. She'd pushed him as far as he'd allow.
The man snapped his fingers, and one of the waitresses dashed off. Dark Haven catered to all needs and kept an assortment of toys available for instances much like this one. Tonight he was particularly grateful for Xavier's foresight.
“Turn up the music,” Xavier instructed another of the servers.
Loud, thumping music rocked the walls. Tension eased and conversation around them resumed as people went about their business.
“No hard feelings,” Torin said to Blake.
“Fuck off, Carter,” Blake said. “How the hell was anyone supposed to know she was yours?”
How indeed? He'd never claimed her. Blake rubbed his wrist. “Next time, claim your subs.” He looked at the kneeling Mira. “And when you're done with this asshole, look me up.”
Torin took a step forward.
Xavier put out a restraining arm. “Enough, Master Torin.”
Blake glared at Torin before moving away.
“He's right,” Xavier said. “Claim her. If she comes to Dark Haven unaccompanied again, I'll back whoever does master her.”
With a tight nod, Torin acknowledged Xavier's order.
Within seconds the blond dungeon monitor returned with a collar and leash. “I'll take it from here,” Torin said.
“Yes, sir,” the man said, handing over the leather pieces.
“Your sub broke club rules,” Xavier told Torin. “And upset one of the founding members.”
“She'll be punished,” Torin promised. He took his hand out of Mira's hair, confident that she'd stay put.
“As I told Mira, it's my prerogative to mete out the punishment,” Xavier reminded him.
“Indeed.”
“But I don't want my wrist broken.” He smiled.
“Or your movie-star nose,” Torin supplied.
Xavier touched his nose instinctively. If he weren't so focused on the sub before him, Torin would have laughed.
“Watch your step, young lady,” Xavier said to Mira.
“Yes, my Liege.”
Then it was just the two of them. “After tonight we will still be partners, unless you request a transfer.”
She nodded.
“But we cannot leave here without your being punished.”
“Torin—”
“Master Torin,” he corrected. “You forced my hand, Mira.”
She sighed. “You didn't have to follow me here,” she said. “I was doing fine with Master Blake.”
“I'm already pissed, Mira. Don't make it worse,” he warned.
“You ruined my evening,” she said. If her hands hadn't still been secured behind her back, he imagined she'd have poked a finger in his chest. And here, in the club, he couldn't allow that to happen.
His temper had returned to a simmer when she'd chosen him over Blake, not that he'd given her much choice. The heat was getting turned back up.
“It's the weekend,” she reminded him. “And we are not working a case. I invited you to come with me to Dark Haven, and you turned me down. You have no right to go all mondo loco on me just because Master Blake was flogging me, like I wanted, like I asked him to. He tied me to the spanking bench like I wanted him to, and he was hitting my bare ass with just the right amount of pressure. I would have come for him in only a few more minutes.”
She'd carefully chosen her words to hit a nerve, and it worked.
“You're not willing to beat me, so it's none of your freaking damn business if I find someone who will. Keep out of my personal life. Sir.”
The little minx had added the “Sir” more as an insult than a term of respect. The idea of gagging her was becoming more appealing every moment. He leaned in toward her, close enough that he could kiss her. And wasn't that was a tempting idea? A gag, his cock, his tongue—all ways to keep her mouth occupied. “Let's get a few things straight. I'm here now, and I sure as hell intend to beat you.”
She shuddered slightly. She wanted to pretend she wasn't affected by him, by his words, his simmering anger, and the tension that had built between them over the last few weeks, but she was.
“Whatever you need, I'll make sure you get it.” Torin captured her chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger. He forced her to look at him. “Beating, flogging, spanking, punishment, humiliation, bondage…” He trailed off. “You will not go to Blake or anyone else, and you will not flash your cunt at anyone who wants to see it.” His reaction startled him. He'd never minded playing with other subs in front of an audience. One woman had been a total voyeur; she hadn't cared if he'd posted pictures of her all over the Internet. But this woman… His. “Understand?”
“Fuck you,” she said.
He snapped his back teeth together.
“As you said, we're partners. Nothing more.”
“I didn't add the 'nothing more' part, Mira; you did.”
“You can't stake a claim on me without my permission.”
“Which you gave me when you invited me here with you.”
“You refused.”
He sighed, fighting for control over his temper. “Yo
u crawled into my bedroom. You publicly chose me over Blake. I'd say you've given permission twice, and now you're just being a brat. Brats get spanked, Mira, and I can make that happen right here, right now.”
“You wouldn't. You can't spank me through this dress, and you've already said you won't have me showing my cunt to others—”
“Enough,” he told her, ruthlessly cutting in. “You got what you wanted. Now show a little respect. Fight me all you want, but you can't win.”
They were at an impasse, locked in a battle of wills.
“Ask yourself what you really want,” he said. “Do you really want me to turn you over to Blake? Or to Xavier? Or do you want to see if I can give you what you want, what you need? But if you do, it's going to be on my terms.”
He waited, knowing how important the next few seconds were. She still didn't wear his collar, could change her mind and have him summon Xavier or even a taxicab.
Her internal struggle was visibly waged on her face. She worried her lower lip. The act was a betrayal of the nerves that she usually managed to disguise. The liquid depths of her brown eyes threatened to drown him. Her desire lay there, exposed. A layer of disbelief was shrouded but not hidden.
“Give me what I crave, Torin.”
“Master Torin,” he corrected.
“Give me what I crave, Master Torin.”
“You're submitting to me?” he asked, pressing for answers so they were both clear. “Willingly?”
Chapter Three
She took a breath and exhaled it in shaky measures. “Yes, Sir.”
Satisfied—finally—he secured the collar around her neck. He tightened it to the point he could get just one finger between her throat and the collar.
She looked up momentarily. Her mouth was slightly parted, and her breaths were shortened, whether from fear or anticipation, he didn't know.
“I'm nervous,” she confessed.
“I hope so.”
“You're not helping to reassure me.”
“I'm not trying to reassure you. I'm pissed, Mira. And you will pay for your behavior. Now stand.”
“We've never played together before.”
“If you think I'm playing now, think again. It may be fun and games to you; it's not to me. Stand up this instant, and don't make me repeat myself again.”
Since the gown was a monstrosity of length and fabric, and because her arms were still bound behind her, she struggled to comply. He made no move to help her. The usually graceful Ms. Araceli was out of her element, but to her credit, she didn't protest. When she stood in front of him, head bowed slightly, he said, “Good girl.”
She glanced up long enough to glare. He grinned. His partner, his submissive, was a complex woman who intrigued him immensely. She had natural submissive tendencies, and she was clearly a masochist. But she was still a highly trained operative accustomed to being large and in charge. Apparently the three facets sometimes collided. The mix intrigued him.
“I—”
“You look lovely.” He didn't think his cock had ever been harder.
He wrapped the leather cord around his wrist several times, then gave it a light tug. She was pulled off balance, and her eyes opened wide.
He liked having her at his mercy, on his leash, the black collar tight and stark against her delicate throat. She'd goaded and pushed until she got what she wanted. But if she wanted to be in control—top from the bottom—she'd chosen the wrong man.
At a fast pace, probably uncomfortable for her in those fantastic-looking, do-me-now shoes, he led her downstairs toward the Medieval Room.
Once inside, he closed the massive door, sealing out everyone but them. There was a window for voyeurs, and he figured Xavier would check on them at least once. As much as he hated the idea of anyone seeing her, watching her receiving his punishment, he also had to respect the club's policies and Xavier's pronouncement. And truthfully, she didn't mind, so why in God's name did he? If she wanted to show her cunt to the world, it was technically none of his business.
So why couldn't he convince himself of that fact?
She'd fired a protective streak in him, one he'd never had for another woman. It was more than just their being partners—something much, much more. The idea of her willingly exposing herself, asking another man to flog her, infuriated him.
“Let's keep the rules straight,” Torin told her. “In here, you're the sub, I'm the dom. There will be no topping from the bottom. Your disobedience, your questioning, your testing were left outside. We're both clear that when we're training or on duty we're partners, and I will respect you as such. For the rest of this evening, you have my permission to respond with a 'yes, Sir' or 'no, Sir.' Or if you prefer, you may say 'yes, Master' or 'no, Master.' You will answer direct questions, and you will not speak without permission. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir. You made your point.”
Good start. He gave the leash a little more slack and said, “Turn around.”
This time she didn't hesitate at all.
“Keep your gaze on the wall.” The walls of the Medieval Room were made from stone. Shackles were bolted into them. He wanted her to focus on the shackles, imagining what he had in store for her.
He removed the bindings from around her wrists, and then he went to work unfastening the dozens of tiny hooks and eyes that held her dress closed. He gave silent thanks that women didn't dress like this anymore. As it was, it took all his restraint not to whip out his pocketknife and go barbarian on her, slicing her out of the yards and yards of material.
“I—”
“You crawled into my bedroom,” he said against her ear.
She trembled slightly, responding to him. The knowledge he affected her was heady stuff. “That was different.”
“Because you were in control.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. He saw a flash of fire in the dark depths of her eyes, and he didn't see a sub. Instead he recognized the woman who showed up for their training exercises, the woman who ran five miles a day, adding punishing sprints to increase her endurance, and who pounded out fifty noncheating push-ups, five more than he did. She could outshoot him, outthink him, and she had never rubbed it in.
She wiggled, trying to turn. “Stay still,” he ordered. “I want you looking at those shackles.”
He heard her sharp inhalation. Her training as an operative helped her be a better sub, he realized. She had self-discipline that she could call on from the bottom of her soul. Tonight, and others, would be a treat.
He drew the dress off her shoulders and let it fall to her waist. “Good girl,” he said when he saw she wasn't wearing a bra. His cock was hard, demanding. He reached around to cup her breasts.
“Torin—”
“Master Torin. Here, I'm your master, and you're my sub. I want you naked, and I'll have you naked. Any questions?” He flicked his thumbs over her nipples. They hardened instantly, and her knees weakened a little. “Stand up straight.”
The bass from the music outside the room reverberated through them.
She supported her weight, and he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. “You brought me a belt two nights ago,” he reminded her. “In your mouth. That was bold.”
She didn't say anything.
He squeezed her nipples.
She moaned ever so softly.
He increased the pressure on her nipples until he knew it was painful.
Her knees buckled again, but she caught herself and stood up tall before he had to remind her. “Quick study.” Not that he'd expected anything less. “I assume that means you like pain.”
She didn't answer.
“Mira?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I didn't hear you.”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, Sir. I like pain.”
He tightened his grip on her nipples.
She moaned, but she didn't protest.
“Tell me.”
“I like it,” she said. “It
hurts. S-s-sir!”
He finally relented, releasing her. His cock throbbed behind his jeans. He wanted to be naked, buried inside her.
He unfastened the final hook and eye that secured the dress at the small of her back. The fabric pooled on the Medieval Room's floor. He noticed her ass was slightly red from the force of Blake's blows, and it took all his self-control not to go after the man and finish what he'd started. He reminded himself that Mira had asked for it, but it didn't take the edge off his anger; it only fueled it. “Step out of the dress.”
She did.
Little vixen. While he'd been outside chopping wood for the fireplace, she'd been getting ready. She'd spared no detail.
Even though she couldn't have known it, her choice in lingerie was perfect. Her black lace garter belt and silky, sexy stockings were the stuff of his fantasies. Her high-heeled, fuck-me shoes could not have been fashionable in the Victorian era, but they sure as hell turned him on now.
If he weren't careful, she'd bring him to his knees.
He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on top of a bench. He then moved around to the front of her. “Remove my belt.”
Her eyes opened a bit wider, but she reached for the buckle. “Master's cock is hard.”
And getting harder.
She took her time drawing the leather back through its loops. Torture. Pure torture.
She offered the belt to him with one hand, and with the other, she grabbed his cock, squeezing hard.
He curled a hand over hers. “Later.”
“But—”
“No topping from the bottom,” he reminded her.
She obediently dropped her gaze. He could have come instantly.
After taking his belt from her, Torin detached the leash from the collar. “Now that the dress isn't in your way, you can crawl to the wall.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Crawl?”
“Do I need to repeat my order?”
She shook her head. “My stockings—”
“Can be replaced. Crawl. Now.”
She sank gracefully to her knees before moving onto hands and knees, doggy-style. He fully intended to take her that way. Soon.
She moved across the uneven stone floor with a flawless class that made his dick physically ache. Her pert rear swayed slightly. He admired the length of her leg muscles, and he wondered how her thighs would feel wrapped around his waist.
Doms of Dark Haven Page 2
