by Livia Grant
He was unfailingly polite to the girls he fucked... nothing more.
Spencer Cook would have never made her feel safe like this.
He’d seen her come, held her down in a scene, and walked away.
Across the room the man who knew just how to get under her skin had already returned his red tie to his neck, rolled down his shirtsleeves, and currently sported his suit jacket as if nothing unusual had taken place. He did not even spare Klara a glance. Instead he was all business, observing a different couple’s scene, and doing it without involving himself.
So why, twenty minutes prior had he looked Klara dead in the eye and watched her writhe in unmitigated lust? Why had he held down her arms and participated in a scene to an effect that felt inevitable, and intimate, and wrong—wrong in a way that had made her come with such violence that she could still feel echoes of twitching pleasure down below?
She should not have liked it. She should not be staring at him now...
Knowing she was ridiculous, Klara tried to engage with the dom who deserved her attention and ignore the one who’d made her life hell. She turned her head up and smiled at Will. “Handsome, shirtless men hand-feeding me... there might be something to this submission thing after all, Sir. But, I feel like I might be taking advantage. Shouldn’t I be the one waiting on you?”
“Not right now, no.” In mirror of her self-indulgent playfulness, Will smirked. Another bite was prepared. He told her to open her mouth, watched her chew, and rumbled approval. “Your shivering will stop once your blood sugar levels out.”
“I am already feeling much better, Sir. Thank you.” She had to keep her eyes off Spencer; Will deserved that regard and more. She shifted a hip, settled against Will’s opposite thigh, putting her back towards the Dungeon Master. “But I don’t see the other subs—”
Brow cocking dangerously, Will dropped the smile and cut in. “Princess, it would be good for you to trust me and submit to what I say is best.”
There was no doubt he’d behaved better than she had. Klara put an arm around his middle, closing her eyes as she settled into his weight. “Sir, I’ve benefited from your patience and experience. You know best. If I’ve been difficult, I apologize.”
A hand rested atop her head, Will’s fingertips rubbing against her scalp. “And you are trying so hard to behave: remembering to say sir, behaving demurely... I wonder what brought about this sudden change?”
Guilt had. Klara felt as if she’d wronged the dom with her behavior. “The last scene. I don’t think Mr. Cook should have been a part of it.”
“A monitor needed unrestricted access to observe your face. It was to assure your safety.” Will trailed his fingers to her neck, running a feather-light touch over soft skin.
Klara sighed, unsure what to say or how much to tell. “But it shouldn’t have been him.”
“He objects to your being here?”
A stifled laugh caught in her throat. “That’s one way to phrase it.”
“Phrase it another way. Explain yourself, Princess.”
And there it was, that milieu of discontent Klara had been anticipating from the dom all night.
She opened her eyes, her cheek to his thigh, and confessed. “He told me whoever spun my name would be disappointed. I figured, if you didn’t know my background, sir, that you would enjoy yourself more. From my end, I was happy I didn’t recognize you.”
He took her chin a bit too hard, making Klara raise her head so she might see his unnerving expression. “The Dungeon Master doesn’t speak for me, Princess, and neither do you. I will form my own opinions.”
She lowered her lashes, guilty. “Have you been disappointed, Sir?”
“No.”
Maybe clarity was the best course. “What do you want to know?”
“Whatever it is you didn’t want to mention.”
Still crouched between his thighs, chin caught in her dom’s hand, Klara said, “I worked here. I was fired, a week ago today.”
“By Spencer?”
She frowned. “Yes.”
“What did you do?”
Rancor bubbled up, days of resentment unmitigated by all the feel-good chemicals floating around her bloodstream. “I did my job, that’s what I did. I did my job every night Black Light was open while working for a man who...”
A husky growl grew in Wills timbre. It was not the purr of encouragement, but one of caution. “Who what?”
“It doesn’t matter, Sir.” She was making a fool of herself. Daring to meet Will’s eyes again, she confessed. “You were right. My reasons for participating were thoroughly selfish. I signed up to make a point.”
“Your choice of safeword was interesting.” He nodded, still holding her jaw, and tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear. “I believe your point was made. But you didn’t answer my questions, Princess. You said, ‘while working for a man who’. Who what?”
She didn’t want to talk about it. These feelings were private, just like her sex life and her family situation. But on this one subject, after what they had shared, Klara acquiesced. “Who treated me as if I were disposable. Who criticized my efforts even though they consistently improved his business. Who asked me to be invisible while on the job so he would not have to look at or speak to me. Spencer Cook is an asshole.”
His focus had been on her face, as she watched Will listen closely. But once she was done he’d glanced over Klara’s head, addressing another. “Now you know how she feels.”
An intruder had approached the couch where they lounged and had heard her tirade. Klara didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Humiliated, she locked accusing eyes on Will and felt her jaw tick.
The dom had led her right into speaking her mind in front of the man she despised.
Spencer didn’t balk, he spoke formally, politely. “Miss Eriksson, it’s been thirty minutes. Are you feeling better?”
Was she supposed to turn around and look at him? She couldn’t bring herself to do it, not when she was red-cheeked and mortified.
Klara yanked her chin from Will’s grip, tipping back her vodka and swallowing the whole thing in one go. Forcing out a thick breath, she swung her head around. “I would have said it all to your face. You should not have hired me, allowed me to put my career in jeopardy by quitting a great job to work here if you never wanted me as part of your staff. What you did, the way you treated me, was wrong. You’re an asshole, Spencer, but I don’t have to like you to work for you. As far as I am concerned, our differences were never an issue.”
Spencer didn’t so much as blink an eyelash. He was deadpan. “I asked you about your throat. Answer me.”
Klara swallowed, found her fingers encased the front of her neck. “It’s... a little sore.”
“Are you lightheaded?”
“No.”
“Nauseous?”
“No.”
“Hmmm.” He looked her over, eyes narrowed as if they might catch something unseen under the blanket. “I’m adding ten more minutes to your recovery time before you can spin.”
Insulted, Klara growled. “Did any other subs get extra time?”
Spencer narrowed his baby-blues. “No.”
“I shouldn’t get special treatment. That’s not what I want.”
Quiet, gentle as death, Spencer muttered. “I am not going to rehire you, Klara.”
Klara pushed to her feet, unwilling to kneel before her antagonizer. Face to face with Black Light’s Dungeon Master, a pair of matching tears tripped down her cheeks. “You will.”
Chapter 11
“Why did you do that?” Klara’s eyes flashed, her lips thinned, and she spun to stare down Will Coleman the second Spencer was out of earshot.
The dom took the edges of the blanket and tightened it around her, yanking her into submission like some tantrum throwing child. “You’ve earned a punishment for forgetting to address me as sir.”
She’d stumbled, foot caught on his ankle, and fell across Will’s lap just a
s he’d intended. “What?”
A hard smack landed right on her ass. Klara was shocked that he’d dare ignore her protest, that he’d humiliate her before her former boss, that he’d hit her for no reason. “Stop it! What the hell!”
The other cheek was smacked even harder, the blanket doing little to muffle the sting. And then the blanket was gone, Will easily wrestling it away from her. The man spanked her with gusto until Klara stopped screeching, until she stopped fighting, until she lay limp and seething with rage.
The commotion had drawn eyes to the woman pinned over the knee of an indomitable dom, to her bright red ass and thighs—to her complete embarrassment. This wasn’t a spanking for scene or sexual stimulation, it was a punishment for God only knew what.
Klara pressed her face to the couch, panting from the effort it took not to scream fury. Spencer was looking, she knew he would be, and she could not face him.
“Be my good girl.” Will lay his rich timbre over her ear, pouring warm and sweet to soothe the wound.
My good girl. Is that what she’d done wrong?
He gripped the burning flesh of her ass, the pressure soothing and equal uncomfortable. “Say you’re sorry.”
For what? She ground out two words. “I’m sorry.”
A cracking slap bounced her ass cheek. “I don’t think you meant it, Princess.”
The welts on her ass were throbbing, her heart was racing, but her temper she held in control. “I will be your good girl.”
A finger traced from her tailbone, up Klara’s spine and neck, to tease her ear. Will leaned over her, his words only for them. “But you want to be a bad girl.”
“Aside from snapping at you, sir, I don’t know what I did wrong.” And he’d been the wrong one for betraying her into saying those things within Spencer’s earshot.
That deep voice dropped low. “And, now you are lying to me...”
Sniffing, Klara turned her head enough to peek up at Will through her hair. She whispered, “Why, though? Why encourage me to say those things in front of my boss?”
“Transparency is best. That’s why.”
“You don’t understand. If I can’t get this job back, I can’t pay for my brother’s school. I need it, Sir. And, Spencer didn’t need more reasons to refuse.”
Will softened his hold, rubbing the hair off her flushed cheek face. “You’d be fooling yourself if you think Mr. Cook was unaware of your opinion of him. Hearing you voice your reasons made him personally accountable for his part in it.”
“Sir, that’s manipulative.”
He cocked a handsome brow. “Don’t you want your job back?”
Klara could not tell if Will was genuinely trying to help her, if he was punishing her, or what his endgame might be. All she knew was that she had a growing sense of unease. “May I please get up, Sir?”
Thoughtful, Will settled his frame against the back of the sofa, trilling his fingers on her back. “You have ten more minutes. You will stay exactly where you are.”
Red ass up, legs hanging twisted from Will’s lap. It was not only uncomfortable, it was embarrassing. “Yes, Sir.”
At the sound of the first crack across Klara’s ass, Spencer’s ears pricked, his head had turned. Captivated, he watched the flesh of her globes jiggle under each punishing smack.
She’d fought her dom tooth and nail under the volley of slaps, her skin flush with anger from her ears to her toes. It had been a fine performance on Will’s end, Spencer feeling the sting in his own hand with each satisfying smack pinkening Klara’s ass and thighs.
There was one problem. He should have been the one to yank her over his knee. Instead, Spencer had been trapped again, deferring control of the woman to another man. And there was nothing he could do about it.
He would never get to enjoy feeling her squirm on his lap, not after the way he’d treated her.
It would take a fucking miracle before Klara Eriksson would ever submit to him.
Spencer would just get the scraps—he’d observe her scenes, maybe get lucky again and have the chance to pin her arms above her head. If she tasted like cotton candy, he’d never know. Skin bumped under his tongue, he’d never feel.
And it was his own damn fault.
She wasn’t supposed to be real in this world. The sexy Swede was supposed to stay behind the bar and out of his fantasies. Now he’d be stuck jacking off for months to the image of her held down, choked, and fucked to blistering climax.
So beautiful.
And she was walking, eyes downcast, right towards him.
Will Coleman was the culprit—the blonde’s hair caught up in the dom’s fist, her body controlled as if she were his puppet.
Klara would not meet his eye, and didn’t see the look of annoyance Spencer shot towards Will.
The dom had an agenda. “Do you have something to say, Princess?”
She kept her eyes fixed on Spencer’s tie, cheeks flushed, and expression compliant. “I’m sorry, boss.”
“Klara, I—”
“I’ll have to stop you right there, Mr. Cook. Princess is not allowed to say anything else to you. That should end any potential complications to the remainder of your evening.”
Before Spencer might cut in, Will yanked her away, dragging the naked beauty to the steps of the stage.
Klara let him do it; the spanking had done its job. The fight was out of her.
When Will had her before the roulette wheel he unhanded her hair, smoothed it down as if she were some doll, and put the white sphere in her hands.
Chase spun the wheel so she might earn her next scene, Jaxson’s lover openly frowning when the pill landed and Klara hung her head in her hands. Whatever the token had landed on, Klara was already shaking her head no.
“Watersports!”
Staring down at the white ball slotted neatly in its new home, Klara felt her skin crawl. Gone was the excitement from the earlier victories... any lingering hope was sucked right out of her bones.
Watersports.
There had only been four hard limits a sub might choose out of the myriad potential scenes. Klara had played the odds. It was a fucking one in a million shot that the ball would land on the one thing she had almost put on the list in place of blood play.
Seeing it now, she’d rather have Will hold a knife to her throat.
Rubbing a hand over her face, Klara let out a shaky breath. There was no use in even pretending she was happy with the outcome.
Will had her by the elbow, pushing her reluctant feet towards the steps of the stage, all the while gloating. “It seems the stars have aligned.”
Against her. They had aligned against her.
Dumbstruck, she followed Will’s lead as if marching to the gallows. It was not like her preparation for the whipping when determination and lack of fear had steeled her backbone. The moment shared no similarities to her confident strut to the tables before breath play. Klara was shaken.
Dragging her feet, Will steered them towards the tiled co-ed shower area set aside for more... unsanitary kinks. “I don’t want to do this.”
Unmoved, Will smiled. “We don’t always get what we want in life, do we Princess?”
Shoulders up to her ears, Klara, pulled on his arm. “Please, Sir, I can’t do this scene.”
“You don’t know that.” Will stopped, looked her in the eye, assuring, “Pain, pleasure... both did you good. Humiliation will be no different. This is not going to hurt. You might surprise yourself.”
Throughout the evening Will Coleman had kept her from sinking, but she was starting to doubt he would continue bearing the brunt of her inexperience. In fact, by the shark’s grin he’d given her when the ball had landed where it did, she worried he was looking to exploit it.
Will didn’t want her submission, he wanted something else. Even Spencer had warned her against the dom. What if the warning had been genuine?
The watersports area was cleared for their scene, a crowd gathering to watch the couple’s f
inale. Cold tile under her feet, a drain nearby, Klara was told to kneel. The smell of disinfectant tickling her gag reflex, imaginings of horrible things brought a sour taste to her mouth, and stiffened her legs.
Her body physically rebelled, refused to kneel. But, she was here for Elias; she’d sacrificed everything for that kid. What was this last shred of pride?
“Kneel, Princess.”
Swallowing down the taste of bile, she scanned the crowd as if someone in it might help her.
For the first time in the night, Spencer was not her monitor. Owen stood by, deadpan, waiting for Klara to obey. They had never been friendly. In fact, not a single Dungeon Monitor at Black Light had said more than hello and goodbye to her.
Out of deference to Spencer.
Who was not there as he’d been for whipping, the breath play...
She’d been abandoned.
Will was eager, happy enough to force her down. “Kneel!”
Klara pushed back against him, crumbling under his greater strength. Panicked, she asked, “And then what?”
“Release your bladder.”
That’s it? She just had to pee on the floor. No... there would be more. Cutting a glance to the crowd Klara observed the line of men eager to be a part of what was coming. She knew what happened on these tiles.
Her voice was unsteady. “I don’t want to.”
“You have a safeword, Princess.”
Squatting over the drain it took her an eternity to make her muscles let go. A splash came. There had been no bathroom breaks all night, a thing that had not occurred to her until a warm flood pooled around her toes. It didn’t run down the drain as fast as she’d hoped, the yellow puddle growing until it reached and enveloped the tips of Will’s patent leather shoes.
“You disgusting girl. Look what you did!”
Her flesh went cold. Will was into it. This was his kink and he wanted to play. She knew he was a sadist, knew what that meant: the more she hated it, the more he would get off. She was screwed.
