by Katee Robert
I drop the chain and rise to my feet. “Yes. I am.” I clasp her chin again and use my thumb to tug her lip from between her teeth. “And if you hadn’t been such a little brat in the car, you’d be coming all over my mouth right now. Again.” Stroke. “And again.” Stroke.
“Just obey,” I say softly. “Surely it’s not too much to ask of you. You deny us both when you throw tantrums.”
A single tear escapes. “I hate you.”
“Maybe.” I release her and shrug. “But you don’t hate what I do to you.” I reach up and undo the cuffs around her wrist one at a time, pausing to rub the circulation back into her hands. The cuffs themselves weren’t overly tight, but I towed the line of how long she should have them above her head. “Do you have circulation problems?” Something I should have asked before starting this.
“No,” she whispers, staring at where I gently massage her hand. “I’m okay.”
“In that case, you’re more than capable of cleaning up after yourself.” I drop her hand and head for the door. I pause just before leaving the room. “Clean the toys and put them away, then come to the door at the end of the hallway. Don’t tarry.”
I’m smiling as I walk out the door.
Yes, things are coming along perfectly.
6
Aurora
My legs barely hold me up as I watch the door close behind Malone. At this point, any other Dominant would have wrapped me up for some cuddles to bring me down. I don’t know why I expected the same of her. Maybe that’s how she treats other submissives. Of course it wouldn’t apply to me.
I don’t want it to apply to me. Letting her beat me, fucking her, all of that can be waved away in the name of getting close to her. I don’t want to get close to her. It feels good to be held as my adrenaline drops off after a scene, to feel like I’m being treasured by my Dominant.
But Malone isn’t mine. She never will be.
I have been in her care for a few short hours. Surely I’m not in danger of forgetting that already? No. Of course not. I’m simply playing the game.
I gather up the chain and flogger and pad to the wardrobe. The whole room is immaculate, and the wardrobe itself is perfectly organized, right down to the rainbow of strap-ons that Malone is known for. Each is a different size and shape, and I stare at them for a long time, my buzzing brain wondering which one she’ll use on me.
If she’ll use one on me.
She’s edging me so hard right now, I feel a little dizzy from the denied orgasm. I was so close. Remembering the feeling of looking down my body and seeing her mouth on my pussy… I shiver. For a moment there, I was sure she’d throw caution to the wind and push me over the edge.
I find some cleaning solution in the top drawer and methodically clean the clamps. Most of the Dominants I play with don’t bother to order this kind of thing, but when I finally wore Hades down into agreeing to let me work as a submissive, cleaning up after scenes was one of my responsibilities while I trained. It’s tedious work, but soothing in its own way. Putting everything to order and all that.
I hang the flogger on the empty hook and carefully replace the chain in the drawer she pulled it out of. I haven’t stopped shaking. My body is finally realizing that there is no orgasm waiting in the wings and the endorphin crash is about to knock me on my ass.
It’s tempting to disobey her order to come to that room. She’s already said I’m not orgasming tonight, so whatever she has planned is more torment. I probably shouldn’t get a thrill from that, but I am who I am.
Even my enemy can make me wet.
I take a deep breath and leave the playroom. The wood floors are cool beneath my bare feet, and it reminds me of her carrying me so I wouldn’t walk in the parking garages. Every other thing she’s done has been almost cruel, but that? It was almost kind. Protective.
It’s just Dominant instincts. That’s the only explanation that makes sense. No Dominant worth their salt would let their submissive potentially walk on something that might hurt them. Dealing out that hurt is the Dominant’s role, and they do nothing without reason. Letting it happen by accident is an insult.
Malone might be a monster in a number of ways, but from the whispers of the other submissives in the Underworld, she’s an excellent Domme. Even my one experience with her, while several years out of date, supports that fact.
I still didn’t anticipate her scooping me up and holding me close for that handful of moments.
I reach the door at the end of the hallway and open it. I’m not sure what I expected, but this must be Malone’s bedroom. The bed is large and covered with a deep-burgundy comforter and more pillows than one person has any right to own. A thick rug spreads almost the breadth of the room, and the pair of doorways on the opposite wall must lead to a closet and bathroom.
Malone has changed. She’s wearing loose, gray silk pajamas that somehow manage to look elegant instead of sloppy. She crosses her arms over her chest and surveys me. “Come along.”
Again, the urge to dig in my heels arises, and again I stomp it down. I have two weeks to pull this off. Rushing now, when I’m shaky and tired, is a mistake.
I follow her into the bathroom and stop short when I realize the large, claw-foot bathtub is filled with steaming water. “So a little drowning to finish the night off?”
Malone arches a perfectly shaped brow. “That is the last time I’ll allow you to speak out of turn, Aurora. Don’t test me.”
Somehow, I’d forgotten that little rule. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but being around her is like being a submissive again for the first time. I feel awkward and bumbling, and it makes me want to strike out. To scream and throw things and maybe set something on fire.
Or maybe it’s just Malone herself. Yes, that makes sense. I only feel like this because I hate her, and I can’t remember ever submitting to someone I didn’t enjoy in at least one way.
The knowledge propels me closer. Malone takes my hand as I step into the tub, guiding me down. She grabs a stool and brings it around to sit behind me. Before I have a chance to figure out how to deal with my hair, she sweeps it off my back and twists it up on top of my head. “All the way.”
I sink into the water. It’s nearly too hot to be comfortable, but I sigh in pleasure all the same as heat works its way into my body. Now that I’ve stopped moving, I finally register how exhausted I am.
The last forty-eight hours have been some of the longest in my life. First in dealing with the decision about my mother, and then agonizing over accepting this assignation. Despite what I told Allecto, I’m still not sure finally pulling the plug was the right thing to do. But it felt like the only thing I could do.
Malone’s fingers drift over my temples. “You change your hair a lot.” When I don’t say anything, she softly chuckles. “This is a conversation, Aurora. You may speak while you’re in the tub.”
I don’t miss the qualifier. She’s far stricter than a lot of people I’ve worked with in the past, and it’s going to take some getting used to…at least until this is over. In the meantime, the bath feels good, and her light stroking feels even better.
How fucked up am I that I’m accepting comfort from the woman I have every intention of killing? I close my eyes and push the question away. Did she ask me something? Oh yeah, my hair “I get bored.”
“I’ve seen you in nearly every color of the rainbow at this point, but you seem to gravitate toward pink the most often.”
“I like it.” It’s such a girly color, and it draws the eye of people when I walk through a room. I like the attention. I like that it sets me apart a little in a room full of beautiful people. There’s also the added bonus that I can tell a lot from a person by how they react to pink hair, in particular. It’s like it short-circuits something in people’s brains, especially men. If they curl their lip when they see my pink hair, I know immediately that I won’t agree to scene with them. It’s a nice way to filter out assholes.
“The indigo is nic
e.” She moves down the back of my neck, finding a knot there and working it with her fingers. It feels good-bad, a hurt that is almost like a release. I have a private theory that all good massage therapists are sadists, and this feeling only reinforces that belief. “You carry a lot of tension in your neck.”
Maybe it’s the warm bath or her competent hands, but I forget myself for a moment. Forget who I’m talking to. “Why the massage and bath? A quick cuddle with a blanket would have gotten the post-scene job done.” That’s the standard procedure in the Underworld. Obviously, I know that every Dominant-submissive combo has their own preferences, but this is outside my realm of expectations and for some reason, it’s throwing me for a loop.
“Because I want to.” An answer that isn’t an answer at all.
She keeps up that idle massage until I feel almost drunk. I have the distant thought that maybe falling asleep in the tub wouldn’t be such a bad thing, but before I can follow through on that ridiculous thought, Malone’s touch is gone.
I open my eyes in time to see her reach into the water and open the drain. She grabs a ridiculously fluffy towel and gives me a long look. “Can you stand without falling over?”
“Of course.” I’m not sure if I’m lying or not, but I’m not about to admit it. I climb carefully to my feet and step out of the tub. She instantly engulfs me in the towel. I start to take it from her, but another severe look has me dropping my hands.
She dries me off just like she seems to do everything. Competently. If I didn’t have so much experience in submission and scening, I’d mistake this for actual intimacy. It’s not. It’s simply aftercare and a Domme ensuring her submissive coasts back to reality carefully. Not that I’m hers. Not really. But for the next two weeks, I might as well be.
Exhaustion weighs down my thoughts, making them sticky and confusing. This is why I didn’t want aftercare from this woman. It muddies the waters, even for me, an experienced submissive. Tomorrow, they’ll be clear again, and I’ll reinforce my plans.
Tonight, I just feel like crying.
She doesn’t comment on the shining in my eyes, which is the smallest of favors. Once I’m dried to her satisfaction, she folds the towel and hangs it back in its place. I’ve reached the satisfied numbness of a post-scene drop, so I simply stand there and wait for her to tell me what she wants. What little energy I had to fight this disappeared with the water from my body.
When she pulls out a bottle of the exact same brand of lotion I use, I raise my brows. Someone did their homework, though I can’t begin to guess how. I’m particular about lotion, and I’m extra particular about scent. This is the only one I’ve found that doesn’t make me sticky but also has a subtle enough scent that it doesn’t irritate me.
Even through my daze, I start a little when she begins rubbing lotion into my skin. She moves slowly, as if learning my body. It feels too intimate, too… I don’t even know. “You don’t have to do that.”
“You should know by now that I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.” She doesn’t look up as she massages lotion into my stomach. “Be silent, and be still.”
There’s no point in arguing. I’m too tired and worn down to bother. It’s easier to simply submit as she slowly works her way over my body, taking extra time and care to ensure she doesn’t miss an inch. Aftercare. That’s all it is. Simply thorough aftercare.
But despite the strange floating feeling in my head, I don’t miss the way pink tinges her cheeks. She wants me. She might not want to want me any more than I want to want her, but she does.
Before I can think better of it, I catch her wrist. “Malone. Mistress.”
Her brows wing up. “I’m listening.”
Why am I doing this? Just another manipulation. That’s all. I refuse to think too closely about how flimsy that excuse is. “Surely you aren’t going to go without orgasm tonight just because I am.” I lick my lips. “Let me help.”
She laughs, a low, wicked chuckle that sends heat zinging through my body. “Access to my pussy is a privilege you haven’t earned, Aurora. You don’t get to mouth off and then get your way.” She considers me for a long moment. “But since you’ve managed to behave for the last few hours, I suppose you may watch.” She turns and snaps her fingers. “Come along.”
I pad after her into her room. She moves to the bed and points to a spot near the bottom corner. “Kneel here.”
I refuse to think too closely at my eagerness to obey. I simply climb up onto the bed and kneel where she indicated. She disappears for a moment into her closet and comes back with a piece of clothing. “Put this on.” When I frown, she sighs. “I prefer my home cold. It helps me think. While you will be naked when I want you to be naked, you won’t sleep well if you’re freezing.”
I blink. “Thank you?”
“It’s not too late to change my mind about allowing you to watch.” She tosses the nightgown at me. I quickly pull it over my head. It’s similar to what she’s wearing, but instead of being a shirt, the button-down will reach my calves when I stand.
“Thank you.” I manage to inject some sincerity into my tone this time. The truth is that it is cold in this place.
And the horrible truth is that I do want to watch.
Malone slides out of her pants and climbs onto the bed, moving to position herself in the center. She crooks a finger. “Closer.” I follow her direction until I’m kneeling between her spread legs. She unbuttons the bottom few buttons of her shirt and parts the fabric, baring herself from the waist down.
Her pussy is pretty and pink and so wet, I can see her glistening from my position. My mouth waters, and I can’t help a flicker of regret that I don’t get to touch her tonight. Taste her. She reaches between her thighs and strokes her clit. I watch, enraptured, as Malone winds herself up. Her lean thighs tense, and her heels dig into the mattress on either side of me. I want to unbutton the shirt the rest of the way, to her see body framed by the slick, gray silk. To follow the lines of her collarbones and breasts and the curve of her hip with my mouth, to replace her fingers with my tongue until she comes all over my face.
Need pulses through me in a heady rush. I spend so much of my time cold and empty. I hide it with smiles and sunshine, but the truth is that a part of me died when my mother went into a coma. The rest of me died yesterday with her.
Few things chase away the dull ache in my chest. Alcohol and sex. I’m too wary of the temptation alcohol offers, so I don’t drink much. But sex? Getting sweaty and slick with another person or three? It’s an addiction I welcome with open arms.
I just want to forget all the hurt and grief, to set it aside for a few hours. I’ll pick it back up in the morning. I always do. Is it too much to ask to dive deep into lust when the feelings become too much to bear?
I shouldn’t want to do it with this woman. Anyone but her. Except I can’t deny the pull Malone exerts, like her own particular brand of gravity. She touches me and I’m in danger of forgetting everything. A danger, yes, but a gift that I desperately crave. I reach out but stop short before I make contact. “Malone. Please.”
Her fingers slow, and for a moment, I think she might be swayed. But those green eyes stay cold even as her lips curve. She lifts her hand. “That’s about enough of that.”
“Wait. What?”
She sits up. “I told you before, Aurora. You might be able to simper and smile your way through disobedience and bad behavior with other Dominants, but that’s not how I operate.” She buttons her shirt with quick, efficient movements, removing herself from my line of sight. “Off the bed.”
One look at her face has the wicked thing inside me flaring to life. I want to push her, but that little lick of fear over what she might do has me climbing off the bed like an obedient little submissive. I’m not cowed, not exactly. But there is push and pull in any good scene. I know where Malone’s line is now. Throwing myself against it will just mean she continues to punish me, and she’s already proven that her punishments actually ar
e unenjoyable.
I want the pleasure. More than that, I want her to think I’m cowed and obedient so she lets down her guard.
I’ll only have one shot at this.
I have to make it count.
7
Malone
She almost got me.
There was a moment there, where Aurora watched me with hungry eyes, that I almost threw my rules out the window and commanded her to finish what I started. Almost. But almost doesn’t mean a single damn thing unless I want it to. I maintained my plan, which is all that matters.
I set her up in the mostly unused guest room. “If you disobey the order not to come during the night—”
“I’ll be punished.” She climbs onto the bed in a flash of long, lean legs and stretches out. “Yes, Mistress. I’ll be a good little submissive and keep my hands off my pussy.”
I shouldn’t enjoy her mouthiness, her obvious anger. A person doesn’t get to be where I am if they embrace chaos in any form, and so I adhere to order in every aspect of my life. Work. Territory squabbles. Kink. All of it. I prefer to play with submissives who are obedient, though I made an exception for Tink back when she still worked in the Underworld. But Tink was all bark and no bite. When push came to shove, she hit her knees and happily did everything I asked of her.
Aurora is not like that at all.
“You have them all fooled.” I don’t mean to speak, but seeing her pull on her sunshine mask irritates me for some reason. “They see the sweet, biddable Aurora because that’s what you want them to see. They have no idea that you’re a vat of gasoline just waiting for the right match strike to set you aflame. One wrong move and you burn down all of Carver City.”
Aurora pulls the covers up to her chest and smooths down the fabric. She finally says, “There wasn’t a question in there.”
“Because it’s not a question.” I shouldn’t indulge this conversation. I shouldn’t have even started it. But I can’t quite seem to relay the message to my body to leave the room. “How long have you been a submissive for the Underworld?” I know the answer, but I want to hear her say it.
