by Livia Grant
"Okay!" She squeezed her eyes shut and calmed her breathing. No way she could do that. Having an audience for a punishment was one thing, having to handpick that audience would be too much.
"Good." His palms ran over her thighs, soothing away the burn. "Now. Teasing. That's your favorite thing, so we'll start there." He plucked a black marker from his back pocket and uncapped it. "Don't worry pretty girl, it's washable. I wouldn't want to mark this beautiful skin for too long."
The chilled tip of the marker pressed into her skin. Dragging the marker one way then the other across her chest, she had a good idea of what he was doing. But he didn't leave her in the dark either.
Once done, he stepped back and looked at his handy work. "Perfect." He didn't recap the marker though. "Do you want to know what I wrote?"
"No, sir." She swallowed. Hearing him say it, confirming it, wouldn't make it easier.
"Sure you do, but you're afraid. No worries, I'm going to tell you anyway." He pressed a fingertip to the marking and checked his finger. "All dry." A grin pulled at his lips. “T-E-A-S-E.” He traced each letter with his fingertip as he spelled out the word. Her chest constricted, her breath caught, but she managed not to physically flinch.
Riley noticed a few girls walking past them pointing at her. They smiled, and the tall blonde in the middle giggled. Heat crawled up her neck and over her face. Calling her a tease was one thing, but now he'd labeled her – tagged her for everyone in the dungeon to see.
Fuck, she was hot. The new blush covering her neck and face only ramped up his libido, as if it needed any help at all after seeing her name pop up on that roulette wheel.
He was going to push, and she would resist. He counted on that, but in the end if everything he'd ever felt about her was correct, she’d find herself and accept who she was, is, and always will be. They would both benefit from that.
"Now, I want you to open your pussy for me." He took a few steps back to assure her he wasn't going to be helping her, she would be doing this all on her own.
"What does that mean?" Her eyes didn't quite connect with his, but he'd get to that soon enough.
"I mean, pull back your lips, and show me your clit. Show me what I've won for the night." His thumb uncapped and recapped the marker while she stared at him, as though if she remained still long enough he might change his mind. "Now, girl. Or do you want to add Naughty?" He wagged the marker in the air.
She shook her head, her dark wavy locks falling in front of her face. That wouldn't do. He stepped forward, and flicked the hair back behind her shoulders. He wanted to see everything, every grimace, every blush, every hesitation.
"My patience is wearing really thin." He warned her and nodded toward her pussy. The small line of hair, just a thin strip of runway leading to the plump lips of her sex, begged to be touched and pulled, but not yet. Sometimes controlling his own actions was harder than controlling his sub, and at the moment, with the glistening of her juices showing, it was proving to take much more discipline than he might possess.
After a heavy sigh, she finally moved her hands. Her shoulders were probably sore from holding her position for as long as she had, but he tried not to look empathetic to her plight.
His tongue ran over his lips while her fingers moved to do his bidding. The discomfort in her features didn't dissuade him. Pushing her out of her comfort zone, and making her see the true depth of her submission, wouldn’t be helped by any coddling on his part.
The perfectly self-manicured fingers of hers pulled back the hood, exposing her swollen and ready clit. When she tried to look away, he called her attention to him. "Eyes on me," he instructed but he hadn’t looked up at her. No, the greedy little clit held him captive.
He pressed his body to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. With the tip of one finger he pressed down on her clit, closing his eyes to enjoy her sharp breath. Fuck, that’s what heaven must sound like. Sliding his finger lower, he gathered the juices there, and toyed with her nub again. Running the pad of his finger in circles and pressing harder as he went around, her hips started to press outward, her chest began to heave, and her eyes were closed. He should technically reprimand her, but he knew his girl, and if her eyes were shut, she was fucking close.
He rubbed faster, sinking his middle finger into her heated entrance while still managing to stroke her clit. She groaned, but held fast to the lips of her pussy.
"Doing good." He pressed a kiss to her breast. "Keep those fucking lips open, you hold that clit out for me." Moving in front of her, he crouched lower, bringing her sex even with his mouth. He inhaled her scent, promising his cock everything in the world if only he could hold on a little longer.
Taking his finger off her clit, but still thrusting inside of her, he flicked his tongue over her.
"Oh God!" she yelled out, her fingers tightening on herself. He hadn't told her she wasn't allowed to come without permission, but that wasn't really relevant at the moment.
Her thighs trembled, her clit tightened beneath his tongue, and her pussy gripped his fingers, pulling him in further. She began her familiar chant, nothing coherent, and just as he felt her about to erupt, he stopped everything.
Dark eyes flew open and found him. "No!" she yelled down at him. "No!" She stomped her foot on the chair. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. The pouting lips, the narrowed eyes, she looked every bit the child who didn't get her way.
"What? Did you want to come? Did I make it seem like you were going to get what you wanted, only to pull it away at the last second?"
Understanding dawned in her eyes. "I never did that to anyone," she muttered, a soft hue of red starting to cover her cheeks again.
"Sure you did. Maybe not as blatant, but you did." His fingers went back to rubbing her, teasing her, and he nipped at her nipple. "You don't get to come, Riley. Not until I say, and don't bother asking, I'll say no. You'll only come when I give permission."
"That sucks," she said with bold irritation as she lifted her chin in a small measure of defiance.
He laughed. "Maybe for you, but I'm going to enjoy myself immensely."
"Bastard," she whispered and looked away, probably thinking he wouldn't hear. But he did.
"Such a naughty girl." He shook his head, pulling out the marker again. "Stand still." He ordered and dragged the tip of the marker over her skin, right below her breasts. "N-A-U-G-H-T- Y." He announced each letter as he wrote.
"I am not." The indignation rang clear in her statement.
He gave her a heated look. "Should I add liar?"
She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and shook her head.
"Admit it to me then, admit that you've been a naughty girl." He'd never get tired of the blush on her face, or her neck, or how it was starting to creep down over her chest.
The corner of her bottom lip disappeared into her mouth while she mulled it over. She'd had the same expression while studying late into the night for the bar exam. Her hair had been longer then, tied up in a messy bun on top her head, two pencils, always two, lodged into the concoction, and a cup of tea nearby.
"I was a naughty girl." The whispered confession barely made it to his ears.
"What was that?" He stepped back and cupped his ear.
She huffed, but complied just the same. "I was a naughty girl!" she nearly yelled, maybe to spite him, maybe because of the burst of energy from the humiliation she was experiencing. Whatever the reason, all it gained for her was a few more people stopping to look their way.
"I know you were, says so right here." He scratched two nails over the word, delighting in the tautness of her stomach, and the shiver that ran over her muscles. Her surprised yelp amplified his pleasure.
"Tell me more about leaving the DA." His lips pressed against her navel, he could smell the scent of the marker on her skin.
She hesitated, straightening her shoulders, but answered with a quiet voice, "It was too much."
Rolling his middle finger
over her clit, he stood at his full height and dragged his gaze to meet hers. "More." He nuzzled her neck. "Don't let go of your pussy, you keep yourself exposed."
She groaned, a familiar sound. The way she used to sound when he ordered Chinese for the third time in a row and she would rather have had pizza.
"The cases were getting more violent. Oh, God." She rolled her head toward him, pressing against his hand while he ran his tongue over her nipple.
"Keep going, girl." His teeth nipped her skin.
"Aaah." Her hips pushed back, away from his touch, but one quick swat of his free hand, and she was back in position. "I can't think like this!"
He responded to her complaint by thrusting two fingers into her slick passage. Her hot, tight flesh clamped around his fingers.
"This better?" He nibbled her shoulder.
"Fuck no." Another hard swat to her ass. "No, sir," she amended.
"You were saying the cases were getting harder?" he supplied for her when she looked as though she'd forgotten what they'd been talking about.
"Violent, not harder. Murders… ah fuck... oh God… kids killed… Dear God, Dane!" She was pressing her nails so hard into her own flesh, he worried she'd mark herself.
He pulled his hand free of her and stepped away. "Let go of yourself, slut, everyone’s already seen your clit."
The look of death she shot him made him grin and gave him an even harder erection.
Chapter 3
The cases weren't just violent, they were unrelenting. Closing one only meant she was able to start the next one. Putting the SOBs behind bars offered short-lived victories. Loopholes, overcrowding, connections within the D.C. elite saw too much of her hard work washed away as the assholes were released well before their sentences were complete.
She peeled her fingers away from her lower lips, and straightened herself up, feeling a new blush form when she caught a few people staring at them from the spectator tables. They were really getting their money’s worth with her and Dane right in their sights.
Dane moved in front of her, drawing her attention from the voyeurs. "So, now what? You draw up divorce papers? Small claims court?"
She didn't miss the tinge of disappointment laced in his voice. "No, but it's probably not ranked up there with a superhero like you. Training the army elite? Liaison between the military and government? No, I doubt I rank up there with you."
His eyes narrowed, and he pulled the marker back out. What the hell was he going to write now? He surprised her by holding out the marker for her to take from him.
"Take it," he said when she remained stoic on her chair. "Take it and write on your left arm what it is you think you are. I want you to put on your arm one word that describes you."
She reached out a shaky hand and took the marker from him, and she swallowed. She knew what word fit best, but to write it, inscribe it onto her flesh would make it known to everyone else around them.
"Now, Riley. And be honest. I’ll know if you’re making it up." He folded his arms over his chest, but his eyes never left hers. Those dark, demanding eyes that had the capability of seeing things inside of her no one else could.
He unfolded his arms and plucked the cap off the marker. "There. Now write." He yanked her left arm outward, holding it straight out, giving her a clean canvas.
She could lie. She could put any word she wanted, but that would defeat the purpose of the party for her. Outside her box, she reminded herself. She wanted to start easing out of the comfort zone that was no longer comfortable but suffocating. Dane was with her, after all, and he'd protect her from her own demons. He'd shelter her from the worst storms. Funny how the confidence she’d had in him the whole time she was without him hadn't bothered to manifest while she had been his.
Dragging the felt tip of the marker down her arm she wrote, spelling out the word that best described her career, her relationships, and her pussy-ass attempts at exploring her submission.
"Failure?" His eyes softened, and the crease in his brow intensified.
She handed the marker back to him, refusing to wipe her eyes. If she was going to cry, so be it, but she wasn't going to hide anymore.
"Because you quit the DA?"
"No, because I've quit everything. I quit us, I quit the DA. Every time it gets hard, it gets messy, I quit." She heaved a great sigh of relief. Her lungs expanded, then collapsed as a heavy weight lifted from her chest.
"That doesn't make you a failure. That makes you a work in progress." He snapped the cover back on the marker and went back to his bag. When he returned with two clothespins in his hand, she leapt off the chair. Not a hard limit, but it should have been. Damn her for being so intent on having new experiences when she filled out the forms for the party.
Dane's first expression was of shock. She'd blatantly jumped off the chair, not even thinking about it being exactly the thing he’d said she couldn't do. The surprise morphed into borderline amusement, quickly wiped away by annoyance.
"Didn't you just say you quit too easily?" He pointed back at the chair.
"Those things." She pointed to the clothespins in his hand. "They scare me." Honesty would have to do for the moment, as she had no other worthy defense.
"And did it occur to you to use your words?"
"My words?" Oh, those. Dammit.
"Well." He sighed and tucked the clamps in his pocket, turning back toward the bag. When he was once again facing her, a thick leather strap was in his hand. "Let's go." He grabbed hold of her upper arm and dragged her toward the spectator tables. "Remember what I said. You'll beg these people to come watch your whipping. And we won’t get started until five people have agreed. So, you better hope the first five aren't already busy watching something else."
"Dane. No. I can't."
He stopped and glared down at her. The heat in his glare should have warned her how serious he was. He hated to be defied, she remembered that clearly. It was one of the things she had liked about him. It was also one of the things that had scared her.
"You can. But more importantly, you will."
She yanked and pulled, and did everything aside from trying to bite him to keep him away from those spectator tables, but he wouldn't let up his grip.
Three people sat at the first table he dragged her to stand in front of, two young men and an older woman. From what Riley could make out, the two young men were wearing similar leather collars and were hardly dressed, while the woman wore a full-figured dress.
"Dane." The woman spoke first, her voice advertising her amusement.
"Silvia." Dane's tone held no levity whatsoever. He really was pissed. "This girl has something to ask of you, but feel free to decline." He yanked Riley to stand in front of him, pulling both arms behind her, and pushing her chest out.
Riley fidgeted, lowering her chin, and wishing her hair was long enough to cover more than just her face, but her chest as well. She could feel the eyes of the men on her, the icy glare of the woman, their Mistress, bore into her. When she remained silent, Dane shook her, hard. He'd never been so rough with her in the past. Not even when she'd frustrated him and broke every one of his rules, not when she had continued to pretend she wasn't made for being a full time submissive, and not when she'd said her goodbyes.
"Now, Riley. Unless you want me to make it ten people?"
She lifted her head, finding the woman staring up at her from her seat at the table, her hard glare replaced by a skeptical grin while her hands petted the heads of the men flanking her.
"Would you please come witness my punishment?" she asked through gritted teeth.
Silvia stood up from the table and leaned over, squinting to see the words written on Riley's body. "Tease? Naughty?" Her deep red painted lips curled over her teeth. "You enjoy teasing your dominant?"
Riley wasn’t sure how to answer, so she remained silent.
"She's working on it, but it was an issue," Dane answered for her. Thank goodness for small favors.
"Ah. And w
hat sort of punishment are you going to be getting that you want me to witness?" She kept her eyes on Riley, who continued to stare just over her shoulder. "And I'd prefer if you looked at me while you talked with me." A suggestion it was not.
Riley moved her gaze, looking into the light blue eyes of the Mistress and wishing she could find somewhere to hide. "He's going to whip me," she spat the words out, not a good decision she figured, after the Mistress raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows.
"And you don't think you deserve this punishment?"
"I think he's overreacting." Honesty sometimes should be toned down a bit, but Riley hadn't really learned that yet.
"Oh?" Silvia moved her gaze to Dane.
"Tell her all of it, Riley. Go on." Dane shook her again, and she wanted nothing more in that moment than to kick him in the shin.
"He told me if I got off the chair, he'd whip me." She shrugged as best she could with her arms pinned behind her. "I got off the chair. But it was because—"
Silvia's hand in the air stopped her excuse from falling from her lips. "Your reason isn't valid, whatever it is." She spoke to Dane. "You'll be whipping her at the post?"
"A belting, yes."
"How many lashes for the chair, and how many more for her pitiful display here?"
Riley wanted to shrink inside of herself. They spoke like two parents deciding the best punishment for their disobedient child.
"Ten for the chair, five more for now. She needs five people, so if she continues like this, she may be up to twenty strokes before we get to the pole."
Oh, God, she had to find two more people. She'd have to do this all over again.
Silvia nodded. Her blood red lips twitched, but didn’t fully form into a grin. "I'd like her to beg appropriately, if you will allow it."
What the hell did that mean?
"Of course." Dane maneuvered Riley around the table until she was standing before Silvia. The men scooted out of their chairs and stood behind their Mistress.
