by Eden Bradley
As if by magic, her fervent prayer answered, a hand slipped between her thighs. Her eyes fluttered open as pleasure flared and heat raced through her body. Her gaze was met by whiskey brown eyes, deep eyes set in a beautifully masculine face framed in jet-black hair.
It was him.
Marcus couldn’t believe he’d walked up to the girl while Delphine was playing her and touched her, a breach in scene etiquette. But he hadn’t been able to help himself, and Delphine had done nothing more than smile at his unspoken request.
One brief stroke of her slick, plump pussy, then he pulled away. Even though his hand rested at his side, he could swear he smelled the sweet scent of her on his skin.
He had to smile at the surprise in her green eyes. Eyes that burned with the fire of lust. She was obviously fairly deep into sub space already. He could see it in her glassy gaze, in the rhythm of her breathing. He berated himself for arriving late, for not being the first to play with her.
But why shouldn’t Delphine have that honor? Why was he thinking so differently about this girl than about any of the others he’d played and trained over the years? She was Robert’s discovery. Why should he think for one moment that he would be the first to be given the girl to play with?
Because I want her more.
Christ.
He moved away. The girl’s eyes remained on him. Burned into him. He walked off to get a drink.
At the bar he focused on ignoring the soft moans coming from the girl’s lips as Delphine continued to torment her. He ordered a sparkling water with lime. No more alcohol for him tonight. His control was shaky enough. He took a sip of the water, pulled in a breath before he turned back to watch.
The crowd had pulled in a little tighter around the action, but he could still see her. Could still see that she was deliciously sensitive, as responsive as any bottom he’d ever seen. Her breasts were hanging ripe and full, the golden clamps a perfect accent. The front of her slim thighs were pink where Delphine had hit her with the slapper. He was getting hard just looking at her.
Robert approached him. “What do you think of my newest acquisition, Marcus?”
He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on the redheaded beauty. “A gorgeous girl.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Special.”
“Do you think so?”
Marcus gestured with his chin. “Christ, look at her. The way she moves. The way her body answers every touch. She loves the pain. She’s brand-new and going under already. She seems to understand how to convert the pain automatically. Incredible.”
“Quite.”
He turned to find a smirk on his uncle’s face. “What?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so smitten.”
Marcus’s blood went hot. “I want her,” he stated simply.
“Then you shall have her next.”
Cassandra was weak-limbed and warm from the endorphins flooding her system. But mostly from knowing he was in the room with her. And he had touched her!
God, the way he had touched her. He was her wildest dream come true. And he was still there somewhere, watching her as Mistress Delphine spanked her with the evil leather slapper, pulled on her clamped nipples, while she writhed in pleasure.
The Mistress had stopped, giving Cassandra time to catch her breath. The slave boy had checked her wrists for circulation, given her a small drink of water, asked her if she was cold. Cold! She was burning hot with desire and anticipation, pleasure and pain.
Her head was whirling. She could barely think. Her skin sang with heat, her nipples burned, and even while Mistress Delphine had played her so expertly, all she could think of was him.
The Mistress had left her side and the slave boy stood by, as though guarding her. She glanced around the room. Faces smiling at her. Where was he?
She caught his scent first. He was standing behind her. She knew it was him. That woodsy, fresh scent. And when a masculine hand smoothed her shoulder, she felt his touch as though she’d known it all her life.
“I am Marcus, but you may call me Sir.”
His deep voice crept over her like a blanket of velvet. She shivered deep inside.
Marcus.
He trailed his fingertips over her neck. Goose bumps rose everywhere on her body. She was shaking so hard inside she couldn’t have managed to stand if she weren’t bound.
His voice was a low murmur. “You are beautiful, Cassandra. Like some piece of art. Like one of Rodin’s finest erotic sculptures. Do you know art? Do you know the great masters?”
She nodded, took a breath. “Yes, Sir. I do.”
“You look like his Danaid, all fluid lines.”
“The Torso of Adele,” she whispered.
He laughed. “You do know, don’t you? Yes, exactly, suspended as you are, your body stretched out this way. And like the female figure in Eternal Idol when you’re on your knees.”
She could not believe she was having a conversation with this man while she was bound and strung up like this! But she was unsurprised, for some inexplicable reason, that they had this love of art in common.
Marcus quieted as, with his other hand, he made an exploration of the small of her back, the curve of her buttocks, then down to her thigh. His hands were hot on her skin, his fingers smooth. She couldn’t believe he was touching her.
“You’re nicely warmed up. But your time with Mistress Delphine is only the beginning of what will happen to you tonight.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Yes.
His hand slid over her stomach, down, and her sex clenched in anticipation as he brushed the curls at the apex of her thighs. If only he would slip a hand between them as he had before. With her legs still spread it would be so easy….
Oh, God.
But he moved his hand away to explore the other curves of her body. His touch was a fiery, sensual pleasure unlike any she had felt before. And when he gave her a sharp slap she barely flinched. He laughed low in his throat, and slapped her ass again, and this time she moved into it. Only a fraction of an inch, but still he scolded her.
“I see you haven’t yet been taught how to hold still.” He smacked her again, and again her body surged into his hand.
This time his voice held an air of absolute command that made her knees go even weaker. “Cassandra. I want you to listen to me. You will hold absolutely still. No matter what I do, you will not move. Is that clear? You may answer me.”
Somehow she found enough breath to speak. “Yes…yes, Sir.”
No more words, just a quick volley of stinging slaps on her buttocks and thighs. They came so fast, so furiously, he must have been using both his hands. Her damp sex grew heavy with need, every muscle in her body strained with the effort not to move. And with every panting breath she could smell his scent, mixed now with the faint musk of sexual arousal. But whether it was his or her own, she couldn’t tell.
The slaps grew harder. Her skin was on fire, absolutely burning. With pain. With desire. A drop of moisture trickled down the inside of one thigh.
She wanted to see his face. But she didn’t want him to stop spanking her, even though her skin was so tender she wasn’t sure she could take any more. And then he did stop.
Her own ragged breath was like thunder in her ears. Marcus came around to stand in front of her. God, he was beautiful. Power and confidence emanated from him. He was all she could see in the crowded room, all that mattered.
“Very good, Cassandra.” He sounded a little out of breath himself.
He reached out a hand and cupped her chin, tilted her face up, and locked his gaze on hers. Cassandra shivered. There was so much happening in her body, in her mind. His golden-brown eyes were glittering darkly. Magnetic. Enigmatic. What was he thinking?
With his gaze still locked on hers, he cupped her breasts, weighed them, squeezed. Cassandra shut her eyes for a moment, trembling at the pure pleasure of his touch.
“No. Look at me.”
She opened her e
yes. His were like dark topaz, deep, mysterious. He said quietly, “This is going to hurt.”
In one quick motion he squeezed the nipple clamps open and pulled them off. Pain surged through her breasts to gather in intensity at the hard peaks. She groaned. Her head spun with a blissful mixture of agony and endorphins. Marcus was holding her chin again, making her look at him, forcing her to focus on his face as the pain lanced through her in sharp waves.
When his other hand slipped between her thighs and probed the swollen folds of her sex she almost came undone. She cried out as he pushed his fingers inside of her. It was too good, with her nipples still singing in pain. Her hips bucked and she needed to come, but the moment she felt that first spasm approach he withdrew his fingers from her.
A sob escaped her. She couldn’t help it. It was too good and too awful all at the same time. She needed him to touch her! Her whole body was on fire.
He still stood before her. And she could see that he was breathing hard, his wide chest rising and falling beneath his black silk shirt. What would his body feel like? Naked, against hers?
Oh, God.
She groaned again in frustration as he turned and walked away.
CHAPTER FIVE
MARCUS STALKED FROM THE ROOM, OUT INTO the wide, cool hallway. Robert followed him.
“Marcus. What happened in there?”
“She’s done.”
“I can see that. Mika and the girls are taking her down. But I meant you.” He could hear fury in his uncle’s voice. “You are far too experienced a trainer to simply walk away and leave her for others to attend to without a word. You want to tell me what the hell that was about?”
Marcus shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know.”
Robert was quiet a moment. “You lost control in there.”
Marcus ran a hand through his hair. Of course Robert was right. But he couldn’t explain it to him any more than he could to himself. He said quietly, “Yes.”
“You know as well as I do that we cannot allow that to happen. Control is everything, Marcus. It is our first responsibility.”
“I know that! Don’t you think I know that?”
Robert’s voice was as calm and cool as the ocean one could almost see from his house. “Remember who you’re talking to, nephew.”
Marcus drew in a lungful of air, blew it out. “I’m sorry. Damn it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Is it her? Cassandra? Or is it something deeper?”
“I don’t know. I need some time to figure it out.”
“I’d like for you not to miss her debut at The Lair next weekend. But you’ve got to get a hold of yourself if you’re going to be there.”
“The Lair? You’re taking her there already?”
“Her needs run deep. And we are here to serve their needs, are we not?”
“But she’s new. She’s not ready.” He was fuming and hot all over. But was it really on her behalf? Or did he simply not want anyone else to touch her?
“You saw for yourself how ready she is, Marcus.”
He paced the hallway while Robert stood waiting patiently. Finally, his uncle said, “Perhaps you need something to distract yourself with. I can send Jacqueline home with you for a few days.”
The petite blonde had served Marcus before, and he had enjoyed her. But he didn’t want her right now. The only one he could think of was Cassandra, and he knew his uncle would never give such an inexperienced girl to anyone else so soon.
But the moment he thought of it, of having her to himself, the idea became all-consuming. To have her in his house. That silken flesh, those incredible, full breasts, that wild red hair in his hand…his…
But she was not his. That was the point. And perhaps the problem.
“I won’t need Jacqueline, thank you, Robert.”
His uncle raised his dark, gray brows. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Do whatever you need to do to get ahold of yourself, Marcus. You cannot let this girl go to your head. Then come to The Lair on Saturday evening.”
But it was too late. She had already gone to his head. She was all he could think about since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. And that brief exchange, their small conversation about art, that had really gotten to him. That she had a mind under all of that pale, tempting flesh. But she was not his. Not his. Not for him.
He would have to keep telling himself that. Because deep in his soul, he knew otherwise.
Cassandra had slept hard after the party. She barely remembered the two blond girls taking her to her room, bathing her, putting her to bed. Now, with the morning light filtering in through the wide slats of the plantation shutters, the entire episode seemed like a dream.
Marcus. That was his name. She savored the feel of it on her tongue as she whispered it to herself.
He was the most fascinating man she had ever met. A perfect example of dark male beauty, and something else, something essential about him…
She loved his commanding presence, something he shared with Master Robert. But with Robert it was cooler, less passionate. Marcus was all fire and heat where Robert was calm, cool control. It was his fire that touched her.
And he had spoken to her. Why did that seem so significant? Despite that she was a slave in this place, he had talked to her. Had recognized her for more than what she offered of her body. She loved the duality of that moment.
She hated that she had no way of knowing when she would see him again.
Mika came in on quiet, bare feet, carrying a breakfast tray.
“Good morning, Cassandra.”
She blinked in surprise. “You…I thought…we aren’t supposed to talk.”
Her voice was soft and sweet. “You go home today. It is part of the transition back to your normal life. You may ask me questions, if you like. But first, sit up and have something to eat.”
Mika plumped her pillows and Cassandra sat upright in the bed. Mika laid the tray over her lap and poured a cup of fragrant tea.
Cassandra sat back against the pillows. “I have so many questions. I don’t even know where to start.”
The other woman smiled. “Start anywhere. We have time.”
“How long have you been here?”
“I have been with Master Robert for three years.”
“And you live here all the time?”
“Yes, all the time. I have given myself into his service.”
“But do you never go out?”
Mika laughed, a gentle sound. “Of course. I go to the market, and to take care of whatever other errands Master has for me. And Laura and Jacqueline and I go to the beach sometimes.”
Cassandra sipped her tea. “Laura and Jacqueline? They are the others?”
“Yes. They both live here, also. Laura is the taller of the two. Jacqueline, the girl with the piercings, goes to college part-time.”
“It’s so strange to be here and to think of the outside world at the same time. It’s as though the two exist on different planes.”
“This is why you will be treated as a guest here before you leave today. It takes some time to switch gears in your head. Being back in the world often comes as a shock, especially when you’re new to this.”
“I can’t even bear to think about leaving.” Tears stung her eyes and she set her cup down on the tray.
“You will be back next weekend, yes?”
Cassandra nodded.
“You need time in between your visits here to decide if this is what you really want, and how far you want to go with it. Living as a submissive is very different from visiting this lifestyle, Cassandra. You need time to figure out what will work for you. Master Robert spoke with you about these things at your first meeting.”
Cassandra nodded. “But talking about it and living it are two different things.”
“He knows. That is why you will only come on the weekends for a while. Is there anything else I can tell you?”
“Mika…do
you…do you ever feel this sense of sort of falling in love with whoever is dominating you?”
She shrugged. “We all do. I think it has to do with our innate desire to please. The dominant is meeting a need in us no one else can meet, both physically and emotionally.”
“It’s overwhelming.”
“It can be. This is one of the reasons why it is so important that you play only with people who are well-known and respected within the BDSM community. But you are in Master Robert’s care now. You won’t need to worry about that. He will only give you to those people he trusts utterly.”
“And Marcus?” She shivered at the sensation of his name coming from her lips.
Mika nodded. “Marcus di Sante. He is Master Robert’s nephew. He is young, but he is very good at what he does. Master trusts him as he would his own hand.”
She thought of Marcus’s hands on her and trembled, her sex clenching. She wanted to ask more about him, but she didn’t dare. And she would have so much to think about all week as it was. But she knew Marcus’s face wouldn’t leave her thoughts until she saw him again. No, she corrected herself. His face would be in her thoughts always.
Coming back to her apartment in Santa Monica was a shock. She almost felt as though she were sneaking through normal society, just walking through the underground parking garage and taking the elevator to her floor. She was relieved to slip into her apartment and shut the door behind her.
It was the same place she’d lived in for five years. All of her belongings were there: her red velvet sofa, her antique lamps, the tall wooden shelves overflowing with the books she loved. Yet it all seemed alien to her, as though she’d been gone for months instead of three days.
Her high black heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she wandered into her bedroom to unpack her small bag. She set it on the antique Victorian dresser and caught sight of herself in the oval mirror above it. Her hair was a bit wild, the dark red curls falling around her shoulders in a state of disarray. She moved closer. Her eyes were huge, luminous. Did she see something in them that hadn’t been there before? Or was she imagining it because she felt so different? She was not the same person who had left this room last Friday. She’d experienced so much in the last few days, she knew it had changed her forever.
