Embers: A Dark Romance Love Triangle (A Special Agent Novel Book 5)

by C. P. Mandara

  “Well, you’ve got one freebie fuck courtesy of Alain. Let’s hope that’s all we need.” I still remember my face when he took me in front of that bastard. It makes my skin go cold and I can feel my throat closing up.

  “Let’s hope so.” His tone is not optimistic.

  We get an envelope under the door at six pm that evening. By now, James and I are well-rested. We’ve managed to shower and take a nap, and room service delivered us a light lunch that neither of us wanted or ate. Both of us are apprehensive about the evening ahead, and rightly so.

  James doesn’t have to ask me to retrieve the envelope. I crawl and bring it back to him. I need to stay in character as much as possible for the next three days, or something will bite me in the ass. All the other submissives here will be living the lifestyle twenty-four-seven and competing with that will be difficult.

  “Thank you.” James pats my head. I need to get used to that, too. It feels very condescending and patronising, but I know it’s not supposed to be.

  James peruses the contents of the slip inside quickly and looks at me. “We have an hour to get ready, and then dinner will be served in the main hall. While we will be at the same table, they’re not pairing us up together. You will serve another dominant tonight, while I am placed with a different submissive.”

  I swallow. This isn’t unexpected. ‘Partner Swap’ couldn’t really mean anything else, but this seems like a tough number to begin with.

  “You’re still allowed to wear clothes, although there are certain provisions about that. I’ll help you get ready in a minute. Just remember that you sit beside your chosen dominant and keep your eyes on the floor until you are spoken to. His hands will probably be all over you, so try your best to keep your composure, no matter how difficult it is. You’re supposed to remain mute at the table, and the name of the game is to get you to squawk.” James stretches and pulls himself off the bed. He looks magnificent in a pair of black Armani boxer shorts, and I have never wanted to get my hands on an ass more, but I do not touch. There are rules for touching, too. Even if there weren’t, James would probably bite my head off. He’s leery around me for good reason.

  Going to the wardrobe, he pulls out a clean shirt and begins to get dressed. Meanwhile, I go over what I’m supposed to be doing in my head. While we’ve been given some likely culprits, and the faces to match, spotting them won’t necessarily be easy. The photos we were shown were old, and a lot can change in ten years. James thinks I’ll have more luck getting information than he will. That’s because the women aren’t usually privy to their partners doings or whereabouts. I, on the other hand, should be able to glean more information from the men, if I’m careful. Pillow talk rules around these walls. I just need to play my part carefully. The aim of the game is to get as much information as we can, as quickly as possible, and get the hell out of here. The longer we stay, the more chance there is of us having to sleep together, and we both know what that means. We’ve already got one ticking time bomb, and we don’t need another.

  Waiting patiently on the floor, on my hands and knees, I watch James dress from the corner of my eye. I hate not being able to look at him directly. It’s even more difficult to read him than normal, and that’s saying something. It also means I can’t dribble over him as I would like. The man has a body that could grace the cover of GQ, and I could play ping pong on those abs. As much as I should be devastated about the thought of James sleeping with me again, I’m not. I’m looking forward to it. If he has to sleep with me again after that, well, that’s going to be a problem – but I’m not getting out of this place without some kind of exit strategy.

  When James has finished getting ready, sliding his gun back in his pants, he begins barking instructions. I love it when he goes into dominant mode.

  “Ass back over the desk, Lois. I still owe you three stripes from the crop.” Is it wrong that I think of this as foreplay? My chest automatically tightens in excitement and my clit throbs between my legs. Although I’ve had one orgasm today, I already want another. The new Lois, as redesigned by James Leveritt, is such a greedy girl she can never have enough – and to think that once upon a time I was happy to go without sex for a week at a time. That hadn’t been Kiel’s fault, but we’d both worked away frequently with crazy long hours and in differing time zones, which meant we often passed each other in the night. My heart still pines for him and knowing that his death was my fault is a bitter pill to swallow. Carrying a sack load of guilt on our shoulders is yet another thing James and I seem to have in common.

  I’m kept waiting over the desk for a good five minutes, but that just means I’ll enjoy my stripes all the more when they come. Pain will be a blessing in this place. It will keep me on edge and alert. I’m not frightened of it anymore. I’m passed that stage.

  When James stands behind me, I want to yell at him to get on with it as usual, but that will just get me gagged. So I remain as still as a cat, right before she’s ready to pounce on her prey. I need to please my master and obey.

  “Are you ready to count, Lois?” We’ve played this game before. It’s fun. I just have to remember to keep tally.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The first stroke comes down without warning, and my whole body jerks. These will leave marks, but that’s what James wants. Our cover story isn’t going to wash if I don’t look the part. That’s also why I got a spanking earlier, although James would have me believe otherwise.

  “One, thank you, Sir.”

  James presses his fingernails into the stripe, and I gasp out loud. “You mustn’t do that this evening, Lois. You need to hold it in,” he berates me. “Draw all that pain into a tight ball and keep it firmly inside you. It can’t be allowed to escape.” He slaps my ass with his hand in warning. “Now, try again.” This time when the fingernails attack me, I hold the sound in. By pressing my chest and stomach out, I can somehow swallow the sound. It isn’t ideal, but at least it works. “Better,” he says.

  The next stripe follows soon after. It crosses the first in a glowing trail of fire, and withholding my hiss is a feat akin to climbing Everest, but somehow I do.

  “Two, thank you, Sir,” I squeak.

  I am rewarded with one word. “Impressive.” Not much impresses James, so I sit there basking in the rosy glow of success until the third stripe connects. This one is harder than the last two, and I almost have to swallow my own tongue to prevent any sound escaping, but I remain mute. My clit, on the other hand, is having a conversation all of its own down there.

  “Three, thank you, Sir.” The strained sound that comes out of my mouth sounds weird, but I have done as ordered.

  “Well, that’s an auspicious beginning. Let’s hope you impress the men out there as much as you have me, Lois.” Now I really am beaming. I’ve taken nothing but abuse from James and Adie for the past two days. They have corrected me time and time again on my actions and posture. Praise is foreign, but wonderful. I try not to let it go to my head.

  A box is then placed next to my face and I want to groan when I see the glossy picture on it. It’s a butt plug.

  James sounds smug as he says, “Suck it up, Lois. The next three days are going to be payback for what you did to me back at Lavande. Remember that, each time something happens that you don’t like. Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before you do the dirty on your partner.”

  He then drips cold lubricant between my butt cheeks and begins to massage it in. My face flames. That’s one reaction I can never control, damnit. James misses nothing.

  “The only time you ever blush for me is when you’re having your ass penetrated. You have no idea how much that turns me on.” Yeah, that’s right asshole, rub it in. He does. His finger slowly slips inside me, working the lubricant back and forth, and he continues this until three fingers can be inserted easily. Then he rips open the box and begins to lube up the plug. Whenever I’ve been plugged in the past, it’s been a silicone or plastic variety. This time it’s metal, and it looks h
eavy. Unless I’m much mistaken, this man wants to get his own back in style.

  “It’s going to be cold, brace yourself,” he warns. He’s not wrong. As the hard tip enters me, I groan and start panting into the hard, shiny lacquer of the desk. My breath fogs up the surface, as I breathe in and out. Oh God, this is torture.

  “Due to its weight, you’ll need to be careful with it. Keep your legs close together when you can. At the table, you’ll be splayed, so remember to clench at all times. If you embarrass yourself, you’ll be punished in front of everyone and it will be brutal.” My eyes flutter up in my head. This isn’t happening.

  “Stand up and turn around.” Doing as I’m told, I face James. I am completely naked. My dress had been removed for my nap, and there isn’t a single item of underwear in my suitcase that’s worth wearing. The lingerie I have been provided with is mostly uncomfortable and impractical. It’s been designed with titillation in mind, and little else.

  My eyes are immediately drawn to James’s hands. In them he holds two sets of weighted nipple clamps. Slim, silver pincers stare back at me, housing little coloured glass balls at the ends. They are going to bite viciously. James gets his thumb and forefinger ready to pinch my nubs, so he can attach them, but then laughs. They are already erect.

  “How in the hell…” He then answers his own question. “Anal.” I nod and shrug my arms. I’m a sucker for it. It turns my body to mush. All James needs to do is run his fingers lightly across me, and I’m standing proudly to attention, begging for my new jewellery. He wastes no time obliging me. The clamps go on, one at a time, and their pinch is brutal. James then stands back to admire his work. Tracing an outline around the curve of my breast, he breathes into my neck and growls.

  “Beautiful. Now all we need is a dress.” He goes back to the wardrobe and pulls out one of Alain’s creations. When he comes back to me, he folds it over the chair and puts his hands on my shoulders. Lifting my face up, he lets me stare into the mirror in front of me. “Arms up, and over your head.” I feel like I’m three years old, but I don’t argue. My body is no longer my own. James told me that in training, and he made me repeat it over and over. Hopefully, the message has sunk in.

  His hands travel up my arms, scattering goose bumps everywhere in their wake, like little shards of fire and ice. I’m nervous and excited at the same time, and I can’t control it. I want to run from this place as fast as my legs will carry me and come screaming at the same time. It’s not a great combination.

  The red dress slithers over my body like a tight sheath, hugging all of my curves and hiding nothing. The outlines of my clamped nipples are clearly visible, and it barely covers my backside. When I crawl, the plug will be visible, and this is just the start of my weekend of humiliation. Before long I will be naked and bound, dribbling at someone’s feet, probably begging for sex. That’s not the worst part. The worst part is that I will probably enjoy it.

  “Are you okay?” My face is an open book at the moment. James sees every thought as it crosses my features, and it’s as endearing as it is annoying.

  “No. Are you?” My chest puffs out as I take a shaky breath, and my clamped teats strain against the thin fabric of the dress. James’s eyes are immediately drawn to them, but he flicks them quickly away again.

  “You don’t get to ask questions, slave.” Closing his eyes, he then goes back to the wardrobe and sits down on the bed. “Come here. Sit on my lap.”

  Dipping to the floor, I crawl to the bed on my hands and knees, swinging my ass, and then pull myself up to sit between his legs. I immediately widen my legs, obeying the order to keep myself available for sex at all times.

  “Good girl,” he says, clearly amused. A pair of bright red sandals are beside him on the bed, with enormous heels and a circular band that will sit across my ankles. There’s a shiny silver padlock at the back of each shoe. No detail has been spared with my wardrobe. Picking up my leg, he then feeds my feet gently into my shoes and begins to fasten the buckles around my ankles. The action is strangely erotic and the air around us is charged with sexual tension. In my opinion, the shoes are a waste as I’ll be crawling all evening, but what do I know?

  “Nearly finished.” James pulls a thin, black leather collar from his pocket, which features a buckle made of diamantes that is worn at the front. It is then padlocked at the rear. The constriction around my neck is light, but it feels like it’s choking me. I need to get my nerves under control.

  “I need something from you this weekend, Lois.” James then pulls me to my feet and walks me back over to the mirror. I feel like a pair of legs with a see-through shirt. Indecent doesn’t even begin to describe my attire. “I need you to be completely honest with me. Can you do that?”

  I shake my head immediately because I can’t. There are too many secrets between us. James responds by pulling up the hem of my dress and smacking my ass hard, before bending me forwards over the desk once more.

  “I’m not talking about discovering your secrets, Lois. I need your honesty with regards to our weekend. How much you think you can take, whether the pain is too much, and if there are any dominants you can’t handle. I need you to tell me, even if you think I won’t like the answer. Can you give me that?” His finger probes my pussy, circling the little hole, until I am bleeding desire. This man. There are no words.

  “Yes,” I whisper. I can do that but no more.

  “What are you thinking right now?”

  “That I desperately need to fuck you.” He asked for it. If that kind of talk made him uncomfortable, that was too bad. Mr Bossy Boots could have some.

  Instead, he chuckles. “That I could figure out for myself. What else are you thinking? Oh, and remember that attitude will get you spanked, so curb that vicious tongue of yours.”

  I want to scream. “I am thinking that if you wanted to get your own back for my earlier behaviour, this would be the perfect place in which to do so.” That was just one of my thoughts, but it would have to do. My most pressing worry is that Alain has set us up this weekend. Is there even a missing shipment of coke? Nothing would surprise me anymore. That man is as slippery as a snake and twice as venomous.

  James chokes back laughter. “Mmm. I had considered that myself.” He then places his hand around my collared throat and tickles the nape of my neck. “Is there anything you want to ask me before we go and meet our public?” His fingers go back between my legs, circling my pussy. I groan. The man is a monster.

  “You won’t give me one, anyway,” I whine, “so what’s the point?”

  “Try me,” he murmurs, stepping back, and folding his arms across his chest.

  I figure anything’s worth a go, so I turn to face him and get on my knees. “Please, may I have an orgasm, Sir?” The level of pleading in my voice has gone up a notch, and Bambi has nothing on the eyes I’m currently giving him.

  “Not bad,” he says nodding, and he disguises his smile by rubbing his hand across his mouth. “Get on the bed.”

  He has me screaming within seconds.

  Chapter Fourteen - Lois

  Twenty minutes later, I’m sliding down the staircase as elegantly as I can. I’m not the only one. The house is filled with crawling submissives and suited dominants. It’s a bit like the Playboy Mansion but with European architecture and more kink. Honestly, I don’t have enough alcohol to cope with this shit, but it’s not as if I have a choice.

  James is leading me by means of a silver leash and he looks fucking amazing in his designer suit. All I can think about is sex. Even though I’ve had four orgasms today, it’s nowhere near enough, and I figure I’ll need at least another couple to get me through the evening. One can hope.

  Staff herd us through to a large dining room where the dominants get handed a glass of champagne. The submissives, on the other hand, are second-class citizens, and we get nothing. I swear James can feel my disappointment, for he dips two fingers in his glass and lets me suck the remains off his fingers. This is akin to tasting
heaven, but for such a small period of time that you figure all the angels have gone on holiday. I glare at him. He grins – and he thinks Adie is the sadist.

  We are then led to our seats at differing ends of the table, and this is when the anxiety begins. James is fine because he gets to dole out crap to whichever poor submissive he is seated with. I am on the receiving end of that crap and not only do I have to be on my best behaviour, but I also have to have eyes in the back of my head. Still, at the end of the night, James will probably be tipsy, and I’ll be stone cold sober, so maybe I can have some fun with him later.

  I’m delivered to a portly Italian fellow, with a balding hairline and halitosis. On receiving my leash, he immediately pins the end underneath his seat, making sure there is no way I can escape in a hurry. Wise move. Splaying my legs wide, copying the movement of all the other submissives, I then place my hands behind my back and thrust my chest forwards. I feel like I should be a fucking wax model in Madame Tussauds, my smile is plastered so tightly to my face. Thankfully, no one pays me any attention. Portly doesn’t even acknowledge I am by his side, and I try my best not to attract any undue attention. The men at the table are served drinks, and chat amongst themselves while the submissives remain mute. At least this gives me a chance to listen in on the conversation.

  The languages are a mix of German, Italian, French, Spanish, and English. I follow what I can, but they are coming at me from all angles, and it’s hard to keep up. Thankfully, tonight I am not missing out on much. The banter they are sharing is mostly lewd ideas about what they are going to do with us next. When the food finally comes, I almost breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe they will talk about something else now, although I have a feeling I am being overly optimistic.