by Ella Ardent
Her puss awakened then, starting to hum as the sheet was wrapped around her torso, then behind her head and around her arms. The rope followed, and he trussed her in that pose. Her breasts were exposed, as was her face. He kissed her nipples then her mouth, then lifted her head.
She was on the bed, uncertain what he did, then her ankles were lifted high. She heard the bed creak, then felt the rope pass beneath her butt to be secured to the back of her waist. It went under her shoulders, beneath the bond at her wrists, then she was tugged into the air. She swung there, and spun upside down for a moment, until he stilled her and flipped her over again.
“Like a hammock,” he murmured, busy with the ropes to ensure she didn’t spin again. When he was done, she might have been a fly caught in a spider’s web, encased in a cocoon and unable to do more than struggle in futility.
“Are you helpless?” he whispered and she fought her bonds on cue, thrilled by her situation. He was beside her, his lips against her ear, his hands running over her trussed body with a satisfaction that proved she had power even in bondage over him.
Especially in bondage.
“Tomorrow at breakfast,” he murmured. “You will show the others the welts I have left on your butt. You will let each of them pinch one, even Stapleton and the staff.”
Caitlyn gasped. “They’ll know!”
“Yes, they’ll know that you’re a sex slave. You’ll then offer to do anything they want. You will do it loudly enough that all the staff can hear, and if the other guests decline to use you, you will beg until they agree.”
Caitlyn couldn’t believe it. Even though she was sure Stapleton had witnessed a hundred stranger things, the idea of declaring her fantasy aloud was both exciting and terrifying.
He slapped her breast that she delayed in replying.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
“Louder.”
“Yes, Master.” She felt him move away and realized with a shock that she hadn’t been given more instructions. “And tomorrow night, Master?”
“It depends how naughty you are, Caitlyn,” he said, a thread of amusement in his voice. “I might have to punish you by wrapping you up and giving you away.”
Caitlyn couldn’t believe it. The possibility made her mind go white with fear and she moaned without meaning to do so. She struggled anew, thrashing against her bonds, but again, couldn’t make any difference. She was panting when she stilled, practically hyperventilating when he spoke.
“It’s not up to you, Caitlyn,” he whispered, his voice sounding miles away. “You’re mine, to use for my pleasure.”
“Yes, Master,” she managed to agree, then heard the door click as he left her alone. She was never going to sleep. She was all afire from both his whipping and his promise.
And despite her trepidation, Caitlyn couldn’t imagine a better way to be.
She never wanted to leave this place, that was for sure.
* * *
Steele sat at a table in the corner of the coffee shop that Athena liked. He was so desperate for a glimpse of her that he’d do whatever was necessary to see her again, even to catch a passing glimpse of her. The woman haunted him as he’d never thought a woman could haunt him. She was his every fantasy and starred in every dream he’d had since meeting her. She was gorgeous, funny, smart, passionate, and since being kicked out of The Phoenix, Steele had realized he was never going to forget her.
He was also never going to be able to go back to vanilla sex again. No, he wanted the adventure of playing games, and he wanted to play every game there was with the dominatrix who ran the private BDSM club called The Phoenix.
The trick was that she was probably never going to willingly speak to him again. He was glad that Rex had resolved the pending crisis with Devon Nelson’s killer, and he was glad that the authorities would be picking up the villain from Windswept. He’d convinced them to ignore a great many irregularities about The Phoenix in return for Rex and Athena’s cooperation.
And now there were no excuses to call Athena. Amy had probably been reinstated, so this had been a one-time shot. She’d probably given up on him completely.
Or forgotten him.
Athena certainly seemed to have given up on this coffee shop, which she’d visited daily when he’d been under cover in her office. He sat, though, knowing he’d never be allowed to cross the threshold of The Phoenix without her permission and knowing the staff would ensure he had no chance to speak to Athena there. No, he had to encounter her outside The Phoenix, and there weren’t many places to do that.
The coffee shop was his best bet.
Steele sat back and drummed his fingers on the table, more impatient with his own stupidity than with waiting on her. He’d been an idiot to think he could fool her, and he’d only really appreciated what he’d experienced there once he couldn’t have it anymore. He supposed this was like penance, and not the worst punishment he could have earned.
No sooner had he thought as much than a black limousine pulled up outside the shop. He barely dared to hope, but the driver got out to open the back door for the occupant.
It was Rafe, Athena’s chauffeur. Steele would have recognize him anywhere.
He practically held his breath as Rafe opened the limo door, then one long female leg stretched toward the pavement.
Athena.
In shiny red shoes, their stiletto heels high enough to give a normal woman vertigo. He was hard at the sight of one calf. The woman was more sexy than should be legal. She stepped out of the car with that feline grace that drove him wild. She was wearing a charcoal and black Chanel suit, big sunglasses and her red hair was twisted up. She wore red leather gloves that matched her lipstick and her shoes perfectly. Steele watched her walk toward the door of the shop, so lithe and elegant that people stopped to stare. Rafe got the door for her, and she swept into the shop in a swirl of distinctive perfume.
He was a grown man, known for his control, and he was nearly coming in his jeans.
He didn’t think she had noticed him, or if she had, she hid it well. He waited until she had bought a pound of coffee beans, reducing the young male clerk to a blushing and stumbling mess as she did so, then rose to his feet when she turned to leave.
Steele knew then that she hadn’t noticed him because she started, just a little, when she found him right in her path. She was still wearing the sunglasses, and he hated that he couldn’t see her eyes.
“Excuse me,” she said, as if they were perfect strangers.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said.
“Oh well,” she replied, her tone dismissive as she made to step around him. He wasn’t truly surprised that she wasn’t more encouraging.
He offered the small box he’d brought. “A peace offering. Will you accept it?”
He saw her lips move to form the word “no,” and remembered the sight of that same mouth locked around his cock. The memory weakened his knees but he didn’t move aside. Her gaze flicked to the box, almost unwillingly, then she smiled.
“You remembered,” she said softly, and he knew she was surprised.
“How could I forget?”
The box was from a chocolate shop, the same shop and the same design of box as she had offered to him the first day he’d worked for her. She’d tied him up in the back of that same limo, climbed astride him and fed him the chocolates inside one at a time, kissing him around the confection as she rode him.
Athena smiled then, and Steele knew she was genuinely pleased.
He was relieved when she accepted it, tucking it into her shopping bag with the coffee.
“Thank you.”
“I think of you,” he said, losing his poise in his haste to explain himself. “A lot. I miss you.”
She studied him from behind those dark glasses, her own thoughts hidden. “Well. Things change.” She seemed saddened by that, but resigned to it as well. She eyed him pointedly and he stepped out of her path. She strode past him and he inhaled deeply of her perfu
me, wanting even that small memory.
Athena, though, didn’t glance back.
Which meant that Steele had to hope that he had chosen the right gift.
* * *
They were all there when Caitlyn came down to the breakfast room.
It was evident to her that the four other guests had found some point of dissent, because there was a heavy silence from their end of the table. The women ignored each other, and Caitlyn noticed that each man was more attentive to the other woman than to the one she’d initially thought was his partner. There were many poisonous glances slanted between the women, and conversation was stilted.
The sound of knives on china seemed very loud.
Zach was reading, apparently immersed in another book from the library. Caitlyn took a deep breath and approached one of the other male guests with a smile. “I’d like to show you something,” she said and he glanced up with mild curiosity. She lifted the hem of her skirt, watching his eyes widen as the length of her leg was displayed. He caught his breath when her garter came into view but she turned her ass toward him then, revealing her hip. There were half a dozen welts from the riding crop there.
“My master disciplined me last night,” she confessed, as if she was talking about the weather. The silence was thunderous and she heard a knife clatter to a plate. “Because I’m so naughty, he instructed me to invite each of you to pinch one of the welts this morning.”
The guest she spoke to inhaled so sharply that Caitlyn was surprised. She smiled over her shoulder at his dismayed expression. “Please, do,” she said. “I’m rather hungry for breakfast.”
His nostrils pinched, he glanced over the table and gave one welt a savage pinch. Caitlyn gasped as tears rose to her eyes and her voice was strained. “Thank you, sir,” she said, then turned to the other man.
He smiled, tipped her over his knee and pinched half a dozen welts. He then spanked her pink before he stood her on her feet again, and returned to his breakfast with undisguised satisfaction.
The women exchanged glances of disdain and Caitlyn knew they would be brutal.
They were and she was stinging by the time she turned to Zach. She knew her cheeks were flushed and her breath was coming quickly, those nipple clamps driving her wild. “Zach,” she said, offering a smile when he glanced up. He might have been completely indifferent to her presence, but she saw by the line of his trousers that he wasn’t.
Maybe he liked seeing her used like this.
“I’m not interested in pinching welts to make you recall your secret lover,” he said coolly. He glanced up as the butler came back into the dining room. “Stapleton, the lady wishes to have her welts pinched. Could you do it, please?”
“Of course, sir.” Stapleton asked as if he received such requests all the time.
She was shocked by his apparent indifference.
And even more shocked when he left the room without a backward glance.
* * *
Athena settled back in the limo as Rafe drove back to the townhouse. She hadn’t expected to ever see Steele again, not after she had tossed him out of The Phoenix.
She certainly hadn’t expected to want him so badly again. She’d been sure that she’d had enough of the special services cop, but one look at that firm mouth had been enough to make her hungry for him all over again.
Never mind his reminder of that day in the limo.
She took the box from the chocolate shop out of her bag, wondering whether a truffle would take the edge off her desire or make it worse. There was only one way to find out for sure. She untied the ribbon on the box and opened the top, only to halt in surprise.
There weren’t truffles inside.
There was a small bottle of perfume.
Athena frowned and removed the bottle from the box. The perfume was a deep gold within it, and the stopper was glass, a swirl of purple and gold glass that she liked very much. The gold script on the side of the heart-shaped bottle said Evoke.
She’d never heard of it.
In the bottom of the box were two business cards. The first was from a perfumerie in Paris, one that evidently made custom scents.
This perfume has been formulated specifically for you.
Athena wondered if that were true. The second card was Steele’s business card, with his contact information at special services. On the back, he’d written a note, his disciplined script so familiar that she smiled.
Because you haunt me.
Below that was a telephone number, also hand-written, presumably his home or cell phone.
Athena read his words again, then eased the stopper from the bottle. She took a tentative sniff, not knowing what to expect. She blinked then sniffed again. She smelled gardenias and roses, other flowers too, then a musky note with some spice. It was a gorgeous layered perfume, feminine and sexy, too, the perfume of a woman who knew her own assets and wasn’t afraid to use them. It was like her own favorite perfume, but bigger, more potent, more confident.
She shed a glove and touched a bit of the perfume to her skin. The way it mingled with her own scent would be the true test. It warmed and the scent deepened, becoming richer. The musk seemed a little more primal than it had, and the flowers, if they had been real, would have been bigger and brighter.
It was completely over the top, a perfume that would own a room as soon as a woman wearing it crossed the threshold.
Athena loved it.
Evoke.
She read Steele’s card again and this time she smiled. She wondered if he had kept any of it himself. She decided then and there that she’d bathe that night, douse herself in it, and sleep only in this perfume.
And maybe she’d call Steele to tell him about it.
After all, she should show some appreciation for his breaking protocol to warn them about Devon Nelson.
* * *
It had seemed like a brilliant plan when Zach had had the idea.
Too bad it wasn’t working.
He’d thought that giving Caitlyn away might break her hold over his imagination. He didn’t like to share his slaves, and he didn’t like them to be taken by other men or women. He certainly didn’t like to witness that kind of scene. He liked the focus of one woman, completely submissive to his command.
He’d thought that seeing Caitlyn fingered by the other guests, even having her welts pinched, would destroy his interest in her.
Too bad it had done exactly the opposite. She had clearly been thrilled, though he couldn’t have said whether it was because she was surrendering to her master’s command or whether she had fantasies of being shared herself. She had hesitated when he’d threatened to tie her up and give her away, which hinted that they might have similar views.
After that, he hadn’t thought she’d do what he wanted.
But she’d done it, with grace and submissiveness. She’d even delighted in the results. Shit, he’d been able to smell how wet she was across the dining room table. Her excitement and her surrender had thrilled him to the point that he knew he wouldn’t be able to watch whatever happened next.
He hadn’t even trusted himself to touch her welts.
He was restless all day, working out in his room, pacing and trying to find something to distract his thoughts. Instead, he was fixed upon Caitlyn, listening for every sound of her pleasure in the house, aware that she was being savored without him. It drove him so crazy that he wondered who was under the control of who.
That scared the shit out of him. Zach was always in control. He was the one in charge. He was the one who decided the agenda, when the scene started and how it ended. He didn’t lose himself in a lover or become consumed with one woman and her pleasure. If this was what emotion added to the mix, then he had to live without it.
It demanded too much.
Zach stood in his room, watching the sun set. It had to stop.
He controlled every detail, including himself.
The game was done.
* * *
Wh
en Zach left the dining room at breakfast, Caitlyn assumed he’d be back. Either that or he had a means of watching her being used for the pleasure of the two couples. Her offer seemed to reinvigorate their fantasy, and they were inventive in sharing her. She was commanded to give head, she was bound and spanked, and embellished with jam and eaten after being stretched spread-eagle on the dining room table. It soon became clear that the interest of her lovers was mostly in each other, and she was gradually forgotten as they played games of their own.
She left them to it in the dining room, and returned, disheveled, to her own room. She hoped Zach would be there, but the room was empty. The connecting door was locked. She had a bath, unable to summon much interest in anything other than Zach, then had a long hot bath. She read and lounged and became increasingly impatient with herself.
By dinner, she was itching to see Zach again, hoping he’d come to her in the night.
He never showed for dinner.
Stapleton said that he had decided to remain in his room for the remainder of his visit to the island.
Caitlyn couldn’t help but take that as a condemnation.
For some reason, he’d decided to ignore her.
She rapped on his door when she went back upstairs, but he didn’t reply. “Zach, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
Was that going to be her only reply?
Was it over already?
Caitlyn returned to her room, impatient and annoyed. He might be in charge, but she had feelings and desires, too. For the first time, his need to command pissed her off. He could have asked what she wanted! Maybe he was just as selfish as the loser-boys in the end.
She poked at the fire, her temper rising.
That was when she heard a key turn in a lock. She looked up as the connecting door opened slightly. There was only darkness beyond it, then a quick flurry of running footsteps. Caitlyn went to the door cautiously, then looked beyond it. There was a small corridor there, with stairs heading into darkness on her left. Ahead was another door.