“Oh yeah. The sabotage was performed here.” Max picked up the lock. “How did a Catholic schoolgirl learn to pick locks?”
Their little submissive looked as if she was shrinking. She knew she was in trouble.
Understanding grins came from the other Shadowlands Masters. Yeah, many of them had also been on the receiving end of the brats’ pranks.
Standing on the other side of the scene rope, Z glanced at the padlock in Max’s hand and nodded toward the exit. “Ben.”
Ben? Right. The security guard had served as an Army Ranger. Although pranks weren’t his style, the guy wouldn’t balk at “helping out” if a cutie-pie like Uzuri asked. Max smiled wryly. “Good to know.”
Z tilted his head in acknowledgment, then reached out an arm, and casually snagged Jessica…by her long blonde hair. “I believe it’s time we discussed keypads, kitten.” Ignoring her worried squeaks, he led her away. Toward the back.
“Well.” Alastair lifted his eyebrows. “Apparently our girl had no trouble asking for help to sabotage toy bags.”
“So it seems.” Now what to do about it?
Somehow, he and Alastair had to teach their subbie where the limits lay…without breaking her spirit, since, hell, he’d laughed. If a subbie heard her Dom laugh, he’d already lost the high ground.
He moved closer to Alastair. “I’ll give her points for originality and cuteness. The dolls would’ve been fine if we’d been at home. But I wish she hadn’t busted into our bags.”
“As do I. The first day, you quite clearly told her to stay out of our bags—and direct disobedience goes a step too far.” Alastair’s tone was grim as he frowned at Zuri.
She looked so little. So helpless. Neither of them liked punishing her, dammit, and she’d already been spanked this morning. Max shook his head. “Cuz, we can’t hurt her again. It’s gotta be something else.”
“Agreed.” Alastair considered. “We have disobedience along with embarrassing her Doms. What are appropriate consequences?”
“Embarrassment goes both ways.” Max smiled slowly. “I could take offense to having chains wrapped around my dick.”
Alastair’s gaze met his. “Chains?”
Max grinned. “I’ve been carrying some since you teased her about it.”
“Public consequences and the chains. Medical room or bondage table or…” Alastair looked toward the center of the room. “Cullen mentioned the recent lack of bar ornaments.”
Max had watched a submissive be tied to the bar soon after he’d joined. Couldn’t get more public than that. “Well hell, we’d best do something before Cullen gets cranky.”
Alastair shook his head. “Do you want to bring her or shall I?”
“Cuz, you know you like scaring little subbies, especially since, normally, you come across as so fucking reassuring.”
“So little they know.” Alastair headed for Uzuri.
After slinging both toy bags over his shoulder, Max moved out, passing the audience they’d gathered. Standing beside Sam and Anne, Nolan grinned and stepped out of his way.
Near the three Shadowlands Masters, a newer member said to his friend, “I’m thinking Uzuri doesn’t much respect those so-called Masters of hers.”
“Obviously.” His friend puffed up. “She sure never tried stupid tricks when I topped her.”
Brows together, Sam turned. “That little girl only plays tricks on Doms she trusts. She got me good once. Nolan, too. And Anne.” The sadist’s sandpaper voice was harsh enough to scour the hide from the two pups. “You sayin’ she doesn’t respect us?”
Both Doms took several hasty steps back.
Ignoring them completely, the silver-haired rancher gave Max an approving nod. “I worried when she moved in with you two, but you got past her defenses and earned her trust.”
“Good job.” Nolan slapped Max’s back. “A warning, though. Don’t let her fuck with your beer.”
Beer, too? Hell. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Max.” Anne had a dangerous glint in her eyes. “I heard Z. You know, when rubber cockroaches infested my locker, I didn’t consider how the subbies had gotten in.” The Mistress glanced toward the entry. “Ben and I will have a…chat…about his helpful ways. Tell Uzuri her doll’s excellent modeling of cock and ball torture won’t go to waste.”
As she stalked toward the exit, Max glanced at the other two Masters. “I think my balls just tried to climb into my belly.”
“Ben’s fucked. Even an Army Ranger can’t win against a pissed-off Mistress.” Nolan shook his head. “Especially a pregnant one.”
Sam snorted. “The boy’s gonna be walking bowlegged for a while.”
“Yeah.” Feeling almost sorry for the poor bastard, Max continued to the bar.
“Hey, buddy.” Cullen looked up from the drink he was concocting. “I hope you have a nasty deterrent planned so Wonder Woman there doesn’t get ideas.” He tilted his head toward Andrea who was drawing a beer.
Max knew Uzuri’d worked with Andrea on their “Amazonian” costumes. Andrea’s breastplate was red, the leather kilt a dark blue, and she definitely had the figure to pull off the outfit. Max gave her an appreciative look. “Great costume. You know, I think marriage agrees with her.”
“With us both. I can’t wait until my super heroine attempts to arrest me.” With two-day beard scruff and dirty dark clothes, Cullen looked suitably villainous.
“Mmm.” Max noticed the golden lasso clipped to Andrea’s belt. “Aren’t you lucky that Wonder Woman brought her own rope for you to use?”
Cullen grinned, then nodded at the toy bags over Max’s shoulder. “Want me to store those behind the bar?”
“Actually, we thought you’d like a bar ornament. Or, perhaps I should say, a bar show.”
“Hell, yeah. About time someone decorated my bar.” Cullen spread his hands out to encompass the bar area. “Mi taberna es su taberna.”
“Was that supposed to be Spanish?” Behind him, Andrea made gagging sounds.
Cullen yanked her close. “Silence, wife.” Fisting her hair, he took her mouth in an effective silencing technique.
Grinning, Max moved to the end of the bar. To keep observers from infringing on the scene, he set towels and toy bags on the closer bar stools to mark the boundaries. The play would get messy, so he spread disposable barrier cloths on the bar top and the floor below.
Good enough. He shook his head. Poor little Zuri was in for it, tonight.
He looked up. The rafter over the bar held a wealth of heavy chains clipped up out of the way. Reaching high, he unclipped the two closest to the end of the bar so they dangled within easy reach.
A shocked gulp came from his right, and he turned.
Uzuri stood next to Alastair, his hand on her shoulder. Her wide-eyed gaze was on the chains.
“S-sir, what are you doing?” The sheer horror in her question told Max the scene was getting off to a fine start.
Perfect. He didn’t have the heart to punish her severely, not for high spirits. Not when he enjoyed her pranks. Yet all D/s relationships required a certain level of control from the Dominants. Not responding to outright disobedience would destroy the unspoken contract between them. Would let them all down.
Communication first. “I’m setting up for a scene, little mischief. Unfortunately, our plan for a private sensual session had to be changed.”
Her gaze dropped. “I’m sorry.”
“So are we.” Alastair moved beside Max until their shoulders touched, presenting their subbie with a solid wall of authority. “Tell us why you’re in trouble.”
Despite her white-knuckled grip on one wrist gauntlet, she straightened her spine and looked up. “I messed with the stuff in your bags.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad, does it?” Max gave his voice the edge that could frighten hardened criminals.
Her shoulders hunched.
“Can you explain to me why Max seems…annoyed?” The doc’s warm you-can-trust-me, le
t-me-help tone had dropped to icy cold.
Her bottom lip trembled. “He t-told me to leave your bags alone, and I didn’t.”
“Yes, you disobeyed a direct order,” Max raised his voice so the people nearby could hear.
“Continue,” Alastair said.
“I did it because I was mad,” she whispered.
“I would indeed label this a vengeful trick.” Alastair’s British accent had become clipped. “Continue.”
With each continue, she shrank more. “I shouldn’t have done it here.”
“Yes, you planned your misbehavior where the entire club could see,” Alastair agreed.
His deliberate wording got through to her. Her head jerked up, and she stared around as if realizing where she was standing—and why. Her face turned a couple of shades lighter.
In a subtle movement, Alastair rubbed his shoulder against Max. Hand-off.
“I like the doll, Zuri, but gotta say, I don’t like having my dick on display.” Max chilled his voice. “Let alone in a cock and ball torture with chains wrapped around my junk.”
Nice flinch.
Max removed her cape and lifted her onto the bar. Her tiny nervous yip hardened his shaft.
“Since you like combining chains and genitals, we shall use that as the theme for this session,” Alastair said.
Her lovely brown eyes went wide, and she tried to slide off the bar.
“Sit. Still.” Alastair said softly, and she froze. Hook by hook, Alastair unfastened her golden Amazon bustier, then laid it on a stool.
Breasts exposed, she sat quietly, all resistance gone.
Break a man’s heart, she could. Max removed her shoulder and shin guards, then her gauntlets before putting a hand behind her neck. He pulled her down so he could kiss her trembling lips.
When he stepped back, she peeked at him, quivering with anxiety. “Are you really mad at me?”
“Zuri, do we sound mad?” Max asked. With any luck, she’d never realize they’d never been angered at all.
“Yes. No. Not completely. I…I don’t like pain.”
Max slid his hand down her long, elegant throat to her bare breast. Lightly, he pinched one velvety nipple, increasing the pressure until she sucked in air.
The dark red of arousal tinged her skin—and both nipples stood up.
“Your body likes pain now and then, baby.” He turned his hand over and brushed his knuckles over the hard peaks. “Would we ever do anything to hurt you past what you can take?”
Without even a hesitation, she shook her head. “No.”
“Do you trust us?” He was sorely tempted to ask the other question. Do you love us?
“Yes,” she whispered.
After kissing her forehead, he glanced at his cousin.
Alastair handed over leather cuffs he’d obtained from behind the bar. Good thing Z kept spares there. No way would any self-respecting Dom use glittering pink ones. Jesus. As Max cuffed Zuri’s ankles, his cousin fastened cuffs on her wrists.
“Lie back, pet.” Alastair positioned Zuri so she lay along the bar with her legs dangling off the end of the oval. He clipped her wrist cuffs together. “Chain?”
Max dug in his bag for the short lengths and handed one over along with a couple of carabiner snap hooks.
Alastair fastened the chain to Zuri’s cuffs and pulled her arms over her head. He fastened the other end of the chain to one of the iron rings recessed into the bar surface.
Max grinned. He’d never seen a bar top designed for bondage as well as drinking. He pulled off Zuri’s leather kilt, leaving her naked except for the leather cuffs. After clipping one end of a short chain to her right ankle cuff, he lifted her leg and snap-hooked the other end to the chain dangling from the rafter. Her leg was suspended straight up in the air. He did the same to the left and stepped back to enjoy the sight.
Naked submissive, flat on her back on the bar top, arms over her head, legs raised high in a nice wide V. Her ass was conveniently right near the edge where the oval bar curved at the end.
He curled an arm around her leg, kissed her inner thigh, and felt the fine trembling under the soft skin. When he saw the worry on her face, he frowned. “Zuri?”
Was she up for this? They could revise the plan…
Looking at him, she pulled in a slow breath and gave a nod.
Okay. Okay, then.
Alastair huffed a laugh and handed him a subbie blanket. “It is odd how everyone here thinks I’m the softhearted Dom.”
“They’ll soon learn better.” Max’d also noticed that the “sadist” had his fingers wrapped around Zuri’s forearm in both assessment and reassurance. Half-grinning, Max stuffed the rolled-up blanket under Zuri’s ass to raise it up another six inches higher than her head, giving it a good tilt, then adjusted the leg chains again.
Hmm. A waist strap?
Nah.
With the wrist restraints and the legs up and wide, she couldn’t go anywhere. He and Alastair enjoyed watching a submissive struggle, and Zuri’s body was designed for pretty wiggles. “We’re good.”
“Isn’t she lovely?” Alastair said under his breath as he smiled down at their restrained woman.
“Oh, yeah.”
Her eyes were bright, her color slightly darker with arousal, her breathing fast. A little anxious. Not terrified, despite being restrained and having two big guys looming over her. She trusted them.
The knowledge spread warmth through Max’s veins.
Alastair leaned down to take a slow kiss and then played with her breasts. Her nipples were soon bunched into jutting peaks.
Max grinned. His cousin did like breasts, no doubt about it, and Uzuri’s were especially fine. Max planted his forearms on the bar top, parallel to her upper arm. “I think a warm-up is in order. Your choice, Doc.”
Alastair walked over to his bag. “I’d planned to use my softest flogger today, but I don’t have time to undo the knots.”
Zuri’s guilty—and worried—expression was damn cute.
Max squeezed her fingers in reassurance and flattened his other hand between her bare breasts. Now, that was a fast little heartbeat, wasn’t it?
Out of Zuri’s field of vision, Alastair opened his bag. He removed the mushroom-headed Hitachi vibrator, quietly plugged it into the electrical socket at the foot of the bar, and laid it to one side. “Perhaps”—he held up a crop—“this might be an adequate alternative.”
Max grinned. Trust an Englishman to like something invented for riding. The long black shaft ended in a two-inch wide square of black leather. No, wait. The crop had two strips of leather rather than the traditional one, which meant it’d make an even louder slapping sound.
Palm on Zuri’s chest, Max felt her tense.
Alastair gave her a long look. “What’s the safeword here, little mischief?”
Her voice was almost inaudible. “Red. Sir.”
“Very good. You sing out if anything starts to hurt too much.” Sensitizing her skin, Alastair teased the leather squares of the crop over her right thigh, her mound, then the left thigh—and back again. With each circuit, he’d brush his knuckles over her pussy, keeping her as excited as she was anxious.
Under Max’s palm, her heart thudded harder.
Around them, the normal club activities had resumed. Cullen and Andrea were serving drinks and chatting with people near the bar. Conversations hummed with occasional bursts of laughter. From the room’s perimeter came the slap of paddles and hands, the thuddier sounds of floggers, cries, and moans. One submissive begged for release in a high voice; a male sub cursed as he sobbed.
Lightly, Alastair flicked the crop up the inside of Zuri’s right thigh, checking her face and muscles between each stroke.
Although she’d sucked in a deep breath with the noisy snap of the first blow, she was doing well. Max noticed she wasn’t even flinching, despite the noisy slapper crop.
Time to add more sensation.
Chapter Twenty-Five
TH
E BACKS OF Uzuri’s thighs were stinging from the crop, and her inner thighs had started to burn.
Suddenly the crop flicked the top of her mound with that horrible slapping sound.
“Ah!” The chains clanked as she tried to yank her knees together—without success. Her ankles remained high and wide, leaving her pussy scarily exposed. Erotically exposed.
She lifted her head and looked down her body, seeing Alastair framed by the V of her legs. Keeping with the Halloween theme, he’d worn a scruffy black shirt he’d borrowed from Max and knotted a do-rag over his head like a pirate. He hadn’t trimmed his beard for two days, and his darkly shadowed jaw made him look frighteningly dangerous.
When his penetrating gaze met hers, the power in his eyes seemed to shake the entire building. Deliberately holding her gaze, he set his hand over her pussy. At the heat of his palm in her wetness and the pressure over her throbbing clit, need shuddered through her.
A slow smile curved his lips, reminding her that he liked to use pain as one of his instruments.
And then he stepped back and began to crop her again.
The burn on the skin of her legs increased, and she yanked at her ankles again. Uselessly. She growled in frustration.
Laughter resounded around her.
Omigod. She was naked and restrained on a bar. A bar. With her legs chained and her pussy exposed. Talk about embarrassing.
“Easy, darlin’.” Max squeezed her fingers.
She needed that comfort. The flick, flick, flick of the crop was growing steadily harder, right at the edge of pain. What did they plan to do to her? Her mouth was almost too dry to let her swallow. When Max released her hand, she panicked and tried to grab him, but the chain pinning her wrists to the bar top kept her arms over her head. She could feel her heart drumming within her chest. “Wait.”
“Easy, princess. I’m not leaving you.” Max’s voice was a rumbling croon of reassurance. “But I need both hands to play with these beauties.” His callused palms were tantalizingly abrasive as he squeezed her breasts, molded them together, and kneaded them. They swelled under his hard hands, and the skin grew achingly taut.
Assessing gaze on her face, he circled each nipple with a wet finger, creating a cool spot in the center of the throbbing heat.
Mischief and the Masters Page 30