by Zoey Marcel
She shook her head, kissing his fingertips. “No. I love you more.”
The protest she waited for never came. She frowned at him in mock offense, and he smiled.
“You twit, you're supposed to say you love me more.”
He shrugged, expression teasing. “If I say that, you'll keep arguing with me and we'll never get out there. I've got a whole night full of plans for you. Starting now you don't speak unless I ask you a question and until I lift your speech restriction. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Now, I'm going out there and I expect you to follow, but in your own time.”
“Yes, Sir. I mean Master.” She grinned at his questioning frown. “Sorry. I've just been playing with Travis, Jake, and Keith lately, so I forgot.”
Master made an exaggerated sound of disapproval before starting to walk. “Oh, and slave, I love you more.”
Her heart melted at his words and the love-light shining in his jewel tone eyes. She was about to say she loved him more when he made an “Ub ba ba” noise. She glowered at him when she remembered she wasn't allowed to speak. Her Master had won, the clever twit.
He winked at her devilishly and threw her a taunting kiss as he walked into the main area.
Kayla grimaced at the crowd she saw beyond the double doors. She took a deep breath, fumbled with that elusive ally, courage and walked to her future.
God, there were a lot of people, and many of them stared ... at her naked body.
Oh God! What's wrong with me? Why did I agree to do this?
When she saw her men scattered around the room and Master standing at the bar waiting for her, she remembered to breathe.
That's why.
She was doing this for the Master she loved, not because sleazy Beck Hammond ordered her to. And she was doing it because she wanted to. She had a feeling that was the reason Master Hugh made her come in alone, so there would be no doubt in her mind who it was encouraging her feet to move beneath her, propelling her forward to the fate she'd chosen.
She knelt before him with her head bowed, grateful to hide her butt from the intent stares surrounding her. He helped her to her feet, making her want to run screaming when her backside was turned so the audience could see her unsightly flaws. To clench or not to clench her arse—that was the question.
Her stomach on the other hand had been sucked in since before she came into the room.
Master stopped in front of her, patting her belly with a raised eyebrow. He cleared his throat and waited. Damn him. She slowly exhaled, allowing her stomach muscles to unclench, revealing her pudge to all. Salty mist rose in her eyes. Didn't he care that she was humiliated? Or was there a method to his madness?
She shivered, nipples perking with erotic interest when his knuckles grazed them.
His head bent near hers, and he whispered into her ear with a tender softness she'd forgotten he possessed. “You're a stunning woman, Kayla. Everyone in this room knows it. You're as hard on your body as Keith is on his character. Fools, both of you. Are you an idiot, slave?”
“I must be to come out here like this, Master, but it makes me really happy that you and my other guys are all attracted to me,” she whispered back, blushing hard beneath the heavy stares and unexpected leers.
“We're not the only ones. After you're secured to the bench, have a look around and you'll see what I mean.”
“Yes, Master.”
He guided her to the bench and watched as Travis and Jake strapped her wrists and ankles to the legs of the furniture while her body rested stomach-down on the padded bench.
Master hovered near her ear. “And you're not an idiot, slave, just blind. I think after tonight it will help some of the scales to fall from your eyes.”
She nodded, cheeks burning intensely hot. Oh God, why did they all have to stare? Were some of them still playing like this wasn't even happening? Probably, but she didn't dare look to verify.
“Don't be afraid to cry if it hurts ... inside or out. You'll be well taken care of after this,” he promised in a reassuring hush.
“Thank you, Master.”
What did he mean inside? Was he planning on jarring her so hard her bones hurt? She shuddered. That didn't sound like him, though. Maybe he meant her feelings.
She peeked over her shoulder and saw Master taking his blazer off and talking to Virgil. They both looked at her. Intrigued, she stared at Virgil when he knelt by her.
“If you start having flashbacks at all or you need reassurance, just squeeze my hand or look into my eyes. Hugh says your safe word is cocoa.”
She managed a nervous grin. “We quit using safe words after a while.”
“He figured you might need one this time, and since it's not a punishment scene and caning is intense, he wanted me to give you one. If you need to use it, just whisper it to me, and I'll give him a hand signal to stop. That way you don't have to get embarrassed by screaming it out loud.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“No, no, just Virgil. I'm your vanilla church boy, remember?” he teased, rubbing her shoulder.
She smiled before trembling. “I can't believe I'm doing this.”
“Neither can I. I'm proud of you, though. We all are. Okay, here he comes. Just kiss the stick, and he'll paddle you.”
“It's a cane, and he's going to cane me with it,” she corrected him, giving him a repentant, humored smile when Virgil made a face.
“Well, excuse me, honey.” he teased. “I guess I need to brush up on my club lingo.”
“You're excused.”
She turned serious when Master Hugh approached with a rattan cane. God, it looked thick. The thud would land hard on her bottom ... like Slade's fat cane used to. Then there were the thin, stingy ones he'd used. She shivered, recalling the crippling pain of each size cane. Both gave off different levels and sensations of pain, but either way their impact had been devastating.
“Do you trust me, slave?” Master asked her in a gentle tone she found strangely soothing in the adrenaline rush of the moment.
“Yes, Master Hugh,” she said quietly. “I trust you with my life.”
Normally during high protocol moments such as this she was required to address him as Master. Only in low protocol settings was she permitted to use his name or call him by a pet name. Still, Hugh seemed to understand her need to say his name during high protocol this once to reassure herself that he was the one doing this to her.
The latter words she’d spoken scared her this time, unlike the comfort they had once been. She still trusted him to the same extent, but after having seen what men could do, what some were capable of, she realized the seriousness of putting her control and the rest of her life in someone's hands.
She wanted him to own her again. Putting herself out there in front of unknown stares as she opened herself to the cane she knew her Master would deliver to her panicking buttocks felt brave and right somehow.
To belong in this moment—this embarrassing and scary yet somehow fitting moment—gave her the image of staring the memory of Slade and his weapons of torment down and saying, “You have no power over me anymore.”
Kayla eyed the cane, knowing it was Master's intent to heal her. She didn't know about the possibility of healing from the severe beatings in her past, but she was willing to endure pain and humiliation for him if he wanted her to. If she came out of this feeling beautiful and worthy and healed, then even better.
She closed her eyes and kissed the cane, accepting her fate. Master petted her head, rubbing her scalp lightly like she was a beloved pet of his. She wasn't sure if she purred for him or not, but her head leaned into his doting hand.
Then he disappeared from her sight with the cane, and raw panic began to set in. It was Master Hugh, not Slade hurting her. Nor was it Beck filming the whole scene like a heartless jackass. Or Bruce Callaghan fucking with her mind, making her cling to sweet lies for a faint dose of comfort from the horrors the other men had subjected her to
.
Kayla shuddered in horror. Black Dragon—she'd unknowingly slept with Black Dragon. The same monster who... Not by any choice of hers, though. The police would find him, just as Beck had met his untimely death and his body had been found and identified. Like Slade who was behind bars, in time Alexei Romanov would get served a big dose of karma.
A soft brush of Master Hugh's hand over her rump startled her. The rasp of his warm palm over her flesh made the scene oddly sensual. He'd said it wasn't a punishment scene, so the pain shouldn't be as bad.
Still, it was a freakin' cane. The impact was bound to suck no matter what the intended psychology behind this scene was.
She made up her mind to be strong and take the cane for him. Something about facing her paralyzing fear for the Master she worshiped gave her a sudden spike of determined courage that proved empowering. She could do this, because he wanted her to, because she was stronger than the nightmarish memories of physical, sexual, and mental abuse. Because she trusted him, she could submit. Because she loved him, she could surrender.
Kayla sucked in a sudden gulp of air when she felt the hard pole slide across her buttocks in a deceptively gentle stroke. The cane taunted her, offered friendship, but she knew the lying rod would start nipping at her bottom soon enough.
Master alternated between these sensual glides over her skin and gentle taps and pats on her butt. She figured he was warming up her skin so as to lessen the chances and severity of marks when his strikes became more intense.
Slade had never warmed her up, and the shocking impact of each hit had always jarred her inside and left her badly marked afterward. The marks of her Master she cherished. The bloody gashes and blistered lines from Slade were a different story.
Master Hugh gradually increased the energy behind these light taps, bringing them in more rapid succession all over her rump. The slides always caught her off guard, but she enjoyed the smooth, reassuring caresses before the cane knocked faintly on her rear end as if it were a door he wanted her to open to him. The taps became more insistent like big mosquitoes that nipped at her ass, warming her skin. The pressure behind the tapping turned into warning little thuds that started to hurt. She could do this. He was being far gentler and more patient with her than Slade had been, and she had a safe word.
“They're watching you, honey,” Virgil whispered.
Kayla dared to steal a glance at some of the people who had gathered around. Some went about their business, dancing or playing with their partners, but a significant number of people had gathered around her and watched with interest. She had to do a double take when she saw some of the bulges on the male spectators. They were turned on? Heck, a few of the women looked at her with admiration or lust as well.
She blushed and dropped her eyes. Too overwhelming and embarrassing being watched while naked and vulnerable like this, but their appreciation of her body touched her and made her feel beautiful despite her flaws. Master had been right.
A sudden strike thudded on her backside, forcing the air from her lungs. The cane was pulled back immediately, and no blow followed for several seconds. The pain and heat registered in her body, but the effects quickly lessened. A similar hit followed in a different place on her bottom, jolting her. The impact startled her, though not severely. Heat radiated, suffusing through her system.
Virgil sat near her, comforting her with his presence.
The next thud on her ass shocked her. She felt the impact deep in her muscles, the effects resonating with her like ripples over water in a confined area after a big splash. Her ass burned, and she realized Master hadn't moved the cane from her bottom once he'd struck her this time. The results seemed to intensify and linger in her body because of the prolonged contact with the cane.
She melted into his soothing hand when he rubbed the heat deeper into her buttocks, massaging away the pain he'd caused.
What followed was some kind of rhythm, natural, captivating, yet unpredictable. He alternated places of contact on her bottom and used various strokes and touches on her with the thick cane, throwing in the occasional hard thud that vibrated through her. Her butt felt like it was on fire, and the heat dissipating through her made her blood feel like simmering water in her veins.
The pain was real, powerful. The exposure and sense of helplessness were devastating. But the psychology behind the act was stronger. This was her Master. He wanted to cane her. She'd agreed to let him do so. It was her choice, but when she'd made it the choice had become his. She was bound, naked, and collared in front of other people, some of whom were complete strangers to her.
Their admiration or judgment might normally have a bearing on her actions, but in this powerful moment they may as well have not even been in the room. There was no one else here right now, just her and Master ... and the cane.
Sweat poured out of her body, clamming her underarms and dampening the hair at her temples and the fine, tiny hairs on her nape. The front of her body stuck to the padded bench, making faint squeaky noises when she struggled or moved. Even the soles of her feet seemed to sweat.
She smelled her fruity raspberry perfume saturating her conquered body and her summer scented deodorant doing its job. She squeezed Virgil's hand when the blows became especially harsh. The pain inspired tears that dripped from her eyes and splattered onto the floor.
“You okay?” Virgil's question was a surreal echo that sounded distant. Their joined hands sweated against one another and resembled a dreamlike blur.
She opened her mouth to speak, mumbling something. She hoped she said yes, though her answer was unintelligible to her. The big bad cane seemed to have vanished, and a thinner cane glided up her thigh. God, she hoped he didn't strike her anywhere but on her ass. She didn't figure he would. The sensual glide up her thigh was probably Master's way of alerting her that he'd switched to a thinner cane. Out with the thud and onto the nasty sting.
Uh-oh.
She braced herself, though her body was surprisingly mellow despite the brutality she knew was coming.
No. Master wasn't brutal. Intense to be sure, but never vicious.
The thin invader moved to her ass, brushing over the inflamed territory it intended to assail.
“Good girl.” Her Master's voice broke through the dreamy fog.
Kayla moaned, and her body went languid against the bench. She could endure anything for him when he said that to her.
Slade was nowhere to be found in this moment of shocking pain. It was almost as if each contact the cane Master Hugh wielded on her flaming ass seemed to beat the memories of her sadistic bodyguard from her mind.
The psychology behind this scene was so different. She wasn't being punished or simply abused by a monster. Master was ... well, in truth she didn't know what the hell he was doing to her. The pain was too intense, the bond too incredible to assess when she was flying so high.
She had beautiful memories of going into subspace for him, but that couldn't be possible with the cane. That would mean he'd healed her. Proven to her that she was beautiful, had worth, and belonged to him completely. That somehow her desire to please him overrode what anyone thought of her.
Kayla cried out when the cane nipped at her bottom, the sting prevalent, bringing a torch of fire with it. She'd been aware of her cries all along, but they sounded fainter now, more primitive and wanton as though she were being fucked instead of caned.
The instrument struck her and slid almost at the same time, igniting the fiery coals on her battered rump all the more. Her mouth made an O as her pussy leaked. The sensation of her vagina flooding with arousal was faint in the storm of pain that flared on her backside, but the wetness was there, coating her inner thighs and rolling in erotic drops down her legs along with fearful perspiration.
That was before, though. The fear was gone now as surrender and desire replaced apprehension.
A similar strike occurred, stinging and burning her flesh, giving her the sensation of tearing skin. Had he broken the skin?
She doubted it. He probably knew of strikes to give that impression without actually damaging the flesh. His skill made her woozy and euphoric. He could create illusions.
Maybe he had made her bleed. She whimpered, pressing her pussy harder onto the bench. The idea of bleeding for Master made her hot and bothered. He really needed to get her off right about now or she'd combust.
The cane was gone. She waited a few seconds before the wonderful bastard returned and resumed the gliding and gentle tapping rhythm Master had used to warm her up. Was this cool down perhaps?
The otherworldly utopia persisted as the touches of the cane became lighter until all contact ceased. She was vaguely aware of that throbbing mountain of fire behind her that was formerly known as her ass. She'd bet he'd left marks on her. Decadent marks of ownership and power. The mental image made her womb clench.
Please touch me.
Somebody freed her of the bonds. She planned on tackling the nearest of her five men and demanding release, but her legs felt like cranberry sauce at Thanksgiving and her mumbles sounded more like primate lingo than actual words.
Jake held her up as he had her lean against the bench. The edge pressed into her sore posterior, making her mewl in pain. Wonderful, nasty bench of oppression.
Master had set the cane aside and now had his thick, black walking cane. Jake stepped aside, supporting her back from behind. Master extended the tip to her mouth, and she almost made out with the damned thing when she kissed it.
Surely he wouldn't cane the front of her with it? She'd prayed for death whenever Slade had done that to her. Her protesting grunt sounded like a crabby orangutan that had just woken up and wanted to beat the crap out of the other monkey that was responsible.
Master watched closely, not hitting her, merely touching the tip of the cane to her areola before using a gentle probing motion to lightly touch her nipple. The sensual pressure and consistent tipping there made her womb spasm. He did the same to the other nipple, hiding his aroused smile at her responsive body language and horny sounds. She saw the smile in his eyes, though.