by Brynley Bush
He leaves me there for what seems like a lifetime, and then he’s unfastening the restraints and removing the blindfold, covering my nakedness with the robe.
“It’s time to go, Ava.” The words come from another time and place. I don’t want to go. I need release from this all-consuming haze of want that Roman has created. I look up at him in confusion.
“It’s time for dinner. We’ll get our instructions for the group event for tomorrow, and then there’s a movie screening for all of the contestants.”
What? No! I don’t want dinner or a movie. I just want Roman to finish what he started, dammit.
“And then?” I ask, hating the needful yearning in my voice.
“And then we’ll get some sleep,” he says resolutely, making it clear I’m not going to get what I want. “The games begin tomorrow.”
Chapter Eight
Roman
“Incredible,” Logan marvels, tossing the photos I’d printed out and brought to show him across the desk. “These would be perfect for the print and website advertising campaign for the Helix Room.”
He picks up the one of Ava displayed on the pedestal, blindfolded with her arms chained above her and her nipples clamped. “This one is phenomenal. I’ve never seen a picture that so perfectly captures the sheer beauty of submission.”
He’s right. Ava’s face, usually so composed, betrays her every emotion. Her lips are parted, her stance emphasizing her utter vulnerability, her expression a blend of innocence and strength. She’s the epitome of the unadulterated power of surrender.
“I don’t know what stroke of genius possessed you to take her to the Helix Room for the photo shoot, but I’m damned glad you did,” he continues. “Do you think she’ll sign a release to let us use these images for advertising? We could pay her a generous modeling fee.”
“I honestly don’t know. She comes across so innocent in many ways but oddly worldly in others. I think she could use the money, but I don’t know how she’ll feel about having such an intimate photo of herself plastered everywhere. Let’s have lunch tomorrow, and you can talk to her about it,” I suggest before heading out to do some shopping to prepare for the games this evening.
I’ve left my submissive to her own devices this morning, although I’ve promised her a beating if she touches herself or gets herself off in my absence. She’d shot daggers at me last night when she’d realized I had no intention of easing her need, but she’s too proud to beg for it…yet.
I intend to keep her on edge for a while. Although I would have loved nothing more than to see her shatter beneath my hand last night, and while I sure as hell could have used the release myself after posing her sweet body in erotic positions all afternoon, I know she’ll perform better for the group event tonight if she’s somewhat needy and unsatisfied. Besides, I’ve decided that when I allow her to come the next time, she’s going to have to beg for it. This little submissive is getting under my skin, and we both need the reminder of who’s in charge.
When I come back, she’s freshly showered and waiting for me in the suite.
“Did you get your work finished?” she asks. The raw hunger of last night is gone, replaced by polite aloofness. My cock hardens at the prospect of breaking down her defenses and getting her back to depraved wantonness.
“I did,” I say, taking off my jacket and unbuttoning the top two buttons of my shirt before rolling up my shirtsleeves. She licks her lips. “I also got the details for the group event tonight.”
“And?” She looks as calm as if she’s just asked me whether it’s going to rain, but her hands are clenched together in front of her, betraying her nervousness.
I pull out the card and read it to her. “Join us in the Diamond Lounge at eight o’clock as everything comes off. Submissives will perform an erotic striptease to a full house at the first official group event of the Power Games.”
Ava lets out her breath in a whoosh. “An erotic striptease? Okay, that’s not so bad, right?”
I look at her consideringly. “I suppose that depends on how inhibited you are.”
She blushes. “It’s just taking my clothes off. I can do that.”
“You have to do it better than the other thirteen women,” I remind her. I take a seat on the sofa and gesture to the space in front of me. “Show me.”
“Now?” She looks like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Yes, schiava,” I say, my voice taking on an authoritative edge. “Now. Show me.”
“Listen, I wanted to talk to you about this whole schiava slave-girl thing,” she says, all prim and proper.
I smile lazily. This should be entertaining. “All right. Talk.”
“I, um, don’t want you to call me that.”
“Why not?”
She fidgets slightly and then frowns as she tries to put her feelings into words. “Because it makes me feel like I’m at a disadvantage. Like you have more power than I do.” She stops for a minute, her brow furrowing in thought. “It makes me feel like I’m just a thing, your possession that you can do anything you want with. And I don’t like it.”
“You have all the power, schiava, as you can revoke the control you’ve surrendered to me with your safe word. But you have subjected yourself to my desires, and I have the authority you’ve given to me. I can do anything I want with you within the limits that you’ve agreed to, unless you choose to use your safe word,” I remind her mildly. “This isn’t a democracy, and what you like or don’t like doesn’t always matter. But I’m a fair man, so I’m willing to compromise. During our regular day-to-day interactions, I’ll call you Ava. But during scenes and any games or D/s interactions, I’ll give you a choice. You can answer to slave or schiava, or you can answer to Avalon.”
Her eyes flash as she meets my gaze. “You fucking bastard,” she hisses.
“Be careful that your mouth doesn’t get you into something your ass can’t handle, Ava,” I warn softly.
She stands there for several long minutes, and despite the armor of impassivity that she works so hard to keep in place, I can see the internal conflict rage through her as she considers her options. Her fingers curl into fists at her sides, and I half hope she decides to slap me again. I’d love nothing more than to take her over my knee and break that stubborn will of hers. But she finally takes a deep breath and says, “Okay. You can call me Avalon.”
I lift my eyebrow in surprise. Somehow, I thought she’d go with schiava, but I’m pleased at her choice. “As you wish, Avalon,” I say deliberately. “Now show me your striptease.”
Her eyes widen. “But…I don’t have any music,” she says, sidestepping the command. She’s clearly uncomfortable with the idea of stripping for me, but she’s trying hard not to admit it.
“They’re making an exception to the no-music rule for this event, although you still won’t be able to access the Internet or your own personal cell phone to download songs. After we’re finished here, you can go downstairs and peruse the music library provided by the hotel to choose your song for tonight, but for now, I just want to see your moves. No music. Strip.”
She looks at me with a brief hint of desperation in her gorgeous green eyes, and then she tilts her chin up and slowly removes her shoes. It has all the sex appeal of someone preparing for the guillotine. With her eyes downcast, she slowly begins to unbutton the sleeveless red blouse she’s wearing.
“Avalon! This is supposed to be erotic. Seduce me. Show me what you have. Make me want it. Make me desperate for it.”
She nods and tries again, but her embarrassment gets the best of her, and she refuses to look at me as she continues unbuttoning her shirt, although her hips are now swaying enticingly.
I sigh with exasperation. “Come here.”
Her eyes meet mine in bewilderment, but she obediently moves to stand in front of me.
“You’re obviously shy about this,” I say, my voice laced with understanding. She relaxes a little.
“I am,” she admits.
She nods, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Good.” I stand up and go to the dresser, pulling out a black blindfold. “I’ve noticed things are easier for you when you can hide behind the security of the blindfold, so we’ll start with you blindfolded.”
Although she’s a master at controlling her facial expressions, her eyes always give her away, and I hate not being able to read what’s going through her head. But what she needs right now is to focus on her body and the way she feels without distraction or self-consciousness. She stands motionless as I move behind her and tie the blindfold over her eyes.
Still behind her, I skim my hands down her sides. “Feel how seductive your body is, its curves and movements.” I grip her hips and begin to rock them gently from side to side. After a moment, she relaxes and lets me take over. I roll her hips in a silent rhythm—side to side, front to back, and then in unhurried, erotic circles.
“Now lift your arms over your head,” I murmur in her ear, still rotating her pelvis. “Slowly. Seductively. Keep them there.” She obeys, her arms over her head as she gyrates her hips with the guidance of my hands.
“That’s right, baby,” I encourage her. She’s feeling it now, her hips undulating sensuously. “Grind it. Shake it. Twerk it. Move just like you’re on my cock.”
She stops cold. I reach around to tweak her nipples, and she squeaks in surprise.
“Focus!” I admonish her.
I grasp her hips again and press my crotch against her tight little bottom. Then with one hand splayed against her abdomen, I hold her to me as I move her hips to mirror mine until we’re dancing together, our bodies rippling sinuously. After a few minutes, I let go and stand back.
“Now make a circle with your hips as you go all the way down to the ground. That’s it. Stay there. Now straighten your legs as you’re bent over with your ass sticking out. More.”
She obediently thrusts her little ass back farther, and I give it a light smack. “Perfect. Now stand up slowly without bending your legs.”
She complies, and my cock throbs at the seductive move. I pull her back against me, and our hips begin to roll together again. She’s getting the hang of it now, her ass grinding against my pelvis like she was born for it.
We stop, and I remove the blindfold, turning her to face me. She blinks at me in surprise as if she doesn’t quite know how she got here. “Now you’ve got the moves,” I say approvingly. “Let’s work on the stripping part. Without the blindfold.”
I sit down on the couch and lean back comfortably, one ankle casually crossed over my knee. “Remove your clothes leisurely. Seductively. Tease me. But keep eye contact with me the entire time. That’s important. So important that every time you look down, I’m going to spank you to help you remember.”
She swallows hard.
“Begin.”
She lasts about two minutes—long enough for her to unbutton her blouse and ease it off her shoulders and lower the straps of her bra before she becomes self-conscious and her lashes flutter down.
“Come here.” The command is quiet but unmistakable. I meant what I said.
Her gaze flies to mine. “I didn’t mean to look down. Give me one more chance,” she pleads.
“A good Dom always does what he says he’s going to do so his submissive knows she can count on him to be consistent. Now, Avalon.”
She reluctantly approaches me, and I pat my lap. She takes a small involuntary step backward, and before she can think about it anymore, I grab her hand and pull her down over my legs until her ass is centered in my lap, her legs dangling on one side and her fingertips skimming the floor on the other.
“Instant obedience,” I remind her.
I deliver several hard smacks to her bottom, enough to make her squirm a little, but the fabric of her denim shorts diffuses the blows. When I let her back up, her breath is coming a little faster, and her face is flushed.
I give her bottom another light smack, urging her back to her place in front of me. “That’s going to hurt a lot more the less clothing you have on.”
She gives me a dirty look and begins again, those big green eyes never leaving mine as she removes her bra and slowly wiggles out of her shorts. Her thumbs hook into the waistband of her underwear, and although she blushes furiously, she maintains eye contact as she eases them off. It’s the first time she’s exposed her sex to me, at least when she can see me, and I stare pointedly, letting her know I will look at what’s mine. I let my gaze travel brazenly up her body, lingering on her beautiful breasts, the nipples hard and jutting, before going back to her face. Her lashes are lowered in humiliation.
“Avalon!”
Her eyes fill with dismay as they meet mine, and she slowly walks to stand in front of me. I pat my lap, and this time she obediently lies over it.
“I think you like spanking me,” she grumbles accusingly.
“I fucking love spanking you,” I admit candidly as I stroke my hand lightly across her bottom. She shudders slightly, and I have no doubt her pussy is probably throbbing with the anticipation of what she knows is coming. I make her wait for it as I squeeze each cheek firmly, the pressure just this side of painful. Then I hit her ass hard with my hand, delivering several quick blows until I know that first little blossom of pain has begun to spread.
“Ow! Stop!”
Her hands move to block me, and I easily grasp her wrists in one hand, pinning them to the small of her back.
“Rule number four. Never interfere with a punishment.”
I caress her ass again, this time dipping forward to slide along her wet slit, finding her clit and circling it a few times until her pelvis presses into my thigh. Then I spank her hard enough that she’ll think twice before interfering with a spanking again, alternating between light, glancing blows that sting, fast slaps, and deep, harder blows that reverberate through her. At one point I stop, my hand hovering above her now reddened little ass, taking a sadistic pleasure in the way she squirms in anticipation. Then I smack her several more times in the same spot. As her body tightens and she struggles to get away, my cock hardens and my breath quickens in response to her pain.
I pull her legs apart and touch her center. God, she is exquisite—wet and heated in response to the punishment despite her mind’s aversion to it. She’s fucking perfect for me.
“You like me spanking you as much as I like doing it,” I taunt her, smearing the evidence of her arousal across her inner thigh.
“No, I don’t!” she protests, struggling to close her legs.
“Your body says otherwise. Tell me what you want, Avalon,” I murmur. “Do you want my hands here?” I cup her sex. “Do you want my fingers inside you?” I slide one finger into her heat as her pelvis rolls against my palm.
“No!” she whispers. But her body betrays her.
“Okay,” I concede, sliding my finger out of her and lifting her off my lap abruptly. Her eyes are wild, her breathing rapid. “We’ll see if you change your mind about that. Perform well tonight, and maybe I’ll let you come.” Looking her in the eye, I slowly lick her juices off my finger. She stares at me. “But this time you’re going to have to beg for it.”
Her eyes flash. “I’m going to have to beg for it?” she demands incredulously. “I’m going to beg? We’ll see about that!” She turns and flounces into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
* * * *
Ava
I’m still mad at Roman when I go down to one of the hotel’s business centers to look through the extensive online music catalog to pick my song. How dare he spank me, make me wet and needy, and then tell me if I perform well, he might let me come. But only if I
beg for it! Of all the egotistical, controlling, arrogant bastards! If I could kill him right now, I would. I’m done with his games and the sadistic pleasure he takes in punishing me, playing me, arousing me, and then leaving me wanting. If this is what being a submissive means, I’m not sure I’m going to make it through the next six weeks. I’m almost as angry at myself for the way I react to him as I am at him for making me feel things—things I don’t want to feel, things I shouldn’t feel. How can a man make me ridiculously wet by spanking me?
“Hey, Ava.”
I look up in surprise to see Tessa at one of the computers.
“Hey,” I say crossly.
“Are you okay?”
I count to three as I let my breath out slowly and then nod. “Sure.”
She gets up and comes over to me, searching my face. “No, you’re not. What’s wrong?”
I almost laugh. What’s wrong? Only everything, from the way Roman makes me feel to the way my body seems intent on betraying me. I’m here to win the games and hurt my stepfather, not get caught up in this emotional maelstrom that Roman seems to unleash. I need to focus on the prize. Which is looking further and further from my grasp since I can’t even manage to strip in front of Roman, much less a room full of men I don’t know. I sigh.
“I have no idea how to do a striptease. Roman tried to help me, but I’m too self-conscious, and I’m probably going to get voted off after today.” It’s a truthful answer, even if it only scratches the surface.
“I can help you,” she offers. “I grew up dancing. I was on the drill team in high school, which is about as close to stripping as you can get without taking your clothes off.” She laughs. “I actually took pole-dancing classes in college for fun. I can help you with a routine if you want.”
“Really?” I look at her in surprise. “Why would you do that? We’re competitors.”
“We’re also friends,” she says gently. “And friends help each other. Besides, I’m not letting you get voted off. You’re the only friend I have here.”