Red Handed

by Shelly Bell

  She thought about her body’s response to the scene and how she’d been only seconds away from shoving her hand between her thighs to ease the ache. “Hot. Tingly. Breathless . . . ” That wasn’t all she’d felt. Her chest had tightened at the sight of Cole with Jaxon and Kate. “Jealous.”

  He shifted in his chair and ran his hand down his scalp. “Jealous?”

  “Of Kate,” she said, immediately kicking herself for admitting it. “All that attention focused solely on her. The way Jaxon looked at her as if she were the only person in the room.”

  “But she wasn’t. Kate and Jaxon chose a public scene rather than a private room or their home so that anyone could watch.” He rose from his chair and rounded the desk, stopping in front of her. Her pulse went crazy as he leaned forward, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair, effectively caging her in. “Tell me, Danielle. Has a man ever held your back against his front at a concert, slipped his hand under your short skirt, and fingered your hot pussy until you shook from climax?”

  His face moved closer, almost as if he was going to kiss her, but at the last moment, he turned his head and he whispered into her ear, his hot breath causing her to shudder from the chills sweeping her body. “Have you ever kneeled on the floor and sucked off a man in the back of a dark movie theater? Does the idea of being caught get you wet? Did you wish to be in Kate’s place and be watched?”

  She swallowed hard and licked her suddenly dry lips. The images his words created spun like a carousel in her imagination. Her fantasies had never involved public sex, but she couldn’t deny the ideas he’d painted aroused her. But she’d never feel comfortable enough in her skin to actually do those things. “I’m not into pain. Anything more than a spanking is at least a soft limit for me.”

  He pulled back with a frown. “That wasn’t what I asked, and you know it.” He removed his arms from her chair and casually perched himself on the corner of the desk, leaving one leg on the ground. “But that’s okay for now. You’re obviously not ready to accept it. I understand you’ve got societal rules about what’s wrong and what’s right guiding your thoughts and behaviors. However, Benediction doesn’t follow those rules. We have our own. Rules you acknowledged to abide when you completed your application.”

  His expression darkened, and contrary to his relaxed posture, all signs of the flirtatious and mellow man vanished. “Because you interrupted a scene”—he folded his arms over his chest—“I must punish you.”

  Chapter Eight

  POOR CINDERELLA MAY have had to do her chores in rags, but at least she didn’t have to wear a corset and panties when she cleaned the bathroom. Even after losing her father and his millions, Tasha had continued paying a maid to clean their home. It wasn’t as if Danielle had never cleaned before, but she’d never gotten on her knees and scrubbed the toilets.

  Cole couldn’t have chosen a better punishment. At this point, she would’ve rather been spanked again.

  Unsurprisingly, Benediction’s ladies’ room was reminiscent of an upscale spa with a lounge area complete with full-sized lockers made from dark wood, cream-colored leather couches, and cushiony chairs. A long counter with a mirror above it spanned the length of the room, providing a space for women to do their hair and makeup, and beige and cream Italian marble floors and walls added to the ritzy ambiance.

  Adjacent to the lounge was the bathroom. Decorated with marble and dark wood, it contained showers, toilets, and sinks each with a well-lit mirror over it. The mirrors were the last item she needed to clean to complete her punishment.

  She blew an errant piece of hair off her face. So much for the makeup Gracie had applied and the hair she’d brushed. Danielle was a sweaty mess.

  If Cole’s purpose had been to shame her, it had worked. None of the members or trainees who had come into the ladies’ room would talk to her. In fact, they completely ignored her. Even Gracie. Her lips had parted as if she had been about to speak, but then she covered her mouth with her hand and marched out of the room. Knowing Gracie’s penchant for talking, that had been a punishment for her as well.

  Danielle plunked the toilet brush into the plastic bucket and stood, her knees cracking. She rolled her shoulders and peeled off her rubber gloves. One more task on the list Cole had provided and then she could go back to her room to get some sleep. There was no way she had the energy to read tonight. She’d been up for twenty-four hours straight and had only gotten a few hours of sleep before the kidnappers had woken her in her bed, so it felt much, much longer. She’d set her alarm and get up in the morning to read before her first class.

  She lifted a cloth and the glass cleaner out of the bucket and went to tackle the mirrors over the sinks. A glance in the glass brought her to laughter. Pieces of her hair stuck to the side of her face, and her eyeliner was so smudged, it appeared as though she had two black eyes. Good thing she wasn’t vain, or she’d be in tears.

  Spraying the mirror, Danielle heard the lounge door open with a swoosh. A couple of women chattered away, one voice she picked out as belonging to Cassandra. Bored out of her mind and within an earshot, she couldn’t help but eavesdrop.

  “He held me down and held a bullet vibrator on my clitoris until I thought I was going to come out of my skin, I was so sensitive,” Cassandra said.

  “You’re such a lucky bitch.”

  “Too bad Master Cole went back to his office,” Cassandra said on a sigh.

  Danielle’s chest burned, and her cheeks grew warm. Had Cole done a scene with Cassandra tonight?

  She pictured Cole with a vibrator in his hands, holding it against Danielle’s clitoris until she begged him to stop.

  She snorted quietly. Nope, that would never happen. No way would she ever beg him not to bring her to climax.

  She dropped the cloth and the glass cleaner back into the bucket and washed her hands. The thought of Cole with a vibrator made her tingly. It reminded her how close she’d been to coming before she’d interfered with Kate and Jaxon’s scene.

  She understood now she’d been wrong for interrupting, but she hadn’t done it out of malice. She’d been trying to help. Couldn’t Cole have let her off with a warning?

  Instead, while she’d spent the last hour cleaning, he’d been forcing orgasms on Cassandra.

  The lounge grew silent, and Danielle was once again alone. Exhausted, she slid the bucket into the cabinet underneath the sink and started to leave when her gaze landed on the couch. It looked so inviting, she was tempted to crash right then and there. Maybe she’d rest for a couple of minutes before going back to her room.

  She lay on the couch and rested her head on a throw pillow. It wasn’t very comfortable, but she relaxed anyway.

  A red light blinked up in the corner of the room.

  That’s right. While Cole had mentioned there were no cameras in the bathrooms, he’d said nothing about the lounge area.

  Was he watching her right now?

  Someone had to be watching, and Danielle imagined it was Cole. That he sat behind his desk, staring at the monitor. He’d want to know she’d taken her time and completed her punishment.

  Perhaps he’d unzipped his pants and freed his cock from the constraints of the tight leather. He’d wrapped his large brown hand around his shaft and slowly worked it up and down as he watched her, waiting for her to put on a show for him.

  Looking at the camera, she ran her tongue across her bottom lip and moaned. She looked at the door. Would someone come in and catch her? If it were anywhere else, she’d stop and lock the door, but in Benediction, what she was about to do would probably be considered boring. She’d bet no one would blink if they caught her.

  Her heart beat quicker, and she squeezed her thighs together. She brushed her hands down her breasts, coming to rest them on her middle abdomen. Her legs parted, and as one hand drifted south, the other released a breast from her corset. She licked her fingers, getting them nice and wet, then traced circles around her nipple.

  In her mind, she saw
Cole mirroring her actions, drawing his own thick fingers into his mouth and bringing the moisture to his cock, where he’d use the lubrication to bring himself off to the sight of her.

  She dipped her hand below her panties and spread her labia apart with her fingers. Not surprisingly, she was already slippery from her arousal. She pinched her nipple and at the same time did what she’d been dying to do all night—slide two of her fingers inside her slick channel.

  Keeping her eyes on the camera, she pumped her fingers in and out, pressing and rubbing her thumb against her clitoris. It wasn’t close to what she wanted, but it was more than she needed.

  What was Cole doing now? Was he slowing his motions, squeezing off the head of his cock, waiting to come with her? Or did the sight of her getting herself off prove too much and had he already spilled into his hand?

  Her muscles tightened, and a storm gathered low in her belly. She thrust her fingers in as far as they could go and twisted as the pad of her thumb circled her clitoris. She hovered on the edge for a moment and then fell blissfully into the throes of climax, her pussy squeezing her fingers and her clitoris throbbing.

  She lay there as the storm grew quiet, and her body melted into the couch cushions. With her eyes on the camera, she removed her hand from her panties and sucked her fingers into her mouth, one by one.

  If he hadn’t come by now, that should probably do it for him.

  Ready for sleep, she stood from the couch and tucked her breast back into the corset. Then she barreled out of the locker room.

  And straight into Cole.

  “Finish cleaning so soon?” He panted, as if he’d been running.

  She couldn’t help but feel victorious. “Yes, Cole. I mean, Master.”

  He leaned to whisper in her ear. “I can smell you, you know.”

  “Smell me?”

  “I can smell your pussy.”

  She gasped. “That’s not possible.”

  “When it comes to me,” he said, moving close enough she could feel his erection against her stomach, “anything is possible. What drove you to lie down on the couch and expose yourself to me? Anger because I punished you for breaking the rules? Or were you too turned on by the club to wait until you got to the privacy of your bedroom?”

  All the confidence she’d felt earlier disappeared out the window, leaving only shame. “I just . . . ”

  “You knew I’d be watching.”

  She nodded, keeping her gaze lowered. “Yes.”

  “Is that what turns you on?” With two of his fingers under her chin, he tipped up her face. “To be watched?”

  Would she have been as aroused without the camera? She’d masturbated plenty of times, but never had it felt like that. “Yes.”

  “Exhibitionism is nothing to be ashamed of, Danielle. Plenty of us find it sexy as hell.” He motioned to the frames on the maroon wall. “What do you think of the photographs?”

  She moved closer to study them. They were black and white photographs of naked men and women. Bound by rope. Tied by sashes to a bed. Chained to a wall. Each photo contained a single object in color. The ropes were yellow. The sashes red. Purple floggers. Pink rose petals.

  They simply took her breath away with their passion and eroticism. “They’re beautiful.”

  Dimples appeared in his cheeks, and his eyes twinkled. “Thank you.”

  Something in his expression spoke to her. It was pride. “They’re yours? I mean, you’re the photographer?”

  “Yes,” he said, nodding. He paused, staring at her intently. “I’d like to photograph you.”

  “Me?” Her stomach plummeted. He couldn’t be serious. “I’m not model material.”

  “Why not?”

  “Look at me.”

  “Believe me, I am.” He cupped her face in his hands, swiping his thumb over her cheekbone. “And I’m not giving you an option. I’m telling you. You will model for me. Tomorrow. I’ll come for you.”

  As he walked away with a hint of a grin on his lips, her stomach did a slow somersault, and she had to grip the wall so she didn’t fall. Model for him? Was he insane?

  Tonight’s performance for the camera had been an aberration, no matter how much she’d enjoyed it. Even if she could relax in front of Cole to take the photographs, no one would want to see them. She could barely tolerate to see herself in pictures, most of the time shunning the camera at public events and avoiding family photos by being the one behind the lens. Mirrors and cameras had been her enemy for as long as she could remember, but it seemed as though she couldn’t escape them in Benediction.

  From across the room, she spotted Gracie speaking with the small blonde—Kate—whose scene Danielle had interrupted earlier. Both of them were looking straight at her, and her cheeks turned hot at the assumption they were talking about her.

  Cole may have punished her for the mistake, but she still owed the woman an explanation for her outburst. Choking down her pride, she picked up a few pieces of chocolate from a bowl and sashayed her butt over for an apology. “I’m really sorry about interrupting your scene. I didn’t realize you—”

  “Enjoy getting beaten?” Kate said, accepting the candy from Danielle and unwrapping it. She laughed. “Yeah, I can see how it would look to an outsider. Don’t worry about it. I assume you’re new to the lifestyle?”

  That was it? The girls Danielle had grown up with would never have accepted an apology so quickly. “Yeah. Brand new.” She popped a piece of chocolate into her mouth. “Like fresh out of the womb new.”

  “I’m relatively new as well,” Kate said, “but I’ve got about a year and a half under my belt now. If you have any questions, I’m available. I don’t know everything, but I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

  “And you know I will too,” Gracie said. “But everyone has a different story. I’ve been in the lifestyle a long time and a staple at Benediction for years. In fact, I was here the first night Kate came here with Jaxon. You should have seen her. You think you were shocked, I think Kate wanted to sock me in the mouth for propositioning Master Jaxon in front of her. She’s more of a masochist than a full-out kinky slut like me.”

  Danielle winced, uncomfortable with the disparaging term. “You’re not a slut.”

  Gracie waved her hand in the air. “Yes, I am, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I love sex, and I refuse to apologize for it. For years, men were not only expected to sleep around before marriage, they were applauded for it, while women were supposed to remain pure for their husbands and ignore their sexual urges. When they didn’t, society shamed them and branded them a slut.” She covered her heart with her palm. “BDSM is my scarlet letter, and I wear it proudly.”

  Danielle scanned the dungeon, taking in the scenes all around her. A wave of envy crashed over her. Everyone seemed so comfortable in their skin and free with their sexuality. She was nothing like them. Was she? “How do you know if you’re submissive?”

  “I’m not sure there’s a list you can check off to tell you whether you’re a submissive,” Kate said, “and in my opinion, it’s not something you can force. It’s part of you, like your eye color.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek as she considered it. She knew without a doubt she wasn’t dominant, but was she truly a submissive? “Is everyone in BDSM either a Dominant or submissive?”

  Gracie animatedly bounced on her toes. “There are more ways to practice BDSM than I can count. You can be a masochist and not a submissive. You can be into bondage and nothing else. There are tops and bottoms and switches and baby girls and sluts. There are twenty-four/seven relationships and bedroom-only relationships. You can be married to your Master or married to a vanilla man and have a Master outside of the marriage—”

  “What if a man is a Dominant, and his partner isn’t submissive?” Danielle asked, thinking of Cole.

  Kate tilted her head, her lips pressed together. “Well, that depends on whether the Dominant would be satisfied without having a submissive partner. If they�
��re both okay with him satisfying that part of him outside their relationship, it may work. But to me, and I preface this by saying it’s only my opinion, oftentimes Dominance and submission is like a sexual orientation. If you’re straight, you’re not going to be attracted to a member of the same sex, and even if you were, you wouldn’t choose that person for a sexual relationship. I think in simple terms, if you’re a submissive, you’ll naturally be attracted to a Dominant, and vice versa.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s it like to be naked in front of so many people?”

  “Honestly, I don’t think about it,” Kate said, snagging a cup of water from the high-top table behind her. “Even in a crowd, I only see Jaxon. No one else matters.”

  “But you’re thin.”

  Kate gestured to the room. “Look around. Is everyone thin? No. We’re normal people with normal jobs and normal problems. We’ve got cellulite and saggy breasts and gray hair. There’s no judgment here.” Her face lit up at the sight of Jaxon walking toward them. “I’ve got to go, but a couple of my friends and I go out every Thursday night for drinks. I’d love for you both to join us.”

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be in town, but if I get the chance, I’d like that.”

  A longing filled her chest as she watched Jaxon slip his arm around Kate and hold her to his side as if they were one. Only hours before, his whip had marked her skin and brought Kate to tears. Now his tender touch caused Kate to radiate with joy. Their connection was deep and powerful, and it shocked Danielle how much she envied Kate.

  Yawning, she decided to go upstairs to get a couple hours of shut-eye.

  Later tonight, she had work to do.

  Chapter Nine

  SHE JOLTED FROM the annoying beep of the alarm clock and quickly slammed her hand on the buzzer to stop it from waking anyone else on her floor. Three o’clock in the morning. The club was closed, and everyone should be asleep by now. A perfect time to explore Cole’s office and check out that secret room.

  Naked, she slipped on a silk robe and wondered how the kidnapper knew about the room behind Cole’s bookcase and that Cole never brought anyone upstairs to his residence. It meant the kidnapper had to be someone at Benediction or had gotten the information from someone close to Cole—possibly even Cole himself.