“I haven’t gotten to cut a man’s shirt off in quite some time,” Arlene purred, pacing around the kneeling man. “Is it expensive?”
“Very,” he replied dryly.
“Good. Bend your head down farther. Oh, and don’t move unless you’re into blood.”
She slipped the tip of the blade down inside the collar at his nape. Jackson tipped his head down lower and she jerked up on the blade, cutting through the expensive fabric down his spine. The quiet yet distinctive sound of shredding fabric echoed through the room, followed by his low, soft groan.
Diana barely suppressed her own answering groan. God, she loved a good helpless whimper.
The white linen fell open down his back, almost like wings. Arlene used the blade to push the fabric out of her way, deliberately trailing the flat cold edge of steel along his ribs. She loved knife play, though she wouldn’t break the skin unless given explicit consent. Few men enjoyed that level of play at a woman’s hands, even one as lovely as Arlene. She even dipped the blade inside his waistband oh so carefully, though she didn’t slice his pants open. She looked up at Diana just to confirm. Temptation burned in her, but she gave a slight shake of her head. She’d promised Lilly her sub wouldn’t have anything to blush about tonight. Unless he didn’t like to see another submissive erotically punished.
Jackson didn’t seem to mind the blade on his skin, though it did make him shiver. He raised his head just enough to look up at her from beneath his lashes and she had to remind herself to stay in character. The powerful, feared Priestess. Not the giddy, pleased Mistress. Because he wasn’t aroused by the blade at all. In fact, he was a little terrified of the whole thing, and probably had no idea what she had in store for him, but he was still willing to do what she commanded anyway. Not for himself. For her.
She held his gaze until she was sure her voice would be properly reserved. “Lie on your stomach over the ottoman, knees on the floor.”
Arlene helped by poking him in the small of his back with the hilt of her sword. She even followed him down onto the ottoman, squatting down beside him so she could keep gliding her sword over his back. She made sure the shirt pieces lay open, the cut pieces fluttered out on either side of him, startling white against the black leather.
Diana suddenly had a vision of him in black leather pants and harness, a thick heavy collar about his throat, and that same elegant, expensive shirt torn open down his back, fluttering like wings. But instead of untouched pale skin, he bore tattooed wings, black feathers sweeping out on either side of his spine and trailing down beneath his pants. That much black, that size… It would take her months, maybe even years, to lay down all that ink. Listening to his soft groans, feeling his flesh beneath her hands. Watching her dream unfold on his skin.
Shuddering, she pushed the image away. Jackson Montgomery Warring wasn’t the kind of guy to have a tat. One or two dates certainly didn’t mean he’d be willing to submit to her chair for hours of torture either.
Arlene jerked on the dangling ends of the belt, drawing his arms down over the side of the ottoman. A subtle hook screwed underneath the edge caught his bound hands firmly. It was a bit of a stretch for him. They’d tested the measurements out on Matt earlier, but she’d forgotten to account for Jackson’s slightly smaller stature, assuming he’d even be willing to participate. The muscles of his back stretched long and flat, rippling with every breath. He was so lean, she’d have to be careful not to damage his ribs or spine. He just didn’t have any padding to speak of, even though he’d been taking a little better care of himself this past week.
She moved closer to stand over him, close enough he could almost strain and turn his head to get his mouth on her, but not quite. Sheathing her sword, Arlene took position at his head. “The sacrifice is ready, Priestess. Which implement do you desire?”
Diana bent down and trailed her fingers over his shoulder, watching the way his muscles flexed and moved beneath the skin. Gorgeous. “This skin is tender and unmarked, so I choose a flogger tonight. I wouldn’t want to mar this pretty skin too quickly.”
Arlene inclined her head and turned to the table covered with Diana’s favorite implements. She typically preferred heavier items like canes and paddles, which would be fine for Jackson’s backside, but not his more delicate back. She hadn’t specified which flogger, so being the wicked, devious Mistress she was, Arlene chose the leather flogger over the more erotic velvet one. At least the strips didn’t have metal embedded in them. She’d left that one at home.
She accepted the flogger and inspected it, running the long strips through her hand and testing the heft and weight of the hilt in her palm until she had the right grip. Closing her eyes, she centered herself. She breathed in and out slowly, deliberately counting to regulate her heart rate. Then she rose to the tower in her mind.
She hadn’t realized most people didn’t do this kind of mental exercise until she was in her late twenties and had casually mentioned it to a friend. During high school, she’d developed it as a way to escape from the bullying, to visualize herself rising above it. It was like stepping onto an internal elevator that carried her high into the stratosphere. With her eyes closed, she built the image in her mind. A round stone tower, the top open to the elements. The air thin and clear, untouched by anything man-made. If she wanted, she could build an entire canvas of mountains and sunset, green valleys and flowering trees so fantastical they’d never exist in the real world. But with Jackson waiting, she kept the tower dark and quiet, a reverent place of safety in the night.
“Same safeword as before.” Her voice sounded different when she was in the tower, as high and distant as her mind felt from her body. She was still here, could still feel his skin beneath her fingers, but everything was heightened. She could hear his breathing, the quickening catch in his throat, the solid thump of his heart, even the queasy nervous yet excited tremor in his belly. Detached, but connected to him on a higher plane. Could he feel it? Some subs claimed they did sense a change in her, but they’d never been able to share the tower with her, even when she’d tried to explain it.
“Yes, Priestess.” His voice rolled through the tower, quiet and soft but not timid. He wasn’t afraid, not of her. She raised her arm to deliver the first blow, eager to hear how his sighs and groans would vibrate through her heightened senses.
“Wait!”
It took her a moment to place the voice, to remember who exactly the witnesses in the room were. Donovan came closer, his face tight. “Jack, are you sure you want to do this?”
Jackson closed his eyes but kept his face turned toward her. “Yes.”
“But…you’ve never done this before. You don’t know what this means. What…” His words stumbled to a halt and Lilly wrapped an arm around his waist in a soothing hug.
“It’s all right, lover boy. The safeguards are in place. Arlene and I both will monitor him. If he needs us to help stop the scene, we will.”
Donovan nodded, but his hands remained fisted at his sides and he turned a narrowed gaze on Diana as if to say, I’m watching you. If I have to take you on despite what my Mistress says, I’ll do it without hesitation.
She inclined her head slightly to respect his desire to protect his friend, but brought the flogger down in a firm slap across Jackson’s back.
Chapter Sixteen
Jackson thought she’d punish him with the flogger for a while, then they’d release him and they’d all laugh and it’d be over. That’s it.
But the power of the scene caught him unaware. It was a simple thing. Just a little bondage and a flogger. It wasn’t like she’d pulled out a horsewhip or bound him hand and foot. If he wanted to be free, he could twist his hands out of the belt and be done.
But he didn’t want to be free. It was like his own mind trapped him. His own body held him immobile for whatever Diana was going to do. Then add her spooky voice to the mix, and goose bumps
raced down his arms, leaving him shivering and oddly shaken. He’d never heard her voice take on that hollow, distant tone before. Nor felt the waves of her power rise quite so high. As an attorney, he knew how powerful the smallest physical gestures could be. How everything he did and said was a performance meant to sway the jury or judge to see his point of view and believe it to be truer than his opponent’s. So he was no stranger to the physical power a person could wield. But while he’d had a taste of Diana’s power as a Mistress before, that was nothing compared to the Priestess in full force.
The strike of the leather made him suck in his breath with surprise. She didn’t start out light and gentle. The leather straps spread out across his shoulders, stinging across the width of his back. He didn’t feel the need to yelp in pain, but it was definitely a shock. Then the surge of heat came as blood rose to the surface and tingled from the strike. So much sensation, it made him twist his wrists in the belt. Not pain, not exactly, just so much…feeling. For someone who preferred to be numb, the sensation of actually feeling was almost pain.
She ran the flogger down his back, bringing each inch of skin to life. She made him cast off the shell he wore. The expensive suit, the suave smile, the calculated arguments and logical reasoning. There wasn’t anything logical in allowing himself to be maneuvered over an ottoman and whipped with a flogger. Nothing at all.
Yet he couldn’t imagine not letting this happen. He felt…
He didn’t even have to say right. He felt. And that was enough.
Someone touched his cheek. Not Diana. His body knew her touch and it wasn’t her. Another blow landed low on his back, some of the straps landing across his buttocks. A different sensation with his pants in the way. Damn Donovan’s prudish sensibilities. I really want to feel that leather on my bare skin.
The finger trailed across his cheek, trying to draw his attention from Diana on his right to the woman who crouched in front of him. “How does it feel knowing your best friend is watching?”
He managed to crack an eye open to give Arlene as much of a glare as he could muster. “Doesn’t matter.”
“No?” She laughed softly and trailed her finger over his lips. It made him jerk his face aside. He didn’t want her touches. He didn’t want anything to take away from what Diana was doing. Why would she allow another woman to touch him anyway? “So you’re going to be able to look him in the eye later without caring that he saw you flogged tonight?”
“I watched him fuck his girlfriend all through college,” Jackson retorted. “If it’s time to turn the tables, so be it.”
Arlene let out a light, tinkling laugh that sent chills down his spine, while she stroked her fingers through his hair. It set his teeth on edge. Such a tender gesture, from a person he didn’t know and didn’t want touching him. “So you’d be fine if Diana fucked you right here in front of everyone.”
He clenched his jaws, refusing to say anything at all. Arlene was playing a game, probably premeditated with Diana long before he ever showed up. Damned if he’d open his mouth and say the wrong thing on the spur on the moment without understanding the rules. Fury made him tense, his muscles springing tight like he might need to leap to his feet. Though to defend himself from Arlene…or from Diana? He didn’t know. What game is she playing? Which way does she think I’ll jump?
Because people learned pretty quickly that Jackson Montgomery Warring would do anything to win. Study his files, dig into his past cases, interview his coworkers and past clients. None of it mattered. Because in the end, there wasn’t a direction he’d refuse to jump if he thought he’d win.
What did he want to win this time? The Priestess wasn’t a prize. She’d laugh in his face and saunter off without a care in the world if he ever thought she was just a feather to put in his cap. God help the man who thought she was that kind of woman.
In fact, as he lay trussed over this ottoman, one thing was pretty clear to him. He was the prize, and his fate was in her hands.
He lifted his head and glared at Arlene hard enough she arched her brows. “Unless she orders me to endure it, I’d appreciate it if you kept your fucking hands off me.”
“Indeed.” Arlene smiled, a cold, hard showing of teeth that made him tense even more, even though she raised both hands and held them up in the air on either side of her. “What say you, Priestess? May I torment your mouthy slave tonight?”
Jackson held himself very still, keeping that hard look on Arlene without turning his head to see Diana’s reaction. She might be angry that he’d seen through her ploy, if her goal had been to get him to admit to wanting only her to play with him. Or she might be proud that he only wanted her touching him. Or she might be royally pissed that he’d insulted her roommate and probably her best friend, though he wasn’t entirely sure of their relationship. He honestly had no idea if he’d stuck his head in a hornet’s nest or pleased her by reacting exactly the way she’d wanted in the beginning.
She spoke so softly and low that he had to strain to hear her words. “Are you sure that’s what you want, Angel? Do you really want me to declare that you’re mine? Because once you’re mine…”
Sighing, she reached down and ran her fingers through his hair. Where Arlene’s touch had made him tense, he couldn’t help but relax into her stroking. It felt good when she touched him. Like his whole body was starved for her and her alone.
It probably should have scared the shit out of him, but her touch was like the sweet rush of speed hitting his blood stream when he was running on his last bit of energy. She made the colors brighter, the scents richer, every touch more meaningful and real. Even if she made every inch of his body ache with sensation, he’d endure it because he couldn’t bear to be numb with her. He turned his head, straining to lift up enough to see her face. To make sure she could see the truth in his eyes. “There’s no going back for me.”
Her mind insisted this was too fast. He was falling too fast, too hard. He’d crash and burn all over again, and this time it’d be her fault. My fallen angel, so gorgeous, so desperate, needing only me.
It was a heady thought. The way he looked at her, all consuming, eyes wide open and willing to fall straight into her arms. But she couldn’t let him trade one addiction for another. He had to be clearheaded and fully understand what a relationship with a Mistress meant. What she in particular would require from him.
High in her mental tower, she could see it all so clearly. She could see him kneeling at her feet, grinning with trust and love, shining as he was meant to shine. Rather than bedraggled and exhausted after working himself into the ground. She could take care of him, satisfy him like he’d never even known possible. But was that really the best thing for him?
Better that she help him find his wings again and let him fly away, secure and safe and strong. Not fallen and broken, always looking up at the sky with longing.
“Priestess,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Please.”
For the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure what to do to help a sub. She didn’t trust herself to make the right decision. She wanted to bind him to her, immediately, while he was obviously willing. But he was too vulnerable, too raw and untrained. He had no idea what he’d really be giving up. Dragging her gaze away from the shining desperation in his eyes took all her mental strength, and the tower crumbled to dust in her mind. Shaken, she sought Lilly’s gaze.
The other Mistress stood wrapped tightly against her submissive, holding him in a way that made longing rise up in Diana’s throat so thick and strong she felt suffocated. There was no way in hell Lilly would allow another Mistress to touch him. Not innocently, let alone in a scene. What they had was for them alone.
It would be harder for Jackson if he truly was into voyeurism and exhibition, but Diana wanted that same right to touch him exclusively. To hold him with the look that told every other Mistress in town that he was unavailable. They had so far to go yet
. Too many things to figure out, too many ugly things in their pasts that remained buried and hidden. Secrets had a way of rearing their ugly heads at the worst possible moment. Did he have secrets worse than his drug addiction? Could he deal with her secrets? They’d only started this journey together. It was too soon to demand he lock himself up for her alone when he really had no idea what kind of Mistress he’d be getting.
Lilly smiled with encouragement and nodded her head. She understood what Diana was going through to some extent. Firming her silent message, Lilly wrapped her arms tighter around her sub and lay her head against his chest, snuggling into his embrace. He was tall and strong, the alpha defender who’d brought the world to its knees, yet it only took a glance for Diana to see her power, resolution and control at work. He worshiped the ground she walked on and if she told him to drop to his belly this very moment, he’d do it.
That’s what I want. With Jackson, if possible. Though I have to give him time to choose.
She turned back to Arlene. Whatever her roommate saw on her face, she smirked and bowed low over her hands as she backed away.
Jackson sighed with relief and dropped his head down on the cushion. He kept his face turned so he could see her, his blue eyes locked on her, so bright. So damned bright it hurt to think about losing that light to another woman. Another Mistress.
She closed her eyes to block out that brilliant blue so she could regain her control. She wouldn’t try for the tower again. She needed to stay connected, to make sure she didn’t take him too far. But she couldn’t strike him with her emotions roiling like a hurricane. He needed to get out of his head and into his body; she needed to keep in her head to maintain perfect control.
Calmer, she opened her eyes and decided to lighten the mood a little. “Are you hard yet, Angel?”
She watched him blink rapidly and almost turn his head back around the other direction, where his friend was standing. Finally he nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for the Priestess. She gave him a harder strike low on his body, making sure some of the leather strands landed across his buttocks and upper thighs. “I’m sorry, Angel. I didn’t hear you.”
The Billionaire's Ink Mistress: Billionaires in Bondage, Book 2 Page 11