While They Watch

by Sosie Frost

  My voice layered in promise. “I could please you.”

  “You already have.”

  “I could…be the submissive you want.”

  “You already are, pet.”

  My breathing wavered. His gaze turned intense. Hungry. Powerful. He stood, towering over me as I trembled in his shadow.

  His touch was a gentle press, pushing my chin up to look him in the eye.

  “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me,” Anthony said. “How pleased I was. How proud I am to show you off. I can promise you many more nights like the one we had on Saturday.”

  My belly clenched hard at the thought. I could handle those Saturday nights as long as every last shiver and touch belonged to him.

  The old Morgan, the failed and panicked Morgan, drifted away. The new Morgan, a submissive and passionate woman, took her place.

  I breathed Anthony in and wanted nothing more than to mold myself into the vision he chose.

  Succumbing to his expectations was far easier than meeting my own.

  “Do you want this?” His lips brushed mine. The excitement shivered me too much to seize the kiss I needed.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He reached down, scooping me up into his arms and carrying me to the bed. I stretched out, preparing for his touch. He shut off the lights and tucked the blankets under my chin, pulling my hips back until I met his body.

  This was not what my aching core needed. I twisted to look at him.

  “Sleep, pet,” he said.

  “You...want to sleep?”

  “I have a seven o’clock meeting tomorrow—this morning.” He tightened his hold over my body. “Sleep.”

  “But—”

  “You’re my pet,” he said. “And you need your rest. From now on…I’m taking care of you. Your every comfort, your every protection, your every need. I’ll see that you want for nothing, Morgan. And I ask only one thing in return…”

  “Anything.”

  “Go to sleep. I’m fucking exhausted.”

  I giggled though my body warmed, flushed and hot against him.

  But I hummed in a newfound comfort. My worries swirled into nothing and were pushed beyond the barbed wire and landmines that had festered in anxiety for far too long.

  In Anthony’s arms, for the first time in years, I felt calm. I closed my eyes and allowed my racing mind to finally quiet.

  “Morgan.” His voice rumbled in the darkness.

  “Mmhmm.”

  “You will be playing the violin for me.”

  My stomach twisted.

  So much for calm.

  16

  I hated San Jose.

  It was hard to hate a place I’ve never been, but Anthony spent a great deal of time putting out the fires set by the Atwoods and Bennetts. His seven AM meeting turned into a four-day trip, completely isolated so far north I could only Skype and hope for a few naughty words.

  But he sent a music box as an apology. A beautiful porcelain trinket that played Bach when it opened.

  Not the song on my tattoo, but I loved it nonetheless.

  And those were the hazy emotions that began to scare me. Lust and confusion were constant companions, tucked in my purse next to my cell and the death throes of my wallet.

  But something else lingered now too. A new feeling that surged through me when I thought of Anthony. I’d hoped it was just awe, my amazement that a person could be so calm, authoritative, and confident.

  Who was I kidding? I knew the truth. But I was already his experiment. I wouldn’t complicate our relationship any further.

  I met him after his trip at the fanciest Italian restaurant in the city. The restaurant booth wasn’t as intimate as my apartment, but that meant nothing to Anthony. One wrong word, and he’d toss me over the table and have his way with me before they brought the main course. Rolling in the tiramisu sounded fun, but eating it was far more exciting.

  Anthony ordered too much food and insisted I try anything I wanted. Payday wasn’t until later in the week, so I stuffed my cheeks full of carbs like a proper broke little chipmunk. Then I fussed so much over the linguine that he gave the restaurant his information with a standing order to deliver me dinner whenever I called—all charged to his account.

  I’d kept my cool, but a burden for the week lifted. I didn’t think he’d understand.

  “What’s your schedule this week?” Anthony asked once we returned to the Mercedes. He didn’t start the car. I eyed him in the dark.

  “I open the café Monday through Friday, sir. Why?”

  He brushed a finger against my shoulder. The touch went straight to my head—way more potent than any wine I had with my pasta.

  “So I know when I’m taking you to dinner next.”

  I grinned. “A girl could get used to this.”

  He started the car. “I’ll be in meetings through Wednesday. I’ll schedule a massage for you that night after work. Simone’s recommendation.”

  “You don’t have to do that, sir.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Anthony’s hand curled over the wheel. “I’m well aware of what I can and can’t do, Morgan. Apparently, you haven’t learned that lesson yet.”

  “Sorry, sir. I’m not used to being spoiled.”

  “I’m going to be demanding of you,” he warned. “Take the rewards when you get them.”

  “But you choose when and where the rewards are?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you choose when we go out and where we go?”

  “You’re my pet. I know what’s best for you.”

  It was a good thing I dropped out of college. Our campus had three different women’s lib clubs that would smother me under a ton of tampons for even entertaining such a thought.

  Screw them. I liked what he said. He knew what was best for me.

  It was about time someone did.

  I wasn’t making the greatest decisions lately. And Anthony—with his pimped-out Mercedes, two-story penthouse, and billion-dollar clients—was a good person to emulate.

  A little shiver galloped over my spine. I liked the thought of offering him control. After years of rehearsals and recitals and school and schedules and work, I thought life couldn’t get more demanding. Then came the depleting bank account and a fistful of bills. I hated it. I’d lived paycheck to paycheck with no real life goal except to make it home every night so I could curl under the covers and avoid Facebook with my graduated friends and their wedding announcements.

  But Anthony…I liked. The sex I liked. Even his power games I was beginning to enjoy. My body ached every minute he was gone and overwhelmed me with molten lust now that he was within my sight.

  A man like him? Probably never had a single moment in his thirty-four years where he questioned any of his decisions. I wanted that almost as much as I wanted him.

  And if that relief came from giving up what measly control I had over my life, so be it.

  “What are you thinking, pet?” Anthony said. He pulled into traffic and could only glance over while I picked at the seatbelt.

  “I want to go to Duchess, sir.”

  He was as surprised by the statement as I was. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Simone’s planned a scene with Genn. It might be intense.”

  I swallowed. Simone and Scene. Two words I shuddered to hear in combination. But I steeled myself. Duchess was my Everest. I’d met Anthony at the bottom, got spanked at the base camp, and let myself get fucked in front of the other climbers. If I wanted to crest that summit, I’d have to conquer the rest of what Duchess could offer.

  “I want to go, sir.”

  Anthony didn’t need to turn the car around. Either he exhibited psychic powers, or he already knew where my curiosity would lead me. The heat coiled inside me. Not embarrassed.

  Relieved.

  Maybe he did know what was best for me.

  But the confi
dence evaporated the instant I stepped into Duchess.

  Simone shared Anthony’s ability to draw a crowd, though the shrieking, naked Genn she’d tethered to some sort of Inquisition-inspired X-shaped contraption attracted most of the attention.

  Spread-eagle and completely helpless, Genn watched with tears in her eyes as Simone swished a black cane through the air. Thick swatches of darkness blossomed over her skin, from her breasts to her feet. Apparently, we’d missed the warm up.

  Thin, red welts swelled over her body. Genn’s body hung limp over the X. She panted through a gag in her mouth. Simone struck her thighs with the rod. The gag did little to muffle her scream.

  “Well…look who decided to join us.” Simone ceased her torment as we entered the room. Anthony greeted the others, and Simone took out her irritation on her helpless submissive. “Anthony, you’ve interrupted us. Now I’ve lost my place…I’ll have to start over from the beginning.”

  Genn sobbed. Simone didn’t need to silence her. Reed stood just off to her side, observing the chaos with crossed arms.

  Learning the scene?

  “Easy there, Genn…” Reed’s dimple might have soothed Genn if he hadn’t ended his kiss with a wink. “Hit her again, Simone.”

  Simone grinned. “My pleasure.”

  That was the truth.

  Simone didn’t look evil, but I wished I stuffed a flask of holy water in my purse for an extra layer of defense against the demon. She was a beautiful woman—desire personified in a tight skirt and red corset—but did I envy her…or want her?

  Anthony probably knew, but hell if I dared to ask him.

  “What do you think, pet?” Anthony whispered, as if his soft words would disrupt Genn’s cries. He didn’t force me deeper into the room, and for that, I’d be forever grateful.

  “That looks…” I flinched as the crop cracked against her thighs. “Painful, sir.”

  “Extremely.”

  Genn’s agony wasn’t like Shannon’s punishment or my little spanking. This was pure sadism. Simone tortured her while a crowd of people watched her gasp and struggle and even cry.

  And Reed did nothing except take the crop from Simone to learn just how to perfectly slice her delicate breasts, stomach, and hips.

  Anthony was friends with these people.

  “What do you say, Anthony?” Reed gestured with the crop, nearly smacking Simone. She plucked the weapon out of his hands with a frown. “We can restart if you’d like.”

  Anthony looked at me.

  Like I was curious enough to watch them beat her to a pulp.

  Genn breathed heavily, each inhale wracking her body as she struggled against the restraints holding her arms and legs. Everything about the position looked painful and raw.

  Wouldn’t she bruise in the morning? Would she show the marks off? Wear them like a badge of honor?

  Anthony addressed only Simone. “Five more.”

  She sighed. “You’re such a softy.”

  “Someone needs to balance you out.”

  Five more?

  I didn’t know who’d faint first—me or Genn.

  Simone rubbed a hand over the last imprint she’d left. A straight, white line puffed over Genn’s breasts, an inch from her nipples. She murmured something as Simone’s fingernails raked over the tender skin.

  Then crack!

  The cane smacked against her thigh, vertically. It didn’t look as harsh as the other strikes, but the welt rose from her hip to her knee. A second hit mirrored the first, stretching the welt along her other leg. Genn wavered on her feet, but Reed reached out, gripping her throat and hoisting her back upright.

  This was intense.

  Far more cruel and painful than anything Anthony had tried with me.

  But I hadn’t been with Anthony for long, and his previous games offered me no clue to his real desires. Sushi was pleasant, the pool was a head-game and a half, but even his spanking was accompanied by his wonderfully skilled fingers.

  How dark did his fetishes go?

  He, like everyone else in the room, enjoyed watching Genn twist and shriek as the cane cut through the air and cracked against the soft mound between her legs, bare and exposed.

  Simone tossed the cane down and accepted a glass of champagne from Shannon. Also naked.

  I shifted my gaze from the shuddering Genn to the rest of the audience.

  Shannon, Mariah, and the other girls I didn’t know as well—Megan, Kristin, and Shelly—were all very naked. Mostly. They wore collars. Some thick and hardcore with buckles and leashes. Others demure and pretty, hardly more than necklaces. Anthony brushed a lock of my hair behind my ear. His whisper clenched my belly.

  “It isn’t fair to the other girls if you stay clothed, is it, pet?”

  I took an unsteady breath. This was the beginning of Everest, the pebbles in my boot before I started climbing. I loved that Anthony wanted to see me without clothes, but I hated the thought of the others seeing me. Other men, other women, and Simone with her devil cane.

  “No,” I agreed. “It isn’t fair.”

  I welcomed his hands on my sides. His palms were huge, pawing my torso. I cautiously flicked my eyes up to his.

  He said he knew what was best for me.

  It was time to put that theory to the test.

  I held his gaze as he flicked the straps of my dress over my arms. He needed only to tug to pull the soft, cotton material down. The dress pooled at my feet. I swallowed. Most of the audience focused on Genn and her panting. Simone offered her a sip of water. She greedily guzzled from a straw. My bra fell away next.

  Simone was the first to see.

  Her smile was cold enough to tighten my nipples into painful little buds.

  I had tried to not tremble like a leaf caught in a windstorm. I failed. Spectacularly.

  Anthony said nothing as I shimmied from my panties. He handed the bundle to a passing waitress. I didn’t have time to argue. His lips pressed against my bare shoulder. A whisper.

  “Very good, pet.”

  I whimpered as his fingers stroked right between my legs. No prelude. No warning.

  And no way to hide how drenched I was.

  My God. I was wet?

  How was that even possible?

  Genn had been beaten in front of me. Not little love taps. Straight up Tower of London freaky levels of torment. And now, I was as naked as she was. Just as vulnerable.

  If Anthony wanted, he might have strung me up next. Left me bound and spread for everyone to see and watch and hurt.

  My knees weakened. I twisted away before his fingers could continue an assault on the betraying slit between my legs.

  Wrong. Move.

  Anthony scowled and spun me so my back collided with his chest. One arm restrained me against his body. The other stretched across me. His fingers forced their way over my pussy.

  One, two, three strokes against my clit before they were buried inside me. I gasped, stretched tight by his fingers, but he pulled out. Another three circles before he nudged inside.

  “Don’t make a sound,” Anthony growled in my ear. “It’d be rude to interrupt.”

  I’d have bitten off my tongue if he demanded it. I gripped his arms, bucking against his hold. This wasn’t a gentle caress, and my body didn’t need it to be. I was wet enough to let him do whatever he wanted. To be tossed over a table or taken on the ground.

  It didn’t matter so long as that part of me was filled by some part of him.

  Simone jerked the water away from Genn and tucked the ball-gag into her mouth. Her slap to Genn’s cheek was cruel, but so was the quick kiss to the afflicted area. Her hips pressed towards Simone. Mine grinded into Anthony.

  “Mariah.” Simone snapped her fingers, and the slave obediently bolted to her side.

  Mariah knelt at her feet, wiggling a flushed pink behind. Apparently, Nate had already played with her as well. Simone grabbed a fistful of her raven hair and pulled her forward, stuffing her face between Genn’s thig
hs.

  “Mariah, you have three minutes to make her cum or you’re next on the rack,” Simone ordered.

  Nate leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. “Don’t give her a choice, Simone. If you let her, she’ll finish Genn with enough time to tie herself up.”

  Mariah’s giggle muffled against Genn’s glistening folds. The beaten and bruised slave groaned, offering her hips. She ground against Mariah’s mouth.

  Both of them moaned.

  Whoa.

  This was something I hadn’t expected, but I felt stupid for not anticipating it.

  Some of the girls at college had kissed each other at fraternity parties to get the guys riled up. Of course, I was too busy hanging with the super cool kids from the music lab to experiment with any part of my woefully naïve sexuality.

  I’d never thought about touching a woman…that way. Especially not now, not when I found someone like Anthony who held me on a razor’s edge of orgasm with only a few possessive circles over my clit.

  Mariah worked diligently, feasting upon Genn, slurping so enthusiastically I wondered how Nate and Reed weren’t enraged with jealousy. I couldn’t see what she was doing from where I stood, but I had a pretty good idea of how it worked. Genn hardly had the strength to rock her head. Her body tensed and sweated and flushed, and Mariah eagerly worked between her legs.

  Lapping. Kissing. Savoring.

  “What do you think, pet?” Anthony’s fingers dipped inside me.

  My voice turned breathless with honesty and heat. “I have no idea, sir.”

  “Would you like to have a taste?”

  I stilled. He felt it. He slipped out, offering reassuring, soft pats to my clit.

  “Eventually, pet. You’ll look beautiful serving the other girls.”

  Well when he put it that way. I was a sucker for compliments.

  The trembling warmth radiating from my pussy helped too.

  I bit my lip to stop from whimpering. He liked the thought of me submissive to everyone. I only wished it didn’t come so easily. Though I wasn’t the one strapped to the X—naked, beaten, and moaning as another woman suckled between my legs—my inexperience made me just as vulnerable.

  Just as dependent upon their mercy.