Wargasm (Payne Brothers Romance Book 3)

by Sosie Frost

  “They’re all sir to you. Call any of them by their first name, and Anthony will be demonstrating our preferred punishments before you can ask what’s a flogger.”

  Anthony gave me a wink. Not exactly appropriate dinner conversation. I sucked in a breath.

  “You...do this sort of thing often, ma’am?” I asked.

  Simone flicked her wrist, gesturing toward Anthony. “As often as His Highness graces us with his presence. It’s so hard to pin him down anymore.”

  I giggled. “I didn’t think he was the type to get pinned.”

  “And what would you know about that?” Simone’s smile nearly shattered my champagne flute.

  “Not a lot, ma’am.” No one could say I wasn’t honest. “Just hoping to learn.”

  “Anthony has a lot to teach you.”

  I studied her dress, the coloration so perfectly matching Anthony’s tie. “Are you two…you aren’t…”

  “We’re not together anymore.” Her eyes casually appraised me, studying my curves, my hair, my slinking posture under her gaze. “But I’m protective of him, and I won’t have a naïve kid ruin his reputation because she got scared. For your sake, think hard about what you actually want from him. Anthony isn’t the one you need to worry about.” She sipped her drink. “It’s me.”

  Duly noted.

  Simone was not a person to cross—it didn’t take a branded sub to realize that.

  I sw allowed, staring into my soup. Drowning in the miso seemed more likely than eating it.

  Anthony leaned over, his voice low, comforting, and every bit the baritone I needed to hear.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  A few of the others at the table looked my way. Beth fiddled with the collar on her neck. The raven-haired Genn shared a hidden giggle with Shannon. They might as well have shouted Greek letters and donned jersey shirts with nicknames. I could handle sorority girls. And though the men acted much more accommodating than their slaves, the only dominant I needed to please was Anthony.

  “Yes, sir,” I said, spoon in hand. “Just relieved the soup wasn’t served on Shannon.”

  “Or in her,” Simone said. Anthony frowned, she batted his shoulder. “Lighten up.”

  “Friends, help yourselves.” Thomas didn’t use a triangle to call the farm to dinner. He slapped Shannon’s cheek. She shuddered, and the sushi jiggled. “The chefs warned the sushi will get warm, especially as my little slut so enjoys the attention.”

  The insult thundered in the room, but only to my ears. Shannon licked her lip and went rigid as Thomas chose the vibrant red fish poised over her breast. He took the sushi and removed the palm leaf from under it. Her creamy skin was revealed, but not enough to be improper. Not yet.

  So, that’s how they were going to play it.

  The other men took turns choosing their sushi. The women, except for Simone, didn’t move. They waited as their dates—masters—offered a bite of dinner to them.

  I busied myself with my soup. Soup was safe. The only person I saw in the bowl was my own reflection.

  But, Christ, did she look worried.

  Anthony stroked my arm. “What would you like to try, pet?”

  More of his touch would have been nice. “I’m not sure, sir. I’ve never had sushi.”

  He pinched his chopsticks. “Let’s try...tuna, salmon, and...we won’t tell you what that is.”

  Nice try. My eyes went wide. “That...that has suckers on it.”

  “It’s octopus.” He offered it, recognized my horrified expression, and passed the piece to Simone. She took it without complaint. “We’ll keep it safe then. Yellowtail.”

  The fish created a rainbow on my plate, but that was as far as I got. Formal dinners used the utensils from the outside in. But the only accoutrements these guests carried were handcuffs and whips. At least they had the decency not to keep them at the table.

  Life Goal Number Four: Learn to use chopsticks

  I whispered to Anthony, biting my lip. “Can I just...grab...?”

  Anthony baited me with a smile. “Sure. You can touch her if you want.”

  What? I gasped. Not what I was asking, and he knew it.

  I didn’t even dare look at Simone.

  My voice was a squeal. I cleared most of the panic out. “No. I meant...” Damn. I forgot the sir. I snuck it in before he noticed. “Sir, do I use my fingers?”

  “Traditionally, only the rolls are finger food.”

  Damn. He gave me the slices of fish with the rice underneath. I eyed the chopsticks. I couldn’t even use the decorative ones in my hair. Anthony demonstrated the proper grip with a twist of his wrist.

  “Like this, pet.”

  “So many lessons tonight.” Simone watched with amusement, swirling the champagne in her glass. “Must be exciting for our little pet.”

  Our?

  Exciting?

  I’m not sure I’d call the slimy, cold, chunk of meat on my plate exciting. That was tuna? The raw fish looked much different from the canned bits I smothered under two cups of milk and a box of casserole mix. One of the chopsticks tumbled out of my hand and onto the floor.

  This was going…poorly.

  “Pet.” Anthony spoke the word as an order. He used his chopsticks to grab the piece of tuna from my plate.

  And held it out to me.

  He was going to feed me?

  I looked around the table. Reed—a man only a little older than me—did the same thing for Genn. Except she hadn’t moved. Her hands fixed firmly on her legs, and she welcomed the bite with a sensual smile.

  Okay, what was stranger—Thomas’s willingness to display Shannon’s body to anyone who cared to look, or Reed only permitting his submissive to eat what he put in her mouth?

  Two very different levels of control. I looked up at Anthony.

  I had no idea what he preferred.

  I had no idea what I preferred.

  I opened my mouth. He whispered his approval.

  And the tuna wasn’t bad.

  He offered me the other pieces. “This is salmon.”

  I chewed. “I think I like that.”

  “Good.”

  The next piece looked deceptively simple. He winked. “Shrimp for the shrimp.”

  “Very funny, sir.”

  “Open your mouth.”

  “That’s not the first time you’ve ever said that, is it, sir?”

  “And how often has someone told you to shut yours?”

  “Too often.”

  “I can believe it.” He pushed the shrimp towards me. “Try it.”

  I did as I was told, giggling under his watchful gaze.

  Why was he so concerned if I liked the dinner? He asked after every piece.

  Did he care? Was he curious?

  After scrunching my nose at the eel’s teriyaki sauce, his chopsticks never ventured back towards the roll. Instead, he offered me the piece of tuna from his own plate.

  Chivalry wasn’t dead. It just preferred a little corporal punishment now and then.

  I wiggled between bites, eager to try everything and anything Anthony offered, whether it was on the plate or not. He even drew close, tilting my own champagne flute so the fruity bubbles splashed on my lips. I licked it away.

  He stared at my tongue.

  I did it again.

  And Simone brushed my arm with her chilled glass.

  I nearly leapt from the table. She laughed, a callous, knowing discovery.

  “And here I thought raw oysters were the aphrodisiac,” she teased.

  Anthony came to my rescue. I think. “Morgan’s very expressive.”

  “I can tell.” She leaned close, her whisper cruel and comforting, a sensual malice. “Everyone can tell.”

  My stomach flipped. Could they really, or did Simone just like to torture me?

  The pressure only migrated down, pulsing between my legs. Of course, I’d be aroused by this. I couldn’t help it. I thought submission was something shameful. Something I’d f
antasize about for the taboo thrill of it.

  I had no idea Anthony would put so much effort into me.

  “Still scared, pet?” he whispered.

  I shook my head.

  His eyebrow cocked. “What was that?”

  “Oh.” I swallowed. “The fish aren’t very scary, sir.”

  “Am I?”

  “Depends…should I be afraid?”

  “Entirely up to you, pet.”

  I played with fire. “Do you have a dark side, sir?”

  “You’ll have to see, little girl.”

  My mouth went dry, and no amount of champagne could help. A shiver bred into a tremble that tickled me in every inappropriate place.

  “What would a little girl have to do to find out?”

  “Misbehave.”

  “That’s easy.”

  “Better not be, pet.”

  “Well, it’s fun.”

  He offered me another glass of champagne. “A few nights with me, pet, and you’ll find better rewards in being a good girl.”

  Was he offering? “Well, I’ve always been a woefully boring good girl, lucky for you.”

  “It’s not lucky for me…it’s lucky for your perfect little behind.”

  “You would spank me?”

  “Only if you deserve it.”

  I should’ve hated to be spoken to like that. Like I was a misbehaving child, chastised by an authority figure who expected a patronizing obedience from me.

  But…I liked the gentle caress to my knee. His wicked smile.

  The heat building inside me.

  I could become a legit good girl.

  Especially if it earned me another kiss.

  Simone murmured behind me, her voice entirely too close. “Looks like our little pet is enjoying herself.”

  Our? Anthony didn’t correct her. He also didn’t stop her.

  Her arm coiled around my mid-section. Who needed ropes and handcuffs when Simone’s grip held me tight?

  I froze. Anthony watched, waiting for a safe word.

  I’d make him proud.

  “Do you like the sushi, pet?” Simone savored the nickname. “You should try some wasabi.”

  Anthony exhaled. “Christ, love, you really are cruel.”

  “Then what would you recommend?”

  “She should try the O-Toro.”

  Simone purred somewhere between kitten and jaguar. “Oh, yes. She’d love that.”

  The hairs on my neck prickled. Something was up. Anthony nodded towards Shannon.

  “Go ahead, pet. I don’t think anyone will mind if you use your fingers.”

  The men chuckled.

  Yep. I was in trouble.

  Shannon was sufficiently picked over, and most of the fish had gone. Thomas had diligently peeled each piece of palm leaf away to expose her body—breasts, navel, legs. Only a few pieces of sushi remained near her shoulders and on her belly.

  And one piece nestled between her legs.

  He was kidding. He had to be.

  “The white one,” Anthony said. “It’s one of the best pieces. Melts in your mouth.”

  The only white piece was the one balanced on the soft mound between her legs.

  He wanted me to touch her. Another woman.

  Simone’s hand met Anthony’s, stroking my back.

  His encouragement was a deal with an incredibly handsome devil. “Go on. I promise you’ll like it.”

  Everyone was watching.

  And waiting.

  And loving how I squirmed.

  How was I going to pick up the piece of sushi without freaking out first?

  In that moment, I became as vulnerable as Shannon, but I wasn’t the one naked and prone. I wasn’t the one at the whim of those who’d reach for my delicate areas and remove every last palm leaf that shielded a body from their prying eyes.

  It didn’t matter.

  Anthony guided me forward. I had to stand to lean over the table that far, and, even then, I needed my tippy-toes.

  Shannon waited, her body still.

  I stretched out. Slowly. Using only a finger and thumb to pluck the sushi from her pale, perfectly shaven slit.

  But Simone nudged my knee.

  I flinched forward. My fingers grazed something soft, and Shannon gave a sultry coo.

  “Oh, God.” I dove back into my seat.

  The room chuckled. So did Anthony. He pushed the O-toro to my quivering lips.

  “Try it…” His voice lowered, amused and dangerous. “Be a good girl.”

  Food was the last thing on my mind, but I did as I was told.

  The fish melted in my mouth.

  And it was the best piece.

  I wished I hadn’t shuddered as Anthony watched me, somehow reading every thought blistering my mind. His hand brushed my knee. I squirmed as his fingers trailed higher, simply admiring the darkness of my thighs.

  I wanted more than that.

  The men divvied up the remaining slices of sushi, and I finished my champagne in a quick gulp. And, like nothing had happened, the conversation shifted back to football, cars, and politics.

  Though Simone didn’t ignore the naked woman.

  Taking a chopstick in hand, she tickled the edge along Shannon’s leg, calf to hip. Shannon stayed still, but her lips parted, and her breath caught deep in her chest. Apparently, the sigh was too subtle for Simone. She broke the chopstick in two, took the sharpest edge, and dragged it along Shannon’s thigh. Not hard enough to scratch, but Shannon flinched with every inch it tormented.

  When she whimpered, Simone dug in harder.

  “Well.” Thomas said nothing about Simone molesting his date. “Anyone interested in coffee?”

  The men murmured an agreement. Genn and Beth were dismissed from the table. They returned after a moment with a bowl of soapy water and two soft rags.

  Shannon held her breath, and the women gently rubbed the soapy rag along every inch of her body.

  Okay. I swallowed hard. Now we had a show.

  And nothing I could watch.

  At least, I didn’t think I could.

  I looked away, examining nothing in particular on my dress. Once Shannon considered herself clean, Thomas leaned forward, his hand squeezing her breast.

  “On your knees.”

  My eyes widened. Anthony took my hand.

  “Thank you for the dinner, Thomas,” he said. “But I think we’ll skip the coffee this time.”

  The room groaned. Shannon rose to her hands and knees before him.

  “You sure, Anthony?” Thomas asked. “I’m sure little Morgan here could use a demonstration.”

  He lowered a tray onto Shannon’s back.

  Now she was a table? Didn’t these people believe in conventional furniture?

  But Shannon awaited their next orders with an unmistakable pride. Though every single part of her was clearly visible to the room, from the curve of her thighs to the swell of her dangling breasts, she looked only to Thomas. Waited for his command.

  Anthony’s hand curled over mine.

  Was I so different?

  “Dinner was enough, thank you.” He squeezed my fingers. “Right, pet?”

  “Yes. Thank you, sir.”

  My voice was too meek. Shannon rolled her eyes.

  Anthony pulled me from my seat as Thomas warned Shannon not to move. The coffee was hot, and he didn’t want any to spill on her back. Simone jabbed her foot with the chopstick. Shannon yelped.

  I held my breath. My entire body tingled, like it had been asleep for far too long and finally awoke to an amazing burst of sensation. The numbness passed over the rest of my body.

  Except for where Anthony touched.

  My hand pulsed in his palm. That heat spread until I forced each breath in and out of my lungs.I couldn’t possibly think this was exciting.

  Not the disgraceful way they used Shannon.

  Not how everyone watched as she lay naked and helpless before them.

  Not how she was touched and ad
mired and ignored and wanted.

  I didn’t understand how anyone found it arousing.

  Except that I did.

  And so did Anthony.

  6

  My innocence had shattered, but the thrill of it only excited me more.

  But Anthony escorted me to the car before the party turned too wild.

  And I was almost…disappointed.

  Though spending time alone with Anthony was just as exciting as any naughty show.

  “You did good tonight, pet.” He adjusted the car’s air conditioning as I shivered. It wasn’t from the cold. “You made me proud.”

  I puffed. “Really?”

  “You looked beautiful. You were polite. Everyone loved that innocence…” Including him. “You were a perfect pet.”

  “Thank you.”

  He waited. The silence stretched. I gasped.

  “I mean, thank you, sir.”

  “Good girl.”

  I practically vibrated. Anthony’s praise delighted every part of me. I never thought I’d enjoy a compliment so much.

  He drove, switching stations on the radio to the classic rock he seemed to favor. Despite the craziness inside the restaurant, he treated this like a normal date. Like we hadn’t just watched a woman get degraded, humiliated, and used as an object of pleasure.

  And the only thing I wondered was when would it become my turn.

  Anthony didn’t take me home. Instead, he drove to a brightly colored, old-time ice cream parlor. I could smell the sugar from the parking lot.

  “Come on…” He stared at me, taking a moment to tuck a bobbing lock of curls behind my ear. “I owe you dessert.”

  Holy hell, my stomach already rolled from the discovery of my abnormal sexual fetishes, and he wanted to toss raw fish and dairy products on top of it? Anthony sure knew how to party.

  The ice cream parlor wasn’t busy, but kitschy ragtime music hammered out of an automatic player piano and the shop’s every corner burst with song, light, and striped red and white decorations. Oversized gold booths stacked against the walls, and the shop peddled a variety of chocolates, candies, and overpriced stuffed animals in a separate room.

  How had I gone from Nine and a Half Weeks to Willy Wonka in the span of a few blocks?

  “What would you like?” Anthony led me to the counter, and I couldn’t shake feeling like a little girl again. For some reason, I didn’t mind it. “Do you like ice cream?”