What if nothing happened now? She felt like dancing in relief…and crying. What about the women he’d kidnapped? What about Kim? Her hands fisted; then she forced her fingers to open. You can only do what you can do.
Tonight, she’d act like a brat; this was her part to do. And she’d enjoy it as much as possible. Because, as Kim and the other women had found, sometimes things go bad. If the kidnapper did manage to get Gabi, at least she’d have lived.
And loved? She shook her head. Live for today. Tomorrow can wait.
A scream of release turned her attention to the flogging scene where the submissive writhed against the St. Andrew’s cross. The dom dropped his flogger and pumped his fingers into her pussy, and she shrieked higher, obviously coming again.
At least someone was having a good night. I’m not sure I am. While serving drinks, she’d acted obnoxious enough to collect some nasty reprimands from the Masters. Now Marcus planned to play with her—with hot wax.
And he calls it playing? Like, whatever happened to chess? Or cards? Or tag?
As he strode into the roped-off area, carrying a tray of ominous-looking things, excitement speared low in her belly, along with a hell of a lot of anxiety.
He set the tray on a table and moved it closer. “There we go. All ready.”
Her hands turned clammy. “I don’t think I want to do this.”
Marcus smiled at her and pulled her legs open, securing her knees to the straps on each side of the hip-wide table. He kissed her lightly, then put his hand over her face and pushed her down, making her giggle, at least until he put a strap across her hips. Oh man.
“Do you prefer your arms above your head or at your sides?” he asked, ever so polite, the bastard, as if she didn’t see the amusement in his eyes at her squirming.
She wiggled—tried to, at least—and the knowledge that she couldn’t escape sent a wave of heat rolling over her even as her breathing increased and fear trickled into her belly. No, hot wax wasn’t a good idea. “I prefer not to do this. I changed my mind.”
He rubbed his jaw and looked at her quizzically. “Did I ask your permission? No, I didn’t. Little trainee”—he emphasized the word—“if you didn’t mark something as a hard limit, then you get to try it.”
Oh God. “But—”
He leaned his weight on his forearm beside her head, his eyes intent on hers. “If after we’ve started, you find this too much for you, for whatever reason, use your safe word. Do you trust me, Gabrielle?”
“Too damn much if you ask me,” she grumbled. “Look at the stuff you’ve gotten me into.”
“Look what you’ve learned about yourself, sugar.” He kissed her, taking charge of it and letting her feel that he had. By the time he lifted his head, desire bubbled in her veins and turned to a hot sizzle when his hand cupped her breast. How did he do this to her, take away all her willpower to fight?
How could he turn her on with one single smile?
Still leaning on his arm, he caressed her breasts. His licked finger stroked wetness in circles over the areola. As if he had nothing better to do, he studied how her nipples bunched into peaks. A mild pinch on each tip shot a roaring blast straight to her clit as if she had a freeway running from her breasts to her pussy.
His eyes stayed focused on her face as he slid his hand down to the junction between her legs. “For someone who doesn’t want to do this, you’re a tad wet, sugar,” he murmured. His fingers played in the betraying wetness, tugging at her folds, sliding over her clit, teasing her entrance.
Her clit tightened, and she actually felt blood swelling her labia until she throbbed. “It’s not the wax; it’s you.” Her voice came out breathless.
His eyes crinkled. “Now that is purely nice to hear, sugar.”
He straightened and pulled a strap across the table, positioning it below her breasts to restrain her arms at her sides. Another strap went a few inches above her nipples, and the two squeezed her breasts between them, pulling the skin taut. “Very pretty,” he said and tugged the hard peaks lightly, showing her how sensitive they’d become.
She bit back a moan and tried to remember she needed to act disobedient. He made it so difficult. One stern look from him and she waved the white flag every time.
Or at least until she regained her wits.
After drizzling massage oil onto her stomach, he massaged it in, from above her breasts to her inner thighs. When he dripped more over her clit, the electrifying impact of the tiny drops made her shudder. Then she gulped. There? Why was he putting anything anywhere near her pussy? “Why oil?”
“You have beautifully delicate skin, Gabi,” he said gently. “The oil keeps the wax from sticking as much. Maybe someday we’ll try it without.”
They had no someday. The thought sent a stab of regret through her. But what if there were? Would he want to see her after this?
He shoved the small table closer and lit a white candle. Her arms tried to lift against the restraints. Get it away. Oh God, he really planned to do this.
After rolling up the sleeves of his white tailored shirt, exposing those muscular forearms that really didn’t belong on a lawyer, he picked up the candle. He dripped some wax on his inner elbow, grunted, and raised the candle higher. More wax splatted onto his arm. “That’ll do.”
She couldn’t take her eyes from the dancing flame. No, this was so wrong. Candles should be used for meditation…for romance. Or on a birthday cake at least.
So where was the cake? The present? The song?
As he stepped closer to her—as the damned flame got way too close—she started singing. “Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me…”
Marcus paused, looking at her in disbelief.
See. I knew he didn’t have a sense of humor. “Happy birthday, dear Gabi”—she lifted her head and blew out the candle—“happy birthday to me.”
He stared at her, and she tensed, and then he burst out laughing, so loud and strong that she giggled. God, he was so incredibly sexy when he laughed.
The stony-faced Master Nolan walked into the roped-off area and stared at her with unforgiving, dark eyes. “Marcus, you’re a pitiful excuse for a dom, let alone a trainer,” he said in his rough voice. And loudly too. “Beat her. Don’t laugh at her.”
She scowled at him. “We don’t need you here.”
With a snort of disgust, Nolan held up a tiny, tiny flogger with a palm-sized handle and thin suede strips. “Z got these today and sent one as a gift for your trainee.”
It was totally cute. Marcus could lash her all day without doing any damage. She grinned. “A widdle flogger. Oooo, I’m scared now.”
“I do believe you’re right. The trainee is getting ornery,” Marcus said in his soft voice. He took the flogger and smiled at her. “It’s little, sugar, because it’s meant for little places.” With a flick of his wrist, he brought the strands down right on her pussy.
“Ack!” Her back arched as she fought the straps, tried to bring her legs together as he gave her two more whaps. “Jesus Christ! What are—”
He lifted an eyebrow and the flogger at the same time.
She shut right up. Her clit had been swollen from his fingers. Now it throbbed and burned. Wetness trickled through her folds, and she sucked in a breath. God, if he lashed her again, she might come.
Nolan glanced at her pussy and snorted a laugh. “It’s not a good punishment for her, Marcus. She likes pussy whipping too much.”
Smiling, Marcus pressed his palm between her legs, his intent blue eyes on her face as his fingers slipped and slid in her folds. “Well now, Darlin’, we might could have some fun with this later tonight.”
The threat—promise—made her pussy clench, and he laughed.
Nolan shook his head, slapped him on the shoulder, and returned to the redheaded sub waiting outside the roped-off area.
Marcus circled his fingers around her entrance, sliding so easily she knew her pussy must be drenched. “I do think you need something in that Li’ll cunt.” He turned away from her, leaving her throbbing, and rummaged in his leather toy bag.
Her eyes widened when he held up the vibrator from the previous night. “I forgot to tell you that this is yours now, sugar. Before you take it home, we might as well get one more use of it.”
“You wouldn’t.”
He glanced at her in amusement. “Of course I would. Haven’t you learned anything yet?” He pushed the nubby penis shape against her entrance, and despite how wet she was, she was also still swollen from yesterday. She groaned as sensitive tissues stretched. He seated it deep inside her, and her vagina pulsed around the intrusion with each beat of her heart.
At least he hadn’t turned it on.
Marcus stepped closer to the tray, picked up the candle, and frowned at it. After a second’s thought, he pulled a blindfold from his toy bag and firmly tied the soft silk over her eyes. “I don’t want to gag you, sugar, but one blown-out candle is your limit. I figure if you can’t see the flame, you can’t huff and puff at it.”
She couldn’t see anything…couldn’t tell what he was doing. A tremor shook her.
“Yes, blindness makes everything more intense.”
