On Her Master's Secret Service (Masters and Mercenaries #4)(119)
“How about the great room where I sing?”
She remembered the Dom in the Harley vest and the coiled whip. Maybe there was no safe place in the club. “I guess we could start there. Maybe you can describe some of the activities you’ve seen there.”
A few minutes later, Karla flipped the lights on and the great room was illuminated before her. It looked so…normal without all the people in BDSM gear hanging around. She walked into the room filled with ottomans and tables. They were closer to the stage now than they had been the night she’d been here with Allen.
Angelina walked up to the center post and lifted up a cold, heavy chain with a leather cuff attached to it. Had the Dom in the Harley vest chained the blonde submissive here and used his whip on her? Still, she shivered when she thought about being restrained by them with Marc.
“Do the chains excite you, pet?”
The pit of Angelina’s stomach dropped, and she turned loose of the chain as if it was suddenly on fire. It clanged against the center post and Angelina turned to find Marc standing in the entryway beside Karla. He wore black leather pants and a black leather vest, his chest bare, except for the tufts of hair over his heart. Dear Lord, her nipples hardened just looking at him.
His gaze went to her breasts. “Never mind. I can see your answer.”
He stepped into the room and walked toward her like a wolf stalking its prey. Her heart pounded, curiously depriving her of oxygen that might have helped keep her mind from turning to mush. When he reached her, he stared until she squirmed in her skin, then took his knuckles and brushed them over her nipples, making them even more engorged. She hissed, gasping for air.
“Karla, Angelina won’t be needing you for a while.” He didn’t even turn around to dismiss Karla. His gaze remained fixed on Angelina.
“Angie, will you be okay?”
No, never again. “Yes. I’ll see you upstairs later.” Karla was sweet to worry about her, but Marc wouldn’t administer pain without pleasure. She wouldn’t enjoy the first, but couldn’t wait for the other.
“Did you miss me, pet?”
How should she answer that? Karla had kept her busy with unpacking and chatting, but Marc had dominated her thoughts all evening, mostly with her worrying about the scene to come.
“Answer me.”
“Yes, Sir.” Oh, God. She really had.
“Thank you for your honesty, pet. Now, strip.”
Her eyes opened wider. Had she heard him correctly? She looked around to make sure Karla had left and that they were alone. They were, but someone could come in at any minute, couldn’t they?
“I’m not sure…”
“I am. I said strip. Now. Or you’ll add to the length of your discipline session.”
“It’s not a punishment?”
“No, pet. We’re still training that mind and body of yours to submit. This is discipline.”
Angelina sucked air into her lungs as she reached up to the vee of her blouse and began to slip each button through its hole, making her way downward to the hem. If this was how bad she felt to be disciplined, she hoped to never have to be punished. She spread the flaps open a bit and untied the peasant skirt belt, then shimmied the cotton over her hips until it pooled at her feet. She hadn’t worn panties today, per Marc’s explicit instructions before they left her house this morning. The cool air made it abundantly clear her * already was wet.
Marc motioned for her to continue. She reached up to spread open her blouse, pull it off her shoulders, and slip it down her arms to join the skirt on the floor. Her breasts were shielded in a skin-tone bustier that captured Marc’s interest.
His hands reached up to cup her breasts, rolling her swollen nipples through the lace before he bent down to take one lace-covered peak between his teeth. He bit her with enough force to cause her knees to buckle. Marc caught her elbows to steady her.
“We can’t have that, now, can we?”
Angelina wasn’t sure what he meant, until he reached behind her and picked up the leather cuffs. “No! I’m not ready for that!”
Marc smiled and took each of the cuffs off the chain and rubbed them over her nipples, teasing her with the brass buckles. The sensations were delicious.
“What is your safeword, pet?”
“Red, Sir.”
“Do you trust me to stop when you say that word?”
Did she? She liked to think so, but how could she know unless she actually used the word?
“Pet, I hope to enjoy your gift of submission all week. Why would I do anything to jeopardize that on our first night? I think you know I will stop immediately if you use your safeword.”
She did. Didn’t she? Oh, God. She could do this. She really could. Angelina extended her hands to him, palms up.
“Good girl.”
His praise melted away some of the ice in her veins. As she held her hands before him, he wrapped each wrist in one of the cuffs and fastened them with Velcro. So the buckles were just for show, as she would be if he strapped her to the post. He slipped his finger between the leather in the skin. “Not too tight?”
“No, Sir. It feels fine.”
“Well, let’s see if we can do better than fine.” He hooked the two cuffs together and pulled her hands over her head and placed his other hand on her upper right arm to begin maneuvering her into place before the post.
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