DELIVER(30)

“I see through you, boy. Passivity doesn’t take root until the first weeks or months, and stems from boredom and lack of contact with the outside world.” The mask cocked. “Six orgasms in two hours does not convince me that you’re bored and lonely already.”

Ugh, she was frustrating. Deep breath. Acquiring her friendship would be a harrowing endeavor, but the first step was easy. He wouldn’t lie to her. “Mistress, talk to me. I don’t want to screw this up. If something happens to my folks… Just help me, and I’ll help you.”

The dainty bones in her collar and shoulders sharpened against her skin. He didn’t dare raise his eyes above her neck. Then the mask spoke. “Follow the requirements, and you’ll help us both. No more talking.”

Irritation skittered over his spine, but he remained on his knees with arms raised. Helping people was the one aspect of his career he’d looked forward to. Maybe God put him in this situation to test him with the ultimate challenge, to save the darkest of souls. “Mistress, I’d rather you restrain my arms than my voice.”

She stepped before him and gripped the cuffs she’d never removed. He expected her to whip some hidden chain from her bra and slap it on his arms. Instead, she molded his hands around the tiny circumference of her waist and squeezed in silent command. Don’t let go? Was this a softening in her armor? Please?

The velvet of her skin heated his palms. The wet crotch of her panties, in the direct line of his lowered eyes, filled his nose with a spicy aroma. Perhaps God was testing him with man’s greatest temptation. His confidence in being able to pass that trial fizzled as blood rushed below his waist.

“Requirement number nine. Slave will not speak unless spoken to.” Her nails scratched down his forearms. “Your hands will be free to perform your tasks.”

He guessed she expected him to try to overpower her and was probably prepared to subdue him like last time. He wasn’t going to give her the pleasure.

“I’m the only person who knows the code for this room. Stand and follow me.” She pushed his hands off her hips and walked to the toilet, though the way she moved couldn’t be described as walking. It was more like the uninterrupted flow of a stream, gliding forward with confident disregard.

He trailed her wake, dodging the floor hooks with much less grace. Though, he strode a little lighter with the knowledge that Van couldn’t bust in without her permission. How odd that he didn’t have access. Was it because she was in charge? Something didn’t seem right about that and the answer felt vital to understanding her. What was her relationship with that guy?

She stopped before the medicine cabinet above the vanity, swung open the mirrored door, and dropped a threadbare rag in the sink. Her weight shifted to one leg, jutting out her hip, the bottom edge of her panties creeping up the musculature of one round cheek. She was so tiny and sensually-shaped, yet he’d felt her strength in her punch and could see it contracting through the tendons in her back.

As much as he despised her cruelty, his body wanted her to exhaustion and beyond. It pulsed to tackle her, to use its extra mass to dominate her in a battle of physiology.

Heat blazed down his thighs, and he clenched his hands to stop them from massaging his persistent erection. She was raining temptation down upon him in the form of curves and satin and glowing skin. Was his state of arousal normal in this situation? Perhaps another means of intended torment?

He stood over the toilet. Prayer was supposed to strengthen the struggle against lust, so he cycled The Lord’s Prayer in his head. Holding his partial erection over the rim, he tried to relax it long enough to urinate. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.

Yeah, she was evil, all right. And seductive and exquisite and complex. The repeated verses did nothing to alleviate his wandering thoughts or the weight between his legs.

She turned toward him and leaned a hip against the counter. “There’s no video monitoring in this house. What happens in this room stays in this room. If you kill me, you’ll be faced with the decision of whether or not to eat my body to stay alive.”

Good God. Seriously? Where prayer didn’t defuse him, her revolting words did. He softened in his hand and didn’t waste the opportunity to aim and empty. “Mistress, are you trying to scare me or offend me? Because I’m already glutted on both.”

“Shock has a way of rousing attention.” She moved behind him, the satin of her bra caressing his back, her fingers creeping along his abs, circling around the root of his penis, and trailing his hips to cup his backside.

He tried not to purr with the electrifying sensations. Lead us not into temptation…

Smack.

A sting zipped along one butt cheek. His body shuddered. She smacked him again on the other side. He sighed, relaxing with the tingle. Damn. That was arousing, and… cute. His lips twitched.

“No. Talking.”

That was his punishment for talking? He freed the grin squirming to escape and flushed the toilet. A slaphappy fog of delusion must have settled in his brain. He didn’t know her, yet he was dangerously close to letting her see his deepest urges. Surprisingly, he wanted her to dig around inside of him, but the notion raced his pulse. What would she do if she knew he savored physical pain?

If only she’d remove that mask so he could search for a hint at what she was thinking and feeling.

Crouching behind him, she rubbed the heat in his gluts. “You have two sexy handprints on your ass cheeks, boy.” She rose, clutching his biceps, and whispered over his shoulder, “Wonder what your God thinks about you grinning while I spanked you.”