The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(61)

The heat from the fireplace contrasts with the cold room. Goose bumps pop out on Blakely's skin, but I assume it's more from nerves, especially since she's staring at the sharp blades.

I assess the space again, take off my shirt, then sit on an oversized chair. I demand, "Pet, turn and take off your dress. And don't forget the rules."

She swallows hard, faces me, and says, "Yes, Sir." She slowly removes her dress and holds it in her hand.

"Toss it on the ground."

She drops it and waits.

I curl my finger in the air. "Crawl."

Her head jerks backward. She utters, "Crawl?"

I scowl at her.

She takes a deep breath. "Sorry, Sir." She glances at the ceiling, then drops on all fours. She moves a foot on the cobblestone.

"Ass in the air, face closer to the ground," I demand.

She glares at me.

I add, "I expect to hear your gratitude."

She lets out a pissed-off breath and utters, "Thank you, Sir." She lowers her face and raises her ass.

"Louder and like you mean it."

She shuts her eyes for a minute, then repeats, "Thank you, Sir." She slinks over to me, her leash scraping on the cobblestones.

"Kneel," I order.

She assumes the position and waits.

I caress her cheek and move my face in front of hers. I lift her chin up and ask, "Who do you hate most in this world?"

Surprise fills her expression. She freezes.

Let the games begin.

"I asked you a question. I want an honest answer," I assert.

Her voice turns flat. She admits, "My father."

I arch my eyebrows.

She clears her throat. "Sir. My father, Sir."

"Why do you hate your father?"

Her face hardens. She blinks hard.

I wrap the leash around her chin, so there's no slack, and gently tug.

Flames from the fire dance in her blues. She gasps, and I demand, "Tell me."

The sad truth comes out. She confesses, "He's never loved me. I'm just someone he wants for show-and-tell."

"What else don't you like about your father?"

Her lip trembles. She whispers, "Why are you asking me this?"

"The next time you ask me a question without seeking permission first, you'll be in the cage. Understand?" I warn.

Her eyes dart to the cage, then back to me.

"Well? Understand?" I push.

"Yes, Sir."

"Last time I'm asking. What else don't you like about your father?"

She clenches her jaw, and I give her a moment. She reveals, "He's selfish, a liar, and cruel."

"How is he cruel?"

She blinks, and a tear slides down her cheek.

I soften my voice. "Tell me, pet."

Her voice cracks. "He'll do anything to have full control over me."

I wait.

She adds, "Sir."

I lean closer to her lips, and my mouth waters. She glances at it, and I assert, "You don't like giving up control, do you, pet?"

She clenches her jaw, then admits, "No, Sir."

My adrenaline kicks in. I tug her head back farther, taunting, "But you agreed to let me have it."

She fires daggers at me with her glare.

I trace her collar, demanding, "Tell me why you agreed to let me have it."

She whispers, "You know why."

"Sir," I remind her, then pinch her nipple.

She gasps, shuddering, her blue orbs widening.

I lean into her ear and pinch her again but don't release the pressure on her nipple. I murmur, "Is it all for your pussy? Or is there another reason?"

Her body trembles. Defiance grows on her expression, lighting up every deviant desire I have within me.

I demand, "I want an answer, pet."

She stays quiet, continuing to focus her glare on me.

I rise, sliding my hands under her armpits and moving her to her feet.

"What—"

"I will not tolerate your defiance."

"Riggs—"

"Who?" I bark.

"Sir!" she grits through her teeth.

I move her across the room until she's standing on a metal square, facing the mirror. There's one metal bar at shoulder height, longer than her arms stretch. I order, "Stretch out your arms."

She obeys.

I attach a brown cowhide strap around her biceps. Then I add the same ones to her wrists. I walk around and cross my arms, studying her.

A deep flush fills her cheeks, almost matching the color of her lip stain. Questions swirl in her blues, mixing with fear, a desire to resist my authority, and something I saw the day we were in the shower and I lost control. And her leash hangs between her breasts, twinkling from the glow of the fire.

I've never witnessed anything so majestic.

I remind myself there can be no mistakes tonight. She's naive to everything in my world. It's another part of her reality that's testing me, causing me to debate what route to take for her punishment.

There's a masochistic part of Blakely, something I've barely tapped into and want to explore. Her pain, while different from Aria's, runs just as deep. Yet my gut tells me Blakely's masochism doesn't exceed or even meet Aria's.