Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
There’s a woman strapped to the ceiling by three leather straps. Two are around her thighs and one is looped behind her shoulders. Her face is toward the ceiling and her neck is thrown back luxuriously as she moans. Bright lights illuminate her and the three strong men circling her, making even the smallest blonde hairs on her body glow with light. All four people are completely naked. One of the men runs his fingers down the length of a leather whip he holds. He cracks it against the ground, testing its weight and eyeing the woman meaningfully. She flinches, gritting her teeth in anticipation.
Two of the men stop at either side of her, plunging their mouths down against her erect nipples, biting and sucking until she strains against her bonds, moans escaping through her clenched teeth. The man with the whip skillfully brings a blow down against her thigh. Her body jerks and her moans grow louder. I notice the way the man wielding the whip only hits hard enough to bring the blood to the surface of the skin and leave a temporary red line. No broken skin, no blood. No lasting harm. It makes sense that he knows what he’s doing, or the Club wouldn’t have allowed him to take part in a demonstration.
“Pretty hot, isn’t it?” asks Dean.
I turn my head slightly, realizing I’ve been standing in the doorway for over a minute just watching. “Not my style,” I say.
He sniffs. “Then you’re out of style, Logan. I don’t see what’s not to like.”
His sub is at his side, head bowed obediently, even though I can see in her body language that she wants to look toward the stage. He has trained her well already.
“It’s just not for me,” I say. “I like things to be more… personal.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t get much more personal than that.”
“You’d be surprised,” I say. I finally find Emmaline. She’s at the far end of the room, watching the display on stage with a furrowed brow and confusion written all over her features. “Excuse me,” I say, pushing past Dean and moving through the room toward her.
I make sure my mask is still properly in place once more. Many of the members know my identity, but there are often new women brought in to fill roles. As much as the club tries to guarantee anonymity if we wish it, a non-disclosure agreement is still just a piece of paper. If my involvement in this club leaked to the public, it would undo all the work I’ve put in to clean up my image. All the more reason to stay away from Emmaline now that I’ve revealed my identity to her.
I move behind her, leaning close until my lips are only inches from her ear. “You’re staring,” I say chidingly.
She jumps, sucking in a quick breath as she turns away from the display on stage to face me. Her eyes meet mine and then she remembers at the last second to look down, assuming a submissive posture.
“Do you like to watch?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I-I don’t know.”
“Sir,” I add.
“Sir,” she says.
I take her in, from the way her hair is curled into perfect ringlets that fall over her bare shoulders to the way her golden skin glistens in the dim light. She wears a strapless dress that presses into her tits, pushing into her soft skin and making her tits pillow upwards. The dress clings tightly enough to her that I can see the slightest curve of her stomach and trace it down to the raised mound of her pussy.
I force my breathing to slow. I’m the one in control. No matter how much the mere sight of her turns me wild. I’m in control.
“Come,” I say.
She hesitates.
I suck in air through my nose, feeling my nostrils flare. I’m in a dangerous state of mind. I want this so badly I don’t know if I can control myself like I need to. Seeing her think about disobeying me has me dreaming up ways to punish her. Every possibility ends with her screaming in pleasure, body shaking with orgasm.
Emmaline licks her lips and lowers her head, clutching her hands in front of her stomach and moving to follow me.
I grin down at her. “That’s good, Kitten,” I say, smirking. My smirk widens when she shows no sign of being irked by the pet name. Giving it to her is part of marking her as mine, and I want to do everything I can to make it abundantly clear she is exactly that. Mine.
I lead Emmaline toward the hallway where I can take her upstairs and find a private room, but I slow my pace before we leave the room. I turn slightly, looking again at the stage and thinking of the way she was watching when I found her. I would rather take her somewhere private, but I don’t know if I could control myself right now. I want her so fucking bad I can’t be sure I would stop at her limits. I can’t be sure I wouldn’t find them and keep pushing past.