She wondered if he could smell her sudden arousal. Part of her wanted to suggest they meet at her place, where she would feel more in control. But she knew he’d never go for it. Still, she had to try. “I’d rather follow you in my car.”
As if she’d never spoken, he said, “Get ready for your shift. I’ve decided we’ll be giving a demonstration tonight.”
“Sir?”
“As part of your retraining, I want you to show our patrons how a well-behaved sub takes what her dom dishes out. Any objection?”
Her thoughts somersaulted. “I thought you didn’t do public scenes.”
“I generally don’t. I’m filling in for Master AJ. He’ll be delayed this evening. Again, it’s your choice, Alani. You don’t have to participate. I’m sure Willow would be willing.”
He had to have guessed she wouldn’t back down from his challenge. “I’ll do it,” she said.
He nodded, as if he’d expected nothing less. “I want to see what you’re wearing. Please stand and remove your coat.” He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.
He moved from subject to subject at dizzying speed.
She’d chosen a fairly demure outfit for the evening—well, if PVC was ever demure. The black swing skirt flowed over her hips and ended midthigh. A cropped top left her midriff bare but completely covered her breasts. With Master Nathaniel in mind, she’d donned fishnet stockings. She’d added only a G-string, leaving her ass bare, just in case.
She pushed away from the table and stood. She unknotted the belt and parted the lapels before shrugging out of the coat.
“Nice.”
His approval made her heart beat faster.
“Turn around.”
She draped the coat over the chair and turned her back to him.
“Lift your skirt to your waist.”
Her hands shook slightly. His rich voice held no compromise. With him, she never had to fake anything, never had to go deep into her head and pretend to be elsewhere. Only the moment existed.
“This is an advanced scene tonight, not for beginners. I am going to insert a plug up your ass, and I may push you past your comfort level. Certainly you won’t have experienced anything like this at the club.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, thrilled. That’s what she wanted: new experiences, new highs.
“How did you like my belt last night?”
“Very well, Sir.”
“We’ll use a flogger tonight.”
She wrinkled her nose in disappointment. Then, grateful she was faced away from him and that he hadn’t seen her expression, she nodded. “As you wish, Sir.”
He chuckled. “That means you prefer something else. Remember, I demand honesty.”
“Yes, Sir. I would prefer we use something else.”
“Why?”
“In my experience, Sir, a flogger is a fairly gentle implement.”
“Ah. You’re afraid I’m not going to hurt you enough. Not to worry. I watched Master Richard work you over; I saw which hits you responded to. Rest assured I’ll make you feel it far more than he did.”
Her clit began to throb.
“It doesn’t matter what you prefer, little painslut. If I want to barely touch you for this demonstration, that’s my choice. And you’ll thank me.”
“Yes, Sir, I will.”
“But make no mistake, you’ll feel the leather on your hot body. And I will hurt you.”
That
comment made her wetter.
“Meet me in the classroom no later than twenty past seven. The class is scheduled to begin at half past.”
She shivered a bit.
“You may face me.”
She let go of her skirt. The PVC material floated into place as she turned back to face him.
“Did I give you permission to drop your skirt?”
“Sorry, Sir.” She lifted it back up, exposing her derriere.
“Across my lap.” He scooted back his chair.
She stood there shocked, unmoving. He was going to spank her here in the bar? Now?
“Do I need to repeat my command?”
She met his gaze.
His green eyes were frosty, unrelenting. His firm jaw was set uncompromisingly.
She moved toward him and lowered herself, wishing she were more graceful. She struggled to keep the skirt held high.
Before she had her fingertips on the floor, he struck her hard across both cheeks.
Alani gasped.
She’d expected a warm-up spank, not this searing pain.
Before she recovered, he smacked her again.
“I didn’t hear a thank-you, so we’ll start over.”
He landed a third blow.
He hit
hard
. Her ass burned. Her cheeks flamed. She was aware of others looking at her. Somehow, this was very different than a scene with one of the patrons. Here, in the bar, people would be aware she was being punished. It heightened her humiliation.
She reached for a chair leg, anything to keep her balance.
“Alani?”
“Thank you, Sir!”
He smacked her again.
“Two. Thank you, Sir!”
“One,” he corrected. “You are expected to count and express your gratitude.”
She gritted her teeth. “One. Thank you, Sir.”
He placed the next hit directly on top of the first. It was all she could do not to wriggle away. “Two! Thank you, Sir.”
The third and fourth left her struggling to breathe. His thighs were firm beneath her torso, and the material of his slacks chafed her bare midriff.
His fifth slap stung more than any other. She squeezed her eyes against the sudden burn of tears. “Five. Thank you, Sir.”
“Get up.”
She blinked.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her to her feet. “Move over there.” He pointed to an area a few feet away, beneath a lamp. “Bend and show me your ass.”
She was reeling.
He hadn’t stayed with the punishment long enough for her to enjoy it. He hadn’t exploited the emotional components, and he’d caught her unprepared.
He folded his arms across his chest.
Just who the hell was this harsh man? And what did she really know about him?
Slowly she turned around, lifted her skirt, and then bent.
“Just a little red. When I beat you during the demonstration, I’ll make sure you have a few more marks.”
Alani took in a couple of breaths to steady her nerves.
He checked his watch. “You’re excused.”
Just like that?
He spanked her and then dismissed her? His cavalier behavior rankled. She opened her mouth to speak but changed her mind. He’d told her he wanted to see her outside the club, and they had agreed to meet later. She told herself that was enough. She released her skirt and stood. Her hands shook as she grabbed her purse and coat. She started to move past him, and he snagged her wrist, stopping her.
“I’ll let your bad behavior go unpunished this time, Alani.”
“My behavior, Sir?”
“I expect constant gratitude when I give you attention.”
Genuinely puzzled, she frowned. “I thanked you for the spankings, Sir.”
“Constant gratitude,” he said again. “Unless you’d like remove your skirt and stand in the corner with your red ass exposed to everyone in the club and think about it for a while?”
She shook her head. “Thank you for the punishment, Sir. And for allowing me to get to work.” She clenched and unclenched her hands.
“And for not making you stand in the corner,” he prompted.
Bastard.
“And for not making me stand in the corner, Sir.”
“Don’t forget yourself, sub.”
“Thank you for the reminder, Sir. I promise to do better.”
“See that you do.” He released her wrist.
She was too well trained to hurry away, even though that was what she wanted to do. She moved slowly and deliberately toward the ladies’ dressing room, aware of him watching her.
Once the door closed behind her, she exhaled.
No man, ever, had managed to punish her so completely, get inside her head, remind her of her submissiveness.
She pulled her hair back.
As the rush of adrenaline receded, she realized her pussy was still wet. His high-handed treatment had turned her on. He got to her in a way no one else ever had.
Willow joined her a few moments later. “I heard you’re doing a demo with Master Nathaniel tonight.”
She opened her locker and hung up her coat. “What else have you heard?”
“If you’re wondering if I know about your retraining, yes. I don’t know why but—”
“I yawned during a scene with Master Richard.”
“Seriously?”
“And I rolled my eyes. Master Nathaniel caught me.”
Alani looked at the other woman. She wasn’t sure if Willow was her real name or not, but it certainly fit. Tall, blonde, leggy with green eyes and natural grace, Willow was lovely, making it impossible to hate her, no matter how much Alani wanted to.
“I mean, who wouldn’t? Master Limp Wrist is a total bore.”
“Master Limp Wrist?” Alani repeated.
“Oh!” Willow made a show of covering her mouth. “Did I say that out loud?”
Alani laughed, tension slowly leaving her body.
Willow dropped her hand. “He’s a wannabe but never gonna be. At least you’ll still scene with him. But if yawning will get me a spanking from Master Nathaniel, I’ll never drink coffee again.”
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if it was. He’s freaking gorgeous. You’re the envy of every sub here tonight, do you know that?”
“Even though I’m totally in trouble and got written up?”
“Every one of us would trade places with you. The write-up means nothing. You’re good; everyone knows it. It will be forgotten in a couple of days.”
She hadn’t known whether to expect support from her fellow employees or not. She’d been a bit embarrassed to return to the club, but Willow made it painless. “Frankly, I think Master Nathaniel is a bit of an ass.”
“But so incredible. C’mon, Alani, admit it. He’s hot.”
She shrugged.
“C’mon.”
“Yeah,” Alani said eventually. “All right. He’s hot. If you go for that type.”
Willow rolled her eyes. “What type is that? The tall, dark, and dangerous type? Hell, I’d sign up, but turns out he’s only interested in you. Master AJ called and said he was held up by something and wouldn’t make it on time for his demo. So he asked Master Nathaniel to fill in. All three of our subs are available, and I’d be willing to bet a bunch of our guests would raise their hand and volunteer to help him with the scene. But Master Nathaniel said it had to be you. He said it was part of your retraining.” Willow shrugged. “As if. He just wants a chance to play with you. The other subs said they’re going to start misbehaving if scening with Master Nathaniel is part of the punishment.”
Alani laughed.
“Anyway, the other girls are turning green with envy.”
A patron walked into the dressing room.
“If I get a chance, I’ll pop in and check out your class,” Willow said. “Have fun!”
Nerves slammed into Alani again. It was becoming a regular occurrence where this man was concerned. If she wasn’t careful, she could become addicted to his punishments.
She combed her hair, freshened her makeup, and then checked her clothing.
So far, Master Nathaniel had found her submissive skills lacking. And she intended to prove herself. She didn’t need retraining. She just needed to avoid Master Limp Wrist.
At eighteen past the hour, she headed for the classroom. Just inside the door, she paused, mesmerized.
Master Nathaniel was already on the stage, and a spotlight shined on him. Behind him, a St. Andrew’s cross loomed threateningly. She was sure he’d chosen the device intentionally, making her remember yesterday’s indiscretion.
He’d turned the cross sideways. Her back wouldn’t be to the audience; the attendees would be able to see more of her body, more of what he was doing to her.
During the time she’d been in the dressing room, he’d changed. He wore black leather pants that hugged his hips and thighs. He’d donned black motorcycle boots. He’d traded his white dress shirt for a snug black T-shirt. He was shaking a flogger at his side as he looked toward the entrance, at her. Rational thought told her that the spotlight blinded him, that he really couldn’t see her. But it was as if he sensed her presence.
She stood there for a moment until a couple of attendees asked if they could pass.
She took a step into the room.
Drawing a fortifying breath, she walked to the stage, shoulders held back, determined no one would know how emotionally exposed she suddenly felt.
She climbed the stairs, trying to take in everything. There was a small table off to one side with a bottle of water on top of it. A large bottle of lube sat on the tabletop. A small drawer was partially opened. She knew he probably had an assortment of torture devices in there. And she wanted him to use them on her.
At the top of the stairs, he motioned her forward. He pointed to a spot on the floor, about a foot in front of where he was standing. He purposefully cast his gaze at the floor.
He didn’t need words to communicate his intention, and she lowered herself to her knees facing the people already taking their chairs.
He moved in front of her. She noticed he checked to make sure the lapel microphone was switched off before speaking. “The demo will start in less than ten minutes. Until that time, you will kneel quietly. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
He crouched, bringing them face-to-face.
God he was overwhelming.
This close, she inhaled the scent of him: raw, untamed power. His biceps were well-defined in a way she hadn’t noticed before now.
Dressed all in black, he resembled the warrior he was, a man who fearlessly sought out the darkest and most dangerous of Middle Eastern terrorists.
His attire wasn’t aimed just at creating the illusion the attendees expected. It more authentically expressed who he really was. Tonight he was unleashing the dom who merely wore a veil of civility.
What the hell had she been thinking in challenging this man?
He propped the hilt of the flogger beneath her chin and captured her gaze before asking, “Do you want to use your current safe word, or do you want to choose a different one for this scene?”
“’Ula is fine, Sir.”