Page 185 of To Catch a Sub

“—and wonder if their great, great grandmother felt the same wonder and longing they experienced when she looked at it.”

The leather strap laced through the nipple ring pressed down, firm against her flesh.

Colette cried out, hands rising to push everything and everyone away. Her nipple was smashed between the leather strap and the hard metal laced through her flesh, and it hurt.

“Colette,” Landon barked, “put your hands down.”

Pain rolled through her, making it hard to think. She whimpered, but Landon caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Hands down.”

She trusted that voice, those eyes. Had learned to cave obeying his commands. She lowered her hands, desperately gripping the edges of the spanking chair.

“Don’t move.”

There was a loud metallic snap, and a slight tug on her nipple. She whimpered as the weight of the ring shifted, once more laying against her breast.

“Switch sides,” Rolf said.

She was briefly alone, no hands on her anywhere, as people shuffled around. Then her other breast was gripped at the base.

Colette tensed and whimpered, knowing what came next.

“The Ochs family think they have the originals, but they don’t,” Mateus said, voice slightly raised.

Colette’s eyes snapped open in outrage. “Are you saying someone gave the Ochs family fakes?” How dare he, she had given them the originals she stole from the Eggers.

After her forger made a couple copies for a rainy day.

“Yes. The Eggers didn’t return the art, so it has to be fake.”

“They didn’t? I thought there was a letter in with the paintings when they were returned to the Ochs. A letter from the Eggers, acknowledging the rightful ownership of the paintings.”

“A letter that was forged.”

“Is that what the Eggers said? It was forged?”

“No.” Mateus sounded irritated.

“Did the Eggers say they still had the art?”

“No.”

“Did they say it was stolen?”

“No.”

Mateus sounded ready to chew nails. Heh.

Of course they hadn’t admitted to a theft. The Eggers didn’t want the press, didn’t want anyone looking too hard at them or their art.

Her smile became a grimace when leather pressed down on tender flesh. She briefly raised her arms.

“Hands,” Landon commanded in a firm tone.

“Then why do you doubt the art is real?” Colette asked desperately, trying not to picture what they were doing to cause those slight tugs at her nipple.

“Because there’s no way the Eggers would have willingly returned it. Someone stole those paintings, forged the letter, and gave everything to the Ochs.”

“Do you know the British fairytale about Robin Hood?” Colette asked.