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to the right. Away from me, facing the audience."
Madison obeyed. Even as she came to a halt, the chimes made their whispering music, and Sam realized the woman was trembling. Logan slid her hair off one shoulder, bent and kissed the line of her collarbone. His hands gripped her waist. "Who am I, Madison?"
"My Master." She spoke it in a shaky voice, but there was love there, wonder, as if she was still exploring all that meant in her mind, heart, soul. Sam knew how she felt about that, too. Hell, she might as well have been standing where Madison was, with Geoff and Chris standing in Logan's place.
Logan brushed his lips over the same spot, bit lightly. "I like the sound of that. Say it again."
"My Master . . . Master."
He curled his fingers around her wrist to draw her arm behind her, obviously to guide her palm in a slow rub over his fly, though his reaction was concealed behind her body. "See what that does to me?"
She moistened her lips. "Yes, Master."
"Prove you mean it. Walk forward until I tell you to stop. Not as if you're blindfolded, but as if you trust me as much as you trust your own eyes."
She murmured something, and his expression shifted in a fascinating response. His grip slid around her waist, fingers spreading over her abdomen as he kissed her neck, a longer and harder contact. Madison tilted her head back against him, arching her throat, a breathy sigh escaping her.
"Say that again," he demanded. "Louder."
"I trust your eyes more." Her voice cracked but was clear.
He twisted her hair in his hand, dislodging some flower petals, and kissed her mouth. "Then walk how you would if you could see yourself through my eyes."
Releasing her, he stepped back, but Sam noticed his hand lingered, making sure she was steady.
Madison moved forward, and the tranquility on her face was a lovely thing to see. She did exactly as he told her, walking the way a woman walked when the man who desired her was watching. And Logan watched her as if he was only a breath away from devouring her, every sense focused on her. It made Sam hurt and rejoice at once. She wanted to cry and laugh. She wanted Geoff and Chris inside her, right now, but she settled for pulsating between them like a charged wire.
Hips swaying, head up, arms gracefully flowing with her body's movement, Madison walked forward without any hesitation. The group on the perimeter of the stage closed in on her direction silently, but a foot away from that edge, Logan spoke.
"Stop."
Madison came to a halt, lips parted, fingers slightly curled.
"Turn around and walk toward my voice."
She did. As he began to move around the stage, he spoke to her, one-word commands he would repeat if she got disoriented. She followed, at one point walking so close to the perimeter that even Sam was holding her breath. Someone else brought a chair to the middle of the platform then, and Logan brought her back toward him, bringing her to a halt when she stood before it. He took her hand. "Step up."
She stood on the chair, her back to the audience. Slipping a strap of the chemise off her left shoulder, he adjusted the garment so it was obvious he'd exposed her breast. Logan leaned forward, his hand coming up to curve around Madison's flesh. The act wasn't visible to the audience, but Sam felt a twinge through her own nipple, knowing he was giving Madison's a sweet, easy suckle that had her swaying. He gripped her hip to hold her. When he lifted his head, he slipped the strap back onto her shoulder, covering her again.
As he did that, Troy hoisted himself lithely onstage. He moved around to the other side of the chair, facing Logan. Logan met his gaze.
"Fall backward, baby," he said to Madison.
The crowd let out a collective gasp as she did so without hesitation, a slender tree falling in the forest. Logan caught her, Troy ready on the other side if needed, but she'd fallen directly into his grasp. Troy left the stage again. The performers on the perimeter of the stage left their posts, melting back into the shadows, leaving the audience an unimpeded view of Logan holding Madison in his arms. He shifted her and spoke low, a private communication between Master and sub. Maybe he was wearing a mic, though, because Sam was able to hear the throaty question.
"Are you still with me?"
She nodded, her head against his shoulder. He lowered her to the stage, this time putting her on her hands and knees facing the audience. "Head up," he instructed her. "Tell them why I want you to do that."
"Because I'm always proud to serve my Master. To be seen as yours." Her body shivered then, a hard jerk of reaction, as if she wasn't expecting words like that to come out of her mouth, especially right now, in front of this many people.
The other performances had been by turns arousing, intriguing . . . emotional. But this did as Logan had stated. It showed them what it all truly meant. What was really happening in the Dom's soul, in the sub's heart, through the touch of fire, drip of wax, or sting of the lash. It all connected to this. It was the essence of Geoff and Chris's connection to her, what all the Dom/sub stuff, every touch and word they exchanged, meant. Sam was still perched on her chair like a bird about to take flight. The press of their bodies, the welcome, unrelenting contact of their hands upon her, told her Chris and Geoff felt what Sam was feeling.
Logan dropped to a knee by Madison's head and leaned down. This time whatever he said was muted, perhaps because he put his hand up to his collar and covered the mic, making it just between them. Madison nodded, lips pressing together at the obvious personal reassurance, but it was clear Logan wasn't content to leave it at that. Whatever they were about to do was disrupting her focus, making her a little nervous.
He eased her back on her heels, gripping her wrist to guide her hand to his chest. Threading her fingers inside his open shirt so her palm could rest fully over his heart, he gave her skin-to-skin contact. Though Logan's broad chest, covered with a light mat of gleaming brown hair, was certainly worth an ogle, Sam realized the partly unbuttoned shirt hadn't been an act of vanity, but a vital preparation for this specific moment. He shifted his grip so his hand pressed over Madison's. When she bowed her head, he bent his over it. They held that way for a minute, and Sam could feel her own heartbeat. Thump-thump, thump-thump.
"You're doing so well, baby," he said. Though Sam wasn't sure if he'd intended that to carry, it had, and heated her from head to toe.
