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Marcus's gaze descended, and his voice went to an appreciative sensual thickness. "She's wearing gold thigh high boots with a three-inch spike heel and a gold chain circling the ankles. She's slicked back her hair and scattered gold dust across it and her cheeks. She's also carrying a very wicked crop, as you felt, and what appears to be a very long bullwhip.
"She's beautiful," he concluded. "A golden goddess. " He ran his fingers along Josh's calf, teased his ankle just above the cuff. "Aren't you pleased to be courting her pleasure?"
Josh nodded, a slight movement all that his head could manage.
"You'd like to see her, wouldn't you?"
Another nod. Marcus tilted his head to Lauren, only ten feet away from her charge.
"Maybe in a moment," she said calmly, though she felt far from calm.
Her mother had once told her that the difference between love and all the lesser imitations of it was so startling, so powerful in its contrast, that once she had actually felt it, she would never mistake anything else for it again. Lauren hadn't known what she was talking about, because the perversity of love was, until you experienced it for the first time, there was no way to distinguish it from the other versions.
To have someone so willingly surrendered to her, open to her like this, was something she had never had, and it was so different from how Jonathan had made her feel that she couldn't imagine why she ever gave the sadistic prick the time of day.
She felt an incredible melding of power and tenderness, craving and worship. She had felt it in small doses throughout the past two days, but this was far more. This was utter, voluntary surrender of one human to another, and it humbled her in a way too powerful to explain in words. Marcus had been right.
Such trust, such devotion was meant to elicit the heady flood of protectiveness and desire she felt now, the absolute worship for the one surrendering, cherishing their devotion and trust for the gift it was.
To honor it, to find it and keep it, she would have to risk losing it. That was a lesson Jonathan had taught her as well.
She stepped forward, the heel a loud punctuation on the stone floor, like the snap of a starting gun.
Chapter 17
"You must prove your devotion to me first, before you can see me," she said. The edge of the crop drifted along the line of his pectoral. The skin quivered beneath it, and she suppressed the urge to lean forward, bite warm skin and muscle.
He swallowed. Unbound, but bound by her orders, he had shown occasional flashes of humor. Here, he was helpless, focused on her and vulnerable, and she was about to tread into even more turbulent emotional waters. She thought about calling a timeout to be sure things were okay. It might break the tension that was building, tension that might be important.
She glanced down at his stiff cock. The head was full of blood, a flushed cap for the column of black harnessing straps, and she knew there was no doubt she had him in a high state of lust, when the psyche was more open to being pushed. She wanted answers. She had to have them, to be sure she could take them where they both seemed to want to go.
"Okay," he whispered, before she could open her mouth to ask him again.
She came even closer, brought her scent and nearness to him for reassurance. She caressed his bare neck, traced his lips gently with her fingers. She let him catch them in his mouth and suck on them greedily before she took them away and rested them on his bare chest, tracing the moistness he had left on them across his nipple while his breath caught harshly in his throat.
"Tell me what happened, Josh. What happened with Winona to drive you here, to make you hide here?"
His body went rigid. Whatever he had been expecting her to ask of him, it was apparently not that.
Marcus's eyes narrowed on her, but after a moment, his expression became thoughtful and he nodded, tentative endorsement of her direction. Be careful , his eyes warned.
She knew. She suspected the danger of this path, and knew it all too well herself, and maybe that knowledge was part of why she dared.
"Can you tell me, love?" she turned her hand over, stroking with her knuckles now, more soothing than provocative. Blindfolding him should make it easier for him to speak of it, just as it had been easier to tell them of Jonathan while staring at the ocean, as if they were not there. But she couldn't be entirely kind.
"Tell me. I'm your Mistress. You're not to hide anything from me. " Her hand descended, and closed over the harness, her lower two fingers capturing the chain and giving it a sharp tug. He groaned, trying to thrust into her hand, but she stepped back from him abruptly, leaving his hot skin exposed to the chill of her withdrawal.
"Anything," she repeated. "Tell me. If I decide you need to be punished," she sidled up close again, pressed her full length along his body, let his captive cock slide between her thigh muscles. It was like embracing a board; he was so rigid with hunger and heat. "I'll take care of it. Or perhaps you need a punishment now, to remind you who you obey, who you tell your secrets to?"
"A punishment worse than not being able to see you?" He groaned out the question. He tried to fasten his teeth on her throat, but she eluded him with a chuckle and a sharp strike of the crop along his inner thigh, the left one this time, and a quick flick over his testicles. Then she withdrew again. She took her time walking back, five paces, to the throne Marcus had vacated. She turned, took a seat, and considered him, a whip in each hand.
"Tell me, Josh. Tell me what happened. I'm going to sit here in this chair, and wait for you to tell me.
Until you do, you will not be punished as you deserve. You will not touch me or suckle my breasts, or get to plunge that steel cock of yours into my pussy. Do you know how wet my pussy is for you, Josh?
It's drenched. I could come just by sitting like this, watching you bound on display for me, as beautiful as one of your sculptures. "
He made a noise, part plea, part animal sound of pain. Lauren refused to let herself soften, even though she saw concern flit across Marcus's face. She sharpened her tone.
