Page 77 of In His Cuffs

Gregorio, the Den’s caretaker, opened the patio doors for them.

“We’ll be availing ourselves of one of the playrooms,” Niles said.

Gregorio drew his dark eyebrows together. Obviously, he hadn’t been expecting that news.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Gregorio said. “You as well,” he said to Brandy as he accepted the glass from her.

“I’ll take good care of her,” Niles promised.

“See that you do,” Gregorio said.

He appreciated the way Master Damien and Gregorio ensured everyone’s safety, but this time it rankled. Niles would do nothing to harm Brandy.

With a nod towards the watchful Gregorio, Niles guided her through the kitchen then down the stairs that led to Damien’s elaborate dungeon.

Niles owned a production company that often filmed at the Den, and he’d appeared in a number of their videos. He knew the rooms well, all the apparatus that was available and each of the implements he could apply to her body.

He stopped at the bar and snagged two bottles of water before asking Brandy if she had any preference on which room to enter.

“Sir?”

Clearly she expected him to make the decisions. Under normal circumstances, he would. But this evening was anything but ordinary. “This was your idea,” he told her. “So I’m betting you have an idea or two about what you’d like to have happen.”

“In that case, Sir, first door on the right.”

He nodded, pleased with her answer. Because of its sparseness, this was one of his favourite playrooms. A hook hung from the ceiling, and a chair stood off to one side, tucked beneath a padded bench. The far wall was dominated by crops, whips, floggers and a tawse handcrafted by Master Marcus. As with all the rooms, there was a small sink and counter, and a cupboard stocked with necessities, including wipes, lube, condoms and towels.

She entered ahead of him. He paused to seal them in relative privacy. At the Den, all rooms had a window cut into the door. Every interaction was observed by Gregorio or Master Damien, meaning there was no such thing as complete seclusion, a policy Niles endorsed.

When he turned, he saw her kneeling in the middle of the room, head bowed, hands on her thighs. The subs—male and female—that he professionally dominated were actors and models. Each act was scripted and choreographed, and each response was exploited to ensure maximum effect. Screaming, whimpering and begging were all expected from the participants—after all, no one wanted to pay money for a download in which the spankee was silent.

He was reminded that Brandy, too, submitted for a living, but there were no cameras, directors or second takes. This was between two willing participants for no reason other than pleasure. “Stand, please,” he said. “Hands over your head.”

Niles drew her dress up, exposing her beautiful body, inch by perfect inch.

She wore a scrap of material that served as panties. And she had on a black shelf bra that lifted her breasts. “I’m a fortunate man tonight, Brandy.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He offered her the dress. “Fold it and put it on the counter then return to me.”

Wordlessly, she did as instructed. She stood in front of him, her legs spread slightly and her hands looped behind her back. He noticed the telltale rapid rise and fall of her chest, indicating she was not as relaxed as she appeared.

It might have been ego, but he liked to think that this might mean something to her. If it didn’t, he could live with that. Passing an hour or two together would make the evening more pleasant than he’d anticipated. “How expensive are your panties?”

“Very,” she said.

“Sorry in advance.”

“Occupational hazard, Sir.”

He crossed to one of the drawers and took out a pair of safety scissors. Almost every week, he cut the material from an actress. This, however, was different. She wouldn’t be turning in an expense report for replacement lingerie. Well, not to his company.

She stood still as he slid the blunted end between her skin and lace. “Ask me to do it.”

Brandy met his gaze. “Do it,” she said. “Cut the panties off me, Sir.”

He did. The useless scrap pooled to the floor. “I like a shaved pussy,” he told her.

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