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With tingles rushing through her limbs and sweat sliding down her spine, she scanned the small room. There wasn’t much to the space: a black wooden platform, which she didn’t doubt she’d stand on, at the back of the room, surrounded by the stone walls.
A sudden scuffle came to her, and when she glanced at Master Dmitri, he turned on a light, casting the space in a warm glow. She didn’t have to look to realize the platform had spotlights on it, but why prolong the inevitable? With force, she glanced over and . . . oh, shit.
The stage, completely lit up with nowhere to hide, stood before her, and the little strands of bravery keeping her feet in place plummeted. She considered the quickest way to get out.
“So much fear, doll,” Master Dmitri murmured, turning her to him and wrapping an arm around her waist. His intense but amused eyes twinkled at her. He cupped the side of her cheek, brushing a thumb over her face, and here, in his arms, she noticed that the panic lifted. Her unease about the event ahead wasn’t erased, but she forgot about the impulse to exit. She liked him holding her. But why wouldn’t she? The man was God’s gift to submissives.
He gently pushed on her chest and urged her to walk backward. At the platform, he lifted her, as if she weighed nothing at all, and placed her upon the stage. Then he did a full once-over, examining the black minidress she’d borrowed from Cora. When his eyes caught hers, his smile was genuine. “You’re incredibly beautiful, Presley.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Cora was right—Master Dmitri gave many compliments. All through the night, he’d whispered the sweetest things to her. In the short amount of time she’d known him, he’d complimented her more than . . .
Had anyone ever complimented her?
Master Dmitri studied her, and in that awkward pause, Presley took a second to glance around and try to calm herself, realizing a second later the feat was impossible. The spotlights weren’t like the ones she remembered from the ballet classes she’d taken as a youngster. When she performed, she could never see out into the audience, but Dmitri’s sexy half-grin was all too visible.
“Now,” he said in the commanding voice, garnering her full attention, “while you look lovely as you are, I prefer having your body available to me.” He ran his finger down her cheek, along her neck, over her shoulder, then stepped back. “Strip.”
First, she fought to center her thoughts. His touch seemed imprinted along her skin, which caused tingles in the places his finger had traveled. Second, she realized what he had told her to do.
Nudity had never been a comfortable position for her, but to go ahead with the scene, she needed to be bare. Besides, she’d seen nude submissives, played with in front of a crowd. Hell, she’d been practically naked at the visit with the doctor, Mary, who was a complete stranger.
In the past, she never would have done anything like this, but she reminded herself that was why she’d joined the dungeon—to be bold and do something out of character. Being the perfect angel who always played it safe and followed the rules got her nothing but heartbroken.
With the old her and the new her battling it out, Presley put distance between Master Dmitri and herself. If she could get naked in front of Mary with little stress or without dying from embarrassment, she could do the same now.
“Closing yourself off?” Master Dmitri smirked. “That’s one way to do it. For now, I’ll go along with that.”
With haste, so as not to lose her conviction, she removed her heels, shed her dress, which left her in a black lace shelf bra and matching thong. Nibbling her lip, she watched Master Dmitri as he studied her in return, waiting patiently.
Who was she fooling? This wasn’t like being at the doctor’s office. There wasn’t the cold reserve in Master Dmitri’s eyes. His intense gaze burned a fiery inferno into her core, sending an electrifying buzz within.
You can do this . . .
She reached back and unclipped her bra, letting the straps fall gingerly down her arms. Then she tossed it into the pile of her clothes on the hardwood floor. The warm air caressed her nipples, making them pucker and deepening her breath.
Master Dmitri’s focus slowly lowered to her breasts, and he searched her flesh from left to right with an intoxicating look. The heat in his features mixed with the clench of his jaw, causing Presley to squirm under his obvious approval of her naked body.
So, then, why couldn’t she take her panties off?
Master Dmitri’s mouth curved as he stepped in close to her. On the platform, she met him eye to eye. “You’ve got perfect breasts. Look at those tiny nipples awaiting me.”
As he brushed a finger over her taut buds, her knees weakened to finally feel his educated hands on her skin. Every single apprehension washed away, and as he tweaked the buds, dampness spread into her panties, making them constrict around her.
Too tight. Uncomfortable.
Shifting on her feet, she sighed against the wild sensation he forced upon her. The silky fabric pressed against her swollen clit, and when he rolled her nipples beneath his fingers, a wave of heat blasted from her heavy breasts to soar downward.
With all that intense passion and focus directed solely on her, he cupped her sensitive breasts fully in his grip. “See how well you fit in my hands, Presley?”
Move those hands lower . . .
Master Dmitri chuckled, dropping his hands, and his hard stare never wavered. She didn’t need his further order. The panties needed to go for them to proceed.
Maybe with the sizzle in her clit, the idea wasn’t so horrible. If his touch felt that incredible on her breasts, between her thighs it had to . . .
The panties were coming off.
