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“I happen to like what they’ve done with the place,” Grant said, pointing toward some floor model machine with a dildo attached at both ends.
“Naturally, you would,” she said, rubbernecking in order to get a good look at what appeared to be a piece of revamped abs-exercise equipment.
“Careful, sub,” Blake warned.
Her gaze returned to the dildo-toting machinery. She didn’t have to wonder what kind of delicious punishment a woman faced slipping and sliding on that particular piece of equipment.
“If a trained submissive knows what to expect, then this place isn’t that frightening,” she explained. “But look at it from a woman’s point of view, particularly one who doesn’t know anything about Domination and submission. If trust hasn’t been established, why would she want to be down here? I wouldn’t.”
“She’s right,” Blake agreed. “Kit and Kemper always go for the women who don’t have a clue about the lifestyle. Can you imagine the expressions on some of their faces after they enter Kit and Kemper’s world for the first time?”
“I doubt they take the time to establish trust before they bring their women down here. They run gals through this place quicker than we can release cattle through the livestock loading chute,” Grant said.
“Nice,” Morgan muttered, thinking her brothers had probably changed considerably since she last saw them. Still, she couldn’t imagine Kemper being this hardened Dom. Kit? Sure. But not Kemper.
Two lightbulbs swung from the ceiling, providing very little light and giving the place a real eerie feel. Morgan looked up and said, “I bet they blindfold them when they lead them down here.” She shuddered. “I can’t bring myself to think about anything else that might go on here.”
Blake snickered. “Your brothers once said the same thing about you.”
“It’ll be worse now,” Grant pointed out. “They may never come down here to play again.”
“I would prefer it if you don’t discuss my training with them.”
Blake stalked her then. He cupped her chin and looked into her eyes. “Morgan, what happens between you, me, and Grant remains between the three of us. It’s no one’s business what we do.” A beat later, he grinned and said, “Besides, a man would have to be crazy to tell another Dom, his little sister was punished by means of the Catherine Wheel.”
Grant chuckled. “I’ll say.”
Morgan smiled up at him and then shrugged away. She took a stroll around the room, spotting an odd-shaped and quite intimidating toy stuffed in yet another nook and cranny. The place was completely sterile, with various cleaning solutions and wipes placed next to each piece of equipment. Minus the erotic playthings and dim lighting, one might think the area was better suited for a state-of-the-art medical facility.
Next to the Catherine Wheel, a violet wand was plugged into the wall. The device was often a Dom’s favorite electrical play device. “Over there,” Grant said, pointing to a solid black bench, similar to a workout platform.
“I don’t want to, Sir,” she whined, issuing Grant the respect he deserved but defying him all the same.
Blake shook his head. “Either you want more punishment than you can handle, or those drugs did some permanent damage to your head.” A beat later, Blake cleared his throat and roughly bit out, “Lie down on the bench. Face down.”
Morgan pursed her lips. Here we go, she thought. It’s now, later, or never. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the preferred option of later.
* * * *
Her eyes were wide, wild, and untamed. Grant would’ve traded a steer or two to have captured that priceless look on camera. She must’ve been as shocked as Grant was to hear Blake take such an authoritative position. Blake had it in him to be a controlling Dom, but Grant always knew Blake as a kind and gentle man where Morgan was concerned.
Then again, they’d never placed Morgan in this kind of situation before.
“I’ll need help. My hands are behind my back.”
“No you won’t,” Grant said. “Straddle the bench. Then, let your body fall forward.”
“First, I want her to straddle the bench and hold the position,” Blake said, walking toward a small refrigerator barely visible in the dimly lit room.
Grant couldn’t help but smile as he watched Blake take a bowl of ginger from the freezer compartment. When he
returned to the bench, he reached above the unit and retrieved a transparent glove, working the plastic piece over his hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Surgery,” he said without cracking a smile.
When she looked alarmed, he retracted the statement. “I’m kidding. We’re using something new today. Have you ever played with gingerroot?”
