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There were a lot fewer people tonight, which somehow spotlighted the action on the raised platform in the center. The brunette on the spanking bench had been totally stripped except for her string bikini top and thong panties. Bright red welts decorated the perfect white globes of her ass.
“Shit.” Tony winced when the man at her side landed another blow on her body.
“Yeah, ouch.” Marcia pressed closer to Tony. “That’s gotta fucking burn.”
Still, the woman writhed and begged. She wore a black blindfold that obscured half her face and her lean, pliable body flexed with each strike. Her enthusiastic moans proved she wanted every bit of what was coming to her.
The man handed off the implement to the guy on his other side and stepped off the platform, giving his new pal room to take center stage.
Jesus, the friend was Cale.
He looked completely in his element as he ran the tip of the object between the woman’s sweat-drenched shoulder blades. Her skin gleamed in the low lighting and her thighs trembled from the exertion of holding herself still.
“Shit,” Tony muttered again.
Cale prowled around the bench, the long not-quite-a-whip whispering over her from the base of her neck to her ankles. It was as if he wanted to completely scope out her body before he started putting his mark on it.
Or maybe he wouldn’t. Could be this was just some elaborate ruse. For what, he had no clue.
The first crack against skin made Marcia let out a little gasp. There was a terrible beauty to his movements, a sort of practiced skill at knowing just where to hit and how hard to make his submissive moan.
“Quiet.” Cale’s command silenced both the crowd and the woman under his hand, as if a switch had been flipped. Then he again began landing blows.
Tony swallowed hard. For chrissakes, it wasn’t some stranger up there. His best friend was the one doing the honors, his muscled forearm rippling with each strike. And his face—
“Now that’s a hard-on,” Marcia whispered, her breath whispering over Tony’s neck.
Tony managed not to grimace. The front of Cale’s jeans protruded so far he could drill wood without benefit of a hammer. “Guess we know what he’s into now.”
“Guess so.” Marcia rested her head on Tony’s chest, her face still turned toward the front of the room. Shying away from new experiences wasn’t her style.
Though it was silly, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He didn’t need to shield her from anything, that much was clear. But he wanted her to know she was safe with him, that if anything was too overwhelming for her he’d gladly take her out of here and never come back.
“She’s loving every minute.”
“Sure is.”
Why was the question. Why did someone get off on receiving pain and why did someone else enjoy giving it? In this case, why did Cale enjoy giving it?
The whip-crop-whatever swung through the air, landing with a noticeable thwap right above the brunette’s ass cheeks. She cried out, her body shimmying to its own rhythm, but her gyrations weren’t what took Tony’s attention. Faint black lines swirled in the hollow of her back, somehow becoming more apparent with each crack of the whip. Dark curlicues, a shadow of the large blue wings of a butterfly.
The woman shifted on the bench and flung back her curtain of dark hair. Something about the curve of her jaw, the way she held herself even while she was in the throes of—well, passion, Tony supposed, unsure if that adequately described her current state—dinged a bell at the back of his mind.
Holy shit.
Tony pulled Marcia closer, hardly aware of her protest. He’d apologize for crushing her later, but right now he had to distract her, anything to take her focus from the front of the room. At least if what he thought he was seeing wasn’t a mirage.
Other women looked like her. She wasn’t that unusual. There were lots of pretty brunettes in their early forties.
But there was that tattoo, one she’d obviously gone to some effort to conceal. Too bad her makeup was running off. Obviously it wasn’t heatproof. Or crop-proof.
She again turned her head toward the crowd, her damp lips parted in silent plea, and Tony sucked in a breath. Dammit, there was no denying it.
The woman being whipped by Cale was Diana.
Chapter Ten
“Hey, flesh and bone here. You’re about to squeeze me to death.”
