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Now that she was in his face, Benson could see her eyes, saw them widened at the implied command and rebuke present in the single word Faith had just said.
He saw her struggle briefly between her desire to continue fighting with him…and her desire to submit.
When she sat back, ass on her heels, and then spread her knees, Benson looked away. He wanted to shake her.
“You’ll be punished for that outburst.” Mistress Faith’s tone was cool, with just a hint of well-controlled disappointment. “Severely.”
Benson glanced up to see that Faith wasn’t looking at Malvia, but at him. She raised one brow in a silent question.
Benson had no idea what the question was.
Was she asking him what he thought the punishment should be? He would never answer that fucking question.
Was she trying to prompt him to take over? To jump in and start playing this godforsaken game?
“Mal.” For the first time he used her nickname, and he saw her twitch when he did. “Please, for once, listen to me. This is a setup. This whole thing.”
Mal’s fingers curled into her palms, and he thought for a moment her gaze flicked up to his face.
Either way, he was pretty sure he had her attention.
“Mal, I’m your partner for the game. That’s what she’s been hinting at.”
He’d half expected that she’d snap at him again, tell him she’d already figured that out. But he also knew that sometimes submissives let go of analyzing and second guessing what people said. Particularly people like Malvia, who were under a lot of stress and pressure in their life outside the club.
“No.” The word was shocked denial and this time her gaze definitely met his, her eyes wide.
“Yes.” He had to be ruthless, make her understand. “And our letter is ‘P’.”
She shook her head, a quick jerking movement of confusion.
“Punishment, Mal. And that’s not the only thing on our list. Pain. Primal Play. Pussy whipping. But punishment is the big one.”
She flinched.
He could have stopped there, but he kept going. “The assignments weren’t random. They put you and me together and they gave us ‘P’ for a reason. They want us to do a punishment scene.”
Her sharp inhale was loud in the quiet of the night. She started to twist, to look back at Faith, but she stopped herself, settling back with her ass on her heels, knees spread.
Dammit. She should have broken fully out of the scene by now. Why was she still kneeling there, naked and vulnerable?
For a moment doubt plagued him and Benson wondered if he’d gotten it all wrong. If he’d done it all wrong when she was his.
“Mistress?” Malvia asked softly. “Did you assign me to Master Benson so that he could punish me?”
Mistress Faith tangled her fingers in Mal’s updo, yanked back on her hair. Mal’s body arched, her back and thigh muscles muscles tensing visibly in order to hold her in that position. Faith flicked back her long coat and unhooked the crop that dangled from her hip. She raised it and began to casually lash Mal’s breasts.
Benson hadn’t moved; he was still crouched on the edge of the small stage, close enough that if he really wanted to he could have reached out and touched Malvia, could have put his hand over her breasts in the intervals between the lashes to feel the heat being generated. Could have played with and tormented those soft nipples between the bites of pain.
Mal accepted the cropping with grace, her breathing even, soft moans escaping only when Faith struck her directly on the nipple.
Benson didn’t demand the stillness from his subs, but it appeared Faith did because Mal didn’t move except for a slight tensing and relaxing of her fingers which curled into her palms before releasing. All the while the back of her hands remained in place on the top of her thighs. Benson had been counting, as a reflex more than anything, and at thirty—fifteen on each breast—Faith stopped.
Mal’s breathing was slow, but with a slight hitch every other inhale or so.
“Of course we did,” Faith said. “After all, you deserve to be punished.”
CHAPTER 2
