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“Er… Sorry, I made you look cheap.” He sounded genuinely worried.
Mal smiled. “It’s fine. I’m an expensive hooker.”
“Know what you’re worth,” he agreed.
Benson led her out of the playroom once more. She wobbled when they had to cross hard-packed ground or grass. He had his hand on her neck, but when she reached out for him to steady herself, and he offered her his arm.
“I don’t wear shoes this tall,” she explained.
“Neither do I.”
She giggled and leaned into his side. The closer they got to the more public spaces of the club—the courtyards, dining room, and library—the more she wondered about the actual logistics of this.
How were they going to handle a prostitution scene?
Several times she started to ask, but hesitated.
Her best guess was that they’d set up in the library, which was the social hub of the club, and also where the bar was. Instead, they bypassed the library, going to one of the smaller courtyards around the back of one building.
She looked around, curious. This courtyard was small, maybe twelve by twelve, and instead of lush plantings and comfortable, expensive furniture, there was a bench, and a few low planters. The benches and planters looked like permanent residents, but the wooden table, straight-backed chair, and heavy gym mat probably weren’t here all the time.
“That’s the other entrance to the Den.” Benson pointed to a set of double doors.
The Den was the Doms, Masters, and Owners only area of the club. A counterpoint to the Subs’ Garden.
Mal looked around at the stark set up, the out of the way location. Her stomach knotted, and she leaned into him. Benson shifted to stand behind her, her back to his front. He cupped her neck from behind, thumb pressing at the soft spot below her ear at the back of her jawbone.
“You’re mine to use as I see fit.”
It wasn’t a question, but she nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“And that means if I want to sell your services, I can.”
Trepidation mixed with dark arousal, and her only response was a shiver.
“Words, Mal.”
“Yes, Master Benson.” She took a breath, released it. “You can sell me.”
“For the right price, they can do anything they want to you.” Benson tugged one nipple ring. Both nipples stuck out through the open mesh of the fishnet dress. “I’ll negotiate the price, depending on how they want to use you.”
Mal’s brain finally came online, and she stilled. “Sir… What if they want to fuck me?”
“I’m sure they will.”
“But you said…”
“I said I wouldn’t fuck you or make you come.”
On one hand, she was fucking thrilled. She was desperate for someone, even something, to fill her pussy, to fuck her and grind against her clit until she was screaming in pleasure.
“Your ass and mouth are also for sale. And for the right price, I’ll even let them spank you.”
Mal’s mouth was dry, but there was a heavy, empty feeling in her stomach. On the other hand, if anyone was going to fuck her, she wanted it to be Benson. But he wouldn’t. If she wanted someone to fuck her, she had to take what she could get.
“Where are you?”
“Green.” It was the only answer she could give, because nothing she could say would change Benson’s mind. Change how he saw her.
