AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Yes, what?’
‘Yes. Mistress.’
‘Better.’ A mirror shifts in the wall, opening inwards, and she appears through it. The clip of her thigh-high boots as loud as the drum of my heart in my ears. Her hair, tied in a high ponytail, is as dark and as sleek as her zipped-up bodysuit. Her eye mask is studded and curves to a point either side of her jaw, leaving the bronzed skin of her chin and blood-red lips exposed.
She smiles, catlike, her eyes glittering in the low light as she takes me in. ‘Now, undress, Little Kitten.’
What? No preamble? Just get naked...?
‘I...’
My voice fails me as she walks towards an arrangement of whips, her fingers brushing slowly over them.
‘I’m waiting, Kitten.’ She doesn’t even turn as she continues her perusal. ‘And you really don’t want to keep me waiting.’
She selects a riding crop and slowly turns to my immobile form.
I swallow. I know what I signed up for, but to strip, just like that...
‘Disobedient Kittens will be punished.’ She stalks towards me, circles me, a low undercurrent of warning in the soft purr of her voice. ‘Especially when they have invited a guest to watch...and they are keeping him waiting too.’
My head whips around.He’shere!
She laughs. ‘You did invite him, did you not?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes?’
‘Yes.’ Swallow. ‘Mistress.’
‘Well, be a good Little Kitten and do as you are told, let him see what you invited him to see.’
She glances towards a large mirror, its ornate gold-gilded edge at odds with the austere room, and smiles. That’s where he is.There.
My body gives an excited shiver, my clit pulsing as I nervously wet my lips.
‘We’re waiting...’ she murmurs from behind me, so very close to my ear.
I try to breathe, to quash the flutters rising up in my gut, and I sense her step back. In her place comes the riding crop, its cool leather brushing against my nape as she sweeps my ponytail aside, and my body shivers anew. Not with the cold, but with the thrill.
‘Now...’ she trails the leather down my spine, oh-so-softly ‘...strip.’
Valentine
Don’t judge me. I’m already judging myself enough.
I was set on leaving. Just as soon as her legs disappeared up the stairs and I felt able. I say able because the moment her eyes connected with mine and I looked away I wanted to look back. Look back and stay fixed on her. Feeling trapped in a web of my own making.
Guilt that she should catch me here. Guilt that I’m scoping her out. Guilt that I feel more than is acceptable for a future professional relationship. Guilt that I should even want another woman.
Yeah, it’s all guilt, my body goads me. The tension, the heat, telling me it runs darker and deeper than that, and my grip on the sill of the two-way mirror before me tightens. My eyes lost in the sight of her, watching the scene unfold, just as she invited me to.
Jesus H Christ.
I shouldn’t be here.
But when the bartender reappeared and made a beeline straight for me to deliver her invitation, I followed him in some weird trance-like state. And when Electra, the woman now running the riding crop down Olivia’s spine, opened a concealed door and pulled me into this room by the collar of my jacket, not once shrinking from my size, I was too stunned to speak, or back out, or do anything but follow her instruction:
