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“But I wanthim.”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about or what the fuck you’d be up against.”
“I’m not asking you to set it up, I’m just asking that you take me there again.”
“Sign up if you want, it’s a free country.”
My heart dropped. Four hundred a month, not likely with Mum’s track record of emergencies. “You can take me as a guest every month, you said so. Or Cara could.”
She sighed. “So, I take you back to Explicit. Then what? You’re going to march up to him and say ‘Hey, Masque, I saw you beat the fuck out of some redhead on stage the other week, how about you slap my pretty little ass and tell me I’m dirty?’ Is that your plan?”
“I dunno,” I admitted.
“You have no idea who the hell that man is. He’d eat you for breakfast, Lyds. He gives Cara a slap every now and again as a favour tome.Do you want to be a favour, too?”
“No. I don’t want to be afavour.” I choked back the irritation. “Do you think I’m too ugly for him? Is that it?”
She got up in my face, eyes deadly serious. “No. I don’t think that. That’s ridiculous.”
“What then?”
“I’ll slap youmyselfif you keep going on, Lyds.”
I brushed her aside and put the kettle on. “There’s something in me. I can’t explain it. I need this, I needhim.”
“You don’t needhim.”
“The way he was with that woman, it did something to me. I’ve never felt anything like it.”
“He’ll hurt you, Lydia. Bad. Really bad. Dirty fucking bad.”
“Maybe that’s what I want,” I snapped.
She took the coffee mugs from my hands, placed them on the counter and dragged me from the kitchen, right the way through into her bedroom. My insides tickled at the sight of her torture implements, but it wasn’t them she was taking me to see. She fired up her laptop, plugged in an external hard drive from her desk drawer. “Have you ever seen proper marks, Lyds? I doubt it.Thisis what Masque does.Thisis what he’d do to you.”
I watched over her shoulder as she enlarged a thumbnail, and there he was. My heart pounded at the sight of his perfect chest, the chimera dancing on his skin. There was a blonde stood facing away from the camera. Her back was a mess, red-raw welts criss-crossed over each other, and below that her ass was purple. Literally purple. Bruises like I’d never seen before.
“He did that?”
“The welts are fresh, the bruising is days old. You want to look like that when he’s finished with you? You’ll hardly be able to sit down for a week. That’s what redhead is feeling right now, don’t doubt it.”
“That’s supposed to put me off, is it?” I asked, crossing my arms.
She spun back in her seat to face me. “Doesn’t it?”
“No.”
“Sure, well how about these?” She flicked through some more until she found what she was looking for. On this one the blonde’s face was cut off, the picture stopped at her shoulders. Her breasts were bound and swollen, blotchy with deep red bruising. She had needles threaded under her skin, rows of them leading right up to her nipples.
I felt the pulse in my temples. “What else does he do?”
She shrugged and exhaled all her breath. “Fucking hell, Lyds.” On the next the woman was spread-eagled, bound tight to a wrought-iron bed like the one in my room. Again I couldn’t see her face. The picture was focused on her pussy, red and puffy, between purple-streaked thighs. Masque was knelt over her, ready to strike her again. On this one he was naked. I felt my cheeks burn. His stiff cock was as threatening was the rest of him, a weapon in its own right. His implement of choice in this picture was a metal ruler, his target her poor swollen clitoris. “You can’t even imagine how much that hurts.”
I recalled the thump as James Clarke had landed one on his desk. Ow wouldn’t even begin to cut it. I stared at the image, willing it to burn into my memory forever since I doubted I’d ever get to see it again.
“I shouldn’t be showing you these, Lyds, it’s purely to knock some sense into you. Most doms stick to the ass or the thighs, the fleshier parts, you know?”
“But not him?”
