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Whitney giggles. “That punishment for us usually entails forced pleasure,” Whitney adds. “Making me come so many times it’s almost painful.”
My stomach twists at the thought of that. Nicolo’s made me come multiple times when we’ve been together, and my orgasms are the only relief I get from the conflict waging in my brain when I’m with him. I can’t imagine those moments being turned into a punishment. I also don’t see how that level of euphoria could get painful. But I stay quiet as Whitney continues.
“Ilya likes to punish me so much that my endurance has started to make our games last longer than the club is open. I think he’s started to do our sessions at home more often to save on money.”
Ilya grips Whitney’s chin between his thumb and finger and turns her head to face him. “That smart mouth of yours will get you in trouble if you don’t watch it,” he growls playfully. Then he kisses her passionately, his hand combing back into her hair as he parts her lips with his tongue.
The heat of embarrassment pools in my cheeks, and I glance down to give them a moment of privacy. Clearly, they’re closer to a happy couple than I had expected after hearing about their arrangement, and seeing their connection brings a flicker of warmth and hope to life inside me.
“Would you like to come back into our room with us?” Ilya asks, drawing my eyes to him once more.
My heart stutters in my chest now that I’m faced with actually accepting the invitation to join them.Do I just watch? They won’t expect me to join in, will they?Oh, God, I hadn’t thought of that before.
“I have added you into the scene as a passive participant. I thought it might give you a feel for role-playing without having to join in sex.”
Relief floods and my shoulders relax. “That sounds good. Thank you.”
Ilya nods. “Come.”
He rises, and I follow him and Whitney down the same hall Nicolo guided me down the last time I was here.
Ilya stops at a different door closer to the front of the hall and puts his hand on the handle, then turns to me. “In this room, we are part of a scene. Part of the fun is remaining in character, and Whitney knows her safe words to tell me if I’m pushing her too far. Otherwise, she is not allowed to disobey me in here. Not without consequences.”
I swallow hard and nod my understanding. Don’t interfere with his scene. Then I follow Whitney into the room. It’s furnished in much the same way as the previous sex room I saw, with a wall of toys, a bed, and different benches, swings, and frames to offer variety.
Ilya closes the door behind us, and immediately, his demeanor shifts. “Take off your clothes,rabynya,” he commands coldly. “And kneel in the center of the room.” He grips the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it up over his head, revealing impressive shoulders and pecs. Then he heads to a far table and sets out several different toys.
Stepping to the side, I clasp my hands behind my back to stop them from shaking as I watch Whitney strip down to a set of strappy black lingerie that resembles bondage attire more than underwear. Rather than soft or lacy material covering her breasts, a thin black band covers her nipples, pressing the flesh of her breasts around the top and bottom to create impressive cleavage. Her panties are just as revealing, with barely enough fabric to cover a diamond of skin at the peak of her thighs before thin black straps stretch around her hips, resembling ropes more than elastic. A narrow band cinched just above her navel serves as a garter belt that breaks up the flat plane of her stomach and connects down to a pair of black nylons. She’s stunning in her provocative outfit, and she leaps to do as Ilya says, stepping to the middle of the room and kneeling before she bows her head subserviently.
My stomach lurches as it reminds me, once again, of how Nicolo treated me during our first night together in this club. Maybe he was simply acting out a scene in his mind, though his cruelty leading up to that night and the anger he expressed before bringing me to the club doesn’t fit with Ilya’s much more mild demeanor before we entered this room.
Taking something from the wall of toys, Ilya latches a black leather collar around Whitney’s throat, and he tips her chin up, so she has to look at him from her space on the ground. “You’ve been a naughty pet,” Ilya murmurs as he looks down on Whitney. “You’ve displeased me, so I’ve decided to send you with Anya. She’s a new trainer who will teach you to behave properly. Unless you can prove to me that you’re a good pet, that you know how to behave. Do you want to stay with me,rabynya? To prove you’re worthy of me today?”
“Yes, Master,” Whitney breathes, her eyes growing wide.
“Good. Now get in.” He points to a small metal cage before taking Whitney by the hair and leading her to it on her hands and knees.
She follows him, crawling like an actual pet and folding herself into the cage so he can close the door. It’s small enough that her knees have to part and come to rest up by her shoulders if she’s going to sit down. It looks acutely uncomfortable, but Ilya doesn’t seem to notice as Whitney peers up at him through the bars.
“Would you like a drink?” he offers me, his tone business-like as he takes a bottle of wine from a table and uncorks it.
“Um, sure, yes,” I agree, unclear of what he might expect me to do in this scene. But my heart’s racing so fast, I figure it can’t hurt to calm me down a little.
Ilya pours us each a glass as he talks about Whitney as though she were an animal of sorts rather than a girl he cares about. “She is usually well behaved, a perfect pet, obedient, flexible, athletic, capable of enduring pain. She has been well trained for public outings, or so I thought, but lately, she seems to be testing her limits, pretending like she gets to run the show.” He hands me my glass of wine and gestures to the chair next to Whitney’s cage as he settles into his own chair. “Please, have a seat.”
I sit and take a generous gulp of wine as I wait to see what will happen next.
“She’s been talking without permission, seems to think a leash is optional….” Ilya reaches between the bars of Whitney’s cage to stroke her hair like one might a dog. “She’s one of my favorites, but I think someone is spoiling her when I am not around. I might need your help to put her back in line. What do you think, pet? Have you been forgetting your place?” Ilya turns to look at Whitney.
“No, Master, I–”
“No? You think you know better than I do?” he demands, cutting her off. His fingers curl into her hair to force her head back, exposing her neck and the soft curves of her breasts. He releases her with a scoff and looks at me. “You see? I think she’s starting to enjoy provoking me. She doesn’t believe I’ll punish her anymore, which is why I brought you here, so she knows this is her last chance to prove she can be a good pet.”
Rising from his seat, Ilya looks down at Whitney, who looks adequately contrite. “Come, I’ll show you what I mean about her trying to run the show.” Opening the cage, Ilya latches a chain leash to a small silver loop on Whitney’s collar.
Whitney starts to exit her cage, but Ilya gives her leash a gentle tug. “Down,” he commands. “Your place is at my heels,rabynya.”
He then leads her out of the cage, forcing her to crawl beside him as he guides her to the far wall with toys. She follows, her scarcely covered ass rocking as she moves lithely across the floor in her strappy lingerie.
