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With a sheepish grin, Ari cracked a seductive joke. “Do I hear a pretty please?”
In a normal BDSM relationship, Dylan might have allowed the teasing comment. This was Adytum, where it was disrespectful to joke with a Mistress. If anyone showed that kind of sass, the Mistress would not tolerate it. Dylan grasped a riding crop that hung next to her and sliced it through the air, striking the bench behind her. Ari needed to understand her role in this hierarchy.
A shriek escaped Ari’s throat as she jumped. “Sorry, I mean, yes, Boss.”
At a quick pace, Ari positioned herself in front of the cross and aligned her feet with the X behind her. With the riding crop in hand, Dylan slunk forward, intimidating her with each step until she faced Ari’s quivering frame. “When I tell— When a client tells you to do something, they want your compliance, not your commentary. Cute or not. Unless they specifically request a brat sub, they expect you to submit to their whims.”
Ari’s eyes dropped, releasing a silent sigh as her chest dropped. “Yes, Boss.”
Pressed against Ari’s body, Dylan drew each of her trembling wrists up and secured them in the shackles attached to each beam. She squatted before Ari. Her hands slipped down her curves, over the soft pink chiffon, then down her thighs to her ankles. After securing each ankle, Dylan looked head-on at Ari. The sheer negligee barely hid anything, including the small patch of brown hair at the apex of glistening folds, revealing Ari’s readiness. Adrenaline coursed through Dylan’s veins. Her heart pounded a fierce rhythm of desire as sweat formed on the small of her back. No one had ever done that to her before.
With a gulp, Dylan held her breath as she stood. There were Ari’s eyes, locked with an unspoken desire building between the two of them. When Ari’s lips parted, a soft, barely audible moan escaped her lips. Lost in the closeness and the feeling of Ari’s breath on her lips, Dylan drew her hand up to Ari’s face, ready to lean in for a much-desired kiss, when something caught Ari’s attention and the unbearable tension between them broke. Her head snapped toward the back entrance to the arena. Dylan followed suit.
Lady Katrina waltzed toward the front row as if she were the queen of the empty theater and took a seat in the front row. Her face hosted a crooked smile and a knowing stare as though she’d caught a pair of naughty children in the act. “Oh, don’t mind me, you little stud muffin. Continue. Please. I’m quite interested in seeing how you handle that delicious mouthful of a woman. Actually, I’m quite jealous. Why haven’t you delivered her to me yet?”
“She’s not ready,” Dylan said. Her confidence waned in the presence of Adytum’s highest Madame. “I didn’t know you’d be in early. I’ll leave you in your space.”
“No, no.” Lady Katrina crossed her legs like an empress taking her throne. “Please, continue. If you are training this lovely lady, by all means, use my domain. Don’t mind me, we are all voyeurs and exhibitionists in this club. And besides, I might just get off watching a baby Domme juice herself over such a virginal cherub.”
This was not the way Dylan wanted it to happen. As her eyes drifted back to Ari’s, she could see that she had lost the intensity of desire. Lady Katrina had taken that from them, as well as Dylan’s backbone. It had to have been obvious because Ari’s voice was as soft as a summer breeze, “Make me ready, Boss.”
Upon hearing Ari’s words, it reignited her confidence. She brushed her finger against Ari’s soft cheek. Every fiber of Dylan’s being strained against the temptation to consume this enchanting creature before her, even with Lady Katrina judging her. She continued a path down to her neck, between her breasts, down to the tie of the pink dress. With one swift movement, Dylan released the bow and allowed the dress to fall open. The gentle swell of Ari’s breasts heaved as her breath labored. Taut and ready raspberry-shaped nipples beckoned Dylan’s attention. When Dylan skimmed her hand over them, a whimper escaped Ari’s lips as a layer of gooseflesh covered her body. She pressed one of them between her fingers, squeezing and twisting the bud until Ari hissed.
An abrupt voice seated in the front row interrupted the whimper, “If you’re gonna coddle her, you might as well breastfeed her too.”
Both Dylan and Ari cast glares in her direction, but when Dylan saw the contempt on Lady Katrina’s face, she knew a Domme needed to show rigid strength before their submissive, not some Fifty Shades of Grey lovemaking. A gentle induction to BDSM would not be possible. She stomped away from Ari and rifled through the chest of toys at the edge of the stage. On her return, she placed a blindfold over Ari’s eyes. There was a bit of a struggle because neither of them wanted to go that far. Yet. Regardless, Lady Katrina’s taunts accelerated the situation, and Dylan needed to prove her worth under the scrutiny of the club’s Mistress of Ceremonies.
With the riding crop in her right hand, Dylan traced her fingertip up Ari’s thigh, then scraped her nail along her hip. Ari’s mouth drew open as if ready to use her safe word, but Dylan calmed her anxiety. “You are fine, Miss Delgado.”
“I trust you, Boss.”
Her finger slipped between Ari’s legs. “And soaked. Does the blindfold scare you?”
“No, Boss,” Ari said, her body trembling.
“Good. Because I need you.” She paused. She really did need Ari. More than she ever needed anyone. “I need you to not use your safe word.”
It came out of her mouth like the wind, “Dylan.”
Upon hearing Ari breathe her name, she lifted the crop high in the air and slapped it down on Ari’s unsuspecting body with a force much harder than intended. A fear-laced cry of pain exited Ari’s throat. It echoed against the walls of the empty arena. The shrillness of it sent the spread of goose bumps over Dylan’s arms. Before dropping another whack, Dylan pressed her hand to Ari’s sex as she hushed her, “You’re fine, my pet. Trust me with your body. And trust me with your fear.”
“Y-yes, Boss.” The stutter of her voice said she didn’t trust any of it.
Dylan pulled away, only to bring the crop down across her nipples, stinging the erect buds with the leather loop. Again, Ari screamed. And again, Dylan reached for her center and found the pooling of her pleasure. Over and over, Dylan swatted, then petted, until Ari finally reached her limit. “Cot–”
“Don’t say it,” Dylan said, followed by a drawn-out hush. “I’m done. We stop. You’re good, beautiful. My lo—”
Almost saying the word “love” too soon and in front of Lady Katrina, Dylan glanced over her shoulder to find she had already left, obviously in the middle of Ari’s torrent. So wrapped up and focused on Ari’s reactions, Dylan hadn’t noticed her departure. She gazed back at Ari and caressed her face. “Do you think you can gather yourself, or do you need the night off?”
It took a moment for her words to take shape while her tears streamed down her face. “No, Boss. I’ll stand by your side tonight.”
She unhooked Ari from the Saint Andrew’s cross and turned on her heel. With that, Dylan stepped off the stage and didn’t look back, leaving Ari to supply her own aftercare. “Make yourself presentable and meet me in my office.”
It took a lot to walk away from Ari at that moment. As much as she cared, a client wouldn’t give two fucks when a submissive cried. They took what they wanted and tossed a used and spent woman to the side, like trash on a sidewalk. If Ari wanted to work the floor, she had to be treated accordingly.
Chapter 13
Once Dylan was out of sight, Ari’s composure crumbled as her body slumped to the floor. The thud of her heart reverberated within her chest cavity as emotions poured out of her pain-laden body. Not limited to where the riding crop struck, the emotional agony left behind tore through her worse than expected. Prior to this, the thought of a spanking during sex had excited her. Without sight, the blinding fear of Dylan’s whip ignited a flood of sensations she couldn’t comprehend. How wrong was she to think she was ready for any of this?
