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“Now to take care of those naughty hands,” Mason said, giving her a stern look that made her insides quiver. Using the hooks on her cuffs, he attached her wrists to the harness rings on her hips, where the straps met on either side.
Unable to resist temptation, Nell tugged, finding her wrists locked in place an inch from her body. Desire raced through her, straight to her pussy and clit, and she found herself eying the riding crop Mason dropped onto the pool table. She couldn’t wait to feel it biting into her tender skin.
Moving in front of Gemma, Mason took firm hold of the blonde’s chin, forcing her to look up at him at what looked like a painful angle. “I expect no better of an untrained slave like Nell. But you?” His pause gave new meaning to the wordominous. “I’m incredibly disappointed.”
“I’m so sorry, Master.” Her lower lip quivered.
Leaning toward the pool table, Mason picked up the riding crop, trailing the leather slapper down the side of Gemma’s face with aching slowness. Nell’s pussy clenched at the sight.
“It’s too late for that,” Mason said, his smooth voice low and deadly. “I planned to bring both of you so much pleasure today. But now you’ve forced me to punish you instead.” He held her gaze for several more tense seconds, then looked down at her hands. “I don’t have cuffs for you. Are you going to start being a good girl, and keep your hands to yourself from now on?”
“Yes, Master.” Her voice was like liquid smoke. “Whatever you desire.”
Placing the tip of the crop beneath her chin, Mason ordered, “Stand.”
She rose in one perfect, fluid movement, the crop seeming to lift her from the ground. Nell found herself wondering if Gemma was a dancer, or perhaps a gymnast. She was that graceful, that beautiful.
Looking past his shoulder, Gemma locked gazes with Nell, the smoldering heat in the woman’s bright green eyes almost reducing her to a puddle on the floor. Sweet fuck, she wanted both of these people. She wanted them so badly she was about to implode.
Mason made an annoyed sound deep in his throat. “I see the punishment is going to have to be severe. Let’s get you both into position.” Using the tip of the crop at the center of their backs, he guided first Gemma and then Nell where he wanted them, side-by-side facing one of the pool table’s long edges. “Down,” he ordered, pushing between Nell’s shoulder blades, the edges of the stiff leather hard against her skin.
As she bent at the waist, Gemma did the same beside her. The blonde’s legs were so much shorter, Nell had a feeling she was up on her toes by the time her torso touched the green wool.
“Time for these to go.” Mason untied the silk ribbons at Gemma’s hips, tossing aside her sheer panties.
When Mason moved up behind her, Nell felt him more than heard him. Even so, she jumped when he brushed a hand gently along the small of her back.
“These scars,” he murmured, flattening his palm over the crisscrossing lines. “Did you consent to receive them?”
Her heart beat like a terrified rabbit’s. Closing her eyes as tightly as she could, she forced out a strained, “No, Sir.”
Mason’s hand slid across her bottom, coming to rest on her right hip. “And this...” He traced the M, I, and partial C with a soft fingertip.
She thought back to the day Micah started to carve his name into her. He never mentioned the idea at all, so she hadn’t known to fear him more than normal as he strapped her down to a table. It only became apparent how utterly fucked she was when he held a scalpel up for her to see.
She’d yelled at him. Begged him. Screamed for help she knew would never come. Needles, blades of any kind, and blood play were all at the top of her hard limits list. She kept her promise to Holly even after they stopped speaking, knowing it was a road she should never go down again. But her terror had only excited him.
If Nell hadn’t left the very next morning, she had no doubt he would’ve finished the job. He only stopped because his cuts were so deep that she passed out from the pain. What was the fun in carving her up if she wasn’t conscious to feel it?
“No, Sir.” She spat out the words. “Very muchnotconsensual.”
“A Dominant who feels the need to brand a submissive against her will isn’t any kind of Dominant at all. That motherfucker doesn’t deserve anyone’s submission, ever again.” He made a soft humming sound as he flattened his hand over the raised letters, the warmth of his skin seeping into her. “What did you do after this happened?”
A fierce pride filled her voice when she answered, “I left. The very next day. He has no idea where I went or how to find me.”
Mason moved in closer, until she could feel the bulge of his erection pressing against the crack of her ass. She hissed as the smooth fabric of his slacks brushed over the cane stripes, loving the reminder that Rafe had marked her. “There’s nothing in this world more determined and powerful than a submissive. I’ve always thought that to be true.”
Pride flashed through her like fire, heating her from the inside out. “Thank you, Master.”
“You belong to me now, little Nell,” he said, grinding into her, surprising a moan out of her. “But you still have your safeword as long as you’re in this building. Am I correct that it’s butterfly?”
“Yes, Master.” God, how she wished she could push back against him. That his cock was already free of his slacks, and doing so would thrust him into her empty, waiting pussy.
He gave only one more hard thrust forward, knocking her thighs into the pool table with bruising force. Nell bit down on her lip to keep from crying out when he backed away.
“Now.” He tapped her ass with the hard tip of the riding crop again, then did the same to Gemma beside her. “Let’s begin.”
Alternating back and forth, Mason peppered both of their bottoms with strokes from the crop, spreading them around with obvious care. By the time he took a break, Nell was confident her entire ass glowed a rosy pink—but also felt almost sure he hadn’t even touched the stripes from the cane. That would’ve hurt a hell of a lot more.
