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“If I remember correctly, we were getting on nicely together until...oh, yes,” he murmured disapprovingly, his fingers tightening on her leg. “Yes, I remember now. Some assholes in the audience broke club protocol, didn't they, little bit. They made some hurtful comments, voiced questions which shouldn't have been raised in the middle of a scene, and they ruined our moment. All while you were wearing the blindfold.”
As if closing her eyes wasn't enough to block him out, Anarchy rolled her head to the side.
“Knocked your confidence, hasn't it, Anarchy? It's okay, you can admit it. I won't be mad. It's not your fault. Jasper might want to smack me around for messing you up, but we'll worry about that later.”
Up here, it felt as though it was just Atticus with her. The room beyond was quiet without so much as a murmur to disturb the players on the stage. But her skin prickled, telling her what she already knew—they weren't alone. It was part of her punishment to be on display, but it didn't feel right.
“There's a big difference tonight. Tonight it's just you and our friends, Archie. There won't be any whispers, any nasty little comments from the dark. As much as they're here to see you make amends for hurting them, they're here to support you.” Atticus pushed up to his feet, looming over her. She watched him put the little box in his pocket, then draw the blindfold out between his hands. “You can trust them, little bit. You can trust me. Are you brave enough?”
Once, pre-Jasper, she might have risen to the bait and brazenly announced she could take on the world. Her bravado had marched hand in hand with her sass. But since Jasper's abandonment, the submissive persona she'd adopted for his sake seemed to slip into place when she least expected it. Almost as if it thought he would return home sooner if it waited for him out in the open.
God, she missed him strongly enough to feel her heart throb with the misery of it.
Whatever Master Atticus had in mind, she wanted it over with so she could crawl home and tend to her sore butt while she cried. She wilted considerably when she remembered her bag was behind the bar, and her home was no longer at her disposal. There would be no curling up in bed alone, hugging a pillow and sobbing until her voice was little more than a croak. No more eating ice cream by the pint until she threw up.
Sighing in resignation, she shifted gingerly into a sitting position, hissing as that lone stripe of pain flared to life. Heavy-eyed and close-mouthed, Archie offered her hands and throat to Atticus.
“Such a lovely neck,” he praised, skimming a fingertip down the exposed length. The blindfold dangled in his free hand as he moved locks of hair away from her face. “A pretty presentation, little one, but not the one I need.” A gentle push lowered her hands into her lap. “This is a punishment, Anarchy, but your safeword will not be taken from you.”
Wishing fervently for Jasper, Anarchy tilted her head back and waited.
“That's beautiful, little bit. Here now, that's my clever girl.”
The world blinked away, stolen by a piece of cloth. Her pulse initiated countdown sequence as she was stripped her of her sight. It fit snugly over her eyes, tightened along her temples and around the shape of her head as Atticus fixed the blindfold into position. Her breath squeaked out now, wheezing gently until fingertips nudged her chin up and she recoiled. “Just relax, Archie. I'm going to guide you down onto your back to start. I won't restrain your hands unless I need to, but your legs are going to be in a precarious position for a little while.”
True to his word, Atticus got her down on the exam table without any issues. Her skin twitched as the cold length chilled her from shoulders to ass. She shivered at the feel of his hand around her ankle and her muscles turned to stone as chains clanked and fur caressed her limb, tightening as he fastened the cuff.
Oh, she didn't like this. Her anxiety ramped up another notch when he repeated the routine with her other foot. A short squeak of alarm popped free as she heard the chains move, felt her legs lift and rise high. Cool air whispered over exposed flesh and she felt as though she was squished into an L shape. Even worse, she imagined she looked like an idiot. But her nipples were hard, her pussy apparently open to exploring where this punishment would lead. At least her hands were free.
“If you struggle, if you fight me, I will cuff your hands.” Atticus ran his fingertips down the backs of her taut calves, scraped his fingernails along the backs of her thighs until she wiggled. “Once you’re ready, we’ll begin. You’ll be safe with me, Anarchy, but your punishment rests in the hands of all of us tonight. One by one, the Masters and our resident Mistress will take control of your body and depending on how well you beg for forgiveness…well, we’ll see what happens.”
Hell, she'd tripped and fallen into sadist land.
Something was pushed into her hands; by the shape and texture, it was a remote control—but for what? “Hold that for me, little bit. Don’t press anything until I tell you to.” Atticus’s chuckle was ominous. “Are you comfortable? The restraints aren’t too tight, no tingling, no numbness?”
Anarchy swallowed. She'd just have to pull on her brave pants and go with the flow. It wasn't like they'd take things to the extreme, right? She was virtually a novice to the lifestyle, only having done a few tame scenes at clubs in the city before she came here and fell for her sadist. But Atticus would take that into account, wouldn't he? “Everything feels fine, Sir. Um…Master Atticus?”
His hand stroked over her hair. “Anarchy.”
“Um…you remember that I, uh, I’m not…I don’t have a lot of hands-on experience, right?” Her words were jumbled, tumbling from her lips in an anxious rush.
“I’m aware, little bit. We won’t push you beyond what you can handle, punishment or not. That’s not the point of this. If it were just me you’d blown off, this would be a lot different. Me, I like simple punishments—shove a nice piece of ginger up this little asshole, give you a good hard flogging until you realize the error of your ways, and finish off with a solid pounding. This way, you're going to have to trust the people around you.”
It’s just that easy,she told herself. That's all you have to do. You did wrong, so take what they give you and this can be over with. A simple apology for hiding away from your friends and all will be forgiven.
She was waiting for the whispers to start, the rumors to stroke her bare skin from the darkness. She felt on edge, as though her body was a separate entity cut off by the material over her eyes. But her fingers flexed when she asked them to, her toes wiggled nervously. It was embarrassing to have her pussy on display to the hierarchy of Avalon.
Dark satisfaction laced his voice, but his touch was gentle when he ran his palm down her arm fleetingly. “Make as much noise as you like, Anarchy, but don’t you dare come unless you want another half dozen strokes of the cane.”
No, no, not the cane. If that was in the equation, Archie wasn't sure she could see this through. She listened to his feet move around her, thudding on the wooden stage. Atticus had a heavy tread, which surprised her considering how quiet he normally was, and he was positioning himself in front of her raised legs. She cringed into the padding at the sound of a flogger swishing through the air and wished she could cover her defenseless pussy.
“Master Liam, if you’d do the honors. Ready, Anarchy?”
She opened her mouth to protest, and to her shock, heard herself say, “Yes, Master Atticus.”
Oh, you idiot. What did you do that for?
She jerked at the sound of fronds striking flesh, made a strangled noise as she braced for pain to sear her exposed flesh. Behind the blindfold, she squeezed her eyes shut tightly. A long second passed, then two. Baffled, she turned her head blindly, not quite understanding why there was no pain. “S-Sir?”
