Club Helix: The Power Games (11 page)

He releases my breast and lifts his head, his gaze fixed on my chest.

“Look at how beautiful your nipples are now, Ava. How responsive.”

It’s a command, and I dare not defy him. I sneak a furtive glimpse down at my chest. He’s right; my nipples, normally a dusky rose color, are dark pink and impossibly huge. He circles a finger around the areola and then pinches the engorged tip lightly, and I gasp as a streak of sheer lust shoots straight to my clit.

“Kneel for me, schiava.”

I do as he says, lowering myself so I am subjugated before him. I watch, my heart beating erratically, as he walks over to a wall where a selection of bondage equipment hangs, and selects a thick black leather collar. He brings it over to where I’m kneeling and fastens it snugly around my neck, clipping a chain leash to the silver ring attached to the front of the collar.

I accept it wordlessly, although somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice is screaming that this is all wrong. But I’m beyond speech, beyond thought. He places the chain between my teeth and then steps behind me, tying the blindfold back into place. I remain motionless, listening intently to the click of the camera and the sound of Roman’s muffled instructions to the photographer.

Then Roman’s hands are on me again, lifting me to my feet. He gently removes the leash from my mouth, letting it hang between my breasts as he slowly pulls my panties down and removes them so I’m completely naked. I’m suddenly grateful for the blindfold and the fact that I can’t see the photographer’s eyes on me. I am simply Roman’s. His schiava.

With a tug of the leash, Roman wordlessly leads me across the room, halting me with a touch of his hand. He uncuffs my hands from behind my back and helps me onto some sort of table, pushing me down with a firm hand until I’m lying on my stomach, my knees supported by a low padded bench on either side of me with my arms dangling. He grabs my hips and ruthlessly yanks me backward until it feels like my butt is sticking up and out off the edge.

“Perfect,” he murmurs.

I feel his hands on my legs, positioning them as he wraps some sort of fabric around each of my ankles before attaching them to something so I can’t move them. He skims a finger down my spine, and I can’t help the tiny shiver that his touch elicits. He wraps my wrists with the same fabric he used on my ankles, and within seconds I’m immobilized, once again helpless and at his mercy, open to him.

“This is a spanking bench,” he says softly.

My buttocks clench in response to his words as I brace myself for the inevitable blow. I can feel the rapid rise and fall of my chest as his hand caresses the curve of my ass. He chuckles.

“I’m not going to spank you on the bench today, Ava. One day, but not today. This is just for the photo shoot. But I will take advantage of your rather compromised position to explore what’s mine.”

He places both hands on my ass and pulls my cheeks apart. I want to die with mortification. I try to squirm away, but the restraints are tight. He can do whatever he wants. He casually presses his finger against the tight whorl.

“Have you ever been taken here?” he asks quietly.

I think about lying—after all, I’m supposed to be an experienced sub—but then I remember his threat from dinner and I reconsider.

“No,” I whisper.

“You are quite possibly too good to be true,” he says musingly.

Fortunately, he doesn’t press the issue, either literally or figuratively. Instead he moves his fingers to explore my sex, using his thumb and forefinger to massage and stroke my outer lips, squeezing them together and then pulling back until the hood of my clitoris is exposed. I can feel my wetness against his hand as I silently beg him to touch me there. Instead he smacks my clit lightly with his fingers, sending tiny tremors rippling through me as he tells the photographer to take more photos.

He leaves me there for what seems like a lifetime, and then he’s unfastening the restraints and removing the blindfold, covering my nakedness with the robe.

“It’s time to go, Ava.” The words come from another time and place. I don’t want to go. I need release from this all-consuming haze of want that Roman has created. I look up at him in confusion.

“It’s time for dinner. We’ll get our instructions for the group event for tomorrow, and then there’s a movie screening for all of the contestants.”

What? No!
I don’t want dinner or a movie. I just want Roman to finish what he started, dammit.

“And then?” I ask, hating the needful yearning in my voice.

“And then we’ll get some sleep,” he says resolutely, making it clear I’m not going to get what I want. “The games begin tomorrow.”

Chapter Eight

Roman

“Incredible,” Logan marvels, tossing the photos I’d printed out and brought to show him across the desk. “These would be perfect for the print and website advertising campaign for the Helix Room.”

He picks up the one of Ava displayed on the pedestal, blindfolded with her arms chained above her and her nipples clamped. “This one is phenomenal. I’ve never seen a picture that so perfectly captures the sheer beauty of submission.”

He’s right. Ava’s face, usually so composed, betrays her every emotion. Her lips are parted, her stance emphasizing her utter vulnerability, her expression a blend of innocence and strength. She’s the epitome of the unadulterated power of surrender.

“I don’t know what stroke of genius possessed you to take her to the Helix Room for the photo shoot, but I’m damned glad you did,” he continues. “Do you think she’ll sign a release to let us use these images for advertising? We could pay her a generous modeling fee.”

“I honestly don’t know. She comes across so innocent in many ways but oddly worldly in others. I think she could use the money, but I don’t know how she’ll feel about having such an intimate photo of herself plastered everywhere. Let’s have lunch tomorrow, and you can talk to her about it,” I suggest before heading out to do some shopping to prepare for the games this evening.

I’ve left my submissive to her own devices this morning, although I’ve promised her a beating if she touches herself or gets herself off in my absence. She’d shot daggers at me last night when she’d realized I had no intention of easing her need, but she’s too proud to beg for it…yet.

I intend to keep her on edge for a while. Although I would have loved nothing more than to see her shatter beneath my hand last night, and while I sure as hell could have used the release myself after posing her sweet body in erotic positions all afternoon, I know she’ll perform better for the group event tonight if she’s somewhat needy and unsatisfied. Besides, I’ve decided that when I allow her to come the next time, she’s going to have to beg for it. This little submissive is getting under my skin, and we both need the reminder of who’s in charge.

When I come back, she’s freshly showered and waiting for me in the suite.

“Did you get your work finished?” she asks. The raw hunger of last night is gone, replaced by polite aloofness. My cock hardens at the prospect of breaking down her defenses and getting her back to depraved wantonness.

“I did,” I say, taking off my jacket and unbuttoning the top two buttons of my shirt before rolling up my shirtsleeves. She licks her lips. “I also got the details for the group event tonight.”

“And?” She looks as calm as if she’s just asked me whether it’s going to rain, but her hands are clenched together in front of her, betraying her nervousness.

I pull out the card and read it to her. “
Join us in the Diamond Lounge at eight o’clock as everything comes off. Submissives will perform an erotic striptease to a full house at the first official group event of the Power Games.
”

Ava lets out her breath in a whoosh. “An erotic striptease? Okay, that’s not so bad, right?”

I look at her consideringly. “I suppose that depends on how inhibited you are.”

She blushes. “It’s just taking my clothes off. I can do that.”

“You have to do it better than the other thirteen women,” I remind her. I take a seat on the sofa and gesture to the space in front of me. “Show me.”

“Now?” She looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Yes, schiava,” I say, my voice taking on an authoritative edge. “Now. Show me.”

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you about this whole schiava slave-girl thing,” she says, all prim and proper.

I smile lazily. This should be entertaining. “All right. Talk.”

“I, um, don’t want you to call me that.”

“Why not?”

She fidgets slightly and then frowns as she tries to put her feelings into words. “Because it makes me feel like I’m at a disadvantage. Like you have more power than I do.” She stops for a minute, her brow furrowing in thought. “It makes me feel like I’m just a thing, your possession that you can do anything you want with. And I don’t like it.”

“You have all the power, schiava, as you can revoke the control you’ve surrendered to me with your safe word. But you have subjected yourself to my desires, and I have the authority you’ve given to me. I can do anything I want with you within the limits that you’ve agreed to, unless you choose to use your safe word,” I remind her mildly. “This isn’t a democracy, and what you like or don’t like doesn’t always matter. But I’m a fair man, so I’m willing to compromise. During our regular day-to-day interactions, I’ll call you Ava. But during scenes and any games or D/s interactions, I’ll give you a choice. You can answer to
slave
or
schiava
, or you can answer to
Avalon
.”

Her eyes flash as she meets my gaze. “You fucking bastard,” she hisses.

“Be careful that your mouth doesn’t get you into something your ass can’t handle, Ava,” I warn softly.

She stands there for several long minutes, and despite the armor of impassivity that she works so hard to keep in place, I can see the internal conflict rage through her as she considers her options. Her fingers curl into fists at her sides, and I half hope she decides to slap me again. I’d love nothing more than to take her over my knee and break that stubborn will of hers. But she finally takes a deep breath and says, “Okay. You can call me Avalon.”

I lift my eyebrow in surprise. Somehow, I thought she’d go with
schiava
, but I’m pleased at her choice. “As you wish, Avalon,” I say deliberately. “Now show me your striptease.”

Her eyes widen. “But…I don’t have any music,” she says, sidestepping the command. She’s clearly uncomfortable with the idea of stripping for me, but she’s trying hard not to admit it.

“They’re making an exception to the no-music rule for this event, although you still won’t be able to access the Internet or your own personal cell phone to download songs. After we’re finished here, you can go downstairs and peruse the music library provided by the hotel to choose your song for tonight, but for now, I just want to see your moves. No music. Strip.”

She looks at me with a brief hint of desperation in her gorgeous green eyes, and then she tilts her chin up and slowly removes her shoes. It has all the sex appeal of someone preparing for the guillotine. With her eyes downcast, she slowly begins to unbutton the sleeveless red blouse she’s wearing.

“Avalon! This is supposed to be erotic. Seduce me. Show me what you have. Make me want it. Make me desperate for it.”

She nods and tries again, but her embarrassment gets the best of her, and she refuses to look at me as she continues unbuttoning her shirt, although her hips are now swaying enticingly.

I sigh with exasperation. “Come here.”

Her eyes meet mine in bewilderment, but she obediently moves to stand in front of me.

“You’re obviously shy about this,” I say, my voice laced with understanding. She relaxes a little.

“I am,” she admits.

I take her hands in mine. “As your Dom, it’s my job to help you overcome whatever obstacles and insecurities get in the way of you obeying without hesitation, and to sometimes help you do things you’re not entirely comfortable with. Your desire to please me has to be stronger than your fear or anxiety about doing something. Do you understand that?”

She nods, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Good.” I stand up and go to the dresser, pulling out a black blindfold. “I’ve noticed things are easier for you when you can hide behind the security of the blindfold, so we’ll start with you blindfolded.”

Although she’s a master at controlling her facial expressions, her eyes always give her away, and I hate not being able to read what’s going through her head. But what she needs right now is to focus on her body and the way she feels without distraction or self-consciousness. She stands motionless as I move behind her and tie the blindfold over her eyes.

Still behind her, I skim my hands down her sides. “Feel how seductive your body is, its curves and movements.” I grip her hips and begin to rock them gently from side to side. After a moment, she relaxes and lets me take over. I roll her hips in a silent rhythm—side to side, front to back, and then in unhurried, erotic circles.

“Now lift your arms over your head,” I murmur in her ear, still rotating her pelvis. “Slowly. Seductively. Keep them there.” She obeys, her arms over her head as she gyrates her hips with the guidance of my hands.

“That’s right, baby,” I encourage her. She’s feeling it now, her hips undulating sensuously. “Grind it. Shake it. Twerk it. Move just like you’re on my cock.”

She stops cold. I reach around to tweak her nipples, and she squeaks in surprise.

“Focus!” I admonish her.

I grasp her hips again and press my crotch against her tight little bottom. Then with one hand splayed against her abdomen, I hold her to me as I move her hips to mirror mine until we’re dancing together, our bodies rippling sinuously. After a few minutes, I let go and stand back.

“Now make a circle with your hips as you go all the way down to the ground. That’s it. Stay there. Now straighten your legs as you’re bent over with your ass sticking out. More.”

She obediently thrusts her little ass back farther, and I give it a light smack. “Perfect. Now stand up slowly without bending your legs.”