Club Helix: The Power Games (12 page)

She complies, and my cock throbs at the seductive move. I pull her back against me, and our hips begin to roll together again. She’s getting the hang of it now, her ass grinding against my pelvis like she was born for it.

We stop, and I remove the blindfold, turning her to face me. She blinks at me in surprise as if she doesn’t quite know how she got here. “Now you’ve got the moves,” I say approvingly. “Let’s work on the stripping part. Without the blindfold.”

I sit down on the couch and lean back comfortably, one ankle casually crossed over my knee. “Remove your clothes leisurely. Seductively. Tease me. But keep eye contact with me the entire time. That’s important. So important that every time you look down, I’m going to spank you to help you remember.”

She swallows hard.

“Begin.”

She lasts about two minutes—long enough for her to unbutton her blouse and ease it off her shoulders and lower the straps of her bra before she becomes self-conscious and her lashes flutter down.

“Come here.” The command is quiet but unmistakable. I meant what I said.

Her gaze flies to mine. “I didn’t mean to look down. Give me one more chance,” she pleads.

“A good Dom always does what he says he’s going to do so his submissive knows she can count on him to be consistent. Now, Avalon.”

She reluctantly approaches me, and I pat my lap. She takes a small involuntary step backward, and before she can think about it anymore, I grab her hand and pull her down over my legs until her ass is centered in my lap, her legs dangling on one side and her fingertips skimming the floor on the other.

“Instant obedience,” I remind her.

I deliver several hard smacks to her bottom, enough to make her squirm a little, but the fabric of her denim shorts diffuses the blows. When I let her back up, her breath is coming a little faster, and her face is flushed.

I give her bottom another light smack, urging her back to her place in front of me. “That’s going to hurt a lot more the less clothing you have on.”

She gives me a dirty look and begins again, those big green eyes never leaving mine as she removes her bra and slowly wiggles out of her shorts. Her thumbs hook into the waistband of her underwear, and although she blushes furiously, she maintains eye contact as she eases them off. It’s the first time she’s exposed her sex to me, at least when she can see me, and I stare pointedly, letting her know I will look at what’s mine. I let my gaze travel brazenly up her body, lingering on her beautiful breasts, the nipples hard and jutting, before going back to her face. Her lashes are lowered in humiliation.

“Avalon!”

Her eyes fill with dismay as they meet mine, and she slowly walks to stand in front of me. I pat my lap, and this time she obediently lies over it.

“I think you like spanking me,” she grumbles accusingly.

“I fucking love spanking you,” I admit candidly as I stroke my hand lightly across her bottom. She shudders slightly, and I have no doubt her pussy is probably throbbing with the anticipation of what she knows is coming. I make her wait for it as I squeeze each cheek firmly, the pressure just this side of painful. Then I hit her ass hard with my hand, delivering several quick blows until I know that first little blossom of pain has begun to spread.

“Ow! Stop!”

Her hands move to block me, and I easily grasp her wrists in one hand, pinning them to the small of her back.

“Rule number four. Never interfere with a punishment.”

I caress her ass again, this time dipping forward to slide along her wet slit, finding her clit and circling it a few times until her pelvis presses into my thigh. Then I spank her hard enough that she’ll think twice before interfering with a spanking again, alternating between light, glancing blows that sting, fast slaps, and deep, harder blows that reverberate through her. At one point I stop, my hand hovering above her now reddened little ass, taking a sadistic pleasure in the way she squirms in anticipation. Then I smack her several more times in the same spot. As her body tightens and she struggles to get away, my cock hardens and my breath quickens in response to her pain.

I pull her legs apart and touch her center. God, she is exquisite—wet and heated in response to the punishment despite her mind’s aversion to it. She’s fucking perfect for me.

“You like me spanking you as much as I like doing it,” I taunt her, smearing the evidence of her arousal across her inner thigh.

“No, I don’t!” she protests, struggling to close her legs.

“Your body says otherwise. Tell me what you want, Avalon,” I murmur. “Do you want my hands here?” I cup her sex. “Do you want my fingers inside you?” I slide one finger into her heat as her pelvis rolls against my palm.

“No!” she whispers. But her body betrays her.

“Okay,” I concede, sliding my finger out of her and lifting her off my lap abruptly. Her eyes are wild, her breathing rapid. “We’ll see if you change your mind about that. Perform well tonight, and maybe I’ll let you come.” Looking her in the eye, I slowly lick her juices off my finger. She stares at me. “But this time you’re going to have to beg for it.”

Her eyes flash. “I’m going to have to beg for it?” she demands incredulously. “I’m going to beg? We’ll see about that!” She turns and flounces into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

* * * *

Ava

I’m still mad at Roman when I go down to one of the hotel’s business centers to look through the extensive online music catalog to pick my song. How dare he spank me, make me wet and needy, and then tell me if I perform well, he might let me come. But only if I beg for it! Of all the egotistical, controlling, arrogant bastards! If I could kill him right now, I would. I’m done with his games and the sadistic pleasure he takes in punishing me, playing me, arousing me, and then leaving me wanting. If this is what being a submissive means, I’m not sure I’m going to make it through the next six weeks. I’m almost as angry at myself for the way I react to him as I am at him for making me feel things—things I don’t want to feel, things I shouldn’t feel. How can a man make me ridiculously wet by spanking me?

“Hey, Ava.”

I look up in surprise to see Tessa at one of the computers.

“Hey,” I say crossly.

“Are you okay?”

I count to three as I let my breath out slowly and then nod. “Sure.”

She gets up and comes over to me, searching my face. “No, you’re not. What’s wrong?”

I almost laugh. What’s wrong? Only everything, from the way Roman makes me feel to the way my body seems intent on betraying me. I’m here to win the games and hurt my stepfather, not get caught up in this emotional maelstrom that Roman seems to unleash. I need to focus on the prize. Which is looking further and further from my grasp since I can’t even manage to strip in front of Roman, much less a room full of men I don’t know. I sigh.

“I have no idea how to do a striptease. Roman tried to help me, but I’m too self-conscious, and I’m probably going to get voted off after today.” It’s a truthful answer, even if it only scratches the surface.

“I can help you,” she offers. “I grew up dancing. I was on the drill team in high school, which is about as close to stripping as you can get without taking your clothes off.” She laughs. “I actually took pole-dancing classes in college for fun. I can help you with a routine if you want.”

“Really?” I look at her in surprise. “Why would you do that? We’re competitors.”

“We’re also friends,” she says gently. “And friends help each other. Besides, I’m not letting you get voted off. You’re the only friend I have here.”

She hugs me, and I once again feel tears prick my eyelids. I’d been certain all my tears dried up two years ago, but that’s twice in less than a week. Other than Emmett, no one has ever offered me unconditional friendship like this.

“Okay,” I agree with a wan smile.

Luckily, no one else comes in, and an hour later Tessa’s tutored me on how to move my body seductively, given me the immensely helpful tip to pretend I’m someone else while I perform—someone who’s confident and sexy—and helped me work out a basic routine.

“Thank you so much!” I say as we both collapse on the floor. “I think I might actually be able to do this. Now if I could just get over my shyness…”

Tessa pats my hand. “It’ll be okay. Luke says everyone’s allowed one drink tonight prior to the show. I’ll save mine and give it to you. That’ll help. Now help me pick my song. Judging by the outfit Luke picked for me, it had better be something sexy and country.”

* * * *

“Are you almost ready?” Roman’s impatient voice floats through the closed door of the bathroom where I’ve been getting ready for the past hour. “It’s almost eight.”

I open the door and revel in the look on his face as he takes in the outfit he chose for me for the group event tonight. He’d shown it to me briefly before I went downstairs to choose my music, but I hadn’t tried it on for him, and I’m suddenly almost looking forward to performing when I see the thinly veiled desire in his eyes. Particularly since I’m planning on turning the tables on him tonight.

In what I’m guessing is Roman’s attempt to exploit my natural shyness or at least to mitigate the damage it might cause, he’s chosen a schoolgirl outfit complete with a short, flirty plaid skirt; a fairly see-through cropped white blouse that ties in front between my breasts, exposing my entire midriff; thigh-high socks; and black patent-leather Mary Jane stilettos. I suppose I should be grateful he hasn’t given me that much to take off. I’ve put my long dark hair in two pigtails, and in a moment of inspiration, I’d gone down to the gift shop and bought a lollipop to use judiciously during my dance.

“Let’s go,” I say breezily, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of the white thong under the ridiculously short skirt as I precede him out the door of our suite and downstairs to the Diamond Lounge.

The place is packed, mostly with men, but there are a few couples in the audience as well, including Logan and his wife Rachel. The contestants stand out, dressed in an assortment of outfits from trench coats to corsets to elaborate burlesque outfits.

Roman finds us a table, and while he goes to the bar to get us a drink, I scan the crowd, looking for Tessa. I finally find her several tables away, looking like a sexy cowgirl in chaps, a fringed halter top, and a cowboy hat. We make eye contact, and she says something to Luke before coming over to my table, slipping into the chair next to me.

“Here,” she says, nudging a shot glass toward me. “It’s tequila. It’s the strongest thing I could think of to order. Luke probably thinks I’m an alcoholic.” She giggles.

I throw back the alcohol, grimacing as it scorches my throat. “Liquid courage,” I say with a smile. “Thank you, Tessa. For everything.”

She gives me a wink and is gone.

Roman returns with a Cape Cod for me and a tulip-shaped glass of whiskey for himself. “Are you doing okay?” he asks, his eyes warm with concern.

I nod. I’m going to be even better after I finish my second drink. His hand settles firmly on my thigh as Logan welcomes everyone to the first group event of the Power Games and introduces the first dancer. Roman keeps his hand there as we watch contestant after contestant take the stage, each putting her own unique spin on the striptease, and I’m surprised at how much the unyielding presence of his touch calms me.

There are women who play the seductive ingenue in classic lace and garter belts, while others wear tight dresses or provocative lingerie. Several more have a themed outfit like me. Rose, whom I first met at the spa and whom Roman and I had dinner with earlier this evening, is a construction worker strategically draped in yellow caution tape with a hard hat on; a girl named Eva is dressed as a naughty French maid, and Emmett’s sub Rebecca is a scandalously seductive gangster with fishnet stockings and elbow-length gloves. I have to hand it to her; she knows how to work a crowd almost as well as Emmett does. And Tessa! Tessa is fantastic. She wasn’t kidding; her dance moves are rivaled only by Desiree, the former
Playboy
model and quite possibly an actual stripper, who uses a pole in her dance.

Everyone is amazing, and if it weren’t for the alcohol coursing through my veins lending me a false sense of courage, I’d probably be a nervous wreck, particularly since I drew the last slot. My name is finally called, and Roman gives me an encouraging wink. “You’ve got this, sweetheart,” he says.

I slowly walk to the stage, stopping to whisper a request to Logan, who graciously moves a chair in front of the low stage so it won’t block the cameras but so that whoever’s sitting in it will have a front-row seat. I look out into the darkened room, my eyes homing in on Roman.

“Will you please come up here, Sir?” I ask sweetly.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he amiably comes forward and takes a seat in the chair that I indicate. I had decided this afternoon that if he wants begging, that’s exactly what he’s going to get. I step forward and put one stiletto on the chair between his legs, precariously close to his crotch, and lean forward so only he can hear me.

“Thank you for the instruction earlier, Sir,” I murmur. “Now it’s your turn to be schooled.”

Then the music starts, and I begin to dance. The song I’ve chosen isn’t popular; in fact, no one here’s probably ever heard it, but it’s by one of my favorite female alternative artists who blends husky-voiced seduction with sheer female power, and the chorus perfectly conveys the message I want to send Roman.

You want me down on my knees.

But it’s you who should please.

Maybe I’ll give it to you

Let you take me all the way

If you beg for it.

Your hands are on me.

Yeah, you turn me on.

I’m flawless, impeccable

But most of all, my own girl

You want me, you need me,

You say you’ll take me all the way

But you’re gonna have to beg for it.

I work it, teasing and taunting Roman the way he’s teased and taunted me, using the moves Tessa taught me—rolling my body, moving my hips, and caressing my curves—giving him a glimpse of what he wants, but I’m determined not to give. At least not until
he
begs. I seductively untie the shirt, slipping it off my shoulders and easing it down my arms until it hangs from my fingertips. I toss it to Roman, who catches it easily in one hand, his gaze never leaving my face.