Naughty Wishes 4: Soul (18 page)

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to her bare shoulder as his hand slid back up to frame her breast, thumb rubbing over the plumped-up curve and dipping into the now deep valley of her bosom. “No, what?” he murmured. His lashes lifted to capture her gaze in the mirror with his own. He held her there with an unwavering attention.

Who was this man and what had he done with Chris? Yet it was Chris, not an act. That was what had butterflies doing triple somersaults in her stomach. “Yes sir. I mean, No sir.”

He smiled, reached over and picked up her hairbrush. She quivered, wondering if she was about to get a spanking. While that would have been lovely, he surprised her with something as unexpectedly welcome. He used it as intended, brushing out her hair until it shone like silk on her shoulders. Gathering it up in his hand, he rubbed his lips and nose over it. Closed his eyes. All of it made her want to breathe his name. Meaning she wanted to use his name as a way to draw in breath and release it. As well as speak it.

“Chris.”

He opened his eyes again. “Bend over the sink,” he said.

Her knees almost buckled, but she managed it. He curved a hand over her right breast, kneading and playing with it, and he hit her ass with the flat back of the brush. Her fingers tightened on the sink as that breath left her in a gasp. It stung, but she only wanted more.

He gave her more. Five then ten whacks, each more stinging than the last, until her ass was throbbing and she was making a little cry in her throat at each strike. She was also getting light-headed.

“Nice marks,” he said. Laying down the brush, he straightened her, holding her fast and meeting her gaze in the mirror. “I’m going to ask you again. Is it too tight?”

“A little,” she admitted breathlessly.

He returned to the task. This time, when he was done, she was still snugly wrapped in it, but breathing was easier. He gave her one more whack with the brush, this one enough to earn a yelp, then gripped her throat, caressing it. Cradling her face in a hand that could easily break her neck, he tipped her head back on his shoulder to look at him. “Remember the first rule, Sam. Got it?”

She stammered her response. “Yes sir.”

He kissed her and his eyes softened, more like the Chris she was used to. “Better finish getting ready. Geoff said we’re out of here in about ten minutes. Are you wearing the black heels with the silver bottoms?”

At her nod, he smiled. “Good. I love the way you walk in those.”

Turning, he left her there. She might have dropped her jaw on the floor if it weren’t hinged properly to her face. If this was any indication of what kind of night it was going to be, she might not have any unexploded brain cells by the end of the evening.

When she finished dressing and left the bathroom, she found Geoff already dressed and waiting on them in the kitchen. He wore a fitted black dress shirt in a brushed cotton so soft it made her want to rub against him like a cat. It was open at the throat and tucked into stonewashed gray jeans, a combination that would complement her own colors. The jeans were a pair she hadn’t seen before, and they fit snugly over ass and groin, His black belt had a silver buckle shaped like a dragon’s head. The black boots under the jeans were sleek and supple with a low heel.

His tanned forearms were visible because he’d rolled up the sleeves of the shirt to his elbows. For some reason, his silver-and-black watch only made the look even sexier. He was mouthwatering, head to toe.

She’d donned a skirt over the thong and the bottom part of the corset, and carried a gray shawl she could wrap over her shoulders. Would Geoff and Chris choose to take the wrap and skirt off her once they hit the doors at the Carnival? She was nervous about that idea, but if they were headed into the kind of environment she hoped it would be tonight, she also welcomed it. She was more than willing for Chris to act just as much like her Master as Geoff did naturally and without thought. Geoff’s gaze moved over her, displaying the obvious male desire that Chris had, along with a similar possessiveness. That look fostered a sudden titillating suspicion.

Was it her being in a public venue tonight, wearing this kind of outfit, that had compelled Chris to make it clear that she belonged to them, in a way that engaged her senses in that ownership? He was certainly clever enough to figure how much that reaction would excite her, but what bemused her was how genuine it had seemed for him.

He wasn’t Dom through and through, but he didn’t mind mixing it into his nature when it brought him, her or Geoff satisfaction. She had no objection to that mix, for certain. Her buttocks were still smarting, and she knew the mark of that last swat might still be there if they did remove the skirt once they arrived at their destination.

Chris came into the kitchen then. Geoff glanced at the small tote she was carrying over her arm. “Is the mask in there?”

She nodded.

“Put it on now.”

She set the tote on the table. Pulling out a hair band, she fixed her long hair in a flat knot at the crown of her head. The mask allowed room for such an eventuality by including a “crest” for the bird’s head. Touching her hair recalled Chris brushing it. As she picked up the mask, the sleek feathers that covered it caressed her own fingers. All her senses were on erotic high volume, but particularly touch, as if every inch of her skin craved sensation and magnified the barest contact.

Under Geoff’s silent scrutiny, she slid the mask over her head and drew it down to cover her face. It had discreet zippers and lacing in the back to tighten it. Chris came up behind her, once again handling the lacing part, tightening the mask, making everything fit in its intended place so her face was enclosed by the supple material. The bottom of the mask curved under her jaw and molded to her nape, leaving most of her throat bare. The opening for the mouth framed her lips, making them feel more sensitive and exposed.

She’d folded her nervous hands in front of her as Chris did the task. The eyeholes weren’t covered, and Geoff stood in her line of sight, but it shifted her into a different headspace, having her key senses cocooned like that. It was as if looking at him through the mask was like being a bird in a cage, looking out at her Master, waiting for his will to free her.

When Chris was done, he rested his hand on her shoulder. She drew in the heat and strength of his body pressed behind her as Geoff picked up her hand, bringing it to his lips. He took her shawl and Chris moved back so Geoff could wrap it around her shoulders, putting the twisted ends in her hands.

“Our beautiful dove,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Tonight Geoff drove, first because he was the one who could drive like a New York cabbie if they hit traffic snarls, and second, she wasn’t in any condition. DWIA, driving while insanely aroused, was definitely no safer than driving drunk. Geoff hadn’t even asked if she wanted to drive, directing her firmly over to his car. As he got in the front, Chris put her in the passenger seat, taking the seat behind them.

Geoff turned over the engine but then leaned over, adjusting the tiny rolled flaps that accentuated the shape of the eyeholes like lashes when they weren’t in use. When unrolled, they put her in darkness.

“You’ll stay blindfolded until we get there. Spread your legs, Sam.”

A needy sound came from her throat as his fingers slipped under her skirt, found the crotch of the thong and stroked her wetness, a slow, methodical rhythm that had her body moving restlessly on the seat. He drew his hand away. “Chris and I are going to talk, but you don’t speak without permission first unless something’s wrong. Understand?”

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

She added that without thinking. The silence suggested the two of them were studying her or exchanging a glance. Either way, she hoped they understood.
Thank you for all of this. Thank you both for loving me, for being willing to do all of this. For wanting to do this.

Geoff put the car in drive and pulled out of the driveway. They did start talking, and it was incredibly arousing to have them talk about the things they might always talk about, all while she sat silently, blinded, waiting on their direction. Her body was aware of everything: the bump of the car over the asphalt, the feel of the recirculated air against her skin. Chris’s hand stayed on her shoulder, and Geoff’s occasionally curved over her thigh, both of them maintaining a connection with her.

It was what she’d always imagined being a submissive could be like.

Chris had asked Geoff something about the program, because Geoff was explaining it. “When I talked to Logan, he said they’ll do the stage performances first, but there will be vendors and socializing afterward. They’d thought about setting up a dungeon with the local BDSM group, but they decided for this first event they’d keep it more limited. The vendors are going to be offering hands-on demos of everything from whips to sex toys, so we might see some impromptu play under the guise of shopping.” Geoff chuckled.

“If we wanted to tie her up in someone’s restraint system, we could?”

“Possibly. I wouldn’t mind making her climax like that with some sex toy they want to promote. Did you bring that gag?”

“Yeah. It’s in the tote.”

Geoff’s hand closed over her thigh again. “Breathe, Samantha Beth.”

She gave a nervous half laugh, but did so. She was vibrating just from his command to sit here and listen, with her legs spread and her body showcased in an outfit designed to make them want her even more. She wanted to spread her legs wider, shamelessly encourage him to touch her there again.

Chris passed his hand along her neck, teasing the edge of the mask at her nape, petting the feathers. “Do you think she’d like that? Coming in front of an audience?”

“I think she won’t even be aware there’s an audience. Not that way. As long as it’s us doing it, and we’re totally in control, I think she’d love it. I think she wants to prove she loves belonging to us.”

She hoped nodding in emphatic agreement wasn’t against the no-talking rules. Geoff slowed the car, probably for a stoplight, and her lips parted eagerly when he traced them with a fingertip. He pressed it between her lips so she could suck on it, swirl her tongue around it with wanton implication.

“So she doesn’t want anyone else touching her?” Chris slid his touch down her arm, caressing the top of her breast under the shawl.

“Not if she knows what’s good for her,” Geoff said with tantalizing menace. It almost made her smile, because he knew she didn’t want anyone else to touch her. She might be willing to have them take her body in front of a stadium of people, as long as it was only about the three of them. People watching would be titillating, a witness to their relationship, but she didn’t want anyone crossing that personal barrier between her and them.

“Here we are,” Geoff said a few minutes later, turning into what she assumed was a parking lot and bringing the car to a halt.

Geoff came around and opened her door. She heard the distant sound of people talking, a flow of conversation that drifted back as they all headed in a common direction. Geoff didn’t open the eyes of the mask, instead taking her arm.

“I’ll let you see when we’re inside,” he said. “You’re already getting a lot of attention.”

Her lips parted, but Geoff’s mouth was on hers before she could utter a syllable. Pressing her back against the car, he took her over with a kiss that was pure demand. When he was finished, he had his hands around her throat, thumbs sliding up and down her jugular, putting just a little dizzying pressure on it.

“What did I tell you, Samantha Beth?”

“No talking,” she managed. “Without your permission.”

“Don’t forget again. I have no problem spanking you in front of a group. In fact, I was damn well hoping for the opportunity.”

He dropped his touch to her waist. “I know you were about to say it’s the outfit. It’s not. It’s the woman in it that has their attention. When you’re under command, restrained, you glow. The energy around you could fuel a stadium.”

“Amen to that,” Chris added, curling his hand around her elbow. “You’re stunning, Sam.”

She moistened her lips, brushed against his body and squeezed one of Geoff’s hands, the only way she was allowed to say thank you. Geoff made a noise of approval and drew her away from the side of the car, taking them toward their destination.

She’d never been led by someone while completely blind, but with Chris on one side and Geoff on the other, she was secretly thrilled with her lack of worry. She had no problem walking on her high heels as confidently as she would when she could see. Their hands never left her, honoring her trust.

They moved inside a building filled with the low rumble of noise of a gathering crowd. She’d been in the old theater a couple of times before for some independent, low-budget stage plays—artsy, experimental stuff. She remembered the pleasant combination of woodsy scents that identified an old yet well-tended building. There was carpet under her heels. On top of the building’s olfactory imprint, she detected a variety of body perfumes and colognes, as well as the musk of wine. The
clink
of glasses verified the last. Geoff guided her to a wall, where the noise became more muted, telling her he’d taken her out of the flow of foot traffic.

He didn’t open the eyes of the mask right away. Instead he took the shawl off her shoulders, letting the cool, dry air of the theater interior tickle over her bare shoulders and the tops of her breasts. He unzipped the skirt next. Chris took her other hand and Geoff guided her to step out of the garment. She was standing in front of strangers in a thong, thigh-high stockings and her corset. And the mask. Madison had told her many would be dressed in fetish wear, and she knew Geoff wouldn’t have undressed her unless she would blend. Even so, she was feeling dizzy, but her men steadied her, their hands on her sure and strong.

“Okay?” Chris asked.

“Yes sirs.”

“Good girl.” At last Geoff lifted the eye flaps, tucking them into the slits intended for that purpose, so she could see her surroundings. Here again, the tunnel feeling of the mask made her feel protected, as if she were a bird in the cage he’d made her, detached and safe. Able to experience everything even more forcefully, because she wasn’t required to talk or interact. Nothing was expected of her but to feel, hear, see, taste and smell.