The Darker Side of Pleasure (18 page)

She moved her feet apart. She found herself wanting to please this wicked, beautiful woman as much as she wanted to please Master Robert. In fact, it was difficult to think of anything else.

The woman moved until she stood close behind her. Cassandra could feel the heat emanating from her body, caught the faint scent of feminine perfume. A soft hand snaked around and cupped her breast, gave a small squeeze. She whispered in Cassandra’s ear, “Breathe in, girl, then blow it out.”

The order was followed by a small slap of the leather on her buttocks. It stung, but not nearly as much as Master Robert’s hand had during her spanking.

Mistress Delphine moved her hand up to the delicate gold chain hanging between Cassandra’s breasts and gave it a painful tug, sending a hot wave of pain and pleasure through her. She smacked her again with the slapper. Cassandra loved the dual sensations, tried to ignore her still-fluttering nerves to focus on what was happening to her. She was vaguely aware of the other guests gathered around to watch. Why did that make it more exciting?

The Mistress smacked her again, and then again, harder each time. The blows heated her skin, sensitizing it, and she loved each sharp contact. She couldn’t help but move her hips back an inch, toward the lovely sting.

“No, Cassandra. Hold still.”

The blows started then in earnest, a sharp rain of smacks that grew progressively harder. All the while the Mistress tugged on the golden chain, causing titillating lances of pain to stab through her nipples. It was almost too much, but it was good at the same time, every bit as good as Master Robert’s spanking had been. She squeezed her eyes shut.

She couldn’t help the moan that escaped, or the writhing of her hips. The flesh on her ass was on fire with sensation, her nipples were hard and hot, and her sex was full and aching. God, she needed to come! If only someone would touch her there.

As if by magic, her fervent prayer answered, a hand slipped between her thighs. Her eyes fluttered open as pleasure flared and heat raced through her body. Her gaze was met by whiskey brown eyes, deep eyes set in a beautifully masculine face framed in jet-black hair.

It was
him
.

Marcus couldn’t believe he’d walked up to the girl while Delphine was playing her and touched her, a breach in scene etiquette. But he hadn’t been able to help himself, and Delphine had done nothing more than smile at his unspoken request.

One brief stroke of her slick, plump pussy, then he pulled away. Even though his hand rested at his side, he could swear he smelled the sweet scent of her on his skin.

He had to smile at the surprise in her green eyes. Eyes that burned with the fire of lust. She was obviously fairly deep into sub space already. He could see it in her glassy gaze, in the rhythm of her breathing. He berated himself for arriving late, for not being the first to play with her.

But why shouldn’t Delphine have that honor? Why was he thinking so differently about this girl than about any of the others he’d played and trained over the years? She was Robert’s discovery. Why should he think for one moment that he would be the first to be given the girl to play with?

Because I want her more.

Christ.

He moved away. The girl’s eyes remained on him. Burned into him. He walked off to get a drink.

At the bar he focused on ignoring the soft moans coming from the girl’s lips as Delphine continued to torment her. He ordered a sparkling water with lime. No more alcohol for him tonight. His control was shaky enough. He took a sip of the water, pulled in a breath before he turned back to watch.

The crowd had pulled in a little tighter around the action, but he could still see her. Could still see that she was deliciously sensitive, as responsive as any bottom he’d ever seen. Her breasts were hanging ripe and full, the golden clamps a perfect accent. The front of her slim thighs were pink where Delphine had hit her with the slapper. He was getting hard just looking at her.

Robert approached him. “What do you think of my newest acquisition, Marcus?”

He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on the redheaded beauty. “A gorgeous girl.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Special.”

“Do you think so?”

Marcus gestured with his chin. “Christ, look at her. The way she moves. The way her body answers every touch. She loves the pain. She’s brand-new and going under already. She seems to understand how to convert the pain automatically. Incredible.”

“Quite.”

He turned to find a smirk on his uncle’s face. “What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so smitten.”

Marcus’s blood went hot. “I want her,” he stated simply.

“Then you shall have her next.”

Cassandra was weak-limbed and warm from the endorphins flooding her system. But mostly from knowing
he
was in the room with her. And he had touched her!

God, the way he had touched her. He was her wildest dream come true. And he was still there somewhere, watching her as Mistress Delphine spanked her with the evil leather slapper, pulled on her clamped nipples, while she writhed in pleasure.

The Mistress had stopped, giving Cassandra time to catch her breath. The slave boy had checked her wrists for circulation, given her a small drink of water, asked her if she was cold. Cold! She was burning hot with desire and anticipation, pleasure and pain.

Her head was whirling. She could barely think. Her skin sang with heat, her nipples burned, and even while Mistress Delphine had played her so expertly, all she could think of was
him
.

The Mistress had left her side and the slave boy stood by, as though guarding her. She glanced around the room. Faces smiling at her. Where was he?

She caught his scent first. He was standing behind her. She knew it was him. That woodsy, fresh scent. And when a masculine hand smoothed her shoulder, she felt his touch as though she’d known it all her life.

“I am Marcus, but you may call me Sir.”

His deep voice crept over her like a blanket of velvet. She shivered deep inside.

Marcus.

He trailed his fingertips over her neck. Goose bumps rose everywhere on her body. She was shaking so hard inside she couldn’t have managed to stand if she weren’t bound.

His voice was a low murmur. “You are beautiful, Cassandra. Like some piece of art. Like one of Rodin’s finest erotic sculptures. Do you know art? Do you know the great masters?”

She nodded, took a breath. “Yes, Sir. I do.”

“You look like his
Danaid,
all fluid lines.”

“The Torso of Adele,”
she whispered.

He laughed. “You do know, don’t you? Yes, exactly, suspended as you are, your body stretched out this way. And like the female figure in
Eternal Idol
when you’re on your knees.”

She could not believe she was having a conversation with this man while she was bound and strung up like this! But she was unsurprised, for some inexplicable reason, that they had this love of art in common.

Marcus quieted as, with his other hand, he made an exploration of the small of her back, the curve of her buttocks, then down to her thigh. His hands were hot on her skin, his fingers smooth. She couldn’t believe he was touching her.

“You’re nicely warmed up. But your time with Mistress Delphine is only the beginning of what will happen to you tonight.”

Her breath caught in her throat.
Yes.

His hand slid over her stomach, down, and her sex clenched in anticipation as he brushed the curls at the apex of her thighs. If only he would slip a hand between them as he had before. With her legs still spread it would be so easy….

Oh, God.

But he moved his hand away to explore the other curves of her body. His touch was a fiery, sensual pleasure unlike any she had felt before. And when he gave her a sharp slap she barely flinched. He laughed low in his throat, and slapped her ass again, and this time she moved into it. Only a fraction of an inch, but still he scolded her.

“I see you haven’t yet been taught how to hold still.” He smacked her again, and again her body surged into his hand.

This time his voice held an air of absolute command that made her knees go even weaker. “Cassandra. I want you to listen to me. You will hold absolutely still. No matter what I do, you will not move. Is that clear? You may answer me.”

Somehow she found enough breath to speak. “Yes…yes, Sir.”

No more words, just a quick volley of stinging slaps on her buttocks and thighs. They came so fast, so furiously, he must have been using both his hands. Her damp sex grew heavy with need, every muscle in her body strained with the effort not to move. And with every panting breath she could smell his scent, mixed now with the faint musk of sexual arousal. But whether it was his or her own, she couldn’t tell.

The slaps grew harder. Her skin was on fire, absolutely burning. With pain. With desire. A drop of moisture trickled down the inside of one thigh.

She wanted to see his face. But she didn’t want him to stop spanking her, even though her skin was so tender she wasn’t sure she could take any more. And then he did stop.

Her own ragged breath was like thunder in her ears. Marcus came around to stand in front of her. God, he was beautiful. Power and confidence emanated from him. He was all she could see in the crowded room, all that mattered.

“Very good, Cassandra.” He sounded a little out of breath himself.

He reached out a hand and cupped her chin, tilted her face up, and locked his gaze on hers. Cassandra shivered. There was so much happening in her body, in her mind. His golden-brown eyes were glittering darkly. Magnetic. Enigmatic. What was he thinking?

With his gaze still locked on hers, he cupped her breasts, weighed them, squeezed. Cassandra shut her eyes for a moment, trembling at the pure pleasure of his touch.

“No. Look at me.”

She opened her eyes. His were like dark topaz, deep, mysterious. He said quietly, “This is going to hurt.”

In one quick motion he squeezed the nipple clamps open and pulled them off. Pain surged through her breasts to gather in intensity at the hard peaks. She groaned. Her head spun with a blissful mixture of agony and endorphins. Marcus was holding her chin again, making her look at him, forcing her to focus on his face as the pain lanced through her in sharp waves.

When his other hand slipped between her thighs and probed the swollen folds of her sex she almost came undone. She cried out as he pushed his fingers inside of her. It was too good, with her nipples still singing in pain. Her hips bucked and she needed to come, but the moment she felt that first spasm approach he withdrew his fingers from her.

A sob escaped her. She couldn’t help it. It was too good and too awful all at the same time. She needed him to touch her! Her whole body was on fire.

He still stood before her. And she could see that he was breathing hard, his wide chest rising and falling beneath his black silk shirt. What would his body feel like? Naked, against hers?

Oh, God.

She groaned again in frustration as he turned and walked away.

CHAPTER FIVE