Voyeur (11 page)

Lionel moved in and secured her to the table.

In the mirror, she saw herself and the people she’d met at Master Theodore’s home. Jennifer, Darius’s Domme, held a glass of champagne. She was as transfixed by the scene as Marnie had been just a few days before at the sight of Master Theodore dominating Susanna.

Then it was no longer about anyone else, it was only about her Dom. Only he mattered.

She was determined to please him.

“Honoured guests! Thank you for gathering to welcome my sub, Marnie.”

“Here, here,” Darius said. His Domme didn’t reprimand him.

“In the test of her ultimate trust, I’m going to hood her.”

She told herself to breathe as panic set in. How odd, just yesterday, she couldn’t stand the idea of having her eyes open while he examined her and fucked her. Now she wanted to be able to see.

He fitted the leather hood over her face, then tied the lace behind her. “What’s your safe word?”

“Monkey.”

“Would you like to use it?”

“No, Master.”

Deprived of sight, her world felt smaller and scarier.

She could see nothing, but everyone could see her, every reaction, her cunt, the red marks Master would leave on her arse.

“You’ll receive ten strokes for insubordination.”

As punishments went, she knew this was more instructive than real discipline. She deserved much more.

Her other senses became more attuned. She heard the rustle of his trousers.

She was securely fastened and couldn’t move even a few centimetres. Her own breathing sounded amplified in the hood.

But the worst was the absence of visual clues of whether Master found her pleasing, of where he was, of what he intended to do.

She had two choices. She could be a coward. Or she could trust he would do what he said he would and nothing more.

“Ready?” he asked.

She couldn’t tell where he was. Not beside her or in front of her, she was sure. Before she was ready, a smart smack landed on her right buttock. She yelped.

A second landed exactly in the same spot, followed by a third.

She cried out.

Wishing she could see him, and not knowing when or where the next blow would land, she moved about. Then she realised what a view she presented to the audience with her nether region swaying about.

His fourth slap landed lengthwise exactly in the middle of her cunt.

She screamed.

Master Zachary soothed her by dipping a finger into her cunt.

Oh God. Oh God. People were watching this. She desperately struggled in her bonds, trying to get away. He used her own moisture to soothe the injured area.

He spanked her left buttock twice, in quick succession, then landed the next two on her thighs.

“How many more, sub?”

“T…two, Master.”

“Where would you like them?”

She was crying quietly.

“Sub?”

“Wherever Master chooses,” she said miserably.

“Good girl.”

She screamed when he seared her again between the legs, forcing the plug deeper.

She struggled against the unyielding restraints.

“Final one,” he said.

She waited. And waited.

She grew anxious. Just get it over with, she wanted to snap. But she didn’t. She waited.

She felt his hands on her buttocks, spreading them even farther apart. Even without the ability to see, she knew she was red and swollen. “A little redder,” he said.

She tensed in anticipation.

“We’ll wait as long as we need to, sub, for you to resume your position.”

She fought her own internal battle. She was unable to use the sight of her Master to soothe her nerves, so she had to use the memory of his expression to hold onto.

Knowing he had the same regard and belief that he always did, she pictured that image and deliberately relaxed.

The tenth and final stroke, on her cunt, broke her.

She cried and sobbed.

It no longer mattered who watched her. She was a humbled sub who wanted this more than anything.

She felt fingers on her bindings, releasing her.

Then she felt the lace of her hood being untied. She stayed in position, though, waiting for Master’s instructions.

After long moments, he removed her hood.

She blinked in the sudden brightness and the vision of him. She drank in the sight of him, searched his features for signs of disapproval. He smiled, then kissed her forehead. “I’m proud of you, Marnie.”

There was no one else in the room, she realised. Consumed with her punishment, she hadn’t noticed everyone else had gone away.

He soothed the hair back from her face. “I’ll help you to kneel.”

He was infinitely patient as circulation returned. She took her time getting into position.

“Do you recall the scene you told me about in your book?” he asked. “That’s how I knew this was what you really wanted.”

This had all been about her fantasies coming true?

“In regards to me claiming you publicly…” He trailed off and swallowed deeply. “If it’s acceptable to you, I would like you to wear my collar. I’ve never asked another to submit to me. I thought I never would.”

She was overwhelmed. “Never?”

“There was a woman…”

“You rescued her from behind enemy lines?”

“I think the story has been embellished to make me sound more heroic than I was.”

“Will you tell me about her?”

“Later. Seems she doesn’t matter like she used to.”

Marnie met his eyes. The blue had darkened with emotion. Her acceptance of his collar mattered to him. How could it not matter to her? For a man who bore himself with such military reserve, he was suddenly vulnerable. He was showing his trust, and she made a silent vow to continually earn it. “Truly, Master, it would be my honour.”

He crossed to the mantel and returned with a strip of black leather.

She lifted her hair and exposed her neck, staring at his reflection as he fastened the symbol of her submission in place. In that moment, she fell in love with him.

“Tell me what you see,” he encouraged, repeating the words he’d first used when he met her.

“I see a sub.” His reflection was everywhere. ”And her Dom. I see a woman who is happy to have found a man who knows what she wants. She wears his collar proudly.” Damn, she was proud of it. It was hot. H-O-T. “I see a man who knows he has the respect and trust of a woman he desires.”

“How do you see that?”

“Master’s cock is like a mountain in his pants.”

He laughed. “So it is.”

“I also see a woman whose arse has been well punished.”
           
“It is red,” he agreed.

“And a woman who will go mad if her Master doesn’t fuck her.”

“Mad?” he asked.

“Certifiably.”

“Can’t have my sub going mad.”

Taking the initiative, she opened the top button of his pants, then lowered the zipper. She got on all fours. “Fuck your sub, Master, let her see your dominance.”

Their gazes met in the mirror. “Voyeur,” he said. “I wonder,… ” He grabbed a condom that had spilled from his pants on to the marble floor. “…Who’s really in control here?”

“You are, Master.” She reached up to capture his balls. “I know that.” She squeezed them hard.

“I was captivated at first glance,” he said.

“Fuck me!”

“Indeed, sub.”

He hadn’t pointed out that she’d referred to herself in the first person. But she saw from the way his eyes narrowed that he had caught the slip. They both knew she’d pay for it later.

Nothing would get by him.

At least she hoped not.