When something finally touched her shoulder, she jumped. It wasn’t a paddle or a flogger or a cane or anything that she’d anticipated. It was soft. It came again, longer this time, and she knew what it was.
A paintbrush. He was painting her. Or more to the point, painting on her.
It was the simplest thing, but it made her crazy. What was he painting her with? What color was it? She couldn’t tell anything because he switched brushes frequently. Some were very fine and seemed as if he was writing. But others were wider and covered more area.
She moved once, and he smacked her backside in a sharp reminder to be still. She wondered if Abby and Julie were also being painted and, if so, what they looked like. The rhythmic cadence of rainfall combined with the gentle sweeps of the brushes and she felt herself start to drift. She swayed and two arms came around her and carried her somewhere soft so she could lie down.
She jerked awake to complete quiet and blackness. In fact, the silence was so vast it was deafening. She tried to lift her hand to her eyes to see if the blindfold was still on, but her hands were tied down. Where was she? And, more to the point, where was everyone else?
She repeated to herself that Cole wouldn’t leave her unattended. She knew he was nearby watching. If she focused, she might be able to sense him. Taking a deep breath, she tried to hear something, anything, but it was pointless.
Just when she thought she’d go crazy at the absolute nothingness, there was movement around her head and her ears were uncovered. Everything seemed so loud until she heard the voice she wanted to hear the most.
“Back with us, little one? You were the last to wake up. Too bad you were all such naughty submissives; we had something really special planned for after the game.” His voice was calm and gentle and any remaining tension in her body fled at its sound. “Let’s get you up so you can see my masterpiece. Though I’ll admit, painting was fun and not really a punishment. Even if my game was boring.”
He had her unbound within seconds and since she was still blindfolded, he kept hold of her hand as she stood. They walked a few steps forward before he pulled them to a halt.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir.” She was almost giddy with excitement to see how he’d painted her.
The blindfold fell away and she gasped. Her body was painted in vibrant reds and yellows and greens. Swirls here and figure eights there. She twisted and it was as if the lines on her body were alive.
“It’s beautiful, Sir. I had no idea you were a painter.” She couldn’t stop staring at herself.
He held up a mirror. “Look at the back. I did it before you fell asleep.”
She looked at her back. In his magnificent script, he’d written COLE’S on the tank top across the area on her back where her scars were. The sight made her eyes tear.
“I wish I could keep it on forever,” she said.
“Look at me,” he said and when she did, his eyes blazed with a fiery promise. “Never doubt it. Whether it’s written or not. Whether you can see it or not. Hell, whether you feel it or not. I love every part of you and it’ll say it and write it and prove it over and over, until you’re as sure of it as you are of your next breath.”
Chapter Ten
On Saturday evening, Sasha paced Cole’s bedroom, trying to decide what was going on. When she entered, the first thing she’d noticed was the dressing gown someone had placed on the bed. Curious as to what that meant, she walked to the large picture window to see if she could find Cole. It was early evening and he typically went for a walk this time of day. She peeked out and her breath caught when she saw him dressed in a dark three-piece suit, talking with Nathaniel. The only other time she’d ever seen him wear such an outfit had been the day he caned her. He once told her he almost always wore a three-piece suit for discipline sessions. Is that what he had planned today?
She went over the entire week in her mind, trying to pinpoint something, anything, unresolved that would have led to a discipline session. Not only could she not find anything, but she knew Cole and she knew he wasn’t the type to let an issue hang out there. If he thought she needed correction, he would have brought it up when the incident happened.
Satisfied that whatever was going on didn’t involve her being bent over a chair waiting for him to cane her, she undressed and slipped into the dressing gown. No sooner had she folded the clothes she’d been wearing than someone knocked on the door.
She scurried over and opened the door.
“Hello, little one.”
Cole looked so unbelievably handsome she didn’t move for several seconds. At his raised eyebrow, she realized he’d called her little one and as such, she needed to be kneeling.
She dropped to her knees. “Hello, Sir.”
“Stand up for me, Sasha.”
His voice sounded serious, nothing at all what she expected. Worry started to tickle her brain as she made her way back to her feet.
“Sir.”
“Our friends are waiting for us, but I have to talk to you privately first.”
“Is something wrong?”
He gently brushed his knuckles across her cheekbones. “No, little one. Nothing is wrong. I just thought it might be time to let you in on the real reason we all came to the UK.”
She thought back to the week they’d just spent: enjoying the area with their friends, laughing and having fun, growing even closer to Cole as she learned about his past. That wasn’t the real reason?
“I don’t understand, Sir.”
He rubbed her eyebrows with his thumbs. “Don’t frown, little one. I much prefer it when you smile.”
She leaned into his touch; everything always seemed so much better when he touched her. It was almost frightening the effect he had on her. “Tell me what our real reason for being here is. That’s why I’m frowning.”
A paintbrush. He was painting her. Or more to the point, painting on her.
It was the simplest thing, but it made her crazy. What was he painting her with? What color was it? She couldn’t tell anything because he switched brushes frequently. Some were very fine and seemed as if he was writing. But others were wider and covered more area.
She moved once, and he smacked her backside in a sharp reminder to be still. She wondered if Abby and Julie were also being painted and, if so, what they looked like. The rhythmic cadence of rainfall combined with the gentle sweeps of the brushes and she felt herself start to drift. She swayed and two arms came around her and carried her somewhere soft so she could lie down.
She jerked awake to complete quiet and blackness. In fact, the silence was so vast it was deafening. She tried to lift her hand to her eyes to see if the blindfold was still on, but her hands were tied down. Where was she? And, more to the point, where was everyone else?
She repeated to herself that Cole wouldn’t leave her unattended. She knew he was nearby watching. If she focused, she might be able to sense him. Taking a deep breath, she tried to hear something, anything, but it was pointless.
Just when she thought she’d go crazy at the absolute nothingness, there was movement around her head and her ears were uncovered. Everything seemed so loud until she heard the voice she wanted to hear the most.
“Back with us, little one? You were the last to wake up. Too bad you were all such naughty submissives; we had something really special planned for after the game.” His voice was calm and gentle and any remaining tension in her body fled at its sound. “Let’s get you up so you can see my masterpiece. Though I’ll admit, painting was fun and not really a punishment. Even if my game was boring.”
He had her unbound within seconds and since she was still blindfolded, he kept hold of her hand as she stood. They walked a few steps forward before he pulled them to a halt.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir.” She was almost giddy with excitement to see how he’d painted her.
The blindfold fell away and she gasped. Her body was painted in vibrant reds and yellows and greens. Swirls here and figure eights there. She twisted and it was as if the lines on her body were alive.
“It’s beautiful, Sir. I had no idea you were a painter.” She couldn’t stop staring at herself.
He held up a mirror. “Look at the back. I did it before you fell asleep.”
She looked at her back. In his magnificent script, he’d written COLE’S on the tank top across the area on her back where her scars were. The sight made her eyes tear.
“I wish I could keep it on forever,” she said.
“Look at me,” he said and when she did, his eyes blazed with a fiery promise. “Never doubt it. Whether it’s written or not. Whether you can see it or not. Hell, whether you feel it or not. I love every part of you and it’ll say it and write it and prove it over and over, until you’re as sure of it as you are of your next breath.”
Chapter Ten
On Saturday evening, Sasha paced Cole’s bedroom, trying to decide what was going on. When she entered, the first thing she’d noticed was the dressing gown someone had placed on the bed. Curious as to what that meant, she walked to the large picture window to see if she could find Cole. It was early evening and he typically went for a walk this time of day. She peeked out and her breath caught when she saw him dressed in a dark three-piece suit, talking with Nathaniel. The only other time she’d ever seen him wear such an outfit had been the day he caned her. He once told her he almost always wore a three-piece suit for discipline sessions. Is that what he had planned today?
She went over the entire week in her mind, trying to pinpoint something, anything, unresolved that would have led to a discipline session. Not only could she not find anything, but she knew Cole and she knew he wasn’t the type to let an issue hang out there. If he thought she needed correction, he would have brought it up when the incident happened.
Satisfied that whatever was going on didn’t involve her being bent over a chair waiting for him to cane her, she undressed and slipped into the dressing gown. No sooner had she folded the clothes she’d been wearing than someone knocked on the door.
She scurried over and opened the door.
“Hello, little one.”
Cole looked so unbelievably handsome she didn’t move for several seconds. At his raised eyebrow, she realized he’d called her little one and as such, she needed to be kneeling.
She dropped to her knees. “Hello, Sir.”
“Stand up for me, Sasha.”
His voice sounded serious, nothing at all what she expected. Worry started to tickle her brain as she made her way back to her feet.
“Sir.”
“Our friends are waiting for us, but I have to talk to you privately first.”
“Is something wrong?”
He gently brushed his knuckles across her cheekbones. “No, little one. Nothing is wrong. I just thought it might be time to let you in on the real reason we all came to the UK.”
She thought back to the week they’d just spent: enjoying the area with their friends, laughing and having fun, growing even closer to Cole as she learned about his past. That wasn’t the real reason?
“I don’t understand, Sir.”
He rubbed her eyebrows with his thumbs. “Don’t frown, little one. I much prefer it when you smile.”
She leaned into his touch; everything always seemed so much better when he touched her. It was almost frightening the effect he had on her. “Tell me what our real reason for being here is. That’s why I’m frowning.”
