Sweet Persuasion
Page 25

“Would you like me to undress you?” Damon asked. “You’re shaking.”
She shook her head mutely.
His gaze sharpened. “Serena, are you frightened? We can go home. Just say the word.”
No.
It hovered like a black cloud. She’d grown to fear that word and what it meant. It went deeper than denial for it was an end to a fantasy she was desperate to live. Not just any fantasy. This fantasy. With Damon.
She shoved the skirt over her hips, letting it fall in a pool at her feet. With quick, jerky movements, she pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside. A cool draft from the air-conditioning vent above blew lightly over her bare skin, and she shivered.
Damon fingered a lock of her hair, pulling it over her shoulder to let it fall over her breast. Her nipple, hard and puckered, peeked erotically from the strands.
He touched the nipple, lightly, with just his fingertip. A silken brush across the tip, but she jumped as though she’d been shocked.
“Remember your instructions,” he murmured and then turned to leave the room.
She followed him out and down the hall. They passed several smaller rooms where people mingled and enjoyed cocktails and conversation. She walked quickly so they didn’t have a chance to look up and see her.
Damon continued toward the stairs, and she remembered a similar walk just nights before when she’d followed her keeper to the large common room above.
Tonight that room looked nothing like it had the night of her auction. As they entered, she stared in surprise at the flurry of activity. Unlike the rooms downstairs where people were dressed modestly, the participants here were at various stages of dress, from elaborate erotic costumes to plain nudity and all shades in between.
Each section of the room hosted a different . . . fetish. It was the only word she could come up with, and she was sure she’d gotten it wrong.
Never before had she seen so much naked flesh and utter carnality outside of a porn movie. They probably wouldn’t appreciate the comparison, but that was her limit of experience in such matters.
“Would you like a tour?” Damon asked in a low voice. “No one here minds being observed.”
At least she wouldn’t be expected to participate. Damon had made his view on others touching her exceedingly clear. Armed with that knowledge, she nodded. Looking never hurt anyone.
The bombardment of erotic images hit her from all angles. There was a multitude of sexual scenarios, from a simple one-on-one couple fucking like bunnies to an outright orgy with no less than eight people joined like LEGOs. It all looked rather . . . bizarre.
The kink factor was high and there certainly wasn’t a shortage of shock value in the room, but it failed to fire Serena’s senses. All she could do was look with dumb confusion at the gyrating bodies and listen to the moans and cries.
And then Damon touched her. All it took was the soft brush of his fingers across her skin and arousal flared low in her groin. Her breasts tingled, heavy and aching, straining outward, seeking his attention.
“I am extremely gratified that only my touch excites you,” he said as he caressed one breast. Then he ran his palm over the other, plumping the supple flesh in his hand. The soft mound cupped in his hand, he brushed his thumb back and forth over the sensitive bud.
“Now come, my pleasure—and yours—awaits.”
As she followed him toward the center of the room, she saw others stop and turn around to stare. The sounds of pleasure ceased, and an eerie silence fell over the room where just moments earlier, the slap of flesh, heated moan and cries of passion had swelled and echoed off the walls.
A metal frame stood in the center of the room, and already a crowd has assembled around it. It was simple, and for that reason, she couldn’t discern its purpose.
It was unassuming, a rectangular piece of metal that stood upright, but as she drew closer, she could see that it pivoted, moving up and down so that the rectangle could lay horizontal instead of vertical and all angles in between.
A man in jeans and a tight T-shirt stood nonchalantly, his hand on the frame, moving it up and down as he watched Damon approach. His gaze swept appraisingly over Serena’s naked form, but a sharp look of reproach from Damon pulled him up short.
He offered a smile and nodded in Damon’s direction. “Your slave is up for games tonight?”
“My slave does what I tell her,” Damon replied evenly.
“Lucky man. Do you need any help restraining and preparing her?”
Serena glanced sharply at the man standing next to the frame. Restrain? Prepare?
Damon glanced between Serena and the unnamed man and then nodded. “Serena, this is Cole. Do as he instructs.”
Serena swallowed and stepped forward as Damon motioned for her.
“I’ll return in just a moment. I need to choose my equipment.”
Equipment. Restraint. She began to tremble, though she knew it wasn’t from fear. Excitement coursed through her veins along with a heady dose of uncertainty.
When Cole reached for her arm, she instinctively shrank from his touch.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said soothingly.
She looked around but Damon had disappeared.
Cole touched her arm, tentative and seeking to reassure her. She truly wasn’t afraid, but neither was she enthusiastic. Yet. Apprehensive best described the current that arced through her body like lightning.
She forced herself to relax and went willingly with Cole as he directed her toward the device. When he flipped it, she could see leather loops, one at the very top in the center and two at the bottom on either side.
“Step over,” he said as he gripped her elbow to assist her.
She stepped over the base of the structure and stood inside the rectangle, waiting for what came next.
Cole backed her toward the bottom edge of the frame where the two loops were situated. Soft leather circled her right ankle and then tightened when Cole cinched the strap.
She gave a little gasp as she realized then what the the loops were for. Restraint. He smiled as he saw her realization.
“Spread your legs so the other reaches the second strap.”
She nearly stumbled and had to grasp his arm to steady herself.
“I won’t let you fall,” he said.
The leather circled her ankle and tightened.
“Arms above your head,” he directed as he stood back up.
She glanced up and saw the one tie and realized the vulnerability of what he proposed. She looked at him, but saw an expression that brooked no argument.
Slowly she raised her arms and put her wrists together, high above her head.
“Very good,” he said, but his approval meant nothing to her. It was Damon she sought to please.
He secured her wrists, tightening until she was stretched on tiptoe. Vulnerable didn’t even begin to cover how she felt.
And then her feet left the ground as he rotated the frame so that she lay suspended from the straps at a slight angle. She stared down at the floor, and her mouth went dry. She licked her lips to try and add moisture.
The room spun, and she found herself staring up at the ceiling as Cole flipped the frame until she was stretched on her back. He threaded a wide support belt underneath her back, wrapped it around her belly and attached it to the sides of the frame with hooks. It took some of the strain off her arms and legs and gave her some much-needed relief. She wouldn’t go as far as to say she was comfortable, but it was a hell of a lot better than before.
She jerked in surprise when Cole cupped her breast. He rubbed his thumb over the rigid peak, his expression never changing. Then he bent his head, and to her shock, sucked the crown between his teeth and nipped sharply at it.
When he released it, he looked up and gave her a satisfied smile. “Much better.”
She stared at him in confusion, but before she could voice the question, she felt a sharp pinch followed by a rush of pain and then a burning numbness settle over her nipple. She writhed and gasped in protest and then yanked her gaze down to the throbbing ache.
He’d secured a nipple clamp to her breast. It dug into the puckered flesh and guided the nipple outward. She twisted and pulled against her bonds but they held fast.
“Please,” she whispered. “Take it off.”
Cole ignored her plea and walked around to the other side. She whimpered softly because now she knew what was to come. He gave her other breast the same treatment, plumping softly with his hand before leaning over to suck the tip into his mouth.
She moaned at the hypersensitivity. Though it was the other nipple clamped, she felt each nip of his teeth as though they were the tiny jaws of metal.
After a final sharp bite, he laved his tongue soothingly over the hardened flesh and pulled away. He waited this time. The bastard. Every muscle in her body tensed as soon as his mouth withdrew. And still he waited, a patient smile on his face.
He let her see it coming, guiding his hand with the open clamp toward the burgeoning point. There was no gentle coaxing, no gradual slide onto the nipple. He clamped it hard and let go.
She grit her teeth to prevent the cry of surprise and pain. The hungry teeth bit into her flesh with greedy eagerness. At first it was more than she could bear, and she arched her back, bucking against her restraints.
Then the pain diminished to a hot burn and finally, blessed numbness.
She lay there panting, nearly overwhelmed by the barrage of sensations, first Cole’s mouth on her breasts followed by the sharp teeth of the clamps. Her nipples tingled with the slightest of movements, pushing back the numb.
And suddenly she moved again with one firm push by Cole. Her feet rotated beneath her as she came to an upright position. He pushed a little farther until she was at a forty-five-degree forward angle.
Her breasts bobbed, and the clamps dangling from her nipples exerted a dragging pressure that sent razor-sharp darts straight to her pussy.
She was wet. She could feel the creamy moisture gather between her legs, feel the way her clit pulsed and ached from the tension applied to her nipples.
Hands cupped her buttocks, kneading slightly before spreading the cheeks. Shock raced up her spine, stiffening her muscles as she formed a protest with her lips. Before she could speak, Cole gently applied lubricant to the opening. His fingers smoothed over the cleft, spreading a generous amount in their wake.
Her shoulders shook, and her body trembled. Tiny little shivers, alternating hot and cold. She danced a fine line between fear and desire. Confusion. Hot, edgy need. She didn’t want to be aroused by a strange man’s hands.
One thick finger slid inside her anus. Air rushed past her lips as she inhaled harshly. Back and forth his finger rasped across her delicate tissues, opening her wider as he spread more of the gel.
Another finger joined the first, stretching until she was open to him. His fingers were large, and at first, her passage was snug around his knuckles but he continued to stroke and caress, adding more lubricant to ease his way.
Her vision blurred and she closed her eyes to steady herself. She fought the waves of . . . She wouldn’t say need. Or desire. She didn’t want this man. She enjoyed his skilled fingers, liked the assault he waged on her senses, the wicked, sinful tune he played on her body. It was in part painful, and if she were honest, she feared her response to this pain. For she didn’t find it distasteful. She wanted, craved, more.
And then as quickly as he’d come to her, he withdrew and left. Silence that she hadn’t noticed before buzzed in her ears. There was no sound in the room, and as she lifted her head, she could see that, as on the night of the auction, every eye was on her.
A warm sizzle began in her belly, pooled in her groin and spread rapidly through her veins, humming low and sweet. Damon. She felt him, though she couldn’t see behind her.
She sighed when his hands cupped her buttocks and kneaded, gentle and loving. There was a marked difference between his touch and Cole’s. There was more regard, a respect and tenderness that lacked Cole’s clinical, methodical approach to preparing her.
Something soft, yet firm with the coolness of plastic or maybe rubber, ran lightly down her spine, eliciting a shiver from coiled muscles. It trailed over her buttocks then back up her side and to her shoulder. Damon walked slowly around to her front and she could now see that he held a long crop in his hand. The tip touched her ear, traced a circle around her lobe before stroking softly over her cheek to her lips in a gentle kiss.
He stopped there, watching her with dark eyes, holding the crop to her parted lips.
“Lick it,” he commanded, low and husky. “Pretend it’s my cock. Show me how you’d suck it.”
Her eyes flew upward so she could watch his reaction. She dipped her tongue over the edge of the crop, absorbing the taste and texture of the leather. Growing bolder, she swiped at the flat side with a long lick before catching the flap between her teeth and sucking it inside her mouth.
He coaxed it deeper with a quick slide of his hand, and she savored the supple give as it rolled over her tongue. When he pulled back, she balanced it delicately on her bottom lip before he finally let the crop fall away.
Adjusting his grip, he popped the tip on his leg as he walked behind her. She lost him in her vision, and her breath caught and bubbled in her throat as she entered the unknown.