me.” She eased to her bare feet, relying heavily on Reid for support. She’d never realized how much she counted on her arms for balance. A few feet away, a gangly man who was hauling his own sub to her feet turned his head in their direction.
“You’re not to talk without permission unless it’s to say ‘yes, sir’ or your safe word,” Reid said, his words loud enough for the other initiation pair to hear.
Oops. She dropped her gaze to the floor. “Yes, sir.”
“Better,” Reid said, and gave her ass a swat. “Now move.”
She gritted her teeth. Was that a smile she heard in his voice? She bet the bastard was marinating in smugness. He’d gotten his way, and now she couldn’t even protest—at least not when anyone could hear. She was only one slipup away from losing her chance to stay in the club. And now she was obligated to submit to whatever act Reid selected to demonstrate her submission in front of the group. Damn it all. She must’ve really pissed off karma in some former life.
Reid guided her to a curved love seat at the edge of the staging area and moved his hand to her shoulder. “On your knees, sugar.”
She shot him a steely glare. After being on her knees for far too long already, he wasn’t going to let her sit on the plush couch?
He shook his head, a tsk passing his lips. “So defiant. You have three seconds to comply, or I’ll make sure your upcoming show for everyone is much more unpleasant than what I have planned.”
His words splashed over her like ice water. The show. Public submission. Her anger at Reid had momentarily drawn her thoughts away from what she was about to face—humiliation, panic, possible fainting-goat behavior. The contents of her stomach threatened to make an appearance. She dropped to her knees, facing the open area she’d just left.
“That’s right.” Reid sank onto the couch behind her, placing a thigh on each side of her. He gave her hair a light stroke. “You can sit back on your calves. We’re going to watch one of the others go before it’s our turn.”
She nodded and rested her butt on the backs of her legs, which offered a bit of relief. She wiggled her arms to try to get some of the tingling to stop, but the minute movement the bindings allowed was not enough to accomplish anything. Reid ran his fingers along the leather straps, grazing her skin along with it. His head dipped next to her ear. “I forgot how fucking sexy you look when you’re tied up for me—just me.”
She stared at the Persian rug beneath her, her jaw tightening. She hadn’t missed his dig. He still thought she’d cheated on him. That she’d been playing games with him the whole time they’d dated. She could set him right, but what did it matter? Better for him to think that than know the truth—that she’d loved him with everything she had, only to find out later that he’d been the one who’d had a girlfriend the entire time. Asshole.
She shifted forward infinitesimally, moving away from his touch, and he gave a low chuckle. Maybe she should have gone with the guy who had the whip—that might have been less painful after all. Reid cupped her chin from behind and lifted her face toward the front. “I want you to watch. The show’s about to start.”
Her gaze lifted and locked on the scene before her. The gangly man was strapping a pixie-sized woman to a large wooden X in the front of the room. He’d stripped off her clothes, and her freckled back seemed to quiver with anticipation each time the man locked another leather restraint in place. Sweat prickled Brynn’s brow, and her heart seemed to take up residence in her throat. If Reid decided to strap her to something like that, she’d surely lose it.
Before she spiraled into a full-scale panic, she dragged her stare away from the action and scanned the room, quickly noting with disappointment that her sister was nowhere in the audience. At least twenty other people dotted the tables and couches around them, some talking quietly and sipping drinks, others riveted by the tableau at the front of the room. If not for the provocative clothing and the occasional man or woman sitting at someone’s feet, it could have been any high-end club. Glossy mahogany furniture, votive candles or fresh flowers on each table, a few cocktail waitresses milling around, even muted jazz in the background. The fact that all those lovely, refined people were there to watch and participate in public sex acts almost made Brynn laugh. It was all so absurd.
The sharp smack of leather on skin yanked her attention back to the front. The man held a riding crop in one hand and a telltale red mark darkened the woman’s left thigh. “No squirming. You take what I give you without complaint.”
“Yes, sir.”
He dragged the crop along her back, slowly tracing each notch of her spine, the small of her back, the crack of her ass. The woman’s back rose and fell with her quickening breaths, and Brynn felt her own breathing pick up tempo. The whole room had gone quiet, the man’s practiced patience drawing them all in. He moved the crop between the woman’s spread legs, caressing her with the flat of the leather. Gentle. Sensual. Brynn could almost feel the smooth material gliding along her own clit, imagining Reid as the one wielding the crop.
But before she could get carried away with her own images, the man gave a quick flick of the wrist and snapped the leather against the woman’s sex, startling Brynn. The woman gave a sharp cry and her fists flexed in her bindings, but her body stayed stock-still.
“Very good, pet,” the man said, running his hand along the sensitized skin and earning another, softer whimper from her. He moved to a table lined with what looked like half of Jace’s stock from Wicked and selected an impressively sized dildo. “I think you’ve earned a reward.”
He stalked back toward his sub and, not bothering to give her any additional warning, he placed the blunt head of the dildo against her and pushed. Brynn winced, but the ease with which it slid in told her the woman was more than turned on by his treatment. With a slow smile, the gangly dom pulled a small remote out of his pocket and hit a button that sent a buzzing sound through the rapt room.
The woman reared up and let out a desperate moan. Vibrator.
“I said no moving. And don’t you dare come.” The man lifted his riding crop again and rained blows across her ass, thighs, and back—the smack of the leather filling the room and making Brynn’s head spin. The woman’s muscles tensed beneath the rapid assault, her pale skin quickly turning pink then red, and her cries becoming mewls of pleasure.
Brynn squeezed her eyes shut, her mind rocketing back to her and Reid’s night at Jace’s house—how Reid’s hands had reddened her bottom, the mind-numbing pleasure he’d coaxed out of her. What would it be like to have him handle her like that again? Despite the fear that still shrouded her, a kernel of heat spread between her tightly closed legs.
She bit the inside of her cheek. No. She was not that girl anymore. She wanted to get past the fear, but this was not a lifestyle she wanted for herself. This was only the tool to get her where she needed to be—to get her to the place where she could have a normal life again.
“Who is your master, pet?” the gangly man demanded.
Brynn forced her eyes open, determined to tamp down the dangerous memories.
The girl’s back glistened with sweat and blotches of red. Her voice, as tiny as her frame, quivered when she spoke. “You are, Master K.”
The man twirled the crop between his fingers. “Are you sure? You don’t sound too confident about that answer, pet. Do I need to remind you a little more?”
Her words came out in breathy pants, clearly fighting the orgasm the vibrator was coaxing out of her. “No, sir. Please. I’m yours.”
The man smoothed a hand over her ass, his erection straining against his leather pants, and then slid his fingers to her clit. A visible shudder ratcheted through the woman’s body and her groan turned guttural. But just as quickly as he’d touched her, the man withdrew his hand and grabbed his remote. The humming stopped. “Not yet, pet. You haven’t quite earned that. But I will accept your offer of submission.”
“Thank