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Remembering what Cora had taught her about the proper kneeling position, she lowered herself to her knees on the hardwood floor, bowed her head, and clasped her wrists at her back. And oh, God, where was Cora? The last time she’d seen her was with Master Aidan, when they arrived at the dungeon, but was she somewhere in the crowd, watching?

  A minute passed. No one acknowledged her presence or talked to her; she assumed she looked like a statue. Oh, but there’s a lot of people behind you, and they’re looking at your bare butt!

  After another few minutes that were probably short but seemed like a damn lifetime, Master Dmitri’s voice startled her. “Good evening,” he told the crowd, and the people behind her stayed silent. “Tonight, for our demonstration, I have a special treat for you.”

  Presley’s heart skipped a beat, but her thoughts had to mislead her. Master Dmitri wouldn’t put her on display in front of all these people…and do things to her…wicked things, would he?

  A pin could’ve dropped, and it would’ve sounded like a loud boom on the floor as the air around her appeared to vanish. A hand came into her line of vision, as well as black shiny shoes, and she cringed. “Come now, doll.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dmitri restrained the hot bursts of excitement rushing through his veins as he climbed the stairs of the stage. He chuckled at Presley’s sweaty hand tangled with his as they traveled to the center of the large steel platform.

  He stopped at the front of the stage, the warm spotlights beamed down on him, and he glanced at Presley, swearing he could see the hammer of her pulse along her neck. “To your knees.”

  The earlier event in the games room had happened for two reasons. Not only as a punishment, since he’d known she’d be uncomfortable. He had stated in the clearest terms he could that if she acted in such a way again, she’d end up nude and exposed. A clear consequence that would hopefully make her think twice before running again. He’d also administered the punishment in that manner to soften the blow of the scene he had planned for her tonight.

  Demonstrations by the Club Sin Masters for the other members happened biweekly in the dungeon. From Master Sawyer with ropes to Master Kyler with the flogger, Dmitri enjoyed sharing what he and the other Masters had learned over the years with Club Sin members. Tonight—and little did Presley know—was his night to put on such a demonstration.

  Presley had already learned that she enjoyed having others watch her, and perhaps that was why she’d taken his hand and followed him onto the stage. She was nervous, yes, but brave. At the moment, he loved and hated that trait in her. Part of him wanted her to be brave for him, not to prove to herself that she could do it, to be a different woman, stronger and not shy. He wanted her to act because of her submission to him, though the other part of him knew asking that of her wasn’t his right. He was only training her. The personal reasons behind her actions shouldn’t concern him, only that she complied with his demands, as was expected of any Club Sin submissive.

  Once she dropped to her knees like a nice little submissive, with her head bowed, wrists clasped at her back, knees spread wide to show off her pretty pussy, and breasts high, he turned to the crowd. He had noticed earlier how the approval of the other Masters gave Presley strength, heating her up some. She needed reassurance, and he would ensure that she received it. “Lovely sub I have, don’t I?”

  Murmers of agreement drifted up from the crowd, and Presley’s shoulders slumped, her breath elongating. He wanted her nervous, as that teased him, but he didn’t want her terrified. Yet as he stared at Presley kneeling and waiting for him, a wave of heat washed through him, tightening his groin. Seeing her like this stunned him. He’d never seen anything this beautiful.

  Was it her responsiveness to his orders making this moment different from when he’d been on this stage with other submissives? How pretty Presley looked tonight with her blond hair trailing over her back? The pride he felt as she knelt there, when the shy side of her would’ve run away? Had it been the last week of nonstop thinking about her and planning for tonight? Whatever the reason, something in the way she waited there affected him, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

  Leaving the thoughts behind, he tugged on the rope dangling from the ceiling, and the movable hook shifted forward under his pull. The thought of Presley tied up in this fashion hardened his cock to steel. Last weekend he’d shown her that she could trust him when restrained, and now he’d pushed more of those limits on her.

  He’d been gentle with her introduction to BDSM, giving her time to grow used to the sexual play in the dungeon, to determine her limits, and for her to experience her first scene privately. The time for gentleness had ended. Presley got off on bondage and being watched by others, and Dmitri certainly got rock-hard watching her.

  With the rope positioned at her back, he smiled down at her as he witnessed her clenched hands. “Look at me, Presley.”

  She lifted her head, and her cheeks were the lovely crimson he’d grown to like. Her eyes were wide, and she was a perfect bundle of anticipation. “Offer your wrists, doll.”

  Slowly, she lifted her hands in front of her, and he spotted her deep swallow. Yet he didn’t doubt in the least that if he slid his fingers between her thighs, they’d come back wet.

  Quickly, he bound her wrists and secured the rope, pulling her wrists together. He stepped back, taking a measure of her, and he saw that she looked quite comfortable; too comfortable, in fact. “Not so skittish about this, are you?”

  Her lips parted, but he didn’t allow her to finish her thought. He looked at Kyler, who stood at the side of the stage, and gave a quick nod. Kyler jumped up on the stage and approached the crank. Dmitri would’ve raised her up himself, but she needed him close. She drew strength from his presence, and he wouldn’t abandon Presley at such a vulnerable time. Once Kyler started to turn the crank, Presley’s gasp filled the air as her arms were lifted higher…and higher…and higher…until the crank gave a push back.

  His submissive wasn’t looking so comfortable now. The binding had forced her to stand, and her arms were now straight over her head, jutting out her breasts.

  Mesmerized by the view, Dmitri cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples between his thumb and index finger. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned her head on her arm with a sigh.

  Tweaking one taut bud with a hard pinch, he trailed his other hand down her smooth stomach and found her slick heat. He tickled her warm swollen clit, moving back to find her beautifully damp. “Love, you’re very wet.”

  “Yes, sir,” she groaned.

  She didn’t open her eyes to him; he wasn’t at all surprised by her arousal. Her heated reaction when Cora was bound in public had told him that Presley would enjoy being put on display in restraints.

  “Look at me, Presley.”

  Her eyes opened, and she stared at him, her soul exposed. His cock twitched, and an urge to possess her drove him to seal his mouth over hers. She opened for his intrusion, and his tongue tangled with hers, not gentle but harsh and demanding. Her whimpers echoed in his ears as she gave herself over to him, following the movements he commanded.

  When the hook above clanged from the weight, and she indicated that her knees were giving out, he nibbled on her bottom lip. “Remember to breathe, doll.”

  He had purposely blocked her view of the crowd, allowing her to get comfortable in the restraints before he reminded her that she stood, bound and naked, in front of a large number of people. Now he stepped away, removing the protection.

  Her breath hitched and her eyes became huge, and her reaction shifted all too quickly. She stared out at the crowd, but her gaze went glossy and didn’t connect with anything in front of her. Her fists clenched in the bindings, her knuckles went white, and her face drained of color.

  “Oh, sweet sub, don’t do that.” He instantly closed in on her to block the view of the crowd. “Look at me.” He received no response, so he sharpened his voice. “Presley, eyes to me. Now.”

  She
sucked in a ragged breath and snapped her head to him, blinking rapidly. He cupped her face, adored how she felt beneath his touch, and further enjoyed when she leaned in to his touch. “This exchange is between you and me. The crowd is merely there to admire your beauty. Nearly all of the submissives have been in this same position. They understand your worry, and they are honored to watch you. No one here will judge you.”

  Her long exhale settled his concern, and her cheeks filled with color, easing the tension in Dmitri’s chest. He tweaked her nipple and flicked at the bud, then he stepped to the side but kept her jaw in his hand so her attention remained on him.

  After a firm pinch on her taut bud, she shivered and liquefied around him, the fear in her eyes shifting to intense desire. He leaned in, inhaled her tantalizing scent, and whispered in her ear, “Look how you melt under my touch, doll.” He placed his hand on her stomach—he loved the softness of her body—and gestured toward the crowd. “You will do this to please me, Presley.” He tightened his hand on her stomach, and a tremor rocked through her, causing her breath to hitch. “What’s your safe word?”

  “Dragon,” she whispered.

  “That’s right.” He waited for her nod and once again backed away, exposing her to the crowd.

  While her breath caught, the shock of the moment had subsided. As the seconds drew on, she breathed normally, and her pupils dilated. When she glanced at him, his cock jerked at the arousal staring back at him. “Seems you enjoy this, hmm?”

  “Seems so, sir,” she rasped.

  He smiled at her, quite proud, and smacked her thigh. “Excellent. Let’s get you warmed up.”

  Her shiver was obvious, and soft chuckles traveled up to the stage from the crowd. He went down on one knee in front of her. “Widen your legs.” She slid them out by mere centimeters, and he frowned. “Now, Presley, I want to lick your cunt. Open for me.” In a split second, her legs were nice and wide. “Better. Keep your legs there.”

  He ran his hands up her inner thighs, and she quivered under his touch. As he drew up her legs, the warmth from her slick heat seared over his fingers. Presley inhaled a ragged breath and offered him a soft moan as he stroked her silky flesh.

  Dragging her moisture through her folds, he caressed her clit, and he groaned at how hot and wet she was. He glanced into those big, pretty eyes captivated with lust. Her mouth parted as he circled her nub, rubbed along the sides of her clit, and pinched the nub between his fingers.

  She trembled and he lowered his hand, replacing the sensation with his mouth. He licked and sucked everywhere but her swollen clit, caressing her soft flesh and savoring the fine taste of her.

  Once his tongue swept up into her, she thrust her hips forward, gyrating against his mouth. Only when those pretty moans turned into guttural pants did he lick up her folds and flick her clit. Her grunt sounded throaty, so he stayed there, teasing her and using his tongue to torture her.

  He circled around the hard nub before he pressed the flat of his tongue against her clit. Her whole body shook exquisitely, enticing him to suck on the swollen flesh. When she screamed her pleasure, he had her right where he wanted her.

  Leaning away, he studied her, and she was a mess of arousal. Lost in how perfect she looked all disheveled, he inserted one finger into her hot slit, and her honey spread across his finger. He settled in deep, curving his digit to find his angle. Her eyes grew wide as he flicked his finger, and her inner muscles tightened.

  With a chuckle, he removed his finger, and she sagged against the rope, the hook above her clattering against her weight.

  “Sir…” she whispered.

  “I’m not finished, doll.”

  He turned to the tray set next to her and grabbed the bottle of lube. Her attention stayed focused on him as he added a generous amount of lube to his finger. His intention became obvious as her eyes widened.

  “Not a hard limit,” he told her, and that was all he needed to say.

  While he understood her anxieties, since he suspected no one had ever given her anal play before—especially in front of a crowd—when he’d touched her anus in their scene last weekend, she had responded in curiosity. She could safe-word out, but Dmitri knew she wouldn’t. The heat flaring in her eyes, despite the hesitation, meant he wasn’t pushing too hard.

  He lowered to one knee in front of her, then he flicked his tongue along the sides of her clit, and she wiggled her hips. He pressed his lubed finger against her puckered hole, and she stiffened. “Relax,” he murmured against her silky flesh.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she obliged, allowing him to slip the tip of his finger inside her anus. Once he pushed through the tight knot to the knuckle, he stilled his finger and continued to swirl his tongue over her delicious wet folds. He gave her long licks that he savored and delighted in.

  He moved his finger within her bottom, very slowly and gently, and she gasped, “Oh. My. God.” Listening to her need, he increased the speed of his finger, and she reacted strikingly as raspy grunts tore from her throat.

  When her moans stopped to indicate her approaching release, he removed his finger. As he stood, she made unhappy noises, sounding both desperate and desperately aroused. Her features were tight with tension, and he took note of that before he turned to the cart.

  He used a wipe to clean his finger before he dropped it on the tray. He’d left her purposely for a moment to stir in the peak of her climax and heighten her need. After he returned to her, a lustful woman and damn beauty stared back at him.

  Pressing his hand between her thighs, he grunted as her arousal soaked his fingers. To show her how wet she was, he gathered her honey onto the tips of his fingers and smothered one of her nipples in it. The seductive look she gave him made his cock ache and press painfully against the zipper of his pants.

  His intention so far hadn’t been to bring her to orgasm and refuse her climax, but to awaken her body and raise it a point she couldn’t control, which softened and readied her for new intense sensations. She was there then some. “Let’s make this fun, shall we?”

  He turned to the cart and grabbed the vibrating dildo with remote control, along with the black tape. While he’d typically fuck her in this scene, as he would any other submissive, that was a hard limit for Presley. Therefore, he had to improvise.

  As he coated the rotating beads of the dildo in a thin sheet of lube, Presley glanced at the thick metallic purple dildo with a hazed look, but then she snapped her focus to him, more aware now, and shut her legs. “Sir…”

  Narrowing his eyes—which ended her objections, since the use of a dildo wasn’t a hard limit, either—he nudged her legs open with his knee. He pushed the dildo inside her lower lips, angled the clit stimulator onto her little bud, then he used the tape to fasten the remote control to her thigh. After which he tossed the tape to the floor, and approached the ropes tied to the floor.

  At first he’d believed it would be too much for Presley to be restrained completely with no freedom to move in front of the crowd. Now he suspected it wouldn’t have the same effect.

  He dropped down to make quick work of securing her legs to the loops in the floor, putting her in an inverted Y. Once he was finished with the binds on each ankle, he looked up to her and switched the vibe on to medium speed. “Now, you won’t move, will you?”

  Her eyes rolled back in her head. “No, sir.”

  Leaving her gasping under the force of the dildo’s beads spinning inside her, while the clit stimulator assaulted her little bud, he turned to the tray and grabbed the four-foot bullwhip off the cart, which he preferred because the shorter whip gave better accuracy.

  He was skilled with the whip—he practiced on a tree and removed leaves to keep his skills sharp—but hitting a spot he didn’t intend to hit wasn’t in his plans tonight. Which was why he bound her legs; keeping her still meant safety. He didn’t need to feed his pride by showing off with an eight-foot whip. He wanted to teach the Club Sin members that a safe scene resulted in a happy s
ubmissive, not one in need of stitches.

  The whip in his hand—the weight and feel of it—was the perfect extension of himself, and that was what he loved about the whip. The whip did what he told it to do, hit at the force he wanted and where he wanted it. He controlled the whip on a submissive’s body, and that was why this toy was his favorite to use during a scene.

  He closed in behind Presley, pressing his body against her back to allow her to feel his comfort. He swept her hair over her shoulder, and her vanilla scent sped through his nostrils as he kissed the back of her neck. In the same moment, he slid the whip over her arm so she could feel what he planned for her.

  Her breath deepened at the touch of leather and maybe, when he slid it over her breast, the sight of it. She wiggled her hips against him in an urgent request, and he smiled at her sweat-coated flesh.

  After one last kiss on her shoulder, he put distance between them, then he cracked the whip. She tensed, giving him the reaction he wanted. The crack of a whip awakened a submissive as no other sound could.

  He’d always thought the single tail was powerful in a scene for that very reason. It was frightening and exciting for a submissive. The kiss of a whip could be as gentle as a tongue or as deadly as a knife. That was how the excitement fueled the power during play.

  The unknown, the anticipation, and the concern drew intense emotion, which, mixed with arousal, brought the submissive to a deeper type of pleasure. He studied Presley now, restrained completely for his pleasure. He could easily split her skin, but he was no sadist. More important, permanent marks were a hard limit for Presley. Years of skill and practice had brought him control, and the marks he’d leave on her body tonight would fade by morning.

  He paused, waited for her posture to relax, and the second the dimple in her bottom smoothed away to silky flesh, he got into position. Keeping his feet flat on the floor, knees flexed and arms relaxed, he flicked his wrist.

  A jerk against the ropes caused the hook to rattle, and a scream, so honest, surrounded him. He knew she’d feel a burn—as if kissed by a flame—where he marked her. Christ, he knew it well.