His Little Tart (15 page)

“Why not?” asked Laera. “Maybe it’s who you are.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t like bosses. Never have. I’m running my own business.”

Into the ground, apparently. Constance tried to push that thought from her mind.

“I manage a library. Sam’s a hotshot auto mechanic. Doesn’t matter where you’re from.”

“I think maybe it does, Miss Constance,” said Cliff. Constance turned to look at him. He wasn’t meeting anyone’s eyes; his gaze was directed at the floor, which made it hard to focus on his face. The fact that his cock was in a devilish-looking cage with little spikes on it didn’t help either. Constance stared briefly, even though she didn’t really want to. But yeah, Cliff was definitely a nice specimen physically, in every way.

“Can you like, look at me if you’re talking?” she asked with irritation, even though she knew it was unfair. He’d probably been told not to or something. She regretted saying it, and she worked on sorting out the cupcakes onto the plates Sam was laying out before her.

“Um.” Cliff kept looking down.

Sam laughed. “I’m sure Sue would expect you to obey, Cliff,” she said.

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Cliff sighed and looked up. “Probably. Sorry, Ma’am,” he said to Constance.

“I’m not a Ma’am,” Constance retorted. She resented him forcing her into a position of authority she didn’t ask for.

Cliff shrugged and sighed again. “Yes.” She could tell he was biting back the word, and she clearly had annoyed him, but she still didn’t think it was his right to make her into a domme.

“What did you mean, Cliff?” asked Laera. “I’m curious.”

“Well, I think that sometimes the more you’re in control, the less you want to be. I do negotiations, all day long. Look everyone in the face. Make a point of meeting every eye. I have to be tough and try to get the best possible result for my clients. And from what I can tell, most of Sue’s subs are in the same situation. They’re managers, lawyers, negotiators. In-charge people, all day long. And Sue takes that all away. After a session with her, I’m ready to go at it again. But I don’t want to be that person here.”

Constance frowned. He still didn’t have the right to turn her into a domme. But maybe she didn’t have the right to make him look up or control what he called her—as long as it wasn’t offensive. She didn’t know where the balance lay, but what he said rang true to her. That was it, exactly. That was why she came tonight. She was hoping that Aidan, or someone, if it wasn’t him, would take her away from it all. Take her away from the stress of being on top of things all day long, and of course of her looming tax debt.

“You don’t have to look if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you.” He looked back down. “Also, if I look up, I see the beautiful topless women, and it hurts.”

“I thought you liked that,” said Constance. Maybe he had insight on that too.

“I do, and I don’t.”

Well, that was helpful.

“Pain’s a weird thing,” said Sam. “Especially when you mix it with sex.”

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“Endorphins,” volunteered Laera. “That’s what Master Bruce told me once, and I think he’s right. I’ve done some research. Um, dead time at the desk. It happens with spicy food too. Your body reacts to the pain and produces all sorts of natural opiates, and those make you feel good.”

“Maybe,” said Sam doubtfully. “But I think that takes time, and sometimes pain can turn me on immediately. And then there’s the whole subject of taking it for someone else. When I was single and lonely”—she turned toward Cliff with a devilish look in her eye, and her voice got husky and slow—“and I’d play with myself, I wouldn’t give myself a lot of pain. Sometimes a little nipple squeeze. But when Arthur gives it to me, it’s something else entirely. I can do stuff when he’s in control. Just like Cliff needs Sue to make that cage thing nice and tight, I’m betting. Am I right?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” said Cliff.

“Good boy.” Sam looked over at Laera. “Now that I’m married and all, think Arthur will let me have a boy toy?”

“Not a chance,” said Laera. And she laughed. “Finding your inner domme, are you?”

Sam shook her head. “I’m not serious. I mean, I understand it more than I used to.

But it’s not me, and I don’t want to be anyone else. ’Cause I’m the one Arthur is married to, and, well, what other girl has three wedding rings?” She shook her chest, and Laera giggled. “Laugh if you like, but if Arthur keeps flaunting me like this, you could see a rash of piercings. Guys look. Not your guy, Laera. Well, not in anything but that clinical, detached way of his.”

Was the piercing part of the ceremony? People had seemed so, well, normal at the reception.
Nah, couldn’t be.
Wouldn’t the bride have been wincing, anyway? That had to hurt. But clearly, Sam was pleased with the results.

Come to think of it, I saw Sam with her top off at the gathering three months ago, and she didn’t have the rings in then. So even if those are diamonds, they aren’t exactly wedding rings.

“I’m not worried about Bruce getting ideas. Much. How’s it feel?” asked Laera.

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“Intense. They’re more sensitive, and I’m reminded of the rings all the time, especially when I’m leaning over. I imagine it might be worse if I had more up top; I dunno. But I don’t mind being reminded of whose I am. And they don’t hurt—now that I’m used to them.”

Constance wasn’t sure whether to be sympathetic or jealous. She understood though why Alex hadn’t followed through on her threat. The guys were all attached.

She certainly didn’t want Cliff taking her clothes off. In fact, she thought she would use a safe word first. Maybe Alex, as a fellow sub, got that. It was still odd being the only woman in casual clothes.

Sam poured some beer into a mug. “I poured water for Bruce—at least he’s consistent, and I know my Master wants Guinness. But I’d only be guessing on the others. We can run back and grab drinks after we give them their cupcakes. Did you want to help serve, Constance, or just hang out?”

“Serve, I guess. If it’s all right.”

“Of course it is,” said Laera. She handed a plate with a cupcake to Cliff. “Go serve your Mistress, and ask her what she wants to drink.”

“You’re a bit overdressed,” said Sam. Laera frowned at her meaningfully, but Sam didn’t seem to notice. “Seriously. Where else can you hang about in your underwear or naked?”

“I guess.” She did sort of want to. She certainly didn’t feel comfortable in what she had on.

“You’re fine,” said Laera cheerfully and shot another glance at Sam.

“But—I mean, of course you can do what you like, Constance, there’s no one here to give you orders, but—”

It felt like not having a swimsuit at the beach. Her only reluctance was Alex’s threat and the feeling that she’d been cheated somehow. It wasn’t that the gathering wasn’t interesting. But she had a feeling that any moment now, the fact that she was the only non-paired person was going to be overwhelming. And if that started tears

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flowing, there’d be no stopping them, and her whole situation would come crashing down on her. She shouldn’t have come.

“Keep your clothes on,” said Laera firmly.

Was Laera worried about her Master’s eyes straying? If he didn’t look at Sam and her baubled boobies, Constance rather doubted she’d give herself a glance no matter what she wore. But she nodded. “Yes, that would probably be best,” she said, even though she was half-inclined to strip because Laera told her not to.
Not much of a submissive, am I?

She carried two plates of cupcakes; Cliff carried one, and Sam and Laera each had a cupcake plate in one hand and a drink in the other. She supposed she’d be serving Dylan and Alex. Ladies first? Or Masters? She had no idea what the rules were. Maybe she’d get a clue from Alex as she approached.

“Looks like we’re on,” said Bruce as she entered. He’d been leaning back, looking out the window. Now he let go of the curtain and let it settle back into place. Constance thought it was a curious thing to say.

“Thank you, Master Bruce,” said Alex with a smile. Constance looked for clues as to what they might be talking about but didn’t see any. But Alex did catch her eye and tilt her head toward Dylan, so she handed him a cupcake and then gave one to Alex.

“Thanks, Connie,” said Dylan.

Constance tried not to make a face. She never had liked being called that.

“How lovely,” said Alex.

She hadn’t tried to duplicate the pink cupcakes she’d made Valerie. But she’d instead played with making the frosting around the edges look like twisted ropes, finished off with a simple square knot. In the middle of some of them was a little flogger, made of sugar; on the others, handcuffs. Alex had gotten one of the handcuffs.

She hadn’t been paying too much attention to what Sam and Laera were up to, but all of a sudden there was movement from that side of the room. Arthur and Bruce got

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up as if one and started walking toward her. Alex got up without asking Dylan for permission and headed for the kitchen or the front door.

“We don’t think it’s appropriate for a sub to be wearing so many clothes, Constance,” said Arthur.

“Nope,” agreed Bruce.

Beyond them, Sam looked annoyed and Laera amused. Just the opposite of the reactions she’d expected.

Bruce circled around her while Arthur watched. Then they both advanced with menacing slowness. Alex hadn’t forgotten after all. And if she ran, she’d be caught—that was the message Bruce was sending by surrounding her.
Alex is blocking the door.

Suddenly, she wondered if she really wanted this, and if she really had a choice. Would they honor her safe word, if she gave it? She thought they would, but she wasn’t sure.

There was only one way to find out.

And yet at some level, this was what she’d come for. If Laera or Sam spoke up to object, she’d object with them. If not, and their men were going to help her forget her troubles for a while, she’d let them. She wasn’t going to run.

But she wasn’t going to go down without a fight, either. “Come and get me, boys,”

she said, managing a brave smile and spreading her legs slightly in a fighting stance.

They did. Bruce grabbed her from behind, seizing the fabric of her shirts and pulling the T-shirt out of her jeans where she’d tucked it in. Arthur lifted her feet off the ground.

“I’d kick him if I were you,” said Sue.

She tried to do exactly that, but she lacked leverage and couldn’t connect. Her heart was racing, half in fear, half in excitement. This was crazy. Too much. Too close to real violence. She tried to remember what the safe word was—she’d had it on the tip of her tongue. Her shirts were rising, and Arthur was fumbling with her zipper, awkwardly because it required all his strength to hold her two legs together with one arm.

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“Put her down,” said a male voice from the general direction of the door.

Aidan. Constance twisted to look before her shirt covered her face. Aidan was right there, and Alex was behind him and to the side, with the biggest smirk on her face.

“Are you saying she’s your sub?” asked Bruce. “Because otherwise, you’re out of line, and you know it.”

“My sub,” said Aidan.
His sub.
“And set her down before I knock you out so hard you won’t be able to quote koans for a month.”

“Ouch,” said Arthur, laughing.

“You too,” Aidan said, his lips curled in a snarl that almost made his face unhandsome. But only almost, because it was for her. His sub. If it was presumptuous of him, she didn’t care. That was what she wanted. And he’d arrived in the nick of time.

What an amazing coincidence.

Or not. Alex’s smirk and Arthur’s laugh told a different story. Laera’s amusement at Bruce jumping in to strip her, while insisting she keep her clothes on before. She’d been set up.

No, Aidan had been set up. If she was his sub, she really ought to tell him.

Maybe someday.

Arthur had set her down by the time Aidan got to her, and Bruce let her go. “They were acting on my orders, you know,” said Alex. “I told her she had to wear something appropriate, and she knew what it meant. And I told her that if she didn’t, I’d have a strong man or two take her clothes off. She knew, and she could certainly have used her safe word. She even wore a pretty blue teddy or corset or something underneath. We got a glimpse just now. She’s been waiting for this. We waited for you for a while, but…”

“Some things don’t require your scheming,” said Aidan sharply. He picked Constance up before she knew what he was doing and carried her into the kitchen.

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She didn’t feel like kicking anymore.

He set her down when they reached the kitchen, but he didn’t leave a lot of space between his body and the refrigerator. He wasn’t pressing her into it, but he couldn’t step any closer without pinning her.

“I didn’t know how much I missed you until I saw you,” Aidan said. “Well, I had some idea. But I tried to deny it.”

“Why didn’t you call if you were in town? In the Yellow Pages. Under Bakery.

Also Catering.”

“Because my flight touched down three hours ago,” said Aidan. “And I tried on the way here. You didn’t answer.” He pulled a smart phone out of his pocket and showed her the outgoing phone calls. Sure enough, the number of Constance’s Confections was right at the top. She always shut her phone off while she was in the car.