Red Handed (13 page)

The next thing she knew, warm breath fanned her face and a hand brushed over her breast. She arched into it, her nipple pebbling under the touch, heat suffusing her body. As she woke, her fuzzy mind tried to remember who was touching her. The last thing she remembered was being in her bed. Alone.

Her eyes shot open. The room was completely dark, but she sensed someone beside her. Felt a hand on her breast and the cold, sharp press of a blade against her throat.

Panic filled her, sending her heart racing. “Who's there?”

The hand stilled, followed by a long pause.

“I'm your secret admirer,” the unknown man whispered. “Shh. You don't want to alert anyone I'm in here. After all, you can't tell DeMarco why you're really here.”

Stifling a cry for help, she swallowed, her throat dry with fear. His voice didn't sound familiar, but she couldn't be sure between him whispering and the whir of her pulse in her ears. “Are you the one who left me the box?”

“I'm sorry if it frightened you. That wasn't my intent.”

“You're frightening me now.”

“I'm not here to hurt you.”

“Then why are you here? Why do you have a knife?”

His hand drifted down her abdomen. “The knife is just a precaution. I'm not a monster.”

She grabbed his wrist, halting him from going any farther. “If you don't remove your hand, I'll scream. I don't care who comes running. If you want me to get that account information, then you can't kill me. You can't even hurt me. So get the hell out of my room, and don't come back.”

He pulled away and got up from the bed. “You're braver than I thought. I'll go . . . for now. But remember, the longer it takes for you to find that bank account, the more opportunities I'll have to come back. You understand?”

She swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

She waited until he was gone before jumping out of bed and pushing her nightstand in front of the door. Then she dropped to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees, and cried.

Chapter Fourteen

D
ANIELLE HAD BARELY
slept.

That was the third night in a row she'd gone without sleep. With the knowledge that she wouldn't be safe even behind a locked door, she didn't think she'd be able to sleep until this was all over.

While having breakfast with the trainees, she'd fallen asleep midbite, the chocolate donut still in her mouth when Gracie had shaken her by the shoulder. After, she'd scarfed down the rest of it and two cups of black coffee so she'd have enough energy to make it through the day.

She and the trainees were brought to the dungeon for a flogging demonstration.

With a duffel bag at his feet, Master Michael stood in front of a steel frame that reminded Danielle of a horizontal bar used in gymnastics, with a trapeze-like contraption hanging from it. Leather restraints dangled from the trapeze and were also attached to the bottom sides of the frame.

All the trainees, including Danielle, gathered in a semicircle in front of the structure. Completely drained despite the sugar and caffeine, she swayed on her feet, knocking into Lily.

Michael held a black flogger in his hands. “Today I'm going to demonstrate some different flogging techniques. Although the majority of you will remain slaves after you leave here, a few of you may take the Dominant role at some point in the future. Either way, it's important that you be familiar with proper technique.” His eyes searched the trainees until they landed on her. “I need a volunteer. Danielle, since you're new and haven't had the chance to play much in the dungeon, why don't you help me today?”

Though his expression hadn't changed, she swore she saw lust in his eyes. She didn't know how to feel about that. While he was striking with his dark wavy hair and gray eyes, she wasn't attracted to him. But this wasn't about sex. He was just doing his job.

Taking a deep breath, she moved to stand beside him, facing the trainees.

“Remove your clothes,” Master Michael said casually.

Okay, now she was wide awake. There was nothing casual about taking her clothes off in front of a room of people. Her pulse skyrocketed as she looked out at the trainees. Part of her still rebelled at the idea of exposing her body, worried about the trainees' reactions. What if they laughed or were disgusted by her?

As she slowly peeled off her top, she thought of Cole calling her beautiful. She could do this. In fact, she wanted to do this. Being naked in front of an audience was her fantasy brought to life, and while her mind was conflicted, her body was on board with the idea, her nipples tightening and her pussy dampening as she slid her skirt down her legs and bared herself completely.

Michael continued his tutorial. “There are several pieces of equipment that can be used to support a slave during a flogging, the most popular of which are the spanking bench and the St. Andrew cross. But using this bondage frame is perfect when you want to have access to both front and back. Face, neck, and head are three obvious areas to avoid. But you should also avoid fingers, toes, the kidneys, and the spine.” He ran his hand down her back and guided her beneath the frame, then brought her arms over her head. “Grip the bar with both hands, and spread your legs apart about two feet.”

Her heart beat wildly as he secured her wrists with the leather bindings, then bent and did the same to her ankles. “Are they too tight?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. They're fine, Master Michael.”

He moved behind her, so she could no longer see what he was doing. She concentrated on breathing and listening to his lecture.

“Floggings work best on fleshier areas that are supported by strong bones and muscles. In the back, those are the thighs, ass, and lower shoulders, and in the front, you've got the breasts and, depending on the amount of pain your sub can handle, the cunt or cock.”

She gasped before she could stop herself. Master Michael patted her butt. “Don't worry. I've reviewed your file and I'm aware of your limits.”

“Mind if I stay and watch?” asked a smooth voice she recognized as Cole's.

She craned her head and saw him as he approached from the entrance of the dungeon. She nearly whimpered from the urge to cry and divulge what had happened to her last night in her room. What good were all the locks and security cameras if they couldn't prevent someone from coming into her room uninvited? As evidenced by the kidnappers breaking into her house and then in her room at Benediction, this week had taught her that she could only rely on herself for protection. From now on, she'd shove furniture in front of the door while she slept and would check her room for hidden intruders whenever she returned to it.

“Of course you're welcome to watch,” Master Michael said. “I was just about to demonstrate some of the ways to use a flogger, but since you're here, would you like to do the honors?”

Cole was going to flog her? She despised her reaction to that thought, feeling as though a whole swarm of butterflies fluttered in her abdomen.
Enemy. Enemy. Enemy
.

“You have the deer skin?” Cole asked.

She tried to remember what Master Michael had said about the deer skin floggers. Would it cause a lot of pain?

Master Michael searched through his bag and handed Cole a different black flogger. “Right here.”

Breathless, she tugged at her restraints, the butterflies in her stomach multiplying with each passing moment.

Cole's hot body pressed against her naked back. “Danielle, what's your safe word?”

She took a deep breath at the reminder she could stop this at any time. “Red, Master Cole.”

He squeezed her shoulder and stepped away from her. “For the purpose of this demonstration, I'd like to utilize the stoplight system. You're aware that red will immediately stop the scene, but yellow will indicate you'd like to pause and discuss, and green is continue. What color are you at now?”

Her uneasiness over the flogging had lessened to an acceptable degree at the knowledge that she retained some control by having her safe word. “Green, Master.”

“Danielle is new to the flogger and has a low tolerance for pain. I like to begin with the buttocks. You start light to warm up the skin.”

She tensed as the first strike fell on her right butt cheek, the sensation part thud and part sting, but neither painful. Waiting for his next strike, she closed her eyes and relaxed her muscles.

“Because the buttocks are a small, rounded area, you need to be careful not to wrap the falls of the flogger onto the hips or hit the tailbone,” Cole said.

He continued to flog her lower body, pausing in between strikes, giving her just enough time to process the heat of it before moving on to another part of her body. “Once I've warmed up my slave's skin, I prefer to use a more cyclic style of flogging, which means one stroke flows into the next. You can do this either with a circular or a figure-eight motion.”

The blows rained constantly and rhythmically on her skin until she could no longer anticipate his next strike or differentiate one from the other. She felt as though she was weightless, floating in space and being pulled deeper and deeper into a hypnotic state where nothing else existed but her and the flogger. Her brain shut down, and all her worries disappeared, nothing in her mind except how good she felt and how she never wanted it to stop.

“What color are you at?” Cole said in her ear, his hand rubbing her back.

Color? She didn't know what he meant, but somehow, she heard herself respond, “Green.”

His hand was gone, and then the flogger hit the front of her thighs. The thud of it traveled up her legs, causing a deep pulsating to begin in her pussy. She rocked her pelvis forward, desperate for more. Each blow on the lower half of her body sent a vibration straight to her clitoris. There was no pain, just mindless pleasure and an ache for something to fill her empty pussy.

The pulsating spread throughout her body, and she shook from the need to come. She heard Cole and Master Michael talking, but she no longer understood what they were saying. A delicious sting radiated from her nipples throughout her breasts as Cole whipped them over and over. Her body shaking, she pulled at her restraints, desperate to touch her throbbing clit.

All of a sudden, the flogging ceased, and Cole was right behind her, his clothes rubbing across her sensitive skin and his erection pressing into her lower back. Her pussy was so wet, all he had to do was lower his zipper and in a single thrust, he could be inside her. “Danielle, you pleased me very much.”

She whimpered as he pushed his fingers inside her pussy and began to fuck her with them. Awareness of their environment crept into her consciousness, and her pussy clenched around his fingers at the thought of others watching. Scorching tension wound in her lower belly, and all her muscles tightened as the inferno inside of her grew and grew and grew until Cole rubbed his thumb on her clitoris.

“Here's your reward for being such a good girl,” Cole murmured in her ear. “Come for me now.”

Another few seconds of direct stimulation on her exposed clitoris combined with the forceful thrusting of his fingers in her sent her soaring into climax. A rush of liquid heat zinged through her body as pleasurable contractions filled her pussy, and all her tension melted away like butter.

Moments passed. Her head hanging to her chest, she sighed, completely relaxed. An arm snaked around her waist as her wrists were released from the restraints. She dropped her heavy arms to her side and rested her weight against whoever was holding her. She heard the rip of the Velcro, and then her ankles were free, although she didn't have the strength to move her legs.

She opened her eyes and looked up to see Cole was the one with his arm around her. His brows furrowed. “Are you all right?” he asked, sounding concerned.

The world tilted and spun, shiny spots distorting her vision. His face disappeared.

She heard him say her name.

Then . . .

Nothing.

Chapter Fifteen

S
HE WAS HOT
.

Too hot.

Had she fallen asleep by the pool? It wouldn't be the first time. She loved to lie out on the lounge chair and read, but usually the maid or Tasha would wake her up before she burned.

Tasha.

Her heart thumped violently, and panic squeezed her throat.

She opened her eyes to complete darkness and tried to move, but there was a foreign weight on her legs.

“Shh. It's okay. Go back to sleep,” Cole whispered from behind her.

She felt the mattress beneath her hip and realized she was in Cole's arms, one of them below her head and the other spread over her waist. He'd also thrown a leg over hers, effectively holding her captive.

Cole DeMarco was spooning her. And she was naked.

How the hell did they get here?

“What happened?” she asked, her voice raspy.

His hand brushed over her hip bone, back and forth, soothing her. “You fainted after the flogging, so I carried you upstairs. You woke up, mumbled it wasn't time to get out of bed yet, and passed out again. I didn't want to leave you, in case there was something medically wrong. If I didn't know better, I'd think you hadn't slept in days.”

She hadn't. “How long did I sleep?”

“Six hours.”

Peering over her shoulder, she covered his hand with hers. “You stayed here the whole time?” Her mind was alert and her muscles relaxed, as if she'd slept much longer.

On a sigh, he removed his leg and tipped her hip toward him, propelling her onto her other side to face him. “I didn't mind. It's been years since I've gotten to take a nap.”

“But you have so many other things to do.” She didn't know what to do with her hands. The intimacy of their positions on the bed would suggest she place them on his chest or shoulders or . . . lower. His own hand had returned to her waist, his fingers subtly sinking into her flesh. She could move closer, throw her leg around his thigh as he had done, only from this side, she could level his hardness between her thighs and bump her tingling clit against it. Her mouth grew dryer as her pussy grew wetter, and she fought against the urge to squeeze her thighs together, knowing Cole would guess his effect on her.