Having arranged for all the equipment to be there, Marcella knew exactly what would happen. She even knew what the donor had chosen as the instrument of torture—ice. If he used the heater the right way, the ice would both stimulate and soothe her hot skin. She even knew she wouldn’t be allowed to climax in that round.
But he wasn’t finished. “Round two is where I whip you until you come. The spreader bar will be moved to just above your knees. You’ll only have the stimulation of the whip, Marcella. No physical contact and no dildos will be used.”
Oh, but her panties were drenched just from the sound of his voice. She might have disclosed her submissiveness, but they’d never discussed the issue of masochism. With regard to that, she had a mild tolerance for pain. Too much and she wouldn’t be able to orgasm. “That’ll take a little practice,” she said. “I can come that way. I’ve done it before, though not in a long time. I can do it for you.”
Sounds of his uneven breathing drifted over her shoulder. She wanted him to press his body against hers so she could know whether this aroused him as much as it did her. “You’re a very mouthy submissive, Cella.”
She loved the way he shortened her name. He’d only ever done it those few times he’d indulged in spirits enough to make him relax his normally iron control. She liked to think it revealed the way he really thought about her, an unguarded moment when she could see the parts he kept hidden.
“You haven’t agreed to use me, Sean. I thought we were still negotiating. You’re laying out the conditions I have to accept before you’ll agree to use me as your sub.”
He chuckled, a distinctly unhappy sound. She wanted to turn, to take him in her arms, but she knew he would issue an automatic refusal if she pushed him too far. “And you’re okay with the conditions so far?”
“Yes, Sean.”
He inhaled softly, and she had the distinct impression that he
was smelling
her hair. He gathered her tresses and arranged them to fall over one of her shoulders, but he kept his hand tangled in her hair. “Round three fulfills a promise. You’ll be bound to a table, spread out as an offering. After you’re teased and denied, every person there will get to come close and see your naked body. Two donors will be allowed to touch you. You will be brought to orgasm
twice,
and not necessarily by my hand.”
Shock robbed her brain of any coherent response. The original program, the one she had so carefully prepared according to Sean’s specifications, didn’t mention anyone else being allowed to participate. Marcella didn’t know how comfortable she would be with a stranger touching her intimately.
“It’s the ultimate gift a slave can give her master, Cella. Complete trust. You would have to trust that I won’t let anyone harm you, that I won’t let anyone violate your hard limits.” Bitterness tinged his voice, making his words ring hollow.
They hadn’t discussed hard limits. Marcella hadn’t thought she would be allowed to have them. The progression of torture had been decided already. It should have been a matter of her agreeing to a specific order of activities.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. She trusted nobody more than Sean, but his tone didn’t match his declaration. “It would please you to have another
dom
fuck your submissive while you and a roomful of people looked on?”
He made a strangled sound. “Please me? Do you really care about pleasing me, Cella? Or are you just volunteering to do this because it’s for an important cause?”
Moisture evaporated from her lips. She licked them. “Both. We’ve been over this. Why can’t you believe me, Sean? Why is this so difficult for you? You didn’t hesitate for a second when Gretchen volunteered. Are you really so opposed to the idea of seeing me naked?
Of having actual physical contact with me?”
He tightened his grip on her hair and turned her around. The ferocity of his expression made her knees weak. “I know Gretchen. I know what she likes and doesn’t like. I know what turns her on. I know what makes her climax. I don’t know any of your triggers, Marcella. I don’t know your limits, and you don’t know mine.”
She searched his eyes, looking for the source of his irritation. It hadn’t taken her long after she’d first begun working for him to determine that Sean’s words rarely indicated the true cause of his upset. When she spoke, she kept her voice soft. “Including other doms wasn’t part of the original agreement. I have no record of any extra donations. Is Gretchen making a power play? Is that why you’re so angry?”
He jerked his head back, lifting his chin and pressing his lips together. Bingo. She’d found the true cause of his anger. Releasing his hold on her hair, he blinked away his surprise. Five steps put him near an expensive vase. She watched, uncertain where his temper might take him. This could derail their negotiation.
He flexed and relaxed his fist, repeating the motion several times as he brought his temper under control. “She went behind my back and solicited two more donors for this. When she told me about it yesterday, I let her have her way. She presented it as a gift. I honestly don’t care if she wants to have multiple partners. We’re not exclusive. I don’t even see her that often.”
“She’s the one who framed it as an expression of ultimate trust.” Marcella didn’t need to know more to understand how Gretchen had manipulated both Sean and the situation. “That doesn’t sound like something you’d come up with.”
Now he turned back to face her. Marcella hadn’t moved. “Thank you for volunteering, Marcella, but I can’t do that to you. I know what it means for you to ask to do this for me, and I can’t abuse your trust by allowing strangers to put their hands on you.”
She crossed to her desk and lifted a program from the small box perched on the corner. “Nowhere on here does it mention additional donors or the inclusion of anyone else in your show. I have no record of additional donations. Who are they?”
Sean shrugged. “She didn’t say.”
Marcella fought the urge to laugh. “And you didn’t ask?”
“I didn’t care about that. I cared that she went behind my back. I cared that she was trying to play power games with me. I planned to stop seeing her after this.”
His attitude exasperated Marcella. She perused the program as a way to keep him from seeing her annoyance.
A rueful laugh rumbled from his chest. “She accused me of seeing this as a business deal.”
Marcella snapped her fingers.
“A business deal.
That’s it. If Gretchen set this up and she’s no longer participating, then the offer is void. Changing the submissive necessarily changes the parameters of the demonstration because the limits and preferences change. Everyone will understand the altered expectations.”
They could change the progression of the rounds to better fit Marcella’s preferences and limits. However, she didn’t know how Sean would take a suggestion like that. After all, he had decided the original choreography. Part of Marcella wanted to ask if they could change the plan, but a larger part of her was afraid he would decide not to use her if she set limits that significantly altered things.
Sean watched, amused, as the wheels in Marcella’s brain powered full speed ahead. He loved the way her eyes sparkled when she had an idea. She snatched up her notebook and her laptop from her desk. The fact that she kept a notebook and a computer together made him smile. Marcella always took notes on paper. Once her ideas were fully formed, she digitized them. E-mails, schedules, and appointments would pour from her fingertips and appear on his phone and calendar.
She crossed the room and set the laptop on an ottoman. After kicking off her shoes, she settled onto the sofa and folded her feet under her luscious bottom. The blue cover of the notebook disappeared as she opened to a fresh page. Her pen flew over the paper. He had no clue what she could possibly be writing, but he knew better than to interrupt.
The first time he’d set eyes on her, it had taken him almost five minutes to form a coherent thought. Over a year later, he only managed to function around her if he didn’t get too close.
She always smelled like cinnamon and vanilla. When he came really close, he sometimes caught a whiff of coconut. He wanted to bury his face in every part of her body to find out exactly where she used each scent.
He sat down on the chair across from her and raked his gaze over her body. The silk blouse she wore hugged the curves of her breasts and dipped down to show a bit of cleavage. He imagined licking her there. He would draw her shirt over her head and remove her delicate pink lacy bra. Though he hadn’t seen it, he knew it would match the exact shade of soft pink in her shirt and in her lipstick. He would tweak and suck her nipples until they pebbled and she arched beneath him. Gasps and moans would fall from her lips.
Her hair, light brown with hints of ginger, fell over her shoulders. The ends curled. It had felt silky soft when he’d used it to turn her around before. He ached to feel it sliding through his fingers, tickling down his neck and chest.
Brushing his thighs as she closed those kissable lips around his cock.
“Round one should feature several toys. The vendors all promised a percentage of profits from the event in donations. I’ve already cleaned up the selection they sent over and set them out in your dungeon.” She lifted her gaze, meeting his briefly. Vendors would be on hand after the demonstration to sell sex toys and accessories to the titillated crowd. Sales of the implements he used in the scene would most likely be higher than those he bypassed. “I thought you would want to see which ones Gretchen liked best and use those. You mentioned using a heater and clamps. I think you should—”
He held up a hand to halt her flow of words. Round one would showcase his expertise with slow sexual teasing. She definitely had a way of reducing a sensual experience to items on a business agenda. “Marcella, as the submissive, you don’t get to choose the toys. You can ask. You can beg. You can’t choose or insist. That’s not negotiable with me.”
Color stained her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Sean. I just meant we’d raise more money if we showcased a variety of toys.”
“I know what you meant. We’ll try them out, but I’ll be the one deciding which get used and which don’t. Speak now if you want out of this. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” He held his breath and counted the long seconds that ticked past as she studied his face.
He wondered if his face pleased her. After he’d made his first million dollars, he had stopped accepting compliments from people. Most of them said what they thought he wanted to hear. Not Marcella. At her interview, she had straightened his tie without asking for permission, taking him to task when she found out he never untied the knot. He just loosened it to fit over his head. The sparks that flew from her hands through his chest had made him want to strip her naked and bend her over the back of the nearest couch. Later she’d told him to get rid of all his red ties. They didn’t suit his coloring.
The way she sat, knees turned modestly to one side, turned him on more than if she’d knelt naked in front of him with her knees spread to reveal the soft folds of her pussy. Would it be light pink or dusky rose? How responsive would she be to his tongue and fingers exploring her wetness?
With her feet under her ass, the fabric of her skirt pulled snugly against her curves. He wanted to dig his fingertips into her hips as he sank his dick into her tightness.
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t willing.” She dropped her gaze and stared at her notebook. “Round two features whips. That’s the only one that worries me. I-I do okay with a flogger, but I didn’t care for the cat or the single-tail at all.”
Sean’s attention jerked from carnal thoughts and landed on her
embarrassed
revelation. Earlier she’d mentioned needing to practice with a whip. “Everyone has different levels of pain they enjoy, Cella.”
“I know.” He had to strain to hear her. She drew a slow line in her notebook. “I’m just worried that I won’t be able to endure enough. I’ve never been with anyone who used a cane or a tawse on me. I can’t say I’ve ever wanted to try those things.”
A fact filtered through Sean’s consciousness. He’d kept his hands off her for more reasons than simply because he didn’t want to chance driving her away. “Marcella, shouldn’t Eric be here? Shouldn’t you ask him if he’s okay with this first?”
Her brow furrowed, and her mouth puckered into a frown. “Eric?”
“Your boyfriend.
Your master.”
He had to force the last word out. If he were her master, he wouldn’t loan her out to anyone. He wouldn’t allow anyone to put their hands on her. He wouldn’t allow her to work insane hours for another man.
Or woman.
He would want all her attention focused on him, much as it was now.