Authors: Joely Sue Burkhart
If I screw up and claim Patrick’s or Mal’s hand instead of Victor’s, I’ll die of shame. Who’s stupid idea was this anyway?
“Gift, are you ready?” Georgia asked.
“Yes.” She strained her senses, listening for footsteps, anything that clue her to who approached. The small private room at Silken had carpeting, which made it practically impossible to tell what kind of shoes the Dominant might be wearing.
“For your first test, you must tell us which weapon the Dominant is using. Each Dominant will test you. If you answer all three correctly, you’ll continue to the next round. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” She tried not to sound impatient, but she really just wanted this over.
“Dominant number one, please begin.”
Muscles straining and rigid, Shiloh couldn’t help but brace for the blow. Shoulders, back, buttocks, thighs…?
The whisper-soft strike totally blew her mind. With not even a hint of pain, the blow had been so gentle that it could have been an accidental touch without the challenge. She concentrated on her skin and the delicate sensations that had brushed against her. Some submissives were perfectly happy with such a weapon in her Dominant’s hand, but as far as she was concerned, Victor might as well use a feather to tickle her for all the arousal such a touch would give her. “Velvet flail.”
“Very good, Gift, that’s correct. Dominant number two, proceed.”
This blow was sharp enough to make her suck in a breath. The double thud was unmistakable, the flexibility in the bamboo making it rebound against her buttock. A few blows from that weapon would likely push her to her nebulous limits, if Victor ever cared to pick up a “Cane.”
“Excellent, Gift. Now for Dominant number three.”
She braced, but the blow never came. Instead, something seared her right biceps. She flinched, instinctively reaching to swipe the pain away, but they’d bound her wrists to the cross bar. Heat pooled on her skin, spreading into a molten circle that made her twitch and moan. For once, it wasn’t the kind of pain she liked. Not at all.
“Get it off,” she gasped out, twisting her wrists.
“Answer the question, Gift.”
She hated the uncomfortable sensation sticking to her skin, trapping heat that only grew in intensity. When they peeled it off, would it take a layer of skin too? Logically, she knew it wasn’t really that hot. It probably wouldn’t even leave burn marks. But it
hurt
and it creeped her out. “Wax! Hot wax! Now please, get it off!”
A cool, wet cloth wiped the wax away. Victor whispered in her ear. “I believe we just found an unexpected limit, didn’t we?”
Grateful for the blindfold—so he wouldn’t see the tears that pooled in her eyes—she gave a little nod, unsure whether the cameras still rolled or not. She hadn’t prepared a list of allowable torture items, never once thinking the Dominants might want to use something other than the standard hand-held weapons.
“Do you know what that does to me, baby? It makes me want to do it again and again, just to see how long you’ll endure, simply because I ask it of you.”
The thought made her tremble, her stomach fluttering with dread. Here, then, was the real sadist coming out, and yes, the real masochist, because she knew she’d endure a hell of a lot simply because he asked, even the kind of pain that brought her no pleasure at all.
And to think, I begged him to take the mask off and show me what he was capable of.
He lifted a bottle to her mouth, giving her a drink of cool water. They must have moved on to filming the next contestant. He’d have to leave soon, but she savored the way he took care of her. Water had never tasted as good as that offered by his hand. It would taste even sweeter after he’d tortured her for awhile. She trembled harder, and there was nothing she could do about it.
One last touch to her cheek, and then he was gone, leaving her blinded and trembling, waiting for the next phase. Would he use the crop? Would his pride allow him to hand it off to someone else for the purpose of the show? The dime-sized burn on her arm stung, reminding her of his words.
Now, the pain began to bleed into arousal, because she knew what that pain would mean for him. For the first time in her life, she felt pain for a Master that didn’t give her pleasure but still managed to turn her on. The realization that she’d let him drop wax all over her body, burning her, giving her more of this kind of pain, just to please him, sent a rush of sensation through her. It felt like thousands of fire ants raced up and down her spine, nerve endings stinging, on fire. The top of her head crawled, her neck prickled, and worst of all, she felt a trickle down her inner thigh that confirmed she was aroused. So aroused, and so helpless, which only turned her on more.
Finally, Georgia returned for the next phase. Still nervous and afraid, at least Shiloh knew the challenge was almost over. This endless stewing and fantasizing about her wicked Master with a tub of hot wax in his hand would soon end.
“For this phase, Gift, you must correctly identify the Dominant behind the weapon. If you mistake your Dominant for someone else, you will be automatically disqualified from this challenge and you will not proceed to the final top sub round. Do you understand?”
Nodding, she didn’t even try to speak—her teeth were chattering too hard.
“Each Dominant will punish you until you either call out your safeword or you identify Master P, Mistress M or Master V. If you do use your safeword, you will still be given the opportunity to identify the Dominant behind the weapon. No penalty will be given in this case. Don’t assume the Dominants will proceed in the same order for this round, either. Do you understand the rules of this challenge?”
Shiloh nodded again impatiently.
“Dominant number one, please begin.”
When she heard the sharp crack, she knew immediately which weapon it was. Leather licked her back, a delicate, precise stroke. Only a true Master with the bullwhip could give such a loud snap and gentle touch, but she waited another few strokes to make sure before calling out, “Master P.”
“Very good, Gift,” he replied.
Her heart pounded harder. Only two left. She had a fifty-fifty chance of getting this wrong. Would Victor go next to confuse her—or last despite going last before?
“Dominant number two, you may begin.”
Someone neared, and the hair prickled on the back of her neck. This Dominant came much closer than Patrick. Shorter weapon? Or merely a trick?
A sharp blow landed on her buttocks. Crop, definitely. She’d know its biting cut anywhere. But was it Victor’s hand? Would he hand his trusty weapon of choice over to Mal, arguably his best friend?
Another blow landed, setting a slow but steady pattern, all to her buttocks. Victor certainly liked her ass, as the bruises testified. The blows weren’t as hard as what he typically gave, but he could be remembering the lingering soreness on her backside.
However, her body didn’t seem to recognize him. She didn’t feel especially aroused by the blows, even though the thought of Victor with that wicked crop in his hand, standing behind her bound and helpless body would normally have sent her into the stratosphere. The strokes felt shorter, less confident, less…Victor. He might try to fool her by tightening his grip on the hilt of the crop, forcing a shorter blow, but still, the rhythm seemed wrong.
The sense of command and power she sensed when he stepped into a room just wasn’t there.
It has to be Mal
.
When the Dominant shifted to Shiloh’s left, moving a bit closer, she knew without a doubt that the Dominant was Mal—unless Victor had started wearing perfume. “Mistress M.”
The blows stopped at once and Georgia applauded. “Very good, Gift. You correctly identified two of the three Dominants. By the process of elimination, Master V is the only Dominant left, so there’s no need to continue. You are indeed Master V’s Gift. But will you be top sub?”
Canned applause filled the room. Shiloh let her muscles relax, her head drooping. She’d done it. She hadn’t made a stupid mistake. Victor hadn’t been able to pull the wool over her eyes. She couldn’t help but smile with relief. She’d made it. She’d done everything possible to show him how much she loved him. She’d managed to yank his mask away and find the real Victor hidden beneath.
After he freed her from the bonds, they’d talk about the final round and make their plans. He’d need to punish her as long as possible, while Mal and Patrick tortured their subs. The last sub standing would be the winner, and she had no doubt whatsoever that she’d win it. She’d win it for him.
“Leave her bound like this.” Victor cupped her chin, his fingers hard on her face despite the hint of amusement in his voice. “We’re going to tape the final punishment round. Now.”
Victor paced while the other two submissives were bound as their Dominants wished for the final round. He slapped his thigh with the crop and made damned sure Shiloh heard every single blow, even though he had no intention of using the crop much at all for this round. No, that would be too easy. Too safe. He already knew how much she could endure, and that wouldn’t be a test at all. It certainly wasn’t top-sub worthy. Even though this show was their creation and set up from the beginning, his pride demanded that it be a true test.
He couldn’t call himself the Master of
America’s Next Top sub
if he knew deep down that he hadn’t tested her within an inch of her life.
The best test would be something that she wouldn’t ordinarily enjoy at all. When he’d decided to try a little hot wax in the last challenge, he hadn’t expected such a reaction from her; he’d just wanted to do something a little different. Would she understand the test, though, and forgive him later for using his newfound knowledge against her?
He squatted down before her and kept his voice low. It wasn’t a private conversation, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. “Do you trust me?”
“It’s a little late to ask that question, isn’t it?”
He heard the faint tremor in her voice and noted the rapid thump of the pulse in her neck. She was nervous, definitely, and trying not to show it. She knew he wasn’t into bondage, so leaving her bound like this would throw her for a loop. The
first
loop. The next one would be a doozey.
“Can I trust
you
?” Solemnly, he brushed a damp strand of hair off her face. “Will you give me your safeword when you can’t bear any more, even if it means we don’t win?”
Her bottom lip trembled. “What are you going to do?”
“That’s for the Master to know. You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Victor, what are you going to do?” Her voice rose slightly, her pulse thumping frantically. “I created this whole show for you. Don’t you want to win it?”
“Of course I do.” He untied the blindfold. For this, there was no reason to keep her blind. He needed to be able to see her eyes so he could gauge her true level of pain and fear so he’d know whether he should continue or not. “But I’m going to win it honestly, and that means pushing you to your limit. You set this show up to prove to me that you could take whatever I choose to give you, right?”
She nodded, a short jerk of her head, and her gaze fell on the equipment set up beside him. Low-heat wax candles made an attractive Gothic decoration…and a very effective pain device.
“The title of top sub means nothing to me if you don’t go to the very limits of your endurance for my sake.”
“You have to tell me,” she whispered in a ragged voice. “Tell me you want me to do this for you as my Master. Ask me to suffer for you. Because I love you, I will.”
“I want to hurt you, baby. I want to see the fear in your eyes. I want to see how far you’ll really let me go, even if you’re afraid. But most of all, I need to know that I’ve done something for you that no other Dominant has ever done. I need to take you to your limits and hear your safeword given in ultimate trust that I’ll stop, even though I’m enjoying every single tear and pleading cry.”
“Yes, Master.”
A fierce surge of pride welled within him. She’d do this for him and him alone. Even something that made her tremble with dread at the thought. He pressed a quick, hard kiss to her mouth and then stood, taking his position at her side.
Mal had Andy in a similar cross, dressed in the rough trousers of a laborer and naked from the waist up. By the hard glint in her eyes, she was going to exact every single wretched lie from him, every single penny he’d cost VCONN by forcing them to scrap the show.
Patrick’s submissive knelt on all fours, complete in pony gear. With her reins looped about his left forearm, he stood several paces behind her, giving him plenty of room to work with his long-tailed whip. His pony girl shook her head and stomped her right hoof—hand.
Victor met Mal’s gaze and shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. He didn’t get that kink, but then again, he didn’t get Mal’s either. She liked treating Andy like a dog or a slave. She’d often made him sleep on the floor or eat from a dog bowl, and he’d obeyed without question.
All I want to do is make my submissive suffer for loving me. How sick is that?
But looking at Shiloh, he didn’t feel sick at all. For the first time in his adult life as a sadist, he felt…glad. She had a need that only he could meet, and he knew without a doubt that she was the only submissive that would ever meet his need. She loved him enough to endure pain and fear simply because he asked it.
Hopefully the cameras didn’t shoot too low, or his massive erection would be viewed all over Dallas. With the crop in his right hand, he waited for the signal to begin.
“Dominants, this is the final round. You’ve chosen your submissive after rigorous tests and challenges. They’ve proved their willingness to submit to your will alone. Now, one of you will prove your skill to Dallas and name one of these contestants as
America’s Next Top sub
, the submissive most willing to give his or her heart and soul simply to please the Master. Are you ready?”
All three Dominants inclined their heads.
“Name your top subs and ask them if they’re ready and willing to being this final test.”