She moves around me until her breath is on my face and then she kisses me. I’ve been longing for this since her lips were last on mine, and I think I might climax from the kiss alone. Someone moans and I’m not sure if it’s me or her, but I know she likes kissing me. This isn’t just for show, and it isn’t just for my pleasure. It’s just as much for hers.
When Athena tilts her head, molding her lips against my own, I melt and lose myself in the moment, surrendering to the warmth of her embrace. Her hand slips between my thighs, cupping my sex in a possessive kind of way that draws a loud, throaty moan from my mouth.
Fuck.This is crazy. What’s happening in my body? Is this normal? Are these sensations even human?
She squeezes my pussy, making me squirm against her hand. Being touched like this while others watch should horrify me, but instead, I moan louder. This is what Athena does—she takes my darkest desires and brings them into the light, makes them beautiful instead of shameful.
“You’re soaked,” she observes, loud enough for everyone to hear, then withdraws her hand, leaving me aching. Even without sight, I sense Athena is right in front of me as the silence stretches, broken only by my rapid breathing. She’s making me wait, speculate, wondering what’s next.
Her fingers trace my garter belt, following the straps down to where they connect to my stockings. “Did you buythis for me?” she asks, though she must know the answer. “Did you think about me while you were trying it on?”
“Yes,” I admit in a shaky voice. The confession costs me nothing now—I’m beyond shame, beyond hesitation. “I thought about you seeing me in it.”
“And now everyone sees you,” she murmurs. “But only I get to touch.” Her hands continue their exploration, unfastening the clips one by one. All the while, she keeps talking, her voice a silken thread of control. “Only I get to decide what happens next. Only I get to choose when you’ve earned your pleasure.”
The word “pleasure” from her lips slays me. I pull against the restraints, and even this small movement draws a response—her hand presses firmly on my hip, holding me still. She hooks her fingers in my panties. “I’m going to take these off, Ruby.”
It’s not a request. It’s an announcement, but she does pause for a beat, giving me a chance to use the safe word. When I don’t, she slides them down my legs, leaving me exposed to the crowd. I have no idea how many women have joined since she put the blindfold on me, how many pairs of eyes are fixed on me now.
She wedges her foot between mine and spreads my legs apart. I’m struggling to hold my balance. The stretch of my arms is intense and all my instincts go against me standing like this. When I move one of my legs back to the middle, she smacks my behind hard with her hand.
I let out a yelp, but Athena shows no mercy.
“No,” she says. “Keep your feet apart.” She corrects my stance, spreading my legs again.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not.” She smacks me again, hard enough toleave marks on my ass cheek. “But you will be if you don’t do as I say. Now, stay still and I promise you won’t regret it.”
THIRTY
ATHENA
Ruby is standing perfectly still, her chest rising and falling fast. I suspect it’s strenuous to keep the position, but she will thank me soon enough. She’s beautiful beyond belief, red marks on her pale skin, limbs trembling.
Taking a moment to breathe, I let the intensity of the scene wash over me as I lock my gaze on her. Each time there’s a sound in the room she tilts her head as if trying to pick up clues as to what’s happening.
There are more bystanders than usual, and I know why—they’ve noticed my special interest in Ruby. My infatuation must be painfully obvious to everyone. Is it the way I look at her? The tenderness that slips into my touch despite my attempts to maintain control? The longing in my eyes as I circle her—a desire that goes beyond the physical act we’re engaged in?
I wonder if Ruby would recognize it too, if she could see me now. This yearning to take her in my arms, to hold her close in ways that have nothing to do with dominance or submission. It’s dangerous territory I won’t allow myself to enter. Not again.
Ruby is the center of attention tonight, but I’m orchestrating every moment. This is what I do best—read desire, shape experience, provide exactly what someone needs before they even know to ask for it.
I trace a finger down Ruby’s spine, pleased at how she angles into my touch despite her restraints. Her body speaks volumes that her disciplined mind would never allow. My corporate lawyer with her guarded emotions falls away here, leaving only primal response.
“Safe word?” I ask again, picking up the crop.
She shakes her head, and I trail the tip of the crop up her inner thigh. The anticipation is palpable. I can see it in the way she shivers, how her breath catches when she realizes what’s coming. This moment of suspension between desire and fulfillment is where true vulnerability lives, and Ruby is giving me her trust completely. It’s intoxicating and terrifying in equal measure.
I retract the crop, watching her jaw clench as she waits for the blow. Her hands are balled into fists above her head, her face turned away from me. I hold off, building tension, and wait, and wait…
She bites her lower lip and I want to kiss her so badly but instead, I slam the crop against her pussy. She lets out a sharp cry that echoes through the room and her body jerks forward, straining against the cuffs as the sensation ripples through her. I’m captivated by the visible wave of pleasure-pain that follows—how her head falls back, exposing the elegant line of her throat, how her skin flushes pink from her chest upward. The women watching shift and murmur, their collective breath held in anticipation of what comes next.
“Fuck!” Ruby gasps, squeezing her legs together. Her voice is unfiltered in a way I’ve never heard from herbefore.
“I told you to stay in position, didn’t I?” I spank her behind hard with the palm of my hand, over and over until she parts her legs again.
I strike once more, gentler this time, and her hips cant forward automatically, seeking more contact, more friction. I resist the urge to drop the crop and take her right there, to kiss her and slip my fingers inside her and feel her come apart.
