“Good Girl.” She brings her lips close to mine but doesn’t kiss me. And then, in a whisper, she adds, “You’re mine, Ruby.”
I smile, meeting her eyes. For a split second, all theatre falls away and it’s just us, connecting.
Athena steps back, her eyes never leaving mine as she circles me slowly. The mirrors reflect her movements,creating an endless loop of her predatory grace. I see myself in every angle—vulnerable, exposed, waiting.
“I want you to see what I see. I want you to see the way your skin flushes when you’re aroused, how your body responds to me before I even lay a hand on you.”
She searches for something in the chest of drawers and returns with a flogger. My breath catches.
“That’s what I mean. I heard that,” she says. The flogger traces my collarbone, then trails down between my breasts, following the path her finger took moments before. It tickles and the leather feels soft and supple.
She steps closer, her breath against my ear. Her free hand slides around my chest, her fingers slipping into my bra and pinching my nipple just hard enough to make me flinch. The flogger taps methodically against my thigh—once, twice, three times—a silent countdown.
“Why are you here, Ruby? Do you like to be spanked?”
I nod, transfixed by our reflection—her confidence against my uncertainty, her control against my surrender.
“I can’t hear you.” The flogger stops its tapping, hovering dangerously still.
“Yes,” I say, finding strength somewhere beneath my fear. I turn my head to meet her eyes. “And I’m here because I’m yours.”
Athena’s breath hitches. It’s barely audible, but I hear it. For a beat, she stares at me as if she’s taken aback, but she composes herself quickly. “Good girl.” She moves the flogger higher, tracing patterns along my inner thigh. My legs tremble, but her arm around my waist holds me steady.
“Watch,” she instructs, and I obey, meeting my own gaze in the mirror. It’s not just myself I see. There’s our audience, six women fixated on us. “See how your pupils dilate?” Athena continues. “How they darken with want?”
When I focus on my eyes, I realize the comment was a distraction because the flogger hits my behind hard, and I cry out.
My skin tingles and arousal shoots between my thighs. Fuck, it feels good.
“More?” she asks.
I nod, and immediately, she strikes me again. “I can’t hear you.”
“Yes,” I plead through ragged breaths. “Yes, please.”
Another strike, harder. Hard enough to leave a mark for days. I suck in a breath, but Athena ignores my reaction.
“Morgan, bring me a Scotch, will you? On the rocks,” she says, and Morgan scurries off.
“I thought you preferred it neat.” I don’t know why the comment escapes me; it’s a ridiculous thing to say in the middle of all this, and it’s met with another smack. The sting accumulates; she’s made sure to hit the same spot each time and now it’s burning.
“Don’t speak unless I ask you to,” she hisses. She sounds serious, but I can see she’s suppressing a smile. It’s a game, of course, but she’s never spoken to me like this before. She unclips my bra at the front, and it snaps open, exposing my breasts. Then she drops the flogger as if she’s suddenly lost all interest in it and her hands roam over me, caressing my breasts, my waist, and my hips. Her touch feels heavenly, and I close my eyes and moan, arching against her. She wedges her hands into my panties and strokes my sore behind. “I’m going to take these off, okay?”
I nod, then remember she wants me to speak. “Yes,” I whisper.
Athena pulls them down, and I feel so vulnerable now that I can see myself and everyone around me. She was right; she went easy on me last time because this is intense.The amplified audience in the many mirrors make me feel like I’m in an arena.
She watches me intently. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”AmI okay? Just like last time, I keep asking myself that question. All I know is that I want this, so I repeat my answer. “Yes.”
“Good.” Athena’s drink arrives, and she shoots Morgan a wink. “Thank you, honey.” She holds the glass to my lips, and I gratefully take a sip, letting the strong liquor calm my nerves a little. She does the same, then takes one of the ice cubes from the glass and holds it before me.
Aha. The ice makes sense now.
“Ever played a game hot and cold?” she asks.
I shake my head, then add, “No.”
