Slapping him wouldn’t accomplish anything, she reminded herself. A handprint across that perfect cheek would soothe herfrustration, but that was all. Knowing him and how he thought, he’d just see the violence as an act of unrequited love she refused to admit.
He’d understand the depth of her real feelings in short order.
“I suggest you lose it,” she told him quietly before turning away again. “The consequences are greater than even your dastardly brain can fathom. I won’t tolerate sass, attitude, or bullshit from you.”
“But they’re all the fun parts.”
Shaking her head, Violet continued walking. Ordinarily, she didn’t mind a sub with any of those qualities—it added some spice to a scene—but from him? Allowing any one of them opened the door to his dominance, giving him leeway to challenge her.
She strode up the steps to the Dungeon, opening the door to the sound of silence. It was too early yet for the heavy players to start scening, which was why she’d chosen now to put Boudreaux through his paces. It also meant she could enlist the help of a friendly monitor without worrying that his attention was on other scenes, other guests, other possible calamities.
Without removing her overcoat, she passed through the anteroom into the dungeon proper, shedding any facet of Violet she didn’t need for the next ninety minutes. A little piece fell aside with each step she took down into the depths of the cavernous room until all that remained was the ruthless, merciless, unforgiving bitch she rarely freed.
Boudreaux’s soft hum of appreciation put her back up; he wasn’t here to enjoy the luxury of this playground. The scents of leather and lemon wax, smoke and disinfectant, were her home comforts, not his, and he had no right to them.
Approaching the gallows, a sturdy square frame crafted from thick beams of cherrywood, Violet reached up and strokedone of the lengths of chain dangling from an eyebolt. “Strip, Boudreaux. Do not keep me waiting.”
When she didn’t hear the rustle of clothing, she glanced impatiently over her shoulder. He stood behind her, unmoving. “Don’t tell me you’re shy. You had no problem baring your essentials yesterday. Undress or consider the deal you made null and void.”
“I thought you’d undress me, Mistress.”
Violet scoffed. “If I wanted to, I would. Don’t play the fool with me. I gave you an order; comply or leave.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
As he began unfastening the buttons on his silk shirt, Violet returned her attention to the gallows. Working according to the plan in her head, she began adjusting the chains how she needed them.
A quick search through the equipment cupboards netted her the required items for the scene, and she arranged them neatly on a rolling table.
“What are you deadlifting these days?” she asked flatly.
He hummed. “Two-fifty, two-seventy-five, when I can be bothered.”
“Bench press?”
“Same. General fitness is my goal, not becoming a bodybuilding champion.”
Violet raked her gaze over his bare chest, the ridges of muscle over his abdomen, the subtle thickness of his biceps, shoulders, and forearms. For his body type and weight, she supposed he was in peak fitness. “Let’s hope you’re not fluffing your own ego, Fontenot.”
She ignored his growl and sent a quick text to Fordham, her volunteer for the morning. Slipping her phone into the overcoat pocket, she released the belt and let the material slide down her back, her arms.
A quick ramble of rapid-burst French told her the outfit she wore hit the mark.
Trousers halfway down his thighs, Boudreaux stared at her like a cartoon dog lusting after the juicy steak dangling on a hook. Teeth biting his bottom lip, he stroked his gaze over her with the hunger of a man denied food for a month. “Tu es ravissante, chére. Tout simplement magnifique.”
Oh, he was resorting to French. How quaint.
Rolling her eyes, she simply flicked her wrist at him. “My patience is running thin.”
Boudreaux pushed his pants down to his feet and stepped out of them without taking his eyes off the swell of her breasts rising above the dark red leather of the corset. Paired with black laces and webbing, it made a statement, especially against her dark hair and pale skin. The matching pair of boy shorts weren’t particularly revealing, but they clung to her curves like a second skin, and protected her vulnerable areas from any unwanted advances.
The contrast between her dressed, sexy state and his nakedness gave her a heady sense of power. Sinking into the Domme mindset, she cocked her head. “Well done, you managed to obey an order. If you’re feeling brave enough to continue, go stand beneath the chains and hold your arms out in front of you.”
Surprisingly, suspiciously, he didn’t offer a witty response, but simply strolled over to where she indicated and held out his hands.
Damn him.
Violet strode over, snatching a pair of cuffs from the table. With deft movements that came naturally after years of doing it on a daily basis, she wrapped them around his wrists, checked they weren’t too tight, then snapped the D-links to the chains hanging just above his waistline.
