Natalie’s head tilted slightly, as if listening to something only she could hear. Then she clicked her tongue. “Impatient tonight, aren’t we?”
Was that directed at her? Or someone else?
“I’m sorry, ma’am?”
The domme flicked her hand toward the exit. “Be on your way, girl. I’ll be around if you change your mind.”
With permission to go, Emily bolted, vibe buzzing on high, ass burning from matching handprints. She didn’t stop until she reached the next fork then stood there gulping air, trembling from the scene’s intensity.
If she hadn’t called yellow, how far would Natalie have gone?
Maybe red would’ve been safer. She’d never come close to needing it. Not with Alec.
Natalie was right about one thing: her pussy was drenched, her thighs slick with arousal. But Master Everett had started it, and Mateo had primed her further. Was she being honest with the domme—or lying to herself?
Maybe it was neither.
Maybe she was just turned on as hell by Devil’s Pointe’s highly skilled dominants. It was what Master Dev had promised, wasn’t it?
Still shaken, clamps tugging with every breath, Emily pressed on, hoping the final two stations would be easier, and less scary, than the last.
At the next fork, she chose the right path this time, more instinct than logic, and followed it to a clearing lit by a single lantern. A padded sawhorse stood in the center.
Master Marcus, the former NFL linebacker Deanna had pointed out, stood beside it.
Younger than Everett, less polished than Mateo, less intimidating than Natalie, his dark curls were tousled, his forearms bare, and his black shirt clung to a bulging, muscular frame. He looked strong enough to lift her above his head with one hand.
“Come here, lovely,” he said, voice low and warm.
She edged forward, uncertain. The sawhorse loomed between them.
“I think you know what to do,” he said, gesturing to the bench.
She climbed into position. Not an easy feat with the cuffs still locked behind her. Her breasts swayed, the chain dragged across the wide, top rail, clamps tugging as she bent forward. And the vibe buzzed mercilessly between her legs.
Master Marcus stepped behind her, kissed the nape of her neck, and ran his hands down her spine. “You’re beautiful like this,” he murmured. “Open, vulnerable, but not quite ready.”
When he parted her cheeks, she gasped and shot upright.
“Now, now,” he said mildly, urging her down again. “You’ve come to my station, which means you’re getting a plug. Unless you need to tell me something?”
Red hovered on her lips, mainly because she didn’t think she could take much more in addition to the clamps, the butterfly, and her hot tingling bottom, without coming.
“Nothing to say?” he prompted.
“No, sir.”
He chuckled. “I was told you were an adventurous one. Relax, now. This isn’t my first time.”
Cool lubricant touched sensitive skin. The tip of the plug glided over her before pressing carefully inward. She tensed, unable to help it.
“Breathe,” he urged. “Let me in.”
She did, consciously relaxing. Gradually, he eased the plug into place, pausing when she clenched, continuing when her body adjusted. The fullness was startling, but not painful.
He kissed her again, lower this time, just above the curve of her ass. “You take direction well,” he said. “I like that.”
Then he spanked her. Once. Twice. Firm, but not cruel.
