“True. But you can trust me to protect you.”
She nodded.
“Now, show me you understand the rules.”
Unsure, she hesitated. “Show you how?”
He leaned back, studying her. “Questioning, now? Add that to eye contact without permission, and you’re not starting off very well.”
She drew a slow breath, lowered her eyes, and let her shoulders soften. “How may I serve you, master?” she said, carefully.
“Better. Remain here.”
Through her lashes, she watched as he crossed the room to a wall of implements with leather straps, paddles, and crops hanging from hooks. Her insides quivered as he selected a round paddle and tested its weight.
“Stand, Camille,” he ordered as he returned.
She rose on shaky legs then he motioned for her to turn. As she slowly revolved, his free hand grazed her hip and each bare cheek.
He murmured something, almost inaudible, lovely maybe? But she couldn’t be sure, and he said nothing else, as he took a seat on the throne and patted his thigh.
When she angled to perch on his lap, he redirected her, firmly guiding her facedown. She teetered awkwardly and reached for the floor. He steadied her, one hand splayed across her lower back. The other traced her thighs, moving up and over the curves of her ass.
“You hesitated and questioned me. There is a price to pay for disobedience.”
Acrackresounded through the sparsely filled room as his palm met her bare skin.
She gasped in shock. It didn’t hurt so much as it tingled.
Another strike landed, measured and deliberate.
Gaby would have pinched herself because being spanked while naked, with him fully clothed, seemed unreal. Yet another swat followed, heat spreading far beyond her skin.
Beneath her, the hard line of his arousal dug into her belly. Proof that this wasn’t a dream at all, and that he wasn’t immune to it either. That he still wanted her made it harder to breathe.
She’d been coming to the club for months, watching and listening while undercover. But per club rules, she couldn’t remain a voyeur on the sidelines. She was selective about who she played with. She’d experienced a flogger and the prickling,tingling sensation of the violet wand, but she’d never been over a man’s knee before.
It was intimate in a way she hadn’t expected. That it was Rhys made it more so.
Two more swats connected. Not his hand this time but the paddle. The sound was more of athwapthan acrack.The tingling warmth it createdfelt surprisingly… pleasant.
He paused, gliding the smooth leather over her skin. “Too much?”
“No,” she whispered, shocked that she didn’t want him to stop. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
Four rapidthwapsfollowed. “Try again,” he directed.
It took her a second to understand. No big surprise, given the circumstances. Then she recalled—this was practice. “No, Master Lucien.”
“Much better.”
The paddle fell several more times, heat building until the fire on her backside rivaled the burn between her thighs. Then it stopped. His hand returned, cool and soothing, stroking lightly. She nearly melted and had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.
Being with him like this brought her back to their scene together. There hadn’t been spanking or the impact play that so many at the club enjoyed. She understood why, now. Instead, there had been the thrill of the taboo, of him taking control, of her surrender. There had been pleasure too, more intense than she’d known with anyone else.
“This little session served two purposes. You learned what to expect, and I learned how far I can push you without you giving us away.” As he rubbed, further stoking the fire, he said softly, “I’ll be careful with you, Gaby. Camille wouldn’t have a safeword, but you will. Or a signal, at least. Grip my leg, dig in if you need to stop, and I’ll know. Is that clear?”
She nodded, her reply as unsteady as she was. “Yes, Master Lucien.”
