Chapter 30 Athena
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 her before.
“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.
Instead, I maintain the choreography of the scene, following the dance we’ve begun together.
I move behind her, my body close enough that she can feel my presence but not quite touching.
My breath falls against her neck as I bring my lips to her ear.
“You like this, don’t you?” I whisper. She responds with a small nod, her breathing ragged.
I reach around and cup her breast, feeling the weight of it in my palm, the hardened peak of her nipple against my thumb.
Her whimper is barely audible, but in it I hear everything—need, surrender, and a plea for release. “More?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“What was that? I can’t hear you,” I say, pinching her nipple. “And where are your manners?”
“Yes, please,” she corrects herself, louder this time.
I lick my lips as I position myself in front of her and glance down at her pussy, striking her one last time.
The riding crop lands hard enough for the onlookers to flinch and for Ruby to cry out, but I keep a straight face, pretending her reaction doesn’t affect me one bit.
She’s shaking, whimpering, head tilted toward the ceiling.
She’s had enough and I’m going to reward her.
Normally I would use one of the many vibrators we have here but that’s not good enough. Not for Ruby and not for me. I want more.
Kneeling before her, I’m eye-level with the apex of her thighs, almost in a position of worship. Can my onlookers see I want this just as much? Can they see my hunger to taste her? Ruby’s glistening with arousal and I blow softly against her exposed flesh, watching her shudder in response.
“Please,” she whispers, the word barely audible.
“Please what?” I ask, loud enough for our audience to hear. “Tell me what you want, Ruby.”
Her cheeks flush deeper, the color spreading down her neck to her chest. She knows everyone is watching, listening, but desperation has overtaken her shame.
“Touch me,” she manages. “Please touch me. I need to come.”
Grabbing her behind, I pull her against my mouth and devour her pussy, moaning as I taste her. This isn’t part of the game and part of me is afraid I’m taking it too far. But it’s what I want and I don’t like to deny myself.
Her sharp intake of breath cuts through the room’s hushed atmosphere. I take my time exploring her with my tongue, learning what makes her tremble, what draws those delicious little sounds from her throat. She tastes divine, forbidden, delicious.
When I circle her clit with my tongue, her hips buck forward and she gasps, every muscle taut. I smile, though she can’t see it. Her breath comes faster, and I know she’s close already, wound tight from all the teasing. Her body is tensing, climbing toward release.
I increase the pressure and her response is a loud moan. Her pleasure is intoxicating—the way she yields to it, fights it, surrenders to it. I’m getting lost in her.
Her breathing becomes erratic as she approaches climax and then she shatters beautifully, her entire body convulsing.
“Fuck! Athena!” My name tears from her throat, loud and unrestrained, and it affects me more deeply than I anticipated.
I continue working her through the aftershocks, gentler now, drawing out every moment of her pleasure until she’s hanging limp from her restraints, gasping for breath.
Only then do I stand and signal to Morgan to help me release her from the cuffs.
As Ruby’s arms come down, I support her weight, turning her to face me before removing the blindfold.
Her eyes are dazed, pupils dilated, and she blinks rapidly as they adjust to the light.
The vulnerability in her expression catches me off guard—it’s not just physical satisfaction I see there, but something deeper, more complex.
I stroke her cheek and tuck a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “How do you feel?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers, and I understand. The first time is overwhelming, a tidal wave of sensation and emotion that defies simple categorization. Tears well up in her eyes and then her arms wrap around my neck and she embraces me.
Our audience begins to disperse as I hold her in return. Morgan brings me a glass of water, then leaves us alone with a discreet nod.
“Drink,” I instruct, stepping back and holding the glass to Ruby’s lips. She obeys without hesitation, another sign of how deep her submission has taken her. I help her into her dress but don’t zip it yet. Instead, I wrap my arms around her again, pulling her against me.
She sighs against my neck, her breath warm on my skin, and I tighten my hold. “I’ve got you,” I murmur, surprising myself with the tenderness in my voice.
I told her earlier I wasn’t here to break her. But as I feel her heart beating against mine, her body softening in my arms, I’m suddenly afraid that I might be the one in danger of breaking.