Chapter 40 #2
“That’s one way to piss a circle around me.”
He smiled as I pressed a soft kiss to his lips before straightening up. When the assistant came by with cleaning wipes, he cleaned me up, then himself, before taking his position at my feet again.
We watched in silence for a while, my hand never leaving his hair, occasionally drifting to the nape of his neck, where I knew he was sensitive. I could feel the tension gradually leaving his body.
My gaze swung around at a familiar voice. “Put your forehead on my knee, Pretty Boy.”
He did so without question, and I softly massaged his neck. When the woman came up, she smiled and sat next to me. “Elin, what are you doing here?”
She was one of the owners of Onyx Urbane, one of our many suppliers for alcohol. “Hi, Cheryl. Here, I am Lady E.”
Her eyebrows lifted as she looked at me from head to toe and then held her attention on Gavriel. “And who is this obedient one?”
Rubbing his neck when I felt it tense, I waved my other hand around. “This is my pretty boy, and he’s not available.”
“Shame. He is quite delicious looking.”
Giving her a wicked smirk, I had to laugh. If she only knew who he really was. “He is. I protect him at all costs. Which is why I’m here and not at Paradise.”
There was a light laugh that came from her as she stood and adjusted her corset. “Work and play in two different locations. I completely understand. Do have a good night, Lady E.”
As she walked away, pretty boy’s shoulders relaxed and I reached down to turn his head toward me. “Good boy.”
Leaning down, I gave him a kiss on the forehead as he murmured, “Thank you.”
"You know the best dominance isn't about pain or humiliation. It's about trust. About holding someone's surrender in your hands and honoring it."
“Yes, ma’am.”
"Stand," I finally commanded, ready to move us forward. When he rose fluidly to his feet, I pulled him by the chain, ordering, "Follow me."
The private alcove was perfect—draped in midnight-blue velvet with strategic lighting that would showcase his body beautifully. My personal selection of implements was arranged on a side table: floggers, cuffs, blindfolds, and more intimate toys that made my pulse quicken.
"Strip," I ordered once the privacy curtain was drawn.
His eyes met mine for a brief moment. Just a flicker of the real Gavriel, the man who commanded armies of killers, flashed in those eyes before he lowered them again and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Each layer of clothing he removed seemed to peel away another piece of his burden.
When he stood before me in nothing but the metal cage constraining his obvious arousal, I circled him slowly, admiring what was mine.
"Kneel." He sank gracefully to his knees, hands resting palms up on his thighs. "Do you know why we're here, Pretty Boy?"
"Because you commanded it, Goddess." He let out a long breath. “But you said earlier to just be.”
I smiled, trailing the falls of the flogger across his shoulders.
"That's true. But not entirely accurate.
We're here because you're carrying too much.
The weight of your sister's future. Your father's expectations.
The violence of your world." I leaned down, my lips close to his ear.
"For the next few hours, you'll carry nothing. I'll take it all."
His breath hitched, and I saw his hands tremble slightly.
"Color?" I asked, checking in on him.
"Green," he whispered firmly, and in that single word, I heard his surrender.
I straightened, assuming the posture that had earned me my reputation in these circles. "Then let's begin."
The first strike of the flogger across his back was gentle, a promise to deliver pleasure with the pain.
His muscles jumped beneath his skin, then relaxed as I established a rhythm.
With each stroke, I watched his breathing deepen, his mind emptying of everything except the sensation I was creating.
This was what he needed. In the outside world, he was the Owl’s Talon, the feared enforcer. Here, he was mine to protect, to push, to please. And for a few precious hours, the only thing he had to worry about was obeying me.
As the flogger's intensity increased, I saw the moment he truly let go. It was in the way his head fell forward, a soft sound escaping his lips that wasn't quite pain, not quite pleasure, but something transcendent between the two.
"That's it," I murmured, softly running my fingers down the reddened skin of his back. "Let go for me, Pretty Boy. I've got you."
And in this moment, with the world temporarily held at bay, I did have him—completely, utterly, in a way that had nothing to do with the cage he sometimes wore between his legs and everything to do with the trust in his eyes when he finally looked up at me.
"Thank you," he whispered, and I knew he wasn't just talking about the flogging.
I cupped his face in my hands. "We're just getting started."
Time slipped away as I guided Gavriel deeper into submission.
The outside world receded with each command, each touch, each whispered praise.
His skin quivered under the gentle caress of the flogger, sending shivers down my spine as I watched him twitch in delight.
The sound of leather against flesh echoed through the room, punctuated by soft moans that escaped his lips.
With each strike, his breath hitched in anticipation of my touch.
My palms glided over his hot skin, tracing patterns that ignited a fire within him.
The scent of sweat and arousal filled the air, mingling with the faint fragrance of lavender from our surroundings.
His muscles relaxed under my touch, responding perfectly to every sensation I evoked.
It was mesmerizing to watch him lose himself so completely in this intense experience we shared together.
When I finally released him from the restraints, he turned toward me with heavy-lidded eyes that spoke volumes about his state of mind. His lips parted invitingly, begging for more. Shaking my head, I murmured, "You did so well for me."
Reaching my hand out to help him up, I handed him his pants. "How do you feel?"
"Present," he answered, his voice rough. "Centered."
Smirking at him, I went to my knees, slowly and carefully placing his cock within the ring of silver and chain mail.
Standing, I smiled as he stepped into his pants and slipped them over his hips.
As he buttoned and zipped up, I ran a finger along the mail, and his head tipped back as a moan slipped through. “Goddess . . .”
"Good. That was the point." I pressed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Let's join the others for a while. I want to show you off."
Just before we stepped out, I slipped a half-mask back over his eyes. I held his gaze as I reached behind his head and tied it firmly.
Bringing my hands back around, I grazed my fingertips over the skin of his neck and jaw before leaning forward and giving him a whisper of a kiss. His lips pressed softly against mine, and I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “Such a good Pretty Boy for his Goddess.”
A small whimper came from him, and happiness filled me.
Being a domme was therapeutic with my other subs, but with Gavriel, it was a need, a pleasure, something that called to me.
Taking his hand, we stepped back into the main room, the ambient music washing over us.
Several members nodded in my direction, some with knowing smiles.
The Lounge operated on discretion, but my reputation preceded me.
"Lady E!" A woman in a crimson dress approached, air-kissing both my cheeks. "It's been ages."
"Sophia," I greeted warmly. "How's the gallery?"
"Thriving. We just acquired a new Basquiat." Her eyes drifted to Gavriel, appreciation evident. "And who is this?"
"This is my pretty boy," I said simply, feeling him shift slightly behind me.
Sophia's eyebrow arched. "Lucky man." Then she blew me a kiss from her crimson lips and strutted off. Man, she had an ass that deserved to be worshipped.
We circulated through the room, stopping to chat with various acquaintances of mine. Gavriel remained silent at my side, the perfect shadow, observing everything while revealing nothing. I could feel the tension gradually returning, the real-world creeping back in despite our sanctuary.
When Gavriel spotted one of Don Juarez's men at a table not far from us, every muscle in his body instantly went taut.
I turned to Gavriel, keeping my expression neutral while positioning my body to block his face from his view.
"Don't react," I whispered. "Follow my lead.
" I guided us casually toward a plush velvet couch positioned within earshot of where they stood, talking to another man I didn't recognize.
I sat gracefully, patting the cushioned pillow on the floor beside me.
Gavriel understood immediately, sinking to his knees at my feet, resting his head on my knees again, looking up at me and his back to Vega.
I ran my fingers through his hair possessively, the gesture both a show for anyone watching and a comfort to him.
"What about her brother?" the other man asked.
"The Owl’s Talon?" Vega laughed softly. "He's the primary target. Don Juarez has the compound prepared. Once the girl is secured there, Azzaro's son becomes expendable."
Over my dead body.
Gavriel’s hard eyes met mine as his breathing all but stopped, and if my hands hadn’t been in his hair, he likely would have had a bigger reaction. I stroked Gavriel's cheek, a signal for him to remain calm even as my own heart raced. "Easy," I whispered. "Not here."
"They can't see you," I reminded him. "Not the real you."