Chapter Two #2
the subs were slaves.”
“That sounds fun,” she replied. She had tons of scenarios.
“We could do that and I could be your very naughty slave, or we could be a bit
more contemporary and you’re my college professor. I didn’t turn in my work on
time.”
“Or you’re a spy and I’m an intelligence officer who needs
to get information out of you,” he said suddenly.
Oh, so he did have a kink to explore. Luckily, she wanted to
explore it, too. It played into all of her fantasies. She bit her bottom lip
and gave him her most innocent expression. “I wasn’t spying, Lieutenant. I was
only cleaning the room.”
“Captain,” he corrected and looked extremely serious. Like
he was trying to figure out what to say next. The man was an actor. He should
be excellent at role-play. “I’m a captain and you’re a filthy little spy. Did
you think we wouldn’t catch you? Did you think you could sneak into the prime
minister’s hotel room and steal his secrets?”
Yes, there was the creative mind. A tendril of anticipation
went through her. This was her favorite way to play. “I was working. I was
following orders. I’m a maid.”
His hand sank into her hair, and she felt the most delicious
pull. He was careful, giving her just enough pain to light up her scalp and
send a shiver down her spine. A shiver of anticipation.
This was what she needed. A night of pure fantasy.
“And I’m a soldier who protects this country,” he said, his
voice a low growl. “Don’t lie to me. You can’t get away. We have the footage of
you trying to get on the prime minister’s laptop.”
She let her voice go low and breathy. He was the predator
and she the prey. But she knew that being prey could sometimes be a treat. All
day she had to be competent and calm. But here she could let go. All the
tension of the last few months bubbled up. Her dissertation defense. The big
move. The realization that all her friends and family were moving forward with
their lives and finding their loves. The tears pricked her eyes. “I was dusting
the room, Captain. That’s all. I was told to clean the prime minister’s room.”
He gently tugged on her hair with one hand and with the
other helped her balance. This was the key to a good role-play. She could
pretend he was dragging her up by her hair, but he was actually helping her
stand.
He was good.
“Stand over there. Hands on the bench. Lean over.” Every
word was cold and precise, but there was heat in his eyes and she could see the
bulge in his leathers. He wasn’t unaffected. He was simply good at his career.
“I’m going to teach you what happens to pretty spies when they come into my
territory.”
She did as he asked, wanting whatever was about to happen.
She noticed he’d prepared a table, laying out his kit with precision. A paddle.
What she suspected was a four-foot whip. A flogger. Lube. Condoms. Some other
items he could use to torture her in the best way.
He picked up the paddle. She suspected this was a warm-up.
He loomed over her, a dark, decadent figure. She never planned on getting
caught if she could convince Damon Knight to allow her to go on missions, but
if she got caught by this man, it might be worth it.
“Admit what you did,” he demanded.
“I was doing my job,” she said in a tearful tone. “I was
cleaning the room.”
The first smack nearly took her breath away. The paddle hit
her backside and pain flared through her, turning into a sweet heat she craved.
That tearful tone turned into actual tears. She’d kept it
inside for so long. Why had she done that? She needed this.
He smacked her again, the paddle making a sound that rang
through the air. And again. And again. It was just the right amount of pain.
“Then why did I find a thumb drive with classified
information in your bag?”
Another three quick smacks that had tears dripping down her
cheeks.
Well, that didn’t seem fair. But it was an excellent reason
for him to keep spanking her. “Someone must have set me up. I always thought
Kevin acted odd. It must have been him. I’m not a spy. I’m a maid.”
Another hard smack and she had to bite her lip to keep from
crying out. Tears hit her in another wave and then the heat that warmed her.
“The drive wasn’t in Kevin’s bag. It was in yours. Are you
trying to tell me the manager of the resort is a spy?”
Do you honestly believe anyone will listen to you? The
science building is named after my grandfather. Sorry, Viv. You’re a gorgeous
girl, but my parents won’t ever accept you and I’m behind on getting published.
Tell you what—I’ll take this one and you can be a cowriter on the next.
She hadn’t meant to go there, but that’s what happened at
times. It was why sometimes a session could be a little like therapy.
“Kevin is an overly privileged asshole who thinks the world
owes him everything,” she replied, letting herself feel the anger for a moment.
“If he thought he was about to get caught, he would do anything, throw anyone
into the fire to save himself.”
Yeah, she was getting way too personal with this one.
Sir went still behind her as though weighing her words
carefully. Finally she heard him sigh. “I interrogated him myself. There is no
evidence. I want to know the truth.”
One and two and three hard smacks. Had she cried about this?
No. She’d been stoic and started work on another paper. She hadn’t even told
her parents or brothers. Why hadn’t she told them?
Shame.
He kept up the rhythmic slap of the paddle against her ass.
She allowed the truth to flow through her in a way it couldn’t anywhere else.
Despite the fact that they were role-playing, this part felt real. This was a
place where she could process. She let herself cry, let herself forget to count
each smack and just ride the wave.
She hated shame, but she’d let it keep this pain quiet. She
let it put a wall between her and the people she loved most in the world. If
they knew how she’d been used, it would feed into the whole “Vivian is delicate
and needs protection” theme that seemed to be a real hit with her family.
“Dirty little spies don’t deserve clothes. Remove them or
I’ll cut them off you,” he said, and then her brutal tormentor held his hand
out to help her straighten up.
Perfection. She took it, feeling lighter than she had
before. She’d thought she’d only come to London to learn from Ariel, but there
was a part of her that had run from what happened in grad school.
What was her real crime? She trusted the wrong person.
Everyone did that at some point. Her true crime was not fighting back.
She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
She was in a new city with a fresh start, and she felt
magnificent. She’d had a good cry, and now she was ready.
She would have to thank Sophy profusely because she’d been
totally right. This was exactly what she needed. A hot actor and a sexy scene.
“Sir, I’ll need help with my uniform.” She fought not to
giggle because she didn’t know any hotel maids who worked in a corset and
thong. She allowed Sir to help her straighten up. “Should I remove my shoes?”
He loomed over her, his head tilted down. “Leave them.
You’re quite petite.”
And he was tall and big and so manly it hurt. She noticed
the scar on his left cheek. It was faint but there. She wondered if he had to
wear makeup to cover it while he was working. She also wondered where he got
it, but she doubted he would stop the play for story time.
Then his hand moved over her ass cheeks, and she bit back a
whimper. They were still aching from the paddle. Not in a bad way. She loved
the way they felt, but they were sensitive. He pulled the string between her
cheeks and snapped it. She gave him what he wanted, a gaspy
cry.
Vivian managed to shiver a bit. “Please, Sir, don’t take my
dignity.”
“There’s no dignity for you. Not after what you did,” he
said in a low tone. “Give me these.”
She stepped away slightly and eased her fingers under the
band of her thong and dragged them down her legs before turning and handing
them to the Master/brutal interrogator.
He stuffed them in his leathers and ordered her to turn.
“You won’t need this either.”
His hands worked the ties of her corset with a quick
efficiency. In moments she felt it loosen and he pulled it over her head,
leaving her standing there in nothing but her heels. Vivian took a long breath,
filling her lungs and letting the moment wash over her. She was naked and
vulnerable and excited for whatever was going to happen next.
“Give me your hands,” he ordered.
She offered her wrists, and he pulled a length of rope from
his kit and had them tied together in a heartbeat. He led her to the center of
the room where there was a hook in the ceiling. He adjusted it to her height
but barely. Even in her heels she was on her tiptoes, but she rather thought
that was the point.
He stepped away for a moment, and when he came back there
was a flogger in his hand.
“Please,” she begged. It was a good way to go because she
could be begging for mercy. Or for everything he could give her.
She would let him figure out which one it was.
* * * *
Mal stared down at the woman named Viv. She was
gorgeous and acted the part of a vulnerable innocent particularly well.
She was everything he didn’t want in a woman, and he could
not for the life of him walk away.
Acting. It wasn’t fair. They were literally role-playing.
They had decided on it together. When she hadn’t been playing a role she’d been
boldly forthright, and that had bothered him so much she’d offered to leave.
He wasn’t being fair about anything, and that was his
problem. Not hers. She wasn’t Andrea, and this wasn’t him playing out some
punishment on her for something she didn’t do.
His brain was rolling in inconsistencies. He wanted this
woman. He wanted her in a way he hadn’t in a long time. He did not want to want
her.
“Please,” she said, her voice a trembling temptation. There
was pleading in her eyes, and it did something for him because he knew deep
down she wasn’t begging to be allowed to leave. She was begging for more. More
of his discipline. More of the play. More of him.
His cock tightened painfully, but he wasn’t giving into