The Plume: The First Anthology (7 page)

“To be bound and blindfolded.”

“To be bound and blindfolded.”

It was ritualistic to go through the options, and repetitive, but Rex always enjoyed watching the transformation in the recruit’s body language. It gave a certain spice to the encounter, although ultimately the rules were the same.

He expected Joanna to stumble over the pledge, to try to negotiate her freedom.

He had to taunt her and throw her out.

“To be trussed and tied,” he said, his tone hard.

“To be trussed and tied.”

“To be harnessed and hog-tied.”

She caught her breath, said the words. “To be harnessed and hog-tied.”

Athena gave a low whistle, visibly impressed, and Rex remembered her skepticism.

He went back to one idea Joanna already responded to. “To be shackled and shared.”

That one startled her – again - and he wondered whether she’d included it on her application. “To be shackled and shared,” she repeated, her voice strained.

He let his thumbs slide across her cheeks and his fingers lock into her hair. He was holding her on tiptoe, captive to his caress. He leaned close and whispered, letting his breath fan her face. “To be photographed and fucked.”

She flinched.

Her mouth worked for a second, and Rex had to repeat the words before she whispered them as well. “To be photographed and fucked.”

So, she was concerned about there being a record. Of course. In Rex’s experience, the confronting of those fears led to the most explosive orgasms. And she was a journalist.

He could build Joanna a scrapbook, of herself bound captive in every possible way.

He could have done so, if she really had been joining. Her flinch told him the truth. As it was, he’d have to be content with a few images of this encounter.

“To be mine for so long as I desire you,” he added, stealing another potent kiss. Her lips clung to his with a vulnerability that made him wish this were the truth.

“To be yours for so long as you desire me,” she whispered, her breath against his face.

“And then to be taken and given as I command.”

Her throat worked again, showing her concern with this idea.

“And then?” he prompted.

“And then to be taken and given as you command.” She bowed her head, coming to terms with this prospect even though her pulse still fluttered in her throat. He saw a tear slide from beneath her domino, and brushed it away with a gentle fingertip. She melted at the tenderness, touching her lips to his chest.

The gesture enflamed Rex because it seemed to have been instinctive.

“I will train you to orgasm on command, and only for me,” he said.

“You will train me to orgasm on command, and only for you,” she echoed. She didn’t believe it could be done. He heard it in her tone.

Oh, he wanted to prove her wrong. If only her application had been real, he would have spent a year ensuring that her training was complete.

But it was a lie.

He had to act for the good of the Plume.

The members applauded, the sound growing all around them. Rex watched her belatedly realize just how many people were there. He put his lips against her temple, whispered into her ear. “Each and every one of them would take you now, if I allowed it.”

She quivered in his grip, a delicious sensation. “Please no, Master,” she whispered.

“The Master has high expectations,” Athena said to Joanna, slapping her buttocks with a feather. She jumped a little at the impact, then straightened before Rex.

As if she’d look him in the eye. “Nevertheless, I am his possession.”

The members hooted at this audacity. “Naughty, naughty,” several began to chant. Joanna blushed, but she didn’t bow her head.

Rex ached with wanting her, yearned to bend her over a barstool and drill her until he couldn’t come any more, but he had to think of his responsibilities.

“Then let’s begin,” he said, noting how she quivered.

He spun Joanna in place, putting a hand on the back of her neck and driving her back to the garage with purpose.

In ten minutes, his mission would be accomplished, he was sure of it.

* * *

They were going back the way they’d come. Joanna didn’t understand. She’d been so close. She’d made all the pledges. What had gone wrong?

What had she done wrong? She didn’t dare ask the Master, not with the commanding weight of his hand on the back of her neck, reminding her of his strength and size. He had to be a foot and a half taller than her, all muscled power. That his touch could be so gentle just shook her to her marrow. He could do anything he wanted to her, and no one would make a sound of protest.

Her heart raced at that and she smelled her own anxiety, even as she reminded herself that she’d surrendered to him. She’d committed to a list of possibilities that made her dizzy.

So why were they going back the way they’d come?

Joanna felt panicky, as if she truly had been naughty, as if she was going to be deprived of the full experience of the Plume. She wanted it now, wanted it more than she’d realized earlier. Her resistance had frayed under the assault of the feathers, the incessant tickling that made her blood pound in her ears.

She was his to take.

The Master was the stuff of fantasy. His touch. His voice. His surety. His gentle strength and his conviction that he could teach her to orgasm only on command. Tough and tender all at once. It was irresistible. He was irresistible. Blindfolded and bound, she felt like another woman, one whose life was outside of her own, one who could enjoy a potent and forbidden kiss. A secret lover. A wicked game.

The fact was that Joanna had never been so excited in her life.

But she felt the warm air of the club fade behind them, along with the murmur of conversation. The tinkling of glasses faded into the distance, the solid tread of the Master’s boots right beside her. She heard the swish of those double doors, the ones she had passed through just moments before, felt the asphalt beneath her heels and chilly air collide with her thighs and breasts.

“Sir?” Rafael asked. The limousine must still be there, even though it wasn’t running.

She sensed that the Master made a gesture, because she heard a car door open. The Master murmured something to Rafael, something that made the other man walk away, purpose in the sound of his footsteps.

Joanna tingled. She was alone with the Master. Maybe he was taking her to a secret lair.

“We’ll start our photo album by recreating your arrival,” the Master said, his voice so low and melodic that Joanna wanted to listen to it all night long.

Pictures?
Photographed and fucked.
She’d agreed to that, in front of witnesses. She opened her mouth to argue then shut it again, feeling a flush of anger stain her cheeks. There’d be evidence of her being here, potential material for blackmail…

But the fact was she couldn’t do much to stop him.

She turned away from him, wanting to run, but his hands locked around her waist as if he anticipated that. His hand held her captive against the cool metal of the exterior of the car, his hip pinning her in place. He was wearing leather gloves and a leather jacket, encased in leather, its cool smoothness more exciting than Joanna had expected.

His erection was unmistakable and made her thoughts churn.

She heard the door open beside her, felt the Master ease her toward the opening. She couldn’t run, not without being able to see, and she couldn’t free herself. She panicked slightly and his hand ran over her in a smooth caress.

“Easy,” he murmured and his touch both calmed and aroused her. He put his hand on the top of her head, pushing her down. “Sit first, then swing your legs around.”

That he was protective of her confused her, made her mouth go dry, shattered the last thread of her resistance.

She was his captive. There was no disputing it. She did as she was told, feeling again the cool leather of the seats against her legs and butt. She was in the front seat, the one that faced backward.

She heard him get into the car, smelled the heat of his presence, tingled.

She felt the Master lean over her. She felt the stubble of his whiskers, the heat of his skin, the unexpected brush of his body against hers. He locked his hands around her waist and bodily lifted her back into the rear seat. He squeezed her waist slightly, possessive, then brushed his mouth across hers lightly.

She felt her lips part in yearning for more.

If she hadn’t been blindfolded, she would have closed her eyes. She might have swooned. Her entire body was on fire, desire simmering beneath her skin.

What did he look like? She desperately wanted to know.

The Master ran his hands over her body as if appreciating her, pausing to tease her nipples, before fastening the seatbelt again around her hips. He tightened it more than the Countess had, binding her to the seat. She opened her mouth to ask or protest, but his finger landed solidly against her mouth.

Leather against her lips.

His lips against her ear.

She was melting with lust for him, and she didn’t know anything about him.

“Don’t make me gag you before I’m ready,” he whispered, a dark threat in his words.

Joanna gasped, which obviously amused him.

He licked her ear quickly, blew on the dampness and made her shiver. He chuckled and she heard him take the opposite seat. She felt his gaze upon her and wished she knew what to do.

“Ankles together, always,” he commanded.

Joanna put her ankles together.

“Knees apart.”

She spread her knees wide, knowing he’d have to see the wet heat of her, the slick invitation that showed his effect upon her. She was glad to be shaved then, glad he could see every glistening fold.

She heard him catch his breath.

He moved to the seat beside her in one quick fluid move. She was sure he must move like a great cat, all power and elegance. Strength held in check. She was sure his eyes must simmer with sensual heat, that he was muscled and strong, and so sexy that women stopped in the street to salivate at the sight of him.

Like she was now.

Maybe he looked just like Mike.

His fingertip touched her lips again. “Lips always parted,” he murmured and she opened her mouth a little. He ran that leather clad finger across her bottom lip. “Not gaping. Welcoming.”

She couldn’t resist. She had to say something. “Yes, Master.”

“Naughty again,” he said, but there was that thread of amusement in his voice. Joanna sensed that she could break the rules, so long as she did it in a way that amused him. She heard the sound of Rafael returning, realized the door of the car must still be open.

In the next moment, she realized she was wrong about the rules.

“Thank you, Rafael,” the Master said. He returned to the opposite seat, his heat fading from her side. Joanna had an instant to fear that he was leaving her, then she heard the click of a camera shutter.

And saw the illumination of a flash.

He was doing it! She cried out in dismay, but the Master had anticipated her.

“Bad girl,” he said sternly and leather slapped across her breast. She gasped at the sting, knew it must have been one of his gloves, then felt him slide into the seat beside her once more.

He clapped one gloved hand over her mouth, condemning her to silence as he pressed her head back against the headrest. She struggled but he had a grip like iron.

“Very bad,” he whispered and Joanna trembled deep down inside. “I think our little journalist has had her fill of our games.”

Joanna struggled, wanting to prove him wrong, realizing that her choice was precisely wrong. She let herself go limp, unable to argue her case when he had his hand locked over her mouth, and tried to be a good submissive slave.

“No, Joanna,” he whispered softly into her ear. “I’m not fooled.”

He cleared his throat then, and when he continued his tone was conversational. “Rafael, why don’t you eat her?”

“My pleasure, sir.”

Joanna was incredulous, but she heard the sound of a hat hitting the opposite seat. She felt the other man get into the car. She tried to kick but he grabbed both of her knees, spreading her knees wide and holding her down. Joanna struggled against the seatbelt, against three strong male hands, went wild when she saw the camera flash through her blindfold.

There was nothing she could do to free herself.

“Helpless to desire,” the Master murmured. “That’s what happens when you really submit to the Plume.”

Joanna felt the heat of Rafael’s breath on her thighs, the resolute grip of his hands on her knees. She bared her teeth and tried to cry out as Rafael’s tongue flicked against her clitoris. He ate her with gentle persistence, using his tongue and his teeth and eventually, his fingers. She was trapped, helpless to his touch.

Being photographed at it.

Something snapped in her mind then, an acknowledgement that she was not in control, that there was nothing she could do to change her situation, that she was completely at the Master’s mercy. Joanna shuddered, the tremor running through her body from head to toe. She was defeated. She was claimed.

And it felt good. Shock flooded through her mind, then sensation took over completely. Her skin tingled, her blood was pumping, her sex was vibrating. Rafael’s tongue was dangerous and potent, his touch driving her absolutely wild.

Joanna could smell the leather of the Master’s glove, feel his power and his tenderness, knew she’d never been so aroused in her life. She felt as if she would explode. She squirmed but he held fast – and so did the Master.

“What if we did share you?” the Master murmured. “What if he ate you while I took you from behind?”

The idea astonished her so completely that Joanna froze.

She tried to make a cry of protest, but failed. The Master moved his hand, cupping the back of her neck again, and kissed her once again. His mouth locked over hers, silencing her as effectively as his gloved hand. His tongue danced with hers, his kiss both punishing and demanding.

There was nothing she could control, nothing she could do to stop the pleasure was surging through her body with new power. Joanna surrendered. She sighed and softened, and abandoned her need to control her fate.