The Plume: The First Anthology (8 page)

She was the Master’s possession, for better or for worse. The Master’s possessive kiss awakened a secret desire deep inside her, one she hadn’t known she possessed. She’d felt it resonating since meeting the Countess and only now – helpless to the Master’s demands – did she succumb to it.

Heat flooded through her. Her skin tingled and her desire roared. She’d never felt so alive and so potent. She found her back arching and heard surprise rumble in the Master’s chest. She felt her hips buck, felt the seatbelt hold her as securely ad Rafael and the Master. The Master’s hand closed over her breast, teasing the nipple to a peak, making her writhe with pleasure.

Meanwhile, Rafael ate her. Her clitoris was full and hard, swollen and more wet than ever before. Rafael braced one shoulder against her knee and massaged her thighs. She thought she had a reprieve, then his fingers slipped inside of her. He was wearing those leather gloves, his touch strong and sure. She hadn’t lied about her affection for leather, after all. The smooth feel of it was driving her crazy.

The Master deepened his kiss, sucking on her tongue, insisting that she meet his passion halfway. He cupped her face in his massive leather-clad palm, holding her helpless, just the way she was realizing she liked it. Joanna pressed herself against him, grinding herself against the seat, wanting him to take her over and over again.

She was lost in the sensation of pleasure, bound and possessed.

And she was loving it.

Rafael bit her clitoris, sliding his teeth against it with gentle power, in the same moment that the Master pinched her nipple. Joanna exploded with a shout, her orgasm so powerful that she was left shaking and panting. Rafael coughed, and she felt him move away. Joanna was glad to be bound, glad she didn’t have to stand up or say anything coherent. She shook in the wake of her release.

She wondered what the Master would do to her next.

She couldn’t wait to find out.

“Bad girl,” the Master chided, his voice dangerous and silky. “I didn’t give you permission to come.”

He unfastened her seatbelt, dumped her over his knee and spanked her hard. His other hand bracketed her waist, holding her firmly against his powerful thighs. Joanna squirmed with outrage, crying out at the smack of leather against her bare buttocks. It didn’t hurt but it was humiliating, not the attention she wanted from him. She wasn’t a little girl. She was a woman and she wanted him to take her like one.

But no.

“She will be silent, by choice or not,” the Master said.

It must have been Rafael who jammed a roll of cloth into her mouth. Joanna struggled to spit it out, but failed. She screamed but made only a faint sound.

Rafael growled in appreciation.

The Master spanked her again and again and again, her butt heating with the impact of the leather. Rafael hovered in close proximity. Joanna’s tears flowed and she struggled against the Master’s hold, even knowing it was futile.

She was silenced.

Claimed.

His.

He stopped when he was satisfied and not one moment before.

He rolled her easily back to her seat, flung her down and locked her in with the seatbelt again. Her buttocks stung with the impact against the seat but she didn’t dare complain. Tears were running down her face, tears of humiliation, slipping from beneath the blindfold and domino. Her chest was heaving in agitation and embarrassment.

She realized then that the Countess had returned, because she smelled the woman’s perfume.

“Had your fun?” the Countess asked, laughter lurking under her words. Joanna heard the rustle of taffeta, felt those skirts brush her knees as the Countess moved to sit beside her.

And the Master moved away.

“Take her back where she came from,” the Master said, his voice hard. “We don’t need her kind at the Plume.” He leaned closer to whisper in Joanna’s ear. “Displease me and the world will see my pictures of you.” He snapped another, because she heard the click of the shutter and saw the glow of the flash.

Then she knew he was gone.

Rafael plucked out the gag, then the door to the car slammed. Joanna started to protest, but the Countess leaned closer. “Shut up, bitch,” she whispered. “This is all the story you’ll get from us.”

Rafael slammed the driver’s door and started the engine, and the car pulled away with enough speed that Joanna was tipped off balance.

She was back in her apartment, in her raincoat, with her keys in her hand and the domino mask in her pocket, in record time. The return trip had been the exact inverse of the outgoing trip, although the silence had been charged.

Rafael – was that even his name? – had grinned at her when he ushered her out the door, then ran his tongue over his front teeth.

Joanna stood like a statue in her apartment, keys still in her hand, dissatisfied. Her butt was burning. Her nipples were aching. Her skin was tingling and her sex was itching. There were tears on her cheeks and a new crevasse cracked wide inside of her.

She hadn’t been in control.

And she had reveled in it.

What had happened to her?

Joanna wished she could have seen the Master. She wished she wasn’t being banished from his sphere. She yearned for what he might have given her and made her feel.

The truly incredible thing was that she knew no more about the Plume than she’d known two hours before – and she didn’t care.

What had the Master done to her? A woman with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes looked back at Joanna from the mirror, a woman with an adventurous glint in her eye and her lips swollen from fierce kisses.

A woman who wasn’t going to fall asleep anytime soon. No, she felt too alive, too aware of every increment of her body to sleep. She opened her raincoat and ran and hand over herself, echoing the gesture of the Master, and felt a thrill of recollection.

This couldn’t end here.

Chapter Three

“It’s pathetic,” Athena complained, pointing at the email messages on her screen. She and Rex were in the back office of the Plume on Monday morning. “Look at how she’s begging for you. Honestly, a person would think you’d invented sex.”

“I thought I did,” Rex said, by rote, and Athena swatted him, by rote. He leaned over the screen, reading Joanna’s requests for readmission to the Plume with more interest than he knew they deserved.

She hadn’t meant any of it.

She just wanted the story.

He still wanted her.

“They all fall in love with you,” Athena continued. “Every single one you train. Doesn’t matter what age or gender.” She flung out her hands. “It’s just sad.”

“I think your trainees are pretty taken with you.” Rex had reviewed those pictures of Joanna more times than he knew was healthy. He wondered whether he’d ever tire of them.

“Well?” Athena prompted.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“It’s not the same and you know it.” She spun in the chair to face him, tossing her hair over her shoulder and smiling. “So, why don’t you train me? Fight in your own class for a change.”

Rex chose to make a joke of what he knew wasn’t a joke. “Because it would ruin everything and you know it,” he said lightly.

“I’m willing to take the chance.”

“I’m not.”

“Boundaries and rules.” Athena exhaled then shook her head. “Okay, you didn’t invent sex, but you invented the rule book for it.”

“It’s just smart to have boundaries.”

“Then why are you reading those groveling emails as if they hold the secret of turning shit into gold?” Athena leaned closer, her eyes gleaming. “Are you going to break one of your own rules, Mr. Cool?”

That was when Rex knew he had to do it.

“Just one.” He took the mouse and clicked through the inventory page for the boutique. He selected an item, then wrote a note. “Order her one of these, send her this and book her in for Friday.” He straightened and made to leave the office. “If she has the nerve to accept, I’ll make sure she never comes around again.”

“How are you going to do that?” Athena asked with a smile.

Rex grinned from the doorway. “I’ll give her exactly what she says she wants.”

“You’re bringing her here again?”

“No. I’ll handle this off-site.”

“But the rules…”

“Fuck the rules, Athena.” Rex left the office and headed to the gym, Athena’s surprised laughter making him smile.

Or maybe it was the prospect of seeing Joanna again, exactly the way he wanted to see her, that filled his week with promise.

* * *

“Package for you today,” Joanna’s superintendent said on Thursday when she was emptying her mailbox. Joanna spun to face her, knowing her hope showed. That woman was leaning in the doorway, waving a box. “I signed for it for you.” Her expectation was obvious.

“Thanks!” Joanna ignored that curiosity and took the box with a smile. Her smile faltered and her heart leapt when she saw that it had no return address.

Could it be another invitation?

“Has no return address,” the super noted, following Joanna into the building.

“My sister’s handwriting, though,” Joanna lied. “She’s probably thinking she’ll surprise me.” She rolled her eyes as if that was unlikely and the super laughed. “Thanks again.” She clutched the parcel and tried to not look like she was running to her apartment.

She ripped it open in the foyer, her back against the door.

It was an invitation, another one with the top of a peacock feather tucked into the parcel. Saturday night. There was a card with an item written on it.

4 x 12 yards wide ribbon

Joanna stared at the writing, then across the room. She was supposed to bring her own bonds. Go shopping for them. She leaned back against the door, her knees unsteady.

There was something else in the box, also wrapped in turquoise tissue paper. She crouched down in the foyer, put the box on the floor and tore away the paper.

It was hood, a dark purple satin hood with laces. She turned it in her hands, her pulse leaping that she held a fetish garment. It was designed to enclose someone’s head, leaving the face exposed from the middle of the nose to the chin.

A hood and blindfold in one. There was a crisscross of black elastic down the back, so it could easily be put on and removed.

Just looking at it made her sex throb. It closed around the neck below that hole and she could imagine how secure it would feel, how the elastic would pull it taut. There was fur inside it, luxurious soft fur that lined the satin that would cover the eyes and also the neck.

Joanna crouched there, staring at the hood with mingled awe and excitement. Her panties were wet. Her heart was pounding. It was too easy to imagine the Master smoothing this over her skull, constraining and containing her.

For his own pleasure.

The phone rang twice before she moved to answer it. She scooped it up, the hood still in her hand. “Hello?”

“Put it on,” the Master said, his voice as low and commanding as she recalled. How did he know she was home? How did he know what she was doing? Joanna’s lips parted and she couldn’t make a single sound. “Put it on, then pick up the phone again.”

Joanna swallowed. She put down the receiver and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She lifted the hood and slid it over her head. It encased her head perfectly, closing over her eyes like a luxurious cocoon, fitting as snugly as she’d imagined. The fur was smooth against her eyelids, the feel of the satin surrounding her head making her dizzy. She fumbled on the table, trying to find the receiver, then picked it up and held it to her ear.

“Yes, Master,” she said, as submissive as she’d ever been.

He chuckled, obviously noticing the meekness in her tone. “Do you like it?” She heard his pleasure.

Joanna swallowed. “Yes, Master.”

“Wear to bed, with nothing else,” he instructed and she thrilled at the prospect. “Touch yourself, but don’t finish. I forbid you to come. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And the ribbon must match,” he added. “It should be at least two inches wide.”

Joanna’s mouth opened. She had a heartbeat to imagine herself carrying this hood into a store to check the match of the color, to feel her blood rushing at the prospect.

Then the line clicked and he was gone.

She heard the dial tone, listened to it for a minute, imagining herself trussed in purple satin.

Gift-wrapped for the Master.

There were footsteps in the hall, Louise returning, so Joanna hung up the phone and peeled off the hood. She gathered everything up and raced to her room in the nick of time, kicking the door shut behind her. She was stuffing everything into her closet, her heart pounding, when Louise shouted hello.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, flushed and agitated as she never was.

“You getting sick?” her roommate asked, dumping groceries on the counter. “You look like you’re getting a fever.”

Joanna was certainly on fire – but she told herself that getting the story would see her cured.

* * *

It seemed to take forever for Friday to arrive. Joanna went to bed naked Thursday night, wearing the hood just as instructed, and felt both wicked and excited. She didn’t think she slept a wink. She was terrified that Louise would look in on her – even though she never did – and demand an explanation.

Joanna found the ribbon in the first shop she tried on her lunch on Friday. It was three inch wide satin in a purple that perfectly matched the hood.

She surreptitiously checked.

“A lot of ribbon,” the clerk said with a smile as she measured out the lengths. The pile of purple satin on the cutting table made Joanna’s mouth go dry. The clerk was an older woman, silver-haired and efficient. She was obviously trying to make conversation. “What’s it for?”

Joanna hesitated, not wanting to tell the truth, not able to think of a plausible lie. “I’m not sure,” she said, forcing a smile. “My roommate asked me to pick it up for her.” She shrugged and caught a glimpse of a poster showing kids dressed up for Halloween. “I think it’s for her Halloween costume, but she always wants to surprise everyone.”

“Well, there’s enough here for her to be a purple satin mummy,” the woman said cheerfully. She snipped the last length from the roll and began rolling it up in her hands. “Wouldn’t that be a sight?”