He tasted like red wine and beer, like sex and power.
Lane wrapped a hand in her hair, the other at her back, pressing their bodies even more firmly together. His lips slid against hers, his tongue touching her lips, her teeth, urging her to open up so he could deepen the kiss. Addie tightened her arms around his neck and nipped his lower lip, sucking it into her mouth. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, maybe she should have been passive, but in that moment all she could think of was how right the kiss felt, how much she wanted him.
Rather than turn him off, her action seemed to set something off within him. Lane pulled away only to attack her from a different angle, nibbling the corner of her mouth and licking her lower lip.
He slid the hand roaming her back down, over her ass.
“Ow.” Addie broke the kiss and pressed her forehead into his shoulder, absorbing the shock of pain as he grabbed her bruised bottom.
“Fuck.” Lane cupped her head in both hands. “I’m sorry, are you okay?”
“Just surprised me.” Addie kissed the corner of his mouth. “It’s late. Early, actually. Probably better this way.”
Lane nodded but his eyes were dark. “I’ll call you later and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, why?”
“They’re not touching you without me there,” he growled.
Happiness flowered inside Addie. Hiding her smile, she cocked a hip, put a hand on it. “I said no voyeurs.”
“And I said I’ll see you tomorrow.” Lane folded his arms across his chest, a hint of Dom showing.
Addie stepped back and closed her apartment door. She looked through the peephole in time to see him adjusting his dick in his pants before walking down the hall.
Leaning back against the door, Addie laughed. He did like her. He’d brought her pizza and beer.
Chapter Five
“Remove your clothing.”
Addie fell back at Emory’s sudden order. She’d barely stepped onto his section of the sound stage. The three-sided room was bare except for some black drop-cloth-covered lumps of furniture against the walls. The floor under her feet was wood laminate and there were several large oval mirrors on the walls, hanging between black curtains. Overall the space had the feel of a vampire’s unused ballroom or formal parlor.
“Just like that?” she asked. “No preliminaries.”
“You understand this is a job, correct, and that the job you’ve been hired to do involves your naked body?” Emory placed his hands on his hips and looked at her. There was no exasperation or accusation in his voice.
“Oh, yes. I mean, I know that.” Thrown by his comment, Addie began untying her outfit. Today she was in a simple wrap dress in a bold red fabric. When something moved in the corner of the room she jumped, holding the edges of her dress closed. SJ appeared, nearly invisible in her black clothing in the mostly black room. The photographer was toying with her camera, detaching the lens and slipping it into a pouch at her belt.
If she wasn’t bothering to photograph this it could only mean that Addie’s undressing wasn’t even a part of whatever Emory had planned.
Calm down, Addie. This is a job, just a modeling job.
She had to stop thinking Emory was Lane. He wasn’t, he was into different things, going to do different things to her. That was the whole point of having three different men touch her.
Speaking of Lane, where was he? He said he’d be here, but wasn’t. She’d even loitered in the parking lot waiting for him, but hadn’t seen his Mercedes. She didn’t have time to figure it out now, or to have a breakdown about him lying to her. Right now the only thing she should be thinking about was the man standing in front of her.
Emory was five foot ten, with black curly hair, a creamy brown completion and exotic features that spoke of a mixed-race background. He wore a soft gray three-piece suit with a white shirt and dark gray tie. He looked like a classy banker or high-end lawyer. The impression was supported by his formal speaking patterns and calm demeanor.
Addie peeled off her dress. She was about to drop it to the floor, but something about Emory told her that he was not the type of man who appreciated a mess. Instead she carefully folded it over her arm. Yesterday, after waking up at two in the afternoon, she’d gone out and bought some cheap black lace lingerie. They were paying her five figures for this project, but that didn’t mean she wanted to spend it on expensive, vintage-inspired pieces for the Doms to destroy.
“Turn.”
Addie turned her back, letting him look her over.
“You were spanked?”
“Yes.”
“Does it still hurt?”
“A little.”
“Very well, we’ll work around that. Come here.”
Addie approached Emory, trepidation fluttering to life in her belly. He lifted the dress off her arm. Pulling one of the black curtains away from the equally black wall, he hung it on a hook. When the curtain fell back into place, her red dress, the only spot of color, disappeared.
Emory reached out, selecting a lock of her hair. “Do you remember what my specialty is?”
“Well-planned scenes,” Addie said from memory.
Emory smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a very attractive way. “Exactly. The first thing I want to do is establish which scenes you have the most affinity for.”
“I’ve never done scenes before.”
Emory walked to the closest corner, threw back the drop cloth, and drew out a sparkling white straight-backed chair. He brought it to the center of the room, placing it precisely. “Please, take a seat. Your lack of familiarity with scenes is one of the reasons you’re here, but you may have done some role play—that’s another term for what I do, though it’s been corrupted by the comic book crowd—with past lovers?”
“Role play? Oh no, none of that.” She sat, the chair cold against her ass and back.
“You sound disgusted.”
“No,” Addie said, mentally wincing. She really didn’t want to piss this man off. “It’s just not something I’ve ever thought about.”
“Isn’t the life you lead a type of role play, with your affected dress and personal style?” Emory walked away, back toward the corner.
Addie straightened in the chair. “No, it’s my life. It’s who I am.” She bit off each word. Now this guy was pissing
her
off. She caught another movement out of the corner of her eye, near the edge of the set where the walls met air.
She glanced over to see Lane standing there. He wore dark jeans and a black leather jacket. Happy butterflies fluttered to life in her belly. She started to smile but he shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips. Addie took that to mean that Emory couldn’t know he was there.
Looking over at the other Dom, she saw he was pulling a trunk out from under the cloth. He flipped it open, hiked up the legs of his pants just above the knee, and crouched to look inside.
“Everyone has at least one scene they’re drawn to, whether it’s because it’s one of their darkest fantasies or because it’s an element from the genre of movie they prefer.” He stood and returned to Addie, hands cupped in front of him. “It’s my job to discover what scene will speak to you.”
“Why don’t you just ask me?”
“Because you’d lie, either to me or to yourself. Or you’d try to second-guess the scene, selecting one based on what would be the most pleasurable.”
Fuck.
That was exactly what she’d planned to do.
“Please spread your legs. Submissives, when in the presence of a Dom, keep their legs spread and breasts accessible.” Emory frowned. “I thought Lane would have taught you some of this.”
Addie couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Lane, who’d moved deeper into the shadows. He was glaring at her. Did that mean he actually wanted her showing off her pussy to other men? Or was this because her failure to behave made him look bad, as if she were a poorly trained dog?
“Fuck that,” she said aloud, glaring back at Lane.
“Excuse me?” Emory’s words were as cold as ice. He wrapped his fingers around each knee and slowly spread her legs.
“No, I wasn’t—”
talking to you
. But she couldn’t say that. Addie looked into Emory’s icy brown gaze and a little shiver raced down her spine. “I was just…frustrated. Lane did teach me some rules, but I wasn’t sure if they were his rules or universal rules.”
Emory ran his hands up her thighs, his thumbs skirting the insides. He stopped just short of her pussy. “Understandable, which is why you won’t be held accountable to the standards of a sub, and punished accordingly. That being said, you will show myself and this culture the respect they deserve. For the rest of the session you will not speak unless spoken to. You will answer every question with ‘yes Sir’ or ‘no Sir’. Do you understand?”
“Yes Sir.”
When Emory walked away, Addie followed him with her gaze, more than a little worried about the rest of the day, and also more than a little turned-on.
Emory took one last thing from the box. This time Addie could clearly see what it was when he brought it back. The silver dildo was short and thick, with a single long white ostrich feather coming out of the end.
Addie opened her mouth to ask what that was for and where he was going to put it, but snapped her mouth closed, remembering he’d ordered her not to speak.
“Well done. I know the inability to ask questions can be frustrating. I will tell you what I feel it’s relevant for you to know. This,” he held the dildo out for her to inspect, “is a tool used to gauge a submissive’s response to verbal stimuli. I’ll insert it into your sex. I then list the possible scenes. Your body will react to the ones you find most sexually appealing by contracting your pussy muscles. That will cause the feather to jump, telling me that you’re interested.”
Addie was utterly speechless. It was a diabolical lie detector…that went in her vagina.
“Let’s begin. Stand up, turn around, and place your left knee and hands on the seat. Press your shoulders against the back of the chair.”
She wasn’t ready; this was too fast, like a date running out of control. But as Addie got to her feet, wobbling slightly in her black heels, she couldn’t deny how wet she was, how aroused. Getting into position, she looked at the floor over the back of the chair. She didn’t feel as exposed in this position as she had in some of the bent-over stances Lane had made her take.
Emory’s hands gripped her waist, his fingers slender and firm, if a little cold. Goose bumps broke out over most of her body as he ran those fingers up and down her back, adjusting her position. His hands returned to her waist and plucked the waistband of her panties, pulling them down to dangle around her upper thighs.
“You have a nice figure, a beautiful ass.” He traced a pattern across it with his fingers, and Addie wondered if he was outlining the faded bruises she’d been able to see this morning in the mirror.
He separated her ass cheeks with his thumbs. Addie rocked forward with a little hiss.
“Have you been used anally before?”
“Ah, yes. Lane.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes.”
A stinging slap landed on her right cheek, quickly followed by one to the left. The skin-to-skin contact pricked and burned, but didn’t cause the throbbing pain of the hairbrush. Addie looked over her shoulder to see that Emory had stripped off his coat and was standing to one side, his palm raised to punish her. He spanked her ass in a steady rhythm, until the surface burn felt like fire, until Addie was squeezing her eyes closed, her hands white-knuckled around the chair. Why was he spanking her? She hadn’t done anything wrong…
Shit.
“Sir! Yes Sir, I did enjoy it.”
The spanking ceased.
Addie sagged. Her entire ass throbbed with warm pain. She could feel the distinct imprint of the last few swats. She felt bad, naughty…and even more turned-on than she had before the spanking.
“I’m pleased you figured out your mistake.”
He cupped her upper thighs and turned his hands in, his thumbs just below her pussy lips. She could feel that his right hand was now hot from spanking her.
“You’re aroused. I can feel the heat from your sex and see the liquid on your pussy lips. Is it my domination of you, the spanking, or both, that have aroused you?”
“Both, Sir.” She whispered it, laying her cheek against the top of the chair.
“Were you aware, prior to this, that you had submissive tendencies?” Emory’s thumb dipped between the folds of her sex and Addie moaned.
She was so ready, so aroused, that just his thumb felt unspeakably good. He placed it against her clit and she rotated her hips, rubbing herself against him.
“Answer my question, please.”
“Could you repeat the question, Sir?”
“Were you aware that you had submissive and masochistic tendencies?”
Addie stopped moving. “I’m not submissive.”
Emory rubbed her clit, and she couldn’t hide the shudder that rocked her. “I’m only referring to sex.”
“I like to be on top,” she paused, letting her defiance show, “Sir.”
“Very well, you’re not here to be trained, so I’ll let your beliefs stand.” His thumb slid from her clit, between the slick folds of her sex, to her entrance. “But you might consider exploring the BDSM community more fully. I’d be willing to train you.”