Page 24 of Vienna Bargain

She’d known. Even as she’d rationalized what she was doing while editing her list. Even as she tied a mental Gordian knot to justify her actions. She’d known.

“Alena.” His voice cracked through the air, a hard cold sound like ice breaking. “Strip.”

With her back to him, she closed her eyes, screwing her face up to fight back the tears. “And if I don’t?” There was a quaver in her voice she couldn’t stop no matter how desperately she wanted to.

“Then I will strip you, and punish you for disobeying.”

She’d known that was what he’d say, but the mention of punishment still made her heart pound with fear.

Her body clearly wasn’t in sync with her brain, because her pussy clenched in reaction to his words.

Alena opened her eyes, unsure what she was going to do—obey or fight—and looked around for the first time. She’d seen the room when she walked in, of course, but she hadn’t actually looked. Her focus had been inward, and behind her where Alexander was.

They were standing in a simple, elegant home office. The desk was positioned facing a large window that gave a slightly different view of the protected marshland and meadows. From here she could also see the Bavarian-castle style wing.

She’d just been thinking of him as a knight, and now there was a castle.

Besides the desk, with its high-backed brown leather chair, there was a small seating area with an armchair and a two-person couch. A tall bookcase against the wall behind the couch invited someone to select a book and have a seat.

It reminded her of the library area in his home in Vienna.

There was also a set of floor-to-ceiling storage cabinets which had a band of carving running across the center of all the doors, a rolling bar cart, and two doors besides the one they’d just passed through.

She scanned the room a second time, looking for any tie rings, hooks, or other bondage points. It looked far more like a billionaire’s office than a bondage room.

The desk chair was the wrong height to be bent over, and the arms prevented it from being used for a spanking. The armchair had similar issues thanks to an arched back. The couch was about the right height, and a spanking was always better on a couch, but on the whole it was a rather vanilla, if elegant, space.

“This is your play room?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I just…” It was unnerving that he was still standing behind her. Was it because he wanted to make sure she didn’t make a break for the exit? She glanced at the other doors—one in each interior wall—and wondered where they led. “It seems anticlimactic that we traveled all this way so you could torture and rape me in a home office.”

“I will not rape you.”

“Just the torture then.”

“Among other things.”

Well that was terrifying and sexy and those two emotions were an unholy mix that made her feel slightly sick to her stomach.

She pressed one hand to her belly and took shallow breaths.

“This isn’t the playroom.” He was closer now, she could tell from the sound of his voice. The floor was wooden; she should have heard his steps, but the sound of her breathing must have covered it. “Strip. Then I’ll take you there.”

“I have to be naked to enter the playroom?”

He um-hmed in confirmation and played with her hair.

“Just me, or do you make your other slave strip before she’s in your playroom too?”

Alexander didn’t answer. For a long time they were silent. In the past she’d been able to handle that silence, but now it made her feel jittery. Unable to stand it any longer, she turned to face him.

Alexander was so close that as she turned, her shoulder skimmed his chest. Her eyes needed a minute to focus, and when they did she found herself staring at, studying, his lips.

“I’ll warn you one last time.” He reached out and toyed with a lock of her hair, which only made the jangling, jittery feeling worse. “Strip.”

Alena closed her eyes and turned her head down and away. At her sides her hands curled into fists, then released.

---