Page 48 of Wanted
Finding an empty chair, he sat down.
His hands were aching too. It was all he could do to watch as Anders gave Anna directions, and then walked away from her. He wanted to find all kinds of fault with that, but he knew what the other dom was after. And within moments, he’d returned. Sure enough, with his play bag slung over his shoulder.
He wished he could hear what Anders was saying to her.
Marcus scoffed at himself and his own wayward reactions. Hell, right now, he wished he were Anders.
Chapter 11
Pony/Anna
“Have you any history of reactions to lotions?” Anders asked.
Pony shook her head and watched in growing anxiousness as he popped the top on the bottle, the fragrance of vanilla wafted through the air even before he held it to her nose.
“Yes?” he asked. “No?”
She nodded. He was doing everything right, and yet this didn’t feel right. She felt uneasy when she should have been relaxed, aroused even by the prospect of her first scene in so long. Especially with a man other than Ethen. Goosebumps were racing across her skin, but not because she was excited or aroused. She didn’t know what she was feeling, apart from almost wanting this to just be over.
Anders smiled and she tried to smile back. “Lie down on your stomach,” he told her.
He gave her bottom a playful smack as she dutifully rolled over on the table, positioning herself face down with her head pillowed on folded arms.
Anders made no move to warm the oil in his hands before drizzling a cold line straight down her back. She sucked a short breath, her body tensing. The cold should have titillated her. She needed to try harder to want this and not be so aware of her surroundings. It was so weird, though. At the bar while basking in the unexpected attention of two doms vying one another to scene with her, the prospect of playing had been exciting. But now, something just felt… off.
Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on the tickling drops of oil rolling off her. Still, it didn’t feel erotic or even particularly pleasant when he leaned over her, the heat of his hands settling on her shoulders as he asked, “Have you been a good girl, Pony?”
For just a second, her name on his lips zapped her straight out of Black Light and back into Ethen’s living room. She felt just like she had while facing down a long evening of entertaining someone her Master had picked for her.
She told herself she was shrugging that feeling off her, not Anders hands. “I’ve tried to be.”
A wave of goosebumps prickled up her arms and across the back of her neck when he caressed her spine, coating his hand and her skin both in slick oil. Painfully aware that several voyeurs were drifting into the back to watch, she tried to school her mind into the right frame. This was supposed to be fun, not a chore she had no choice but just to get through.
What was wrong with her? Her skin was crawling, the unwantedness of his touch caressing from her waist up to her neck. She had to fight not to shrug away again as he swept her long hair over her shoulder, tucking it into the fold of her arms so as to protect it from the oil while he massaged her shoulders, arms, neck, even her hands. Again, he was doing everything right, taking the time to lift each hand and thoroughly rub the oil between her fingers, but it wasn’t his touch she wanted to feel.
The realization startled her. Once upon a time, she would have been giddy, bouncing off these dark painted walls for a chance to scene—with anyone, doing anything—so excited just to be living in the scene. And yet here she lay, frozen under a touch she didn’t want and couldn’t make herself get lost in. Where was Marcus? Was he watching this?
“No,” Anders censored, planting an oily hand on her head and forcing her back down. “Lie still.”
She obeyed, flinching at the chill as he drizzled another line of oil down the backs of each of her legs.
He was using a lot of oil. Like a good dom, he was trying to use every sensation to heighten her experience. Could he sense she wasn’t into this? Not wanting to be the reason this scene failed, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried again to lose herself in enjoyment that just wouldn’t come. She had to roll her lips to keep back an uncomfortable grunt as he deepened the massage, actually hurting as he rubbed the soles of her feet.
“I should be doing this to you,” she said softly. Maybe that was her problem. Maybe this would be more fun were she the one taking care of him.
He smacked her bottom again, this time hard enough to make her breath catch. “Hurts more when you’re oiled up, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then let me do what makes me happy. I’m tempted to tell you to take it like a good girl, but we’ll save that for another time.” He leaned over her, the brush of his breath making her skin prickle when he added, “After all, that’s something to be said when you’re bouncing on a hard cock, isn’t it?”
Her gut tightened as again she was snapped out of Black Light. This time, it was more than just a ghost of a feeling. For just a second, the dungeon furniture around them became Ethen’s living room furniture and the shadow form of a man seating himself on a spanking bench to watch became the Master of the Menagerie himself. Judging her and her ability to please.
Don’t make me ashamed of you. That was what he’d say.
She felt sick.
Red.
