Page 59 of Mastered By Desire

Closing my eyes, I remember back to that night. “I was a little excited, too.”

“You don’t mind a little exhibitionism. I figured that out last Friday.”

When he made me come on his fingers right there in the middle of the club. I haven’t forgotten that interlude.

“Remove your dress,” he says, “and your bra and panties.”

I go for my heels first, but he stops me with a hand on my ankle.

He gives me a challenging look. “Only your dress, bra, and panties.”

I thought I was exposed by the lights and the stage situation during the auction, but this is infinitely worse. Planting my feet on the desk, I unzip the side of my dress and pull it over my head.

Gage holds out his hand and takes the garment from me.

Next, I remove my bra. Gage’s eyes glitter behind his glasses as he takes that from me, followed by my panties.

“Are you going to hang onto those for a while, Sir?” I ask, remembering it was Gage who kept my underwear after the auction.

He gives me a flat look. “I might. Was your last pair ever returned to you?”

Don’t answer, don’t answer, don’t answer…“Yes.”

Remembering how they were returned, by Dmitri carefully stuffing them into my mouth, I can feel myself blush.

Gage doesn’t comment, but there’s an extra glint in his eyes. He stands back and looks me up and down.

“Uh, any tips, Sir?” I ask. “For the auction?”

“Be more comfortable with nudity.”

“Oh.” My shoulders fall. I don’t want it to be obvious that I’m uncomfortable. Obviously, Gage found me attractive before, and he still does. So I need to remember that.

I will remember that.

I stand up straighter.

“Good,” he says. “Your body is power. Own it.”

“How?”

“Touch yourself. Make yourself come.” His voice is matter-of-fact, clinical.

I stare at him, shocked.

“Do I need to repeat my instructions?” he asks.

“No, Sir.”

He nods in a “go ahead, get started” way.

After he won me in the auction, it had been hard to make myself come on his lap. And I’d been a little self-conscious when he got me off with his fingers in the club the other night. But at least both of those times, we’d been in contact. I’d felt like we were sharing the moment.

Now, he isn’t touching me at all.

In fact, he steps back to stand next to the door. He put my dress and bra in the chair, but he’s still holding my panties. The lacy black fabric blends into his black shirt when he folds his arms across his chest.

He’s waiting on me.

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