Page 16 of Betrayed

“Are you sure,ma colombe? You were just a few strokes from flying.”

“I’m sure.” Adjusting her tone to one she hoped sounded respectful, she made it clear how certain she was. “I’m afraid it’s fucking, or I’ll have to say red.”

“They warned me you were a stubborn one, but I didn’t believe them until now.”

When the quirt hit the floor, she almost changed her mind, but she didn’t dare.

“I thought I might succeed, where others have failed. That I didn’t is a blow to my overinflated dominant’s ego.”

The long rasp of a zipper told her he was packing his bag. She closed her eyes. The insulted doms usually got angry, released her, and left her pussy aching, but she didn’t think Master Arturo was like any of them.

Disappointment flagged her energy, and she bowed her head. “Please, sir,” Mari begged. “Don’t leave me like this again? I don’t think I can stand it.”

She heard footsteps and felt heat at her back, which wasn’t self-generated. “Others have left you this way?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, sir. As you said, they found me stubborn.”

“Merde,”he growled. “Short of punishment, which you haven’t earned, or a safeword, never would I leave a sub in such a state. This is what we negotiated,non? A moderate whipping followed by a hard fucking. I’m proud, as are most doms, but not so much that I’d renege on our agreement when I didn’t prove myself exceptional. Neither am I so arrogant to allow my bruised pride to pass up a dripping-wet cunt when it’s offered.”

Waves of humiliation rolled through her. She’d heard the talk about her. Cold, distant, stubborn, but always up for a good fuck. For many, like Arturo, she was a challenge. Their overconfidence making them choose her for the night to see if they could crack through her icy shields.

It would not happen. She wouldn’t allow it.

She heard a wrapper crinkle and felt his hands grip her hips, then he surged up inside her, his generous proportions robbing her of breath. He began pumping into her hard. It was mechanical, perfunctory, emotionless, exactly as she wanted it, as she needed it to be. Then his fingers threaded through the hair at her nape and tugged her head back farther, restraining her body.

Completely immobilized, her limbs stretched taut, with her wrists and ankles strapped to the cross. The eight-foot-tall X-frame acting as a restraint itself, preventing forward movement. Now, he had curtailed head movement as well.

Fully restrained and helpless, she could only take the cock that slammed into her relentlessly and revel in the exquisite domination.

A hard slap on the ass reignited the sizzling heat brought on by the flogging and the subsequent lashes of his blistering quirt. Another swat followed it, and yet another. Then he grabbed a handful of one ass cheek and squeezed.

As his hard fingers dug into her pliant flesh made hot and raw from the whipping, pain and ecstasy flowed through her in equal parts, giving her that extra nudge she needed. Only then did she lose the fight. Her body surrendered completely as her orgasm took hold.

* * *

MINUTES LATER, AFTERArturo had growled his own release, she walked away—okay, so she staggered a bit—under her own power. It was a Herculean feat with his enigmatic eyes upon her, but she resisted looking over her shoulder, wanting nothing more than to turn and run back to him. Like the others after a scene, she wanted to crawl into his lap and cuddle on a couch, to share an intimacy beyond sex she yearned for desperately. He’d taken her further than she’d allowed anyone in the previous months, and with him, only him, she’d found the illusive release of a body-shattering climax. Even more proof that he posed a clear and present danger that she must resist.

Although weak and in need of assurance, after he’d released her restraints, she’d only accepted his hands on her hips, supporting her unsteady body until she found her feet. Aftercare included a bottle of water and a blanket, only. She’d thought to decline even that kindness. When she shook her head to a hug or a few minutes on the couch to recover, she felt like the cold bitch everyone called her.

She’d been resolute in her decision even when she’d seen the glint of disappointment in his eyes, knowing that it was unfair to him. Doms often needed aftercare, too, but she didn’t dare spend another moment in his arms. Tenderness of that sort wasn’t an option for her. So, with a murmured “thank you,” she’d taken herself off to the women’s locker room as quickly as she could, ignoring the heat of his gaze drilling into her back.

Done for the night, having gotten what she’d come for, accepting no affection or other emotion that could be construed as loving—that she reserved for her master and he was dead—she changed quickly. With only a nod to the attendant at the front door, she fled to the parking lot, the same as she did on each infrequent visit. No one else was outside this early. They were still inside enjoying all the club offered: a cocktail with a lover or friends in the bar after a scene, dancing with that special someone, or simply enjoying the phenomenal live music in the lounge. Or, so she’d heard, experiencing none of those amenities herself.

In her car, she locked the doors and turned the key. Throwing the gearshift into reverse, she pulled out recklessly fast and then slammed it into drive. Mari was ten miles out on I-10 toward Houston before her pent-up emotions overwhelmed her and the torrent of tears that threatened choked her as they always did.

Again, as was the norm, she took the next exit and found the nearest empty parking lot, pulling into the darkest corner. Switching off the engine, she dropped her head forward, her forehead thumping on the padded steering wheel. Only then did she allow the tears to fall, and did they ever, as she succumbed to a deluge of guilt and grief, as well as self-loathing for what she’d become.

* * *

AT THE BAR, WAITINGto place his order—something potent and plenty of it after the most disturbing ending to a scene he’d ever endured—Arturo saw her pass through. She was magnificent. Her color heightened, her thick mane of hair in charming disarray, her full lips swollen. The last wasn’t from his many kisses, more’s the pity. The one he’d stolen, unable to resist, was thorough and tasted honey sweet. Instead, they were puffy from biting her lips to hold back her cries.

Her eyes were downcast as she rushed toward the exit. But he suspected they were large and luminous, holding the same distress she’d shown toward the end of their scene.

“What may I get for you, sir?” a soft, dulcet voice asked.

He didn’t turn right away, watching the mysterious Marilee make her escape through the doors before he did so. When he shifted around, he encountered a pale blonde with cyan-blue eyes and a cute button nose. She didn’t look old enough to be up past ten o’clock, let alone get into the club or serve alcohol.

“Dry martini,s’il vous plaît.Grey Goose. Two olives.” Looking on as she poured the vodka and vermouth, he stopped her before she put the top on the shaker. “Unlike the infamous 007, I can drink mine stirred.”

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