Page 26 of Betrayed

Her rational mind screamed that she was insane that this was unsafe. It was the reason she had never played anywhere except in the main dungeon. Then again, the rational, less emotional, intelligent side of her brain was no longer in charge. If firm control was her raging, long-neglected libido that took one look at Arturo Durand and craved him beyond all sense of self-preservation. She wanted him, the whole gorgeous, captivating, sadistic package.

So here she stood, in a short, slinky, backless dress, sans panties—not because he ordered it but because the dress made even the skimpiest thong impossible–watching as he moved around the room, readying it for their scene. Her body still hummed from the dancing, which was the most erotic foreplay she’d ever experienced, so she wasn’t sure all the prep work was really necessary.

Dragging her gaze from the man who was driving her mad with lust, she took in her surroundings. The wide heavy drapes were pulled back, allowing moonlight to stream in through the high, arched windows. Arturo had already dimmed the bright overhead lights, leaving only the flickering wrought iron wall sconces burning. The perimeter of the room was now cast in long shadows and her eyes were drawn to the focal point of the room, an ornately carved, heavy wood, four-post, canopied bed. It was massive, and draped as it was in velvet and satin, quite magnificent.

Everything appeared authentic to the era, which she guessed was the Middle Ages, or thereabouts. No detail was overlooked, right down to the heavy brocade stitching on the bedspread. She’d never been upstairs before, but like the public areas downstairs, it appeared the owners had spared no expense. It was easy to see why there was a waiting list for the rooms. She’d heard the gushing subs in the locker room recounting the many delights to be found in the Victorian sitting room, the doctor’s office with an exam table complete with stirrups, the Shibari suspension room, and the classroom with its rack of canes ranging in size and intensity from light and snappy.

Then there was the most popular theme room, the Sultan’s chamber, described by so many and in such detail, Mari had a clear image of it in her head: low couches, abundant pillows, scantily clad women prostrating themselves at the grand master’s feet—this description had come from one of the group enthusiasts—and the free-standing Turkish bath big enough for the master and at least four of his concubines.

She’d also heard many things about this room, the medieval bedchamber. It was opulent, but she didn’t see any of the special features the subs had whispered about, though the padded prayer bench in the corner was more like what she’d expected.

Most of the action took place on the immense bed, no doubt. Still, she looked around the room for more; stocks, a pillory, or at the very least, a bondage chair. Her face must have shown her surprise at not finding what she thought she would.

“Looking for a torture rack or an iron maiden, perhaps?”

She had the grace to flush. “Yes, actually.”

Arturo chuckled. “Exactly what one would expect from a sadist. I don’t take offense, although it is quite clichéd. Besides, I like my comforts as much as the next dom, though you,chérie, can expect otherwise.”

His teasing wink caused an uneasy feeling at the same time it raised the temperature of her body at least five degrees.

“This room contains hidden treasures and gives the phrasepositively medieval, which has a negative connotation for a reason, a whole new meaning.” Pausing at the foot of the enormous bed, with a wicked glint in his eyes, he crooked a finger at her. “Viens-ici, Marilee.”

Said in a low, sensual tone, his order did not need interpretation or repeating. She moved toward him, accepting the hand he extended.

Despite his warning, she was beginning to feel more at ease with him. One fantastic orgasm, a few gifts, and some spectacular dancing shouldn’t inspire trust, but for some reason it did. Perhaps because she’d been alone for so long, starved for attention and denying herself. But that smacked of desperation and should have set off alarms in her head.

She stopped breathing as without preliminaries, he pulled her dress off her shoulders. It fell down her front and required the smallest of tugs at her hips for it to glide to her feet. Left bare to his fervent gaze, a shiver rushed over her from the chill in the room. At least, that’s what she told herself.

Raising a hand, one long finger extended, he circled her nipple.

“You appear more than ready to play.” He captured her other nipple and pinched both lightly. “No physical problems I need to know about?”

“None, sir.”

“Joint or flexibility issues?”

Uh-oh, what did he have planned? As images filled her head, of her body twisted like a human pretzel, she answered, “I broke my left wrist about ten years ago in a fall, but no lingering effects.”

“Good. You will inform me if you experience any undue strain on your joints, tingling sensations, or if anything causes unintentional discomfort or goes numb. Bad pain is not what we’re about,d’accord?”

“D’accord,”she parroted robotically, then blinked and quickly corrected herself, feeling silly. “Uh, I meant to say yes, sir.”

“I’ll have you fluent before you know it,” he teased while tugging on both nipples. “Your safewords are what, Mari?”

“Red for stop. Yellow if I need a break or it’s getting too intense.”

“I expect you to use them if you need to.”

“What are you planning?”

His eyes shot to hers, his fingers tightening pointedly on the taut peaks. She leaned toward him instinctively to ease the ache, sucking in a breath as he gave them both a quick twist without reducing the pressure, which sent a jolt of need shooting lightning quick from her nipples to her clit.

“Any plans I have for you will be unveiled to you in due time, in my time. Is that clear?”

She gasped as he twisted both tips, not viciously but slowly, tugging the nipples outward as he lifted her nipples, bearing the weight of her full breasts as he did so. It was enough to make his point.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, her body trembling. “I’m sorry.”

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