Page 25 of A Secret and a Lie
He looks delicious tonight,undone. He arrived without a suit jacket and with the top two buttons of his black dress shirt unbuttoned, his brown hair sinfully messy, distracting from the weariness tugging at his features.
Having abandoned his drink, he steps next to me as I open the armoire, revealing a vast array of crops, whips, canes, paddles, floggers, collars, and chains. The rest of my toys are in the dresser, but we aren’t ready for that. In fact, I’m not even sure we’re ready for this. Still, I tell Ford, “Choose one, unless you’d like her to do it.”
He stares at me for a second before taking in the options displayed within the custom-made armoire. After a long moment, he reaches for a leather flogger, the tails swishing as he removes it from its hook.
The ends slide through his large, masculine hands as he examines the leather whip. Turning toward Sloane, I ask, “Are you comfortable with Clark flogging you? Look at me when you answer.”
She does, her eyes bright with excitement. “Yes, Madam Allison.”
Slipping my hand into her hair, I run my fingers through the strands. Of all the women who work for me, Sloane is among the prettiest. That’s not why I asked her to join us, though. She also happens to be the best, most well-behaved sub. I know because she was a client once upon a time before she came to work for me. She’s an obedient little thing, eager to please. She’s perfect for someone new to this world.
“Let’s use the traffic signals for now,” I say to both of them as I wrap Sloane’s soft hair gently around my fist. “Sloane is a little pain slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Madam Allison,” she squeaks as I yank her hair roughly.
Smiling, I instruct her, “Spread your knees and sit up.”
When she obeys, I release her to find Ford staring at me, his chest rising and falling heavily, and I force myself not to look at his crotch. Taking a step back, I nod to him. “Start slower and softer than you think. This is meant to be a warmup, a tease, before you truly flog her.”
Leaning against the bed frame, I cross my arms over my chest, ignoring the way my nipples are hard beneath my dress, and I’m absolutelynotacknowledging how wet my panties are. Maybe even wetter than Sloane’s.
“This is your scene now, Clark. If you’d like her to thank you for her flogging, tell her. If you’d like her to count the blows, tell her. If you want her to silently accept the whipping, explain that. The same principle applies when punishing a sub for any rule you’ve clearly laid out for them. She can’t read your mind, but she wants to please you, so it’s important that you give her the tools to be able to do so. Communication is the most important element in any scene.”
Blue eyes drill into mine, his pupils expanding by the second. He appears as though he wants to say something…or bolt. Maybe both.
Instead, he reluctantly tears his gaze from me and speaks to the woman on her knees for him. A woman I’m suddenly incredibly envious of. For the first time since I’ve met Sloane, I find myselfdisinterested in igniting her silky, sweet backside until it’s blazing with raw fire. No, now, I want tobeSloane. That’s a problem.
“Keep count in your mind and thank me for them when I finish. You’re permitted to make noise,” he commands, his voice a cloud of smoky lust.
“Yes, Clark,” she answers dutifully.
The next several minutes are the ultimate exercise in restraint. I’ve never coveted what someone else has more than I desire to swap places with Sloane. Vines of ugly green jealousy snake through my insides until I no longer recognize myself. Sloane’s squeaks and moans fill the room, and when my vision begins to blur, that’s when I force myself to look away. Staring at the wall instead, I attempt to block them out.
The fact that he’s doing a good job only drives the knife into my heart a little deeper. His hits are perfect; landing on the roundest part of her ass in a figure-eight motion, increasing and decreasing in tempo and strength. For the first time inyears, I’d sacrifice everything I’ve worked so hard for to submit, to trust someone wholly enough to give myself to them in this way. I miss it. I miss the pain and the pleasure, but most of all, I miss the liberation that comes with letting go.
Sure, I’ve missed the submissive side of myself over the last decade or so, but it’s always been easy to blot out and smother like a wayward spark. It’s never raged like this before, like an untamed wildfire, and I’m terrified to admit that Ford fucking Crawford might be the one that lit the match.
It’s too risky,I remind myself so that I don’t do something idiotic like fling my body into the middle of this scene, begging Ford to take the flogger to my backside instead.
I could kill this scene with a single word, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I want to leave, want to abandon these lessons, want to abandonhim, but something keeps me rooted to the spot and my mouth sealed shut. The most masochistic part is that the same things that have me wanting to run for the hills are the reasons I’m staying.
Sloane’s labored voice interrupts my thoughts as she meekly whimpers, “Thank you, Clark, for all thirteen hits.”
Steeling my spine, I grit my teeth and force myself to look at the pair once more, only to find Ford watching me instead of Sloane. His eyes are filled with unrestrained lechery, but I don’t get the sense that his desire is directed toward the woman on the floor.
We stare at each other for several beats, our gazes linked like handcuffs, before I swallow past his attention and rumble hoarsely, “Good job, both of you. I think we should tackle aftercare as well as sub and Dom drops.”
The more information I can impart, the faster I can extricate myself from this arrangement. I can’t be around him. It’s dangerous.
He’s dangerous.
Genevieve
The moment the elevator doors close on Sloane and Ford, I toss back the rest of my abandoned martini, the gin setting my throat ablaze, and make myself another before retreating to my office. Though, the moment I step into my sanctuary, I find Liam pacing the length of it.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, hurriedly setting down my cocktail glass and moving to stand in front of him. Liam has an easy four inches on me with heels, and I crane my neck up to look at him, scanning for injuries other than his mostly healed black eye.
Tonight was his first day back at work, and I can’t imagine that the mild-mannered client he saw would’ve caused any problems, but I’m wary of everyone these days.
