Page 65 of The Escape Artist

That seemed to excite her even more. She screamed out her release, panting and gripping the sides of the leather. Kane patted her on the back as though she were a puppy who'd performed an adequate trick.

Then Saskia's blindfold was removed as well.

“Are you both ready to be branded?” Kane asked.

“Yes, Master,” they both replied, dutifully.

Though Saskia seemed far more sure than Claire felt. Claire had decided it wasn't the mark that upset her. The idea of wearing Ari's permanent mark on her skin made her feel warm inside. It was the fear about the pain. The fear she couldn't handle it. The fear it might cause a flashback and then this moment would be forever marred by the past.

“Good girls,” Ari said. “This is how it goes... it'll be five seconds. It will hurt. But once the nerve endings are destroyed it won't hurt anymore. Except for soreness while it heals. Claire, are you okay?”

She nodded. “Yes, Master.” Was she okay?

“Saskia?” Kane asked.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good,” Ari said. “As soon as it's over, we'll take care of the injury.”

Claire watched as both men one at a time stepped into the attached bathroom to wash their hands. Then each in turn took surgical gloves from a disposable cardboard box and put them on.

Saskia reached out and grabbed Claire's hand and squeezed reassuringly.

“How's the temperature?” Ari asked.

Kane stood behind them near the branding irons. “It's ready.”

Ari joined him. Claire could hear the irons being pulled out, the terrifying grating sound as they clanged against each other.

“Deep breath, girls,” Kane said when they'd returned. Kane stood behind Saskia, Ari, behind Claire.

Claire and Saskia both screamed when the searing irons pressed against their hips. Claire gripped Saskia's hand tighter. She lost her breath for a moment and thought she would faint, except somehow the smell of burning flesh called her back as the thought floated dimly in her mind... I should have fought. I should have begged him not to do this.

“Five... four... three... two... one...” the two men said together. Then the iron was removed. The pain of only moments before was gone. The skin around Claire's brand felt tight. Her breathing had returned to normal, and soon a sort of elated high felt as though it were claiming her. Saskia let go of her hand and let out a long slow breath of her own.

Claire closed her eyes, tears she hadn't realized she'd been crying moving down her cheeks as Ari smoothed a salve into his mark while Kane took care of Saskia. Marcus came up then with plastic wrap. Both Ari and Kane took some off the roll. Ari pressed a piece of plastic over the brand. Claire let out a relieved sigh even as she felt not quite fully inside her own body as the endorphin rush flooded her.

Ari leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her shoulder. “All done. You did great,” he said.

Ari and Kane released the girls from their bindings. Ari picked Claire up and carried her back over to the bed, careful not to touch the brand. Kane laid Saskia next to her, then the two men climbed into the bed with them. Both Kane and Ari gently stroked the two women.

Claire felt somehow not quite real. She felt lost and like she couldn't make it back to the real world. But instead of the basement, she'd gone to a much better place—a place of safety and debauchery and pleasure sandwiched between two extremely attractive men, and a third one who sat watching.

“Come here, love,” Marcus said.

Claire watched as Saskia rose from the bed and joined him. She straddled him and he held her close, pressing kisses along her shoulder. He touched the brand lightly over the plastic wrap, and she winced.

“Hurts?” he asked.

She laughed. “Yes, Sir. Quill burnt the nerve endings off my hip. It's sore.”

“So I have to be gentle with you for a while then.”

Before she could respond, a loud bell rang, flooding into the room from a speaker in the ceiling. A doorbell. It rang incessantly, demandingly.

“Who in the fuck?” Ari growled. He untangled himself from Claire and got up, angrily jerking his jeans on.

The doorbell kept ringing. Aggressively. Endlessly.

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