Out of the Ashes (The Game 5)

He nodded and played with the hair at the back of my neck. “Today, for instance. It would’ve been so hot if you took me right there in front of Franklin, while the emotions were running wild. Or if you were with him and forced me to watch. But several hours later…?”

I got it. I agreed with him. “Crazy how we evolve and what we learn about each other when we speak openly.”

He grinned and smushed my cheeks together. “Isn’t it?”

Spotting a few slanted boulders nearby, I swam him over there so I could get my mouth on him without giving my thighs the workout of the year. They’d been protesting since I faced Kit and Noa in the mud.

Look at that, I could reach the bottom here too. My boots hit a wide rock, and I pressed Tate up against the flattest boulder. In waist-deep water, I covered his mouth with my own and kissed him with all the passion I had.

“Master?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Who was my sea monster?”

I grinned into the kiss and cupped his cheek. “Greer.”

“That was so fucking hot.” He shivered and locked his arms around my neck. “Especially when you were holding me and looking at me the way you did. I was mortified beyond words and still so damn horny.”

Oh, we were going to have so much fun diving into humiliation together, Tate and I.

“That’s music to my ears.” I rubbed our noses together.

“Mmm…” He kissed me hard and hugged me even harder. “I’m the sorriest primal player in the world right now. I just wanna cuddle with you!” The last sentence came out as an endearing whine, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh wow. Feel my skin, love. I think the mud is an excellent exfoliant.”

Oh Christ.

I snorted and nipped at his jaw before I inched away. As much as I wanted to continue this, I couldn’t let Tate miss Greer’s station. Nor could I let myself miss the opportunity to watch and assist.

“I’ll feel your skin once it’s decorated with bruises and welts,” I promised.

“It already is!” he insisted. “Just check out my back. You should remember caning it.”

I did, but it wasn’t nearly good enough.

We started swimming again, and he asked about Greer’s station. Because he remembered the USMC quote he’d shared. You don’t hurt ’em if you don’t hit ’em.

“I don’t think you need details when you’re approximately sixty seconds away from hearing Greer explain everything.”

“I think you’re wrong,” he replied.

Yeah, well. What did brats know?

The closer we got to the beach and the glow from the torches, the more we heard. Echoes of screams, sobs, pleas, and groans. In terms of rules and instructions, Greer’s part of the event was undoubtedly the simplest. But it was also the one causing the most pain.

“This is gonna hurt,” Tate muttered. “You know I’m not a pain-slut to that degree, right? Pain turns me on, it doesn’t get me off. Unless it’s sensual pain—you know what I mean.”

I did know.

“You know this isn’t a reward, right?” I retorted.

He clicked his tongue and side-eyed me. “I thought we had something.”

Too cute.

The scene we walked into moments later was something else. Barbaric, sexy as hell, pornographic. Shay, Ella, and Aiko standing in line at the beginning of the beach, waiting for their turn. They’d washed the worst of the mud off in the water. Our audience stood behind them. Fires cast an orange glow over everyone. Colt, Greer, and KC each had a station and a spotter. The spotter held a brat in place. A nice Sadist inflicted a world of pain. Darnell must’ve finished already. He was sitting near the water’s edge and had his Owner comforting him.

“Are you kidding me?” Tate blurted out, squeezing water out of his shirt.

“Go to your group,” I ordered.

He knew better than to argue with me.

“Remember, this can be over whenever you want!” Greer hollered.

“Yeah, we just have to sell our souls!” Noa groaned. “Ouch—fucking hell!”

Colt had earned his spot as Noa’s punisher tonight. While a spotter, presumably Lucian, held the boy in place, Colt was beating the shit out of Noa’s ass with a spiked paddle.

A few feet away, KC was giving Kit an over-the-knee spanking. I was guessing the spotter was Lucas.

Greer had set the time limit to twenty minutes. The brats could get away with a quick pat on the ass if they wanted to; all they had to do was deliver some heartfelt, believable praise for Sadists.

In other words, Noa’s ass was a bright-red color.

I walked over to them and dropped my soaked tee on his skin while Colt went for another toy.

“Hooooooo! Oh my God!” Noa cried out. “I don’t know if that hurts more or feels good!”

“Maybe this works.” I fanned out the shirt and squeezed his buttocks through the wet, cold fabric.