Tricked

He gave her ass a light slap. “There’s a big bowl of ice cream in your future if you please me. You disappoint or embarrass me in any way, and you’ll spend the next twenty-four hours in the punishment closet.”

She tensed slightly, but otherwise didn’t react. Her face was hidden beneath the curtain of her hair.

He crouched in front of her and grabbed a handful of that silky hair, forcing her head up. She looked sexy as hell with the silver duct tape covering her mouth. Her eyes widened with fear as she stared at him.

That gave his cock a jolt of pleasure. How he loved that look of helpless fear.

He was all-powerful.

He was a god.

Still gripping her hair, he hissed, “You understand, cunt?”

She nodded, her eyes fixed on his. Satisfied, he let her go and rose to his feet.

He heard the car pulling to a stop in front of the house. After a few moments, the doorbell rang. Heart beating fast, he unlocked the deadbolt and pulled open the door.

Unlike the leather gear Master Wolf had worn at Dark Club, that evening the big, burly man was dressed casually in jeans and a red T-shirt, his dark chest hair peeking above the neck of the shirt. His feet were shod in scuffed black boots. He had a gear bag over his shoulder, and his shaved head gleamed in the porch light.

Damon, who had briefly considered dressing in leather, was glad that he, too, had opted for jeans, though his shirt was Prada, his loafers Gucci.

Wolf’s sub was packed into a sexy red minidress with vertical zippers along the length of it on either side. She wore matching red, high-heeled ankle boots. Her lips were painted crimson and her light green eyes were heavily ringed with kohl. Her white-blond hair hung loose to her shoulders and long, sparkly earrings dangled from her ears. Though she was probably in her late forties, Damon had to admit the bitch looked pretty good. He’d fuck her if given the opportunity. Why not?

She brazenly looked him up and down. He had to resist the impulse to slap her face for such impudence. He glanced at Wolf, who didn’t seem to mind his sub openly ogling another man.

Deciding it wasn’t his problem, Damon flashed a smile. “You made it. Welcome,” he said expansively.

“We’re happy to be here. Thank you for inviting us,” Wolf replied.

“My pleasure. Please come in.” He took a step back and waved them inside.

As they entered, their gazes fell on Callie, who had remained in position, ass upraised, legs lewdly spread, face hidden. Good girl.

“This is my lovely slave girl,” Damon said proudly. “She rarely plays with others, but she’s excited about tonight. Callie, darling. These are our guests, Master Wolf and his sub, Greta.”

Callie, wisely, remained still as a statue.

“Oooh,” Greta breathed, dropping to her knees beside his girl. “She is so pretty, nicht wahr? But see, her legs are—how do you say?” She glanced at Wolf. “Wie sagt man Zittern?

“Trembling,” Wolf supplied. “Is she all right?”

“She’s fine,” Damon snapped, irritated. He glanced at the other man, who didn’t seem the slightest bit perturbed that his sub had spoken without permission. “My slave is highly trained.”

Players, he thought dismissively. But, to avoid any more possible hassles, he patted Callie’s ass and said, “You can switch to a kneeling up position.” Leaning down, he whispered close to her ear, “Remember what I said.”

Damon took a step back, watching as she brought her legs together and lowered her bottom. She swayed a little as she lifted herself into an upright position, slightly off-balance because of her wrists cuffed behind her back. That, of course, was a necessary precaution. He didn’t dare risk allowing her to have her hands free while the couple was there. It would be an unfair temptation he wasn’t willing to risk.

Excitement zipped through his body—the same kind of heady thrill he got when poised at the top of a particularly difficult ski run, poised to fly down the mountain. While a part of him recognized what he was doing was a little crazy, he couldn’t deny the dark, perfect thrill it gave him to think in a few short minutes, there would be witnesses, albeit clueless ones, to his masterful abduction.

He’d dressed Callie in a sexy black leather waist cincher for the occasion. It gave her an hourglass figure and accentuated her bare breasts, pushing them up and together like an offering. He’d rouged her nipples to a dark red. There were still faint welts from her last caning marking the pale skin.

She wore a matching thong, the small triangle of leather at the front barely covering her smooth little cunt. Black leather wrist and ankle cuffs completed the ensemble. He’d decided to keep her barefoot, since she wasn’t very good hobbling around in her heels, and he wanted to make the best possible impression. Too bad Master Wolf wouldn’t get to see that hot little mouth in action.