Thoroughly Whipped

“Yes, sir,” I said and he stilled.

“I am Maître. You will call me as such. I am no ‘sir’.” He leaned forward. “This is my castle. I am the master, not a subject.”

“Yes, Maître,” I quickly corrected.

I was rewarded with a large smile. “You learn quickly.”

I huffed a laugh. “When I’m not wrecking rooms full of sex swings, I’m generally a smart cookie.”

His head tipped to the side again as he studied me. I couldn’t read his expression due to the mask and the silver contacts, so by the quirk of his lip I didn’t know if I had misspoken or he was impressed.

“You speak without being told to.”

“I know,” I sighed, then tensed. “Are you going to punish me for that now? For what happened downstairs?”

“Do you want to be punished?” The way he said punished, his voice rising at the end of the word, caused a rush of wetness to gather between my legs.

“Do you want to punish me?”

Maître lounged back on his throne as I asked him that question. He lifted his leg and laid it over the winged arm, mirroring the way he had been sitting when I came into the room. The operatic Italian music flowing from the speakers calmed me like a soothing balm. I spoke Italian, of course. It was as much home to me as English. Though I had never been in a home like this—full of crosses, walls of floggers, canes, and whips, what appeared to be stocks, an intricate wooden bench of some kind and, in the corner of the room, what looked like a giant birdcage.

“Do you like the look of the cage, mon petit chaton?”

I blinked. “Little kitten?”

“You are curious like one, non?”

Maître pushed to his feet and walked straight to me. I wanted to peel the mask off and see the man underneath. He had me more than intrigued. Maître’s hand moved to the mass of hair on my head. Deftly, and with a gentleness that made my skin shiver, he began threading the bobby pins from my tresses, dropping them to my feet in a haphazard pile. My hair fell like a heavy curtain to the middle of my back.

“You will never wear your hair up again.” He bent his head down until his cheek was hovering beside mine. “I’ll need something to grab hold of when I fuck you. If you consent to this, of course.”

Every part of my body was taut and turned on, my stuttered breath betraying how impossibly aroused I was right now. I felt like Maître would simply have to stroke his finger on my bare shoulder and I’d splinter apart. Curiously, I felt safer here, alone with Maître in his room, than in the main room with everyone else.

Maître circled where I knelt. He was tall and broad with cut muscles that flexed with every small step. “I haven’t fucked a siren in quite some time. Have never trained someone solely for my liking.” He walked back to his throne, sat down, and stared at me.

“Never?” I whispered. He shook his head silently.

He leaned forward. “Tell me.” I waited for him to continue. “Why did you refuse so many offers in the main room?” He had been watching. “I check the main room throughout the night, ma chérie. I must ensure my members adhere to the rules.” His eyes narrowed. “I saw the new sirens all joined in…except for you.” I closed my eyes, embarrassment taking me over. “You do not want to be here?”

“Yes, Maître,” I said quickly, opening my eyes. “I do. It’s just that room…” I shook my head. “It was. A lot to take in at once. I…” I decided to be honest. “I don’t know what happened. I just got a case of cold feet.”

Maître came forward again. Moving behind me, he placed his mouth at my ear and whispered, “And now? In this room, with me. Do you have the same cold feet?”

An involuntary moan slipped from my mouth as my blood heated to boiling temperatures at his close presence. Maître lifted my hair in one hand, like a rope, and I felt his breath on the back of my neck.

“No, Maître.” My voice was raspy. “No cold feet at all.”

“Do you want to play with me, ma chérie? Do you want to be my siren, my submissive? Do you consent to being mine?”

There was only one answer I could possibly give. “Yes, Maître. I give my consent to being all yours.”

“Bon,” he said and tightened his grip on my hair. Not hard enough to cause pain, but enough to make me still and fall under his command. I froze in shock at how quickly my body had fallen under his direction. He dropped to his knees behind me, and his free hand moved to my panties and slipped underneath the lace. I hitched a breath at his touch, my thighs instinctively sliding apart.