Thoroughly Whipped

Then I remembered when, in the elevator, he’d smiled. That goddamned dimpled smile. That weird fluttering underneath my sternum came back again. I closed my eyes. Those canes Maître had on his wall seemed more appealing to me by the minute.

As I heard Harry shout a worried Faith one more time in my stupid head, I prayed that Maître flogged the living hell out of me tonight.

I didn’t like Viscount Harry. He was a pompous and prideful ass…I just needed to keep reminding myself of that fact.

Chapter Nine

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m body confident,” I said as I stared at my reflection in my private changing room in NOX. Bunny had told me last night that the outfits in my closet had been chosen for Maître’s specific preferences. It seemed Maître Auguste liked leather, but also very little of it.

I wore a bra and panties set, but the cups of the bra were conveniently absent, exposing my bare breasts to the world. To compliment this look, the crotch of the panties was missing. Everywhere else, I was completely naked. I slipped my veil over my hair, which I had worn down as instructed, and over my face, anonymity firmly in place.

With a fortifying breath I made my way to the private elevator, holding my list of limits in my hand. As the elevator doors shut, I laughed in mortification thinking back to Harry reading it in his car. If I’d told him I was coming here, then at least I would have had a reason for clutching a list of sexually deviant activities like I was safeguarding the Holy Grail. I wasn’t sure if he’d bought the excuse I had given him and, honestly, I shouldn’t really care if he thought I was a more than adventurous nympho. He was my boss. And that was that.

The elevator opened and butterflies began to flutter in my stomach. I turned the doorknob and it opened, revealing to me the chambre. Lowering to my knees, hands on my thighs and head down, I waited.

Several minutes passed before I heard a door opening and, through my peripheral vision, saw Maître’s bare feet and black-silk-clad legs as he made his way to his throne. Looking up from the safety of my veil, I saw his cloak around him and the Phantom mask on his face.

“Bonne nuit, mon petit chaton.” His deep and gravelly voice exuded pure sex. My nipples hardened just at the sound of his voice.

Maître was quiet as he regarded me. When I flicked a glance up at him, I saw him watching me with his finger resting on his mask’s cheek. “Do you have the list I asked for?”

“Yes, Maître Auguste.”

“I do like hearing my name from your mouth.” I didn’t know why, but I beamed at that.

“Now, crawl to me, mon petit chaton. Crawl to me and leave your list at my feet.” I knew I should have been offended by the degrading command. But instead my breathing quickened, and my skin grew hotter at the level of dominance in his voice.

Slowly, I moved to a crawling stance. Maître waited silently for me to do his bidding. On all fours, I moved, trying to keep in time to the music. It sounded like Wagner. When I arrived at his feet, I laid the list down.

“Give it to me.” I handed it to Maître. “Now kneel and wait.” I did as he said.

An attack of nerves assaulted me as he read the list. Would he think me unsuitable for the club? Last night had already given him doubts. My list of hard limits was extensive.

“Bon,” Maître said neutrally and walked past me. I heard the clanking of metal behind me, and it took all that I had not to turn around.

After about five minutes, he ordered, “Come here.” I walked to his shadowed figure, in a darker part of the room. I stopped before the medieval wooden stocks. My eyes widened.

“Put your arms and head inside.” Swallowing hard, I obeyed. Maître closed the stocks around me. “Now lift your legs to the benches.” I did as instructed, and Maître tied my ankles down with the cuffs. With my legs spread wide on the benches, my ass pointed up toward the gods, I tried to move my arms and head and found that I was trapped. I tried to fight back my rising panic at being so restrained.

“Stop trying to move. The point is to be restrained.” Maître moved to the wall, in my line of sight, and retrieved something from the rack. When he turned, it looked scarily like a bat with metal spikes on the end. He leaned over and rubbed my ass with his hand. I could barely breathe. What the hell was he planning to do with that bat?