Page 22 of Enthrall Climax
“Mia.” He whisked it out of reach.
Back in our old life this erotic play would have been perfectly normal between doms and their slaves. Still, we weren’t back at Chrysalis now where games like this were considered tame and there weren’t fifty or so employees on the other side of the door.
Yet my arousal was spiking with every second of Cole’s punishment.
“Obey.” Shay’s insistence intensified. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”
His disapproval felt like a blow to my reason.
My addled thoughts caught up with my dazed processing of this erotic play—I’d begged Cameron to go darker and this had to be a prelude.
Shay had been granted power over me.
“Surrender,” he urged soothingly.
My fingers scrunched the hem of my skirt and froze there. This arousal was causing me to take short, sharp breaths, my nipples beading enough to show through my blouse, my eyelids becoming heavy. Swooning, I had to lean against the wall so I’d not wobble on my strappy heels.
“All you have to do is obey.”
This erotic sparring was startlingly new.
“Your master is waiting,” he added darkly.
Lifting my hem high above my waist, I followed his gaze to where glistening diamonds fell over my clit, my sex shiny behind bejeweled artistry.
He went down on one knee. “Is it comfortable?”
“I can feel it.” I stated the obvious. “It pulls a little.”
“Turns you on?”
I exhaled a shaky breath as I nodded.
“Reminds you who owns you?”
“Yes.”
“Who owns you, Mia?”
“Master Cole.”
“Did you forget this?”
I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut at the humiliation of him being so close to my sex.
Yet Shay was seductive in his own way, rugged in his handsomeness with the demeanor of an ex-military man who didn’t give a fuck. He raised his phone and snapped a few shots of my pussy. A slide of his fingers on his screen let me know he was sending the photos to Cameron.
“No,” he berated. “Remain how you are.”
My sex thrummed with an aliveness that sent pangs of pleasure right up to my erect nipples. I peered down at myself, mesmerized by this titillating scene, balling my fist to resist the urge to rub my throbbing clit ever so slowly, even with him watching.
A divine pleasure blossomed inside me.
A mewling escaped my lips.
He tucked my hem into my waistband to prevent my skirt from falling. “Good girl, Mia. Arms behind your back, please. You know better.”
I snapped my wrists together at my lower spine, remaining in this pose, caught in a dreamy subspace where my master made the rules and dictated how every second played out to please him. This felt daring and dangerous, like a dark forbidden gift from a master who wanted to both shock and awe me.
