Page 11 of Bling

Two more landed, and Isabelle couldn’t stop the string of curse words that flew out of her mouth.

“I had no idea you had such a colorful vocabulary,” he said. “You’re doing well. Two more and it’s all over.”

When she was calm, he let the belt fly again, both swats coming in rapid succession.

“Fuck,” she yelled. She could hear him looping his belt back into his pants, but she didn’t move, afraid of earning more punishment.

“You can get up now, little one.”

She stood up straight and smoothed her skirt down over her inflamed bottom. When she turned, Hunter opened his arms for a hug which she willingly accepted. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, dashing at the tears that were still threatening to spill.

“You did well. After the party is over tonight, we can talk logistics of the job, OK?”

Isabelle nodded. “Do I really have to wear the gag the entire party?”

Hunter gave her a solemn nod. “I’m afraid so, kiddo. Perhaps it will help teach you to control your tongue even when you’re angry.”

Her shoulders sagged, and she let him fit the gag in place. It was a small ball gag, not as big as some of the ones she’d seen, but it was still wide enough that she would drool on herself before the night was done.

“You’re a valuable part of Solitaire, Isabelle,” Hunter said as he buckled the leather strap behind her head. “I want you to remember that. If you weren’t, we wouldn’t take the time to guide you back onto the right path after you fucked up.”

Her chest felt tight and tears threatened to spill again as she gave him a nod. He kissed her cheek and dismissed her. She’d planned to change into a corset Austin had given her—they were much too costly for her to afford—but after everything that had happened, she opted to stay in her black skirt and t-shirt.

Back in the bar, she found Mitch, the club’s head bartender. She was scheduled to work a shift at the bar tonight.

“What the fuck is this, Isabelle?” Mitch asked when she stepped behind the counter.

She tried to respond, but it came out a muffled mess, so she held up her wrist which bore the house submissive bracelet she wore and gave him a shrug.

“For fuck’s sake, how are you supposed to work the bar when you can’t talk to anyone?”

A pad of paper and a marker landed on the bar in front of them. Isabelle jumped at the sound.

Figure it out, Mitch,” a voice that sounded like velvet said. She turned to find Garrett standing there. Her gaze wandered as she felt her face heat with embarrassment at him seeing her gagged like this.

Mitch looked back and forth between them and sighed. “OK, figuring it out.”

Garrett reached for Isabelle’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before backing away. When he was gone, Isabelle grabbed the pad and paper and wrote a brief explanation and a heartfelt apology to Mitch, promising to work extra hard and help him clean up when the party was over.

He tousled her hair. “It’s fine. Sorry if I sounded mad at you.”

By the end of the first hour, her jaw ached, and she wasn’t sure she could handle wearing it all night. It was time for her break though, so she took the notebook with her and sat at a table in the corner. After digging a pen from her purse, she wrote a note to the house Doms collectively, apologizing for her behavior. She would find Master Eli and give it to him since he oversaw the house submissive program.

Drool coated her shirt because she couldn’t stop it from coming. It seemed unsanitary, but Mitch just tossed her a towel to help catch it and made her wash her hands a bunch. By the end of her shift, she was ready to seek Hunter out and beg him to use his belt on her some more. This was miserable.

She did a quick scan of the bar and dungeon, but didn’t see him, so she searched for Master Eli. He was easier to find since he liked to spend a lot of time in his office away from the crowd unless he was playing with his wife.

The door was slightly open, and she knocked on the doorframe.

“Come in,” he called.

Embarrassed, she hesitated but forced herself to push the door open. He gave her a kind smile, never batting an eye at the gag.

“What can I do for you, Isabelle?” he asked, motioning for her to sit.

She shook her head at the chair but approached his desk and handed him the letter she’d written.

While he read it, she backed out of the room, but he held up a hand, stopping her.

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