“Yes, I do know.”
And then he smacked my ass so hard I saw stars.
I planned on testing Ivy’s limits tonight, but I was truly the one being tested right now. I had almost come in her sweet mouth, and God, I had wanted to. Seeing her blindfolded like that, on her knees and waiting with her mouth open at my command…and then feeling the eyes of the crowd on us as I relentlessly fucked her mouth…
But even though I knew I’d be able to get hard as many times as I wanted—Ivy had that effect on me—I wanted to suffer alongside her. Since I was making her endure my discipline, I would endure along with her, and I would make sure that I didn’t come until she’d been thoroughly sated. Until I’d made up for all the time we’ve lost. Until her body well and truly remembered its master.
It was not easy.
Like right now. She was on all fours, her knees spread apart so that her glistening cunt was free for anybody to see. It took all of my willpower to keep from kneeling behind her and sliding inside. But I didn’t. Instead, I raised my hand back and slapped her ass, the sound cracking through the ballroom like a whip. I stood up, my erection tugging at every nerve in my pelvis, and turned to Silas.
“The dining room,” he said calmly. He was as gifted at self-control as I was, although for a different reason. I used self-discipline as a method to satisfy my whims—by controlling myself, I almost always got what I wanted at the end. Silas simply didn’t know how to be anything but polite and jovial, even when he was coming all over a woman’s face.
I nodded my agreement. And then I bent down so Ivy could hear me clearly. “You may stand now.”
She obeyed, getting to her feet, her legs shaking slightly. Her nipples were tight jeweled points and there was a blush high in her cheeks. It wouldn’t be long after I let the others touch her that she would come.
I took her hand in mine and led her past the observers in the direction of the dining room. Some followed, some returned to what they had been doing, entertained by the spectacle but not intrigued enough to participate. I didn’t care. It didn’t matter if there were two hands on Ivy or two thousand, I would still make sure that every iota of pleasure was wrung from her body tonight.
She followed me almost meekly, the blindfold inhibiting her normally confident steps, and I was careful to steer my wildcat around obstacles and people, stopping only when we reached the dining room. Dominated by a massive table, the dining room was empty of guests and food, the table completely cleared of the remnants of supper.
“I’m going to pick you up and lay you down,” I told her. She nodded, looking so sweetly confused and eager that I couldn’t help but kiss her right then, letting my lips linger on hers. Then I lifted her easily and laid her on the table.
The cold wood against her back and legs sent goose bumps racing over her skin and I watched them hungrily, wanting to lick her pebbled flesh, to bite it. She looked perfect like this, her breasts round globes, her back arched in such a way that I could slide my hand under her lower
back without ever touching her skin.
There were twenty or thirty people around the table now, and I recognized every face among them. Most of them were good friends, some were acquaintances, but all were people I’d trust to touch my pet. The Baron didn’t allow cruelty or selfishness in his house, and as a result, he’d cultivated a set of people who both flouted the sensibilities of the outside world but respected individual boundaries. But still, I felt like I needed to clarify.
“Tonight, my fiancée has returned to me,” I told them. I put a hand on Ivy’s bare stomach, loving how the soft flesh trembled underneath my fingertips. “And I am so happy.” Stupidly, my words cracked, and I swallowed the emotion back down. “But tonight, I remind her who she belongs to. Does anyone have something I can bind her with?”
Rhoda and Zona, the blonde twins, both hastily unfastened their silk sashes, and Silas offered up his tie. With their help, soon I had Ivy’s legs tied to the bottom corners of the table and her right arm to the top. I turned to look for another sash or tie, and found Lord Gravendon standing behind me, quietly offering his own cravat.
I gave him a smile in thanks and then finished tying Ivy to the table. The position of her arms above her head made her breasts jut higher and her back arch more. Her legs were spread farther apart, and from here, I could catch the barest glimpse of her rosy seam, just begging to be fucked.
“You may touch and kiss as much as you’d like,” I told the guests. “I only ask that I be the only one to fuck her.”
And then I stepped back. As soon as my hand left her, she visibly tensed, and I knew this was something that both scared and secretly delighted her, the strangeness of having many mouths and hands on her, the vulnerability of being exposed and exhibited.
Silas was the first to step forward, with a wink at me, and then he leaned down and whispered briefly in her ear. I saw her relax the slightest bit. She trusted Silas; he was a known—and charmingly kind—quantity. He told her something else as his hand brushed lightly over her stiffened nipples and she gasped, squirming unconsciously toward the stimulation. Soon others came closer, caressing her limbs and dropping kisses on sensitive sections of flesh. Spikes of jealousy flashed through me, sending jolts of arousal straight to my groin. It was delicious torture, watching this, watching others tease her into arousal and then coax that arousal into climax. It made me feel violent and possessive and so very, very in love at the same time. It was like the pain and envy highlighted the lines and borders of my feelings for her, like a contrasting dye on fabric, making every sensation sharper and more vivid.
Ah, never mind. I couldn’t even properly explain it to myself. Who can ever really explain the parameters of lust? Or what sparks arousal? By its very nature, it doesn’t make sense logically or empirically. It’s something that speaks to the deepest parts of our minds and bodies, something that bypasses reason, societal mores, and even our sense of shame. All I knew was that I was ravenous with the desire to watch Ivy come on this table, and come hard.
“She’s quite beautiful,” the Baron murmured.
“She is,” I agreed, watching her hands grip their ties as someone finally brushed against her pussy.
Gravendon put a hand on my shoulder. “I hope you’ve finally found happiness, Julian. You deserve it.”
I looked at this man, my mentor in so many things. Though he was only older than me by a few years, he had already been completely settled and secure in his desires and practices when I met him as a young man, still reeling from Arabella’s death. It was as if while the rest of us had to wrestle and realize and continually rediscover who we were, Gravendon had simply sprung from the ground fully formed, a muscled god of sex and power. He had found me, grieving and confused by these impulses that I couldn’t control, and had shown me his world. It was then that I saw who I really was, what I couldn’t deny myself being. He had helped shape me more than my parents.
I answered, “Yes, I think I finally have.”
“Good.” He said it warmly, with great affection. “And anyway, her aunt is asleep in my bed, and I very much would like to have that be a repeat occurrence. So you’re not allowed to alienate her niece.” He smiled the smile of a man who’d just discovered a new treasure.
“You and Esther…” I had been right after all. She was one of us.
As if reading my thoughts, Gravendon said, “Yes. She’s quite a treat. A natural submissive, a true submissive. I only have to speak and she can’t help but to act.” There was an uncharacteristic tenderness in his eyes that I rarely saw when he talked about his partners—generally the Baron only engaged in sex, not anything resembling emotional attachment. “She’s never been properly taken care of before. She nearly cried with happiness afterward.” He shook his head. “It was quite gratifying.”
