Page 184 of Her Beast

The two men were skilled at their jobs and he’d paid handsomely for their presence here tonight. He’d hardly imagined it was possible to find one such exquisite specimen, let alone two.

It had been Smith, of course, who’d discovered them.

What Julia had once said was true: the other man reallydidseem to know everything.

The twins stepped aside when they’d finished binding Julia’s arms and legs.

Christ. She was a bloody masterpiece: stretched and bound and pulling restlessly against the leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles. She was perfect—almost.

“Draw her arms up tighter and spread her feet another six inches, that should stop her willful thrashing.”

He chuckled at Julia’s startled, mulish expression and then glanced at Maisie. She was rapidly approaching her climax and her lips and tongue had become clumsy on his cock.

“You may come, Maisie,” he said, drinking in Julia’s outraged face as he allowed the other woman something he was depriving her.

Malcolm snickered quietly; he could practically hear his wife’s teeth grinding.

Once the men were finished, he gorged himself on the sight of her, bound so tightly she couldn’t move—her breathing constricted so that her breasts swelled high with each breath.

“Good. Now gag her.”

A yelp slipped out of Julia and she squirmed—or at least tried to, but she couldn’t move an inch.

Peter held up the gag, a rather devious contraption fashioned on an actual scold’s bridle but made especially to fit Julia, the metal and leather parts lined with velvet so it wouldn’t chafe or hurt her.

“Malcolm,” she whined, her cheeks flushed, her breathing ragged.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Do you really need to do this?”

“Of course not,” he said, agreeably. “Peter, return the—”

“No!” she said, although it was more a of gasp. “It’s—please, I want it.”

He knew she did. But now he would make her beg for it.

“Oh, well … I’m not sure it is such a good idea,” he said. “Perhaps another—”

“Please, Malcolm.”

“Please, what, darling?”

Her eyelids fluttered but did not shut. “Please have Peter put it on me.”

“It?”

She heaved a sigh, the action doing fascinating things to her breasts. “The gag. I want to be gagged.”

Malcolm grinned at her anguished tone; he would go straight to Hell for being such a sadistic bastard, and by God, would he enjoy the journey.

“Give her the scarf,” he ordered.

Peter put a small red scarf in Julia’s left hand.

“If you want to stop—for any reason or no reason—just drop the scarf. Understand?”

“Yes, Malcolm.”

---