Club Shadowlands by Cherise Sinclair Read Free Book Online

breath, yanked at the wrist straps.
    “You bastard,” she jerked out. “You let me up, or I’ll sue you so bad. I --”
    “Kitten,” he said, stroking her heated cheek. “No one ever does. Lawsuits make headlines, and no one wants to admit they’ve been here.”
    Publicity? She choked, bitterness sour in her mouth. She couldn’t afford a scandal in her straitlaced accounting world. Her threat of a lawsuit was useless, and he knew it.
    “I am sorry, little one. You’re going to have to submit and take your punishment.”
    After stroking her hair, he walked over to the wall. She twisted her head, trying to keep him in sight. Her breath stopped. The flickering lights on the wall had concealed what hung there. Canes and whips and paddles and crops. A whimper escaped her, and she strained harder against the restraints.
    She could hear people laugh as she struggled. Lots of people.
    Hands behind his back, Sir took his time contemplating the devices, and her anguish grew. No, not the whip, you promised. Please not the horrible long, stiff cane. And then he picked up a round paddle the size of a person’s head.
    “This seems to fit the need,” he said. He touched her cheek gently and said, no longer whispering, “Jessica, since you are new to this, I will make it easy. You have permission to Club Shadowlands
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    scream, to cry, to swear and call names, to beg…even to stay silent. Anything you do will be acceptable for this period of time.”
    “You jerk, don’t you tell me what I can do.” She was so angry, so frustrated, so terrified, she felt tears springing to her eyes.
    “Jessica, I just did.”
    He disappeared behind her, and try as she could, she couldn’t turn her head far enough to see him. The club members were ranged around the roped-off area, watching. Spectators at a live show. She hated them as much as she hated him.
    Someone lifted her skirt and smiles appeared. Her teeth ground together as heat seared her face. She had on no underwear; all of her butt was up and naked in the air where everyone could see.
    Sir’s voice. “Such a pretty little ass, don’t you think, Master Smith?”
    “Very nice.”
    Master Z massaged her buttocks, slowly, gently. He ran his fingers over her bared skin, his touch sensual, growing increasingly intimate as he traced the crease between her buttocks and thighs. Her awareness narrowed to just his touch, and then she gasped as his fingers stroked between her legs, sliding in the wetness there until need slid into her body like hot air through an opened window.
    And he moved away, leaving her throbbing.
    “I’m not setting a specific number.” Master Z’s voice. “I will say when to stop.”
    And something hit her bottom with a horrendous slap. Her legs jerked, and pain seared her skin, shocking pain. She ripped at the restraints as she frantically -- wham! The burn shot down to her toes. She closed her mouth over the cry; she wouldn’t yell or cry, see if she --
    wham! Her bottom was on fire. Another blow, then another, each one raising her to her toes, her body arching on the bench.
    And then it stopped. Trying not to cry, she rested her forehead on the leather.

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    Cherise Sinclair
    “As the offended parties, please take three strokes apiece,” Master Z said, his voice as courteous as if he’d been a fancy waiter.
    Jessica shook her head frantically. No more. Tears leaked from her eyes, turning Master Z into a blur as he crouched next to her.
    “It will hurt less if you can relax,” he murmured, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
    “Please --”
    “You can take more.” He reached under the table, cupped her dangling breast. “You will take more.” He nodded at someone and wham!
    A cry escaped her this time. Wham! Wham! It hurt so bad, and she sobbed.
    With one hand, Sir stroked her back; the other hand held her breast in an intimate grip. His fingers on her nipple -- even through the pain she could feel his touch -- created the strangest feelings