Frisky Business by Michele Bardsley Read Free Book Online Page A

yanked up her dress and smacked her buttock. The blow stung, but she managed to keep from crying out. He caressed the abused flesh with his fingertips.
    “I didn’t think I needed to teach you manners.”
    Claire’s heart beat frantically. Her ass throbbed, but her body went hot. God, she wanted him. More than any man she’d ever known. Even though her stomach roiled at the mere thought of taunting him, she whispered, “Maybe you do.”
    He drew flush against her, his arms draping her waist. His lips pressed against her ear. “Are you deliberately disobeying me, ma Belle?”
    She said nothing. He nibbled her earlobe then he chuckled. His hot breath cascaded down her neck. “You are, aren’t you? Hmm. You’re being a naughty girl. Do you know what I do to naughty girls?”
    Sweat dotted her forehead. Her body trembled so badly, she thought her knees might give way. She figured his question was rhetorical, so she didn’t answer.
    She closed her eyes and licked her lips, praying he wouldn’t stop holding her. She might slide to the floor if he removed his support. She felt utterly boneless; her body was liquid fire, reacting to his words, his touch.
    He drew her arms behind her back. Cuffing her wrists with one hand he pulled her backward. “Don’t stumble, Belle. Not once. Or I’ll extend your punishment.”
    He tugged her backward and she managed to keep up with him. Her high heels protested the awkward movements, but didn’t betray her feet, thank God. She was reminded of that oft-quoted phrase about that famous dancing duo: Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, except backwards and in high heels.
    The next thing she knew, she was standing in a darker part of the room. Her Master let go of her hands. She heard a rattle of chains above her head, but she didn’t look. Whatever she was in for, she’d didn’t want to add to it by trying to see what he was doing.
    He lifted one arm and clasped her wrist inside a fur-lined manacle then did the same to her other arm. The pose wasn’t uncomfortable, but it did feel strange. She wondered how long she could stand like this … wondered how long he planned to keep her imprisoned.
    “I want you to understand why you’re getting punished,” he said. His breath was ragged. Oh, God. He was going to enjoy whatever lovely torture he administered.
    So was she.
    He walked into another corner of the room. She could barely make out his shape as he bent down and rummaged in what she thought might be a trunk.
    “First, you asked me for a favor and you didn’t say please.”
    She heard him rattle objects. Was he doing that for her benefit? If he was hoping to add to her tension, he was doing a damned fine job. He must’ve thought she’d moved beyond hand spankings.
    Her mouth went dry and her throat knotted. Oh, hell. What have I done?
    “Second, you told me I needed to teach you manners—and that is my decision, Belle, not yours. Then you failed to call me Master.”
    He stood up, his back to her, and then he circled the room—probably so that she couldn’t see which implements he’d chosen. Her heart hammered now and she was sweating everywhere; beads of moisture rolled between her breasts.
    Her swollen pussy ached for relief. She didn’t think it possible to get any wetter. Her nipples were pebbled against the soft fabric of her dress. With only his voice and his dark promises he had managed to get her into a glorious state of titillation. She licked her dry lips as expectancy settled low and hot in her stomach.
    “You didn’t answer direct questions,” he continued. “That’s four infractions so far.”
    So far? Oh! He was right behind her. She heard the soft scrape of his shirt being removed. Then his shoes thunked to the floor. When he came around to face her, she saw that he wore only his black pants and mask.
    He was magnificent. He was muscled—oh heavens, was he! His washboard stomach begged for her fingers, for her mouth. A light sprinkling of