Masters 02 Master of the Abyss by Cherise Sinclair Read Free Book Online Page A

spanking. Yes, he’d mentioned that before. But…but what about sex? When he’d stood up, she’d thought…
    A tremor shook her as his intent registered. A spanking, here, in public, not in his room. And not a boyfriend she didn’t take seriously, but Jake. How hard was he going to hit her? Her stomach sank as her anxiety ratcheted up. This was Jake, who she already knew wouldn’t just slap her butt a couple of times, wouldn’t stop if she was uncomfortable, wouldn’t stop if she yelled. Only if she used the ‘Barney’ word. Her breathing increased to that of a terrified Pomeranian.
    Ignoring the way she dragged her feet, he tugged her to a leather couch in front of the fireplace and stopped behind the back. After removing her cuffs, he spun her to face the couch. “Bend over it, sub.”
    She eyed it. Her bottom would be toward the room…the people. She tried to turn, to check who was watching.
    “They’re not your problem. I am.” He set his hand between her shoulder blades and steered her firmly into position. “Don’t worry. Everyone will admire your pretty ass, especially when it’s glowing pink from my hand.”
    Oh dear God . Embarrassment surged through her and, disconcertingly, a little thrill at being so exposed, especially in front of men she now knew. Logan and Simon—what would they see? What would they think?
    Not waiting for her compliance, he pushed her shoulders down. The top of the couch hit her right at her stomach, cool and smooth, and she inhaled the scent of leather. As she bent farther, he ruthlessly pulled her hips upward until she was bowed in a V, with her bottom high in the air and her legs dangling. Her mound lay against the couch, pressing the butterfly into her clit.
    She braced her hands on the seat cushions to keep from sliding right off. “Jake!”
    He casually slapped her butt. “Silence, sub.” Just the mild sting and the feel of his hand sent more anticipation curling inside her. She closed her eyes and rested her forearms on the cushions as need swamped her embarrassment. From farther back in the room came the sounds of a whip, each crack accompanied by a man’s groan. A woman begged in a high voice near the front. The low hum of conversation rose above the moody music.
    Something closed around her left ankle—a cuff—and he drew her leg toward the end of the couch. A metallic clatter and a click. When her leg wouldn’t move, she realized he’d restrained it—with a chain? He cuffed her other ankle and pulled outward, tethering it to the opposite end of the couch. Her butt in the air and now her pussy wide open.
    She wiggled, trying to move her legs. No give. Fear tensed her muscles.
    He stood, and his jeans brushed against the back of her thigh. “Very pretty, sugar,” he said, his voice a dark caress that slid her fear into heat. “I like seeing your ass high and open. I can play just how I want…as long as I want.”
    Her breath shuddered out.
    He kneaded her bottom with strong hands, then teased the crease at the top of her thighs. The butterfly pressed on her clit, and she wanted it back on, dammit.
    His finger brushed between her legs, sliding through her folds—oh so wet—around and around her entrance until her entire pussy swelled with need. Each time he nudged the butterfly, a jolt of exquisite pleasure pierced her clit. She wiggled helplessly, trying to get more.
    “A squirming little sub, nicely positioned for my enjoyment.” His rumbling voice seemed to fill the air around her. “Ten strokes, I think, for mouthing off to your dom.”
    “What?” she gasped.
    “Eleven.” He swatted her bottom like she’d bat at a mosquito, a mild slap. It didn’t hurt but sent her nerves to zinging. Suddenly he pushed a finger into her, a fast, merciless intrusion, and his other hand slapped her lightly again. Her attention, every nerve inside her focused on how his finger slid in and out of her swollen tissues, ever so slowly. Oh, she needed more.
    She