Belong to Me (49 page)

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Authors: Shayla Black

BOOK: Belong to Me
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Logan grimaced. “If she’d been sold before her death, yes. Allison already told me that she and Laken had bonded because they were both looking for the perfect Dom and didn’t have a lot of family. So no one to miss her for days and days . . .”
Not what Tara wanted to hear. “Tonight, as our plan goes down, keep your eyes and ears open.”
“I will.” Logan nodded. “But I still don’t like any of this.”
Tara didn’t either, but time was running short and with another woman gone, their options were frighteningly thin.
 
SOMEHOW, someway, Tara had to separate Jordan from his allaccess key card for her plan to work. No one was getting into the Pit without it.
She’d offered herself up as the sacrificial sub, but it took Tara an hour to spot Jordan in the public dungeons, now dressed in leather pants. Amid the crack of whips and the cries of pleasure/pain, he tried to give off the all-American-hero vibe with his winning smile. He’d spiced it up with a bit of badass, punctuated by the barbed-wire tattoo around one of his biceps and his gym-cut abs rippling between peeks of his black leather vest, sans shirt. But his eyes were cuttingly shrewd. Tara sensed this guy was seriously bent.
She shoved back the urge to shake as she wandered past him wearing next to nothing, putting on her best little-girl-lost face as she watched a middle-aged Dom tie his female sub up to a rack with a series of complicated knots that framed her breasts and thighs, rubbing her nipples or clit whenever the sub moved. Tara didn’t have to fake her eyes widening.
“That’s Shibari, little sub. Japanese rope bondage. What are you doing wandering around here without your Dom? Did he leave you again?”
Tara pretended to look down, clandestinely checking his belt for anything attached and his pockets for any flat areas.
“Yes, Sir. He said he was going for water over thirty minutes ago.”
 
Disapproval poured off him, but he softened it with a caress of his finger down her cheek. Willing herself not to flinch as he settled his knuckle under her chin, Tara allowed him to lift her face.
“He doesn’t understand the treasure he has in such a sweet sub. You know, Tara, other Doms would welcome the opportunity to care for you.”
Her heart picked up speed. Was this the first step in separating a vulnerable sub from her protector, pointing out his faults and trying to convince her that she could do better?
“I—I don’t think he cares for me very much, Sir.”
Jordan frowned, then held out his hand. “Come with me. We’ll talk.”
Crap!
She couldn’t go anywhere alone with him. Too dangerous. What if Logan and Xander couldn’t follow?
Fearing that she’d overplayed her hand, she cast her eyes down again. “Master Logan told me not to wander from this area.”
He grabbed her hand. “So sweetly obedient. Such a shame . . .” He sighed. “There is a sofa against the wall. That’s not too far.”
Tara breathed a sigh of relief. It was a bit shadowed for her comfort, but even without a weapon, she was well trained in self-defense. Logan and Xander could still see her. They’d step in if anything went seriously wrong.
With a nod, she followed. He settled himself on the sofa, then patted his thighs. She hesitated.
Jordan scowled. “I won’t punish you—yet. You merely look like a sub in need of comfort, and my job is to provide all guests on the dungeon floor what they need.”
The slime was stretching the privileges attached with his authority, but she did her best to look understanding.
“Master Logan might paddle me if he sees me . . . but I could use cuddling.”
Tara tried not to cringe as she climbed onto his lap and let him put his arms around her. Beneath her left buttock, she felt something flat and hard. With a wriggle, as if trying to get more comfortable, she scooted off the item, only to see a hook at his belt his vest had previously hidden. From there, a thin silver chain dangled that disappeared into the pocket of his leather pants.
Bingo!
“Thank you for holding me, Sir,” she whimpered. “I was feeling very alone.”
Probably a little too forward for someone she’d bet liked to crush girls under his feet, but he took the bait enough and tightened his arms around her. She forced herself to go limp against his chest, swallowing down bile as she thrust her hands under his vest, near his waist. The move put her breasts right in his face, and Jordan didn’t miss an opportunity to ogle.
Willing her hands not to shake, she thrust her breasts forward and slid her hand to the hook on his belt. She pretended a big sigh, which lifted her cleavage as she thumbed the hook off of his belt loop.
“You are very soft, little sub.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
She tried to think of something to prolong the conversation without arousing his suspicion. In case he suspected she was law enforcement, she couldn’t ask for a tour of the VIP room or say that she’d hoped to see him again. Instead, Tara took a softer approach.
“I don’t know why I can’t keep Master Logan’s attention,” she pretended to cry softly, wrapping her fingers around that thin little chain affixed to what she hoped was his access card in his pocket.
“It baffles me.” He brushed the hair from her face. “Kantor asked me to steer clear of you, but I can’t. You’re a treat to be savored.”
Tara froze. Why would Kantor do that unless he was suspicious? And why would Jordan tell her unless he was out of the loop? That was a puzzle to solve later.
For now, she wriggled again on his lap, trying to disguise the slow pull of the card from his pocket. It inched up, a corner sticking out, but with him sitting, she had no way to extract it cleanly.
She gave the prearranged gesture above Jordan’s head. Within seconds, Logan’s heavy footfalls came barreling toward them. With a glance over her shoulder, she saw him charging like an angry predator bent on tearing apart a lesser male for daring to infringe on his territory. She didn’t think that terrifying expression was totally manufactured.
Tara scrambled off Jordan’s lap. As he stood, she tugged the card free of his pocket. She yanked it behind her back, holding her breath as Jordan looked down with a puzzled expression. He’d felt her free it.
Shit!
At that moment, Logan came to her rescue, advancing on the dungeon master with blazing eyes and an accusatory finger. Jordan merely puffed out his chest and tried to look intimidating.
Per their plan, Logan shoved her behind his back. With a clandestine movement, she slipped the key card into his back pocket.
His posture remained in angry barbarian mode. If this wasn’t an act, she suspected Logan would be forcing a big come-to-Jesus down the dungeon master’s throat. This wasn’t doing much for Logan’s disinterested image.
“Never put your hands on my sub again.”
“She was alone and needed reassurance. I provided it in your inattentive absence.”
Logan’s entire back tensed. “The way I treat her is none of your business. Perhaps I was disciplining her.”
“Were you?” Jordan raised a brow.
“None of your business. Don’t interfere again with my property. She needs a good punishment, and I’ll give it to her.”
Tara had to bite her lip to keep her jaw from dropping.
Property?
As Logan whirled and dragged her toward a nearby St. Andrew’s Cross, she didn’t have to pretend too hard to drag her feet. Yes, this had been her idea . . . but that didn’t mean she liked it.
“Don’t go tense on me, Cherry,” he muttered. “You’re going to be fine.”
All she had to do was trust him.
When they reached the cross, Logan stopped, adopted his most stern expression, eyes narrowed on her. “Why am I punishing you, slave?”
Oh, his Dom voice. It should intimidate her a bit, but he just made her melty. “F—for wandering away from the spot you left me, Logan.”
“And?”
Tara did her best to look agitated and uncomfortable. Jordan hadn’t followed, but he was watching. She felt his gaze crawling all over her. “Sitting in Master Jordan’s lap.”
“Taking the comfort you did not have permission to receive, yes. Face the cross.”
She did as instructed, shivering inside.
“Strip. Fold your dress neatly and hand it to me.”
Taking her clothes off in public. Tara tried not to wince. Granted the cross leaned against a wall, so no one would see her breasts or her pussy. But the entire room would see her fleshy ass. Logan liked it, but she still felt ridiculously self-conscious showing a group of strangers the part of herself that she liked least.
“Slave, you’ve been given an order. Do it now, or I add more punishment.”
Blowing out a shuddering breath, Tara reached for the strapless dress and pulled it down. The elastic expanded over her breasts, collapsed again at her waist, flared over her hips, then slithered to the ground, leaving her completely bare.
Logan caressed her backside, lingering to cup the lower curve as he thumbed the slope. “God, I love your ass,” he muttered for her ears only, then nudged her to the cross, forcing her to raise her arms.
All too soon, she was secured to the giant wooden X. Logan selected a whip from the nearby wall—and she swallowed. They hadn’t talked about how he’d punish her. She’d assumed he’d find some soft crop or use his hand, but this whip was nearly as long as his entire body. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it flying through the air, testing its weight. Her heart drummed against her chest.
At the first snap, she jumped, gasped, then looked over her shoulder. Logan looked frighteningly proficient with the long whip as he sent it flying through the air again.
Tara closed her eyes. She could do this. Logan wouldn’t really hurt her. All she had to do was trust him.
Jordan wandered closer.
On cue, Xander sauntered into the scene under the guise of dungeon monitor, just to the left of the cross, and gave her a reassuring nod when Jordan was watching Logan with the whip.
“Count for me, slave,” Logan demanded.
Her entire body tensed as she waited for the first horrific blow.
“Wait,” Jordan demanded. “This is one of her soft limits.”
“We’ve been working on it.”
Jordan cleared his throat. “Even so, we don’t recommend discipline with a six-footer.”
“I’m more than able to give my sub the punishment she needs.
Stand aside
,” he growled.
“I’ll be watching.” Jordan glared in his direction. “One false move, and I’ll step in.”
“Relax,” Xander whispered to her. “It’ll hurt more if you don’t.”
Tara forced herself to exhale and release as much tension as she could. Then Logan struck.
He laid the whip directly across the fleshiest part of her ass. The leather almost caressed her. A slight sting followed, then gently dissipated, leaving behind the haziest of tingles.
She gasped. “One.”
Before she’d taken another breath, Logan brought the whip down again, this time cradling the tender undercurve of her buttocks. The strike was a bit harder, the sensation stronger. As before, as soon as the whip lifted away, a soft nip dissolved into a mellow glow.

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