Cries of Penance (2 page)

Between slaves, the stage darkens and a spotlight flies over the crowd.

Looking at Jackie’s program I see that a hundred slaves wil be auctioned tonight. It’s going to be a long evening.

Thankful y, the night becomes punctuated by moments.

Slave number twenty is Bernard, the pudgy, slightly balding ex-pet of Jackie. I see that she’s trying to not pay attention as he crawls the semi-circular stage, shaking his tail. He pauses center stage and barks playful y. Jackie sighs heavily but doesn’t bid, not a single penny, though I think she might have wanted to.

Slave number forty-three is dragged center stage by her leash and there is much simpering and crying before it is determined that she has chickened out.

Her Master isn’t pleased but oh, wel . The slave real y does have al the power on that stage. “I don’t want to do it” doesn’t require a safe word.

It is slave number sixty-eight that makes my breath catch. I lean forward in Jackie’s lap, watching intently. She is tal , thin, and not even an A-cup on a good day. Her hair is cut short, her eyes are as big as saucers, and she looks scared shitless, but when she is asked to make the semi-circle walk she lifts her chin 12

Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

bravely and walks. She could be me two years ago. I watch her, holding my breath. I sneak a peek at Master to see his reaction to her, but he barely takes a second glance at her. My heart pounds so hard against my chest, it is painful.

The bidding is fast and furious but never goes over seventy thousand. I suck in a deep breath, wondering what I expected. Did I think Master would bid on her?

Did I think her going price would reach two hundred and fifty grand?

Chuckling with an odd relief, I settle back against Jackie. I hope she didn’t notice my interest, but knowing her as wel as I do, she didn’t miss it. She says,

“She was pretty.”

“Not that pretty.” Too late I remember I’m in The Oasis and I spoke. I climb out of her lap and settle into the middle of my cushion.

“Are you okay?”

“Meow-meow.”

“She isn’t as pretty as you.”

“Meow-mee-ooow.” I hope my tone lets her know I think she is. I blink at her, wanting to ask something, but not knowing exactly what it is I want to know.

“No one wil ever get as high a bid as you, Kitten.”

I sigh, unable to fit why into meows. Why would anyone keep bidding to get the bid so high? Who was bidding against Master? To this day I don’t know the answer.

I watch him commanding the stage and know the second he searches the upper levels for me. I crawl forward and press my face against the glass. Seeing me, he flashes me a thousand-watt smile and blows me a kiss. Ducking, I blush.

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Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

“I wish I had a camera so I could show you just how beautiful you are. God, Kitten. You are stunning.” Jackie ruffles my hair.

I don’t take my eyes off Master. So many numbers later, he final y leaves the stage. I lick my lips when I lose sight of him, waiting, waiting, until seconds later I see him again as he crosses the back of the dance floor and enters the elevator.

Turning, he meets my gaze. I smile, crawling as I keep watching him, as he keeps watching me.

I’m waiting at the elevator doors when they slide open. He doesn’t step out so I crawl in to join him. The elevator doors close. “I’d real y like to take you home right this minute.”

I crawl around his legs, pressing against his trousers. “Meow-meow.”

“It’s the busiest night of the whole damn year. You understand I have to be here, don’t you? There are a lot of very important people here tonight.”

I lay down, stretching, rol ing my back against the floor so that he is faced with tits and baby bel y. I bend my knees, letting them fal open so he can see just how good of a job the artist did painting me. My labia is four distinct colors—

white, gold, orange, and brown.

When I meet his gaze again, the smile is gone. Anyone looking at him would believe he is very angry, but I know his face better than everybody. I know his expressions, his moods. He lusts me. I smile and rol back up to sit, then reposition onto al fours, waiting for the elevator to open, hoping he’s stil interested in a few hours when it’s final y time to leave.

The elevator doors don’t open. Behind me, I hear Master making a cal on his cel . “I need you to cover for me.”

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I decide he is talking to George Kirkpatrick, his Number One.

“I’m taking Kitten home, it has been a long night for her.”

I glance over my shoulder, see his lust and am immediately okay with the fact he is using me as an excuse to ditch out early. Turning my head back around to face the elevator doors, I try to not look smug as he makes two more cal s, one to his security team leader and one to our chauffer. By the time he final y opens the doors, everything is in readiness for us to leave. He leads me through The Oasis to the back service corridor. He keeps walking, I keep crawling…down the long corridor al the way to the service elevator. We take it down to the ground level al ey where the car is waiting.

Master helps me into the back seat and slides in next to me. The car isn’t prewarmed, there wasn’t time. I shiver and Master pul s me close, into the V of his thighs. I relax against his chest, and his arms close around me.

“Mmmm, purrrrrrr.”

“Yes, this is very nice,” he murmurs against my hair. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted you al night?”

I shake my head.

“Maybe it’s the auction. It always brings that night back to me, the night I bought you.”

I smile, because I’ve been remembering it too.

His hands slide over my bel y. “That night, I never dreamed we’d be here, like this.”

I rol my head so that I can look at his face.

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“I’m happy, Kitten. Real y happy. I know I don’t tel you that often enough or how important you are to me. I should tel you every day.”

I lift my face, pushing my mouth nearer, and he lowers his lips but the kiss doesn’t quite work. We have to shift and resettle to make it work, but then we are kissing and al the questions and worries and thoughts I’ve had just disappear.

That’s what Master does to me. Nothing else mat ers.

His fingers are warm and silky smooth as they glide over my skin. He tweaks a nipple before sliding lower. He dips his fingers between my thighs and teases lightly over my labia. “I like the paint tonight.”

I smile.

“You are so very sexy.”

I press my lips to his neck, directly over his pulse.

“We should take pictures and send them to Thomas’s email.”

I go stil against him. I don’t want to think about Thomas, my Lord Fyre and other Master. Not now. I only want to think about Master. I rol in his embrace, going onto my knees to face him. With practiced fingers I undo his bow tie, leaving the ends hanging on either side of his neck. I unbutton his shirt and kiss my way down his chest and bel y as his skin is revealed. Reaching the waistband of his slacks, I unbelt, unsnap, unzip him…push down the elastic edge of his black briefs…his erection springs free, obviously very hard. I smile, meeting his gaze, and lower my mouth to tease him with kisses before actual y licking his length. I swirl my tongue in circles around the head before taking any length into my mouth. I al ow my saliva to col ect so that when I do slide him in and out there is a slickness for him to glide against.

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Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

“Kitten.” He sighs and when I look I see his eyes have closed.

He’s told me often enough that I do this wel , so I don’t doubt my ability as I knead his thighs with my fingers, a little pain, a little distraction from the pleasure I’m giving him. His eyelids slit barely open, but enough for me to know he’s watching me.

I bite, making him moan. If I didn’t have his undivided attention before, I most certainly do now. The thought makes me smile. Withdrawing his length, I graze him slowly between my teeth, then lick him like a lol ipop, up, down, side, side, swirl around.

The sweetness of a little escaped pre-cum coats my tongue. I whisper, “You taste good.”

I bite again, this time a little harder.

“God, Kitten.”

I lap and suck, take in his length and swal ow, gagging, knowing he likes the sound when I gag. I make that sound again and again. He’s close, very close when he pushes me back. Pouting, I don’t understand until he says, “We’re here.”

With a heavy sigh, I join him on the seat, watching as he zips, snaps, and refastens his belt. He doesn’t tuck or button, leaving his shirt open. As soon as the limo pul s up beside the curb, he opens the door, not waiting for the chauffer.

He helps me climb out but prevents me from dropping to my knees to crawl. “I want you. Now.”

I imagine having sex with him in the luxurious lobby, the receptionist and doorman looking on, but that isn’t what happens. We hurry to the elevator and as 17

Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

soon as the doors close, giving us privacy, we are kissing like sex-starved teenagers. His fingers lace into my hair and controls the kiss, letting it spiral out of control but then reining it back in with a tug, only to let it spiral again.

“I need you, Master,” I whisper against his mouth, the kiss not stopping even for the words to ful y form.

His hands slide down my back to cup my bare ass. “You do?”

“Yes.”

His fingers move lower, prodding as his hands pul apart my ass cheeks to give him access. He finds my slit. “You’re very wet, Kitten.”

As much as I want him to, he doesn’t stop the elevator. We ride al the way up to the penthouse level. Picking me up, he carries me down the short hal to our door and once inside we don’t make it to the bedroom. He lays me gently on the sofa, commanding, “Rol onto al fours.”

I rol over and position myself on knees and elbows. I automatical y drop my head, pressing my cheek to the cushion. I arch my back and lift my ass. Behind me, I can hear him unbuckling and unzipping. I wonder if he wil come to me stil wearing his clothes or whether he wil take the time to undress. The question is answered by the sound of his dropping pants, the belt stil in the loops. His jacket fal s beside the sofa, and I see he slid out of his shirt and jacket at the same time because the sleeves of both are tangled together.

He slides his fingers down my spine, making me shiver.

“Cold?”

“No, Master.”

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Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

He slips his fingers along my crack, and the sensation makes me sigh. He finds the slippery slide of my arousal, pushing one finger into me easily.

“Wet?”

“For your pleasure, Master.”

He withdraws his finger only to push in again, this time using two fingers. He teases, pumping his fingers in and out of me. I press back, wanting more.

Harder, faster.

He lightly swats my behind. “Hold your position.”

God, oh God. His voice is like warm, smooth bourbon, holding me in place when I would have rather moved. The command pushes through me, making my body react to him in ways it only reacts when he uses his Master-voice. I close my eyes, wanting desperately to move my hips back and forth, but for him I hold stil and it is pure, torturous agony as I wait…he pumping me slow and rhythmical y…me wanting him to force his fingers deep.

He slides his fingers al the way out, and when he pushes them back in I know he has added a third. He keeps the push and pul aggravatingly slow. I growl with frustration and squeeze my pussy tight, trying to hold his fingers in, trying to force them out, trying, trying, to get what I want.

He smacks my hip again, lightly, but there is a slight sting. “That is stil considered moving. Relax for me completely. Submit to my wil , Kitten.”

I force myself to focus on my breath, trying to relax every muscle, but as my focus shifts from what he is doing to my twat, every muscle is tightened. He keeps pushing his fingers into and out of me, slow, slow, slow. I want to scream with frustration, but he’s given me a job: relax. I start with my shoulders, 19

Cries of Penance – Roxy Harte

commanding them to relax, fol owing the line of tension down my bicep, relaxing, relaxing. I al ow the tension in my upper body to ease out completely, sagging with the relief it gives me, and then I turn my attention to my ass and thighs, al owing them to stop clenching.

“Very good, Kitten, but don’t lose the arch.” The hand he isn’t pumping me with taps my spine where he wants it to drop.

I lift my hips and pul the arch tight, every muscle in my lower back straining to hold the position. Need shoots through my womb white hot. I feel like my spine orgasms the sensation is so great. “God.”

“That’s good, Kitten. Very good. Hold that for me.”

I cry out, the need too great, the pleasure too great. I. Need. To. Move.

I feel the cushions shift as his knees press into them, he is straddling my legs, one knee on the sofa, the other foot stil on the ground. I think he wil final y give me what I need, I think he wil final y thrust into me. I am left disappointed. He slides the fingers out and on the next press in, pushes in al four fingers.

I lose my battle of self-control, pushing back against him. I want more, I need more. I am sharply reprimanded, “Kitten! Do not move.”

Oh God, oh God, oh God. I stil , it’s hard to do, but I do it.

“Do you want me to bind you? Force you to my wil ?”

We both know it is an empty threat. Until I have the babies, there wil be no bondage. No real floggings or canings, or even good old-fashioned spanking.

I relax, letting him pump me with four fingers. I float on the sensation, knowing I wil rise no higher, knowing I wil not climax. I savor this simple pleasure, because it is what my Master wants me to enjoy.

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I drift so wel , I do not even realize when he eases the four fingers out and slides his penis in—until he chooses to push deep—deeper than mere fingers can go. My eyes fly open and I gasp, the sensation lifting me up as high as I can go and crashing me back to the earth in one fel swoop.