Green Broke Woman (44 page)

She was doing this for the Master she loved,
not because sleazy Beck Hammond ordered her to. And she was doing it because
she wanted to. She had a feeling that was the reason Master Hugh made her come
in alone, so there would be no doubt in her mind who it was encouraging her
feet to move beneath her, propelling her forward to the fate she'd chosen.

She knelt before him with her head bowed,
grateful to hide her butt from the intent stares surrounding her. He helped her
to her feet, making her want to run screaming when her backside was turned so
the audience could see her unsightly flaws. To clench or not to clench her
arse
—that was the question.

Her stomach on the other hand had been sucked
in since before she came into the room.

Master stopped in front of her, patting her
belly with a raised eyebrow. He cleared his throat and waited. Damn him. She
slowly exhaled, allowing her stomach muscles to unclench, revealing her
pudge
to all. Salty mist rose in her eyes. Didn't he care
that she was humiliated? Or was there a method to his madness?

She shivered, nipples perking with erotic
interest when his knuckles grazed them.

His head bent near hers, and he whispered
into her ear with a tender softness she'd forgotten he possessed. “You're a
stunning woman, Kayla. Everyone in this room knows it. You're as hard on your
body as Keith is on his character.
Fools, both of you.
Are you an idiot, slave?”

“I must be to come out here like this,
Master, but it makes me really happy that you and my other guys are all
attracted to me,” she whispered back, blushing hard beneath the heavy stares
and unexpected leers.

“We're not the only ones. After you're
secured to the bench, have a look around and you'll see what I mean.”

“Yes, Master.”

He guided her to the bench and watched as
Travis and Jake strapped her wrists and ankles to the legs of the furniture
while her body rested stomach-down on the padded bench.

Master hovered near her ear. “And you're not
an idiot, slave, just blind. I think after tonight it will help some of the
scales to fall from your eyes.”

She nodded, cheeks burning intensely hot. Oh God,
why did they all have to stare? Were some of them still playing like this
wasn't even happening? Probably, but she didn't dare look to verify.

“Don't be afraid to cry if it hurts ... inside
or out. You'll be well taken care of after this,” he promised in a reassuring
hush.

“Thank you, Master.”

What did he mean inside? Was he planning on
jarring her so hard her bones hurt? She shuddered. That didn't sound like him,
though. Maybe he meant her feelings.

She peeked over her shoulder and saw Master
taking his blazer off and talking to Virgil. They both looked at her.
Intrigued, she stared at Virgil when he knelt by her.

“If you start having flashbacks at all or you
need reassurance, just squeeze my hand or look into my eyes. Hugh says your
safe word is cocoa.”

She managed a nervous grin. “We quit using
safe words after a while.”

“He figured you might need one this time, and
since it's not a punishment scene and caning is intense, he wanted me to give
you one. If you need to use it, just whisper it to me, and I'll give him a hand
signal to stop. That way you don't have to get embarrassed by screaming it out
loud.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“No, no, just Virgil. I'm your vanilla church
boy, remember?” he teased, rubbing her shoulder.

She smiled before trembling. “I can't believe
I'm doing this.”

“Neither can
I
. I'm
proud of you, though. We all are. Okay, here he comes. Just kiss the stick, and
he'll paddle you.”

“It's a cane, and he's going to cane me with
it,” she corrected him, giving him a repentant, humored smile when Virgil made
a face.

“Well, excuse me, honey.” he teased. “I guess
I need to brush up on my club lingo.”

“You're excused.”

She turned serious when Master Hugh
approached with a rattan cane. God, it looked thick. The thud would land hard
on her bottom ... like Slade's fat cane used to. Then there were the thin,
stingy ones he'd used. She shivered, recalling the crippling pain of each size
cane. Both gave off different levels and sensations of pain, but either way
their impact had been devastating.

“Do you trust me, slave?” Master asked her in
a gentle tone she found strangely soothing in the adrenaline rush of the
moment.

“Yes, Master Hugh,” she said quietly. “I
trust you with my life.”

Normally during high protocol moments such as
this she was required to address him as Master. Only in low protocol settings
was she permitted to use his name or call him by a pet name. Still, Hugh seemed
to understand her need to say his name during high protocol this once to
reassure herself that he was the one doing this to her.

The latter words she’d spoken scared her this
time, unlike the comfort they had once been. She still trusted him to the same
extent, but after having seen what men could do, what some were capable of, she
realized the seriousness of putting her control and the rest of her life in
someone's hands.

She wanted him to own her again. Putting
herself
out there in front of unknown stares as she opened
herself to the cane she knew her Master would deliver to her panicking buttocks
felt brave and right somehow.

To belong in this moment—this embarrassing
and scary yet somehow fitting moment—gave her the image of staring the memory
of Slade and his weapons of torment down and saying, “You have no power over me
anymore.”

Kayla eyed the cane, knowing it was Master's
intent to heal her. She didn't know about the possibility of healing from the
severe beatings in her past, but she was willing to endure pain and humiliation
for him if he wanted her to. If she came out of this feeling beautiful and worthy
and healed, then even better.

She closed her eyes and kissed the cane,
accepting her fate. Master petted her head, rubbing her scalp lightly like she was
a beloved pet of his. She wasn't sure if she purred for him or not, but her
head leaned into his doting hand.

Then he disappeared from her sight with the
cane, and raw panic began to set in. It was Master Hugh, not Slade hurting her.
Nor was it Beck filming the whole scene like a heartless jackass. Or Bruce
Callaghan fucking with her mind, making her cling to sweet
lies
for a faint dose of comfort from the horrors the other men had subjected her
to.

Kayla shuddered in horror. Black Dragon—she'd
unknowingly slept with Black Dragon. The same monster who... Not by any choice
of hers, though. The police would find him, just as Beck had met his untimely
death and his body had been found and identified. Like Slade who was behind
bars, in time Alexei Romanov would get served a big dose of karma.

A soft brush of Master Hugh's hand over her
rump startled her. The rasp of his warm palm over her flesh made the scene
oddly sensual. He'd said it wasn't a punishment scene, so the pain shouldn't be
as bad.

Still, it was a
freakin
'
cane. The impact was bound to suck no matter what the intended psychology
behind this scene was.

She made up her mind to be strong and take
the cane for him. Something about facing her paralyzing fear for the Master she
worshiped gave her a sudden spike of determined courage that proved empowering.
She could do this, because he wanted her to, because she was stronger than the
nightmarish memories of physical, sexual, and mental abuse. Because she trusted
him, she could submit. Because she loved him, she could surrender.

Kayla sucked in a sudden gulp of air when she
felt the hard pole slide across her buttocks in a deceptively gentle stroke.
The cane taunted her, offered friendship, but she knew the lying rod would
start nipping at her bottom soon enough.

Master alternated between these sensual
glides over her skin and gentle taps and pats on her butt. She figured he was
warming up her skin so as to lessen the chances and severity of marks when his
strikes became more intense.

Slade had never warmed her up, and the
shocking impact of each hit had always jarred her inside and left her badly
marked afterward. The marks of her Master she cherished. The bloody gashes and
blistered lines from Slade were a different story.

Master Hugh gradually increased the energy
behind these light taps, bringing them in more rapid succession all over her
rump. The slides always caught her off guard, but she enjoyed the smooth, reassuring
caresses before the cane knocked faintly on her rear end as if it were a door
he wanted her to open to him. The taps became more insistent like big mosquitoes
that nipped at her ass, warming her skin. The pressure behind the tapping
turned into warning little thuds that started to hurt. She could do this. He
was being far gentler and more patient with her than Slade had been, and she
had a safe word.

“They're watching you, honey,” Virgil
whispered.

Kayla dared to steal a glance at some of the
people who had gathered around. Some went about their business, dancing or
playing with their partners, but a significant number of people had gathered
around her and watched with interest. She had to do a double take when she saw
some of the bulges on the male spectators. They were turned on? Heck, a few of
the women looked at her with admiration or lust as well.

She blushed and dropped her eyes. Too
overwhelming and embarrassing being watched while naked and vulnerable like
this, but their appreciation of her body touched her and made her feel
beautiful despite her flaws. Master had been right.

A sudden strike thudded on her backside,
forcing the air from her lungs. The cane was pulled back immediately, and no
blow followed for several seconds. The pain and heat registered in her body,
but the effects quickly lessened. A similar hit followed in a different place
on her bottom, jolting her. The impact startled her, though not severely. Heat
radiated, suffusing through her system.

Virgil sat near her, comforting her with his
presence.

The next thud on her ass shocked her. She
felt the impact deep in her muscles, the effects resonating with her like
ripples over water in a confined area after a big splash. Her ass burned, and
she realized Master hadn't moved the cane from her bottom once he'd struck her
this time. The results seemed to intensify and linger in her body because of
the prolonged contact with the cane.

She melted into his soothing hand when he
rubbed the heat deeper into her buttocks, massaging away the pain he'd caused.

What followed was some kind of rhythm,
natural, captivating, yet unpredictable. He alternated places of contact on her
bottom and used various strokes and touches on her with the thick cane,
throwing in the occasional hard thud that vibrated through her. Her butt felt
like it was on fire, and the heat dissipating through her made her blood feel
like simmering water in her veins.

The pain was real, powerful. The exposure and
sense of helplessness were devastating. But the psychology behind the act was
stronger. This was her Master. He wanted to cane her. She'd agreed to let him
do so. It was her choice, but when she'd made it the choice had become his. She
was bound, naked, and collared in front of other people, some of whom were
complete strangers to her.

Their admiration or judgment might normally
have a bearing on her actions, but in this powerful moment they may as well
have not even been in the room. There was no one else here right now, just her
and Master ... and the cane.

Sweat poured out of her body,
clamming
her underarms and dampening the hair at her temples
and the fine, tiny hairs on her nape. The front of her body stuck to the padded
bench, making faint squeaky noises when she struggled or moved. Even the soles
of her feet seemed to sweat.

She smelled her fruity raspberry perfume
saturating her conquered body and her summer scented deodorant doing its job.
She squeezed Virgil's hand when the blows became especially harsh. The pain
inspired tears that dripped from her eyes and splattered onto the floor.

“You okay?” Virgil's question was a surreal
echo that sounded distant. Their joined hands sweated against one another and
resembled a dreamlike blur.

She opened her mouth to speak, mumbling
something. She hoped she said yes, though her answer was unintelligible to her.
The big bad cane seemed to have vanished, and a thinner cane glided up her
thigh. God, she hoped he didn't strike her anywhere but on her ass. She didn't
figure he would. The sensual glide up her thigh was probably Master's way of
alerting her that he'd switched to a thinner cane. Out with the thud and onto
the nasty sting.

Uh-oh.

She braced herself, though her body was
surprisingly mellow despite the brutality she knew was coming.

No. Master wasn't brutal.
Intense
to be sure, but never vicious.

The thin invader moved to her ass, brushing
over the inflamed territory it intended to assail.