Hurt Me So Good (14 page)

She’ll never make it through the punishment round.

Shiloh felt no glee at that prospect. In fact, she felt guilty. She’d purposely designed the punishment round to show Victor what she could tolerate, without any consideration for a non-masochist submissive. Few of the contestants would endure much punishment, let alone a showdown deliberately centered on Victor’s sadistic side.

Would he dare let her see beneath that mask even while wearing the Master’s mask for the show?

Ruby cried out, jerking Shiloh’s attention back. Victor had wound the silk tightly around her wrists and gave a firm tug on the ends. “Twist your hands like you’re trying to free yourself.”

Ruby did as ordered, twisting her wrists back and forth. The camera man eased closer, zooming in on her hands.

“See how the silk is twisting over on itself? It will get tighter and tighter, until it’s impossible to untie and begin to cut into your flesh. If you don’t have extremely sharp scissors handy, you might experience loss of circulation and damage your fingers.”

He snapped his fingers and a bare-chested male attendant with an impressive six-pack—for the female viewers’ appreciation—snipped the silk scarf off her hands. “You, too, are dismissed from this challenge.”

Mal walked up and down the line, eying the remaining contestants like they were at a slave market. “Use the bondage equipment you retrieved to show us an incorrect and unsafe bondage position as a lesson of what not to do for our viewers at home.”

Shiloh didn’t have to think very hard: She wrapped the clothesline around her throat. Victor walked behind her, sending her nerves screeching with delicious alarm. He held his hand over her shoulder expectantly, so she gave him the ends of her rope.

Again, the Dominants went down the line, explaining why wrists should never be tied flat against each other or else risk tendon damage, why nothing like rags or tape should cover the mouth in case of aspiration, until the camera homed in on Shiloh, kneeling at her Master’s feet with a noose about her neck.

“This is very bad for obvious reasons.” Victor tightened the rope on her throat. She didn’t fight him; panic would only make the strangulation worse. Besides, he only tightened the rope a moment for dramatic effect, and then loosened the clothesline with his fingers. “Never put ropes or scarves around even the most willing submissive’s neck. Air deprivation is serious on-the-edge play and reserved only for experts.”

She hauled in as deep a breath as the corset allowed and studied his face. His eyes were narrowed on her, watching her for trouble or panic, but he didn’t seem affected by her reaction. His eyes weren’t blazing with heat, his nostrils didn’t flare, and the crop was still against his thigh. Nothing told her that he was aroused by this kink, even though he’d warned her he was on the edge. She could endure a demonstration for the show, but she’d not care for such risky play in the bedroom. Hopefully he didn’t care for it either.

Still gripping the rope in his hands—but not drawing it tight—Victor gave a dismissive jerk of his head to Kimberly. Relieved, the other woman quickly joined the other disqualified submissives, leaving Shiloh at his feet, Andy at Mal’s feet, and a very cute and bubbling blonde at Patrick’s.

The camera zoomed back to Georgia, who began prattling about the final “Master’s Choice” phase of the bondage round. Leaning down, Victor pulled the rope off Shiloh’s throat and whispered, “Remember, this one’s for you.”

Then he gave her a sharp blow on her hip.

Eyes dark, mouth soft and open, her breathing rapid and much too shallow because of her clothing, Shiloh gazed up at him. Victor read hope and confusion both in her eyes, a wild tumult of longing that she tried to hold back. She didn’t want him to see how much the blow affected her…for fear he would feel pressured to give her more.

When that’s exactly what he longed to do.

With her eyes locked on him, she stood with the other two submissives. Georgia gave the go, and the two submissives raced for the table, but Shiloh stayed before him.

“Go!” Georgia rushed over, a tense smile on her face for the camera. “Gift, this is it! The final challenge!”

“I know.”

“But you’re supposed to pick the Master’s Choice!”

Shiloh smiled. “I am. I hope.”

Deliberately, he kept his face smooth and hoped the fires were banked in his eyes. He felt a quickening in his heart, a leap of joy and excitement that he hadn’t felt in…forever. He’d punished a lot of subs over the years, but never one who truly relished every blow he dealt. Who stared back at him with such naked eagerness.

This woman is going to be the death of me…but what a way to go.

The other submissives raced back into line with Shiloh and the alarm ended the challenge. Flustered, Georgia turned to the other two submissives and asked them about their choices first. Naturally, Andy had brought back a cock cage, while Patrick’s bubbly blonde had brought back a pony tail.

Victor grimaced and shook his head. How could they possibly expect to display such equipment on TV?

Evidently, that had been the point, because both Dominants ordered their submissives to prepare for punishment. Eager attendants rushed onto set and bound the protesting—but pantingly aroused—submissives for their Dominants’ pleasure. While Shiloh stared at him, waiting for his reaction.

He let his meanest, most dreadful smile twist his mouth. “Nearly every scene will include punishment at the Master’s discretion. A top submissive will accept such punishment as a reward, willingly enduring discomfort, pain, and humiliation simply because her Master wishes it.”

He walked a slow circle about Shiloh, tapping the crop against his boot ominously. “Would you like an attendant to bind you for your punishment and reward, Gift?”

“If that is your desire, Master.”

To the camera, he said, “Most submissives like bondage during discipline. As odd as it may sound to you, being bound can make one feel very safe. A sub can simply lie back into her bonds and absorb the pain, instead of tensing her own muscles to hold position and remain upright. Accepting punishment without any restraints at all can actually be quite difficult. Are you sure you can endure, Gift?”

“For you, Master, I’ll endure anything.”

“Remove your corset.”

“Cut!” Mal stalked toward them with a scowl on her face. “Are you sure about this?”

Ignoring the Mistress’s concerns, Shiloh turned to Kimberly and asked her to untie the strings in the back.

“Sure,” Victor replied easily. “Why not?”

“Can you keep it clean enough for TV?”

He studied his crop, flexing it between his hands. “Can you keep cock cages and pony tails clean for TV?”

Mal snorted. “Point taken.”

He snapped the crop hard against his thigh, priming himself and letting the sound of it prime Shiloh too. Unfortunately, Kimberly’s hands began shaking so much that she couldn’t get the strings untied. Curtly, he jerked his head at her and attended Shiloh himself. He pulled the strings free and stepped closer, pressing his body against her back and thighs. Into her ear, he whispered, “Are you up for this?”

She hauled in a deep breath without the corset and pushed back harder against him, her breath catching on a low moan at the feel of his erection digging into her. “I’ve been up for this for months.”

“So is
chutzpah
really what you want to use for your safeword?”

“I don’t—”

He dropped his chin to her shoulder and hugged her. “Humor me.”

She sighed. “How about Christmas?”

Laughing, he released her and gestured for her to join the bound and waiting submissives. “My Christmas Gift. Now that is perfect indeed.”

It took half an hour for Mal to direct the lighting and camera crew for the next part of the show. They needed enough light to titillate the audience, but still allow the submissives a modicum of privacy. Sweaty and unable to stand still, Shiloh tried not to think about how far the scene might go.

Dominance and discipline were sex for both of them. Could she actually go through with a live taping of what would basically be sex? Knowing that all of Dallas would see it?

“Darker,” Victor ordered, pacing the set. “We need more privacy for this or no one’s going to relax enough to enjoy it. Mal, Patrick, get your subs ready with their
equipment
. We want to spare the audience all the gory details.”

“I beg your pardon,” Patrick sniffed dramatically. “If anyone’s going to be gory, it’ll be you and that vicious crop.”

Shiloh clutched the linen shift closer, feeling exposed and more vulnerable than if she were naked. Both the shift and the petticoats were practically see-through, and
someone
had gotten a bright idea of not wearing any pantaloons beneath.

What made her feel ever more vulnerable, though, was the need pounding in her veins. She knew she was soaking wet and so tight and achy with need that Victor would barely have to touch her to make her explode. Could she do it with the cameras and lights and people all around? But what choice did she have?

She could bail right now. Call the whole thing off. Victor would probably understand as far as their relationship went, but what about her job? The entire show was her idea. She’d known full well what she was getting into; hell, she’d deliberately planned it this way. She’d planned to get Victor in the spotlight, punishing her for the camera.

I can do this…for him.

On her right, Andy was down on the floor, and if she weren’t mistaken, he was completely naked, although he’d drawn one knee up to strategically conceal the cage of metal about his penis. Decked out in a black velvet riding habit and a stylish hat with a long black veil floating over her face, Mal stood behind him with a flail, chatting easily while an attendant bound Andy’s hands.

On her left, the pony girl wore a corset with plenty of room for her tail to show to advantage. She, too, was on her hands and knees, hobbled with leather and wearing a fake bridle on her head. Patrick warmed up with several long, easy strokes of the whip. The sound of the leather snaking over the floor made Shiloh’s breath catch in her throat. He cracked the whip above his girl’s head, and it was Shiloh who let out a shaking moan.

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” Victor stepped closer, his voice low. “Surely you’re not thinking about his whip instead of my crop.”

“Of course not!”

He untied the neck of her shift. “Are you nervous?”

Her skin felt cold and clammy and her heart rate galloped about ninety miles an hour, but she simply said, “A little.”

His mouth twitched. He knew very well how she was feeling, but he didn’t call her on the small lie. “Have you ever performed a scene with an audience before?”

“No.”

He turned her away from him so he stood at her back. “I am your Master for this scene. I am your whole world. If you look away from me or lose your concentration, I will bring you back into the headspace I want the quickest way I know how, so you know what that means.” He punctuated his promise by stroking the crop along her bare arm. “Perform for
me
and me alone. Can you do that for me?”

Her pulse throbbed in her neck and her teeth chattered with nerves, but her skin felt alive and achy, more than ready for his strokes. “Yes, Master V.”

“That’s my girl,” he purred against her ear. “I’m going to let Patrick and Mal go first. Listen to them, baby, and know that I’m going to make you scream louder and come harder.”

Standing there with the cameras rolling, she shivered and burned, sweat freezing on her skin. Her sex felt swollen and tight. Each snap of leather and gasp of pain only worsened her rising need.

Mal and Patrick worked in tandem as though they’d been doing shows like this for years. Maybe they had performed something like this at Silken, because they had their swings down to a perfect back-and-forth rhythm that made Shiloh’s blood pound and dance with longing. Each crack of the whip and duller thud of the flail winched her muscles tighter.

Andy cried out, groaning beneath his Mistress’s flail. With a cocky grin, Mal planted a high-heeled boot on her sub’s back and posed for the camera. “What a greedy boy.”

Patrick pouted for the camera and gave a playful tug on his sub’s tail that made her groan. “Are you top sub material or not? You know what I need from you, Peppi.”

Another sharp crack of the whip brought a high keening cry from his submissive’s lips and he got exactly what he was working toward. She wasn’t quiet in her pleasure, either.

Cheeks hot, Shiloh stared at the floor and tried not to notice that the camera had swung toward her.

Victor strolled to her left, stopping slightly in front of her but not blocking the camera’s view. The crop snapped against her thigh sharply enough that she sucked in her breath and jerked her gaze up to his face.

“That’s better,” he purred. “Did you hear how noisy those other subs were, Gift? I want our viewers to know precisely what you’re feeling while I punish you. If you cry out, you’d better be giving your safeword or coming. Otherwise, I want you silent. Do you understand?”

Instead of answering, she nodded, careful to obey him to the letter.

He lifted the crop toward her face and someone gasped, but she instinctively knew he wouldn’t strike her in such a vulnerable location. Gently, he stroked the leather beneath her chin, making sure she kept her face up, and then he passed the tip against her mouth, a caress. A promise of what was to come.

He flicked another casual blow to her left thigh, watching her carefully even though he spoke to the camera. “The crop is not for beginners. It delivers a sharp, cutting blow that can be way too much for the submissive who’s not very far down the masochist scale. At home, start with something softer, either a paddle or flail, and work up to the crop if possible.” To Shiloh, he asked, “Do you need me to switch down?” as he delivered a harder blow.

Gritting her teeth to keep the moan from escaping, she shook her head. The pain was sharp and intense, yes, but such a relief after all the teasing and yearning. She’d had the softer Victor last night. This side of him only made her want him more.