The Plume: The Second Anthology (36 page)

“No way! This is the best ever!”

“Then you go ahead,” Mike said,
despondent.

“But you said the sharing was just for one
night.”

“She likes it. I don’t.” Mike shrugged. “That
just means we don’t belong together.”

“You’re just going to end it? Like this?”

“It’s not right. It’s never going to be
right. She likes it rough, like you do, and I don’t.” Mike shrugged
and forced a smile. “Maybe you two are meant to be together. Just
take care of her, okay?” At Eric’s nod, he turned to leave.

Eric shouted after Mike. “Aren’t you going to
ask her what she thinks?”

“You saw her. You have to have smelled her.
Her body tells all the truth I need to hear.” He continued to walk
back toward his car.

“But she’s yours!”

“I’m giving her to you. I hope you’re both
happy.”

Ignoring his old friend’s astonishment—and
the erection straining the front of his jeans—Mike walked away. He
shoved his hands into his pockets, listened to the frenzy of police
sirens and tried to care about whatever else was happening in the
city.

He failed.

* * *

The Count paced the width of the living room
in his new abode for the hundredth time. Even though he knew that
his agitation was being transmitted to every slave in the
household, he couldn’t stop himself. He’d been sure that Athena
would come to him. He’d been sure that she’d only have to think
about the choice for a few minutes to choose him over Rex.

It was galling that he’d walked away from her
more than twelve hours before and there was no sign of her.

It was horrible that he had clearly been
wrong.

At ten-thirty, he gave up.

He sent Gareth to the wine cellar for a
bottle of champagne. The Count never drank to excess, but he
wouldn’t waste good champagne. And if he was drinking alone, he
would drink to excess, and for once, he couldn’t restrain himself
from such indulgence.

If a man couldn’t wallow in his greatest
defeat and disappointment for one night, then when could he be self
indulgent? The Count felt bleak, as if the future held no promise
at all, now that his quest of fifteen years had proven a
failure.

What would he do with his life now?

How would he ever forget Athena? He undid his
tie with impatience and cast his jacket aside. For once, he had no
tolerance for keeping appearances or for protocol. His life was
ruined, over, and he was going to wallow in misery for at least one
night.

Maybe more.

Maybe fifteen fucking years.

Gareth had just brought the bottle and the
Count had called for Anna to serve it when the doorbell rang.

The Count froze. William answered the door.
The Count heard it open, heard William’s deep voice making an
inquiry of whoever had rung the bell. He strained his ears but
could not hear the voice of the arrival. The door shut against the
night and he heard William turn the deadbolt.

Had someone come in? Or left?

He took a step toward the door, propelled by
a hope that should have been long dead, and his knees weakened at
the resolute click of high heels on the tiled foyer.

“Athena to see you, sir,” William announced,
sweeping open the door.

And it was Athena, resplendent in her thigh
high black leather boots and a lush fur coat that swung open as she
walked. Her red hair was loose, flowing over her shoulders, a
confident smile on her lips.

There was wariness in her eyes, though.

Her gaze fell to the tray in Anna’s hands and
the solitary champagne flute. “You weren’t expecting me, then?”

“I didn’t dare to hope,” the Count confessed.
He still wasn’t sure. Had she come to say farewell?

Or to stay? There was a restlessness about
her that he couldn’t understand.

“Disappointed?”

“Delighted.” And it was true.

She smiled then and stepped into the room.
She cast off the coat, rolling it off her shoulders in a fluid
move, secure in the assumption that someone would keep it from
hitting the floor. William caught it expertly and turned back to
the foyer, shutting the door behind himself quietly. Anna hurried
to the bar for a second glass. Gareth popped the cork and the
bubbles poured forth.

Meanwhile, the Count feasted upon the sight
of his love. Athena was wearing a sheer gold blouse and a straight
black leather skirt. Through the blouse, the Count could see her
black corset and the red of her exposed nipples. Was she the most
gorgeous woman in the world? He was certain of it. And he knew she
was the most passionate.

If she’d thought to put him off by dressing
as a woman instead of a girl, her ploy failed completely. The Count
was fascinated with the woman, not the package.

Anna bowed her head as she served the
champagne. Athena took a glass, then surveyed her. “You were at the
Plume.”

“Yes, my lady. I left there recently.”

“Because the Count made an offer you couldn’t
refuse?” Athena watched the Count now, amusement curving her
lips.

“Indeed, my lady.”

“He has a talent in that arena,” Athena said
as the Count took a glass. She toasted him and they sipped in
unison. The Count was amused to see that she also held the wine in
her mouth, letting the bubbles froth against her palate.

Just as he’d taught her, so many years
before.

Maybe she hadn’t come here just to say
goodbye.

Athena glanced around the room, noting
details as she had not before. “Is it all the same?”

“As close as I could make it.”

“Which would be very close indeed.” Athena
put her glass back on the tray and reached for the Count’s hand. “I
want to see my room,” she said, then gave him a secretive
smile.

The Count echoed her gesture, putting the
champagne glass aside, then taking her hand in his elbow. Her
perfume surrounded him in a delicious cloud. “Of course. Which room
would you like?”

“My old room.” She slanted him a glance. “The
one where we first...met. Is there a copy of it here?”

“Its twin is upstairs,” the Count said,
knowing he’d put the most attention into replicating her girlhood
room.

“Good.” She reached up and touched his throat
with a fingertip. “Do you remember that night?”

“I’ll never forget it.”

“Neither will I,” she said, her voice husky.
“I want to meet you all over again there and see whether the
reality was really as good as I recall.”

“I think it was.”

“Then let’s relive it together and find out
for sure,” Athena said, striding across the room.

Gareth opened the door, William stood by the
stairs, Anna followed with the tray of champagne. The Count was
fiercely glad that he had spent so much time and effort in making
this place like Pauline’s house. Against all expectation, it was
giving him the chance he wanted.

And the Count had no intention of failing
whatever test Athena gave him now.

* * *

What a pair. Eric couldn’t believe it. Mike
and Joanna really would put their own desires aside for the sake of
the other one’s satisfaction. That was the crazy part about
love.

It made Eric glad he’d never been in love for
long.

He’d never been one for self-sacrifice, but
he was going to give it a try. He only hoped he could hold it
together long enough to ensure that Mike got what he wanted. If
Joanna was as soft and submissive as she’d been that one night,
Eric didn’t imagine he’d be able to resist the temptation of taking
her again.

He shed his jacket and shoes in the foyer
outside the unit where Joanna was imprisoned, thinking. She didn’t
really like it rough and she hadn’t liked being shared as much as
Mike had believed she would. Eric knew that his own interest would
fade if she was defiant or if she fought him. Maybe he could work
with that. He decided to keep his jeans on, just in case she
undermined his good intentions. It would take him that much longer
to get undressed, maybe long enough to avoid being impulsive.

Maybe not.

Eric opened the door to the cell and his good
intentions took a nearly fatal hit. Joanna was doing exactly as
Mike had commanded, her sweet little heart-shaped ass propped on
her heels, her ankles bound together with that heavy cable tie and
the ball gag in place. He was hard and ready instantly, his mind
filled with the memory of taking her before.

And wanting to do it again.

How had Mike found the perfect
submissive?

Now Eric had found her, but was going to give
her back. Fate was just cruel.

Maybe Joanna had a sister.

Eric took a deep breath and tried to find his
resolve. The other cable tie looked big and black and mean on the
carpet beside Joanna feet. She seemed delicate and feminine,
vulnerable in a way that had his cock throbbing.

She was giving herself to him.

No, she thought she was giving herself to
Mike. Still, her submissiveness was electrifying.

Eric entered the room quietly, ensuring that
he remained behind her and out of her view. He crouched behind her
and picked up the cable tie, binding her wrists in one quick
gesture.

She didn’t even flinch.

She certainly didn’t fight.

He took a deep breath, savoring the sweet
perfume of her wet sex. Maybe she liked this more than he’d
realized. Maybe she had guessed and
was
giving herself to
him. The prospect made his cock strain against the front of his
jeans, made his fingers drop to the top of his zipper. Maybe they
really were meant to be together.

Maybe he could take her just once from the
back.

No. He was being the good guy here.

Eric tapped Joanna on the shoulder with one
heavy fingertip and she glanced back at him. Her eyes widened in
shock that killed his erection.

Not for him, then.

“Surprise!” Eric said, although his tone was
a bit harder than it might have been.

Joanna made a howl of protest, then flung
herself away from him. Eric was glad that she was finally reacting,
but it was futile for her to try change her circumstance.

But her reaction eliminated the heat of the
situation for him. Eric caught her around the waist, sweeping her
into his arms to keep her from hurting herself. She fought and
struggled, battling for her life.

With a different master, she might have been
in real trouble, but the fact that she was fighting him made it
easy for him to be the hero.

Even with the temptation of that sweet little
ass.

Violence wasn’t for him. He liked best when
the submissive was complicit.

“Cut it out,” he scolded as he carried her
across the room. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

She muttered and moaned, her eyes flashing
with anger as she kept kicking against him.

Eric dropped her on the waist-high leather
box and held her down with one hand. She squirmed and wriggled in a
way that made him watch that ass again.

“You expected Mike, but he gave you to me,
instead.”

Outrage filled her expression and she flushed
with anger.

“Is that defiance? Do you think you know
better than your master?” Eric slapped her hard across the ass, his
blow surprising her to stillness. She stared up at him in
dismay.

And fear.

Finally.

He slapped her butt again and she made a
choking sound of fury. “Maybe now you see the value of a safe
word.”

She clearly wanted to argue with him about
that. Eric trapped her between his hips and the box, then gripped
her shoulders. He made his gestures rough and fast, wanting to
frighten her. She moaned and thrashed, fear making her reaction
more violent. It didn’t matter: Eric held her down easily. She was
so much smaller than him and she was bound.

“You brought the cable ties,” he reminded her
in a hard voice. “You must have meant for someone to use them.” He
leaned over her, crushing her into the box with his weight. “And
what else would I use them for, but to tie you up? You already did
your ankles, just to give me ideas. The perfect little submissive,
surrendering to everything your master commands. Don’t imagine you
can change the script now.”

She protested audibly, but he didn’t
care.

To stop himself from surrendering to the
temptation of that wriggling butt, Eric slapped her three more
times, each blow harder than the last. She writhed and fought, her
face red, and her ass bright pink by the time he stopped. Her
breathing had become unsteady and he saw that she was crying in her
frustration.

It was about time that somebody got pissed
off.

Eric leaned down so that his lips were beside
her ear. “Let’s get something straight,” he growled. “You walked in
here of your own free will. Your master has given you to me. And I
intend to take full advantage of his gift. You’re mine for the
duration, Joanna.”

She roared into the gag.

“And that’s not all. You’re going to call
into work every day this week, like the dutiful little slave that
you are. It seems you have a terrible case of the flu. It also
seems that you want to make your new master happy in every
way.”

She growled in protest, her face getting
redder.

“Or you can defy me, and I’ll have to punish
you. Repeatedly. I’ll enjoy that, too. You could end up here for
the rest of your life, if you’re bad.”

She looked at him with horror.

Eric pulled the lubricant out of the pocket
of his jeans, planted one hand on the back of her waist, then used
the other to smear lubricant on and into her anus. She froze at his
touch then made a muffled wail of protest. “Don’t worry, by next
weekend, you’ll be able to accommodate me and my desires in every
way.” He pushed three fingers into her anus and she went still.
“Practice makes perfect. I’ve brought a set of dildos and a
harness. Each day, you’ll wear a bigger one, and if you take it out
while I’m gone, well, you’ll get a taste of the real thing.”