Authors: Sierra Cartwright
Voyeur (2 page)
“Just so you know, when you take a plug, you’ll do it with a bit less fuss.”
The idea terrified her. Her mouth dried. “I…I need to be going.”
He loosened his hold. She wasn’t quite sure how to react. Slowly, she turned to face him.
“You still haven’t told me to go to hell.”
Oh God, oh God. No, she hadn’t told him to go to hell. Suddenly, she knew she wasn’t going to.
His eyes were deep and vibrant. She’d seen that colour once before on a holiday in the Austrian Alps. The glacial lake had been deep, clear, crystal blue. She was as startled now as she had been then.
His hair, military short, emphasised the strength of his facial structure. His jaw was square and firm.
A small scar bisected his right eyebrow. Another cut a jagged line across his right cheek, descending to nick his upper lip.
Tiny grooves were carved next to his mesmerising eyes. He’d seen more of life than she ever would, and it gave him an air of confidence, of mastery. And she was ensnared in it, by it. She wanted him. “I’m not a sub,” she whispered, wondering whether she tried to convince him, or herself.
“I see.”
“I’m not.”
Neither of them moved.
Then he put a hand into her hair. She’d pinned it up before leaving her flat, and she’d secured it with a pair of beautifully carved wooden sticks. Now, he’d dislodged it, making a mess of her updo. He pulled back a bit on her hair. She was forced to meet his gaze. He was relentless, but the pressure wasn’t painful. Earlier, he hadn’t let her look at him, now this demand was every bit as difficult to meet.
“If you were honest, Marnie, what would you tell me right this moment? I don’t want to hear what your uptight upbringing tells you to say. I want you to forget about what you think polite society would approve of.”
She had no choice. She couldn’t run. She couldn’t hide. “If I were honest, I’d tell you that…”
He waited. He was utterly patient. He never tried to hurry her along.
She tried again, “If I were honest, I’d tell you I don’t want to go home alone. I’d tell you I’m curious; scared, but curious. I’d tell you I have fantasies. I’d admit I did come here this month for a reason. I’m a voyeur. But part of me wants to be a participant. And I’d have to tell you that I have some hang-ups about my appearance.”
“If I were honest,” he said, “I’d tell you I’m intrigued. I’d say I think your body is curvy and sexy and that you’re right, you have hang-ups, that others don’t see you the way you see you. I’d also let you know it’s been years since I’ve played with someone as innocent as you are.” He smiled. “And I’d tell you I want to be the one to corrupt you. And I’d tell you I want to yank that skirt out of the way and fuck you up against the wall.”
“Oh.” My. She glanced away, but with sustained pressure against her skull, he compelled her to look at him again. “I may be curious, but I’m not a sub.”
“So you insist.”
That odd little shiver skipped through her again. “I don’t want to be tied up while you shove something up my arse.”
“No?”
“Not at all.” Unblinkingly, she met his gaze.
“I don’t want you tied up while I shove something up your arse.”
“Oh. Well then. We’re in agreement.”
“I want you tied by my will while I shove something up your arse.”
She gulped. “By your will?”
“It means I’d tell you to drape yourself across a table and present yourself properly. I wouldn’t give you the privilege of restraints. I’d ask you to keep yourself in position without moving. And you’d do it gladly because that’s what I wanted.”
She squirmed. “I think you’ve got the wrong woman.”
“Do I?”
She was aware of a gay couple walking past them, drinks in hand, sharing a laugh. They paid Marnie and Master Zachary no attention at all.
“Tell me to go to hell, Marnie.”
Curiosity didn’t allow that.
“Or spread your legs this instant.”
Chapter Two
For a moment, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do. Give in to the temptation? Or walk away and always wonder what it would have been like if she wasn’t scared to take a chance?
Without really thinking it through, she went on instinct. She spread her legs.
She was aware of the whisper of air-conditioning on her bare skin and on her damp pussy. She became more and more aroused by the moment.
He kept his gaze firmly on hers. “When was your last orgasm?”
She blushed and lowered her gaze.
“Look at me.”
His words were snapped with a whiplash force. Immediately she complied. “This evening.”
“You masturbated?”
“Yes.” Could the ground swallow her whole?
“What were you thinking about? Do you fantasise when you stroke yourself?”
She nodded.
“What do you fantasise about?”
She drew a deep, shuddering breath. Then she was totally honest. He’d see through anything less. “I have a favourite book.”
He waited silently.
She was aware of others around them, laughing, drinking. She was aware of Master Theodore and Susanna behind the glass. And she was very aware of the man dominating her space and demanding ruthless honesty. “It’s about a slave.”
She expected a triumphant smile or an “I knew it”. But he simply continued to regard her, as if there was no one else he’d rather be with. “There’s a scene in it… The Master is punishing the slave.” Her heart beat faster. “She’d run off with another Master, someone she thought would be kinder. But it turned out he was just weaker.”
“Go on.”
“She could manipulate him. It turns out she hated that.” Somehow, it was easier, telling him about a scene she’d enjoyed. They weren’t really talking about her and what she wanted to have happen. “So this slave, she wants to go back to her real Master. Only she knows she’s committed an unpardonable act by running away. She knows she’ll have to make amends.”
“And does she?”
“She has to do the one thing that’s the most difficult she can imagine. She crashes a party at his home. Very posh. Very sophisticated people. She has to talk her way past the butler who’s very disapproving of the way she treated their Master. She publicly begs him to take her back, then she has to take her punishment in front of all of his friends.”
“Does he make her strip before punishing her?”
His eyes were even deeper, even darker. “Yes.”
“Does he blindfold her?”
“Yes.” She gulped. “She’s utterly and completely at his mercy.”
“And when you masturbate, this is the scene in your mind?”
She nodded, but she was unable to tell him he was the Dom she pictured.
“When you diddle yourself, do you use your fingers? Or a toy?”
Thank God she’d been sipping that martini; otherwise, there would have been no way she could have managed this conversation. “When I have a lot of time, I use a vibrator. This evening, I was in a hurry.”
“So you used your fingers?”
She nodded.
“Show me.”
Shock made her words a whisper. “Show you? Show you what?”
“How you masturbated yourself.”
“Uh…”
“Here. Now.”
“You want me to masturbate myself here, in the hallway?”
He didn’t say another word, just continued to regard her.
She wasn’t going to do it. Wouldn’t do it. Couldn’t do it.
“It’ll be a long time before I allow you to have another orgasm,” he said. “From here on out, you will not come without my permission, without me specifically saying you may have one. If I were you, I wouldn’t be sure when I might be allowed to have another, so I’d take every opportunity my Dom offered in order to climax, no matter where I was or who was around.”
“Zach!”
Relief arched through Marnie at the regal arrival of Mistress Beverly and her sub, Esma. Marnie had been introduced to the couple by Darius and his Mistress.
Esma was clearly devoted to her Domme. And Marnie could see why. The woman was tall, voluptuous, with flowing red hair that ended in the middle of her back. Everything about her exuded confidence and sensuality. Like Esma, Marnie had a difficult time keeping her gaze off the Domme.
Master Zachary kissed Mistress Beverly’s cheek. While Marnie felt a little awkward and unsure of how to act, of what her place was, Esma obviously knew who she was and what she was about.
Mistress Beverly allowed some slack in her sub’s pretty, pink leather leash. Without being verbally instructed, and with just a quick arch of her Mistress’s eyebrows, Esma sank gracefully to her knees.
Not a single word had passed between them.
For the first time, Marnie really observed the interaction between Mistress and sub. Esma seemed completely unselfconscious. Like Master Zach had noted about Susanna earlier, the sub seemed completely focused on her Domme for her own pleasure. Which meant, more than ever, Marnie was convinced she wasn’t a sub.
Esma crossed her wrists behind her and placed them in the small of her back. She spread her knees wide and leant back. Since she wore only a pink leather corset with matching stockings and garter, her pussy was exposed wide. No one seemed to notice or care. Passersby didn’t even glance in her direction, while Marnie all but gawked.
Marnie’s own protests seemed a bit ridiculous.
“You’re talking to this lovely cupcake, Zach?” Mistress Beverly asked. Then, before there was any further conversation, she cut to the chase, ignoring Marnie completely. “Is she yours?”
Zachary shot Marnie a quick glance. “She will be soon.”
She would?
“I’m surprised, Zach, after…”
“That’s quite enough, Mistress Beverly.”
“As you wish, Zachary. My pardon.”
Marnie blinked. There was a hierarchy even amongst Doms?
Mistress Beverly raised a brow. “Well, if she turns you down, or if you change your mind, will you send her my direction? I’m in search of a pet for Esma.”
Mistress Beverly wanted her to be a pet for Esma?
“It’s been a while since I watched her eating out a pussy other than mine. And I do so enjoy watching others eat her, as well. Especially when I forbid her to orgasm.” She clapped delightedly. “Such fun to watch my little Esma thrash about and suffer.”
Marnie started to open her mouth, but a sharp glance from Master Zachary made her close it again without saying a word.
Esma slid a glance Marnie’s direction. She smiled, and Marnie’s heart turned a little flip. She felt like Alice in Wonderland, down the rabbit hole.
She had a lot of variations on her fantasies, but even her wildest imaginations didn’t come close to this reality.
Master Zach was claiming her as his.
Mistress Beverly wanted her to eat out her sub.
And Esma snuck a glace at Marnie’s crotch. On her knees, the woman wasn’t even that far away from her pussy.
She’d never played with another woman, never really thought much about it, but suddenly, she was curious.
Esma was truly lovely, with her coffee-coloured skin, rich brown eyes, and long black hair, pulled back into a ponytail and cinched with a strip of supple pink leather.
