All I know is I never want the day to end. I want a lifetime of days on the beach with Logan Wulfe.
Twelve
Present Day
Daphne
The next day, I knock softly at the oak paneled library door and wait. The light slanting in the hall is rich and bright. Late morning light. I slept until almost noon. But after last night, I needed it.
“Enter,” comes the gruff invitation. My heart flutters and I push open the heavy door.
I’m naked, as ordered by a note left on my bedside table. My legs are shaky and my clit is sore, but I feel light. It’s amazing to be able to wake up and have nothing to do but follow my Master’s commands. And last night purged me of something, a heavy weight I’d been carrying. My guilt? Any last barriers between the girl I used to be and the woman I’m becoming?
All I know is that I want Logan more than ever. I want this more than ever. I want the man who takes me to the heights of pleasure and beyond, who knows me better than any other and who I can trust to take me even higher, darker, deeper. He’ll never let me fall, and there’s such a freedom in that like I’ve never known.
My gaze is naturally lowered as I pad barefoot through the shelves of leather-bound tomes. Master sits in a giant red velvet chair by the fire, a plate full of pastries on the Corinthian column pedestal table beside him. But where there used to be a matching red velvet chair and side table for me, there’s only bare carpet.
Master snaps his fingers and points to a spot in front of him. That’s when I see it: the large red tasseled cushion on the floor.
He expects me to kneel at his feet, lounging on the floor like a pet. Fuck. Warmth blooms in my lower belly. I’m turned on.
Master’s face is cold and impassive, well, what I can see of it. He’s wearing the mask and otherwise, he might as well be carved from marble.
He expects me to put up a fuss. To fight. A test?
I brush the shimmering fall of my hair from my face and lower myself gracefully to the floor. Surprise flickers across his face as I arrange myself on the cushion. Lest he think I’m a perfectly docile and obedient submissive, I shoot him a challenge through my lashes and raise a brow.
Long fingers steepled in front of his face, the Beast regards me. I’m so fascinated by this side of him. Strong. Dominant. Unyielding. Hot as fuck.
Anything could happen next and the thrill lighting up my chest makes me feel so fucking alive, like there’s an undercurrent of electricity zinging through my bloodstream.
Still impassive, he breaks off a corner of a pastry. The almond and vanilla scent makes my stomach roar. A corner of the Beast’s mouth kicks up as he holds the sugar-dusted piece out to me.
But when I reach for it, he draws it back and tuts. Fuck. There’s that bloom of humiliation, spreading across my cheeks, warming my pussy. Why does this turn me on? Screw it. I don’t care why. I give into it.
Craning my neck, I open my mouth for the bite. The Beast places the pastry right in my mouth and taps my chin to signal his permission for me to eat. Blushing hot, I chew and swallow my breakfast, naked at Master’s feet.
“Well done, pet,” Master says, flicking crumbs off his fingers. Pet. My pussy clenches as he feeds me more bites. “You have a long way to go. But it’s a start.”
“So, I’m going to get clothes today?” I ask when my stomach is satisfied. I think I ask it more to challenge him than because I want them. It’s the devil inside me. The same one that made me buy that red bikini at the beach that day so long ago. I’ve missed her.
“What makes you think you’re entitled to them?”
“I thought I was earning back my company’s patents, not the right to basic human privileges.”
His fists clench when I mention the patents. “All your privileges will be earned. Remember, I control you. I own you.”
Sensation stirs in my lower belly, a ripple of desire. To hide my reaction, I look to the fire. “But—”
Logan captures my chin and turns me to face him. “Careful. I have a lovely ball gag you could wear.”
I wrinkle my nose. Would he really? Well, in for a patent, in for a pound. And anyway, if he did, would I…like it? The thing I’ve started to realize is that being submissive doesn’t mean being docile.
If anything, it’s allowing me to get in touch with my most base, animal self. If he gagged me, I’d snarl and roar and fight and he’d have to restrain me and maybe he’d clamp me again or do something else even more intense, maybe even pierce me, though I can’t imagine an orgasm any more intense than yesterday’s—
He chuckles, releasing me and distracting me from my tumultuous thoughts. “You think you have a choice. You have none. All your choices are mine.” He snaps his fingers again, summoning me to a spot between his knees. “Now come. I wish to inspect you.”
I raise my chin. “Why?”
His voice is a dangerous rumble. “It’s enough that I wish it.”
I can’t forget who I’m playing with. Logan isn’t just any Master. I rise and stand before him, my slender body braced by his powerful thighs. The stubble on his face is thicker today. Is he growing a beard? Trying to cover his scars? He’s still wearing the mask. His shield. I miss his face. His icy blue eyes tell me nothing.
But the way he’s rubbing his right thumb and forefinger together tells me everything. He wants to touch me.
The question is, why is he holding back?
“Turn around,” he rasps. I pivot smoothly, tightening my muscles to still my trembling. Knowing that he wants me splashes gasoline on the fire of my arousal. The skin of my back and buttocks prickles as if his gaze is a caress.
“Hands and knees.”
My heart drops to the carpet but I don’t dare question him. What’s in store today? I lower myself down to all fours.
His hand glides down my back and applies pressure to the center of my shoulders until I lower my front half to the floor. My cheek hits the scratchy Turkish rug. I study the rich red and navy pattern and try not to picture Logan leaning forward in his chair, peering straight at my pussy.
Except that’s exactly what he does. Of course he does. The chair creaks and hot breath hits my buttocks. Oh gods. He’s inspecting me. Thoroughly. Admiring his handiwork? The decorations the leather crop left on my skin? My sex spasms even at the memories.
By the time he put me to bed last night, I was so out of it, I barely remember him washing and rubbing cream into my sore bits. But I know he did. Though my body still bears some marks, the sting has faded. The lingering achiness is mostly from my muscles clenching as he teased me to the brink—and the cataclysm that was my orgasm.
An orgasm I sorely need. Again. I don’t need the Scientific Method to tell me wherever Logan is concerned, I’m a simmering pot of arousal. Even when he’s wielding evil clamps with metal teeth. His torture only turns me on a million times more. I had no idea I would or even could cum from so much pain.
Why? Maybe, on some level, I feel I deserve it? The pain is absolution, the pleasure a benediction. The punishment scours me clean. Enduring the trials, I earn what I need. But that’s somehow…freeing. Even in humiliation and the pleasure it brings, I’m not embarrassed. I’m finally free.