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Maggie’s breath returned to normal as she followed Terry down the hallway. The night they’d met he’d saved her in a playroom and now, they were going to one together...to play. A shiver danced down her spine. She wanted this. It wouldn’t be anything like that other night with those other men. Terry would never force her to do anything.
He opened the door and turned on the light, dropping her hand as they walked into the room.
The walls were gray and the lights were soft and dim, giving the room a romantic atmosphere. Several chairs and a few tables sat scattered around the room along with one red, plush love seat. A dark wooden bar was built into the wall and toward the back of the room stood a cabinet, made from the same wood—rich and heavy.
“It looks different.” Not at all what she’d expected.
“It’s not the same room you were in the night we met.” He strolled to the table and waved in the waitress with the drinks.
“I know, but I thought they’d all look about the same.” That room had been dark with several stands that looked like wooden saw horses. A woman had been strapped to one, her butt bright red from spankings.
“Most of them are different. Different toys for different tastes.”
“What does OYT mean?” She’d asked Ethan, but he’d refused to tell her. She’d been filling in the letters in her head ever since: Orgasm. Yummy. Toys? Ouch. Yell. Torture?
“Ethan didn’t tell you?” His dark eyes met hers.
She felt that gaze like a caress and her body melted, ready to start the night. “No. He said you’d do that.”
“He’s wrong. I won’t tell you, but I will show you.” He smirked and turned away, handing the waitress some money.
“Oh.” Maggie frowned, studying the room and trying to see something that she could attribute to those letters.
“Do you want the door open or closed?” asked the waitress.
“Open,” said Terry.
“What?” Maggie spun toward him. She wanted that door closed.
“Yes, Sir.” The waitress left.
“Problem, rabbit?” He poured a drink and carried it to her.
“Ah...” She took the glass. “No, Sir. I thought—”
“Tsk, tsk.” He shook his head, his eyes gleaming with humor. “Do we need to go over the rules again?” He wandered to the large cabinet.
“No. Sir.” She smiled slightly. His rules would offend some women, but she loved them. Giving complete control to him, freed her and allowed her to just feel, to just be.
“I think, maybe we do.” He opened the cabinet doors and Maggie’s breath caught in her chest.
It was full of...things. Terry called them toys, but they didn’t look fun to her. Whips. Paddles. Floggers. Riding crops. Plus, a lot of other things she didn’t recognize but looked like they’d been invented during the Spanish Inquisition.
“We’ve been over the rules again and again.” He grabbed a riding crop, testing the weight in his hand. “Drink up. You’re going to need it.”
“Yes, Sir.” She took a big gulp as her heart raced, sending blood zipping through her body and making her skin tingle. He’d slapped her bottom many times but he’d never used something like that.
“What are they?” He walked toward her, the crop whooshing softly as he waved it through the air.
“Ah...” She took a hesitant step backward.
“Say them, rabbit.” He moved closer.
“Rule one. Always do what you say. Rule two. Never question your Master.”
“You seem to have a real problem with that one.” His eyes danced with amusement as he stalked closer.
Her nerves settled to an eager hum. This was Terry. The man she loved. He might hit her with that thing, but he wouldn’t hurt her. The crop made the air sing as he moved closer, flipping it back and forth. She inched backward. He might not mean to but that was going to hurt.
“What are the others?” He stepped behind her, stopping her retreat. The heat from his body warmed her back and his hot breath whispered over her neck.
“Ah...” She couldn’t think with him so close. She wanted to lean against him but she wasn’t allowed, not until he commanded.
He reached around her, taking the glass and bending to place it on the floor. “Did you forget?” He skimmed the leather tip of the crop up the front of her thigh as he stood.
“Uhm...no. I know it.” Her mind couldn’t think of anything but the toy as it tickled up and down her leg, making her body tremble with fear and excitement.
“Go on.” His hand pulled at her skirt. The material slid up her hips, the cold air on her front contrasting with his heat behind her. “What’s the next rule?” His lips pressed against her ear and she tipped her head.
She needed him to kiss her. “Rule four...Oh.” She jumped at the sting as the crop slapped her thigh.
“You skipped number three.” He tapped the toy along her upper thigh.
She inhaled as sensations whirled through her body—the bite from the crop like a nip of his teeth, so close to her pussy. She leaned against him, her insides clenching. She needed his touch, needed him to feed the wave that’d crash, smashing her into nothing but feelings.
“Spread your legs.” His voice was dark and wicked.
She widened her stance, giving him full access to her body.
He ran the crop between her thighs. “What’s rule three, rabbit?” He kissed her neck, sucking to the point of pain and then licking away the sting.
She rolled her hips, desperate for any touch, even the light tickle of the toy.
“Last warning.” He nipped her ear.
“Ah...I...Uhm.” She couldn’t concentrate. She knew these rules. “I can’t think.”
He shook his head, the crop trailing down her inner thigh. “Second lesson. Punishment.” He stepped away from her.
“What?” She turned.
The three men, Richard, Bruce and the blonde surfer-guy, stood in the doorway.
“Gentlemen, help yourselves to a drink and make yourself comfortable,” said Terry. “It’s time for her punishment.”