Bound by the Vampire Queen (Vampire Queen Novels (Quality))

  When she touched Troy's nape, she imagined Logan's fingers trailing along her own. As she marked Troy's ass, the heated regard behind her made her buttocks tense, as if she could feel Logan contemplating doing the same to her, punishing her in all sorts of dark, memorable ways for putting him through this.

  It made her hunger grow . . . but not for more of this. She wanted Logan. Her Master.

  She stared at Troy's naked back, marked with the ruler, the way his head was bowed. The whipping post faced Shale's direction. Troy's bowed head acknowledged that. He did this all under his Mistress's command. And while Madison had no doubt he had a man's reaction to Miss Fine's provocative behavior and outfit, she was suddenly certain that submitting to Madison at the direction of his Mistress was the strongest source of his arousal.

  She was as sure of that as she was that her earlier conversation with Logan about this hadn't been so much about asserting her own will as seeking his permission to do it. He'd granted it, helped her reach this point, but he sure as hell hadn't ordered her to do this. On top of all the other things that were starting to be quite clear, the fire radiating from him told her in no uncertain terms he preferred her not to be handling another man intimately front of him. Submissive or otherwise.

  She stopped, turned to meet his gaze again. Logan tended to be honest in expression and communication, but his face right now was dispassionate, neutral. He was there to protect and guide her. Yet what had he said earlier? A submissive has power. She makes the choice of whom to hand her leash. Look at what you want for yourself.

  Glancing toward Shale, Madison registered the avid way the woman was gazing at her submissive. Madison had enjoyed the surge of power, a temporary roller coaster ride, a change of pace. Yet for Shale, the ride never lost its pleasure. Maybe at a certain level, BDSM was a fun, healthy way to achieve extra spice in a relationship, the way she'd indicated to Helen earlier in the day. Playacting to get that zing like when she first took command of Troy. But then there were those who had a deep, abiding desire to serve a Master.

  Like herself.

  For so long, she'd avoided her fascination with BDSM, period, denying that her craving might be an actual sexual orientation. Probably because of her past relationships' negative reaction to that, when she dared to reveal it. Probably even more because of her own fear of losing control of herself. But Logan had taken her hand, walked her into those waters, and while she'd sometimes stalled at different depths, she'd ultimately kept going forward, because she trusted his lead. And the more she trusted his lead, the more she trusted and let herself face the truth of her own desires.

  What she'd done that first night when he tied her to Troy, how quickly she'd gotten caught up in it, yes, at one level it was play, but there was a reality to it at the emotional level she couldn't shake. She'd come closer to admitting it when Logan had come to her house to watch a movie. She wanted to take a closer step toward what it was she was craving, what had lacked definition, but was quickly taking undeniable shape and form.

  In short, she'd wanted to try this, and wasn't sorry she had. But it was time to change gears. After she had just a little more fun with it.

  Shifting out of Troy's view, she withdrew the heavy wooden paddle she'd bought out of her own stock. She'd sketched and colored in three red shiny apples across the expanse to make it more teacherly. Catching Shale's grin at the design, she smiled back. The Mistress pantomimed a swing, a reminder to come up from a lower position. Pivoting, she ran her knuckles and glossy nails along the small of her own back, the rise of her buttocks, and shook her head, a silent instruction.

  Right. Not a good thing to hit higher, where pelvic bones, spine and kidneys could get affected if her swing was too strong. Grateful for the guidance, Madison acknowledged it with a nod, and turned her attention to the unsuspecting Troy, likely braced for another swat with the plastic ruler.

  It worked as beautifully as it had last time. Once again, not expecting it, especially with her being an unknown quantity to him in the Mistress role, he jumped . . . and ripped the other cuff. Truth, she'd bound them so close to the post, made them small enough, it was almost impossible for him not to rip them with the least little pull.

  His muttered curse, the irritated jerk of his shoulders, were a pure pleasure. She had to quell the desire to plant a kiss on the nape of his sweaty neck. She sighed heavily. "Tsk, tsk. Troy, I'm afraid you're far beyond what I can appropriately address in my classroom. Principal Shale is going to take you personally in hand. She has far more effective methods."

  Shale's lips curved with a feral pleasure that told Madison she'd made the right decision, not just for herself, but for Troy. In her wildest dreams, she didn't think she could summon a countenance so full of diabolical promise. As Shale moved forward, the Mistress extended her hand. "Sometimes the most effective tools to handle a stubborn boy are the simplest ones," she said. "If you don't mind sharing your paddle, Ms. Fine, I'll start with that. If that doesn't penetrate his hard head, a baseball bat shoved up his ass should do it."

  No doubt. Madison blinked, placed the paddle in Shale's palm. As her fingers closed over it, she met the woman's eyes and mouthed thank you. Shale nodded absently, already moving into that zone Logan did, her eyes all for her sub. Troy's shoulders had given an anticipatory twitch when Madison declared her intent to turn him over to "the principal." Now his skin shuddered when Shale ran her nails down his back, following the same track as Madison, only with a little more pressure, the furrows deeper.

  His body language shifted. It was subtle but significant, the contrast between visiting a different place, something new and interesting, and coming home. Despite the fact Shale was undoubtedly going to inflict far greater pain on him than Madison could conceive of doing, Troy relaxed even further under his Mistress's touch. He trusted Shale to use pain to take him somewhere beyond every doubt or insecurity he had. In return he would embrace the pain to the point it became intense pleasure for them both.

  Wow. Madison was using that word a lot lately, but she was also starting to understand the Marcel Proust quote Alice had kept in her kitchen window. "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes."

  Speaking of which . . . She faced Logan. Now that she'd officially turned over responsibility for her charge, she had one goal. As she covered the few steps between them, she removed the glasses and unclipped her hair, so it fell to her shoulders. She also stepped out of the pumps so she was barefoot.

  When she reached Logan, leaning against his workbench, arms crossed over his chest, she didn't consider any other options. She sank to her knees.

  The movement brought an uncanny sense of what she'd seen in Troy when he was turned over to his Mistress. Relief, comfort. A feeling that only increased when Logan put his hand on her head, stroked her hair, as if her kneeling before him was as natural to him as it had felt to her. She didn't want to wait for that pain session. She craved it now. She didn't want to wait for tomorrow when all her ridiculous doubts and insecurities might return, her baggage. Though Logan might be right, that the baggage was what had brought her to him, it was still a pain in the ass.

  She wanted to let him know all that in a language he understood, a language she wanted to understand more fully.

  "I've misbehaved, sir," she murmured.

  His russet eyes kindled in that way that made her want to sigh happily. He understood and agreed. He wasn't going to deny her. She savored the reaction, since she had a feeling it might turn to terror in short order.

  "You sure as hell have. The consequences will be severe."

  Pulling a cushion from the bottom shelf of the workbench, he dropped it on the floor next to him. "Sit there. Watch Troy's punishment, while I think of the best kind for you."

  She shifted to comply, putting her knees on the cushion and sitting back on her heels. As she did so, he caught her loose hair in his fist and jerked her back up onto her knees. She had no time to gasp at the roug
h movement before he'd claimed her mouth, his tongue tangled with hers, the heat telling her all he'd been hiding behind that facade. When she started to grab hold of his thighs for balance, he growled in her mouth, forcing her to lower her hands, rely on that pull on her scalp for balance. His act of pure possession wrapped like invisible bonds around her body, making the dampness between her thighs become gushing wetness. It was her body's primal response, readying herself for him and him alone.

  When he at last released her, he lowered her inch by inch back to the cushion so she was sitting on her heels again. Once there, his burning eyes lingered on her face, his mouth hard. She knew she was trembling. "Watch the Mistress work," he said softly.

  It was difficult to watch Shale when all she wanted to do was look at Logan. Especially when she saw he was sporting a sizeable, mouthwatering erection under his jeans. She didn't know if it had been provoked by the kiss, her decision to abandon her Mistress experiment, or because she'd been touching Troy and it was some kind of primitive, chest-beating, testosterone reaction that shouldn't thrill her modern female mind but absolutely did. Whatever the reason for his impressive response, she appreciated the results to the point it was hard to tear her gaze away.

  But he'd commanded her to watch Shale and Troy, so she did. She curled her hand around his calf, though, hoping he wouldn't tell her she couldn't touch him. He didn't.

  During the kiss, she'd been vaguely aware of the harsh clap of the paddle, Troy's grunts of pain. When she turned her attention back to them now, Shale had set the weapon aside and reclaimed the plastic ruler. Picking up the other children's chair and giving it an artful twirl in one hand, she pointed to the floor with the other. "Lie down, face up."

  Troy complied, and Madison had a glimpse of the red marks Shale had left on his buttocks, painful-looking strikes with the paddle that made Madison wince but which she saw hadn't diminished Troy's aroused response at all. Though she hadn't yet experienced it herself, she was getting a good idea of why it could make a certain kind of submissive even needier, craving more. As her ass rested against her heels, she wondered if, before night's end, she'd have her own marks to show. The crazy thing was, she was pretty sure she wanted that. And she wanted Logan's hand to be the one wielding the blows.

  Shale put the chair over his head, the front legs planted on either side of his neck, the back ones just clearing his crown. The cross piece that stabilized the bottom of the chair was over the bridge of his nose, effectively holding his head in place, especially when Shale took a seat on it. Madison noticed that she paused before she did so, looking toward Logan. Glancing up, Madison saw her Master give the Domme an imperceptible nod. He'd said the chair could hold an adult, but Shale was likely confirming.

  Safety always came first. It was a tribute to their confidence in their roles that it didn't dilute the thrilling, anxious feel of being under their control. It simply kept the not-erotic feelings of true fear out of it. Madison's analytical mind worked on that, even as her subconscious used it as all the more reason to fall under Logan's spell. A win-win, right?

  Taking a seat on the chair, Shale planted one booted foot on Troy's upper abdomen, such that Madison saw a red impression gather around the pointed heel. Shale leaned forward, her hair falling over her shoulder as she stroked his chest. "Look at that hard-on. Shameful. All for Miss Fine. I think we'll be homeschooling you from now on."

  "No, not for her, Mistress. For you. Because you were watching."

  "I didn't give you permission to talk." Shale brought the ruler down in a sharp slap on his lower abdomen. He jerked, his hands flexing at his sides, a breath whistling out between his teeth.

  "Spread your legs. Stretch out your arms as well."

  He did it without hesitation, exposing his testicles and sheathed cock to her. When she brought the ruler down, hard, it slapped his inner thigh about five inches below that area. He flinched but didn't move otherwise, his arms out to his sides, palms open.

  Shale did it again, and Madison was impressed with her control, because she never came closer than a hand's span to his genitals, though she managed to hit the same spots a few times. Madison expected his mind registered it as much closer, since he couldn't see anything but the bottom of the chair.

  Shale looked stern, far more punitive than Miss Fine. Madison glanced up at Logan. His face was expressionless again, but she didn't sense any concern for Troy. She shifted her attention back to the tableau before them because, no matter the uncertain roiling in her stomach at how Troy took his punishment, she couldn't deny she was captivated, and by far more than the sexual component. Though he couldn't see her, it was as if Troy's gaze was fixed on his Mistress. The look on his face matched something Madison understood deep inside. Yet his look took it to a more profound level, because he was farther along that road than Madison. He would truly do anything Shale desired. He trusted her with everything. He had utter faith in her control over him.

  It was something she'd rarely seen reflected on any adult face, including her own. How long had it taken Shale and Troy to reach that point together? What would happen if it ever turned in the wrong direction, the relationship ending? Troy and Shale were relatively young. How did one recover from such a loss? Trust her to think of that.

  Shale stood up, removing the chair, but laying it on its side. "Step into this space."

  The supporting pieces beneath the chair formed an open square. Troy rose and stepped in one foot at a time, the opening small enough he had to work first one foot and then the other under the slats, so the chair was a wooden manacle around both his ankles. If Shale wanted him to move forward, he'd have to do it with a very short shuffle, several inches at a time.

  "Spread your feet as far as you can, then bend over and grab the sides."

  Madison noticed that Shale kept her hand on his back throughout. She was positioned to steady him if he lost his balance. This, despite the fact that cruel expression on her lovely features never altered. When he bent over, spreading his thighs the few inches possible, she reached between them and gripped his testicles, squeezing hard enough to earn a groan from him. She brushed her knuckles over those reddened rectangular areas where she'd slapped him with the paddle.

  "Tonight, I'll lock you in your new cage. You can listen to me bring myself to climax with my vibrator. If you stay still and quiet, you might earn the right to lick me clean afterward. Or maybe not. You were too eager to play with your little friend. I'm going to fuck you with my strap-on before I go to work in the morning, so when Logan sees you, he'll know you have a sore ass, because you had to be reminded who owns it." She released him. "Straighten up."

  She had the sultry voice of a siren, purring out the dire threats. When she caught his hair, yanked him up by it, Troy's face showed the same emotions Madison had seen when he was underneath the chair. Total acceptance and devotion, but now it was coupled with aggressive desire. His eyes sparked at her. "It's always your ass, Mistress."

  She gave his hair another rough tug. "Talking without permission. You never learn. One more word, and I'll be plugging your mouth and ass for the duration of the night."

  Gripping his buttock, she must have probed deeper, because a ripple of reaction went through his body, his thighs tensing, stomach contracting.

  "You greased yourself up for your little teacher, just in case." Her gaze locked with his. "And now you'll pay the price for that."

  Whatever she did had Troy's facial features constricting. Shale put her hand on his stomach, a steadying force, and Madison heard her soft whisper, "Hold on to my shoulder, Troy."

  The tender order in the midst of a humiliating punishment had a lump coming to Madison's throat as Troy's face contorted. He grabbed Shale's shoulder as her stimulation forced the climax that made his thighs tremble violently, his hips jerk. If he hadn't been wearing a condom, the semen would have fountained out of his cock. As it was, Madison saw it fill the tip, spread out over the head. He groaned, chin dropping down to his chest as Shale w
rested the last drop from him, ruthless in her intent, while her hand stayed firm and steady on his upper abdomen. She'd shifted closer so he was leaning against her, a loose embrace that looked anything but ruthless.

  When he was done, his breathing labored, she held him, the two of them swaying together. Madison could tell even in his post-climactic stupor, Troy was trying to keep his whole weight off her, as cognizant of her care as she was of his. It was beautiful, in a way she realized most people wouldn't recognize, seeing only the graphic representation of sex, not all the complex interplay of trust and intimacy.

  In time, he was able to straighten. "All right," Shale said quietly. "Let's get you out of this chair. Then I want you to clean up and get dressed."

  His minute shifting during the climax had pushed the chair back against his ankles. He'd need help adjusting it to get free, but when Shale started to bend, his arms tightened around her.

  Madison glanced up at Logan. "May I help?"

  He gave her a significant look. "That would be appropriate."

  Troy didn't want his Mistress bending before him. And Madison had recognized it, volunteered to help. Which not only bemused her but also explained that potent look from Logan. Her insight had pleased him, which gave her a ridiculous glow.

  Was this the track that Troy and Shale had followed to get to where they were? Learning to embrace all the permutations of Dominant and submissive in themselves, until it was just an instinct one followed, like breathing? Instincts that twined together into the tightly knit relationship, give-and-take, she'd just seen?

  As she moved in Troy's direction, Madison kept following that instinct. She lowered her gaze and addressed Shale. "May I help, Mistress?"

  "Yes, you may. Hold the chair steady while I hold him. No argument," she said sharply.

  Madison realized that last was directed at Troy. Shale latched on to his arm, the other hand on his hip. "You're shaking," she said. "I'm not going to let my property get damaged because of some misguided I-can-do-it-myself testosterone surge."