wouldn't have traded places.
"You look different," Charity said, nodding at Maurice's blue jeans and white T-shirt.
"You look great," Maurice answered back.
His grin was more than male appreciation. Why, he's fond of her already , B.G. thought. It seemed a good sign that she was likeable. Sadly, psychological profiles could only predict so much. One did have to test the subject in person.
"Chair," B.G. said gently, reminding Maurice why they were here. "It's time to pay for your indulgence."
Maurice knew which chair he meant, a thronelike Victorian with deep-red upholstery. He looked toward it, then at Charity.
"I'm helping," she said cheerfully.
Maurice grunted at that and sat. Her ability to unsettle him seemed promising as well. A woman who made men nervous was a woman hard to forget.
"If you'd be kind enough to do the honors," B.G. said to her, "those leather straps need buckling."
Charity secured Maurice's wrists, then his ankles. She didn't tease or playact, simply fastened him in.
B.G. couldn't tell if she was embarrassed to exercise her gift for seduction in front of him, or if she wished to lighten Maurice's penance. If the latter was her wish, she failed. As always, the procedure excited his chauffeur. His face grew flushed and his blue jeans tight. Through it all, Charity's manner remained friendly and casual.
Not a bondage fancier then. At least, not a fancier of binding others.
"Is that it?" she asked, turning to him.
"The last set fastens around the crotch."
This elicited a slight increase in pupil size.
"Okey-doke," she said as if it hadn't happened. She crouched down to find the straps behind the seat, momentarily distracting him with a spectacular view of her ass.
"Third hole," he stipulated once he recovered. "Maurice prefers this one tight."
She hesitated when Maurice's big, blunt hands clenched on the chair. From where B.G. stood, he bore all the signs of full arousal. She must have doubted she could fit the straps around his cock. "I don't want to hurt you," she said worriedly.
B.G. found he liked her for addressing their prisoner, unnecessary though it was. Maurice, on the other hand, wasn't concerned with the finer points of safe sex-play.
"Do it," he urged her hoarsely. "It's what I need."
To B.G.'s pleasure, she looked to him for confirmation.
"He won't be hurt. Maurice doesn't trust his control. He won't be able to enjoy his punishment unless he knows he can't gratify himself."
At this, a full-fledged blush rose in her cheeks. Pretending to ignore the reaction, he filed it away for future study. While Charity finished buckling the last constraint—accompanied by the pleasant music of the chauffeur's groans—B.G. pulled a wafer-thin cell phone from his breast pocket.
"Michael," he said into the phone, "please play tape thirteen in the mystery room."
Nothing if not efficient, Mosswood's head of sexual surveillance took only seconds to have the screen rising from the floor in front of Maurice. The tape would run for an hour, a compilation of the chauffeur's favorite scenes, most of which involved various costumes. By the time it finished, he'd be as frustrated as before he'd indulged himself with their newest guest.
Maurice struggled in his bonds as it began to play, as though the explicit pictures posed a literal danger.
Charity stared at him goggle-eyed.
"Let's leave him to his entertainment," B.G. said to her. "His reactions will be less inhibited if he's alone."
" Less inhibited?" she said with a little gasp, then shook herself. "You're sure he'll be okay?"
"A member of my staff will come for him the minute he hits the call button on the chair." He curled his hand around her elbow. "Come. I'm sure you'd like to get out of that corset. Maybe rest a bit and settle in?"
She blew out a breath like someone surfacing from a dream. "Yes," she said, "I would like that."
She shot Maurice one last glance before they left. Engrossed as he was, the object of her attention didn't
"You look different," Charity said, nodding at Maurice's blue jeans and white T-shirt.
"You look great," Maurice answered back.
His grin was more than male appreciation. Why, he's fond of her already , B.G. thought. It seemed a good sign that she was likeable. Sadly, psychological profiles could only predict so much. One did have to test the subject in person.
"Chair," B.G. said gently, reminding Maurice why they were here. "It's time to pay for your indulgence."
Maurice knew which chair he meant, a thronelike Victorian with deep-red upholstery. He looked toward it, then at Charity.
"I'm helping," she said cheerfully.
Maurice grunted at that and sat. Her ability to unsettle him seemed promising as well. A woman who made men nervous was a woman hard to forget.
"If you'd be kind enough to do the honors," B.G. said to her, "those leather straps need buckling."
Charity secured Maurice's wrists, then his ankles. She didn't tease or playact, simply fastened him in.
B.G. couldn't tell if she was embarrassed to exercise her gift for seduction in front of him, or if she wished to lighten Maurice's penance. If the latter was her wish, she failed. As always, the procedure excited his chauffeur. His face grew flushed and his blue jeans tight. Through it all, Charity's manner remained friendly and casual.
Not a bondage fancier then. At least, not a fancier of binding others.
"Is that it?" she asked, turning to him.
"The last set fastens around the crotch."
This elicited a slight increase in pupil size.
"Okey-doke," she said as if it hadn't happened. She crouched down to find the straps behind the seat, momentarily distracting him with a spectacular view of her ass.
"Third hole," he stipulated once he recovered. "Maurice prefers this one tight."
She hesitated when Maurice's big, blunt hands clenched on the chair. From where B.G. stood, he bore all the signs of full arousal. She must have doubted she could fit the straps around his cock. "I don't want to hurt you," she said worriedly.
B.G. found he liked her for addressing their prisoner, unnecessary though it was. Maurice, on the other hand, wasn't concerned with the finer points of safe sex-play.
"Do it," he urged her hoarsely. "It's what I need."
To B.G.'s pleasure, she looked to him for confirmation.
"He won't be hurt. Maurice doesn't trust his control. He won't be able to enjoy his punishment unless he knows he can't gratify himself."
At this, a full-fledged blush rose in her cheeks. Pretending to ignore the reaction, he filed it away for future study. While Charity finished buckling the last constraint—accompanied by the pleasant music of the chauffeur's groans—B.G. pulled a wafer-thin cell phone from his breast pocket.
"Michael," he said into the phone, "please play tape thirteen in the mystery room."
Nothing if not efficient, Mosswood's head of sexual surveillance took only seconds to have the screen rising from the floor in front of Maurice. The tape would run for an hour, a compilation of the chauffeur's favorite scenes, most of which involved various costumes. By the time it finished, he'd be as frustrated as before he'd indulged himself with their newest guest.
Maurice struggled in his bonds as it began to play, as though the explicit pictures posed a literal danger.
Charity stared at him goggle-eyed.
"Let's leave him to his entertainment," B.G. said to her. "His reactions will be less inhibited if he's alone."
" Less inhibited?" she said with a little gasp, then shook herself. "You're sure he'll be okay?"
"A member of my staff will come for him the minute he hits the call button on the chair." He curled his hand around her elbow. "Come. I'm sure you'd like to get out of that corset. Maybe rest a bit and settle in?"
She blew out a breath like someone surfacing from a dream. "Yes," she said, "I would like that."
She shot Maurice one last glance before they left. Engrossed as he was, the object of her attention didn't
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