The Punishment of Ivy Leavold (Markham Hall Book 3) by Sierra Simone

I’d made up for all the time we’ve lost. Until her body well and truly remembered its master.
    It was not easy.
    Like right now. She was on all fours, her knees spread apart so that her glistening cunt was free for anybody to see. It took all of my willpower to keep from kneeling behind her and sliding inside. But I didn’t. Instead, I raised my hand back and slapped her ass, the sound cracking through the ballroom like a whip. I stood up, my erection tugging at every nerve in my pelvis, and turned to Silas.
    “The dining room,” he said calmly. He was as gifted at self-control as I was, although for a different reason. I used self-discipline as a method to satisfy my whims—by controlling myself, I almost always got what I wanted at the end. Silas simply didn’t know how to be anything but polite and jovial, even when he was coming all over a woman’s face.
    I nodded my agreement. And then I bent down so Ivy could hear me clearly. “You may stand now.”
    She obeyed, getting to her feet, her legs shaking slightly. Her nipples were tight jeweled points and there was a blush high in her cheeks. It wouldn’t be long after I let the others touch her that she would come.
    I took her hand in mine and led her past the observers in the direction of the dining room. Some followed, some returned to what they had been doing, entertained by the spectacle but not intrigued enough to participate. I didn’t care. It didn’t matter if there were two hands on Ivy or two thousand, I would still make sure that every iota of pleasure was wrung from her body tonight.
    She followed me almost meekly, the blindfold inhibiting her normally confident steps, and I was careful to steer my wildcat around obstacles and people, stopping only when we reached the dining room. Dominated by a massive table, the dining room was empty of guests and food, the table completely cleared of the remnants of supper.
    “I’m going to pick you up and lay you down,” I told her. She nodded, looking so sweetly confused and eager that I couldn’t help but kiss her right then, letting my lips linger on hers. Then I lifted her easily and laid her on the table.
    The cold wood against her back and legs sent goose bumps racing over her skin and I watched them hungrily, wanting to lick her pebbled flesh, to bite it. She looked perfect like this, her breasts round globes, her back arched in such a way that I could slide my hand under her lower back without ever touching her skin.
    There were twenty or thirty people around the table now, and I recognized every face among them. Most of them were good friends, some were acquaintances, but all were people I’d trust to touch my pet. The Baron didn’t allow cruelty or selfishness in his house, and as a result, he’d cultivated a set of people who both flouted the sensibilities of the outside world but respected individual boundaries. But still, I felt like I needed to clarify.
    “Tonight, my fiancée has returned to me,” I told them. I put a hand on Ivy’s bare stomach, loving how the soft flesh trembled underneath my fingertips. “And I am so happy.” Stupidly, my words cracked, and I swallowed the emotion back down. “But tonight, I remind her who she belongs to. Does anyone have something I can bind her with?”
    Rhoda and Zona, the blonde twins, both hastily unfastened their silk sashes, and Silas offered up his tie. With their help, soon I had Ivy’s legs tied to the bottom corners of the table and her right arm to the top. I turned to look for another sash or tie, and found Lord Gravendon standing behind me, quietly offering his own cravat.
    I gave him a smile in thanks and then finished tying Ivy to the table. The position of her arms above her head made her breasts jut higher and her back arch more. Her legs were spread farther apart, and from here, I could catch the barest glimpse of her rosy seam, just begging to be fucked.
    “You may touch and kiss as much as you’d like,” I told the guests.