she carefully folded it over her arm. Yesterday, after waking up at two in the afternoon, she’d gone out and bought some cheap black lace lingerie. They were paying her five figures for this project, but that didn’t mean she wanted to spend it on expensive, vintage-inspired pieces for the Doms to destroy.
“Turn.”
Addie turned her back, letting him look her over.
“You were spanked?”
“Yes.”
“Does it still hurt?”
“A little.”
“Very well, we’ll work around that. Come here.”
Addie approached Emory, trepidation fluttering to life in her belly. He lifted the dress off her arm. Pulling one of the black curtains away from the equally black wall, he hung it on a hook. When the curtain fell back into place, her red dress, the only spot of color, disappeared.
Emory reached out, selecting a lock of her hair. “Do you remember what my specialty is?”
“Well-planned scenes,” Addie said from memory.
Emory smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a very attractive way. “Exactly. The first thing I want to do is establish which scenes you have the most affinity for.”
“I’ve never done scenes before.”
Emory walked to the closest corner, threw back the drop cloth, and drew out a sparkling white straight-backed chair. He brought it to the center of the room, placing it precisely. “Please, take a seat. Your lack of familiarity with scenes is one of the reasons you’re here, but you may have done some role play—that’s another term for what I do, though it’s been corrupted by the comic book crowd—with past lovers?”
“Role play? Oh no, none of that.” She sat, the chair cold against her ass and back.
“You sound disgusted.”
“No,” Addie said, mentally wincing. She really didn’t want to piss this man off. “It’s just not something I’ve ever thought about.”
“Isn’t the life you lead a type of role play, with your affected dress and personal style?” Emory walked away, back toward the corner.
Addie straightened in the chair. “No, it’s my life. It’s who I am.” She bit off each word. Now this guy was pissing her off. She caught another movement out of the corner of her eye, near the edge of the set where the walls met air.
She glanced over to see Lane standing there. He wore dark jeans and a black leather jacket. Happy butterflies fluttered to life in her belly. She started to smile but he shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips. Addie took that to mean that Emory couldn’t know he was there.
Looking over at the other Dom, she saw he was pulling a trunk out from under the cloth. He flipped it open, hiked up the legs of his pants just above the knee, and crouched to look inside.
“Everyone has at least one scene they’re drawn to, whether it’s because it’s one of their darkest fantasies or because it’s an element from the genre of movie they prefer.” He stood and returned to Addie, hands cupped in front of him. “It’s my job to discover what scene will speak to you.”
“Why don’t you just ask me?”
“Because you’d lie, either to me or to yourself. Or you’d try to second-guess the scene, selecting one based on what would be the most pleasurable.”
Fuck.
That was exactly what she’d planned to do.
“Please spread your legs. Submissives, when in the presence of a Dom, keep their legs spread and breasts accessible.” Emory frowned. “I thought Lane would have taught you some of this.”
Addie couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Lane, who’d moved deeper into the shadows. He was glaring at her. Did that mean he actually wanted her showing off her pussy to other men? Or was this because her failure to behave made him look bad, as if she were a poorly trained dog?
“Fuck that,” she said aloud, glaring back at Lane.
“Excuse me?” Emory’s words were as cold as ice. He wrapped his fingers around each knee and slowly spread her legs.
“No, I wasn’t—” talking to you . But she couldn’t say that.
“Turn.”
Addie turned her back, letting him look her over.
“You were spanked?”
“Yes.”
“Does it still hurt?”
“A little.”
“Very well, we’ll work around that. Come here.”
Addie approached Emory, trepidation fluttering to life in her belly. He lifted the dress off her arm. Pulling one of the black curtains away from the equally black wall, he hung it on a hook. When the curtain fell back into place, her red dress, the only spot of color, disappeared.
Emory reached out, selecting a lock of her hair. “Do you remember what my specialty is?”
“Well-planned scenes,” Addie said from memory.
Emory smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a very attractive way. “Exactly. The first thing I want to do is establish which scenes you have the most affinity for.”
“I’ve never done scenes before.”
Emory walked to the closest corner, threw back the drop cloth, and drew out a sparkling white straight-backed chair. He brought it to the center of the room, placing it precisely. “Please, take a seat. Your lack of familiarity with scenes is one of the reasons you’re here, but you may have done some role play—that’s another term for what I do, though it’s been corrupted by the comic book crowd—with past lovers?”
“Role play? Oh no, none of that.” She sat, the chair cold against her ass and back.
“You sound disgusted.”
“No,” Addie said, mentally wincing. She really didn’t want to piss this man off. “It’s just not something I’ve ever thought about.”
“Isn’t the life you lead a type of role play, with your affected dress and personal style?” Emory walked away, back toward the corner.
Addie straightened in the chair. “No, it’s my life. It’s who I am.” She bit off each word. Now this guy was pissing her off. She caught another movement out of the corner of her eye, near the edge of the set where the walls met air.
She glanced over to see Lane standing there. He wore dark jeans and a black leather jacket. Happy butterflies fluttered to life in her belly. She started to smile but he shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips. Addie took that to mean that Emory couldn’t know he was there.
Looking over at the other Dom, she saw he was pulling a trunk out from under the cloth. He flipped it open, hiked up the legs of his pants just above the knee, and crouched to look inside.
“Everyone has at least one scene they’re drawn to, whether it’s because it’s one of their darkest fantasies or because it’s an element from the genre of movie they prefer.” He stood and returned to Addie, hands cupped in front of him. “It’s my job to discover what scene will speak to you.”
“Why don’t you just ask me?”
“Because you’d lie, either to me or to yourself. Or you’d try to second-guess the scene, selecting one based on what would be the most pleasurable.”
Fuck.
That was exactly what she’d planned to do.
“Please spread your legs. Submissives, when in the presence of a Dom, keep their legs spread and breasts accessible.” Emory frowned. “I thought Lane would have taught you some of this.”
Addie couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Lane, who’d moved deeper into the shadows. He was glaring at her. Did that mean he actually wanted her showing off her pussy to other men? Or was this because her failure to behave made him look bad, as if she were a poorly trained dog?
“Fuck that,” she said aloud, glaring back at Lane.
“Excuse me?” Emory’s words were as cold as ice. He wrapped his fingers around each knee and slowly spread her legs.
“No, I wasn’t—” talking to you . But she couldn’t say that.
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