Cherise Sinclair - Club Shadowlands

He disappeared behind her, and try as she could, she couldn't turn her head far enough to see him. The club members were ranged around the roped-off area, watching. Spectators at a live show. She hated them as much as she hated him.

Someone lifted her skirt and smiles appeared. Her teeth ground together as heat seared her face. She had on no underwear; all of her butt was up and naked in the air where everyone could see.

Sir's voice. “Such a pretty little ass, don't you think, Master Smith?”

“Very nice.”

Master Z massaged her buttocks, slowly, gently. He ran his fingers over her bared skin, his touch sensual, growing increasingly intimate as he traced the crease between her buttocks and thighs. Her awareness narrowed to just his touch, and then she gasped as his fingers stroked between her legs, sliding in the wetness there until need slid into her body like hot air through an opened window.

And he moved away, leaving her throbbing.

“I'm not setting a specific number.” Master Z's voice. “I will say when to stop.”

And something hit her bottom with a horrendous slap. Her legs jerked, and pain seared her skin, shocking pain. She ripped at the restraints as she frantically— wham! The burn shot down to her toes. She closed her mouth over the cry; she wouldn't yell or cry, see if she— wham! Her bottom was on fire. Another blow, then another, each one raising her to her toes, her body arching on the bench.

And then it stopped. Trying not to cry, she rested her forehead on the leather.

“As the offended parties, please take three strokes apiece,” Master Z said, his voice as courteous as if he'd been a fancy waiter.

Jessica shook her head frantically. No more . Tears leaked from her eyes, turning Master Z into a blur as he crouched next to her.

“It will hurt less if you can relax,” he murmured, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“Please—”

“You can take more.” He reached under the table, cupped her dangling breast. “You will take more.” He nodded at someone and wham!

A cry escaped her this time. Wham! Wham! It hurt so bad, and she sobbed.

With one hand, Sir stroked her back; the other hand held her breast in an intimate grip. His fingers on her nipple—even through the pain she could feel his touch—created the strangest feelings inside her.

Wham . Just one buttock. Another blow on the other. And one smack across her upper thighs that made her scream.

“I'm sorry,” she sobbed, looking at Sir, trying to get him to believe her. “I didn't mean to cause trouble; I didn't.”

His eyes softened. “I know, little one.” He stood, walked toward the end of the table out of her sight. She whimpered. What was he going to do? No more, please, please, please .

Something touched her bottom, and she cried out more in fear than pain.

“Pink and tender. Poor kitten,” Sir said. His hands caressed her bottom, painful and yet almost exciting. The feeling of need edged back. “Release her. Punishment's over.”

A few people in the crowd groaned in disappointment but stopped suddenly as if their complaints had been cut off. The other master and his sub unstrapped her hands; someone undid her legs. Sir grasped her around the waist, lifted her to her feet, and held her steady until she found her balance. Her face was wet, and she wiped tears from her cheeks. Her insides seemed to be shaking harder than her legs.

“This time, deliver your apology on your knees, Jessica,” Sir instructed.

Only his hand under her arm kept her from falling over as she clumsily knelt. She looked up at Master Smith and his slave. “I'm so, so sorry I interrupted. And that I didn't read the rules.” Trembles made her voice shake. What if it wasn't good enough? What if —

Master Smith snorted a laugh. “Sounds repentant to me, Master Z. Apology accepted.”

“Are you satisfied, Wendy?” Master Z asked.

The little brunette nodded. “Yes, Sir.” Her eyes met Jessica's with a hint of sympathy.

Jessica let her head drop forward in relief. It was over. Her thighs were quivering so hard she wanted to just crumple onto the floor. Tears still dripped down her cheeks.

She felt so lost.

And then Sir bent and effortlessly lifted her into his arms. Head spinning like a tilt-o-whirl ride, she clutched his jacket.

“Shhh, kitten, you're all right,” he murmured, and something inside her relaxed. She felt his lips in her hair and knew she was safe.

Zachary found an empty couch in the middle of the floor and settled into it, keeping her firmly in his arms. Guilt was a hard lump in his guts. Never had a kind gesture gone so wrong. He should have made her stay out in the cold entry with Ben, should never have let her into the club.

Dammit, even with her being aroused, there had been no evading the pain or the shock of being spanked.

He gentled his arms around her, settling her head against his chest. “All finished, little one.”

She buried her head in his shoulder, choking back her sobs in a way that broke his heart. He could feel her trying to wall up her distress, but between Dom and sub, there should be no walls. She didn't know that yet and wouldn't for a time, even if she wanted to walk this path. She wasn't his sub, but he'd acted as her Dom for the punishment; aftercare was his responsibility.

This was where he would start.

He shifted her in his arms so he could tilt her head up and look into her eyes. “I have you, Jessica,” he said quietly. “Let it out.”

Her emerald eyes blinked at him. She seemed almost shocked at his words—had no one ever been there for her?—and then tears welled anew. Her head dropped back on his shoulder, and he could feel her shudder with muffled sobs. Her choked words drifted up to him as his warmth and embrace seeped into her.

“In front of people… It hurt… Nobody ever…” Her barriers fell, and she sobbed, shaking as hard as when she'd been chilled from the rain. Sensitive little one, a sheltered little pet . It only made him want her the more.

He stroked her hair, murmured gently as she cried; he told her how brave she'd been, how wonderfully she'd apologized, how much he cherished her sharing with him. He praised her courage at trying to save the other sub, how rare it was to find someone willing to act to help another.

He told the truth. Even though she'd been wrong to break up the scene, the bravery of her actions impressed him. The facets of her personality were mesmerizing; from a spitfire to a yielding woman in his arms; from controlled and careful to passionately responsive. She delighted him.

Slowly her crying turned to jerky breaths as exhaustion overcame her.

But after all too short a time, he felt her mind turn on and start burying the pain and hurt under layers of control. Her body stiffened, no longer accepting any comfort.

“I want to leave now,” she said in a hard voice.

Oh, he knew this had been coming. “The rain and wind haven't lessened, and you have no car. However, you may stay in the entryway, and no one will bother you.”

Her breath hissed out, and she shoved at his arms. “Let me go.”

“We will sit here until your legs work on their own. Unless you want me to carry you across the room?”

She stopped immediately. “At least put me down.”

“No.”

That brought her head up, her green eyes wet like a forest in the rain.

“I have never had to punish someone I just met,” he said, letting his own anger show. “Discipline is a trust issue between a Dom and a sub. We do not have that trust between us. To have to perform a scene, a punishment scene like that, was extremely unpleasant. It bothered me to hurt you, Jessica,” he growled. “You will let me hold you, and offer me some comfort in return.”