Sierra Cartwright - Doms of Dark Haven

Without any preliminaries, he removed it and flicked it smartly over her ass.

“Shit!” She wiggled, trying to avoid the sting, but Harte was persistent, varying the blows, never falling into a predictable rhythm. He loved watching her shimmy and flinch, a private dance just for him and the slender, flexible wand.

A scream rang out, nearly shattering his concentration. At the station next to him, Master Patterson was laying into his sub hard—no warm-up, no warning. The man's face was stoic, and his sub for the night faced him as he flogged her breasts.

She stared intently into his face. Some were like that, and that was Patterson's style; he liked to administer a hard beating. He'd seen subs line up for the older man's services, and Patterson would tirelessly oblige.

“She's just venting. Remember, she's here because she wants to be. If she needs to stop, she'll tell him.” He'd noticed that Eva's attention had also been diverted.

“I know. She smells…excited.”

He stepped close again and ran his hands up her bare shoulders. His breath ruffled her hair. “What else do you smell?”

“You.”

That was a bit obvious. “And?”

“Someone furious. Angry.” Harte glanced around and spotted Master Torin marching a new sub to the Medieval Room. He wasn't dressed for the theme, and Harte stifled a grin at the thunderous expression on the human's face. His little sub had pissed him off royally.

Torin was bagged and tagged.

“There's only one hunter down here. He's…down by the bed where Kevin took me.” She paused and swallowed. Harte returned to his bag and pulled out a bottle of water. He opened it and gave her a sip, visually checking the bindings around her wrists while she drank. He'd take her down soon, after the hunter left.

“How do you see the world around you, Eva? What senses do you use?”

She paused to swallow her water. “Sight, hearing, smell.”

“No, that's the human way. They see, hear, smell, touch, and taste. We work in a different order.” She was attentive now, her focus completely on him. “Like wolves, we rely on our sense of smell, followed by hearing, sight, taste, and touch. It sometimes varies, but that's the general order.”

He took the bottle he held up to her and set it on the floor. While he was down there, he wrapped his hands around her ankles, just above the bindings. Slowly he ran his hands up her calves and circled around to the outsides of her thighs. She was very still, and her fragrance was sweet and alluring. Slowly he circled to the insides, finally cupping her mons through the silky fabric of her thong. She was wet.

“You're drenched. You're dripping into my hand.”

“Adrenaline does that. So does fear.”

“But you aren't afraid, are you, Eva?” He rested a cheek against her bare buttock, then rolled in to give her a light nip. She jumped. He kissed the spot he'd nipped, and moved his fingers, sliding the scrap of silk aside. She went very still. He slid one finger through the slick folds of her labia, hissing when she flexed automatically. She made a small, animal-like sound. He doubted that she was even aware she'd made it.

His fingers brushed lightly over her clit and then circled back to her entrance.

He pushed the tip of one finger inside, caught the juices, and pulled them backward to her ass. He pressed lightly just to check her response. She tightened and jerked away from his hand. Harte chuckled at her reaction. This was going to be fun.

Harte stood and began to loosen her restraints. “I'm taking you down now.

Don't take off the blindfold. Just get your balance.”

When she looked steady on her feet, he led her across the room to a padded table. It was low enough for her to drape over comfortably. “Panties off.” She looked reluctant but didn't hesitate to obey, and reached out to orient herself to the table as she slid the thong off her hips. He carefully guided her into place and then used the shackles that were bolted to the floor to hold her immobile. They had a spreader bar and held her feet far apart.

Carefully, slowly, he unlaced the back of her corset, admiring the exquisite work of the piece. She sighed as it came off, and he sighed at the sight of her tiny waist and slender back. He still hadn't seen her breasts. He'd save that treat for last.

There was a drop cloth under their feet, and Harte decided to make use of it, pulling a half-burned red candle and a lighter from his bag. When he lit it, her head came up anxiously. He watched the wax pool under the wick and then stroked her back, relaxing her just a bit. He reached out, centered the candle over the curve of her spine, and tipped it, watching the red wax drip onto her ivory skin.

She screamed. Finally.

“You fucker!” She didn't scream the words, not exactly, and she kept her face buried in the vinyl of the table.

“What was that, sub?”

Eva shook her head wildly, trying to process the sensations that were sparking along her skin.

“You fucker, Sir!”

In reply, another trickle of fire hit her shoulders and dribbled down her back.

She stomped her feet as much as the shackles allowed. Her fisted hands pounded on the table.

“Are you saying your safe word?” His voice was low and silky in her ear.

“No!”

“Good.” Another spatter of wax hit her back and trickled toward the crack in her ass. Now that she'd adjusted to the shock, it wasn't so bad. Eva went still in surprise. In fact…

“Sir?”

“Yes, Eva?” He sounded a bit disappointed, like perhaps he had expected her to call a stop to their play.

“It only hurt because I expected it to burn, right?”

“Very good. And I appreciate your stifling that scream. A second black suit just came down the stairs. However, there is that little matter of language…”

She went still, trying to catch a scent that was slightly familiar. All of a sudden, it hit her. “Black licorice. Cigarettes. A gun.” She ignored the comment about her language. It would come back to haunt her soon enough.

“That's right.” His hand slid down between her legs again, and his fingers glided into her slick pussy. Her eyes nearly crossed at the sensation. Her ass tilted, and inwardly she cursed at her body's eagerness to take him. Her wolf was awakened; she'd called on it to scent, and now it was up and aware of the alpha who was wreaking such havoc on her body and mind. Never in her life had she felt so connected to the animal.

She shivered, feeling the sudden need to shift, to escape out into the foggy streets of the city. Surely she could shake the tracker if she could only run…

The tickle of fur started on her skin, beginning on her neck and chest. Eva whimpered in fear. What if she shifted here in front of witnesses?

“Sh… You're all right, Eva.”

A wave of warm, reassuring comfort flowed over her, helping Eva to push the wolf back. He covered her from behind, his huge body wrapping her in an embrace that nearly brought her to her knees. Harte stroked her throat and whispered softly in her ear until the urge to shift passed. She panted with the effort it took.

“Excellent, Eva. You controlled that well.”

She'd done it with his help. Usually Eva avoided any situation that might trigger her wolf. She'd never been able to pull it back once the shift started. She sighed in relief.

“A reward for doing so well…” His tongue stroked slowly down along her throat, further adding to the confusion of sensations that Eva was experiencing.

Harte moved away, and she immediately missed his presence. Just a second later, she felt him kneeling between her legs with his back to the table, his face turned up into her crotch. She tried to pull away—she'd never allowed that before.