When she finally lowered the glass from her mouth, it was nearly empty. Jake chuckled at her. “A bit frustrated, are we?” He asked.
“Just a bit,” she said caustically.
He raised his eyebrows at her, his gaze reproving. She sighed. “Just a bit, Sir.” She put as much acid into the term as she could.
Jake shook his head and clucked his tongue at her. “We clearly need to work on your manners, sub,” he said, mock-disappointedly. “Come,” he said simply, taking her by the hand and leading her toward one of the curtained walls. Only, when Jake pulled the curtain aside, there was an open doorway. Mallory hesitated at the entrance, but Jake pulled her over the threshold with him.
The room was hexagonal, each of the six walls separated by pink marble columns that matched the floor. There were frescoes on the walls depicting beautiful mermaids with creamy skin and glimmering tails, strands of pearls threaded through their long hair. Candelabras were mounted to the walls, illuminating the room with a soft glow.
But Mallory’s attention was focused on a large table in the center of the room, crafted of deeply polished wood. It was not the beautiful craftsmanship that drew her eye, though; there were iron shackles attached to chains at each of the four corners, the metal glinting dully in the candlelight.
She froze where she stood, her mouth going dry. Jake stepped in front of her, hiding the table from view. He cupped her face with both of his hands, forcing her head up to look him in the eye. “Don’t be afraid, Mallory,” he said. “You are going to enjoy this. I promise you,” his voice was low and seductive. Mallory noticed that his eyes had once again taken on a greenish hue. It seemed that their color changed with his mood: blue-green when he was being playfully seductive, and that hard, deep sapphire when he was asserting his dominance, bringing her under his control.
He slowly lowered one hand to her nape, tracing the length of her neck as he did so. He held her there as he bent to take her lips with his, his tongue tracing their outline, teasing. She melted, opening for him. He kissed her slowly, languorously massaging her tongue with his.
Pulling away slightly, he whispered against her lips. “Do you trust me, Mallory?”
“Yes, Sir,” she breathed, saying the honorific without thinking.
His smile was genuinely pleased, but it had a sharp edge to it, a hint of menace; he had her right where he wanted her, and there was nothing she could do to resist him. His hand dropped from her face, moving to the small of her back. It slipped between her skirt and corset, dipping downwards. He brushed his fingers against the skin where her tailbone met her ass, and she gasped in pleasure as her pu**y contracted in response to his touch.
He suddenly grasped the laces that tightened her skirt around her waist and pulled. The tension released, and the skirt slipped from her waist and pooled at her feet, leaving her standing before him in nothing but her corset and heels; at his request, she hadn’t worn any underwear. She had assented, thinking it a sexy game, never realizing that he might expose her like this.
Instinctively, she moved her hands to cover herself, but Jake quickly caught her wrists and drew them behind her back, holding them there in one large hand. “No, sub,” he said in a low, gravelly tone. “I like to look at what’s mine.”
Mine. The word made something twinge in her chest. But she was immediately distracted by his hand between her legs, his fingers running up her inner thigh. He paused before he touched her sex, leaving her wanting.
“Do you want me to touch you, Mallory?” He asked softly.
She nodded, panting, holding herself back from begging.
“If you’re good, I will.” She looked up at him in disbelief as he withdrew his hand. He was smiling down at her coldly, his eyes deep blue and glinting.
“Lie down on the table, Mallory,” he commanded. She hesitated, still in shock from his denial.
His smile disappeared, replaced by a small frown. “I gave you an order, sub.”
Mallory warred with herself for a moment. This imperious treatment grated on her, but at the same time, she was desperate for release. She thought about touching herself, but one look at Jake’s hard eyes told her that that was a very bad idea indeed.
He cocked an eyebrow at her, letting her know that he was not amused with her hesitation. Quailing under his impatient gaze, Mallory stepped out of her skirt and edged around him, approaching the table. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she sat on the edge of it. It was cold and unyielding beneath her heated flesh.
Jake’s arm hooked under her knees, lifting her legs and swinging them up onto the wooden surface. Then his hand was on her shoulder, firmly pushing her down onto her back. He circled around to the head of the table and took her left arm, slowly pulling it up over her head. There was something cold and hard encircling her wrist, and there was an audible snap as the shackle closed around it. Mallory shivered, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the coolness of the metal or her growing fear; she had never been bound like this before.
Jake did the same to her right wrist before securing her ankles. Instinctively, she pulled at her restraints, testing them. The unyielding metal bit into her delicate skin, a harsh reminder of her helplessness. Mallory was feeling light-headed, overwhelmed by what was happening to her.
“Breathe, Mallory,” Jake reminded her. She gasped in a shallow breath, unable to draw in much air because of the tightness of her corset. She heard the heels of his boots clicking on the marble floor as he walked around her. His gaze was impassive as she watched him warily.
He disappeared from her line of sight as he walked around the head of the table. She craned her head to look back at him.
“Eyes forward, sub,” he said in a clipped tone. Her head snapped back so that she was staring at the ceiling. The clicking of his boots seemed even louder as he walked around behind her, the sound her only means of tracking his location.
Suddenly, he was looming over her, grinning. Her breathing turned fast and hard when she saw what he was holding in his hand: one of the white tapered candles that illuminated the room.
His expression softened as he noticed her alarm. He reached out and gently traced the line of her cheekbone and jaw with his long fingers. “I’m not going to harm you, Mallory,” he assured her. “You trust me, don’t you?” He asked again, reminding her that she had already admitted as much.