chapter Eight
She ran the rest of her errands in a daze, her thoughts sinking into carnal ruminations and imaginations of Steel and his various lurid promises and then pinging to Abby’s concern.
I don’t want to see you end up some guy’s puppet.
Her mother was like that—cool, lovely and accommodating on her husband’s authoritative arm. She gave way graciously, every time, like a lady should, and she’d taught Althea to do the same. It simply wasn’t good manners to be difficult. As for Cheri—well, Althea knew she let the shop girl get away with a great deal. But the gallery job didn’t pay all that well, and it just usually wasn’t that big of a deal to let her have some slack now and then. Besides, it was so much easier just to go along. It made everyone happy. Some things just weren’t worth fighting for.
But what went on between her and Steel—that was different.
Exactly how, she wasn’t sure. She did know, however, that she was determined to follow this through. She’d let him do whatever he wished to her until his wicked satyr was complete and he went on his way.
Even when her accountant went over the numbers with her, showing the damming evidence of looming failure despite the infusion of Steel’s cash, her mind went more to what he might be doing just then. And what he meant by saying it didn’t matter what she wore. Did he just mean she’d be naked? Or would she be wearing something…else?
“I suggest getting a loan from your father, then, to keep the gallery afloat until things change,” Stan was saying.
Oh, hells no.
Althea shook her head, all sexy thoughts dissolving in the face of hard reality. She adjusted her glasses on her nose and peered at the columns of numbers. People could use bigger fonts—it would be so much easier for her eyes to focus on. But they never thought of it and she didn’t like to complain.
“The gallery is my responsibility. My failure. I’ll start liquidating. Maybe I can eke out enough to live on for a few months.” Her heart fluttered at the thought. She’d have to sell the building and move. Her parents would want her to move back into the family historic landmark on East Bay Street—a lovely mansion, as gracious and perfectly behaved as her mother. She’d have to give the cats away if she did that. No. She’d find a shop-girl job and a cheapie apartment outside town rather than that.
“Thea—lots of shops in town have been hard hit by the downturn. You just have to weather it. This is your dream.”
“No, it’s just a living and I’ll find another.” She shrugged, as if her heart weren’t breaking for a second time. Maybe she wasn’t meant to have anything to do with art. The gallery had been a consolation prize, the business she bought with her trust fund money when she left art school. Surely she could come up with a Plan C. She gathered up the papers. “Thank you for working so hard on this. It’s good to have hard numbers on what I need to extricate myself from this mess.”
Stan pulled off his own glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t like the new lingo much, but if you can, think outside the box, Althea. Miracles don’t happen unless you pray for them.”
She stood, picked up her purse and turned to go. Turned back. “I’m not much for miracles, Stan, but I do believe God helps those who help themselves. Along those lines—from now on, I’d be obliged if you’d put these reports in a bigger font, so I can see for myself what they say.”
Stan blinked at her. “I’m sorry, Thea. I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t,” she replied with a sweet smile. “But now you will. Have a lovely afternoon.”
Back at the gallery, she sat her desk for a bit, carefully filing the papers and making some notes on how she’d stage the liquidation. The cleaning crew had been in and the place smelled comfortingly of lemon oil and sunshine. She listed dealers who might be willing to buy the pricier stuff at a discounted rate. With a twist of grim pleasure, she decided to cut her worst diva artist client first. No sense in drawing out the drama on that one. Steel’s metal beat pounded under her feet, alluring, promising mindless lust. An escape only, not a solution to her problems.
For the rest, she’d start with a special, then progressively greater cuts in price, before she declared a full Going Out of Business sale. Tacky, her mother’s disapproving voice whispered. Her gaze fell on the marble sculpture she loved. Maybe she’d donate one or two pieces to local museums or the Junior League’s current pet charity and claim the tax credits. She made a note to ask Stan.
Finally, she felt she’d devoted herself to business enough. The sense of desperation gnawed at her heart so that she felt like curling up in a corner and weeping. She went upstairs, played with Artemisia and Tassi for a bit, then undressed and tossed her clothes in the hamper for the dry cleaner. No, she should start hand-washing what she could, to start her new life of genteel poverty.
At least Steel could be counted on not to sneer at her for it.
Anticipation warmed and dampened her as she pulled on a pale rose silk robe, so she’d have something to wear back upstairs. She left her glasses on the dresser.
With a sense of fatalistic calm, she descended her stairs, then coded in the alarm that kept her personal beast confined to his dungeon. At the bottom of his steps, she waited in her taped-in box to be told what to do.
The satyr gleamed under the spotlights, its rampant cock now coated with a shiny layer of brass. That would feel smoother on her tongue as she tried to swallow more of it. Her face heated that she now thought so easily of what Steel would have her do with it. Would he have it penetrate her in other ways? Most likely. The thought shivered through her.
“Hi.” Steel came around the corner, startling her out of her prurient speculations. “Finished your errands? Did you have a good day?”
“Nothing I care to talk about, really.”
A tremor undermined her cool tone, but she returned his scrutiny with a defiant stare. He studied her, a flicker of concern in his warm brown eyes, as he wiped his hands on a paint rag. He wore paint-splattered ripped jeans and a black undershirt, equally stained. Seeming to make a decision, he nodded. “Good enough. Hang up your robe. Put on the things in that bag and come see this when you’re ready.”
He disappeared back around the corner and she examined the shopping bag from the high-end lingerie store. She pulled out a negligee of black lace and sheer nothing, along with a g-string and very high-heeled silver platform sandals. With a sigh for the black that would overwhelm her coloring, she pulled on the panties and gown. If you could call it that. Though it swept to her ankles, the black lace parted all the way to the neckline in a vee-shape—covering nothing of her front. The lace barely scraped over her nipples and would fall away with the least movement. She decided against the slutty heels.
Carrying the shoes by the straps, she went around the corner to find Steel had set up several canvases, with more lights. His eyes swept up and down her, pausing at her bare feet.
“You look beyond lovely, princess—but you didn’t put on the shoes.” His voice, though soft, carried a note that made her nipples harden and a shiver of trepidation to ripple through her sex.
“The heels are too much,” she found herself stammering. “I can’t walk gracefully in them.”
“Then you will practice. After I punish you for disobeying.”
Her mouth went dry. “Pu…punish me?”
His grin turned wolfish and he tossed down the paintbrush he’d been using. “I didn’t hope you’d give me an excuse to spank your lovely white ass this soon, but I’m delighted that you did. Tell me, princess, did you disobey on purpose so I would?”
She couldn’t answer past her hammering heart. Had she? No. Yes?
Steel cupped her chin and raised it so she looked in his eyes. His hand smelled of oil paints and solvent. His other hand brushed aside the lace barely covering her breast and tweaked her nipple. She shuddered, every thump of her heart pulsing more heat between her legs.
“What do you think? I should spank you for not following the rules, yes?”
She lowered her eyes, unable to meet his intent gaze any longer. “Yes,” she whispered. Yes.
He kissed her, still holding her by the chin and one throbbing nipple. Any thoughts she’d had flew apart and she kissed him back with longing and overwhelming desire.
Steel took her by the hand and led her over to the armless wooden chair they’d had sex on the day before. He sat, spreading his knees and pulling a length of black ribbon out of his pocket. His eyes gleamed with unholy excitement. “Turn around, wrists together behind your back.”
Trembling, she obeyed, holding still while he lashed her wrists together tightly.
“Over my lap now.”
It wasn’t easy to maneuver with her hands tied, but he helped ease her over his knees, the rough denim scraping her naked skin. He adjusted her so he held all her weight over his spread knees, her breasts dangling in the air on one side, her legs kicking helplessly on the other. He eased the negligee from under her, pulled it through her bound arms and raised it so it draped over her head in a shadowy tent.
Her breath came in short pants while her emotional self spun. She felt like a child and yet there was nothing childish about this. The frank sexuality of it reduced her to shivering vulnerability. He stroked a hand over her naked bottom, then pulled the g-string down so it dangled over her ankles.
She moaned, low in her chest.
He reached under, gathering her breasts together in one large hand. “You can say the word, princess, if you’re not ready for this.”
She held her breath, biting her tongue, suddenly afraid that he wouldn’t do it.
He chuckled. “That’s my girl.”
Then his hand cracked down on her bottom and a shriek exploded out of her. Astonished at the sharp pain, she struggled to catch her breath, to regain her composure, but his hand smacked down again and she unexpectedly burst into tears. Never in her life had anyone struck her and now the stinging slaps on her bare bottom seemed to penetrate into her very soul.
She wept and writhed on Steel’s lap, letting the physical pain wrap around the emotional pain of her failure. Losing the gallery, losing her art, none of it seemed as real as this moment, the transportation of punishment from her fierce lover. She couldn’t fight this and didn’t need to. With a sense of overwhelming gratitude, she relinquished all control and succumbed to it.
Sobbing for air, she became aware that with each smack of Steel’s hand, a new tension built. As if some kind of resistance in her had melted away, leaving pure blazing desire in its wake. She pushed her breasts into his hand, needing more, her sex hot and aching. He responded by squeezing harder. The new near-pain rocketing to her groin, she ground her mound into his thigh, desperate with hunger.
He plunged his fingers into her hot, slick folds, seizing her in a sudden, tight grip.
Impossibly, she came instantly, like an earthen dam collapsing, all of her pouring out into his hand, leaving her spent and limp across his lap.
Steel released her breasts and ran gentle hands over her body, untying the ribbon around her wrists and soothing the fiery skin of her blazing bottom.
“Doing okay, princess?”
She nodded. She was okay. Her face was drenched with tears but her heart was finally free of the day’s tensions. He helped her up, stroking her gown and hair out of her face, and handed her a tissue. She sat in the chair, hissing at the ache, and wiped the tears away. The tiny g-string had fallen off at some point and lay discarded on the floor.
“I didn’t expect to cry like that.” The words came out like a whispered confession.
“No one does—the first time.”
The first time. The words rang through her. He might do this again. She would let him. Feeling helplessly exposed, fully at his mercy, she watched him, biting her lip.
Steel raised inquisitive brows, standing in front of her with his thumbs hooked easily through his belt loops. “Had enough for the night? Or are you up for more?”
The challenge in the way he said it sent shivers of renewed heat into her. He had plans for her. Probably diabolical ones, judging by the barely contained restlessness in his body. His prominent erection strained against his jeans and she reached out, grasping him through the rough material. She looked up through her eyelashes and licked her lips.
“I want more.”
His face hardened with dark desire. Not the wicked grin she expected. Something ferocious and hungry.
“Good.” He nearly whispered it. Then he knelt in front of her, picked up one of the shoes and grabbed her ankle in a tight grip. He stared fiercely into her eyes. “Are you ready to obey me now?”
The cruel-looking shoe glittered in the light. “Yes, Steel.”
He pulled on her foot, her tender bottom scraped on the chair and she hissed at the pain. “Hands behind your neck. Sit up straight.”
She straightened, lacing her fingers under her hair, the black lace parting to expose her peaked nipples. He strapped the shoe onto her foot. It fit perfectly, but bowed the arch into an extreme curve. Pressing a kiss into the arch, he stroked her foot. Then flashed her a smile. “This is one of my things. You’ll do this for me. If you can’t—safe-word out.”
“I thought this was all your thing.”
He stroked a hand up her thigh, gaze falling to her naked sex. “Oh, I like it all, but some of this is just for you.”
“Oh.” She’d think about that later. When she could.
He set her foot down, placing it precisely so her leg angled out from her body. The heel’s height pushed her knee to an acute angle. He picked up the other shoe.
“You can tell me what you want too,” he observed, buckling the delicate straps.
“I don’t know if I can.”
He pressed a kiss onto that arch, too, and she gasped at the spark that ran up her leg.
“And you seem to figure it out pretty well.”
He set that foot down, too, so now her legs were widely spread, naked sex perched at the edge of the chair. He arranged the black gown so it fell back around her. Running a finger through the swollen folds, he raised an eyebrow. “So hot for me. It’s easy to tell what you like.”
She shuddered under the caress. Yes, she imagined so.
“We’re going to play a new game. You’re going to hold very, very still, while I lick your p-ssy. You may not come. When you think you’re about to, I want you to say your safe word. Understand?”
She nodded.
He spread the lips of her sex, but held her gaze. “We’re practicing two things. You get to learn the great pleasures of forestalling orgasm. And you get to prove to me that you will use your safe word, as you promised. Then you have to ask me to do it again. Tell me that you want it.”
He licked up her sex in one long stroke. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Such a pretty p-ssy,” he nearly purred and then pressed his mouth to her, a long deep kiss to her secret mouth that sucked the breath out of her body. It felt impossible to hold still under his relentless assault. Her thighs, already strained, trembled. At first, it wasn’t so hard to resist the climax, because he licked, nibbled and kissed through all her folds. Then he drew her * between his teeth, sucking hard and she nearly exploded.
“Platinum!” she cried out, barely in time, and he stopped immediately.
He watched her fight back the orgasm, shuddering with the effort. “Well done. For that you get a reward. Don’t move though.”
She waited while he got up and disappeared from sight. Deep, cleansing breaths. Her sex felt swollen and hot, grasping at nothing. Steel came back with a frosted glass of white wine. “Would you like a sip? I think I got the kind you like.”
“Yes, please.”
He held the rim to her lips and she drank in the cold, crisp taste of it. He set the glass aside and knelt down.
“Would you…would you f*ck me now?” she tried.
“Nicely asked, princess, but no.” He moved her feet another inch wider apart. “Think of something else. Something to do with me licking your p-ssy. In so many words.”
“I’m not sure I can take much of this.”
He grinned at her, wolfish. “You can always decline to ask for more. I like it when you model for me too.”
The thought of sitting still for him with this level of arousal was unbearable.
“Please…” she began, meeting his intense gaze, his lean, stubbled face poised between her thighs. Her hottie artist. “Lick my p-ssy, Steel.”
And his mouth was on her again, driving her relentlessly up. In no time, she cried her safe word again. As soon as it escaped her lips, he stopped, allowed her time to recover and offered her wine. Over and over he worked her, sometimes slower, sometimes faster, sometimes just licking the outside of her lips, stringing her along. Finally, she could take no more. She managed to ask for it, but, just before his mouth touched her, she shrieked out her safe word, knowing she couldn’t withstand the least stimulation without losing it.
He sat back, satisfied, watching her breathless trembling. Struggling with her unbearable arousal, she waited to see what he planned next.
“You can relax your arms and close your legs now.” He handed her the wine and she drank it thirstily. “Just to reestablish the rules, this game is over, so if you say your safe word again, we come to a complete halt and discuss.”
She pressed her thighs together. “The game is over? But, I…”
Steel grinned at her. “Feeling a little unsatisfied? Don’t worry. You’ll get yours. Eventually. Stand up.”
She took the hands he held out helping her balance in the shoes. They reminded her of ballet classes so long ago. She’d been a terrible ballerina too. Sliding his hands under the fall of her gown and pulling her into a full embrace, Steel caressed her bare skin and took her mouth in a deep, drowning kiss. Though his caresses were more or less chaste, over her back, belly, hips and thighs, the hungry stroking stirred her. She returned the kiss, twining her tongue with his, eager to taste him, feeling like she could climax from the kiss alone. Almost.
On a deep breath, he broke the kiss and held her, pressing her head to his chest in a secure embrace. “You are so f*cking gorgeous, Althea.”
Why he sounded shaken, she didn’t know. She tipped her head back to ask, but he put a finger on her lips.
“Walk for me. Will you do that?”
She nodded, wanting to give him something, and stepped back, finding the balance point, arching the lower back just so. She took a step, then another. The black gown fell open with each step, parting like dark water to show her naked body. The rhythm of the movement felt undeniably sexual. Glancing at Steel’s rapt expression, she moved around his space, through the spotlights and shadows, her sex heavy with moisture, her thighs tense with arousal. He watched. Somehow both fully focused on her and far away in his thoughts.
She made her way around to where he’d been painting when she arrived. Something to show her, he’d said. She stopped, arrested by the canvas. It was her, in her hat and lingerie, the disheveled dress falling off her while she stroked her own breast and gazed into the distance. Her body gleamed white in a pool of sunshine surrounded by deep shadows that seemed to reach for her. The painting shimmered with a contained sexuality she could nearly feel, anticipation along with a certain wistful sadness.
“I’m calling it Althea Makes up Her Mind,” Steel said behind her, drawing her back against him and casually cupping her breasts. “What do you think?”
“It’s incredible,” she breathed, shifting restlessly under his hands as he caressed her taut nipples, “but you can’t show it to anyone.”
His fingers tightened on her nipples and he bent down to take her earlobe in his teeth, nipping lightly. “You don’t tell me, princess. Not down here, remember?”
She whimpered, letting him torment her.
“To prove it, I’m painting more,” he growled. “I’m painting the woman you are underneath all that cool class. The one who begs me to f*ck her with such desperation.” His hot mouth ravaged her throat and she tipped her head back, giving him full access, grinding her bottom against the ridge of his erection.
With a satisfied grunt, he released her and, taking her by the hand, led her over to the wall. He’d attached manacles to the eye bolts embedded in the brick, and the sight made her mouth go dry. Silver chains hung down, finishing in a black leather collar and cuffs. He held up the collar and stared the question at her.
She backed up against the wall, gathered her hair in her hands and held it up. Eyes blazing hard with triumph, he slid the cool leather around her throat, buckling it in place. Excitement thundered through her, to be tethered here, like a pet in his dungeon. Steel cupped her breasts again, dropping wet kisses on her hard nipples. She moaned, unable to take much more.
He raised her arms over her head, buckling the cuffs around her narrow wrists and hooking them high enough that her arms stretched, even in the wicked heels. He arranged the gown so it fell completely open.
“Don’t move,” he whispered, and slid his hand between her legs, stroking her folds lightly. She wanted him to take her like this, up against the brick. But he walked away, leaving her writhing against her bonds. He set the partially completed painting where she could see it, and put a blank canvas on the easel.
“Steel.” Her voice came out ragged. “I can’t take much more.”
“Perfect,” he said. “That’s the exact expression I want—that hunger for what we have together. Tell me what you want, princess.” His hand flew over the canvas, sketching in the lines. She could only imagine how she looked now, the tension radiating out, the black leather holding her taut, exposed and aroused. She tried not to move, but her body had its own ideas, her hips seeking his touch.
“Please…” she begged him.
“Shall I turn you around? Paint your reddened bottom for all to see?”
She tugged at the manacles and rubbed that sore bottom against the wall through the sheer silk, thrilled and terrified. So many things he could do to her while she was his helpless captive. She groaned at the thought.
“This one I’ll call Althea Enslaved.”
She sobbed a little. Steel’s eyes raked her and she thought she could nearly come from the look alone.
“You owe me, you know,” he remarked, sounding casual, but a feral need ran beneath it.
“What?” Anything. Whatever he wanted.
“From yesterday—you promised me something special with your hands if I untied them.”
“Yes.” She nearly hissed it. She wanted to scream it.
“Which hand do you diddle yourself with?”
She gaped at him and he put down the charcoal, striding over to her. Grabbing her bottom in a fierce grip, he pulled her hips against him and ground his erection into her pubis. “Come on, princess. I know you do it. Everyone does it. Which hand do you use?”
“My…my left hand.” Her face heated.
“You’re going to show me.”
“I—”
“You’re going to make yourself come for me or I’ll leave you chained to this wall all night. Yes?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He unhooked her left wrist, leaving the other still stretched high over her head. The silver chain brushed cool against her skin and he cupped her cheek, staring into her eyes with a hard look. “Make it good, princess.”
He took the sketch off the easel and put up another blank one. Charcoal in hand, he held it poised over the canvas. “I’m waiting.”
Flushing hot with the embarrassed thrill, she slid her fingers into her own folds, astonishingly swollen and slick. It wouldn’t take much, despite his gaze on her. Maybe because of it. She stroked her * and watched him sketch her doing it.
“Spread your legs more, so I can see.”
She did, leaning back against the rough brick, spreading her legs and, with only a few more strokes, shot herself over into the pulsing orgasm. She threw her head back, screaming out the pleasure, pressing her fingertips hard into her pulsing sex.
“Again. More.” Steel tugged open his jeans and grabbed his cock in his other hand, gripping himself even as he continued to draw. Her eyes fastened on it and she rubbed her *, finding the rhythm that matched his. The last orgasm had barely finished, so the additional stimulation just ramped up, feeding on each other like a string of small explosions. She pumped her hips, wanting, needing more.
With a curse, Steel threw down the charcoal, whipped off his shirt and came to her. His mouth fastened on hers in a bruising kiss, even as he yanked her wrist back over her head. Eyes hot on her writhing body, he fumbled with the condom, finally getting it in place. Again his hands grabbed her by the tender bottom and she cried out. He drowned it in a kiss, and ordered her to wrap her legs around his waist.
As soon as she did, he plunged into her, pounding in and out while she wrapped her hands around the chains, chanting his name in a nonsense cry of soul-shattering pleasure.