Branded Sanctuary (16 page)

Tyler‟s head lifted. His gaze devoured Marguerite‟s bared upper body. With careful movements, his expression registering every tremor of reaction under his touch, he slid the bra back in place, smoothing it over the aroused nipple. He bit the curve of her breast, eyes going molten as he earned one more suppressed gasp from her before he slipped the buttons closed. He also brought Chloe‟s movements to an effective, shuddering halt by sliding his grip back to her hip, squeezing her there.

“Be still now. Ride the feeling, keep it going, but don‟t let it go. Not yet.” He flashed teeth at her, more tiger than man, showing how he fought his own desire. His voice was a low rumble. “We‟ve found that starting the carnival with unreleased desire is one of the best ways to enjoy it. To ensure the body and heart override the mind.” Chloe became aware that Marguerite‟s stroke on her back had become more calming and on the outside of her T-shirt, though she vividly remembered the touch of her fingers under her bra strap. Tyler‟s arm was still braced behind her, his body and male heat so close. “Oh I think I‟m there,” she said. “If I saw a puppy about to be run over, or Brendan naked, that puppy would be a greasy spot.” She gave a nervous little laugh. “I don‟t know whether to be embarrassed now, or awkward, or…”

“What would you like to be?” Marguerite dropped her other hand from the top of the chair to rest on Tyler‟s forearm. With Chloe‟s hand still on his biceps, they formed a reassuring, connected circle.

“I‟d like to not have to say anything. To think about it, or not think about it, and just be kind of worried it happened. And flustered, in a good way. Why did you guys do that?”

“To help you understand, give you a taste of what it will be like,” Marguerite said.

“So you don‟t have to worry over it so much. Instead, you can think more about the possibilities.”

“That‟s her explanation.” Tyler shrugged. “I saw two beautiful women twined together and went from there.”

Despite herself, Chloe laughed. He gave her a lazy grin. But when he straightened, reaching for the carafe of sweet tea that Sarah, their housekeeper, had left on the side table with the lemonade, Chloe slid off the lounger. “I think I will go help with those stuffed bears.” Because if she didn‟t go do
something,
she was going to melt into a puddle of sexual frustration. Particularly if she hung around the two of them, with those pheromones still zinging like electrons around their nuclei. Her clit was astonishingly swollen, giving her a sense of the discomfort a man felt walking with an erection.

She wanted Brendan so badly right now she could almost smell his scent on her skin from a few days ago. Whatever other thoughts she might have about the carnival, she knew that she wanted to see him. It could have been a root canal marathon for charity. She would have happily attended if he was going to be here.

She turned and backpedaled. “So the carnival starts at midnight tonight, right? Is there an opening ceremony before we get to play and visit?”

“Yes.” Tyler‟s gaze held amusement, and a male awareness of her state that had her nipples tightening up almost as much as his wife‟s had been under his clever, hot mouth. “There‟s a welcome speech, very brief, and then the unattached submissives, or those willing to be shared by their Masters or Mistresses, are auctioned as the first fundraising event. We even have a couple Doms who will offer their services up for bids, since all the money goes to the battered women‟s shelter.”

“Do you know when Brendan will get here?”

Tyler paused, glanced at Marguerite, then came back to Chloe, meeting her eyes with a steady look. “You‟ll first see him on stage. He‟s one of the slaves being auctioned.”

To someone
else?
Yeah, he said he‟d be here in the capacity of…a sexual submissive.

But he‟d wanted her to be here. He‟d asked M to put her on the guest roll. To watch him have another woman do… What the hell
would
they do to him?

Marguerite was not a chatty person, so Chloe knew everything she‟d said earlier had meaning, significance. As she got ready that night, she thought over those words, her emphasis on simply “experiencing”.

She‟d have to accept this, see where it was going to go. There was no way she could outbid anyone for him, even if she thought she had the nerve to do that. As she‟d told Brendan, just to be here was ten thousand dollars per person, unless you were a special invited guest, like Chloe. Or him. Of course, now she knew what he was doing to pay his way, right?

Stop it.
She closed her eyes. She‟d learned that some Zone club regulars, like Brendan, volunteered to be floating “slaves” for those who attended unattached. Was it like going to a boyfriend‟s job and hoping for the chance to make out with him on breaks? She felt ungrateful and catty for even having the thought, but damn it, the excitement she‟d felt at seeing him tonight had a big black cloud hanging over it. She wasn‟t sure if she‟d rather just go home. Why hadn‟t Marguerite told her earlier?

Resigned, she gave herself a look in the guestroom mirror. She‟d been told that dress code ranged from anything to…nothing. Literally. So she‟d been encouraged to wear something festive, but whatever made her feel most comfortable. Tonight‟s opening sounded a little dressy, though. Five hundred exclusive guests with ten thousand dollars to blow, plus auction money and whatever else they anticipated spending on the events? The couple of nearby hotels were booked solid, plus temporary private quarters had been set up across the back lawn. Lovely colorful pavilion tents like for a knights‟ tournament, in case guests didn‟t want to leave over the two nights the carnival would be held.

She‟d worn one of her favorite dresses, made of a soft wine-colored viscose fabric, a Renaissance style creation with a diamond neckline and vine embroidery that flowed down to the first of two satin inlays. There were touches of lace here and there, but the arms were left bare, and then there was a flowing crepe hem. She wore silver upper arm bands with Celtic scrollwork that matched a similar choker style necklace, and she‟d piled her short set of curls on her head, enhanced her eyes with dark kohl. True to herself, she‟d left her feet bare except for Indian silver anklets on each foot. They jingled with soft music beneath the flowing hem. She‟d also added toe rings with yin and yang symbols on them. If nothing else, her feet would be spiritually balanced.

The dress was definitely feminine and yet sexy at once, the thin fabric giving glimpses of the outline of her body, the diamond neckline generous with the curves of her breasts and cleavage for anyone who cared to look. Though it was one person in particular she cared about, if he wasn‟t too busy “serving” some other woman.

Curling her lip, she gave her chosen outfit another tug. On the bright side, she certainly hadn‟t had any time to have nightmares these past few days. Though she still felt like bolting, it was for entirely different reasons now.

* * * * *

The view of the side and back lawns was breathtaking. She‟d been part of the set up, but the final result was like an array of fairies had come and sprinkled the whole Carnival with glittering magic dust to give it that finishing touch, an enchanted look.

Everything had lights. The Ferris wheel, the tents, and even the lawn had strands of tiny lights crisscrossed and stretched between poles. A breeze was coming off the water. The stage area was down by the oaks, framed by their long, gnarled branches, the wispy strands of Spanish moss.

It was impossible not to be affected by the fantasy of her surroundings, allow it to transport her mind to a place where many things were still possible. As she came down the hill, a tendril of the
joie de vivre
that she‟d once spun into her own unique form of magic flickered to tentative life.

Chloe had never worried about class status before, and she was determined not to start tonight when she had enough worries on her plate. Besides which, the few faces that turned toward her as she approached the back tables were curious, but not unfriendly. Of course, she couldn‟t imagine Tyler and Marguerite tolerating a guest who was anything less than classy.

Her stomach tightened as she saw the opening remarks were just concluding, Tyler turning over the microphone to another man. She was sorry she‟d missed that, fussing with her appearance, but she knew her increased tension was because the auction was the first event scheduled for the evening. She‟d arrived just in time to see what role Brendan would be playing tonight.

She‟d have expected the auctioneer to be Tyler, since the main purpose was to raise money for the battered women‟s shelter. Chloe could well imagine the bids Tyler‟s combination of Southern charm and commanding presence would elicit from his audience. But he and Marguerite were seated at one of the candlelit tables near the front, Tyler‟s chair pushed back so he could comfortably speak to friends at an adjacent table. Marguerite‟s fingertips barely touched his where both their hands rested on the cream tablecloth, though Chloe could almost see the arc of kinetic energy that flowed through the small space.

She slid into an empty chair, choosing to stay in the back. She gave a courteous nod to the two closest tables when the occupants glanced her way. One table held three people. A woman with hair like the spun gold that Chloe thought only existed in books wore a white full length beaded sheath and silver heels. The man next to her was in a tuxedo. In contrast, the third man wore jeans and a dress shirt with cowboy boots. He looked as if he played professional football. Since his face seemed familiar, she thought it was possible.

The table to her right was occupied by two men, obviously lovers. One man‟s hand rested on the other‟s thigh, tracing a path up and down it. While they weren‟t in black tux, their clothes were dress shirts and slacks, expensive-looking shoes. Looking back at the three at the other table, she thought they were more sexual playmates, rather than ongoing lovers. There was an easy banter between them, and a lot of smoldering glances, but not the casual intimacy of the two men.

As her gaze swept the crowd, she saw different versions of the same, as well as her first examples of blatant submission. People kneeling at the feet of their Masters or Mistresses, or standing behind them, positioned so they wouldn‟t block the view of others. One pair in particular intrigued her, because the woman wore a short cocktail dress, stockings and ice pick heels, yet she knelt on the grass next to her male companion, or Master, Chloe corrected herself, though she assumed both terms were true.

He wore a more casual outfit of jeans and T-shirt. As he fondled her auburn curls, he ran his fingers along the edge of a thick diamond choker to which a tether was attached. What caught Chloe‟s attention, though, was that the girl wasn‟t kneeling on the grass, but his jacket, which he‟d spread beneath her.

It was a harsh contrast to what she saw to the left of them, a man completely naked and kneeling at his Master‟s feet. He wore a harness that caged his genitals. When he shifted, she noted the plug in the rear ring of the harness, explaining the gingerly way he knelt. He also wore nipple clamps with a chain running from them to a metal band around the head of his cock. It was obvious that the heavier and more erect his cock became, the more excruciating the pull on the clamps might be. Since his cock was hard and thick, begging for attention, apparently the pain was a stimulant. His Master seemed oblivious, chatting with friends. However, watching their body language, Chloe could tell the clad man was anything but indifferent to the pleasurable torment he was causing.

She looked away from that, a little overwhelmed. Varying versions of the same were displayed across the over one hundred small round tables. Though she found it hard to look at the more extreme examples, she picked up on a couple consistent themes. There was a strong sense of…connection between the groupings. Pleasurable cruelty existed here, and pain, but also care, trust. Love. Her gaze passed back over the woman kneeling on the suit jacket, then drifted from there to Marguerite and Tyler. She suspected that had to do with them, the tone they set. Charity or no charity, it was obvious the exclusive guest list had considerations beyond money.

The murmur of the crowd fell to a hush, the waitstaff moving with smooth precision to stay out of the direct line of the lit stage as the auctioneer stepped up to the podium.

As irresistible as Tyler was, Chloe couldn‟t fault his choice of emcee. He was a Viking, tall and broad, with blond hair loose around a face strong enough to give Fabio in his prime a run for his money. His blue-gray eyes were warm but assessing, giving a dual impression of kindness and command of any situation. The latter made her wonder if he might be a friend of Tyler‟s from his time with whatever government agency he‟d served. Of course, the Viking‟s looks suggested a film industry contact. His voice rolled over the crowd like a radio professional, but she thought he might be more at home inside a Roman arena, announcing gladiator games. Or participating in them.

“Welcome, Masters and Mistresses. We are glad to have your presence—and your wallets—for the most important event tonight.” He paused for the murmur of appreciative laughter, eyes glinting at a smattering of suggestive comments, some of which made Chloe‟s eyes widen. “I have to tell you, it‟s a drug, inhaling the sweet nervousness of the slaves behind this curtain. They‟re anxious and aroused, wondering who will take them in hand for the next three days. Who will give them the discipline they crave, the punishments they need. Which of you will earn their surrender, and all the pleasure that comes with that.”