Flashback (5 page)

Rex strode to her side, surveying the array
of possibilities with rising excitement. He smiled when he saw the
coil of leather-covered rope, exactly the kind he’d hoped to find.
He coiled it around his hands, testing its strength, then winked at
Leya. “Get naked,” he commanded her. “I’ve chosen your poison.”

“I thought I was the expert with knots,” she
said, her tone teasing.

“I owe you a reward.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Leya smiled and
shed her jacket, kicking off her boots with an impatience that
echoed Rex’s own. She was shimmying out of her jeans when he turned
to consider the bins again.

“Where are the condoms?” he asked.

“There aren’t any. My high flying friend
hates them as much as I do,” she said, then tugged at his jacket.
Before he could argue with her, her hands were beneath his T-shirt
and in his jeans. He might have decided to pass, he might have
suggested they wait, but Leya wasn’t going to let him even form the
thought.

Her determination was as distracting as her
nudity, those ripe breasts swinging so close that Rex was
entranced. She was so beautiful and he wanted her more than ever.
She had him naked in no time, then bent over to take his cock in
her mouth.

Rex was startled by the speed of her move,
then moaned with pleasure as she caressed him. She cradled his
balls in her hand, squeezing them gently, making him close his eyes
in rapture. He locked his hand into her hair, driving her closer,
and she suckled him with an enthusiasm that was impossible to
resist. He was hard and ready to explode in moments, his hips
rocking of their own accord.

Leya straightened abruptly, leaving him
staggering. “Wait. You’re supposed to be rewarding me.”

“Not if you don’t give me a chance.”

She laughed, then reached into a smaller bin.
She pulled out a penis ring, one with large nubs around the
perimeter. Rex could easily imagine those nubs pressing against her
clitoris when he was inside her, driving her onward and upward. He
could imagine her locking around him and draining him dry.

“If it’s my reward, I want this,” Leya
whispered, then pushed the ring over his cock. She caressed him as
she fitted it into place and the constriction excited Rex even
more. He got harder, his dick straining against the ring. A pulse
began to pound in it, making his anticipation rise. His heart
skipped, but he coiled the rope over his hands.

“Turn around,” he commanded. “I want you
tightly trussed for this.”

“Helpless?” she asked with a light in her
eyes.

“Absolutely helpless,” he promised. “Then
I’ll drill you for as long as I can.”

“We land in two hours,” Leya teased. “You’d
better get started.”

Rex whipped the rope around her waist,
pulling her close as he knotted it. It was just the right thickness
for visual appeal and sufficiently supple that he could knot it
securely. “Your friend has good taste,” he said as he checked the
knot.

“That’s why we’re friends. We both prefer the
best.”

Leya smiled and Rex smiled back at her.
“Hands behind your back,” he growled and she spun before him. He
glanced down at the crack of her butt, his own erection nudging
against it, and was tempted.

But no. He’d make her wait for it.

He’d make them both wait for it.

* * *

He knows she is the one.

As soon as his newest student marches into
his class and flicks her hair over his shoulder, as soon as she
looks at him, her eyes smoldering with resentment, he is lost. It’s
more than her beauty, more than her youth. It’s her cleverness,
blended with that defiant attitude, that takes his breath away.

He knows what he should do. He knows he
should put the attraction out of his mind. He knows it, but still
she obsesses him. He tries to focus on teaching her, but knows he
is harder on her than he should be. She is so close to perfection -
he wants her to make that last increment of effort.

For him.

If she hadn’t, his desire might have died
unsatisfied.

But she does. And when she begins to watch
him, to smile at him, to blush when he spoke to her, it is too
much. There is a connection between them, a link like a live wire,
a heat that he has to sample.

No matter where it leads him.

He finds out where she lived and the
discovery gives him tremendous relief.

He already knows her guardian and that
woman’s business. It makes perfect sense that his student is so
bold and alluring: it’s in her blood.

Pauline meets him in the front room to
discuss his needs, and to present options. Her maids pose in front
of him, but none of them entice him. Just when he fears he’ll have
to give up his pursuit, the most incredible thing happens.

A panel in the opposite wall opens just a
crack, and he catches a glimpse of fire-red hair. He knows his
favorite troublemaker is giving him an opportunity.

“
I’d prefer a redhead,” he says to
Pauline, whose back is to that wall.

“
To discipline?” Pauline asks.

“
Yes. I find that redheads are the most
defiant of all.”

Pauline smiles. “Indeed.”

“
I’d like a young redhead, one who is
naturally rebellious.”

Athena gasps, revealing her presence.

He isn’t surprised at Pauline’s anger, nor is
he surprised that the older woman was sure Athena should be
disciplined.

He is surprised to be entrusted with the
task, right then and there. It is a delightful obligation, but one
that is not without its restrictions.

He can discipline her, he can have free
passage to the house, but he can’t possess her until her eighteenth
birthday.

Which seems to be a thousand years away.

The Count had to catch his breath in the
darkness of the hidden stairway. That Athena was playing along with
him, just as he’d always fantasized she would, was enough to shake
his world. His heart was thundering. His lust nearly overwhelmed
him. He wanted her in every possible way, but the only way to win
his goal was to replicate that first night.

Which meant he couldn’t actually possess her
yet. No. Pauline had insisted that Athena remain a virgin until her
eighteenth birthday. The Count had had to content himself with
discipline until that night.

He couldn’t even think about the night of her
birthday. Not yet.

He had to replicate their relationship,
rekindle the desire between them, feed the passion until it was
explosive. Would the tease drive them both wild? Would anticipation
make his final capture more powerful than the first time? The Count
couldn’t imagine feeling more than he already did.

He had to know for sure. He silently climbed
the stairs, so hard that he couldn’t think about anything else. His
cock was thumping and his desire filled his every thought. Athena
was a siren, a temptress, a dream he had to make his own. The sight
of her in her corset and boots, her skin pale and perfect in
contrast, her waist drawn in so narrow, had been nearly enough to
make him lose control - and he never had lost control over any
woman. She was both the young girl he’d trained and the woman who
had grown beyond that.

Athena had never been innocent.

She had simply ripened. He wanted to truss
her so that she couldn’t run, and take her repeatedly, claim her
until she forgot every man she’d ever had except him.

He wanted to be her one desire, just as she
was his.

And just ahead, she waited in that room, the
room where he had first claimed her, waiting for him.

Trapped, because that room was not exactly
the same as the original.

His.

The Count reached for the wall and halted for
a moment, dizzy at the possibilities.

He reached the summit of the stairs and found
the door closed against him. He took a deep breath, moved the
latch, then opened the door to reveal the upstairs hallway. It was
empty. The sconces cast a flickering light over the simple decor.
The floor was polished wood, and there was one long runner down the
middle of the hall. Doors along the hall were closed, but the Count
was only interested in one room.

The one at the end of the hall.

He stepped silently out of the hidden passage
and down the hall, without making a sound. The light was on in the
replica of Athena’s room, shining through the old-fashioned
keyhole.

He paused, stuck the crop into his belt, then
unlocked the other pair of shackles. He braced himself for anything
- his little dove is full of surprises - then threw open the
door.

It was empty.

Perplexed, he stepped into the room. When he
was in the middle of the room, she appeared out of the closet to
his right, and lunged for the door. The Count responded too quickly
for her to escape. He seized her, lifted her and tossed her on the
bed. Athena tried to get to her feet again, but the Count had
already locked a shackle around her ankle. In a heartbeat, he
grabbed her other ankle and bound them together securely. She
wriggled and fought in a most alluring way, her eyes flashing with
fury. The Count planted a knee on her chest, then pulled a leather
gag from his pocket.

“You can’t,” she managed to protest before he
gagged her.

“You didn’t know I’d brought it, did you?” he
asked, his tone pleasant.

“You didn’t last time. You can’t use it now.”
Athena writhed, so livid and luscious that the Count could hardly
restrain himself.

He gagged her securely. “I will, though.” She
moaned and groaned, twisting beneath him as her face flushed. He
ran a hand over the length of her, admiring the curves she did not
have the first time he bound her helpless.

“I could take you now,” he said. “I could
claim you in this bed, just as I did once before.” Her eyes
narrowed but they were shining. He took a deep breath. “As tempting
as you are, let’s stick with the script we know. First, the
crop.”

Athena inhaled sharply and their gazes held
for an electric moment. She made a sound that might have been
assent and the Count left her squirming on the bed. At the top of
the stairs, he called for his slaves.

Gregory, Lucas and Anthony carried the
helpless Athena back down to the living room by the main staircase.
The Count followed at his leisure, slapping the riding crop against
his palm. He remembered how that sound always thrilled Athena. He
unlocked the door to the living room and she was carried into the
space again, still struggling.

The Count indicated a chain secured to the
ceiling. Athena followed his gesture and paled, then struggled more
mightily. The slaves untied Athena’s wrists and held her helpless
while the Count bound them again, but over her head. She made a
valiant effort to escape, as defiant as ever, but her efforts were
futile. Her breasts bounced slightly and he couldn’t resist a quick
caress.

He felt her tremble and smiled.

One slave climbed up on a chair to secure her
bound wrists to the chain over head. Athena was pulled taut and
tall. She struggled like a fish on a line, red-faced in desperate
fury. The Count wasn’t fooled. She was wetter than he had ever seen
her.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” he said softly. “The
lady and I can continue from here.”

The door shut behind the slaves, leaving the
pair of them in silence. Athena’s hair was loose over her
shoulders, as wild as it had been once. Her eyes were filled with a
familiar defiance, but there was knowledge in her gaze as well.

And invitation.

The Count framed her face in his hands, then
kissed the tip of her nose. “You are mine,” he said and saw the
acknowledgement of that in her eyes. “You have always been mine,
and it is very bad of you to defy me like this.” She made a furious
noise and he ran his thumbs over the gag, demonstrating to her that
he was master. “We begin again tonight to teach you how to behave.
We begin at the beginning.”

Then he stepped back, strolled around her and
struck her ass with the riding crop. Athena was ready and
expectant. Her body arched perfectly and beautifully. She moaned
into her gag and the red welt began to rise immediately.

So responsive.

So perfect.

And so very bad.

The Count set to work, teaching Athena one
more time who ruled her world.

By the time he was done, she would never defy
him or leave him again.

* * *

Athena winced at the first crack of the
riding crop across her butt. Her skin burned, simmering where the
crop struck. The Count immediately blurred the connection,
smoothing his hand over her buttock in a long slow caress. She felt
the soft leather, the tenderness in his hand, and her resistance
melted.

She had disciplined a hundred sex slaves the
same way, blending the lines and dissolving the barriers. She knew
exactly what he was doing, but she appreciated that he did it so
very well.

No one had ever disciplined her as well as he
had. She admitted the truth of it, and released the last shred of
her resistance to him with a little sigh of surrender.

The riding crop struck on the other side. She
moaned and twisted, as if wanting to avoid its bite, but really,
she wanted more.

And more and more and more.

It was so beautifully simple, to be dominated
by a real master. It was so easy to surrender to the discipline, to
let him make all the choices and find all the balances. Athena
could just feel and respond and let him control her pleasure.

That was such a relief after the past weeks.
She didn’t want to make choices. She didn’t want to be
responsible.

She just wanted to be.

The Count caught her chin in his hand and
brushed his lips across the gag. She could feel the shape of his
mouth through the leather gag, a kiss that wasn’t a kiss, a kiss
that sent a surge of gratitude through her. Tenderness and
toughness, that intoxicating combination, and the one she needed
most at this moment. The familiar room blurred around her, the
years merged and she was lost in time. She was there in the past
and here in the present, and it was all one perfect scene with the
Count.