Mistress of Redemption (4 page)

them it won’t happen without

someone dying or walking away

maimed, the past doesn’t matter.”

“So why didn’t you charm or

manipulate them like you try to do

your Mistresses?

Why did you fight them, every time?”

He was too confounded by the change

in landscape to get his mind around

how she would know all of that. He

knew the answer to the question,

though. Because no one was taking

what he wasn’t willing to give. Even

if it was just a response to a question.

So he just shrugged.

“What is this place?”

“This is one of my favorite

playgrounds. Come. Get out and

leave the shirt. This is where we’ll

get you cleaned up.”

When he got out, he looked back at

the dusty road, the ribbon of highway

now farther in the distance than he

remembered the drive to the oasis

being. A deserted highway on which

there’d not been a single car other

than hers. The Mercedes was the only

vehicle here as well, despite the

presence of the other women. “Is this

far from the prison?”

“Very far. Or not far at all, depending

on your perspective.” When she

walked across the grass, he was

forced to follow if he wanted to

continue the dialogue. He was

amazed at how easily she walked in

those high heels. With a sauntering

stride, her ass twitching left and right

in a way designed to make him not

really give a damn about the unlikely

nature of their surroundings or the

lack of logic to them. He’d sworn to

make no more mistakes like the one

that had landed him in prison, though.

Self-preservation had to be his first

priority in any situation. “Dona.

Where are we
?”

She stopped but kept her back to him.

The breeze fluttered through her hair

as she turned her head, just enough

for him to see her profile, the red

lips, dark eyes and lashes lowered

over them behind the sunglasses.

“This is part of my home. One small

part of it.”

The wind died. Clouds closed in on

the sun so abruptly it was as if a

curtain had been drawn over it by

human hands, a curtain that couldn’t

shut out an ominous rumble like

thunder.

“It
is
my home.” She repeated it,

almost a snarl. Fascinated, he saw

her fingers close into clenched fists

at her sides, her chin thrust up in

defiance.

A blink and abruptly the sun was out

again, the curtain drawn away as if it

had never been there. The six

women, who had gone still at that

rumble, resumed their movement and

idle play. The wind gusted through

the palm fronds then settled back to a

mild breeze, as if someone had

sighed.

Giving a slight nod, apparently

satisfied, Dona looked back at him.

“I told you to come with me. Why are

you way back there? Have you

forgotten how to obey a Mistress as

well?”

15

Joey W. Hill

This was all tipping the bizarre

meter, enough to make him think he’d

be better off heading back to the

highway and hitching to the seedy

hotel he’d intended for his first night.

But maybe the heat had gotten to him.

He’d stood out in front of the prison

for a while, hadn’t he? If this was

just a part of her home, Dona had to

be loaded. Mega wealthy. Why

should he be afraid of her? In prison,

he’d gotten used to anticipating the

less subtle reactions of men. It was

time to sharpen the instincts that he’d

once kept honed to surgical precision

to pick up on a woman’s deepest

needs and fears. She’d just

demonstrated that there was

something that could get under her

skin. He needed to push aside the

lingering self-doubt caused by the

nearly fatal mistake he’d made with

his last Mistress. He’d learned since

then. He wouldn’t make the same

mistakes, miss the cues he’d missed

with her.

Sweeping his lashes down, he took

the first true step away from his

current existence and back toward

Jonathan Powell, the polished blue-

eyed, blond-haired Norse god that so

many women had eyed with covetous

appreciation at The Zone, True Blue

and the other BDSM clubs he’d

frequented. Only this version would

be new and improved. Way smarter.

“My apologies, Mistress,” he

murmured. “I don’t feel well-

groomed enough to serve your needs

properly. You deserve a slave who

has shaved and showered.”

“Yes, I do. I’ll attend to those things.

Your only job is to obey me. Take off

your clothes again.”

At the order, the three women playing

with the cobra stopped. The napping

woman woke up and the leopard

woman turned to watch, her golden

eyes narrowed in the exact same

expression as the great cat who took

a seat on the grass next to her while

the water lapped at the woman’s bare

ankles. For some reason, it brought to

mind the Waterhouse painting of the

nymphs coming out of the water to

drag Hylas to his death with the

promise of pleasure. Anxiety settled

low in his belly. This was a fear that

could not be countered with violence.

Somehow he’d felt less isolated

among men who might kill or beat

him unmercifully for the barest

transgression than he felt among all

these attentive women.

“Too long, Jonathan. You need a

reminder.”

Dona was upon him before he knew

it. Even as he spun in surprised

reaction, her arm swept forward.

Suddenly there were… It must have

been knives she pulled out from a

hidden sheath in the back waistband

of those painted-on pants, for it

couldn’t be what he thought he saw.

Her fingernails elongating into talons,

slicing the waistband of his jeans like

silk before a sword blade. The

garment fell from him, slit on both

sides from the waist to just above the

kneecaps. When she drew back to go

lower, he hastily shucked them,

taking them to his ankles and

stumbling, falling onto his ass as he

encountered the obstruction of his

boots.

She stood over him, her hands on her

hips. The weapon, for surely it was a

weapon she’d used more quickly than

his eyes could follow, was gone.

Tucked back into her waistband,

perhaps. Fear was ice in his belly

when she smiled, her gaze traveling

over his naked body.

16

Mistress of Redemption

“Much better. Get the rest off. Now.”

He fumbled off the boots, managed to

free himself of the pants around his

ankles, as much to give himself

mobility as to obey. Scrambling to

his feet, he backed away from her

several steps because she’d stayed

right over him, that soft woman’s

scent at odds with the brutal force

she’d just used. Looking down, he

saw light scorings on his thighs that

looked a lot like fingernails. He’d

been marked by enough women’s

nails to know. But that was

impossible.

“I think… Maybe I need some

water.”

“You need what I tell you to need.”

“You’re not…” He didn’t know why

asking would make any difference,

considering he was out in the middle

of nowhere and she had the car keys.

Maybe he shouldn’t ask her the

question, because if he did he’d

reveal that he suspected something

more than a little edge play.

“No, I’m not connected to any of the

women whose lives you ruined. I’m

not here to exercise revenge on you.”

A relief to hear, but what the fuck?

Ruined?
Who’s the one that just got

out of prison
because I got fucked
over by a woman, bitch?

“Sshh. Be quiet. Look at me.”

He hadn’t spoken aloud. He was sure

he hadn’t. Taking a step closer, she

put her hand to his jaw and tilted her

face up so she was looking directly

into his startled eyes.

“No, I can’t read your mind. I just

read faces very well. I’ve had more

practice than you can imagine. I know

a great deal about you, Jonathan.”

Though he grudgingly admitted her

act was as intimidating as hell, she

really was a little thing, more

noticeable when she stood this close.

Even in the heels, the top of her head

would only brush the bottom of his

nose. Fear of her motives dropped

back a little at her touch, letting him

get lost in the liquid depths of those

brown eyes, the ebony pupils. How

could she be so frightening and yet

make him think of a deer moving

through the shadowed glades of a

forest? An elusive and delicate

creature, something worth holding

himself still to see how long she’d

linger and let him share in the magic

of her presence.

“Deep breath. One. Two. Make

everything silent, inside and out.”

The look in those eyes pierced him

like a needle. Though his erection

was back up over his balls like an

eager dog sitting on his haunches, her

hypnotic words drew a thread

through his heart and into an even

deeper part of himself. A place a

much less cynical mind would have

called his soul. Dragged it toward

her, made him want to do whatever

she wanted.

Nathan jerked back from her touch.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Moving right with him, she insinuated

her thigh between his, against the

bulge of his testicles. She put her

palm close to his mouth. “Taste me

and you won’t fear me for the wrong

reasons. Or are you too afraid

already?”

17

Joey W. Hill

He managed a sneer that he realized

was not the type of expression that

charmed a wealthy Mistress. So

slowly, keeping his gaze on her face,

he dipped his head, pressed his lips

to her palm and tasted soft skin. The

pads of her fingers brushed his brow.

They were cool and he felt…peace.

Closing his eyes, he leaned into her

touch, his throat tight with a wealth of

emotions, needs and desires so

overwhelming that all he could do

was be still and let them roll through

him. He obeyed her, stilling all

thought and motion, inhaling her scent

with flared nostrils, willing away any

other distraction.

“There you go. That’s my good boy.

My handsome slave.”

Fingers brushed his cock and his

breath shuddered out of him. When a

strap tightened on the root, his eyes

snapped open. Dona still stood

before him, but the previously

napping redhead knelt at her hip,

buckling a cock strap on him. He

tried to pull back but he was already

caught, the stiff collar digging into the

base of his cock and testicles. It was

snug enough it didn’t need a waist

strap, especially now with his dick

swelling up large, as it always had

when a woman restrained him. He

used to think it was a curse, until he

learned how to twist it for his own

purposes. It didn’t escape his notice,

however, that the only thing

apparently being twisted at the

moment was him.

The woman who’d been braiding the

hair of the redhead, the blonde with

the requisite cornflower blue eyes

and pale pink lips that were curved

in a pleased smile, handed Dona a

metal collar with a padlock.

“No—”

The blonde moved behind him and

caught his arms, drawing the wrists

back. When he began to struggle in

earnest, the redhead neatly pulled his

legs out from under him.

He should have been able to easily

overpower both, but the swift attack

took him unawares. Rolling him over

onto his stiff cock caused him to yelp,

but they held him fast as Dona

straddled his back, her ass on his

neck, those slim ankles in spiked

heels on either side of his head.

Bending his arms, she manacled his

wrists to his elbows so his arms

were folded at a ninety-degree angle

against his back.

Immobilized, he drew in a breath as

the blonde caressed his throat and

threaded the collar under him so she

could snap it on. A chain attached to

the manacles was drawn up and

clipped to the back of the collar so

that the weight of his arms pulled

against it.

When he heard the padlock click, felt

the pressure of the metal against his

throat, his balls drew up hard and

tight, sending a spurt of his fluids into

the grass, making him groan.

“You like that,” his new Mistress

observed. “You like the feeling of