The Lingerie Shop (6 page)

“Master.”

He picked up one of the burning candles, and Madison was once again reminded of a Druid ritual, the way his back straightened and his focus increased. Standing over Vanessa, he balanced the candle in his hand so it wouldn’t tip and spill the accumulation of wax burning in the pit below the flame. Not until he was ready.

Vanessa cried out as the drops landed on her upper abdomen, twitching as he made his way slowly down her center, leaving a trail of pale ivory wax that hit her skin, rolled in different directions and quickly solidified. Madison’s gaze clung to every inch of progress he made toward that juncture between her legs. Her own pussy was throbbing, anticipating, and her thighs pressed together beneath Vanessa’s knuckles.

“Please . . . tell me . . . when . . .” Vanessa was gasping.

The Master’s eyes cut toward Madison. Anything she might have said froze in her throat. That look of pure command was as arousing as anything she’d yet witnessed. Ironically, what added to its potency was how it contrasted to the earlier smile, his gentle touch on her cheek. To know that beneath all that, this side of him could surge to the forefront, his true core, taking control of everything around him, made a woman quiver and want to be on her knees to him.

She found her voice, though it was a rasp of sound among the drums. “He says no.”

The Master gave a slight nod, his eyes glittering on her a diamond moment before he turned back to what he was doing. Vanessa sighed, helpless acceptance. Several drops later she let out a piercing, needy cry as the wax splashed on her clit, her smooth mound. He’d saved the bulk of what was melted on the candle for that area. As he drizzled it in a spiraling motion, she writhed, called for him again, arched, and her nails bit into Madison’s hand.

For her part, Madison was motionless, mesmerized, her throat dry. Inside she was quivering as hard as Vanessa, but on the outside she was still as a mouse in a corner. The Master set the candle back on the table, watched Vanessa twist, her hips rolling, tongue darting out to lick her lips. Madison thought he saw everything happening to his sub, head to toe, even if his eyes weren’t on every part of her anatomy. It was as though he was inside her mind, absorbing her every reaction like a form of magical energy in truth.

“Be still,” he said. Even the music couldn’t compete with the steel command in his low voice. Vanessa obeyed with tremendous effort and little whimpers. She clutched Madison’s wrists.

He poured some of the liquid wax from the burner into a bowl, stirred it with a brush. Bending over Vanessa, he ran the brush along the outside of her right breast, then her left one. This type of wax didn’t seem to have that first moment of searing heat the other did, because Vanessa didn’t make the involuntary jerk. Instead, under the brush strokes she seemed to melt like the wax. A murmur caught in her throat as he passed over her nipples.

“Would you like to see what it’s like?”

Madison looked up, met the Master’s gaze. Did he mean? She couldn’t . . .

“Turn your palm up so I can put it on your forearm. Vanessa, let go of her right wrist.”

Vanessa immediately complied. The Master gave Madison a courteous, encouraging nod. The man had as many faces as the moon. His pleasant tone now wasn’t like the demanding, pure-sex demeanor he displayed when interacting directly with Vanessa. It was as if he stepped out of one room and into another to speak to Madison now. Whereas she’d felt like she was in that room with them for a few, blissful minutes. She wanted back there, but that was a limited invitation, wasn’t it? She held out her arm.

Oh . . . wow. It was like a heated, damp tongue, the brush running a few inches up her arm before he pulled it away. “Paraffin,” he told her. “It does wonderful things to the mind.”

Giving her a wink, he returned his attention to Vanessa. He used several different types and colors of wax, alternating between the candle drippings and the paraffin, decorating Vanessa’s thighs, her navel, her breasts. Though he’d left it in place, he’d dialed down the vibrator during all that. Now he turned it off, put it aside and replaced its stimulation with his own fingers.

“A nice, wet pussy. All wet for your Master, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Vanessa gasped. “Please . . .”

“Please, what?”

“I want to come.”

“Whose wants are important, Vanessa?” His eyes and voice had gone back to flint sharpness. Madison was on the edge of that cliff with Vanessa.
Please let her come.
She couldn’t take her eyes away from his long fingers, manipulating the fragile flesh between Vanessa’s legs, his knuckles worrying the clit, stroking the labia. From a flex of his arm and Vanessa’s guttural cry, she knew a couple of those digits had disappeared inside her. Madison’s pussy contracted in sympathetic response and need.

“Yours, Master,” Vanessa said.

“So what do you want?”

“I want . . .” Vanessa swallowed noisily. “I want you to want me to come, Master.”

His smile went feral. “Lucky for you, that’s exactly what I want. Right now. Come for me.”

It happened that fast. He’d kept her balanced on that pinnacle like a maestro, only a twitch of his wrist needed to send the orchestra into full crescendo. He kept stroking her labia and clit with thumb and forefinger, thrusting inside her with the other fingers, showing off an expert precision and rhythm that said he knew how this woman’s body worked.

Vanessa flushed beneath the wax, the blush spreading from her sternum up her throat as she arced off the table like a rainbow and began to scream out her release. Madison clung to her as the woman rocked, thrust up against his hand. Her eyes were shut tight, mouth opened wide, her nipples tight points, embellished by the layers of wax painted across them. Some of the larger pieces on her skin cracked as she transformed into ocean movement, rolling and cresting, crashing and rising again.

When she finally wound down, he was moving his hand in a slower rhythm, stroking her, giving her light pinches that had her shaking with aftershocks. At length, he bent, pressed a single, chaste kiss right on her pussy. Madison glimpsed the tip of his tongue, taking a brief sample of her climax before he lifted his head, pressing his lips together.

“That’s my baby,” he murmured. “There you go. Slow it down, watch your breathing.” He stroked her hip, his gaze fixed on her for another few moments before he eventually raised his attention to Madison.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Sure,” she managed, and earned that smile. She wondered if he would touch her face again and ask her to strip and take Vanessa’s place on the table. She wondered what she would do if he did.

He stepped closer to her, put his hand over hers, a purely reassuring touch. “Let go of her, Vanessa,” he said, a quiet command. When Vanessa complied, he closed his hands over both of Madison’s and brought them to his lips. He brushed his warm, firm mouth over her knuckles.

“You were like a wide-eyed sprite, there in the corner,” he said, smiling at her. “Irresistible. The day you decide to stop watching and start playing, some Master will be very lucky. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to take care of Vanessa.”

She nodded, scrambled off the stool and almost pitched herself on the floor at his feet. Fortunately, he anticipated her disorientation and steadied her, with caressing hands and a knowing glance. Then he stepped back, breaking the spell that had bound her to them. She was now outside the circle again.

She retreated, but not to her booth. Somehow she found her way to the bathroom, locked herself in a stall and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. Trying to breathe as well. She’d thought it had to be whips and restraints, things she wasn’t sure she could trust any man to do except in her fantasies. But this Master had merely brought her into the fringes of that world, let her have a taste, and suddenly she’d felt braver, ready for more. And flooded with so many cravings and desires, she thought she might be drowning. It scared her.
Breathe. Breathe.

Looking down at her hands where he’d kissed her knuckles, she saw Vanessa’s grip had left red bands on her wrists. The bite of her nails had made crescent impressions on her hands and forearms. Would Vanessa look at the impression of the tie on her own wrists, the redness of her skin when the wax was removed? Of course she would.

When she left the bathroom and paused at the bar, Madison saw the Master in the public sitting room. He was on a couch, cradling Vanessa in his lap, giving her water, stroking her hair, tucking a blanket around her as she came down from the euphoria the session had brought her. Madison wondered if he’d removed all the wax from her skin as tenderly as he was treating her now.

“I hear he’s a really good Dom, if you’re looking to try one out.”

She jumped, turning to see Alice at her shoulder. Nothing in Alice’s face suggested she’d witnessed anything that had happened though, which was a relief. Her next words confirmed it.

“Sorry, I got hung up in the lounge area with some guys who make custom floggers.” Her sister put a hand on her shoulder. “Seriously, why don’t you give him a try? No strings attached. If you can believe it, he’s gay. His partner’s not into the scene, but is okay with him doing his thing with women. Apparently he’s awesome at it. I hear newbies are his specialty.”

Madison blinked. Yes, she already knew enough about this world to know that many BDSM sessions were compartmentalized, only-in-the-club type things, but he and Vanessa . . . she’d been sure they were together. How could they get so intensely intimate with one another and . . . it mean nothing? Not really. It wasn’t what she’d hoped, imagined . . . or wanted.

“So it’s not real.”

Alice gave her an odd look. “I wouldn’t say that. Within the session, it’s real enough to give everyone something. It might be a safe way for you to explore it. I know you’re worried about losing control, and I don’t blame you. This type of thing, it’s such a high, you could think you’re in love with the first Dom who trips your trigger the right way. You know?”

* * *

Madison dragged herself back to the here and now. Her panties were damp, her breath shallow, and there was a hard ache behind her heart. She had an overwhelming urge to lock herself in the store’s bathroom again, only this time she wanted to bring herself to climax. The only thing that held her back was she knew how empty she’d be left afterward. Sometimes it was like being a paraplegic with virtual goggles that made her think she was walking. When she took them off, she’d still be trapped in the chair and her heart would explode.

She heard her sister needling her as clearly as if Alice were standing at her side.
You’ve tallied up a handful of assholes who betrayed your trust, walked out on you when you needed them, battered your self-esteem in a hundred different ways. Isn’t it time to follow a different set of instincts?

What had Logan said?
We
all have an instinct for Dominance and submission . . .

Usually Alice knew when to back off, but that night with the Master and Vanessa, Madison had felt too fragile and Alice pushed too hard, until Madison was in tears. Her sister had apologized, hugging Madison and telling her she was trying to help. It hadn’t made Madison’s growing resentment with her sister’s confidence about what was best for her any less poisonous. They’d had their two year falling out soon thereafter.

You need to let me pick your next guy, MadGirl. You’re bad at it.

Had her sister decided to force her hand through a death wish? She wasn’t surprised Alice would do such a galling thing to her, but why would an intriguing, self-possessed male like Logan agree to it?

She’d lied to him about the knowledge stuff to get him to back off. Unfortunately, by claiming ignorance, she’d probably just encouraged Logan to help “educate her.” God save her. He and Troy obviously had that compartmentalized, structured-session kind of D/s relationship. Between relationships, she’d thought about sticking her toe in those waters, but the idea of approaching it like a gym workout depressed her. On the flip side, anything she’d tried involving emotional commitment had gone disastrously.

God bless the Internet, the anonymity of chat rooms, video sites, forums. She limited herself on them, so she didn’t turn into the BDSM version of a crack addict, but it didn’t mean she didn’t soak it up like a sponge during her short forays, using it with a vibrator to assuage simple sexual frustration and keep it all under control. When it came to her desire to submit, she didn’t know how to do anything in moderation. She’d learned her lesson. At least she thought she had.

Brownstone’s “If You Love Me” started playing, making her bite back an oath. She hadn’t locked the door after her trip to the hardware store. She’d tell whoever it was that she was closed. She hadn’t even set up the register to take a sale.

But as she emerged from the stockroom and saw the one lone customer, she decided to test her sales skills instead, see how it went.

The tall girl with long brown hair and a delicate face like Liv Tyler was idly browsing through the selections along the wall, so Madison cleared her throat. “Good afternoon. Can I help you find anything?”

“Uh . . . well, no. Yes.” Looking over her shoulder, the young woman gave a half laugh. “Guess you get that a lot in here, right?”

“I’m still fairly new to running a lingerie store, but that’s how I’d be about it if I was a customer. Kind of out of place, like I needed to keep the exit door close.”

It was meant as a joke, but even Madison could hear the acid in her tone, fueled by an unexpected surge of bitterness. Suddenly she was back in the Boston lingerie store she’d visited while still trapped in a relationship with Leroy. She’d felt like a fraud, trying to plug a hole in the Titanic with crotchless panties.

Her brittle smile made it worse. The woman shot her an odd look, cleared her throat. “Thanks . . . er . . . I’ll let you know if I need any help.”

Madison tried to salvage the attempt. “Is it for a special occasion?”

“No. Not really. Not in that way.” The woman gave her a nod, headed for the door. “Thanks.”