‘Good, Little Kitten.’ Electra touches the tip of the riding crop to Olivia’s navel and her stomach contracts, her nipples tightening as her breasts lift with a sucked-in breath. ‘Hands behind your back.’
Olivia obeys and slowly, so very slowly, Electra trails the crop up her chest, following the arch of her neck as she forces Olivia’s chin to rise, her head tilting back. ‘Stay.’
Olivia nods.
‘Say, Yes, Mistress.’
She wets her lips, her response breathy. ‘Yes, Mistress.’
‘Better.’ The room fills with the sharp click of Electra’s heels as she walks to the hooks displaying various collars, leashes, restraints. She trails her red-tipped nails over them as she considers each, my cock swelling with every possibility. Dusty old fantasies colliding with the very new, very real...
‘This one will do.’ Electra plucks a black leather collar from a hook. Two chains fall from it, their clamp-ends clinking through the quiet. I see Olivia’s eyes widen, her throat bob.
‘Touch your breasts, Little Kitten, show me what they need.’
I quit breathing. I’m too enraptured by Olivia as she caresses herself, slow at first and then harder, more urgent as she loses herself in the sea of sensation. Plucking and rolling each flushed peak as her eyes stay hooked on Electra’s heated gaze.
‘Does that feel good?’
‘Yes, Mistress.’
‘Don’t stop...’
Electra hooks the riding crop into her bodysuit and stands behind Olivia, her stance wide to accommodate Olivia’s bent legs. She lowers the collar around Olivia’s neck, frees her ponytail and flicks it over her shoulder before feeding the belt loop through. Tightening it and tightening it until Olivia’s eyes flare up into Electra’s. The two chains fall down her front, the clamps swinging by her navel.
‘Now you can stop.’
She walks to her front, lifts one clamp and teases it around a puckered nipple, clamping it. Olivia rocks, her whimper escaping through her parted lips, her eyes all lustful and hooded. She repeats the move with the other, trapping it in the teeth of the clamp as Olivia cries out.
‘Pleasure and pain,’ Electra murmurs as she stands back to admire her handiwork. ‘It’s a satisfying mix.’
Olivia watches her, her nostrils flaring as she takes in air.
‘I think we should see if your guest would like to join us.’
Olivia’s eyes flit to the mirror, to me.
‘What do you say, Little Kitten? I think you’ve behaved well enough to have a playmate.’
They’re both looking towards me now and it wakes me from my stupor, a panicked sweat breaking out all over. I have to get out of here. Now.
This was a mistake. A huge, huge mistake.
The job, the favour, coming here...
Olivia Carmel may need rescuing but I’m not the one to do it.
I can’t.
Olivia
Electra walks to the mirror she came through and my whole body is frozen in place. No, not quite frozen, because I’m overheating. I’m a hot mess inside, a lustful knot tightening and tightening and promising a climax so forceful that I want it just as much as I want to delay it. To prolong the delirium for as long as possible.
She presses a button in the wall and the mirror shifts; my heart leaps into my throat. The stranger, the one I invited, with the dark good looks, the intense gaze; he’s...
Gone.
I see it in Electra’s frown and then she walks inside the room and there’s no sound. No voices.
Oh, God. What am I even doing?
I see my reflection in the mirrors and I don’t even recognise myself in the shameless, wanton woman looking back at me. It shocks me to the core. I can’t do this.
When he was there, watching, I was high on it. High on the thrill, the letting go, the idea of someone getting off on this as much as me, but he’s gone and I’m...
‘It seems your little friend has left us to it, Kitten.’
She’s coming back into the room and I’m already at the table, about to scoop up my things.
‘What are you doing?’
I spin to face her, my hands clutching my clothing to my chest. ‘I’m sorry... I... I think I need to go.’
She folds her arms, purses her lips and narrows her eyes on me. ‘Are you sure about that?’
‘I’m... I’m...’
‘We don’t need your playmate for this...and you only need to use the safe word and I’ll let you go.’
CHAPTER THREE
Two weeks later
Valentine
I WANT TO throw my phone at the wall when the alarm wakes me. I’m not ready to be awake. Two weeks of barely sleeping, and when I do sleep my dreams are lurid, wild, my body making up for four years’ abstinence as it replays that night two weeks ago. A mixture of the real tangled up with my own vivid imaginings that make Olivia an almost permanent fixture in my head.
I unravel myself from the sheets that cling to my sweat-drenched skin. I have to shake this and soon. I may not be the one who changes the bedsheets, but it hardly feels fair, my housekeeper having to do it on a daily basis. She thinks I’m sick. I’m nowhere close.
Unless you count the fact that my obsession is somewhat twisted: Olivia, the submissive.
My body fires, determined to punish me for my celibacy, and in the most extreme way possible. I fight the image, the heat back, but my feet still drag as I make my way to the kitchen.
Caffeine—that’s what you need. Caffeine and the gym.
It’s my usual routine: up at five-thirty, coffee, gym, I leave, housekeeper arrives. Though lately she’s here before I go, with concern shining in her wise old eyes.
I load up the coffee machine, set it to go and stalk to the floor-to-ceiling glass that overlooks the Thames and find my mind wandering. Already back
