I’d forgotten about the other rooms, with their hidden occupants who would not be giving me tat. But there was no going back; he’d pressed the button.
I heard a whirring sound, braced myself for their stares.
As attention fell on me, participants elbowed others, heads craning. Like starving pack animals who’d just scented a meal.
My shaking grew worse.
Still a devil in my ear, Sevastyan murmured, “You know what to do. And then I’ll conceal you once more.”
Partners were turning mid-sex, adjusting positions for better viewing. Don’t lose your nerve, Nat!
“I told you that you’d feel the bite of leather across your br**sts, its sting between your legs.” Yes, oh, yes. “You’d let them witness your first descent with me?”
Descent? I refused to look at him, just stared at the frolicking in the ring.
“You must want this very badly indeed.” In a wondering tone, he mused, “For a submissive, you can be extremely aggressive.”
He had no idea. You will be dominating me tonight, Siberian. Why fight it?
“You’ve made your decision.” He strode out of my sight line. Back to the table of tools?
He returned with a large dildo made of steel. I’d seen those on the site that I’d ordered my own arsenal from, but they’d been pricey. “Do you want this, Natalie?”
It was almost as big as his dick. As wet and empty as I felt, I did crave it. But to have everyone out there see my penetration?
His eyes were challenging behind his roguish mask. “Drop the chain if you don’t want me to work this inside you—for their pleasure.”
He began chafing it between his palms, warming it for me. The sight of his dexterous hands and tattooed fingers working that steel phallus made my hips buck.
By the time he ran the head of it down my belly, the metal was hot to the touch, seeming to burn against my skin. He trailed it lower, past my navel, then through my small thatch of curls.
The tip briefly rolled over my tingling clit. When he fixed the head against my needy entrance, I forgot to breathe. There was no give to this dildo, total rigidity, and it looked as heavy as a hand weight.
Yet he meant for me to take it all?
He twisted the crown right at my soaked opening, as if he were screwing the huge thing into me. “Take this—I’m giving it to you.” He positioned himself so everyone could see him wedging the shining c**k inside me. “Or drop the chain.”
Embarrassment scalded me, as hot as the thing itself.
But as I scanned the crowd—I saw parted lips, captivated expressions, increased tempos—my shame morphed into . . . stimulation. Yet another stimulation.
Just as it had aroused me to bare myself to the camera in Sevastyan’s bedroom, this was turning me on beyond anything I’d imagined. As he used my wetness to force the dildo inside me, inch by stretching inch, I basked in their stares.
Sevastyan followed my gaze. “My little exhibitionist. They covet my woman almost more than I can bear.” He leaned in until his face was beside mine. “There’s a need in me—to destroy them for desiring what’s mine. Never forget that.”
His jealous possessiveness only made me wetter.
“I want this deep inside you, Natalya. Open and accept it.” I tried to relax my muscles, taking it, taking it. . . .
When the phallus slid into place, he pumped it a few times until I was nearly drooling around the chain. Then he fitted slim leather straps around my waist to lock the heavy thing within me. Once it was secured, he gave the base a decisive slap that made me—and others—moan. “Do you thank me for it?”
I nodded, adjusting my wrists and ankles in their bindings, readying for whatever was to come next.
I noticed one rangy man near the glass seemed to be riveted to my crotch as he pounded his partner, a voluptuous woman bound atop a silken cushion on the ground.
When I circled my hips a few times to get used to the intrusion inside me, the man shuddered, gave a loud yell, and pulled out. His heavy-lidded gaze met mine as he spurted onto his partner’s mound.
Had he wanted me to see him come? To react? Interact?
“Now, now, Natalya,” Sevastyan chastised. “No need to taunt them with what they will never have.”
Had I been? Well, hell. Maybe?
Sevastyan strode away. Seconds later, I felt strands of leather slink down my spine. A flogger. As I’d suggested to him on the drive to Paris.
“Are you ready, pet?”
I’d been ready. I bit down on the chain and nodded—
Leather snapped across the backs of my thighs.
The sting made my eyes water. But when he moved beside me to assess my reaction, I gave him a that’s-all-you-got? look.
His brows rose above his mask. His lips curled.
The flogger landed harder. And again. Even as I whimpered around the chain, I found myself jutting my ass for more—which earned me groans from the audience, especially from those who were similarly bound.
What submissive wouldn’t want a man like Sevastyan to dominate her?
A man so dark and dangerous. So compelling and powerful.
And he was mine.
Sevastyan snapped the flogger against my thighs, my ass, even the top of my back, then repeated the rotation. With each blow, the pain mounted and mounted, until it . . . didn’t.
Instead of twitching agony, all I could feel were areas of heat; my pain receptors were still pinging, but must be confused. I arched for more, shifting the weighty c**k inside me.