“Were you?” Jordan raised a brow.
“None of your business. Don’t interfere again with my property. She needs a good punishment, and I’ll give it to her.”
Tara had to bite her lip to keep her jaw from dropping. Property?
As Logan whirled and dragged her toward a nearby St. Andrew’s Cross, she didn’t have to pretend too hard to drag her feet. Yes, this had been her idea . . . but that didn’t mean she liked it.
“Don’t go tense on me, Cherry,” he muttered. “You’re going to be fine.”
All she had to do was trust him.
When they reached the cross, Logan stopped, adopted his most stern expression, eyes narrowed on her. “Why am I punishing you, slave?”
Oh, his Dom voice. It should intimidate her a bit, but he just made her melty. “F—for wandering away from the spot you left me, Logan.”
“And?”
Tara did her best to look agitated and uncomfortable. Jordan hadn’t followed, but he was watching. She felt his gaze crawling all over her. “Sitting in Master Jordan’s lap.”
“Taking the comfort you did not have permission to receive, yes. Face the cross.”
She did as instructed, shivering inside.
“Strip. Fold your dress neatly and hand it to me.”
Taking her clothes off in public. Tara tried not to wince. Granted the cross leaned against a wall, so no one would see her breasts or her pussy. But the entire room would see her fleshy ass. Logan liked it, but she still felt ridiculously self-conscious showing a group of strangers the part of herself that she liked least.
“Slave, you’ve been given an order. Do it now, or I add more punishment.”
Blowing out a shuddering breath, Tara reached for the strapless dress and pulled it down. The elastic expanded over her breasts, collapsed again at her waist, flared over her hips, then slithered to the ground, leaving her completely bare.
Logan caressed her backside, lingering to cup the lower curve as he thumbed the slope. “God, I love your ass,” he muttered for her ears only, then nudged her to the cross, forcing her to raise her arms.
All too soon, she was secured to the giant wooden X. Logan selected a whip from the nearby wall—and she swallowed. They hadn’t talked about how he’d punish her. She’d assumed he’d find some soft crop or use his hand, but this whip was nearly as long as his entire body. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it flying through the air, testing its weight. Her heart drummed against her chest.
At the first snap, she jumped, gasped, then looked over her shoulder. Logan looked frighteningly proficient with the long whip as he sent it flying through the air again.
Tara closed her eyes. She could do this. Logan wouldn’t really hurt her. All she had to do was trust him.
Jordan wandered closer.
On cue, Xander sauntered into the scene under the guise of dungeon monitor, just to the left of the cross, and gave her a reassuring nod when Jordan was watching Logan with the whip.
“Count for me, slave,” Logan demanded.
Her entire body tensed as she waited for the first horrific blow.
“Wait,” Jordan demanded. “This is one of her soft limits.”
“We’ve been working on it.”
Jordan cleared his throat. “Even so, we don’t recommend discipline with a six-footer.”
“I’m more than able to give my sub the punishment she needs. Stand aside,” he growled.
“I’ll be watching.” Jordan glared in his direction. “One false move, and I’ll step in.”
“Relax,” Xander whispered to her. “It’ll hurt more if you don’t.”
Tara forced herself to exhale and release as much tension as she could. Then Logan struck.
He laid the whip directly across the fleshiest part of her ass. The leather almost caressed her. A slight sting followed, then gently dissipated, leaving behind the haziest of tingles.
She gasped. “One.”
Before she’d taken another breath, Logan brought the whip down again, this time cradling the tender undercurve of her buttocks. The strike was a bit harder, the sensation stronger. As before, as soon as the whip lifted away, a soft nip dissolved into a mellow glow.
To her shock, she wanted more.
Wriggling, Tara struggled against her bonds. She was supposed to hate this. For their plan to work, she had to publicly scream her safe word. Instead, Logan was only proving how wonderful he was at making her embarrassingly wet.
“Count, slave. If I have to remind you again, we’ll start at the beginning.”
Pretty please.
She kept the thought to herself and forced a tremble to her voice. “Two. No more . . . Please.”
“Liar,” Xander whispered. “Someone’s got really hard nipples. Did I ever tell you that I love the way you flush when you’re aroused?”
Tara shot him a dirty look, and she could tell he held in a laugh.
While she was distracted, Logan flicked the whip at her again, this time across the top of her ass to wind around her hip.
Okay, that actually stung more on the pain than pleasure side. She hissed, tensed, promised she’d tell Logan off for that shit later.
Then the pain faded into a bevy of furious tingles dancing under her skin. Warmth sank into her muscles. The feel of it was nothing short of dazzling.
“Three,” she panted.
“I’m going to make these last two really count, slave. No complaints. You’ve earned this punishment.”
Tara nodded, trying to bring her breathing back under control, cool down the hot ache ramping her body up. Damn it, she’d let herself get carried away in the moment with Logan, in the trust they were building. She was gleefully drowning in her love for him.
But his accusations against her stepfather were a shadow between them.
The thought had barely crossed her mind when Logan struck again with the rawhide, this time making a vertical strike down her right cheek. That blow more than stung prettily and brought the blood to the surface skin of her ass. It actually hurt.
Her entire body tensed. Whipping like that she didn’t want, and he still had another lash to give her.
Panicked breathing set in again. Even though Logan was supposed to scare her, the fear started jacking up her system and messing with her head.
“Pretty welt,” Jordan commented. “I’ll bet she looks good with a truly red ass.”
“Yeah. She needs a matched set,” Logan said loudly. “Maybe a sore backside will keep her off other Doms’ laps.”
He cracked the whip in the air again, and fear became an icy-hot panic flaring through her veins. Tara knew in her head this was all for show, but her right cheek still throbbed, and they had a plan to set in motion.
“Romeo!” she screamed.
Logan ignored her and laid the whip vertically across her left cheek, not quite as hard as the previous lash, but enough to have her gasping again, “Romeo!”
“No wimping out of this punishment, slave. I’m not hurting you. You get one more for interrupting me.”
“Stop,” Jordan said sternly. “Continuing after the safe word is against club rules. Let your slave off the cross and provide proper aftercare or I’ll see to her myself.”
“You don’t interfere with my slave,” Logan roared, then laid the whip across her thighs.
This was another gentle stroke, almost a caress, but Tara pushed past the pleasure and played her part with an Oscar-winning scream of pain and terror.
“Enough!” Jordan roared.
A scuffle and what sounded like a punch or two later, Xander left her side with a muttered, “Keep him busy as long as you can.” Then he was gone.
“Take this asshole to Kantor’s office and wait with him,” Jordan said to Xander. “I will see to the slave, then meet you there.” Then he addressed Logan with a growl. “Mr. Flint, it will be my pleasure to personally escort you off the island.”
Tara’s heart pounded as Logan put up a staged struggle with Xander, whom he allowed to overpower him eventually. By the time Jordan released her from her bonds, the other two men were gone.
“Are you all right?” he whispered, her dress thrown over his arm. He sounded like he genuinely cared.
She didn’t have to pretend too hard to shake. The adrenaline was draining from her system, leaving her a shaky mess. Her legs nearly gave out, but Jordan was there, supporting her as he hurried across the floor, toward a locked door.
Tara wanted to resist going anywhere too private with him, especially naked, but her job was to distract him. Putting up a fight now would only either make him suspicious or angry.
“I’m sore, Sir.”
“Your first whipping?”
She nodded as he eased the door open and helped her inside. As he flipped on the overhead light, a flare of white brilliance from the overhead bulb nearly blinded her. After a quick glance of a cot, a cabinet, and a small desk with a phone, she squinted her eyes shut against the brightness.
Jordan helped her to the cot, urging her onto her belly. He cupped the uninjured part of the right cheek of her ass, and she tensed. Having him touch her felt wrong.
“They really are pretty welts, but a bit painful until you get used to them. Let me doctor you up.”
Pretty welts? Yuck. “Thank you, Sir.”
She laid still and tolerated his ministrations, then docilely allowed him to enfold her in his arms. Kantor stopped in as soon as Jordan radioed. Tara told the manager her story haltingly, wasting as much time as possible. The longer she kept them occupied, hopefully the more time Logan and Xander had to investigate the Pit. She just hoped that Kantor didn’t know her cover—and kill her for it.
USING the access card Tara had swiped from Jordan, Logan let Xander grip his wrists behind his back and lead him into the Pit. Worry bit into his gut for Cherry. She was capable of taking care of herself, but naked, she had no weapon. No way to fight off Jordan if he decided to make a move—or Kantor, if he chose to make her a “product.”
Just outside the door with a small square window, a guard inside a station, surrounded by radios and video monitors, questioned them via intercom, “What?”
Xander pressed the button and leaned in. “Jordan asked me to bring this troublesome one down here.”
Assuming that Jordan had the authority to bring someone down here had been a gamble. But since the access card had gotten them down the elevator and into the long hallway, Logan had to assume his name would get them deeper inside the Pit.
“A male prisoner?” Logan heard the guard’s scowl and suspicion.
“He’s unruly.” Xander sounded like he was straining to keep him subdued, so Logan played along with a little struggle. “Jordan wanted him separated from the rest before he hurt someone else. Help me out here.”
Sending a prayer upward, Logan hoped that making a scuffle now would prevent the guard from calling for Jordan or other backup. So he thrashed again, pretending to fight Xander’s hold.
Finally, the guard sighed and ordered gruffly, “Put him in the second cage.”
As soon as Xander opened the door, they wandered into a cold, humid cave—with modern conveniences. Security cameras monitored all the movement inside. Low, recessed lighting shone softly from above, illuminating a row of ten rectangular silver cages, lined up one after the other. The first one held an unconscious brunette Logan knew wasn’t Darcy. He prayed she was only sleeping. The rest of the cages sat empty.
Shit! Was he too late?
Logan itched to look around more, find out if there were hidden areas to the Pit, but it would have to wait a few minutes until Xander could get in place.
Yanking the door of the appointed cage open, Xander shoved Logan inside. As he pushed the door closed, which should have engaged the lock, he slid a piece of thick putty he’d swiped from the maintenance folks over the mechanism.
“Jordan will be back for you,” Xander warned loudly, then turned and headed to the guard station. All he could do now was wait for the charming bastard to work his magic.
He pretended disinterest as Xander jaunted up the stairs to the security booth. The guard, distrustful at first, refused to let him in. But within ten minutes, the uniformed man had opened the door and was yucking it up with Xander like they were old pals. While the guard was busy slapping his knee and chortling, Xander slipped some contraband narcotic painkiller he’d stolen from the resort’s medical facility into the guy’s coffee.
In minutes, the guard was slumped against his desk, out cold.
Logan raced out of the cage. Xander met him halfway and handed him the key and a semiautomatic he’d smuggled onto the island. “Heads up. Ruben, the guard, says that Sire actually arrived on the island an hour ago. He’s here, in the next room.”
Seriously? Adrenaline charged his system into hyperdrive. Fuck, he wanted to nail this son of a bitch. After his mother’s death, any prick who preyed on women deserved to be a dead prick, and Logan would be more than happy to help make that happen.
“Let’s get him.”
