Michele Zurlo (27 page)

The path joined with another, growing wider as it led into an abrupt clearing. The hillside fell away, and he could see they were at the top of a natural amphitheater. Immediately his mind churned with the possibilities. This place was made for exhibitionists.

From their vantage point, Jonas could make out about fifty people in the audience and six onstage. They followed the path on its downward trajectory until they came to an entrance point halfway down. People were scattered throughout the lower half of the bowl, most in various stages of undress.

On the left side of the stage, one of the actors stood at a podium. In the center, three people stood behind three others who waited on all fours. The ones on their hands and knees wore headbands with ears. Some were floppy, and some pointed straight up. They were outfitted differently, but each wore a collar and a plug in their ass with an appendage to simulate a tail. The owners, standing behind their pets, each held a leash.

He looked at Sabrina to see if she understood what was going on. It wasn’t a play, per se, but it was a show.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are down to the final three. This is the last round of the Ninth Annual Prancing Puppy Contest.” The announcer sounded a little sad, as if he knew this might be his last show at Elysium.

Sabrina’s eyes widened. She leaned closer to him. “I’ve always wondered about puppy and pony play. I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never seen it.”

That decided the matter. It wasn’t his cup of tea, but he couldn’t pull her away from a new experience. He could just hope it didn’t ignite a longing he didn’t want to quench.

The owners pranced each puppy around a ring, stopping at the judges table to be poked and prodded, fondled and petted. If anybody ever touched Sabrina like that, he’d punch them, and that would be only the beginning.

He watched her more than the show. From the way her jaw dropped open, he could see her shock. But then she bit her lower lip, a sign she was becoming aroused.

“I’ve been to a few dog shows. They do get a little personal with the animals, but I’ve never seen them take it to the climax.” She shifted her knees urgently, and that was the final straw.

“Spread your legs so I can play with your pussy.”

He reached for her knee to help peel her open, but she jerked from his grasp and looked around. “Jonas, it’s a dog show, not a cat show.”

Though he found her sense of humor funny, he didn’t care for her timing and her refusal was insubordinate. Without warning, he flipped her over his knees, hiked up her skirt, and spanked her. Each smack echoed in the curved space. She didn’t fight it and he didn’t make her count the twenty blows. Though her cunt was wet and the breeze carried the scent of her arousal to his nose, he didn’t pause to pleasure her. This was punishment.

By the time he stopped, so had the show. Everyone in the amphitheater watched them, even the puppies on stage. He set Sabrina back on the stone bench. From the top of her corset to her hairline, her skin had turned bright red. It wasn’t the kind of color that came from being upside down. This reflected the level of her embarrassment. Though that hadn’t been his intention, it was a natural byproduct of what happened when a submissive misbehaved in public.

“And that, puppies, is what happens when you disobey your owners.”

The audience laughed and applauded. Sabrina fixed her gaze on a point close to her toes. Her chest rose and fell as she took short breaths. He recognized her effort to regain control through her breathing, and he let her work it out.

When she seemed to have regained her composure, he issued the order again. “Spread your legs.”

She looked up at him, pain and uncertainty clouding her eyes. He hadn’t spanked her harder than he usually did, so he didn’t understand the pain. That level of intensity usually led her to an orgasm. She’d never had trouble sitting after that light of a spanking before.

He held his firm expression, and she spread her legs. The short skirt obligingly rolled up to reveal her gorgeous pussy. He lifted the knee nearest him and draped it over his legs, spreading her wider.

In the front of the amphitheater, the show resumed. Sabrina relaxed, and he realized she’d been mortified that they’d interrupted the show.

He nuzzled her neck. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it was a welcome interlude. You take your spankings very well, my dear. No wiggling or wailing. Very dignified.”

That didn’t seem to make her relax, so he turned her face and captured her lips. They were soft and welcoming. She opened for him and met him with greedy enthusiasm. On the wings of a soft moan, she tugged at his shirt. Breaking the kiss, he laughed and disengaged her grip.

“Not yet, Sabrina. Be a good submissive and you’ll eventually get your reward.”

Her mouth turned down in an uncharacteristic pout. It looked too damned cute. If she knew how hard it made him to see that expression, she could use it to manipulate him. He used her breathing technique to get himself in line.

Then he made her sit with one leg over his lap, her pussy spread wide, until the show ended. Every now and again, he would stroke those sensitive folds. When people gathered their things to leave, he unzipped his pants and freed his cock.

“Straddle me. You’re going to ride me until I tell you to stop.”

She scrambled up, eagerly throwing her leg over him and sinking down on his cock with a speed he’d never seen. She rolled her hips, lifting up as she moved back and pressing down as she moved forward. People stopped to watch, and that seemed to fuel her energy. Faster and faster she moved, setting an impossible rhythm. His balls drew up and he came, pulling her down and sealing her to his body. Her pussy pulsed around him, evidence of her orgasm.

He kissed her. Over and over, he used his lips to express his appreciation for her performance. He was blessed to have a wife who not only indulged his need for exhibitionism, she got off on it, too.

When her heartbeat, thudding against his chest, slowed, he lifted her off him and fixed his pants. The stage called to him. Though nobody else was in the theater, he wanted to see her on that stage, naked and bound, completely at his mercy.

It would be a scene, not a show.

Sabrina followed Jonas up the center aisle to the deserted stage. It had no curtain or any signs warning people away. On the contrary, it seemed to invite people closer, as if the stage whispered, begging for more performers.

She hazarded a look around. Nobody was there. In the distance, they couldn’t hear anything or anyone. Mistress Hera could have evacuated the island, and they wouldn’t know. This amphitheater was truly hidden away.

The puppy show had been interesting. After doing some tricks and being felt up, one of them was awarded first prize. The audience applauded, and everybody left. Well, they left after she’d fucked Jonas as part of the encore. She’d liked feeling their eyes on her as she pleasured the man who meant more to her than anything else.

Steps on either side led to the stage, so Jonas headed right. Once on the stage, he positioned her in the center. “Stay here.”

Then he disappeared backstage. She stood in the center of the stage of the abandoned amphitheater. The first shadows of late afternoon cast their darkness over the upper portion of the stadium seats. She was sure the stage wasn’t very well lit either, with the shade from the overhang and all. Sunlight sparkled one foot in front of her. She was up for doing whatever he wanted as long as he didn’t move her into the sunlight. If anyone happened upon them, she didn’t want the glare to highlight the things she tried to hide.

No, she preferred to remain out of the spotlight.

Scraping and squeaking drew her attention to the opposite side of the stage from where Jonas had disappeared. He came out of the wing, and she realized there must be a passageway at the rear of the stage. He pointed to the audience area. “Face forward.”

That meant she couldn’t discern his mood from the expression on his face, and his tone held no clues. A few more noises, indications things were being moved, came from different areas of the stage. Curiosity was killing her. Sabrina wished she were the kind of submissive who misbehaved, but she wasn’t, and he was too far back for her to gain any information peripherally.

Then she felt the magnetism of him standing directly behind her. That soft, subtle hint of heat and the seduction of his natural scent lured her closer, a helpless moth to his flame. She swayed, but he didn’t steady her, so she doubted her senses. Perhaps she only craved the feeling of him standing next to her. Shifting her feet around, she was able to regain her balance. The moment she did, his hands landed on her hips.

“You didn’t peek.” He sounded pleased, and she was glad she hadn’t given in to the urge to be bad just this once. Very few things made her feel genuinely whole like pleasing him did. And when she was at his mercy like this, she didn’t have to worry about whether or not it was right to crave this outside validation, even if it was from her husband.

He moved his hands up her body, but the corset, made from heavy plastic and lined with soft satin, didn’t translate the sensation, only the pressure. As if he knew what she wanted, he reversed direction, caressing slowly up and down her hips, lifting her skirt higher with each pass.

“Do you remember the night we got married, where I took you afterward?”

Those images were forever seared in her mind’s eye. He’d opened her eyes to his exhibitionist lifestyle within hours of their vows, taking her to a private sex club so people could watch them consummate their union. In particular, she remembered that he’d stood behind her, his fingers exploring her folds as he whispered sexy and shocking things into her ear.

“Yes. Of course.”

He cupped her mound, massaging it gently in his palm. “You were so beautiful that night.”

His fingers parted her slit. She trembled, half in remembrance and half in anticipation. Sucking in a huge breath, she acknowledged his point. “That skirt was about this short. You barely had to lift it.”

“I wanted to do so much more than just fuck you. I wanted to tie you in the center of the largest room so I could taste you, flog you, and fuck you all night.”

She didn’t doubt it. At the time it would have been too much. She’d known nothing about this kind of life. “Everyone would have known just how completely I belong to you.”

He withdrew his fingers and held them at her lips. She opened and cleaned away her juices. “I love how perceptive you are.”

Then he stepped back, and she whimpered at the loss of her anchor. She dropped her gaze to the concrete stage floor as she waited for him to return. Darkness stole her vision. Given the thickness of the blindfold and the way it carried his scent, she guessed he’d rolled up his shirt. It looked like he didn’t have a bondage cabinet in his pockets today.

He circled her and adjusted the fit around her nose to make sure it didn’t let in light or block her breathing. When he was satisfied, he brushed a kiss across her lips. She wanted more, but he pulled away.

“Lift your arms.”

She lifted them, moving slowly because she wasn’t certain as to what he planned to do. Cold cuffs made from rough leather closed around her wrists. They tightened and she felt the short pinch as he secured each buckle.

He tugged her skirt down and lifted each of her feet so she could step out of it. Similar buckles encircled her ankles, the metal rivets cold against her skin. She felt the push and pull as he secured a spreader bar to each cuff, making sure her legs remained spread.

“Blinded and bound.” His hot breath seared her neck, and a series of nibbling bites sent shivers clear down the side of her ribcage. “Would you have let me do this on our wedding night?”

She honestly didn’t know. If he’d tried this, she would have thought he was kinky, but she didn’t know if she would have refused to continue with his game. In her opinion, this was less kinky than having sex in public. “I don’t know. Not at the club with people watching. In private? I don’t know. You were a good kisser and you were very persuasive.”

“Were?” He growled.

She laughed at his chagrin. He was still a good kisser, and he had her tied up on a stage, so she would still call him persuasive. “Yes, you were. I don’t think we’d be married if you weren’t so accomplished.”

He resumed his position behind her. “You’re saying you married me because I was a good kisser?”

She could imagine him scratching his chin, trying to figure out why she chose that reason when her original reason had been to gain an inheritance. “Yes. You wanted sex as a condition of marriage. Twice a week. The only reason I consented was because you made my knees weak when you kissed me.”

The zipper of her corset hissed, and the tight garment fell away. Those talented fingers returned to tease her pussy. “I knew it. I should have kept going. I could have had you right there in the conference room.”

Then he would have realized much sooner that she didn’t know how to have an orgasm. “No,” she said. “I would have stopped you. Otherwise you would have known I was damaged goods. It might have ruined the deal.”

“Don’t.” He was in front of her now, gripping her chin forcefully. “Don’t you ever refer to yourself that way. You weren’t damaged. Nobody ever took the time to find the submissive woman hiding inside you who wanted to be tied up and flogged. That wasn’t your fault.”