The Plume: The First Anthology (9 page)

Joanna couldn’t summon a coherent word to her lips. Was that what he was going to do to her? Bind her completely in satin ribbon? And then what?

Eat her?

Take her from behind?

Give her to Rafael?

Or share her with the Countess?

Joanna had to grip the edge of the counter, she felt so unsteady on her feet.

As she walked back to the office, her hood and her ribbon in her purse, she looked at all the people hustling past. How many of them knew first-hand about the Plume? How many of them had been aroused with peacock feathers? How many of them were naked beneath their raincoats?

She stopped on a corner, waiting for the light to change and noticed the extremely high heels of the woman standing beside her. She wore sheer stockings and a raincoat that just brushed her knees. Joanna noticed the dark scarf at her throat.

Their gazes met.

The woman smiled - was that a knowing smile? - then the light changed and she marched away, hips swinging, as Joanna looked after her.

Just how many members did the Plume have?

And how many of them had been trained by the Master?

* * *

By Friday night, Joanna was in a state. She was so agitated and restless that she couldn’t even write a complete sentence on her laptop.

She tried. Repeatedly. Her article on the Plume was going nowhere fast, her quick career advancement at the paper wasn’t happening, but all she could think of was the firm grip of the Master’s hands on her, the low magic of his voice.

The night ahead.

“Twitchy,” Louise said, pausing on her way out the door for a date. “You need more of a social life, Joanna. Stop working so much and get laid once in a while. It’s not good for you to work all the time.”

“Good idea. I’ll think about it.”

“You could come tonight, you know.” Louise stopped, holding the door open with one foot.

“I’ve got to finish this article.”

Louise shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Do you listen to anything I say to you?” she said, but she was smiling and her tone was affectionate. “Next Friday. I’m going to fix you up.”

“Great. Thanks,” Joanna said, wanting nothing other than to see Louise leave.

She did.

Joanna went straight to the shower to begin her preparations. She’d gone back to the salon to have herself made sleek again, wanting to ensure that the Master had her precisely the way he wanted her to be. Her flesh was tingling, although this time it might have been as much from anticipation as from the body wash and its mysterious ingredients.

She’d chosen a pink lipstick, one that matched the purple better. She decided it suited her as she smoothed it over her lips and massaged it into her tingling nipples.

She dressed as before, her hands shaking as she slid the stockings over her thighs. The heels didn’t seem quite as high as the last time. She could walk across the room now, without stumbling, and even swing her hips. She recalled the way he’d lifted her almost off the ground with one arm and had to close her eyes against her desire.

She put on the raincoat, knotted the belt tightly around the waist, wrapped the scarf around her neck and shivered as the satin ends touched her bare breasts. She took a small purse this time, a black satin evening purse that held the coils of ribbon, the hood and her black domino mask. She dropped the apartment keys in her pocket just as she heard a car stop at the curb outside the building.

The black limo.

Rafael.

Her heart skipped at the thought of another encounter with the Countess and she strode to the door.

* * *

It was Rafael again, of course, his smile as mischievous as ever, his sunglasses as dark as midnight. He opened the car door for her with a flourish. This time, Joanna didn’t stumble but slipped into the car’s dark interior with a certain grace.

She realized before Rafael shut the door that she was alone.

She glanced back but he was gone, getting back into the driver’s seat, shutting the door. The glass barrier between them was open.

“Where is the Countess?” Joanna asked.

“You’re not supposed to ask questions,” Rafael said. “Unless you want me to punish you first.”

She sat back, perplexed, and watched Rafael watch her in the mirror.

“Reveal yourself,” he commanded.

Joanna looked at his reflection in surprise.

“Because you were naughty, show me.” He arched a brow. “Or I’ll tell.”

Joanna swallowed. She remembered the Master’s voice.
Ankles together, always.
She put her ankles together tightly.
Knees apart.
She parted her knees, then opened her raincoat.
Lips parted.
She leaned back against the seat, letting her lips soften, as if in invitation. Just doing so made her feel bold.

Rafael smiled and she knew he could see her wet sex. Did he know it was throbbing and thick?

He drove easily, neither fast nor slow, flicking glances at her in the mirror. The rain drummed on the roof of the car as they passed people hurrying down the lit streets. Joanna felt curiously serene, as well as excited. She found that sense of tranquility sliding through her again, that strange submissive anticipation. A mix of excitement and inevitability.

What happened this evening wasn’t up to her.

The situation was out of her control.

She was the Master’s possession, to use as he pleased.

Her throat tightened and her clitoris pulsed.

Rafael turned a corner. “There’s an envelope in the side pocket,” he said. “Get it and shut your coat.”

Joanna saw the flash of lights as he pulled into the drop-off area of a large luxury hotel. She closed her coat just before a doorman swept open the passenger door. She reached into the side pocket and grabbed the envelope.

It contained a smaller envelope.

A magnetic room key.

With a number written on the envelope.

The doorman opened the door with a smile, and Joanna smiled back as she accepted his assistance. Beyond the sheltered entry, the rain was pouring down and she could smell wet pavement. She walked to the doors, letting another liveried doorman sweep one open for her, and strolled into the lobby.

Like a call girl.

Well, she had been called.

Summoned by the Master.

It was the finest and most expensive hotel in the city. Joanna had interviewed celebrities here, in the lobby bar – usually ones launching cookbooks - but she’d never stayed in the hotel. The lobby was spotless and luxurious, all deep velvet chairs, polished brass and sparkling chandeliers. Her heels clicked on the polished marble floors and she heard the laughter carrying from the bar.

She tingled.

Why here? Was the Plume part of this hotel?

Joanna checked the room number and chose the appropriate bank of elevators. Her heart pounded as the elevator shot skyward and again she could see her reflection in the glass. She didn’t look like herself at all.

But she liked what she saw.

The carpet in the corridor was thick enough to muffle any sound. Even here, the light fixtures were chandeliers, the hardware on the doors gleaming brass. The room was at the end of the hall and she took a breath before sliding the key into the slot.

Not knowing what to expect.

The lock clicked, illuminated a green light, and she opened the door, her knees weak with relief. The lights were on inside, lamps that threw a soft golden light. It was a suite, with a large bathroom, a living room, and a bedroom with a king size bed. Everything was off-white and luxurious. The lights of the city sparkled beyond the sheers, heavy ivory velvet drapes hanging on either side of the windows.

And there was no one other than Joanna in the suite.

She stood in the middle of the living room, uncertain what to do.

The phone rang and she leapt for it, guessing who it would be.

“Take off your coat,” the Master said. “And put
it
on. Sit on the coffee table where I can see you.” Joanna pivoted and looked at the coffee table. It was stone, a huge piece of beige marble veined with gold, about two feet high and four feet long on each side.

“Yes, Master.”

She heard the smile in his tone when he replied. “And put your purchases beside you.”

Joanna hung up the phone. She removed her coat, her mouth dry, and hung it up in the closet, leaving the scarf tucked into the sleeve as if she was at a restaurant. She took the mask and the ribbon out of her purse, then slid the purse into the pocket of the raincoat, the one without the domino. She shut the mirrored closet doors, then walked slowly to the coffee table.

She sat down on it, jolted by the cold of the stone against her hot sex. She set the coils of ribbon down, two on each side of her. The dark purple looked good against the stone.

Then she tugged on the hood, hearing her breath catch when it was in place.

Ankles together.

Knees apart.

Lips parted.

She placed her hands on her knees, palm-up in submission and waited for the sound of a key in the lock.

She didn’t have to wait long.

* * *

Rex opened the door to the suite. Even though he knew what he’d find, the sight of Joanna stopped him in his tracks. She was perfect. Completely obedient. Prepared for his pleasure exactly as he had commanded. Ivory skin. Chestnut hair. Purple satin. In a creamy beige room that showed her off perfectly.

He couldn’t believe his luck.

He put down his bag silently and locked the door behind himself, turning the deadbolt. He shed his coat, hanging it beside hers, an unexpected intimacy and one that gave him a pang.

He pulled out the camera and took three quick shots of her, knowing he’d want to relive this night over and over again. He undressed silently, his erection springing free of his pants with a vigor that didn’t surprise him. He stood for a moment, looking and savoring.

He crossed the room toward her with measured steps, the carpet nearly swallowing the sound of his footfalls. His heart was pounding and his cock was thick, pulsing. He put the camera down silently on one of the thickly upholstered chairs.

He put his hands on her head and she jumped slightly. He spread his fingers wide and smoothed the satin over her skull, wishing he’d been able to put the hood on her himself. She was so tiny that he could have crushed her in his hands, his thumbs meeting over her eyes, his hands spanning almost all the way around.

He pressed down slightly on her ears with his palms, knowing that they would be more sensitive, and felt her tremble within his grasp. Her lips opened wider as his hands cradled her nape and he held her captive there for a moment.

Every dream come true.

He didn’t want to spoil it. He looked at her, those full breasts, the lipstick turning the nipples the same pink as her luscious mouth, the golden smoothness of her skin. Her compliance firing his blood as nothing else could have done. He smelled that body wash and her own cinnamon scent, rain and leather. He wanted her in so many ways that he was momentarily uncertain where to start.

With her supposed secret desire.

The one that haunted him with the possibilities.

He had to know for sure.

Rex tipped her head back, bent down and kissed her. She kissed him back, their embrace so hungry and demanding that he was shaken. So passionate. So helpless.

But he would make her more so.

He broke the kiss, held her head so that their noses were almost touching and whispered to her. “Suck me off.”

She was surprised.

So, it was a lie.

Well, maybe he could make it become the truth.

He lifted her hands and folded them around his erection, those small fingers and their exploring caress nearly finishing him before they started. Her hands stroked him, running along the length of him and slipping across the peak. She cradled his balls in her hand, squeezing slightly, then cupped his strength in her hands.

Rex watched her, transfixed by that mouth and the throbbing in his cock. “Do you swallow?”

She hesitated. “Yes, Master.”

Rex thought he’d explode. “On your knees, then,” he said, hearing the tension in his own voice. He caught her around the waist when she didn’t move fast enough, put her on her knees in front of himself, and braced his legs against the carpet. He held her head again, caressing her though the satin, feeling her ears, her jaw, her temple.

When he looked down, he saw the curve of her butt, the slim strength of her calves outlined in those black sheer stockings, the arch of her feet in those shoes. She crossed her ankles, drawing his attention to the neat narrow femininity of them. She grasped his hips in her small hands, then locked her mouth over him.

Her touch was initially delicate. He didn’t force her to take more than she wanted, even though he was aching to do so. He let her take her time, tormenting him with her butterfly caress. Her tongue roved over him and eventually her lips tightened around him, drawing him out and making him harder than he could believe possible.

He felt the gentle graze of her teeth across his throbbing strength, the wicked flick of her tongue across the glans. He watched her move with more confidence, taking pleasure in the pleasure she was giving him. She sucked with greater strength and Rex caught his breath. He cupped her head, holding her fast between his palms, tipped his head back and bared his teeth.

Rex was sure he’d lose his mind. He started to pump, unable to stop himself, feeling the way she demanded more of him. She took him all in her mouth, sucking and squeezing and driving him crazy.

And the balance tipped. He felt suddenly that she had control of the situation, that he was the slave and she was the mistress. That she would decide when he came, and it would be at her dictate.

No!

Rex caught himself just in time, his body practically howling in frustration at his choice. He hauled himself out of her mouth, picked her up and tossed her over the back of a velvet chair. She made a sound of surprise when her belly collided with the chair back, but he grasped her buttocks and opened her wide.