True North (Compass series Book 4) (16 page)

She heads over to where he’s indicated with no hesitation and without releasing her hands from behind her back. Taking a step onto the dais, she turns to face us and then looks at each of us in turn, questioning.

“Take off your robe.” My voice is more of a croak than I’d like it to be, but Press doesn’t seem to care, just unties the sash at her waist and slips the silk from her shoulders, letting it pool on the floor.

Her corset’s as lovely as I’d hoped. It’s not as elaborate as some of the concoctions I’m used to seeing her in, but the simplicity is attractive in itself. Light silver clings to her torso, and black lace emphasizes her breasts and her hips. As if they needed any emphasis. The lushness of her body is drool-inducing.

She’s wearing plain black panties and black garters stretch over her thighs down to matching black lace-topped stockings. I can name the times on one hand that she’s looked more beautiful to me than this.

“Turn,” Rey says, his tone unimpressed. He’s got one arm crossed over his body and the other one makes a small circle in the air. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was about to yawn. Press must know better too, but she blushes anyway before she turns slowly, giving us her back, the corset strings stretched prettily over the skin above her hips and up to her shoulder blades.

“Hands in front, please.” Rey’s tone isn’t bored, but sharp with a hint of disappointment.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

And so it begins.

“What do you think of her so far?”

Lovely. Perfection. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
But that’s not part of this production. I glance at Rey, and he gives me an encouraging lift of his chin.

“Anything can look good from this far away. We’re going to need a closer look.”

He nods approvingly. “Then, by all means, let’s take one. That’s what you’re here for, Sprite, correct? Anything we want.”

Her swallow is visible in the reflection of the mirror. “Yes, sir.”

Rey grunts, a sound I’d never expect from him but I don’t know why. He’s a master of disguises, and this is nothing but a role.

We both take a few steps closer, and then we’re within arm’s reach. I don’t dare touch her, not without permission, but Rey reaches out and smacks her butt cheek, drawing a startled whimper.

“Go on, Hale. How are you supposed to evaluate the merchandise without handling it? Do what you’ve got to do to see if she’s fit to be your fuck-toy for the evening.”

I have permission. That’s what he’s telling me. He wouldn’t let me touch her if she hadn’t given the green light. And he’s called her a…a fuck-toy, which sends a pulse of blood straight to my cock. Apparently name-calling is on the table and a flood of demeaning words comes into my head: slut, whore, cunt. And though I’d never think those things about Pressly anywhere outside this context, to pin those labels on her here would be exceedingly hot. If I’m reading this right, Rey’s handed me another implement from the How-to-Get-Pressly-Off tool kit. It’s an enormous relief to be doing this side-by-side.

I take his invitation and cup my palm on the other cheek, squeezing and digging my fingers into her flesh.

“Don’t be shy,” Rey encourages, taking another whack at her. “I know what you like, and you ought to see how the little bitch colors.”

Because that’s a thing people look for in a partner. What shade of red her ass will turn when I hit her. And yeah, name-calling is definitely on the table because she closes her eyes and lets out a moan when he does it. I may as well be in fucking Narnia for how weird this all is. My first swat at her is hesitant, and I curse under my breath. Have to do better than that.

So I draw my hand back and try again, my palm landing against the sweet curve of her ass with a resounding thwack. I’m rewarded by a startled squeal. Better. Much better.

We go at her for a few minutes, working her over with blow after blow, covering her skin with our big hands, turning her skin first rosy and then pink. Rey’s participation drops off after a bit, and I take over the whole enterprise, covering her ass with spanks, varying the speed and pressure, keeping her off-balance at the same time as I try to work her up steadily. There’s a science to these things.

When her whole butt is a satisfying shade of almost-red, I stop because this isn’t the main event. It’s a sampling, a tease of what’s to come.

“What do you think, Hale? Satisfied?”

“Not yet.” Skimming my hand over the hot-to-the-touch skin, I pinch in a few places and it makes her squirm.

Press can’t see Rey’s face, but I can. He gives me an encouraging nod, as if to say,
What else do you want from her? Take it.

‡

“O
n your knees.”

She sinks gracefully to the floor, sits back on her heels, and spreads her knees, laying her hands on her thighs. So pretty. Jealousy flares at the back of my brain because someone taught her to do that. Maybe it was Rey. That would be fine. And if it wasn’t, that’s not my business.

Rey turns away and heads to the armoire for god-knows-what, and while he does, I skim my fingertips over Pressly’s shoulders, making her shiver with the light, intimate touch. Back and forth I drag my fingertips, enjoying the smooth, silky feel of her. I could touch her like this for hours, but Rey’s got other plans.

He clears his throat, and when I look up, he hands me a crop. Fun.

“Thought you might find this of use.”

Huh. I can definitely think of some uses for it, and if he’s giving it to me, he must know something I don’t. Maybe she likes this. I take the braided leather handle, slipping my wrist through the loop at the end and weighing it in my hand, making sure Press can see me handling it in the mirror.

Her blue eyes get gratifyingly wide as she stares at me finding its balance and getting a comfortable grip. Giving myself some time to make a plan and torment her at the same time.

I trace the same plane of skin I’d been caressing, and when I do, she tips her head, offering me her neck. Whether her movement was conscious or not, I take advantage, stroking the tip over the delicate skin. She shivers, and goose bumps rise on her arms, the downy hair standing on end as a tremor runs through her whole body.

Her eyes close and her pink lips part. While it’s sexy as fuck, I want her watching this, aware of being evaluated. So I take away the gentle touch and snap at her. “Head up, eyes open. I want you to see what I’m doing to you.”

Her body, which had gone soft and pliant, stiffens immediately, head jerking upright and eyes flying open, meeting my gaze in the mirror. I try to make my face form the hard lines of calculation, though I’m finding her anything but lacking.

I trace the crop around her collarbone and her throat, using it to nudge her chin higher, her neck forming a graceful arc. “Better. Stay there.”

She swallows in acknowledgement, and I continue my tour with the crop, drawing the keeper along the line of the corset and over the swell of her breasts. They’re heaving with accentuated breath, and I suddenly want to see them quite badly.

And since I’ve been given permission—
That’s what you’re here for, Sprite, correct? Anything we want
—I don’t ask but just do. I push the silk and lace down until first one and then the other breast spill out and then get pushed up by the fabric bunching underneath them. Her nipples are pink and already hard, tempting points I’d like to take into my mouth, but I use the crop instead, that maddeningly light touch making her shiver again as I trace the areolae and then draw back for two flicks of my wrist, landing a strike against each stiff peak. She bites her lip to keep from crying out even as her back arches forward, offering herself up for more.

I give it to her, and this time the teeth sinking into her bottom lip do nothing to contain the gasps and yelps. I stop the blows without warning, returning to a gentle stroking, but her hips continue to rock forward.

“Horny little thing, isn’t she? Getting all slutty from a little bit of spanking and nipple play?”

Oh. He’s leaning on the sexual insults pretty hard, practically shoving them under my nose.
Take the hint, Hale. Man up and say it. You want to, she wants you to. Fucking do it.

“Yeah,” I venture, stalling until something comes into my head that I can bear to say out loud. In front of her, in front of him. It’s easier than berating people for fucking up at work because I’ve been given permission, but also harder because these are people I like, people I trust, and they’re going to know I’m getting off on the cruel words and Pressly’s ashamed reaction. She’s already got flags of color gracing her cheekbones, and I want to put more there with my words, maybe even make her eyes red with blinked-back tears. My stomach’s in knots, but there’s no way I’m passing up this opportunity. Planting my feet apart, I rest a hand on my hip, the very picture of apathetic dismay. “Shameless little whore, already fucking the air.”

A tiny moan makes its way to my ear from her lips, and I fucking love it.

“Jesus Christ, control yourself, you licentious, cock-hungry slut.”

That’s right, I can still have a vocabulary even when I’m talking dirty to my half-naked and kneeling ex-wife. A bigger moan this time, confirmation I’ve nailed it with the dirty talk. Holy hell, how is this my life?

I use the crop at her ass to still her motions, and she obeys as her face flames. She doesn’t say anything, though, not a protest, not one of her safewords. So I swat at her obediently unmoving ass. “Kneel up and clasp your hands behind your neck.”

She does as she’s been told, rising and weaving her fingers together under her hair. Despite her pink bottom and the harsh words we’ve thrown at her, she still looks perfect and proud. It makes me want to make her cry and wreck her. She’s flawless, and I want her not to be, for me. Though she looks so goddamn gorgeous I could die, I scold her.

“Elbows up,” I say, accompanied by wicked taps of the crop on the undersides of her biceps. The bite of the keeper leaves red marks that I want to lick and sink my teeth into. And perhaps if Rey weren’t here, I would. But I’ll play along with this little game he’s set up. “Tits out.”

Again, the strike of the crop, this time against her shoulder blades, and she does her best to shape herself into what I’ve asked, holding the pose and making it look easy. Like she could stay like this for days if I told her to.

Trailing the crop over her shoulder, between her breasts, and then down the corset, I watch her face. Press isn’t snotty, but she is confident and rightly so. Even when she’s being toyed with like this, her poise doesn’t go away.

I want it to.

I want her so desperate and torn apart that she’d say or do anything for me. Debase herself because I wish her to, let me strip her of all that perfection until she’s a disaster. My disaster.

So when I get to the juncture of her thighs, I urge them farther apart with swats of the crop, not bothering to be gentle. When she’s spread to my satisfaction, I draw the tip of the crop from the inside of her knee to her garters, but I don’t stop there. Not this time. No, this time I use the thin rod to slide against her panties. Does it get slightly damp because her desire’s soaked through the thin silk?

The clench of her jaw catches my eye and I smile. “You like that, slut? Do you have a greedy pussy just waiting to be touched? Maybe…”

Instead of finishing my sentence, I draw back the crop and slap her with it, hoping my aim is good enough that I’ve hit her clit. If the contraction of her stomach muscles, the slight pitch forward, is any indication, I’ve hit my mark.

“Yes.”

She’s not calling me sir, which is fine. That hasn’t been discussed. And she’s not calling me Hale, which is even better. It’s her tone that matters to me, not the honorific. The throaty compliance is good enough for me.

“I haven’t quite made up my mind about you.” I hit her again and again in that same sensitive spot, harder and harder until her eyes water, but she doesn’t let go of her hands, doesn’t try to close her legs, doesn’t tell me to stop. Just sits there and takes it. At the last swat, I drive a distressed squeak out of her, and I know I’ve gone far enough. Her jaw is set, but her exposed breasts are heaving and I fucking want this over with so I can have her.
Please tell me I get to have her.

Then there’s a man’s hand at her throat. Rey’s still here, which I’d almost forgotten in my concentration on tormenting her. He uses his thumb to pry her mouth open by her chin and leans in close, like he’s inspecting her teeth. Like she’s livestock. An animal to be bought and sold.

“She’s in good health, certainly,” he muses, tipping his head to see inside of her. “Though I might suggest you sample her mouth before you make a final decision. She’s not much good to you if she can’t deliver a decent deep-throating, am I right?”

Pressly’s quivering ever-so-slightly, and her pleading gaze is on Rey’s face before he shakes his head, indicating with a twitch of his eyebrows that it’s up to me, not him. And then she’s focused on me, her look imploring. Mouth gaping open, does it make her think of what else we could pry open, have at our mercy?