Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 93751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Mason’s left arm was inked with what on first glance appeared to be abstract designs. But on closer inspection, Hannah saw they were actually intertwined chains and rope. While Hannah had never been a fan of tattoo art, she had to admit that the work was incredibly detailed and artfully done.
Her attention was diverted as he lifted her cuffed arms over her head. When he reached up to attach the cuffs to the chain, he stood so close to her that his massive chest brushed against her bare breasts. He smelled good, like fresh bread and woodsmoke.
He stepped back and this time looked her over, his eyes hooding in a way that made her heart rate quicken. “Comfy?”
Oddly, she was. It felt good, somehow right, to have her arms once again extended overhead. Her captive position freed her from having to concentrate on standing still or worrying about her posture. The position gave her the added bonus of lifting her breasts, momentarily defying the gravity of forty-four years and two babies.
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, feeling empowered despite her bound position, or maybe because of it.
Mason looked up at the light tap on his doorframe. The girl with the pink spiky hair stood there. Hannah guessed her to be around five foot one, tops. She was slender but still curvaceous. Her breasts were firm and round. The nipples were pencil-eraser perfect and, surprisingly, given all her other piercings, appeared to be intact. She had a BDSM triskelion tattooed in black ink on her smooth mons and a multicolored snake curving around one hip.
The punk hair, tattoos and multiple piercings—an eyebrow hoop, a diamond nose stud and a constellation of tiny gold hoops rimming the perimeter of each ear—gave her a tough-girl look.
“Come in, Lia,” Mason said. As the girl stepped into the room, he gestured toward Hannah. “Don’t know if you’ve met Hannah or not. She’s here as an observer.” He flashed a smirk in Hannah’s direction. “At least for now.”
Lia’s gaze flickered toward Hannah and then away again. There was something stiff in her bearing, almost sullen. She refocused on Mason.
“Wait up position,” he said brusquely.
Lia at once straightened her back and stood with her legs slightly apart, her wrists crossed above her head. She stared directly at Mason, something defiant in her gaze. He must have noticed it too, because he barked, “Eyes straight ahead, slave.”
Lia shifted her gaze so that it landed on Hannah. Hannah stared back, fascinated by this young woman, who didn’t seem the least bit nervous about what surely awaited her. Her eyes were an unusual shade of brown—a kind of amber copper blend, and her mouth was a perfect cupid’s bow.
Mason went over to the worktable and returned to Lia holding a box filled with single-use hypodermic needles capped with pale green plastic hubs.
“How’re you with needles?” Mason asked the girl.
She eyed the box impassively. “Bring ’em on.” She had a low, slightly raspy voice, incongruous with her waif-like form.
All at once, Mason slapped the girl across the face, making Hannah gasp in shock. “Address me properly or this stops right now and you spend the rest of the day in a cage.” He didn’t sound angry, but his tone was firm.
Lia’s cheek was red from his slap, but she didn’t appear the least bit cowed. Her nipples had stiffened and engorged to dark red cherries. “Yes, Master Mason, Sir,” she said without inflection.
Turning away from her, Mason went back to the worktable. He picked up one of the needles and tore off its plastic wrapping. He returned to Lia and gripped one of her nipples, pulling it taut. “Bring ’em on, eh? So you’re cool with me sticking this needle right through your pretty little nipple?”
Hannah was close enough to see Lia’s pupils dilate. There was a hungry look in her eyes. Lia wanted to feel the sharp prick of that needle.
“Yes, please, Master Mason, Sir,” the girl said, her tone now eager.
He took a step back and pointed to his black boots. “Get on your knees and lick my boots like you mean it.”
Lia’s eyes flashed. She didn’t move. Hannah held her breath, tensing in her bonds. Come on, she urged silently. Don’t get yourself punished again.
With obvious reluctance, the girl lowered herself to her knees in front of Mason. Hannah watched with fascination as the girl’s pink tongue brushed against the scuffed leather toes of Mason’s boots. After what seemed like a full minute, but was probably less than half that, Mason gripped a handful of the girl’s pink hair and jerked her upright.
“Lie on the bondage table faceup so I can strap you down,” he commanded.
Lia hopped up onto the table and lay flat against the paper. Mason reached for wide leather straps attached to the bondage table. He drew them across Lia’s torso and thighs, immobilizing her.