Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82386 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82386 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Yet, overlaying her lingering trepidation was a powerful longing to wear the beautiful jewelry this man had chosen for her. A few seconds of non-erotic pain was surely worth the price? How empowering it would be to conquer her lifelong fear of needles.
Her nipples tented the front of her sundress, as if they were asserting their own need to submit to Master Jack. She drew in a breath as he casually slipped his hand into the top of her dress in full view of the salesperson, his fingers finding and rolling her nipple. A jolt of raw desire hurtled directly to Cleo’s cunt at his masterful touch, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning out loud.
Maya was watching them with a small, knowing smile. If Cleo had to guess, she’d say the woman was a Domme.
“If you belonged to me,” Master Jack said, giving her nipple a twist, “it wouldn’t be up to you.”
His words sharply reminded her of the uncertainty that still existed between them, in spite of how strongly they’d connected.
He let go of her breast and turned to face her. Her nipple throbbed with the sudden lack of him. “But even then,” he continued, “I wouldn’t make that decision without your being fully on board. I don’t want you white-knuckling your way through something just to please me. You have to want this, too. And if you don’t”—he shrugged, though she sensed the tension coiled in him as well—“then we wait until you do.”
As he placed his hands on her shoulders and stared down into her eyes, the rest of the world fell away. There was no sound but his voice, and the rapid beating of her heart. Her entire body ached with longing and need.
“I want it,” she whispered, losing herself in his gaze as her fears fell away. No matter what happened—or didn’t happen—she would always have the piercings to remind her of this moment—this man.
He continued to regard her with grave attention. There was both power and kindness in his gaze. “If we do this, Cleo, you would need to be fully present. Just like any intense BDSM experience, it requires courage, grace and true submission.”
Courage, grace and true submission.
The words were like a mantra, focusing and settling her, reminding her of who and what she was. “Oh,” she breathed. A stillness moved over and through her. A sense of submissive acceptance and meditative calm moved through her as she lost herself in those deep, clear brown eyes. “I do,” she murmured, entranced.
Master Jack’s lips lifted in a bemused smile. “You do? You do what?”
Cleo gave a small, startled laugh as she came back to herself. “I mean, I will. I want it. I would be honored to wear your piercings, Sir.”
“Thank you,” he said softly. “You honor me as well.”
Turning to Maya, he asked, “Is there a piercer on the premises? Do we need to make an appointment?” He pulled a slim wallet from his back pocket and removed a credit card. “Oh, and we’ll take these.”
“Excellent choice,” the woman said. She slipped the pretty hoops into a small velvet pouch, which she handed to Master Jack, taking his card in return. “And you’re in luck. Our best piercer is in the back now. We had a no-show, so you can go right on back. No cost for the piercing since you bought the jewelry here.”
Smiling at Cleo, she added, “Honey, I’m not gonna lie. It hurts like a son of a bitch. But it’s really fast. Over before you know it.”
Nervous bubbles fizzed in Cleo’s stomach as they made their way to the back of the store. She both longed for and dreaded what she’d just agreed to. She was glad Master Jack hadn’t suggested she sleep on it. Once she’d made up her mind, the wait would only have been prolonged agony.
Maya brought them through a beaded curtain into a very clean, bright space. There were two distinct stations in the room. At one station, a grizzled-looking man already sporting tattoos up and down his arms and on his neck was reclining in a chair, his arm extended as the tattoo artist, a tall woman with curly red hair, moved her buzzing needle over his skin.
At the other station, a slender, wiry man with dark skin, his head shaved smooth, sat in the reclining chair bowed over his cell phone, his thumbs flying.
“This gentleman just purchased one of the finer Flaubert pieces for his sub girl. Do you have time for a nipple piercing, Marcus?” Maya asked.
The man looked up with a bright smile. “Absolutely. I have nothing but time today.” It took Cleo a moment to place his charmingly lilting Jamaican accent. “Is this the lovely lady?”
“It is,” Maya replied. “I’ll leave you to it.” With a last smile at them, she withdrew.