murmur, but she could tell from the flick of his lashes that Brendan had heard.
“Nothing that Brendan can’t fix for me,” she said softly. A pleased flush rose in her captive’s cheeks. She moved back to him, slowly. Heel, toe, heel, toe.
Tyler watched her from above, his brow furrowed. He’d picked up on her agitation as well, a mere ripple in the normal pond of tranquility surrounding her, though she seemed to refocus herself now. She was stunning tonight. The white bodysuit fit her like skin. A ripple of reaction had gone through the crowd when she stepped from the shadows for she’d decorated herself with diamonds. A choker at her throat, teardrop clip-ons at her ears and an ankle bracelet on the left boot. His lips curved as he imagined asking her what man had given her those. Imagined her tart reply that she didn’t need a man to give her diamonds.
“This skin…” She was passing her fingers over every bump of Brendan’s spine now. “Is mine. As is the muscle and sinew, every dark corner inside you, any disease or infection, every thing. I accept all of it. It is my skin I’m touching.” Hypnotic. Her voice filled the air as some enterprising staff person bumped up the sound system so it reached every corner of The Zone.
“She’s like a priestess, isn’t she?”
Tyler pulled his attention away from them to see Lisbeth, another Zone Domme, take a seat next to him. Lisbeth was in her fifties, beautifully maintained and wealthy and a very good Mistress to her subs.
“Her acolytes are trained and prepared under the tutelage of the other ordained priests and priestesses, like Tiberius, while she watches from afar.” Lisbeth considered the tableau beneath them, her expression absorbed by it. “Then, when they’ve earned it, when they’re ready mentally and physically for the punishment she’ll put them through, she takes them to enlightenment.” She took a sip of her vodka and tonic.
“You sound reverent.”
34
Ice Queen
“And a bit intimidated by her. When she turns those pale eyes on a sub, he wants to give her everything and yet he’s petrified, wondering if she’ll ask for more than he can give. And then she plunges a hand into areas he doesn’t know he has and wrests it out anyway.”
He turned his attention back to Marguerite thoughtfully. It was another piece of the puzzle. Perhaps Marguerite provided her subs a transcendental experience because her goal was not her own sexual pleasure but to see them reach spiritual bliss through physical release. And that’s what she did, every time.
“We judge one another all the time, don’t we?” That sensual voice came through the speakers. Marguerite was pacing around Brendan. “But when we do that, we’re just projecting our perspective on someone and not really seeing them.” She crouched, so close to Brendan their noses almost touched. He looked dazed by his lust, mesmerized by her. “When I look into your eyes now, I see beneath the surface, everything you’ve built or constructed. Minds don’t know each other. Only souls. That’s where I’m going, Brendan. Straight to your soul. I see who you are and you see me. We know each other.”
“Yes, Mistress. God, yes.”
She studied him another moment, then rose. Marguerite went to the metal container holding the briquettes, lifted the first iron. Taking two steps to him, she laid her hand precisely on the center of the small of his back. “Not a sound, Brendan,” she reminded him.
She laid the brand on his skin with the deliberate precision of an aristocrat putting her seal into wax and held it. Jeremy’s nostrils flared, emphasizing that the most uncomfortable aspect for bystanders was the unfamiliar smell of burning human flesh.
Every muscle in Brendan’s face contorted, his jawline frozen in rigid agony, his shoulders trembling with the effort not to do anything to anchor himself. Marguerite’s countenance was a study of focus, her full concentration on what she
“Nothing that Brendan can’t fix for me,” she said softly. A pleased flush rose in her captive’s cheeks. She moved back to him, slowly. Heel, toe, heel, toe.
Tyler watched her from above, his brow furrowed. He’d picked up on her agitation as well, a mere ripple in the normal pond of tranquility surrounding her, though she seemed to refocus herself now. She was stunning tonight. The white bodysuit fit her like skin. A ripple of reaction had gone through the crowd when she stepped from the shadows for she’d decorated herself with diamonds. A choker at her throat, teardrop clip-ons at her ears and an ankle bracelet on the left boot. His lips curved as he imagined asking her what man had given her those. Imagined her tart reply that she didn’t need a man to give her diamonds.
“This skin…” She was passing her fingers over every bump of Brendan’s spine now. “Is mine. As is the muscle and sinew, every dark corner inside you, any disease or infection, every thing. I accept all of it. It is my skin I’m touching.” Hypnotic. Her voice filled the air as some enterprising staff person bumped up the sound system so it reached every corner of The Zone.
“She’s like a priestess, isn’t she?”
Tyler pulled his attention away from them to see Lisbeth, another Zone Domme, take a seat next to him. Lisbeth was in her fifties, beautifully maintained and wealthy and a very good Mistress to her subs.
“Her acolytes are trained and prepared under the tutelage of the other ordained priests and priestesses, like Tiberius, while she watches from afar.” Lisbeth considered the tableau beneath them, her expression absorbed by it. “Then, when they’ve earned it, when they’re ready mentally and physically for the punishment she’ll put them through, she takes them to enlightenment.” She took a sip of her vodka and tonic.
“You sound reverent.”
34
Ice Queen
“And a bit intimidated by her. When she turns those pale eyes on a sub, he wants to give her everything and yet he’s petrified, wondering if she’ll ask for more than he can give. And then she plunges a hand into areas he doesn’t know he has and wrests it out anyway.”
He turned his attention back to Marguerite thoughtfully. It was another piece of the puzzle. Perhaps Marguerite provided her subs a transcendental experience because her goal was not her own sexual pleasure but to see them reach spiritual bliss through physical release. And that’s what she did, every time.
“We judge one another all the time, don’t we?” That sensual voice came through the speakers. Marguerite was pacing around Brendan. “But when we do that, we’re just projecting our perspective on someone and not really seeing them.” She crouched, so close to Brendan their noses almost touched. He looked dazed by his lust, mesmerized by her. “When I look into your eyes now, I see beneath the surface, everything you’ve built or constructed. Minds don’t know each other. Only souls. That’s where I’m going, Brendan. Straight to your soul. I see who you are and you see me. We know each other.”
“Yes, Mistress. God, yes.”
She studied him another moment, then rose. Marguerite went to the metal container holding the briquettes, lifted the first iron. Taking two steps to him, she laid her hand precisely on the center of the small of his back. “Not a sound, Brendan,” she reminded him.
She laid the brand on his skin with the deliberate precision of an aristocrat putting her seal into wax and held it. Jeremy’s nostrils flared, emphasizing that the most uncomfortable aspect for bystanders was the unfamiliar smell of burning human flesh.
Every muscle in Brendan’s face contorted, his jawline frozen in rigid agony, his shoulders trembling with the effort not to do anything to anchor himself. Marguerite’s countenance was a study of focus, her full concentration on what she
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