The Dom's Dungeon

Chapter Ten

His little sub was warm and soft in Alex's arms, content to be held as Drake walked over to Steel and spoke with him briefly. When Steel crossed the room and grabbed Cynthia by the hair, Mac's eyes went wide with distress.

Alex tightened his arms. “Shhh.”

Steel pulled Cynthia to her feet, and the brunette cringed when she realized who would dispense her punishment. “No!”

“'Fraid so, girl. Let's get this over with.” Steel marched her to where Drake held open the door to the small dungeon. After nodding at Steel, Drake closed the soundproofed door behind the two and walked over to join the other Doms.

“MacKensie,” Alex said quietly, “I didn't think you'd want to watch. But if you do—”

“No.” Mac shuddered and buried her head in his shoulder.

Satisfaction washed through him like a warm wave; she had learned to look to him for comfort. He stroked her fair hair, silky strands over satin skin. “Then there is nothing we need to do now.” But from the continued tenseness in her body, he realized she was listening, fearing to hear the whip or Cynthia. “The room is soundproofed, little cat. You can't hear anything.”

“Oh.”

But she'd listen anyway. Carrying her in his arms, he joined the group around the fireplace and took the empty chair across from Drake. Every sub had reacted in exactly the same way as his. On the couch, Peter held Hope in his arms, and Tess sat on the floor between Zachary's legs with his hands massaging her shoulders. The Doms all had the same grim look in their eyes, even Drake.

The punishment had to be done, but no one was pleased about it. And everyone was listening.

“Little cat,” Alex murmured. “Would you put on some music for me? Maybe Enya? I'm going to serve drinks.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

He held her still so he could smile at her. “I like the way that sounds. You please me, MacKensie.”

A flush bloomed in her pale face in response to his approval.

By the time he'd finished making up everyone's usual drink, the soft sounds of Enya filled the room.

Drake smiled slightly when Alex handed him the scotch he favored. “You're a good host, and this is an excellent diversion. Thank you.” He took a small sip, then put the glass down.

Alex took the last two drinks off the tray and reclaimed his chair. He set the drinks on the small table and held his arms out, pleased when MacKensie burrowed back into his embrace without hesitation. He handed her a gin and tonic and picked up his scotch, then glanced at Drake. “You think this will be the end of it?”

Drake frowned. “As far as copycats, yes. I gave Steel a camera for before-and-after photos. Although I'll black out her face, Cynthia's body is quite recognizable, and the story of what she did is making the rounds. When the pictures from tonight are posted over the bar, I doubt anyone will consider duplicating what she did.”

The talk turned general, and the Doms encouraged the subs to join in to keep their minds off the scene being played out in the dungeon.

Zachary told how his new ram had butted him off his feet; Tess teased the rancher about the dungeon he'd built in the barn. Hope had several troublesome students creating chaos in her classroom. Peter suffered from a backlogged caseload that kept him working late each night.

“You know, we never asked how you met,” Hope said, smiling at Mac.

MacKensie stirred in Alex's arms. “We exchanged houses. Butler needed someone to care for him while Alex attended some conference close to my hometown.” She frowned and looked up at him. “After seeing your house, I couldn't believe you wanted to use my little place.”

“I've found staying in a real house—even little ones—more comfortable than any motel room. And it's worth the drive if I can get out of the city and enjoy a smaller town.”

“Oh.” MacKensie returned her attention to Hope. “Anyway, he missed his flight and returned to the house.”

And found her in a wonderful position. Alex grinned as red streaked across MacKensie's face. She obviously hadn't forgotten either. “She was nice enough to let me stay in my own home.”

He heard the little sigh of relief that he hadn't gone into detail.

With a little click, the music came to an end. Mac turned toward the dungeon. “Why isn't he done?”

“Steel was furious he'd been used in such a way,” Drake said. “And he's a master with the single tail. He won't break skin, but she will be marked for quite some time.”

“You must love her a lot to punish her like this,” Mac said.

Alex frowned at the peculiar statement and realized there was something odd in her voice. Wistfulness? Envy?

His glance at the others silenced them. “What other punishment could we have used, little cat?” Alex asked softly.

Her hand resting on his chest curled into a small fist. “If you didn't like her, you'd put her out of sight. Send her where you didn't have to look at her.”

Such a matter-of-fact statement. A reality to MacKensie. Alex frowned as dawning comprehension created a knot in his stomach. “So Cynthia knows we love her, since we're whipping her raw?”

Her cheek rubbed against his shirt as if she were the little cat he called her. Even as she snuggled, a frown formed between her brows. “I don't know about whipping. It seems awfully harsh.”

“I guess we could have flogged her.” He paused. No response. “Or caned her.” Paused. “Or spanked her.”

MacKensie's breathing increased, and the tiny muscles in her lips quivered for a second.

“Yes, maybe a hard spanking. Would she know what it meant, though?” He threw that out blindly and got more than he'd anticipated.

“Only girls who are loved get spanked. She'd know that.” Again, a reasonable tone. Spanking and love went together in MacKensie's world, a thought pattern probably established so young, she didn't even realize it. He'd dig further. But for now she needed to know she was valued as much—more—than Cynthia. He could give her that. With a little help.

He glanced at Peter and Zachary, saw the understanding in their eyes, and received nods. Experienced Doms could no more ignore a need like this than a doctor could ignore a bleeding wound.

The dungeon door opened, and Steel walked out, his hand wrapped around Cynthia's upper arm, giving her support enough to walk, but from the repugnance in his face, he didn't want to get closer. Steel's mouth was tight; he obviously hadn't enjoyed the punishment, but he'd done a masterful job.

Red welts covered Cynthia's body, front and back, shoulders to calves, only the areas around her kidneys and spine left unmarked. Her tear-streaked makeup splotched her face like camo paint, and her eyes were glassy with pain.

Pity rose in Alex until he remembered that she'd tried to do the same to Mac for no other reason than spite.

When the two approached, Drake rose. His black eyes displayed no pity at all as they traveled over Cynthia's body. “Kneel and apologize to Master Steel, then to Master Alex's sub.” His words were deliberately chosen, and Cynthia flinched at MacKensie's designation as Alex's submissive.

Cynthia knelt awkwardly, all her grace gone. “I'm sorry, Master Steel. Please forgive me.” The monotone left little to be read.

“Forgiven,” Steel said, his taut face adding without words that he wouldn't forget.

Cynthia turned slightly and looked at MacKensie. “Please forgive me,” she repeated, her face blank and cold.

MacKensie's eyes brimmed with tears. “Of course,” she whispered.

Alex's mouth thinned. His little sub's sympathy could be heard, felt, and seen. Cynthia's attitude, however…

“Cynthia, you speak the words of repentance but feel no remorse, only unhappiness that you were caught,” Drake said and lifted Cynthia to her feet. “You are not welcome in my club. Do not return.”

The woman's soft gasp of shock showed she had expected everything would go back to normal.

Drake handed Steel his car keys. “Please escort her to the car. I will be out in a moment.”

Steel nodded and gripped Cynthia's arm again. He snagged her coat on the way out the door.

Drake walked over to Alex. A flick of his eyes asked for and received Alex's permission to speak and touch. He lifted MacKensie's chin with one finger. “Little one, a truly repentant submissive is forgiven and cherished by her master, whether she is punished or not.” His black eyes gentled as if he could feel the quivers racking the little cat's body. “And sometimes punishment isn't about love; sometimes it's just punishment.”

He let her go, nodded at Alex, and headed out to take Cynthia home. Alex didn't envy him the trip.

“I think the evening calls for a walk on the beach,” Alex said. “Come, people; let's get some fresh air.” He set his mostly untouched drink down on the table. There was yet a scene to play out tonight, and he'd need a clear head.

Seattle glowed brightly on the horizon as Mac took one last look before entering the house. The long walk in the brisk sea air had blown away the shadows of the evening, and the soft shushing of the waves erased the screams that had filled her imagination. Alex had held her hand as they strolled along the water's edge, and that had helped too. Mostly.

So maybe she'd had a few moments of wanting to be home, reading an old Heinlein, and snuggling in the extra-soft quilt that Mary had made just for her—the one with kittens peeking out from behind each square. The homesickness hadn't lasted too long. Hand on her stomach, Mac rubbed away the lingering remnants and took a fortifying breath of cool, briny air.

After tossing their coats on the entry table, the others headed into the kitchen. Tess said she'd make some hot chocolate and asked Alex where he kept the Baileys Irish Cream. Sounded like everyone felt better.

Oblivious to the subdued mood, Butler had spent his time running in happy circles on the moonlit beach, and now he trotted up to the house, sides heaving and tongue lolling out.

Before he could escape, Mac grabbed his collar. As she pulled the dog toward the back room to dry him off, she heard Peter's voice in the kitchen. “Push her?”

Alex answered, “Exactly.”

Push her? Push who and where and why? Those Doms could be pretty inscrutable sometimes. With a shrug, Mac concentrated on getting the seawater and sand off Butler and not on herself.

“I do not want to smell like fish and dog,” she told him, receiving wiggles of delight at the attention. She put out some more dry food, checked his water, and left him tromping down imaginary grasses to make his dog bed more comfy.

Mac stopped in the hall to remove her long coat, then entered the living room. Everyone had returned to their favorite locations: Zachary and Tess in front of the fire, Peter and Hope at the large picture window, watching the water. Alex appeared from the kitchen with a large tray of appetizers. “Ah, my favorite French maid. Serve our guests, please.” He handed her the tray.

She glanced down at her costume and sighed. She'd actually forgotten what she wore, and now she knew why he'd wanted her to wear it. With a soft laugh, she walked over to Hope and Peter. “Would you care for something to eat?”

Peter's brows drew together, and his light brown eyes chilled. “Has Alex not taught you how to address a Dom?”

Oh frak. Where'd all the friendly atmosphere go? “Ah. Sir. Would you care for something to eat, Sir?”

“Better.” Peter picked up tidbits, one by one, and popped them into Hope's mouth while Mac stood as if she'd turned into a table or something. After a few minutes, Peter finished feeding his sub and took a miniature quiche for himself. As he ate it, he looked Mac up and down, making her very aware of the scantiness of her costume. She tried to think of a way to edge away, but that would be too obvious. Instead she turned her gaze to the water. I'm a table. Just a table.

Knuckles caressed the top of Mac's pushed-up breasts, and she jumped, almost spilling the appetizers. She tried to step away, but Peter grasped her arm, holding her in place. He ran his hand over her cleavage again. When she glared at him, he smiled slowly. “If maids don't pay attention, they get in trouble. Didn't your master mention that?”

She frowned at him, getting a feeling there was no right answer.

“At this party—at most of our parties—we grant permission for the other Doms to touch our subs. Within reason.” The back of his hand stroked over her neck and bare shoulders.

Alex hadn't, had he? She looked over her shoulder to where he stood by the fireplace, his arm resting on the thick oak mantel. His blue gaze met hers. After glancing at Peter, he returned to his conversation. Dammit. An ugly burn ignited in her stomach, and it sure wasn't arousal. Obviously Peter had permission to touch her. How far could he and the other Dom go? “What is considered within reason?” she asked and hastily added, “Sir.”

He tugged on her hair. “Well, now, that changes with each party. Right now, I think I'll improve the view.” His fingers slid inside her corset, and she tried to jerk away. “Don't move, sub,” he snapped. His eyes, so light a brown they were almost gold, seemed to glow.

She froze, and the tray she held started to shake. He took the tray and set it onto the table, then, watching her with a steady gaze, undid a few of her corset hooks, exposing her breasts down to the nipples. Her hands fisted at her sides in an effort not to push him away.

With an amused smile that reminded her of Alex's, he handed her the tray. “Off with you now, pet. I'm sure Master Zachary is hungry. Ranchers like their food.”

She stopped halfway across the room, trying to get her composure back. Somehow, when she'd been a whore, she'd managed to turn off her sense of outrage. Not tonight. Peter's touch hadn't roused her like Alex's; instead he'd made her angry. What a jerk.

She eyed her gaping corset and tried to decide whether to set the tray down and do the hooks back up or continue serving. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Peter's steady gaze on her, so she gripped the tray firmly and soldiered on. Hopefully the rancher would be more polite.

Zachary sat on the couch. Feet tucked under her long skirt, Tess curled up against him. The Dom had a craggy, weathered face with darkly tanned skin like a man who'd spent his life outdoors. When Mac offered him the tray, rather than sitting up and selecting something, he remained leaning back, one arm along the back of the couch.

Mac held the tray forward.

“Down here, where I can see what I'm getting,” he ordered, pointing toward his lap.

Well, good grief. Does Alex know what voyeurs his friends are? She bent over, all too aware of how the weight of her breasts made the corset gape farther open.

He did the exact same as Peter, picking out appetizers and feeding them to Tess. While Mac remained bent over.

“You know, that corset looks mighty uncomfortable.” Zachary ran a finger along the top. “Don't move,” he cautioned. He reached over the tray and undid hooks until only three remaining clasps at the bottom and the two thin shoulder straps kept it on her body. “There, that should feel better.”

She glared at him.

He smiled slowly, but no humor showed. From the corner of her eye, Mac saw his sub ease away from him. With one finger, Zachary lifted Mac's chin, forcing her gaze to stay on him. “MacKensie. I don't like that look.”

She yanked her face away and stepped back. “Well, I don't like—”

He rose so fast, she didn't have time to move. Yanked from her hands, the tray hit the table with a clatter, and Mac landed facedown on the couch with a hard hand keeping her in place. A second later, he'd stripped her of the corset entirely, leaving her in only a thong, garter belt, and fishnet stockings.

Before she could think what to do, Zachary set her on her feet and took his place back on the couch. He wasn't even breathing fast. “I realize you're a beginner, so I let you off lightly.” He handed her the tray. “You may take that to your master and explain why you're not in uniform any longer.”

She stared at him, her heart hammering in her chest. He'd taken her clothing. But he hadn't tried to cop a feel, not like most men would have. And although his eyes showed appreciation for her nakedness, he made no move to touch her further. He was totally in control. She took a step back, caught a sympathetic look from Tess, and kept retreating. Damn him.

No way…no way was she going to walk essentially naked all evening. Especially with everyone else fully dressed. She looked around for Alex. His back to the room, he pointed out something on the water to Peter. Mac glanced at Zachary. He'd pulled Tess into his lap to kiss her. No one watched Mac. And the door was right there.

She might not surrender, but she'd definitely retreat.