Thank you to everyone who has contacted me about beta-reading. This post was actually scheduled last night, so I’ll post the Giveaway winner shortly.
Victor’s been on my mind all week, so I thought I’d post one last bit before I move on to the next story. I’ve been talking about him and his riding crop until you’re probably sick of it, but you haven’t really seen him in action.
In this scene, they’re filming the trailer for their BDSM reality show that Shiloh created specifically for him so she could get close to him. They’re playing here for the show, but it’s also the first time they get to play a scene together, if you know what I mean. The language is fairly clean but he does use the crop on her, so please don’t read further if that kind of scene will offend you.
Of course, since this is the first real scene with the crop, the rest grow in intensity. *winks*
On their brand-new set for America’s Next Top sub, Shiloh had never felt sexier. The outfit wasn’t exactly historically accurate, but from the darkness burning in Victor’s eyes, she’d accomplished her purpose. She wore a short muslin shift barely more than a tank top with a white corset over the top, lifting her breasts and pushing out her booty. To make the scene as sexy as possible, she wore white lacy high-cut panties that disappeared beneath the corset. Without any skirt or petticoat, her ass was barely covered enough for TV.
Delicate pink stockings encased her legs to mid-thigh, tied with white ribbons, and she wore heels elaborately covered in sparkling crystals. Sweeping white feathers formed her mask, swan wings to frame her face and conceal most of her hair. She didn’t think her own mother would recognize her.
Victor wore tall gleaming riding boots and black jodhpurs that concealed the protective brace on his knee. His shirt was plain white linen, loose and open at the neck with billowing sleeves tied at his wrists. She hadn’t dared ask, but he’d opted to leave his hair loose, glossy black and tousled about his shoulders. Black wings covered his face except for his mouth and eyes, sweeping tight to his head and down to his shoulders.
Of course, the Master’s look was completed with his crop.
She stared at that crop and her stomach turned to cold, hard lead, even while a rush of liquid warmth flooded her veins.
“What’s the set up?”
The distant, reserved tone of his voice helped her focus on the show, and not the Master. “This is the opening shot that will play at the beginning of every single episode. We didn’t want to associate our show with Silken every single time, so we chose a basic neutral shot here.”
“Good.” He gave a curt nod, barely meeting her gaze. “Where do you want me?”
It felt strange to give him orders, but he’d made her showrunner. This was her idea. She wanted it to succeed on multiple levels, not the least of which was her career.
She directed him to sit in a simple wooden chair with the crop in his lap. “The scene opens with you cleaning and preparing your equipment. The light will be focused on you, casting the rest of the area in shadows. When you’re satisfied with the gleam on the leather, stand up. The lighting will slowly brighten to show me at your feet, waiting for your attention. We need a few minutes of Master/slave play.” Her throat tightened, making her voice gruff. “Your choice.”
“Excellent.” He smiled, and it was far from the mellow ease last night as he groaned beneath her hands. This man couldn’t wait to bring that crop down on her flesh. “I always thought we should eroticize the cleaning and care of our tools.”
Mal snorted. “I think your tool gets plenty of care, V.”
Chuckling, he spread his knees wider and picked up an oiled cloth. “Not yet.”
He met Shiloh’s gaze and her nerves zinged as though she’d been electrocuted. He pointed the crop at the floor to his right. He didn’t have to say a word. From the tip of his smallest finger to the soles of his feet, the Master commanded her to kneel at his feet.
That quickly, she slipped fully into the role of his submissive. The show meant nothing. This was their first scene, her chance to give him exactly what she’d been dreaming about. As gracefully as possible, she knelt where indicated and pressed her face to the floor six inches from his boot.
Cameras rolled, lights blazed into his eyes, but Victor had one thought only: the woman waiting at his feet. He’d never enacted a scene for one of his shows before, although he was no stranger to performances. Sometimes it was hard to ignore the crowd; other times, the audience fed off the scene’s energy and multiplied it, frenzied as though they could feel his lust and power. That’s exactly what he wanted this scene, this entire show, to bring to Dallas.
With slow, deliberate intent, he stroked the cloth over the leather, lovingly caring for the weapon that could bring so much pain. He’d carried it for years, and although he’d tried various other tools of the trade, he always came back to this crop. It fit his hand perfectly, flexible but stout with a wide tip that combined to make a wickedly vicious whoosh.
“That’s good, V,” Mal called from the side. “It looks like you’re making love to the crop. Prepare for the lights to brighten.”
He gripped the crop in both hands at either end and stood, letting the camera focus solely on the Master’s weapon. He wanted the viewers to lean toward the screen, breathless with anticipation about what he intended to do with it. Light flooded the floor, and someone off to the left gasped, even though they’d all known Shiloh was there.
He raised both arms overhead and turned his body slightly, giving his profile to the camera. Poised, he waited what seemed like an eternity, and then he jerked his left hand down toward his thigh. The crop whistled through the air. Leather smacked against his thigh in a satisfying crack. The stinging cut of the crop heightened his senses, focusing his mind and body on one thing only.
Shiloh’s hand crept out to touch his boot, begging for the next blow.
He waited until she wrapped her hand around his ankle, and then he reached down, seized a handful of her hair at her nape, and hauled her up to her knees. Bending down, he glared into her eyes. “Why are you here?”
He chose to say those words because that’s how he always opened a serious scene, and while this scene might be taped for a TV show, it was real, serious, heavy shit, to him at least. He wanted to make sure she had committed to it as much as he did. Unscripted, her responses would reveal her true intentions. What did she expect to get out of a scene with him?
“To submit to you, Master.”
He straightened slightly, widening his stance, his left arm held out and back to the side, keeping the crop visible for the shot. “What may I do to you?”
“Anything you want, Master.”
Ah, yes, she couldn’t have given him a more perfect response.
He drew her closer, deliberately lifting her face toward his crotch. She made it look pretty instead of vulgar, her back arched, her gorgeous ass lifted to tempt him. Even if they were alone, he wouldn’t have let her touch him. He merely wanted to torment her with what she couldn’t have. Not until she’d satisfied his other urges.
Her lips were soft, open, her face hauntingly beautiful with the stark lights blaring down on her and feathers curled about her cheeks. She resisted his grip, pulling her own hair in order to lean closer, trying to get her mouth on him.
The lights dimmed, breaking the moment.
“Hold on just a minute,” Mal said to him, then louder, “Bring up the backlights. This next part we want only their silhouette. Okay, good. When you’re ready, V.”
“Ready for what?” Someone asked in a loud whisper.
He whipped the crop over his head and brought it crashing down on Shiloh’s buttocks.
She let out a low, throaty moan that tore at his control. He knew the blistering fire that had exploded on her skin, the deep throbbing pain despite his care to control his arm. He never started as heavy as he would end; even as a sadist, he took care to begin with a sensual blow and not a cutting one backed by his full strength.
However, after denying his darker urges for so long, he was close to coming from that blissful sound of her cry alone. To reward her, he let her rub her face high on his thigh.
Shocked silence hung over the set for several long seconds, and then his crew erupted into cheers.
“Bring the lights up,” Mal said. “Let’s see the whole thing from the beginning and see if we need to re-shoot.”
Victor clenched his fist on the crop, grinding his teeth with fury. He did not want to stop. He did not want to sit down and watch the tape. He wanted—
Shiloh stared up at him, her eyes wide, glistening with tears, pleading. “Please.”