Making a Scene (2 page)

“There’s no
shame in it,” Marc murmured in my ear, pressing up against my back.
I tried not to sway backwards against him, but it was just too
tempting. I’d missed him so much last night…

“Your
submission is the most beautiful gift you could ever give me,
Eleanor. I love the way my collar looks around your neck, and I
love that even though you’re pissed off right now, you’re turned on
by my dominance.”

“Am not,” I
whispered, finding my voice at last.

“Little
liar.”

Marc slipped
his fingers up under my skirt—hadn’t I worn it in the hope that
he’d have the opportunity to do exactly that? He brushed over my
outer labia with a feather-light touch, pressing harder against my
back so I could feel his erection. I whimpered as he skimmed up and
down my slit, avoiding my swollen nub for now, yet still turning my
knees weak.

“Sir…”

“In a few
minutes, I’m going to bend you over my desk and take you from
behind, beautiful. Think about that.” After one brief, delicious
press down on my clit, Marc stepped away from me entirely, leaving
me unsteady and gasping, my pussy throbbing for his touch.

Left alone in
the corner, I struggled to stay in position, all traces of
rebelliousness gone. Now I knew what was in store for me, and that
Marc was just as turned on as I was, I was determined to bear the
punishment he’d set.

Minutes seemed
to tick past like hours, and I bit back a groan as the pressure in
my spread thighs became almost unbearable. Just as I was about to
beg Marc to relent, a sound registered on the edge of my
consciousness—and not a good one.

“Was
that…?”

Marc’s low,
emphatic curse confirmed my suspicion.
The elevator
bell.

I swivelled
the top half of my body to meet his horrified stare, and he crossed
the room to me quickly, helping me regain my balance and stand
normally. After checking I was steady, Marc scooped my panties off
the floor and shoved them in his pocket, then pulled me closer to
his desk as footsteps rapidly approached.

The door burst
open, and I almost cried out with alarm as it hit the wall and
rebounded. The man who stalked into the room was someone I’d only
seen in pictures on the company website, never in person—Marc’s
father, Elliot Cassidy. CEO of the Cassidy Corporation.

And here I was
standing in his son’s office, wearing no panties and…
Shit!
As Cassidy Senior stalked up to his son’s desk, I pulled my sleeves
farther down over the wrist cuffs I was wearing, hoping he wouldn’t
look too closely and notice the collar around my neck. It
definitely wasn’t dress-code appropriate for an innocent,
professional Monday afternoon meeting with the vice-CEO.

“Marcus, what
the hell is this I’m hearing from Bill about the testing facility
in New York?”

Marc pulled
his chair in closer to his desk—I assumed to hide the obvious bulge
in his pants from his father. “Dad, I’m in the middle of a
meeting—”

With a brief
glare in my direction that didn’t actually involve focusing on me,
Mr. Cassidy ordered, “Reschedule it.” As if to himself, he
continued, “My only child, and he has no concept of priorities.
Where did I go so wrong?”

I’d never seen
Marc look so angry. His jaw set, he turned to me and spoke with
forced calm. “Nell, I’m sorry—we’re going to have to do this a
little later on in the week. If you’d like to head back down to
your desk now, I’ll be in touch this afternoon to rearrange.”

Still reeling
from the interruption to my punishment, I nodded and tried to
summon a rational response. “No problem, Sir. Thanks for your
time.”

Before Mr.
Cassidy could decide to examine me more closely, I beat a hasty
retreat from Marc’s office, closing the door quietly behind me. I
hadn’t taken another step before I heard the CEO begin yelling
again, though the barrier between us muffled his words so I
couldn’t get a sense of what was being said. Marc’s voice was more
controlled, but he was clearly annoyed.

I decided to
get out of there before Mr. Cassidy could steamroll over me on his
way out, and walked quickly towards the elevator. The incident had
killed my arousal, but I was still very aware of my pantyless
condition.

Safely in the
elevator and descending to my usual floor, I quickly unbuckled the
collar and wrist cuffs, then concealed them beneath my shirt.
Restored to my vanilla state, I ran a shaky hand through my hair
and tried to slow my pounding heart by taking some deep
breaths.

That was a
close one.

When I left
the building at the end of the day, I was calmer, but my
concentration had been shot to hell by my lack of underwear. It had
felt as though I’d had a neon sign over my head announcing that
fact, even though I’d known I was overreacting. I’d managed to get
the work Stella had wanted finished, but I didn’t hold out hope
that the quality was any good.

The wrist
cuffs and collar were tucked into my shoulder bag, but I was still
self-conscious about my naked pussy beneath my skirt as I walked
out onto the street.
Get home and get changed. Everything else
can wait—

“Nell.”

I spun to find
Marc leaning against the wall, and instantly my own worries
receded. He looked on edge, though glad to see me. Despite his
obvious tension, I took a moment to admire his Italian-suited
figure as he came towards me.

“Hi,” I
managed.

Marc cupped my
cheek in his hand, his focus intense. He didn’t seem to care that
we were right out at the front of the building, and that people
might see us together. “You okay?”

“Sure. I
should be asking
you
that question—he really laid into you
back there.”

Marc studied
me for a moment more before letting his hand drop. “Come home with
me.”

I hesitated,
and he raised an eyebrow. “Do you have other plans?”

“Ones that
involve putting on underwear.”

Amused, he dug
into his pocket and let just a hint of fabric show. “You can put
this on in the car, as long as you know I’ll be taking it off you
again in the dungeon.”

A sensible
woman would have decided that Monday nights were for putting her
feet up in front of the TV, then getting an early night before work
on Tuesday. Since I’d met Marc, I was becoming less and less
sensible. “Okay.”

Was I
imagining it, or was he relieved? “This way.”

His Porsche
was parked in one of the VIP slots at the side of the building.
Marc opened the passenger door for me, which felt a little odd when
I considered that I’d been kneeling at his feet just a few hours
before. While I tried to sort my thoughts out, he got in the
passenger side, then pulled out my thong.

“Do you really
want this back?”

“Please.”

His lips
twitched, but he remained straight-faced. “Why the urgency?”

Was he
serious? “Have you ever worked for two hours in a knee-length skirt
with absolutely nothing on underneath it?”

“Can’t say
that I have.” Marc gave me a devastatingly handsome grin. “I take
it you were…distracted?”

“I don’t know
which was worse—having to concentrate on working in that state, or
having your dad crash in unexpectedly.”

Marc dropped
the thong in my lap, and I took that as permission to wriggle into
it as gracefully as I could.

“Next time you
go commando at the office, you’ll be doing it on my orders,
Eleanor.”

My face
heated. “What?!”

Marc just
started the car, looking more relaxed than he had been since before
his father’s visit.

****

Marc closed
the dungeon door behind us, and I looked around the familiar space
with a slight smile. “Is it weird that I’ve missed being in this
room?”

“The room
where I’ve made you scream out with ecstasy quite a few times now?”
Marc pulled me towards him. “I don’t think it’s weird at all.”

He kissed me
softly, slowly, awakening my nerve endings one by one until I
wanted to curl up in his arms forever and never leave the dungeon
again. It was so different to the dominant taking I’d imagined that
I pulled back to study him. “Marc, are you okay?”

He sighed and
pulled me over to the couch along one wall, and together we sat and
contemplated all the kinky equipment laid out for our pleasure. He
didn’t speak for a few moments, which reinforced my sense that he
was rattled.

“Now you’ve
seen part of the reason I can’t stand my father.”

“He
seems…hot-tempered,” I said cautiously.

“There’s no
way to reason with him when he wants something.” Marc ran his
fingers through his hair and shook his head. He seemed
almost…afraid.
No, that can’t be right.
“I’m sorry, Nell.
There was no way I could have gotten rid of him, and the timing was
terrible. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that in the middle of
being punished for the first time—punished at all. It was a stupid
risk I shouldn’t have taken. Can you forgive me?”

A little lost
for words, I asked, “Why would I need to forgive you? It wasn’t
your fault. You didn’t plan it that way, right?”

He shook his
head, almost impatiently. “That’s not the point.”

I waited,
still confused.

“Nell, if that
had been a severe punishment, your mental state might have been a
lot less stable. That kind of interruption could have messed with
your head, undermined your trust in me—in us. I never want that to
happen.”

Remembering
how I’d felt after our first scene together—as needy and confused
as I had been turned on and euphoric—I thought I could kind of
grasp his point. “Let’s take this as a learning curve, then,” I
suggested. “No more heavy stuff at work.”

“Deal.” Marc
kissed me again, taking possession of my mouth with his lips, then
his tongue. When he tightened his fingers in my hair and tugged my
head back, I moaned into the kiss, forgetting everything as he
skilfully ignited my desire once more.

He released me
abruptly. “Do you have your collar and cuffs with you?”

“In my bag,
Sir.”

“Bring them to
me…and lose the clothes on the way.”

Storing away
my analysis of Marc’s relationship with his father in the back of
my mind for later, I crossed to where I’d laid down my bag, just
next to the doorway. Before I took the collar and cuffs from the
bag, I shimmied out of my skirt and blouse, stepped out of my
shoes, then hesitated.

“And the
rest.”

Marc’s voice
made me shiver, and I relinquished my panties and bra to the pile
of clothing as quickly as I could. Naked and still slightly
self-conscious, despite the kinky weekend we’d just shared, I bent
to pick up my bag and drew out the collar and cuffs I’d stuffed
inside when Stella had been over at the printer earlier. When I
turned to walk back to Marc’s side, he shook his head and pointed
to the floor. “Crawl to me, Eleanor.”

Unsure whether
I was turned on or humiliated by the request, I lowered myself to
the ground slowly. With the collar held in one hand and the
buckled-together cuffs in the other, I crawled over as best I could
without making a spectacle of myself, but I was pretty sure it
wasn’t the sexy slink Marc had hoped for.

He didn’t look
disappointed, though, and when I knelt by his feet he took the
leather accessories from me with one hand, then seized a handful of
my hair in the other to pull me up into a smouldering kiss. His
lips were insistent, his tongue demanding that I surrender to
him.

I already
had.

“Give me your
wrist,” he ordered when he pulled back.

As I had
earlier, in his office, I held out one wrist, then the other while
he buckled the cuffs into place. Once he’d secured the second one,
he clipped them together in front of me—with a clip that seemed
designed for exactly this purpose—then gave a slow, predatory
smile. “Try to get free.”

I jerked on
the cuffs and was startled at the sudden jolt of arousal that hit
me as I realised I couldn’t free myself. Marc was in control now,
and the submissive part of me thrilled at the knowledge. The
half-hearted experimenting with fuzzy handcuffs I’d done a few
years ago hadn’t given me a rush anything like this.

He looked
amused. “I wanted to restrain your hands during your punishment,
but your legs were spread so wide…” His appreciative gaze swept up
over my thighs, lingered at my needy pussy. “If you overbalanced, I
wanted you to be able to catch yourself. But tonight you’re going
to spend a fair amount of time off your feet. Your legs will still
be spread, of course.”

I shivered
with anticipation.
Damn him. Why do I want this so much?

“Are you ready
for the collar, Eleanor?”

Closing my
eyes, I took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”

“Move into
position.”

I shifted so
that my back was to him and bowed my head, instinctively reaching
up to pull my hair out of the way…and feeling another unexpected
thrill as I had to factor in my bound hands. Before I’d even
relished that sensation to its fullest, Marc slipped the collar
around my throat. As he pulled it into place, I couldn’t help but
smile.

Marc took my
hair from my grip and arranged it to fall over my shoulders again.
The light touches were unexpected and filled me with warmth.

He stood up
and pulled me to my feet, steadied me when I swayed. Then he took
hold of the clip that kept my wrist cuffs together and towed me
over to a piece of equipment that looked a lot like a sleek,
modernised version of a medieval stretching rack with a padded
leather surface. “On your back.”

With a thrill
of anticipation, I sat on the rack and scooted backwards, smiling
appreciatively when he aided me in lying down. Marc walked around
the table with an unreadable expression, then held out a hand.
“Arms up.”