Chapter 16

VIKTOR

Standing with his arms around her, he could feel her tension, and yet there was a sweet surrender to his care that was there as well. Something was bothering her, but she seemed unwilling to share what it was. Viktor waited for her to speak, to open up and talk to him, but when the silence stretched uncomfortably, he decided to take a different approach.

Feeling the residual tension in her body, he realized he didn’t like the distance that seemed to stretch between them, even as she stood in his arms, her body pressed to his.

When had that begun to matter to him? When had Emerson become more important than just as another woman to conquer, another sub to dominate?

“Have you been to the new rooftop restaurant down by the harbor?” he asked.

“No. I’ve heard it’s very expensive and very romantic.”

“Luckily for you, I am very wealthy and believe, as your Dom, that you could use a little more romance in your life,” he said, his voice smooth and inviting.

She looked back over her shoulder, flashing him an impish grin. “And here I thought you were all into sexual dominance. When did romance enter the picture?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “My job as your Dom is to ensure you are taken care of in whatever way you need—sometimes that might be a spanking, perhaps another it is being fucked into oblivion or being edged for hours and hours…”

“Do I get a choice in that?” she asked.

He nipped her earlobe, loving the way she hissed and then sighed. She was so responsive. “No, dushka, that is for me and me alone to decide. Go into the closet and pick out something appropriate for dinner.”

She didn’t say a word, just disengaged from his embrace and went into their room to find something to wear. He poured himself a scotch and waited for her to return. When she emerged, he hid his smile behind the tumbler as he took another sip.

Emerson was wearing a gorgeous off-the-shoulder, designer silk dress featuring a floral and fauna print with a paneled godet hem. The sleeves almost seemed detached and fluttered down her arms, showing them off to perfection. The mini length revealed her shapely legs and invited a man so inclined to check for any panties that shouldn’t be there.

“Come here, Emerson,” he said, setting his glass down.

She looked down as if unsure of how beautiful and sexy she looked, but she came to stand in front of him. “Don’t you like it?”

Viktor stroked her cheek with the back of his index finger. “You look beautiful, malenkaya.” He ran his other hand up the inside of her thigh and stroked her sex. “And such a good girl,” he purred, loving the slight blush that crept up her cheek. She liked being touched and praised. He rather imagined she hadn’t had a lot of that in her life.

“Why don’t I mind it when you do things like that?”

“Not only don’t you mind it, I think you rather enjoy it,” he chuckled, stroking her again, dipping a finger into her wet heat and then bringing a bit of her honey up to his mouth to suck.

Viktor led her down to the car and they headed to one of Charleston’s newest and most exclusive restaurants. Perched on the rooftop of one of the bank buildings, it had a highly respected executive chef. It was elegant and romantic with twinkling fairy lights and a panoramic view of the city skyline and harbor.

They stepped off the elevator and Viktor watched as Emerson took in the surroundings. The soft breeze played with her hair. As they sat at a premium table, the candlelight reflected in her eyes and he took her hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

Throughout dinner, Viktor deliberately steered the conversation, giving her several openings to share what was on her mind. He asked about her day, her work, her family, trying not to press, but wanting to get at what was bothering her. Each time, Emerson deftly sidestepped, offering polite, superficial answers that told him nothing of what he truly wanted to know.

Finally, as they shared dessert, he casually asked, “Is everything all right? You seem a bit preoccupied.” He watched her carefully.

It didn’t seem to escape Emerson’s notice, and she laughed softly, shaking her head. “I’m fine, Viktor. Really. Just a lot on my plate, that’s all. Nothing for you to worry about. I just want to focus on you, Master.” She said the last word in a breathy whisper as she rubbed his calf with her foot.

He frowned but didn’t press further. Did she not know he knew when she was trying to distract him? Instead of pressing the point further, he resolved to take another route, one that he knew would strip away her defenses and bring her closer to him, even if she didn’t realize it yet.

In the car ride back to the Carriage House, Viktor was quiet, but kept his hand on her inner thigh, moving up to stroke her naked sex. After exiting the car, he led her to the elevator, but instead of pushing the button for his apartment at the top of the building, he pushed the one that would open the doors into the club itself.

“I’ve had your corsets placed in your cabinet in the submissives’ salon. You may choose whichever corset strikes your fancy.”

He knew his voice sounded cold and distant and also knew it was necessary. If he was to get her to tell him what was troubling her, he would need to become her Dominant and not just her lover.

“Viktor, have I done something wrong?” she asked, her voice so vulnerable his heart ached for her.

He steeled himself against wanting to comfort her. Comforting would come after he had gotten what he wanted—her complete honesty and her trust. Before the night was done, he would have both or he would have nothing at all.

“No, Emerson. Go get dressed. I’ll have someone waiting to bring you to me.”

She might have said something more, but he turned on his heel and went to change into his leathers. Once he was changed, he strode onto the main stage of the club, ensuring the St. Andrew’s cross had been wiped down and laying out his own kit, including shaking out the six-foot single tail whip. He considered using a flogger, but decided he would get her where she needed to be—where she would tell him what he needed to know—more quickly with the whip. What most people didn’t understand was that a whip master like Viktor could inflict enough sensual sting to leave the recipient relatively unharmed, but willing to do whatever her master wanted. Was it fair? No. Would it be effective? He prayed he was right.

She was led into the room by one of the other Doms. She hesitated, but then swallowed her fear and stepped forward, taking his hand as he extended it to help her up onto the stage. Without another word he led her to the cross and positioned her so she was facing it, binding each of her wrists to the upper axis and spreading her legs to bind her ankles to the lower ones.

He flicked the switchblade he kept with his kit, letting her hear the click and see the blade before he cut the sides of her thong, letting it fall to the floor.

“Viktor?” she whispered.

“I will replace it. Not another word unless I ask you something, or you need to use your safeword.”

A look of hurt and then stubborn resolution flashed in her eyes, and she only nodded. He used the knife to cut through the lacings and remove her corset, placing it on the table next to his kit, leaving her naked before the admiring crowd. He ran his hand down her spine, watching as it quivered beneath his touch.

Viktor picked up his whip, its weight reassuring in his hand. He spun it through the air, a soft hiss escaping from the tip. The audience gasped in unison, a chorus of surprised whispers filling the air.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to tell me?” he asked again, his voice low and rumbling like thunder.

Emerson swallowed hard but remained silent. Small beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. Her body trembled with anticipation of what was to come.

“No,” she whispered.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Viktor raised the whip, whirled it around and cracked it overhead. The music stopped, the lights dimmed, and the first strike came down across her back. There was no way she could have anticipated the sting that the single tail’s kiss would give. She gasped, sucking in her breath. The pain should have been sharp and sudden, but it shouldn’t be unbearable. Viktor was a master of the single tail. He reminded himself it was what she’d agreed to, and he needed to break her down, leave her feeling exposed and vulnerable so he could remedy whatever it was that had her strung as taut as a bow string.

Viktor continued, strike after strike, each one more precise and powerful than the last. He could see her muscles tensing, the pulse beating in her throat and knew her heart had to be pounding in her chest. As the whip continued to dance across her back, each strike bringing with it a mix of pain and pleasure, he could sense the shifting energy of the crowd. They were captivated by the scene, hungry to witness something raw and dangerous. Viktor knew he was giving them just that, but his focus was on Emerson and breaking through the ice wall within which she had chosen to retreat.

The whip moved with a grace and precision that was graceful, beautiful. He watched closely as her body responded to each strike, her skin quivering and her muscles growing tense. She was a rare beauty, and he was determined to have her—not just for tonight, not just for the duration of the contract, but forever. She was his, and after tonight she would have no reason to doubt that. The energy of the audience was electrifying. He could feel their eyes riveted to the scene before them, their collective breath held as they watched the scene unfold.

“You’re doing very well, Emerson,” he breathed into her ear when he paused for a moment, his hands coming around to cup her breasts, to tease her nipples as the crowd looked on in respectful silence, “You have beautiful nipples, by the way.”

He moved away before she could respond, his fingers leaving her nipples aching for more.

The whip resumed its dance through the air, landing on her ass, slicing a new layer of burning, pleasurable pain across it. He could sense both in the way her body responded and the way he could smell her arousal that the need in her was building with each strike. He knew he was pushing her limits, but he would need to do so in order to break her down so he could build her back up.

Viktor continued to use the whip in rhythmic strikes, his movements fluid and precise, never missing a spot. Her body responded as her breath became shallower. She was falling completely under the spell of the whip, under his control, at his mercy, and it was the most exhilarating feeling he had ever experienced.

He paused again, tracing his fingers over the rising welts on her skin. He moved back to her front and slid his hand down to cup her mound before letting his fingers slide directly over her clit. Emerson moaned and shoved her hips forward, trying to increase the pressure, but the cross held her in place, and she could only go so far.

Viktor chuckled. “I knew you’d love the whip, but had I known you’d love it this much, we would have done this sooner. I think with a little time, I’ll actually be able to bring you to orgasm with just the whip alone. You’re so wet for me, Emerson. You’re absolutely soaked.”

He brought his middle finger up to lick it clean, smirking at her when her mouth fell open in disbelief that he had done so with a crowd watching. “Later it will be more than my finger that fills you up.”

Her eyes raced up from the finger he’d stuck back between his lips and to his eyes, while her mouth watered instantly. Viktor moved away and back toward the table where he’d placed his tools. Looking it over, he held up two objects for the crowd to see—some cheered and some jeered.

He came back and held them up before her eyes—two small devices that would apply suction and pressure to her nipples. He placed them over her stiffened tips and then used a small button on each side turning them on. New waves of pleasure raced through her abdomen and straight to her brain. The devices were designed to vibrate and suck at her nipples with such exquisite suction that her knees nearly buckled.

She looked up at him, doubt filling her face. Viktor leaned across, pressing his lips to hers until desire burned away her fear. His tongue slid between her lips, hot and slick, and she groaned into his mouth. He lifted his mouth from her and gazed into her eyes. Emerson nodded.

“Good girl,” Viktor whispered against her lips, before stepping away to retrieve the crop. The audience had fallen silent, their eyes glued to the participants on the stage as Viktor showed off a red crop.

Viktor approached her, the crop held high above his head. With a swift motion, he brought it down across her already striped backside. He knew the pain would be intense, but it would also be mixed with an exquisite pleasure that would ripple through her.

As a true master of his craft, his every move was calculated and precise. As each strike landed, he could see as she felt the impact resonate through her entire body, a mix of pain and pleasure that was almost too much to bear.

And yet, it was more than just a physical sensation. There was a raw, powerful energy that pulsed between them, an unspoken connection that only grew stronger with each strike. The crowd around them was silent, mesmerized by the scene unfolding before them. They watched with bated breath, their collective energy feeding off of those on the stage—Dom and sub—heightening the connection between the two in ways that were both terrifying and exhilarating.

As the strikes continued, Viktor pressed his body against hers, his hands exploring her skin, his fingers tracing the lines of her welts—all the while checking to ensure no lasting damage had been done to her. She could feel his breath on her neck, as he whispered words of praise and the promise of more things to come. He needed her off kilter if this was to work.

“You’re doing so well, Emerson,” he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. “Just a few more strokes, and I’ll give you what you’ve been craving.”