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She was going to have to start learning people’s names if she planned to stick around for very long. The foyer in the building looked like many other foyers in Charleston—marble floors, polished mahogany paneled walls, artwork and elegant settees on which to sit. There was nothing at all to indicate that behind some of the closed doors there was a BDSM dungeon where club members played out their wildest fantasies and fetishes. She walked up the staircase and found Viktor’s office door open. The minute she entered the room, he came to her and kissed her cheek.
“I’ve missed you,” he said. “I like the dress.”
“Thank you, Sir. I brought the corset with me.”
He nodded. “Remove your clothes,” he said moving behind her and closing the door. Again, he didn’t lock it and she could feel the uptick in her anticipation and arousal.
She did as he asked, releasing the dress by the brooch closure on the one strap and allowing the garment to shimmy to the floor.
“Very nice,” he said approvingly. “I see you left yourself bare below the waist, and I like this bra very much.” Viktor whispered kisses across her shoulders as he brought his hands up from behind her to cup her breasts and thumb her nipples. “There will come a time that not having had you for any number of hours and seeing you like this, I will bend you over my desk and use you hard.”
Even Emerson could hear the hitch in her breathing, causing Viktor to chuckle. He fisted her hair and tilted her head back, taking her mouth in a passionate kiss that left her breathless and moaning as he pinched her nipple. His other hand ran down her belly to cover her mound possessively.
“Very nice indeed,” he purred. “Remove the bra. I want you to walk over to my desk and lean down on your forearms, feet shoulder-width apart.”
“Viktor?” He was going to spank her. She was certain of it. She’d been thinking about it on and off all day and it never failed to arouse her despite her not wanting it to. “Are you going to spank me?” That seemed like a silly question to ask, but still, she didn’t just want to assume.
“I am, and before you ask me why, I will ask you why the flowers for your desk were not in the vase I originally sent?”
“I hadn’t had a chance to swap them out…”
“Are they swapped out now?”
“Well, no…”
“Then it wasn’t a question of enough time, but just you choosing to ignore my instructions. Not, I hope, willful disobedience, but just not placing enough importance on doing as I told you.”
“Yes, Sir. I think that’s probably a fair assessment.”
“Then remove the bra and get in position.”
Emerson reached up to remove her bra and stepped out of her shoes. Moving to his desk, she leaned down on her forearms and placed her feet as he wanted them. It didn’t fail to escape her notice that not only was her ass on display; she was pretty sure he had a nice view of her pussy.
She tried to prepare herself, but nothing in her life had ever prepared her for his large, hard hand connecting with her backside with a loud smack the instant before pain flared. Emerson barely had time to process the fact that he’d just slapped her ass before another blow landed, setting her skin ablaze with feeling—pain and arousal being the two that vied for the most attention.
“Normally, I would make you count, but as I suspect this is the first time you’ve ever been spanked, I will go easy on you. Count of five this time but disobey me again and both the number and pain you feel will be doubled.”
The last three smacks were slower, harder, and he held his hand against her skin, holding in the heat. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out.
“You did very well, Emerson. I will expect you to have the flowers in their proper place tomorrow morning by ten. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. Now, thank me for your discipline, and let’s get you dressed for a proper tour of the dungeon.”
“Thank you for my discipline, Sir.”
Viktor helped her into the corset and panties. He cinched the corset a bit tighter this evening and even though there wasn’t much to the thong, the way it rode up between her butt cheeks made her feel all five strikes of his hand.
Taking her hand and putting it through his arm, he walked her out into the office, down the stairs and through the massive set of French doors that led into the dungeon.
“Why do they call it a dungeon?” she asked as they wandered through the darkened corridors that led to small, staged areas containing an array of equipment. She recognized the St. Andrew’s crosses as well as the spanking benches and some gear that looked like it belonged in a real dungeon.
“Within the vanilla world, a dungeon is generally not some place you want to be—a dark, usually below-ground level space where people are held captive and either tortured for information or punished for crimes. Within the lifestyle, a dungeon is a place that a person—Dom or sub—can safely play, participate in scenes or watch, knowing a monitor is keeping an eye out for potential dangers.”
“Thank you for answering my questions and not making me feel stupid.”
“The only way to learn is to ask questions. There may be times when I ask you to wait for an answer, but I want you to learn everything you can.”
