by Kitty Thomas
Saskia got in under the sheets and laid down on the pillow, but she didn't close her eyes. She just watched him. Hunter's gaze and attention went to Shannon.
“I want her under the spotlight,” he said.
It was only now, in this moment that Shannon realized all of this was being set up for her. The her Hunter wanted under the spotlight, was Shannon. She took an unconscious step back, right into Damian's arms. She hadn't even realized he was behind her or standing so close.
“Be a good girl,” Lindsay said. A warning.
Her heart hammered in her chest. There were so many people down here. The lighting was... strategic. It wasn't stark and bright, but it wasn't like the black lights. Would she be naked down here? The people from the exhibit all seemed wrapped up in their own thing around the room. Maybe they wouldn't pay attention. And Damian and Lindsay had already seen her.
Why would Jacob Hunter want to paint her? What did he see that had made him cart around and unload all his art supplies in the middle of the night to set up this ambush?
Shannon gripped the wrap tightly around herself. She hadn't taken it off once inside Damian's house. There were too many people. She didn't want them to see. She wasn't sure what she was so afraid of. People had seen her back. No one had recoiled in horror or outright rejected her over it.
But still, she was sure they judged, or pitied. And she worried and waited for the moment someone would see them and make her feel broken.
Lindsay held his hand out. “Give me the wrap, Shannon.” When she shook her head furiously, he added, “Now.”
Damian was still at her back. He could rip it off her, but he remained still, waiting, letting Lindsay handle this.
Damian leaned in close to her ear and spoke low. “None of them are paying attention. They're too busy fucking. If you don't make a scene, no one will notice. You notice the scars more than anyone else does.”
Shannon finally nodded and loosened her grip. She took a deep breath and took off the wrap and handed it to Lindsay.
“Good girl,” he soothed. “Now, the dress and panties.”
Damian still stood at her back, shielding her even though no one was directly behind her. Shannon glanced over to the sleeper sofa. Hunter's pet watched her with curiosity, though she seemed like she might drift off at any moment.
She seemed so sweet and vulnerable. And Hunter seemed to adore her. Did other people see that dynamic when they looked at Shannon and Lindsay? She wasn't sure.
“Kitten, do you trust me?”
“Yes, Master.” She did trust him but that didn't make his request any more reasonable.
“Take off the dress and panties,” he said, his voice becoming more stern.
She couldn't bring herself to do it. There were too many people in the room. Someone would gasp when they saw her back, and then everything would stop. She just knew it would. And then she'd have all the wrong kind of attention.
She felt Damian's hands move to gently caress either side of her throat above the collar. Then he'd pushed the straps off her shoulders. The dress fell to her waist, exposing her breasts. Nobody stopped the activities they were engaged in. The only eyes on her across the room now were Lindsay's and the artist's.
Damian stroked and cupped her breasts, his mouth finding the curve of her neck and placing a kiss there. His hands slowly trailed down her sides until they reached her hips and he pushed the dress the rest of the way down until it pooled at her feet.
She wore a delicate black thong made of sheer, barely-there material. The scrap of lingerie was held together by ribbons that had been tied into very small bows, so small they hadn't shown through the dress. Damian didn't carefully remove these like he had the dress. Instead he ripped the panties off her with one quick jerk, exposing her bare waxed pussy to Lindsay and the artist's gaze.
Hunter's pet watched as well, but Shannon didn't concern herself with the woman. Something had passed between her and the other woman, and she knew that girl would never judge her for anything. She felt safe under her gaze. But not so much under Hunter's. Or even Lindsay's. Not in this moment. Both men were far too intense for safety.
Damian took her hand and helped her out of the puddle of red fabric. He led her over to stand under the spotlight where the artist wanted her and then he fell back to stand next to Lindsay, both of them now still and quiet, waiting on the artist.
Hunter approached her slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. When he reached her, he closed his eyes and ran his hands over her face as if a blind man seeking to see her in a different way. His eyes remained closed as he stroked her hair, her throat, her shoulders, her breasts, her belly, and hips, between her legs. He worked his way down the entire length of her until he'd touched every inch of her front.
She squeezed her eyes shut as his fingertips grazed the scars that wrapped around to the front.
He righted himself and opened his eyes as if he'd unlocked her innermost secrets with this tactile exploration of her body. Then he drank her in visually. Every inch of her. He stared so hard into her eyes that she flinched and had to fight not to take a step back. Suddenly this man seemed terrifying, and she wondered if his pet had seen this dark side of him. This greedy side that wanted to possess and own everything his gaze fell upon.
That hungry dark gaze drifted down to her breasts and lingered there for a long while as he tweaked her nipples into erect points. He tasted her there, running his tongue across each nipple, sucking first one, then the other into his mouth.
Shannon had forgotten how to breathe and took in a sharp gasp of air when she remembered again. No one had ever looked at her in this way before. The intensity of his eyes upon her felt like a sharp searing burn against each inch of her flesh he memorized.
His gaze fell to the spot between her legs.
“Hold her open for me.”
Damian was the one who moved to answer that command. He stood behind her, spreading her legs and angling and holding her open in a lewd way so that Hunter could see every line and curve that had previously been hidden from him.
The artist pressed a finger inside her and she moaned, her head falling back as she forgot for a moment the all-consuming way he'd just looked at her.
He withdrew the finger and she whimpered at the lost contact. He held her gaze trapped in his as he tasted her, sucking the finger that had just been inside her into his mouth.
Hunter turned and went back to his easel. Shannon let out a breath, thinking he was finished, but he returned with a thick-handled paint brush. It looked new. Damian still held her open for him as he dragged the brush carefully over her pussy as though he were painting her. As if he were memorizing the exact contours between her legs.
He flipped the brush around and pushed the thick smooth handle inside her, slowly fucking her with it. She moaned again as Damian held her for Hunter to play with. But he didn't let her come. He withdrew the handle from her body and turned to Damian.
“Turn her around.”
She knew Hunter must see the fear in her eyes. The last thing in the world she wanted was for someone like this man, this calculating, obsessive, details-oriented man to look at her back in the same intense way he'd looked at the rest of her. Because when he did, he would find her wanting, lacking. He would take one look, lose all interest in painting her, and unceremoniously pack his art supplies up and leave.
She fought Damian as he tried to turn her. “No!”
“Shhhh,” Damian said, petting her hair. “He won't hurt you.”
She wasn't afraid he'd physically hurt her. She was afraid of the cutting words that would come out of his mouth when he saw the scars Brian had made. But Damian was stronger than her and turned her around so that Hunter could look at her back.
The artist swept her hair to the side and there was a long pause where eternity flooded into the space of the room like the ocean tide. Finally it seemed to recede again leaving a new and deeper stillness behind.
Then the artist's hands were on
her, stroking her. She had no idea what he'd done with that paintbrush because both of his hands carefully ran over her back, not just the scars, all of her. They cupped and stroked her ass and the cleft between her cheeks, the backs of her thighs, and all the way down her legs.
His finger traced a little pattern she couldn't discern over her right hip as if he were placing some imaginary brand on her. Then he was kissing and licking the lines across her back. The brush trailed gently over each scar after his mouth was finished exploring them.
“Lindsay,” he said.
He must have motioned because Lindsay came over and then there was some whispering she couldn't hear. Footsteps receded, a box in a far corner opened. Footsteps returned.
“Kiss her,” Hunter said to Damian.
Damian's hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her forward, his mouth fiercely claiming hers, taking all her attention away from the artist until the cane landed in a sharp sting across her ass.
She yelped and jerked away from Damian's kiss. Hunter struck her again.
“Cry for me,” he demanded.
She looked to Lindsay who only nodded. She would have wondered why Lindsay was allowing all of this... why was he letting this stranger come in and take control of her? But Lindsay stood, his arms crossed over his chest, just taking it all in, looking absolutely and completely in control of the situation. So whatever reason this was happening, it was Lindsay's reason. And somehow that settled her.
The cane came down across her ass again and this time the tears the artist had demanded followed, trailing down her cheeks until she was sobbing.
Hunter stroked her back as she cried. “Good, that's good,” he soothed in her ear. “Let everything out for me. Show me everything.”
Shannon cried until she thought she had no tears left inside her. Everything that Brian had taken from her. All her fears. All her sadness. All her loneliness. All her insecurities and uncertainty and longing for things she hadn't believed she could ever have again. It all came pouring out of her in wave after wave of cathartic misery.
She didn't even notice when the furniture was brought out. Shannon allowed Lindsay and Damian to place her in a kind of bondage chair. The chair had a lubed dildo which she was pressed down on until it was firmly seated inside her. Her legs were spread open and tied down and her arms were bound over her head by long rope attached to a ring that came down from the ceiling. She was still crying, unable to stop once she'd started, but Hunter, who now stood back observing all this, didn't seem to mind.
The artist sat down behind the easel and began to paint.
Shannon realized suddenly that the sex sounds that had been going on around her had stopped. When had they stopped? Had those people already left the party? It was pretty late. They'd been down here for hours. She'd lost track of the time.
When her arms had started to hurt and she'd whimpered and begged, Lindsay had stood behind her, allowing her arms to rest against him, taking the pressure and tension off.
There was no one downstairs in the dungeon now but her, Lindsay, Hunter, and his pet who had finally fallen asleep on the pull-out sofa. Damian wasn't downstairs. Was he playing the polite host and seeing the other guests off?
Hunter cleaned up his art supplies and took them upstairs. While he was gone, Damian returned with a T-shirt and sweatpants and sat on the edge of the pull-out sofa. He stroked the woman's hair.
“Saskia, wake up,” he said gently.
“Damian?” she said. She struggled to sit, sounding sleepy and disoriented. The sheet dropped, uncovering her breasts, but she didn't seem to notice or care. “Where is he?” she said, her gaze darting around the room for Hunter.
“He's just packing things up. He'll be back for you in a few minutes. Why don't you put this on? It'll be more comfortable for the drive.” Damian indicated the T-shirt and sweatpants he'd laid next to her.
“Okay.”
He patted her hip, got up, and went to stand beside Lindsay. The two men worked to untie Shannon's arms. Once they'd freed her from the ropes, each of the men rubbed one of her wrists.
She let out a sigh, the soreness hitting her all at once. And the tiredness as well. She didn't look forward to the long drive back to the house. It must be only a couple of hours until dawn.
They untied her legs and ordered her not to move. The dildo was still inside her, and she was so exhausted but also so aroused. She'd spent hours bound and exposed and penetrated with no hope of completion while Hunter had looked right into her and painted whatever it was he found inside. But she knew she wouldn't be satisfied tonight. It was so late, and everyone was so tired.
Lindsay and Damian stood behind the canvas and stared at what Hunter had painted. Shannon watched Saskia get out of the bed, unconcerned with her nudity. As she put the T-shirt on, she moved in such a way that one of the overhead spotlights hit her right hip, illuminating a brand. The letter Q.
Shannon couldn't begin to guess at what the Q on her hip meant, but she'd been marked much like the people at the art show had. Had Hunter branded her, too?
The artist returned then with a couple of large black bags. He unpacked camera equipment and set up some lighting around the painting. Lindsay and Damian backed out of the way so he could get several shots of the work. Then he packed everything back up.
“I'll wire you the money tomorrow morning,” Lindsay said.
“Normally I don't leave the work without the money, but I know you're good for it,” Hunter said. “Don't touch or move it for a couple of weeks until it's totally dry. I can apply a varnish when it's fully cured in about a year if you'd like, just let me know. I'll leave the easel and pick it up later.”
Hunter turned his attention back to Shannon and crossed the room to her. He stroked her cheek and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Some of my best work, I think.” he said as if he'd created her instead of a painting of her.
He turned back to Saskia, “You ready, pet?”
Saskia nodded. She looked at the canvas everyone but Shannon had seen and gave Shannon a small smile, then she took Hunter's free hand and the two of them left the dungeon.
When they were gone, Lindsay and Damian helped her out of the bondage chair. Damian brought the quilted blanket from the pull-out sofa to her and wrapped her up in it.
“Are we going now, Master?” Shannon asked.
Lindsay watched her and slowly shook his head. “I'm going. You're staying here tonight.”
She turned to Damian. “But why?”
“It's late,” Damian said. “You're tired.”
Lindsay pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “Be a good girl, and I'll see you soon.”
“Are you safe to drive?” she asked.
Lindsay laughed. “I'm wide awake. I'll be fine. I'll text Damian when I get home.”
“Okay.” She wanted to argue about this arrangement, but she didn't want to displease Lindsay. She didn't want to make a dramatic scene. And she was exhausted. Not having to be in a car for so long before finally getting into bed was too good of a prospect to fight.”
Damian walked Lindsay up the stairs where they shared a private conversation in low tones.
It was strange being alone down in the dungeon when so many people had been in this space such a short while ago. Shannon crossed the room to see what was on the canvas. When she saw the painting, her breath caught in her throat.
Hunter had somehow captured every secret Shannon held within her, now naked and exposed on the canvas for anyone who happened to walk by. She couldn't even be bothered by the lewd kinky pose. All she could look at was the painted reflection of her own eyes. And suddenly she understood exactly why Lindsay had let this man do these things and take control of her. It had been worth it to him to get Shannon painted this way.
For her part, she felt like she'd been broken apart and put back together again, somehow less broken than she'd been for a very long time—because what she saw when she looked at that painting was someone who wa
s beautiful in a tragic way, just like Hunter had said. For the first time she could see what others saw when they looked at her, and it wasn't something ugly and scarred.
Her gaze drifted to the bottom right hand corner of the painting. The artist had signed it with a Q.
69
It was eleven a.m. when Damian cracked the eggs into a bowl in the large kitchen to make breakfast for them. Maybe it was brunch. He'd been up since nine, cleaning up after his party guests and trying to bring his home back to the sleek sense of order he was used to.
Bach played over the sound system as he prepared bacon and omelets and poured juice into glasses. He couldn't believe Shannon was actually in his house. He'd been obsessed with the idea of having her for weeks now.
Lindsay's offer had come with a video attachment by email. The message simply read: “Last chance. Want to share this one with me?”
Damian must have jerked off to that video thirty times in the following days. And then... Lindsay had invited him to the office to meet her. They'd staged the ambush together, and she was just as perfect in person as she'd been on the screen. Shannon was everything he hadn't known he'd always wanted. The sweet obedience. The tragic vulnerable beauty. The princess in the tower he couldn't help wanting to help save.
He hadn't had a pet of his own in years. The last situation had ended badly. It had been a total power exchange relationship, and the girl, Angela, had been a brat with a trust fund. She didn't need Damian, she'd just wanted cheap thrills. So when the relationship became more work than pleasure, she'd bounced. She'd had no real need for the brand of kink Damian offered. And he hadn't really owned her anyway. It had been the standard... boy meets girl at a BDSM club and it goes from there sort of scenario.
He met Lindsay at a charity function several years ago, and despite a bit of an age difference, they'd become fast friends to the point that Lindsay trusted him with things. He'd offered early on to set Damian up with a girl from their house—for the right price, of course. Though Damian didn't judge, he hadn't wanted direct involvement in what was clearly a very illegal business. He wasn't the type of man willing to expose himself to that much risk. Not for sex. Even though the idea of it... the simplicity of it was appealing.