He didn’t know what Tasha’s plan was, but it was clear she wanted him to keep an eye on Jennie.
People were crowding around, whispering and wondering about what was going on. That was a good question, and Marco wished he knew the answer. Jennie wasn’t who they were looking for—she hadn’t been at the party. He would have remembered a girl who had piercings in her eyebrows, nose, lips and cheeks—not to mention the shaved head.
And yet Damon and Tasha were planning something—clearly this wasn’t the dead end Marco thought it was.
He settled back in his chair, curious and a little excited to see what Damon and Tasha were about to do. He loved seeing his friend like this—stripped of the grim legal shell he wore while at work. Normally, it took a whole weekend of partying to get the real Damon to appear, but now not only was the veil of refinement gone, but he seemed more raw and brutal than Marco had ever seen him before.
Tasha turned her back to the crowd, spread her legs and raised her arms above her head. Her body was smooth and taut, almost completely displayed due to the brevity of what she wore.
Damon’s mouth was set in a firm line as he looked out over the crowd. The mask covered his face from hairline to mid-cheek, and the angle of the lights meant that his eyes were hidden in shadow.
Behind Marco, the crowd quieted, and someone turned down the music. Everyone was waiting with a collectively held breath. Damon ran one finger down Tasha’s back. She whimpered, and it was the sexiest sound Marco had ever heard. From the rumbles coming from the crowd, it seemed other people thought and felt the same.
Damon unwound the metal leash from his hand and attached it to the lock at the back of the collar. It dangled down Tasha’s back, bumping gently against her tight ass. Damon unbuckled his belt and slowly drew it from the loops of the pants.
Marco sat up, his hand falling away from Jennie. Were they really going to do this?
Damon folded the belt in half. Circling Tasha, he traced patterns on her skin with the leather. Watching them together aroused Marco in a visceral way that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He wanted to see Damon fucking her, wanted to watch them together…then join them.
Damon positioned himself beside Tasha, raised his arm and struck.
The crack of the leather was loud and startling. Tasha moaned and arched her back. Damon struck again, belt cracking against her ass.
Marco found himself counting. At ten, Damon paused and rubbed Tasha’s butt. She was moaning and whimpering continuously, and with each strike she moved a bit—shifting her weight, wiggling around.
Damon grabbed her hair, jerked her head back.
Tasha gasped. “Please, Master.” She looked up into Damon’s face. Releasing her hair, Damon took the leash and pressed it into her mouth, forcing her to hold it between her teeth.
Marco saw Tasha’s eyes widen, saw a shiver make its way down her back. He frowned—he’d assumed they’d planned all of this. Assumed that her wiggles and pants were acting, but that reaction seemed real.
Damon took his position beside her and raised the belt. This time the leather slashed against her upper back. Tasha screamed and stumbled forward. Marco’s fingers closed around the arms of the chair, but he held still, not wanting to ruin whatever they were doing.
Behind him people muttered. Someone whispered, “That’s right, whore, take it.”
It was all Marco could do not to find the speaker and beat them black and blue.
“Back in position,” Damon growled. He grabbed the dangling leash, which had dropped from her mouth and jerked Tasha forward.
“No, Master!” She held up her hands and pushed against him.
Damon let go of the leash, raised his right arm across his body and viciously backhanded her.
Marco was out of his chair as the sound of the slap died. He was ready to jump up onstage and separate them—and then figure out what the hell had gotten in to
People were crowding around, whispering and wondering about what was going on. That was a good question, and Marco wished he knew the answer. Jennie wasn’t who they were looking for—she hadn’t been at the party. He would have remembered a girl who had piercings in her eyebrows, nose, lips and cheeks—not to mention the shaved head.
And yet Damon and Tasha were planning something—clearly this wasn’t the dead end Marco thought it was.
He settled back in his chair, curious and a little excited to see what Damon and Tasha were about to do. He loved seeing his friend like this—stripped of the grim legal shell he wore while at work. Normally, it took a whole weekend of partying to get the real Damon to appear, but now not only was the veil of refinement gone, but he seemed more raw and brutal than Marco had ever seen him before.
Tasha turned her back to the crowd, spread her legs and raised her arms above her head. Her body was smooth and taut, almost completely displayed due to the brevity of what she wore.
Damon’s mouth was set in a firm line as he looked out over the crowd. The mask covered his face from hairline to mid-cheek, and the angle of the lights meant that his eyes were hidden in shadow.
Behind Marco, the crowd quieted, and someone turned down the music. Everyone was waiting with a collectively held breath. Damon ran one finger down Tasha’s back. She whimpered, and it was the sexiest sound Marco had ever heard. From the rumbles coming from the crowd, it seemed other people thought and felt the same.
Damon unwound the metal leash from his hand and attached it to the lock at the back of the collar. It dangled down Tasha’s back, bumping gently against her tight ass. Damon unbuckled his belt and slowly drew it from the loops of the pants.
Marco sat up, his hand falling away from Jennie. Were they really going to do this?
Damon folded the belt in half. Circling Tasha, he traced patterns on her skin with the leather. Watching them together aroused Marco in a visceral way that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He wanted to see Damon fucking her, wanted to watch them together…then join them.
Damon positioned himself beside Tasha, raised his arm and struck.
The crack of the leather was loud and startling. Tasha moaned and arched her back. Damon struck again, belt cracking against her ass.
Marco found himself counting. At ten, Damon paused and rubbed Tasha’s butt. She was moaning and whimpering continuously, and with each strike she moved a bit—shifting her weight, wiggling around.
Damon grabbed her hair, jerked her head back.
Tasha gasped. “Please, Master.” She looked up into Damon’s face. Releasing her hair, Damon took the leash and pressed it into her mouth, forcing her to hold it between her teeth.
Marco saw Tasha’s eyes widen, saw a shiver make its way down her back. He frowned—he’d assumed they’d planned all of this. Assumed that her wiggles and pants were acting, but that reaction seemed real.
Damon took his position beside her and raised the belt. This time the leather slashed against her upper back. Tasha screamed and stumbled forward. Marco’s fingers closed around the arms of the chair, but he held still, not wanting to ruin whatever they were doing.
Behind him people muttered. Someone whispered, “That’s right, whore, take it.”
It was all Marco could do not to find the speaker and beat them black and blue.
“Back in position,” Damon growled. He grabbed the dangling leash, which had dropped from her mouth and jerked Tasha forward.
“No, Master!” She held up her hands and pushed against him.
Damon let go of the leash, raised his right arm across his body and viciously backhanded her.
Marco was out of his chair as the sound of the slap died. He was ready to jump up onstage and separate them—and then figure out what the hell had gotten in to
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