Chapter 47


    Mae practiced breathing—in, out, in, out. She’d have thought that by this point in her life she’d have


    something that fundamental mastered, but it was as if Xavier had drained her of everything… only to fill


    her back up again. What she’d just been through should have been less intense than this afternoon’s


    session bent over the barrel in the library, but it had been far more so. And the most intense part had


    been at the end, when Xavier had dropped to his knees. He’d been shaking as if he would break apart


    into a million pieces, and she’d been gripped by the need to hold and protect him from whatever was


    raging within.


    In that moment, with her body still aching from his touch, she’d had to acknowledge that she had


    feelings for him. Feelings that went far beyond what a sub should feel for a Dom. Falling in love with a


    Dom was an amateur mistake, and one she’d never been in danger of making until now.


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    Once she got away from him, once the game was over, these crazy feelings for him would surely fade.


    This sense that fate had brought them together was simply a byproduct of their intense y and her


    own conflict over this new direction her sexuality was taking.


    When Master Xavier urged her off hisp, Mae sank gracefully to her knees. Her breast brushed his leg


    and she winced. Looking down, she was both shocked and pleased by the state of her breasts. They


    were pink all over from his hands with thin red lines from the whip. Her nipples were plump and still


    erect. With each breath she was aware of the way the air danced over her skin.


    Though she’de twice—the first time from nothing more than rough breast y, which she’d never


    have imagined was possible—Mae was still aroused. Her panties now felt like a chastity belt, designed


    to torment and keep her from her pleasure.


    “Stand up; take off your clothes.”


    Hiding a smile of delight, Mae gingerly pushed to her feet. Xavier cut the bindings on her wrists, freeing


    her to obey hismand.


    First she undid thetches on the front of the corset. Peeling it back, she took a few deep breaths,


    reveling in the freedom. Next she stripped the steampunk undies down and off. The crotch was soaked


    and the smell of her arousal flooded the room.


    She tugged the sleeves of thece shirt until her arms were free, intending to push it down over her


    hips.


    “No, take it off the other way. Slowly.”


    Mae shivered, d that he wouldn’t let her get away with anything, d that he wanted her to feel


    everything he did to her. Crossing her arms she started to pull the shirt off. Thece felt like sandpaper


    against her sensitive nipples. She was trembling by the time it was off. She went to remove her shoes


    and stockings, but he shook his head and she left them on.


    “Hands together behind your neck.”


    Mae did as she was ordered, her beaten breasts now proudly on disy. He examined her, his gaze


    almost a physical weight on her body. Two fingers dipped into her pussy, massaging her clit. Mae’s


    knees went weak, but his touch was gone far too soon. She watched, mesmerized, as he raised his


    hand and tasted her. She remembered the way she’d felt when he’d pushed his fingers into her mouth,


    the way she’d bitten him, too lost in the madbination of pain and pleasure to consider exactly what


    she was doing.


    “Put the corset back on.”


    Questions andments were right there on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them, choosing


    instead to give him the silent obedience that would free him to do whatever wonderful, painful things he


    had nned.


    She’d adjusted thecing at the back of the corset before evening to Las Palmas, so it was easy


    enough to quickly slip it around her belly and fastened the closures down the front. Above and below it


    she was naked, her breasts and pussy on total disy. The constriction of the corset felt odd


    contrasted with the nakedness of her most intimate ces.


    Master Xavier grabbed her wrist, tugging until she fell against him, her breasts brushing his chest.


    “We’re not done, Mae. It would be easier if we were, if I could ignore everything and fuck you the way I


    want to.”


    Mae’s eyes widened at the grim tone of his voice.


    “You’re masochistic—you enjoy pain, you feel it the way other people feel pleasure. I don’t know how


    you went this long without being tested, but now that you know, you won’t be able to go back.”


    Her stomach churned.


    “You’ll have to learn your new limits. And you’ll have to learn to protect yourself. Masochistic


    submissives are the most vulnerable in ourmunity.”


    “Why are you telling me this, Master?” It was the kind of lecture you gave someone before you left


    them.


    “I’m telling you because you need to hear it. And you need to face what it means.” Xavier handed her a


    pair of simple leather cuffs. “Put these on, count to one hundred, thene outside.”


    * * *


    The torchlight lent a primitive air to the already imposing Iron Court. There were more people there now


    than there had been an hour ago. Some were seated on benches ced on the paths between the


    statues, others were kneeling and still more were standing around the outer rim of the torchlight. In the


    middle of it all was the stage. A few short metal buckets sat on one corner, and arge T-shaped wood


    structure was mounted to the edge closest to her. Master Xavier stood in the center of it all. He’d


    stripped off his shirt and his bare chest seemed to glisten in the light. With the dark pants and hood he


    looked like an executioner waiting for the condemned.


    When she emerged all eyes turned toward her. Mae dropped her gaze and swallowed.


    Run.


    She clenched her fists, fighting back the impulse. She trusted Master Xavier, and as scared as she


    was, she wanted this—whatever dark thing was about to befall her. If he wanted to do it to her, then


    she wanted to experience it.


    The click of her heels was loud on the tile until she stepped onto the crushed sandstone path that led to


    the center of the court. She could feel the gazes of the crowd—they were looking at her red and beaten


    breasts, at her marked ass and exposed sex.


    She mounted the steps up to the stage. When she reached the top Master Xavier’s hand was there,


    guiding her forward. He took her hips in his hands and turned her to face the corner, where the metal


    containers were. One was a bucket—filled nearly to the top with water.


    The other was a brazier, full of glowing red coals. The handles of three branding irons protruded from


    the fire.


    “No!”


    Mae jumped back, smacking against Master Xavier. She shouldn’t be shocked—this borate set-up


    and the way he’d spoken to her just moments ago were all clues that this wasing. She’d hadn’t


    seen, hadn’t wanted to see.


    Xavier steadied her, then took a deliberate step back so he wasn’t touching her.


    “Branding is one of our checklist items, Mae.”