The tension in the room grew as the corset fell away, revealing the smooth, pale skin of her torso, the thong the only barrier between her and the eyes of the audience. Seth’s hands moved to her hips and peeled the thong down, helping her to step out of it, his touch firm but gentle, his movements deliberate.
Seth guided Hope to the padded St. Andrew’s Cross. He could feel the eyes of the audience on them, could sense the anticipation in the air as they watched the scene unfold. But all that mattered in that moment was Hope—the way her body responded to his touch, the way she looked up at him with a mixture of trust and fear, the way she was willing to give herself over to him, even if only for the sake of the mission.
Seth reached for the restraints, securing her wrists and ankles in the soft leather cuffs, his touch careful, controlled. He could feel her pulse racing under his fingers, could see the slight tremor in her hands, but she didn’t pull away, didn’t resist.
He stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers as he surveyed the scene, the room, the audience. This was the moment—this was where they proved they belonged, where they convinced everyone watching that they were exactly who they claimed to be.
Seth took a deep breath, his hand brushing against the nape of Hope’s neck, a silent reminder that he was there, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
And then, with the eyes of the audience on them, he began.
CHAPTER 8
HOPE
Hope had never cared for public play, although being seen almost naked had never really bothered her. Seth knew what he was doing, and she knew it. He’d bound her to a cross so that she wouldn’t be able to move around too much, and he’d used the violet wand because he knew she hated to love it. Using that would keep her far more focused on Seth and the wand than anything else. He was doing what any good Dom would do. He was taking care of her and keeping them safe.
She stood in the dimly lit room, gazing out from the heavy, leather-padded St. Andrew’s cross. She had known what she was getting into, or so she thought, but now, with her wrists and ankles securely bound to the cool padded leather, she felt a shiver of anticipation and vulnerability wash over her. The bonds were firm but not painful, designed to keep her in place, leaving her feeling both restrained and strangely liberated.
As the soft hum and smell of ozone from the violet wand filled the room, her breath hitched. The sound was almost soothing, but it carried with it the promise of sharp, electric sensations that would soon dance across her skin. The lights were low, casting deep shadows that played tricks with her mind, heightening her awareness of every small movement, every flicker of the wand in the hands of the figure moving toward her.
She closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing thoughts, but when the first crackle of electricity met her skin, her eyes snapped open, a gasp escaping her lips. The sensation was sharp, almost like a pinprick, but it quickly transformed into a warm, tingling rush that spread out from where the wand touched her. Seth moved the wand with deliberate slowness, tracing patterns across her body, each contact sending a mix of pain and pleasure coursing through her.
Hope’s senses were on fire, her body reacting instinctively to the stimulation. The violet wand danced across her flesh, leaving trails of light, tingling warmth in its wake. Her skin was hyper-aware, every nerve ending attuned to the electric pulses that teased and tormented her. She could feel the energy building inside her, the tension in her muscles as she strained against the bonds, not to escape but to meet the wand, to embrace the exquisite sensation it delivered.
Each jolt was a reminder of her vulnerability and submission; yet, within that, she found a strange power. She surrendered to the moment, to the dance of electricity and control, trusting Seth to keep her safe, her mind slipping into a hazy state where the boundaries between pain and pleasure blurred. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation, the sound of the violet wand, and the steady rhythm of her breathing.
“You still with me, Hope?”
“Yes, Master. I am the loveliest shade of green,” she answered in a tone she almost didn’t recognize. She’d forgotten what it was like to drift in this lovely place with someone you trusted, and right, wrong, or indifferent, she trusted Seth.
He’d turned off the wand and trailed his fingers up along the inside of her thigh. His hand was warm and strong, and it felt delicious as it approached her sex, making her catch her breath. His hand covered her mound, giving it a gentle squeeze before his fingers circled her clit. He began teasing it and then gave it a lovely tug before he left his thumb hovering over her swollen nub while the rest of his hand slipped between her legs.
Hope stifled a gasp as two of his fingers slipped into her pussy and began to stroke her. “Master,” she moaned.
“That’s right, Hope, I’m your Master. You’re such a good girl. So slick and ripe. Do you want to come, baby?”
“Yes, Master, please.”
“Good girl,” he purred, using his fingers to ramp up her pleasure as his lips wrapped around one of her distended nipples, sucking it into his mouth as he swirled his tongue around it.
When he gave it the edge of his teeth, pressed down hard on her clit, and shoved his fingers deep, Hope’s body stiffened as she arched up into his hand, all thoughts and fears forgotten as she screamed in ecstasy, her pussy clamping down hard, her whole body shaking with pleasure.
SETH
Seth’s hands trembled slightly as he released the final restraint, the leather strap slipping from his fingers. Hope sagged against him, her body limp and blissed out, her breath coming in soft, shallow sighs. He caught her easily, pulling her close as she melted into his arms, her head resting against his chest.
The scene had gone exactly as planned—better than planned, in fact. Hope had given herself over to him completely, their connection so real and intense that it had blurred the line between pretense and reality. The audience had been captivated, but Seth’s focus had been solely on her, on making sure she was safe, on pushing her just to the edge and then bringing her back.
Now, as he held her, he could feel the warmth of her skin against his, the steady thrum of her heartbeat slowing as she came down from the high. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips curved into a soft, contented smile, a smile that sent a rush of emotion through him so powerful it nearly took his breath away.
Seth signaled to one of the attendants, and within moments, a warmed blanket was handed to him. He wrapped it around Hope’s shoulders, cocooning her in the soft, comforting fabric. She let out a quiet purr of satisfaction, the sound vibrating through him, igniting a primal need to take care of her, to make sure she never lost that look of contentment.
The blanket was warm against his skin as he lifted her into his arms, cradling her like something precious. Hope didn’t resist, didn’t try to regain control; she simply rested her head against his shoulder, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if she never wanted to let go.
Seth carried her across the room, past the eyes of the onlookers who had been so engrossed in their performance. He didn’t care about them now; all that mattered was getting Hope somewhere private, somewhere he could be alone with her, where he could hold her, touch her, and make sure she was okay, and maybe even attempt to communicate how much she meant to him.
Fitzwallace had been right. Seth had had a major thing for Hope long before he’d bound her within his ropes in London that night at Baker Street. Knowing Fitz and the rest of those he worked with at Cerberus, he was pretty certain there was a betting pool going. Fitz would tell Seth he’d lost the bet. But Fitz was wrong. If Hope’s surrender to him on the cross tonight was any indication, he was well on his way to winning it all. But first he had to ease her back into reality and get them out of here.
