Page 22

REILY

T he POS rattles and groans as it rolls up the dirt road to Gary’s cabin. The box of my stuff in the passenger seat sways dangerously every time I hit a pothole, which is often. I grip the wheel tighter, muttering under my breath. “Come on, baby. Just one more trip. Don’t die on me now.”

The cabin comes into view, all sleek wood and modern lines, looking like it was plopped down in the middle of the forest by aliens—which, technically, it was.

I pull up beside Guvan’s parked limo, cutting the engine.

The POS gives a final shudder and goes silent, like it’s exhausted from the effort.

I haul the box out of the car, my arms straining under the weight.

It’s the last of my things from the old house—a few books, some clothes, and the old guitar Mom gave me when I was twelve.

I’m halfway to the door when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I wrestle it out one-handed, glancing at the screen. Mr. Mayor. I grin and hit answer.

“Hello, Clem,” I say, balancing the box on my hip. “Have you worn a butt imprint into the seat yet?”

Clem’s deep laugh rumbles through the phone. “Not yet, but give it time. Turns out being mayor is a lot less exciting than Boss Hoag made it look. Mostly just signing papers and arguing with people who still think I’m gonna let them build that dam.”

“Well, I’m glad you won,” I say, shifting the box. “Coldwater’s lucky to have you.”

“To be fair, I’m glad Boris and Barfbag aren’t old enough to run yet. I don’t know if I could’ve beaten them,” Clem says, his tone teasing.

I laugh, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah, those two would’ve turned City Hall into a mosh pit.”

Clem chuckles, but then his voice turns serious. “Hey, Reily, I’ve been meaning to ask—are you gonna sign that recording contract? The one from the music festival?”

I sigh, setting the box down on the porch. “I don’t know, Clem. At one time, it’s all I wanted—to be a star, to get out of this town. But now… I’m just glad the town is safe, my mom’s healthy, and I found a good man. Even if he is scaly.”

Clem’s laugh is warm. “Well, whatever you decide, you’ve got our support. Coldwater’s proud of you, Reily.”

“Thanks, Clem. That means a lot.”

We say our goodbyes, and I tuck my phone back into my pocket. I reach for the doorknob but stop when I see a note tacked to the door with my name on it. I pluck it off, unfolding the paper with one hand while balancing the box with the other.

Now, what’s this about?

I bite my lower lip, my thighs squeezing together as I read the note. The handwriting is sharp, deliberate, and entirely his .

"Spitfire. Remove all of your clothing and put on your uniform prior to entry. Master intends to discipline you."

A shiver runs down my spine, and I glance to the side where the maid uniform is hanging, waiting for me.

My hands tremble as I start peeling off my clothes, folding them neatly and setting them on the porch railing.

The cool mountain air brushes against my bare skin, raising goosebumps, but I don’t feel the cold. My heart’s racing too hard for that.

I slip into the uniform, the fabric hugging me in all the right (and wrong) places.

The bodice pushes my breasts up, the plunging neckline leaving little to the imagination.

The skirt barely covers what it needs to, and I can’t help but adjust it, even though I know it’s pointless.

This outfit isn’t meant for modesty. It’s meant for him .

I pause, smoothing the skirt one last time before I step inside. The cabin is quiet, the only sound the soft creak of the floorboards under my feet.

Guvan stands in the center of the room, his back to me, and my breath catches. He’s wearing a finely tailored Armani suit, the fabric hugging his broad shoulders and tapered waist. In one hand, he holds a bundle of silk rope, slapping it against his open palm in a slow, rhythmic motion.

"Come here," he commands, his voice low and firm.

I swallow hard and walk toward him, my heels clicking softly against the floor. I put on my best pout, tilting my head to the side as I stop in front of him. "What did I do to displease my Master?"

"Nothing," he says, his red eyes locking onto mine. "But I feel the need to remind you who’s in charge."

His words send a rush of warmth through me, and I lower my gaze, feigning submission. "Whatever my Master thinks is best."

He steps behind me, his large hands gripping my shoulders and turning me to face away from him.

He pulls my arms behind my back, and I feel the cool silk of the rope as he starts to bind me.

His movements are methodical, each loop of the rope tightening around my wrists, then winding up my arms and around my torso.

Every turn of the rope, every cinch of a knot, makes me feel more helpless, more exposed. My breath hitches as the ropes dig into my skin, and I can feel myself falling into that golden glow of subspace. I arch my back, pressing my ass against the growing bulge in his pants.

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through me. "You won’t succeed in distracting me, Spitfire."

"I wouldn’t dream of it," I murmur, my voice trembling.

He continues his work, using more ropes to create an elaborate harness that crisscrosses over my torso. He ties one leg folded up, my ankle secured to my thigh, leaving me balanced precariously on one foot. The ropes are tight, unyielding, and I feel completely at his mercy.

"How do you feel?" he asks, his voice rough.

"Like I want you to touch me," I gasp, squirming helplessly in my bonds.

"You like it?" His fingers brush against my inner thigh, and I jerk in response.

"If my hands were free, I’d be playing with myself right now," I whisper, my voice thick with desire.

"Like this?" His hand moves higher, stroking me through the thin fabric of the uniform. I gasp, my hips rocking against his touch. He works me up until I’m teetering on the edge, but he doesn’t let me fall.

“Patience,” Guvan growls, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down my spine. His hand moves away from my throbbing core, leaving me teetering on the edge. “You’ll cum when I say so and not before.”

“Yes, Master,” I gasp, my body writhing in the ropes, desperate for release. My skin feels like it’s on fire, every nerve alight with anticipation.

He steps closer, his towering frame towering over me. One hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head back as his lips crash into mine. The kiss is deep, hard, claiming, and I melt into it, my muffled moans lost against his mouth. When he pulls away, I’m breathless, my heart pounding.

Before I can recover, he slips the ball gag into my mouth, the smooth silicone pressing against my tongue. My eyes widen as he tightens the straps, securing it firmly. I let out a muffled whimper, the sound muffled and helpless.

“We’re going to play a little game, Spitfire,” he says, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “You don’t have my permission to cum, so every time you do, I’m going to spank that glorious ass.”

His hand lands on my backside with a sharp smack , and I jerk in the ropes, a surprised cry escaping around the gag. The sting is instant, followed by a wave of pleasure that ripples through me. My body convulses, and I come hard, soaking my panties as I squirt against my will.

“You came without permission,” he says, his tone mockingly stern. “Naughty girl. Would you say ten spanks are a good penalty?”

I shake my head frantically, my muffled protests garbled around the gag.

“What’s that?” he asks, tilting his head as if pretending to misunderstand. “You think twenty is better? Very well.”

A guttural sound escapes me, a mix of laughter and protest, as he begins the spanking.

His hand lands on my ass with practiced precision, each smack sending a jolt of pain and pleasure through me.

I’m trembling by the time he reaches ten, and then it happens again—I come, my body betraying me completely.

“Another one?” he says, his tone almost amused. “You’re making this harder for yourself, Spitfire. Twenty more it is.”

He slides my panties down, baring my ass completely. The cool air brushes against my heated skin as he resumes the spanking, his hand alternating between sharp smacks and gentle caresses. His other hand slips between my legs, teasing my pussy with expert strokes.

I’m lost in the sensations, the pain and pleasure blending into one overwhelming wave. My muffled cries fill the room, my body arching against the ropes as I’m pushed closer and closer to the edge.

By the time he finishes the spanking, I’m a trembling, soaked mess. He steps back, admiring his work with a satisfied smirk.

“Your ass looks so cute with my handprints all over it,” he says, possessive.

I let out a muffled groan, my body still trembling from the aftershocks. My legs feel like jelly, and I’m completely at his mercy—just the way he likes it.

I’m still trembling, suspended in the ropes, my body buzzing with the aftershocks of the spanking when Guvan steps back. His red eyes gleam with mischief, and I know that look. It’s the look that says he’s not done with me. Not even close.

He reaches into a drawer and pulls out something that makes my eyes widen—a sleek, alien-looking device with a ridged shaft and a tip that’s shaped like.

.. well, let’s just say it’s not something you’d find at your average sex shop.

He holds it up, the soft hum of its motor already vibrating in the air between us.

“This,” he says, deliberately, “is a Vakutan vibe. It has multiple settings, each designed to amplify your pleasure.”

I swallow hard, the gag in my mouth muffling the whimper that tries to escape. My hips shift involuntarily, the ropes digging into my skin as I squirm. He steps closer, the vibe humming louder as he presses it against my inner thigh.