Vance shrugged. “Sure. Just let us know when and the location.”
A slight smile appeared on Z’s face. “The when is now. The medical room has the best lighting.”
A theme room? Galen stiffened. “I take it this isn’t a whiteboard and lecture venue?”
“No. A demonstration.” Z glanced at Sally. “Use her.”
Vance smiled slowly. “We can do that.”
* * * *
“Sally.”
Sally looked up to see Uzuri in front of her. She didn’t know how long she’d been kneeling in the dungeon room. After a few minutes, misery had simply swarmed up and buried her. Faking an orgasm was one of Master Z’s crash-and-burn offenses. The time Andrea had pretended to get off, she’d been forced to ride the fucking machine.
Unfortunately, Master Z would know that getting off with a machine wouldn’t be much of a punishment for Sally. “Hey. What did Master Z choose to do to me? A whipping?”
Uzuri’s gentle brown eyes filled with sympathy. “You might like that better.” The trainee held her hand out.
Sally winced as Uzuri pulled her up. Her knees hurt like hell. She stretched and worked the kinks out, wishing she could just go home. At one time, she’d have been excited and scared about what might happen. Now…now her punishment was just something to suffer through.
She had a feeling she was nearing the end of her time as a trainee. The Shadowlands Masters had been almost the only ones who could give her what she needed—who were dominating enough to compel her surrender. Now they all had their own submissives, and any hope Sally had was gone.
Of course, the Feds weren’t attached. Doubtful they’d ever be, considering what the other submissives had said. Players. She huffed a miserable laugh. At least they were new enough that Master Z wouldn’t use them to punish her.
She pulled on her short, stretchy minidress—she hadn’t had the enthusiasm to come up with flashier attire—and followed Uzuri into the hallway.
Uzuri stopped at the medical room.
Surprised, Sally bumped into her. “Here?”
The beads in Uzuri’s braids clattered softly as she nodded. “Good luck.”
This really didn’t look good. There was already a crowd in front of the oversize window into the room. And the window had been opened so everyone could hear. Sally pushed her way through and stopped two feet inside the room. She felt the Masters’ eyes even before she saw them. No. No no no. It wasn’t fair.
Vance and Galen were waiting for her.
She took a step back.
Galen shook his head and held out his hand. “Come here, trainee.” His gaze was…direct. Firm. But she saw sympathy in his expression.
However, Vance’s eyes held the warmth of a frozen lake. He’d never looked at her like that, and the loss hurt her inside. “I’d thought better of you,” he said.
She pulled in a miserable breath, wanting to run. Knowing she wouldn’t. A trainee knew the rules. She’d lied to a Dom; no matter what nasty punishment the Feds’d planned, she deserved it.
Her feet took her forward, and she set her wrist in Galen’s grasp.
Palm under her chin, he studied her face with a frown. “I don’t know what’s bothering you, but you should’ve discussed it with your Dom. Or refused the scene. Lying—verbally or physically—isn’t permitted.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” Somehow his words—no matter how soft—were like a slap in the face. He pulled her dress over her head, then patted the table. “Put your bare ass here.”
I don’t want to. With a lowered gaze, she climbed onto the table. Dammit, she did scenes in public all the time. She liked the thrill of being observed, of taking what a Dom had to give. And at the Shadowlands, she didn’t worry about her safety. So why was facing this so difficult tonight?
“Head in the game,” Vance said, his rumbling baritone as authoritative as Galen’s resonant voice. “Lie on your back.”
She complied, and he positioned her with her butt at the edge of the table, then set her feet into the stirrups and strapped her legs to the supports.
Vance spread the leg rests widely apart, exposing her pussy, then lifted the stirrups until her pelvis tilted upward. Undoubtedly wanting her asshole available.
She glanced nervously at the tray tables. No needles. Not even the urethral dilators. Thank God for that. She’d far rather be whipped than punctured or dilated. But no floggers or whips or canes were visible. What did they plan?
Vance tightened a strap over her waist, lifted the head of the table slightly, and clipped her wrist cuffs to the top. He tied an elastic satin blindfold behind her head and then shoved it up onto her forehead. Not using it yet, but…obviously he planned to.
Galen addressed the viewers through the window. “As you undoubtedly know, Master Z asked us to give a short talk on how to tell if a female fakes her orgasm. I see no need for any submissives to be present, so please have them wait for you elsewhere or chain them in the subbie section.”
Several submissives, including Rainie and Jessica, left. A couple of Doms led their collared slaves away. Most of the remaining observers were male with a sprinkling of Dommes.
Sally felt a sinking in her stomach. There was only one reason they’d have strapped her to this table.
“Sally, you are going to show them how a submissive fakes an orgasm.”
What kind of a punishment is that? A flare of anger bit into her. “My pleasure. It’s not as if fooling a Dom is difficult.” You asshole.
Galen actually grinned. “So you fooled everyone?”
“Well, yeah. Sure, Master Z could tell, but others…?” Her shrug lost its effectiveness with her arms over her head.
“Actually, pet, Master Galen and Master Vance noticed your dishonesty even before I did,” Master Z said from the doorway. His arms were crossed over his chest, his gaze less disapproving than disappointed, and she felt tears sting her eyes. “Thank you, gentlemen, for giving up your time to teach this class,” he said.
Murmured thanks came from the other Doms.
Vance’s easy nod of acknowledgment was annoying. Damn Feds. Like they were all knowing and all powerful? What would they do if she made their scene into a farce? A When Harry Met Sally hammed-up orgasm. Oh yeah. Her lips curved.
Galen moved into Sally’s line of vision. “Trainee. If your performance isn’t convincing, you’ll get another chance. But before then, we’ll use the toys in the drawers to motivate you. Is my meaning clear?”
The meaning made her impulse shrivel into a tiny screaming ball. The equipment in the medical room drawers was ghastly—needles and urethral sounds and enema kits. The bastard must have noticed her anxious look at the instrument trays. Then again, he was good at screwing with a submissive’s mind. “Yes,” you fucking, “Sir.”
“Good.” Galen ran one finger over her cheek, gently enough to surprise her. “Oddly, we don’t enjoy humiliating submissives, even for punishment. I’m sorry you earned this, pet. We’d hoped for a different kind of play this evening.”
Her lips trembled. The sympathy in his low voice was far more difficult to take than his uncompromising tone.
He took a step back, his features turning unreadable again. “For realism, we’ll play with you briefly. Your job is to pretend excitement—whether you are or not. When you see me say, ‘Now,’ show everyone how wonderfully you can fake arousal and an orgasm.”
See him say? That didn’t make—
Vance put noise-canceling earphones over her head. The white noise they emitted drowned out everything.
Galen turned away from her and spoke to the audience.
She couldn’t hear a word he said. And she began to feel like…an object. A nothing.
This was so different from the last time she’d been with the Doms. Before, they’d been sweet to her. Not like this. Ice formed inside her.
Even more tears welled up. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the leather padding.
Hands ran over her body, cupped her breasts, and pinched her nipples lightly. A finger carefully pushed inside her. She was fairly dry, and under the weight of their disapproval, not even their hands could get her to moisten.
Her mouth tightened, and she set herself to suffer. This felt all too much like her time with Casey earlier.
The fingers pushed in and out. Then the Dom—Vance?—grabbed one buttock and pulled on it, more fully exposing her asshole.
A tap on her cheek made her open her eyes. She stared into Galen’s face.
His lips formed the word, Now.
She’d rather hit him than perform for him, but had no choice. She mouthed, I hate you.
His gaze softened. Then he pulled the blindfold down from her forehead and over her eyes.
Couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear. A shiver ran through her. But she had a chore to perform. She took a second to gather her thoughts, then let out a low, aroused moan.
VANCE’S LIPS TIGHTENED as he watched the pretty submissive go into her act. Fuck, he hated liars. His ex-wife had been a master at it. And he’d been too young and gullible to realize what she was doing. Even divorcing her hadn’t stopped the damage. By the time she finished, his best friend had been convinced he was an abuser. His buddy had eventually figured it out, but their friendship hadn’t survived.