Page 16 of Serving Her Sentence
The men turned their conversation back to business as a young man came in bearing soup tureens.
The meal was utterly surreal for Noelle. Damian fed her from his plate, his hands casually roaming her body as he pleased, while he and Sean talked about sales, mergers, and stocks. If he hadn't put his hands all over her and made sure she had enough to eat and drink, it would have been as though she wasn't even there.
As much as she wanted to follow along with their conversation, she was having trouble concentrating. The nipple he'd abused throbbed, her bottom tingled every time she shifted against him, and she was slowly becoming aroused again as he caressed and fondled her. She wasn't the only one. His cock was hardening and thickening, pressing against the soft curve of her bottom, yet from his conversation, it was as if he was completely unaffected.
She resented him for that.
When their attention shifted back to her, it was as if the very air in the room changed, and Noelle suddenly found it hard to breathe—just like in the limo. She'd gone from being an accessory, or maybe a decoration, to the prey of two predators.
“I'm going to show my little slut the basement and deal with her tardiness,” Damian said silkily, his hand sliding up her thigh, so he could brush his thumb over her pussy lips. “Would you like to join us, Sean?”
Noelle stifled a whimper. She didn't know if she could handle another punishment... but then, she didn't really have a choice, did she?
She'd had a choice about which sentence she wanted to serve.
She'd had a choice about how long to take with her makeup.
Why the hell did she keep making the wrong choice?
Definitely, something to talk to the court-appointed therapist about when that day came.
Unfortunately, that line of thinking could only distract her so much before Sean's answer was dragging her back to her current reality.
“It would be my pleasure.”
6
The basement stairs were behind a door Sean hadn't pointed out during their tour, at the end of a hall, they hadn't gone all the way down. She hadn't even realized there was a door there. Unlocking it,Damian walked down the stairs in front of her, Sean behind her, making her nervous and surrounded. Since Damian hadn't let her put her robe back on, she'd had to walk through the entire house completely naked except for her heels, blushing furiously whenever someone new saw her. None of them had bothered to pretend they weren't looking at her.
Then again, why should they?
Once she reached the basement, she realized calling the room that was a complete misnomer.
This was a sex dungeon.
Noelle gaped, a strange shudder going through her from head to toe. Apprehension? Anticipation? Excitement? She really wished her body would get its shit together because those last two were definitelynotwhat she should feel when she walked into a room literally filled with whips, chains, bondage equipment, and all sorts of other things she didn't know what they might be used for.
There was a huge four-poster bed on the far wall, the only thing resembling normal furniture, except there were rings all up and down the posts, chains and cuffs hanging from the headboard, and the footboard looked like medieval stocks, with places for wrists and a head. Noelle looked away, shocked by the blatant arrangement.
Most of the furniture... well, she honestly wasn't sure how it was supposed to be used, but most had leather restraints and things hanging from the padded and wooden parts. There was something that looked like a sawhorse, a large standing frame like a miniature Stonehenge, a wooden X, what almost resembled a massage chair that had been bent forward—basically, everywhere she looked, something guaranteed to make her imagination run wild.
On the walls were instruments of torture displayed—more cuffs, restraints, and chains hanging beside various gags. Racks of whips, canes, crops, and paddles, and shelves of plugs, vibrators, and other smaller items she couldn't identify without moving closer to them.
Noelle's feet were firmly planted at the bottom of the stairs, and it wasn't until Sean landed a sharp smack on her ass, she moved again. Her steps swayed as her eyes darted around the room, trying to take it all in as her brain tried to reject what she was seeing. She didn't know whether she wanted to flee, fight, or freeze, but there was nowhere to go, and fighting would be utterly useless. Apparently, she wasn't allowed to freeze either.
“Keep walking,” Sean said, sounding amused. She could feel his breath fluttering over her hair.
“Put her on the bench,” Damian directed, walking over to the wall where all the punishment instrumentswere hung to inspect the offerings.
Oh, no.
She stepped back, terrified of whatever was about to happen, right into Sean's chest. The big man chuckled, obviously amused by her response.
Asshole.
“Come on, pretty girl,” he said, taking her bicep in a warm, firm palm and pulling her over to the massage chair thing. Although once he had her kneeling on it, bent over with her ass in the air and her breasts hanging down on either side, Noelle definitely didn't think of it as a massage chair. It was too obviously not its function.
Her wrists and ankles were secured to the thing, and a broad strap around her center held down the rest of her body, making it impossible for her to wriggle. Although she could move her head to look around, it wasn't particularly comfortable to do so, but she couldn’t stop craning her neck as Sean joined Damian, who was now holding a paddle.