Hurt Me So Good Read online

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Oh, no reason, other than Mal acted strange all weekend, and now you’re fuming. Did Mal and V get into a fight over the weekend?”

  “How should I know? I haven’t seen Mr. Connagher since Friday night’s premiere.”

  Andy snickered. “Of course. Like you didn’t spend the entire weekend with him.”

  “I didn’t.” She grabbed the storyboards she’d prepared days ago—when she’d been so sure of earning Victor’s collar—and stomped toward the elevator. “Like I said, I haven’t seen him since Friday night.”

  “Wow, you’re telling the truth.” Andy rushed after her. “Did you two get into a fight or something?”

  “It’s really none of your business.”

  “Oh, come on, Shiloh, give me a break. Mal kept snapping at me all weekend and punished me for no damned good reason other than she was in a pissy mood. I thought she was mad at me, although I have no idea why.”

  Shiloh rolled her eyes. Yeah, of course he had no idea that his Mistress knew he was a lying sneak of a submissive who had betrayed her confidence and leaked details of her show.

  “Is she mad because I cut out early from the party?”

  She punched the button again and wished the elevator would hurry up. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “So what’s up with you and V?”

  “Again, that’s none of your business.” Thank God, the elevator opened and she stepped inside. Too bad the door wouldn’t zip shut and leave the nosy bastard behind.

  “Did the Master finally freak you out? I’ve heard the rumors, you know. V’s pretty nasty when he wants to be. Even Mal’s afraid of him, although she won’t admit it.”

  Shiloh turned and jabbed her finger into Andy’s chest. “I’m not afraid of him, he didn’t freak me out, and I like him nasty, all right? Now back off and leave me the hell alone.” By the end of her tirade, she was yelling loudly enough to hurt her own ears.

  “Sheesh, fine. Give a guy a break.” Andy’s eyes flared wide and he let out a little squeak. He squeezed past her and darted out of the elevator. “Sorry we’re late. She had to get a few things from her office.”

  Slowly, Shiloh turned around. Victor stood outside the elevator, his big palm blocking the door from shutting. With the fierce glint in his eyes and the furrow on his brow, she couldn’t tell whether he’d heard her entire tirade or not.

  “You didn’t blog this weekend.”

  She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. “Is that right? So the Master wants Dallas to read about how his submissive walked out on him?”

  “I want Dallas to hang on your every word.”

  Not an apology, no explanation, just a casual mention of a disagreement that had left her devastated and alone. Hurt, rage and betrayal roiled in her chest and she couldn’t draw a breath. She couldn’t look away from his face. Only now did she notice he’d left his hair loose about his shoulders. What did that mean?

  Finally, she forced out, “Is that an order?” In a deliberately snide voice, she added, “Master?”

  He locked his fingers around her upper arm and marched her toward his office. “Yes, it is. Blog about every nasty, dirty detail. Then you’re going to read it aloud to me each and every morning before we tape. Start with how I whipped you so hard that I cut your back and then you walked out on me for the entire weekend. But here you are, baby, right where I want you, and everybody knows whose bed you’ll be in tonight.”

  She sat where he put her, her cheeks burning with shame. Patrick, Mal and Andy stared at her with their mouths open, hanging on every word.

  “Now that that’s settled, let’s start with what we’re taping for this episode.”

  Her mind felt as empty and clean as a washed chalkboard on the first day of school. Her throat ached like she’d been strangled, her eyes hot and burning, but no one knew the next episode, not like she did. I’m the show runner, and I’m not going to let him ruin my show, no matter how big a dick he is.

  Or has.

  She swallowed the lump trying to choke her. Staring down at her neat storyboards, she began. “Today’s taping is to show how a submissive can recognize the Master’s hand, not just by weapon but by weight and technique. Each Dominant should test the remaining submissives and try to trick us by switching their favorite weapons around. At the end of this episode, we should have the three final submissives you wish to see compete for top sub.”

  Victor sat behind his desk and propped his boots on the edge. “Patrick, which sub are you taking through to the final?”

  “Peppi.”

  “And you’re taking Andy.”

  “Of course.” Mal smiled and even managed a wink at her submissive. “I wouldn’t miss the chance to come down to the final punishment round against you, V. I’m going to try and hang with you stroke for stroke.”

  Andy paled even more and gulped in a shaking breath. Even though Shiloh didn’t like him at all, she knew exactly what he was feeling. “See you in the finals, Shiloh.”

  “I don’t think so,” Victor drawled out, tipping his chair back even further. “I don’t want a top sub who walks out on me. I’ll be taking Ruby to the final.”

  Shiloh kept her head down until she was fairly certain her eyes weren’t spitting hateful flames any longer. She’d known he would relish hurting her, but she hadn’t counted on such blatant humiliation games. Mal said mind games weren’t his thing, but maybe that all changed when I called him on his bullshit. Everything changed.

  “I need a couple of hours before I can begin taping, so let’s take the morning to get through as much editing and production work as possible. New taping won’t happen until this afternoon.”

  The CEO and Master had made his decree, so everyone stood up to leave. Shiloh followed, determined to escape without saying a word. He was waiting, judging every little look and word, but she refused to give him the pleasure of forcing a reaction from her.

  “I’m not finished with you, Shiloh. I certainly didn’t give you permission to leave.”

  A red-hot sheet of rage tore through her, but she held her breath and kept her mouth shut. Mal walked by and squeezed her shoulder, shooting a dark look at V. Even after the door shut, Shiloh didn’t say a word.

  His chair squeaked as he pulled his feet down off the desk. Idiot, risking scratches to such a lovely desk just to show off those ridiculous boots.

  “Come here, baby.”

  “Fuck you,” she retorted, jerking her head up with a snarl. “We’re not in a scene and this isn’t the show.”

  “Then I’ll come to you.”

  “The hell you will. You come over here and I’m going to punch you.”

  He sat on the desk in front of her. “Go ahead. I deserve it.”

  She didn’t have to be told twice. She stood up, reared back, and slammed her fist into his stomach as hard as she could. “Bastard. To sit there and humiliate me like that!” She punched him again, hard enough he grunted and his breath wheezed out. “You’re the biggest dick I’ve ever met in my entire life, and if you think I’m going to let you treat me like this, well, come at me again, asshole. I’ll rip that fucking crop out of your hand and lay into you instead.”

  “That could be interesting,” he gasped out. “If you want to try the crop on me, I’m willing. It’s in the top right-hand drawer.”

  “Yeah,” she said slowly. “Yeah, I think I do.”

  She stomped around his desk, yanked the drawer open and wrapped her fingers around the hilt of his crop. It was heavier than she expected, a nice solid weight in her hand. A little too long and unwieldy for her, but she could make do with it.

  Holding it in her hand, she felt a raw surge of power. Victor’s eyes were dark, his breathing short and fast, his erection obvious in his pants. He rolled over and stretched out across his desk. “Go ahead, baby. Let’s see how much arm you’ve got.”

  She stepped behind him and leaned against his thighs, rubbing herself against him.
“Are you sure? You’re the sadist, not the masochist.”

  “I like pain either way. I’d prefer to give it to you, but I’ll take it, especially from your hand.”

  “Don’t give me that shit.” She backed away and brought the crop down across his buttocks. His breath caught but he didn’t groan. She hadn’t hit him hard enough for that. “You don’t want to give me pain. We’ve already been over that.”

  “Give me more, baby. I can take it.”

  Gritting her teeth, she brought the crop down with all her strength. “That’s my line.”

  “And a fine one it is.” He hauled in a deep breath, air hissing between his teeth. “Do you really think you can take everything I want to give you?”

  She gripped the crop in both hands and brought it down again on his back instead of the luscious muscle of his ass. He definitely let out a groan this time, but no joy filled her. She didn’t relish hurting him. The whistling crack of the crop made her sweat and her body clench tight, but hurting him only made her stomach churn.

  Stepping back, she couldn’t keep the anguish from escaping her lips. He rose and sat back down on the desk, wincing a little. She knew that feeling all too well, which helped take away some of her regret. Slowly, he reached out and took her hand holding the crop, drawing her closer. “I will never strike you in anger.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, blinking away tears. “You hurt me, and I didn’t know how else to hurt you back.”

  “I didn’t mind.” Chuckling, he adjusted himself so the erection wasn’t so painful. “I enjoyed it, but you didn’t. That’s the difference.”

  His arm slid around her shoulders, drawing her down against his chest. God help her, she went. His powerful arms locked around her, his scent filled her nose, and all the agony and grief she’d been struggling to bear just slid away.

  “I’m sorry, baby. You’re right. I should have held you like this Friday night, all weekend, whatever it takes to make you feel safe and secure with me.”

  Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to cry. Not yet. She didn’t want to give him all her hurt and emotion, not so easily. A few words, that’s all he’d given her. No promises, no hope they could actually be together without making each other miserable.

  “Everything I just said in our meeting was a trap for Andy. You know no other sub will ever please me like you. I needed your reaction to be authentic and convincing, and I’ll make sure Patrick and Mal are filled in before we actually start taping. From the look on her face as she left, Mal is seriously contemplating trying out her flail on me.”

  More of Shiloh’s anger melted away. Of course, it made sense. That’s why no one else had been present. Victor would trust Mal and Patrick. A fight between Victor and his new sub would be irresistible to the media hounds, and if news of it broke, it’d prove once and for all that Andy was their leak. “Then we’d better go ahead and get the final taped too, before we lose him.”

  “Excellent plan,” he murmured against her ear. “What else should we discuss?”

  She pulled back and searched his gaze. “You have to trust me as much as you want me to trust you. I have a responsibility to tell you if I’m uncomfortable or scared or near my limit. If I get hurt because I fail to meet that responsibility, it’s my fault, not yours. I have no doubt that you’ll stop if I need you to. That’s never been something I worry about.”

  He didn’t avert his gaze, letting her see the fear darkening his eyes and the tightness of his lips. “I never want you to look at me like Kimberly did when I hurt her. After we’d made love countless times, she suddenly looked at me like I was Jack the Ripper. I’d rather lose you than ever see that fear and loathing in your eyes, even though losing you will kill me.”

  She cupped his face in both hands and leaned closer so he would feel her breath on his lips. “I don’t know what my limits are. I guess if you bring knives into a scene or something scary like that, then I might freak out. But I know how to stop you, Victor, and I’m not afraid of you. Do you want to use knives on me?”

  “No,” he whispered hoarsely. “Just my crop. I don’t even want a flail or paddle to touch you.”

  “A crop delivers a cutting blow. I may occasionally bleed. And I’m okay with that.”

  A tremor shook his shoulders. “I’m not.”

  She brushed her lips against his. “Come on, now, V, tell me the truth. You didn’t like knowing that you’d whipped me so hard you’d cut my skin open? Even a little? And I still got off on it? Not to mention the impressive load you blew in my mouth.”

  His big palms clenched on her hips repeatedly before he finally nodded. “You don’t mind?”

  “I’ll bleed for you, V. When it comes to you, my answer is always going to be yes.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, baby. I don’t want you to commit to something just because you think I want it.”

  “If you’re seriously into something, then my answer is yes. No doubt, no hesitation. I won’t refuse you outright and I’ll always at least try it. I’m willing to do that for you, but you have to be willing to trust that I’ll stop you when I’ve had enough.”

  “How can I know you’ll stop me when you didn’t even have a safeword?”

  She draped her arms around his shoulders and gave him a wicked grin. “I have one now, don’t I? I guess you’ll just have to wait and see if you can make me use it or not.”

  “Now that is a challenge no Master can refuse.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Blindfolded and bound to a St. Andrew’s cross, Shiloh concentrated on breathing deeply and slowly despite her nerves. She was pretty sure she’d recognize Victor’s touch, even if he chose to use something other than his crop, but she’d encouraged them to be tricky. She had no idea how Mal would approach her or whether Patrick would use his whip or not. Per the rules of the challenge, the Dominants weren’t allowed to talk to the submissive once they entered the room nor to touch them with their bare hands.

  If I screw up and claim Patrick’s or Mal’s hand instead of Victor’s, I’ll die of shame. Who’s stupid idea was this anyway?

  “Gift, are you ready?” Georgia asked.

  “Yes.” She strained her senses, listening for footsteps, anything that clue her to who approached. The small private room at Silken had carpeting, which made it practically impossible to tell what kind of shoes the Dominant might be wearing.

  “For your first test, you must tell us which weapon the Dominant is using. Each Dominant will test you. If you answer all three correctly, you’ll continue to the next round. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” She tried not to sound impatient, but she really just wanted this over.

  “Dominant number one, please begin.”

  Muscles straining and rigid, Shiloh couldn’t help but brace for the blow. Shoulders, back, buttocks, thighs…?

  The whisper-soft strike totally blew her mind. With not even a hint of pain, the blow had been so gentle that it could have been an accidental touch without the challenge. She concentrated on her skin and the delicate sensations that had brushed against her. Some submissives were perfectly happy with such a weapon in her Dominant’s hand, but as far as she was concerned, Victor might as well use a feather to tickle her for all the arousal such a touch would give her. “Velvet flail.”

  “Very good, Gift, that’s correct. Dominant number two, proceed.”

  This blow was sharp enough to make her suck in a breath. The double thud was unmistakable, the flexibility in the bamboo making it rebound against her buttock. A few blows from that weapon would likely push her to her nebulous limits, if Victor ever cared to pick up a “Cane.”

  “Excellent, Gift. Now for Dominant number three.”

  She braced, but the blow never came. Instead, something seared her right biceps. She flinched, instinctively reaching to swipe the pain away, but they’d bound her wrists to the cross bar. Heat pooled on her skin, spreading into a molten circle that made her twitch and moan. For
once, it wasn’t the kind of pain she liked. Not at all.

  “Get it off,” she gasped out, twisting her wrists.

  “Answer the question, Gift.”

  She hated the uncomfortable sensation sticking to her skin, trapping heat that only grew in intensity. When they peeled it off, would it take a layer of skin too? Logically, she knew it wasn’t really that hot. It probably wouldn’t even leave burn marks. But it hurt and it creeped her out. “Wax! Hot wax! Now please, get it off!”

  A cool, wet cloth wiped the wax away. Victor whispered in her ear. “I believe we just found an unexpected limit, didn’t we?”

  Grateful for the blindfold—so he wouldn’t see the tears that pooled in her eyes—she gave a little nod, unsure whether the cameras still rolled or not. She hadn’t prepared a list of allowable torture items, never once thinking the Dominants might want to use something other than the standard hand-held weapons.

  “Do you know what that does to me, baby? It makes me want to do it again and again, just to see how long you’ll endure, simply because I ask it of you.”

  The thought made her tremble, her stomach fluttering with dread. Here, then, was the real sadist coming out, and yes, the real masochist, because she knew she’d endure a hell of a lot simply because he asked, even the kind of pain that brought her no pleasure at all. And to think, I begged him to take the mask off and show me what he was capable of.

  He lifted a bottle to her mouth, giving her a drink of cool water. They must have moved on to filming the next contestant. He’d have to leave soon, but she savored the way he took care of her. Water had never tasted as good as that offered by his hand. It would taste even sweeter after he’d tortured her for awhile. She trembled harder, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  One last touch to her cheek, and then he was gone, leaving her blinded and trembling, waiting for the next phase. Would he use the crop? Would his pride allow him to hand it off to someone else for the purpose of the show? The dime-sized burn on her arm stung, reminding her of his words.