Mischief and the Masters by Cherise Sinclair

  “What?” Her indignant cry won her a smack on her tender bottom.

  “And next time, remember to breathe through the discomfort, love.”

  She choked. Only a doctor would call mean, nasty spanking “discomfort.” If she’d had a syringe handy, she would have stabbed it into his leg. Instead, she pulled in a slow breath and managed to relax. A little.

  “Good girl.” As she lay across Alastair’s legs, he petted her like a kitten.

  Max walked around her feet and sat down on the couch, moving closer to Alastair until he could stroke her thighs. “Hang on, mischief.”

  The U-shaped sex toy between her legs came to life. The vibration was both inside her and over her clit, pulsing in a wave-like pattern. Br, brr, brrr, brrrr, BRRR.


  Alastair patted her butt. “We didn’t want you to be bored during the movie.” The television clicked on.

  Seriously? Seriously? With Alastair’s foot on the chain and his hand pressing down on her back, all she could do was lie still as the vibrator buzzed on her clit and inside her, going up and down in slow arousing waves that lasted…never long enough.

  She tried rubbing her thighs together and received a smack on her thigh. “Ow!” Max’s hand could rival the hardness of an oak paddle.

  “Lie still, little mischief.”

  With a feeling of despair, she heard the sound of a car commercial.

  “All right, pet.” Alastair slapped her ass. Hard and even and merciless. The burning blossomed and grew. Pain filled her and, although she had her teeth clenched, she sobbed.

  He stopped. “Tell me why you’re being punished, Uzuri.”

  Stall…stall. The longer she took to answer, the—

  Smack. “I require an answer today, love.”

  A whimper escaped her. “Because my motivation wasn’t to help my Dom, but to get revenge.”

  “Precisely.” Alastair paused. “Do you see the difference?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Excellent. I believe you can fast-forward through the commercial, Max.”

  Her second of gratitude disappeared when he resumed spanking her.

  At least the commercial break was a lot shorter this way.

  AS THE MOVIE’S closing credits scrolled up the screen, Alastair relaxed against the back of the couch with Uzuri still lying across his thighs. He fondled her beautifully round ass, feeling the heated skin. His own palm stung.

  He sighed. Although he’d appreciated the way the vibrator had set Uzuri to squirming, he hadn’t enjoyed the two spanking periods.

  Neither had Max. Because of his mother’s history of abuse, Max didn’t like to deal out physical punishment.

  Alastair…well, he had enough sadism in his soul that spanking a little submissive was rather fun. He’d prefer more erotic pain, however.

  Unfortunately, Uzuri needed this lesson. Vengeful pranks didn’t belong in a D/s relationship.

  Other pranks? Well, some submissives simply had mischievous natures. He liked that side of Uzuri’s personality as much as Max did. They were both in high stress and high stakes professions. With her warmth, generosity, and adorable sense of humor, Uzuri had brought balance back to their lives.

  In all reality, he could see that she’d needed them as much. Over the week, her tension had disappeared. She was less jumpy, more relaxed, laughed more often. And those giggles. He smiled. Simply beautiful.

  Therefore, they’d finish her “punishment” now with something far more pleasant.

  On his lap, Uzuri had started to squirm. Alastair glanced at Max. His cousin was playing with the remote, undoubtedly raising and lowering the vibrations. From the sounds and wiggles, Max had found a good setting for her—enough to excite, not enough to climax.

  Max saw him looking, nodded, and shut off the vibrator. Time to move on.

  Alastair took his foot off the chain, lifted Uzuri up, and sat her on his lap.

  She winced as her sore buttocks made contact with his jeans and squirmed at the increased pressure from the anal plug.

  He grinned. It was the little things…Putting his right arm behind her back, he studied her.

  Sweat and tears had streaked her face and smeared her eye makeup. Her lips and cheeks had darkened with arousal. Her lovely brown eyes were slightly glazed, her expression confused. Helpless. She didn’t know what to expect.

  The chain from the nipple clamps brushed his left hand. He glanced at Max. “Restrain or remove?”

  Max eyed Uzuri and smiled slowly. “Oh, I’ll restrain.” He rose, put her wrists together behind her neck, and held them there in one hand.

  She looked confused. “I wasn’t moving.”

  Max laughed and used his free hand to hold her left nipple clamp steady.

  “Remember to breathe, sweetheart.” Alastair unscrewed the clamp and pulled it off.

  As the blood rushed back into her tender, abused areola, Uzuri’s eyes went wide. “Ow, ow, owwwww.” She pulled at her arms.

  Max didn’t release her wrists. “Only one more to go, baby.” He bent to anchor the right nipple clamp.

  “You…you…” She glared at him. “And you say you’re not sadistic.”

  Alastair choked on a laugh. She started to struggle as he unscrewed the clamp. He removed it.

  A second later, a high-pitched shriek sounded even though her mouth was tightly shut.

  “I can almost see why you enjoy torturing little subbies so much.” Chuckling and still holding her wrists behind her neck, Max glanced at Alastair.

  “This part is even more fun.” With his hand under her left breast, Alastair tipped her back enough that he could close his lips over one exquisitely sensitive nipple.

  Her squeaking noises were gratifying. He circled the velvety areola with his tongue, knowing to her the sensation would be sensuous—and painful. Both. He sucked lightly and made her gasp. After blowing air on the distended peak to cool the burning, he licked again before moving to the other breast.

  AS MAX’S HAND on her straining wrists held her immobile for his cousin, Uzuri felt the world blur around her. Alastair’s tongue swirled around her nipple ever so softly, yet every circle burned across the tender spots where the clamps had dug in. The areola pebbled and started to bunch with a tingling throb.

  And thick, hot pleasure poured in a molten stream from her breasts to her pussy.

  As Alastair straightened, he kept his right arm behind her back, pulling her closer to him. “I think she’s ready for you, Max.”

  “Ready for what?” Half dizzy, Uzuri bit her lip.

  “Ready for more.” After releasing her wrists, Max bent and kissed her so deeply that the world slid sideways. “Pretty Zuri.”

  “Now for those arms.” He studied her for a second and then folded her arms so they pressed upward on her breasts. “Stay like this, baby. Alastair will enjoy it.”

  Alastair chuckled. “I will indeed.” His right arm was behind her back, supporting her. After tipping her back slightly, he closed his left hand over one plumped-up breast and she squeaked.

  As Alastair played, her breasts swelled even more, throbbing and aching and sending hot zings downward to her pussy.

  She heard Max speak. She heard the words, but the meaning felt out of reach for a good second or two, and she opened her eyes and lifted her head.

  He was kneeling between her legs, pushing her knees apart.


  His eyes crinkled. “Open. Your. Legs.”

  Oh. Legs. She moved them apart.

  As Max pulled the vibrator from her pussy, it dragged over her sensitive clit. She gave a jerk and tried to sit up.

  “Easy, love.” Alastair’s arm high around her waist tightened, and his hand on her breast pressed down, the actions forcing her to stay half-reclined. She was completely under his control.

  Heart beating faster, she looked down her body.

  Max had moved between her knees. His eyes were intensely blue as he studied her a second. He
bent down and ran his tongue down her mound straight to her still-swollen clit with unerring precision.

  Pleasure shot through her, leaving sheer throbbing need in its wake. “Omigod, oooh.”

  Max pushed a finger, then two inside her vagina, penetrating her slowly, and the stretching became a tingling heat. As her pussy clamped down, he murmured. “Very nice.”

  His smoldering gaze trapped her, held hers as his fingers did a slow in and out. And then, with his other hand, he wiggled the anal plug.

  “Aaah!” Her hips jolted upward as every nerve back there shot to life. The feeling was incredible.

  When Max bent his head and licked over her clit, the nub swelled with each long stroke of pleasure.

  She sagged back against Alastair’s arm.

  “Uzuri, look at me.” Alastair’s hand cupped one breast. As his thumb circled her nipple, the sensations above and below were growing overwhelming.

  She looked up.

  Hazel eyes, mostly green, pierced through her.

  He held her gaze as Max teased her clit with his hot, flickering tongue. His fingers thrust relentlessly in and out of her swollen, slick pussy even as he wiggled the anal plug. Her entire lower half grew acutely sensitive, every brush and touch and movement exquisite. The hot, molten pressure grew, even as her insides tightened around the plug and his impaling fingers.

  Her muscles tensed, her fingernails digging into her own skin. Shudders ran through her.

  Alastair gave a rumbling sound of approval. “Now.”

  Unexpectedly, she was leaned farther back, and Alastair’s lips closed around her nipple, and he sucked. Hard. In slow, deep pulls.

  At the same time, heat engulfed her clit—and Max sucked. Hard. In slow, deep pulls.

  Everything inside her coalesced into a rigid ball, and deep in her core, the spasms began like the first ripplings of an earthquake. Pleasure shuddered through her, growing and growing, shaking her body, ripping apart boundaries and defenses, changing the terrain of her entire world. So much pleasure.

  Another quake shook through her and another.

  Slowly, the earth settled, shudders to minor quakes, to tiny tremors.

  Her heart was still banging inside her rib cage when she felt Max move back and slide the anal plug out, leaving her empty inside. As he moved away, her inner thighs felt cold where his warmth had been.

  As Alastair sat her up, the world shuddered back into place around her, and she felt…alone. Strange and shaken. She’d been punished. Hard.

  She’d deserved it.

  When Alastair had spanked her, she’d been angry. Hurting. Not truly remorseful.

  But now…the guilt swelled inside her. She’d been bad and had disappointed them and let them down. She hadn’t been a good submissive. Tears welled in her eyes.

  She’d been nasty to Max and rather than being nasty back, they’d disciplined her—even though they didn’t want to—and had given her pleasure. So much pleasure.

  They hadn’t taken any for themselves.

  Max was standing beside her. She looked up at him, eyes blurry. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be bad.”

  The steel in his eyes turned soft. “We know, baby.”

  She turned and met Alastair’s green gaze. Her chest felt tight, her words thick and hard to get out. “I’m sorry, Sir. Don’t be mad at me.”

  “Sweetheart, we never were. Come here, love.” Shifting her closer on his lap, he pulled her against his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, he tenderly, firmly, guided her head to his hard shoulder.

  With a hitched sob, she pressed her face against him.

  And she cried.

  She didn’t even know why, but every emotion inside her came out in a waterfall of tears and sobbing. As she clung to him, his arms were safety and strength.

  With one big hand, he rubbed her back, making soothing sounds.

  Eventually, her crying slowed.

  “There we go.” Alastair’s deep voice rumbled in his chest, his British accent somehow soothing. “Take her to bed. You can finish making up.”

  “Not going to object to that.” Max bent and scooped her up. Thicker chest, harder arms, a different scent, rougher voice—and yet, the sense of safety was the same.

  She started crying again, and rather than complain, he tightened his arms around her. He was even rocking her slightly, like a baby, with his cheek against the top of her head. “Shhh, shhh, shhh.”

  He took her to his bed, tucked her in, and held her as she fell asleep.

  When he woke her in the middle of the night, said it was time to finish “making up,” and fucked her back into total limpness, she could only giggle.

  Chapter Twenty


  On Monday evening, Max looked up from the news to see Zuri. “Hey, princess. Going to watch the day’s disasters with me?” Pleased, he patted the cushion beside him. In the week she’d lived with them, he’d discovered the joys of watching the news with her. The insane world didn’t seem nearly as out of balance with her soft body snuggled against him and her logical, but kinder view of humanity.

  “No, no news today.”

  Catching the trouble in her tone, he clicked off the television and turned to study her.

  Posture stiff, soft lips compressed into a determined line.

  “Spit it out, baby. I’m listening.”

  Her nod of approval was so much like his mother’s that he almost smiled. She handed him the frosty glass of beer she was carrying. “Can you go to the roof terrace?”

  The way she tensed in worry over his answer made his response a no-brainer. “Of course, princess.” He rose and cupped her chin so he could watch her eyes. “Problem?”

  “Not exactly.” She rubbed her cheek against his palm. “I… Please?”

  Well, she’d undoubtedly explain when she was ready. “I’ll see you up there, then.”

  Her relieved breath puffed against his wrist. After a quick kiss, he headed up to the third floor. If something were stressing her out, he’d do what he could to fix it.

  Hell, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to smooth her path and make her happy.

  Up on the rooftop terrace, Max put his bare feet up on the coffee table, sipped the cold Fat Tire—excellent bribe—and settled in to wait.

  Shortly, she appeared with his cousin.

  Carrying whisky in a tulip-shaped glass, Alastair sat down on the opposite couch. Not leaning back. Not relaxing. Grim lines bracketed his mouth, and his eyes were empty. The doc was in a piss poor mood.

  Frowning, Max straightened.

  Before he could speak, Zuri shook her head. She sat beside Alastair, leaning against him despite his stiff frame.

  That wouldn’t work, Max wanted to tell her.

  But she didn’t do more than snuggle against his cousin and sip her own drink. “I had a crummy day today.” Her voice was softer, the lilt suppressed. “Although the sales for the entire store are adequate, the numbers for the women’s clothing section are down.”

  After a second, Alastair gave her a puzzled look.

  Max knew why. The little submissive rarely talked about her troubles. She usually had to be pushed…something he and Alastair had realized and started doing.

  Casually, she slid her hand down Alastair’s arm and tangled her fingers with his—something else she rarely did.

  All right. He’d play along until he figured out the game. “Why is the women’s section worse?”

  She sighed. “The morale is crummy. There are rumors that I had Carole fired because I didn’t like her. The bosses haven’t revealed her part in how I got hurt.”

  Alastair seemed to wake up slightly. “What are you planning to do, pet?”

  “I have a few ideas. As soon as I have a cohesive plan, I’d like to run it past you guys for fine-tuning.”

  “Of course,” Alastair agreed.

  Zuri took a sip of her drink. “Max, what was your day like?”

  He’d caught another homicide.
Before he could side-step the question, he saw the plea in her soft brown eyes, and her scheme came clear. She talked. Max talked. Then Alastair would have to talk. Clever, subbie. He gave her a nod. I’m in.

  A sip of beer helped to prime the pump. “The day started off like hell. Had a murder in an alley in Ybor. But it turned out to be a straightforward drug deal gone bad. The dealer’d miscalculated how desperate his customer was.”

  When Zuri shivered, Alastair frowned and put an arm around her. “Pet, Max’s job isn’t a good one for conversation.”

  Heh, bad move, cuz.

  Zuri’s chin came up, and once again, she reminded him of his mother—that was the disapproving stare Mom’d get when Max fucked up by the numbers.

  Good news was the little subbie’s stare was directed at Alastair, as were her words. “Max has a scary, gritty job, but he needs to be able to share it and give some of the pain to people who can carry it. I am one of those people, and so are you. That’s part of our job.”

  When Alastair reacted as if she’d smacked him upside the head, Max barely smothered a laugh.

  Zuri glanced over and gave a royal wave—continue—so Max dutifully related the rest of his day, editing out the worst of the gory details.

  The hug and kiss he received were a gratifying reward. Oddly enough, he felt better, too—as relaxed as if he’d downed a couple of shots.

  When Zuri settled back against Alastair’s side and smiled at Max, he recognized his next cue. “Your turn, cuz. Tell us about your day.”

  The way Alastair stiffened showed his day had been fucked-up. The way his gaze narrowed on the beautiful subbie nestled against his side said he realized he’d been set up.

  But after all the shit they’d given Zuri about sharing her problems, the doc was screwed, and he knew it.

  With a sigh, he laid it out. Bright little kid. Dirt bike. Accident. Coma. The doc wasn’t a neurologist, so he wasn’t the lead on the case or whatever medical people called it, but, being Alastair, he’d still gone by to see the kid in the hospital. To make sure the family was holding up.

  It’d hurt him. Hell, it would upset anyone to see a kid laid low, but the doc had a fucking tender heart. He’d already gotten cut up from working war-torn hellholes all those years.

Previous Page Next Page
Should you have any enquiry, please contact us via [email protected]