Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Mhmm,” she said, patting the moisturizer into her cheeks. “I’m not as experienced as you are, obviously, but I’ve fooled around with paddles, hairbrushes, that kind of thing.”
My gaze fell to the wide, wood-handled brush on the vanity, then flicked guiltily back up. Could I bend her over the counter and welt her ass with it right now? Yes. Would it waste a lot of preparation that had gone into the evening, specifically so we could get to know each other on a deeper dom-and-sub level? Also, yes.
The doorbell rang.
“That’s the stylists,” I said. “You stay right here. Practice obeying.”
I left the bathroom and headed out to let in the stylists. They were exactly the ones I’d selected; a makeup artist named Tiffany who loved servicing our female clients, and a hairdresser named Asia whose numerous talents made her the most requested stylist at the resort.
“Mr. Ashe,” they both greeted me, almost in unison.
“Good evening.” I gestured to the bag Tiffany carried over her shoulder. “Do you want help with—”
“Thank you, but I prefer to carry my own supplies.” She tossed her shiny black hair over her shoulder and flashed a smile that put deep dimples in her tan cheeks. “If you drop it, there’ll be glitter in here for decades.”
I laughed but felt a stab of embarrassment. I suspected it was more about not burdening the guy with the cane. Asia pulled a bag on wheels behind her. Wincing, I said, “Sorry, I would offer, but those are a little tricky with this.”
“It’s fine, think nothing of it.” Asia’s sultry, Irish-accented voice contrasted with her young, innocent face. She’d been with us since Ascend Red opened, and I knew she was at least a couple of years older than I was, but her dark brown skin didn’t show a single wrinkle.
“Miranda gave you both the rundown?” I asked, though I directed the question a bit more at Asia than at Tiffany. I’d known Asia a lot longer. And better, in the biblical sense.
She nodded. “Pictures of the look you’re going for, full service, bindings, no orgasm.”
“And I’m going to be watching via camera,” I added, to be sure I had their consent in that.
“Yup,” Tiffany confirmed. “Do you want to do the binding?”
“Good idea.” I led them into the bedroom and knocked on the bathroom doorframe. “They’re here.”
“Oh, um.” Charlotte looked down at the towel in her lap and tugged off the one she’d wrapped around her hair. When Tiffany and Asia entered, Charlotte said apologetically, “I hope it’s okay that I put on some moisturizer. You’re not doing a facial or anything, right?”
“I might give you a facial,” I joked, and she rolled her eyes. “Hey, you knew how immature I was when you agreed to come to this island. I’ll be right back.”
“I thought you were watching from somewhere else,” she called after me.
“I am.” I went to the living room. Miranda had arrived with a team of decorators behind her. She held out a roll of pink satin ribbon and a pair of bandage scissors with a sly half-smile. I mouthed “thank you.”
Asia was plugging in a set of hot rollers on the counter when I returned. She quickly moved out of my way.
“Before I go,” I began, dropping to my knees beside the bench Charlotte sat on, “I want to make sure you’re in exactly the right position.”
I motioned for her to stand and scooted the bench around to face the linen cabinet and opened the door slightly.
“The camera is in there?” Charlotte asked with a dubious frown.
“Just today.” I opened the door fully and picked up the simple wireless webcam. “If I had cameras all over this place, I would have told you.”
“Okay, but why the closet?” she asked.
“Because it’s pervier that way.” I carefully moved the door so as not to block my future view. Then, I picked up the roll of ribbon. “Sit down and spread your legs, princess.”
She did as she was told. She was getting the hang of this more and more every time. I kneeled at her feet and took one in my hand, lifting her heel until only the ball of her foot touched the floor. Then, I gently slid that foot back until her heel touched the wooden leg of the bench.
Tiffany pulled out her bag of tricks, which contained some nontraditional tools of the trade. Charlotte watched her, eyes wide, as the makeup artist placed a large, bright pink dildo on the counter beside a canvas roll of brushes and applicators.
While I secured Charlotte’s foot, ankle, and calf to the bench, Asia presented me with two jewel boxes, each bearing a lovely set of glittering nipple clamps that could have been mistaken for earrings. “Which ones, sir?”
I considered both pairs, one tweezer style with delicate, dangling gold chains dotted with tiny diamonds, the other a clothespin model ornamented with filigree ruby pendants. Since I wasn’t sure how much experience Charlotte had with nipple clamps beyond the box she’d checked on the form, I decided to go with the safer route and picked the diamonds.