Willful Violation (Lawyers Behaving Badly Book 3) (10 page)

M
aisie had been expecting
to find another fully appointed dungeon, just like the one in the penthouse near the office.

At the very least, she’d expected a bed.

After all, their relationship thus far had been based around sex. Well, sex and dealing with the Ballystock fiasco.

The last thing she’d expected was to find herself in a small theater.

Six rows of seats led down to a stage.

In the middle of the stage was a wooden stool, a microphone on a stand, and a guitar.

“What is this?” she asked, breathless.

Neither Ethan nor Trent answered her. Instead, they led her down to the front row.

She lowered herself into a plush seat upholstered in blue velvet. It was like settling into a warm hug, and she shivered a little in anticipation.

Ethan and Trent sat on either side of her. She was surprised to see that Ethan was slouching somewhat, his long legs kicked out in front of him.

It gave her a sudden glimpse of what he must have been like in college. Irreverent, challenging, demanding.

He must have felt her gaze on him, because he looked over and smiled. “You’re in for a treat,” he said, “but don’t get into the habit of expecting us to do things like this all the time, or you’ll be disappointed.”

“I never expect anything from the three of you,” she joked.

“Watch your tone,” Ethan said, his gray eyes flashing.

Trent leaned forward. “Her, I can gag,” he said pointedly. “You, on the other hand…”

Maisie giggled, and Trent raised a finger in warning, but he was kidding.

She loved this. Maybe everything was falling apart, but when they wanted to, these three men made her happy.

Raphael walked onto the stage, carrying another guitar. He’d changed into a pair of ripped jeans, flat-soled sneakers, and a faded T-shirt.

But it was his dark hair that pulled her attention. He wore it longer than most other attorneys, but he tended to keep it styled back, out of his face.

Now it was a sexy, rumpled mess. He looked like a bad boy cologne model, ready for a photo shoot.

“Apologies to the audience,” he said, looking at Maisie. “I had technical difficulties, but they’re now resolved.”

He leaned on the edge of the stool, looked down, and began tuning the guitar, plucking at the strings and then adjusting the tuning keys.

Maisie couldn’t help staring at the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders as he moved.

In the small photo in his office, Raphael had been younger and thinner.

He’d filled out into a devastatingly sexy man.

“I’m only going to sing one song tonight,” he said, “but it’s one I wrote.”

His fingers were moving across the strings, playing a melody that Maisie could barely hear.

“I saw her on the beach, barefoot and lovely and sad,” he sang.

She smiled. He hadn’t written that song; everyone knew it was Taylor Lynn Tate’s. A year ago, Maisie hadn’t been able to go anywhere without hearing it on the radio, and it had been deemed the song of the summer.

Like everyone else who didn’t live under a rock, she knew all the words.

But she’d never heard it sung like this before.

He did it slower, so that it was almost a ballad. And his voice… It sent shivers racing up and down her spine.

“Thrown from the water, from the sand, we weep and fast and beg.”

She’d never seen Raphael so at peace, so masterful, as now, when he was bending the guitar to his will.

He reached the chorus and leaned back slightly, his eyes closed, his brow lightly furrowed.

“Tossed through the waves combed back,” he sang, and Maisie’s heart felt like it was going to explode. Taylor Lynn Tate pretty much screamed that line, but Raphael was giving it the weight it deserved.

By the time he finished, she was stupidly in love with him. It took a moment to process the reason why.

It was the way he had unapologetically bared his soul.

She jumped to her feet and applauded.

Raphael opened his eyes and momentarily looked surprised, as if he’d forgotten where he was. He stood, bowed a little, and walked off the stage.

“Damn,” Ethan said. “He’s pretty good.”

“So long as he doesn’t try to leave the firm again,” Trent said. “Maisie, do us a favor and pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”

Yeah, like she could hide the emotions running riot inside her.

“That was amazing,” she gushed when Raphael walked back out. “Seriously. It’s a good song, but the way you sang it was so much better than Taylor’s version.”

“That’s why I don’t sell them anymore,” he said, sitting on the edge of the stage. He raked a hand through his hair.

“Wait… Were you serious? You wrote ‘Break My Love’?”

“Credited as R. Lattimore. You can check the liner notes if you don’t believe me,” Raphael said. “Though maybe someone can help me out here. If a submissive suggests that I’m lying, is it better to spank her or whip her?”

His casual demeanor had vanished.

Maisie had been attracted to Raphael from the moment she’d first seen him. But now, it was more than that.

“Up on the stage,” he said.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

She knew better than to ask Raphael if he was serious. She also realized that it was unlikely she’d get any help from Ethan and Trent.

Taking a deep breath, she stood.

Raphael stood and leaned down from the stage to offer her a hand.

The instant his fingers wrapped around hers, he was pulling her up. It happened so quickly that Maisie had a moment of disorientation. The bright footlights weren’t helping; she felt half-blinded.

Raphael hopped down from the stage. “Strip,” he ordered Maisie as he sat in her recently vacated chair.

“Strip?” she asked, her voice weak. There was so much light. Too much.

“Strip,” Ethan commanded.

What could she do?

She removed her clothing, beginning with her dress.

By the time she’d peeled off her panties and tossed them to the side, her nipples were erect buds, and a bead of moisture was dripping down her inner thigh.

Embarrassed, she squeezed her legs together.

It was a mistake.

Her bosses had noticed. They were all sitting up straight now, paying close attention.

Ethan leaned toward Raphael and said something.

Raphael nodded, then conferred with Trent, who quickly got up and left the room.

Maisie’s forehead dampened with sudden sweat.

“Turn around and bend over the stool,” Raphael said. “Spread your legs wide.”

She closed her eyes, but only briefly; she didn’t want to incur additional punishments. Her bosses could be brutal, and it had been such a nice evening.

How strange
, she thought.
It’s not the punishment that bothers me. It’s displeasing my bosses.

She turned and bent over the stool. Its hard, round seat pressed uncomfortably into her stomach and breasts.

“Grab the legs as far down as you can,” Ethan said.

Then he was on the stage. He knelt in front of her, and his gaze went to her breasts, squished by the polished wood.

“Raphael apologized to you, but I’m not Raphael. You know your safe word. You know your safe gesture. That’s all you have, Maisie. Tonight, we’re taking everything else.”

“Ethan,” Trent called out.

Ethan lifted his right hand and caught the small bundle of wadded-up cloth that Trent tossed to him.

“Go ahead and struggle,” Ethan said, dropping the bundle to the floor, where it began to loosen.

She looked at the bundle and realized it was a bunch of ragged strips of cloth. Her eyes went wide. Raphael had said they were going to find out if she was serious about pretending to resist.

These men planned to tie her up.

And then what would they do?

True fear and excitement made her shiver. Her pussy clenched.

“Damn, that’s a gorgeous sight,” Trent said. “Let’s work her over here before we take her upstairs.”

Maisie opened her mouth to scream, but Ethan was faster, shoving a thick strip of cloth into her mouth.

Her scream came out as a muffled grunt.

Someone smacked her ass.

Someone else pressed on the small of her back, keeping her in place.

“Sometimes,” Ethan said gently, “we’re going to punish you just because we want to. Because it makes our cocks stiff.”

A broad palm slapped her ass hard, and the stool slid forward.

She whimpered. A single tear spilled down her cheek.

Then a thick cock was being shoved into her pussy.

* * *

I
f this was
their idea of punishing her, then Maisie wanted it every single day.

All right, so maybe the spankings were a little harder than they needed to be.

Another slap landed. More tears flowed from her eyes. She sniffed hard, so her nose wouldn’t run.

She didn’t know who was fucking her, but he hadn’t spent much time preparing her. When he pulled out, she almost cried with frustration.

But then he was prodding at her ass, and before Maisie could mentally brace herself, he was shoving that cock into her back door.

He was too large to be going in dry. Oh, how she loved when they pushed her limits.

She cried and kicked her legs, and then somehow, miraculously, the stool tipped to the side.

The men hadn’t yet tied her down, and Maisie stumbled away triumphantly. She almost lost her balance, but then she was upright and moving fast, running for the exit.

S
he didn’t make
it very far before Trent caught her. His arms were like steel bands around her body, and his chest was a slab of rock.

“Oh, you’re a bad girl,” he murmured, and she bit her tongue to stop from giggling.

Ethan fastened a rough, oatmeal-white rope around her neck. He’d gotten it so quickly… This must have been planned.

Trent set her down. He ran a finger between her shoulder blades, and she shivered. “Any objections to taking her for a walk?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Raphael said.

Even though it hung loosely and with plenty of slack, it might as well have been knotted tightly, because Maisie felt bound to the man holding the other end of the rope.

The three men began walking toward the exit. Maisie followed, her hands clasped in front of her.

With every step, the rope swung back and forth. Sometimes, the fibers brushed across her nipples, which had hardened to almost painful little peaks.

They led her through the house, then out into the mild night.

It was a gorgeous evening. Fields of fireflies blinked, mirroring the winking stars overhead. The air was still and quiet.

Ethan was moving faster now, and she had to hustle to keep up. It wasn’t easy in heels. Her breasts bounced. She was too busty to ever go without a bra, and she had to support her chest with her hands.

Her buttocks were also shaking, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that. At least none of the men was behind her, watching the rippling of her flesh.

It soon became clear that Ethan was leading her to the stables.

For the first time since the rope had settled around her neck, she hesitated.

But the men were ahead of her, and less than a second later, the rope was taut.

She began moving forward again. “Excuse me,” she said. “Sir?”

Ethan glanced back but didn’t slow his pace. They were approaching the stables at an alarming rate.

“What’s going to happen in there?” she asked.

He didn’t look back again. The answer was clear:
you’ll see soon enough
.

Raphael opened a human-sized door beside an enormous sliding door almost as tall as the building itself. Maisie continued to follow.

As soon as all four of them were inside, Trent closed the door.

The unfamiliar aromas were pleasant enough: sawdust and wood, fresh hay that smelled like a meadow.

The mixture was sweet.

A black horse shoved its nose over the side of the stall door and nickered. Its eyes seemed enormous to Maisie.

Then she noticed that Raphael was nowhere in sight.

She was instantly on high alert.

A moment later, he came from around a corner. He was shirtless, but Maisie barely noticed his brawny, muscular chest.

Her attention was drawn to the three things he was carrying.

Two of them were black rods, each about two-and-a-half feet long with a stiff rectangular tongue at one end.

The third she recognized immediately. It was a whip.

One glance at the whip’s long, thin lash, and she was ripping the rope away from her neck.

“Hey,” Raphael said. “Grab her.”

But Maisie was free again. She kicked off her heels, and now she was sprinting, her breasts and ass jiggling.

* * *

S
he reached
the end of the building.

Breathless and excited, she ducked into an open stall. The straw under her feet was clean at least, but the rough texture poked into her ankles and the soles of her feet.

There was no way out.

She turned.

Raphael was blocking the exit. His messy hair and wide shoulders would have been irresistible under any other circumstances.

At the moment, he was only carrying the whip.

“So,” he said in a low rumble. “I suppose this is the moment of truth.”

She shook her head.

“Either use your safe word, or resign yourself to the fact that this is going to happen. You’re cornered, Maisie. You can either service us as we demand…”

He shook out the whip, letting the lash dance in the air.

“…Or you can service us as we demand.” His sadistic smile was an instant aphrodisiac.

“I don’t hear her safe word.” Ethan stepped past Raphael. He was still dressed in his suit, which made him look quite out of place in the stables.

The same for Trent, who had also appeared.

They were each holding a rod.

“This is a riding crop,” Trent said, holding it up. “The rectangular bit on the end is called a popper. Crops are very useful when dealing with stubborn horses.”

Maisie licked her lips.

Trent smacked the crop into his palm. “Shouldn’t you be on your knees?”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled, and she dropped down.

She had never strained so hard to spread her knees as wide as possible. She looked up at him.

“That’s better,” he said. “I was starting to think you didn’t really want to play with this.”

“Play with what, sir?” she asked, her heart humming and her blood singing through her veins.

“Playing the little innocent cock tease until we ravage you.”

Wide-eyed, she blinked at him and tried to look confused. She liked where this was going.

“You seem surprised,” Raphael said. He flicked his wrist, and the whip lashed out to cleave the straw to her left. A whisper of air blew across her.

“Yes, sir,” she said, trembling.

“Maybe she wasn’t paying attention to you in the limo,” Trent said.

“I remember, sir. Mr. Lattimore said the three of you would put me to the test unless I worked hard to change your minds.” At the time, she’d thought it was just talk, something to get her blood racing.

She should have known. These men always followed through.

“Let’s make a deal,” Ethan said, and Maisie almost groaned.

Trent strode across the stall and tapped the crop’s popper under her chin. “Did I detect a bit of willfulness just now?” he asked.

“I’m sorry if I offended you, sir,” Maisie babbled. She knew better than to answer the question with a lie, and telling the truth would surely earn her a memorable introduction to the crop, the whip, or both.

Trent dragged the tip of the crop down her neck to stroke the vulnerable notch at her collarbone.

She moaned as he continued to her breasts.

He toyed with one of her nipples, which hardened nicely for him. Heat and wetness gathered between her legs.

He flicked his wrist, and the end of the crop slapped against her peak.

Maisie cried out, arching her back. Searing pain raced from her nipple right to her clit, which felt swollen and warm.

Another flick of his wrist, and her other nipple burned.

The crop trailed lower. Trent slapped the skin just below her navel several times. It wasn’t painful, but it gave her an idea of what was coming next.

She had her safe word. She could end this at any time…

He slapped her lower belly, her hips, her thighs. The crop’s barbaric exploration visited everywhere except the one place she most feared.

“Close your eyes,” Trent said softly.

She squeezed them shut, and that was even worse because now she didn’t know where the other two men were, or what they were doing.

A high, keening noise leaked from her throat.

“Quiet, now,” Trent said. “You know we’re going to hurt you, and we’re going to fuck you. The details don’t matter. Your job is to endure it.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t want this. It’s too much.”

“I said quiet!”

The crop snapped against her sex, and Maisie cried out as sensual heat rushed to the sensitive spot. Her shout must have frightened some of the horses, because there was a general commotion in the nearby stalls.

“We can’t have her getting the animals worked up,” Raphael said. “Let’s take her into the hay barn. Lots of rope in there, too.”

“Please,” Maisie cried as Raphael jerked her to her feet.

She stumbled into his body, hard with thick muscle. A symmetrical dusting of hair covered his chest and arrowed lower. His clay-colored nipples bore the telltale scarring of having once been pierced.

Looking at his magnificent body set her heart to pounding wildly in her chest. Her inner thighs were wet from arousal.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you, sir,” she said.

Someone grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back. It was Trent.

“We’re not doing this because of your jealous behavior at the office,” he said with a condescending little laugh. “Your new job is the punishment for that.”

“Why, then?” she asked.

Ethan leaned over her. The stiff side of his face seemed scary in the dim light.

“Because you’re naked,” he said. “Because you’re sexy, and there’s three of us. You want this. Tell us you don’t want it, Maisie. All games aside. Not as a submissive. As a woman. Tell us you don’t want this.”

His eyes seemed hard. They glittered.

“I want it,” she said in a little voice.

His mouth was inches from hers, his breath hot. “You want to pretend you’re being taken against your will? I would prefer to show you just how much of a horny slut you are.”

Oh, she’d missed hearing him talk like that. “I’m not a slut!”

He flicked her nipple. “You’re our slut. Our submissive. You are whatever we want you to be. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Sir,” she added, realizing that the moment for speaking candidly had passed.