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in this setting he preferred to know what he was letting himself in for.
    She left the door of the room open, and he followed her inside. There was an upright wooden rack at one end and a few chairs at the other. The far wall was shelved and displayed a fine collection of whips, chains, and sexual toys for those who liked to use them or endure them.
    Lady M sat on one of the more comfortable chairs and pointed at her feet.
    “Kneel down, draw up my skirts, and make me come with your mouth.”
    “Yes, my lady.” He was aware of a sense of relief, as she demanded he do exactly what she always asked for.
    “Keep your hands behind your back while you do it, mind.”
    “Yes, my lady.”
    He knelt and carefully folded her silk skirts away from her legs until he could see the tops of her ribbon-tied stockings and her shaved mound. Breathing in her scent, he bent his head and licked her clit until she sighed and spread her thighs even wider.
    “Keep going.”
    He obliged her, keeping his hands locked behind him, and used just his tongue and his teeth to bring her to a sharp, gasping climax. His cock was hard now and pressed against the confines of his breeches in a way that made his body ache with need. Speaking of aching, his right hip wasn’t entirely happy with having to kneel on the hardwood floor, but he refused to acknowledge the pain. It would disappear when he got what he craved.
    “Stand up.”
    He stood awkwardly, trying to keep his hands away from her.
    “Fetch me a riding crop.”
    He bowed and turned to the wall of supplies, selecting the implement she requested, and returned to kneel before her.
    “Now, do I punish you first, or wait until you’ve finished pleasuring me?”
    Her gaze wandered over him, but he didn’t make direct eye contact. That wasn’t part of the game they engaged in. He was her plaything, and he wasn’t allowed to have an opinion—although he knew her well enough now to know what she’d do next.
    “Stand by the rack and place your hands on the top bar.”
    He almost smiled as she spoke. She couldn’t resist the opportunity to watch him suffer. It would only heighten her pleasure when she finally let him fuck her.
    The rustle of silk announced her presence behind him, and Alistair wiped all traces of amusement from his expression and stared at the opposite wall. He had a sense that Lady M wasn’t the only person who was watching him, but that wasn’t unknown in the pleasure house. The door was open, signifying anyone was free to look in, and there were plenty of peepholes within the walls for those who preferred a more voyeuristic approach.
    “Widen your stance.”
    The crack of the riding crop against his arse made him jump and tighten his grip on the wooden support over his head. A pleasurable heat built on his skin as she wielded the whip, and then it became mixed with pain and he was no longer smiling, but enduring. He closed his eyes and started to count the strokes, aware that she was being more brutal than usual and wondering why.
    Unlike her, he knew exactly who she was in real life. He always investigated his partners. It meant he had information on hand if things went awry. She was the bored, much younger wife of a promising aristocrat who was steadily working his way toward the most senior of government positions. He understood why she came to the pleasure house and her need to take her frustrations out on someone else. He probably understood her better than he understood himself.
    She paused and he became aware of the harshness of his own breathing and the way his fingernails were biting into his palms. She moved closer, the scent of her perfume filling his nostrils, and undid the placket of his breeches. He groaned as she roughly freed his hard cock and wrapped her hand around the base.
    “Lie on the floor on your back, Scot, and put your hands over your head.”
    He sank down onto the hard floor, wincing as his well-beaten arse came in contact with the wooden