“Sir,” she murmured as she bowed her head and assumed the correct posture. No tinge of color signifying embarrassment at her gaffe graced her cheeks. She was utterly cold. “It’s good to see you again, Sir.”
She shot a quick glance Ivan’s way, her brows arching slightly, and Samson noticed her inch just a little closer to them both on her knees. Ivan sat silent as stone, resting his chin on his fingers, probably attempting to hide a smirk.
“Doms are always interested to hear how they’re perceived. I understand I have ‘horrifically rough edges’?”
Jillian cast a quick glance around the seating area, looking not quite as poised, before dropping her gaze. “Yes, Sir, you do.” Fair enough, but he’d be willing to let Cassie—and only Cassie—rub some of those rough edges off if she wanted to. He caught the look when Jillian shifted her gaze to Ivan again. Goose flesh rose on her forearms.
Playing along with her obvious interest, Samson gestured to his twin. “This is my brother, Ivan. You may have heard of him.” Smiling, he decided to jack with Ivan a bit. “He’s well known in his circles for his expert use of a knife.”
“Really?” She dragged the syllables out, and Ivan cast a murderous glance his way as she purred, “I’m pleased to meet you, Master Ivan.”
Samson didn’t even care that she’d offered the higher form address to Ivan. He knew what Hector, who was a stickler for forms of address, would think of such an infraction. “Jillian, did you enjoy Master Brandon’s attention?”
She blinked her eyes, giving him a limpid gaze. “My time with Brandon was fine. He was not my first choice, though. The caning was all right, but I think he needs a few more lessons with the whip. I was led to believe by your…guest that you would welcome my attention up here.” She glanced at Cassie, quirking her eyebrow haughtily. A subtle shift in the energy of the nearby Doms didn’t escape his notice.
“I understand you told Master Joseph that I’d indicated I would scene with you if you visited again. Is this true?”
Jillian stilled, calculating. “Well, Sir…Master Samson, I mean…”
“Come now, Jillian,” Joseph said as he sat forward. “Did you not tell me that he assured you he’d love to play with you again anytime? I recall those were your words.”
Jillian squirmed a bit, but Samson cut her off as she opened her mouth to equivocate.
“Even if I overlooked that fib, I understand you insinuated to a club guest that, through my attentions, I might put a sub in the ER,” Samson said, feeling as if his chest was expanding as he growled in affront.
Joseph’s disgust was mirrored his tone as he said, “That is a slanderous accusation implying actual harm, Jillian.”
Jillian’s jaw dropped as she looked between them. “I never implied that! I would never say a horrible thing!”
Joseph looked across the group at the diminutive sub trying unsuccessfully to hide behind Mona. “Shae?”
“Yes, Sir?” she said, unfolding herself and inching forward from her spot.
“What did you hear her say?”
“In the ladies’ room, she told Cassie that Samson’s attentions would probably put someone soft and vanilla like her into the ER.” Shae glanced at Jillian, and a frown of disgruntlement knit her soft brown eyebrows. “Master Samson?” she added in her genteel southern accent.
“You may speak up, Shae.”
“You would never do something so horrible. You might tan a sub’s hide for them, and you might scare the crap out of me every so often with that growly tone you use, but none—and I do mean none—of the other subs would ever be afraid that you’d put one of us in the hospital. And Cassie shouldn’t worry, either. You might be a sadist, but you’re still a gentleman.” With a nod, she backed into her spot, having said her piece with eloquence.
“Thank you, Shae. I appreciate that, and I’m sure Master Joseph appreciates your protectiveness of the Hazelle House Doms and sadists. You can rest assured they will all want to thank you in their own way for such loyalty.” He took sadistic enjoyment as Shae’s eyes bulged and her cheeks turned red as a beet.
“What have you to say, Jillian?” Joseph asked.
Finally letting out an irritated-sounding sigh, Jillian nodded. “I said that to her because I believed it to be true. She’s soft and overweight. In my opinion, she couldn’t handle what you can dish out. And it’s been several months since the last time I was here when you used your whip on me. I could barely walk afterward.” She shot Cassie a nasty smile. “Perhaps that might be why I didn’t remember the invitation clearly. When we parted, I was still in need of aftercare and in subspace.”