Free Soultaker by Bryan Smith Page B

cavity, where she dug around in brain matter and made his body twitch like a live electrical wire for several moments before it went still. Bridget orgasmed more than once while he died.
    Then she climbed off him and stared at the utterly still body.
    “Was it as good for you as it was for me, Toddy?”
    Bridget laughed.
    She laughed for a long time.
    Then she went into Todd’s kitchen and found several sharp implements. And she went to work on the dead geek’s body. She felt so powerful. It was wonderful to kill! The elation she felt obliterated the previous blows to her self-confidence. She knew now there was nothing she couldn’t do. This was a gift, this power, this strength. A sacred reward for her loyalty and service to the Dark Mother.
    She slapped Todd’s lifeless face with his dismembered hand.
    He didn’t react, of course, but it was fun.
    Bridget again longed to ascend to the rank of Priestess. How endlessly amusing a spell of resurrection would be right now! He would be a zombie. Her slave. Like all the other men who served the Sacred Circle.
    She giggled.
    And slapped the dead man with his own hand some more.

C HAPTER F OURTEEN
    The sensation she felt as the hard, flat plane of the wooden paddle struck her ass rendered Penelope Simmons cross-eyed with pleasure. She stood bent over at the waist, her hands braced against the edge of Slater’s desk, her long skirt hiked up over her waist. Slater caressed her taut ass with one rough palm. His breathing was shallow. She knew the way she looked in this position was devastating to him—her long, sleek legs encased in sheer black stockings, toned calf and thigh muscles lent extra, exquisite definition by the high heels that lifted her perfect ass. Penelope gasped when he slipped the tip of a finger inside her. Any minute now, he’d unzip his pants and enter her from behind. Penelope tensed, awaiting the explosion of ecstasy she knew was coming.
    A moment passed.
    And another.
    He was really drawing it out, prolonging her torture to the goddamn nth degree. It made her furious. And frustrated. But she loved it, too. This forced denial of pleasure was a pleasure itself, a divine level of sweet discipline. And every passing moment only increased the sweetness of the eventual reward. Every nerve ending tingled with sensual hunger. She was certain this would be her most intense sexual experience in a long, long time, perhaps even eclipsing the frenzy of ecstasy she’d known with her sister’s husband-to-be in the back of a limo on the wedding day.
    But then Slater sighed.
    And set the paddle on the edge of his desk. He collapsed into his chair, triggering squeals of protest from ancient casters in desperate need of oiling. He folded his hands over his stomach and leaned back with his eyes closed.
    Penelope remained braced against the desk a few moments longer. She wasn’t able to process what had happened right away. All day long, she’d been unable to concentrate on her classes, her head filled with fantasy images. Mad with desire by the time the final bell tolled, she’d proceeded directly to Slater’s office, knowing he’d be up to the task of giving her the rough treatment she craved. In her mind, she envisioned it being wilder than ever. There was an extra element of risk at the outset, as there always was during their rare daytime trysts. She imagined rabid, desperate couplings in every position, the two of them clawing at each other and drawing blood, throwing their sweaty bodies around the room and knocking over furniture.
    This, though.
    Jesus, this was more than she could have anticipated. By the time she was able to speak again, she knew she couldn’t take much more. “Oh my God. Master, you are an artist. But I can’t wait any longer. Please…”
    Slater groaned. “I’m sorry, Penny. I’m not playing. I…I’m not up to this right now.”
    Penelope went very still. Projecting an outer calmness she didn’t feel, she stood up straight,