Free Dark Powers by REBECCA YORK Page B

where they had been. She stepped away, turning her head, embarrassed that she had pushed the two of them so far when she knew as well as he did that it was the wrong thing to do.
    Before he could say anything else, she climbed back into her cold bed and burrowed under the covers, wrapping her arms around her shoulders as she tried to warm herself.
    Ben had thought there was no way he could go back to sleep. But perhaps he wanted to get away from the little room where he and Sage were confined, because he drifted off quickly. Yet sleep was a trap, too. When another dream seized him, he tried to fight his way to consciousness, but he couldn’t wake. And this time, to his horror, he was back on the Windward , walking down long corridors, past closed doors. He knew the passengers were in the rooms beyond the doors, enjoying the pleasures that the slaves provided.
    He had always shunned those pleasures, and he had never understood why his sister was turned on by the sexual games she liked to play.
    Yet as he walked down the passageway, imagining what might be going on in those rooms, he could feel his body responding. Finally he paused in front of one of the doors. He told himself he didn’t want to go in, but he knew that was a lie.
    He turned the door handle and walked into the chamber beyond. It was a dungeon, like something out of a medieval castle. Although the lighting was low, he could clearly see the walls that looked like stone, the racks of implements, a wooden table with restraints for hands and feet, the large X-shaped wooden beams against one wall with hand and foot manacles attached.
    He wanted to feel disgust when he looked at the room and the equipment, but a surge of sexual excitement coursed through him. It ramped up when he saw Sage standing in the room, a satisfied expression on her face. She was dressed as he had never expected to see her—like a dominatrix in black leather shorts, a low-cut leather vest, black fishnet stockings and black high-heeled shoes. The effect was bold and sexy.
    She watched him taking in her appearance.
    Giving him a considering look as he stood by the door, she said, “I’m glad you’ve finally arrived.”
    “I don’t want to be here.”
    “Why not?”
    “I don’t want to participate in any of this stuff.”
    “Not even when you need to be punished?”
    “For what?”
    “You’re the one who thinks you deserve the punishment. For being the security chief here. For letting people die on your watch.”
    “I . . .”
    “Take off your clothes,” she said in a harsh voice. “Or get out of here, and never try to contact me again.”
    Her words made his heart stop, then start to pound in double time. Never see her again? That was unthinkable.
    With hands he couldn’t quite hold steady, he pulled the knit shirt he was wearing over his head and tossed it onto the chair in the corner. Then he began to unbuckle his belt. He unzipped his jeans and shucked them down his legs. Now he was wearing only the briefs he’d had on in the motel room.
    “Take them off,” she said in a sharp voice.
    He was aroused, and the idea of facing her that way, in this room, embarrassed him. But he had no choice. Not anymore. He pulled off the briefs, feeling his cock spring free.
    She ran her eyes up and down his body, fixing on his erection. Stepping forward, she took him in her hand, weighing him, caressing him lightly, her touch jolting up his sexual need.
    “Are you ready to take your punishment?”
    “Yes,” he managed to say.
    She looked around the room, considering. “I could have you against the wall, but I think I like the table better. Lie down on your stomach.”
    He did as she asked, his breath hissing in and out of his lungs as he lay on the uncomfortable wooden surface while she secured his wrists to leather thongs at the top corners of the table, then his ankles to the bottom.
    Walking along the length of the table. She stroked his butt and ran her hand between his legs to