Free Dungeon Building by Melinda Barron Page B

face a slew of questions from Marsha with each package, and she wasn’t good at lying. Her face was too expressive.
    “Why do you delight in embarrassing me?”
    It was a fair question. One she hoped he answered. He leaned toward her and squeezed her thigh.
    “I read an article one time about a Domme who forced her sub to go to the store and buy a lot of feminine products, including different sizes of pads and boxes of tampons. He had to load up the cart, then walk around the store with them. She told the interviewer she secretly hoped he would run into friends who would question him. It pushed his boundaries. It was a way of embarrassing him.”
    “Humiliation,” she whispered.
    “Exactly.” He traced his finger up the seam of her jeans, over her aching pussy. “And whether or not you want to believe it, you actually like it. If not, I would have, at some point this week, been told in no uncertain terms that you wanted me to stop. After all, you had no problem pushing my hand away at the movie.”
    “I don’t like to be embarrassed,” she protested.
    “I think you like me teasing you in front of others. I think it gives you a rush.”
    “No.” She shook her head.
    Logan cleared his throat, as if he were getting ready to give a long speech. “Humiliation has different meanings for different people. I’m using it to push your boundaries. You want me to spank you and fuck you and tie you up, but you want to stay in your shell. The idea that someone might discover us, whether you want to believe it or not, fascinates you.”
    “Bull.”
    “You went without panties at the movie theater.” He pressed harder on her pussy. “If I told you to go to a city council meeting wearing a butterfly vibrator on your clit, you’d do it.”
    “That’s not embarrassing.”
    “There’s the potential for it, and for discovery, especially if I had the remote and was sitting in the back of the room. There’s always the possibility that it would make enough noise for someone to hear, that you’d squirm in your seat and someone would ask you what was wrong—that you’d come if I turned it on high.”
    His low, seductive tone reinforced her need to come right now. “Logan, you’re…please don’t do this to me. Take me somewhere so I can come.”
    “I’ll take you back to the office, and you can fidget in your seat. Tomorrow, morning, if you behave tonight, I’ll let you come before we leave town.”
    She pounded her fist against the dashboard.
    “There are some marks for the whiteboard. I’m going to have to come up with a good system for that.”
    He started the truck. Evelyn crossed her arms over her chest. They drove in silence, and when they reached the newspaper, she exited the cab without saying another word.
    As she headed for the building, she heard the window of the truck roll down. “Inky!”
    She stopped, debating about whether she should turn around and answer him. Don’t act like a baby, she admonished herself as she walked back to the truck.
    “Frustration does not give you the right to be rude.”
    “You’re being a pig, if you’ll pardon the pun.” She put her hand on the window. They were words she never should have spoken. “I’m sorry. I’m frustrated, and…”
    “Too late.” He glared at her. “We’ll discuss your apology tonight.”
    “It’s your turn to cook,” she reminded him.
    “Be naked when I get there.” He pulled away from the curb, and Evelyn wanted the earth to open up and swallow her. Why had she spoken those words? When would she ever learn to behave herself?
    He was right, though; there was no way to take it back. She’d have to face the penalty. She went into the building. In the newsroom, she found Marsha sitting in the chair by Evelyn’s desk, staring at a shoebox-shaped package placed in the middle of Evelyn’s desk.
    Evelyn’s stomach clenched. Logan hadn’t said anything to her about sending gifts now. In fact, he’d said the lag in the restroom