Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(21)
Author: Cherise Sinclair

“Well. That’s good. If that was first, is there a second?”

Anne frowned. She had put it like that, hadn’t she? Because there was more, she just wasn’t sure what. Exactly. “Do me a favor and don’t share this with your snoopy Master.”

“Girl stuff doesn’t get shared. He’s down with that.”

Girl stuff. Anne rarely thought of herself as a girl, but in all reality, she was only about five years older than Jessica. “I’ve noticed that inflicting pain isn’t as…satisfying…as it used to be.”

“Huh. Does that mean you need to hurt someone worse to get enjoyment out of it?”

“Actually, less. Which doesn’t make sense. Sadists usually escalate.”

“That’s why you broke up with Joey, isn’t it?”

Joey—her last slave and a masochist—had wanted more pain from her than she’d wanted to dispense. She’d given him what he needed, but ultimately that difference in their needs had been a major reason for their breakup. “You’re as perceptive as your Master, subbie,” Anne said lightly.

“Well.” Jessica stopped and groaned.

They breathed through another contraction.

After recovering, the blonde frowned. “If you want less—and for only one gender—then maybe it wasn’t the actual pain you enjoyed. Could it be you just have a taste for turning males into gelatin?”

“Undoubtedly.” Anne gave her a half-grin. Z loved how logical Jessica was. But…she might have a point. Perhaps that was why once she began to care for a slave, hurting him—for just pain’s sake, became more difficult.

Zachary found his control tested to its limits as he took Anne’s place on the couch.

The midwife, Fay, had arrived a few minutes before, just in time for what Anne said was the transitional stage. Personally, Zachary considered this level a form of hell. Seeing Jessica in that much pain—pain he couldn’t relieve—made him want to kill something. The contractions were coming every two to three minutes and lasting…he could swear, forever.

For the first time, he was grateful his previous wife had borne their two sons by C-section.

God, Jessica.

He could see the moment when she wasn’t sure she could endure more—even before she announced, “I’m done now. I quit.”

“There is no quitting,” he murmured. “But each contraction gets you closer to the end.”

She actually glared at him. “That’s not helping. Damn you, you have children. Why’d you want more?”

“Jessica, you wanted children.”

“You’re so fucking wrong. I never—” The next contraction hit.

“Breathe, little one.”

“You breathe, you dickhead. How could you do this to me? You told me you weren’t a sadist, you fucking liar.” She dug her little fingernails into his forearm deep enough to draw blood. “You like pain? Does that feel good?”

Behind him, he heard a snort of laughter from Ben. “She’s gonna regret that later.”

Returning from the bedroom she’d been setting up, the midwife said with a smile, “Nope. Zachary agreed—as do all my clients—that what is said or done during the transitional stage is forgiven. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

Zachary pried his wife’s finger loose and didn’t give a damn if he was bleeding. She was shaking and shivering, and all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms.

“Don’t touch me.” She batted his hands away. “I hate you.”

He winced at the anger and pain filling her to bursting, and felt completely, horribly helpless as she groaned her way through another contraction.

“Easy, Z,” Anne murmured and squeezed his shoulder, then passed a cooled hand towel to the midwife.

Fay set the cloth on Jessica’s forehead. “Do you want your husband to massage your back, honey? Or do you want to go onto all fours?”

“No, dammit, I just want it over.” Her voice lifted in a half-scream. “God fucking, cock-sucking shit damn piss.”

Even as Z’s shoulders tensed in sympathy, he couldn’t suppress the huff of laughter. He’d never heard her use such language.

“You…piss-ant shithead. This. Is. Not. Funny.” She went limp, gasping for air, sweat making her skin glow. Her emerald-sharp glare could have sliced through steel. “Your cock ever comes near me again and I’ll cut it off.”

“Now that’s just mean,” Ben muttered. “I think you’re getting competition in the cock torture department, Mistress Anne.”