by Gemma James
“Are you going to visit Eve tonight?” Gage asked.
“Yes. I’m sure she’s missing me.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over us. How odd that he had nothing more to say to me, considering he knew my body inside and out by now. When the food arrived, I kept my eyes on my hands. The meal went by painfully slow, filled with long silences and small talk that was unnatural and awkward. It was as if the two of us didn’t know how to operate together outside of the office or the bedroom.
Gage had shaken up my world with a new dynamic: I didn’t know how to act around him anymore. Would things be this tense at the office?
I let out a sigh of relief when we returned to his house. At least there I knew where I stood. He’d trained me well over the weekend, had made it clear where my place was; on my knees at his feet. He shut the door, and as soon as I shed my coat, he picked me up and pressed me against the wall. His fingers tore through nylon, shoved aside panties, and his cock slammed into me before I could catch my breath. He pulled the butt plug out, and I heard it drop to the floor.
It was, perhaps, our shortest session yet. After climaxing, he zipped up and walked into the living room without a word.
“Did I do something wrong, Master?”
“No.” He grabbed a notebook from the coffee table and turned to me. “I want you to remember who you belong to. I don’t take kindly to other men undressing you with their eyes.”
He was blowing it out of proportion—the guy had only smiled at me—but I wasn’t about to argue with him.
“Before you go, we need to discuss a few things.” He handed me the notebook. “It’s a journal, and on the first page you’ll find a list of rules. Also included are my expectations outlining what you should eat and wear during the week. I want you to write in the journal every night. List what you did during the day, who you saw, what you ate and wore, and I especially want you to list any rules you broke.”
I took the notebook from him. Despite his demands, a sense of freedom awaited me through that door, even if the next five days would go by too fast. God, how I was going to hate the end of each day, bringing me that much closer to next weekend.
“Can I go now, Master?”
“Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the office.”
I shrugged into my coat, concealing the torn state of my nylons, and opened the door. Gage’s hand shot out and blocked my exit.
“Kayla—” He grabbed the back of my head and brought my mouth to his. The kiss went on for what seemed like forever. By the time he broke away, my pulse pounded in my ears. “If you disobey me, I will find out. Don’t forget you’re mine.”
I averted my eyes, and he jerked my face back to his. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.” I stepped outside and shivered; I wasn’t entirely certain the chill was from the weather. The next five days promised blessed freedom. Time spent with Eve, maybe even a few forbidden moments at the hospital with Ian. I planned to make every one of them count.
Part 2: Enslaved
1. The Rules
Whoever said crying was a form of cleansing hadn’t cried over the shit I had in my lifetime, the most recent of which took the cake—namely that my daughter was fighting for her life. I’d stolen from the devil himself in order to save her, and now I was paying the ultimate price: six weeks of forced slavery of the most vile variety.
The fact that a part of me enjoyed it only compounded the problem.
I unlocked my door and finally allowed the floodgates to break. I’d barely kept my tears at bay while at the hospital, where I’d pulled Eve into my arms and rocked her long after she’d fallen asleep. I wasn’t sure if I’d held on so long to comfort her or me, but the weight of her in my arms and the smell of her soft skin had righted my world, if only for a while. I’d needed someone in that moment, and sadly I had no one but my three-year-old daughter.
I shed my clothes and collapsed into bed, and the sense of safety I usually felt within these walls was absent. Gage Channing’s lingering intrusion permeated every corner of my sanctuary. I curled into a ball and hugged my naked body, letting it all out in gulping sobs. The rest of the night blurred—hours blending together as the clock on my nightstand moved time…moved time closer to when I’d have to see him again.
Confusion and grief were powerful emotions; they haunted me now as heavily as my guilt did—the most disturbing case imaginable. I tortured myself with the vivid memory of his sculpted body moving against mine, demanding my submission, and his whip lancing my bare skin in unforgiving blows. Worse was how he’d forced me to pleasure…how even now I craved it.
I still ached from being denied so long. Despite his damn rules, I slid my hand between my thighs and closed my eyes, burrowing my fingers into slick, throbbing heat. My frenzied touch brought me to an exquisite build-up. Gage’s blue-eyed gaze flashed in my head, and as I recalled the experience of grinding against him—again and again without release—I plunged into inevitable rapture, coming long and hard. A deep moan poured from my throat, and I spread my legs wider as my body cramped and shuddered. Heart pounding a deafening rhythm, I gave over to my release as it pulsed around my fingers. A blessed haze engulfed me, and I drifted to sleep a couple hours before the sun peeked through the blinds.
The blaring alarm interrupted an alternate replay of Gage and me in my dreams. There had been no cruelty, no hunger for power and dominance—he’d touched me with the gentlest patience and whispered the sweetest words, unlike the language he’d used over the weekend.
I want to fuck your ass.
Yes, dream-Gage had been ten times better than foul-mouthed, sadistic Gage with his demands and a whip to ensure I bowed to him. I got to my feet and began his mandatory hygiene regimen.
Bath oil in the water—check.
Wash and condition hair—check.
Shave underarms, bikini area, and legs from thigh to ankle—check.
Rub jasmine scented lotion over every inch of skin—check.
I’d have to stop by the department store on my way to work to pick up a pair of four-inch heels—another requirement. He even demanded I wear them to the hospital and while running errands. With a sigh, I ransacked my closet in search of a short skirt. A deep forage into my lingerie drawer produced a lacy bra and thong set I’d forgotten about long ago. I hadn’t worn such things in…
Shit, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worn something so sexy. If Gage hadn’t promised to set up an account for me at Victoria’s Secret, I’d be in real trouble. As I moved toward the kitchen to turn on the coffee maker, a drift of cool air hit my ass. I hated thongs.
I hated Gage Channing even more.
I picked up the journal he’d given me and re-read his “rules…”
No masturbating.
Oops, already broke that one.
No dating, flirting, or touching/having sex with other men. No talking to men, unless work, errands, or hospital personnel require it.
Not likely to happen, since my social life was non-existent. A niggling thought bothered me. Ian might fall into this category. I couldn’t help my feelings for him, years ago buried but never forgotten, and I couldn’t help if I ran into him at the hospital. What was I supposed to tell him? That I wasn’t allowed to speak to him? Yeah, as if that wouldn’t raise a few questions, not to mention an eyebrow or two.
Must maintain hygiene regimen daily.
I already despised this rule.
Must always wear the collar.
The damn thing choked me, if not literally then figuratively. The thin strip of leather was a constant reminder that no matter how close freedom seemed within my grasp, it truly wasn’t.
Must follow the specified menu plan.
This one could be a problem, since most days I didn’t have an appetite at all.
Must wear four-inch heels, short skirts, and thong underwear at all times (work, hospital, errands).
Perverted bastard.
Must sleep naked.
Ditto.
2. Office Punishment
I was shaking by the time I exited the elevator, anxious and terrified of facing Gage again after what had happened between us over the weekend. The office bustled with the normal Monday morning activity I’d become accustomed to during my employment at Channing Enterprises. Katherine gave me her patented sugary smile as I stumbled toward Gage’s office in my new heels. I cursed the squished nature of my toes, and then cursed again when some of his coffee splashed onto my hand. Already on the verge of being late, I licked up the bitter liquid and hoped no one noticed. The caffeine went straight to the butterflies in my stomach; they fluttered with the energy of a crack addict. I knocked on his door and pushed it open upon his order to enter.
He sat behind his desk, a phone wedged between his ear and shoulder as he entered data into his laptop. He didn’t acknowledge me as I set down the coffee cup with a trembling hand. I pulled my iPad from my briefcase and shuffled my feet as he finished the call.
“Good morning, Kayla.” He grabbed the cardboard cup and took a sip before going about his normal morning routine, which involved dictating what he needed me to do for him. My fingers flew over the screen, adding meetings, notes, and anything else he specified. He said nothing remotely related to our weekend together—not even a hint. He resumed typing, and I kept my mouth shut, though I had to admit to being completely flustered. He acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I couldn’t help but stand there like an idiot, waiting for some sort of response—something to indicate how I should behave around him. Was I supposed to call him Master while in his office when no one else was around? Did he want me on my knees as long as the door was closed?
I cleared my throat. “Mr. Channing?” Uttering that name left an odd taste in my mouth after the weekend I’d endured. Not only had he effectively programmed me to call him “Master,” but addressing him so formally after he’d had his cock buried in me seemed ridiculous. I licked my lips, thinking of the one place he had yet to penetrate. I’d be naive to assume it wasn’t going to happen eventually.
He glanced up. “Yes?”
“Is there anything else?”
“No, that’s all. I’ll need that report by lunch.” He returned to his work, and I didn’t know what confused me more—his casual dismissal, or the fact that it stung.
I put Gage’s behavior out of my mind and got to work. Shortly before lunchtime, as I was gathering a printout, Tom from the marketing department approached me.
“How was your weekend?” he asked.
I blinked. “It was…nothing unusual. How was yours?”
“Could’ve been better. Cindy and I broke up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was a long time coming. Actually, I wanted to ask you out for coffee. You busy this week?” He took a step closer and brushed a stray hair out of my eyes. “Or we could do something more private. Whatever you’re up for.”
I gave him an uneasy smile. “I’m sorry, I can’t. My daughter’s in the hospital.” I stumbled back until a couple of feet separated us.
Apparently he didn’t pick up on my subtle hint. “How’s she doing?” he asked, closing the distance.
“Her doctor’s hopeful. We’re waiting on some test results.” I looked toward Gage’s office and found his thunderous expression aimed in our direction. He crossed the space with a purposeful stride.
Oh, shit.
“You’re fired,” he snapped at Tom. “Security will escort you from the premises.” Gage gave a slight nod toward a man who materialized from the periphery. He grabbed Tom by the arm.
“What the hell?” Tom’s eyes widened as he took in our employer’s furious expression. “Why? What’d I do?”
“I won’t tolerate sexual advances between my employees. You obviously made Ms. Sutton very uncomfortable.”
“Let’s go,” the security guard ordered.
Tom protested, his voice ringing through the fifth floor as the guard escorted him to the elevator. “I’ll have you sued for this!” As soon as they disappeared behind the sliding doors and all the prying eyes pretended to go back to work, I set my hands on my hips and glared at Gage.
“Was that really necessary? He has a kid to take care of!” I wasn’t sure who was more surprised by my outburst—him or me.
“In my office now.”
I closed my eyes on an exhale. Once again I’d let my mouth run rampant. Every gaze in the room weighed on me as I trailed behind Gage. He shut and locked the door, and I swallowed hard, preparing to grovel.
“I’m sorry. I was way out of line.”
He grabbed my arm and yanked me over to his desk. There wasn’t much on it—a few papers, a stapler, and the coffee cup from this morning. He swept everything to the floor, and black coffee splashed the wall.
“How dare you disrespect me in front of my employees. It’s bad enough I had to watch that idiot manhandle you.”
“You’re right. I was wrong to question you in front of everyone.”
“Has one night of freedom erased your training already? You will address me as Master, and so we’re clear, you were wrong to question me at all.” He unbuckled his belt and gestured to the desk. “Bend over.”
I didn’t dare hesitate. If I did as told, maybe he would go easy on me.
“Lift up your skirt. If you drop it, I’ll make your hands bleed.”
With shaking fingers, I lifted the back of my skirt and exposed my bare bottom.
“You’ve brought this on yourself, Kayla.” The slide of his belt shattered the quiet as he removed it. “If you ever let another man touch you again, I’ll do far worse.” The strap of leather came down hard enough to steal my breath.
I blinked back tears, knowing that leaving his office with blotchy eyes and streaking mascara was more humiliation than I could stand. I pressed into the desk to brace myself and gripped my skirt tighter in preparation for the next blow.
“How many strikes do you think you deserve?”
Was he fucking serious? How could I answer without getting ensnared in his trap?
“As many as you see fit, Master.”
“Very diplomatic answer. That’s one thing I like about you—you’re a smart woman.”
Crack! I jumped at the stinging bite. Holy hell it hurt.
“Do you think I enjoy this, Kayla?”
“Yes, Master,” I choked out.
“You’d be wrong.” He struck me again, and I couldn’t hold back a sob. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it did little to shut out the pain. “I won’t deny that the sound of your cries, the display of your submission and vulnerability, gets me hard, but I’d much rather get past the need to punish you at all.” The belt whooshed through the air again, and I bit into my lip as it connected with my tender skin.
He stopped at ten. “Come here.”
I turned around in time to see him drop the belt. Upon my hesitation, he flexed his hands. Slowly, I crossed the three feet that separated us, my skirt swishing against my burning ass as I moved. He reached out and gripped my shoulders, pushing down until I was kneeling before him. The hard ridge behind his zipper stared me in the face.
Gage unbuttoned his slacks, and the slight tremble in his hands didn’t go unnoticed; he was worked up, though from anger or desire, I couldn’t be sure. “Unzip me.”
I raised my head, though I knew my silent pleading wouldn’t do any good.
“Don’t look at me like that. You’re only going to piss me off more.”
“Please, Master—”
“I want my cock in your mouth now.”
Holding back another sob, I pulled down his zipper, and his shaft popped out, hard and ready for my lips and tongue.
He fisted my hair with both hands and held me in place.
“Don’t make me do this, Master. Please, not here.”
His cock twitched. “Beg some more. It turns me on.”
I clenched my jaw. I wondered what he’d do if I refused? D
id I want to find out?
No, I didn’t.
Several seconds went by, during which neither of us moved. He was waiting for me to take the initiative, and I was waiting for him to force me. It would be easier if he did. Every inch I gave him felt like a betrayal to myself. He tickled my mouth with the tip, bathing my lips with his desire. He’d win this standoff; I’d lost the game before I even knew how to play.
I darted my tongue out to taste him. More moisture collected at the head, and his salty taste lingered on my tongue. It’d been years since I’d given a blow job, but I was pretty sure I still remembered how. I reached out and fisted the base, and then teased him with my lips, swirling a wet path around the soft tip a few times before fastening my mouth around him.
Gage expelled a deep moan, and his grip on my hair tightened to an unbearable pull. The fact that his response tingled between my legs shouldn’t have shocked me by now, but it did. And it shamed me. A part of me got off on the power I had in this moment. He might have forced me to my knees, but I could bring him to his with the heat of my mouth, the kiss of my tongue. I took him in as far as I could stand and worked him for all I was worth.
His choppy breathing infused the air, and he began to thrust, forcing my head back with each forward motion. Pumping in and out, deeper, faster, keeping time to the friction of my mouth and hands. His gaze intensified, and unsettled with how he watched me, I closed my eyes.
“Look at me,” he ordered on a groan. I met his glazed-over eyes as he jerked to the back of my throat. His taste flooded my mouth, and when I tried to pull away, he immobilized me in his grasp. I couldn’t keep from gagging as his cum shot down my throat. The way he tightened his fingers, pulling against my tender scalp, told me he enjoyed making me gag as much as he enjoyed spilling into my mouth.
He withdrew, zipped up with casual patience, and then indicated the spilt coffee on the floor—the evidence of his rage and jealousy. “Clean this up before you go to lunch. I have a meeting I’m late for.” He picked up his belt and looped it through his pants, and just like that the bastard left me kneeling in the middle of his office, wet between my thighs as his cum dribbled down my chin.
