by Gemma James
My body reacted to his touch, to the images they produced in my poisoned head, and I spread my legs a little wider.
“Did you spread your legs for him?” He thrust angry, punishing fingers inside me, bringing me to my toes, wrenching a pleading moan from my gagged mouth.
Sick. I was so sick. He was about to discipline me for the ultimate sin, and I couldn’t stop from dripping onto his fingers, down his wrist.
Who knew self-loathing could be so toxic?
“I’m going to take your flushed cheeks as a yes.” He stepped closer until we were nose to nose. “But I’m the one who owns you. I’m the one who decides when you come. The only one who decides if you ever come again.” His claim to my pussy took on the tempo of a jackhammer, fingers plundering my slick heat. “I’m the one who decides if you ever talk again. If you ever exist outside of that cage again.”
I wanted so badly to be strong, but my moans gurgled in my throat, barely held back, and my eyes begged him for more. I pushed my breasts out, hoping the tightness of my nipples would distract him. Tempt him.
But Gage was a man of his word. Stubborn, steadfast, and immovable. No amount of temptation would appeal to him because he was in his zone—that dangerous place where the only thing that tempted him was my pain and humiliation.
“We will get past this.” He positioned himself in front of me, feet shoulder-width apart on the floor, his fist clenching a set of nipple clamps. “Because I love you.”
I felt my eyes widen at the change in his tone. The hope it brought forth.
“I’ll find a way to forgive you for this, because you’ve forgiven me for so much shit, Kayla.” He clamped my nipples, and then I stood before him, his decorated slave. He gestured to the awaiting prison. “Inside, now.”
Oh God.
That space seemed so tight. On shaking limbs, I obeyed and tried not to squirm as I faced the corner, but it was futile. Gooseflesh licked my ass, a precursor to what I instinctively knew. He was going to whip me through the opening of the cage. Maybe not now. Maybe not even today.
But eventually, he would take the bullwhip to my ass.
“Good girl.” He spread my arms out, locking my wrists to the bars at my sides. Then he used a foot to nudge my feet apart so he could anchor them as well. After he finished securing me, I stood in four-inch heels, spread-eagled, and incapable of moving or even shifting my weight.
Panic took hold of me, increasing my heart rate, making me breathe heavily through my nose. How would I stand this, day in and day out?
I honestly didn’t know.
20. Sentence
I cracked after three days of imprisonment. Locked inside his cage of hell with my mouth gagged and nipples clamped, my wrists and ankles bound—I cried harder than I’d ever cried before. Sobs wrenched from my gut, and I worried I was close to hyperventilating.
Snot ran from my nose, mixing with the saliva escaping the gag. I was a hot mess. A blubbering mess. A mess he mostly ignored, other than to free me for ten minutes every two hours so I could move around and regain circulation. So I could eat and use the bathroom.
So I could feel like a fucking human being again for the small amount of time he allowed.
He had yet to strike me with anything, but just being inside this contraption was soul-sucking, and thinking of the endless weeks to come…
I was going insane, my mind shattering, my nerves teetering on the ledge. If Gage intended to make me forget about Ian, he’d done a bang up job because his idea of imprisonment tormented me to the point that I couldn’t think of anything else.
The touch of his warm hands on my ass cheeks startled me. My chest heaved every couple of seconds, spasming with sobs.
“Baby, calm down. Getting so worked up isn’t going to help.”
Calm down? Calm down? My mind screamed at him because I sure as fuck couldn’t do it vocally.
He slid his finger between my legs, and that had an immediate effect. Not necessarily a calming one, but it was something.
“I’m trying to work, but you’re over here about to have a panic attack.” He plunged a finger into my pussy. Instantly, arousal flared. It had been over two weeks since he’d let me come. But even worse, two weeks had gone by since I’d slept at his side.
“If you can calm down and behave, I’ll think about making you come tonight.”
I shook my head, protesting despite the gag. I only wanted him—like a druggie craving the next fix. Like a child craving candy. Like I craved Gage Channing.
“So you don’t want to come?” He sounded surprised and amused. He smacked my ass hard. “You want me to punish you?”
I shook my head again.
Another smack brought me to my toes. The impact of his palm tingled over my skin, more arousing than painful. I heard him insert a key, and the door squeaked open. He unbuckled the gag then wiped my face with a napkin.
“What does my naughty prisoner want then?”
“Master, I want to sleep in our bed tonight.”
“Why do you want that?”
Another sob hitched. “I miss you so much. Please, Master. I will stand here all day without making a sound if you’ll just hold me tonight.”
I heard him suck in a breath, which gave me hope because he didn’t seem as collected as he would have me believe.
“Behave yourself, and we’ll see.”
He reinserted the gag, and for the next few hours, I stood silent and still, determined more than ever to do as I was told. When afternoon rolled around, and he freed me so I could tend to Eve, I’d allowed hope to settle in, and hope was a dangerous thing when it came to a man like Gage, especially considering how angry and hurt he was over my actions. Today he’d been gentle, even kind, but on other days, he’d had nothing but snide remarks and scornful planes on his gorgeous face.
My mistake had snowballed into something horrific and ugly, and I worried no time in the world could erase what I’d done, could patch his heart back together. Or mine, for that matter.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?”
I picked at my salad that night at dinner. “Nothing baby. I’m just tired.” I mustered a smile and met her inquisitive gaze. “How was school?”
“At lunch, I sat with Vanessa and Toby.”
“What happened to Leah?”
Eve’s face crumbled. “She said she’s not my friend anymore.”
Her sadness pricked at my heart. “Why did she say that?”
Rather than answer, Eve shrugged and spooned in a bite of mashed potatoes.
“Answer your mother, Eve.”
She sat up straight upon hearing his no-bullshit tone. It was a tone I knew well, and though I appreciated him backing me up, it also bothered me that he often talked to us both in the same manner.
Like children, only Eve was my child.
“She said I was being mean, but I wasn’t.”
“Did she tell you why she thought that?”
Her lower lip poked out. “Some kids called her names. She said I wasn’t her friend anymore because I laughed.”
“Did you say you’re sorry? That wasn’t very nice.”
“I wasn’t laughing at her, Mommy! The names were funny.”
“Princess, just tell her you’re sorry, and you didn’t mean it.” Gage’s attention landed on me. “People make mistakes. I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”
I held my breath for a full minute, unable to erase his words from my mind. I wanted to believe that forgiveness was possible, that we could find our way back to each other, but the road ahead seemed endless and full of rocky mountains I’d have to climb over first.
I came across the first rocky hill later that night after Eve went to bed. I’d been so out of my mind all week with being locked in that cage, that I failed to realize tonight was Friday.
Gage had no problem reminding me. A little after 11 p.m., I found myself bent over the end of our bed, my fingers gripping my skirt and exposing my ass to him. Only this time he wasn’t using hi
s belt.
He gripped the bullwhip.
“Master, I’m scared.”
“You should be.”
“Please don’t hurt me.”
“Did you stop to think how your cheating would hurt me?”
“Yes, Master.”
“But you touched him anyway.” The tail cracked an instant before the strike landed. My entire body tensed. I remained silent, but only because the pain knocked the air from my lungs. Before I was able to catch my breath, he struck again.
I tried managing my breathing, willed my muscles to relax and accept the brutality of his arm, but my screams fractured the air. After the twentieth lash, he dropped the whip, pulled the drawer to our nightstand open, and grabbed a tube of cream.
A groan almost escaped me as he applied the ointment to the reddening welts on my backside. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sit for a while.
“Do you still want to sleep in our bed?”
My heart skipped. “Yes, Master.”
He crossed the room and turned off the light. I didn’t move from my bent over position at the end of the mattress. He scooped me into his arms, stunning me into a boneless mess, and tucked me against him under the sheets. His warm embrace surrounded me, and my heart wouldn’t stop thumping a furious beat as I sank into him.
The intensity of the moment washed over me, and I drew on the vestiges of my strength to hold back my tears.
“I know I’ve been harsh with you.”
I didn’t know how to answer that. His punishment was more than I could bear, yet I understood him. No sane person would, but he was my crazy, and I understood him. I also knew how deep his hurt ran. His wounds would bleed for a long time, slow to scab over.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Master.”
“I know, baby.” He nuzzled my neck. “Get some sleep.”
For the first time in two weeks, I slept in complete harmony, wrapped in my husband’s arms.
21. The Other Woman
Eve didn’t have school on Monday, so I got a break from the cage. While Gage worked in his office, I spent most of the day playing with her. We battled each other in the game of Life, made up our own rules for Monopoly, and played Go Fish for hours.
It was freeing to have so much time to myself. A whole day with my daughter. A whole day of not having to set foot inside that cage. Things were looking up. Gage hadn’t sent me to the basement since he’d allowed me back into our bed, and he’d held me every single night, though he still refused to make love to me.
He wouldn’t even fuck me, nor did he use my mouth for his pleasure. I’d heard him groaning his release in the shower over the weekend, more than once, finding satisfaction by his own hand. I wasn’t worthy enough for him to fuck, and that stung. The spooning at night, however…that I couldn’t complain about. It was all he could offer me now, and I’d eat it up like a starved animal.
But Tuesdays came around like they always did. I’d never despised a Tuesday with such intensity, but with Eve back in school, Gage didn’t hesitate in returning me to the cage. As he held the gag in front of my lips, I thanked him for his discipline and accepted the rubber ball. I behaved like a model prisoner for fear that he’d send me back to the basement if I lost my shit again.
The days came and went, most of them spent within the confines of those bars. My bars of shame. My bars of penance. In the back of my mind, I knew to be grateful for each day in that contraption because it meant Ian was still fighting. The day when the cage became no more…I couldn’t allow my thoughts to go there.
But two months, three weeks, and five days later, that day crashed through my world like a wrecking ball.
“Why are you taking me down here?” I asked as Gage ushered me through the door of the basement.
“Your time in the cage is over.”
I froze on the bottom step, my heart in my throat. Looking over my shoulder, I opened my mouth to ask the one thing he wouldn’t want to hear.
“Don’t even think about it, Kayla. It doesn’t matter if he lived or died. All you need to know is that you’re free of your prison now.”
“Master, I’m beggin—”
“I suggest you don’t, unless you’d like an additional two months in that prison.”
I clamped my mouth shut, shaking my head, but in the back of my mind, resolve formed. Some way, some how, I’d learn of Ian’s fate.
“Let’s get on with this,” Gage said, pulling me back to the current moment.
“Get on with what?”
“The last phase of your punishment.” He grabbed my arm and led me into the middle of the basement. I expected him to order me to strip. Instead, he pulled me into his arms. “We need to be able to trust each other. That’s going to take some time.”
“I know,” I whispered, my face hidden in the fabric of his shirt. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing away the burn in them.
“I’m going to make love to you for hours.”
I held onto him with more strength, unashamed of the moan that rumbled from my throat. His words hit me right between the thighs. His erection grew, pressing against my stomach, and his chest rose and fell too quickly.
“It’s been too fucking long, baby. Punishing you was torture.”
“I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me too,” he said, nuzzling the crown of my head. He held on for a few seconds longer before letting go. “Strip.”
Anxiety stormed through my veins as I removed the T-shirt and sleep shorts I’d worn that morning while seeing Eve off to school. As I stood motionless, my skin erupting in goose bumps while my nipples puckered, he sorted through his toys.
“Get into position at the cross,” he said, his back to me.
The air in the basement seemed chillier than usual. Or maybe the tremor in my limbs stemmed from fear because I had no idea what he had in store for me.
The last phase of my punishment…that could mean anything.
I moved the few feet to the St. Andrew’s cross and aligned my body with it. He joined me, holding the cuffs that would hold me at his mercy, along with the gag that would silence my ability to beg for any.
But I was eager to end this torturous sentence. Frantic to have my husband back. My grief over Ian’s illness had caused me to stumble, but Gage had scraped it out with his psychological confines. Now I brimmed with his will.
A small piece of my heart still hurt when I thought of Ian, but my husband, my Master had crashed through any remaining barriers by locking me inside that cage. He’d conditioned me back to a state of total obedience. I didn’t put up a smidgen of fight when he anchored me to the cross. Didn’t protest when he pushed the gag into my mouth.
He stepped back and perused his possession, and as his gaze wandered over my exposed and vulnerable body, something dark flashed in his eyes.
I didn’t like that look. That indigo glint was an omen of bad things to come.
He reached into his pocket and drew out his cell, brought it to his ear with calculation. “You can come down now.”
Silence screamed between us as the minutes ticked by. He said nothing, and I couldn’t say anything. Then the door at the top of the stairs creaked open, and time seemed to screech to a violent halt as Katherine descended, tainting our space with her rancid presence.
Reality was a fragile thing, too easily shattered by the figments of our imaginations. Because what I was seeing couldn’t be real. No way was Katherine standing beside Gage while I was naked and chained to the cross.
The old Gage would have done something this wicked—this fucked-up and wrong—but not the Gage I’d married. His brutal side had owned my punishment, but we’d moved past Katherine.
Hadn’t we?
So why the hell was she standing there, her mouth curled in a triumphant smirk?
Memories of the last time the three of us had occupied this room blew through my head like a category five hurricane. Ian and Katherine on the couch. Gage forcing me over the bed and fucking me hard so he could
torture his brother. So he could exact revenge.
Was this his grand finale of revenge on me? Was he going to make me watch him fuck Katherine, bent over the bed, slamming into her with the force of his anger? I almost retched at the thought, and only the knowledge that I’d choke on my vomit held it at bay.
The severity of his mouth scared the hell out of me. I could tolerate him fucking me in front of her, using my body for his sadistic pleasure. I could even tolerate him subjecting me to degradation.
I could not handle watching him touch that bitch.
God, had he experienced this same all-consuming jealousy at the thought of me with Ian? Roiling and ravishing the spirit like a monstrous storm? No wonder he’d locked me in a cage.
He pulled his shirt over his head, and my thought processes crashed into a cement wall. His shirt lay discarded on the floor at his feet.
Pound, pound, pound.
My heart became its own entity behind my ribcage, taking on a rhythm of unnatural origin. No one’s heart should beat this hard and fast—not without sending them into cardiac arrest.
He turned to Katherine. “On your knees,” he said, setting his hands on her shoulders and applying pressure until she kneeled before him.
“Unbutton my pants.”
Undiluted rage coursed through me. I lurched forward, wrenching my wrists as far as the restraints allowed. She brought her fingers to his pants and followed his command.
“Unzip me.”
Ziiiip.
She curled her fingers at the waistband of his boxer briefs, ready to expose his hard-on, but he batted her hands away. “I didn’t say you could touch me. Hands at your back.” He cast a meaningful look in my direction, one Katherine didn’t miss, and it became clear that this had nothing to do with her.
This was all about me.
He pulled his cock out and aimed the tip at her willing mouth. “Do you want to suck me off?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Mr. Channing.”
“Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Please, Mr. Channing.”
He leaned forward and almost brushed her lips with his cock, but his words were for me. “Capture this picture, Kayla. Keep it at the forefront of your mind. If you ever touch another man again, I’ll not only fuck her, but I’ll do it in front of you.”
