by Linzi Basset
“I didn’t abuse her! She’s too fucking uppity and the men complained that she kept fighting. Fucking a tied-up woman is no fun. This was to teach her a … aggh!” Abdulla ended in a raw cry as a bullet slammed into his knee, shattering the bone.
“No,” Bruce’s harsh voice yanked Morgan back to the present. His eyes were tumultuous with a dark warning swirling in their depths. “In here, your attention is on me and our scenes together. You do not disappear into the darkness of your memories.” He brushed his lips in a gentle caress over hers.
Morgan sucked in a stuttering breath. Her lips tingled as she felt a shiver race down her spine at the brief connection of his firm mouth on hers. For the first time in almost two years, she felt the rush of arousal heat her loins.
“I locked those away very deep. This is the first time … I suppose I’m not as strong as I thought I was,” she ended in a whisper.
“No, Morgan, you’re stronger than you think.” Bruce leaned back to stare at her. “Why are you here?”
“You know why.”
“No. I’m not falling for that cock and bull story about a bodyguard. You know damn well I don’t need one. My size alone is a weapon. I have an entire team to back me up if needed. Care to try again?”
“Morgan? Oh my god! It is you.” Morgan sighed in relief as the whirlwind that was Joanne Blackmore descended on them.
“Don’t think this is the end of it, squirt. You will answer me.” Bruce’s gravelly voice reached deep inside her and toggled at the submissive that yearned to surface and yield to his dominance—no matter how hard she tried to deny it even existed.
“Hey! Master Goliath? What’s going on here?” Joanne demanded with her arms crossed over her protruding and very pregnant belly as she tapped one foot on the wooden floor. She frowned as she noticed him releasing his hold from around Morgan’s throat with obvious reluctance before turning to face her and Max.
“Nothing that concerns you, Miss Nosy,” Bruce said, watching the two women embrace joyously.
Joanne had managed to escape her abductors upon arrival in Saudi Arabia. Under the disguise of an Arabian man, she’d secured the position as commander of the army of Sheikh Juhayman. It was because of her that the sex slaves in the compound were treated well and with some modicum of decency.
“Look at you. When is the little one due?” Morgan asked as she stepped back and brushed her fingers over Joanne’s belly.
“In eight weeks, give or take.” She rubbed her belly with motherly pride. “Come, walk with me to the ladies’ room.”
“Not until she’s registered on the system as my sub,” Bruce interjected.
“Your what?” Joanne dragged out the word as she spun around to glare at Bruce who just shrugged and lifted an amused eyebrow at Morgan who presented him with a look of annoyance.
Morgan cleared her throat and shifted her weight under Joanne’s questioning stare. “I … ehm … agreedtobehissub,” she rambled the sentence off in one syllable.
Joanne glanced between her and Bruce, her expression a canvas of amazement. “How did … when did this happen? I didn’t even know you were in Washington. How long have you been here?”
“You ask too many questions, love,” Max interjected quickly when she took a breath to continue. “Come, I’ll walk you to the ladies’ room while Bruce takes care of the formalities. The night is still young. You have plenty of time to satisfy your curiosity.”
“But—”
“Now, sub,” Max lowered his voice and narrowed his eyes in warning.
Morgan was amazed at the instant switch in Joanne as she demurely lowered her eyes, clasped her hands behind her back and said, “Yes, my Master.”
Max chuckled and planted a heated kiss on her lips, which curved into a seductive smile. “You don’t fool me, love. As long as you know, your list of transgressions is growing by the day. You better prepare yourself for months of punishments once little Maxine is born.”
“I told you, Maximilian. She’s not going to be called Maxine!”
“Come now, sweetness, think of the benefits. You can just shout MAX once and both of us will come sprinting.”
“Gmphf, as if you ever come running when I call you … and the answer is still no.”
“Do they ever stop bickering?” Morgan asked with a smile as she watched them disappear through the wide carved wooden door into the Entertainment Room.
“Not that I’m aware of. I’ll start worrying when they don’t. It’s that special thread that binds them tighter and tighter the longer they’re together.” Bruce led her toward the sub behind the reception desk. “Let’s get you on the system. We have a few things to discuss before we sign the agreement.”
Morgan planted her feet into the ground. “What agreement? I’m only doing this because you’re adamant it’s the only way …” She swallowed her words at the warning that flashed in his eyes.
Good one, Morgan. Remind him that you haven’t answered his question about why you’re here.
“You’ll learn soon enough that I have a very sharp mind and an excellent memory. Don’t believe that because Joanne offered you a respite, I will too.” He watched how the glow from the lights caused glimmers of gold to shimmer in the red luxuriousness of her hair. The lifting of his hand was without thought as he felt the silkiness trail through his fingers. “I don’t want there to be any recriminations or claims of ignorance as far as our Dom/sub arrangement is concerned. A formal agreement stipulating both parties’ expectations, my dos and don’ts, and your limit list aren’t negotiable.”
“I don’t have any expectations.”
“Don’t you?”
Morgan was caught in the flare of gentle reproach in his gaze. Emotions she’d believed died with the first man that used her body so callously, sparked to life inside her. She bit back a surprised gasp at the rush of feelings that filled her heart, of belonging, and of an inherent desire to be possessed. In love and in lust—to this man, Bruce Rickett. His eyes refused to let her go. It felt like he was soaking all her distress and desperation out of her with a penetrating look.
A calmness settled over her. She knew then why she couldn’t forget this compelling man. He knew her. Her needs, her desires, and her fears. Not because of what had happened to her but because their souls had somehow connected on that dark night in Saudi Arabia when he’d gently lifted her into the rescue chopper. He’d brushed her hair out of her face and whispered in his deep guttural voice, “I’ve got you, little one. You’re safe.”
“In here, there’s nowhere to hide from me, Morgan. So, you better be sure you know what you’re in for before we walk through that door. I will strip every barrier and every wall, every single defense you try to erect between us ... without you knowing.” He leaned closer, his warm breath caressed her cheek. “I want it all. Your body, your trust, your loyalty, and your unconditional submission.” His lips grazed her temple. “And once I have all that, I’ll demand what we both yearn for.”
“And that would be?” She did her best to sound unaffected but the rough scratch in her voice portrayed how deeply his words impacted her.
She shivered as he traced the scallop of her ear with his tongue.
“Oh!” Morgan cried out at the sharp nip against her earlobe, shaken to the core at the flush of heat that soaked her panties.
“Your heart and soul.”
Chapter Five
“What’s your expectation as far as my limit list is concerned?”
Morgan fiddled with the sheet of paper. She felt uncomfortable. She’d been to BDSM clubs, yes, but always as an observer. She’d never scened or signed up as a member anywhere. To her, it was a place to go where she could relax and not worry about being judged. A community that didn’t care what she looked like, what her sexual preference was or what had happened in her past. She’d found peace within the walls of the clubs she’d visited, roaming through the dungeons and watching the connection between Doms and subs.
Strangely, s
he hadn’t been affected by the whippings and floggings. It was nothing like those she’d been subjected to. As a matter of fact, more often than not, she’d caught herself wishing that she was one of the subs who was being taken care of with such regard by a Dominant. Maybe that was the one thing she was the most bitter about. That she had lost the ability to easily connect with other people, laugh, be happy, and just live life to the fullest. Ever since her return, she judged every person she met. She questioned their motives for things they said or did. She hated that she instinctively cringed when a man touched her, however innocent the gesture.
She glanced at Bruce when he didn’t respond. His intense regard seared right through her mind and into her soul. Her eyelashes fluttered but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t look away.
Why was it different with him? Why did his touch excite rather than scare or disgust her? How was it possible that all it took to make her knees go all wobbly was one look? Why had she gravitated back here so quickly?
One second. That was how long it took her to make the decision to come to Washington DC and warn him in person. Offering to be his bodyguard had never been part of the plan.She still didn’t know where the suggestion had sprung from.
“My expectation is to adhere to your wishes, my pet,” Bruce said quietly, watching her bottom lip disappear between her teeth again. “My lip, squirt,” he reminded her with narrowed eyes. “Chew on it again and I will put a clamp on it for the rest of the night.”
It pleased him when she immediately released it and swiped the abused lip with her tongue. The desire to lick off the glistening film that coated her mouth stumped Bruce but he refrained from giving in to temptation.
“Yes, but I watched you when I was here before and Joanne said you have very distinct tastes. What kind of things do you like?”
Bruce’s sigh sounded like a reproach. “It doesn’t matter what I like, Morgan. It’s your limit list. I will always adhere to your choices.” He frowned. “You’ve been to clubs before, surely you know that?”
“Well, kinda went to clubs,” she admitted grudgingly.
Her lips pursed at the distinct rise of his one eyebrow; she’d come to realize each had a different meaning. There was the lopsided brow, which indicated amusement, and then there was the high lift which she believed was annoyance, and then there was this one. A derisive twitch of his full brow that demanded a response without uttering a word.
“Okay, mister high and mighty! I’ve been to clubs but only to observe. I never scened or signed up as a member anywhere.”
“So, you’re vanilla?”
“If by vanilla you mean I’m new to BDSM, I suppose as a participant, yes, I am but I’m not ignorant or a novice as to what it’s all about.”
“Then you should know that your question doesn’t bear a response.”
“But as your sub, shouldn’t I want to please you? Offer you the things you find arousing?”
“You have a misconception of Dominance, my pet. Our relationship will be one of power play or an exchange of power, if you’d like. The power dynamic for me and all Doms is achieved by deriving our sensual experience and potency from being in a Dominant role. I have certain preferences and I generally only scene with subs with similar desires but make no mistake, Morgan, the basic principles are all the same. There’s more to a dominant than being called Sir or Master and to whip or flog a sub.” He traced his finger from her chin, down her throat and between her breasts, watching with a pleased smile how her skin formed gooseflesh in its wake. “It’s not all just about dominance either. A Dom derives just as much pleasure from his sub’s reaction from a look, a facial expression, a heavy breath, or a word that evoke a sense of power, strength, and authority.” His finger continued its seductive foray as he traced the top of the dress covering her breasts. “A Dom’s main concern is to satisfy the needs of his submissive and to care for and protect her. Whatever you choose on your limit list is fine with me, my pet and besides, as you become more comfortable with me, we can always review it. Remember one thing though, I will push your boundaries, hard, because that’s what Doms do.”
Her eyes widened. “Then what’s the purpose of the list if you’re going to do that?”
“You will always be the one in control, no matter what. You have a safeword and if you ever feel uncomfortable or wish to end a scene, use it.”
“Fat lot the word, no, helped me in the past,” she muttered.
“The situations are completely different. Everything we do in here will be with your full consent. I’ll never force or expect you to do anything you don’t want to but know this; the word no won’t help you here either. Understand this, Morgan. The only words that will ever stop me or any other Dom in this club are the safewords we discussed. Yellow and red. Crying out no or stop, begging or pleading, none of those would receive the desired effect. Understand?”
“Yes,” she mumbled, enchanted by his deep voice that managed to soothe her concerns like the taste of an aged whiskey on the tongue. “What boundaries are you referring to?”
“There are soft and hard limits on your list. Hard limits are just that. Things you will absolutely not do and I’ll honor. Soft limits are those things you’re willing to try or aren’t sure about.” He smiled as he noticed her nipples turning hard under the constant caresses over the top of her breasts. “Think carefully about every item you indicate as maybe, my pet, because those are the ones I will push.”
“I know a Dom can push a sub into an altered state of euphoria but what if it happens to you as well and you don’t hear me calling out my safeword?”
“For a sub it’s called subspace and for a Dom it’s known as Dom-space or top-space. There’s a slight difference between how a Dom experiences it to a sub.”
“I don’t understand.”
Bruce wasn’t surprised at Morgan’s prodding. It was in her nature to examine and dissect information. He’d seen it too often that subs who didn’t understand the terminology or certain concepts of the lifestyle tumbled into it helter skelter and ended up getting hurt.
“A Dom has to remain in control during a scene at all times. It’s imperative because we must still be sensitive to safewords as well as signs that the sub isn’t comfortable, not enjoying the scene or in pain. Dom space is more about shutting out the outside world and by doing that we channel the focus toward the submissive in a hyper-intense way.”
“Does it happen to you all the time?”
“I’ve only experienced it a couple of times in my life. It’s not something I wish to achieve with every scene. I need to feel a strong connection with the sub, have a desire to push past the here and now.”
“What does it feel like?”
“Part of it is like subspace, like you’re high on drugs, with amplified sensations and a feeling as if you’re out of your body. For me, I experience an enhanced sense of intuition and a stronger, more intimate connection with my sub.”
“That sounds intense.”
“It is.” He leaned back in the sofa where they were sitting side by side in Pamela Seeger’s office, the resident attorney who had witnessed them signing the agreement. “I have a feeling with you, I might be inclined to aim for Dom space.”
Morgan’s heart thumped rapidly against her chest. He’d as much admitted that she was special.
“I … ahem, guess I better finish this list,” she hedged as she buried her nose in the document. It was incomprehensible that he suddenly made her feel like a blushing schoolgirl.
Get a grip, Morgan. No man wants to feel like he's in the web of a black widow spider. You’re all but falling onto his cock. Oh lord, woman! Lap! Get your mind out of his pants already.
It shook Morgan that she had such salacious thoughts. She hadn’t had sex since her rescue, not for lack of trying, but to date, she just couldn’t bear the thought of being intimate with a man. The few times she’d tried had ended in disaster, with flashes of grunting men with bad breath and stinking bodies, spo
iling every effort she made. If not for Joanne who had managed to save her from that and introduce her to Sheikh Jahayman, she might have committed suicide to end it all. At least from that point, he had claimed her as his personal concubine and no other man was allowed to touch her. It still didn’t help to stop the nightmares of that first month of degradation and pain. Maybe she should’ve stuck it out longer and continued the sessions with Bruce, or at the very least, found another psychologist when she arrived home.
“There.”
She signed the limit list with a flourish and handed it to Bruce. He studied it silently before he added his signature and placed it in the file with the signed agreements. She tipped her head sideways. “What? No discussion around it?”
He glanced at her as he got up. “Nothing to discuss, squirt. I told you, you’re in control. You made your choices and preferences known and I’ll adhere to them.”
“And what if you have a desire for some of my hard limits?”
“Then I’ll find a sub willing to accommodate me.” Bruce opened the door. “Shall we?”
Morgan slowly got up from the sofa. “No, we shall not. What do you mean, you’ll find a sub?”
“Just what I said.” Bruce found her pinched lips endearing. It soothed his ego knowing that she already portrayed possessiveness over him—not that he believed she’d ever admit to it.
“But what about …” She heaved in a deep breath. “Just what does that D/s agreement we signed mean?”
“It means we scene together. That you entrust me with your submission and yield willingly to my domination.”
“I know all that,” she snapped. “Your rules are very clear. No one is allowed to touch me without your permission.” Her nose tipped upward as she glowered at him. “Does it work both ways?”
Bruce’s deep chuckle echoed through the room. She forced down the pleasant tingle it loosened deep inside her. Now wasn’t the time to be aroused. Not while she was annoyed at him for telling her he’d have his way with another sub.
