Diary of a Submissive (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 4)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

From the top dresser drawer, I grab a couple of ties, gagging her mouth and cinching her wrists and ankles. Cruz scoops her up and tosses her on the bed. Her massive sapphires bloom like she cannot believe we would do this.

  We give one another a high five as Cruz grabs a pair of my joggers and puts them on. “Make do bondage?”

  “It’s not pretty,” I mention. “But it’ll do. Now we need a couple of tools.”

  Cruz laughs as Iris panics. Her body wiggles like an inchworm when Rowan walks in.

  “Whoa!” She giggles. “Masa is at the door, should I tell him to go away?”

  “Yes,” we reply. She disappears.

  “Should we tie her up too?” Cruz asks with a tilt of his head. “So she doesn’t get in the way.”

  “Hmm.”

  Cracking open the door, Rowan pokes her head into the room. “… You guys need a whip?”

  Our eyes spark with possibility as we follow the little one through the house. This girl packs a helluva punch. “Iris carries this bag everyone we go,” she informs, handing the black suitcase to Cruz. He unzips it on the bed. “Feel free to take whatever. She bought it all new for me.”

  “Holy fucking shit!” I scan over the gear as Deacon twirls a pair of handcuffs on his finger. I pick up the soft-sided case and unzip it—Needles. Sounds. Blades. “This is one intense BDSM kit.”

  Rowan snickers, “No light.”

  “Thanks, Tuls!” Deacon smiles.

  “If you need anything else,” she says. “Let me know.”

  “Wait,” I ask as she goes to leave the room. “Are you the bottom?”

  “I’ve never been a bottom feeder, Sal,” she replies with a wink. “… You edge?”

  “Over the…”

  Playing with the violet wand, Deacon flirts, “Rainbow?”

  She smiles as I hand the crop to her. “Would you do the honor?”

  “I can, but why am I disciplining her?”

  Deacon zaps himself. “Holy shit!”

  Rowan laughs, “You should start that slow.”

  “You don’t have a partner at home?” Deacon asks.

  “I played in the clubs,” she says, taking the wand from Cruz. Turning it way down, she runs it along his arm. “Club kid.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Mistress…”

  “I was Puck back then, but I’m kind of digging Tuls.”

  “… Mischievous sprite?”

  She shrugs. “A devilish pixie.”

  Picking up the soft case, I whisper, “How experienced are you?”

  “Better with those than I am this,” she says, lifting the crop. “Crops are a bit tame for my liking. I’ll take a whip any day. A belligerent German trained me. He had no taste in food.”

  Deacon gives her a bizarre look, but I pick up the reference fast. I may have tunnel vision in many areas, but my fetish was not one of them. “Where is he?”

  “Dead,” she informs. “He was in his sixties. Why do you ask?”

  “Sound me.”

  Her eyes scout around the room as Cruz guards my dwindling state of mind. With a smirk, she asks, “… Can I whip you too?”

  “Sir,” Cruz cautions. “Be careful.”

  “Ya,” I mutter to Rowan before shifting my gaze to Cruz. “Because she’s got this. And I need a hit of pain, or I’m going to burn this love down.”

  “Deal,” she agrees, extending her hand. “You going to let them fuck again?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m damn sure going to take you up on your offer.”

  His Butterfly

  Rowan removes the tie from my mouth as tears pour from my eyes. “Shhh!”

  “… Where are they?”

  “Cruz is in the bedroom,” she says. “And Sal is blindfolded outside in the atrium. He thinks I’m taking you to Cruz, and I am about to whip him. You’re up, girly.”

  “I can’t do this…”

  “You have to,” she implores. “This is your one chance to get in his head. Now or never. Trust me. You don’t want me to do it, or you will lose him because he already sees me as some sort of ghost of Kaci because of all your notes.”

  “Are you going to keep Cruz distracted?”

  “Yes,” she says, setting the pile of gear on the bed and undoing the ties. “We’ve practiced. You are ready. Sal wants a sounding, but you aren’t prepared for that. We can do it—together—but let’s get you over this threshold.”

  “Oh, God!” I mutter, sitting up. “I’m going to be sick, Rowan!”

  “No, you’re not. This is what you’ve paid me for—private lessons in Dominance.” She reassures, “You’re going to adapt and change and learn to shift between D/s because you love that man. It’s that simple, Iris. It won’t ever change his need for Cruz, but you need to switch sometimes, or you’re going to lose him. Which is it?”

  “Shit…I can deal with his need for Cruz,” I frantically mutter. “Even I need Cruz, but I cannot handle his playing in random fields trying to satiate a need I cannot fulfill.”

  “Two things resonate with Sal—shy submission and sexy Dominance—but he always has to keep the control. You have it in your ability to do both seamlessly and be his one.”

  “Better than his Pixie,” I whisper, putting on the corset. “Fuck!”

  “He’s afraid he’ll hurt you if you submit, so take the lead and show him who you are. Even if you fuck it up, it won’t matter because he’ll hear the message of you trying loud and clear. He’s a reasonable guy. A tough guy. Become his butterfly…fly and change with his dynamic…follow his lead…learn to dance with him.”

  “… You won’t do it?”

  “I don’t want him. Besides, if I do it, it will open a tunnel of heartache for you because he’ll develop feelings for me. Don’t let that happen. He passionately loves those who hurt him—Dom, Serene, Kaci, Cruz, so be the fucking girl to lay down the law.”

  “He’s Sal!” I battle with myself through gritted teeth as she fastens the buckles. “Do you know how much experience he has in this department? Do you know who I am going up against? He’s not a lightweight.”

  “Stop thinking you aren’t good enough for him,” she urges. “This is the moment you have been working toward for years,” she coaches as I tug the leather booty shorts on. “I let you beat the shit out of me at Juliet so everyone would think you and I hate one another. Don’t let this one chance slip through your fingers. The window to intimacy is open. Jump the fuck through it and worry about the cuts later. Put the idea of you in his head.”

  “I put that collar on your neck so you could do this for me.”

  “You did,” she affirms, keeping my soul on track. “Work his mind and body over, Lotus. And you’ll win him—forever.”

  “Oh, Jesus!” I breathe and wave my hands in front of my face. Tying the boots on, I say, “He has no clue we’ve been working on this for years.”

  “He has no clue I was training you for this in those cold chambers,” she confirms. “You have this! Take back what was always yours. I got Cruz. And we’ll figure out the rest later.”

  “I slept with him.”

  “I know you did,” she says. “Don’t think about that.”

  “I can’t help but think about that,” I argue. “I’m in love with two men.”

  “You can’t have two men,” she says. “You get one. You can play with both. But only one of them will be yours.”

  “I don’t like this answer.”

  “You may not like it,” she replies. “But you cannot marry both of them.”

  “Can I just say this sucks?”

  “Yes,” she says. “But it is what it is.”

  “I am the Lotus.” I fiercely remind, “I do not play by anyone else’s rules.” I lean in and kiss her lips. “Thank you so much for everything.”

  “Thank you for keeping my bills paid.”

  “It was nothing compared to what you’ve done,” I whisper as she hands the red and black, six-foot, sixteen plait signal whip to me. “I love you, Tuls.
” I wink, and she giggles.

  “Hey!” she says as I check my face and put some lipstick on. “It could be a worse name. I’d be your slut any day of the week, Mistress of Lotus. Now go play with his masochism and have fun!”

  Pressing my hand to her cheek, I kiss her again. “I never planned on coming full circle or imagined I would be the one inflicting pain.”

  “Half the fun is not knowing where the journey will lead. Now go! I’ll wave as soon as I confirm Cruz is tucked safely in the bedroom.”

  “How are you going to keep him in there?”

  “Baseball? Blow job? Butt sex? Reverse cowgirl? I don’t know. Don’t worry about that. Focus on Sal. Let me take Cruz off your hands for a bit because he’s a bit too needy for your and Sal’s relationship to handle in the present situation. You two need this moment.”

  She scurries out the door, and I stop breathing as she tiptoes across the living room. “Oh, my God, what am I doing? I can’t do this…”

  My hand lays against the door jam, and I spot the sapphire ring.

  “I’m not going to ask you to marry me because it’s not a question. You will marry me.”

  “You think I’ll marry you,” I sassed.

  “You will because this is the promise that I’m yours,” he seriously said. “This is the promise I am always guarding my lotus. This is the promise that in the end, I am making you Mrs. Salvatore Raniero. And to prove it all, since you’re all about proof these days, I have the matching sapphire band.”

  He lifted his left hand, and I gasped. “Oh, shit…”

  “Ya, see, now you’re scared.”

  “We’re doing this,” I whispered. “This is going to happen.”

  “We are!” he boomed. “Say it…”

  “Yes!”

  Sal left right after that moment. He got on a plane and went back to the States…without me.

  I need him. All of him.

  Or we’re done.

  Regardless of his love for Cruz.

  And he needs me. All of me.

  Regardless of Cruz’s love for me.

  Or we’re done.

  86

  The Sadist's Masochist II

  His Butterfly

  In his jeans, he kneels near the wall in the atrium. He’s shirtless, barefoot, and blindfolded. My life is scarred on his back, and tonight this means more than anything.

  I close my eyes and breathe. It seems so off our intended path for this whip to be in my hand, but Rowan is right. I’ll never keep him if I can’t be his one stop.

  I don’t believe this new Sal will last. It’s not a lack of trust, but faith in our bond. We’re bent and broken by the ravages of time.

  I know him.

  I know he loves me.

  But this isn’t a matter of love.

  One time, falling off the wagon, a little too much dancing and booze, and he’ll be under the crop of another. I must play his game—His rules. His way.

  The second I speak, he’ll know it’s me. My hands are clammy as my heart pounds in my chest. I glance inside and see Rowan pointing me on. I shake my head, and she firmly nods for my continuation in this kamikaze mission—now or never.

  What the fuck do I have to lose?

  Oh! Just everything.

  Forget he didn’t consent to this.

  Fuck it. I own him.

  Master Sal Raniero is mine.

  Taking a few steps forward, I stop as soon as I hear his voice. “Thank you for this.”

  Well, at least you’re polite on your knees.

  I snap the whip beside him as a warning—I am coming. He doesn’t move, but I don’t expect him to.

  I double-check the location of his hands because there are unforgivable soft spots, and I must make no mistake with those. I move closer and skirt the whip on the ground, letting it slither like a snake. I wish like hell I could see his reactions.

  Tapping twice in quick succession on the lowest part of his body, he gracefully swoops like a crow to stand.

  Dear God…

  His physique is gloriously sculpted from this place on the other side of obedience. It’s divinely different. The foreboding arrogance becomes the forbidden lust I long to conquer and claim.

  Every chiseled muscle is ripe with the promise of strength and endurance. I breeze the leather against his washboard abs, and he steps backward until he stands in the center on the atrium. I stop his back with the rigid handle of the whip and tap his shoulder twice.

  To his knees, he falls.

  He licks his lips and smirks. “Do it, slut.”

  I almost say something, but I don’t. Instead, I fire round after round of cracks, surrounding his masochist in a prancing dance. An underhanded strike lands dead center on his Lotus, and he gasps. I note his fingers, tightening against his denim-covered thighs.

  There is a distinct difference between him and I. He may be of average height for a guy, but he’s fucking massive compared to me. If he wants to take me down, then I will fight and even challenge him, but I’m acutely aware—he will win in the end.

  Parading around his body, I trail the cracker over his glistening skin. The leather rains with overhanded throws, alternating on either side and narrowing in with successive lashes against his skin.

  I slip into the moment, noticing his change of breathing and the parting of his lips. His enjoyment of this act is paramount, and his dropping the protective emotional walls allows my partaking of the feast in his flesh.

  I find the rhythm, and we spiral to an unknown destination where I bring pain and discover someone I don’t know in him. The black blindfold is sexy as sin against his cheeks, and my arousal weeps with delight.

  When I carnival the whip, he snarls as I let each one quickly pop his backside. He doesn’t readily radiate with crimson—unlike my creamy hue—and the realization slicks my thighs in the leather shorts.

  “Harder, Ma’am,” he requests. I pivot back and release my inner siren, wailing with the whip in my hand. My breaths heave like I’m running sprints against a champion performer. I strike one hard on either side and bring up the cuts he craves.

  Over and over and over…

  I let go, and so does he as we passionately bounce between the lines of power and surrender. I lose myself in the moment, succumbing to my vixen, wanting to serve this man in every possible way.

  His toughened exterior shield yields with the rising colors of blood, and his lust is soon to follow. He loosens up, extending his arms out to either side as I skip a few beats and bring on an onslaught of fire.

  “More,” he growls sweating. “Please…”

  Brushing gently over his inked guns and forearms, I give in to the rush of desire seizing every part of me as I draw in figure-eight swaths against his skin.

  I cannot stop.

  I cannot control my upper hand with Sal.

  I never practiced with a hardcore pain slut like him. I don’t know where the brakes are, and I fear doing real harm. Like a rumbling train, his roar builds in his gut. He howls from his lungs, and the whip careens out of my hands.

  Waiting a good minute, I scan over his canvas, and I know—I’m not that far off from being compatible with Cardinal-S. And that scares the fuck out of me.

  I could lose it with him.

  I approach with precise steps and break through the barrier, setting my fingertips on his shoulders. He curls his arms up to meet my hands.

  I smooth the pad of my finger across my name on his shoulder blades as I walk to the front of him. He leans his face to my crotch, nuzzling my delta, and I pet his damp hair before I collapse to my knees. I kiss his lips.

  “Thank you, Mistress.” I flick my tongue along his lips. “I am in love with you, Iris.” I panic and try to flee, but he forcefully grabs ahold of me. “Don’t go.”

  “I…”

  “Kiss me again,” he mutters, pleading. I lean forward and welcome his demanding tongue, commanding mine. His hands latch to my arms, and we tumble back. His erection presses
against me, and we roll.

  “How did you know?”

  “I smelled you when you first came outside,” he claims with a deviant grin as he does me a favor by keeping the blindfold on. I don’t think I could handle seeing his eyes. I’d be the crumbling sadist because my actions mortify me. “And I knew for certain when you used Juliet protocol on me.”

  “It’s the only way I could think to move you.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered,” he whispers. “I already knew.”

  “I apologize for not seeking consent.”

  “I’ll forgive you.” He smiles. “This time.” He licks his lips and grins. “Holy shit…you were incredible!”

  “... Are you okay?”

  “I’m fucking amazing,” he whispers. “How are you?”

  “Fucking scared,” I answer. “I’m shaking like a leaf.”

  “You’re okay,” he consoles, wrapping his arms around me. “I’ve got you.”

  “This is so off,” I cry. “I should be the one doing aftercare for you.” He bites his lip and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Sal.”

  “I am your Master,” he whispers, kissing my face all over. “We make the kink fit this love, not the other way around. There are no rules except our own.”

  “… You still love me?”

  “Iris, I’m going to love you regardless of who is on top for the rest of eternity. My love for you isn’t bound in BDSM. Love isn’t stiff.”

  “You’re stiff...” I tease.

  “After effect of your love.”

  “Why do you push me like this?”

  “Because you push me. No one challenges me as you do. You question my boundaries like no one ever has,” he confides. “And I rise to meet your gold standards.”

  Bravely, I ask, “… How was it?”

  “A little timid at first,” he admits, which I already knew. “But after you found your sweet spot, baby, you soared.”

  “I need more practice on a target I care about,” I stress, acknowledging my shortcomings. “I know it wasn’t perfect.”

  “I’ll volunteer!” He smiles. “It doesn’t matter if it was perfect,” he assures. “I can work with this if you will let me help you.”