Bonds of Hope

by Lynda Aicher

  Now she wanted more.

  Her skin was smooth and warm beneath his palms as he ran them over her thighs to the hem of her ultra-short mini skirt. He could tease her right here. Have her squirming with need while holding back her release.

  It was tempting. Very.

  She’d be beautiful to watch, to show off. The flush on her cheeks would spread down her chest as she squirmed beneath his touch, struggling to hold back while craving to let go. All for him. He wanted that. Too much.

  It was time he put some reality into her fairytale experience. Following his command as he led her around the club was only the tip of submission. It barely scratched the surface of what he believed she could achieve—if she trusted him.

  Without a word, he lifted her from his lap and led her from the room. The leash was slack in his hand and he wrapped it around his fist until the tension kept her arm brushing his. Each pass of skin on skin was a reminder of the treasure he’d had the good fortune to claim.

  The trek to the private room was done in silence. She never questioned him, an action he wanted to praise and condemn. Would she follow anyone or just him? The soft click of the door closing triggered a visible shudder that ran down her back before she suppressed it.

  He pulled her around to stand before him. “Scared?”

  The long exhale she released was as telling as the slow shake of her head. “Nervous.”

  “Why?”

  “Ha!” A smile lit her face, removing the worry for a brief second. “Like you have to ask.”

  Oh, she might say she was ready for more and maybe she was on some level, but there was a way to go before she was ready for anything major. “Do you want to stop?”

  “No, sir.” Her instant reply was hard and firm. If she was having doubts, they weren’t strong enough to make her run.

  The room was simple. There was no bed, bench or other BDSM equipment openly displayed. At the size of a small bedroom, there was only room for the plain, armless chair set in the middle and the armoire along the back wall.

  He removed the leash and motioned toward the chair. “Have a seat.”

  Her steps were sure as she followed his direction. The pleasure when she clasped her hands behind the chair and spread her legs wide was indescribable. The accelerated hitch in his pulse forced him to acknowledge what he’d been trying to deny for days—he wanted her collar to be real.

  “We’re going to start with the basics,” he said, removing some bindings from the armoire. Her eyes widened when she saw the items he’d collected, but she didn’t object. It wasn’t his goal to frighten her. Not even close.

  “Yes, sir.” The slight quiver in her voice showed her nerves.

  She tracked his movements as he kneeled before her. The tendons in his knee clenched, the sharp pinch a reminder of his own weaknesses.

  “I’m going to bind you to the chair then move to some sensory exercises.”

  “Sensory?”

  He held up the blindfold and ball gag. “Sensory.”

  She eyed the objects before lowering her gaze to her lap. “Yes, sir.”

  His movements became the only sounds in the room. The scuffle of boots, the fastening of ankle and wrist cuffs around her limbs, the click of clasps to hold her tight. Through it all, Quinn was pliant and silent. Her breath stalled when he placed the blindfold over her eyes, but a press of his hand to her nape had her sucking in a deep gulp of air.

  “Relax, Quinn,” he murmured into her ear. The light, musky scent of her perfume reached out to tempt him closer. He inhaled, savoring the fragrance and the subtle tip of her head to get closer to his. “Trust me.”

  “I do,” she whispered.

  Never had those words meant so much. He wouldn’t fail her.

  “The gag is next,” he told her. The ball gag wasn’t large. He’d selected one that wouldn’t stretch her jaw and lips to the point of pain. That wasn’t the goal of this session. He tucked a red scarf into her hands, waiting until she clutched it. “You won’t be able to say your safe word with the gag on. Drop this cloth if you need to stop for any reason. Understood?”

  Her nod was as hesitant as her agreement. “Yes.”

  She might be wary, but the trust she was displaying was intoxicating. It was one thing to work with an experienced sub, to push him or her until they found the bliss they sought. Having someone so fresh to the scene give herself to him was beyond empowering.

  Using the tip of his finger, he traced a line over her lips. She opened for him, just like he wanted. Her mouth parted, her tongue flicking out to rewet the bottom, making it glisten. He purposely stepped back and went still.

  Without her sight, she was forced to use her other senses. Her chin tipped up before she turned it slightly so her ear was closer to him. Her nostrils flared and she fidgeted in the seat before going still. After another long moment, she slowly lowered her head, shoulders collapsing with a deep exhale.

  Now she was ready.

  A small tap to her lips and she opened her mouth wide. The ball fit easily into her mouth, her teeth gripping it naturally. The holes cut through the ball would allow her to breathe once he tightened the strap behind her head.

  The first shudder ran down her body when he finished buckling the gag in place. “You okay?” He crouched before her, placing his hand on her thighs. Her breaths were getting shorter, harsher. “Quinn,” he barked, trying to get her attention.

  Another tremor shook her small frame and he cupped her face, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks. “Easy, kitten. It’s all right.” Her throat worked, only it was almost impossible to swallow with a gag in place. A thread of drool leaked from the corner of her mouth, which was followed by a small keening sound.

  Fuck. He was already reaching to release the strap when the first garbled, choking noise escaped her mouth. She lurched forward, the force of the reflex rippling up her spine in a wave that snapped her head down. Shit. He had the buckle undone and the gag out before another round of heaving began. The dry, gasping coughs burst from her mouth as she struggled to suck air into her lungs.

  “Breathe, Quinn.” He barely heard his own word over the roar in his head. His focus narrowed to just her, keeping her safe, easing her panic. There was nothing more important. Not even the resounding admonishments ringing in his mind that he’d just fucked this up.

  He removed the mask and wrists bindings with practiced ease then gently bent her over her knees. Her skin was clammy beneath his palms as he rubbed the span of her shoulders in soothing stokes. “Easy.”

  She finally took a long gulp of air and released it with a shudder. He continued to murmur soft words while he freed her ankles and cradled her on his lap. The rapid beat of his heart pounded against his chest as his own distress slowly receded. He’d never had a sub react that fast and bad. Gags weren’t for everyone, but Christ, he’d never seen anyone with a gag reflex as sensitive as Quinn’s.

  Another shiver shook her entire body before she finally quieted. A small sniffle was followed with a soft, “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he assured her. She wasn’t at fault. He eased her away until he could brush the tear trails from her cheeks. “Are you okay?”

  Her eyes were shiny, the edge of tears deepening the green in their color. She gave a small nod and tried to look away, but he prevented her. He wouldn’t let her hide or be embarrassed.

  “I’m thinking the gag isn’t for you.” Her small chuckle and faint smile was exactly what he was looking for.

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “That’s not my thing.”

  The slight rasp in her voice motivated him to retrieve a bottle of water from the mini-fridge concealed within the armoire. She slumped on the chair, using the end of the scarf to wipe away the last of her tears when he handed the bottle to her.

  “Thanks.”

  She looked so vulnerable he couldn’t resist scooping her back into his arms. There was no resistance when he sat in the chair and settled her on his lap
, wrapping his arms around her. She tucked her head under his chin in a way that seemed right, natural. He wouldn’t call her fragile, but the need to protect her redoubled within him.

  “What did you learn?” he asked into her hair after her breathing returned to normal.

  She stiffened almost immediately. “What do you mean?”

  “From this experience. What did you learn?”

  “I don’t like gags?” The question in her voice undermined the knowledge. This wasn’t a game or a fake show with props. When was she going to understand that?

  “Don’t ask me. Tell me.” There was a harder edge to his words than he’d intended, but damn it, she had to get this. It was up to her to know her limits and be strong enough to state them.

  Her sharp intake of breath cut through the room. It was another second before she said, “I don’t like gags.” There was a firm strength in her voice this time that eased the tightness in his chest. She was learning.

  “What else?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Did you mind being restrained to the chair?” he prodded, walking her through the breakdown of the short Scene.

  “No. Not with you.”

  “How about the mask? Did that bother you?”

  “Not really,” she said. “After I relaxed, it was fine.”

  Now for the hardest question. “What happened with the gag?”

  She burrowed into his chest as if she wanted to crawl inside and hide. He couldn’t let her do that. This was too important.

  “You need to answer me.” He lowered his tone. “Or we stop everything, right now. You could’ve been seriously injured and that isn’t okay. So tell me, what happened with the gag?”

  Another small shudder trembled through her shoulders. He hugged her closer, giving her what support he could. Her focus was on the red scarf that she wove between her fingers before tugging it free to start again.

  “I had a small problem with purging when I was a teenager,” she answered after a long pause, the weaving pattern continuing. “I got really good at triggering the reflex quickly so no one would find out. The sensation of the gag pressing on my tongue was too close to what my finger felt like.”

  Fucking hell. He squeezed his eyes closed but resisted the urge to rub at the headache that was growing behind his eyes. “And you didn’t think this was important to tell me?”

  “It’s none of your business,” she snapped.

  “Wrong.” He spun her around and forced her to look at him. “It became my business the second you took my collar and signed the contract.” Her hand flew to the simple leather collar at his reminder. “Any injury, any history, any event in your past that could endanger your life is my business. You’re trusting me to keep you safe, but how can I do that if I don’t have all the facts?”

  His jaw ached with the tension it took to bite back his anger. If he’d been slower to react... He couldn’t finish that thought. It scared him too much.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes wide as understanding seemed to register. “I didn’t realize.”

  Damn it. She was so new to this world. He should’ve asked more questions, ensured that she understood the necessity of full disclosure before they started. It was as much his fault. He pulled her in and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry too.”

  The stiffness eased from her muscles with her sigh. “I feel so lost here.”

  Her admission clawed at his chest and wound around his heart. What Dom, what man wouldn’t want to protect her? “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

  She leaned into him once again, touching her lips to his neck before she tucked her head under his chin. The air rushed in to cool the moisture left from her lips. It highlighted the sweetness of the gesture and the simplicity that spoke volumes. How in the hell was he supposed to resist that?

  He redirected his thoughts and focused on the last topic. “What’s in your hands?”

  Her idle fiddling with the material froze before her fingers clenched around the scarf. “The scarf.”

  “You should’ve dropped it the second you knew the gag was wrong.”

  “I thought I could do it,” she insisted, but the conviction was weak in her voice. “And I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

  “Quinn.” He sighed. “I told you, I will never be mad at you for using your safe word. What disappoints me is that you would risk injuring yourself for your pride.”

  With other subs, he would dole out a punishment for such stupidity. With Quinn though, he could almost hear the recriminations circling in her head. He didn’t need to kick her too.

  “Get up.” He patted her thigh and she practically jumped off his lap. There was no more to learn from this incident and he wouldn’t let her sink into remorse over it. Removing the bottle of water from her hand, he set it aside and reattached the leash to her collar before lifting her chin to see her eyes. “I promised I would never harm you,” he said, the truth of his words gripping his vocal cords tight. “Now you need to give me the same promise. I don’t ever want to see you endanger yourself again. All right?”

  “I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, blinking rapidly.

  “I know.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead but didn’t let himself linger like he wanted to. “Now promise me.”

  She cleared her throat, the rumble soft and harsh. “You make a lot of promises.”

  “And I keep them.” He’d been raised to believe the value behind the words.

  Her long study of him ended with a gentle crook of her lips into a smile. “I promise.”

  “Good.” The urge to kiss her lips was right there but he couldn’t. Kissing her would seal his commitment. There was no way he’d be able to turn back after feeling her soft lips beneath his. “Are you ready to go downstairs?”

  She lowered her eyes to stare at his chest. The solemnness in her demeanor let him know that she understood the importance of tonight’s lesson. “Yes, sir.”

  He didn’t ask her if she wanted to stop. The possibility that she’d say “yes, sir” was too high for him to risk it. He was too invested to stop and quickly becoming too attached for his own damn good. But he refused to worry about it. Worrying never got him anywhere but frustrated, and that wasn’t productive for anything.

  The mere thought of what could’ve happened tonight, of how bad the Scene could’ve gone sent a wave of chills over his skin. He’d keep her safe, keep her close and pummel anyone who dared to harm her.

  Chapter Seven

  The wonderful, nutty scent of fresh brewed coffee assaulted Quinn the second she stepped into the small café. She gave a quick glance around and spotted Marcus waiting at a table near the back. The hitch in her heart rate had nothing to do with how gorgeous he looked in jeans and a simple black sweater that hugged his shoulders. Well, maybe it did, but it didn’t mean anything. It was really just nerves at meeting him in public.

  She flashed a smile when he saw her then headed to the counter to order a latte. How would the Dom expect her to act outside of the club? How would he act? It was her curiosity that had made her agree to meet him. That and a stern reminder to herself that this was a job and she was here to learn whatever she could about the BDSM world.

  After three nights of instruction at the club, she had a good understanding of the many different ways the dominants and submissives played. She could even name off tools and terms, but she was still struggling with the logic of it all. The why.

  The gag incident last night had proven just how much she didn’t know about being a submissive. The lack of responsibility, the freedom that came with giving control to someone else, she got. But the pain and humiliation aspects were eluding her understanding. Her stomach still ached when she thought about how badly she’d messed up with the gag.

  Really, after that, there’d been no way she could’ve turned down Marcus’s offer to talk outside of the club. Hopefully, he wasn’t going to cancel their contract. She wasn’t ready for this
experience to end. And wasn’t that a sobering thought?

  Coffee in hand, she weaved her way through the tables to where he waited. In a move that surprised her for the gallantry alone, he stood and helped her remove her coat before settling it over the back of the chair.

  “Thank you,” she told him as she took a seat. Digging through her purse, she found her phone and quickly silenced it. She didn’t need her mother interrupting this meeting. The six texts that morning had her at a pace of over three an hour.

  She stashed her phone away and wrapped her hands around the paper cup, seeking the warmth and something to do. Her turtleneck sweater and wool slacks couldn’t ward off the chill of the autumn temperatures, not for her spoiled southern California blood.

  “Did you find it okay?” His smile was open and friendly as he returned to his seat. Gone was the stiff reserve of the Dom.

  “Yes, s— No problem.” She made a show of looking around the space in order to hide her stumble. He wasn’t “sir” outside of the club, right?

  The café was painted a warm shade of gold and covered with images of the University of Minnesota sports teams. Over half the tables were filled and all of the couches and chairs surrounding the cozy fireplace were occupied by sweatshirt-clad students reading textbooks. And no one appeared to be paying attention to them. It was a novelty she wasn’t used to. “It’s nice.”

  He followed her gaze around the room. “I like it. The sandwiches and chili are great too. I used to eat here all the time when I was in college.”

  She took a sip of her latte, testing the heat to keep from burning her tongue. The difference in him was startling, but she didn’t want him to change back. “So you’re from here?”

  He nodded, his smile growing to a full grin that finished his transformation. Across from her wasn’t Master Marcus, but an ordinary man whose smile had her stomach flipping around the fresh swallow of coffee. It softened the angles of his cheekbones and showed off the small lines that framed his mouth. It was the man she’d caught a flash of Monday night when he’d let loose and laughed openly. Right before he’d spanked her.