by His Slave
Despite her curiosity, she forced herself not to ask him to finish. He had to know she was nervous, but so far he’d done nothing to put her at ease. The way Rio regarded her wasn’t helping. She swore the dog was appraising her with an eye to determining whether she was worthy of his master.
Not caring what Mace thought, she walked over to the wall opposite the one with the picture window so she could study the half dozen or so photographs on it. From where she now stood, she could see into the kitchen. Several dishes and pans were in the sink, making it clear that cleaning up for guests wasn’t a priority. Maybe he seldom had people in here.
The photographs ranged from seascapes to a spectacular one taken in the middle of a redwood forest looking up and sunlight streaming down. One was of spring wildflowers growing around a mossy rock, another a lake with hundreds of ducks on it and mist seeming to cradle them.
“This is incredible,” she said with her back to him. “You took them?”
“Yes.”
Unable to think of anything else to say, she imagined him standing beside the lake waiting for the perfect moment. Judging by how quickly they’d had sex, she’d assumed he was an impatient man. This other side to him, maybe the real man, had her pressing her temple. Bottom line, she didn’t know him at all.
She couldn’t see him right now, but that didn’t prevent her from sensing his presence. Something alive surrounded her, pressing close, demanding and compelling all rolled into one. Sex was a major component of what she felt, but it went deeper than that.
Still pressing the side of her head, she slowly faced him. His being barefoot did nothing to lessen his impact. And his chest, that strong and healthy expanse of flesh, muscle, and bone, was nearly more than she could handle. She knew better than to drop her gaze to his belly.
“Something I want to say right now,” he said, his hands in his back pockets and the stance doing too much to her nerves. “If you felt pressured by Robert and Atwood, let me know. I told them not to rush things with you, but I don’t believe they listened.”
“They are pushing it, aren’t they?” Was he feeling the differences between them, feeling her heat as much as she did his?
“More than necessary. Whether your articles start coming out this month or next doesn’t make that much difference.”
Although her awareness of Mace remained on level ten alert, she mulled over what he’d just said. “I think they want to make sure they made the right decision when they hired me.”
“Why did they hire you?”
Believing he cared, it took all she had not to touch him in gratitude, but if she did, she wasn’t sure she was ready for what might come next. “My understanding is they were impressed by some pieces I’d written, particularly a lengthy one about children for a psychology magazine that won a national award.”
“Sounds like you were proud of it.”
“It’s more than that. It was personal to me.”
“What was it about?”
Getting close here. “I thought we were here for, ah, educational purposes.”
“You don’t want to talk about it?”
If I say too much, you might learn more about me than I’m ready for. “It’s not that,” she lied. “I was observing high-school students for something else and got to talking to their teachers about why some teens were laid-back about their studies while others seemed uptight. When I said I guessed that was because they were hardwired one way or the other, the teachers said it wasn’t that simple. Bottom line, parental influence has a profound impact on personalities.”
He frowned, then nodded. “In what ways?”
“I’m simplifying things, but those who roll with the punches have parents who face life the same way. The parents of teens who put pressure on themselves tend to be hard driving. They expect a lot from their children.”
Worn out by the lengthy explanation, she waited for Mace to change the subject to the reason she’d come here.
Instead: “Which are you?”
She waved dismissively, then didn’t know what to do with the hand that ached to brush his chest. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah, it does. You aren’t laid-back. You wouldn’t have gotten to where you are without a fire under you.” Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he folded his arms over his chest. “Who lit that fire, you or your folks?”
They started it. “A bit of both I guess. What about you? Do you think your parents contributed significantly to the man you became?”
Something she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen in human eyes flashed in his. “They had nothing to do with it.”
Rio must have caught Mace’s clipped tone because he started whining. When Mace laid his hand on the dog’s head, she saw that one of the pit’s ears had all but been torn off. Hairless patches dotted his face and forelegs. “Was he a fighter?” she asked. “Shit, you didn’t—”
“No!” Mace’s nostrils flared. “He went through that hell before I came into his life.”
“I thought that once a dog started fighting, he couldn’t be trusted.”
“If he’d been older, he wouldn’t have been salvageable.” Mace lightly scratched behind Rio’s good ear. “He was only a pup, but the bastards put him in a ring for the older ones to work on.”
Horrified, she dropped to her knees before Rio. Only then did she question whether Rio could truly be trusted. He might be faithful to Mace, but what about other people?
Rio regarded her as if she was marginally interesting, unlike most dogs who lost their pea minds whenever someone gave them some attention. How had Mace learned about Rio, and why had he concluded that he was the right person for the physically and emotionally damaged animal? Wondering if she’d ever ask, she looked up. The man dominated her world.
“He isn’t demonstrative,” Mace said.
“I noticed. Do you think he was born that way?”
“I hope not. Like the kids you wrote about, his upbringing imprinted him.”
Her knees were starting to ache from the hardwood flooring, but instead of standing, she held out her hand, palm down. After a few seconds, Rio gave it a lick. Her throat tightened.
“I’ve never seen him do that.”
Drawn to Mace’s tone, she again focused on him. They’d been like this before, him standing while she, his sub, knelt before him. She felt the restraints on her neck and wrists. When they were in Indulgences, he’d been dressed in near-vampire garb. Now his naked chest defied her to ignore it.
“I’ve always loved animals,” she came up with. “Maybe he knows it.”
“You had a lot of pets?”
“No.” Hoping to avoid the logical question of why not, she stood. Her legs felt unsteady, but she’d be damned if she’d hold on to Mace. “I’m glad he’s with you. Ah, let’s get started.”
“You’re ready?”
“That’s why I came here,” she said when what she wanted was for him to tell her about his journey into pit-bull ownership—that and all the other things she needed to know about him.
His expression seemed to be asking if job responsibility was the only reason she’d driven out here. If he voiced his question, what would she say?
“My bedroom.”
Startled, she nodded, then glanced at the hall. Because it wasn’t lit, she could only guess how long the cave-like space was. She wanted to say something smart ass so he wouldn’t guess she was suddenly both scared and excited, but her mind felt empty. In contrast, her body was so full she half expected to explode. This was prom night and college finals all rolled into one.
12
He led the way, his feet silent. In contrast, her sandals put her in mind of pounding hoof beats. Rio remained behind. Perhaps he knew what was going to happen, but Mace had told her BDSM never took place in his house, hadn’t he?
What about girlfriends?
A single lamp on the nightstand provided the only illumination, yet she noted that there were more framed photographs in here. The bed was queen
size, the spread pulled back to reveal blue sheets. Everything looked ordinary, too ordinary.
Lacing her clammy hands together, she concentrated on learning all she could about her surroundings. More magazines were on the dresser, and a chair was half buried under clothing. Male clothing.
He tapped the dresser. “It’s all in there. Do you want to see?”
Oh, shit. What am I doing here?
The answer came, not in a reminder of how badly she wanted to succeed at her career, but the motionless form a few feet away. Mace was Tarzan and Batman rolled into one—courage, strength, and dark thoughts in a single body. She could be at home watching her favorite detective show. Instead, she stood in a man’s room waiting for him to imprison her.
His stare beat on. After too long she remembered he’d asked a question. Knowing she couldn’t hide her nervousness from him, she walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. At first she couldn’t concentrate, then had no choice but to acknowledge the coiled flogger, red velvet blindfold, handcuffs, and ball gag. There were other things, but they’d have to wait until she’d processed this much.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“Does that surprise you?” No matter how exposed it made her feel, she ran her hands down her hips. “This is like—I keep thinking how I felt walking into my college chemistry class for the final.”
“How did you do?”
“I passed, barely.”
“It’ll be different here tonight. No tests, no passing or failing. Unless you can’t handle it, this is what’s going to happen. I’ll take you down into yourself so you can explore the basics, your body telling your mind things it never has before.”
Not sure she was following him, she picked up the handcuffs. They were heavier than she’d expected. “Not the same as the ropes you used the other night.”
“No, they’re not.” He’d moved so he was beside her, not quite touching but imprinting her with his presence. “In some respects, the cuffs are the same as the collar in that you can’t remove them.”
Wondering where her courage came from, she draped one of the cuffs over her wrist but didn’t fasten it. “Part of the collar was soft. These are hard.”
“Can you handle that?”
Because she’d been raised to meet challenges head-on, she snapped the cuff. A rush of something she didn’t have a name for filled her.
“There’s been a lot of discussion about who wields the ultimate power in a BDSM relationship.” Taking the loose half from her, he drew her captured arm behind her. “Conventional wisdom says it’s with the sub who must approve everything that happens. My take, power constantly shifts.”
Something clicked inside Cheyenne, a door locking perhaps? “How is that? I don’t have any power.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“Right.” She tried to jerk her arm free. “Do we have to bring up which of us is the stronger?”
“BDSM doesn’t operate on strength alone. Because I’ve done this more times than I’m going to admit, I can explain certain things to you, things you won’t need notes to remember.”
Thinking to face him, she tried to turn, only to have him stop her by looping an arm around her chest and holding her in place. That done, he tugged on the cuff until her arm was up between her shoulder blades. Her body jolted, then seemed to melt. She had no desire to fight.
“This is what I’m talking about.” He spoke with his mouth near her ear. “I’m not a beast. If you started struggling, I’d immediately let you go. What it boils down to is that I do what pleases me, but only when the sub wants the same thing.”
His explanation was too complex, and how could he expect her to concentrate when his aroused cock pushed against her backside?
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asked.
Fighting the impact of his hot breath on her ear slowed her response. “I’m trying.”
“I’m sure you are.” He shifted his hold, brought her even closer to him. Then his hand snaked down, capturing her breast. Even with her garment between them, another jolt ran through her. “You came here of your own will, which says you’re interested in becoming a player, but if I don’t play according to your terms, you’ll scream.”
“What good would that do? No one will hear.”
“Rio will.”
Wondering if the dog would attack his master, she closed her eyes. Granted, this wasn’t the first time Mace had restrained her, but the closeness got to her. It might always impact her this way. A million miles from questioning her behavior, she pushed back so the contact between his cock and her spine intensified.
“I’m not screaming.”
“Which is what I needed to know. I brought up anal play. Have you thought about experiencing it?”
You need to ask? “I’m not sure how to answer. It’s not as if I have any frame of reference.”
When he chuckled, his chest rumbled, and her body welcomed the sensation. “Then first order of business is for me to supply the frame of reference. One step at a time, right?”
Eyes still shut to hold out everything except the two of them, she zeroed in on her captured wrist, his arm holding her in place and his hand cupping her breast, his breath dampening her ear, most of all his cock saying this was personal with him.
“Yes,” she managed.
“Good. I could turn off the light, but I think you need to always know where you are.”
Agreeing with him, she opened her eyes, but before her vision cleared, he closed his teeth over her ear. Molten energy filled her, and she fought the impulse to try to jerk free. Until now, she’d been so focused on other things that she’d taken only scant notice of her pussy. Hot and hungry, it pulsed.
After too long, he released her ear and breast. His arm slid lower, skating past her ribs and over her waist. Then he pushed her away only to capture her wrist and draw it behind her. She stopped breathing. A moment later, he fastened the handcuff around that wrist as well.
Trapped said it all.
Taking hold of her shoulders, he spun her around to face him. “Feel everything,” he commanded. “Steel on flesh. Me close to you.”
“Yes.”
“Make your restraint your gift to yourself, Cheyenne. This isn’t something I’ve done to you; it’s what you need.”
“Need?”
Closing his hand over her chin, he lifted her head. “You make your living with words. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
You’re asking so much of me. “Are we going to have sex?”
Once more his expression defied her comprehension. “We’ll know it’s right when and if the time comes. Listen to me. I’m done forewarning you. From now on, I’m going to assume you want what I’m offering. If you don’t, you need to say your safe word.”
Stop shaking. “I don’t have one.”
“Choose it, now.”
“Rio, all right, Rio.”
“All right. And in case you’re curious, his hearing is incredible. That’s why I closed the door.”
He had? How could she have not noticed?
When she shifted her feet, it registered that she was still wearing the muumuu. Reminded that she wasn’t totally vulnerable, she squared her shoulders. “You said something about me wanting what you’re offering. This has nothing to do with Indulgences, does it?”
“You’ll have to decide that.” He leaned closer, and his breath again caressed her. “I can’t crawl into your mind and find the empty places. All I can do is rely on my expertise.”
Empty places? Despite the question, his nearness was robbing her of any interest in psychoanalyzing either of them. At the same time she didn’t know how to tell him to get started, not that he hadn’t already done so as witnessed by the handcuffs.
“What’s your favorite fantasy?” Not giving her time to gather her thoughts, he pulled her around so her back was to him and lifted her dress an agonizing inch at a time. “When you need to get off, where does
your imagination take you?”
Intertwining her fingers as best she could, she stared at a photograph taken from a mountaintop that went on forever with distant peaks spearing through the clouds. Had Mace been alone when he’d taken that one, and how had he felt surrounded by wilderness and solitude?
“To a remote area,” she answered. “There are lots of trees and a creek running through a valley, acres and acres surrounded by a high cyclone fence I can’t climb.”
He pressed his fingers against the back of her thighs with the fabric resting on the back of his hands. His touch was firm but sensual, possessive. Biting her lip, she shivered.
“You’re inside the fence,” he prompted. “Are you trying to get out?”
“Yes, because I’m being hunted.”
“By men who want to enslave you?”
Any other time she would have been too embarrassed to continue, but the hands of the man who’d cuffed her were closing in on her pussy, and she could barely think.
“They’re, ah, powerful; no law enforcement would try to close them down.”
“And some cops are members of the hunting party.”
“Yes.” He knew! Was it possible Mace understood her cravings better than she did? “I’m not the only woman there,” she continued. “We’re all naked and barefoot, terrified. If we’re caught, we’ll become sex slaves; but if we make it through the night, the gate will open and we’ll be set free.”
“Do you really want freedom?”
Oh, shit, one more inch and the fingers between her legs would reach her sex! Exhaling a long breath, she tried to imagine standing beside Mace on that unknown mountaintop while he took picture after picture.
“Free? I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve never been in a situation remotely like this one. But the challenge excites me.”
“Why do you think that is?”
Enough with the hard questions. “I think because I’m in touch with myself, aware of my nudity and vulnerability. Does this make sense?”
“Go on.”
“I need to hide, and yet I want to be thrown to the ground and be manhandled.”
