“You’ll bleed whenever I command it,” he snapped back. “On demand if I so order.”
He expected to see her face tense, those large eyes widen, or her body scamper away, but to his dismay, she only looked weary.
“No,” she replied in a gentle tone. “I have nothing left to give.”
Molly glanced up, meeting his gaze for the first time in a while, and in her blue eyes he saw the fire rise.
Wildfire, the voice in his head reminded him. Just like Lydia.
“No?” he roared back, clutching the back of the nearest chair for support. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, darling? We’ve been through this. I make the rules, pet, and you – all you have to do is obey.”
“And I have obeyed,” she countered, her chin rising as she answered him back. “You’ve had everything from me! My life; you’ve taken away my friends, my home, everything I thought I knew. You’ve stripped me, punished me, reduced me to this!” Her arms flew wide as she practically spat out the final word. “You’ve tortured me, demeaned me, you kept me in a fucking cage for God’s sake! What else is there? I have nothing else. You’ve bled me dry.”
He was shaking as she concluded. Fury and disdain mingling to create a dangerous combination. “Be quiet, or I’ll gag you,” he warned her in a low, gravelly tone.
He couldn’t listen to any more of her diatribe. He wouldn’t stand for it.
“Gag me then,” came the tired response. “Gag me, beat me, fuck me. Do whatever you want, but you’ll never have this,” she hissed, gesturing to her head before her palm fell to where her heart was pumping inside her chest. “Or this. And I will never, ever write for you, again.”
Her tone was resolute, and the flare in her nostrils made him want to punch something. Hard. Connor closed his eyes for a moment, fighting to push down the wave of aggression which threatened to burst from him. No, no, no, he told himself. Don’t lose it. Don’t fucking lose it and do something you’ll really regret.
Again, the small voice in his head added, helpfully.
“I thought we’d gotten past this, kitten,” he growled through gritted teeth. “I thought this lesson had been taught and learned, but… apparently not.”
His feet were already moving toward the drawer next to her pet bed, his hand grabbing the chains and the gag he required without his brain having to command them to do so. He had kept those things here for days now without having to use them, and it genuinely disappointed him that he’d have to now. But there was no choice. His pet had lost it, and she’d overstepped the mark when she did.
Pacing back to where she remained kneeling, he dropped the chains in front of her. They smashed against the floor with a loud crash, but Molly didn’t even flinch. There was apparently no fear in her at all now, and the thought irritated him. Where was his trembling little writer? Where was the begging and the tears? All he sensed in her was fatigue and resolution.
“Open up,” he commanded, flexing the large ball gag between his palms.
She raised her head to meet his eye, and sighed. “It means nothing,” she told him as the plastic approached. “This submission to you, or whatever you think this is. It’s nothing. Less than nothing.”
“Open!” He was screeching now, losing his cool as he fell into a crouch in front of her. On one knee, he eyed her insolence, his blood pumping at the unexpected challenge. “You will be punished for this, pet. I promise you that. You’ll rue the day you lost your pretty mind and spoke to me the way you just did!”
He pushed the plastic ball against her parted lips, forcing her mouth open as he secured the buckle as tightly as he could behind her head. He eyed the gagged woman with satisfaction, but oddly the sight of her plastic-filled mouth was not as pleasing as he’d hoped. He understood why. It was her eyes. They were not tearing, or imploring him for mercy. All he could see in them was that low, vacant stare, her eyes looking past him as her nostrils flared. She may be gagged, but the defiance remained, the fire wild in her burning gaze. It was like nothing he’d ever seen in Molly before. Even the woman he’d met at the London signing hadn’t been this audacious. Not half as much.
“I have no fucking clue what just happened,” he told her, failing to mask his high levels of irritation. “But you are going to pay.”
Her gaze shifted from him, sliding from his face to the screen beside him. She looked as though she was bored of listening to him rant, and he blinked down at her in disbelief. Where had his good little pet gone? And how the fuck did he get her back again?
A surreal level of calm had fallen over Molly, and despite his every curse and warning glance, she couldn’t seem to muster the energy to panic. Let him bring the belt, the strap, the cage. What did it matter? None of this shit made any sense, and while she had indulged in the pleasure, she had meant what she’d said. She wasn’t giving any more of herself to him now, and she sure as hell wouldn’t write.
It pained her to admit that to herself, but she meant it. Writing was her thing. Her outlet. Her salvation. Doing it for him, and worse, permitting him to be part of it, was corrupting it somehow. His presence had tainted the process, and she knew that if she did get out of this, she’d need to exorcise the ghost of Connor completely to write afresh.
“I want you downstairs,” he shouted suddenly, the volume drawing her from her internal thoughts. “I’m going to warm you up on the exercise post. Perhaps it’s been too long since you were last thoroughly denigrated?”
Molly didn’t even glance his way this time. She didn’t even sigh around the gag. She’d been expecting this response, and as he lurched for her wrist, securing a new set of shackles to one and then both arms, she was resigned. Connor was pissed with her. Her defiance had taken him by surprise, but it had clearly also enraged him. Now she had to pay the piper, and she already knew it would hurt. He’d probably blister her ass seeking retribution, but it was the most curious thing; the prospect barely even got her heart racing.
What the fuck was wrong with her?
Connor had already flung her body over his shoulder as the query resonated through her head. She collapsed over him, feeling distinctly like a sack of potatoes as he marched them out of the room. Blinking against the fabric at his back, Molly breathed in the scent of her captor. Distantly, the aroma registered in her brain, reminding her of the times they’d fucked, the orgasms he’d given her and the pleasure she’d milked from him. The memories were disjointed now, faded in her mind although some were only hours old. She counted the stairs as he descended them, and at the thirteenth, she felt his body turn, heading into the makeshift lounge.
He practically threw her down to the rug, but she landed on her feet. His face was a picture of disdain. “You know your place,” he snarled.
Molly fell to her knees at once. She barely even registered the resignation anymore. This was just inevitable. Unavoidable. Just like everything that was about to happen next.
Within a moment he’d secured a leash to her collar and she waited, head heavy as he bound the new chain to the post still erect in the middle of the room. Now it was just a matter of time. The crawling would begin. The pain would come, and it would go on for as long as Connor commanded it. There would be no mercy from him now. There could be no reasoning with the gag in place. Maybe the hurt would never end? Yet still the world would keep on turning, and the hours would drag on. Time endless as the agony pricked tears, and the suffering went around in circles.
As he gave the order for her to begin moving, only two things seemed certain in her mind. She might never get out of this alive, and right now, she couldn’t care less.
Chapter Twenty-Five
She’d been crawling for some time already. Her bottom was a delicious red hue, which he gladly increased the color of every time she made a pass by his feet.
Crack!
The paddle landed hard against her exposed flesh again, the sound echoing around the space perfectly. A low groan leaked from behind her gagged lips, but he couldn�
��t tell if it was hurt or arousal which inspired the noise. More to the point, he didn’t much care. Pleasuring his pet was the last thing on his mind. Evidently, he had become far too lenient with Molly since she was uncaged, and that hadn’t helped either of them. This process was all going to be about punishment. About retribution. Making her pay and teaching her a lesson at the same time.
Connor gazed up at the crawling woman as she rounded the post again. Her eyes were glazed, suggesting she was managing to zone out of the penance. The thought did not please him. “Head up,” he barked, the sudden shout making her limbs jump as she blinked up at him.
Better, he thought, all too aware of the hungry throb from his cock below. I need to keep her in the reality of the pain, so she feels each bite of the paddle; so that it means something.
Taking aim, he struck her vulnerable backside again. Connor had lost count of the number of strikes some time ago, and it didn’t matter. It took as long as it took. Until she cracked, and then he would push her on and on until her whole world was aching hands and knees, and an agonizing behind. This little kitten needed a reminder of her place, and he was more than happy to deliver one.
Time lapsed. Connor was unsure how much time because he had no way of garnering the measurement from his place in the lounge. He wasn’t wearing his watch, and anyway, he had no clue what time all of this had started. His pet had initiated this impromptu lesson, and all the other plans had taken an abrupt back seat. Shifting in his chair, he fidgeted with the hardening length in his pants as the lesson continued. Molly seemed close to the edge, at the brink, so close to the breaking point, yet still she crawled on. Pools of saliva had collected and fallen from her gagged mouth, making the whole thing an even more humiliating ordeal, but still Molly continued. She took her paddling stoically, even though her behind looked rawer than he’d ever seen it.
He assessed the skin more carefully as she made the next pass. There would definitely be some substantial bruising coming after the onslaught, and for the first time, he began to wonder how much more Molly could take. Apparently, she had given up on herself, and no longer cared about what condition her body was in. Connor couldn’t understand that at all. It was so different from the woman he’d studied and come to adore. Had something about being caged for so long made the change in her head? Had he done this to her? She passed him again and he raised the paddle – ready – but somehow, he couldn’t land the swat. He could see the state of her arse, and frankly he was certain much more would cause some nasty damage. Connor had no idea why, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. The fury and thirst for revenge had seeped from his body, leaving nothing but an empty hole. A hole left by Lydia. A hole which Connor sensed only Molly could fill. The best he could conclude as he lowered the paddle was that she belonged to him now, and he didn’t want his kitten damaged, but something inside his mind already knew that was a lie.
That’s not the reason, the little voice taunted him. That’s not the reason, and you fucking know it.
“Stop!” Connor shouted the word out loud, although he didn’t know if the command was intended for Molly or the irritant inside his own head.
He shook his head instinctively, as though he could remedy the voice by shaking it away. As he refocused, he saw she had obeyed, her body still as she awaited his next order. Leaping from the chair, he dropped the paddle and rushed to where she was waiting. Towering over his kitten, he lowered into a crouch and gently examined the punished area, and that was when it came. The sound of the first sobs caught in Molly’s throat, trapped behind the gag. The punishment had lasted so long without so much as a tear being shed, Connor had begun to think nothing could topple his pet into emotion. As it turned out, all it took was one tender touch.
Reaching for the buckle now caught in a tangle of her dark hair, Connor released the strap which held the gag between her teeth.
“Drop it,” he commanded, keeping his voice curt.
He may be uncharacteristically concerned about Molly’s welfare, but she didn’t need to know that. So far as she knew, she was still fucked, and anyway, he still hadn’t decided what to do with her right now. Not really. She complied at once, releasing her no doubt aching jaw and allowing the sopping plastic to fall to the rug below. Her head fell forward, as though it was chasing the thing, and then the tears came. Pure and unadulterated sobs came from her throat. It was almost as though the gag had been holding them all in, and with its removal, the levy had finally broken.
Connor watched and waited, feeling neither inclined to taunt, nor comfort her. He turned his attention to her obviously now very tender bottom, trailing a soft line around the punished site. His touch didn’t seem to bother her anymore, in fact she was apparently quite oblivious to it as she buried her face in the worn rug and sobbed her heart out. At length, her knees gave way, and the lower half of her body collapsed, too. Acting on some reflex, she huddled into a fetal position, pulling her knees into her chest. Following her lead, Connor sunk onto the floor beside her, caressing the underside of the nearest thigh as she began to settle. At last, after another unquantifiable time, Molly was finally calm.
“Do you want to tell me what the fuck that was all about?” he asked her when the sobs had subsided.
She straightened her legs, lifting her head cautiously to meet his eyes. Predictably, Molly was a mess. Her face was red, and her eyes were puffy and wet with tears. There were marks running across her cheeks where the strap that had held the plastic in place had pressed cruelly into her otherwise flawless skin. She looked wrecked.
“I’ve told you, Master,” she gasped. “I’ve had enough. I can’t do this anymore.”
He shook his head at her sternly, though he approved of the way she had addressed him this time. “You have no choice, kitten,” he told her warmly. “You are mine, and I will dehumanize you as I see fit. We both know that’s not going to change, and anyhow, I know you fucking love it.”
He threw it out there, and waited to see what the response would be. Would she get angry again, would there be more tears? Would the sound of her reality finally make Molly lose the plot? In the end, none of those eventualities played out. In the end, it was a small smile which curled her lips up, as her eyes blinked up at him. The smile twisted into a smirk, and look of it made his cock throb with refreshed eagerness.
“I do love it,” she conceded, her voice throaty after all the spent tears. “Or at least some of it.”
“I know,” he told her softly. “I already know, my little pet. You don’t need to explain those things to me. You never need to explain.”
Connor opened out his arms to her, beckoning for her to come to him. Gingerly, she shifted, wincing as her knees made contact with the floor, and crying out as her bottom brushed the denim covering his thighs.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, running his fingers through her matted hair. “Stay with me, Molly. Satisfy my soul. You make me whole again, and I’ll make things right between us.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Time with Connor was always one of two experiences. It either raced by in a flash so fast that days disappeared like sand through an hour-glass, or it protracted into one long, painful pulse. As it turned out, now was one of those fast flashes, the rest of the day apparently disappearing into rounds of sighs and soft touches. Once again, the monster had vanished as fast as it had reared its ugly head, leaving Molly wrapped instead, in those strong arms of the man.
She had no will left to resist the hands which snaked around her body, nor any energy to shake the muscular sinews of his forearms away. Molly had no idea how long he held her that way, cradling her almost tenderly as he attempted to rouse her back from the brink. She also didn’t know how successful his ploy was. Connor had soothed her, but her ass still felt blistered, and worse than that, that dull vacuum still nagged in her head.
“You need food,” he told her at some point, though he made no move to actually expedite the sentiment.
Molly pressed her fac
e against his shirt-covered chest, choosing to ignore his words. She probably was hungry, but not enough to make her move, or care.
Minutes rushed by again, or perhaps they crawled, but it seemed to take him a long time before he spoke again.
“Don’t you give up on me,” he instructed her. Connor’s voice wavered as he delivered the order, and something about the resonance made her lift her chin for the first time in hours.
“What does that mean?” she asked him, her tone genuinely confused.
Large green eyes blinked down at her, apparently prepared to overlook the fact she had intentionally chosen not to address him correctly. This time. “It means I can’t do this without you, pet. I need you.”
The thought was comforting, and Molly twisted her body to take her own weight from him. She winced as her ass grazed the rug below her, but the pain brought her back to life, reminding her that she was still alive. Each breath mattered, and this was real.
“You need me?” she repeated in disbelief. “But, Master, you hold all the cards. You don’t need anything from me that you can’t take for yourself. That you haven’t already taken.”
His handsome face crumpled perceptibly at her pointed reply, and the fleeting expression made her smug. Good, she thought, feeling the petulance return to her core. Let him feel it. Let him know what he’s done to me. Perhaps the son of a bitch will have enough conscience to understand? She doubted it, she really did, but the thought was warming.
“You’re right,” he murmured in reply. “I can take what I want. I can punish you, I can bind you, degrade you, fuck you even, but…” There was a pause as he apparently summated his own sentiment on the subject. “But that’s not enough, pet.”
Tamed: (A Dark Romance Kidnap Thriller) (The Dark Necessities Trilogy Book 2) Page 13
