Mission Statement

by Catherine Gardiene

  He studied her face, hoping he’d made sense. The look he saw told him he hadn’t been successful. Believing it was important that he get this right, he finally came up with an analogy he thought would resonate.

  “It’s like me at work. When I’m dealing with a victim, I can empathize with them, I can try to soothe them and help them make sense of what’s happened. The need to find justice for them can be all consuming. It doesn’t mean I love them or will have a connection with them outside the case, but I care, and I do what I can to do right by them. Does that make sense?”

  She nodded hesitantly. “But she wasn’t a victim. She let him do that to her.”

  He smiled gently. “Trust me, sweetheart. She wanted him to do that to her. But subspace, that rush we talked about, can be a tough place to come down from alone. Taking her there is only half the journey. He has to bring her back.”

  She turned to look at them and saw Jessica, eyes closed, a peaceful smile on her face, burrowed in Jonas’s arms. Victoria’s shoulders remained tense, but she seemed to accept what he had said. Without turning, she cleared her throat. She held herself stiffly, looking as if she were on alert.

  “Can we go someplace more private?”

  He shuddered, afraid that she’d had enough, was so mortified by what she’d seen that she was going to cut him loose before they’d even left the club. But she’d had the courage to ask, and he wasn’t going to deny her.

  “Come.”

  He guided her up the stairs. Most of the private rooms had a green light over the door. Sunday was such a quiet day, particularly in the afternoon, that he hadn’t anticipated a lot of activity upstairs. He was right. They were alone. At the landing, he turned to her.

  “I’m going to let you make another choice, Victoria. Believe me when I tell you that’s rare. Do you want a private room, or is one of the sofas up here private enough?” He kept his voice even and his face unreadable. This is her choice. I can’t make her be something she’s not, any more than Holly could make me something I wasn’t.

  As much as it would hurt him, he’d let her go.

  She thought about it for only a second before responding.

  “A room, please.”

  His heart pounded. If she was afraid of making a scene, that would be the answer. Fighting the dread that was coursing through him, he headed toward one of the rooms he knew would have only a sofa and a bed. At least she wouldn’t be surrounded by equipment with a singular purpose when she ended things. He didn’t want her to remember their denouement as something freakish and bizarre—ironic considering it would have been all the freakish and bizarre things he’d exposed her to that led to her decision anyway.

  As he entered the room, he flipped the exterior light to blue, showing the room was occupied. There were panic buttons throughout each of the private rooms that would turn the light to red as well, although Michael had never seen them employed. Most people were smart enough not to scene privately with someone they didn’t know and trust. In addition to changing the light outside the room, an alert would go to the monitoring station in the lobby if someone indicated distress.

  He held the door for her, inviting her in. He closed it behind her and moved to the sofa, assuming she would follow. As he sat, he realized she had stopped in the middle of the room.

  God, she can’t even stand to be near me.

  Before he could speak, she ran her hand through her hair nervously and then dropped her arms to her sides. Then, as if in slow motion, he watched her bend one knee until it reached the floor, then bend the other knee to join it. She sat back on her heels and laced her fingers behind her back, training her gaze squarely on the floor. Shifting slightly, she spread her knees farther apart, just a little bit, but enough to show that she’d studied the subs she’d seen earlier.

  “Teach me, Michael. Please, teach me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  For a moment, time stopped. The vision in front of him couldn’t be real, he thought. It took concerted effort for him to blink and look again, making absolutely certain it was not his imagination.

  She’d offered him the ultimate gift.

  Briefly blood rushed in his ears, and he wanted to throw her on the bed, bind her, tease her, fuck her until she knew without question she was his and his alone. The urge to claim this gift she gave was almost overwhelming.

  A roar of lust fueled that urge. The need to carefully accept her submission, to show her how beautiful power exchange could be, was the only thing that calmed him.

  “How do you address me?” He wasn’t sure how he kept his voice steady, but he did.

  As he spoke, he toed off his boots and pulled off his socks. He heard a sharp intake of breath from her as he rose slowly from the sofa.

  “Please teach me, Sir,” she said, the words spoken with a distinct vibrato. Was she afraid? Excited? He needed to tread carefully.

  “Very good, Victoria.”

  He circled her once. Twice. Studying her. He saw her shoulders tremble slightly, and he knelt behind her, his hands resting gently to still them. Placing a biting kiss on the delicate skin where her neck met her shoulder. “You’ve pleased me so much.”

  He let his fingers glide downward, coming to rest midthigh before gently exerting pressure to spread her legs farther. “Wider, sub. Your knees should be shoulder width apart.” He continued to nudge until they were exactly as they should be. “Just like that.” Stroking his hands upward, he tickled her through the silk covering her bare mound with one hand, then the other. “Open to me, completely.”

  He moved his hands back to her shoulders, this time guiding her posture. “Your back should be straight, your shoulders back. I like it when you face forward, with only your eyes on the floor.” He slid the straps of her negligee down to reveal her luscious breasts, further trapping her arms. When he’d posed her to his specifications, he ran his palms over her breasts before pinching her nipples. Hard. The whimper she gave told him she was enjoying this as much as he was. “That’s right. I want your breasts presented to me. When you kneel before me, you should be proud of what you offer. Your submission is precious to me. The gift you give me is priceless. It should be displayed as such.” He ran his finger under one of the straps resting against her arms. “I want you naked as well. When I tell you to get in position, you should strip and pose just this way for me. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. Smack. The red imprint of his hand on her thigh startled her, and she broke position briefly, letting out a small cry before she again squared her shoulders.

  Victoria suppressed the desire to make eye contact, to snap at him for being mean when she was trying so hard to please him. Is that how he treats his priceless gifts?

  “How do I feel about nodding, sub?” His voice had gone from warm caramel to ice crystals in the blink of an eye.

  “I’m sorry, Sir,” she cried. Tears began to pool in her eyes; she was already a disappointment.

  He had remained at her back, kneeling so that he curled over her, but he must have sensed her reaction. His finger traced the track of a single tear as it rolled down her cheek.

  “You asked me to teach you. I’ve never seen a more apt pupil. You’ll learn.” He kissed her cheek before pulling away and rising to his feet. “You have no idea how much it means to me for you to ask for this.” He extended his hand. “Now come with me.”

  She stood quickly, her gaze still fixed on the floor. Her hand shook slightly in his; he gave it a quick squeeze before sliding his hand up to grip her wrist.

  They stood at the foot of a very large bed with restraints tethered to each of the four posts. A basket with various straps sat on the table near the headboard. Vicki couldn’t make out any detail because she kept her gaze cast down, studying the satin bedsheets and trying to control her breathing.

  You can do this. You want this, so just let it happen.

  Michael checked the fit on her wrist cuffs. Apparently satisfied with what he found, he left her to riffle t
hrough the basket. He opened the drawer of the nightstand and removed something. Once he tossed it on the bed, she saw it was a condom. Landing next to it were what appeared to be leather belts for a small child.

  “What’s that for?” The question burst free without her really thinking about it. The pounding in her chest, she thought, must have forced it out.

  “Quiet, sub. Do you trust me?” He had turned at the sound of her voice, and his stern gaze focused on her, making her insides turn to jelly. Everything about him was so commanding… She wasn’t sure what turned her on more—his voice or the looks he gave her.

  She nodded in response, and his eyes hardened.

  “Victoria, you seem to be having difficulty following the rule about answering me verbally when I ask you a question. I know you can speak, since you seem to do that when you’re not supposed to. Perhaps we need a lesson in manners.” He strode back to where she stood at the foot of the bed and took her chin in his hand. “Something to help you remember the rules.”

  Catching herself before she nodded again, then flushing in embarrassment at her foolishness, she squeaked out a response. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Nice save, sub. Let’s get some things straight. I’m a dom, not a professor. I’m going to train you, not teach you. Make no mistake, girl: there will be lessons, ones you won’t forget.” Her insides quivered in response to his words. She was petrified, but she was also almost throbbing with need. The constant state of arousal she’d been in all day wasn’t making this any easier. She willed him to touch her, anywhere. Any contact at all would do, but having him so close to her exuding so much sexy confidence was killing her.

  With no further preamble, he pulled the negligee farther down, the stretchy material allowing him to slide it until it dropped to pool around her feet. She was glad he hadn’t asked her to strip for him; her hands were shaking and her knees were like jelly.

  “Before your first lesson, I’m going to review your safety protocols. You have a safe word. What is it?”

  She was afraid to make him angry, so she quickly blurted it out. “Red, Sir.”

  “Very good. In addition, Jonas has outfitted the private scene rooms with panic buttons, just in case.” He pointed out several buttons in the room: over the bed, on the nightstand, by the sofa… There were at least four that she could see. “I don’t ever intend for you to need them, but it would be irresponsible of me not to point them out. If I hurt you too much or it’s too overwhelming, you can always use your safe word and we’ll stop and regroup. Do you understand?”

  She nodded her head once before quickly adding, a bit too loudly in her rush to recover from her error. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

  He tilted his head slightly and smirked. “If you aren’t, you will be.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Over my lap, sub.”

  She hesitated, fear rooting her where she stood.

  Oh, my God, I can’t do this.

  As if he could read her mind, he extended his hand. “You can do this. You know you want it, so stop fighting it.” His voice lowered. “Now come over here,” he said, his hand unwavering.

  She moved, one step in front of the other, until she was standing directly in front of him. Letting out a sigh, he stood.

  “Let’s review the purpose of the lesson, shall we? One: when I ask you a question, I expect an immediate and verbal response. Two: when you have a question for me, you will get my permission to speak before you ask, and you will keep your tone and your words respectful. And three: when I tell you to do something, you do it.” He walked around the bed and tossed the restraints from the headboard and footboard on the opposite side to the center of the mattress. When he returned to her, he placed his hands between her shoulder blades and pressed her forward. After a moment’s hesitation, she was bent over the side of the bed, her torso chilled against the satin sheets. “This could have been a nice spanking over my lap, but you didn’t listen. So now we’ll see how you like being spanked when you’re restrained. Arms over your head.”

  Her body shook as she moved her arms up over her head. In no time, he’d connected the chain from the headboard to her right wrist and the chain from the footboard to her left, her body forming a Y from the side of the bed across the center. Again he walked around to the other side, this time taking up the chain to ensure she was spread wide, her movement severely restricted.

  He walked back to her and pulled her panties to the floor, tapping her ankles to have her lift each foot in turn. Then he pressed his foot against her instep.

  “Spread your legs, naughty girl.” He continued to prod her until her feet were far enough apart that he could see the glistening moisture on her bare lips. He ran a finger down the cleft of her ass, and she bit back a groan.

  “I’m going to warm you up again. Your ass isn’t ready for the kind of spanking both of us would really enjoy, but I’m going to get it there. You don’t need to count.”

  Count? She wasn’t sure she would be able to count. Hell, she wasn’t sure she would be able to think when his hand made contact with her.

  Smack.

  His warm-ups were just that: rapid, light, stinging slaps better suited to get her attention than to cause her pain. But so many of them, in such rapid succession, quickly had her skin on fire and her mind singularly focused on the contact between his palm and her ass. She tried to bring her legs together, and he laid several smacks on her inner thighs.

  “You stay open until I tell you otherwise, sub. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she answered quickly, a small sob escaping when she attempted to speak.

  He ran his hand over her skin, assessing. He slipped his fingers through her folds, and she moaned at the sensation.

  “See how wet you are? Your body likes this. You just have to listen to your body. Your mind is confused, but your body is absolutely certain, isn’t it?” The question was rhetorical, but she murmured her assent, not wanting to risk angering him further. “Now you can count. Twenty to start.”

  To start? She tensed at the idea that there would be more at all, never mind twenty with the possibility of more.

  A deep rumble issued from his chest as he sensed her reaction.

  “It will be better if you’re relaxed, sub. It hurts more when you tense up. Now I want your ass bright red and flaming for my touch.” He squeezed each cheek roughly, and sparks erupted in her center. “Trust me. I’ll know when you’ve had enough.”

  Suddenly an explosive crack filled the room, and there was almost a delayed reaction before fire bloomed across her ass. She stifled a cry and fisted her hands.

  “Count, Victoria. Let me hear you.”

  “One,” she gasped.

  Another loud smack. “Victoria,” he said sternly, prompting her to speak so he could measure her pain.

  “Two.” Never the same place twice in a row, his hand moved from the center of each cheek to the tender skin where her thighs met her ass. When she got to ten, after a particularly stinging blow to her left thigh, she tried to shimmy to the side to escape his reach. Foolish, really, considering how tightly she was bound to the bed.

  “Where do you think you’re going, slut?” There was a slight tremble to his voice—the only sign that this was affecting him as much as it was her. She resumed her original position, and his next two blows were placed on the insides of her thighs, spreading her legs to the appropriate distance.

  By the time she reached twenty, she was sobbing uncontrollably, the numbers she spoke barely discernible words among the hiccups and gasps.

  He stepped behind her and ran both hands over her skin.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Only five more.”

  He stepped to the other side and spanked her with his other hand. The angle of the blow was different, but the force hadn’t diminished at all. She half shouted, half sobbed the count, praying she would survive until the twenty-fifth blow.

  Before he issued the next blow, his right hand slipped underneath her, cupping her
mound and squeezing. She moaned, and the sound was cut off when his hand made contact with her ass. Her mind whirled, the pain somehow merging with the incredible sensation of his fingers as they explored her moist folds. By the last blow, she was panting with pain and want.

  His fingers left her pussy, and she cried out, yearning to protest.

  “You took that so well, Victoria.” His hands were stroking the inflamed skin, sending shivers directly to her center. He left her for a moment, and then she felt cold wetness tamping down the worst of the sparks of pain. His hands massaged her roughly, squeezing and pulling her ass cheeks apart, his thumbs running over her tiny hole.

  “Your ass is gorgeous,” he murmured. His hand slipped back to her pussy, and he thrust two fingers inside her. She clamped around him, shocked at what felt almost like a tiny orgasm. The relief that she experienced from crying was almost overwhelming, and the little release he’d just given her magnified the effect. She felt free and happy, in sharp contrast to the continuing tears and sniffles that shook her.

  She felt the loss of tension in her left arm as he released the cuff from the chain. He turned her on her back.

  “Move to the center of the bed, sub. I’m going to fuck you now, and I want you bound again.” She tried to slide to the middle of the bed, and the slight friction on her ass made her wince. Lifting slightly, she moved so she was oriented properly on the bed, and he hooked her left wrist to the other headboard chain. Moving to the opposite side, he adjusted the tension on her right wrist and smiled down at her. The condom and those strange belts still lay on the bed.

  “I bet your ass hurts rubbing against those sheets, doesn’t it, naughty girl?” His fingers ran lightly over the sensitive skin on the back of her thigh as he encouraged her to open her legs.

  “Yes, Sir.” She was still sniffling and was certain her face was a blotchy mess, but the crying had finally subsided. She wondered how he could bear to look at her.

  He knelt between her thighs and wiped the tears from her face.