by Desiree Holt
She would do her best not to pull the dragon’s tail more than she had already, because tonight the pain wasn’t an aphrodisiac. None of this was about the sexual pleasure she had come here expecting. This was all about ownership, she realized now.
Fallon was devastated at the possibility she’d needed just this short time with him to understand her mistake. It made her seem all the more the fool. The invitation to lunch should have set off louder alarm bells than it had. Her first reaction should have been to run to Cord immediately. But the vestiges of her addiction had lured her in. Now she was paying for her stupidity.
She tried to swallow back the panic rising like a slow tide, threatening to choke her.
Brian’s fingers rubbed her inner walls roughly again and again before he took the detachable showerhead and directed the stream first into her cunt and then her rectum. When he was finished, he slapped his hand on the wet skin of her buttocks.
“You belong to me.” He slapped her buttocks again, hard, with the full force of his strength. “No one else. There isn’t another man who wants you, no matter what they tell you. You are worthless to anyone but me. As long as you remember that, we won’t need to resort to this again.” He turned off the shower. “Get out and dry yourself off.”
He watched through eyes like steel as she dried her body completely, making sure to pat all the creases and crevices. When she was finished, he took a tube from one of the vanity drawers, sat on the bench and patted his thighs. She knew the signal but wondered what he had in mind. She hadn’t even attended to her hair yet, and he hated it when she just let it air dry. But unwilling to provoke him further, she draped herself facedown across his lap.
“Spread your legs.” His tone now was so conversational, he might have been discussing a book he’d read.
She did as ordered and in a moment, one of his fingers, coated with a thick cream, slid into her ass. Whatever it contained soothed her inner flesh at once. Wiping his finger on her discarded towel, he repeated the process with her pussy, making sure to rub the ointment in thoroughly. Finally he lifted her up and set her on her feet.
“Dry your hair the way I like it. Then present yourself to me in the bedroom.”
Fallon took as long as she could blow-drying her hair. She used the scented cream he liked on every inch of her. Finally, when she could delay no longer, she walked into the bedroom on legs that trembled. She automatically dropped to her knees in front of him and bent low until her forehead touched the carpet.
“I should leave you like that until morning,” he told her. “Until you’re so crippled you can’t move. But then you’d be useless to me. Get up, Slave, and walk to the corner of the room. Open the cabinet.”
Fallon tried to even out her breathing as she approached the large cabinet, her eyes shifting briefly to the ball gag, the crop and the cat-o’-nine-tails sitting on the bed. The cabinet looked exactly like the one in the upstairs suite. Brian had ordered that one built especially for his needs. If this one was the same, inside she would find a St. Andrew’s cross, a narrow one.
When she opened the double doors, it stared her in the face.
“Turn and face me,” he ordered.
She did and saw the ball gag in his hand.
“Open your mouth but don’t make a sound. And remember. This—all of it—is your fault. If you hadn’t been stupid enough to let that cow of a friend drag you out of here, if you hadn’t taken up with someone else, well… You should talk to some of the businessmen who thought they could do without me. You have to learn your lesson, Slave.”
He slid the ball into her mouth, pressing it hard on her tongue until she nearly gagged. When he fastened the straps, he buckled them so tightly the metal clasp bit into her scalp even through the cushion of her hair. She had to concentrate very hard not to scream. Between the harsh fastening of the gag and the soreness in her pussy and ass, she couldn’t seem to get herself deep enough into subspace. How would she get through whatever came next?
When he was satisfied the gag was properly in place, he backed her up to the St. Andrew’s cross and arranged her arms and legs against the frame. He buckled the manacles around both ankles but surprisingly left one arm free. She wanted to ask him about that but the gag prevented her from speaking at all.
Opening a drawer in the dresser, he removed a familiar purple tube.
Oh god!
Even if she managed to hide herself in subspace, where she could tolerate almost anything, she didn’t know how she would withstand the contents of the tube, and what it did to her.
The knot of fear in her belly grew larger and colder.
You came here all on your own. Walked away from the best thing that ever happened to you because you were sure this was the sick kind of relationship you wanted. You deserve whatever you get.
She watched as Brian uncapped the purple tube and squeezed some of the gel onto a finger. She knew all about warming lubricants that stimulated the vaginal area. The intensity of the stimulation depended on the combination of ingredients. She had been surprised to learn that some even contained microscopic amounts of capsaicin, the active component of chili peppers. In the early stages of their relationship, it had thrilled her, the tiny bite truly making every nerve in her pussy jump to attention.
But Brian always had to up the stakes. Go one better. He’d had his own creation blended in one of the labs he owned, a concoction with some additional ingredients thrown in.
Just a little of it applied to her clit and the edge of her opening could keep her stimulated and on the edge of orgasm for hours.
The first time, it had been an addictive feeling. But then he’d taken the game further, applying the gel and ordering her to masturbate in front of him without climax. When she couldn’t hold back, he would use his cat-o’-nine-tails on her, the one with tiny metal tips that stung like the bite of fire ants. Or cane her, laying into her buttocks and thighs until almost nothing would ease the pain.
Then he would permit her an orgasm, which by then was so intense she sometimes passed out.
Fallon was sure that he had something similar in mind for tonight, only much more extreme. His eyes burned with intensity and anger deepened the lines on his face. There would be no pleasure in this for her tonight.
As her mind had become clearer, she’d realized he was as close to being out of control as she’d ever seen him. Self-restraint had always been his mantra, and he was always careful not to let it slip. Even when he punished her. But tonight might just be the exception.
I deserve what I get for betraying Cord.
She was jolted back to reality with the sting of the cat on her skin.
“Damn it,” he shouted. “Pay attention!”
He lifted his arm and the cat bit into her again. She flinched. Without the protection of subspace, which tonight her mind seemed to reject, pain was more intense and everything more frightening. She would have to play the game until she was coherent enough to figure out how to protect her miserable self.
He inhaled deeply, as if centering himself, and let his breath out slowly. Tossing the cat aside, he approached her, holding out the finger with the gel. “You know what this does to you.” His smile was actually evil. “I cannot wait to see you try to maintain control.” He bit a nipple, hard, as he applied the gel to her entire cunt area. “You know what happens if you don’t.”
I put myself here, I can handle this.
In seconds the gel began to do its work, spreading the stimulating heat through her pussy. This time, instead of welcoming the arousal, her body fought it, recognizing the presence of great danger.
“Rub yourself,” Brian commanded. His stare glittering with something feral she couldn’t even name. “Don’t forget. No orgasm until I give you permission. Or you won’t like the consequences.” His short laugh held no humor. “Or then again, maybe you will.” He stepped closer. “Get busy, Slave.”
Obediently she moved her free hand to her pussy, touched the lips, rubbed hesit
antly.
“Not like that!” he barked. “You know what I want.”
Fallon closed her eyes and did as ordered, stimulating herself, rubbing the gel deeper into her skin. The walls of her cunt rippled and deep inside, the stirrings of climax were struggling to be felt. But it wasn’t an explosion of pleasure building inside her. It was the automatic response of nerves to the stimulation of the lube. She couldn’t grit her teeth. She couldn’t even plead. The ball gag made that impossible.
She didn’t want this. It wasn’t like she remembered. If she slowed the movement of her fingers she felt the sting of the cat on her skin. Sometimes the tails landed on her breasts, sometimes on her belly. Sometimes her thighs. And every so often Brian made sure they landed perfectly on her nipples, causing a pain so excruciating she tried to cry out.
“Whatever got into you when you left,” he growled, “I’ll discipline you until it’s gone. Do you understand me?”
The cat struck again.
“Nod your head, Slave.”
She managed to bob her head once, all the while continuing to masturbate herself under his narrowed gaze. She knew he was aware every time she came close to the edge of climax. He lifted the hand holding the cat and delivered increasingly sharper pain. Her breasts and thighs were in agony and the burning heat of her nipples was almost unbearable. She was caught in a whirlpool of intense sensations, but the pain was so powerful it eclipsed any wisp of pleasure.
She tensed every muscle in her body to stave off the impending climax. There was no sexual pleasure here at all. At least not for her. But the effect of the lube was so extreme that her body’s response was beyond her control. The release, when it came, was so shattering, so intense, she shook from head to toe. The muscles in her pussy clenched over and over. She fought the manacles restraining her, the buckles biting into her skin. Her nose was running and tears flowed down her face.
And all the while, Brian applied the cat with cold precision.
When the orgasm finally subsided she was completely wrung out—and strangely unsatisfied. She felt the pain but there was no gratification. All she felt was agony from the lash of the cat. There was no erotic stimulation that had always been the reward for extreme discipline.
She hung from the cross, trying desperately to breathe through her nose, the ball gag so tight she couldn’t get any air in through her mouth.
Brian studied her, the rage still burning in his eyes as he came close enough to touch her. He reached down and twisted her clit, smiling when she choked behind the gage.
“I told you not to come.” He gripped her chin tightly. “I can see our discipline has just begun.”
Despite her scattered mental state, despite the intense pain overriding everything else, for the first time since she’d met Brian, Fallon knew real terror. Dread. This had been a huge mistake.
She’d believed coming back would get him out of her system once and for all. That she could unlearn the preconditioned responses. But the nearly unbearable pain had cleared the last of the fog from her brain.
She truly was helpless now, completely at his mercy. Trapped in his web of pain.
* * * * *
Fallon completely lost track of time after that, as the hours became one long nightmare. He used a variety of implements, from the flogger to the paddle to the cane. Tight bars pinched her tormented nipples. He only removed the ball gag when she choked so badly on her saliva he clearly thought she might die.
At some point Brian removed her from the cross, bent her over the bench at the foot of the bed, pulled on a condom and thrust into her roughly. Then he spread her out on the bed and manacled her to the posts, legs spread wide so he could insert a vibrator in her pussy and a plug in her ass while he fucked her mouth.
“I wanted my semen surging through your body.” His eyes glittered, his voice rough. “Now you belong to me again. This time you’ll never leave. Think about that while you lie here.”
He stalked from the room, locking the door behind him.
Did he mean to leave her like this for the rest of the night? Oh god. Well, maybe it was no more than she deserved. Not for any imagined wrong she’d done to Brian but for not trusting Cord to help her. For ruining the best thing ever to come into her life.
She had no idea how much time passed before Brian returned to the suite. In silence, he removed the toys and unfastened the cuffs, scooped everything up and dumped it in a basket to be cleaned.
Fallon bit her lip against the agony as she eased her arms down to her sides.
“You can count on a repeat tomorrow night,” he told her, his voice more menacing than she’d ever heard. “And as many more nights as it takes to satisfy me that you’ve been sufficiently punished.”
He bent down and grabbed her jaw, his fingers digging into her cruelly.
“No bath tonight. No healing salts. No soothing cream. I want you to remember every slap and strike and blow. Tonight you may sleep on the bed, but beginning tomorrow, I think sleeping on the floor would be an additional reminder of just how much you’ve disappointed me.”
Fallon closed her eyes, trying to ride the agony engulfing her.
“When I have broken you down to nothing,” he went on, “I’ll be taking you out in public, with the usual rules of behavior. I’m going to make sure we’re in places where Cord Jamieson will see you and know that I own you, body and mind.”
Then he was gone again, but his words rang over and over in her ears.
Cord…
Nausea gripped her, rising in her throat and threatening to choke her again. She couldn’t let him see her like this. With Brian. Paraded like the possession of a man who truly perverted the meaning of D/s.
I can’t let that happen. What I’ve done to Cord is bad enough. I can’t let this madman rub his face in it.
She managed to roll to her side and curl into the fetal position. She was in pain everywhere on her body and shivering, whether from cold or fear she wasn’t sure. Her mouth was incredibly sore both from the ball gag and from Brian’s cock. She lifted the fingers of one shaky hand to touch her lips, expecting to feel blood, but no, there was only rawness.
Just lifting her hand was a tremendous effort, so it took a long time before she could pull herself upright on the bed. Every muscle and nerve screamed as she swung her legs over the side, and the feel of the coverlet on her ass, even as soft as the fabric was, felt like a blanket of needles.
She’d wanted answers and she’d certainly gotten them. She’d wanted the cure and she’d gotten it, but at what cost? This was no longer about extreme sex, about the titillation of risky edgeplay. Everything he was doing, everything she’d endured, had to do with and intense punishment meant to destroy her.
If there was one good thing to come out of the hours of torment, it was the realization that, at last, the thread of addiction connecting her to Brian Willoughby seemed to be broken.
The little voice in her head kept taunting her. You made the choice to come here because you weren’t smart enough to understand what he truly was.
Now she understood, but maybe it was too late.
No. There was no longer a question of whether he still had control over her. The invisible leash that bound her to Brian had been cut tonight a thousand times over. How had she not realized he’d been wearing a mask so much of the time? That when everything was stripped down to essentials, he was nothing more than an abuser who used sex as a means to a sadistic end? Who perverted every aspect of a D/s relationship? Claire had tried to pound it into her, without any luck. Fallon had still been so drawn by the pleasure/pain concept that she’d ignored her reality.
Not any longer.
She knew what would happen now. When Brian had achieved his full measure of satisfaction, had thoroughly humiliated both her and Cord, he’d toss her out in the streets, ruined. If she were the only one involved, she’d just let Brian do whatever he wanted with her. She deserved no less for her stupidity. But she had to think of Cord. If only she
could rise above the torment of her body and gather her scattered wits.
She had to get out of here.That much was evident.
With every part of her body in distress, she made her way slowly and agonizingly to the bathroom. Leaning on the vanity counter, she stared at herself in the mirror. The face that stared back was grotesque; pinched and drawn, with dark circles beneath eyes that still reflected the vestiges of the terrible night. Her tears had mingled with the mucous from her nose to create an unholy mess on her face. And from what she could see of her body, her skin was fiery-red from all the abuse. The bright dots on her breasts and belly were evidence of the cat-o’-nine-tails. She was sure if she could turn around and look over her shoulder, she’d see the red marks of the flogger and the cane.
He’d been a maniac with that cane, worse than she could ever remember. An instrument that delivered maximum pain under any circumstances, it had been applied liberally, with Brian putting his strength into every hit. Fallon was surprised he hadn’t broken any of her bones.
I have to do something. And soon.
There had to be a way out of her elegant prison. Some way to slip out. She was positive an opportunity would present itself. She had to believe that or she’d go insane. But not tonight. Not while he was still in the house.
Turning on the cold water faucet, she filled the glass sitting beside the sink, drained it, refilled it and drank again. She cleaned her face and then, moving like some crippled old woman, she made her way back to the bed and crawled under the covers.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow something would happen and she’d be able to get out of here. It was the only thing that gave her even the faintest edge of hope.
Unexpectedly, she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Twelve
Brian considered checking on Fallon after breakfast but decided against it. Leaving her to wonder how long she’d be alone, without any indication of what came next, was part of the plan. He had also thought about locking her door, but he was convinced he’d so successfully taken her down to nothing last night, she’d be too terrified to try to leave the suite. It was her comfort zone as well as her prison. Mrs. Hudson would take her a breakfast tray after he’d gone and report to him on her condition. For the moment, that would be enough while he decided on his next move.
