Tygers 5: Sweet Redemption

by Melinda Barron

  “Helena?”

  “Yes, Milord?”

  “I’m very proud of you, and I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

  “Just a little,” she said with a giggle. “I think you’ve learned to read me very well.”

  “I think I have,” he said, reaching around and taking the weights from her rings. “And it’s a book I’d love to read again and again.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Helena stared out the window at the cabanas that lined the beach area. It was the middle of the afternoon, and workers milled about, but no guests were around. TK was in his office, doing paperwork.

  Her eyes focused on cabana four, where Guest had been about to auction her off for a night of “pleasure,” to whichever Dom or Domme paid him the most money. She shivered as she remembered his threats before the incident began.

  “Make a sound and your baby sister’s mine. Understand?”

  She’d nodded, and then when the security guards had come inside she’d bolted, praying whoever owned this place would be like Ty; a good person who would help her out of the situation she was in.

  Warmth filled her at the thought, but she still shivered as she stared at the cabana. There was only one way she could face it. She turned and walked to the office, knocking and waiting for TK’s loud “come,” before she opened the door. She crossed the room and knelt down, kissing his cock as he stroked her hair.

  “Good afternoon, shorty.”

  “Good afternoon, Milord. May I dress and go for a walk?”

  “By yourself, or should I get your leash?” His hand was still on her head, gently petting her.

  “By myself, if Milord allows it.” She watched indecision cross his face. Finally he nodded.

  “You may wear the green robe, the sheer one. Make sure you buckle a belt around it, and come to see me for approval before you leave.”

  “Yes, Milord.” She kissed his cock, then hurried to the bedroom, dressing quickly. The only belt he’d allowed her was made of links, steel ones that were heavy. She fastened it tightly around the robe, which was already short, the action drawing the material up so that it hit her right at the apex of her thighs. She picked up her notebook, then returned to the office and did her duty to him, then stood and looked down. “May I go, Milord?”

  “Not yet.” He held up a thin gold chain, attaching one end to the D-ring on her collar before running it through the belt, then between her legs. “Turn.” She did as he asked, then he pulled it tightly so the chain snuggled into her lips, rubbing against her clit piercing. He attached the other end of the chain to the D-ring on the back of her collar, letting the excess chain trail down her back.

  “Turn back to me, shorty.” When she faced him again he attached her leash to her collar. “The chain will rub your clit while you walk, and remind you, as does the leash hanging from your collar, of the fact that I own you.”

  “Thank you, Milord.” She knelt and lingered over the kiss between his thighs, keeping her lips pressed against his cock, which swelled slightly. She kept her head buried there, loving the feeling of his hand on her head before she said, “I need the key to cabana four, if it pleases you, Milord.”

  There was a moment’s silence; then he opened a drawer as he kept her pressed to his crotch with one hand. He handed her a ring with one key. “It opens them all. Come back to me when you’re ready.”

  She kissed him again, then murmured good-bye before hurrying from the room. She went down the three flights of stairs, her eyes trained on the steps and not on the beautiful scenery that surrounded her. At the bottom of the stairs she stopped and focused on cabana four.

  It looked so innocuous, but then again it wasn’t the building’s fault, she thought, just as it wasn’t the fault of those who had attended the auction. They believed her to be willing, a submissive doing the bidding of her Master because it brought her joy, not because he’d threatened to do her, and her sister, bodily harm.

  She crossed the lawn slowly, nodding at the people who greeted her. At the doorway she lifted the key in a trembling hand, then stopped and knocked, wondering for the first time if someone would be in there. Her stomach churned with nerves as she waited. When no one answered she put the key in the lock, turned it, and then pushed open the door.

  The smell of jasmine hit her nose, as it had the first time she’d entered the room. She knew TK ordered the staff to keep the cabanas clean and fresh, and that they were to be used only by trusted guests. It made her wonder how Guest had gotten into it. She’d never asked TK, and he’d never told her.

  She’d expected to see Guest’s evil face when she stepped into the room. Instead, she found only open space, overstuffed furniture, and a wall with chains and other bondage items: a few cats and crops, and various clamps.

  The St. Andrew’s Cross Guest had been about to bind her to before TK’s guards came in sat against one wall. Her hand went to the leash hanging from her collar and TK’s words echoed in her ears. “This will remind you that you belong to me.”

  She crossed to the couch, sat down and opened the notebook, then started to write.

  I hate you, and I want to blame you for everything that happened to me. But, the truth is, I can’t blame you, not totally. I have to accept part of the blame myself. Milord taught me that. He has made me realize the true relationship that can exist between a Master and his sub.

  He has helped me redeem myself, and I am indebted to him for that, although I know he wouldn’t see it that way.

  I came here today to finally forgive myself for what happened, to let go of it once and for all. Am I truly rid of you? I hope so.

  Every day I feel a little bit stronger. I know that TK would never do anything to hurt me, and, as a matter of fact, would fight like a warrior to protect me. Each night I serve him makes me feel more like a complete person. Waking up chained to his bed is the most wonderful feeling in the world.

  He is inventive and strong, and gives me just enough pain to make my body quake with desire. Still, there are lingering feelings of fear, like the other day when I came up from serving as the model for one of Sir Donovan’s demonstration floggings to find a blindfold on my pillow.

  Despite everything we’ve done and built, the sight still made me cringe. I left it there, and when TK came in he read me perfectly, something you never would have done. The subtle hint let me know that one day he would train me to it again, that it was something I had to get over. However, I wasn’t ready for it just yet. Once again, I must say that I hate you for that. I don’t have to accept it, I can work my way past it.

  Milord and I talked about it, as he is so adept at doing. He let me know that I would have to learn to overcome that one fear, that until I did, there would be a small hole in the trust we had built between us. It is something he is willing to work with me on, and I love him for it.

  If I could wish for one thing it would be to see you once more so I could tell you what I have learned, things you will probably never know. A Master cares for his submissive; he cherishes her and knows that submission is a gift, one that should never be abused.

  Since you’re not here, I send my wish out into the air. I have found a far better place to be, and there is no room for you there anymore. No room for your evilness, or the bad memories that come with it. The last time I was here, I ran from you, fear forcing my legs to go faster than they’ve ever gone.

  This time I will walk from here with my head held high, the marks of my Master’s ownership on my body, and settled on my psyche in such a way that I feel safer than I ever have in my life.

  There is only one other thing I have to do, and that is to call my baby sister and apologize for leading her astray, for showing her a side of BDSM that I had embraced, but now know to be totally false.

  This will be the last time I’m afraid of the memory of you. And I can thank Milord for that.

  Helena closed the notebook, then sat back and let her gaze roam the room again. Her hands no longer trembled, and her stomach
no longer lurched with fear at being in this place. The past was gone, and she would no longer allow herself to be held captive by it.

  She exited the cabana slowly, locking the door behind her, and climbed the stairs to the third floor of the house. She went to the bedroom first, putting her notebook on the dresser and picking up the blindfold that lay on the stand in the corner.

  TK was in his office, working. She crossed to him and greeted him, then handed him the blindfold. His gaze lifted from the piece of satin to her face, and then he nodded.

  “Take off everything except the belt and chain.”

  It took her a few minutes to work the robe out from under the chains. When she’d done as he asked, she clasped her hands behind her back and bowed her head.

  “I went to --”

  “I know. I knew you had to go at some point.” He stood and moved behind her, pressing himself against her as he held the blindfold near her chest. She took a deep breath as he lifted it to her face, wrapped it around her eyes gently, and tied it snugly.

  She swallowed a moment’s panic when it was fastened and they stood there together, their bodies touching. When he moved away she wanted to cry out for him to come back. Instead, she bit her lip.

  TK stepped in front of her, took her hands, and led her around the desk, giving instructions on when to turn and when to stop. Then he gently lowered her down on his huge desk, her head at one end, her feet at the other.

  “Who do you belong to, shorty?”

  “You, Milord.”

  “Good. I have work to do, and I think you make a fantastic desk ornament. You will remain silent for your Master, won’t you?”

  “Yes, Milord.”

  He tweaked her nipples; then she heard him move away and settle into his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. After that she heard the rustle of papers, the click of the keyboard, and the occasional ring of the phone and the conversation that ensued.

  She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, naked except for the collar, leash, chains, and blindfold. Every once in a while TK would stroke her thigh, or pinch a nipple. The first time she inhaled sharply, fear starting to build before she fought it down.

  Trust was paramount here. She trusted him no matter what, even if she couldn’t see what was happening. When there was a knock at the door, her tension grew. She heard TK’s voice mixed with that of Sir Donovan’s, but she stayed in place, lulling her mind with memories of TK’s hands, and of his sweet care of her.

  Sir Donovan came and left, and then Sir Jackson came and left. Still, Helena stayed in place, awaiting her Master’s bidding. Finally he rubbed her thigh and ordered her to sit up. Her body protested after what had surely been hours of inactivity. He undid the blindfold, then tipped her face up to gaze down on her.

  “Very well done, my shorty. I think my desk ornament needs to work again tomorrow, after lunch.”

  “As you command, Milord.”

  His grin made her toes curl. “You served me well today with your trust. It pleases me greatly.” He tipped her face up to him then leaned over and claimed her lips, pressing down hard as she pressed up into him. He cupped her cheek as his tongue probed for entrance. She licked him before moaning as he flicked in and out of her mouth before finally claiming her lips again in a kiss that made her insides turn to mush. Then he gently kissed the tip of her nose, and then gathered her leash in his hand and led her from the apartment to the main floor, where Sir Donovan was waiting for his assistant.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Helena had been with TK for seven weeks before she had the courage to call her sister. She felt the need to apologize to her weighing heavy on her heart, but she wasn’t quite sure what she was going to say.

  Hi sweetie, I just wanted to apologize for dragging you into my pretend BDSM life. I realize now that I was just playing. TK has shown me what a real Dom/sub relationship is like. And indeed he had. He showed her great love and care in everything, and most of all, she understood, he respected her. That was something she’d never thought to have, truthfully. She knew now that she’d given herself too quickly to others in the past, never forging a bond with them to take her to a higher level.

  “There’s nothing wrong with playing,” TK had said one night as he bound her wrists to the ankle cuffs she wore. “In fact, it’s a great thing. But you have to do it with respect for yourself, and know the person you’re submitting to respects you. You moved from Dom to Dom, looking for something, but not quite sure what you were looking for.”

  “I should have stopped to ask questions,” she’d replied. “I screwed up.”

  “It’s in the past. Write about it, then bury it and let it go.” Then he’d blindfold her and put her on a table, her legs splayed open with a spreader. He and Sir Donovan sat and played chess while she was on display. He’d used the blindfold often for things like this, but he’d never touched her sexually while she was sightless. She knew he was working up to it, though.

  Their routine was fairly well set. During the day she’d sit at her desk and pour out her feelings about her life, about things that had happened, both good and bad. She no longer railed against Guest, called him foul names, or drew little knives piercing his heart. Instead she wrote of her pleasure about submitting to TK, and how he made her feel inside. She wrote of their nights in front of the fire, when he would sit in the chair, with her kneeling in front of him, his feet resting on her buttocks which he would jiggle every once in a while. Sometimes he would mount her, and other times he would not, saying it just gave him pleasure to see her on her knees before him.

  Once he’d used her as a table in the lunchroom, putting his plate on her and eating from her body as she lay there, staying as still as possible. They’d go on long walks, her trailing behind him while he held her leash, and he’d watch while Sir Ulrich bound her or Sir Donovan flogged her, always nodding his approval.

  All these memories went into her book, but they were written along with the bad memories, and Helena hated that. She’d thought about asking for a new book, but decided just to fill up the one she had.

  She was so lost in her thoughts that it took her a minute to realize someone was saying hello.

  “Walker?”

  “Helena, hey darling. How are things in Florida?”

  “Warm and humid. And at home?”

  “Warm and dry. Just a minute, I’ll get Slick for you. She’s upstairs wondering what she should wear to a party we’ve been invited to at Lake and Lucy’s house. It’s for Diego and Sorcha, and something big is happening. We’re thinking marriage, but no one will confirm it. We’re all very curious.” He moved the phone away from his mouth and called for Harper.

  Homesickness welled inside her as Helena waited. She could hear the love in his voice as he talked about her sister. It made her feel warm inside to know that her sister had found not one, but two men who loved her, and whom she loved. And, Helena was just as interested in what would be announced about Diego tonight. He was a good man, and he deserved someone to love. She didn’t know Sorcha, but Harper had told her she was sweet.

  Thinking about the two getting married, as Dom and sub, made her wonder exactly where her relationship with TK was going. His domination of her made her body tingle more than it ever had. She’d worked each night, mostly as Sir Ulrich’s model in the bondage room. Sometimes TK would come in to watch, and when he did, it always made her heart swell with pride.

  He’d told her he was proud of her, and that she should be proud of herself for coming out of her shell. She was just thrilled that he’d given her the chance after her disastrous performance in the clearing. She hoped the last week had made it up to him somehow. She was thankful for his caring nature, and for his ability to take her -- all of her -- and not berate her for her shortcomings.

  If she’d been in Guest’s clutches that night he would have beaten her to a pulp.

  “Helena!” Harper’s yell broke her musings.

  “Hey, baby sister.”

 
; “How come you haven’t called before now? I was worried sick. Of course Walker and Oscar wouldn’t let me call, telling me to let things play out, that you were fine. But still, I worried.”

  “I’m sorry; I’ve been a little busy. I’m learning a lot.”

  “Really? Would you like to share?”

  “Not right now. But I do have something I’d like to say.” Helena took a deep breath. “I wanted to say I was sorry.”

  “About what?”

  “About…” She cleared her throat. “About your night with the asshole.”

  Harper laughed. “You’re worried about that? Sweetie, I’m fine, don’t think about it.”

  “It was wrong of me, though. For all I know, it could have been the real start of your, um, problem.”

  Harper’s laugh was low. “Helena, it started before then, and you know it. Why are you so worried about this?”

  “Because I made some bad decisions in my life, and they spilled over onto you. I felt horrible about it and wanted to say something, now.” She’d written almost seven pages of how she felt about what she’d done to Harper, how she’d possibly soured her on men, and how thankful she was for Oscar and Walker, who had rescued her.

  “Are you crying? Helena, is everything all right?”

  “It’s fine. I’m just -- it’s been a very emotional time. You mean so much to me. It’s important to me to apologize to you.”

  “As long as you’re all right, then I understand, I think. I accept your apology, but I don’t want you thinking about it anymore. Promise me.”

  “I promise.” As long as her baby sister was happy, then life was good.

  “Is he treating you well?”

  “Like a queen, Harper. He ties me up and fucks me, and when I freak out he holds me and lets me cry.”

  There was a long silence. “I miss you so much. I want to sit, just the two of us, and talk.”