Soul Rest

by Joey W. Hill

  When he finished, her fingers were locked against the rings holding her wrists to the sides of the seat. He tucked himself back into his pants, but instead of releasing her, he chose a new way to torment her.

  He turned over the ignition.

  Straightening, he touched the side of her face, tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Let's take the long way home."

  The windows were tinted, so no one could see into the vehicle. But she still felt exposed, for he did nothing to cover her, leaving her as she was. He also bumped the vibrator up a notch or two, coupling it with an order sure to make her lose her mind.

  "No fidgeting, Celeste. You just have to absorb the feeling."

  She'd thought he was kidding about taking the long way home, but he wasn't. He drove downtown, past the Old State Capitol building that looked like a castle on the outside and had the sacred hush and old wood smell of a church inside, down to the riverfront where she could see the petroleum companies and other industries with their billowing white smoke in the distance. The sun was setting, moving the day into twilight.

  When Leland drove through one of the poorly maintained pay parking lots across from the river, that was where she came again, thanks to the bumps from the broken pavement. As they passed a rusted panel cut with slots, where patrons put their folded bills to pay for a parking space, she had a glazed impression of the bold message printed on it. Parking is never free.

  He took her past the current State Capitol building, an art deco monolith that pierced the sky with its nearly thirty floors. She came again when he was driving through Spanish Town, such that she was staring at a cluster of plastic pink flamingos in someone's yard as she groaned through the waves of sensation.

  Her seductive torturer was pointing out some of the houses he liked best. "If you could live in one of them, where would you live? Tell me, darlin'."

  He meant it, sharpening his tone in that way that had her gasping out answers to his questions. But she also demanded he let her go. Called him a bastard once or twice. He'd just put the car back in drive and they'd move on. She hit orgasm eight when he pulled into an empty shopping center parking lot. He kissed her through it, teasing her mouth. She bit him again, only this time it was frantic, sensual little nips, not the savage tearing that had gripped her earlier.

  Cupping her head, he kissed her thoroughly, his tongue lashing hers. The more ruthless he was, the more gentle his touch, the softer his kisses. She'd started to register that. It devastated her, broke her open. She pleaded with him now, noises without words. He must have seen her fear when he lifted his head, because he stroked her face, staying so close to her their foreheads almost touched.

  "You're safe with me, Celeste. All of it. Everything you are."

  "No more. Please."

  "Ssshh." He slid his arms around her. "We're taking a little break. Just relax. Be easy."

  The vibrator had stopped again. Though she didn't trust it would stay that way, his soothing touch helped steady her. Helped get her feet beneath her, pull some of her defenses together.

  "We..." She coughed, tried to pull away. "We should be talking about safe words."

  He settled back, but not by much. His hand rested on her thigh, his other forearm propped on the headrest above her. "We can do that. What's your safe word, Celeste?"

  "What word would make you feel safe, Celeste? You can't afford for there to be men who stand fast, who protect, who love with all they are. Who don't leave. Who take honor, commitment, and responsibility seriously. You can't afford to trust your fate to the hands of another, not for a moment."

  It was like a fist reached into her chest, wrapped around her suddenly cold heart and squeezed it like a grape. She yanked herself out of the memory of that night at Club Surreal, away from the Dom with the knowing eyes, whose words had stripped her raw. He'd accurately guessed what word should have made her feel safe. A word she'd wished had represented safety, but never had.

  "I don't want a safe word," she said sullenly, ignoring the fact she'd brought it up.

  "Not an option," Leland responded. "I'll give you one. 'Byline.'" But here's the thing, Celeste. When you use it, everything stops. Period. We're done."

  Did they read from the same playbook? The Dom at the club had set the same line in the sand. "So that's it for you and me? Game over, everything? Your way or no way?"

  "No." He didn't appear to take offense at her belligerent tone. If anything, he seemed to become more patient. She wanted to hate him. Someone that made her need him this much, this fast, needed to be hated. "It means the session's over and we're on a cooldown period," he said. "The first time you do it, we won't have another session for a week. The next time you do it, it will be two weeks. Third time, three. After that, no more chances. Fourth strike is game over."

  She blinked at him, sure he was joking, but she knew he wasn't. "This isn't dating," he reminded her. "There's a structure to this, and I set the framework. When a sub like you uses her safe word, typically at first it's a way to cry wolf, yank a Dom's chain, control the situation. You're trying to control your downhill slide."

  "That's usually a good survival technique. Alligators could be waiting at the bottom."

  "True. But maybe something else is waiting down there as well."

  "What?"

  "You have to trust me enough to find that out yourself. Ruins the surprise if I tell you."

  Was he teasing her, trying to get her to lighten up? She wasn't biting. She sneered. "So you set all the rules, everything."

  "Pretty much. And not really." He reached out and stroked those long strands of hair out of her eyes, touched her nose. "You can be a brat all day long, Celeste, whatever you need. But no crying wolf."

  "What if I'm just scared?"

  "Then you tell me that." His eyes did that sharpening thing, like gold struck by sunlight, and she realized he hadn't been teasing her at all. "That's what I'm trying to teach you. To trust me with what's inside."

  "Will you take the cuffs off my hands now?"

  "You owe me one more orgasm. Then we'll talk about that."

  No. She couldn't possibly. When he reached for the vibrator controls she was prepared to beg. But he was just placing the remote control into the console. Reaching over her, under her, he unfastened the Velcro and removed the thong, carefully working it out of the clasp of her buttocks, away from her soaking wet pussy. Then he pushed her leggings all the way down to her ankles. He was folded over her lap while he did that, his chest against her bare thigh. She thought of his back, wide and strong under her palms when he was first kissing her at the mall, and she wanted to be holding on to him again.

  She couldn't ask for anything right now. What was he doing? Her brain was simultaneously on overdrive and overloaded, exhausted from an array of conflicting emotions. In some distant corner, she realized she was relying on him to know where to take this next.

  He straightened, gave her that penetrating look. Closing his hands on her knees, he spread them out as far as the hold of her clothing at her ankles would allow. Reaching over her, he eased the seat back, taking her down so she was gazing at the ceiling of the truck.

  "Didn't have enough of eating your pussy the other night, so I'm going to enjoy another meal there."

  She was so sensitive that the first touch of his mouth, the slight prickle of his evening shadow, had her crying out in protest. She fought his hold and found she couldn't match his strength, not even to move an inch. As he teased her with breath and tongue, the deliberate rasp of his beard over her clit and labia, discomfort started turning into another one of those agonizing spirals upward. He straightened when she was starting to move against his face and replaced his tongue with his fingers, holding her gaze as he slid two thick fingers inside her, pushing his thumb up under her clit hood, making her cry out as he worried that over stimulated bud.

  "Drives you nuts, doesn't it? Feels terrible and good, all at once. You want me to suck on it instead, stroke it nice and slow? R
ock you to climax like a baby? Take care of you the way a Master should? Like you're my baby, all mine?"

  Her gaze clung to him, desperate. Yes. Why couldn't she form the words? Why did such things bring a jagged lump to her throat too sizable to speak around, a wall she couldn't get past? She parted her lips, swallowed. "Tell me," he said, low.

  "Byline," she said.

  SS

  It took every ounce of self-discipline Leland had to remember the rules, to draw back and do what he needed to do. The problem was, she'd given him a glimpse of what lay behind the wall. He'd only been half teasing her in the mall. When he'd considered finding his forever sub, he'd usually fantasized about someone sweet as a kitten, a woman he could cuddle and cherish as well as spank and restrain, collar. Punish her for minor infractions in a way that would be fun for both of them. But with Celeste he was realizing he wanted one he could tame, that came to him wild and fierce, who learned to trust his touch and care. Behind her angers and fears, he could see that kitten cowering and spitting in the shadows. All he wanted was for her to trust him enough to curl up in his palm. Maybe she'd hang on to it with her claws at first, thinking he'd drop her, but eventually she'd learn he never would.

  He guessed a man could imagine all day long what he wanted, but Fate sent him what was needed, and laughed its ass off when a guy discovered getting what he wanted was going to be about as easy as making a touchdown across a bed of nails in bare feet.

  So he pushed down his howl of protest, his knowledge that he could use her body's responses and her emotions to make her forget she'd ever said that safe word, and instead gave her a short, impassive nod. "All right."

  Taking napkins from the console, he pressed them against her bare cunt. She kept herself smoothly shaved, a vision sure to torture his dreams tonight.

  "What are you doing?" Her voice had a little break in it.

  "Ssh." He wasn't in the mood to talk just yet. He pulled the leggings back up onto her hips and ass, lifting her up as needed to bring the skirt down over them. Her ass might be skinny by his standards, but it had a nice shape to it he was beginning to deeply appreciate. He forced himself not to linger too long with it. Adjusting the satin bra cups over her beautiful breasts, he pulled her shirt back into place. Only then did he release her cuffs.

  He anticipated her reaction, fortunately, because otherwise he might have a nice shiner. He caught her thrown fist, then the other wrist when she tried to strike at him with that hand. When she struggled, snapped at him, he gave her a little shake. "Stop it," he said sternly. "It's done, Celeste. No reason to fight. Session's done. Just you and me, not Master and sub."

  As it penetrated, he made his tone milder, though his heart was wrenched by her lost expression. She was definitely advanced material for a Master. He was glad for the years of experience he had. It helped him see that she could speak her safe word to protect herself and yet still be caught up in the haze of lust and emotions that had tangled her up in her submission to him, brief and sweet though it was.

  When she eventually pulled back, wanting to draw in, reestablish her space, he allowed it, seeing she was back with him. She cleared her throat, cleared it again. He found the bottle of water in the takeout bag, opened it and offered it to her. Her hands were shaking so badly, he helped steady the bottle as she held it. Her hazel eyes watched him as he stroked her cheekbone.

  When she lowered the bottle, he removed his hand, but only after a caress of her temple with his knuckle. "Enough water?"

  She nodded.

  "Okay. Hold on to it, just in case." He screwed the cap back on for her before he put the truck in drive. Thanks to the circuitous route they'd taken, they weren't far from The Mall, and it didn't take long to be back there. She told him where her car was when he asked, but beyond that they didn't speak. He was giving her time to collect herself, and himself time to think things through.

  There was a space open by her car. He took it, came around to open her door. She sat there, unmoving, staring straight ahead.

  "So that's it."

  "For a week. If you want to continue, then we'll get together after that."

  She turned her gaze to him. "So it's your way or nothing," she repeated.

  "Yeah. But the point is you have to choose to give me power over you, darlin'. You called it done tonight, and I'm respecting that. Are you okay to drive? Do you need me to take you home? I don't want you driving if you don't feel up to it."

  "I can drive. What if I don't want to do anything after a week?"

  "That's your choice, too. I won't play mind games with you, Celeste."

  "Yeah it is. It's a mind fuck," she said bitterly. "You're trying to make me feel guilty so I'll come chasing after you, like I'm some desperate badge bunny who will beg for your cock--"

  She bit back a startled yelp as he closed his hand around her throat. He could damn near wrap his fingers all the way around that slender ivory column, and what got him hard as a rock all over again was her reaction. Though her hands lifted to block him, they never made it all the way up to pry at his fingers. They stopped midair, hovered, and then settled nervously in her lap as her gaze fixed on him. Her lips were parted in a way that told him his collaring her throat had silenced that harpy tongue, confusing her mind. He tightened his fingers infinitesimally, testing her and tormenting himself, and she swallowed against his hand.

  "First off, eventually you will beg for my cock. That's a given. Your eyes were doing it tonight when I was jacking off in front of you, and it made me want to fuck you like it was my last act on earth. Second, you can be as much of a brat as I know you need to be, but you will not strike out at me for respecting your safe word. Respecting that respects you, protects you, allows you to protect yourself. A man who understands that, who puts you first, doesn't deserve the kind of trash talk you were just dishing out. Does he?"

  She shook her head, a quick jerk. "No, sir."

  It was a sub's instinctive response, no thought or taunt to it. Christ, she was trying to kill him. He withdrew, took a breath. "We're out of scene now. No need to call me that."

  A ghost of a smile flirted around her mouth, at odds with her sad and confused eyes. "Could have fooled me, Sergeant."

  He sighed, helped her out of the truck. As he put his hands to her waist and she slid down, her arms went around him. He gave in to her unspoken need, holding her close. She buried her face against his chest and he bent his head over her protectively as he rubbed her back. "It's all right, darlin'." He propped his chin on her head. "What is your full name, anyway? The real one. In case I want to look up that juvie record."

  She snuffled a snort against his chest, though her shoulders remained tense, her body quivering with nerves. "Esther Celestial Lewis."

  He blinked at that. "Precious as the stars."

  She stiffened like a board and pulled away. As he watched her with a frown, she retrieved her coat. Shrugging into it, she fished out her keys to unlock her car. Her set face didn't turn his way until she was in the car and he'd closed the door for her. She rolled the window down after she started the engine.

  "The stars aren't precious," she said dully. "There are millions of them and they all look the same, because they're light-years away. Too far gone to reach. Good night, Leland."

  Chapter Five

  "A country-western bar?" She stared at her text screen. "He wants to take me to a country-western bar."

  Wednesday. Beer and line dancing.

  She tapped out a return text.

  I thought you said a week.

  A week for our next session. This is like a date.

  I haven't decided if I like you anymore. And you don't date.

  Women think a guy's hotter when he's with a woman. If you go with me, I'll score some hookups with cowgirls.

  You might get your testicles blown off by a .22.

  That's a small caliber for such a large target. Use my Glock.

  A.S.S.H.O.L.E. You and your large dick can go to a hoedown by yourse
lves.

  I'll pick you up at eight on Wednesday.

  She didn't deign to respond to that. She was aching for him. Literally. When she woke Saturday morning after that amazing climax marathon, all her muscles had tightened up, and she was barely able to walk. She discovered a text on her phone from him after she struggled into a sitting position in her bed.

  Aspirin, hot shower. Massage if you have a place you go for that kind of thing.

  There's one by the interstate that the truckers use. I'm sure the girls there are trained in Swiss massage and aromatherapy.

  Can I watch?

  She hadn't responded to that, but she wondered if her text made him smile. As she hobbled to the bathroom, all her muscle groups were screaming at her to lie down and die. Just let her body petrify, rather than suffer through movement. Nine climaxes. Thank God she hadn't told him the truth, that she'd used her vibrator or hand to get herself off several more times than that. If he'd known it had been over a dozen times instead of nine, he would have killed her with forced orgasms. When they sent him to prison, he'd have so many female groupies writing to him, rock bands would be jealous.

  Once she could sit in front of her computer, she checked to see if her life had been in jeopardy. No conclusive proof of death by orgasm, but the graphic urban legends got her all worked up again. Unbelievable. Was this like the four-hour erection thing? Permanent arousal? Did she need medical help? She double-checked on that, along with death by masturbation, and found that debunked as well. If you believed the Internet.

  But her worries on that score weren't why she didn't go for relief via her vibrator or the shower head. He hadn't said she couldn't masturbate, but she didn't. Because he hadn't said she could.