by Roz Lee
“Thanks.” He smiled at left fielder, Bentley Randolph, who’d jogged up behind him while he’d been wallowing in self-pity. “I better get my head in the game.”
“You sure as shit better.” The man tapped him on the arm with his glove. “You okay? It’s not like you to be staring off into space. That’s more Tanner’s style.”
Todd couldn’t help but laugh when the other player, having heard the comment, flashed them a one-fingered salute shielded from the fans by his glove. “I’m fine, just distracted today,” he said.
“Troubles at home?”
More than you’ll ever know. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“You all alone out here? I am, and I don’t mind telling you, I’m going bat-shit crazy. If you need some company, give me a call.”
“Thanks for the offer.”
They tapped gloves before Bentley returned to his spot in the outfield. It was good to have friends. If he hadn’t made plans to occupy himself every evening, he’d probably invite the guy over for dinner one night. The left fielder, once a legendary horndog, had finally found a woman he couldn’t let go. Baked by Brooke had provided the cake for Ashley and Bent’s lavish wedding in December. As magnificent as the confection was, it didn’t compare to the way Brooke had looked in the simple, midnight blue dress she’d worn to the affair.
He stopped that thought before it could embarrass him. Playing with a hard-on wasn’t impossible, but it wasn’t wise. Imagining how he would explain how he’d snapped his dick in half was enough to dash any trace of an erection.
The game passed in a blur. The Mustangs bested Tony Ramirez’s old team, the Marauders, by one run—a solo homer contributed by Tony himself in the seventh inning. Todd hadn’t made any errors, but he didn’t need anyone to tell him he hadn’t given one hundred percent effort either.
“Hey.” Jason Holder hailed him as they walked to their cars in the parking lot after the game.
Todd slowed, waiting for his friend to catch up. “Hey, yourself.”
“How’s it going? Carrie said Brooke was in town.”
“Yeah.” Thinking about the days he hadn’t known where she was could still make him break out in a cold sweat. “Showed up on my doorstep last night.”
“She’s okay?”
“She’s fine. We’re trying to work things out.”
“She didn’t come to break things off then?”
“No. But it’s not that easy. I’m doing my best to keep her, but sometimes I wonder if I’m what she really needs. If I’m not, I need to let her go.” He stared at the car keys on his open palm. “I don’t know if I can do it though. I love her.”
Jason nodded. “I get it. I really do. If I thought I wasn’t doing it for Carrie anymore, you know, meeting her needs, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“Would you let her go?”
Todd could practically see the thundercloud hanging over his friend’s head. “Not in this lifetime.”
“Yes, I think you do understand.”
“Look, Todd.” Jason shifted his weight. “Whatever it is Brooke needs, you gotta figure it out and get it for her. That’s the only way you can keep her.”
They made it to his car. He leaned against the front fender, crossing his ankles. The player’s parking lot was emptying out fast. The two of them waved at the last of their teammates as they pulled away. “Where’s your brother?”
“Jeff left as soon as the game was over. Didn’t even shower. Megan called earlier, said it was time.”
“Time?”
“Yeah.” Jason smiled. “They’re trying for another baby. The military could learn a few things from Megan Holder in regard to strategic planning.”
They shared a laugh. “Whatever happened to fuck ‘em as often as possible and see what happens?”
Jason shook his head. “I don’t have a clue. Keeping charts of temperatures and shit takes all the fun out of it if you ask me.”
“Yeah, I hear you. I think I’d prefer the old fashioned way, but whatever floats your boat.”
His friend leaned a hip against the front grill of Todd’s SUV. “You ever think about it, Stevens? Being a father?”
“Sometimes. I could see having a kid with Brooke. What about you?”
“Carrie has her career.” He shrugged. “But, yeah, I can see it.” He shoved away from the vehicle.
“As a matter of fact, I think I’ll go get some practice in right now. Carrie got into town this morning.” With a wave, he headed toward his car. “Tell Brooke I said hello.”
“Will do.”
Thinking about knocking Brooke up was all it took to make him hard. He wanted it all with her—kids, a lifetime.
Sending her to bed the night before without satisfying either one of them had been one of the most difficult things he’d ever done in his life, but he didn’t want to touch her until her punishment was out of the way. Then there was the matter of his agreement with Mistress Lola. He’d already suffered for getting himself off without her permission. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do if he screwed Brooke. There wouldn’t be any way to hide what he’d done either—the woman had an uncanny way of seeing right through him.
He found that profoundly disturbing—enough so he wouldn’t orgasm again without prior approval.
Tonight. He’d made the appointment with the Domme earlier in the day, agreeing to let her administer Brooke’s punishment for running out on the training sessions he’d arranged for her. She also needed to answer for the days of terror she’d put him through when she disappeared. The rules of punishment dictated all would be forgiven once the sentence was carried out. Forgive he might, but forget—never. Wondering where she was, if she was alive, or if she’d fallen into the hands of a sadist, psycho, or not had taken years off his life. She would answer for her disrespect and disregard of his feelings tonight. Then, with a little luck, he would be given permission to fuck her.
He didn’t care where. He needed to feel her beneath him, above him, surrounding him. It had been way too long.
Brooke hung her clothes on the hanger in the small locker. Checking her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the dressing room door, she adjusted the high ponytail Mistress Lola instructed her to wear for tonight’s session. She’d never submitted to a woman before, but more than that, she’d never seen Todd submit to anyone. Ever.
She didn’t know how she felt about that. Part of her was intrigued, but another part hated that a man as proud as her Dom would go to such lengths for her. He’d forbidden her to speak of it. He’d made the decision to complete the contract he made with the woman. Brooke would have to deal with it.
Todd loved her. If he could play the role of a sub in order to better understand her, then she could submit to a woman. She expected punishment for what she did, imagined how painful the process would be. Learning that a woman would administer it was almost a relief. Surely, she wouldn’t strike as hard as Todd would. He hadn’t punished her many times, but on those occasions, she’d known his strength. No matter what instrument he used on her—paddle, flogger, or cane—the pain had been real and lasting.
Pulling open the door, she was almost happy. Her punishment would be over soon. They could forget about what she had done and move forward.
Brooke came to a halt at the sight before her. In the center of the room, Todd stood completely naked and hunched over, his neck and wrists held immobile by the massive wooden stocks. Metal shackles attached to the floor held his ankles far apart. A ball-gag forced his jaw open while preventing him from speaking.
“Master!” She shook her head. This can’t be happening. Oh, but it was, and it was all her fault.
“Let him go. Now.” She ignored the fierce look in her Master’s eyes, admonishing her to shut up.
“On your knees, slave.” The crack of the woman’s voice was as sharp as the whip that sliced the air inches from Brooke’s nose.
Stunned into compliance, she dropped to the floor. She spread her knee
s wide. Ducking her chin, she laced her fingers around her wrists at the small of her back.
“That’s better.” Gleaming black boots came into view, stopping to face her. The leather whip wrapped around Brooke’s throat like a sinister snake. “Your Master has brought you here tonight to answer for your misbehavior. You defied his direct order to submit to the Dom in whose care he left you. In doing so, you caused your Master undue stress for days. He worried for your safety, physically and mentally, so much so he came to me to find solace. What do you have to say for yourself, slave?”
Tears streamed down her cheeks, remorse washing through her as it hadn’t before. Her whole body shook with the sobs welling up inside. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”
“Do you understand you will be punished for your actions?”
Brooke gulped back her fear. Mistress Lola might not be physically as strong as her Master, but the woman wasn’t going to let her off with a token whipping. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Your Master has earned his own punishment for causing me to worry, and no, what you see now is not his punishment—it’s yours. Or, at least, it’s part of what I have planned for you. Because he loves you, your Master has put himself in a position few with a dominant nature are strong enough to endure. He wants to be the best Master he can be for you. In order to do that, he feels the need to understand your subservient nature. For the last few weeks, he’s been my sub.
“Master Todd’s dedication to you is something you should not take lightly. A love as complete as his doesn’t come along but once in a lifetime. Your actions indicate your lack of appreciation for all he’s given you. Tonight, my goal is to correct your thinking on this matter.”
Mistress Lola yanked Brooke’s ponytail, tilting her face up. Brooke cringed as the woman pressed the handle of the whip across her throat, restricting her air intake.
“You need to learn your place, slave. You do not own your body. Your Master does. He’s entrusted it to me for the evening.” She pushed Brooke’s head down before removing the whip from her neck.
Eyes once again downcast, she gulped in air, struggling to remain calm in the face of what she now knew would be a brutal scene. You deserve it. Everything she said is true.
“Lower your forehead to the floor, hands above your head.”
Brooke slid forward. The concrete was like ice against her skin. Her nipples brushed the cold floor with even the slightest movement. Knees still spread, she was exposed and vulnerable. She shivered as the tip of Mistress’ whip trailed from her nape, along her spine then down her crack where it teased her anus before moving on to tickle her clit. The touch was a sensuous caress that made her pussy wet. The teasing went on for several minutes, lulling Brooke into wanting more. Imagining Todd’s reaction to seeing her that way was even more arousing.
Because she was focused on her desire, the first lash of leather across her back was a startling reminder of who and where she was. She cried out. The whip rained down on her back, her buttocks, her thighs, even her calves in a storm of pain she was desperate to escape. She clawed at the unforgiving floor while her forehead slipped and slid in her tears. In between the sharp cracks of leather on flesh, she heard the wails of a tormented soul. Hers? Todd’s? She was beyond knowing.
Slick with sweat, her knees lost purchase. As she lay prostate, the whipping continued.
When, at long last, the torment ended, Brooke’s entire backside was on fire. Mistress Lola was skilled in the use of the whip. Brooke would bear the reminders of this night for weeks if not for the rest of her life.
“On your hands and knees, slave.” The woman’s voice left no room for rebellion.
Brooke struggled to obey. Every movement of muscle beneath her tortured skin sent knives through her body.
Brooke winced as Mistress wound the whip around her neck then, using it like a collar and leash, urged her forward. “Come along, slave.”
Every minced step was another form of torture on the palms of her hands and her knees. The woman in charge didn’t seem to be in a hurry as she led Brooke around the stocks where her Master watched. Did he hate seeing his slave treated as if she were an animal? She’d brought them both to this. Humiliation and shame chilled her blood.
Mistress guided Brooke between Todd’s legs, anchored as they were to the floor. A sharp tug on the whip around her neck focused her attention on her own sorry predicament. Mistress set a bowl of water on the floor in front of her. She drank greedily until the bowl was taken away, the cool liquid helping restore her faculties.
Another tug at her neck brought her upright to sit back on her heels.
“Your Master has a fine ass. Lick it. Stick your tongue in it, slave.”
No. Brooke knew better than to say the word, but her head twisted in denial of the order. The whip tightened around her neck.
“Do it now, slave, or suffer the lash of my whip again. This time, I won’t be as careful of your lily-white skin.”
She looked up at her Master’s ass. She couldn’t do it. Not that doing so disgusted her. No part of her Master disgusted her. She would do anything he asked her to do, but not this way, not when the choice had been taken out of his hands.
“Wiggle your ass, sub. Let the little slave know how much you want it.”
Todd’s butt swayed from side to side then he bent his knees, dipping his ass lower in invitation.
“See, slave. He wants you to kiss his ass.” Another sharp tug.
I’m so sorry, Master. Please forgive me for getting us both into this situation. Brooke rose to her knees so she was eye-level with Todd’s backend.
“Use your hands to spread him, slave.”
His skin felt like a stove to her ice-cold fingers, but he remained still, almost so still she was afraid he’d quit breathing. He wasn’t the kind of man to allow this sort of intimacy. Doing so must be the worst kind of degradation for him.
Mistress’ hand wrapped in Brooke’s ponytail then shoved her face into Todd’s crack. “Kiss his ass, slave. Do it right, too. No half-assed ass kissing.” The sadistic woman laughed at her own joke.
Her tongue made its first tentative stroke, causing a tremor to run through Todd’s body. I’m so sorry, Master.
When she tried it again, he rewarded her efforts by pushing back against her. Maybe he did like it, or was it pure torture for him, and he was only trying to lessen her punishment? This was her punishment, she had no doubt. Seeing her Master reduced to an object of another’s pleasure hit Brooke like a sledgehammer to her heart.
Would she ever see the pride of ownership in his eyes again, or would tonight take that away from them?
Taking the gift of submission his slight movement offered, Brooke stroked her tongue over the tight bud with more finesse, daring to tease the dark, forbidden center with the tip. Mistress Lola stood over her, one hand holding her whip/collar/leash, the other fisted in her ponytail.
“That’s it, slave. Push inside. Show him what it’s like to be a sub, to cede all control to someone else.”
If it had been any other human being, she would have enjoyed the demonstration of total submission, but it wasn’t some willful plaything. This was Todd Stevens. Her Master. For a moment, she considered putting a stop to the whole thing. If she safe-worded out of the scene, Mistress Lola would have no choice but to release them both.
“Don’t even think it, slave.” Mistress tightened her fist in Brooke’s hair. “He has agreed to this for you. You, slave. Don’t you think you’ve brought enough disappointment down on him? If you quit now, he’ll have no choice but to set you free.”
Brooke paused in her ministrations.
“Do not disappoint him again, Brooke. You are his slave, thus you are my slave. Find that place within yourself that longs to serve the man you love. There, you will find the strength to do whatever is asked of you.”
Find that place within yourself.
Why did you submit to me?
Find that place.
Why?
<
br /> Frank’s question, coupled with the quiet certainty of Mistress Lola’s command swirled around in her brain like a tornado ripping across the prairie, shredding everything in its path, leveling pride, leaving nothing but humility in its wake.
You’ll find the strength to do whatever is asked of you.
Not weakness. Strength.
You’re the strongest person I know.
She’d scoffed when Todd told her that. Being a slave was her weakness, one her body craved, but her mind rebelled against.
You’ll find the strength.
Brooke pushed back against the hand forcing her face forward. Mistress eased her just far enough away that Todd’s firm ass filled her vision. She let his cheeks fall back into place, gently rubbing her hands in circles over them, admiring the beauty of the hard muscles. Strength. Strong enough to carry the burden of his life and hers.
Despite her gentle handling, he tightened his muscles into hard knots of tension. Then, suddenly, he relaxed.
Staring at the most vulnerable spot on her Master’s body, understanding crept into the empty spaces around her heart. He’s strong enough for both of us. My strength comes from his love. As long as he loves me, I can do anything. I will do anything for him.
Peace settled over her like a warm cloak.
Slavery isn’t my weakness. It’s my strength. I serve him because I want to. Not because he commands me to. I serve him because it’s who I am.
“Kiss him, slave. Show him how strong his love makes you.”
Brooke didn’t need the gentle tug on her hair to spur her to action. Spreading him wide, she showed her Master how strong she was.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
He was going to hell for what he was doing to Brooke. His throat ached from yelling, not that anyone had heard. Between the gag choking him, the sound of Mistress Lola’s whip cracking against flesh, and Brooke’s piercing screams, he wasn’t even sure he’d made a sound. When he got loose from the stocks he’d foolishly allowed himself to be locked into, he was going to kill someone.
