His face was grim, and in his dark eyes, she noted hurt, not anger. Determination set his jaw, and his lips were tight. “This isn’t a game, Victoria. I want answers. From you.”
She shook her head and struggled to free herself. There was no way she was going to talk about this. Especially tied up and helpless. But her body betrayed her. How had he known? How had he reached inside her dreams and plucked out this erotic scene for her?
But he wasn’t playing. He wanted answers. She grunted and tipped her chin, silently begging him to remove the ball gag. She turned her body and gave him the agreed-upon signal, the two pinkies out. She couldn’t do this in a scene. Yes, she needed to tell him, but honestly, as Tori, not a kidnapped victim. At the sight of her two pinkies, his nostrils flared, and he flicked the buckle to release the gag.
“My mother died three days ago.”
ATTICUS FROZE. FOR a moment, he thought he hadn’t heard right. “She didn’t die when you were a teenager?”
“No.” Victoria slumped on the couch.
“There was a death certificate. I saw it.” He’d been thorough, but apparently there was more to this.
“There was one night that my mother…” She closed her eyes, and Finch had to flex his hands to remain still. “It was one of those pointless confrontations with a drug addict, and I escaped to my Aunt Angela’s.” Her lips tightened. “When the police came to visit, they told me there was a dead woman in the apartment where my mother lived.” She raised her head and met his gaze; the misery in her green eyes made his heart clench. “My mother had stolen her identity, set the place on fire, and ran.” Her voice was hoarse. “For all I knew, my mother had killed the woman. I identified the dead woman as my mother. My aunt didn’t contradict me. I think she wanted my mother out of our lives too. I think my aunt might have taken it another step and forged documents and paid my mother off.” Victoria shook her head. “My aunt is a formidable person. I never knew what she did. All I knew was that my mom was out of my life, and I was free.”
“And if you revealed the truth—”
“My aunt might have gotten in trouble. I don’t think they would have blamed me for lying, but my aunt was a different story.” She shook her head. “I wanted my mother to be dead. For years.”
“And then she showed back up.”
Victoria nodded. “When I was twenty. She’d appear for a few days, always under a different name, and then disappear again. I tried a bunch of times to get her help. Rehab. Anything. But she’d reject it every time.”
There was a bleak, resigned look on Victoria’s face that made Atticus clench his fists. He’d thought the worst thing had been when she shut him out, disappearing without a word, refusing to answer her phone. But he would have done anything at that moment to stop her pain.
“She didn’t ask for much, but I knew she had me over a barrel. The only thing I wouldn’t do is let her move in with me.” Her lips trembled. “I wasn’t going to let her have my whole life.” She inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. “When she was diagnosed with brain cancer, the doctor found out about me. I guess one of her boyfriends passed on the information that Betty always could get money from me.” She sighed. “I found out about her diagnosis just as ConFed took over Sunsoon. I put her in rehab, but she got too sick. So I put her in a medical facility. Vegas was the first break I had from all the insanity. The minute I was gone, she escaped. I don’t know how she found out where I lived, but she went there first.”
“She trashed your place.”
“Yes.”
Jesus. Victoria’s own mother had shredded her life, her memories, her happiness. No wonder Victoria held back. Atticus had never seen her cry. Considering what he’d put her through, that was incredible.
He sat down beside her and turned her face toward his. “It must have eaten you alive to keep this from Nell and Gina.”
She swallowed. “And from you. It was worse keeping it from you. I wanted to tell you.”
“But you couldn’t.”
“It wasn’t my secret.” She bit her lip. “I felt so alone, Master,” she whispered.
He brushed her forehead with his lips. “And you can’t cry.”
“I could. A long time ago. But not anymore.” I know how much you hate lies.”
“Do you?” He tipped her chin up to make her meet his gaze.
“I know,” she said, sounding so defeated he wanted to beat her until she snarled at him like she had every morning he spanked her. “I can see how you might be angry with me.” She turned her stare to the floor.
“Victoria, look at me,” he demanded. When she finally raised her head, he cupped her face in his hands. “I wanted you to trust me, to surrender to me as your Dominant. You protected those who took care of you. I would never be angry at you for that.”
“Then you forgive me?” she asked.
He smiled and narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that.” He loved the way her breath caught, and he felt the pulse in her throat skitter beneath his fingers. “Before I punish you, I want to ask you a very important question.” He stroked her cheek and was a little stunned when she leaned into him, letting her head rest in his hand.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“We agreed to full intercourse for this scene. Do you still want that? I can still do the scene without it.” He could do it. He could give her pleasure no matter what she decided. But he wanted to give it all to her. He wanted to touch her skin, turn it red, make her eyes glaze over with pleasure as he rubbed his fingers over her clit.
He wanted to make her cry so she could let it go and let him comfort her.
She lifted her head from his hand and stared at him. “I have to know something before I answer that.”
He threaded his hand through her hair. “Go ahead.”
“I’m so afraid of what will happen if I…let go,” she said, and her voice cracked. “Will you promise me that you won’t hold it against me?”
“Hold it against you?” He bent down and wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her to him. She was forced to lean on him since he still had her hands and feet tied. “The most beautiful thing a submissive can give a Dominant is trust, Victoria. I would never hold your surrender against you. On the contrary, I would be honored and humbled.” He brushed her lips with his. “I will keep you safe. I promise.”
“I’m so scared,” she whispered.
“I know, soniye.” He stroked her back.
“What does that mean? You called me that once before.” She was relaxed in his arms and nuzzled her face against his shoulder.
“It means ‘lovely’ or ‘beautiful.’” He tipped her head back. “And you are.” He took possession of her lips and reveled in the way she sagged against him.
When he broke the kiss and stared into her face, he was pleased to see her eyes closed, her face flushed, and her mouth soft from his touch.
She opened her eyes and stared at him. “I don’t know anything about your family.”
He laughed and tightened his hold on her. “We have time. I promise. Right now, I want you to focus on this. You’ve been kidnapped by a man who is very bad, but you’re attracted to him anyway.” For over a month he’d been thinking about this scene, planning it, gauging how she might react to it. “He thinks you know a secret, but you don’t. You’re stoic, trying to be strong and not break.” Atticus buried one hand in her hair and pulled her head back. “But you will break. You can curse me, Victoria, scream at me, spit at me, but I will break you.”
She swallowed, and her eyes were wide. “Fuck you, Finch. I won’t break.”
He smiled and brushed her lips with his. “Safe word, Victoria. What is it?”
“Peanut butter.” Her gaze softened, and she reached up to kiss his cheek. “I won’t forget.”
“You’d better use it, Victoria. I plan to push you right to the edge.” He wanted her to feel she could trust him to stop, to allow her the space she needed. But he also needed to smash through the barriers she�
��d erected to hide herself away.
She leaned back and glared at him. “Bring it, Finch. I can take more than you can imagine.”
He tugged on her hair. “Brat.”
“Asshole,” she said with a smile.
“Are you ready for me, Victoria?” he asked in a low voice meant to drive her as crazy as he felt.
“Whenever you are.” She held his gaze. “Sir.”
For a moment, he thought he was going to lose the hold on his tenuous control. But he wanted to give her the fantasy he knew would help her find release. “You’re sure? I’ll get rough.”
“I have my safe word.” She lifted her trembling lips. “I trust you.”
Like lightning, those three words electrified him, shocked him into frozen silence for a full minute. Then he gripped her hair and plundered her mouth. He wasn’t gentle or sweet but wanted to overwhelm her, devour her.
When he broke the kiss, she gasped for air, and he dragged her across the floor. She stumbled since her hands and feet were still tied, but he held her up as he moved her into the chair he’d placed in the center of the next room.
A harsh light shone on her face as he planted her roughly in the seat. Above her chair was a long, thick metal bar. Atticus strode to the end of the bar bolted into the wall and retrieved one of the items that hung there. They were handcuffs attached to an adjustable cable. With them, he could hang her from the bar, restrain her to the chair, or dangle her from the ceiling.
The cabin belonged to a friend at the BDSM club where he and the other ConFed officers had played for the last six months. It was remote, quiet, and outfitted with the latest toys and gadgets. Perfect for his plan to drive Victoria crazy.
“You look positively evil,” Victoria said with a laugh.
Time to teach his little brat a lesson. “You think this is funny? You’ll change your mind.”
From one of the drawers of the dresser in the corner, he retrieved a knife and approached her. The smile on her face died. With swift movements, he sliced through the plastic zip ties he’d used to bind her hands. He tossed the knife onto the top of the dresser and yanked her to her shackled feet.
She squirmed to get away from him and managed to get one arm free. When she swung it toward him, he caught it and jerked it behind her back. He was rough, controlled, and squeezed her arm hard. She squeaked, and her eyes widened.
He dragged the cuffs across the bar above them and cuffed her wrists above her head. She was tall enough that her feet were still flat on the floor. He circled her, and she pulled at the metal restraints.
“Let me go.”
She tried to keep him in her line of sight, but he stood at her back, and she couldn’t twist her head to see him. He retrieved a thick stick, clearly hand carved, and hefted it in his hand. “Are you going to tell me why you lied to me?”
She froze, and he gripped her hair with his free hand. Her gaze was filled with fear, and he wondered if she was really afraid of him. He released her head and slid his hand inside her loose-fitting yoga pants. No amount of squirming and shifting was going to deny him the evidence he sought.
When he touched her pussy, she groaned. She was soaked. Triumph filled him. This was the right way to go, the right actions to take. She enjoyed the fear; at least, she enjoyed being afraid of him.
“For months you’ve teased me,” he said in a guttural tone. “You’ve lied to me and to your friends. You’re going to tell me what I want to know.”
“Or what?” she snapped.
God, he loved her. She was perfect, strong, and courageous in the scene or out of it. He was going to make her his in every way possible.
“I’ll show you,” he said, putting as much force into his words, trying to scare her. She liked being scared.
He retrieved a set of nipple clamps he’d brought with him. Hell, he’d brought a whole bag full of goodies for this. When he approached her, she jerked on the restraints, her eyes wide. He got the knife from the dresser and sliced it through her T-shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and he shook his head. “No bra? Are you trying to show off?”
“No! Fuck you, Finch.” She twisted and writhed, trying to get away from him.
But he was relentless. “Later, Victoria. When I’m done. And I won’t be done for a long time.”
He bent down and took one nipple in his mouth. Fuck, she tasted so good. Her tit pebbled, and he released it to clamp it tight.
She moaned at the touch of his tongue and screamed when he clamped her flesh. “You asshole! Get it off.”
“Say it, Victoria. You know what you can say.” He took the other breast in his mouth. She whimpered. He flicked the erect flesh with his tongue, and she arched her back to move closer.
“No, please, Finch. It hurts,” she said. “It hurts so fucking good. I feel like I’m going to fly off the planet.”
He clamped the other tit, and she screamed. “You bastard!”
When he tugged on the chain that hung from the clamps and dangled down to a V-shape at her belly button, she cursed him. She couldn’t jerk away because it would tighten the hold he had on them and create more pain. “Tell me, Victoria. Tell me the truth, and I’ll stop the pain.”
“No. I won’t,” she said breathlessly, her voice almost a sob.
He kept the slack on the clamps tight and leaned closer to her. “No tears? There will be.”
When he dropped the chain, she let out a harsh breath. He stepped behind her and picked the flogger out of his bag. From that one day she had let him see her ass as he spanked it and released his cum all over her skin, he’d wanted to mark her there.
As he sliced through the yoga pants, shredding them to get them off her, she snarled at him. “You’re fucking ruining my clothes.”
“Sir. You will call me Sir or pay the consequences.” He dragged the strands lightly over her skin.
“Fuck you, Sir,” she sneered and then gasped as the flogger slapped across her ass.
He worked it up, harder and harder, stopping occasionally to grip her reddened ass with his hand. She screamed at him and cursed him. What a foul mouth she had. He was going to enjoy her future punishments for her bad language.
He struck her until red stripes crisscrossed over her shoulders and ass. Intently, he watched her, making sure she breathed through the pain, making sure she wasn’t hurting herself by jerking away.
When he stopped, she delighted him with a smart-ass comment. “That’s all you got, Finch? You hit like a girl.”
“Tsk tsk.” Finch found his favorite toy. It was a clit stimulator attached to a belt. It could be adjusted to fit Victoria perfectly. When he probed between her legs, she squirmed and shifted. “Hold still.”
She froze and then moaned when he dragged his fingers over her damp flesh. “You’re so wet. You must like being my prisoner.”
She gritted her teeth. “You wish, asshole.”
“Let’s find out how much you like it.” He watched her face and reveled in her struggle to hold back the inevitable. He stroked with his fingers, not wanting her first orgasm in the scene to be with a toy. He wanted the evidence of her release on his skin.
Her head snapped back and her hips jerked. He drove his fingers deep inside her and sucked on her tit, flicking the clamp with his tongue, adding a little pain to her pleasure.
She inhaled abruptly and cried out, a long, keening cry that echoed in his head. Her pussy gave up its treasure and gushed over his fingers. He kept thrusting until she twitched and moaned.
He placed his fingers in his mouth and savored the taste. Delicious. Then he tugged on the chain connected to her nipple clamps. Her eyes flew open, and he held her gaze as he placed the clit stimulator on her sensitive flesh. “Again.”
THERE WAS NO way she could come again and not explode into pieces. The last one had torn something inside her, and she felt exposed, raw. When the little plastic bullet touched her clit, electricity shot through her. She couldn’t do anything, stop the feelings or the dry sobs that
escaped. The next orgasm ripped away every coherent thought she had.
“Again.” He was relentless.
There was a heavy ball of anguish in her chest that she was sure was going to crush her if he made her come again. She resisted, twisting and squirming to try to escape. But her Master was implacable.
Gasping for breath, she opened her eyes and found Finch’s gaze on her face. She held his stare, grasping the intensity of it like a lifeline. He would keep her together. That ball of anguish that felt so fucking heavy wouldn’t hurt her as long as he was here.
She was so afraid. If she let go and released that heavy, black shit inside her, she might fly apart, the pieces of herself too scattered and broken. As if he could see the terror in her face, Finch reached up and wrapped his free hand around her throat. His thumb stroked the sensitive spot where her pulse pounded beneath her skin.
He held her gaze, his torturous device relentlessly driving her to an orgasm Tori was positive was going to actually hurt. “Let go, Victoria. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you that isn’t pleasurable.”
“Sir!” she gasped. “I can’t— I’m so—”Afraid. Terrified. Fucking out of my mind with fear.
“There’s nothing to fear, Victoria,” he said gently. “Let go.”
As if his words triggered it, her body exploded. That ball coiled up inside her broke apart, and she screamed, her throat hoarse. Her orgasm seemed to spread through her body from her head to her toes, and she shouted curses at Finch.
Suddenly, she wasn’t cursing him anymore. She screamed out her anger at her mother, her pain at being not good enough for her mother to love more than her drugs, her despair at her aunt’s cold indifference. Words tumbled out, vicious, ugly, painful.
She felt like a banshee, her muscles clenched and her mind gone. She was vaguely aware that as she was losing her shit, Finch had stepped behind her and used the flogger on her ass in a rhythmic way that began to pull her back from the edge of insanity.
The toy he’d used to detonate her personal internal bomb was still jammed against her clit and drove her higher again. This time, as her body wound toward another release, she wasn’t afraid or angry. Pleasure swamped her, and she reached for it.
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