Begin Again (Bound To You Book 1)

by Jane Henry

  Wistful.

  "It's good?" he asked hopefully, and she nodded.

  "No, honey, it's perfect," she said. She took another sip, not sure what to say to him. They hadn't had a real conversation in months. She hardly knew where to begin.

  "Robbie will be here in about an hour," he said. She nodded, again afraid to break the spell.

  Don't leave me again. Not again.

  "What are you two doing?" she asked. He shrugged.

  "Dunno,"he said, his eyes clouding again. She felt desperation rising. What could she do to stop him? How could she keep him here with her?

  "Maybe you guys can go see that new movie? You know, the one with the robots and super heroes." She had no idea what it was even called, as it was so far out of anything that she found remotely interesting. "The one you guys couldn't pay me to see if you tried."

  His eyes gentled again. "You'd go if I really wanted you to," he teased. She smiled. She knew she would. Hell, she'd do anything he asked her, if it meant she was with him, with Paolo, her real husband, not the shadow of the man she'd spent the last few months with.

  "Well, you know I'm only in it for the popcorn anyway," she muttered. His eyes crinkled at her as he smiled, lifting the plate and handing it to her.

  "Eat, baby," he said.

  She felt a sudden lump rise in her throat. Oh, God, but she'd missed how he spoke to her. She picked up the bagel and took a huge bite to appease him, chewed, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat that had taken away her appetite. She followed the bite with another swig of hot coffee.

  "What time is it?" she asked. "I think the movie starts around noon." She looked up to check the time on her phone, but her phone wasn't there. Her eyes flitted around the room, as she tried to remember where she'd put it. She'd had it the night before. She'd been reading, then she'd...

  Oh my God.

  What if he saw what she'd been reading? She took another sip of coffee, trying to quell her rising nerves.

  "Hey," she said, attempting to appear casual. "Have you seen my phone?"

  He watched her, nodding, and taking a sip of his own coffee. "Yeah, you fell asleep with it next to you last night.”

  Shit! What would she do? Ask him if he'd seen the kinky book she was reading? What would he think? He'd have to read it to see what it really was, but sometimes her phone did funny things, and if he saw the cover and title—he had that conservative streak about him. There was nothing discreet about this cover—a blindfold, and a rolled-up leather belt, with a rose between them. Masterful Obedience.

  What the hell would he think?

  "Oh," she said, taking another sip of coffee. "Where'd you put it?" Heart pounding, something twisted in her. Would he think she was a freak if he saw what she was reading? Why hadn't she been more careful with her phone? Paolo was a technology freak, and was always telling her to clear her history and run scans, to put her electronics in a safe place. Why didn't she listen?

  He wheeled over to the hope chest at the foot of their bed and picked up her phone. He tossed it on the bed.

  "Here you go," he said. "Now you're back in touch with the world."

  Ha! As if reading that book put her in touch with the world. More like being in touch with her wildest, craziest fantasies.

  "Thanks," she mumbled, clicking it on and going for her app. Please, go to the page, not the cover.

  "Yeah, sure," he mumbled. The book snapped open and there it was, the belt and rose, and the telltale title. Shit.

  She looked up to see the back wheels of his wheelchair leaving the bedroom.

  "Paolo!" she said, but he didn't look back.

  That quickly, he was gone.

  ***

  By the time Meredith joined him in the living room, Robbie had arrived.

  "Hey, baby sis," he said, wrapping her up in a big bear hug. The years hadn't been kind to Robbie, Meredith thought, as she surveyed her big brother. He was balding, with thin wisps of gray hair at his temples. His eyes look tired, and there were deep wrinkles on his brow. He was heavier now, and his clothes look worn and in need of a good wash.

  He'd married young, and his wife had left him for another man not a year later. They'd never had any children, and he'd never married again.

  "You want a cup of coffee?" she offered, but he waved her off.

  "Nah, Paolo and I will grab something when we go out," he said. "How's that ramp working for ya?"

  Meredith nodded, but the smile froze on her face as she watched a muscle twitch in Paolo's jaw.

  "It's fantastic! You do such awesome work," she said. She swallowed, as silence fell on the room. She cleared her throat nervously. Paolo hated that he had to use the ramp. He'd sat idly by, watching Robbie build it, as he hadn't been able to so much as nail a damn nail in. "Will you two be back for supper?" she asked, and Robbie shook his head.

  "Don't think so."

  The wheels began to turn. A few hours alone, and she'd finally have time to finish that book of hers. She'd been dying to know how the rest of it played out.

  Robbie walked toward the back door, so Paolo could get to the ramp to his car.

  "You guys have fun!" Meredith said with forced cheerfulness. Robbie reached over and gave her another hug.

  "We're only going to the good strip club," he said, with a twinkle in his eyes. "Not the skanky one, but the one where you can get a real meal."

  Paolo snorted and Meredith shot Robbie a mock glare.

  "Don't spoil that husband of mine," she teased, but Robbie shook his head.

  "Right!" he said with a laugh. "More like, better make sure your husband doesn't destroy my innocence."

  She laughed. "Bye! Love you guys!"

  The door shut before she could hear either of them respond.

  ***

  She'd done all the laundry. There wasn't much, anyway.

  The dishes were washed. The floors swept.

  She was alone.

  Meredith took her phone, and retreated to the den, where the light was good and she could comfortably read. It was also the room tucked away the furthest, as far away from the entryway as it could be. Although she was alone, she felt the need to hide when she pulled out her kinky romance novel.

  She swallowed, as her phone lit up with the familiar picture of the rose and belt. Damn these stupid covers. She looked over her shoulder, even though she was alone, pulled a blanket on her lap, and began to read.

  Tanner paced the length of his office, mulling over how the rest of the night would have to go. He hated when he had to punish Sylvia, and he hoped it would be a good long while before she did something deserving of punishment again. But she'd disobeyed him, and he well knew how important it was to follow through, teaching her that he meant what he said. She'd cried when he punished her, but he knew it was a cleansing cry, and consistent discipline was a necessary reinforcement of their roles.

  It wasn't that he hated spanking her. There was nothing more deeply erotic to him than dominating the sweet girl who'd pledged to give him her obedience. The feel of his leather belt in his hand. Her submissive posture, awaiting her reckoning. The sound of the leather connecting with her naked skin, and the way she turned a bright red under his discipline. But it was always a battle for him.

  The battle to contain his temper for her willful disobedience. The battle not to give in to the desire to fully unleash his strength upon her. The battle not to throw down his belt and take her, to maintain his distance and see her punishment through to the end, where he achieved her repentance.

  There were times, though they'd been much more frequent early on and rarer now, when she behaved like a spoiled brat. It was easy to discipline her then, intuitive, as every warning bell would go off that she needed to be stopped, and his hands would act almost of their own accord. These were not moments of contemplation and meting out discipline, but immediate correction. A toss of her head, arms crossed in defiance, or a muttered curse word, and he'd haul her over his lap without a backward glance
. But deliberate disobedience—making her wait for her punishment—the knowledge that she waited for him and he'd have to drive home his authority over her, was an entirely different experience.

  She lay in his arms afterward, his shirt wet with her tears. He'd smoothed her hair and hushed her until her hitched breathing became rhythmic and steadied. Some masters insisted that a slave was not to have aftercare. But his girl needed it, and he'd not deny her the forgiveness she craved from him.

  As he'd paced his office afterward, as she slept, he faced what had been eating at him for weeks now.

  It was time to take her to the next level. She was ready for more.

  He frowned, as he decided what would be best for her. He knew part of her training would require him to simply say 'no' more often. The denial of her own desire was a necessary part of bending her will toward his. He wouldn't like denying her, but he'd focus on the beauty of her pleasure when he'd finally give her whatever it was she desired—a piece of chocolate placed on her tongue, permission to touch him, or the ecstasy of achieving orgasm.

  What was it that she so desired now? He thought of her clinging to him after he took her, her small hand flat against his chest. He thought of how she reached for him even in sleep, entwining her legs with his. He thought of why she'd disobeyed him tonight.

  She hadn't waited for his command to come to him. She'd come of her own accord, impatient to be with him again. Although her desire was exactly what he was aiming for, and a necessary part of her training was cultivating her desire to be with him, her disobedience tonight was the key to what she needed from him next.

  The denial of her own desire.

  Time for intentional distance. With a sigh, he made up his mind. He would wake her, and make her sleep apart from him. He'd had what he needed for a long time, purchased online and tucked away where she couldn't see it, the small bed he would make for her on the floor next to his own bed. Perhaps it was even time to subject her to the cage.

  Meredith dropped her phone in her lap.

  What the flying fuck was the cage? Time to make her sleep on the floor?

  If she'd had a paperback book, she'd have hurled it across the room, but instead she glared at her traitorous phone. She'd been sucked in, her breath becoming labored, enjoying thoroughly the descent into the mind of a dominant master. But the floor—the cage—it pulled her right out of the moment. He could spank her 'til kingdom come. He could pull her hair and use all sorts of toys on her. But for some reason, the humiliation of having to sleep on the floor?

  Did people do that?

  She frowned.

  Well, what the hell was she going to do now? She was mad at Tanner, and not sure she was willing to continue reading. He was going to wake the girl up and make her sleep on the floor! What would he do next, make her eat out of a dog bowl? She shuddered.

  Meredith stood, and decided she needed a cup of coffee. Frowning and muttering to herself, she marched to the kitchen and grabbed a mug, and as she pulled out the grounds, she noticed they were almost out. What was that deal she'd seen online? Paolo's favorite Peruvian blend, half off, with free shipping. She'd take a break from reading and do some shopping.

  Meredith sat in front of the laptop in the den, surfing the web, but her mind was elsewhere. As she put the coffee in her virtual cart, her thoughts were on Tanner and Sylvia, and whether or not people actually did what they did in the novel. She'd resonated so deeply with Sylvia's desire to submit. The erotic overtone of the submission and dominance had awakened Meredith's own deep-seated desires, as she was still coming to terms with the fact that she was erotically attracted to being dominated. But there was still so much she didn't know about.

  How much was fiction, and how much real?

  And were people okay with what she'd just read?

  Opening up another browser, she typed in Masterful Obedience cage scene.

  She wanted to read reviews. Were other readers as outraged as her?

  Five yellow stars popped up on the screen under book reviews, but beneath the link she saw another line. A commentary from another reader.

  I hated the caging scene! It was so wrong, so bad! And when I tried to...

  The comment trailed off. What was this? It wasn't a website for reviews. She clicked on it so she could continue reading the comment, and when she did, a website popped up. Meredith's breath caught in her throat, and her pulse quickened.

  It wasn't a blog post, or a review site. It was a forum.

  Loving Servitude: a forum for those interested in dominance and submission.

  Meredith raised her eyebrows as she continued to read.

  Under the title of the page was a small paragraph.

  This forum is of an adult nature. We welcome real life Dominants and Submissives, as well as those interested in the lifestyle. Our forum is non-judgmental and welcome to all, regardless of status, ethnicity, or sexual orientation.

  Real life Dominants and Submissives? Meredith blinked. There was a group here of real life Dominants and Submissives? Holy crap.

  Would they understand her? Was she welcome to join even though she wasn't committed to a real 'Dominant'? Her heart sank.

  What would that be like? To be committed to a real Dom? To belong to someone so thoroughly? She pushed all thoughts of relationships aside, as she continued to read. She was a married woman... not happily married, but married, and maybe if she joined, she'd understand more about this whole 'dominance' and 'submission' thing. Why she was attracted to the idea of submission? And they couldn't all be hardcore like Tanner, if the comment here was any indication. She looked at the top of the screen where a little icon bid her to join.

  Membership Application.

  Application? You had to apply? What the hell?

  She licked her dry lips, swallowed hard, and clicked the icon before she could change her mind.

  ***

  Meredith typed the answers on the application form quickly. She was afraid if she didn't, she'd lose her resolve.

  Name? She blinked. She sure as hell wasn't going to put her real name, or even a nickname. No sirree. But what should she put? She glanced at the names of the moderators at the top of the page, the only names visible to her as an unregistered user.

  Master Winston

  Keeper of the Keys

  Ms. Fire and Ice

  ML247

  She quirked an eyebrow. What the hell? Looking over her shoulder—though she was certainly alone—she made a quick decision.

  Bonita. The system processed her name, and a red flash came up on the screen.

  User Name Accepted.

  Swallowing hard, still typing so fast her fingers flew over the keys and she had to keep going back to fix errors, she continued.

  Role?

  Role? She glanced at the options. Her heart raced.

  Master, Slave, Submissive, Dominant, HOH, TIH...

  She didn't even know what some of these meant.

  She checked Undecided.

  Her stomach twisted at the next question. Partner?

  What was that supposed to mean? Was that a husband/wife thing, or a slave/master thing? She glanced back up at the moderator titles. Under Master Winston's profile, next to 'partner', were the words Little Lady.

  Ah. So the partners referred to the D/S partner, or lack thereof. She looked over the options, then finally decided to leave that option blank, if it were possible.

  The form continued to allow her to write, so she assumed she wouldn't be the only undecided, single woman there.

  Please read the following criteria for permission to participate in our forums, and type I AGREE in capital letters if you agree to abide by our guidelines.

  Eager to get to the forum to see what the hell it was all about, she gave a cursory glance through. No flaming, no revealing of personal identification, deference given to all moderator decisions, all members must be over the age of eighteen. Easy enough.

  I AGREE, she typed.

  A box popped up a
t the bottom of the screen.

  In the box below, please give a brief summary as to why you wish to join our forums.

  Geez. She frowned. Why did she want to join? Curiosity? Or was it more? She chewed her lower lip, before her hands went back to the keyboard and she began to type.

  I am interested in the lifestyle. I've never lived it. After reading some books, I've decided I want to know more about what this lifestyle is all about. I have no real life experience. She paused. And I'm not sure if I want any. She looked at the screen again.

  It's a stupid application, not a psychological intake form, she thought. She quickly erased the last line.

  With another quick glance over her answers, she hit submit, smirking at the irony of the double-meaning.

  "Wouldn't you know," she said under her breath. "My first act of submission."

  Thank you for your application, Bonita. You will be notified via e-mail if your application is approved.

  "How nice of them," she muttered.

  She heard a key turn in the doorway. Panic set in. Her eyes widened as she quickly exited the screen, and shut the laptop.

  ***

  Robbie and Paolo had brought home pizza. She eagerly snagged a piece out of the box, realizing she hadn't eaten since the bagel early this morning. It was a habit of hers. She'd get caught up in doing what she was doing, and realize hours had passed since she'd eaten a meal. Paolo hated that she skipped meals, and was always trying to get her to eat at more regular intervals. At least, he always had. Recent months had changed things.

  As she chewed her pizza and listened to Robbie and Paolo, she wondered if that was something the guys on the forums would do something about? Would there be rules and consequences for not eating? She hadn't read anything in any of her books, but it made sense that it might be a 'rule'.

  She took a large bite of pepperoni pizza, and chewed meditatively as she allowed her mind to wander. What would it be like if Paolo expected her to obey him? And she'd just realized she hadn't eaten all day, despite his expectation that she take good care of herself?