by Desiree Holt
The sight of her quivering buttocks and the cry that pierced the air shot through him like a bolt of erotic lightning. Jesus, he wanted to fuck her right now. Throw her over the arm of the couch, wrists bound, legs spread wide. First in her cunt, then in her ass, making her come so many times she’d lose her mind.
Because that was what it was all about for him. Making his sub lose her mind so she was nothing more than his puppet. Albeit a puppet he could use in every perverted sexual manner possible.
Slowly he drew in a breath and released it. This was strictly about punishment and reminding her not just who was in charge, but the erotic places he could take her. If only she would remember to please and obey.
He applied the crop again, not holding back on the force. It was important for her to accept who was in control and what happened when she disobeyed.
He slid his hand between her thighs and reached for her cunt again, feeling how much wetter she was. After just the two strokes. Yes! Nice and juicy. He’d found that dark place inside her and conditioned her to this response. He found her clit and pinched it then tugged, hard. She screamed again and her body shook as she tried to squeeze her legs together. More liquid flooded his fingers. Damn! The extreme pain response was still there, exciting him even more.
Slapping her inner thighs to keep them separated, he smacked the crop forcefully against each one.
“You don’t close your legs without permission. Ever. I think a longer session here will imprint it on your mind.”
He had only planned to give her ten very hard strokes, enough to let her know she deserved her punishment. But now he’d push it to twenty, as much for himself as for her. More if she misbehaved again. Her skin would be a bright red when he finished.
He used increasing force with each one. Buttocks, thighs, calves. The flaming color spread from the definitive stripes until her skin was a glowing ruby from her waist to the backs of her knees. With each blow, her cries grew louder and she clutched the drapes more tightly. He knew it would have been easier for her if he had restrained her. She’d have more balance, more support. But he wanted this to be as difficult as possible. Wanted her to have to hold herself in place.
By the time he finished, she was swaying, unsteady on her feet. Her body heaved with the intensity of her sobs and her breath rasped. He probed her cunt and found her even slicker than before. When he slid his fingers inside her, the muscles clamped down in an automatic response. Just to push her a little further, he thrust the handle of the crop into her hungry channel and twisted it around, at the same time using his other hand to manipulate her clit.
The tension in her body and the cries drifting from her mouth gave him great satisfaction. It wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge into orgasm. But not today. No sexual release for her today—nor for him at the moment. He was as hard as a spike, his cock pulsing with need. Natalie would get a good working over when he got home.
No, this was all this slave would get today. He was ready to let her leave. To go back to that jackass who’d taken what was his and tell him they were through. That she was going back to Brian.
When he released the blindfold it was soaked with her tears. Her cheeks were wet as well, and he brushed the moisture with the ends of the silk. When he turned her to face him, she had a stunned look in her eyes, as if still trying to process what had happened.
He had considered having her suck him off, or perhaps even fucking her in the ass after restraining her with an intricate rope pattern. But this was enough for now. He’d driven home his point.
“Only I can give you the sort of pain you crave,” he told her. “Only I can take you to intense sexual release. Everything you are is because of me. And that’s the way it will stay. Show me that you understand.”
She nodded, although he sensed a slight reluctance.
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes, Master.” She wet her lips. “If it pleases you.”
“It does not please me at the moment, slave.” It was the first time he’d used the word today but now he felt it appropriate to remind her who she was. He took her cell phone and programmed a number into it. “When you get back to that place you’ve been staying,” he refused to call it her home, “I’m positive your reception will be less than welcoming. You will leave there and come to me. Call me at this number after you leave.”
She nodded, again with that slight hint of hesitancy.
Goddamn it. He’d get rid of that in a hurry.
“Now you may dress and leave.”
He saw she was shaking as she pulled on her clothes, but it was a different type of trembling than earlier. This was a reaction to both the pain and the entire shock of the afternoon. He wanted to believe that a good portion of it was also the sexual need he’d created with the scene but he couldn’t be sure. Something was different.
Not for long, he told himself. Not for damn long.
She said nothing as they rode down in the elevator. He was sure the small dose of drugs in her wine had worn off by now, replaced by the stimulation of her punishment.
The drug had been his failsafe. Just in case. While Brian had been confident he could lure Fallon to the suite with the strength of his will alone, he’d also figured… better safe than sorry. She’d run away from him once. He refused to allow it again. He’d brought his own wine to the restaurant, and though it wasn’t a BYOB establishment, the maître d’ had tripped over himself to accommodate Brian’s request to have the waiter serve it.
In the end, her slight hesitance at the elevator made him glad he’d had such foresight. Now he wished he could be a fly on the wall when Fallon walked into that house she shared with jerkhead Jamieson. The man would take one look at her body, see the marks of the discipline and the absence of the nipples rings, and kick her out on her ass.
Then she would be his. His to do with as he wished, until he’d thoroughly destroyed her and tossed her on the trash heap.
No one fucked with Brian Willoughby.
Once they reached the ground floor, he guided her to the parking garage, making sure she got into her car and was able to drive. If she killed herself on the way home, all his work would be for nothing. As he watched her drive away, the anticipation of tomorrow rose in him like a tidal wave.
They’d learn. Both Fallon and Jamieson. Brian Willoughby never lost.
Fallon managed to make it out of the downtown area but just before the entrance to the interstate, she pulled off into a small gravel area and put the car in park. She couldn’t stop shaking. Trembling. She felt sick to her stomach. Her ass and legs burned like fire, and she felt as if someone had blown up her brain.
She pulled down the sun visor to check herself in the mirror and was shocked at the image looking back at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes glazed. But beneath the heat her skin had an unhealthy pallor.
Who is this person looking back at me?
She shuddered, not just from her appearance but from the turmoil of emotions roiling inside her. Her rational mind wondered how she had let herself do this. What about her good intentions? Her determination? Her insistence to Claire that she had full control of her life now? She was so sure she had. That lunch was supposed to be her chance to end things with Brian once and for all. Get him out of her system.
How had she let this happen?
As lunch progressed, she’d felt her ability to make rational decisions slipping away. By the time he got her up to the suite, she was back in the fogged state she’d lived in at his house. His voice in her ear promised every kind of pleasure, knowing just how to subjugate her.
Damn!
But even through the kaleidoscope of sensations bombarding her, she had been acutely aware that this was no longer just the lure of intense sexual pleasure. Or pushing the envelope of pain to see if she could endure more, much more, to take her to a new level of erotic sensation. This was a sick craving for the extreme. She felt herself tied to Brian by some invisible tether. He was in her mind, and
even as she recognized it, she didn’t know what to do about it.
Except go back to him—and hope she could somehow survive. Could finally find the strength to walk away for good, this time on her own.
She thought about trying to repair her makeup but that wouldn’t do anything about the glitter in her eyes. And what was she going to do about the markings on her ass and her thighs? And the missing nipple rings? Cord would be furious, and rightly so.
Oh god! Cord!
How in the hell could she do this? She’d tried so hard to keep his face in her mind, to hold on to his image, but something had wiped it away each time.
Going home in this condition… Cord would be angry and hurt and wouldn’t understand at all. He would throw her out and be completely justified. And maybe that was what she needed. Maybe she’d been right when she’d told Claire she needed to return to Brian one last time. Drive this craving out of her system. Get past this and pray Cord would still be waiting for her.
Sick. That’s what I am. Sick.
There was a half-full bottle of water in the cup holder. It would be warm but she didn’t care. She uncapped it and swallowed the entire contents, hoping it would wash away whatever twisted sickness had her in its grip. But when she’d let the last drop trickle down her throat, she didn’t feel one damn bit better. Her skin was on fire and her heart ached.
The worst part of it was, she knew exactly where she’d be headed the next day. Maybe even tonight. She had to find a way to sever this connection with Brian and there was probably only one way to do that.
What was that old saying?
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?
She wondered which end of the equation she’d be on.
Finally she pulled on to the interstate.
All the way back to the ranch, she tried to think about what she’d say. She could throw herself on Cord’s mercy and beg him to keep her from leaving. Tell him how much she loved him. That was certainly no lie. But he’d look in her eyes and see the terrible sickness there. How could he possibly still want her after that? After what she’d done today?
If she were really lucky, maybe he’d be gone, out on the ranch somewhere or in town. She could leave him a note and get out before she had to face him.
But luck wasn’t with her. When she pulled into the garage she saw both his truck and his car parked in their spaces. She sat quietly for a ten count, trying to organize her brain. Think about what to say to him.
Once inside the house, she heard him moving about in the bedroom and walked slowly up the stairs. He stood next to the dresser, clad only in jeans and a day’s growth of stubble. He grinned when she entered the room but that faded quickly when he looked at her face.
“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong, sugar?” Then his face hardened. “Did something happen with Willoughby?” He clenched his hands at his sides. “Did you see him?”
Fallon couldn’t find the words to explain. How could she when she couldn’t even understand it herself?
Instead she dropped her purse on the bed and slowly removed her clothes, her eyes never leaving his. When he saw her nipples without the rings in them, he started to say something but held himself back with obvious effort.
It wasn’t until she was completely naked and turned to show him her buttocks and thighs that he exploded.
“Goddamn it, Fallon! What the fuck?”
She turned back, lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “I’m so sorry, Cord.”
“Sorry? You think sorry will do it?” He spat the words at her. Shock was too mild to describe the look on his face. “If I punished you until your entire body was bloody it wouldn’t do it!” He moved closer. “You’re mine. You’re with me. We’re building a life together. We—”
He broke off and swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat working. “You betrayed me. You betrayed us.”
“I know.” Tears formed in her eyes and she blinked them back.
“Did you like it when he flogged you?” Each word was like a knife cutting into her. “Did it give you pleasure? Did he fuck you afterward? I know he gets off on degradation. Is that what does it for you?”
His anger was palpable, a living thing.
“Cord—”
“We had something special.” His voice was low but no less harsh. “At least I thought we did. Now you come into our bedroom with his mark on you? With the nipple rings, which were a promise between us, left in his hands? What is it about him that makes you destroy everything good in your life? Tell me, Fallon, because I damn sure don’t understand.”
She was shaking, nauseous and sweaty but she made herself stand and face him. She owed him that. “If I had the answer, I wouldn’t be here like this!” she cried, hating herself for what she was doing. “I don’t know what to say. It’s like I’m bound to him by an invisible thread I can’t seem to cut.”
He stood there for endless seconds, watching her. It was obvious he was fighting a battle raging inside him. Cord Jamieson was everything she wanted in a man—a strong Dom, a powerful lover, and a caring partner. The man who’d led her back to the true meaning of the lifestyle she knew she was made for.
She wanted to cry at her incredible stupidity.
“You have to make a choice,” he said at last. “I can’t live with him hanging over our heads. Always wondering if you’ve seen him. Spent time with him. Letting him control our lives that way.” He drew in a long breath. “I love you, girl, but I won’t share you. I can’t, especially with someone like him. So make your choice.”
She’d known it would come to this. She’d said as much to Claire.
Fallon began putting her clothes back on. She lowered her gaze, unable to look at Cord any longer. Shame washed over her and a terrible pain gripped her heart. But she knew if she didn’t do this, at least try to get past this once and for all, Brian Willoughby would be a specter that haunted her for the rest of her life, and possibly destroyed her.
Not that she wasn’t taking that chance going back to him…
When she was ready, she picked up her purse and her keys and made herself look at Cord. She wanted so badly to touch him but she’d lost that right. So she just shook her head.
“I’m sorry.” And she fled down the stairs.
She drove away from the ranch like a maniac, swerving around traffic and taking the curves at a high rate of speed. Wondering if maybe she had a latent urge to kill herself and make all of this irrelevant.
How did Brian keep doing this? Why couldn’t she train her body not to react to him? A tiny hysterical laugh bubbled from her throat.
Maybe I’m losing my mind.
By the time Fallon neared the interstate, she had herself slightly more together. Pulling into a Starbucks, she ordered a latté and sat in the parking lot drinking it, working up the courage to make the inevitable call. Would he tell her to come to his house tonight? Would he insist she wait until morning? Worse, would he have changed his mind, satisfied with disgracing her to Cord and destroying that relationship?
Coffee finished, she pulled her cell out of her purse and found the number he’d entered.
“I expected this call sooner.”
God, she hated the smugness of his tone. Yet, at the same time, its hypnotic quality wound around her like a silken thread.
“He told you to leave.”
“I-it was best that I do.” Because I won’t ever go to him again with your mark on me.
“Did you take anything with you?” he demanded.
“No.” She almost whispered the word. “Nothing.”
“Excellent.” He lowered his voice, the sound tripping triggers in her brain. “Go to the hotel and check in at the desk. I’ll tell them to expect you and take you up to the suite.”
“Which hotel, Master?”
“The Cimarron. Back where we started this ride together.”
She bit her lip. “Yes, Master.”
“I have some things to take care of tonight,” he informed her.
“You may order room service. Shower thoroughly and clean your body with the items I’ll arrange to have delivered to the room. I want to remove every single trace of that asshole you’ve been shacking up with.”
Her hand tightened on the phone. She knew exactly what kind of degrading ritual she was expected to complete. Things that Cord had performed for her lovingly would now become a perversion.
But it’s my choice. Maybe if it doesn’t destroy me completely, I’ll come out whole on the other side. There’s no twelve-step program for this.
Maybe this was good. Perhaps one night completely alone would give her the courage to break Brian’s hold. She could change her mind, go to Claire’s. Try to put herself back together yet again.
“Then, in the morning,” he continued, “dress in the clothing that will be waiting for you. Leave anything you have on at the hotel. You may bring your purse. Nothing else. Leave your car in the parking garage and take a cab here. I’ll expect you at eight in the morning, sharp.” He hung up.
Fallon stared at the phone for a long time. She knew in her heart she wouldn’t go to Claire’s. She’d made the decision to do this. She couldn’t turn back now. She had to know if this sickness would consume her life or if she and Cord had a chance.
Cord…
Oh god, she couldn’t think of him now.
But there was one thing she could do. Reluctantly, she pressed speed dial for Claire.
“Just listen to me,” she said when her friend answered.
“Oh Jesus, Fallon.” Claire sounded instantly wary. “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to do something stupid?”
“I had lunch with Brian today.”
“What? Damn it, get your ass over here,” Claire ordered.
“No.” Fallon shook her head, even though the other woman couldn’t see her. “I-I left Cord. Just now.”
“Are you crazy? Now I insist you come to my house!”
I wish. Lock me in the closet. Now. And don’t let me out until this terrible craving disappears.
“I can’t live like this anymore,” she said. “Please understand. It isn’t the sex or the pain. Everything is so much better with Cord.”
