by Linda Barlow
He kissed her again and said, "Okay, I'm gonna try something right now." He let her go long enough to unclip Rusty's leash from his collar and put him inside, where he looked out through the screen door and whined a bit before deciding to lie down.
Stephen pulled her to the top of the three steps that led down to the beach. He went down a step. "Turn around so your back is toward me."
"Why?"
"Because we're going into D/s mode and I'm ordering you to."
"Yes, Master." She was still a little wary of D/s mode, but she did it.
"Good. What we need," Stephen said, "is a way to build up more trust in each other."
"I trust you."
"You don't yet. Not entirely. And you don't trust D/s mode much yet, do you? Be honest," he added when she hesitated.
"Okay. Not so much. But I'm trying."
"I know. But here's something we haven't talked about much: I've got a trust issue, too. You need to prove that you don't give up at the first sign of trouble. That you're worthy of my time, energy and attention."
She blinked. "Wait. What?"
"Just reminding you that there are two of us in this relationship. We should both be getting what we want and need."
She felt abashed then. Most of their relationship discussions had been all about her. Help me, free me, heal me. "Oh wow. You're so right. I'm sorry," she said, bowing her head. "I'm all me, me, me, aren't I? Here you are, trying to make this work, and I'm always throwing up obstacles."
"You'll make it up to me. You think I'm going to make things easy for you? Think again, sweetheart. If I'm going to train you as my submissive, you'll be expected to abide by certain rules. Now lift your arms high over your head and hold them there."
She did it. In the distance, she could hear sea gulls cawing, but otherwise it was quiet on the beach. She sensed Stephen moving down the rest of the steps, but wasn't sure if he was moving away until he spoke. It sounded as if he was in the sand at the foot of the steps.
"Relax your body. Just let yourself go loose, but keep your arms over your head."
She tried, not sure what he was up to. Did he have a whip in his hand?
"Take half a step back, still facing away from me."
She hesitated. She knew she was near the top of the stairs, but she wasn't sure how close to the edge she was.
"Do it," he said, his voice suddenly hard in that way it got when he was fucking her.
"I'm afraid of falling."
"When you're with me, nothing is going to harm you. You might know that intellectually, but you have to learn to feel it. To know it deep down. Do as I say and take half a step back."
Now she understood. Carefully, she backed up. She wasn't sure how many inches half a step was, but she did what she guessed was right. The deck surface was still firmly under her feet, but she sensed she was now right on the edge.
"Good. Take a deep breath. Center yourself. Are you okay?"
She nodded. She was pretty sure what was coming next.
"You know what I want you to do, don't you?"
"I think so."
"I think so, Master."
She repeated it.
"Just relax and trust me. When I say 'fall back,' you're going to lean backwards and just let your body go. No fear, no tension. Just drop into my arms."
She didn't pose the questions that jumped to her lips. What if you don't catch me? What if I'm too heavy? What if I hurt myself? What if I hit my head? Anxious thoughts almost always began with the words, "What if?"
"I'm ready."
"Good girl. Fall back."
It was the strangest feeling, leaning backward and letting herself go. Her brain did not like doing such a seemingly irrational thing. Her center of balance started screaming for her to right herself as soon as she began to fall, and the need to grasp for the banister on the side of the stairs was so strong that she felt her body scream. But although one arm shot out wildly to the side, the other remained still.
She fell backward and down. It only lasted a split second, but in that time there was a glimmer of freedom...a sense that she could maybe learn to fly.
Then Stephen's arms were tight around her and his strong body broke her short fall. He felt more loose and relaxed than she was. "If you bend like a supple tree with the wind," he whispered, his mouth against her ear, "nothing can break you."
Recovering her balance, she laughed out loud. She twisted around in his arms and beamed up at him. "That was awesome. Can I go again?"
He laughed, too, and kissed her hard.
Chapter 35
That night, after dinner, he told her what he'd found out about Derek.
"I have a friend, Max, a computer guy. I may have mentioned him."
"Is he the guy who was supposed to be at that party at Jeff's? The phantom who didn't show up?"
"Yeah, that's Max. Very shadowy dude, for all his billions. Anyway, I asked him to check to make sure your ex is really far away in Australia. Max confirmed it. Derek is definitely in Australia. He's living in Melbourne, and working as a lecturer in anthropology at Monash University."
"That's a relief."
"As for those hang ups on your phone, they weren't from Derek. You were right—they were marketing assholes. Nothing to worry about; I get those calls, too."
"Your friend Max ran my phone records?"
"Yeah, sorry. Privacy is dead and all that." He paused, and then added, "Derek is getting married again, which means you're finally safe from that asshole."
"He's getting married?"
"Yeah, to another young woman in her twenties. His pattern, clearly."
"Wow," she said. Her expression looked distant for a moment, but then she began to smile. "I feel sorry for her, but happy for me." She jumped up and hugged him. "Thank you, Stephen!"
"You are most definitely welcome." He had decided not to tell her about what Percy had done to make sure Derek never came back to the States. Percy had asked him not to, and he figured that if he wanted his daughter to know, he could tell her himself.
"So I'm safe, and all that crap is really in the past."
"It is. Except for one thing."
She leaned back in his arms and studied his face. "What thing is that?"
He let her think about it. She tilted her head to one side, her red hair sweeping across her chest as she moved. He wanted to wind strands of that hair around her breasts. Tease her nipples with her own hair. It was long enough. He thought of other things he could do with her hair and got hard. It didn't take much to get him hard around her.
As usual, she understood him without further words. "You still want to punish me for lying to you, don't you?"
"I do. You'll have to ask for it, though. There's no rush. I want you to be ready, to trust me, and to know that anything I do is meant in a loving way."
She looked down for a moment, then back at his face. "I do trust you. Okay. I'm asking. Since we're putting all the bad behind us, let's get take care of that too."
"Kneel before me." He stood and pointed at the carpet in front of him. "Now," he added, snapping the word out like a drill sergeant.
She hesitated. He hoped he was keeping his features neutral, but he was watching every slight movement she made, every shifting expression on her face and in her eyes. It was a tricky moment. He knew she still had her doubts about this. He also knew she was afraid to let him take her back into his dungeon.
She could resist. Or she could obey. He waited, his heart racing. He wasn't sure why, but it felt like a turning point. How deeply into submission was she? Would she really give herself up to be caned?
She chose to obey.
Relief swept over him as she sank gracefully to her knees on the floor. She looked up at him for a moment, then bowed her head.
Relief was ousted by the torrent of lust that roared through him. He slid one hand into her beautiful hair and grabbed a significant chunk of it. Pulling hard, he tipped her head back so she was forced to look up at him.
"Good girl. But I refuse to make this easy for you. I will give you exactly the punishment I promised you. No." He laid two fingers over her sweet, sweet lips. "You are not to speak without my permission. This is not a discussion anymore. This is me giving you orders and you obeying. And right now I'm ordering you to shut the fuck up unless you need to call a safeword."
He stopped, waited. "Use your safeword right now if you want to back out."
She looked up at him, her eyes wide, but there was no doubt in those eyes. She was not going to use a safeword.
Reminding her anyway, he went on, "You can always use it. No matter what's happening. I will always respect your safeword. Okay? You may answer."
"Yes," she said. "Okay."
He jerked her hair, hurting her. "Yes what?"
The hint of a smile quirked her lips. "Yes, Master? Sir? Your Jedi Knightness?"
"Master will do," he said, trying not to laugh. He wasn't much for honorifics, truth be told, but there was a certain ritual to be followed. "Now come with me."
When she saw where he was taking her, she broke her orders. That, he decided, would result in another whack of the cane. "Stephen, no."
He was not leading her upstairs to his bedroom, but around to the back door. The door that led out to the dungeon.
"Did I say you could speak?"
"I can speak to use a safeword."
"Yes, you can. However. Let me remind you that a few minutes ago you trusted me enough to fall blindly back off my deck. I will always catch you, Viola."
She swallowed hard. Her heart was beating fast again and her palms had begun to sweat.
"Remember the old advice about what you do when you fall off your horse?"
"You get right back on again?"
"It's good advice, love. Otherwise, you begin avoiding things. Before you know it you're not afraid of whatever you're afraid of, but afraid of being afraid."
"But it's so strong. My dread, I mean. I never knew fear was so strong and so physical."
"I know, but fear can't harm you. You're young, you're healthy, and your body will eventually self-regulate. Trust me on this. I have suffered from panic attacks myself."
"What could you be frightened of?"
He laughed shortly. "The usual. Failing. Fucking up. Rejection. Success. Being judged. Sucking. You think men don't get scared? We just learn at a young age to hide it."
"I guess we all learn to do that."
"Right now I'm terrified that I'll fuck up again with you and that you'll give up on me."
She stopped short, briefly forgetting about the dungeon. "You didn't fuck up! I did. And no way am I giving up on you!"
"Likewise. Now do as I told you and follow orders."
She nodded and made no further objection as they crossed the threshold of his dungeon.
It was cool inside. He must have started the air conditioning. He had planned this. Despite what was coming, she felt a twinge of amusement. Boys and their toys. He loved his kinky creation.
He took her to a corner of the dungeon she hadn't yet seen. There was a wooden contraption shaped like a narrow table covered with a leather mat. It was a whipping bench, she realized.
He stripped off all her clothes and slapped the leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles, and then he made her stand at one end and bend forward from the waist so her upper body was lying on the table. Her wrist cuffs were hooked to a ring at the far end of the bench, while her ankles, well-spread, were attached to the table legs where she was standing.
Her ass was now a prime target, she realized, wriggling a little in her bonds.
"What are you going to do?"
No answer.
"Master?" she hastily added.
"As I told you, I'm going to punish you for lying to me. I will not tolerate lies, especially when they impact your safety and well-being. I asked if you had ever been raped or abused. That was a critical piece of information for your dom to have, but you denied it to me."
"I'm sorry, Master. I shouldn't have lied."
"You're about to be a good deal sorrier."
"Yes, but how are you—" Her question was cut off by a ferocious impact across her ass. It was a shock because she hadn't expected it to happen so quickly; she'd thought she would have a moment to prepare. It was worse than any spanking he had given her before—pure pain that resolved into a thin burning line that cut across both her ass cheeks.
"It's a rattan cane," he told her in a calm voice while she gasped for breath. "I only use this particular implement for punishment. It's not intended to arouse you or get you off. It is intended—" he paused long enough to blast her with another vicious stroke, one that made her cry out "—to hurt like hell."
"Forgive me, Master," she gasped again. "I shouldn't have lied."
He struck. She was flailing in her restraints, trying to get away even though there was no place to go. He had made sure that she could do nothing to avoid the blows. "And you won't ever do it again, will you?"
"No," she mumbled. The sound turned to a keening cry as the cane descended again, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
"No what?" he growled.
"No, Master!"
"Good girl," he said, and brought the cane down again.
The pain was agonizing. She thought of using her safeword, but she realized she didn't want to stop it. Not because she liked the pain—this was too extreme to like; it wasn't making her wet. But the pain was—oh god, he did it again—another stinging lash of fire, all of them in the same general area of her buttocks—the pain was a relief in a way. It blocked out everything. There was no fear, no guilt, no desire. All she knew was that sharp, burning sensation. She could let go of everything else because there wasn't room for more in her mind, not with this going on.
Again. She was screaming...and she let herself scream...she allowed the air to explode out of her lungs. Once, twice, and again, until all she could hear were the slashes of the cane and her own breathless cries.
Dimly, she recalled him saying that it was safe to strike the buttocks. She also realized that one reason she'd been so traumatized by Derek's attack was that he had struck her in places where he could do serious harm.
Indeed, he had tried to kill her when he'd throttled her and cut her with that chunk of glass.
Stephen was not harming her. He was hurting her like hell, but there was no harm here.
The next blow felt even more painful than the others, perhaps because it slammed across the already-burning stripes of earlier welts. It made her lose it altogether. Her body convulsed and she began to sob.
At first, she didn't even know she was sobbing. She was just reacting to the impacts. She moaned out her agony in great gasping cries, her face pressed into the mat that covered the whipping bench. But her mind was flying free. It was almost the same mental sensation she had felt when she'd fallen back off the deck into Stephen's arms.
She wept loudly and noisily, as tears flooded down her checks, just letting it go. Letting everything go.
It was some time before she noticed that Stephen had stopped striking her. He was massaging her shoulders and the back of her neck. Then he undid the restraints and raised her from the table. She felt a little dizzy and her legs didn't seem to want to hold her, but it didn't matter because he lifted her into his arms. He carried her gently to the bed in the alcove and lay down with her, adjusting her limp body so she was on her side instead of putting any weight on her flaming ass.
She made no resistance. She just clung to him and bawled.
It was the first time she'd cried since Derek had assaulted her.
Why hadn't she let herself cry?
It was a long time before she was able to speak. Stephen didn't seem to mind
. He held her, his hands moving tenderly over her hair, her arms, her shoulders, her upper back. When the pain in her ass had settled into a dull roar and her tears had finally stopping flowing she asked, "Am I bleeding?"
"No. You'll have some bruises though. You might find it a little uncomfortable to sit down for a few hours."
"How did you know?"
"How did I know what?"
"That I needed a good cry. I haven't cried since that night." She found somehow that she could speak of it now. "Since the night Derek attacked me. I swore that bastard would never make me cry again."
"He didn't. This bastard did."
A surprised laugh burst out of her. It started as a smirk, then a chuckle, then it turned into a full-fledged shout of laughter. "Fuck you!" she cried, hugging him. "You are going to teach me how to do that safely and then I am going to return every goddamn stroke until you cry, too!"
"Well, hey. I'm not opposed to switching roles, maybe once in a blue moon or so."
"The whole punishment thing is messed up. Like who made you the adult here? I'm not some wayward kid whose behavior you can correct."
"Hah. I'm older than you, remember?"
She snorted. Her objection wasn't serious, though. She knew it was part of the D/s dynamic, and that somewhere there must be a hidden vein of psychological truth, because she sure as hell felt better.
"It's silly," he said, "but it works sometimes. I guess we all have a naughty little kid inside us, who knows he's done something he shouldn't have done and that one of these days the strap is gonna come crashing down."
"I almost safe-worded at one point."
"Yeah, I thought you might. I would have stopped."
"But then I decided, fuck you, I wasn't going to ask for mercy."
"No mercy here, babe." He put her hand on his erect dick. "Does that feel like mercy to you?"
"You got off on it."
"Guilty as charged. I was freaking out at the same time, though. I really don't want you to get scared of me and run."
"I'm not running."
"I'm not kidding about the truth telling, though. Don't lie to me again. There are more canes where that came from."
