Slave To Love

by Bridget Midway

  Jace went to the door and pressed his thumb against the keypad. Within seconds, a face populated in the screen. It looked like a stern woman, but it could have been a man in drag. Taren couldn’t be sure.

  Jace turned to Taren and looked back at the screen. “Master Christian.”

  The person on the screen looked over her sunglasses. “You look old.”

  Jace snickered. “We all get old, don’t we?”

  After a beat, a loud buzzing sounded and Jace pulled on the door.

  “You were known as Master Christian?” Taren reached for his hand to hold it, but felt the connection would be too intimate. She held his upper arm instead.

  “My first real name.” He led her down a darkened hallway. “I go by my middle name now.”

  “Too religious?” She moved in closer to him.

  “Too much of something else.” It surprised her that he kissed her forehead as though rewarding her for something.

  She liked the expression, feeling his warm lips against her skin. Or maybe she had still been worked up from watching the full season of Love My Way and viewing the last episode.

  Taren worked up the nerve to scan her surroundings. The black walls and concrete floor reminded her of what her bedroom had looked like before she’d changed it. Thin chains dangled down at each doorway instead of doors. She looked into rooms they walked past to see half-naked men crouching on the floor and begging, either for mercy, forgiveness, or pain. She saw women strung up on devices that she’d remembered seeing in the family room at the house.

  The pungent aroma of leather, sweat, and sex wafted through the air. The combination of scents caused her entire body to throb. Her clit begged to be touched. She wanted so much to duck in a private area to pinch her nipples or delve her fingers inside of her vagina to stimulate her spot until she became one of the quivering masses.

  Those sights didn’t get to her as much as hearing the moans and cries. Whip cracks and flogger smacks against bare skin echoed through the hallways. A naked man crawled past them while his Mistress held his leash.

  “Welcome back, Master Christian.” The thin woman with the spiked platinum blonde Mohawk kissed his cheek. “Montana said she’d let you in.”

  “Great to be here again, Miss Hate. And call me Jace. Not going by Christian anymore.” He wrapped his arm around Taren’s waist and pulled her close. “Bringing a friend here to check out the scene.”

  “Sub?” Miss Hate stared at Taren like she wanted to eat her alive. It didn’t help that she snaked her tongue out and caressed her lips with it.

  “Yes. Still learning.” He patted Taren’s hip.

  The gesture must have meant something to Miss Hate. She bowed her head and kept on down the hall with her pet.

  “Are you okay?” Jace whispered in her ear.

  “I feel overdressed.” Still in her shorts and T-shirt, she noticed that most of the submissives and slaves wore little to no clothes, while the Doms and Dommes all wore some form of leather, either pants or a tight skirt or straps going across their bodies.

  “Don’t worry about your attire. I want you to take everything in.” Jace got to the end of the hallway and opened the door for her. “Go in.”

  Taren took a careful step into the darkened room. It took a while for her eyes to adjust. The light in the center of the room helped. When she scanned the place, she felt like she’d stepped into a medical school where students sat in auditorium-style seating above to observe an operation or procedure in the center of the room below.

  People sat in sporadic spots throughout the circular seating area. Jace led her to a fairly secluded section.

  “If you can’t see the action down there, look at the TV screen up there.” He pointed up to a large screen that reminded her of being at a basketball game.

  She peered up and saw a man wearing surgical scrubs looming over a woman reclined back on a medical examination table with her feet in stirrups. He opened her gown in the front, slipped on a pair of surgical gloves, and started giving her a breast exam. He made small, circular motions around each breast until he got to her nipple. There, he pinched it, which made her arch her back and moan.

  Not until she did that did Taren notice that her hands had been bound by leather cuffs to the exam table. Each time she moved her hands the chains connecting her cuffs clinked against the metal side railing. The man playing doctor moved around to the other side of the table and did the same motions to that breast, finishing it by squeezing that nipple as well.

  Jace leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Is this what you imagined would be a part of BDSM play?”

  Taren shrugged. “I had read about medical exams in books, but to see it in person doesn’t really do anything for me. You’re talking to someone who has spent a lot of time in doctors’ offices and operating rooms. This isn’t sexy to me.”

  “Good. I want you to see that BDSM is not about sex. It’s not about love. It’s about sensations. Keep watching Doc Doc.”

  Taren blinked. “Did you say Doc Doc?”

  Jace nodded. “Watch.”

  Doc Doc looked up at the observers. His eye color matched his silver gray hair. “This woman has been brought to me to be given a general exam and treated for hysteria.” He managed to keep his face straight as he announced her condition.

  Taren turned to Jace. “Is he being serious?”

  “For this scene, yes.” He stretched his arm out across the back of her chair and patted her shoulder.

  Doc Doc walked over to a raised tray table and uncovered tools he would need to treat this woman’s diagnosed condition. Underneath hid a speculum, forceps, and a sleek, long dildo.

  Taren had expected to see him open her up with the speculum and then go in with the dildo. Instead he picked up the silver fake phallus and twisted the end. The buzzing sound echoed throughout the theater. It might have been in her mind, but Taren could have sworn her chair vibrated. She crossed her legs as Doc Doc approached the woman.

  “Just relax and let your legs fall open.” He put one hand on her knee while he held onto to the vibrating device in his other.

  The woman spread her legs as much as she could. The distinguished, older gentleman, who could have been a doctor in his vanilla life, moved in between her legs and slid the tip of the dildo around and around her clit, a view caught by the overhead camera. The mysterious person operating it zoomed in close to view Doc Doc’s handy work.

  The woman writhed on the table as much as Taren squirmed in her chair. By the time Doc Doc slid the device inside her vagina, Taren wanted to crawl out of her skin or, better yet, jump in Jace’s lap. She squeezed her legs together, hoping to tamp down her pulsating clit. No such luck.

  He moved in and out of her in a slow fashion at first. Then the tempo sped up. The poor submissive pulled on her restraints.

  “Okay, my dear, release your hysteria.” Doc Doc patted her knee.

  That must have signaled her to come. She screamed at the top of her lungs and arched her back as much as she could in her position.

  Taren twirled her finger around her hair as she watched the action. Sweat covered her forehead and back. She needed some relief from the heat and the tension and the orgasm building up inside her. If Jace brought her to this place to turn her off, he’d made a huge mistake.

  Once the submissive settled down on the table, the observers applauded Doc Doc’s efforts. He bowed and released the woman. Two hooded slaves helped her down from the table, loaded her onto a wheelchair, and pushed her out of the observation area.

  “Was that it?” Taren started to stand.

  “No.” Jace put his hand on top of hers to keep her seated. “This is the room to watch anything and everything. It’s not all medical play.”

  Taren peered up at the screen and saw a naked African-American woman walking into the room. She stood in the center of the area until a bar lowered down over her head. A tall, dark-haired white man walked into the room carrying what looked to be a gym bag. Like
the other people Taren had seen, he wore black leather pants, black boots, and a black executioner-style mask.

  In a rough manner, he yanked the woman’s arms up and secured each wrist to restraints. Then the bar raised a little so that her feet barely touched the ground. The executioner opened his bag and removed a cane.

  Taren’s heart raced even more. She gripped the chair arm as she waited for the Dom to make his first move. He grabbed her face and licked the side of it before any action happened. Then he whispered something in her ear. She nodded before he let her face go and circled her body.

  As he stood behind her, he first started tapping her over her shoulders with the cane. Taren heard the taps from where she sat. He moved the tapping down her back to her ass. He continued that motion for a while until the woman started moaning. She nodded her head.

  That must have been the signal to get the executioner to do more. He brought his hand back and spanked her with the cane. The scene seemed brutal, but what Taren saw had her juices flowing from her core.

  Taren flinched when she felt Jace’s thumb touch the back of her neck. He kept his hand there without permission or apology. He swept his large digit over her skin, back and forth. With each motion, she felt her leg trembling even more.

  As she watched the scene, she replaced the woman with herself. The executioner turned into Jace, without a mask. He used that cane on her until she broke. The woman in the scene screamed. In response, Taren gasped. She couldn’t take watching this anymore.

  Before the scene ended, Taren stood. “I need to go.” She didn’t wait to hear from Jace. She moved past him and headed to the door.

  “Taren, wait.”

  She wanted to wait. She tried stopping her body. She continued moving like a woman on a mission. She bolted through the door and ran toward Jace’s SUV.

  “Are you okay?” Jace used his key fob to unlock the door.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I need to get back.” She hopped into her seat and secured the belt around her body.

  As soon as Jace settled himself behind the wheel, he took no time in taking off for the house. “I hope that scene back there didn’t overwhelm you.” Jace spoke in low, soothing tones. “I wanted you to see what you could expect.”

  Taren nodded, afraid that if she spoke she would blurt out her true feelings, that the whole scene aroused her. She pulled on her seatbelt, this time wanting to feel the pressure against her breast and body.

  She pressed her knees together but it didn’t help. She needed to touch herself or be touched. She glanced at Jace. When he looked back at her, she averted her gaze.

  “What’s going on with you? Tell me the truth.” Jace’s forceful voice along with Taren’s honest nature pushed her to blurt everything.

  “I liked what I saw.” She exhaled. “It all turned me on. Is that strange? I feel like that should be odd or something.” She ran her hands over her thighs and down her legs. “I need to get to my room where there’s a Jacuzzi tub with strong jets.”

  Taren didn’t care if she embarrassed herself with her admission. She told the truth. If Jace thought that that made her immature or weird, she would take that. For now, she had bigger fish to fry, and an orgasm that crested on the edge.

  Jace pulled into the driveway. Instead of going on the circular driveway and pulling up in front of the house, he continued on the long driveway down the side of the house to get close to the guesthouse in the back.

  He jumped out of the truck as soon as he turned it off and made his way around to her side.

  Taren already had the door open and had been prepared to jump out and go in the house to take care of some business. “Thanks for the ride and the tour. I appreciate—”

  “There is something wrong with you.” Jace glared at her.

  Taren hadn’t expected to hear that from Jace. “What are you talking about?”

  “BDSM is more businesslike than anything else. There are contracts. You agree to certain types of play. Although Doc Doc inserted something into that play bottom, sometimes insertion is not a part of the play. All parties have to agree on that.” He held Taren’s upper arm. “If you’re still expecting to find your Prince Harming in all this, you’re going about it the wrong way.” He pulled her to the front door.

  “I don’t need you to lecture me.” Taren pulled out her house key given to her by one of the associate producers.

  Her hands shook so much from a combination of anger and excitement that she could barely get it in the lock. “Shit.”

  Jace snatched her keys from her and unlocked the door. “You’re too young for this. Grow up. Realize that you can’t fall in love with a lifestyle or idea.”

  Taren tried to ignore Jace’s negative words as she stumbled up the stairs. “I don’t know what happened to you in your past, but your experience and mine may not be the same.” She glanced down at him as she made her way up to the top.

  It could have been the distance between them or her heightened sensual state, but it looked like Jace’s breathing had increased. When she glanced down below his belt, she thought she saw a distinct bulge in his shorts. Even if she had imagined it, the sight didn’t help her current state. If anything, her skin felt even more alive.

  A shower. She desperately needed to feel something hitting all parts of her body at once to relieve this ache.

  Taren turned her back on him. “Thanks for the experience.”

  She made it to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her. With each step to the bathroom, she stripped out of her clothes. First went her top and bra. Her shorts, panties, and shoes got removed next.

  Her hands trembled as she turned on the shower. No hot water for her. She needed something to cool her body down. Taren stepped into the glass stall with its stone floor and walls.

  She stood under the water while she cupped one breast with her hand and buried her other hand between her legs. Before she could get in a good stroke, a voice stopped her.

  “No.”

  Taren looked through the glass door and saw Jace standing at the bathroom doorway. In her haste, she’d forgotten to lock the bedroom door.

  “Get out.” Taren turned back to the streaming water.

  She didn’t care if the man wanted to stand there and watch her masturbate. Hell, if cameras had been in the room to catch the action, she still wouldn’t have stopped. This stranger had no chance of regulating her actions right now.

  “Don’t you fucking do it.” Jace still stood outside of the bathroom, but his words shook Taren to her core.

  Anger filled her body. She removed her hands and slammed the water faucet off before stepping out of the stall.

  She stood in front of Jace, dripping wet and piping mad. “You have no right to come in here and tell me what to do.”

  He nodded. “I do. Until you’re collared, I’m the closest thing to you having a Dom.” Jace moved in closer to her, which forced her back up against the sink. “I don’t want you playing with yourself and reinforcing the idea that this lifestyle is romantic or sexy. You’re going to be someone’s submissive. It could be a woman. You need to learn to submit.”

  Taren could barely breathe. She heard every word Jace had said, but her body interrupted her common sense to notice everything else around her, like the way he smelled like a summer rain, or that his eyes looked like the brightest blue sky, or that she desperately wanted his mouth on her pussy.

  “You’re right.” Taren nodded. “I need to treat you like you’re my Dom until this show starts. And if you don’t want me masturbate, I won’t.”

  Jace looked like he exhaled. “Good. I knew you would see it my—”

  Taren turned around and placed her hands on the counter. “Punish me.” She looked back at him. “Spank me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jace stared at her firm ass. One cheek could fit in his hand.

  He knew her trick. She baited him to get him to get her off. Too bad her plan worked on him. He stormed to her. Jace had planned on gi
ving her a hard spanking, one that she couldn’t mistake for something sensual.

  He slammed his hand on the counter on top of hers. The connection made her gasp. She panted as she gripped the counter with her other hand and arched her back to raise her hips in the air.

  “I’ll count out the hits.” She turned to him. “Do it until you teach me how bad I am, how wanting this is wrong.” Taren leaned her head against his chin. “Please. Just touch me. I don’t care if it hurts.”

  Jace pulled back from her. She’d said what he’d wanted to hear from a woman. So why had it scared him?

  “Go to bed.” Jace left the bedroom and closed the door behind him. It took him no time to coast down the stairs and run over to the guesthouse.

  He didn’t bother turning on the lights. The one light in the bathroom that he’d left on gave him enough illumination to make his way to the bed. He needed space between himself and the virgin flesh he left in his bedroom. He had a feeling that had he spanked her, he would have been the first. He could have either gotten her more excited about being a submissive or totally turned her off to the lifestyle.

  Jace didn’t want to think about the third scenario, which was that he would want her in the process. He thought about her wet skin and her pink lips. He ran his hand over his chest as he paced the floor.

  Jace shouldn’t have done it. He shouldn’t have taken Taren to the club, and he definitely shouldn’t have barged into the bathroom. As soon as she’d bolted during the scene, he knew that she either hated what she saw or liked it.

  On the ride home, he’d noticed how she’d looked at him. She didn’t seem revolted. The way she wriggled like a worm on a hook, she seemed turned on. Then she’d told him the truth.

  His guess had been right. Being right this time didn’t feel good. He tried squelching her desires by telling her what Eagan had told him the first time he’d started training as a Dom. Don’t expect to fall in love. Don’t do it for sex. Don’t mistake the sensual play for anything else.