RequiredSurrender

by Riley Murphy

  She wasn’t sure that he heard. She tried to open her eyes and get grounded, but her lids felt like they had ten-pound weights attached to them. Was that his zipper? The sound was like rapid gunfire to her ears. She hated it. Why wouldn’t her eyelids cooperate? God, the hard wall against her breasts and belly was oddly comforting, making her snuggle up on it. Friction that was what she needed. Her body craved touch, and if he wasn’t going to give it to her, she’d find it from the most convenient source available.

  “You’d really make a great whore. Your body needs contact. Any kind of contact, doesn’t it?” He was right at her ear as he brushed her hair aside. “You’re so easy. Jo, pay attention. Listen. If you want to be this in the truest sense of the word this time,” he slipped a hand between her legs and cupped her mound in a hard squeeze, “be at the house tomorrow night, eight p.m.”

  She licked her lips, wanting so hard to speak but she couldn’t.

  He squeezed her again. “If you want it, be there. Tomorrow night. One minute after eight will be too late, understood?”

  She hoped he saw her nod. She prayed that he did because she couldn’t do more than that.

  He stepped away and she felt completely and utterly lost until he said, “Now pull up your pants.”

  And with those words she had the urge to crawl into a hole to hide. The flat tone of his voice, tinged with disgust slashed straight through to her soul. Deeper than that, right to her core, and even though she knew he was gone, she wouldn’t disappoint him. Now that he had left her, she dug deep within and marshaled every bit of strength she had to pull herself together. Leaning heavily into the wall, she tugged up her panties and then her jeans. With a steadying breath she stood up straight, shook her hair behind her back and righted her clothes. She didn’t remember walking out of the green room. It wasn’t until she viewed her reflection in the bathroom mirror in the club that she came back to herself.

  Funny, she looked no different than before, but here again she felt like a stranger was staring back at her. She remembered Ted, that first night with the ropes, when he tenderly cupped her chin and told her she wasn’t a stranger to him. Was this how it happened? She became more known to him than to herself?

  He’d cupped another part of her tonight. Asking her if she wanted…

  Slowly the words came to her. If she wanted to be this? He’d written on her before he’d spun her around. Before he… She stared at that stranger’s reflection a moment more and then looked down, parted her zipper and exposed herself. One glimpse, two after she confirmed it in the glass, and she gasped. There beneath his name she’d inked on herself were the words “sex slave”.

  Ted Basel’s sex slave.

  She caught the edge of the sink in a sway and gulped in air. Not because of the words. Shocking though they were, she was used to them. But the sight on her, on the place he’d wanted so badly to claim that day in Lenny’s shop brought home how well and truly she was his. His. And the titillating waves that coursed through her at the thought nearly knocked the wind out of her.

  She readjusted her pants and did them up.

  You’re his.

  She breathed in deep, gave herself a mental shake and ran a hand through her hair.

  You can’t be owned. Don’t go to him tomorrow. You can’t. You shouldn’t.

  Then she spied the red patch on her neck. The irritated skin he’d bitten so erotically. She reached up and touched it. The pleasurable pain that came to life inside her made her quiver. Hadn’t she decided there’d be no more inner battle? She was giving everything up so he could give her everything.

  Yes. She took a cleansing breath.

  Tomorrow she’d go to him and do whatever she had to do to remain recognizable. Known. She was tired of being a stranger. Ted had found her and the thought that she’d never be lost again gave her a sense of power that shocked her. There was no weakness in being one man’s everything. It was empowering. And as she walked to the front doors she couldn’t help thinking about Ted’s apple theory and how it related to her. From the outside she had looked all perfect and shiny. It wasn’t until he peeled that layer away that she was forced to examine her bruises and accept them. Something she never could have done without him seeing them and accepting them first.

  “Ms. Nehr?”

  Jo stopped at the door but didn’t turn to look at the guy who spoke. “Y-yes?”

  “My name is Michael Buckley and I’m to take you home. If you give me your car keys one of the other drivers will follow us in your car.”

  “Is this what Mr. Basel wishes?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Her hands shook as she fumbled with the latch on her purse. “Here,” she handed her keys to him and stepped out into the cool night air, “do you have a bar in your limo?”

  “Fully stocked. There’s snacks too. Mr. Basel thought you’d enjoy some fruit.” He held the car door open for her and waited for her to get in. “Shall I get you some?”

  Jo slid back in the soft leather and sighed. “Yes, some chilled grapes crushed into a crisp chardonnay would be nice.”

  Ted let out a breath. He watched Jo from across the parking lot as she walked to the car with Michael. She appeared so together that he was relieved. Relieved and mad at the same time. This was dangerous ground he was on.

  Cam twisted to look at him. “Mike’s taking her home and Sean is going to follow and bring her car. Do you want to go home now?”

  “Sure. Take the shortcut tonight. I’m beat.”

  “Will do.”

  Finding himself alone and suddenly without distractions, he leaned back in the seat and spread his legs out in front of him. Time for recriminations. When he thought about what he’d done tonight, he groaned. Normally, he would have comforted the woman he’d just used so thoroughly, but with Jo he hadn’t. Worse, he’d demeaned her. It made him uncomfortable, that’s probably why he didn’t hit the shower in his office. He’d simply done a local cleanup before tracking Cam down. Thinking about it now, he decided this may have been a subconscious need to stay as dirty as he knew he’d made her feel.

  “Pansy-ass bleeding heart.”

  She’s hooked you. Just like Selena…

  “Mr. White is calling.”

  Ted pressed the speaker button and said, “Ignore the call.”

  He wasn’t in the mood to explain his actions. He had no doubt word of his and Jo’s heated exchange was spreading like wildfire by now. Add to this, the whispers of how he’d left her. How he’d broken the code and disgraced himself was sure to get Ethan all up in his face. Ethan was a tough act to follow as he never did anything wrong. He was meticulous to a fault and always thinking one step ahead when it came to his woman.

  Well, Jo wasn’t Ted’s woman. She was his possession. His property and come tomorrow she was going to know it.

  She knew it tonight. She acknowledged it beautifully tonight when she sweetly surrendered to you…

  “Fucking surrender bullshit.”

  You thought Selena had surrendered.

  “There’s no such thing,” he whispered.

  Rain had begun to fall and beat in steady rhythm against the passenger window. Dismal. Yeah, that’s how he felt. He should be glad with the way things had turned out. Now Jo would never be in a position to hurt him like he’d been hurt before when—

  “Fuck.” He swiped the back of his hand over his eyes and then looked up as he worked to maintain his composure. He wasn’t going to stress out over a past that couldn’t be changed. Over a woman who couldn’t be saved. Over the loss of that part of him she’d killed. That piece that would have loved the hell out of someone like Josephine Nehr.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  There was only one thing Jo brought with her when Cam came to pick her up the following night. Her dragon. Stupid though it was, lame really, she clung to him like he was her last lifeline. Of course, over the last little while he had been. He’d been her shoulder to cry on, and she had. In the dark hours. In the mid
dle of the night when she was the loneliest. She’d cried her heart out, but it was all good. She was coming off seven years of a dry spell so a flood was to be expected. It had certain advantages. She didn’t think she had any more tears left to shed, so that was something.

  “Thank you, Cam.”

  She got into the car and laid the dragon over her lap.

  “Ms. Nehr?”

  She looked up and saw him eyeing her in the rearview. “Yes?”

  “You look wonderful this evening.”

  She blinked. A little surprised that he’d complimented her. “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “You and Mr. Basel are good for one another, I think.”

  That’s all he said but it was enough. She’d been thinking the same thing even after what happened between her and Ted last night, or maybe because of it. She couldn’t be sure. All she really knew as she walked up that familiar walkway twenty minutes later, arriving at his door, was that she was at peace for the first time in her adult life. There was nothing hanging over her head. No sordid happenings in her past that she had to hide, Ted knew them all. There were no more lies between them, because he’d discovered them. He knew all her fears and helped her face them. All that was left was her.

  She stared at the door before ringing the bell. This was what he’d meant when he’d said an authentic relationship came down to intimacy. If she hadn’t shared the deepest parts of herself with him, she’d still be adrift in a minefield of pain. A stranger buried inside the imaginary version of herself she showed to the rest of the world. Good or bad. Stern or gentle. He’d forced her to be real at every turn no matter how painful or awkward.

  When he opened the door and she saw him her heart swelled. This was where she was meant to be. Whether she was by his side or kneeling at his feet, it was home to her.

  “Hello, Jo. Come in.”

  She walked by him and put her dragon down beside the mat and took a moment to prop him up against the wall. When she straightened she heard the deadbolt click.

  “I’ll be upstairs. Top floor. Don’t keep me waiting.”

  She nodded and began unbuttoning her blouse. It was funny how steady her fingers were. How normal the act of taking off her clothes seemed now. When she was done, she folded them and stacked them on the shelf under the hall table. She checked her reflection in the mirror above it before she went up the stairs. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in her at the moment. Even the overwhelming attraction she had for him had balanced out somehow. There were no highs and lows, only a constant excited energy that burned inside her. Ready and eager to do for him and him alone.

  His words the first night they’d been together in this house came back to her. “I want you conditioned to my needs, not your own.”

  Needs. Was this all they had between them now? She fervently hoped not. She prayed that when he got over his anger and forgave her there’d be more for them than just needs.

  “Over here,” he called.

  She was more curious than surprised when she came to the long, low rectangular table he stood by. The clear plastic sheet over it could have been a shower curtain, although she didn’t see any metal grommets. Off to his right was a higher square table that had two dozen or more tea-lights burning, a bottle of what she assumed was oil, confirming the fact when she read the label, and a funny-looking wax glob. Small, but shaped like a little hat. Beneath the table was a container of water with chunks of ice and a couple of facecloths.

  “I thought we’d have an intimate chat about things. I’ll make it fun. A creative spin on truth or dare.” He bent and patted the table. “Stretch out on this for me.”

  “On my stomach or back?”

  He snapped up. Probably because he was expecting her to complain, but she wasn’t going to. She trusted him more now than she ever had before. After last night when he had every reason to lash out at her—she’d even given him the opportunity to do it and he hadn’t. Oh sure, he was rough, but gentle as well. He’d made sure she got more than just passing pleasure from the encounter. Actually, she’d gotten clarity and peace and for that she’d follow him to the ends of the earth and back again. A little wax play? She’d handle it.

  “On your back.”

  He must have recently taken a shower as the ends of his hair were damp and curled around the white collar of his shirt. She thrilled as she watched him roll up his sleeves. Loving how the fabric strangled his thick biceps and when his eyes shifted and raked her from head to toe, she shivered.

  “The game rules are as follows. I’m going to ask you a question, and after you answer it I’ll judge how much I like it. If I like it enough I give you the truth and show you what part of your body I want to drip this wax on.” He swept a hand toward the flickering flames. “But,” he gazed right into her eyes, “if I don’t like your answer it’s a dare, which means that I get to drip the wax in more sensitive places that I’d normally reserve for the hardcore pain sluts.”

  “I trust you.”

  “I’ve never given you any reason not to. But you on the other hand…?”

  Okay, so it was obvious she was in for some punishment. Providing she answered him truthfully how bad could it get?

  Pretty darn bad, she decided five minutes later, when he intimately stroked her down with jojoba oil. He’d tied her hair back out of the way before explaining that the oil applied to her skin would make the wax removal process easier. At this point she didn’t care about that because he was wiping the cloth with the oil between her legs. Up one thigh and down the other, stopping in the middle to press and circle the oil on… Wait, did that mean that he was going to be dripping wax there?

  “Keep your arms over your head the way I like them. Very good. Now,” he stood up and tossed the cloth beside the water container, “I just need to check a couple of these and we can start.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. That’s when she heard music. Opening her eyes, she realized that Ted had turned off the other lights in the room. The flickering flames on the table the only source of illumination.

  “Eyes on me while we play.”

  She nodded.

  “All right. First question.” He trailed his index finger from the center of her breasts to her mound and back again. “Why didn’t you ever mention anything to me about the engagement?”

  “If I told you about that, I would have had to tell you everything and then you’d know.”

  “What?” His voice was silky and deep.

  “That I was worthless.”

  He sighed. “I call this a truth. This is my favorite part of your body.”

  He lifted the tin cup so there was at least a foot, maybe more between it and her skin and slowly dripped the wax on her breast. The first splat burned and tightened as it hardened, then the second and a third, as he continued working in a steady circle around the outside of her nipple. Just as she’d done with the clamps and the flogger, she relaxed into the pain. She welcomed the discomfort until her mind had been tricked to embrace the sensations as pleasurable.

  “Next question. Did you purposely try to divert my attention that night in the bath?”

  “No…maybe. I don’t—”

  “Stop talking. The fact that you’re unsure tells me you thought about this after you did it, and not before. So I say truth because it wasn’t a conscious action on your part.”

  He picked up another cup and repeated the same process with her other breast. Only this time he was even slower. He may have even shortened the distance between the cup and her skin because the instant sting was sharper, but she managed it by breathing through it.

  He dripped the last of the cup on her and said, “Very good, Jo.”

  The tightness of her breasts encased in the wax felt highly sensual. As if a pair of hands cradled her.

  “These nipples are begging for attention, aren’t they?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pincher clamps. The ones she hated. They were small and bit into he
r like a bitch.

  “Deep breath.”

  She winced and winced again when he got the other one on.

  “Next question. Why did you think I’d believe you were worthless?”

  “Because…because everyone I loved let me down.”

  “Dare.”

  Her heart pounded. “Why? I told you the truth.”

  He lifted a fresh tin cup to his mouth and blew out the flame. “Yes, but it’s only half the truth. You’re good at those.”

  She drew in air as he poured a long thin line of wax from the top of her stomach down, bowing out to the right around her navel and ending at the center of her mound.

  “You see where I’m going with this?”

  “Yes.”

  “So finish your answer.”

  “Because no one loved me enough to protect me.”

  “Truth.” He took the clamps off her and this time when he poured the wax over her breasts he went in horizontal strips.

  She closed her eyes and breathed through the wholly unique sensations. Each time liquefied wax hit a patch of some already hardened on her skin, it tingled and warmed and tightened.

  She moaned.

  “Spread your legs. Let’s make the game more interesting.”

  She kept her eyes closed but completely relaxed for him. Letting him readjust until her legs were bent and the sides of her knees rested against the table. She heard the hum before she felt the vibrator press against her.

  “Let’s see how you do with this.” He worked it up into her and when it was fully inserted he leaned over and whispered, “How does that feel?”

  “Good.”

  He straightened. “Next question. Why was your hard limit not wanting to say I love you?”

  She bit her lip and tried not to flex into the thrum of the vibrator. It felt so good but he wanted an answer. “So I didn’t get let down.”

  Ted knew it was cheating. She’d given him a solid answer, and he should have accepted it, but he couldn’t let it go. He slipped a hand between her legs and pushed against the dildo. “Who? Who did you say that to that let you down?”