by Anthology
She couldn’t meet his eyes as he glared at her, and her gaze dropped to the floor. “All right,” she capitulated meekly.
Damien’s hand twitched as though he wanted to take her by the arm, but he stopped himself short, clenching it into a fist. He walked out of the bar, giving her personal space. Gwen let out a sigh of relief. Or was it one of sadness? She followed him out silently, locking up for the night before heading toward her car.
When they reached it, Gwen made a move to open the door. Damien’s hand pressed against it, holding it closed. He stared down at her, and his intense gaze momentarily captivated her as he loomed over her. He bent toward her slowly, drawing out the anticipation of his kiss.
No. She couldn’t handle it.
“Don’t,” she whispered, panicked. “Please, Damien.”
He stopped, but he didn’t back away. “What’s wrong, Gwen?” he asked gently. “Talk to me.”
Gwen just shook her head. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, and she struggled to blink them back. Damien’s brow furrowed. Was that pain in his eyes? Mercifully, he drew back from her, his hand dropping from her car door.
She spun around, desperate to hide the hot tears that spilled down her cheeks. Not trusting her voice, she said nothing as she quickly got into her car, slamming the door on Damien. She couldn’t bring herself to look back at him as she drove away. There was a strange ache in the center of her chest, but she didn’t dare contemplate what that meant.
* * *
Coward, Gwen accused herself as she hung up the phone. She’d just called in sick to work. She couldn’t handle seeing Damien again. Not after what she’d done. She felt bad that she was leaving Gerald to man the bar all by himself again, but her voice had been ragged enough from crying that he believed she was sick.
She was so confused. Yes, sex with Damien had been amazing, earth-shattering. Better than anything she’d fantasized about. But it had also been one of the most reckless things she’d ever done. Hadn’t she promised herself never to give in to a Dom again? She had been hurt so badly before, and she couldn’t handle it again.
But could Damien be different? A very tempting voice whispered in her mind. She thought of how her friend Ella had found happiness with her Dom. Gwen wanted that fiercely.
But she barely knew Damien, and, to be honest, she was terrified that she would become attached if she allowed herself to get to know him better.
But that pain still lingered in her chest. Was it because of her fear of being hurt or because a part of her knew that she was denying herself true happiness? After just one encounter, Damien had managed to break through her barriers and expose the vulnerable submissive within. That terrified her.
She’d tried to shove him from her mind, but the dull throbbing in her bruised ass was a constant reminder of their passionate coupling. Gwen buried her head in her hands, pressing her palms against her skull as though she could squeeze the memories of the night before from her mind.
Her cell phone beeped, letting her know she had a text. Gwen reluctantly reached for it, both dreading and perversely hoping that the message was from Damien.
Her heart sank when she saw it was from Connor.
“Hey, Gwen. Wanna hang out tonight?”
Shit. She’d forgotten about Connor. It was as though her mind hadn’t had room for any more regret, but now somehow her guilt doubled.
Did what she had done count as cheating? They had been on a few dates, but it wasn’t like Connor was her boyfriend. He was just a friend.
A friend that you drunkenly kissed.
No, she decided. It didn’t count as cheating. If she went down that road, she would be consumed with self-loathing. She knew firsthand the pain of such a betrayal, and she couldn’t bear to think that she might inflict that on someone else.
Did she want to hang out with Connor? Maybe. Things might be messy since she had kissed him, but any social interaction would provide a welcome reprieve from her moping. Besides, Connor was a good friend. She needed a friend right now. So long as she made it clear that this wasn’t a date, things would be fine.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she replied.
“Sure. Where do you want to go?”
Her phone beeped almost as soon as she had sent the message.
“Great! Zorba’s at 7?”
Gwen’s favorite Greek restaurant. It was sweet that Connor had remembered.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Gwen glanced at the time. It was nearly six. She should probably make herself presentable if she was going to go out. With a sigh, she went to put concealer under her eyes to hide the fact that she’d been crying. She practiced her usual cheery smile in the mirror until it didn’t look quite so fake. It wasn’t like Connor would notice anyway. He never tried to see past her bubbly act, and that was exactly what she needed right now: a return to being herself.
But deep down, she knew that wasn’t right. She’d buried her true self over a year ago, when her heart had been ripped apart.
* * *
“Gwen?” Connor asked. “Did you hear what I said?”
Crap. What had he been talking about? Oh, yeah. His epic night of partying on Friday.
She put on a grin. “Yeah,” she said brightly. “That sounds awesome. I can’t believe you held a keg stand that long.”
Connor smiled back at her, puffing out his chest a little in masculine satisfaction, clearly pleased that he had impressed her. To be honest, Gwen didn’t really care that much about his super-awesome night of drinking. Boasting about how much alcohol you could hold seemed very immature to her, like something he should have gotten over halfway through college.
But she supposed that she had opened herself up to such conversations after their drinking competition the weekend before, so she owed it to him to seem engaged in the conversation. Only, it seemed like so much effort to pretend. She hadn’t realized how exhausting it was to go through life pretending, but now she was almost irritated by the fact that she had to hold her armor in place. It suddenly seemed much heavier than it had before.
Thankfully, their waiter brought the check to their table. Gwen was ready to escape; this hadn’t been the stress-reliever she’d been hoping for. She started to pull out her purse to pay for her half, but Connor stopped her.
“I’ve got it,” he insisted.
“Connor, you don’t have to do that,” she protested. If he paid, then that meant that this was a date.
“I know I don’t,” he said. “I want to. Now put your pennies back in your wallet.”
Gwen debated for a moment, but then she decided it wasn’t worth the argument. “Thanks,” she said. “I owe you dinner.”
Connor frowned slightly, but he didn’t say anything.
They walked out of the restaurant, and Gwen started to head toward her car. Connor stopped her, his hand closing around her wrist.
“Wait,” he ordered. “Want to come back to my place? I have some nice whiskey.”
Uh-huh. Going back to his place “for a drink.” Gwen knew what that meant.
She gently pulled out of his grip. “I can’t, Connor.” She saw the hurt in his eyes at her rejection. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” he asked, puzzled.
Because I can’t enjoy sex with you. Because I fucked someone else last night and I can’t lead you on.
“We work together,” she said diplomatically. “It doesn’t seem right.”
“I won’t tell anyone if you won’t,” Connor said, grasping at straws.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I just can’t.”
His face fell, but he backed off. “Okay,” he said, a bit dejectedly.
“See you at work on Monday?” Gwen asked with false cheeriness.
“Sure,” he replied. “Sounds good.”
“Bye.” She gave a little wave before turning away. It took effort to restrain herself from outright fleeing from him, from her guilt.
* * *
Damien
didn’t understand. Why had Gwen run from him? And why the hell had she been crying? The memory of her tears, of her panicked expression, pained him. He’d thought she would open up to him after she had submitted so sweetly. She had seemed so contented, so at peace as he had held her after their intense sex. It had been everything he’d dreamed of and more. They fit together perfectly, and the way she’d finally melted for him…
But now that memory was marred by the thought of how distressed she’d been when she practically fled from him. He grimaced, unsure of how to handle a submissive for the first time in his life. If he upset her so much, should he back off and leave her in peace?
But he had seen her true self, and he realized that the first time he’d ever seen her truly at peace was when he had held her soft body in his arms.
He resolved to try one more time. If she refused him, then he would back off. But if she agreed to submit to him…
A wolfish grin broke out on his face. If she agreed, then the little sub had no idea what she was getting herself into. His assault would be relentless, and he wouldn’t stop until she gave up her secrets, until she completely submitted to his will.
She might have been able to evade him by skipping out of work the night before, but he would wait. He would come to Dark Grove every night until she reappeared.
When he entered the bar, his heart made a strange flip. It seemed he wouldn’t have to wait long, after all. Gwen was back.
* * *
Gwen kept her eyes downcast as she went to gather up glasses from a corner table. She feared that she might see him if she dared to look up.
She hadn’t made it halfway across the bar when a pair of strong hands grasped her upper arms. She closed her eyes in dread. She didn’t have to see him to know who was touching her. Despite her resolve not to allow him to affect her, her pussy pulsed.
“Damien,” she breathed, tugging against his grip. He held her fast, his long fingers sinking into her flesh.
“Hello, Gwen.” His hands slid down her arms, and something cold suddenly encircled her wrists. She heard the handcuffs click as they locked around her. She gasped, unsure if the warmth in her belly was the result of fear or arousal. She jerked at the cuffs, but the metal only bit into her wrists.
“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.
“Whatever I want,” he replied. His arms enfolded her, one around her waist and one across her chest, pulling her back against his hard body. Gwen had to stifle a moan as her nipples hardened in response to his possessive touch. Need rose up in her, hot and visceral.
“Now, Gwen,” he began, his tone brusque and business-like. “I’ll give you one chance to deny me. If you do, I’ll leave you alone and never touch you again.” As he spoke, he trailed his short fingernails across the top her cleavage, sending little sparks dancing across her skin. “But if you don’t,” he continued. “You’re mine for the night. There won’t be any going back.”
At the eroticism of his touch and his words, Gwen couldn’t help relaxing against him, her head dropping back against his chest as she let out a little whimper of need.
She could practically feel his hard-edged grin. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”
Gwen nodded weakly, all thoughts of resistance fleeing. She wanted him, needed him. And her mind couldn’t deny her body’s wishes.
“Excellent,” he said with satisfaction.
Something cool and smooth touched her throat. It encircled her neck before closing around it possessively. Damien buckled the collar closed at her nape. She shuddered at the act; he was claiming her as his submissive for the night, marking her in front of everyone.
He spun her around, forcing her to face him. She stared up into his dark eyes, panting shallowly as she was caught up in his gaze. His lips twisted in sly satisfaction. Never breaking eye contact, he clipped a leash to the metal ring at the front of the collar. Gwen’s cheeks burned in embarrassment, but her sex heated and her clit throbbed.
He abruptly turned away from her before giving a sharp tug on the leash. “Come,” he said simply as he guided her along in his wake. She stumbled after him, her cheeks blushing crimson. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ella. Her expression was indignant, and she made a move towards Damien, no doubt ready to give him a piece of her mind. But Brandon grabbed her firmly around the waist, restraining her. He whispered something in her ear, and her struggles ceased. But she was still glaring at Damien as he led Gwen from the bar and out into the corridor.
She expected him to lead her toward the public dungeon, but to her surprise he headed for the front door.
“Where are we going?” she asked, curious.
He shot her a hard look over his shoulder before giving a sharp tug on her leash. “Quiet, sub. I don’t believe I gave you permission to speak.”
Arousal shot through Gwen. No one had ever treated her like this; no one had ever been this hard on her. She reveled in it. His unbending manner gave her no room to defy him, no chance to allow her tangled thoughts to overwhelm her. The release was intoxicating.
He slowed when they reached the steps that would lead her out into the darkness of the night, allowing her to carefully descend the stairs in her high heels. Gwen began to suspect where they were going, and anticipation mounted within her.
Sure enough, they were soon bathed in the warm light spilling from the illuminated stables. Gwen swallowed hard as she wondered what he would do to her. Would he whip her? Or would he simply take her roughly as he had before? She found that either option suited her just fine. He was completely in control. She allowed her mind to empty of all thoughts as she relaxed into his power over her.
As they entered the stables, Gwen inhaled the musty smell of hay mingling with the rich scent of leather. Damien led her towards a spanking bench. Only, where it was wide enough to support her hips, it tapered so that her breasts would hang down over either side of the padded leather surface.
Damien stopped and turned to face her. “Hold this,” he ordered, extending the end of the leash to her. Gwen looked at him in puzzlement. Her hands were restrained behind her. How was she supposed to hold it? She jerked at her hands to silently demonstrate that she couldn’t comply. He grinned.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded.
Gwen didn’t understand, but she complied nonetheless. Then the salty leather of the leash touched her tongue, and she knew what he wanted. She closed her mouth, her teeth biting gently into the leather.
Damien stroked her hair gently. “Good girl,” he praised. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes, caught up in the intensity of the erotic tension that crackled between them.
She felt a pang of sadness as his hand left her, but she didn’t have to wait long for more contact. His hands gripped the top of her skirt and her panties, roughly yanking them down her legs. When they reached her ankles, she compliantly stepped out of them. Her clit pulsed, and she longed for him to stroke her there, but he denied her, turning his attention to her corset instead. He loosened the laces at the back before freeing the hooks at the front. The corset dropped to the floor, leaving her completely bare before him. She shifted uncomfortably now that her curves were fully revealed. Damien ran his hand reverently down her side, tracing the line of her tapered waist before moving down her flaring hips.
“You’re beautiful, Gwen,” he told her softly.
She flushed at his obvious appreciation of her body. The usual automatic urge to downplay his praise was utterly absent; she felt beautiful when he studied her with such erotic intensity.
He pulled a small key from his pocket before reaching around her to unlock the handcuffs. They clattered onto the hard-packed earthen floor behind her. Damien gently rubbed her wrists where the cuffs had bitten into them. She knew that they would be sore tomorrow, but she didn’t care. All she cared about now was Damien’s touch.
He tugged the leash, and she dropped it into his hand. Gwen stepped toward the spanking bench as he pulled her inexorably forward.
When they reached it, he circled behind her, gripping her waist and lifting her up in order to position her where he wanted. Her hips rested on the edge, her toes barely touching to floor. As she had suspected, her large breasts hung down on either side of it.
There was a rustling sound behind her, and she craned her neck back to see what it was.
“Eyes forward, sub,” his voice cut through the silence. Her head snapped back immediately, and she obediently stared at the earthen floor beneath her.
A few moments later, Damien was before her, looming over her intimidatingly. He was completely naked, and Gwen was able to fully drink him in for the first time. His body was as well-muscled as she had imagined, his arms thick and corded and his abs rippling. She licked her lips unconsciously at the sight of him. The power that he always exuded seemed magnified, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the full realization of his physical perfection or from her vulnerable position beneath him.
He reached down and cupped her breasts in his large hands, kneading the soft flesh roughly. Her nipples were hard against his palms. He pinched the taut peaks, twisting and pulling. Gwen moaned and writhed, trying to rub her clit against the edge of the bench, to find some relief. But she nearly lost her balance and was forced to still her movements.
Gwen cried out at a sudden, sharper pain on her nipples. She tried to jerk upright, to pull away from the pain, but she only increased her torment as she was ruthlessly stopped short. With a strangled cry, she dropped back down onto the bench, realizing her predicament. Damien had put metal clover clamps on her nipples, and they stung something fierce. She sucked in a breath between her teeth, pushing through the pain. Although the clamps hurt, she soon began to feel a lightness in her head as her focus honed only on withstanding the torment. She began to spiral downward into a dark well as the world faded around her. There was only the pain and Damien standing before her, watching her. And there was the incessant throbbing between her legs.
She watched, panting, as Damien regarded her. He nodded after a moment, seeing that she could handle the clamps. Then her stomach twisted as he turned to retrieve something hanging from a peg on the wall: a long, curled whip. With a flick of his wrist, he unfurled it. It cracked loudly, making Gwen jump. She was rewarded by another painful tug on her nipples as the weight of the clamps swayed against her sensitive buds, punishing her. She whimpered as an intoxicating cocktail of erotic trepidation, pain, and pleasure rose up in her.
