He lengthened his stride when he saw Mariah’s blue eyes dart his way. Her unusual jittery, deer-like movements told him his prey was ready to flee. In two more steps, he dodged a server holding a precariously tipped tray, heavily laden with drinks, and barely avoided a baptism with mimosas and white Russians. Hemmed in by the tables and crush of milling guests, he stood by helplessly as Mariah snatched a paper out of Gracie’s hand.
“I’ll take it to him,” she called, already halfway out the door.
“Mariah!”
As was becoming habit, his call was ignored and she escaped, running for her life as if the devil himself was after her. In this case, she might not be far from the truth because when he cornered her—which he definitely would do in the very near future—her sweet ass would pay penance for her sins of the last few days.
“Gracie, my dear, where has Mariah run off to now?”
“To find Grayson, he has an urgent message.”
“Urgent? It couldn’t be phoned to him?”
“You know how Doc is with his phone. He isn’t picking up so we thought it best to hand carry a message to him. He’s treating a sprain or a strain, something minor, Vance said.”
“Where might that be?”
“At the marina.”
The marina was located on the far side of the island, at the other point of the bay. A thirty-minute walk at a moderate pace. If he hurried, he could catch up with her.
“Since our regular hostess has evidently abandoned us to play courier, can you fill in while I go see what exactly is up her—with the urgent message and the injury, as well.” He’d almost said ‘to see what is up her cute little subbie rear end,’ but it wouldn’t due to air their disagreement in front of Mariah’s subordinate, no matter how close of friends they were.
“Uh, of course, Master D, I’d be happy to stand in for Riah.”
Mariah’s behavior, erratic and out of character all weekend, including practically flying from the room just now to get away from him, was arousing suspicion. He watched as worry crossed Gracie’s usually serene features as she gazed after Mariah, a crease forming on her lovely brow.
“She seems a bit out of sorts, doesn’t she?” Gracie offered with concern.
D’s parting grunt spoke clearly of the understatement in that sentence.
Twenty minutes into his hike, thunder rumbled in the distance. His eyes flicked to the sky—still a cloudless blue—but squalls popped up suddenly in the tropics, often without warning. In recent months, they’d several severe storms with dangerous lightning, high winds, and flooding. Just a week prior, the torrential rains of one such storm had caused a mudslide. It had wiped out one of the more remote trails; in fact, that particular trail was just up ahead.
Another roll of thunder sounded just as he spotted her about one hundred yards ahead. She turned as a thunderous boom charged through the air. Her ponytail brushed her shoulders as she spun full circle, searching the sky for the threat. It was then that she saw him and her eyes widened with alarm. He picked up his pace, his long legs gaining ground on her position, until she suddenly veered off the main trail.
“Mariah, stop!”
Hurrying now, he ran after her, pausing at the turn she had taken. He cursed under his breath as he glanced at the sign: Danger: Trail Closed—Authorized Personnel Only. It was clearly marked and she had ignored it, so anxious was she to get away from him. All this fuss over a small kiss, he fumed as he darted down the trail after her. If the little brat wasn’t so impulsive and hadn’t skipped the meeting he’d called that morning, she would know the mudslide had worsened after the cloudburst the day before. His eyes lifted to the darkening sky as lightning flashed. This was shaping up to be another dangerous squall. The air snapped with electricity and the thunder rumbled loudly as the storm rapidly approached.
A feminine scream sounded, almost drowned out by another boom of thunder.
“Mariah?” he roared. “Where are you?”
“Dimitri, down here!”
“Keep calling so I can find you.”
“Down and to your right, the trail gave way.”
Rushing toward her voice, he finally located her off to the side in a ditch where a culvert had caved in. Knee-deep water swirled around her as she looked up at him anxiously. She was drenched and caked in mud, but appeared uninjured.
“Are you hurt?”
“No, a few scratches, maybe. The side is too slick to climb back up. Can you pull me out?” Imploringly, she lifted her arms to him.
Dimitri eyed the slick, unstable walls of the ten-foot-deep trench. The way in was definitely not the way out. His eyes searched for another solution.
“Move carefully to the rocks behind you. I’m coming around to the other side. The ground is too unstable here and will likely give way under my weight as well.”
By the time he reached the backside of the trench, a light rain began to fall. This made the overgrowth of brush beside the trail slick even more treacherous. Finally, he stood directly above her, noticing the rising water was now up to her waist. He needed rope, dammit.
“Hurry, Dimitri!”
The rain fell harder and the wind was picking up. They had to yell over the storm that had arrived with a vengeance and was now roaring over their heads.
He quickly pulled off his belt; it would gain them at least two feet, which just might be enough. Lying down on his belly, he reached over the narrow span of rocky ledge.
“Loop it around your wrist and climb up. I’ll pull as you go.”
It worked, and in just a few moments, with only a few slips where she lost her footing, she was beside him, her clothes plastered to her skin and covered in muck. Grabbing her shoulders, he pulled her in for the briefest of hugs before tugging her along behind him as the wind howled, whipping around them.
“We’ve got to find shelter,” he yelled. “The Cassava Cabin is just up ahead.”
Avoiding the precarious trail, Dimitri led the way through the trees and thick undergrowth, never loosening his tight grip on Mariah’s hand. Soon, they arrived at the most remote cabin on the island. Dimitri pulled his master key card from his soaked pocket and in a moment, pulled her inside with him.
They stood in the dim light panting, Mariah chilled and shivering in her wet clothes.
“Strip everything off.”
She nodded and headed for the bathroom.
“No, right here, I’ll grab towels.”
“You can’t expect me to—”
“Don’t you dare defy me!” He barked, his patience now non-existent. Bending down, he was nose-to-nose with her, angry eyes drilling into hers relentlessly. “I am this close,” he gestured, showing her the tiniest gap between his thumb and forefinger, “from giving you the paddling of your life. Do not test me. Now, do as I say and strip. I want to see that you are uninjured.”
With trembling hands, she went for the buttons of her shirt. He was relieved that she had chosen compliance over further defiance. As soon as he glanced down to remove his own clothes, however, she bolted for the door. Easily, he caught her around the waist.
His temper, already beyond its breaking point, exploded. Buttons flew from her blouse as he stripped the wet and muddy cloth from her body, her skirt and panties soon followed, landing with a wet splat on the wood floor. Carrying her across the room to the bed, he sat down and turning her this way and that, scanned every inch of her body for cuts, bruises, and signs of worse injury. Seeing none, except for a scrape on one knee and a reddened area on her shoulder, he deemed her fit for his intention and hauled her across his lap. As she struggled, his palm came down in a flurry on her pale wet skin. “Piccola, you will lie here quietly accepting your punishment or I will tie you. By god, you’ve had this coming for two days.”
Silence met his threat and she ceased her struggles.
“Which will it be?”
“I’ll lie quietly, sir.” Her soft, compliant voice worked to soothe the beast in him fractionally.
Spanning her waist, he adjusted her hips so that the glorious curve of her ass was perched over his right thigh. A sight to behold, her voluptuous globes and soft thighs were more than he’d imagined. Panting after her for two long years, his hungry aching eyes savored every inch and his temper decreased another notch. Conversely, his cock stood on end, hard and ready.
Tamping down his libido, he forced himself to remember the spanking he had to administer. Anchoring her firmly, he lit into her bare cheeks, raining down smacks hard and quick. After a dozen, he began lecturing.
“What has gotten into you, Mariah? I know you saw that sign, yet you ignored it. You could have been severely injured or killed. Beyond that, you’ve been avoiding me all weekend, running from me like a child, what is that all about? You’ve been disrespectful, insubordinate, and reckless.” He peppered her bottom as he ticked off all of her misdeeds before moving down to her thighs. There he kept up the swats, the first just as swift and sure as his last. “I’m gravely disappointed in you, Mariah.”
By the time he ran out of words, her bottom and upper thighs glowed a rosy red and were warm to the touch. Her soft cries reached his ears, and bending close, he heard the whispered words she repeated steadily. Their meaning finally registered. “I’m so sorry, master.”
He was stunned. She had never called him master before; sir and Dimitri, sure, but even with the BDSM crowd, never master.
He lifted her into his arms and held her tightly, rocking her back and forth. “Talk to me, piccola. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“I’ve disappointed you, master. Please, forgive me?” she sobbed, turning her face up to his beseechingly.
“Baby,” he growled helplessly. Then, like a starving man, he consumed her. His mouth opened over hers and his tongue found the warmth and sweetness inside.
Her response was volatile in return. Small hands sank into and gripped his hair as she returned his kiss. Moving against him feverishly, she twisted and rubbed against his body. She was a wild thing, out of control, as she wrapped herself around him, melding her body with his as her legs clamped tightly around his waist.
“Master,” she moaned. “I want you.”
He pulled back, needing to see her face, to read the emotion in her eyes. Something wasn’t right here. What he saw, along with a watery plea for absolution, was her abject misery and pain.
With a growl of frustration, he clamped his arms around her, stilling her movements. As much as he wanted to claim her, to swoop in for another fiery kiss, to bring her full breasts to his hungry lips, sucking the taut nipples into his mouth as his hands tore at his zipper, freeing himself, he simply couldn’t do it.
“I want you too, baby, but we can’t.”
“Master, please. I’m ready to be yours now.”
Although her words tempted him like a serpent and she, the forbidden fruit, his nagging doubts made him deny her. He had longed for her, seemingly forever, but she was too emotional to think clearly, scared from the storm and the precarious slide into the trench, and then there was the spanking. After two years of resisting, he wouldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability. He needed to be certain that this is what she truly wanted.
If he were ruled by his cock, her words would have absolved him of guilt and he would have taken her. Closing his eyes, he saw how they would come together at long last.
He’d lift her, the slight weight of her body nothing in his strong hands, and he’d align his cock with her drenched pussy. His groan would match her scream of pleasure in volume as he impaled her. With his hands gripping her bottom as he moved her up and down, he would glide endlessly into her softness. Thrusting upward, he’d revel in the feel of her, at last. Unbelievably wet and tight, her clenching muscles would grip around him, fitting him perfectly—hand in glove—as if she’d been tailor-made for him. When she came, she’d convulse in his arms and the beauty of her release would push him over the top until he splashed hotly inside her clenching walls. It would be mind-blowing and fucking fantastic, and so much more satisfying than in any of his fantasies.
However, this wasn’t the time or the place. Tamping down his desire, he pushed his physical wants aside and put her welfare first. “No, Mariah, I won’t do something impulsive now, that we both will regret later. We’ll wait until we figure this all out.”
She collapsed against him sobbing, clinging to him like a lifeline. He held her close, for how long he didn’t know, but he didn’t let her go until the mud began to dry stiffly on their skin.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, piccola.”
His arms tightened around her as he stood and carried her into the bathroom. When he went to set her down on the plush mat, she squealed. Snaking her arms around his neck, she clung to him keeping her legs clamped desperately around his hips.
“Mariah, what is it?”
“My feet! They’re caked with mud. I’ll ruin it.”
“Baby, it’s a washable rug.”
“No. It’s pure white and unspoiled.” Tears welled up and overflowed again. She was an emotional mess and Dimitri couldn’t make sense of her worry over a cheap bath mat.
“I’ve ruined everything else, Dimitri, not this too.”
Still confused, he thought it best not to push it now. “Hush now, you’ll feel better when we get this mud off of you.”
Reaching into the shower, he adjusted the water temperature and stepped in, with Mariah in his arms. As she stood beneath the warm spray, he soaped her all over three times until she was free from the caked and crusted muck. He was gentle and ever so thorough, his fingers gliding over and into places where the mud hadn’t touched. The whole time she stood docile beneath his hands. Turning when he said, raising her arms, lifting her feet, and when it was time to wash her hair, letting her head fall back for him to soap and rinse her waist-long silky locks.
He paid extra attention to her bottom, running his fingers lightly over her skin, made rosy by his hand. Crouching behind her, his hands bracketing her hips to keep her still, his lips caressed her, spreading gentle kisses over her tender cheeks.
“I was too rough with you, piccola. I shouldn’t have spanked you in anger.”
“No, Dimitri.” She turned and cupped his beloved face. “You were right to call me on my behavior. I was acting like a child and being unfair to you by avoiding you and shutting you out.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“You brought me the release I’ve been missing for too long and I thank you for that. But no, you didn’t hurt me. Sometimes I bottle things up and need exactly that to let go.”
As a dom, he understood that submissive need in her. Standing, he held her close, his hand rising to cup her cheeks as he stared intently into her lovely face. “You called me master.”
Lowering her eyes, she nodded.
A supposition began to form in his mind. Her irrational worry about a cheap rug made no sense, unless it was symbolic. He didn’t believe she was actually worried about staining the inexpensive mat, but it was something she could easily control. He’d learned over the years in business negotiations, working with employees and dealing with submissives, when there was an imbalance in power, the powerless often latched onto something inconsequential as they struggled to maintain a modicum of control. Winning a small victory, no matter how trivial, somehow rebalanced the scales in their minds.
For a true submissive, there was a need to give up control, to have those scales unbalanced in some part or in some cases all aspects of their life. Mariah was experienced in the lifestyle, but since coming to Pleasure Bay, she hadn’t had a dom in her life. Without that, she’d had to take the control, which was in direct contrast to her character. But she’d blossomed in her time here, so much that she fit in easily with the many doms who worked and played on the island. Often challenging them when a decision was hers to make, standing up to Dimitri at times. She was certainly no weak-willed, subservient woman, by any means. Yet, she was still soft, feminine, and respectfu
l, deferring to a dominant in the room when appropriate. All of these characteristics were what attracted Dimitri. Yet he knew there was more to her. She’d buried her inner submissive and carefully constructed a façade; in essence, she had balanced her scales.
Dimitri knew that with his power play on Friday, he had sent those carefully balanced scales careening wildly. He had become the catalyst that was putting her fragile alternate reality at risk. His kiss and overture had tilted her world on its axis—poor baby. He worried that what had happened in the cabin today, which far exceeded a chaste kiss and a cuddle, would slant that world further and if not handled carefully, delicately, it could very well topple with devastating results. He’d protect her until she felt safe, then once and for all, he’d figure out what it was in her past that made her abandon her submission—a life-altering event for sure—in the first place.
* * *
“Submissive.” The one word, spoken softly in his deep voice wasn’t an accusation or a criticism. It was a statement of fact of what she was, like being female, or human, and he said it exactly that way. “You need this as much as food and water, as much as the air you breathe. Don’t you, baby?”
Yes, but I can’t have it, ever again. Only she couldn’t tell him that. He’d try to convince her otherwise or would try to change himself for her. Neither were satisfactory options. Just as she was submissive to her core, he was dominant. It was part of his makeup—his character. On top of that, he craved the lifestyle as much as she did, but unlike her, Mariah knew he wouldn’t be content on the sidelines, a spectator, watching and yearning for something he couldn’t have. That wouldn’t be fair to him.
“Why are you so resistant, Mariah? I can give you all that you need and so much more. I want to take care of you, piccola. All you have to do is trust me.”
She closed her eyes against the love shining brightly from his eyes. It would be her undoing. If she let him, he would own her heart. Ordinarily that wouldn’t be a bad thing, but her submissive spirit had already been ripped to shreds, shattered into a thousand pieces, and what was left was a mere shadow of what it once was.
Pleasure Bay Page 23
