by India Kells
In her mind, she remembered all his scars on his skin and it fed her despair and fury for him. “I don’t believe I can, Lance.”
“Just think about it, would you?”
Mac sighed, defeated. “For you, anything.”
Lance hugged her tighter. “I have missed you, stubborn redhead. I may not be able to work with Purgatory as much as I’d like, but you’re my favorite badass there.”
“Thanks, I guess.” But she laughed. Lance had always been the funny one. Teasing and joking, which made him one of her dearest human beings in her group.
He then released her and went for the door. “You will think about it, right?”
At that instant, she realized how much he hoped she would say yes. Desperation made him want to try the impossible. And he trusted her with it, with his own flesh and blood.
“I promise I will think about your demand, Lance. Hard.”
He looked at her a long moment before nodding and leaving her.
Once more alone in her apartment, she took a last sip of coffee and a bite of the cookie Lance had discarded.
She was used to pressure, but this particular situation made her regret her visor and shooting bad guys even more. On the other hand, much would be gained if she succeeded.
Again and again, Mac went over Margot’s lesson, and the more she tried to see an avenue, the less she found it likely. How could she inflict more pain to release him from pain? Wesley had endured so much, and survived. It was a battle of will between his captors and his desire to live. He may have forgotten his way back to the world of the living, but she guessed that more pain would only push him deeper into his personal nightmare.
Submission, surrender. The words whirled in her mind for a while until it circled into place. That’s when she grabbed her phone.
If she agreed to Lance’s suggestion, it would be on her own terms, and pain would only be inflicted upon her. That untold promise to Wes, she would honor.
Chapter 15
Down in the dungeon’s club, it was easy to lose track of time. Now alone, with much to digest, Mac started to doubt herself.
Sitting on the floor, surrounded by torture devices, she schemed, but at the end of her plan was Wes. She should be preparing for Rodriguez, working on her dominatrix persona, however, Lance’s plea had turned into her obsession. One needing to be put to rest before she could focus on her life-threatening situation. And why was that so? How come helping him had become so important? She didn’t want to dwell on that answer.
Taking deep breaths, she went through Lilianne’s advice and lessons in her head, and had to admit she wanted to care for him, profoundly, for what she was about to do. That specific emotion needed to be part of the mix if she wished to succeed. And declaring it, even secretly to herself, took much more courage.
Everything was ready. Candles flickered around the darkened room, giving the submission devices a frightening shadow, making the place even smaller, as if in the middle of a circus ring.
Mac let out a breath and fixed one candle, blanking her mind. Before any noise could be heard from where she was sitting, she knew he was coming. And he wasn’t happy. It wasn’t even a lucky guess. After all, she had evaded him for almost twenty-four hours. And she had lied to him about her training and using submissives for practice. So, of course, he would be angry, and for that exact reason, she couldn’t be.
The door opened and there he was, the wounded warrior, overwhelmed by swirling emotions, again hunting for an opponent.
“Hell! Mac! I’ve been searching everywhere for you. It’s Margot who finally told me that you were probably practicing from your earlier lesson with her. You lied to me!”
Mac kept her eyes on the flame, her voice low and slow, she replied, “I’m sorry I lied to you, Wesley. Please forgive me.”
In an instant, his stance changed. He had been ready for a confrontation and as she wasn’t offering him one, it put him off balance, exactly where she wanted him to be.
Wesley shifted forward and closed the door behind him. “Mac, are you all right?”
It took her a moment to nod. “I guess.”
“You guess?” He stepped between her and the flame. When she didn’t look up, he crouched before her. Anger had fled, replaced with genuine concern. “Mac, look at me.”
Not yet, she reminded herself. Instead, she shook her head. “I’m not using you as my submissive for my training with Margot, Wes. Not now, not ever.”
“I can handle it. I’ve been through worse.”
“You haven’t been through worse. You haven’t come back from there yet.”
He wavered as if receiving a blow. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about. And because of it, I won’t use you as a submissive.”
Cursing, Wesley sat cross legged on the floor in front of her. “I’m fine, Mac. Better than ever.”
She shook her head, biting back a smile. “No can do. I see all the pain bottled up inside of you, how you withdraw from the world from time to time, and how you deny it, even to yourself. You’re a ticking bomb, and I’m not going to speed up the timer.”
Wesley sighed and rubbed his neck. “I’m not a ticking bomb. I know my boundaries. You need to let me help you, Mac. You need me to trust me.”
Mac closed her eyes when he said the words she was hoping for. When she opened them up again, her gaze was on him unwavering.
“Do you trust me, Wes?”
“Yes. Even with the little fibs you pulled about not starting the training without me.”
“We’ll do what you requested, right here and now, together. You will allow me to take care of you, and surrender to me. If you succeed, only then will I use you for training.”
Surprise was a mild word for the look on his face. Wesley swallowed, his only sign of nervousness.
“Wes, you will need to forget any preconceived ideas about what will happen. There will be no dominant or submissive. There will be only you and me, do you understand?”
He nodded again and locked his jaw, and the uncertainty in his eyes almost made her itch to back out. But it was the hope she saw buried underneath that spurred her on.
Her hands circled his wrists gently, rubbing his skin in a soothing pattern. “Do you really want to do this? Tell me why? And be honest with me.”
Wesley inhaled deeply, but stayed with her. “I need …” She remained silent, inviting him to continue. “I can endure pain. What I’m not so sure, is if I can still be myself if I go through it again.”
“Wes, I won’t torture you.”
“No, what I meant wasn’t to be captured. If I trust someone to relinquish control. In the Teams, you have to trust your teammates. Blindly, faithfully. And somehow, that concept failed. Failed me. I need to know if I can do it again. I need a guide, and you’re the only one I trust. That’s why I’ve been adamant to be your … to be your partner in attempting this.”
“Why me?”
His gaze was holding on to her with desperate determination. “Because since I came back, you’re the first person who reminded me I wasn’t dead. Not yet. And from everything that I saw, your cool head and talents, assured me that you can face anything.”
It was pure instinct when she pushed herself to her hands and knees, and kissed him. By all means, it was tame, but so sincere and sweet. She didn’t touch him and he barely moved. When she sat back on her ankles, he sighed, as if the load he was carrying around shifted somehow, became more bearable.
“Are you sure?” Her voice remained soft, offering him a final chance to back out.
“I trust you.”
At that moment, Mac truly realized how nervous she was and how important that next step would be. For him, she blocked out her uncertainties.
“Remove your shirt and shoes, and get on your knees.”
She saw his Adam’s apple bobbled before he complied and mirrored her own position, now only clad in his jeans.
“Let’s be clear ab
out the rules, there will be no safe word. A no is a no. As soon as you say no, or you want to get out, I will immediately set you free. Do you understand?”
Wesley only nodded. Was she imagining things or was he slowly beginning to relax?
“At all time, I will stay with you. I won’t leave you alone. I won’t leave this room.”
Wesley agreed silently again, his big frame slightly bowed in her direction, his hands on his thighs, with only a pair of blue jeans as his shield.
“You will do as I say and respond promptly to my commands. In return, I will trust you to tell me at any point if you want to stop. Are we on the same page, Wes? For this to work, you’ll have to be vocal, like never before in your life I suspect.”
“Yes.” His voice was gravely, but strong.
Mac offered him a smile and got to her feet. At the other end of the room, she retrieved a rope. Lilianne had been very specific on the type and size. The rope in her hands, Mac knelt back in front of him. His attention was now on what she held.
“Wes, look at me.”
When his face lifted up to her, he took a shaky breath. He was too much in his head, she would have to act on that, and fast.
“Do you want to stop or continue? Wesley?”
“It’s a go.”
His reference to military terminology made her grin.
“Listen carefully. I’m going to tie your hands behind your back. Then, I’ll tie your arms. The binding will be tight and you won’t be able to get out. But one word from you and I will cut the ropes. Remember that you won’t be able to get out on your own. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” His voice was hesitant, but she decided to continue.
On her feet, Mac went behind him and crouched. Still immobile, she put a hand on his shoulder and he jumped. Taking his reaction into account, she traced her fingertips down his arm, silently asking him to bring it back. From the moment she started touching him, she didn’t break contact. As she retraced her movements, she let her hand glide up his arm again, across his shoulders and to his other arm to bring his other back, too. His fingers flexed but he stayed in place.
“I’m going to tie your hands now. Is it a go or a no-go?”
“A go.”
Always keeping a part of her body in contact with him, she started to bind his wrists, applying steady pressure, avoiding to cross the strands and pinching the skin. After securing the first rows with a knot, she stopped.
“Wesley, what are you at?”
His breathing was labored and Mac refrained from reaching for the medical scissors in her back pocket.
“Wes?”
“I’m … I’m trying to process it. Gimme a minute.”
Mac let go of the breath she was holding and kept her hand very still on his arm. She could see the side of his face, in a deep frown, looking straight in front of him. He shivered again, and his breathing was speeding up. She knew the signs; he was panicking. This isn’t working. Shit. With her free hand, she reached to her back pocket when his eyes closed, and his breathing abated. Sweat started to mist his flushed skin.
He was battling it. Again and again, the panic attack rose and fell and he couldn’t seem to help it. He needed support. He needed her, and she was going to fight right beside him.
Slowly, she inched her hand up and begin a steady caress along his back. Up and down again. Mac synched the movement with his relaxing breath.
Minutes passed and Wesley finally gained back control. One by one, his muscles softened under her hands and his head fell forward. As her hand inched up his spine, she pursued her path and raked her fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. Under her touch, he groaned, exhaling completely before taking a full intake of air. His first deep breath since it began.
Reassured he was steady again, she slid her hand back to her initial position.
“What are you at, Wes? Do you want to continue or to stop?”
One more breath. “Continue. Please.”
“Wes, I’m going to tie your arms now. Do you allow me to do that?”
“Yes.”
“At any time, all you have to stay is stop and I will immediately cut the ropes.”
He nodded. As she explained, she started to circle his forearms, all the while keeping her attention on his reaction.
At the end of the rope, she checked each strand, making sure none were twisted or applying undue pressure. As she did, her fingers touched his naked skin. Wesley groaned again, but his breathing stayed steady and slow.
“Wes, I’m going to remove my hand and stand. I’m going to walk to the chest and come back to you. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes.”
When Mac removed her hand, Wesley started to tense, so she went straight to retrieve the second length of rope. When she turned, his eyes were on her like a lifeline. Quickly, his control was slipping once more. She didn’t hurry back. He could use her as support, but he had to make it halfway too.
Again, she knelt in front of him, his breath growing harsher, through clenched teeth.
“Wes, breathe.” Her voice was tinted with force. She was giving him an order. One he tried to comply with; as a result, it became erratic.
“Wes, follow my lead.”
She started to breathe for both of them, an exaggerated movement and sound to guide him. This time, he gained composure much quicker.
“A go or a no-go, Wes?”
His eyes were bright and feverish when he nodded. “A go.”
He was doing so well, she wanted to take him in his arms, but she knew it wasn’t time yet.
“I’m going to go behind you again, and make a chest harness tie. Then, I’ll attach it to the ceiling so you can relax and lean into it.”
Before she could ask for his assent, he nodded.
It took her a moment to calm her own shaking hands, and start the harness. First, she circled his muscled chest with the rope, his width forcing her to press her breasts against his back. He hissed and leaned back, hungry for contact. It took all her might not to linger, and continue her work. As Lilianne had shown, she cinched his chest and crossed the rope over his shoulders, one after the other.
After completing the last knot between his shoulder blades, she stood and grabbed one of the lanyards attached to the ceiling and fastened the carabiner to the loop, before adjusting the length to support him properly. His body wasn’t dangling from it, but he could let his weight lean against it, keeping him upright. Again, she checked that she didn’t cut the circulation. As she verified his hands, they closed around her fingers.
“Wes, what are you at?”
“A go.” No hesitation this time.
“You can lean against the harness now. You don’t have to fight to stay straight.”
Tentatively, he moved forward. When the harness tightened, keeping him up, he took a sharp intake. Mac recognized his reaction. Part of him was analyzing, another was fighting. She left him to it, silent until she felt him relax completely, his body weight supported by the harness.
“Mac?” His eyes were half-closed, looking around for her.
“I’m here. I’m staying with you. I’m not leaving you.”
Wesley slumped forward, exhaling a relieved breath. He was so beautiful. And even that word wasn’t enough to describe the warrior before her. The fierce and wounded man, on his knees, bound and submissive, was one of the most humbling and erotic sight she had ever seen.
Desire flooded her belly, pooling between her legs, but she pushed the sensations aside. Here and now wasn’t for her. It was for him, solely for him.
Observing Wes, Mac could scarcely discern his breathing. His eyes half-closed, lost.
She stood and went to sit before him.
“Wesley?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, trying to get to him.
It took a moment, but when he lifted his head to look at her, it was as if he was half-asleep, half-drunk.
“Where are you at, Wes?”
“A go.” His voic
e was so very low and raspy.
“Good. Hang in there.”
Careful to never leave his sight, she went to the chest again and retrieved a few accessories, putting them in a box, before returning to him.
“Wes?” At the sound of her voice, he lifted his head to her. “Wes, listen. I’m going to blindfold you now.”
