by Vonna Harper
“Mickey got a friend to testify he’d been with him when I set the fire. Mickey kept saying he had no idea I was so worried about finances that I’d do something so crazy.”
“They believed him?”
“They couldn’t prove otherwise,” she managed. Time had blunted a lot of the pain she’d felt when she realized the man she loved had turned on her but telling Master brought so much back.
“Did you tell them the truth?”
Fighting the need for his arms around her, she shook her head. “I couldn’t speak. I just sat there while detectives accused me of doing millions of dollars’ worth of damage. Because I was a minor my name didn’t make the news, but the cops told my parents. When they came to see me, I knew they believed I was guilty. They blamed—they blamed me for getting hooked up with a loser, said I got what I deserved.”
Irrational as it was, she kept hoping Master would say something in her defense, but all he did was start to stand up. She jumped to her feet. His features contorted as he put his weight on his bad leg.
“Master? Is there something I can—“
He grabbed her arm and turned her so she faced the door to the bedroom. “You’ve already done enough. We’re going inside.”
#
Some of the tightness in his leg had eased by the time Reno and his slave-in-training were back in the bedroom. It was his own damn fault for sitting so long. He’d probably given her the impression he held her responsible but the truth was listening to her had taken him out of himself. He was tempted to thank her for giving him a break from self-absorption, not that he would, would he? He needed to focus on getting her to tell him the rest of what had happened when she was accused of starting a forest fire.
Looking at her as she stood with her manacled hands against her naked belly, he couldn’t connect what she was today with the teenager she’d once been. His guess was that girl had crawled into an emotional shell after her boyfriend and parents deserted her. In contrast, this woman—yes, woman—was now comfortable in her own skin. The training he’d imposed on her hadn’t broken her. She was stronger—and at peace with the submissiveness she maybe hadn’t realized lived within her.
For the first time since he’d learned what it meant for one human to own another, he cared about what went on inside a slave’s head and heart.
He didn’t question what he was doing when he unlocked her cuffs and placed them and the rope still tied to them on the bed. Slave training had accustomed him to living with a nearly perpetual hard-on, but this felt different, more personal. He wanted to fuck her, but it should be her idea as much as his.
Surprised by the thought, he continued to study her. Except for the collar, she wore nothing. The whip marks had faded so he could barely see them in the dim lighting but no doubt their impact remained in his slave’s psyche. Thinking of a slave as his was so new he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. One thing he did know—he was horny.
And vulnerable.
Hell no!
Determined to separate himself from the unwanted thought, he pulled his shirt over his head and kicked off the slippers he’d taken to wearing after the accident. He reached for his jeans’ fastening.
She sank to her knees. “Master, please let me.”
Interesting. Not long ago she’d talked almost as if they were equals but she’d slipped back into her new role without encouragement.
“Go on,” he said. “And while you’re doing it, tell me about your trial and its outcome.”
She licked her lips but didn’t speak until she was pulling down on his zipper. “It wasn’t a regular trial because of my age. I was assigned a lawyer who told me to plead guilty. I didn’t care.”
It had been so damn easy for her to kneel that he had to work at not resenting her for it.
“You didn’t get decent representation,” he said, hoping to distract himself from her presence.” You should have implicated Mickey, made him pay for what he did.”
She started guiding his jeans down his hips. “I know that, now, but it’0s over. I can’t relive the past.”
“No one can.” He balanced himself by planting his hand on her head while she dragged the jeans over his feet.
She rocked back on her heels and looked up at him. Arousal radiated out from every inch of her young body. His too. Much as she wanted to touch him, she was waiting for permission. Keeping his own needs under wraps was harder than he remembered. Reminding himself that he’d spilled himself in her mouth not long ago didn’t help.
“Master? Can I ask a question?”
No slave had ever said that to him but then he’d never had any indication they’d cared about him as a human being. To them he was a powerful force over which they had no control.
“Go ahead. I’ll decide whether I want to answer.”
She ducked her head in acceptance and started rubbing her thighs as if trying to give herself courage. Imagining her locked up for so much of her teen years tightened his belly. Maybe the lengthy incarceration had stripped her of essential self-determination but he was more inclined to believe her submissive nature went deeper.
Perhaps the once unwanted child had spent her life looking for someone to give her a sense of belonging.
Thinking through the possibility so distracted him that he had to ask her to repeat herself.
“What made you want to dominate someone?” she asked.
Don’t answer. Tell her its none of her damn business. “It got me off the streets, and once I got good at it, the money was fantastic.”
“Off the streets?”
He wasn’t ready to tell her about choosing homelessness over living with his abusive stepfather at the age she’d been when she’d been incarcerated or Fred, the bar owner who’d given him a roof over his head in exchange for working as a bouncer. Neither did he have any desire to spell out how he’d gone from dealing with drunks to becoming an apprentice slave trainer in what turned out to be Fred’s real business. Maybe he would someday. Truth was, despite the protective layers the telling would strip away, he didn’t put it out of the realm of possibility. Now, however, was, in part, about putting an end to the pounding in his cock.
As for the other part—“Everyone is formed in large part by their upbringing. I don’t have to tell you that. Let’s just say it only took having to use my fists once to realize it beat the hell out of the alternative, which I knew too damn much about. Maybe things would have turned out different for you if you’d punched out Mickey or your old man.”
She lifted her hands and rotated them so he was looking at their palms. “I could never…”
“Did you ever want to?”
She frowned. “If I did I don’t remember it. My mother—Dad called her a bitch because she was so physical—I can’t imagine being like her.”
“What do you want to do with your hands?”
“Use them to give you pleasure.”
No slave has ever— “Why?”
Her eyes closed, and she rocked back and forth. “I don’t know. When you grabbed me I was terrified you were going to kill me, at least rape me.” Her lashes fluttered, then she was looking at him again. “Why didn’t you?”
Much as he needed to fuck her, he was glad he was still wearing his briefs because sometimes talking accomplished more than action. As for whether this was one of those times, he could only go with instinct which was something he almost never depended on. That was why he was a successful slave trainer. He had the steps and routine down to a science.
Routine and lessons be damned.
“Most of my co-workers start ramming their cocks into pussies from the first day, but I get more mileage out of making a subject anticipate.”
The faintest smile touched the corners of her mouth. “Do you tell them what you’re doing?”
“Of course not,” he admitted even though he sensed where the conversation was heading—into dangerous-for-him territory.
Still barely smiling, she brushed her fingertips ov
er his thighs. “Do you let trainees do this?”
Delicious tension seized him. “Hell no.”
“But you are today because I’m different.”
It wasn’t a question, and even if it had been, he had no intention of answering. It seemed as if they’d been talking for hours, peeling off layers after all. In many respects he didn’t yet know her any more than she did him, but he’d already gone so damn deep. It wasn’t that he’d said so much. However, now that he’d started pulling the real him out of the shadows, he wanted to continue.
Needed to.
Just as she did.
“I want to be here,” she muttered and leaned forward until her head rested against his groin. Her soft fingers snaked around his hips. “Pleasing you.”
When had a woman last willingly touched him? Damn it, why hadn’t he gone in search of normal relationships with members of the opposite sex? Much as he wanted to tell himself it was because the job was all-consuming, he knew that wasn’t it. He dominated woman. He didn’t see one as an equal. As for her—
“What’s your name?”
She blinked. “Kaci,” she muttered, still clinging to him with his erection caught between them.
Kaci. Slave and more.
“We’re going to have sex.” Maybe for starters, if I can take that step.
“Yes, Master.”
“Master Reno.”
Eyes brimming, she nodded.
Chapter sixteen
When Master Reno put the collar on her, she’d felt trapped by it. Now she wondered if she might willingly wear it for the rest of her life. At the moment he was using the ring at her throat to guide her over to the bed.
“Our relationship won’t be like any you’ve ever had,” he said.
For you either?
Much as she wanted to know everything about his relationships with women, she didn’t ask. A great deal had changed between them today and yet they were far from equals.
“Get onto the bed. Turn your back to me. Get onto your knees. Lean over,” he ordered.
Lowering her arms and head to the mattress, she quivered in anticipation. Did he intend to take her in the ass? Mouth dry, she looked back in time to see him yank off his shorts.
“It’s time for you to understand something—and for me too. We’re on a journey. I set the rules. I’ll also be sensitive to the messages you give out.” His expression sober, he planted his hands on her buttocks. “I’ve learned self-control. For us to be on the same journey, you need to learn to be patient as well, to wait.”
“Wait?” Her pussy was so wet.
“Pleasure and pain. Building on the link between us.”
“Are you’re going to hurt me again, Master?”
“Not now.”
“But maybe later?”
“I haven’t decided.”
She felt pressure against her pussy. Sighing, she pushed back.
“Not yet.” He lightly slapped her ass cheeks. “Draw out the anticipation.”
I want to.
His hands deserted her buttocks and began traveling along her sides toward her breasts. She drew her arms down from over her head in preparation for pushing her upper body off the bed to give him access.
“Don’t. I haven’t given you permission to move.”
“I’m sorry, Master.” Master. She didn’t dare ever forget what he was to her. What she wanted him to remain.
Before she could put her arms back where they’d been, he took hold of her wrists and eased her arms behind her. Then he pulled her up so her upper body was off the bed and her breasts dangled. His cock slipped past her slick entrance.
Full. Master inside me. Making us one.
“Damn you.” His breath hissed.
“Damn me?”
“Be quiet. You’ve always fought your submissive nature.” He pushed deeper, breathed hard. “You sure as hell didn’t want your parents to know so they could take advantage of it. Anyone watching you handle your life will believe you’re determined to be in charge. I know the truth.”
The hot strain in her arms wasn’t enough to distract her from him or his words. Hunger bloomed.
“Tell me about the desires you keep to yourself. Now. Before we—I’ll know whether you’re being truthful. If you lie—“ He thrust into her only to retreat. “you won’t get what you need.”
Neither would he, but he didn’t seem to mind. Undoubtedly this lesson was part of his plan to bring out what he wanted from her.
What she needed to be.
“When it’s just you, a solitary night and the truth, where do your thoughts take you?”
She could do this for Master. Wanted to. “I’m a sex slave. Master keeps me in a—a cage.”
“Does he? When it comes to illusion, you aren’t afraid of being locked up or kept in small spaces?”
He lowered her back onto the bed and released her arms. Blood again flowed through them as she again positioned them over her head. She wished he’d take her hands again. Make her his.
“Maybe that’s why I make up the scenes I do,” she admitted. Be honest about everything. “I’m not constrained by reality.”
“What is this master of yours like?”
Keep going. Let it all out. “Harsh. Often cruel. He doesn’t care about me as a human being, just that I do as he commands.” She swallowed. “That I suffer for him.”
“He beats you?” His cock just touching her sex, Master Reno massaged her buttocks.
Please, don’t stop. Go deeper. Fuck me. Let me— “Yes. Sometimes he gets carried away. Anger—he has a great deal of anger in him.”
“Do you know why?”
“No.” She paused. “I know almost nothing about him.”
His fingers kissed her ass, her thigh, her pelvis. “Because that way it’s easier to manipulate him to play the role you’ve assigned him.”
Maybe he was right. In fact, she only had a hazy notion of what her make-believe master looked like. As long as he was bigger, stronger, and in control, that was enough.
“Go on.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when he drew her labia lips apart and eased his erection deep into her. Whimpering, she struggled not to push against him, to obey.
“He keeps me in chains. I wear a collar.”
“Like the one I put on you?”
Your gift to me. “No, thicker and heavier. There are metal cuffs around my wrists and ankles. I can’t find a way to remove them.”
“Because you need this master to be in total control.”
Once after she’d had too much to drink, she’d pictured herself going to a psychiatrist and telling her all about her fantasies. The shrink, a prim looking older woman, had fainted.
“I didn’t think about his motives.” Being half-fucked was so damn distracting. Wonderful. Too much. “All that mattered was how he made me feel. The restraints—I guess I was thinking I’d spend the rest of my life wearing them.”
“That’s because being restrained and controlled satisfies a need for you.” He shoved into her. “There’s more than one kind of confinement.”
For several moments she couldn’t begin to wrap her splintered mind around what he’d said. Maybe—maybe he was talking about how his life had been impacted by his accident. Of course it had been. He’d gone from shaping captives’ lives to what—trying to crawl out from under a wrecked motorcycle?
Did he have nightmares? Need a way to escape them?
“All right,” he said after a short silence, “back to—what does this master do to marry pain to pleasure for you?”
“Beatings,” she whispered. Will you let me into your mind and heart? Be as honest as I’m being? “Nipple clamps.”
“Which do you prefer?”
She tried to pull up details of the scenarios she’d created and embellished, but it was so hard. Master Reno was fucking her. Giving her this much of himself.
“The clamps,” she finally thought to say.
“Why?”
“I—I don’t know, Master.”
“Think.” He punctuated his command by slapping her buttocks.
Distracted by the delicious sensation, she wiggled her ass at him. He chuckled then tightened his hold on her buttocks.
“Why clamps over whips?”
“The way they look I guess.” This was insane. How could they be carrying on a conversation?
“What do you think when you look at your breasts and see metal clamped to your nipples?”
“I—I trapped.”
“What else?”
“Excited.”
“Like you are right now?”
My honesty, followed by yours? “It’s as if there are two sides to me, the part I understand and is turned on by, you know, normal things.”
“Like this?”
His cock eased into her, slowly spreading sensitive tissues and turning them from two to one. She loved the deep connection. Fed from it.
“Yes,” she hissed. “Yes, like this. Oh thank you, Master.”
He stayed tight against her. “What about your other side?” His voice sounded strained. “What turns you on about imagining having clamps placed on your breasts?”
Think. Give him what he deserves. “It, ah, comes from knowing I have no control or responsibility. Master can do whatever he wants to me, but he won’t damage me. He knows how far to go.”
“Do you trust him?”
Master Reno had sealed himself to her and that was robbing her of her intellect. Maybe he could think while fucking but she couldn’t. Didn’t want to try.
“I trust you.”
He pulled back only to hurtle himself at her so she slid forward. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her back against him. “Are you afraid?”
“Overwhelmed. Master, you overwhelm me.”
“I hope I always do.”
Much as she needed to ask him about always, that could wait. Panting, she spread her legs and dug her toes into the spread. He again withdrew only to spear her so forcefully he nearly knocked her onto her belly. She debated suggesting he take hold of her arms again to keep her in place but a slave doesn’t tell a master how to fuck.
