by Ann Raina
"What're you doin'?" Julian struggled, but he had no aim, only strength.
Oliver knew how to handle him and Kyra was amazed at how quickly he shackled Julian's legs. There was more to her neighbor than met the eye.
Oliver looked up with a very amused smile. "May I drool on your garage floor?"
"Don't you dare!" But she laughed saying it and Oliver pretended disappointment, fastening another strap across Julian's legs. "Maybe you put a blindfold on me, too."
"Or hand you a bowl, hmm?"
"Would be a fine idea." She looked back at Julian. The spread-eagle position on the chair did not amuse him the way it amused Kyra and Oliver, and he squirmed with discomfort. He could not change his position. His hands were bound and trapped beneath his back while his legs were fastened on the jibs. Not to mention that he could not see what was coming to him. "Shall I?"
"Don't let him touch me!" Julian suddenly shouted and squirmed on the chair.
"It's a lesson," Kyra informed him in a cold voice. "Live through it and don't repeat your misbehavior."
"Damn you, slut!" Julian bowed his back and Oliver used another strap to fix his hips "No!"
Kyra frowned at Oliver, who took the electric razor and shook his head. She brought a bowl with hot water and a facecloth.
Julian jumped the moment she touched his face to wash away the dried blood. "Tell him to stop, you damn bitch!"
"Be quiet!"
The convict made another unhappy sound deep in his throat when the razor shaved the upper part of his pubic hair. There was much of it, thick and black, framing a sizeable length. Julian shook his head madly, squirming within the little leeway he had. He panted so badly it was louder than the shaving. "Damn you all, you mother fuckers! Fuck off!"
"He really doesn't like it," Oliver whispered.
Kyra finished cleaning up Julian's face and stepped beside her friend. Maybe we taught the convict a lesson, but will it suffice? She returned his smut grin. "He shall not like it. Besides…"
"I know." Of course, his ideas had everything to do with control, that's why he had proposed the method. They exchanged a look of mutual understanding when Oliver finished shaving and ran a hand over the very smooth skin.
"Take your hand away, you cocksucker!" Julian cried on top of his voice. "Piss off!"
Oliver was not offended, but Kyra's blush declared excitement. She turned away. "What about you?" Now it was her turn to shake her head. He put away the electric razor, laughing silently. "Do you want him dressed?" he whispered, causing her face to turn crimson red.
"Yes, of course!"
He laughed so hard tears trickled down his cheeks. He allowed Julian to take down his legs and put the briefs and jeans on him.
Julian kicked in his direction, aimless, helpless. "Get the hell away from me!"
"Stop that! You haven't been hurt!"
"How do you know?"
Kyra let it go. Julian was back in his clothes and Oliver ready to go. "Tell me how it went," he whispered in her ear. "And I'll tell you what I did with my sub."
"Quit the second part and it's a deal," she replied and laughter shook his body until he left the garage. She turned to Julian. "Can I release you and you won't freak out like a madman?"
"Just get the cuffs off of me!"
"Calm down first. I won't take you anywhere like this."
Julian took a few deep breaths, visibly straining to meet her demand. "That was really mean," he said, his voice suddenly quiet. "And…humiliating."
"Calling me a bitch or slut doesn't appeal to me, either." She opened the straps so he could get up. He gave a slight nod. His understanding caught her by surprise. She led him into the kitchen and he was very still when she changed the cuffs. He took off the blindfold and, because she had already taken her position at the counter again, she could see his relief. He swallowed and turned his head away, but she knew how he felt. She groped for a mug to fill with water. She would brew some tea later. "Now, tell me if you started the fight."
Julian was far from being at ease, but he managed to shake his head. His voice came strangled, with pauses to catch his breath. "That boy, Kevin, he doesn't like me to be there. I don't know…maybe he was in prison, too, and now thinks he's some better person. I don't know. Guess he's the top dog around. He's tried to pull me into a fight since the first morning. But I didn't start."
"Why should I believe you?"
"You probably won't." He lowered his chin and sat on the mattress. He wiped his face and grimaced when he touched his bruised chin.
"Try me."
That made him look up. "Do you think I want to go to prison for three years? Do you think I want to fight my way through the gangs and guards?"
His eyes were so serious she was mesmerized. How did he do that? She tried to look away and could not.
"I'm not mad, Ms. Jennings. I know what those killers would do with me, just thinking that I could be a threat to their guys."
"Doesn't sound like a lie to me." She got him. He was startled by her words and it showed. No holding back. No pretending that he was all cool and in charge. "So you earned your chance."
"And the shaving? What was that?"
"You resisted my order. That was the prize."
"But I said--"
"You could have held back. By what I saw you're the better fighter. There was no need to crunch his nose."
Julian drew up his nose. "Fair deal, I guess."
"Right." She turned to switch on the electric kettle. "What about dinner?"
CHAPTER 4
One more week passed without another complaint. The fight was over, Kevin had to accept Julian working at the same place or--Kyra had made that clear--it would be Kevin who would search for a new employment. The worker had bitten down hard on his lips, but swallowed the threat. Kyra was confident to have settled the argument and lived up to the prospect of fulfilling her contract with the city.
Julian got used to the routine though it still annoyed him that he had to be chained in the kitchen the moment he was at her home. It annoyed him even more to be in tighter shackles if he went out with her. Only at work he was allowed to go without.
Kyra had stressed she would not grant him any freedom as long as she was uncertain of his behavior. The way he worked on it impressed her. And more. He could be humble. He could be polite. He could make it easier for her by enduring what she had in mind. He did not challenge her command, but she was insecure how much freedom he deserved. He wanted to negotiate, he let her know how frustrated he was. Yet, he had not assailed her. It was stalemate until she made another move and trusted him.
She watched him settle down to sleep when the doorbell rang. Kyra sighed. She did not wish for any company right now. The day had been long and stressful and she wanted nothing more than a hot shower, a brandy and a cozy bed. The sigh became louder when she opened the door. Chris Balfour stood there, hands loosely at his sides, smiling a tentative smile. "Hi. Are you all right?"
"Hi, Chris. Yeah, I'm all right. I guess, ten thousand people asked me today so it might change in a while." He entered the house, shoulders hunched, and took a quick look around. "Is there any special reason for you standing in my hallway?" Chris turned around to her. She read tension in his gaunt features. She read urgency in his pale green eyes. She smelled sweat under the cologne he had used. And she wondered why. The door closed with a soft clank and Kyra leaned into it.
"I just wanted to make sure…you're okay."
She did not like his soft voice and how he tried to convey care. His way of care had throttled her for too long a time. She felt goosebumps on her arms. "I just told you so."
"I spoke with your father today and--"
"And he thinks that I'm on my way to ruin my life. Which includes giving you the boot and having a criminal work for me. Thank you. Anything else that's new?"
"You don't have to be grumpy, Kyra. I really just wanted to look after you."
"That task stopped almost four months ago."
She looked him firmly in the eyes. "And I'm so not going to let you back in. Which reminds me, here's the door. Leave."
But he was already on the way to the kitchen, where he stopped and started laughing. When she passed him by, he glanced at her. "A mattress on the kitchen floor. How...poetic."
"Yeah." Julian grinned. "At least I'm in her house and you are not."
Chris darted over, laughter blown away. "You fucking son of a bitch!"
Julian stood in one fluent motion that was like magic. "Get closer if you dare!"
Both would have traded blows if Kyra had not quickly stepped in between. "No! Julian, shut up! Chris, you better leave before you lose it."
"Do you fuck him?" Chris roared, eyeing Julian, who stood there with nothing but a shirt and briefs, his fists ready for action. "Do you let him fuck you?" Chris pushed Kyra aside, but his blow missed Julian, who was so fast that Chris was startled. He tried again, but Kyra intervened. She pressed her palms on Chris's chest and shoved him back through the living room. He struggled, almost pushed her back again, fists clenched. "Answer me!"
She opened the door. "The question is stupid and the answer is no. So get out!"
"Don't you ever dare talk to me like that!" He held her wrists and she freed herself in a quick, long practiced motion. She pushed him again and he crossed the threshold, but only because he did not put in all his strength. His face was red hot with anger. "I still care for you, so don't make me hate you!"
"I don't give a fuck about your feelings, Chris, so get out!" She shut the door with a bang and went back into the kitchen, taking the cane from a wall hook. Nothing like being prepared for unruly servants, Oliver had said and she was grateful. She was upset, too, and needed a vent. Urgently. It was a time she wondered why she let men into her life at all. They always complicated things. A lot. "Down on all fours, your ass to me!"
"Hey, listen this wasn't…"
"Do it!"
He lowered himself on the cover, his eyes never leaving her. The chain at his ankle clanked when he turned. He pressed his lips tight, trying not to verbally fight her.
She was in no mood to be lenient, but noticed the effort. Still there was no way for him to go to sleep like this. "Pull down the pants!"
"Kyra, don't say you gonna hit me with this thing!"
"You bet!"
"It was…"
"Now!" She growled the word, ready to strike the moment his fingers slipped into the fabric and pulled.
He could not brace himself against the first hit and cried out with surprise and pain. "Fuck! Kyra, no!" The cane swished through the air again. And again. Julian cried out, but it was more surprise than deep pain.
Kyra stopped, catching her breath, and watching what she had done. Seven read welts marred his buttocks, raw and angry. She felt the same and she was not the least appalled at what she had done. Not at the moment. It had been good and satisfying to punish at least one stupid guy. Julian rested his forehead on the mattress, stifling a whimper. "I hope it hurt enough to teach you a lesson," she growled, astonished at her dark and rough voice. She took back the cane and returned with a muzzle. She stood over Julian as if she would ride him and when he lifted his head to search for the reason, she pulled it over his face. The fight was brief. He accepted his fate. Kyra stepped back and allowed him to pull up his briefs. "Don't dare take it off, Julian, or I'll find another with a locking buckle." Julian lay down and she glimpsed his front before he pulled the sheet over him. She might be mistaken, but there was a bulge that was more than fabric. Much more.
Back in the living room she poured a brandy, made it a double without second thought, and sipped it while she paced between porch door and front window. She listened to Julian's heavy breathing and suppressed moans. The beating had hurt, she knew, but what else could she have done to serve her superiority? If she let Julian assault a guest in her house--even with words--she would lose credibility. And now? What had she lost by punishing him? She emptied the glass and left to visit Oliver just a door away.
Oliver always put a note on the chalk board outside his house when he wished to be left alone. Something like No Tequila tonight or The brave will come back. There was no message so Kyra rang the bell.
Oliver opened the door, his eyes wide with mocked surprise. "Now, look who's here? Come on in." He made a wide wavy gesture with his hand. "Tell me you just came over for a drink. Is that a glass in your hand? Let me refill it." He half danced into his large, sparsely furnished living room.
It was the same size as Kyra's--the houses along the street all looked the same--but it seemed so much bigger. Of course, Oliver lived alone--because he said slaves didn't live in, and Kyra had inherited the house from her uncle, who had furnished it for a family. The family was gone, the uncle dead for two years and Kyra felt a wave of sadness wash over her. She did not want to be alone, it was a tough demand. The meeting with Chris had just stressed that fact. He had always been overly protective, taking every task out of her hands and, when she had rebelled against his wish to control her life completely, he had refused any changes. In the end Kyra had thrown him out of the house. But he returned frequently like a bad habit, still hoping she would change her mind and let him back in.
Oliver poured another brandy, took one for himself and slumped on the cozy, cream-colored couch. He patted the backrest and Kyra sat down, a smile on her lips. "Much better. Now, the doctor's office is open and you might speak of your problem as freely as you do sitting in front of your bedroom mirror."
"I don't talk to my mirror."
He closed his eyes briefly, shook his head and waved his finger no. "All girls do, I know it. You can't look at yourself and keep your mouth shut. But that doesn't matter. Can I help you with anything?"
"I whipped Julian."
Oliver's eyes widened. "Jesus H. Christ, look who's talking! A real good, hard whipping?"
She nodded. She had no comparison, but for her taste it had been hard.
"Whip, cane or paddle?"
"Cane."
Oliver grimaced. "Yeah, short, hard, fast. I knew you'd choose it when you hung it you're your kitchen. You did a good swing?"
He seemed pretty eager and Kyra lowered her gaze. The anger of the last hour ebbed away.
"Ah, sorry, you're so…new to this. I forgot." He smacked his lips. "Okay, another question. Did the welts look red? Really red?"
"Yes."
"He cried?"
"He made sounds of pain, but I wouldn't call it crying."
"Fine. He got a lesson well served."
She sipped the drink. It was good, better than hers at home. She settled down more comfortably and pulled up her legs. She was so casual around him it was touching. "But I'm not sure he took it as the lesson I wanted it to be."
Oliver was glad she relaxed around him. "No?"
"No." She cleared her throat. The third brandy in ten minutes made her brains start to dissolve. If she drank any harder she would be wrecked in the morning. Nothing new, but hangovers were bad for business. "He…I mean, he seemed to enjoy it. At least his…"
"His dick got all excited about it." Oliver laughed and put his hand in the air as if moving along a line. "Ah, that would make a headline! Delinquent turned slave enjoys his harsh treatment very much." He reduced the laughing to a low chortle because she hunched her shoulders and seemed not at least entertained. "What's so bad about it?"
"Did I make the right decision, Oliver?"
"By spanking him or by taking him in the first place?"
"Taking him."
"I could say that you haven't really taken him yet, but I'll leave out the semantics tonight. I told you before--I can't spare you that--that you bring up a lot of responsibility and the need for hard decisions with him. I think so far you managed very well. What went wrong tonight?"
"Chris came over."
"Ah…" Oliver emptied his glass and put it on the glass table, which was polished to perfection. He liked his house neat for guests. "And Mr. Chris Balfo
ur appeared and smashed your plans to smithereens. Until now Julian was doing okay, right?"
She nodded. "He just walked in and laughed about Julian. And he was pissed and--"
"Who now? Julian or Chris?"
"Julian. He gave back a witty remark and Chris almost fought him."
"Wouldn't it be unfair to fight someone chained to the wall?"
"Oh, Oliver, that is so…you!" Kyra sighed, but her mood lifted. Oliver wiggled his brows. "I wouldn't want them to fight, not chained, not at all. I kicked Chris out--"
"He'll be mighty pissed."
"--and gave Julian the cane and…the muzzle afterwards."
"Good lady, you're fast and furious developing into a dominatrix." He laughed again.
Kyra smiled a little. Having a neighbor like Oliver was relaxing, no doubt. "Yes, make fun of me, but it's all your stuff over at my place."
Oliver nodded, solemnly. "You can't keep such a person tied down without proper equipment. We were clear about this before."
"We were clear about many things, but I didn't know what would come out of this." She flinched and tipped the glass to empty it. "I didn't expect…didn't expect to use it. It just came over me."
"You regret your decision? I hope not. I plan to support you further. In any way, and you know it."
"Yes, and I'm grateful. But the scene just now…it reminded me that my strength has limits. I couldn't have kept them back from each other if Chris hadn't given in and Julian insisted on punching back."
"You managed to whip him, you muzzled him, you took a drink and left the house. Brave lady, no doubt." He cocked his head, still smiling confidently. "You'll grow with the task. He won't like what you did. He'll fight you tomorrow and maybe the day after. And you'll keep punishing him and making it clear who's the boss in charge. Leave no doubt and he'll be soft as a lamb for the rest of the five months."
"Five months!" Kyra stood and brought the glass back to the bar. She turned and faced her friend. "We're at the end of the second week and I had to use a cane on him! What's coming next?"
