A Firm Hand: 2 (Bound to You) (26 page)

His words burst something open in her. A rage of sensation shivered across her skin straight to her clit. Somehow, he’d known just what to say to halt her inhibitive thoughts.

This time when she moved, she did so for him. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of his hand, the warmth of his breath across her collarbone and the promise of his cock pressing against her from behind. Her body trembled as she worked for the pleasure. Coming shouldn’t be this difficult, damn it. Brian, seeming to sense her distress, clamped down on her cunt, finally bringing her to climax. There was nothing mind-blowing about it. A whisper compared to the screaming pleasure Brian was capable of giving her, but she’d take what she could get.

Brian withdrew his hand slowly and brought it to her lips. Instinctively she licked his fingers, cleaning her juices from them. He made an appreciative sound low in his throat then backed away from her, leaving her wanting more.

Just when he’d lulled her into a sense of security, he laid a line of fire across her sweet spot with the cane. She struggled to swallow a scream, shifting her weight between each foot. The swing from pleasure to pain made her dizzy.

“That was adequate, but you and I both know you can do better. With that lack of enthusiasm, one might think you’re bored. Am I boring you, Genevieve?”

“No Sir, never.” She was about as far from bored as she could possibly get. Her nerves were getting the better of her. She needed to pull it together. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass him. He’d spent some time training her, but she was no seasoned slave. Was it showing?

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take a nap?” Brian asked.

“No Sir,” she replied, capturing his gaze in the mirror. “There is nothing in this world I’d rather do than serve you.”

The barest smile quirked the corner of his lips. “Good answer. If you take this caning well, I promise to remind you what a real orgasm feels like.”

Yes, please.

He struck her again, falling almost immediately into a pattern. Four soft strokes followed by a fierce blow that stole her breath and made her dance like a marionette. A cruel cadence of torment. With the need for release gone, there was nothing left to focus on but the pain. A calculated move executed by a skilled sadist. Brian wasn’t playing around tonight.

One, two, three, four, scream.

She changed her mind. Odd numbers were hateful things.

A sweat broke out on her brow as he ramped up the intensity of the lashes. Her thighs and ass were on fire as he layered the pain, building her agony. Small, uncontrollable sounds escaped her as he worked his way up her thighs across her ass and back down again, the cane gentle one moment and searing the next.

Her arms and legs felt weighted and heavy. Maintaining her form had grown from uncomfortable to extremely difficult. Because she was able to predict where the blows would land, she had to fight the rising desire to evade the brutal rattan. She forced her attention on Brian’s reflection in an attempt to center herself. His expression took her by surprise. The pride shining in his gaze made her heart swell.

Breathe. Accept. Submit.
She would endure this. For him.

Subspace began stealing bits of her awareness and happily, she sank into it. The hurt from the conversation she’d overheard, the collar, her doubts…all gone in a flurry of pain. Even the audience disappeared. There was only Brian. Only pain.

Strong arms lifted her from behind and pulled her from her haze. Her back came against a broad, muscular chest. Confused, she realized it was Jared. He lifted her, hooked her knees over the crooks of his arms and spread her legs wide. She barely had time to register what was happening before Brian drove his cock into her pussy with almost bruising force. She cried out, leaning against the wall of man behind her. Even though she felt the evidence of Jared’s arousal pressing against her lower back, his touch and demeanor were void of sexual connotation.

Over Brian’s shoulder she was surprised to see the others were no longer simply watching her, but fully engaged in their own erotic play. Indie was seated in Banner’s lap as they watched the scene before them. Her legs were splayed provocatively as he fondled her and whispered in her ear.

No longer acting as a footstool, Daniel had removed Sophia’s boots. He bathed one of her delicate feet with his tongue while she caressed his toned ass with the tip of her crop. But for all Daniel’s attention, his Mistress’s eyes were glued to the scene before her. A hint of lust visible in her pale gaze.

Brian and Jared had complete control of Gen’s body, but she commanded the attention of everyone in the room. An exhilarating paradox.

The metal clips holding her wrists captive jangled with each thrust, drawing her attention away from the others and back where it belonged. Brian began fucking her with unadulterated ferocity. Sweat dripped from his brow and they watched together as his cock disappeared inside her over and over again. The connection of their bodies made a lurid picture, hurling her toward climax.

Brian pressed a thumb against her clit and rubbed rough but deliberate circles, bringing her right to the edge. The fullness of his cock inside her, the feel of his skilled fingers, Jared at her back, it was more than she could handle. Pleasure spiraled through her, tightening her pelvis, stealing her breath.

“Please,” she begged.

“Come, Genevieve. Scream it out for everyone to hear.”

In a blinding flash of ecstasy, Gen flew apart. Her hoarse scream echoed through the room. Tremors racked her body. Jared held her tight as she bowed against him. Brian came seconds later, squeezing her thighs and pumping his seed deep within her. Overwhelming sensation flooded through her. She fought against her bonds, writhing between the two men.

Brian gripped her collar and pulled her face to his. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered between panting breaths.

She whimpered as she struggled for oxygen. She couldn’t seem to get enough air. She felt trapped and exposed all at once. To her horror, she realized her cheeks were wet. Why was she crying?

Still seated inside her, Brian caught her lips in a tender kiss. He then looked directly into her eyes, stroking her hair with a gentleness that calmed her. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Gen focused on his face, his voice, and allowed him to anchor her. She realized in that moment where her panic stemmed from. She was terrified he would revert to treating her with cold indifference as he had so many times before. She couldn’t handle that kind of rejection in front of his friends. They would know her relationship with Brian held no depth. That was more truth than she could bear when she was this vulnerable.

Brian took a step back from her and fastened his pants. Gen braced for his withdrawal, hating the fresh tears that blurred her vision. Jared carefully disentangled her legs from his arms and set her on her feet. He stayed behind her, lending her the support she needed. It was a good thing he had because her knees were no better than worn-out rubber bands.

A hand reached out and stroked her cheek.
Brian.
Throwing caution to the wind, she leaned into his touch, rubbing her cheek against his open palm with a silent plea. His tender expression gave her hope. Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe tonight he would be the Dom she’d always wanted.

Brian removed Genevieve’s restraints. Free of the cuffs, she pitched forward. Brian caught her easily and pulled her into his arms. Shaking, she hid her face against his chest and clung to him as though he’d just rescued her from the edge of a steep cliff. He didn’t usually allow himself this much affection but he was no match for her tears and tiny, trembling form. Every protective instinct in him flared to life.

“Shh,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

She seemed to calm at the sound of his voice, her breath catching with small sobs. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“It’s okay. You’ve earned every one of those tears. Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked, pulling back just far enough to look him in the eyes.

“Your submission is the most amazing gift I’ve ever been given.” He had no idea why he’d said it but that didn’t make it any less true.

Her brow crinkled as her eyes filled with fresh tears. He kissed her before they could spill free. A well of emotion sprung up inside of him. Something he couldn’t quite define. This girl was going to be his undoing and he wasn’t sure he had the power to stop it.

Silence. He became hyperaware that everyone in the room had gone still and all eyes were focused on the two of them. His friends had just witnessed a vulnerable moment, one he didn’t feel comfortable sharing. He could almost hear their speculative thoughts. One thing was certain—he was done providing their entertainment.

“You’ll have to forgive us, but we’re finished here. I’m taking my submissive upstairs,” he said as he scooped Genevieve up in his arms. She was a broken doll in his embrace, limbs limp and floppy. “Jared, send one of your slaves up with a few bottles of water and some of your best chocolate, if you would. After that, I’d prefer not to be disturbed for the rest of the night.”

Jared threw him a knowing grin. Bastard. “Leaving so soon?”

Brian shot him a look of warning.

“Of course, we understand if you prefer to be alone after that spectacular scene. Pity you’re not in the mood to share. I’ll send Lila up with provisions.”

Brian didn’t wait for anyone to say good night and quickly swept Genevieve upstairs. He entered their room and set her down on the bed. Studying her, he took her small hands in his. She shook like a leaf in his grasp. Her eyes, swollen from tears, still held the haze of subspace. The brave girl who’d taken a caning with grace and dignity seemed so fragile sitting before him.

He kept his gaze soft and steady as he lifted her chin so that she would look at him. “How are you?”

“Okay, I think. Just…fuzzy.”

A lie if he’d ever heard one.

“Sit tight.” He gave her a reassuring squeeze before heading to the bathroom.

He ran the shower, testing it to make sure it wouldn’t be too hot. A bath would have been more comfortable, but he didn’t want her sitting in warm water with the trauma her backside had been through. The welts would be much worse with the constant heat. A shower was better if she could manage it.

He returned to the bedroom just as a knock sounded at the door. He answered it and found Lila wearing a deceptively innocent smile and little else. She carried a silver tray stocked with the items he’d requested and presented it to him in a way that framed her large breasts.

With distaste he remembered this particular slave from a few of Jared’s parties last year. She was a predator posing as prey. Jared certainly had his work cut out for him. He’d bet good money Lila was here at her own behest, searching for a wealthy Dom under the guise of slave training. If he knew anything, Jared wasn’t fooled. He’d crack her façade soon enough. Whether Lila stayed and allowed the Master trainer to dig out the woman buried beneath the thick layer of makeup and fake smile remained to be seen. Right now, Brian had little patience for her games.

Lila dropped her gaze, coyly batting her lashes. “Master Jared asked me to bring this to you.”

He relieved her of two bottles of water and a dish of Belgian chocolate and set them down on the table just inside the room. When he went to close the door, she crowded closer to him, blocking the way with an elbow.

“Do you have any need for a
trained
slave this evening?” she asked in a low, sensual voice.

He leveled her with a cold glare and leaned forward, forcing her to take a step back. “Remove yourself from my doorway. I specifically told Jared we weren’t to be disturbed for the rest of the evening. Should I ask him why he ignored my request? A trained slave would never offer herself without instruction from her Master.”

The color drained from Lila’s face. “No, I’m sorry, Master Brian. There’s no need to get Master Jared involved. I-I made a mistake. Please forgive me.”

“A word of advice, it would be better if he were to hear about your indiscretion from you tonight rather than from me over morning coffee.” And with that he shut the door.

How had he put up with this nonsense in the past? He’d never used Lila in particular, but many like her. Once upon a time he’d have invited her in and topped her and Genevieve both. The thought of his previous shallow exploits left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He turned to Genevieve, noticing a peculiar sadness about her. The public scene seemed to have had an almost vampiric effect on her. Her vitality sucked away, leaving behind a frail shell.

Sub-drop. It had to be. Something told him there was more to it than that.

The sense that she was slipping away left him bereft. He had no idea how he’d endure it if she were to leave him. The idea was inconceivable. He’d thought the collar would help ease things between them somehow. The ambivalence in her eyes when she’d opened the box told him otherwise. She’d covered it quickly with a forced smile and a gracious thank-you, but not before he’d caught it.

Pushing his thoughts aside, he grabbed the water and the chocolate then ushered Genevieve into the bathroom. She sat on the stool at the counter, looking lost and sad, her shoulders drooping. He opened a bottle and placed it in her hands, urging her to drink. She took small sips as he dug around in her makeup, searching for a hairclip. After finding one, he twisted her hair up and secured it as best he could. Not perfect, but it would keep her red locks dry for the most part.

He kept a careful eye on her as he stripped out of his clothing and laid it on the counter next to her. “Eat some of the chocolate. It’ll help with the aftereffects.”

As if on autopilot, she set her water down and popped a small piece into her mouth. Hunched over with her arms wrapped around her middle, she stared at the floor as she chewed.

Eager to change the mood, he rounded up several plush towels, a bar of hand-milled soap and a washcloth. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but found he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The last time he’d pressed her when she was like this he got far more than he’d bargained for.

Heavy silence surrounded them as he led her into the shower. The warm spray seemed to have little effect on her. She trembled, her arms still folded against her body as though she didn’t have the energy for much else. He pulled her to him, her back against his chest. He lathered the washcloth then began with her shoulders, leaving a trail of soapsuds in his wake. He took his time, relying on the mindlessness of the ritual to help clear the air between them.

Gradually, he felt her relax. Finished with the areas he could reach, he turned her around and placed her against the glass. When he knelt before her, she finally looked at him, confusion knitting her brows. He tapped her ankle and understanding dawned on her face. She lifted her leg for him, allowing him to wash her feet.

“You don’t have to do all this,” she murmured in a small voice. “I’m fine, really.”

“Shut up and let me take care of you.”

The resignation in her answering sigh twisted his heart. She sounded so desolate.

Not knowing what else to do, he washed her other foot, kneaded her calves then lightly glided over her injured thighs. Completed with his task, he stood and pulled her under the fall of water to rinse the soap away. He shut off the faucet then reached for a towel and wrapped her up to keep her from getting cold. As quickly as he could he dried himself off. He then coaxed her from the steamy glass enclosure and dried her as well. Less efficient with her than he was with himself, he toweled off every drop of liquid he could find, taking his time, consoling her with actions rather than words.

In the main room, he steered her toward the large bed. He placed her under the covers then climbed in behind her and pulled her body flush with his. She settled against him as close as she could manage. It felt as if she’d not only inched against his skin, but into his cold heart. Something he’d never thought would happen again.

He stroked her arm long past the time her breathing evened out and she fell asleep. Losing her would kill him. The problem was he had no idea how to keep her.

* * * * *

Dawn cast warm pink streaks across the sky as Brian sat at the table on Jared’s back patio. He hadn’t slept well at all. He’d lain awake for hours thinking about Genevieve and Danielle. It had all been pointless, of course. He wasn’t in the position to change his present any more than he could change his past. Both seemed to haunt him.

Coffee was definitely in order and lots of it. As he poured himself a cup from the antique silver pot, Sophia glanced over the top of her newspaper. She didn’t say a word, merely nodded, gave him a small smile, then went back to reading.

When he’d realized it would just be the two of them, he’d had to fight the urge to go back inside. Whereas Jared delivered truth in brutal fashion, Sophia had a far more subtle way about her. She had a master’s in psychology and a Mensa-worthy IQ. The woman had a talent for getting people to talk. The scary part was that her demeanor was so calm, so soothing no one realized they’d just exposed the darkest parts of their life until it was over.

Her subs adored and worshipped her. Brian kept her at a distance, but then he did that with just about everyone.

The morning was quiet save for a few birds and the sound of waves in the distance. He’d brought his iPad but it seemed an insult to read a digital copy of the news while the print was laid out before him.

“Do you mind?” he asked.

“Help yourself,” she said, placing the section she’d been reading down, eliminating the barrier between them.

She leaned forward, grasped her delicate teacup and eyed him speculatively.The calm manner with which she sipped her tea seemed innocent enough, but having been her friend for over a decade, he knew better. This was exactly why he’d avoided her since he’d started seeing Genevieve. She saw too much.

“I’m not going to talk about it.” He took a swallow of coffee to shut himself up and promptly burned the hell out of his tongue.

“Talk about what?” she asked in that irritatingly neutral tone of hers.

With a huff, Brian rubbed a hand over his face, fighting the rising compulsion to spill his guts all over this nice mosaic table.

Sophia didn’t press him, but then that wasn’t her way. She waited him out, sipping her tea in silence. Minutes passed.

“So,” Brian began, unable to help himself, “what do you think of Genevieve?”

“She’s intriguing.”

“Intriguing.”

“Yes, and genuine from what I can tell. An interesting choice for you.”

“How is that?”

“Your relationships over the last several years, I hesitate to even refer to them as that, have been more about convenience and less about substance. Given your need to keep things casual—no judgment—I find it interesting to see you with someone who is such a pleasant deviation from your usual companions.”

Pleasant deviation. Genevieve was definitely that and so much more but that was the problem, wasn’t it?