BeyondAddiction (11 page)

Brian opened a drawer in the long dresser and removed
several items. Placing most of them at the foot of the bed, he handed her the
steel butt plug and a tube of gel.

“This is the special lube, Slave. Just a hint of spice,
right?”

Her eyes widened just slightly and she licked her lips. She
knew what he meant, of course. This particular lube was prepared with a tiny
bit of ginger, just enough so there would be a stinging sensation on the tender
flesh of her rectum. A little something to enhance the stimulation. In the
beginning she’d complained about it, but lately he’d come to realize she almost
craved it. He continued to be amazed at the levels of pain people could not
only become accustomed to, but sometimes actually beg for. Increasing that
level gave him enormous pleasure.

She nodded. “Yes, Master.”

“I’m going to fuck that ass of yours tonight until you
scream down the house.” He heard the rough edge in his voice but he didn’t
care. It was who he was. “So put the lube on this and get ready for me to slide
it in. I want your tissues good and stretched. And burning.”

Natalie took the plug from him and squeezed about an inch of
lube onto her finger. Brian swallowed a smile as he saw how stingy she was
being. She spread it over the metal before handing it to him and, without being
told, climbed up onto the bed, settling herself on her hands and knees.

Brian stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, enjoying
her complete subservience. Holding the plug in one hand, he delivered a hard
slap to her buttocks with the other. She flinched but remained silent, even as
she tensed slightly for whatever came next.

He couldn’t resist spanking her again, and yet again. Her
light skin turned such an arousing shade of red. Not as bright as when he
paddled or flogged her, and certainly not with the very satisfying results achieved
with caning. But for the moment it would do.

She held herself as still as possible while he rained blows
on her tender skin, but with each contact he could see her trembling a little
more. When he was satisfied she’d reached the maximum level of pain for the
moment, he nudged her thighs farther apart so he could test the condition of
her cunt.

Soaked! Of course. She had developed nicely, from a
tentative sub who could respond properly to a low level of pain to one who
could tolerate and be aroused by several levels higher. And he hadn’t realized
her full potential yet.

She tensed but then he watched her force herself to relax.

“Deep breath,” he reminded her, and waited until she’d
inhaled.

Separating the cheeks of her ass with the fingers of one
hand, he used the other to press the tip of the plug against the tight ring of
her anus. He twisted it slightly, until he’d placed a thin coating of the lube
at her entrance. As she slowly exhaled he exerted pressure, and little by
little the toy disappeared into her dark tunnel until it was all the way in. A
slight shudder raced over her as the ginger began to do its job.

“Don’t move,” he ordered.

Walking to the head of the bed, he removed two of the thick
pillows from beneath the spread and slid them under her stomach for support.
Then he fastened wide leather cuffs around her thighs and wrists. Finally he
threaded chains through the eyelets and linked each wrist to a thigh cuff, so
her arms were immobilized.

Captured.

No—trapped. Just as he liked her.

He had to suck in a deep breath of his own. His cock was
sending him emergency messages and he was determined not to let it rule his
head. The big one. Brian Willoughby controlled his body. His body did not
control him.

One of the many things he enjoyed was teasing Natalie nearly
to the point of climax then backing off, time after time. When he was finally
ready to give her relief, she was a sobbing, begging mess, ready to do anything
if only he would let her come.

He reached between her thighs to find her clit, attaching
the tiny butterfly vibrator that clamped onto the swollen bud. Natalie flinched
but only slightly. Brian smiled to himself. She tried not to react but he
always pinched hard enough to make that impossible. He enjoyed seeing her
flinch.

For him, it was never about satisfying the sub. Her sexual
needs were the least important thing. It was always about total control. She
responded when he allowed her to. She climaxed when he permitted her to. His
own sexual gratification came from the power he exerted over her and the
ability to make her beg for climax. For Brian, power was the ultimate
aphrodisiac.

Standing back, he pressed the button on a small remote in
his hand and the butterfly began to hum busily. The muscles in Natalie’s body
tightened and her body quivered under the onslaught of the vibrations. With her
legs spread wide and her pussy exposed, he stared at the tender pink flesh,
slick with her juices.

When he increased the speed of the tiny vibrator, Natalie’s
breathing sped in response. She was trapped, helpless, bound as she was, and in
frustration she rocked her body. Brian leaned forward and touched her opening
with the tip of his finger, knowing the muscles of her cunt were clenching over
and over.

“Please,” she cried.

“Please what?”

“Please put your fingers inside me. Like you do.”

His laugh was more in satisfaction than humor. “Like this?”
He slid two fingers easily into her spasming tunnel.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted. “Like that.”

Just as quickly he pulled his hand away. She cried out in
protest and he slapped one cheek of her ass with the flat of his hand, hard.

“Who decides when my fingers go inside you?” he demanded.

She sucked in a breath. “You do.”

“And what do you say when I take them out?”

“I-It would please me if you would leave them inside,
Master.”

He slapped her buttocks again. “And if I choose not to
finger-fuck you at all?”

“T-That is your decision.” She pushed against the pillows
propping her up, her body shivering.

“Perhaps the little butterfly needs to move its wings faster.”
He pressed the remote again and the sound of the humming increased.

“Oh, oh, oh!”

Brian saw the terrible battle she waged trying not to
squeeze her legs together. Her body shook with the onslaught of sensation and
the pink of her cunt lips turned a darker rose. He didn’t even have to touch
her to see she was soaking wet, her juices flowing copiously. Her trapped fists
opened and closed spasmodically as she did her best to resist the stimulation
of the vibrator.

And then without warning he turned it off.

Natalie’s entire body tensed with the absence of the
stimulation and she turned her head, trying to see him.

“Sir?” she asked. “Master? Have I displeased you? I-I
promise I will do my best not to come.”

Again he laughed. He could hear the conflict in her voice.
On the one hand, she wanted the vibrator to do its worst again, yet on another
she was afraid he would leave her suspended between arousal and completion.
Sometimes he left her like that overnight, on her stomach with her legs
separated by a spreader bar, wrists handcuffed to the headboard. Fastened to
her clit, an invention of his very own, a vibrator that activated
intermittently for very brief periods of time. When he woke the next morning,
she would be in such an agony of arousal she’d fuck him in the middle of
downtown San Antonio if he told her to.

“No, you haven’t upset me. But I haven’t had the best of
days. Making you aware of my control right now is the only thing taking the
edge off. So we’re going to play with this little vibrator for a while, making
sure that pussy of yours is good and hot and ready. Until you’re half out of
your mind, needing that orgasm. And then, if you obey me and don’t come until I
tell you to, I am going to take that lug out of your ass and drive my cock in
there. Only then will I permit your orgasm. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.” Her voice broke on a half sob.

Brian rolled the tiny remote in his hand for a moment,
watching Natalie, enjoying her distress, before pressing the “on” button again.
It amused him for some time to vary the intensity of the little vibrator, as
well as the length of time he left it on. He was careful to take her just to
the edge each time, tease her by holding out the promise that perhaps
this
time she could tip over before he hauled her back. Sweat formed a thin sheen on
his sub’s skin and her fists were clenched so tightly against her thighs he was
sure her nails dug into her palms.

The longer he watched, the more his cock and balls throbbed
and the more he wanted to be inside her body. He was well aware that when he
fucked her, it was an impersonal act. She was no more than a receptacle. The
real pleasure, the most fulfillment, came from doing exactly what he was
doing—controlling his sub. And when he was ready for his own release, to take
her as hard as he could, in a way that let her know everything she was, every
breath she took, was only because he permitted it. Her very existence depended
on her pleasing him.

He’d been at it for nearly an hour, and Natalie was doing
her best not to sob out loud, when he finally reached his own point of no
return. Pulling the silver plug from her butt and tossing it on the floor, he
discarded his sweatpants and rolled on a condom. Kneeling behind her on the
bed, he checked with one long finger to see if any of the lube still coated her
rectum. Satisfied that there was enough in there so he did no damage, he guided
his shaft to her entrance.

Turning on the butterfly again, he grabbed her hips and
plunged into her fully.

“Aaahhhh!” she cried, the latex sheath exacerbating the
spicy sting of the gel. “Oh god!”

“Yes.” He gritted his teeth. “I
am
your god, and
don’t you forget it for one damn minute.”

He pounded into her as the little vibrator hummed and did
its work and Natalie clenched around him, shaking as she waited for the magic
words.

Unbidden, as he drove into his sub over and over, came a
vision of Fallon in this same position, her ass tipped up to receive him, her
body crying for release.

“Goddamn it,” he ground out. And then he broke. “Now,” he hollered
as he fell over the edge himself, exploding into her rear tunnel.

He came like a maniac, ejaculating again and again until he
thought his balls would shrivel up and his dick would break. When he was
finished at last, he felt completely drained, as if he’d just run a marathon.
It took him a long moment to gather himself and pull out of the limp woman
beneath him. And even longer until he was sure he was in full control of
himself.

He entered the bathroom and turned on the water to fill the
tub before releasing her from her bindings. Normally he concerned himself very
little with aftercare, but just when he’d conditioned a sub not to expect it,
to lie shivering and insecure until their body quieted again, he would throw
them off balance with something like this. The unexpected kindness that kept
the little flame of hope alive. The hope that if they bore the punishment,
pleased him well, a reward would eventually come.

Brian lifted Natalie’s limp form and carried her into the
bathroom. When the tub was full, he added a generous sprinkling of healing
salts and lowered her into the water. The pleasing aroma was an unintended side
effect. He wasn’t attending to her, just making sure that his toy was kept in
good condition. It was all part of the mental environment he created.
Everything—from pain to comfort, from pleasure to denial—was dispensed at his
discretion, until his sub totally accepted the fact that her very existence
depended on him.

Brian propped her in the tub as he lathered a soft, fluffy
cloth with soapsuds and proceeded to apply it slowly to every area of her body.
He moved her this way and that, adjusting her body as he bathed everything from
her breasts and nipples to her cunt and ass. No inch of skin, no orifice was
left untended. At last, when he was satisfied, he flipped the switch to drain
the water, lifted Natalie from the tub and dried her slowly with a warm towel.

Finally he carried her into the bedroom, slipped a thin silk
gown over her head and eased her into the bed.

“Are you coming to bed with me tonight?” There was no
mistaking the slight hint of fear in her voice, as if she’d somehow displeased
him and he was punishing her again.

He liked withholding his presence. It kept her off balance.
But tonight he would share her bed, needing the feel of her body to wipe away
the thoughts plaguing him.

“Not yet.” He tucked the covers under her chin. “Do you need
something to help you relax?”

She shook her head. “No, Master. I’m fine.”

He narrowed his eyes. “It’s foolish to refuse something if
you need it,” he reminded her. Sometimes she became so overwrought that only a
mild sedative could ease her into sleep.

“I only need you,” she told him in a soft voice.

“And I’ll be here when you wake up. But I have some things
to do first.”

Natalie closed her eyes and turned on her side. Brian
flicked off the bedside lamp, leaving only a nightlight burning, and left the
room, heading for his home gym downstairs. He needed to burn off enough of the
residual rage so he could also sleep tonight.

God damn Fallon Crowe, anyway.

The lunch crowd was winding down at Barney’s, the restaurant
quieter now. Its warm environment of paneled oak and thick carpeting created an
ambiance that was more conducive to conversation. It was one of Fallon’s favorite
places—the restaurant where she’d had her first business meeting with Cord, so
it held special meaning for her. She and Claire tried to meet here once a week
for lunch and gossip.

The two women were a study in contrasts. Where Fallon was
medium height, Claire was barely five feet. Fallon was slender; Claire was
rounder, with sexy hips and an ass that men drooled over. And Fallon’s streaky
blonde beauty was the other side of the coin to Claire’s dark, enticing looks.
It always made Fallon swallow a smile when men eyed Claire with hungry looks.
She was sure they assumed Claire, with her exotic features, would be wildly
kinky in bed, when it was really Fallon who loved the dark side.

Normally conversation between them was so busy they often
stepped on each other’s words. But today Fallon knew she’d been unusually
quiet. Between the unexpected contact with Brian and Cord’s equally unexpected
reaction, not to mention her own sudden loss of balance, she couldn’t seem to
indulge in frivolous chitchat.

“You saw him, didn’t you?”

Fallon looked up, startled. Claire was studying her from
across the table of their booth, the remains of their lunches on the nearly
empty plates in front of them.

“Excuse me?” Fallon blinked, disconcerted.

“Don’t give me that ‘excuse me’ business,” Claire snapped,
her gray eyes turning a stormy color. “You saw that asshole, didn’t you? And
that’s not a question. Did you call him or what?” She tucked strands of her
curly dark hair behind one ear, her finely sculpted jaw jutting forward.

“Call him?” Fallon took a healthy swallow of her wine,
hoping Claire didn’t see her hand shaking. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.
Why would you even ask?”

“Because you have that deer-in-the-headlights look about you
that you lived with the whole time you were with him.”

“No. I don’t.” She twisted her napkin in her lap. “And why
would you ruin a perfectly enjoyable lunch by bringing this up, anyway?”

“Because I know you better than you think,” Claire retorted.
She paused while the waitress cleared their dishes. “So please tell me you
didn’t do something incredibly stupid.”

“I did not call him. I did not do something incredibly
stupid. Satisfied?” She drained her wine, restraining the urge to gulp. Claire
was a shark when she was on the trail of something.

“Then what?” The woman leaned across the table. “Fallon, I’m
your friend. Your closest friend. I have nothing but your best interest and the
quality of your life at heart. You know that.”

“Yes.” And she did know. Claire had forcibly yanked her back
from the brink of total destruction, and had borne the brunt of Brian’s anger
in doing so.

“So give.”

“I, um, ran into him at valet parking at La Cantera. That’s
all,” she added quickly. “Nothing more.”

“No quiet drink? No hurrying off to some secret corner?”

“Of course not.” She stared at her friend. “I may not have
been the one to initiate my leaving but I clearly remember what it was like,
Claire. Believe me.” If only all those old mixed feelings hadn’t come bursting
forth in a volatile explosion.

Think of Cord.

“Uh-huh.” Claire studied her, a skeptical look on her face.
“I want to know exactly what took place.”

Fallon stared into her wineglass. How could she explain what
she didn’t even understand herself? She’d thought she was well and truly done
with Brian, especially after being with Cord and being reminded what a real D/s
relationship was like. He valued her as a person, didn’t demean her or abuse
her trust. “I was just getting out of my car and was waiting for the parking
ticket from the valet. I didn’t even see him until he was right there next to
me, his hand on my arm.”

“Did he hurt you?” Claire’s tone was ferocious.

“No. No, nothing like that.” She shook her head. God, she
could still feel the imprint of his fingers, her skin burning where he’d touched
her. “He said he just—wanted to talk to me.”

“I’ll bet.” Claire snorted. “So what happened then?”

“I told him I didn’t want to talk to him, jerked my arm away
and ran into the restaurant.”

“Okay. And that was it? Nothing else?”

“No.” Fallon shook her head. “But Claire?”

“Yes, sweetie?” Claire’s voice had softened.

“Just his touch made me…I don’t know. Ill.” How could she
explain all the conflicting emotions? “I thought I’d collapse inside the
restaurant. As it was, I barely made it to the ladies’ room.” She shivered. “It
was—I don’t know what it was.”

“Did he feed you one of his little sarcastic criticisms?
Make a derogatory remark under the guise of being ‘helpful’? Like he used to
do?” Her face twisted as she mimicked Brian’s voice. “I need to take you to a
different hairstylist, Fallon. The one you’re using leaves it too long. It
ruins the shape of your face.”

Fallon didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Claire had
really gotten it, the remark and the tone of voice. She made a slightly
hysterical strangling sound.

“Well, you’ve certainly got him down pat.”

“I’d like it better if I had him six feet under.” Claire’s
voice softened again. “Honey, you’ve got such a really good situation going
with Cord. He’s the best thing that ever happened to you. Please tell me you’re
not going to fuck it up by letting that animal draw you in again.”

“I’m not.” Fallon fiddled with her empty glass. “I have Cord
now and I’m in a much better place.”

“I’m glad you realize that. So, have you gotten around to
telling him the details of your relationship with Brian yet?”

The session from three nights ago popped back into her
brain. She shifted on the leather bench, the memory of her orgasms at his mouth
and hands making her burn.

“Fallon?”

She jerked to attention. “Sorry?”

“You looked like you were ten million miles away. I asked if
you’d told Cord anything about the asshole yet.”

Fallon nodded. “And that’s all I want to say about it,
Claire. Please. Just let it go for now. Cord and I are dealing with the
residual fallout.”

But were they really? He’d refused to punish her for what
she considered were her transgressions. She had a feeling the ghost of Brian
Willoughby hadn’t yet been vanquished. Not as long as her programmed mind and
body reacted the way they did. Why had she ever gone out with him in the first
place?

She forced all thoughts of it from her mind and made a
production of checking her watch. “Wow. I didn’t realize how long we’d been
sitting here. I need to get to the printer and check the brochures for the
event center opening.” She looked across the table at her friend. “You’re
coming, right?”

“Are you kidding? Wouldn’t miss it. How are the RSVPs
coming? I can’t imagine anyone would say no. It’s bound to be the event of the
area.”

Fallon managed a laugh. “I think everyone’s curious to see
what the stranger from Dallas managed to create in
their
territory. And
what he could possibly know about cattle and horses.”

Claire grinned. “I understand they have those in Dallas too.
Or at least outside the city limits.”

“Cord knows what he’s doing and he’s made some good
contacts. Yes, the list is pretty much filled.”

The check distracted them for a moment as they settled up
then Fallon slid from the booth, hitching the slim strap of her purse over her
shoulder. In the parking lot, Claire paused to give her a hug.

“Don’t be mad at me, honey. You know I just want what’s best
for you. And he’s not it.”

“I know, I know.” She dug up a smile. “I promise to be good,
Mom.”

“Call me later.” Claire waved as she walked over to her own
car.

Fallon unlocked her door and was just tossing her purse onto
the passenger seat when her cell rang. She looked at the screen and saw an
unfamiliar number.

“Fallon Crowe,” she answered in her best professional voice.

“You didn’t think you could run from me forever, did you?”

The voice chilled her down to her very bones.

* * * * *

Brian had debated going into the office to work on his
project but decided he needed the privacy of home. Natalie was busy in the
little study he’d set up next to her bedroom, working on the projects he
brought home to her. He knew it was important to keep her mind busy. Besides,
doing the work kept her tied to him even more strongly.

Refilling his coffee mug in the kitchen, he carried it to
his den where he made sure to lock the door before sitting down at his desk.
More than any other room in the house, this space represented who he had
become. Who he’d
wanted
to become. Everything from the paneled walls to
the furniture to the electronics was top of the line. If there was anything more
expensive, he hadn’t found it yet.

Sitting back in his custom-designed chair, he pressed the
button that would slide the blinds to one side, giving him an unobstructed view
of the carefully manicured backyard. He sipped the freshly brewed coffee as he
studied the scene, again taking pleasure in the fact that no expense had been
spared to create the landscaped paradise.

Placing the mug carefully on a thick coaster, he booted up
his computer. With a bachelor’s degree in both finance and computer science from
Stanford University and a master’s in business from Wharton School of Finance,
he was more than equipped to do his own in-depth computer searches. He took
pride in doing his own research on businesses and corporate executives, instead
of bringing in a third party. Like everything else in his life, he played
business close to the vest and shared only the information that was necessary
to operate efficiently.

His skills had also turned out to be instrumental in
discovering the more extreme sides of BDSM.

He frequently indulged himself in the privacy of his den,
watching videos that pushed the envelope as he stroked his cock. The images
never failed to fascinate him, the complete subjugation of the women evident in
their posture, in the expressions on their faces, in the slightly unfocused
look in their eyes as they dropped into subspace. Oh, he’d read all about it; that
very special place his subs enter when they totally trust him and immerse
themselves into an intense scene. A sub may not be capable of making rational
decisions about safety and well-being at that point, an idea that thrilled him.

Watching the videos had given him an extensive knowledge of
various punishments, of instruments and how to wield them, and of edgeplay,
which completely fascinated him. He was still working to perfect areas of that
favorite brand of play.

And now he would put his computer skills to use to research
something—
someone
—else. Fallon Crowe and the asshole who stole her from
him, Cord Jamieson.

The anticipation of drawing Fallon back under his control
actually made him salivate. As for Natalie, he would set her up in her own
place, possibly allow her back into the workplace as long as she did only as he
instructed. He might even find someone to pass her off to once he was finished.
Not being part of the BDSM community meant he had no contacts, but with all the
resources at his disposal, finding a new Dom for her probably wouldn’t be much
of a problem.

After a short search, Brian discovered Fallon had restarted
her public relations business, moved completely from San Antonio and relocated
it to a little nowhere town just west of the city where Claire lived. He
quickly read through the client list on her site, most of them small potatoes.
Still, he’d make it his business to drop a few words in certain ears about her
possible instability. That ought to shake things up a bit.

Then he ground his teeth as he noted her latest project,
also out in the middle of nowhere—Comanche Pass Ranch.

He visited the ranch’s own website, quickly realizing it was
the sort of operation that had the makings of unlimited possibilities, both for
Fallon and the jerk she’d taken up with.

He wouldn’t allow that to happen. She was
his
, damn
it. Even if he only wanted her back to thoroughly break her before throwing her
out in the street.

Banking his anger so he could concentrate, he dug into
cyberspace for anything and everything about Cord Jamieson—and was not at all
happy with what he found. Apparently before his move, Cord had been a
well-respected businessman in Dallas, successful in managing investments even
in an uncertain market. Successful enough to bankroll himself to get back to
his cowboy roots and buy a ranch in the Hill Country. As Brian returned to the
Comanche Pass Ranch website, bile flooded his throat.

The thought of Fallon with someone else, especially anyone
in the least bit successful, was a bitter pill to swallow. Was Jamieson a Dom?
Had she somehow found another one? Was he as strong as Brian or was he softer,
a less demanding Master?

Damn it all to hell, anyway.

He deliberately banished unwanted images of another man’s
hands all over Fallon’s body. The body
he’d
trained. The skin he’d
reddened with punishing sessions. Kissing the mouth that had sucked Brian’s
cock.

Fuck.

Between online searches and some phone calls, the
information began flowing. An hour later, he sat back and looked at the notes
he’d made.

Well, well, well. Fallon Crowe had managed to pull herself
together much better than he’d expected. Certainly leaving him hadn’t been a
conscious decision on her part. He could thank that bitch, Claire Panetta, for
literally dragging Fallon out of the house one day while he was gone. Then
she’d tucked her away where Brian couldn’t get at her, not fazed in the least
by his anger or threats.