BeyondAddiction (23 page)

Jason spent another minute or so trying to change his mind
but Cord had no interest in cattle at the moment. He finally managed to end the
conversation then sat on the edge of the bed, raking his fingers through his
hair. He had to talk to someone or he’d go out of his fucking mind.

Claire.

If anyone could help him try to make sense out of this, tell
him how to find answers, it would be Claire Panetta. She knew Fallon better
than anyone and had been through this with her before. Maybe she could give him
some insight. Scrolling through his phone book, he found her number and hit
call.

“Just come on over,” she told him. “I’m working from home
today. I don’t know how much help I can be but at least I can listen to you.”

“Half an hour,” he told her.

He took enough time to shower and throw on some clean
clothes. Then he tore out of the driveway in his truck and burned up the
highway as he headed toward Claire’s house. He watched the needle on the
speedometer hover at close to ninety and almost wished a cop would pull him
over. Maybe jail was the best place for him at the moment. He wouldn’t be able
to do damage to himself or anyone else.

His rage was still boiling when he pulled into Claire’s
driveway, jamming the gearshift into park and nearly rocking the truck as he
did so. Slamming the door, he headed up the walk to the house.

“That’s only a piece of helpless metal,” Claire said as she
opened the door. “Come on in and I’ll let you beat on the concrete rocks in the
back.”

Cord followed her through the house onto the back patio. She
had set out an insulated carafe of coffee and large mugs on the umbrella table.

“You don’t happen to have any bourbon instead, do you?” He
twisted his mouth in a bitter grin.

“That’s the last thing you need,” Claire told him. “It
blunts the pain but doesn’t cure it.”

He collapsed into one of the chairs. “Then what does? I feel
as if I’ve been shot and I’m slowly bleeding to death.”

Claire poured coffee into one of the mugs and handed it to him.
“Here. You look like shit. This ought to clear some of the fog out of your
brain.”

He sipped the hot liquid, watching over the rim as Claire
sat opposite him.

“I don’t have any easy answers,” she began, “if that’s what
you’re looking for.”

“No. I don’t expect you do. I’m just hoping you can help me
make some kind of sense out of it.”

She leaned back in her chair, clasping her own coffee mug,
staring at him thoughtfully.

“Let me say first of all that I don’t judge the way other
people live their lives as long as they’re decent people. The kind of sex life
you and Fallon have is your own business. I’ve known her for a long time. I
know she’s smart, she’s savvy and she’s well respected in her business.” She
frowned. “When she doesn’t take herself out of circulation.”

“I sense a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”

Claire nodded. “But I always knew she was searching for
something more in her private life.”

“Did she date a lot?” He snorted. “
Date
. Do people
our age actually do that or is it called something else?”

Claire’s laugh held little humor. “She was pretty selective
about the people she saw. I knew she really wanted someone she could connect
with but no one seemed to hit her on a deep level.” She sipped her coffee. “I
think she was really looking for what
you
offered, only Brian found her
first.”

Cord frowned. “Did she say that? She really discussed our
sex life with you?”

“Not in great detail.” Her mouth curved in a semblance of a
grin. “Don’t worry, cowboy, your secrets are safe.” The grin disappeared. “When
she first met Brian he was smooth and seductive and charming. She was so
excited. ‘This is what I’ve been looking for,’ she told me. ‘A man who reaches
right into the core of me.’”

“He did that all right,” Cord spat. “And more. He did
everything to mentally break her.”

“When you met her, she was like the old Fallon,” Claire went
on. “Almost, anyway. Vibrant. Alive. Together.”

“We connected right away.” Cord ran his fingers through his
hair. “We both felt it. But we were also both cautious. I didn’t know what she’d
been through but I’m no spring chicken. I was looking for something permanent
and didn’t want to make a mistake. So we took it one step at a time.”

“I know she fell hard for you, if that’s any consolation.”

He took a swallow of the hot liquid in the mug. “The D/s
lifestyle is hard for people who aren’t in it to understand, but I can tell you
one thing. When it’s right, when there’s respect, there’s also a core of trust
you don’t find anywhere else. It’s the most necessary ingredient of the
relationship.”

“I don’t think ‘trust’ is in Brian Willoughby’s vocabulary.
And not just in a personal situation.” She shook her head. “This is beyond what
I understand a D/s relationship to be. It’s a classic abuser situation, hardly
different than your typical domestic abuse. It’s a sick symbiosis. The abuser
makes the victim depend on him absolutely, emotionally, physically and, in this
case, sexually.”

“You don’t know how badly I want to get my hands on that
guy,” Cord growled. “My attorney tells me he’s considered a Grade-A bastard in
every aspect of his life and gets off on destroying people.”

“I’m sure your attorney also let you know the man comes from
obscene wealth and privilege and that, like his father and grandfather, he has
an enormous sense of entitlement with an ego to match.”

“He says Willoughby gets off on ruining people’s lives and
leaving the mess for someone else to clean up.” He swallowed the rest of the
coffee and refilled his mug. “I can’t relate to something like that.”

Claire leaned closer. “If you did, Fallon wouldn’t have
fallen in love with you.”

“And did she?” he asked. “Fall in love with me? At this
point, I’m not so sure.”

“I’m going to say yes, but then I have to explain why that
wasn’t enough to keep her from falling prey to Brian’s spell again.” Claire
chewed her lower lip. “By the time I pulled her out of his house, he had
drilled into her the fear that no one besides him would ever love her. That’s
why I was so thrilled when you and she connected.”

“But now it seems all that’s undone.” He rubbed his
forehead, as if he could erase the images of Fallon with the asshole. “She’s
right back where she was before I met her. Fallon isn’t stupid. She’s a bright,
intelligent woman. Confident. Sassy. It just boggles my mind that this could
happen to her.”

Claire sighed. “Think of it like training an animal. You
seduce them with the treat first. In this case, the allure of the forbidden and
the incredible sexual stimulation and response. And the bait? His unequivocal
affection and desire. But then—”

“But then when he sees she’s hooked, the gloves come off and
the punishments becomes actual abuse. He conditions her to believe only he
could want her. She’s nothing to anyone else. Am I right? At least that’s what
I’m hearing.”

Claire nodded. “And if he’s feeding her drugs, even in a
minimal amount, her mind won’t be functioning on all cylinders. Again, just
like really smart women who put up with domestic abuse that has nothing to do
with sex, she becomes afraid that if he pushes her away she’ll be nothing. I
know it’s hard for you to understand.”

He shook his head. “No, unfortunately I understand it all
too well. Situations like this aren’t unheard of. I just didn’t think I’d be
involved in one in any manner.”

“When I pulled her away from him before, it was
my
decision, not hers. Once she was healthy again she was able to talk to me
about—things. She had a hard time understanding her own behavior.”

“But she still went back to him.”

“Because the switch is still there, buried in her mind. And
Brian has tripped it. But Cord?” Claire put her hand on his arm. “She
will
come back to you. I can’t explain, I just feel it. Here.” She touched her
chest. “Think of it like curing an infection. You have to get rid of it all
before you can heal.”

“If there’s anything fucking left of her by then,” he
growled.

He sat silently for a long while, sipping the hot coffee,
trying to sort out everything tangled up in his brain. He’d told Claire the
truth. He’d heard rumors—rarely—of bad Doms like Willoughby and how they
literally destroyed their subs mentally and emotionally. He hadn’t paid a lot
of attention because that just wasn’t him and he had a hard time understanding
people like that. Maybe he could give Jack a call, solicit
his
help as
well in trying to make sense of this.

That wasn’t like him. Leaning on others…Claire, Jack. It
just proved how distraught he was. And angry, only he wasn’t sure who he should
be angry at.

“Go home, Cord.”

Claire’s soft voice broke into his fog. He looked at her,
seeing the concern on her face.

“Go home,” she repeated. “Fallon’s a lot smarter than she
was when she first met Brian, and what she feels for you will be strong enough
to pull her out of this. Meanwhile, you have a ranch to run. And if you fall
apart, or let your business fall apart, what will you have to offer her when
she comes back?”

“I notice you said when, not if,” he pointed out.

Claire took one of his hands in both of hers. “Because
that’s what I want to believe. And I never lose hope.”

He stood, picked up his hat from the table. “Thanks for
putting up with me. You’re a good friend.”

“To both of you,” she told him.

Cord had never been much for praying but as he drove back to
the ranch, he seriously considered striking up a conversation with the Big Guy.
Maybe that was the only thing that would help.

Fallon sat in the wing chair where Brian had left her, still
as a statue. The room was almost a duplicate of the suite he had kept her in
last time. Occasionally her eyes would track over to the bed, where he had
placed the chosen implements that morning, and memories would tickle her brain.
Memories of pleasure—that were quickly replaced by those of intense pain and
fear. The ball gag especially made her tremble as she recalled how many times
Brian had used it. How sometimes it was so tight it nearly choked her.

As hour after hour passed, she felt as if she were shrouded
in a fog, but one that kept changing shape. The last time she’d been in this
house she’d sat like this day after day, waiting for Brian to return, terrified
that he’d abandon her.

You only do what I tell you to. I own you. Never forget
it.

Once, those words had given her a sense of security. A
feeling of place. Until she’d become so lost she had no sense of self left at
all. Yet still she’d clung to what she thought of as security. A man who cared
enough to own her no matter how worthless she might be. Who would push her to
greater heights of sexual release no matter how intense the pain getting there.

She had hoped to confront this lingering obsession once and
for all, to discover if this would be her chance to finally make a clean break.
Not have him hiding in her head, wrapping around her brain. But something was
off. Strange. Out of sync. She’d felt it at the hotel yesterday, and when she’d
called Brian to tell him she’d left Cord. There was something missing.

In place of anticipation, a cold ball of dread lodged in her
stomach as the day wore on. Like a voice whispering in the dark, something
telling her this time was different.
He
was different.

This morning, she hadn’t seen the sexual hunger in his eyes
that usually lay there like a banked fire. The signals that roused her own
desires. Instead she saw only cruelty so intense, if she could have moved her
feet she’d have fled. The magnetic pull was still there, but the anticipation
of pleasure brought by pain had disappeared, buried under a building sense of
unease.

Leave
, the little voice in her head whispered.

No. I have to do this. I can’t want this with him
anymore. I have to break this pattern.

You made this decision. You chose this.

She’d wanted to feed the beast one last time and kill it.
But she had a feeling what she wanted was
not
what she was going to get.

And as before, the only time she moved was when Mrs. Hudson
brought her lunch tray, a meal she knew Brian had selected. She ate at the
small table by the window, as directed. From where she sat, she could see the
sweeping lawn at the front of the house. On the other side of the fence, she
saw cars moving and people walking by. A world totally unreachable, like a
scene from a movie.

Maybe that was the purpose of having her sit here. To let
her see what was beyond her reach unless Brian gave her permission, and under
his careful restrictions.

When she’d lived here before, she’d never been tempted to
step outside unless she was with Brian. Inside was safe, outside was quicksand
and danger. Today, however, outdoors seemed to offer the promise of—what? She
didn’t know, couldn’t identify it, but there was something out there she had an
almost burning need to reach for.

She was so strangely lethargic, though, she couldn’t force
herself to even think of a way to leave.

Sitting in the chair nude was nothing new. Indeed, the
familiarity of it anchored her. Previously, she was only permitted to wear
clothing when it suited Brian, and following his orders became a habit. In the
beginning he was softer about it, cunning, telling her he liked carrying her
naked image with him when he left the house. That the thought made his cock
hard all day. And that aroused her. By the time he’d return home, she would be
so turned-on she could hardly wait for him to deliver the pain that would take
her to the knife-edge of pleasure.

Despite the fact that the edges of her brain seemed dulled,
the past kept playing in the back of her mind, like a video on a loop. All
those days and weeks and months. Like Pavlov’s dog, he’d initiate the signal
and her mind would automatically respond. Anticipating things her subconscious
early on told her were bad for her. That lure of the forbidden darkness that
had the walls of her pussy pulsing and her nipples hardening. Craving the
pleasures he would withhold if she displeased him. After a while, though, it
had become far more punishment and humiliation than stimulation. If she objected,
he disciplined her severely.

Finally she’d just stopped questioning.

She’d been like a child dutifully awaiting whatever he chose
to do, lacking the power to change things. Over and over, he’d pounded into her
that she didn’t deserve any better. What would he have in store for her
tonight? She had disobeyed him, he’d said. Disappointed him. And all those
months of conditioning told her she deserved whatever he meted out. That she
should willingly accept the most painful and degrading treatment so her body
could experience a heady release.

She tried without success to remember what she had enjoyed
about this but only unpleasant memories flooded her brain. She could almost
feel the choking pressure of the ball gag, and the biting pain of the
cat-o’-nine-tails on her skin. When she’d been with him before, the expectation
of those sensations had ramped up her sexual hunger.

Why wasn’t that the case now? Today her brain was sending
warnings that the flame drawing her to Brian was going to burn her badly this
time. She had the vague sense of being two people, both of them arguing in her
head.

You wanted this.

No. Yes. Did I really?

The pleasure isn’t worth it.

Yes, it is. I can’t live without it.
I’m nothing
without him.

You’re nothing
with
him.

I don’t want to need him.

Then don’t, you weak-kneed idiot.

Her head ached from the voices arguing so loudly.

Run. Get out of here. You can leave.

And suddenly she wanted to but couldn’t make her body obey.
Ingrained habit battled with vague determination. So instead she waited for
Brian’s return, not with anticipation and need, but with an unfamiliar feeling
of dread.

Eventually she noticed the sun setting. She wondered if she
would be served dinner tonight. Often when Brian wanted to play, he withheld
food until she’d satisfied him. And almost subconsciously she realized that the
fog around her mind was clearing. Just minimally but she felt slightly more
alert.

She had just tilted her head slightly to get a better view
of the stars in the sky when the door opened and Brian strode into the room.
Tonight he had changed from his suit to a pair of leather pants that rode low
on his hips. His torso and feet were bare, his chest gleaming with the oil he
liked to use.

And that same cruelty, that uncontrollable rage she’d seen
in his ice-blue eyes that morning, was even more evident. The tempting darkness
that always lured her before wasn’t there. Now she felt an increasingly
familiar edge of fear. Not anxiety that he’d withhold things from her—his
attention, his affection.
Sex!
No, this was more on the order of dread.

What is wrong with me? Why can’t I make my mind work the
way it should?

“I hope you spent the day contemplating your punishment,” he
began. “Come here.” When she hesitated, he snapped, “Now, Slave! At once.”

She rose and walked on legs slightly unsteady to a point
directly in front of him.

“Spread your legs apart.” Anger flared bright and hot in his
eyes when she only separated her feet by a few inches. “What’s the matter with
you? This isn’t anything new. I shouldn’t have to repeat my instructions.”

Fallon widened her stance and flinched slightly when he
thrust one hand between her thighs to feel her pussy.

His gaze rose to her face.

“Goddamn it. How can I touch you without remembering someone
else had his fingers here? His cock? And anything else that gave him pleasure.”

The pinch of his fingers was unpleasant pain.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” The words came out as a whisper.

“How can I properly fuck you when I still sense another
man’s imprint on your body? On what’s mine.
Mine!
I left instructions
for you at the hotel but we need to start over here.” His fingers pulled her
chin up, his grip tight and cruel. “We need to completely scrub away every bit
of the bastard you betrayed me with. Maybe that’s your problem. He’s on your
skin. In your body.”

She started to speak but remembered in time.
Not until he
gives permission.

“Go into the bathroom and wait for me,” he told her.

Nausea threatened as she walked toward the huge, opulent
bathroom. She wished suddenly she was as out of it as she’d been earlier in the
day. Everything in here was a duplicate of the bathroom she’d used before.
Vaguely she wondered again why he’d put her downstairs.

She sensed rather than heard him behind her. In a moment his
hands settled on her hips, fingers digging into her cruelly. When he pressed
his body against hers, she discovered he was naked, the long thickness of his
cock pressing against the crevice of her buttocks.

He gave her a slight shove. “Turn on the shower.”

She reached into the enclosure and turned the handle,
watching as mist sprayed from multiple showerheads in the ceiling and walls,
before she stepped inside. Brian followed, moving her so he could reach every
part of her body. He pushed a button that dispensed shower gel, rubbed it into
a cloth in his hand and began cleaning her.

There was nothing sexual about the procedure. In fact, he
seemed angry through the entire process. He took his time with every inch of
her skin, leaving nothing untouched. Giving her orders in his cold voice.

Lift your head.

Stretch out your arms.

Turn to the side.

Hold out your breasts to me.

When she did the last, he took the nipples one by one, gave
them a brutal pinch and pulled until her breasts were fully distended.

Move your legs apart.

Show me your cunt.

When he reached between her legs with the cloth to
thoroughly soap her tissues, the friction teased her clit. But for the first
time since she’d met Brian Willoughby, the roughness of his touch did not
excite her. Did not arouse her. At all.

She found it interesting in a disconnected way as she stood
there, allowing him to treat her body in such a clinical way, that her mind
suddenly seemed to be functioning better. Oh, she was far from thinking
rationally, but the edges of the fog continued to dissipate. Curious. If only
she could clear it completely.

If only I weren’t so stupid.

Why had she even thought this was what she wanted? She knew
alcoholics never quite lost the craving for the forbidden drink. This was
probably the same thing. Some alcoholics got past their addictions and
eventually live rich, full lives. So why couldn’t she? And why hadn’t she had
this revelation before putting herself in this situation?

All this ran through her still-fractured brain while Brian
scoured every inch of her body as if it were diseased.

“On your knees, facing the shower wall.”

Brian’s demanding voice cut into her drifting thoughts,
shocking her back into the present. She knelt on the hard tile, ignoring the
pain of the hard surface on her body, the thread of fear tightening as she
worried about what he had in mind.

“We’re not yet finished,” he went on. “I told you I’m going
to make sure to wash every bit of that jackass away from your body. Nobody
touches what I own. Ever.”

Using the fingers of one hand, he separated the cheeks of
her buttocks and in an instant, one soapy finger thrust rudely into her rectum.
She bit the inside of her cheek against the discomfort, waiting for the
expected rush of endorphins that never came.

“Legs wide apart.” His voice was as rough as his touch.

She heard the sound of the spray hitting his hands again,
then freshly soaped fingers plunged with force into her pussy.

“Aaahhh!” She couldn’t restrain the cry of pain although she
swallowed it immediately.

“Stop that!” Brian gave both ass cheeks a vicious pinch. The
fury in his voice was greater than she’d ever heard before. It wasn’t tempered
by his excessive physical desire, as it usually was. This was rage, pure and
simple. “This is all
your
fault. You let someone else put his filthy
cock inside you. Now you must be cleansed.”

She would do her best not to pull the dragon’s tail more
than she had already, because tonight the pain wasn’t an aphrodisiac. None of
this was about the sexual pleasure she had come here expecting. This was all
about ownership, she realized now.

Fallon was devastated at the possibility she’d needed just
this short time with him to understand her mistake. It made her seem all the
more the fool. The invitation to lunch should have set off louder alarm bells
than it had. Her first reaction should have been to run to Cord immediately.
But the vestiges of her addiction had lured her in. Now she was paying for her
stupidity.

She tried to swallow back the panic rising like a slow tide,
threatening to choke her.

Brian’s fingers rubbed her inner walls roughly again and
again before he took the detachable showerhead and directed the stream first
into her cunt and then her rectum. When he was finished, he slapped his hand on
the wet skin of her buttocks.

“You belong to me.” He slapped her buttocks again, hard,
with the full force of his strength. “No one else. There isn’t another man who
wants you, no matter what they tell you. You are worthless to anyone but me. As
long as you remember that, we won’t need to resort to this again.” He turned
off the shower. “Get out and dry yourself off.”