Tex (Burnout) (24 page)

"You give me you."

She frowned. "I did."

He shook his head. "I mean completely. It's called consensual non-consent. You give me your one-time consent to do anything to you. Anything I want. Total control. Anything you say after that initial 'yes', whether it's 'no' or 'stop' or 'cantaloupe' doesn't matter and will be ignored at my discretion."

Abby drew in a breath. "Mark."

"I will not harm you, Abby. There won't even be much pain. Not physical anyway. What you went through tonight was far and away worse than what I will do to you if you agree. Trust that. The issues will be mostly mental. And you will say ‘no’, Abby. You will ask me to stop. You will beg me to stop. But I will not. And in the end, you'll be better for it. If you can trust me."

"What- what will you do?"

He gave her a look. "You know better than to ask, don't you?"

"You said you don't want that. Total control. You said that's not-"

"I don't want it. Not forever. This will be for one weekend and one weekend only. We both have jobs, Abby. Lives. I'm not going to lock you in a cage in my basement for the next twenty years. It's one weekend. Starting Friday night and I will release you Sunday afternoon. If you never want to come back to me, I will understand. But I'm telling you, you will, Abby. You will be better for this. I can teach you to give yourself to me, to pleasure, and pain, and you will come to love it."

"You said no pain," she countered quickly.

"I said
some
pain. There will be some pain in the training. A small amount. Not the end of the world. Nothing you can't very easily handle. Like I said, your problem is psychological. And I can break you of that. But you have to trust me that I can."

"Break me," she whispered as a shiver ran down her spine.

"Yes, Abby. I will break you down. Totally. And then I will build you back up, better than you were before."

"And you can do whatever you want."

"Anything. You and your body belong totally to me. You will obey every command I give you or there will be punishment. That includes, especially, answering every question I ask you honestly and to the best of your ability. Punishments are not part of the training, Abby. I hope not to have to use them, but if I do, they will be unpleasant. Immensely. The training will feel like a walk in the park by comparison. The only promise I will make to you is that your needs always come first."

"I- I need to think about it."

He nodded. "It means a lot to me that you'll consider it. I'll give you this week to think it over. Like I said, we'll need all weekend." He leaned forward and took the play collar off the table and handed it to her. "If you decide to do this, come to me Friday night, 8 o'clock. Shaved the way I like you. Wearing this. The door won't open again until Sunday at 5. If you don't want to do this, or you can't, we'll just have to slow things way down until you can trust me."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Friday afternoon Abby tried to concentrate at work and it worked for long stretches, but every thing reminded her of Mark and if this week was any indication of 'slowing down' she didn't want any part of it. It was strictly radio silence for Mark while she was mulling over his request.

Life with Mark could be scary, could be exhilarating, always exciting. Life without Mark was....fucking boring. He'd promised no pain. No, scratch that. Little pain. If she submitted. Possibly big time pain if she disobeyed. But she needed it. So he said. Was he right? She tapped her pen against her desk.

What had he been right about so far? She wasn't afraid of pain. Didn't even mind a little bit of it during sex. She wasn't against BDSM because it objectified women. She was afraid of what would happen if she liked it. She wanted to give up control, to be allowed to feel and enjoy without being constantly worried about her performance. She loved the ball gag, despite all her initial fears and opinions of it. She liked the bondage. So far he’d been right about everything.

How far off base was it to think he'd be right about what kind of 'training' she needed? It's not like she didn't know him. She'd spent plenty of time alone with the man. If he wanted to hurt her, he could have done it already.

What she wanted. What she needed. She looked around her office. This...was not what she wanted. At all. She wanted that knife edge of pain and pleasure, that heady anticipation when he was preparing to do something to her but she didn’t know what. That thrill of confusion, shock, and excitement when he finally did it.

But Mark wanted more. He wanted anal. He'd been clear about that from the first night. If she was his, she was completely his. Why was she so worried about what other people thought anyway? She learned to ride a motorcycle despite what anyone thought. She learned to work on cars. The only opinions that mattered were hers and her Dom’s.

She froze for a second. Her Dom. That was the first time she'd ever thought of Mark that way out of the blue like that. He was always just Mark. But he was more than that, wasn't he? He was her Dom, her teacher, her instructor. She closed her eyes and tried to hear his voice, dark with desire, that rumbling wave of timbre.

Good girl.

God, she loved it when he said that. She craved it. It thrilled her insides every time she heard it.

He was her Dom and she was his sub. She had to get over this hurdle. She headed home and went straight to the bathroom. She washed and dried her hair and then set about shaving herself. When she was done, she rinsed off, dried off, and opened the lotion he'd gotten for. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent. She put some in her hand and rubbed herself all over with it.

Then she got dressed, putting on a button-down silk blouse and a black skirt with sandals that had a low heel. As she picked up the collar, she realized her hand was shaking a little. Well, of course she was nervous, afraid even. Who in their right mind wouldn't be? She put the collar in her purse and locked her front door.

Pulling up to Mark's house, she put her car in park and killed the engine. Her hands still shook a little as she pulled the collar out of her purse. She took a deep breath and fastened it around her neck snugly and then checked the fit with her finger as Mark always did.

She took her purse by the straps and opened the car door. She felt almost dizzy as she headed up the walkway to the porch. Before she could even ring the bell, the door opened. Mark appeared in jeans, barefoot, no t shirt. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting. Leather? One of those masks with a zipper for a mouth? She nearly laughed at the thought.

He stood back from the entrance to let her in. Behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders. "You came," he murmured into her ear.

"Yes, Sir."

He ran his hands down her arms and back up to her shoulders. "I’m so pleased with you, pet." She smiled and closed her eyes, leaning against him for support. "Are you ready to begin?"

"Yes, Sir."

Mark closed the door. She heard the snick of the deadbolt and fought off a shiver. It was just a lock, not the sound of a cell door closing. He ran one finger up the strap of her purse and lifted it.

"Heavy," he noted. "Did you bring your gun?"

"Yes. Oh! But not because of you or anything! I just carry it everywhere. I didn't think to take it out."

He chuckled. "It's fine," he assured her.

He set the purse on the entryway table. "Let's go," he told her, taking her hand and leading her into the living room. They didn't pause as they turned down the hall and toward the bathroom. She balked a little as she realized something was wrong. She didn't quite get it until they stepped inside the room. The door.

There was no door on the bathroom!

"Mark-"

He turned instantly and set that gaze on her that could stop a freight train. "I mean, Sir. Sir. There's no door."

"No. Your body belongs to me, pet. All of it. All your bodily functions are mine to control." Abby felt the blood drain from her cheeks. "You will inform me if you need to use the facilities and I will decide when and if I'll let you."

When? If? this was sounding a little insane. "Mark- Sir!" she corrected instantly. "I can't- I mean holding it all weekend? I don't-"

"Your body has needs. I understand this. Consumption, evacuation, sleep. But privacy? No. You don't
need
privacy, pet. You
want
privacy. But you can't have it. Not unless you're a good girl. You want privacy? Earn it, pet."

Abby looked around the bathroom helplessly. "Y-yes, Sir." God, she was going to have to be good girl. And fast.

"Strip," he ordered.

"I took a shower before-"

His hand snaked out and he grabbed the O-ring on the front of her collar. "Are you arguing with me? Already?"

Abby was caught off guard, but Mark wasn’t hurting her. "N-no. No, Sir. I was- I was just...letting you know."

He nodded. "Now I know. Strip." He let go of her collar.

Abby unbuttoned her shirt, slid it off and draped it over Mark's outstretched arm. She unfastened her bra and did the same. It was, in a word, uncomfortable. She wasn't horny. She wasn't even remotely turned on and somehow disrobing in the harsh light of day in a room with no door seemed clinical and strange.

She slipped off her sandals and unzipped her skirt. She stepped out of it, handed it to Mark, and then removed her panties. She bent, picked up her shoes, and he took those as well. "Stay, pet," he told her and left the room.

She shivered even though it wasn't cold and wrapped her arms around herself. She looked around the room, but didn't see anything odd or unusual. Mark returned and immediately slapped her arm lightly. "Never hide yourself from me," he demanded.

"I didn't! I wasn't! I was just-"

"Never cover yourself in my house unless you've been given permission. Not with your hands, not with clothes, nothing. You will hide nothing from me, pet. No matter if I'm in the room or not. Understood?"

She nodded.

He brought up the wrist cuffs. "Offer yourself to me."

She extended one arm and he slid the cuff on, buckling it tightly. She held out the other one and he did the same. He checked their tightness and led her further into the room. He turned her to face the right hand wall. "Kneel."

Abby wasn't sure what was going on, but she knelt on the tile floor. Mark squatted down beside her, holding a double ended snap hook. He clipped one end to the metal rings on both cuffs and the other into a metal ring in the floor that she hadn't noticed before. She couldn't move or even turn around, only look over her shoulder.

Mark stood up and moved behind her. She heard the sound of the small linen closet opening behind her but couldn't see it. Her heart started to pound as she wondered what he was doing. She knew better than to ask.

"Have you evacuated your bowels today, pet?"

What?
"What?"

"I'm being polite, pet. If you want, I can be more crude."

Holy Shit. Er, no, not Holy Shit. Most definitely not Holy Shit. "Um. Yes. Sir."

"How often do you have the need?"

Oh, my God.

"No, pet. I'm not God. I'm your Dom and I am asking you how often you move your bowels."

She'd said that out loud? Oh, man she was losing control of the situation. Then she almost laughed. Like she ever had control. But she had, hadn't she? Before this. Oh, yes, she had. She'd had ‘cantaloupe’. And her long and silly list of limits. She'd had control and now she'd given it away.

"Pet?"

Her face burned. She was glad she wasn't facing him so he could see it. "Once. Once a day. In the morning."

"Good girl."

She breathed a sigh of relief. She was a good girl. Maybe she could get up off the floor at least, if she couldn't have a door.

"Lie down. On your side."

Well, damn. She wasn't getting up off the floor. She slid her knees down and lowered herself. Mark sank down behind her. He reached down and parted her butt cheeks with one hand. As she felt something push against her, she bucked. He let go of her bottom and slapped it.

"No," he growled.

She gritted her teeth and forced herself to relax as he parted her again. It took her a moment to realize the probe was his finger. It was covered in something. The lube she figured. She took deep breaths. Then she felt something else. Not his finger. But it wasn't cool and smooth like the plug. It felt strange and alien. Ha, like an alien probe.
Oh, God now is not the time for jokes,
she told herself.

"Hold still," he chastised and she realized she'd been wiggling. "Take your enema like a good girl."

She froze. "What? No! Mark, no! No!"

He slapped her again, this time on the thigh. "You will address me as ‘Sir’. And you will take this enema one way or another. We can either do this now, or I can fig your asshole with ginger again. Over and over until you're begging me to let you have an enema. What do you want, pet? The enema? Or the ginger root and then the enema?"