Uncharted Territory (The Compass Series Book 3) (10 page)

“I’ll pay for her training.”

“That’s not necessary. It’s been taken care of.”

Rey’s been adamant I not pay him for his services, even though I know he makes good money from the other couple of clients I’ve learned he has. He’d said,
“You’re not my client, India, you’re my friend. I’m giving this to you because you need it, just like I’d give you a ride to the airport. I’m not always going to treat you like a client because I don’t want to, so you’re not always going to treat me like your trainer. End of discussion.”

“Besides, I’d feel bad taking your money. I’m not going to train her to your specifications. You’ll have to do that. You know I’m thorough, though. There shouldn’t be much for you to do.”

“Can we have a contract while you’re training her?”

“I don’t see why not. I’ll review it with her.”

“Will she wear my collar or yours?”

“I think for now it’s best for her if she only wears mine.”

From the way Hunter stiffens, he’s not pleased, but he’s not going to argue. I suspect he realizes he’ll get his way soon enough. By the time they’ve hashed everything out—hard and soft limits, protocols, grooming requirements, and what seems an awful lot like a custody agreement including Rey’s insistence that, yes, I’ll be remaining a full-time student—Hunter’s offering me the sweetest berries I’ve ever had from his manicured hand. After a particularly delectable raspberry, he tips my chin up. “Look at me.”

I look at him through my lashes, and I’m embarrassed for the first time because he knows how much I’ve liked this. What if he’s been fucking with me and actually thinks I’m ridiculous? But the faintest of smiles curling the firm line of his mouth at the corner tells me that’s not true.

“Such a dainty little thing with such nice manners. Did you like that, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir.”

His thumb brushes the blood under the surface of my cheek as if to wipe my discomfiture away. He’s so sure, I could imagine it actually working purely because he wills it to. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, you’ve pleased me so much. Don’t feel bad about this. Everyone here understands you. You do color nicely, though. Did you have enough to eat?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, we’ve had our dinner. Now it’s time for a show.”

*

Hunter’s stripped me
to my undies and shoes and laced me into a dark green—correction, hunter green—corset. I’m feeling light-headed. Not just from the satin and stays snug around my torso. No, those are keeping me on my feet. But isn’t it normal to feel breathless when your fantasies are coming true?

I’m standing in the middle of his playroom, finding it difficult to believe that any of this is really happening. The only reason I’m convinced I’m not dreaming is Rey’s sleek frame leaning up against the wall while Hunter inspects me, black crop in hand.

“Feet further apart.” He emphasizes his words with light taps of the crop on the insides of my thighs. Holy…

“Chin up, shoulders back, back arched.”

Every instruction is punctuated by light taps on the offending body part, which translate into thrills of desire running from wherever he’s touched me straight to my crotch.

“You’ll look so pretty when you’re gagged.” The thought nearly makes me perish. “I saw that shudder—you’ll like it.”

Every inch of me is straining and ready. The tremor wasn’t one of fear. He’s standing close behind me, his breath hot on my shoulder as he trails kisses up to my ear, which he bites. I mewl and then gasp as I’m met by a sharp sting to my ass. Goddamn that hurt.

“We’ll have fun practicing to be quiet later. Well, perhaps just I’ll enjoy that. But for now, I believe you’re overdue for punishment. Twelve strokes: three for not opening your mouth to me, four for not following instructions, and five for dropping the ‘sir’ at dinner. The next time you disobey, you’ll get six. Grab your ankles.”

Holy. Shit. I don’t want to be caught out for this, too. I bend at the waist and grasp my ankles in my unsteady hands.

“You’ll stay that way until we’re through or you’ll get an extra swat for each time you let go. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

I’m half-terrified, half-aroused beyond belief. Punishment. Consequences. Not that I haven’t felt the sting of a crop or the crack of a belt before, but this is entirely different. This isn’t Rey, showing me what the sensations feel like, making sure I wouldn’t be taken completely by surprise. Hunter strokes my lower back as he gives me instructions and it helps me stay still. Calms me.

“You’ll count for me. I’m not going to ask for your silence—not yet. I’m not cruel. You have your safewords and you know how to use them. You will if this gets to be too much. Are you ready to start?”

“Yes, sir.”

I hear the crop before I feel it, but then… Shit. This is not sexy, this hurts like a—

“One,” I remember to choke out, and then another stroke is landing.
Fuck.
“Two!”

How Hunter thought I would ever let go of my ankles is a mystery; I’m hanging on for dear life, nails digging into my skin. On the third, tears start to rise and I’m quaking. But by the time I get to six, something extraordinary happens.

The crop lands on my ass, but I don’t experience the blow as pain. I might describe it as…intensity? I’m not sure yet. I’m wondering if it’s a fluke when seven lands, but it’s the same. It’s at once a relief, but also disconcerting, especially when I recognize that Hunter’s set a different part of me on fire as well. Do I
like
this? Like
that
? This is not the cute, romantic notion I had before we started, a giddy excitement at the idea of being spanked. It’s something deeper and darker, but oh so much better.

When I cry “twelve,” the crop lands on the floor in front of my face and I stare at it. I’m waiting for further instructions, but they’re not forthcoming. I’m struggling not to move. Is this a test? If it is, I need to pass. Then Hunter’s hands are on me, his fingers running over the welts he’s raised, and I groan.

“You’re all right, baby. On your knees, come with me.”

My palms and shins sink into the plush carpet to follow Hunter’s beckoning fingers, not looking beyond his elegant hand. He shows me to a huge wrought iron bed and motions for me to climb up. “On your tummy.”

I sink down not very far into the firm mattress and turn my head in the opposite direction from where Rey is still supervising in order to receive further instruction from Hunter. “Arms out.”

He tethers first one, then the other wrist with cuffs anchored to the frame. My hips move of their own accord—this is really fucking hot—but I’m met by a sharp swat of his hand over the crop marks. An intense sting echoes through the marks he’s made.

“Stay still.”

I do my best, but my breath is coming heavy. When he tells me to spread my legs, a mewl escapes and I’ve earned another strike.

“I see you like bondage.”

“Yes, sir.” My voice is squeezed tight by desperation, my arousal growing with the application of each cuff, the tightening of every strap. I knew I liked it from the various forms of restraint Rey’s showed me. But at Hunter’s hands, my enjoyment has become exponential. Contained, helpless, forced to accept the attention being lavished on me. It’s unspeakably erotic.

“Good. Me too.” He runs a hand up the inside of my thigh, teasing me before he sinks two fingers into me and I moan. “You’ll learn to like it more.”

Apparently what we’d started at the party two weeks ago was a heady cocktail of kink and sex. For the next several hours, Hunter ignites my body in the most unexpected ways. Every time he makes me come, I fall deeper in his thrall. But what makes me sure I’ve made the right call—that Rey was right about me—is that addictive as my pleasure is, the gratification I find in serving him, obeying him, pleasing him, is stronger.

I don’t want to leave when Rey tells me it’s time to go home. I’d sign my life over to Hunter here and now if I could. The idea that I can’t makes tears well in my eyes.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” Hunter murmurs as he holds me to him at the door. “I’ll see you Thursday evening. You’re going to tell me what a good girl you were this week, right?”

“Yes, sir.” My voice is muffled by the fine cotton of his fresh shirt and my unshed tears.

“Run along, then. Don’t make me ask again.”

“Yes, sir.” I sniff and pull away, not wanting to disappoint him even more than I want to be close to him. Barely. He taps a finger on his cheek. I go up on tip-toe to lay a kiss against his stubble.

“See that she comes back to me in one piece,” he instructs Rey, who’s tucking me under his arm.

“Of course. You’ll do the same.”

‡

Year One

T
onight is Hunter’s
first party since we’ve signed our contract. I haven’t gone to any parties since then. He’s been keeping me all to himself and I’m both eager for contact with other people and terrified.

When I was here as Rey’s, I didn’t want to disappoint him, but the stakes weren’t as high. His demands weren’t so rigid. Rey wanted me to be a version of myself. Hunter wants me to be
his
version of myself. I want that, too. If I could just be that girl and please him, everything will be perfect.
I
will be perfect.

He’s laid out clothes for me: a dark green halter-neck dress with no back and a full skirt, along with some strappy lingerie that must have cost him a small fortune. I’d looked for shoes, but I couldn’t find any. When he comes to collect me, it’s made clear why.

“You don’t get shoes. I want to make sure you don’t run away.”

With the snow drifting outside, it’s a pretty good deterrent. Not that I need one and never mind that I have a dozen pairs here I could put on if I really wanted to, but I don’t want to. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now bend over the bed.”

I lay my cheek against the puffy white silk duvet and my hands lightly alongside my head as I’ve been taught. I’m supposed to look elegant doing everything, pleasing to the eye. When I’ve arranged myself to his satisfaction, he flips up my skirt so the layers of tulle rest over my back. I hope the vision he must’ve had of my ass framed by the black underwear, garter belt and stockings he picked out for me is coming true.

His fingers dig into my cheeks as he squeezes and kneads. It hurts, but I don’t make a sound. We’ve been practicing the quiet as he’d promised we would, and I’ve proved a better student than I thought I would be. Hunter’s praise is an incredibly powerful incentive. On a particularly hard pinch, I have to close my eyes and grit my teeth, but still no noise escapes. I glow when he mutters, “Tobias is an idiot. Give you an ounce of praise and a pound of discipline and you bloom like a wild rose bush.”

Another hard pinch that will surely leave a mark and then he peels my underwear over my hips. I wait for his hand to land because he spanks me all the time, whenever he gets the chance, but he doesn’t. Instead he opens the drawer by my bedside and I hear the snick of the cap of what I can only assume is lube. Is he going to fuck me up the ass right now? He’s done it before. He’s quite fond of it, actually, but I didn’t think…

But no. He lays a plug in front of my face. It’s relatively small, made out of a dull-gleaming metal, and it has a dark green jewel at the base. Knowing Hunter, it’s heavy. Finely made. The man isn’t cheap about anything.

“I’m going to put this up your ass. It’s going to stay in all night. Every step you take, you’re going to feel it. If I ask you to present to any of my guests, you’ll pull up your skirt, pull down your panties and bend over so they may see that every bit of you is mine to do with as I please. Are we understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The idea of all those people knowing that I have something shoved up inside of me, that I’m walking around with something up my ass that Hunter put there… It makes my face flame.

“Does that embarrass you, baby? Having my friends know I stuffed you full?”

I roll my lips between my teeth.
Yes. It does.
But am I supposed to admit that?

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. A little embarrassment will be good for you. Teach you that no matter how you feel about something, you’ll do it if it pleases me. Because that’s what you want more than anything, isn’t it? To make me happy?”